Living in the tension: How do we help others?

Driving to the grocery store, I noticed a man lying on the ground at the bus stop.  Something in the way he was haphazardly lying there, told me it wasn't a natural nap position.  I have seen countless homeless men and women lying on the ground to rest.  I have seen even more college students, or bikers, resting in the grass as they wait for the bus.  Nothing about this man's position communicated that he landed that way on the ground on purpose.  His arm was akwardly behind his head and his legs didn't look natural.

Something didn't seem right.

I was driving, and only had a moment to process what I saw.  I had to keep driving, or risk getting hit by the car behind me.

It didn't feel right though, driving away.

Every other car I saw was driving away.  None of them were driving toward the man to help.

I sat at the light and processed what it meant that we live in a culture that dozens of cars would pass a man, not moving, lying on the ground in an unnatural way.  It made me sad to be apart of the culture that was either too busy, too focused or too scared to care.  (Does this remind you of a parable Christ told?)

The light turned green and I turned around to go back.

At the very same time that I drove up, two other cars had turned around and were stopping.

My faith in humanity being restored a little in that moment.


I got out of my car to check the situation and talk with one of the other women that stopped who was on the phone with 911.  We could see he was breathing, but he still looked so unnatural and very, very still.  No one had approached him or touched him.

I walked over closer to the man so that I could get a better look and he could hear me talk to him.  I was just out of arms reach, and asked in a loud voice if he was OK.  He sat up, startled, and said he was fine.  I asked if he needed help, and he just laid back down.

Something didn't feel right.

I went to stand back next to the other women, and then the sirens of the police came from every direction.  Before we knew it, three police cars pulled up and took over.

An officer came out of her car and asked the gentleman if he was alright.  He sat up again, attesting to the fact that he was fine.  She asked if he needed any help since he was at the bus station and missed the bus just moments before.  His immediate response was, "PLEASE!  Don't take me back to rehab."

The officers looked at us and told us everything would be fine.  They told us they had it covered, they thanked us for phoning in, and we could go about our day.  These women and I exchanged glances, not knowing what else to do and said our good byes.

I did my shopping and on the way home 20 minutes later, the police were still there with an ambulance getting ready to the take the man to the local hospital.

I felt sad and relieved at the same time.  Life is clearly difficult for this man, but I was so thankful he was getting  help.

I came home and starting telling this tale to Paul with Big listening intently to our conversation.  Paul was of course immediately frustrated with me that I got out of the car.  He let his frustration show in the way he exhaled his breath.  Then he said something like, "Why did you do something so dumb?"

To which Big cried, "Mama didn't do anything dumb!  That's bad to say that dad.  She helped someone!  She did what she was supposed to.   Mama did something nice!"

Paul let me finish, then turned to Big and said, "I am happy mommy helped someone.  I really am.  But mommy could have stayed in the car where she was safe and called 911.  She risked her life by getting out and approaching that man.  He could have tricked her and was there waiting for an attack.  I always want mommy to help, but I need her to be safe.  She could have helped just as much by staying safely in the car, and getting the police there."

That is where the tension is.  That is what I felt in the car as I watched so many people pass by.  Not doing anything to help.  Not stopping.

How do we live in the light of hope and love while always being aware and safeguarding against the darkness?

I completely understand where Paul is coming from.  I get it.

And even while I get it, it breaks my heart that thoughts of protecting myself while helping others is a needed reality.

Gone are the days of just simply putting the needs of someone else before your own.  It is needed  to be aware of the traps and scams and people that will take advantage of kindness.  It hurt as Paul and I tried to explain this to our son.  We deeply desire to spur him on towards loving and helping others.  We want his life to reflect a heart for all people.  And yet, in that reality, we must make sure that he is at least aware of the darkness.  Aware enough that he is smart in the way he lives and comes to the aid of friends and strangers as he grows older.

There lies a tension in seeing people in their brokenness and doing what we can to help and love them, while remaining smart about how we go about it.

