Just a New Year's Eve blurb or two...

With the passing of each year comes the sitting and reflecting on the things that have happened in the current year. Life changes, the good, the bad, the happy and sad, the big, and the small things that we have taken note of throughout the year since January 1 until today, December 31. Every year, the event is quite similar, all over the world, as the clock counts down to the last minute of the year we are currently in, and turns over the new hour of the new day in the New Year. Some may share the “New Year Kiss” while some may be out partying it up and not even remember the midnight hour. There will be confetti tossed in some homes, champagne glasses toasting and cheering in the New Year, some celebrating with family and friends, and maybe some just sitting quietly… alone.

We’ve all set some goals, if not on paper, at least in our minds. It doesn’t matter if it has been said “I won’t make any resolutions this year” because the mind has already thought of something that we will not let be the same in the coming year.

Facebook has been the number one social networking trend for a few years now, and as I scroll through my Newsfeed today I see a lot of people posting their thoughts about 2013. There are a lot who have said that 2013 was not good to them. A lot have said 2013 was good to them. I remember early in the year when one friend had a situation hit them they already wrote off the whole year as a failure, wishing it away even, and wanting to be hidden away until the year came to its end. Of course, this brought me to my pondering moment.

Yes, we measure time by years, months, weeks, and days. But it seems that the Year is the ultimate time ruler when weighing life circumstances and situations. “I have a bunch of things I want to change…starting January 1!” “But it’s October 3…why not start now?” “Because, silly! I need to make changes FOR the New Year, not BEFORE the New Year.” I have found myself thinking that same thing as the year came closer to an end…aaahhh why not just wait until January? How about this…

Every day is a new day. Every hour a new hour. When a child is being punished with “Time out” for five minutes, at the end of that time is a fresh start for another chance at NOT making that same mistake again…we don’t wait until next year to let them off the hook! No! We end the session with the understanding that “you did your crime, you did your time.” And the rest of the day continues with new starts…in the middle of the day!! Yes! It’s possible!

I recently thought of a change I wanted to make, “in January” and literally sat there and stared at the paper I was writing on and said, “Really, Becca? Really?! Why not just pick up that change now, and have it established BY January 1?” That MIGHT just work! *gasp*

So, as we end one year and begin another, all in a single moment’s time, let us remember with a certainty that we WILL leave off a few things here and there. That’s ok. Life is going to happen. Unexpected events, and changes are going to interrupt routines and schedules. That’s fine. Just pick up and continue at the earliest possible time afterwards. Even if the end of the year is when a change can be made, go ahead and make it! Don’t wait till the next year. WE are not even promised tomorrow, let alone another January 1. We all want to see some changes in our lives, some big and some small, and I encourage everyone to do it…and do it now. Yeah, the new year starts tomorrow, but that’s ok. Think of something you talked about on January 1 of THIS YEAR, and set it to task. Don’t be discouraged. Find the life in it. The humor. The fun, and adventure! We’ve waited all year to make that change, and as the old comic that we all find so funny goes, “It’s December 31, I guess I best get started.”

Happy December 31 2013!

A Passion Most Pure Book Review

Before I begin this review, let me say I have written and re-written it more than a few times. Julie Lessman is not only an amazing writer, who brings her characters to LIFE, and creates scenarios where the reader can enter this world of the O’Conner family and RELATE to their family, individually, and the situations that they face, but Julie is a shining light in my own life. She is a friend, mentor, and quite often (every time we talk, email, or see each other) is a source of wisdom and joy for me. LOVE LOVE LOVE this woman!! And now, on to my attempt to write a review that I hope reflects the amazingness of Julie’s first book: A Passion Most Pure…

Passion: the word itself stirs a controversy of emotion and reaction at the mere telling of it. But a Passion Most Pure? What does this mean? In this debut book by Julie Lessman, we will soon find out!

Passion(a): An undying love for God, devotion, faithfulness, and a continual thirst for more knowledge and a deeper relationship with Him. Faith O’Conner shines brightly with Passion. Her desire to please her Savior trumps all other desires she may have, no matter how strong they become. Faith’s heart lies in the balance between her love for God and her love for a man, and when her entire world crumbles around her, Faith has to face the darkest places of her own heart.

Passion(b): A zeal for life, and the desire to live every moment of it with all of one’s being. Love things, adventure, lust, and a strong pull to the things that one cannot have. Collin McGuire emanates such passion. In his desire to live life at the fullest, and take all pleasures in doing so, Colin encounters a new kind of passion, one that he doesn’t understand.

