Thursday, October 1, 2015

Will's Pumpkin Patch

I am not sure if Will or Mama will have more fun playing in this little pumpkin center...

Last weekend, we visited our local pumpkin patch, walked through the corn maze, pet the goats, strangled the kitties and perused the pumpkins...  We left with a trunk-full of apple pies, gourds and other fall treasures.  All of this inspired me to dream up a little pumpkin patch play station for Will (and me)... 

I think, to kill another fifteen minutes, I will take the pumpkins and gourds and hide them in some of our grasses and bushes outside...  Then he'll have to "pick" the pumpkins to stock his little country store!

Who wants to come play??

Bench is from IKEA, baskets are from the Dollar Spot at Target, jars are filled with scraps of yarn to look like jelly and honey, cash register is from IKEA, all writing is with a chalk pen, pumpkins and gourds are from Fareway, "pie" containers are old from Michael's Dollar area...

Monday, August 31, 2015

A Perfect Gift for ANYone!

You guys.  Mark turned thirty this year.  THIRTY.

Months before the big day, I was stressing over what to DO for this milestone birthday.  He is not a huge fan of big parties, I knew he wouldn't want a million people involved, and he is so not materialistic.  This makes for difficult celebrating and gift-giving.

...until I remembered the way to a man's heart is through is stomach...

And really, men and women have stomachs and like to EAT and DRINK, so this idea is, in my mind, perfect for anyone you are looking to bless.

Enter, the THIRSTY THIRTY...  (insert other catchy titles for other birthdays...)

Thirty days before his big day, I gifted him with a special drink (and sometimes a snack, too!) each day.  Hardly any drinks or snacks needed special prep time.  Selfish as it may seem, I planned around my own schedule and offered easy drinks on busy days, and drinks/food that took more preparation on slower days.

We used...

  • Different forms of brewed coffee - french press, espresso, americano, his favorite ground coffee in our regular coffee pot, etc.
  • Store-bought coffee drinks - Starbucks Frappuccinos, Iced Coffees, and Doubleshots
  • Homemade shakes and smoothies - from chocolate ice cream shakes to spinach and protein smoothies!
  • Store-bought Arnie Palmers, Arizona teas, and his favorite purple Gatorades
  • Beers! - our local Hy-Vee and Fareway offer a "Pick 6" where you are able to customize your own 6-pack, choosing from a wide variety of seasonal, craft, local and seasonal beers.  
When I was out buying all the drinks, I also threw in some easy snacks - beef jerky, special salsa, guacamole, nutella, Combos, and other munchies he likes!

The verdict?  Mark LOVED it.  Some days, he'd run straight to the fridge after work to see if he had a surprise beer waiting...  Other days, he'd ask if he could have an "advance" - a special coffee and beer and smoothie in one day...  (insert eye roll...)

Now, he is asking if I will forgo regular presents and just do this sort of thing EVERY year...  

...I think our budget will require something else, though, when he gets to be 94.

Regardless, this is a perfect idea for anyone with a stomach, whether they are 30 or 37 or 84.  I am even thinking about how fun it would be to rehash for a kid - juice boxes, smoothies, special snacks!  Just customize the drinks to your liking and gift away!


Friday, August 21, 2015

Space - The Final Frontier

When we found out we were pregnant with Charlotte, we started making plans to move Will to a "big boy room," leaving the nursery for Baby Sister.

Because I LOVE to decorate and because I LOVE Will and because I was excited for this new chapter, I spent hours and hours on his room - incorporating parts of his personality in every detail.  I designed new artwork, found the perfect curtains, made space for his tractors, created a cozy book nook, found a home for a big and comfy reading/snuggling chair, carefully selected some special "big boy" toys for his baskets...  We bought a new crib/toddler bed...  Mark painted the walls, hung the shelves, designed a changing table in his closet, measured out where the artwork should go...  My mom sewed matching sheets and made an adorable tent to have adventures and camp-outs in...

...and, it was perfect...well-worth the sweat and the investment and the hours.

But then...

A couple of months ago, Will finally figured out how to climb out of his crib.  We knew this was inevitable, so we moved ahead and converted his crib to a toddler bed - a bed he could easily climb in and out of without killing himself in the middle of the night.

And then, bless his heart, we found Will taking FULL advantage of his snazzy room.  He was reading books and skipping naps, playing with tractors until 11 PM, climbing up to the tippy-top of his comfy chair, running laps around his tent, yanking his shelves from the drywall and, not sleeping.