I want to throw caution out the window and just dive in.  I don't want to think about myself, or believe the worst in people.  I desire to do whatever I can to help someone, just because they need it.  However, Paul is right.  We live in a world where that could have easily been a trap and I would have walked right into it.  I could have suffered great damage or been one of thousands of women who disappear at the hands of a stranger, thus leaving behind a husband and three children, wifeless and motherless.

We can't be the people who just drive by, not seeing, or being too terrified to step out in love, worried always only about ourselves.

We must be a people who live in the hardness of the tension, especially as we teach our children.  We must be a people who helps a fellow man or woman or child in their moment of need.  I believe we can do it, while we are smart about it. 

We can't let fear win.

Love has to win.  Selflessness must win.  Compassion still exists, even in the tension.

I don't have an answer.  I don't know how to teach my children about this whole idea of loving others while protecting yourself.  I wrestle with it, not knowing how to understand it or live in it.

But I know I desire to find a way.  I desire for my children to always help others, and I desire for them to be smart.

In the meantime, we live in the tension, (hopefully leaning more towards love and selflessness).

Hiking turns us into a circus

As we walked to the rose quartz mine this year, it reminded me so much of our experience from last year.

Somehow because of the schedule, I still ended up in a skirt and ballet slipper shoes.  I had Paul with me though and 15 other people so it was easier to pass Little around instead of carrying her on my own.

We did run into a few mutilated deer limbs though, which I am not sure I will ever get used to.  Seeing animal body parts that have been torn to shred by a larger, fiercer animal should by my first indicator that I should turn and go home.

We paused just as much  though as Big gathered so many rocks before we even got to the mine that he had to hold his pants up, otherwise the weight would pull them down.

Apparently this little hike seems to bring out our ridiculousness.

Either way, here is a fun story for you to read and enjoy from our South Dakota camping adventure.

I did laugh out loud when I read that I shouldn't do this hike again, or at least remember what happened last year.  Clearly, I didn't do that before we went hiking, me in my skirt and girl shoes.

Happy evening everyone.

The storms that seem to destroy our trust

It was early morning, the kids fell back asleep tucked in their car seats and wrapped in their blankets.  I had iced coffee and Sanders Bohke filling the car with soulful rich music.  It was a beautiful way to start our 12 hour drive home.  I was waiting for the sun to come up and greet us.  I was looking forward to the start of a brand new day, with the hopes of being filled with adventure and giggles from my kids as we sang silly songs and played games in the car.

We were heading west, so I watched the first signs of orange and red in the rearview mirror.  The further we drove however, it was clear that there was a huge storm in front of us.  At one point, immediately after the kids woke up, the sun was shining behind us, there were gray clouds over us, with slight sprinkles that brought out a double rainbow, but in the distance, I saw the blackness and I worried.  Big still really struggles with storms.  His triggers are dark clouds and thunder and instead of being safely tucked in a home under its protection, we were traveling in the big metal box that he saw damaged and pierced with tree limbs in the tornado two years ago.  His faith in our current protection was shattered as he too noticed the black clouds coming.  He looked out and said in a high pitched worried voice, “mama, its coming!  Look, something bad is coming!”

I tried to reassure him that we would be OK.  We worked on reality therapy.  I would ask him questions like, “Does thunder hurt us?  What is thunder?  What happens if it rains?  Who is bigger than this storm?  What has you worried the most?”  All these things he would answer, trying to hold onto the truth that the rain doesn't hurt and the thunder is just noise and we are never left alone.

But then we drove in the storm and even I got afraid.  Never in my life have I driven through such a storm.  It was almost like a winter white out, the rain was coming down so hard I couldn't see if front of us.  The sky moved from grey, to dark, to midnight black.  The rain pounded our car so hard that I couldn't even talk to the kids.  I had to scream to them that we were all right which just seemed to make it worse.  The thunder cracked so loud the windshield shook at one point.  The lightening would pierce the sky over and over.  My hands were white knuckled on the steering wheel and I kept questioning whether we should pull over and stop and wait it out.  I knew though however that if I kept focused we could push through and get through the storm faster, than just sitting in it and waiting for it to pass. 

I needed my kids to trust me.  I took my eyes off the road for one brief moment to check the review mirror to make sure they were OK.  I saw all three kids huddled together with their blankets over their heads.  I saw Big, Middle and Little all holding hands.

