He Carried Me

It wasn't too many years ago that I found myself living in a little green house (860 square feet little). I was seven months pregnant with our third child when we moved in. We'd been through a lot, and our journey wasn't near over. We added baby #4 here as well. All six of us, two bedrooms, one bathroom...eight miles out in the country outside of a town of 3,000. To some, that may sound like heaven. But I'd NEVER lived in the country. I'd never lived in the south. I'd never lived in 860 square feet with six people. I was majorly struggling with depression, sleep deprived, and lonely. My husband worked two jobs, six days a week, and was working with trainer to go pro with golf. The most precious part of life at that time was the season where for a brief period in the afternoon, everyone was either at school or napping. That was my time with God, and it was life to me. The dining room table was my special place.

We listened to a song last night that was so powerful to my heart. It reminded me of this season. Honestly, I was pretty frustrated with God at this time. Life was pretty hard - too hard if you asked me. I spent so much time wondering what I was made for, if there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Then I would feel guilty for doubting God and questioning His plan.

But this was the time that God birthed a vision in me for what He was calling me too. It was there that He led me in a new kind of relationship with Him. It was there that I began my first book.

You see, from the beginning, God has wanted us to be in His presence and meet with Him. In the tabernacle, there was the table that held the "Bread of the Presence". The priests were to keep the bread fresh. It symbolized truly taking in God Himself and learning to enjoy Him....not what He does...not what He provides - but HIM!

This song reminded me of how at some points in my life, I've not even been strong enough to come to the table by myself to meet with God. I think most of us moms get there at some point. We feel week, sleepy, unable to even find the time. It is those times, when God literally carries the week to the table. He doesn't just set it. He doesn't just invite us, but He will actually carry us there when we can't make it on our own.

Why? Because He is that desperate for us to enjoy Him.

Amazing.

I'm praying you take the time to watch this video. Remember, you are the bride. You are the bride of Christ. He has set the table for you. ...and when you are week, and overcome with sin...when you've yelled at your kids and let your husband down...when you feel to unworthy to come on your own...The God Who loves you more than anything will pick you up. He will carry you. He will bring you to the table to meet with Him.....all you have to do is let Him.

We Made It!

Six and a half years ago, I brought my youngest bundle of joy home. He was my biggest baby - 22-1/4 inches!...and even though he was so long, he found a way to flip himself around between weekly doctor's visits. The day of his birth, my doctor and a partner, tried to turn him by external version. My big strong man, who has never quivered at the site of blood was on his knees in the corner as white as a sheet. I cannot even tell you how painful it was. It was worse than any labor I'd ever experienced.

The decision to quit trying was made by my inability to endure, along with the doctors concluding that they weren't making any progress. Hayden's little rump was indeed stuck in my pelvis and wasn't going anywhere. This was a real situation of biblical proportions where if it were not for the conveniences of modern-day medicine, I would have died in childbirth - and probably Hayden too.

After the c-section, Bill brought the little guy up to my head for me to see. I was feeling quite traumatized. I remember thinking, "That's nice." My body shook with the cold shakes of shock. I itched from the pain medication, but my arms were strapped down, so I couldn't do a thing about it.

My recovery was really hard - partly because I was depressed, partly because I felt defeated, partly because a few things didn't go so well. The pushing on my abdominals to try to turn Hayden, didn't help the c-section recovery. I was stapled shut, and the staples didn't come out quite soon enough, resulting in an infection that went all the way into my tubes before my doctor got back from vacation to correct the antibiotic that was given to me - since the original one was harmful to nursing babies.

Hayden was severely jaundiced, but the small hospital only had one bili light, and there was another baby that was worse. We went home, but had to make the daily drive to the hospital (45 minutes away) to have his levels checked while they looked for a light somewhere in the state that we could use for him!! Eventually home health care services kicked in. Baby boy sat under a bili light for two weeks. I could only take him out to feed and change him.

Ian was 19 months old...still a baby. I could pick him up. He couldn't climb on my lap. He didn't understand.