So, I had to do it...  I tore apart my labor of love, dismantled Will's little paradise of fun and stripped the room bare.  Every toy, every book, every tiny thing he could find a way to play with got tossed into big IKEA bags and put in the basement.

And we were back to square one - left with a vacant, boring, ugly room.

Yes, he slept better.  Yes, he napped better, but I was mad at Will.

Not only had he squandered all my hard work, his crazy up-all-night-shenanigans had ruined a welcoming and beautiful place in our house.  Every time I walked into his blank space of a room, I was a little annoyed and a little bummed and a little distracted by its new-found ugliness.

Fast forward a few weeks.

Will and Charlotte have become obsessed with opening and shutting doors (Will opens, Charlotte shuts.  They are quite the team).  Every once in a while, I would watch them toddle off, down the hall into Will's room and shut the door.  At first, I was concerned.  Surely they would kill each other behind a closed door, away from my protection.  I would immediately follow them, open the door and confirm they were both still alive and well.

As this scene continued to repeat itself over a few days, though, I started leaving them alone for a few minutes at a time...only to hear, to my surprise, squeals of delight, belly laughs and high-pitched giggles coming from the end of the hall.

"Pay wit Chalee in woom, Mama?" Will would ask.

"You want to play with Charlie in your room?" I'd clarify.

"Okay!!!" he'd yell with a grin, and off he sprinted with Charlie at his heels.

Giggles, more giggles, belly laughs, squeals, and screams of baby talk...

Feeling like I was missing out on something incredibly fun, I started to join them, and this is what I found:

They hide behind the curtains and scream "BOO!" as the other runs away.
They wrestle and tackle and squeal with delight.
They make funny faces at each other and belly laugh until they fall backwards.
They chase and race and jump and yell...

They make their own fun in that ugly room.

Now?  It's not uncommon for the four of us - Mark, myself and the two crazies - to run into that same room after bath time, shut the door, and share the best moments of the entire day.

In that blank room, there are no toys, no decorations, no phones, no books, no clocks, no computers, no knocks at the door, no televisions...

In that big space, there's nothing but the four of us.  Wrestling.  Belly-laughing.  Being together - with nothing in the way.

Maybe an ugly, undecorated, empty room is just what I needed.

Sometimes, I think I can decorate myself into a corner with no room to run free.  We can snuggle into our matching sheets and pile of stuffed animals and forget to cuddle and wrestle with the ones we love most.  We have so many toys laying around on our floors, we can't spin and twirl with abandon.  We read so many books, we forget to have a face-to-face conversation...

Sometimes our stuff becomes clutter and our busyness becomes a stumbling block.

Maybe we need more empty rooms, more space...

Maybe, at least sometimes, we need less... experience more...

...more togetherness, more freedom, more adventures, more joy...


And, if nothing else, maybe we need less just so we can sleep better at night...  Right, Will?  (wink, wink...)

PS - This is addendum is for regard to space: the final frontier, the title of this post.  I will now write this all by heart, Dad.  Ahem...  Space: The Final Frontier...  These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise...its continuing mission is to explore strange, new seek out new life and new boldly go where no one has gone before!!

Monday, August 17, 2015

Charlotte's Ice Cream + Sprinkle Party!

Clear Balloons + Tissue Paper Confetti inside!

The invitation!

Plain Pint Ice Cream Containers + Circus Animal Crackers + Fabric Scraps + Baker's Twine = Party Favors!

Ice Cream chalkboard "table cloth" is a 36''x 48'' engineer print (paper!) - about $7 to print black and white.  File is from The Caravan Shoppe.

The food table was covered in kraft wrapping paper.  I drew quick ice cream cones with chalk marker (to match cones from the chalkboard table cloth - see above!).

Photo backdrop is also an engineer print.  File from The Caravan Shoppe!

Straws are from Target, Dot cups are from Shop Sweet Lulu!

Charlie's first Sundae!  Napkins from Shop Sweet Lulu, plates from Target.


Tuesday, August 11, 2015

Mommy Wars : Our Real Enemy

It's been a while, folks.  To catch up, THIS is where I talked about how much Mommy Wars stink.

And, THIS is where we chatted about WHY we Mommy War - we war because we care; we war because we were made to war.

But here's the thing.  When we armor up and draw our weapons, we'd better be dang sure of whose side we're on, and who the real enemy is.  After all, we'd hate to fight against our friends and sisters and loved ones...

