He Loves Me

We're walking along, down the country road, and it feels like we're pulling weight.

And we are.

It's the not-getting-along. The sharp words and fast fists. It's this cloud of character grit that's settled hard.

The sun is warm. The sky is the deepest shade of unbroken blue. Fall colors burst bright around us.

And we're mumbling. Grumbling. A brother steps on a brother and we're brawling in the road.

I feel like giving up. Throwing it in. The fruit seems far and these behaviors are new and I'm not sure why they're here or how to make them go.

Maybe it's me? Am I distracted? Too hard? Too soft? Is it them? What am I missing?

I thrust my hands into my pocket, more out of frustration than a need to be warm, as we stalk down the lane.

And I find it there.

A tangible reminder of love.

It's a walnut shell. A half-walnut shell. Zay had given it to me months ago. It's been in the pocket of my sweatshirt. All while the months were warm.

I pull it out. But I already know the blessing.

It's shaped like a heart.

When he'd given it to me he'd said, "For you, Mama. I love you. Remember."

But today when I hold it in my hand, I hear something else.

I love you, Daughter.  And I've promised to never leave. I'm here and I love you. Remember?

So we walk on and I hold tight to the half-walnut in my hand. After a bit I slip it back into my pocket.

I still don't know what's up with the boys.

Is it me?

Is it them?

I don't know.

But it's okay.

Or it will be.

Because He loves us.

And He's right here, too.

A Prayer for Wisdom from Heaven

 

But the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere. Peacemakers who sow in peace raise a harvest of righteousness. James 3:17-18

 

 

 









Father,

 May Logan, Grant, Samuel, Gabriel and Isaiah grow in the kind of wisdom that is from heaven. May they sow in peace and raise a harvest of righteousness...

Amen

 





Working for Peace and Family Tone

Sounds can make you smile. Tap your toes. Remember something sweet.

Or make you want to run stark-ravin' mad down the block on a Wednesday afternoon.

I leave the school room for a moment, a brief, skinny, shoot-into-the-kitchen moment, and something breaks loose. There are sounds. Coming from my sweet babes. Shouting. Shrieking. A hurling of sharp words.

All in a moment.

A sliver of time.

How did we fall so fast?

I head back in, chasing run-away bliss. I try to sort through the he-said, he-said, but it's loud and the voices are carrying and words are coming too fast and we're speaking over one another. Soon I join the ranks and I'm railing, too. I glance at the open windows because we're now all a wild, surly mess.

"Listen" I finally say.

But no one listens.

I let them rant. Ramble. Until they stop. Then they look at me.

"What do you want our family to sound like?" I ask.

They look at me again like I'm mad. But I wonder, if our words are the overflow of our hearts, what about the tone? The way we use the words? The tone we take when we talk with one another?

"Our tone, " I say."Let's set a family tone.Should it be honoring? The way we speak?"

I get one crinkled nose and a couple of nods.

"How about the volume? Let's say, to be honoring, it's no louder than this?"

They just look. Three pair on pond-green eyes. Wide.

"How about the words we use? Should we be careful? Should we weigh those words? Before we spit them out?"

More nods.

"And we can choose to be gentle or to throw words in angry ways. What do you think? Hmm? Zay?"

"Gentle."

I nod now.

And so we have a family tone. It's a goal. Something to shoot for. I don't know if it will work. But it's a yardstick. A way of measuring the way we use our words. A way to work, to stretch, for peace.

How are we doing?

Time will tell.

But if you're walking by, and the windows are open, don't tell me what you've heard.

I may not want to know.

Just yet.

Finally, all of you should be of one mind. Sympathize with each other. Love each other as brothers and sisters. Be tenderhearted, and keep a humble attitude. Don't repay evil for evil. Don't retaliate with insults when people insult you. Instead, pay them back with a blessing. That is what God has called you to do, and he will bless you for it. For the Scriptures say,"If you want to enjoy life and see many happy days, keep your tongue from speaking evil and your lips from telling lies. Turn away from evil and do good. Search for peace, and work to maintain it." I Peter 3:8-11 (NLT)

Family Day

The small print on today's calendar square tells me that it's Family Day.