As I drove through that storm, I am sure my children wished with all their might that I would pull over and find a safer place to be.   They wished that somehow I could make the storm stop, to just make it go away and bring the sun back.  But I wasn't doing that.  I kept driving through the storm and I needed them to trust me.  I needed them to trust me to make the right choice in driving through the storm.   That I knew when the storm was OK to drive through, and when it was time to pull over.  I needed them to trust that I would keep them safe even though they were scared.  I needed them to trust my love for them, that even though things were very hard right in this moment, I wouldn't do anything to hurt them.  Even when it felt absolutely terrifying, I needed them to trust me.

And then the rain started to ease up.  The thunder slowly started to sound softer, and the lightening was no longer flashing in the sky.  Streams of light starting to shine through the clouds and all of a sudden, we were on the other side.  The blackness we just drove through was behind us, reflecting in the review mirror, and the light was bright in front of us.

We had made it.

The kids slowly pulled down their blankets from their heads, and peaked out.  They cautiously looked at me and asked, “Is it over?  Are we safe again?” 

Yes.  We made it through.  Even though it was scary and hard, we made it through.

In the midst of the storm it was impossible to imagine it being over.  The storm raged so loud around us that it was all we could see, all we could hear, all we could live in.  I wasn't thinking about when it was over, I was thinking about, how do we live in this place right now and be OK?

And then God spoke softly in my heart, reminding me of how little I trust him when things are truly hard and overwhelming in my life and all I can see is the pain and the suffocating struggle of every day.  In that moment in the car, he begged me to trust him, just as I wanted my children to trust me.

There are days when I shut down and I hide in books or TV or FB or Twitter and I don’t want to come out.  I don’t want to face the things that make life hard.  I hide instead of handing my struggle to the Lord really learning what it means to trust him to guide me through it.

My children made it through that terrifying experience in the car that day.  While we walked back to our cabin this week in the black hills of SD, there were black clouds approaching and thunder rumbling in the distance.  As Big squeezed my hand, he looked at me and said, “We made it through that bad storm in the car mama, we can get through this one too.”

That is the great thing about trust.  When you put your trust in the one who can provide for you and get you through, every storm gets a little easier because they have proven to be trustworthy.  They become someone you can count on.

I spoke to Henry that day in the car and recalled the storm experience for him.  The first thing he said to me was, “You have a story in there.”  And he was right.

God has a way of taking the moments in our life and turning them into truths that we can hold on to get us through this journey called life.  These moments that can ground us in peace and love as we fight through the storms of life.  Our little family was scared that day, but we are stronger for it and God rested his peaceful hand on our hearts.

Woodland Fairy costume

I have found by unlocking one creative outlet, it frees up all sorts of other desires and small talents for other creativity to come out.

On top of writing all the time for a large wide of projects, I am crafting as well, and hopefully will have my first painting done in a couple days.

BUT...I had one very special project that I want to share with you!

In our house we have come to understand that every day for me is like playing dress up.  Paul on the other hand thrives with themes and parties and like's having reasons to wear an actual costume.  This paints a very bizarre picture of us, but it's not weird, I swear, at least most of the time.

The pure joy in this though?  My kids get awesome homemade costumes!  Paul really has been on the front end of this, since we had boys and I am still a beginner.  He loves the construction behind a costume.  He can go to a thrift store on 50% day and come away with all sorts of materials, then cut and glue and paint and all of a sudden, the boys are transformed into supehero's.  It's awesome!

Well, I got my second shot this year for Little's 3rd birthday.  We were going to transform her into a woodland fairy.  (When she was 6 month's old, I made her a Raggedy Ann costume.  She looked awesome, but the construction of the dress was horrible.  I had to basically sew her into it.)

I had no idea how to make a woodland fairy costume.  BUT...I knew how to make wings out of old wire hangers, and I had a handful of cardboard wands in my craft room that I knew I could paint.  I just wasn't sure about the skirt.

So here are the photo's of the creation of my little Woodland Fairy.  The T-shirt she is wearing is my old vintage T-shirt that says "Protect the Forrest."  I cut it and make it to fit her since it was  perfect!