There is a quote from the movie, White Christmas that says, “Lord, help the mister who comes between me and my sister, and Lord help the sister who comes between me and my man!” And the same can be said of the two oldest O’Conner sisters, Faith and Charity.

The O’Conner family is a fantastic example of strength, unity, happiness, and even sibling love…well, except when one of the children tends to reach out and taint every joy that another only begins to experience. Faith O’Conner and her younger sister, Charity, seem to have this instance in life at every turn. Given the opportunity, Charity would take pleasure in robbing Faith of any happiness that comes her way. While Faith believes she has strength to overcome her battles as they come, there is one battle that may prove to be bigger than she can handle…on her own.

When war takes its toll on families all over the world, and the claws of tragedy pierce the very heart of the O’Conner family itself, and when Faith’s sister, Charity, commits the ultimate betrayal, Faith goes on a journey that may change her forever.

Collin believed himself to be in complete control, even of the women he entertained. And then he encountered Charity…and Faith…O’Conner. Torn between the passion of his flesh and the passion in his heart, Collin took refuge in the battlefields far from the two women who frequented his mind daily. When faced with his own demise, Collin opened himself to a new passion…a passion he feared, and then embraced, that would be the start of a whole new world for him and his woman by his side…but which one?

A blog from two years ago. August of 2011...from my previous blog. HAD to keep it and share here!

Sequoia National Forest Trip

Just recently my parents and younger sisters came to California for their vacation to visit me and my little family here in Hanford. During their vacation time we all wanted to do some sight-seeing, and play the tourist in our new state of residence. One place in particular that we chose to enjoy was the Sequoia National Park.

Our day in the Sequoia National Park began a little rough. We made it through the front gate and to the first visitor’s center just in time to hear that the roads in the mountains were under construction and the crews only opened them for people to pass through on the hour every hour. The ranger told us it would take about thirty minutes to get to the pass where the construction began, and it was 12:25pm. So, we all piled in our cars and took off for the roads under construction.

We drove up the mountain through winding curves and switchback turns that were enough to churn stomachs, which they did. We made it to the construction and had a few minutes to get out and stretch our legs, get some air, and let the carsick children toss their cookies (lol).

Traffic began to move, so we rushed to get the kids back in the cars and resume our place in line so we could get through. The construction seemed to go on forever. My excitement about the big trees was gradually being drowned out by the grumbling and whimpering of three restless children in the backseat of my minivan. Sean, dear Sean, kept me sane as we made each turn, climbing switchback, stop, and slow drive through construction that revealed a very steep edge of the mountain, and rattled my nerves every time I glanced down over it.

The road finally began to level out a bit as the trees became taller and thicker, and soon, after one last turn, we arrived.

Sean and I were carrying on conversation when we rounded the turn, and at that moment time seemed to slow, words failed me as did my breathing! I turned my head and cocked it sideways, looking out the top of my windshield, in an attempt to see the tops of these massive trees, and ended up rolling my window down to accomplish the attempt. As I sat in complete awe of the sight before me, I tried to form words in my mind to describe these majestic and enormous Sequoia trees. None seemed to do them justice.

Finally, the road was not winding, churning our stomachs anymore, and we were driving deep into the shadows of one of the most amazing forests I’ve ever seen in my life. As we drove further, the trees got even bigger, and we passed a sign that read, “You are now entering the Giant Forest.” Really?! Haha!

From that point on our day got only better. We had rock-climbing moments, tree-gawking moments, random photo-shoot moments, and racing moments which left us (at least Sean, Leah and myself) quite winded.

We all hiked, minus Joanna and Micah, up Moro Rock. Moro rock is the bald tip of one of the mountains in the forest, and it was a 350ft/400stair climb from the parking lot to the top of the rock, with metal rails to hold onto and keep people from falling off the smooth edges of the rocky surface. At the beginning of the climb was a sign that read, “To avoid being struck by lightning and killed, leave Moro rock and return to the lower trail immediately if any of the following occur: The sky becomes dark or clouds suddenly appear; you hear thunder in the distance or nearby; you feel static in the air; you get a metallic taste in your mouth.” OK!

We continue the climb up this rock and I decide to break the monotony and try to reason with myself about why we are actually ascending this stony mountaintop! So, I begin to talk…”Mom, I have a question. What Moron a hundred years ago, as he was hiking through the mountains, stumbles across this huge rock protruding from this mountaintop, says to himself, “Hey! I bet there are millions of other people out there who would love to experience what I am experiencing right now! Let’s make some stairs to the top of this rock so they can all come to the middle of nowhere and risk being struck by lightning to climb 400 stone stairs and be where I am right now!” I could hear chuckles and laughter around me and realized I was actually entertaining other tourists with my sarcasm.