And, yet...we do just that.  Our sweet friends and sisters and loved ones are falling casualty to a tragic, misguided war.  Our arrows of unsolicited advice and judgment and comparisons and disrespect and snide remarks are wounding, killing and paralyzing the very ones we should be protecting.

So let's take a minute and clarify something.

Fellow mamas are not your enemy.  We are all on the same team - Co-sleepers and Formula Feeders and Antivaxxers and Public Schoolers and Cloth Diaper-ers alike.  Like it or not, we are all allies.

And, our common enemy?  Satan.  His lies, his demons, the powers of hell, the forces of evil...

I think we are all smart enough to realize this.  We know our time and energy could be better spent warring against the devil instead of each other...but it is still very difficult to unite with people we, even superficially, disagree with.

How can we find it in our sinful, stubborn hearts to protect and support and even like mamas who CO-SLEEP?!  Or feed their babies "poisonous" FORMULA?!  Or let their babies CRY IT OUT?!  Or who WORK OUTSIDE THE HOME?!  Or who DON'T VACCINATE?!  (Insert other "horrible" things you may disagree with...)

Let me share a couple of stories...

ONE - When Mark and I lived in Sioux Falls, we worked for a ministry called Young Life.  Our mission was to equip teams of adults to invest in the lives of kids, build relationships, share life, and ultimately, share Jesus.  These adults - our Young Life Leaders - were a motley crew.  Some were fresh out of high school, others were young dads, others were grandparents.  Some of us were jocks, others band geeks and math nerds.  Our team consisted of introverts and extroverts, loud and funny, quiet and serious.  Some of us dressed in black, had obsessions with snakes and Batman...  Others wore dresses and cardigans and did Geometry problems for fun (I love you, Jess).  Some of us grew up in The Church, others were virtually unchurched.  Overall, we were all over the place.  Very few of us would have picked each other out of a crowd to befriend or hang out with.  And, yet...  Yet, we would have done anything for each other.  We loved each other deeply.  We looked forward to gathering.  We had each others' backs.  We fought and sacrificed and supported each other through thick and thin.

TWO - Years ago, when I was working at a church, I was weathering a rough patch in life.  Through a series of events, I stumbled into a group of people who were gathering for weekly prayer meetings - again, a random bunch!  We were from different denominations, different backgrounds, shared different views on some theological points.  We were wives and college students and farmers and moms and grandpas and missionaries and ninety year-olds.  We rarely hung out, other than to meet for prayer.  We were not on each other's list of people to call on a Friday night to get together.  We had very little in common.  We didn't know what each other's favorite colors were or what each of us did last weekend or how we met our spouses.  And, yet...  Yet, we experienced a supernatural kind of unity I can't begin to fully explain.  We laughed and cried and intercessed and stood in the gap for each other, and our churches, as hours would fly by.  We, too, loved each other deeply.  Even to this day, I am not exaggerating in saying we'd die for one another.

In both situations, these groups of people had much to disagree about.  We had plenty to divide over, and even more to become annoyed with.  So, why were these groups so tight, so full of love, so united?  Why were we so willing to protect and defend and sacrifice for each other?

Despite our differences, we were united in a greater mission - fighting for the purposes of the Lord and warring against Satan.

Though the group of Young Life leaders wouldn't normally befriend each other, we were united in reaching kids for Jesus.  We warred against the powers of hell to spread the gospel.  

Though my prayer meeting friends wouldn't normally hang out with each other, we were united in praying for our community.  We warred against the enemy in calling forth the Lord's fullness for our area.

In these groups, the importance of the mission superseded our differences.

The things we did not have in common, and the things we could have disagreed upon, seemed smaller, compared to the weight and gravity of our common, overarching objectives.

So.  Back to Mommy Wars...

The truth is, Satan hates our children.  He hates families.  He hates moms and dads.  As we sit and obliviously bicker about organic baby food, demons are on targeted missions to attack and destroy our most precious treasures and callings.  The enemy will stop at nothing to tear apart our marriages, desecrate the sanctity of our children's lives, cause us to believe we will never measure up as a mother, and reduce our families to brokenness.

This is not cause for fear - this is a call to action.

When we stop and realize this and embrace this truth, we should feel compelled, all the more, to unite with fellow mothers around a mission that is much greater than ourselves.

Instead of wasting time judging and disrespecting and comparing breast milk over Enfamil, war against Satan!

