Gloppy Joy

Sometimes, you just gotta let go and get gloppy.

Beautiful day outside, scratch that, oh my goodness amazing day in May for this desert dweller.   Grabbing the joy and smashing it in our schedule, we pulled out the art table.  Literally.

Pulled it outside.  Plum filled it with every art medium we could find (washable art medium, I'm zany, not crazy).  And for the day we filled pictures.

Of course, we started with finger paint.  Yep I'm 37 and madly adore wiggling my index in finger paint.  When I'm 97, I'll still be giggling with gloppy fingers.

Squishing the paint.  Mixing the colors.  You cannot help but let go.  A picture will never turn out perfect.  It's not the perfection you are aiming for.  Its the joy in creating.

Wham.  Think the ahaaaa moment, sitting there with green and blue finger tips.  Momma, it's not perfection in raising you kids that you should be aiming for.  Its the joy in creating.

Maybe I need to get the finger paints out more often.  Maybe my kids need a momma that leaves paint all over their lives, gloppy finger painting joy.


Would you consider joining me today?  I would be honored.  I'm on a mom  journey to be refreshed, renewed, and rejuvenated.  And I could use you.  Your nuggets of wisdom.  Your failures turned glory.  Your story of anything mom.  A chorus.  A momma melody.

To join the melody, simply add your post (a new or old fave) to the link a thingie.

Hugs o' Chocolate

Lil hands holding some big love

Chocolate gooeyness, a scrumptious reminder that we don't live this life alone.  When crazy hard days hit us upside the head, we are wrapped in love.  God's got us.  And He has helpers to wrap us up too.

Imagine this day.  Serious struggles with a precious princess that needs to be wrapped up in love.  A weary foster momma trying her best, faltering a bit when I attempt the feat on my own.  Then a note from a friend.  The sound of the doorbell ringing loud.  A home made plate of love, delivered straight from a little girls heart (and her momma's) to our precious one.

Yeah, the sweetness filled our mouths and hearts all at the same time.  

(Friends bring such crazy joy ... and you can meet this cookie bearing friend, bless her right back, visit her scrumptious piece of real life blog One Blessed Lady, and thank her for the chocolate hugs)

Hats Off, Hats On

Never quite been a fan of hats.  Some cuties, like this little hat happy boy, make hats look good.  Honestly, they look a bit goofy on me.  Yet, I wear them.

A floppy one to protect against the desert sun.  A black and yellow to cheer on my baseball boys as they run the bases.  A momma hat.  A wife hat.  A homeschool Chemphysology Spanish teacher hat.  A foster parent hat.  A tattered and dreary hat to remind me of my past.  A perfection splattered hat that I choose to wear.   Lots and lots of hats.

A friend, handed me a book yesterday.  One all about hats, written for children.  Crazy how a child's book sometimes holds the deepest truths.  A Hat for Ivan by Max Lucado helped me to plum take off some hats and make sure I was only wearing the right one.

Jump into the pages with me today ...

I'm the hat-maker Ivan.  I have seen what happens when people wear hats that weren't intended to wear.  They feel silly.  They fall down.  And they get tired.  ...

Listen, son, just because someone gives you a hat, that doesn't mean you are supposed to wear it.  They mean well, but they don't know you.  That's my job.  I'm the hat maker, and I'm your father.

"So, you'll make a hat just for me?"

"I will.  All you have to do is ask."

I'm hat happy this morning.  Happy that my God knows the perfect hat for me to wear.  Happy that I can simply choose not to wear the perfection and tattered hats in my closet.  Happy that my hat is filled with what I really love to do.  Happy that my God will make a hat for me, that fits all of my desires, gifts, talents & joys.  Happy that my hat rack emptied just a bit this morning.

My Chalkboard Covered Life

I have gone a bit crazy.  Crazy in a gloriously good way.  Crazy for chalkboard paint.

Our dining room table, my first victim.  Slathered the top in chalking goodness.  Now at meals, we sit together, eat and create.   My youngest boy learned to write his name in cursive, from daddy, at our table, literally on our table.