When we reached the top I didn’t eat my words, but I did have a hard time finding new ones! The view was nothing short of amazing! We were higher than other nearby mountaintops, and had a crystal clear view of everything below. We saw the roads we traveled on, including the stopped traffic as other waited on the construction sites to open again, and the river at the bottom in the valley looked like a white ribbon flowing through the trees winding and twisting like is was blowing in the wind.

Driving through the Giant Forest, actually touching the magnificent, towering trees, climbing the mountains and taking in the sights of a part of our world untouched by man’s hand, all of these things caused me to stop and think…

“The heavens declare the glory of God…”

How thankful I am that in my life, when I am tired, stressed, upset, sad, lonely, unwell, I can recall the day I came close to my God, witnessed a small portion, a touch, of His majesty in the graceful giants that cover the mountaintop, and His glory in the vast beauty of the view from that mountaintop! The peace there was what many people long to feel down here in the hustle and bustle of life, and yet it is a part of nature there. I am so glad I got to experience another fingerprint of God that day.

The Centurian's Wife...another awesome read!

The Centurion's Wife

Leah has lost everything. Her family was disgraced, loved ones lost, and her own freedom was stripped from her in more ways than one. Pilot is her cousin, and takes her into his household in hopes that marriage to the right man will save her from her family’s disgrace. Her mistress, Pilot’s wife, is plagued by nightmares of this Jewish prophet her husband had crucified and sends Leah on a quest to find the answers to the great mystery surrounding this dead man and the sudden rumors rising that the impossible has happened. Leah finds and befriends the followers of Jesus, and in the search for her mistress’ answers begins to find some of her own…

Alban has known battle and loss in life as well as the battlefields. He aspires to rise above his situation and sees marriage to Leah, the cousin of Pilot, as an asset to his ambition. In response to his request, his prelate requires something of Alban before such union is granted. Pilot fears rebellion among the Jews, and sends Alban to reveal any such threat, and to uncover the mystery surrounding the disappearance of the body of Jesus. The truth is what he seeks, but is it something he can handle?

Bound together by betrothal, drawn together by love, and completed together in Christ Alban and Leah discover the truths they were to sent to find, Truth that changed their world, revelations that changed their lives, and could possibly bring their eventual demise.

I have always loved the books written by Janette Oke and Davis Bunn. This series, Acts of Faith, is the most recent and very moving! I highly recommend this to you all. Set in Jerusalem during Passover, their descriptions of the city, and life there are vivid and bring to life the days of Jesus, and the Roman dominance in Judea during those years. Great book! Can’t say it enough!

The Silent Governess...worth re-reading!

The Silent Governess Book Review

Olivia Keene and Lord Bradley have nothing in common, save one thing: they both hold a secret that could change everything as they know it, if this secret is revealed. In fear of losing all he has ever known, Lord Bradley kept Olivia close at hand at Brightwell Court, where she served his young niece and nephew as governess, and a recent injury rendering her temporarily mute served useful to his purpose. It would seem though that theirs is not the only knowledge of the secret, and as deception, lies, and life-threatening events unfold, Olivia and Lord Bradley find themselves in a world much smaller than they imagined, and the danger closer to home than they feared.

In the midst of the drama, Lord Bradley finds himself taken with the charming Olivia Keene, and his emotions conflict greatly between affection and suspicion. Will Lord Bradley believe his heart, or will he let suspicion dominate and risk breaking hearts and losing love? Will the truth be revealed before it is too late?

Trying to predict the ending of this book is futile, as there are many surprises at every turn from beginning to end. A story well written, The Silent Governess took me into the world of Lords and Ladies, with characters that came to life from the pages. I can’t wait to read the next one!

This book was sent to me by Bethany House Publishing for the purpose of review and can be found at most bookstores.

Songs of Deliverance...a good book!

Songs of Deliverance Review

Everyone has a past. Not everyone can see beyond someone’s past and accept them for who they are in the present. And, not many can break through their own past and have the courage to step out and believe in themselves, and others, again for a long, long time. Such is the obstacle that stands in the way of Zeely’s victory, deliverance, and peace. Not only Zeely, but her friend Grace, and others that have come together to support the teacher they all had in their youth that saw beyond their faults into their futures, and believed in them when no one else did. At the knowledge of Joyce’s illness, her students, now grown, have returned home to her, and found themselves opening the doors to their pasts that have been long since shut and locked. Will Zeely, Grace, and the others be able to overcome their pasts, stabilize their present, and redefine their futures? Can they find the strength to trust and love again? Will the wounds that have been opened and reopened ever heal? For so long the song of despair and pain has played loudly in their ears, but the faint sound of a Song of Deliverance has begun to grow in volume. Will it be tuned out and rejected, or will it be the new song of delivered hearts?