I will share more of my story concerning depression soon. I've been gearing myself up for it. But the point I want to make today is that there were 1,000 days I didn't think I'd make it through those stages of life.

I brought Hayden home to a 860 square foot house. I had three other kids depending on me. My church was an hour away. I had two in diapers. I could go on.

I really thought I might lose it. I really thought some days that I wouldn't survive.

BUT, today, my baby graduated from kindergarten.

There will be no more 1/2 day kindergarten schedules. We are long done with diapers (eight straight years of 1-2 kids at a time). Our kids generally never bother us in the middle of the night. In six months, we will be done with car seats.

We made it!

We aren't done parenting, by any means. But we are done with the preschool years, and we survived. We do have a few gray hairs. But we have made it to the other side and lived to tell about it.

AND YOU WILL TOO!

Praying or you today!

Waiting for an Invitation

It's Sunday. The day I attempt to share with you something personal in my journey of Motherhood that might relate to what others are going through...the day I dig deep in my heart....the day I look forward to sharing the most - and the day I often dread the most. It requires so much energy from me to share so deeply. Yet, it is my commitment to the Lord to be transparent with others about my journey and my struggles and my commitment to you (the reader) to share something that is heartfelt and real.

Today, I'm sitting at Calypso's Coffee, in downtown Coeur d'Alene. I have been kicked out of the house! Why? Because God spoke to my husband and I separately this week and told us the same thing. I had heard God speaking to me all week, but I tend to file away things I hear sometimes. Why? I don't know. I tend to live in enough of a "victim" complex that I often feel I don't have permission to act on God's requests because there is always "something" holding me back.

Let me see if I can explain that a bit better.

I have some fairly OCD qualities. I need things to be in order for me to function well. I often feel that I don't have the right to do something I love if I haven't taken care of my responsibilities first...but I can get really weird about what my responsibilities are. I'm that person that will put off the biggest things in life, because I have a secret cabinet in my hallway full of disorganized photos.

When I graduated from high school, I went shopping. I'd been given quite a few monetary gifts, and I had a list of things I needed to be set for my journey. You know that I bought? A file cabinet. For real. I've bought a couple more sense then. I need things filed away and organized.

However, I realized about a year ago that I NEVER look for anything in my file cabinet! I have a new form of information searching now, it is called GOOGLE! I can find anything I want in seconds. Why store an entire tree in drawers in the corner of my house!?

So, I began viscously weeding 1/2 a drawer in 10 minutes. I found a very interesting file. It was labeled "Passions". I expected to find it full of articles on Passions, but it was not as I thought. I don't even remember starting this file. I don't remember putting any of the contents in it. It must have been started during darker days of motherhood, based on its contents. It contained an article about a crisis nursery, the first children's story I ever wrote, and a pamphlet for Wycliffe.

I found it very interesting that somehow, sometime, I had started filing away my dreams. It was a file of the things I would do, if I could do anything: write, minister to moms in crisis, and Scripture translation. Very interesting.

So, you guessed it! I left that file alone.

This week I heard something on a very secular show that has made me think intensely all week. "You don't need an invitation to your own life."

As a mom, I've continually struggled through stages where the demands on me to care for others are really so intense, that there isn't time for me. But, I'm afraid, that far too often, I've decided to wait for an invitation to rejoin life.....like I don't have permission to follow God's call on me until someone else gives the o.k. Ever been there?

Now please don't misunderstand, motherhood IS a calling....a beautiful, intense, and deep calling. But before any of us were called to be a mom, we were called to be a daughter of God - to bring Him glory with our life. For some, that involves being a mom, for a season. For some, it doesn't. I know I'm not alone in my struggle of thinking that I had to lay down my first calling on my life to be a mom. I hear the struggles from so many of you, so I know I'm not alone.

The truth is, God called me to be an ambassador for Him. He has given me a message to share. He has gifted me in ways He hasn't gifted others, and He has NOT gifted me in ways that He HAS gifted others.