You were made to war.  

The battle lines have been drawn, and it's time for us to take our rightful place in the Lord's army, and stand our ground.

Put on the full armor of God, and war for Truth!

War to share the gospel in your community!  War to care for the orphan!  War to raise up the next generation of worshippers!  War to disciple younger women!  War to care for the sick and elderly!    War to enfold minority families!  War to raise up a generation of young people who are sold out for Jesus!  War to further the kingdom of God, here, as it is in heaven!

Sunday, June 28, 2015

Why We Mommy War

Catch up on previous Mommy Wars posts HERE!

Most of us know this mommy war business needs to stop.  I'm guessing we'd all be in favor of turning OFF judgments, hurtful comments, controversy, polarization, and unsolicited advice.  I'm also guessing we'd all be in favor of turning ON love, mutual respect, and support...

But really - where is that ON/OFF switch?  

If you find it, let me know.  I've been searching for it for the last two years.  I'd love to just flip a switch and feel more warm fuzzies towards mamas I disagree with, but try as I may, I can't get over my passionate viewpoints and emotions long enough to want to hug moms who just don't get it.

I don't even want to high five them.

And I will certainly not be holding their hands, singing Kumbaya around a campfire any time soon.


So there you have it.  Mommy Wars will never end because Liza Jane DeYounge is an opinionated, judgmental, brat-of-a-mama who can't seem to "play nice."

I know.  I am the problem.

Maybe others of you struggle, like me?  Anyone?  ...  Bueller?

We can continue to grit our teeth, fake a smile and pretend we respect and support those we disagree with (even as we think, "They are SO wrong!")...  We can modify our behaviors towards other moms and be nice to each other on the outside...  But, we (and by "we," I mean "I") really need to dig a little deeper to get to the heart of this issue.

First, let me get the Sunday School answer out of the way.  Why do we war against other moms?  Because we are sinners.  We are prone to wander, we are liable to judge, we are apt to disrespect our fellow sisters in Christ.


Please hear that loud and clear.  Without Him and His grace, we will continue to fail.  More and more sisters will fall - casualties in a tragic war.  We need to pray that, ultimately, our hearts would be transformed from the inside out, and that our attitudes and actions would be more like Jesus'.

Though I think this first truth - we war because we are sinners - is the most important truth, I am going to spend more time unpacking two other ideas, mostly because I think they are less obvious and are less talked about in our mommy circles.  This next statement might surprise you...

I don't think Mommy Wars are ALL BAD.

In fact, I think a lot of facets of our wars are GOOD.


We war because we care!

We should care!  Caring is good and necessary and completely foundational in being a mom.  Our children are our most prized possessions - among our very greatest blessings.  Our kids are our most precious treasures. 

No wonder our hearts grieve over parenting decisions.  No wonder we lie wide awake in the middle of the night worrying about our kids' health.  No wonder we over-research and over-analyze every approach in raising our little ones.  No wonder we are meticulous.  No wonder we are guarded.  No wonder we are passionate about our beliefs.  Our love and our care and our zeal for our little ones becomes so strong that when someone, or something, comes against (or even disagrees with) those beliefs and approaches, it cuts to our core - deep into our hearts, and the urge to draw our weapons is a natural response.

We should not be surprised by this.

We should not be ashamed of this.

Feeling strongly about our children and taking our parenting seriously are not things we need to apologize for.  We should take a stand, fight, bleed and war for the things that matter most.

Taking this a step further, we war because we were made to war.

Why else would we be commanded by GOD to put on armor, of all things?  Why else would we be called to "fight the good fight" as a "good soldier of Christ Jesus?"  Language of battles, soldiers, weapons, war and fights are all over the Bible.  Heck, even if you don't care about the Bible, why else would the "Mama Bear" instinct to defend, protect and fight come so naturally?

There is something instinctual, woven into the fabric of our DNA, that will continue to spur us on in battling - even dying - for our most precious treasures.


This is where things get a little tricky. Though we should care, and though we were made to war, I believe our passionate beliefs and our mommy wars are, largely, misguided.

The gigantic problem in all of this is that we are warring against each other instead of uniting with each other to fight against our real enemy.  

More on this later.

Friday, June 26, 2015

The Best Iced Coffee + A Free Printable!

Just last night, a friend asked me about my iced coffee recipe, which reminded me I hadn't posted this yet.  Lame.  Better late than never, yes?

When the weather gets warmer, this is a necessity in our house!