I took two hangers and bent them to the shape I wanted.  I duct taped the ends together to protect from the sharp parts.

You can use nylons or shear fabric, or whatever you have on hand and wrap it around the frame.  Tie the material around the middle, glue it, tape it, whatever, just secure it and cut off the extra fabric.

I had feathers, jewels, fake flowers, glitter, moss, leaves, all sorts of things to glue to the wings.  I also had knitting yarn that I braided to use for her straps.

My Woodland Fairy wings.

And her Woodland Fairy wand.  I painted it and glued fun leaves and flowers on it.

The skirt I did backwards, so I am not including instructions because I will do it different and better next time, but what I wanted was a bunch of contrasting fabrics, based in cream with brown and green and pink thrown in.  I needed pink in there, otherwise she wouldn't wear it.  Her and I have differing opinions about color.

My mom was in town and I am SO THANKFUL she was.  It wouldn't have been completed without her.  We basically just kept sewing fabric on.  We would drape it and say, "Looks good.  Sew it on."  We are very structured sewers.  Can't you tell.  I think this was 1am.

Here are a couple shots of the skirt.

And here is my Woodland Fairy.  She is a little excited.

And when she spins, it flairs out all over.  It's AWESOME!

So, I get it.  She is only three, and this costume is a bit much. I think I enjoyed figuring out how to do it more than she ever will wearing it.  So for me it was a creative expression and I learned a TON!

Sewing is fun.

So are cute little girls in a big drape skirt.

Inspiration breeds inspiration

I had mentioned either here or in person how in our home we try to read scripture together every morning.  We do that not because we feel we have to, or because this is what good Christian's do.  Honestly we do it because of our philosophy of Big Picture Parenting.  We believe that as our children leave our home every morning and attend school, we want the word of God in their heart.  We want them to know scripture, to feel comfortable searching God's word for insight into his heart and to really know what God says about life and love.  To really know God and not just what people say about him.

Then I went and had a play date with a friend of mine a couple months ago.  As we were sitting in her kitchen, she had index cards covering her walls with scripture written on them.  As I took a closer look, she had the first couple dozen chapters of Proverbs up.

I fell in love.

I asked her what was going on with all the proverbs posted on her wall and her response was, "I got the idea from you."

I had a look of total confusion.  We have never done anything like this, so it didn't really feel like my idea.  "I don't get it" was my response.

She told me that she appreciated how much we were trying to create a love of God and his word in our children.  She said as her and her husband were trying to raise up their kids, they wanted God's wisdom strong in their mind and in their heart.  

I Love it!!!

See, I pray for God's wisdom over my children almost as much as I cook their meals.  These young boys and girl are faced with choices every day about who they are, who they are going to be, and what they stand for.  Choices of fitting in, going along with the crowd, sticking up for the kid getting picked on, helping someone in need, it will never end.  I want them filled with the knowledge of God's love and his desire for their life.

So instead of just praying wisdom over my kids, this felt like the perfect compliment to put it in their hearts.

The proverbs are also an easy way to find just a couple of verses to read in the morning.  A couple verses read, then discussed leaves us with a perfect small 5-10 min devotion.  It has sparked such great conversations and questions from the kids, and having them written down, on days when we don't have time for a new one, we can pick one off the door and read it again.

The other great benefit of having it written down and up where we can see all the time, is I can stop and read encouragement every time I  need it.

The best part of all this...

I shared a desire of my heart and a small tradition that I do with my kids.  Another mother took that idea and made it her own.  I saw what she did and she inspired me to follow suit and take it another step further.

This is the best part of living life publicly   The way our hearts, our desires, our traditions can inspire others and in turn, we can be inspired by them.

Thank you Jessica!

Social, ethical, parental responsiblity

In times of crisis, I wish I had a medical degree.  I wish I had the freedom to pick up and go to where help is needed.  To comfort people in despair.  To organize volunteers.  To lift away debris and bring the hurting to help.

To work.

To help.

To love.

To be human.

But I can't.

There are people here in this house who desperately need me to survive.  They need me here, and so I can't be there.