Over six years ago, I began to sit down and write. I knew that God had given me a message for moms about building their relationship with God in the difficult, intense years of motherhood. As He gave me a message, I began to write it down. It was my own sanity in getting through those intense years. He shepherded my heart as a mom - and I wrote it down to share with others.

Writing a book with four small children is not easy. In fact, it is DOWNRIGHT IMPOSSIBLE....which is why six years later I'm still in process. However, my children aren't really my only hold-back.

You see, I've been waiting for an invitation to my life. Now the quote on that T.V. show wasn't totally accurate. As a daughter of God, we HAVE been given an invitation. God has already invited me to be a part of His kingdom work - and even given me an assignment to do. What I've been guilty of, is waiting on others to send invitations too. I've been waiting for that "stamp of approval" from others to confirm my invitation and to open doors.

This week, God told me that I was looking for the wrong doors. He confirmed it by a conversation with a friend. Then He pointed out a door that He'd been opening, and I hadn't noticed. At the end of the week, God told my husband that I needed to go through that door - and SOON! I was blown away! It has been a long time since God has spoken to Bill and I separately with the same message - and I'm not sure it ever has involved my calling...usually his.

There is so much more to this story. But today, I got kicked out of the house. It is me, my laptop, and my printed manuscript sitting at a coffee house. I'm editing. I'm getting serious about a book proposal, and I'm letting God's invitation be enough.

How about you?

"I will cry to God Most High, Who performs on my behalf and rewards me [Who brings to pass His purposes for me and surely completes them]!" Psalm 57:2 Amplified

Kids Grow Up - and so do moms!

Something momentous happened in our house this week. Someone has turned 13! Someone is no longer a "child", but a teenager. Somehow, this makes me feel a whole lot more "middle age" than my actual age.

I jokingly asked him, the night before his birthday, if he wanted me to make cupcakes for his class at school. I thought he'd give me a sarcastic, "Mom!" The response I got? "Would you?"

So guess who came home from the store at 9:30p.m. with supplies to start on 35 cupcakes? How could I say "no" ?

The best part of the day, was when he said, "Dad, you know what would be the best ending to my last day as a kid?"

"What?"

"If I could play a game of HORSE with you."

And they did.

My oldest child's birthday always gives me a lot to reflect over because his birth marked the beginning or me being a mom....the beginning of two journeys at once. I'm reminded how much they are connected.

Here are a few of my thoughts:

Before the creation of the world, God chose to create you - for His pleasure! (Eph. 1:4-5)

He knit you together in my womb. (Ps. 139:13)

You were the first piece of me, that I ever held outside of my body.

You were our first....the son of our youth.

Welcomed by excited family.

When you were brand new, we dedicated you to the Lord -

- something we've had to do over and over again.

You made it clear from the beginning that you had your own way of doing things.

You were my best little friend, the joy of my lonely days....

....the one who tagged along with us in all that we did.

The child your dad waited 28 years for.

All of your firsts, were our firsts too.

You were the one that we have made the most of our mistakes on.

The one we didn't hold often enough.

The one that we let cry more than we should have.

The one we couldn't keep from climbing up everything you could find to climb. You gave me lots of little heart attacks.

You have been the one that challenges our thinking to the nth degree.

The one who has excelled at everything you've tried.

We have only one little problem.

You won't quit growing.

You won't stop changing.

You keep amazing us.

With each passing day, we're more aware of how short our time with you is growing....

....and we plan to make use of every minute of it!

Happy Birthday, Clayton! We are so proud of you.

When He Speaks My Name

Wow! I feel like a little reconnecting is in order! Knowing how busy life was going to be for me over the last couple of weeks, I tried to schedule most of the posts way in advance. The Those With Young Advisory Panel has had a lot going on (individually). Kim and Kendra both have had deaths in the family. Kristine is getting ready to have baby #6. Sharise has had a very sick baby. Angela (that's me) had a wedding in the family and a week away because of it. Everyone has been busy with spring breaks and Easter.