Marilynn Griffith astounded me with her book! This one touched me deeply though, because I can personally relate to some of the issues mentioned in the book. The situations are real ones that people deal with in this day and time. The characters seemed so real to me, like my own friends! Good book, great read, and recommended by me! *smiles*

This book was provided by Revell Publishing for the purpose of review, and is available at your local Christian bookstore now.

The "More Than You Can Handle" Buffet

In a phone conversation with my mother this past week, we discussed the recent developments in my life. Some of them are good. Some are not. Most of them are stressful in one way or another. One of them, although stressful, has brought some measure of relief to one area of my family’s life as well. So far, every change has been something ADDED to my already busy world, instead of something taken away. In my conversation with my mother I said, “Yeah! Let’s just add one more item to the plate, right? Shoot! Plate?! I don’t have a plate, I have a whole buffet!...*sigh*…I need room for cobbler!”

 So…with this little snippet of our conversation topic, a theme came to mind, along with this blog post that I certainly hope you all will find….worth reading?

“Come one, come all! Come to the ‘More Than You Can Handle Buffet!’ Where it’s no big deal if your eyes are bigger than your stomach! We don’t care! Pile it all on your plate! One plate?! Heck, No! We have more than enough to spare! Over one this side we have all your worries and concerns in life. On this bar we have financial issues…some self-inflicted and others that come by surprise! There’s a wide variety of drama situations on the buffet bar to this side, including family drama, friends, school, work, even church! Medical issues? Why yes! Right over here! We have personal health, family health, health of other loved ones, and the inability to support them due to your already full plate.

Please, take a seat, and feel free to come back again and again to add more heaping piles of more than you can bear from our abundance that has been placed here Just. For. You!”

As the throngs of people flock to this amazing establishment, drawn to the charismatic invitation, they just cannot help themselves as they go through the lines, taking in the sight of the bountiful buffet bars before them. Seemingly unable to turn away, even as their first plates became heavy with burden and care, they found their table, and after placing said plates down, went back to pick up more. Heavy laden with what began as “a little here and a little there” it became difficult for the patrons to lift themselves under the pressure and strain of… more than they could handle.

Off to the side from the glamorous display of buffet bars sat a small table. Simple. Plain. And it wasn’t even advertised by the establishment. Above the table was a single word: Dessert. Why was this table so small? Thought one patron to himself, as he wiped the sweat from his brow with one of the many towels that the staff of the buffet handed out to their customers. He inquired. “Well, sir, with every plate comes a burden, and most patrons find themselves, too full of all these things, unable to partake of the dessert table, so it has been placed near the back and quite forgotten.” The lone dessert at the table looked curious indeed to the man, and he decided he would fight through the worry and care that he had heaped upon himself in such a short time, and take a closer look.

Placing the towel beside his tower of plates, the man turned in his chair and proceeded to rise. Slowly, with shaky knees, he was unsure of himself as he realized this was the first time he had attempted getting up so soon after encumbering himself with such a load. Curiosity won over shaky knees, and step by heavy step the man inched his way to the dark corner where stood the simple table. As he neared the small table he noticed a little sign in front of the platter where there sat twelve simple loaves. It read: “Cobbler. Flavors include peach, apple, blackberry, cherry, and whatever your favorite may be. Simply choose a loaf and enjoy.” The man was skeptical. Cobbler?! These were loaves of what looked like almost fresh, white bread. There was no way this was right. Again, curiosity won. He picked up a loaf.

Upon raising the small loaf to his nose to inhale what he assumed would be yeast and flour with a little sugar and steam, the man found it was light indeed. Lighter than when he lifted his hands with nothing in them. How could this be? Taking a breath to contemplate this curious situation he caught it. The smell of fresh peaches, picked from the orchards in the valley by the waterside. Suddenly the weight that held his head down wasn’t so heavy anymore. In its place was comfort, and other joyous feelings he couldn’t explain. He lifted his head and looked around. There were so many people! Surely there would not be enough of this wonderful smelling dessert to go around! But as he glanced down again he saw that where he had chosen his loaf was another in its place. Astonished at this phenomenon, the man turned back to his table to show his family what he had found. Each step he took, as he ate his small cobbler, was lighter and lighter. He felt free!