The inside of my kitchen cabinets ... looking a little dull, I remedied.    They now proclaim our daily food body and spirit via menu and verse.  They also hide encouragement and hugs in words and pictures for anyone reaching for a glass but thirsty for more.

My momma command center, my joy jar, hanging signs all around the house ... they all have succumbed to my paintbrush happy.  Because life changes.  We need to be able to erase, at least I do.

Wouldn't the world be wonderful slathered up in chalkboard paint?  Mistakes, no problem.  Erase and start over.   My life, the same.

Holding my dripping brush ready to paint, it hit me.  My life, truly chalkboard covered.  My mistakes, my oopses, the really ick that happened in yesterday, easily erased by wild forgiveness and lavish grace.  Yep, slather me up God.

And paint a sign ...

"Anyone who believes in Christ is a new creation.  The old is gone!  The new has come!"  - 2 Corinthians 5:17

... in chalkboard paint of course!

A Song for Momma

Jesus loves me.
Yes it's true.
He loves me and He loves you.
He loves children just like me.
And I am His for eternity.

Yes, Jesus loves me.
Yes, Jesus loves me.
Yes, Jesus loves me.
He loves me, oh so much.

Because sometimes we all need to hear Jesus loves me.  Okay.  maybe sometimes this momma needs to sing it every night, every single night.

Two sleepy little princesses who have carried pain that no child should have to bare.  They ask to sing every night.  We wrap our arms up, wrap up tight in God's love.  We sing.  I hold both little hands.

To reach both pumpkins as we sing, I have to stay on my knees.  Yep, that is where I need to be.  On my knees.  Praying God's plans for their lives.  God's plan to prosper them and give them a hope and a future.  Praying God's protection over their lives.  Reminding them and this momma Sarah that He is their shield and He will protect them.

Singing this little ditty, packed with promise.  Changes their fears into joy.  Changes this momma heavy with the crazy day of foster love, and special need kids, and homeschool duties, and balancing all this joy called life.

Because when the day is done.  Isn't this what really matters.

Yes, Jesus loves me.
Yes, Jesus loves me.
Yes, Jesus loves me.
He loves me, oh so much!

Birthday Splash

Call me crazy.  Call me madly in love with my kids.  Call me creatively frugal.   Call me a bit tired after 20 boys invaded my home.  Call me anything, EXCEPT a boring birthday party planning momma.

Birthdays around here are big.  Big as in, the day after the birthday kids begin discussing the theme for their next.  And I LOVE it.

Not exactly sure where it all began.  Most likely a combination of my spunk, passion to celebrate my kids with abandon, absolutely little to no finances as a pastor's wife & missionary momma, and the smiles after our first shin dig.

It continues because my momma heart melts into a big puddle of 'i can do this again' when my kids wrap their arms around my neck year after year declaring "THIS WAS MY BEST BIRTHDAY EVER!"

I delight in seeing the smiles on my kids faces.  Surrounded by their friends (all of them, because our reputation is growing and kids always RSVP)  and of course pouring ourselves fully into creating a day they will never forget.

After this weekend's birthday splash, I sat down and realized how I rejoice in celebrating my boys, giving them the best.  Funny, because right then I felt as if my heavenly Daddy felt the same way.

He delights to give me the best, to orchestrate events in my life to make me smile, to surround me with the best of friends, and it doesn't have to cost a fortune, because He is the ultimate in creativity.

"Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows."  - James 1:7

So today, splash around in God's goodness.  Jump into life.  Realize that God has good gifts for you, perfect gifts.  I am.

Scorched

Tis a bit warm around here ... feeling a bit scorched by the desert sun.  My life, my heart, my me feels a bit scorched sometimes as well.  The daily beating down, sand flying in my plans, water drying up, flowers drooping, parched and thirsty for the life giving rain.

We live in the Arizona desert, some may say summer is a miserable feat to survive.  For some people, life may mirage itself as a dry dusty desolate desert.  Yet even the desert, warm sauna holds beauty.  It might simply take my eyes open wider, to see.

When a scorcher hits, the temperature soars.  When a scorcher hits in my heart, frustration soars.   Overwhelmed, I crumpled and withered.