I have to admit that I've often been so tired lately that I just didn't have enough heart or brain power to write. But when I don't write, my heart and brain grow even more tired. It is a vicious cycle. Do you have a passion like that....something that just feeds your soul? Those passions are important to moms. We all need those things that we can pour ourselves into - knowing we are fulfilling a calling and using the gifts that God has given us, while we struggle our way through days where we are not always appreciated for our tireless efforts of nose wiping, fight settling, and dish washing.

On top of the fatigue, I had some hard blows this week that honestly got me really discouraged. There are some hopes and dreams I've had for a long time that have been dashed over and over again. So many times I've felt that God was finally moving - that the time was coming, and over and over again, everything falls through and every door closes. This particular time really put me in a tail spin. My heart was sick.

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life." Proverbs 13:12

One of the things I struggle with is doubting my calling. When I feel the doors never open - that they only close, I wonder....did God really even call me to this, or have I just lost my mind? I know there are seasons, but seriously? Will it always be winter? Can you identify?

Let me tell you a couple of things that ministered to me this week....both are wrapped up in my home group. I hope you have a home group (small group, cell group, family life group...whatever your church may call them). I don't know what we would do without ours.

1. I broke down and shared. Our church offers what we call "Immersion" every month for other churches to bring their pastors, staff, and leadership team to for training on being effective disciple makers. This particular week, our group had about ten extra people visiting who were all here from different areas on the Washington coast. They were all going through "Immersion" and had been sent to our group to get the feel for how we do small groups. I was late this particular night because I needed to pick up one of my kids from a friend's at the last minute. I walked into a group 2-3 times its normal size and full of people I didn't know. But when it came time to pray, I couldn't lie. I wasn't doing well. I humbled myself, broke down in front of everyone and confessed my sin of unbelief. The next day, I could literally feel the prayers of my brothers and sisters in Christ. My attitude and outlook felt completely different and God was speaking to me.

"Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective." James 5:16

2. God spoke through the story of Mary. 

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the entrance. So she came running to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one Jesus loved, and said, "They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don't know where they have put him!"

 So Peter and the other disciple started for the tomb. Both were running, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent over and looked in at the strips of linen lying there but did not go in. Then Simon Peter, who was behind him, arrived and went into the tomb. He saw the strips of linen lying there, as well as the burial cloth that had been around Jesus' head. The cloth was folded up by itself, separate from the linen. Finally the other disciple, who had reached the tomb first, also went inside. He saw and believed. (They still did not understand from Scripture that Jesus had to rise from the dead.)

Then the disciples went back to their homes, but Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus' body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot.

 They asked her, "Woman, why are you crying?"

   "They have taken my Lord away," she said, "and I don't know where they have put him." At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was Jesus.

 "Woman," he said, "why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?" 
      Thinking he was the gardener, she said, "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him."

 Jesus said to her, "Mary." 
      She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, "Rabboni!" (which means Teacher).

Jesus said, "Do not hold on to me, for I have not yet returned to the Father. Go instead to my brothers and tell them, 'I am returning to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.' "

Mary Magdalene went to the disciples with the news: "I have seen the Lord!" And she told them that he had said these things to her. John 20:1-18

Picture this:

Mary feels that Jesus is gone. His followers have never caught on to the fact that he was really going to rise from the dead. She is already heartbroken when she's making her way to the tomb. When she gets there, she comes to the realization that he is REALLY GONE! He's just GONE!

She gets the disciples and they confirm that he isn't there. Mary is weeping in the garden and when Jesus approaches her to ask about her tears, she doesn't ever recognize Him. It could be that He looked different. It could have been that her eyes were so swollen that she couldn't see right. It may have been that she just couldn't make herself really look at the man who was talking to her. We don't really know. 

We do know that the moment that she recognized Him was when He spoke her name. She recognized His voice when He spoke her name. Do you think there was a special way He usually said her name? Did he say it with a little laugh, like "Silly Mary. I'm right here. Don't you see it is me?" I'm not sure, but there was some kind of familiarity there. Jesus and Mary had a relationship. 