You can find the full recipe HERE, from The Pioneer Woman, and here are a handful of tips from yours truly!

1) I always use Starbucks ground coffee.  It is a little more expensive, but worth the investment.

2) I always use a DECAF roast.  This is just a preference, but I like to drink iced coffee even late in the day, so decaf is the way to go for me.

3) I have yet to find cheesecloth (to strain the grounds) in my little town.  I have always used a (clean, new - wink, wink!) cloth diaper insert, and it works great!

4) When the summer dishes go on sale at Wal-Mart and Target, I stock up on pretty bottles, then use them to give iced coffee gifts!  The bottles in the picture were just over $1 a piece on clearance.  We've used it for inexpensive Mother's Day gifts and presents for our sweet babysitters.

5) Remember, this is a CONCENTRATE, so you will need to add ice, creamer, or whatever else when you actually serve the drink.  When I give the concentrate as gifts, I use baker's twine to tie a pretty tag on the bottle with instructions.  Snag my printable tags HERE for FREE!

6) This keeps in your fridge for a few weeks.  Beyond that point, though, I think it starts to taste funny.  Mark doesn't notice it, but for you highly sensitive folks, heads up.  Bleh.

Good luck, friends!  Enjoy!

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

On Mommy Wars

I had no idea what I was getting into.

Though I had read all the books, gone to the classes, talked to all the professionals and over-researched every tiny, intricate, detail of birth and parenting, nothing prepared me for what was in store when I had my first child.

Nobody told me how judgmental, how hurtful, how alienating and how hot the Mommy Wars would rage around me.  


You thought I was going to talk about something else?  Like, how unprepared I was for the amount of poop that could come out of a tiny, seven pound baby?  Or how surprised I was by the overwhelming love that filled my heart the first time I laid eyes on my son?  Or how unready I was to tackle the real life messiness of what it means to be a mama?

Yeah, yeah, yeah.  Those things, too.

But really, guys.  I just have to talk about these Mommy Wars for a minute.

They are the worst.

I had no idea we mamas could find so much to fight about.  Natural births or scheduled c-sections?  Pacifiers or nipple confusion?  Breastfeeding or straight formula?  Or pumping?  Or exclusively pumping?  Circumcision or not?  Swaddles or no?  Baby-wearing?  Co-Sleeping?  Sleep Training?  Cry it out?  Attachment parenting?  And vaccines!  What about those?!  Organic?  Pesticides?  Maternity leave?  Stay-at-home?  Work from home?  Daycare?  Cloth diapers?  Disposable?  

The list makes me anxious just writing it.  

Those of us who tend to be more assertive join the war with our disapproving looks, our pointed questions, our not-so-helpful horror stories, and our not-so-helpful unsolicited advice.  Those of us who tend to be more passive aggressive join the fight by "just" posting controversial and polarizing articles on Facebook, and slipping in snide remarks when we're in the company of likeminded friends.  "Can you believe they let their baby cry it out?!"  If you're like me, you tend to stay out of the trenches and more on the sidelines, but your mind becomes the battlefield - I stay up at night fighting these dumb battles in my head.  "Am I really making the right decision?  What will so-and-so think?  How would anyone in their right mind do that?!  How selfish.  How naive."  

I don't think any mom is immune.  The battle rages on - all around us - and it seems to show up in every detail of our parenting.

Praise the Lord, some of us aren't buying it.  There are so many great mamas out there who are sounding the alarm and saying, "This Mommy War stuff is a load of crap, and we should not be fighting this much!  Stop, stop, stop!"  High fives - all around.  

Many articles I have read in regard to ending Mommy Wars have hovered around some common themes - judge less, love more, put yourself in another mom's shoes, be respectful, etc.  Though I heartily agree with these sentiments, I have felt like something was missing.

I'm not sure these approaches really get to the root of the issue.  We can modify our behaviors, keep trimming back the weeds of judgments and disrespectful comments and polarizing Facebook articles, we can keep desperately trying to love each other more, but until we really pull up the roots and get to the heart of the problem, those stubborn weeds will keep growing back.  Another, different issue will pop up, we will be offended or defensive or passionate, and we will jump into battle all over again.  And, beyond pulling up the weeds, how in the world do we disagreeing mamas build positive relationships in the space that's cleared?