It's also go to the dentist, two soccer games, homeschool six hours, late afternoon doctor appointment, drive a child to work and back, try-to-do-the-laundry and squeeze-in-dinner day.

That's right.

Family Day.

In the wild and wonderful, in the beat of the "every day", in the fullness of family life and the breathless abundance that is God's daily grace, may you
                                                                             savor,

 

be blessed by small things,

 

 

hold those you love close,

 

 

 

 

feel the sun on your shoulders,

 

 

 

create a moment,

 

 

 

and let yourself be lost, for just a heartbeat,

 

 

 

to a sweet slice of something wonderful.

 

HAPPY FAMILY DAY FROM OUR HOME TO YOURS...

Family Fountain, A Teaching Tool, and A Dolphin Tale

Morning Friends,

I've been wanting, for some time, to do a resource sharing thing on the blog - Family Fountain. Just a couple times a month. Maybe every other Thursday...(though Family Fountain Friday has a nice ring). There are so many neat resources - tools to help us raise our kids, refine our marriages, grow in our walk with the Lord...

So, here we go. Let's give it a whirl.

Have a blessed day. A sweet weekend. May rich blessings be yours!

With love,
Shawnelle

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Are you excited to go to the zoo, Zay?" I ask.

Zay looks up from his action figures. "Oh, yes," he says.

Lonny and I have planned to take the boys to Brookfield Zoo. It's a big, family event.

"What are you most excited about?" I ask.

He sets Batman and Spidey on the rug and looks at me like I should know. "The dolphin show."

"Yeah," I say. "That will be great. They're beautiful. And graceful. And smart."

Zay nods and his too-long bangs fall over his eyes. "Yup. And when it's over, everyone will get a free dolphin."

"What?" I ask.

"A dolphin. A real one. They're free." He picks Spidey from the floor. Mumbles something about a villain.

"Why would you think that?" I ask.

"The brothers said so," he says. And he doesn't doubt their words. Not. One. Bit.

Okay.

Two blond boys are busted.

It's unusual for the boys to tease their little brother. But someone's spun a tale and someone's going to be sad. Free dolphins? C'mon guys. In our house we tell the truth. Time to blow the dust off Twenty-One Rules...

The Original 21 Rules of this House is a simple, straightforward book to help with character training. It was written by Gregg (father) and Joshua (son) Harris. The rules are simple. We teach the principles anyway (when someone is hurt, we comfort him, we consider one another's interests before our own) but it's been wonderful to have an easy, bound collection of ways to honor God and love one another better.

There's a poster page and a coloring page for each rule. And the authors give permission for families to copy coloring pages.

The rules (I'd call them values) are Bible based, but authors don't include a Scripture reference for each behavior. Familiar Bible stories can reinforce the rules, but they leave this to the families.

For us, The Original 21 Rules... has been a sweet, easy, re-enforcing tool to aid in character training.

Glory to God!

(I found a scrapbook page display stand at Michael's. The small poster pages slip nicely inside. Each week we display a page and work on that character quality (of course, the others, too...)

 Family life brings endless opportunity for refinement!

So, back to the busted boys. We'll talk about telling the truth, about why honesty is important, about what God's Word says about that.

 Then we're off to the zoo.

It will be great.

Totally.

Even without live, free,  take-home dolphins.

Morning Tea

She drives over early in the morning. I see her van coming up the hill. I open the side porch door slowly. Slow enough to shush the whine of the old door.

She comes in quietly, wearing sweats and smile.  I push the door farther. I'm wearing pjs and a robe and I'm sure my hair is wild with morning. Doesn't matter.

Carrie is my friend.

We pour mugs of tea and tiptoe through the house. My family sleeps upstairs. Hers sleeps back home. We wind a path over Legos and Hot Wheels. We trace the sweet path of this life.