I could identify with Mary this week because I've been looking for Jesus. I couldn't find Him. He had seemed to disappear. In my pain and grief, I didn't recognize that He was right there the whole time, but when He calls my name....Oh, man! When He gets my attention in the special way He knows to do with me (because we have a relationship), I can totally recognize Him. He called me to His Word, and He spoke to me through Mary's life.....and I realized that He never left at all. The whole time I thought He was gone, He was just working on fulfilling the promises He made....promises that, as Mary, I may not have even understood.

My week ended with hope because Jesus spoke. There are still many closed doors, but I can see that Jesus is really right there. He is always at work, even when I can't see it right away.

Have you heard Him speak your name, lately? How does He call you? 

Prayers Over the Ironing Board

My parents had two families. I didn't grow up in a blended family - like my dad had two families or my mom had two families. Mom and dad are celebrating their 38th wedding anniversary this Thursday. I was born about 15 months into their marriage. 19 months later, my brother Jonathan joined the family. Mom and dad had their boy and their girl and felt their family was complete. However, several years later, they begin to feel that they should allow God to give them more children and three more brothers joined the family. As in many large families, my mother was a mother of preschoolers and babies all through my teen years. I've been reflecting on a lot of that this week because, one week from tomorrow, one of my younger brothers is getting married. Kind of like a parent, I've been thinking back to the days I changed his diapers and when he smeared his poo all over my bedroom wall from his crib (I usually shared a room with the babes). I remember when my friends used to call him Chicken Little because he was so white and had big ol' glasses and went around spouting facts that he'd learned that week - like how many sides a septagon had. I remember holding his pet beetles or him when he HAD to take them to the fourth of July parade so they could watch too.

Now, I didn't win many "best attitude" awards as a teen. I really loved God, and I loved His Word - but I hadn't really translated that over to loving those around me very well. I didn't understand anything about sleep deprivation and nursing and hormones, so I was quite certain that my moms cranky attitudes were based out of her lack of spirituality. I never really saw her read her Bible. I knew she didn't get up early. So one day, I decided to tell her what she needed.

Yes, you can imagine how that went over.

Actually my mom could have exploded and retaliated. I might have. But instead she told me a story that I've never forgotten. She told me how when she was in college, she came home fired up for the Lord and had a similar attitude towards her own mother. She told me how she approached her own farm wife mother one day to guide her as well and how her mother told her, "You better learn how to say your prayers over the ironing board, because there may come a time when that is the only prayer time you have."

My maternal grandmother died when I was six, so I don't have very many memories of her. But this story will stick in my mind forever. It has rung in my ears during years of saying my prayers during feedings and diaper changes (Let's face it! I don't iron!).

My grandma has inspired much of my learning to build my relationship with God as a mom.

What about you? Where do you say your prayers?

The Journey...a (almost) typical day in the life

Just for fun, and a little humor, I want to share with you the detailed account of one of my actual days this week. Days like this one prove to me what God shared with me a while back: Time with God isn't necessarily easier when your kids are past the pre-school age. All of life has its ups and downs and hills and valleys. The relationship we build with God has to be more solid than a time slot or a checklist. There are some days that my flare prayers are as good as it gets. I just spend the whole day reminding myself how much I need the Lord to survive - and not kill anyone.

So, enjoy! You can go ahead and laugh. I won't mind. :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day begins (sorta) at 5:30 a.m. My alarm goes off and I hit snooze.

The alarm goes off again at 5:35, and I hit snooze.

The alarm goes off again at 5:40, 5:45, 5:50, 5:55, 6:00, and 6:05 before I actually get up.

My exercise aspirations were conquered once again by my love for flannel sheets and heated mattress covers.

6:07 a.m. I hit the shower AND wash my hair for the first time since...um...I think Wednesday. Isn't that gross?

6:30 a.m. Emerge from my room, dressed and ready to conquer - oh who am I kidding?! ready for coffee!

6:34 a.m. Sit down at the couch with coffee and spend some time talking to God about having a heart that is hungry for him...begin forming outlines and notes for the beginnings of a Bible Study curriculum (six week study) that I'm really excited about.