When the man reached the family table, there were merely a few, small bites left of the loaf. His family looked quizzically at him and the simple loaf in his hand. The man began to tell of the burdensome walk to the table, back in that far side of the buffet, alone and forgotten, and what he found there to be not only amazing but a relief beyond anything he had ever felt before! Skeptical, the family beheld the little loaf in his hands. He offered it to them to try, to smell, to taste, but nobody could tell the difference that he had. This confused the man and he inquired yet again of the staff. “It is simply this, sir. Those who would experience that which you have experienced must go themselves to do so. You can tell them and show them your dessert, but they have to taste their own loaf and see.”

Now, I have left it hanging somewhat, and for good reason. There are two things to consider here.

 One: Don’t take on so much that you are too burdened to enjoy the real valuable things in life. The desserts, if you will. And the dessert is a great representation of the most important thing in life ever. It is easily mistaken to be the main meal…but it is not. The main meal is what we carry every day, all day. Cast off the cares of this world and enjoy the dessert offered freely, and too often left behind. But the joy in life cannot be the “same” for everyone, and I cannot enjoy yours just as you cannot enjoy mine. If you want to enjoy the sweetness of this amazing thing, stand up and shove those plates of “more than you can bear” off that table! Walk to that dessert table, pick your flavor, and enjoy yourself some cobbler!

Blogging from my phone..

Alright everyone, here it is! It seems there are going to be times when I can only find a few minutes to speak my mind/heart from my phone, so I finally broke and downloaded the blogger mobile app for my phone. We shall see how this goes. I'm honestly kinda excited about it. Dunno why. Probably because it doesn't take much to entertain or excite me these days, and I didn't realize blogger had a mobile app until tonight. Woot Woot!

While I'm using my phone to blog I look over at the book that I am currently reading: A Passion Most Pure. I'm closing in on the end of the book, and when I finish it I may post my review...from my phone! Eeeeeeeeeeek! Hahaha! Of course, the book happens to be written by one of my all time favorite authors, and a sweet and wonderful friend...and I can't wait to brag about much I love anything and everything written by Julie Lessman!!

Until the next post!

Peace and Strength...not just for me...

I am not gonna lie. I have high stress levels. My blood pressure numbers would likely scare people. I don’t sleep. My eating habits are totally wacked out. Between my four kids, three dogs, husband in the Military, house work, school work, and appointments to keep for everyone in the family, I would guess it is safe to say I am pulled slightly thin in places. An average day for me would wear out almost anyone I know that I describe it to, with the exception of one of my cousins, bless her heart! (wink)

Just hang on. I’m getting somewhere with this:

Do I ever have “me” time? Not often. Do me and my husband get “us” time? Rarely. Do we have any routines? None we stick to more than a few weeks at a time. (sigh). Where is my peace? Where is my solace? How do I find strength to go on? In those moments that only a mother (biological, step, adoptive, godmother) gets to experience.

What are those moments, you ask? Well let me share a few with you…

Those times when Titus comes up to me and just wraps his arms around me, holding tight and saying how much he loves me and is glad I am his mommy. Those moments when Levi snuggles up to me just to put his head against my chest so he can hear my “drum beat heart.” The moments when Micah comes running with open arms to me, wrapping them around my legs, and just saying “Mommy! My Mommy!” over and over again. And then, for all of those who know me and my situation, the final moment is one that is extra special to me… That moment when Angel comes up to me with a picture in hand, one that she had been laboring over for quite a while at the table, in her notebook, carefully tearing it out of the notebook, folding it perfectly, then presenting it to me saying “Becca, I drew this picture just for you, because I want you to have this from me.” And upon unfolding the picture I see a house, a beautiful sky, flowers, and two people walking together, both with names above their heads. Becca and Angel. And the back side has hearts of every type and size all over it, and at the bottom it says: To Becca From Angel, forever. Words? No, I have none. But peace? Solace? Strength to carry on another day in the drama that my life gives me? Especially involving this sweet girl who only wants herself to be happy, everyone around her to be happy, and her greatest dream to fit in a whole family. Yeah. I have those moments, and they are enough.

I can go without sleep. I know I’ll catch up one day. I can take measures to do different things with my eating habits. That’s not too hard. Housework, schoolwork, laundry, dishes, those things are there all the time. My children? They will not be this young forever.