Sometimes, just realizing the thirsty heart, opens my eyes to see.  Stop everything.  Cry out.  Doesn't my Abba know the desert.  Didn't Jesus victoriously survive the desert of setting and soul.   Isn't God big enough to handle my withering and bring the rain my heart thirsts for?

Crazy spontaneous idea ... I gathered the boys.  We hit the road to find the rain.  A fountain in the middle of old town.  Nestled directly under the water tower of old, geysers of giggles shooting up from the ground.  Fully dressed, we jumped in.  Laughing, dancing, catching the desert rain.  Dripping wet, refreshed.

When you feel just like me, in the middle of a desert drought, wash yourself wet in the truth of the Word ...

"The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame.   You will be like a well- watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail."  - Isaiah 58:11

And feel free to jump in the fountain.

Impossible Turned The Key

"Impossible is one of God's favorite words."  - Max Lucado

Sitting here staring at a chunk of of metal ... a key.  How can a simple chunk of metal bring such utter joy, tears of thankfulness and squeals of elation ... simple, insert God.


When God shares its time to buy, we trusted.  When our credit score came back at 0 (yes, you read that correctly)  we continued to trust.  Insert God.


When the housing market began to soar, houses falling off the listing page in less than 24 hours, multiple offers, investors swooping into our part of the world,  offers tens of thousands above asking price.  Insert God.


Finding a beyond amazing home.  Breathe.  Putting in an offer in faith, before even stepping foot inside.  A yard for baseball dreams.  A home with extra rooms for butterfly gardens.  Every little touch I had dreamed but never asked out loud.  Insert God.


A simple offer to get our foot in the door, waiting to play the bid and bid again game.  More than ten showings in a single day.  Countless offers, many beyond ours, all cash.  Insert God.


Advisors telling us it could be a long wait, six to nine months to hear a final word.  Countless hoops to jump.  Doors needing to open at exact times.  Insert God.


Two months from our offer to the key.  Our family is singing a melody of perfect grace.


For those who have ever heard the word impossible mumbled over a dream.  For those of you stuck anywhere in anything.  For anyone with a dream, unrealized as of tonight.  For hearts burdened and longing for something more.  For friends who face a wall of impossibility.   Remember the key.  Insert God.

Cantaloupe Flavored Life

The simple thought of cantaloupe, makes my mouth water, in the I think I might be sick sort of watering. Honestly, I cannot stand the flavor, the texture, the anything about this poignant fruit. Yet even this piece of the garden that my taste buds reject can teach.

The simple things. The small wonders. Eyes open wide, I learn.

A simple mixed fruit salad, tossed for us all to enjoy. Scoop up a slice of mango, a few red ripened strawberries, while maneuvering around the orange chunks of yuck. How many times have I done this, scooping only the favorites of life? Fork in hand to enjoy, the flavor startles ... darn cantaloupe, it tinges the whole salad.

As I sit with a bit of disappointment, a smile spreads across my face. Cantaloupe has a way of rubbing off on everything, flavoring an entire bowl with its fruity flavor. My life, can learn from the cantaloupe ways.

"But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of him. For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing." - 2 Corinthians 2:14-15

My life, fragranced by God. Needs to be a bit more like cantaloupe. To mix in the world, tinging the whole salad with the aroma of grace and the flavor of His goodness.

Call me cantaloupe. I might just have a new favorite fruit.

Of Weeds and Thankfulness

When the rain hits and pelts the parched ground here in the desert, I head for the weeds. Stubborn little hearty pests, they scatter seed and poke their heads in all the wrong places. The assault is useless I have learned, without ample supply of water.

The water drenches the ground and the weeds, unknowingly, soak up, fill up their roots with the precious desert commodity. With roots full and ground moist, one simple tug rids our land of the nuisance. In the past, I dug, ripped leaves, frustrated by the roots that stuck hard in the ground, mocking my kneeling.

In my life as well. A part of me, grumpy fretting anxious flaw, revealed in the mirror. Recognizing it as a weed, sown amongst the wheat, I began to dig, pull with passion, only to hold the leaves in my hand, root in tact, laughingly ready to rear its head over and over.