When tragedy strikes, and I hate to admit that most of the time it is news on main stream media that I hear due to my lack of media watching and listening, I can't seem to tear myself away.

Today was no different.

We don't turn the TV on, because seeing the images of blood streaking the Boston streets would only serve to put fear and anger in my children.  And so I listened to the radio in the kitchen while I cooked.  Even when it felt like too much, I had a sense that if I turned the radio off, I would be turning my blind eye or deaf ear to the situation.  It felt wrong to leave the tragedy, when so many others couldn't.

And yet, you have to.  Not forget I mean, but take a breather.  Let it sink in.  Allow the gravity of the situation to have it's rightful place.

In these moments I often wonder what my role is.

Where is my responsibility in this?

I think about my children sleeping in their beds right now.  I think about how impressionable they are.  I wonder on what their futures hold.  What battles they will have to fight as young men and women.

I really hate to admit that I have lived a long time in "retreat" mentality.  Pull away, live off the grid, stop all the media from being in my house, go simple, don't invest, it's too much out there, so I'll just live small in our own little world.

But really, all that means is that I escape all responsibility and I hide from being apart of the solution.  What my greatest sin with that way of living, is teaching my children to do the same.  When I don't engage, they will never know how.

As parents it is critical that we understand the importance of what our job is.  If you have small children living in your home, then you understand the absolute power you have in your words and actions in shaping the minds and hearts of the young people who look up to you.  The way we engage, or ignore problems.  The words we use to describe hate crimes and those who hurt.  The way we talk about different cultures and religions.  Our words will directly shape the way our children see the world and the people in it.

Humans history is filled with wars and killings based on greed, power, selfishness  and sickness.  It won't ever go away.  So how do we deal with that?

The only power I have right now, today in my circumstance is to raise up children who will desire to be apart of the solution, not the problem.  To be helpers.  To be supporters.  To be advocates.

To give my children a language to communicate their thoughts and feelings, so that talking through problems is the first solution.  To teach the power of communication, understanding, forgiveness, and compromise.

To install in my children a longing for justice and a heart for the wounded and hurt.

To equip them with the tools necessary to find solutions to problems.

To in every way possible, give them an acceptance of all people, without judgement so that they can see the man behind the culture, the religion, the uniform.

To talk about the scary things that happen in a space where it allows your children to voice their questions and concerns and worries and wonderings. 

To give them your thoughtful observations and passion against evil.

Today felt overwhelming.  The obvious tragedy brings with it a sense of hopelessness.  After the hopelessness came the urgency in the awareness of the responsibility of raising my children.

Raising them to not run from the fight, but equipping them to be prepared for it.

In my opinion, Jesus hasn't shown up yet, so I would rather we were a family who actively cared about the solution, instead of pretending that all the problems don't exist.

We have a responsibility as parents.  Our children are what we are giving to the world, to the next generation.  They will inherit all of our mistakes and all that is wrong and right with our world.  I will say it again, my greatest mistake will be not preparing them for that.

How does one move past the fear?

This morning I woke up to the sound of my son coming in to my room, hugging me and saying, "I am so glad you are alive mama.  I am so glad you are alive!"

I looked at him and said, "Oh honey, of course I am alive.  Is everything OK?"

That's when Big told me that last night they woke up to gun shots ringing in the front yard.  They ran out to get Paul, thinking we were being attacked.  Paul had already flipped the light switches off and was ducking down to see a group of teenagers breaking off in pairs from our front yard after shooting a couple rounds off into black sky.  They clung to their dad hoping he could make it better.  After calling the police, he tucked the kids back into bed and sang over them.

This morning, their fear for me and for them was all they could talk about.  I was writing at the coffee shop like I do every Tuesday night.  I wasn't home, and so in their young minds, I was at risk out there with the bad guys.  They were out there and I was out there, not safely at home.

As each of my kids came into my room this morning, all hugging me tight, thankful for my safety, my heart physically hurt for how to help them navigate through this.  I wasn't sure how to do that.

I can't give them promises that I will always be there for them.  Because I won't.

I can't tell them that nothing bad will happen to me.  Because I don't know.