These recent days I have had to ask myself, where is my heart? Where is my greatest desire? Are my actions meeting up with my dreams? Am I doing what I say I want or need to do? These moments with my children are often, yes, but they could vanish…I could chase my children away, wasting my time and energy on being stressed and frustrated If I am doing school work when Levi wants to sit on my lap, or if I am vacuuming or doing dishes when Titus wants to give me that hug. What about when Micah (the king of “don’t touch me”) comes running and squeezing mommy to pieces? Am I too busy? How long does it take to happily accept a picture from a child who just spent the last hour coloring and drawing with much effort and concentration? Bending down from whatever I am doing, giving a hug in return, a gentle rub on the head, “I love you too…sooooo much” and five minutes to read someone’s favorite book are the things that seem so small to us, but mean the entire world to these children!

So, in these moments that they give me such peace, solace, strength, and JOY...they may also need the same thing from me. Who am I not to give? Sometimes I have to think about it because the timing is not what I would consider the best...but in all consideration, it most likely is.

Am I learning some of this the hard way? Yes. But the key tonight is: I am learning.

For the sake of a smile...

Recently, Sean and I took Micah with us to the mall for lunch. He said he wanted Root Beer, and since that is a treat for our kids, and it had been quite a while since he had enjoyed a day out with Mommy and Daddy, we thought “why not?” and went to the mall where A&W is located. Upon arrival, Micah was swung between Sean and I by the hands…taking in heavy gulps of air and squealing like the toddler he is every time we lifted him off the ground from our van to the front door of the mall.

In the mall, as soon as he made it through the door, Micah ran all the way to the counter, bouncing curls flopping everywhere with every trotting step he took to his favorite spot: the A&W counter. The employee working there smiled big as she saw this curly headed toddler skipping all the way from the door to her location, a good distance to say the least.

We ordered food, and after being given our drinks walked to our table and sat down. Sean said he was going to wash his hands real quick, and walked in the direction of the rest rooms. Micah didn’t see him walk away. He was sitting next to me, just jabbering away about his Root Beer, putting straws in the cups, insisting on helping me put my straw in my cup, and then wanting to do the same for Sean’s cup as well. So he and I worked together to get Sean’s straw in his cup, and Micah turned around to tell Sean his drink was ready. He didn’t see him, so he turned to me and asked, “Mommy. Where Daddy?” I said, “He went to wash his hands.” His reply, “Ok.” And then this child proceeded to turn, and from our table, began to yell…”Daddy! (pronounced Dadday), You’re drink! It’s ready!...Daddy!!” Needless to say…the chuckles were audible by the time Sean made it back to the table. It was priceless!

We were a bit stressed that day, getting some news that we were not fond of, and these short, amusing, priceless moments with this innocent child were all we needed to have our ‘break’ from the stress we had been enduring, and are still enduring. Even so, his innocence, his child-like joy, hope, faith, trust, and that of his older siblings as well, mixed with the funniest of funny moments provided by them ALL, are reminders of why we endure what we endure…I’m a happy, fulfilled, proud (in a good way) Momma. My babies are my blessings, no matter when, where, or what…my children are my light, my life, and my heart. 

Celebrate Mom!

I know it is a bit on the late side, but I will not let the Mother’s Day celebration pass me by another year without voicing my heart.

Mother: The woman who carried her child in the womb, nurtured and gave life at birth.

Mom: The woman who cares for her children (or those who biologically belong to another), raises them, loves them, teaches them about life, love, trust, strength, and gives everything she has for them.

My mother is both to me.

* My Mom *

December 5, 1983 my mom underwent a cesarean operation to give birth to me. Bitty Becca was born at 8lb 10 oz, and heaven knows how long I was. Ha, ha! I was bald, BALD! *sigh* Lord knows how many people asked my parents the question of the year. “What’s His Name?”

As I grew up I became one of the most picky children that ever graced this planet with their presence! If my shoes were not BOTH buckled (yes I said buckled) on the third hole, every time, I’d sit on my floor and pout until they were, or until new shoes were produced to be worn. If those new shoes were laced, you better bet those bow loops and ends better match up too! Socks had to be even on both legs. I remember folding and re-folding my socks so many time I started rolling them instead so they’d both hit my ankle bone and I’d be satisfied. Bread with a crack in it? Sandwiches with pieces of bread were not facing each other and matching on both sides? Broken cheese? Hot dog buns that broke when closing over the hot dog? Food touching? None of these things were tolerated by yours truly! And these were just the early years…and let us remember that I was not the only child in this family either.