Living water, the Word of God, soaks down to the root of the weeds. Saturating daily, when the weed I spot, a simple tug of recognition and repentance brings the dangling pest, roots and all, out of my garden.

Weeding in the drizzle yesterday, back bent, heart humbled ... I learned from the master gardener.

And so the count of thankfulness continues, this time with weed lessons learned

rain that pelts and the Word that drenches

the ease at which the baby weeds pull softly from the dirt leaving no hole of remorse

the light of His love that reveals the sins as they creep in slowly, just starting to take root

joy filled success when the overgrown nasty relinquishes its rights on the land and struggles free swinging roots and all in my hand

knowing that the overgrown sins in my heart can be pulled with strength and ease as I soak in His Word and promises.

little hands that pull with me, sharing, giggling, learning alongside

teaching the next generation the ways of the master gardener in our lives

a clean patch of earth and heart, ready to plant seed for harvest

Of Pancakes and Hockey Pucks

Childhood reminds me of pancake syrup, sticky and sweet dripping down your chin while making lil' puddles of joy on your plate to savor.

Pancake mornings in our home illicit squeals of joy from all the children and dad alike. Simple joy whipped up in homemade batches of whole wheat goodness.

My last batch brought a story and giggles. First of all, let me take a brief moment to use this blog space to confess ... I am a pancake snob. I also have absolutely no self control when it comes to the mounds of steamy goodness on the griddle. I gobble them up as soon as my spatula scrapes them and sets them free. Thus, by the time I make it to the table with the pancakes stacked high, I am always full.

Hence I have learned to leave some bubbling on the griddle and to scamper to sit with my

family and enjoy the conversation that always erupts. I don't want to miss a thing.

On one such occasion, the giggles and stories and love being shared with a family with drippy syrupy forks caused me to momentarily lapse in my pancake duty. They sat bubbling for quite some time (think hockey pucks) when my oldest remembered. Sweetly he reminded me that I still had pancakes cooking.

Jumping up to scrape them off, my youngest quickly remarked "those are Daddy's" Yes, childhood reminds me of pancake syrup ... sticky and sweet dripping down your chin while making lil' puddles of joy for your family to savor.

In case you would like it, here's my creative recipe for pancakes (tried, tested, and concocted for my pancake lovers when momma wanted a healthy alternative) Now if any of you can help me with a better solution than syrup ...

Pancake Whole Wheat Goodness

1/2 c Cold Milled Flax Seed

4 tsp baking powder

2 c whole wheat flour

1 tsp baking soda

1 tsp salt

2 cup rice milk (regular or buttermilk works too)

2 eggs

1/4 c unsweetened apple sauce

1/4 protein powder (we like vanilla flavored)

Combine all dry ingredients in one bowl. Whisk all wet ingredients in another. Add the wet stuff to the dry. Stir but keep it nice and lumpy. Add more milk if it's too dry. Cook pancakes on a hot griddle (but not for too long). Enjoy!

P.S. I also just added a new option to this blog, a chance to be splashed in your email inbox. Over on the right hand side at the top of the page, you can add your email address and Splashin' Glory will be sweetly sent to your email. No fuss. Simple little splashes for your day.

Treasure Time

Years ago, a crazy situation arose in my home. Honest moment here, life open wide for any reader out in blog landia to take a peek into my life. Our Bible time, quiet time, family devotional life ... (insert whatever term you would like to use) had become dull, drab, lifeless, like a leftover piece of toast stuck in the toaster.

This momma knew, slopping some sweet jelly on the top would still not persuade any little ones to gobble it down with glee. I needed an overhaul. A creative solution. A new way of looking at things that would foster a deep down love for God's Word.

With limited resources (serving on the mission field as a family) and no Christian bookstore around the corner to search for ideas, I asked some simple questions. What do I want my boys to think about our time focussing on God? When I think of reading the Bible and praying, what does it mean to me? How can I put value on something that is quite possibly the most important skill I can develop in our family? I summed it up in one word, treasure.