6:56 a.m. Try to wake up sons #1 and 2.

6:58 a.m. Go back to couch and keep working.

7:03 a.m. Try to wake up sons #1 and 2.

7:07 a.m. Try to wake up sons #3 and 4.

7:08 a.m. Try to wake up sons #1 and 2.

Is it Groundhog Day again?

7:10 a.m. Son #3 emerges from his room in a school uniform and lets loose his croupy cough while complaining how sore his throat is.

7:12 a.m. Son #2 emerges from his room in a school uniform with a bright red eye, complaining how sore his throat is.

7:15 a.m. inspect throats under the kitchen light and decide that two kiddos will be staying home from school.

7:21 a.m. Make sure son #1, still wrapped in a towel, realizes that his ride is leaving in four minutes.

7:26 a.m. Make sure son #1, who is still barefoot realizes that his ride is leaving in two minutes.

7:30 a.m. Separate son #4 from two stray puppies in the yard and drag kids to the van.

7:49 a.m. Return home and get out cereal.

8:00 a.m. Begin working.

8:10 a.m. Settle a fight about whether my very sick kids will be watching T.V. or playing the Wii.

8:12 a.m. Son #2 has "broken" #4's leg and he is forced to crawl with muffled cries across the living room while I silently shush him. I have a customer on the phone.

9:30 a.m. Begin working on headache customer's issue.

10:00 a.m. Still working on headache customer's issue.

10:10 a.m. Tell God that this day is just too much for me and ask for strength.

10:30 a.m. Still working on headache customer's issue. Realize that sons 1-3 have drug a bed mattress right behind me, all the way down the stairs and are jumping off the stairs onto it. They are oh, so sick.

11:00 a.m. Remind boys that they need to be dressed to go to the doctor.

11:15 a.m. Still working on headache customer's issue. Remind boys again that they need to get dressed. They have progressed from their pajamas to running around in their underwear with their t-shirts tied into bikini tops. There is something very wrong with this picture.

11:28 a.m. Finish headache customer's issue and threaten to leave the boys while I go to their doctor's appointment by myself. ( I know. Great threat.) They are still barefoot.

11:34 a.m. Leave home for the 11:30 a.m. doctor's appointment.

12:00 noon Doctor informs me that even though I waited five days this time to come in with the kids, it is still indeed viral, and my trip was pointless.

12:15 p.m.. Get in line at the post office.

12:25 p.m. Still in line at the post office.

12:30 p.m. Still in line at the post office.

12:35 p.m. Postal worker wheels out a cart of packages for me. That has never happened. I have never had that many packages.

12:40 p.m. Dump packages in van, return cart to post office lobby, and answer questions for a gentlemen about dropping off an express package, since I clearly work for the post office.

12:45 p.m. Call a friend and admit a dire need for help.

12:50 p.m. Drop son #4 off for afternoon kindergarten...that started at 12:15 p.m. Let his teacher know, that I, again, will not be back at 2:00, to fill my volunteer time slot.

1:00 p.m. Give lunch instructions to boys 2 and 3 and get back to work.

1:30 p.m. Tell boys that they are going to their own rooms and their own beds and not coming out until we leave to pick up #1 and 4 from school.

1:35 p.m. Tell son #3 to go back to his room.

1:40 p.m. Tell son #2 to go back to his room.

1:45 p.m. Tell son #3 to go back to his room.

1:50 p.m. Tell son #2 to go back to his room.

2:00 p.m. Son #1 calls to say that he can't go to study hall after school. It is canceled. He has to be off campus by 3:00.

2:02 p.m. Pretend not to notice that son #3 has left his room again, and is in the bathroom. again.

2:25 p.m. Finally allow sons 2 and 3 to be in the same room together if they keep the door closed and play quietly.

3:07 p.m. Realize that I forgot to pick up son #1 because he texts me to find out how close I am. I ask him to start walking to the other boys' school.

3:08 p.m. Son #2 has "broken" son #3's hip. He is resorted to army crawling - no army dragging across the dining room tile. He cannot walk.