I have an older brother, and two younger sisters. My  brother is two years older than me, and my sisters are ten years younger and thirteen years younger than myself. My mother home-schooled all four of us, three of us for our entire education, and my brother for most of his, beginning in Second Grade. In fact, she is still finishing up high school with my youngest sister this year. She was also the support group leader and President in our area for many years. As long as I can remember she was heavily involved with things to educate and entertain her children. My mom’s family has been the center of her world always, right alongside her God.

Years and years of sharing my mother with the world, it seemed, I remember that she STILL had time for her children and husband. Why? Because my mom’s family came first. Besides Home-school groups and their drama, she was involved with Homemakers and Ladies groups in church as well. With her plate full constantly, my mother never wavered (from my outside perspective) from her faith, her graceful attitude, or her kindness.

My mom has always been there for me. From the scrape on my knee when I was a little girl running on the sidewalk, to the cuts and bruises my adult heart has endured. I was told by a couple of different people in recent times that  in the last 5 years of my life I used my mom, and that I became dependent on her to do things for me. This may be partly true. I used her…she was the pillar I was able to lean on during difficult times and emotional crisis. She was strength that was unseen by many to me. My mom is one of the three main reasons I overcame recent difficulties in life, my husband and children being the other two. Those many days and nights I spent with my family were times when I was gleaning strength and peace during some of the hardest times in my life.

Family Picture February 2013: LtoR My brother Jacob, my sister Leah, Dad, Me, Titus, Mom, Angel, Levi, my sister Joanna, and my husband Sean holding my baby Micah.

In recent years I have been living over 2,000 miles from my mother, and since moving out here with my husband I have seen her all of four times. I have enjoyed the best of times visiting with my parents and sisters (oh yeah, and my brother…hehe)…not as often as we all would like, but blessed with the chance to do so just the same.

Even so, I talk to my mother on the phone nearly every day. We talk now and then on Skype, so we can all see each other and they can enjoy the goofiness of my children that they miss so much. For as long as I can remember my mom has been there for me, and knowing my mom she will be there always. If words could describe the things she did for me before I moved, how she has always been there for me, supported me, prayed for me, loved me, and put up with me and my kids (hehe), I would put them here. But truthfully there are none. I could say my mom is amazing, in astronomical proportions, but would that cover it? No, not really.

A mother’s love cannot be measured. Whether she has given birth physically to children, or she loves, raises, and cares for children birthed by another, she is a mom. Proverbs 31 speaks of a woman whose worth is far above that of priceless jewels, Rubies. She works hard, she educates her children, trains them, cares for them, as well as the servants of the household. She is up early, and oftentimes retires late. She is trustworthy, which in itself it priceless these days. A woman of great worth, this chapter of Proverbs described. A woman whose value is priceless to those who know her…yes, my mom.

 

The best examples a young Mom could follow, My Mom, Grandma, and Great Grandma. Great Grandma is no longer with us as of the beginning of 2012, but the legacy she has left carries on.

Where's My Spot?

Everyone has their favorite place to sort out their thoughts and write. They also have their favorite writing buddies, such as something to munch on, sip on, listen to, or see. My favorite place to write my thoughts and heart is beside my sliding back door. I pull the blinds open, and sit beside the clear glass (when there are not little hand and paw prints all over it), looking out into my back yard where the dog and children play. When they are all inside, I get to enjoy the vision of little, colorful birds flying around and sitting on my back porch, enjoying the open, big yard with nothing but space and peace to enjoy.

In a house with four children and a dog, and of course my loving husband and myself, it can be hard sometimes to find a peaceful place to think and write. Doing school work is sometimes a rather eventful thing for this momma. But even in the chaotic times, when kids are fighting and supper is being made, I am behind in an assignment for a class, the baby’s diaper needs changed, my husband isn’t home yet, and the dog is digging holes instead of playing with his toys…I find myself sitting at “my spot” at the table, in the middle of the craziness all around me, and close my eyes…and…breathe. I then open my eyes to the view of the back yard, sometimes heavily obstructed by those little, muddy hand and paw prints all over the glass door, and sometimes clearly seen, with a sigh I enjoy the sight for a moment………..and then I send the children out there so that my entire house will be as peaceful as the back yard appears to be from my spot at the table.

My main issue now is determining that where I sit is “my” writing spot. My challenge is discovering where my children prefer to call their spot , “my spot”, and it is indeed a challenge, as Titus has a horrible time staying in a spot to do homework or projects. Levi has the attention span of a squirrel on a caffeine high, and Angel pretty much plops wherever the crayons are at the moment. Micah has a spot for the time being…my lap. I am ok with this, most of the time, because he enjoys just sitting, and I enjoy his little self being with me. This is half the fun, I suppose, as I do my best to discover along with my children their learning styles, place preferences, and communication styles as well. I look forward to helping Titus get settled in his “spot” so we can begin moving forward with his studies.