"For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." - Matthew 6:21

And thus began our adventure into a new realm of 'treasure time'. We began with a simple box, our treasure chest, and filled it with a Bible for little hands and a few story books that shared God's love. Gathering around every morning, the boys would take turns on who would open the box as a sense of expectancy and excitement bubbled over.

When we moved back to the US, my prince found an amazing 'treasure chest' with drawers on all sides that we have stuffed with the best and most worthy treasures of all. Our treasure time has led us on a wonderful adventure, one with twists and turns, and bumps as children grew and changed. And worth every moment.

We can linger for hours in our treasure time and sometimes we do. And days like today, when a bustling schedule looms over the hours ahead and a busy momma starts the gears a bit early ... A young boy will stop and say "Mommy, we have to do treasure time, right?" The schedule falls to the side and happy hearts smile as we gather once again around our treasure chest, with the same sense of expectancy and excitement.

For a bit, I will be sharing about our Treasure time. Tuesday Treasures. Come back and splash with me, share your ideas, and together we can turn stale toast into real treasure.

P.S. I also just added a new option to this blog, a chance to be splashed in your email inbox. Over on the right hand side at the top of the page, you can add your email address and Splashin' Glory will be sweetly sent to your email. No fuss. Simple little splashes for your day.

Christmas Denial

I admit it already. The first step is admitting it right? Doesn't really matter because I am blissfully enjoying my denial. Christmas cannot possibly be over. I simply will not allow it.

My decorations refuse to budge. The tree (thankfully it's fake) stands triumphantly blazing lights in the corner of the room. Banisters all decked out and red velvet blankets still snuggle on our couch. Officially our family has decided to continue celebrating all month. Boxes to be filled with red and green will not come of out the garage until the end of January.

Yes, I know we are hosting celebrations and people at our home. Quite possibly hundreds of people will pass through our doors this month and see our faux pas. It only makes me smile and giggle all the more.

Christmas cannot be contained in a month. The joy of celebrating what Jesus has done for me, my family, my everything simply doesn't fit into 31 days. Our home bubbled over with love, friends, family and hearts wide open to Him. We ushered into 2012, thankful for the past and expectant for all that lies ahead in the future.

So, what's the harm in celebrating a bit more. If a lit tree and sparkling ornaments of God's faithfulness brings smiles to all of our faces, then this mom says leave them up. If a manger scene reminds us that each day is all about Him and not about us, why tuck it away so soon. And if our family all agrees and friends who visit shake their heads and smile, why not?

From our home to yours Merry Christmas. And yes, I know it's already January, but we're still celebrating over here and would love to have you join in the festivities.

Spunk Filled Days

From our family to yours ...

Thankful for the fun, spunk, and love wrapped up in our family. Thankful for a beautifully busy season of life, filled to the brim with snuggles, baseball, puppy kisses, and love out loud. Thankful for a place to come and celebrate all the goodness and splash around for a bit.

What tops your thankful tank today?

Of Sheep and Joyness

My boy spoke a new word, one that I grabbed and tucked into my own vocabulary. Joyness. A word to describe the type of day I choose. An emotion I choose to splash in each day.

First things first, setting the joyness for our day. As momma, my mood casts a shadow or rays of sunshine on the day ahead as sleepy boys tumble out of bed.

Flipping the pages of my battle plan, the victory for my day wrapped in God's Word of love and hope, I turn to well worn Psalm 100 and declare it in faith over our day ...

"Shout for joy to the Lord, all the earth. Worship the Lord with gladness; come before him with joyful songs. Know that the Lord is God. It is he who made us, and we are his, we are his people, the sheep of his pasture. Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise; give thanks to him and praise his name. For the Lord is good and his love endures forever; his faithfulness continues through all generations." - Psalm 100

A simple act. It sets my emotions on joyness. It sets my day on the right path. And sometimes, you can even hear some baaaaaa coming from our house throughout the day.

When Brothers Teach Momma

His hand clutches the pencil, eraser picked and chewed. Concentration etched on his dimpled face as his tongue tip slips into the hard working pose. Handwriting. School. Momma stops and reads the words. From his paper, straight to my heart.