So what can I give them?

First off, this is not a story of living in the hood.  This story isn't shared to get you to feel bad for us.  It's not a  story to gain attention or have some weird twisted story to brag about.  This story speaks to what we do with the fear our children have.  All kids have a fear of something.  Fear of fitting in.  Fear of being embarrased.  Fear of talking to strangers.  Fear their parents will split up.  Fear there is something wrong with them.  So the question then is, what do you do with that fear?

Second, as parents, I think it is very tempting to use our status in our children's lives to turn into the ultimate power.  If you have a wound, I will make it better.  If someone hurt you, I will go take care of it.  If you have a need, I will fill it.  It is nice to be needed and have someone rely on you.  To be the hero.  The one who saves the day.

But in the end, what good does it do to have our children put all of their trust in us?  In a human being who will fall short, mess up and disappoint them?

Paul and I have as much as possible, whenever possible, try to point our children to the one who will not fail them.  To the one who will ultimately heal and help them.  It is our goal as parents to teach our kids to reach out to God in times of trouble, pain and joy.  This is not without trying our hardest to be there for our children, to help whenever it is right.  But we can't desire to be their ultimate power in life.

So each morning, we try, at breakfast to institute, "Feed your body, feed your soul."  This is a time where we read a few verses in the morning to make sure that the word of God is in our children's hearts.  Lately, we have been reading through the proverbs.  But this morning I knew it was different and we would need a different kind of comfort and healing.  So we read Romans 8:31+

"What then shall we say in response to this?   If God is for us, who can be against us?  No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.  For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

In reading this, it also brought to mind the verse that says, "perfect love drives out fear" which I think is 1 John.

God's love can drive out our fear and demons and insecurities.

I wanted my kids to walk away not living in fear.  Not overcome with worry about who might get shot and killed in our yard.  We are still trying to convince them that we won't die every time a thunderstorm hits in the middle of the night.  Two years later, Big and Little will still crawl into our bed trembling that we will die when the thunder hits waking them up in the darkness of night.

It is my belief that fear, left in our heart will create a foothold for Satan to tear us down and keep us from thriving in life.  When a small amount fear or doubt is left in your heart, the only thing it has the power to do is grow.  It gains strength every time we experience something that reminds us of that fear.  Then eventually, it will keep us fearful and unable to take chances, to trust, and to love.

So in this round about way, as parents, and just as people ourselves, the way to not live in fear is to cling to the one who has the power enough to love us out of the fearful place.  To admit that fear.  Surrender it.  Lay it down.  Give it over.  Try to learn to trust a little bit more every day.

This morning we prayed after reading scripture together.  We prayed that we could rest in God's love.  We prayed that Satan wouldn't have a hold on our hearts in the fear we have about how scary the guns were.  We prayed that God could create trust in our hearts.  We prayed that his words we read would strengthen our faith and allow us live in HOPE that God, no matter what, will work all things to his glory.

We don't know what that means exactly.  We don't really know what that looks like.  I do know though that I could tell a difference in their smiles this morning.  I am hoping that teaching them to give over their fear and worry and weakness, that they will start to cling on their own to a relationship with Christ.

He is much better savior than me.

And in the end, I have lived most of my life in fear.  I would like to find a way to help my children live in love and courage by showing them how to surrender over the fear.

When you are weary of the battle

I don't know about you, but I grow weary and tired of how hard it is to fight for what you want in life.  To battle all the things that threaten to take away your values and priorities and hope.

Everything the last few days has grated on my emotions.  Feelings that felt raw and ready to explode for reasons I couldn't figure out.

I knew I was tired.

I knew I felt worn down.

I knew I felt like I wanted to give up, sit on my couch, eat ice cream and pop corn and drink wine and iced coffee.  Snuggle under a blanket and just read a silly book or watch TV all day.

I was tired of battling the kids, myself, our neighborhood, our budget, my time, the book...well everything, and I craved relief.

I wanted relief from all the intentionality that we try to live in.

I wanted a break from all the rules and guidelines.

When talking with Paul this afternoon about why, "Why are we so easily frustrated and cranky, and so ready to give up?"  We realized it was because we are always fighting.