I would like to take another handful of blog posts to talk more in depth about these sorts of things.  I won't be writing as someone who has this all figured out.  Heck, I still pick up my sword and join the Mommy Wars all-too-often.  Instead, I will be writing as a weak, sinful, somebody who is fed up with the way things are, and who wants to be part of the change I am hoping to see in the world.  The only way I know how to tackle this warring epidemic, at least right now, is to continue the discussion through some of my writing.  

Because we need to keep talking about this.  We need to keep chipping away at the issue, or it will continue to rage.  Let these blog posts provoke some thinking and some talking and some changing, in however the Lord leads.

Up next?  What might be at the heart of all of our mommy warring.  

Sunday, June 14, 2015

About Grace

When little sister goes down without a fight so you can play outside with big brother for an extra hour before the summer sun goes down.  Grace.

When you hear that same little sister crying at night and are sure you'll have to drag your butt out of bed to feed her another bottle, but then.....  Quiet.  Grace.

When your doctor says, "This is nothing I'm concerned about.  This is completely normal."  Grace.

When you plan to be rushed and short on time, but then the appointment is quick, so you have time to run an extra errand and stroll through a beautiful greenhouse inhaling the sweet smell of wet dirt.  Grace.

When your mother-in-law offers to watch your older one while you put your younger one down, uninterrupted, for the night.  Grace.

When your toddler gets to see a rainbow for the first time - full and bright, arching across your back patio.

When you've been meaning to buy a basket to put in that certain spot for months, and when you finally remember to put it on your errand list, and when your aunt (who has no idea) walks in the door that morning with, you guessed it - a basket.  And it fits perfectly.  Grace.

When, finally, for the third time in a row, your littlest one is good for a babysitter, and you can begin to taste the sweetness of some time away again.  Grace.

When it's rainy, and you have quiet time in the car with a latte.  Grace.

When you get to sit in cool grass with your toddler, watching the neighbors fly kites across the street.  When your toddler is mezmerized by the kite-flying, and he sits still next to you, his pudgy hand in your lap, for a whole 10 minutes.

When there's nothing left to do but drink a glass of wine, eat a piece of chocolate and watch your favorite show.

When you've fought all night, when you've acted like a jerk, and then, when the lights are out and the day is done, your husband still pulls you in to cuddle.  Grace.

Thursday, June 11, 2015

The Smallest Prayers

For the last several months, we have been teaching Will to pray.  At our mealtimes, we ask him what he wants to talk to Jesus about today.

His answers?



Baby Yoo-eee (Lewie - his newest cousin).

Every single time.  For months.

"Hey, Champ!  What should we talk to Jesus about tonight?"


"Okay!  What else?"


"Sure!  We'll thank Jesus for chicken - you love chicken nuggets, don't you?  Anything else we should pray to Jesus about?"

"Baby Yoo-eee."

"Okay.  Good deal.  Let's pray..."

Months passed, and we laughed a little bit every time Will asked to pray for chicken.  We thought it was cute.  He loves chicken nuggets, so we assumed it was one of the first things he thought of at the supper table.

Except he prayed for chicken every day.  And we do not have chicken nuggets every day...or even close to every day, for that matter.

And then things changed.

Just lately, Will has only mentioned that he's wanted to pray for Papa and Baby Lewie - no chicken.

"Huh," I thought to myself.  "I guess he's moved on.  What a funny guy."

And, then it hit me...

I was absentmindedly listening to MPR (Minnesota Public Radio) today and amongst the reel of hourly news updates, I heard something along the lines of, "There are no new avian flu cases to be reported, quarantine zones are being lifted and chicken farmers are beginning to restock their facilities..."

And then I remembered this New York Times article, posted last month:

Egg Farms Hit Hard as Bird Flu Affects Millions of Hens

A couple of months ago, our little rural town was trying to wrap its mind around the devastation that had hit our local egg and chicken farm.  Thousands and thousands of hens died, workers were struggling to dispose of the waste, keep the virus under control, and wondering if they would have a job in the future.  Truckers and farmers and ag businessmen were worried.  Fear was thick.  Prayer meetings were called and our city cried out for an end to the avian flu.

And, unbeknownst to me, all along, my little 24-month-old Will was praying, too.  "Jesus, help kick-ins." Put an end to the avian flu...

And the Lord heard and answered.

So then, lo and behold, Will knew he could stop praying for the chickens

And today, MPR caught on with reports of cancelled quarantines.

So, let it be known - the smallest prayers are not small at all.  Our great, strong, powerful and mighty Deliverer moves heaven and earth in partnership with the tiniest sound of, "Jesus, help!"