"A true friend is always loyal and a brother is born to help in time of need."- Proverbs 17:17

Only 6, tomorrow 7. In such short years, he loves much. In sweetness he forgives easily. In brother quarrels he says he's sorry when he has done nothing wrong. He hugs and kisses with lavish abandon. He gives his best to others, always prefers his brother. Not something taught, he just is. At his party, he will ask his brother to sit with him and open their gifts together. He always has. When asked where he would like to go, anywhere in the world, India he answers. To take bandaids to the children who live on the street and Bibles.

Brothers live. Momma learns. In my years, a longing to be known for loving much. In sweetness to forgive easily. Humility, doing everything to live at peace with everyone. Hugs and kisses, always, showering love on those dearest and near. Giving my best to others, my brothers and sisters that share my Abba. Someday, India .... to walk with him side by side. And inviting others to the party at the end of time. Sitting down and opening our gifts together.

I walk step by step, teaching him and holding his hands for his first. He teaches me step by step in living and loving.

Happy happy birthday my bold one. Keep leading your generation into all of the promises of God and teaching the mommas how to do the same.

When The Ball Goes Foul

A sign adorns a local church near our home, announcing a new sermon series. "When Life Throws You Curve Balls" Wanna know my first response .... Hit it out of the park.

Seriously, I've been digging into the ultimate playbook and no where can I find that we are supposed to accept defeat, dismay, striking out in life, or any such lot. Yes I know that sometimes the world pitches junk at us, but we have an umpire calling those nasty balls for what they really are. He knows the good stuff. He tells us how to live it, how to hit every ball out of the park, no matter what is pitched at us. And how to run the bases all the way home.

God already secured our victory, He sent His Son to step up to the plate for us. It looked like He struck out big time, nailing him to the wooden posts for all to see. Little did they know, He was playing the final game, the World Series, not simple backyard baseball. He won for all of us. Handing us the victory in ever situation, every game, every pitch we could encounter in life.

I've been learning some things, watching my little boys play baseball on a little league team for the first time. They rocked the baseball world. They believed they would. We can do the same if only we would believe that greater is He that is in us than he that is in the world.

You can never strike out with a foul ball. Keep hitting, over and over, getting just a piece of it. You get another shot at the ball. How many times have I given up. Stepped away from the batter box because I felt like I was defeated. No more. I'm swinging, getting a piece of it each time. Eventually I will hit it out of the park, and until then I'm will not be defeated and I will not quit.

How you practice is how you'll play the game. During the intense times, what is in you will come out. It's not the situation that made you oops. During the practice times, get filled up with the good stuff, get rid of the junk. And when the game is on the line, you'll be ready.

When a ball flies at your head, be sure you're wearing the right gear. Watching my 6 year old suit up, ugh. So thankful the gear protected him from thrown bats, missed pitches. Naive me goes about my day without suiting up and protecting myself from the fast balls of life, aimed right at me. Putting on my armor, dusting it off, using it, and sharpening my sword by knowing the Word, enables me to stand strong in this game of life.

No matter how young or inexperienced, play your game anyway. Some, walking with Jesus for quite a while, some just starting on the trek. It doesn't matter. We all have the same victory in our daily life as we do the Word. My oldest, began his first season. His team filled with seasoned boys (5 years experience). He played his game. Listened, watched, learned. He made the All Star Team this year, chosen as one of the best. Don't let your age, your years with God, anything hold you back from playing your game. God has great plans to prosper you and give you a good future.

So dust off home plate. Get in your batters stance. Swing for the fences ... I'll be cheering you on as you run the bases.

Of Artichoke and Christmas

"Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart." - Psalm 37:4

Wrapped in a season of celebration, stop and notice the little bits. The gifts that a loving God adorns with bows of everyday. I am learning. I am looking. I am finding.

Over a year after returning from the mission field, we celebrated the gift of family and friends. Opening our home, we welcomed them with laughter, cherished our time, celebrated the goodness of our God.

