Overflow

I don't know if any of you work on memory verses with kids, but this week I went for; "Out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks" ...um, what verse is that? So my memorizing needs a bit of work. Anyway, I thought that this would be a good verse to imbed deep into their impressionable little minds to pull out when applicable. (And don't you know, it will be applicable!) I decided to go the extra mile with this one. I set up a station at my sink, chairs so the kids could climb up and see the "speriment" I was going to perform. I filled a cup with water and then let the water keep running, to their very wide and shocked eyes, I allowed the water to spill over the glass and keep spilling! I talked about overflow. I talked and talked and talked about how that represented our hearts and that what we put in our hearts will come out of our mouths, la dee da dee da and on I talked. I had their rapt attention. I knew this sunk in. They hopped down from the chairs, we sat right down on the kitchen floor (another attention getter) we memorized the verse. We said it over and over and over. We talked more about overflow and about hearts. I patted my little guys on the head and knew I did my job this day. I taught them how to guard what goes into their hearts...and maybe more importantly, to be watchful about what comes out. Yep, I did it.
So maybe you've guessed where this might be heading. If you guessed that this would be a beautiful opportunity to thoroughly humble this mama...you guessed right! I ask the boys, in front of their daddy (of course) to recite their memory verse. Jack does it like clockwork. Ben does all the hand gestures and gets a couple key words. I beam. I say, "Jack, tell Daddy what that verse means." He says, "Well, it means that sometimes, I guess its okay for mama to waste water."

Father's Day

I think that I have figured out how to post pictures. Here goes! These are pictures from Scott's moody broadcast.

Scott won!

If you missed the live broadcast from my living room this morning on Moody radio...this is the place where you should click on a blue, underlined internet address and go directly to the audio feed...however, I just don't have all this figured out yet. So sorry, in fact I cannot even get pictures on here yet! Months from now I will laugh at my naiivete with this computer, but for now all I can do is give the written description of this day. What a beautiful day to be a child of God.
I entered Scott in Moody radio's Father's day competition: Marinade and Serenade. I had to submit a 500 word essay about him. The inspiration was so easy. Monday morning the boys and I were making his father's day card. I asked each boy for a word that they thought of when they thought of their daddy. Ben immediately said, "BIG!" Jack thought for quite a while and then came to me with the vision for the entire card, he wanted to watercolor a cross in the center and then in the bottom right hand side, write the word 'servant.' I said, "Jack...honey, what does that mean to you? What is a servant?" He said, "well, a servant is someone who has Jesus in their heart and helps other people. A servant is my daddy." It made me cry. I knew it was my entry to the competition and a segue to talk about what a servant's heart Scott has. I couldn't believe they chose our entry as the grand prize winner. At 8:15 this morning, a quartet (um, plus 2) showed up to serenade Scott with appreciation. He was so moved. He is so deserving. I can hardly express what my heart feels this day, right now. As a wife, as a mom, as a child of God's who He blesses without any reason. Thank you God. Thank you for giving me this day to look at my family with fresh, wet eyes and know so clearly how blessed I am. To see in my little son such purity and boldness, to grasp that you have given him to us to guide and train, thank you. Thank you God for seeking me, for patience with me, for changing me. Thank you for showing me how beautiful the role of wife is, the balance in a heart that seeks submission. Thank you for my husband and his devoted heart. This day will forever stand out to me; the feelings of unworthiness running smack into the heart of God and finding rest there.

can't tell you why ;)

Anyone who has a chance, listen to moody radio tomorrow at 8:15 am!!!

So we're making a playroom...

My life has been consumed for the last two weeks with renovating our (creepy, spider-filled, dark) basement into a playroom. Could it be possible? Would we actually like to hang out down there? Could I leave the kids down there with the spiders while I was upstairs?? I guess the answer is, "yes!" We finished!!! We painted the concrete floor Star Gazer Blue (maybe a little bold, nope!) and the walls 3 coats of Champagne Dance...its still in my hair, like highlights gone tragically wrong. We moved the used couch and loveseat in, hooked up the cable down there, added shelving for toys and Voila, a playroom/family room is born. I love it!! I may be fooling myself but I almost believe it is soundproof...I only hear muffled yelling, quiet enough to ignore. As I speak, there is not one toy upstairs, not a piece of a toy to trip over or bonk into in the night...they're all downstairs, on their appropriate shelf in their appropriate bin. Wow. So that's what this feels like, calm. ...now onto the laundry room...

Bleed and Cut Knees

What is it with little boys and beat-up knees? Summertime brings so many familiar moments, some good and some not so good....mosquitos and lemonade, daylight until 9pm (guilt when you're in bed before its dark), and the plethora of band-aids that I must stock to keep up with the knees that I must tend. Its constant, it seems. As soon as the weather gets warm and then very warm, my boys start tumbling. Typically they land on concrete, but I've bandaged up knees that have flecks of grass stuck to them. Perhaps the summer brings out a different kind of purpose in running itself. Running with more speed, more abandon, pure joy....and then they crash. Their reactions are so different. I have one who hardly slows down, wipes blood away and continues on and one that is so fascinated by "bleed" that he rates his falls by how many band-aids it requires. A well-earned war wound, complete with a story that shares where he was heading and how fast he was going and then BOOM (the boom is always re-enacted).
We were getting ready to go to the store, putting shoes on and I realized as I was bent down, then sitting down, how funny their little legs looked from this new perspective. Navy shorts on both that stopped right above the knees, between the two of them I counted 8 band-aids. There could have been more, there were scrapes and bruises unaccounted for...I looked in horror at their little calves and said, "oh guys, you have a lot of cuts and bruises and band-aids." They gave me big smiles back and Jack said, "I know Mom...isn't it great!"