And soon we're outdoors.

On the front porch.

We settle into wicker and sit quiet for a moment. Sipping tea. Watching the still of the river. It's early and our small town hasn't come to life.

"How are you?" she says. And we're off. We talk about our days. Our week. Our boys. We laugh that when she came over earlier in the week she heard my guys call "Hey, Mom" a hundred times. Just like her house. Just like her sons.

We have a close bond.

There's much to share.

Then morning begins to birth over the river. The sky turns a lighter shade of gray. Then it's a painting. It opens up to shades of blue.

And as the day stretches, as morning unfurls, as it opens wide over the river, our hearts open wide, too. We share deep things. Spoken in hushes. Hidden fears. Struggles that become more light because they've now seen the day. We're no longer laughing. We're listening deep. With our ears. With our hearts. With all that we have.

We listen deep because we're friends.

Then from behind us there's noise. The sounds of a household coming to life. It's morning and the boys are tumbling down the stairs and the coffee is probably perking and the pace of the day has already been set.

Our time is over.

Not over, really, but there will be a pause.

A pause for life.

Until the next time it's early, and I stand in the door and watch her van creep up the hill.

And I'll be grateful.

Grateful she's here.

____________________________________________

WRITING NEWS:

 Sweet blessing... I have three stories in the new Chicken Soup for the Soul: I Can''t Believe My Dog Did That. Release date was Saturday.

Steeple, Character, and Grace

We're two weeks into school, and I may run away.

Not really.

But I've entertained the thought.

So we sit in the sun and reach for the last shreds of summer. Recess. I watch the boys run and play. Their boyishness charms me. They're scaling the swing set then they're wild on the trampoline. How could it be, that just moments ago, they'd pressed my patience so hard I thought I'd snap?

Character training.

I think over the summer we let too much go. Now we're pushed in tight with one another's sharp edges.

There's an old, red brick church across the street. There's the rumble of machinery, too. The steeple, tall and white and strong, is coming down. The boys see and hear and bolt to the fence. Their hands wrap around wrought iron and they watch.

The church was built in the late 1800's, I'd guess. But there hasn't been a service for decades. It's been an apartment building for as long as we've been here. But the steeple? It's beautiful. It's marred with years and is damaged from a recent storm. But it's white against blue depths and it has stretched into the river valley sky for a long time.

"I hope they fix it," Sam says. "I hope they fix it and put it back up."

"They will," Gabe says. "It's old. It would be sad. Really sad to take it down."

I sit on the swing and hear their voices and share their desire. I hope they restore the steeple. It has character.There are panels and lines and strength and history behind the peeling paint.

But it doesn't take long to see that the steeple won't be restored.

There's a cap. An angled cap. It's on the ground. Waiting to be hoisted up.It will work. It will fill the void. The rain will wash down. It will serve a purpose.

But a great deal of character will be lost.

Later in the day, the boys stand in the same spot. They grip the spindles and peer through.

"Why didn't they fix it?" Gabe says. "Why didn't they put it back up?"

I see concern settle firm on his small face.

 "It would be hard work to restore that steeple," I say. " It was weak and peeling and half falling down. It would've taken a lot of time. A lot of money."

The boys still peer through the bars.

" The new cap, the new top, keeps the rain off, keeps the top closed, and was up in just one day."

"But something is gone," Gabe says. "And it makes me sad."

It makes me sad, too. But I stand there and see my sons. I see myself, too. Really see.

The days have been tough. Our character, theirs and mine, is not as strong as it should be. It's weak. It's flawed. We're weathered and our paint is peeling hard.

Character building takes a lot of work.

It takes time. It takes energy. It takes keen attention to detail. And it's expensive. There's a cost to it all.

Just like the tower.

Just like us.

So I take the boys by the hands and we head across the yard. The rest of the day awaits. Recess is over again. It's time to settle down. Summer's over and we need to be restored.

It's okay.

I won't run away.

We'll work hard together. Character is worth the price.

But only, only in His strength and grace...