With so many I wanted to create a evening of joy right down to the artichoke jalapeno warm spread. As people came and came, filling our home with smiles and friendships, I danced in the gift of hospitality. Sharing, welcoming, hugging, greeting, I glanced and noticed one dip was dwindling. More food abounded, no lack, yet I simply wanted everyone to enjoy well, everything. Without a worry, I simply continued to host and enjoy our time with family and friends.

A few moments later, I glanced across the kitchen to notice a friend filling a bowl to the brim of freshly warmed artichoke jalapeno spread. She had brought it to our celebration and arrived with the warm gift from a Jesus who cares even about the little things.

In that moment. In a simple act. The hand of my God providing for my every need. Giving me the desires of my heart. Answering the whisper under my breath. Wrapping His gift in warm artichoke.

It may seem trivial to some. Yet this sweet reminder, one in countless, reminded me of a God that sustains the world with His Word, sends His Son to bring me life abundant, and cares about the minute details of my life.

I can trust Him to provide for me. I can rely on His grace to sustain me. I can rest in His goodness. And when the last guest leaves, I can scoop up warm artichoke spread and smile.

What gifts (small or grandiose) has God wrapped for you this Christmas season?

And rejoice with me in 70% of our water buffalo to wrap for Jesus this year!

(We are splashing together to bless a family in India with a gift this year for Christmas. Simply click to donate as all funds will be donated to Gospel for Asia)

She's Back!

Sweet friends, it's been a bit since I've splashed around here. Glad to be back. A time of focussing on the most importants in my life. A time of speaking to certain mountains and by faith believing that they are moved. A time of joy, washed in thankfulness for all that God has done and is doing in me. It's kinda like this ...

Sometimes you have to take time to move things out of the picture of your life.

"Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like a man who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like. But the man who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom and continues to do this, not forgetting what he has heard, but doing it - he will be blessed in what he does." - James 1:23

And you gotta know when and where to stand.

"Now it is God who makes both us and you stand firm in Christ. He anointed us, set his seal of ownership on us, and put his Spirit in our hearts as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come."

- 2 Corinthians 1:21-22

Then, you laugh when at times you realize you have no idea what you are doing.

"But he said to me, My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me." - 2 Corinthians 12:9

Of course, there is always time for a bit more refinement.

"My son, do not make light of the Lord's discipline, and do note lose heart when he rebukes you, because the Lord disciplines those he loves .." - Hebrews 12:5-6

A must to open your eyes

"Once more Jesus put his hands on the man's eyes. Then his eyes were opened, his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly." - Mark 8:25

The final outcome ... worth the process.

"And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit."

- 2 Cor 3:18

And friends, we have much to celebrate. When God looks at the picture of our lives, what a wonder that He sees us through the lens of Jesus.

A Year and A Day

A year, since we boarded a plane back to the beauty of the Arizonan desert. A year filled with boys adjusting to a culture they claimed, but never knew. A year of God's faithfulness and refreshment for our missionary family returning. A year of falling more in love with Jesus.

A year of counting thanks and remembering to say gracias to my Abba who made it all possible. (#62-85)

*His miraculous provision for the home of my dreams when we arrived

*furniture, dishes, all of the basics given with love by many hands

*swimming pools and little boys learning to swim

*backyards with grass and swingsets

*bathtubs with hot, running water (will never take them for granted)

*garbage pick up and recycling

*little boys racing and waving as the trash trucks scour the neighborhood

*crossing the line from hope to faith

*a job provided to meet our needs

*being quick to obey His leading and reaping His blessings.

*new friends who speak 'only English' as my boys quickly noticed

*flushing toilets, oh the joy, enough said.

*ability to flush the toilet paper too (squeals of delight)

*learning the power of His Word

*baseball games ... and every other sport as my boys dive into this culture

*Christmas tree lights and wrapping paper

*birthday parties celebrated with family after many years without

* 4th of July celebrations, the first for my youngest

*4 generations seated around a table

*learning the happy dance with my family gathered in giggles

*simply saying a washer and dryer! (no more rainforest line dry)

*Thanksgiving with a real turkey, lots of mashed potatoes and apple pie

*amigas, my pink polka dots of iron, staying connected across the miles

*a heartbeat for the nations still beating strong in my own.