Time Out. Time In.

We all get out breath.  Shoe comes untied.  Breaks are needed.  Time outs, a part of the tag game of life.

My kids, they crave tag games.  Fast.  Furiously Fun.  Its how they live life.  Full Speed.

I sat watching, observing, absorbing, learning.  Love it when this momma slows down enough to learn, even in a tag game.

As kids scamper, inevitably one pants the words TIME OUT, making the universal sign of T with lil hands.  Time out granted.  She catches her breath.

When she's refreshed, ready to give her all, she joyously proclaims TIME IN, dashing to join game once again.

Light bulb goes off in this momma brain.  TIME IN!  TIME IN!  TIME IN!  It brings the joy, announcing to all you are joining in the game again.  And its been missing in our home.

We take time outs.  Time outs when the kids can call them, when parent calls them, when mom needs them.

We all get out of breath.  Emotions become untied.   Breaks are needed.  Time outs, a part of the tag game of life.

After the mistake admitted, apology spoken, the forgiveness asked & received, the solution agreed on ... TIME IN joyously declared.

We snuggle up, foot rub, scratch back, tickle match, extra hugs ... TIME IN!  Its plum making a huge difference in the way we all enter back into the game of daily life.

Time In ... Bring on the tag game.


Would you consider joining me today?  I would be honored.  I'm on a mom  journey.  And I could use you.  Your nuggets of wisdom.  Your failures turned glory.  A fave old post.  Pictures of memories in the making.  Your story of anything mom.

Simply slip your post into the link up.  You can grab the button if you would like as well.  I'll start the splash on Mondays.   And I know the filled to the brim momma schedules ... so join us any day of the week and link up.   

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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.

Spunk Splattered Hunting

Anyone can hunt during the day ...

Zany mom on the adventure trek to enjoy her kids, celebrates with a bit of spunk splattered hunting.

Imagine a day filled to bursting with celebrations of a Risen Jesus!  Somewhere between brushing their teeth and tucking the littles in bed, an idea laced with fun popped in my busy schedule.

I clamored to stuff the eggs with a mountain of loose change.  Secret sleuth Sarah hid all of the eggs outside in the dark.  Sometimes I wonder what my sweet kids will think of me when they are all grown up.

Jammies on.  Prayers.  Foot rubs.  I posted a note on the boys' door.  Tapped it and walked out of the room.  I heard their feet thump off the bunk bed, listened through the door as they read  ...

Happy Easter my boyz!
So you think the celebration is over?
Well my boyz, think again.

Celebrating Jesus and all He's done.
No way to limit all the zany fun.
Jesus came to earth to shine God's light!
Grab your shoes ...
              egg hunt at night.

He came to set us free.
He paid for us the cost.
To save us from our sin.
To GO and reach the lost.

Now you carry it,
His love and His light.
Into a dark world,
bold warriors ...
           go and fight!

(written in like a minute as the last one brushed his teeth ... God is so crazy good when we just go with it and grab the moment).

They opened the door with priceless 8 and 11 year old grins.  I had two flashlights.  Dad's mega mag light that illuminates the room and a simple finger flashlight that lights up your finger.  We talked about which one they would want to use for the real hunt.  We talked about the real LIGHT of the world and shining crazy bright for him.

They grabbed their shoes.  They made a plan.  To work TOGETHER to find all of the eggs.  Imagine!  An egg hunt with no competition.  Brothers side by side.  Teachable moment seized.

One step outside into the black.   A quick flash across the yard and they exclaimed ... they are everywhere.  They laughed.  They hunted.  They found them all.  They counted their treasure piled high.

We talked about the real treasure in the world, people.  We talked about Jesus and how He came not just to bring us LIGHT but so we could share HIS light with the dark world.  And we plum created a new Easter tradition.

Egg hunt at night.  Bring it.

When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, "I am the light of the world.  Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life."  - John 8:12

Money, Money, Money

People, love them.  Money, the love of it can bring some serious ick.

Sometimes, this stay at home momma, sits down and crazy wonders how it all works.  How in the world can I be snuggled up in our own home?  We have given so much away, everything we owned a few times traveling to the mission field, and yet I have everything my heart could want and more. 

How is it possible that we survive, scratch that, thrive with one simple salary and a slew of precious kids?   Every need met.  Even desires of our hearts and baseball and hosting friends for dinner and date nights and oh so much blessing squeezed into our lives.  

A commonly spoken promise ... "And my God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus."  - Philippians 4:19  Dig a bit deeper and I see that the promise came after giving had been done.  

"Give, and it will be given to you.  A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap.  For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you."  - Luke 6:38.  Jesus said it.  He knew what it meant to give.  He gave it all

Smack dab in the middle of a money crazed society ... standing against the tidal wave of entitlement attempting to latch onto them.  My boys run down the stairs giddy with their announcement above, a fundraiser just for our family.  They post it with tape ... straight on my heart.

Maybe, just maybe this culture has mixed it all up.  Instead of hoarding, collecting, buying up, charging, and on and on and on ...  we should crazy give.   

... and I'm off to crazy give some quarters.

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.

Leaves Go Crunch

Joy ... it just seems to ooze out of this one.   He lives each moment full.   On my journey to reclaim my smile, to splatter joy, I need not look far.

Children thrive on joy.  Their giggles escape from tiny lips and infuse the air around them.  Maybe that's why God says the kingdom of God belongs to them.  And we big grown up frowning, fretting, frustrated adults need to become more like them.

Me, I sometimes miss the joy moments.  I see a pile of leaves and wonder how long it will take to rake them, bag them, tie them up.   I need to see through different eyes.  Joy lenses. 

This week, I stooped down.  Kneeled on their level (all four of my little blessings).  Retraining my eyes, my mind, my me ... to see the joy in the leaves.  To heap them up only to jump.

Because when the day is done, this momma wants to curl up on on a crunch joy filled bed of leaves.  

Wanna splatter joy with me?  I would love to have some company in this journey.  Leave me a note, splash me an email, share your joy filled ideas ... and lets splatter one another in crazy joy!

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!

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.