We are fighting for our kids faith in God.  We battle to find the time to invest in devotions, conversations, intentional time dedicated to exploring faith and what it means to believe in God in their world today.

We are fighting for our marriage.  We work hard on finding time to be together, trying to use communication that builds us up instead of tearing us down.  We evaluate all the time, what do you need to be OK?  How can I support you?  How can I love you during this hard time?  We are working hard on putting the needs of our spouse before our own.  To see the love of your life through the eyes of Christ.  To keep the spark alive.  To turn young love into something deep and rich and powerful that still contains magic and spark.

We are fighting for our safety.  How can we live in a place of trusting God to be enough and not living in fear, while still being safe in the choices we make?  Not making judgements on the kids walking around our neighborhood.  Not assuming that every person sitting in their car is there waiting on trouble, or that every person who knocks on our door is wanting to break in when we leave.  Our families safety is always, constantly present first and foremost in our mind.  We are always prepped for battle when it comes to our safety.

We are fighting for our money.  Money has a way of just disappearing and we are fighting to keep ours.  We are always aware of what we are spending, and fighting to keep money in our pocket so that we can be free from debt.

We are fighting for our own dream and for the dreams of our spouse.  Paul and I are both filled with ambition and determination and our greatest desire is to fulfill God's desire for our life.   It's hard in the mundane, every day chores and hurdles to fight for something bigger.  Something grand.  Something special that lives in your heart.  You have everyday choices that you have to weigh against the grand scheme of things.  This is one of the hardest things to fight for everyday.

When we intentionally live out our lives, it means we have evaluated and prayed and come to a set of standards of how we live our life.  How do we spend our time, our money, our resources?  Do these things hold up to the priorities and values that we live by?

But that also means that we just don't live caressly anymore.   Everything we do at that point means something.

Most often however, if you have taken the time to evaluate your life and have decided to live by certain standards, those standards will grate against the lifestyles around you.  When that happens, what do you  do?

We have a choice to give up on our standards and value of living, or we fight.

We try to have a family meeting every week so that we can take stock of our resources and time and money as we evaluate all the options that we face every week that want our time, our money and our energy.

And so we choose to fight.

But you can't fight every moment of every day.  Some days, when the battle becomes too much and it tears down your spirit, you need to take a break.  You need to sit and pray and release control back to the creator who loves you.  You need to remember that God is still God and we are just one person in one moment in time.

And so we surrendered.  Not to our ideals and priorities, but to the God in charge of those ideals and priorities.  And in that surrender, it gives us strength to keep fighting.

1 whine =1 penny

I HATE Whining.  

When I say that, I mean it feels worse to me than the fingernails on a chalk board phrase.

I HATE whining.  And my kids do it. All. The. Time.

That's when I asked myself, "What would Bill Cosby do?"

What's funny is I have found myself asking that question a lot with my kids getting older.  I grew up on the Cosby show and they had such inventive, creative ways of dealing with their kids.  So what would Bill do?

Well, I am not sure that this is what they would do, but it got my creative juices flowing.

After so much whining and then so many frustrated "pleas" from mom about "stop whining", Paul and I got together, and decided we needed a plan.

We called a family meeting and discussed our two current issues that needed correction.  

Whining and Disobedience.

We sat the kids down and prayed first.  Praying has its all calming power to refocus everyone and get us all on the same page.  As much as 2, 5, and 7 year old can be on a page.  

We talked about how we wanted them to succeed and we talked about how much they were probably really tired of being corrected by mom and dad.  We wanted to create a way to help them and remind them about the things that come out of their mouth.

Then we brought the Bible out and read a few verses about honoring God with our words and whining.

Are you communicating with a self-controlled voice? (that NEVER happens here!)

How does God want you to communicate?

Titus 2:12 says, "Whining is an ungodly form of communication.  God wants you to use self control, even with our voice."

Also check out, Proverbs 25:28, Galatians 5:22-23, Ephesians 4:29, 2 Peter 1:5-8.  These helped us point our kids to WHY we ask them for certain behavior.

Then came the idea.  