3:10 p.m. Get in the van and wait for the crippled child to run to the van and get in.

3:12 p.m. Lose it with my kids! It was brewing for a while. Sigh.

3:20 p.m. Pick up #4 from kindergarten. Never saw #1 on the way. He must have walked a different route.

3:30 p.m. Lose #'s 2-4 on the playground...no, they're not on the playground! That is why they are lost. They are oh, so sick.

3:35 p.m. Breathe for five minutes on the school sidewalk and chat with a friend about our woes of helping boys learn to read.

3:40 p.m. Son #1 makes it to the school. Still haven't found #'s 2-4.

3:55 p.m. Get mail from mailbox at house. Open not 1, not 2, not 3, but 4 IDENTICAL letters from Citi Financial expressing their regret that I turned down their offer of a loan at 31.99% to pay off my lower interest credit cards and letting me know that they are still there for me, should I change my mind. Seriously? Who makes this stuff up?

4:00 p.m. Make it home with all four boys, make chore lists, and give snack choices. Head back to work.

4:10 p.m. Turn off t.v. and remind them of their chore lists.

4:20 p.m. Give permission for boys 2-4 to go play with friends after they have finished their chores and have a snack if they want it. They need to be home by 5:00.

4:45 p.m. Illustrate seven different back exercises and stretches for son #1 who has hurt his back somehow. I'm tempted to think it is related to his assigned chore.

4:57 p.m. Listen to son #1 explain that the reason his backpack smells like a tree is because two precious boys at school doused it with Axe body spray and attempted to set it on fire with a lighter.

5:12 p.m. Boys return and ask for a snack. They "didn't get one!" Stand by my guns. Snack time is over.

5:14 p.m. Listened to voice mail from my best friend. MISSED HER CALL!!!...somewhere in the snack time whining.

5:15 p.m. Warn the boys that we are leaving for church in 15 minutes.

5:25 p.m. Touch up makeup, grab drinks for potluck.

5:30 p.m. Get in the van and threaten to leave the barefoot children home alone. Pfff! Another good one.

5:38 p.m. Leave home and pick up Bill from work. Spend our 20 minutes for the entire day trying to catch up on what is going on. I tell Bill, "You don't want to know about my day. I'll just spare you." Finally break and highlight doctor's visits, kids running off at school, and headache customer.

6:00 p.m. Get to church and enjoy potluck.

6:15 p.m. Call #2 back from trying to get more dessert.

6:17 p.m. Call #3 back from trying to get more dessert.

6:19 p.m. Call #4 back from trying to get more dessert.

6:23 p.m. #2 escapes and gets more dessert.

6:25 p.m. Oh, glorious hallelujah!!! Childcare is open!!!! Two glorious hours of encouragement and talk on discipleship, and heart-searching, and prayer time and watch Louie Giglio's How Great is Our God and let God's greatness and magnificence pour over me. I soak in every glorious drop of encouragement.

8:30 p.m. Visit with friends and oogle over babies and head home.

8:40 p.m. Listen to voice mail from afore mentioned friend. She's on it!

8:45 p.m. Respond to whining kids in the van who "didn't get any dessert."

8:53 p.m. Miss the exit to get Bill's truck from work and have to turn around and go back.

9:10 p.m. Get home. Respond to whining about wanting stories.

9:15 p.m. Do dishes. Scrape avocado and smashed banana off the counter. Pick up bread crusts and spilled orange yogurt off the floor. Wash the floor.

9:40 p.m. Make hot tea. Sit down to watch the last 20 minutes of one of our favorite shows.

9:43 p.m. Catch a glimpse of my beautiful basket of Valentine verses on the end table and realize that we didn't do our verse today...or yesterday. :(

10:00 p.m. Start opening packages. Oh, yay! There is a tux from a friend for #3 to wear in Brother #2's wedding!!! Shirt and all!

11:00 p.m. Spend and hour blogging about my day. Don't I have better things to do?

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Happy Valentine's Day! Get off the computer and go kiss your honey!

...and if you'd like something more spiritual to read, go here! :D