And I have to remember that my spot is mine. They don’t want it. And although I may THINK I want them to want it, I truly do not want them there. Why? Because I would, then, have to find a new spot. Four little bottoms sitting in my thinking/writing place would not be welcome when I go there to find my brain now and again.

I used to think that my spot was only that special to me because I do not have a desk in that part of my house. But the more I think on it, if I were to have a desk in there, I would do my best to place it right there, beside my table, facing out the back door. There’s just something about “that place” that sooths the mind, and often eliminates writer’s block. Ah yes, writer’s block: the worst enemy of a paper deadline, which is exactly what I have today. Glad I’m in my spot!

The Gladiator's arena...and mine

Thunderous roars and earth shaking stomps in the stands of the arena, along with the stench of sweat and blood fill the air as the crowd chants “Live. Live. Live. Live.” Shaking their fists high in the air toward the center of the arena where the gladiator stands, awaiting the command of the Emperor. Thumbs up, his fallen opponent is to survive. Thumbs down, he is to dispatch his opponent to the other world. The gladiator has become loved by the people for his numerous victories, and stands yet undefeated, gaining fame and adoration of the entire population of Rome. In the end, the Emperor has the final say, but it is not his word that stands remembered it is the slave of Rome standing in the sand below, a slave who has gained power higher than anyone in his time: the power of the people. After years and seemingly endless battles and countless victories the gladiator is granted retirement and freedom by the Emperor, given gold enough to keep him for the rest of his life, and he leaves the arena forever….and is eventually forgotten as a new star shines on Rome’s bloody sands.
Pondering the stressful, strenuous, and somewhat monotonous life of the gladiator, who lives only to survive, driven by the shouts and adoration of his fans, and struggling through battle after battle in the name of the Emperor, winning only to fight yet another battle, I realized that he is not much different than I. No, I do not live in 70A.D. Rome. I am not clad in armor, wielding a sword, and bellowing a war cry that rivals the shouts and cheers of thousands of people standing over me. Contrasting as it may seem at first glance, our lives are quite comparable to the scene of the gladiator built in our mind’s eye.
Daily struggles for some; school, work, kids, house, money (or lack thereof), and other issues dealt with create a sort of monotonous routine for us. As the gladiator rises to train and eat, eat and train, we rise to do the same things, day after day, until it seems there is no end. The gladiator enters the arena to battle an opponent, and we enter an arena in our lives, prepared to battle for what we believe is right, our faith, health, love, trust, and honor. With every victory we gain testimony that for some people raise us up in their eyes. We become an example to follow, just as the gladiator becomes the role model for young soldier’s sons, using his techniques in their training to be better fighters for Rome. The longer we fight, the more victories we achieve, the closer we come to ultimate freedom. Yet the self-proclaimed god of this world, our Emperor, sends us under the arena, in the cages, to set us up for the next battle, for his entertainment…placing bets on whether or not we will win the next one and survive.
Today we do not wield swords and spears, but we battle with different weapons. We have a Will to keep moving on, Determination to overcome our struggles, Strength to stand even when we are weak, and Help that comes not from our own hands, but the Hands that fashioned us to run this race and battle in this arena called Life. Will we be forgotten when our final Freedom has been granted us, and we are released from this life to the next? Will my name, or yours, fade from the pillars and monuments in the minds of men? What have we done in our time in this arena to leave a lasting impression, made our mark in time for others to remember? Was it good? Will it make a difference for others? Those who were remembered in the Roman arena changed the way others fought, the way they defended themselves and others, and most of all, changed hearts and minds to achieve equality and excel to greater heights and finally freedom, not only physical, but freedom of spirit and mind.
Let us fight our fight, run the race, and most of all obtain victory after victory, to achieve the highest liberty of all…the freedom from this arena to a peaceful eternity in the home of our Maker. May we become an influence for others for good, and not evil, be an example to follow, as we have an audience standing over us every day, either cheering us on or waiting to see us fall. Carry ourselves with Grace and Dignity, through every trial and every test of our strength, making a difference not only for ourselves but for those who will surely model themselves after us. The memory of the gladiator has faded, but not his battles and his final and greatest victory. Yes, we, as people, will eventually be forgotten, but through those whom we mentor, set an example for, and through our words and deeds as well we will live on.