Let it be known - our children do not have a "junior" Holy Spirit.  The fullness of the Holy Spirit moves and calls and uses even our littlest ones for His great purposes.

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

Sorry Not Sorry!

Hi, I'm Liza, and I am an Over-Apologizer...

Spell Check is telling me "apologizer" isn't even a real word, so let me explain...  To you and to Spell Check.

A compilation of quotes from my own, nasty mouth lately:
I'm so sorry - my house is in shambles.  I'm so sorry - my hair is such a rat's nest!  I'm so sorry - our kids are so crazy...  So sorry - I didn't make it out of sweatpants today.  I'm so sorry - we're just having cold meat sandwiches.  I'm so sorry - my car is so dirty! 
From Myquillyn Smith in The Nesting Place:
"Oh, just ignore the window, we've been meaning to get new drapes."  "I've been trying to get my husband to paint that wall forever."  "I'm so sorry, those pillows just don't look right on our old sofa."  After the tour, she covered everything with a shocking statement, "I'm so embarrassed.  This house is such a mess."  Every time someone came to the door for our gathering, she welcomed her with an apology, making sure to point out every flaw (I couldn't find any) so the guest was sure to know that she knew her home was less than perfect.  All I could think was that if this beautiful, well-appointed home wasn't good enough for her, then my ramshackle, motley house certainly would never be okay.
Ugh.  That last sentence is a kicker, isn't it?

The tricky thing is that our apologies don't always start with an obvious, "I'm so sorry..."  Words like "just" and "only," for example, can be just as apologetic and just as hurtful.

A few years back, I was at a get-together with some acquaintances.  I overheard a well-dressed lady received a compliment from another gal.

Gal: That is such a cute dress!  Where did you get it?

Well-Dressed Lady: Oh...just Gap.

Me in My Head: Gap?!  JUST Gap?!  It's only from Gap.  I would kill to dress in Gap clothing.  If she thinks Gap is just normal-everyday-humdrum-Gap, then what does she think about my five-year-old Target clearance shirt??  I would love to have the kind of clothing budget that considers Gap no big deal.  Humph.

These were light bulbs for me - if apologizing for a messy house or devaluing the privilege of shopping at a nice store can make others feel insecure and "less than," certainly I should take stock of my own apologies.

And you know what?  In taking stock, in asking the Lord to search my heart, I've discovered the tendency to over-apologize is really a deeper issue.

Over-apologizing and devaluing is really a heart issue...

Over-apologizing can reveal a heart of ungratefulness.
When we apologize for our tattered sofa and two-seasons-old clothing, we admit we are discontent.  We wish to have better, we are dissatisfied with what we have, things are not good enough.

Over-apologizing can expose a heart rooted in score-keeping and comparisons.
When we apologize for ordering "just" pizza and eating on paper plates when our friends recently hosted us for a prime rib dinner with fancy napkins, we reveal we are keeping score.  We measure and weigh each other, and force competition and performance.  We enlist others in a game of comparisons.

Over-apologizing can point to our pride.
We want to be perceived as being modest, so we say we are "only" going on a short, three-day vacation to Cabo.  We take pride in being humble, so when someone compliments us on our accomplishments, we act as if they aren't such a big deal.  We want to appear relatable and down-to-earth, so we devalue our privilege, our wealth, our beauty, our success and our talents.  At its best, this is false humility and false modesty.  At its worst, this points to a prideful heart that would pity and/or look down upon others who you feel are "less" fortunate, "less" wealthy, "less" beautiful, "less" successful or "less" talented.  (Again, please see above on score-keeping...)

Over-apologizing can reveal our insecurities.
We are quick to apologize so others will know we know we "missed the mark," and have much higher standards for ourselves.  We fear others will think we are horrible parents who are okay with chaos, so we apologize for our crazy kids.  We are worried others will think we are terrible housekeepers and love to live in filth, so we apologize for our messy houses.  We are insecure about our weight and that others will think we are lazy couch potatoes, so we apologize for looking "fat" and bloated.              

Instead of ungratefulness, let's cultivate a heart of thanksgiving.
The Nester encourages us to look at our old and tattered sofas with gratefulness - seeing the tears and stains and rumpled appearance as signs of life.  Our tattered sofas have been used, cuddled on, jumped on, and loved well.  Perfect sofas are for model homes and vacant houses.

Instead, let's stop keeping score and cheer others on.
Hooray for talented cooks who whip up prime rib just for fun!  Hooray for fit mamas who run half-marathons on the weekends!  Hooray for tidy housekeepers that remember to make their beds everyday!  When others do something well, if we aren't keeping score or comparing, we will avoid the temptation to apologize for not doing something as well.  We will be too busy celebrating others and we'll forget about our "have nots."

Instead, let's celebrate our gifts!
A few years ago, one of my friends was able to buy a brand new Coach purse.  The minute I saw her, she ran to me excitedly, held out her purse, and said, "Look at this!  I've been waiting forever for this baby!  Don't you LOVE it?!"  Instead of devaluing such a privilege, she rejoiced in it and counted it a huge blessing.  I was able to share in her joy and slap a high five.

Instead, let's be confident in our identity.
Recently, I complimented a friend on her talents as a beautician.  Instead of saying, "Oh, it's not such a big deal.  I should really be better..."  She beamed and said something like, "Thanks!!  It's a gift God gave me, and I love to use it!"  Her response was so refreshing.  She owns it.  She rocks it.  She knows who she is, who she's called to be, and she kills it.

Our over-apologizing, our insecurities, our ungratefulness, our pride and our devaluing is crippling and deceiving us.

The Nester (I promise this is the last time I'll reference her), wrote about visiting her sponsor child from Compassion:
I had braced myself for shock and sadness and guilt and hopelessness over Topiwo's house.  I knew his family had struggled to survive through drought until Compassion stepped in to help.  But after visiting his beautiful dirt home, I didn't feel sad about where Topiwo lives.  Unlike most of the homes we had visited, Topiwo's home was rich with love and community and joy and gracefulness.  Richer than a lot of homes I see in our country.   
I need to be more less apologetic and more confident and grateful for my "beautiful dirt."  I am so rich in so many things.

I should care less about my mess, and be more thankful for my lived in house.  I should care less about my cellulite and celebrate my healthy body.  I should care less about my thrifted clothes and rejoice in the opportunity to shop at all!

The less we apologize for silly things, the more we give others freedom and permission to be themselves - imperfections and all.

SO sorry for saying, "Sorry!"  (wink, wink!)

Hold me to this, friends.  I am such a work in progress...

(AND, go get The Nesting Place!  Such a great read...)

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Easy + Inexpensive Hair Bow DIY

Confession time...

I hate big baby hair bows, and I cannot lie. 

Praise the Lord no one is forcing YOU to wear a comparatively large hair bow.

Praise the LORD.  For real.

In addition to my strong distaste for the look of abnormally large hair bows, I would also like to argue that they are not practical for everyday wear.  Especially for stay at home kiddos who rarely change out of their footie pajamas (sheepish grin)...

And this is a shame.  Can't MY little girl enjoy wearing a cute hair bow without being totally impractical and ridiculous?  Surely there has to be a happy medium.  Surely there is a way for form to meet function, cuteness to meet practicality...?  

Yes.  My friends, there is a way for you to have your cake and eat it too.

I am addicted to these stretchy headbands.

Why?  So glad you asked.

One.  They are way more practical for our everyday-sort of living.  Charlie wears them frequently with her casual outfits at home footie pajamas, and they don't look out of place.  Not too dressy or formal or in-your-face.  Even better, they transition well and can be worn to church, too!

Two.  They are crazy cheap.  I have made Charlie a bazillion of these for less than $0.50 a piece.  And since they are so inexpensive, we can afford having a wide selection of different colors and patterns on hand!

Three.  They are so comfortable.  They've never left a mark on her head, and she has never fussed about wearing them.

Four.  They are the easiest thing in the world to make.  Can you use a pair of scissors?  Can you tie a knot?  Done.  That's it.

If you are smitten as much as I am, here are a few DIY tips!

1. Choose and buy elastics here.  Or do your own online search for other shops!  I ordered a yard of each pattern/color.  A yard easily makes two headbands for little ones.  In some shops, the elastic is called 5/8'' FOE (Fold Over Elastic).

2. Tie and knot the elastic to size.  This might involve tying around your little one's head directly, or, in my case, Charlie's head is about the size of my sugar canister...  :)

3.  Trim the elastic.  You could do a straight edge if you wanted, but I like an angled edge!

4.  Though this part is optional, I like to quickly run the edges through a flame (use a stove, lighter or match for this!).  This seals the edges and prevents fraying.

Also, scraps of this elastic made great hair ties!

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