The kids will get 10 pennies each morning.  (This idea actually came from the Bernstein Bears when Sister Bear was biting her nails.  Apparently, Paul and I are incapable of creating our own inventive parenting techniques.  We just steal from imaginary families.)  Every time they whine, they have to put a penny in the jar.  We went and got an old canning jar, and asked the kids what we should their money should go towards.  We decided to make it the "Car Repair Jar".  

So every time the kids whine, we save money for the next time our car is in the shop.  This will never amount to much, but we really liked the idea.  I had middle make a sign for the jar, (forget pinterest and all their fancy Martha Stewart like ideas, we just use scrap paper and markers.  We are old school, its cheaper.)  The next day we went to the bank to get a whole stash of pennies.

The kids were super excited because they started counting how many days they needed to be extra good to get a whole $1.  It lasted a day.  The second day, each kid lost four pennies.  At one point, Little looked at me, knowingly complained and whined about lunch while she marched right into her room and got two pennies to put in the jar as she finished her whining.  I laughed right out loud at her.  Wrong move I know, but I couldn't help it.

So here we are... the jar is filling up.  We don't argue as much about whining.  They whine.  We say, put a penny in the jar.  If they whine about putting a penny in the jar, that will cost you 2 pennies.  They have figured out that if they boldly say, "someone else is whining!"  they also put a penny in the jar.

It may sound silly or over the top, but did I tell you how much I can't stand whining?  This seems to be working.  Even Little now will catch herself, stop, and say what she wants to say instead of the old habit of IMMEDIATELY turning up the half cry/half baby talk to communicate what she wants.  I would say that is progress.

We tell our kids, we understand that whining will happen.  What we want from you is for this NOT to be your first choice of communication.  

But you know the thing about intentional parenting and communication and discipline?

If you aren't consistent, it doesn't work.

There have been a few times that Paul and I have looked at each other and said, "We just gave ourselves one more thing to manage and think about.  If we don't stay on top of this, then it won't work."  And yes that is true.

And though we still whine here in this house, because we are normal people who struggle to learn good habits, it is slowing working.  And every few days, or at least once a week, we ask the kids, why do we have a "NO WHINE" jar?  We want them to know its not just about how annoying it is, but that God desires better from us.  We can glorify him and honor others with the way we communicate.  That is why we do this.  (And it drives me nuts.)

And we raised $1.15 for our next car repair!!!!!

I don't which is harder, teaching our kids good habits or saving for the next time our car breaks down.

We can't lose hope

We live on the wrong side of the tracks.

We also live on the wrong side of the bridge.

And on the wrong side of the river.

If people are familiar with Minneapolis, then they usually ask, "Where do you live?"  Our response is, "We live in North" the nickname and location of living on the wrong side of...well...everything.

And their look is always the same.  One of fear, sadness, pity.  That is the most common response.  One I was used to when I would tell people I lived near Detroit.  I've been getting that look my whole life.  Now there are some who love North Mpls.  Just like in any urban dwelling there are friends and neighbors who love to create an urban/hipster/artist/liberal/earth conscious environment in the city. We would fall into that category.  But eventually, every person who lives in an urban setting, and one that is known for its long history of crime and abuse, needs to ask,

How long can I live here and still be safe?

As I sit here and write at 2pm in the afternoon, a dear friend of ours is fixing our back door because our home was broken into for the fifth time.  And yes, we do have a security system.  We got that after our house was cleaned out 10 years ago at Christmas and vandalized to a disturbing degree.  With the system in place, we have had four more assaults. (And this is just the personal attacks, whereas our neighborhood  is a place of high activity for random shootings, murders, robberies and rape.  And by neighborhood, I mean our street and back alley.  It is a normal occurrence for friends at parities of ours to come away with some sort of ghetto hood tale to retell when they leave.)  I hesitate to write this because 1. It makes me feel like the girl in an abusive relationship who doesn't know when to leave because she finds an excuse after every attack to stay.  Or 2. We will have even more people joining the campaign to tell us to leave.  I understand, we should move, but truly, I don't want to hear it.  That isn't what this post is about.  And I don't want you to feel sorry for us.  Everyone has struggles in their life, and currently, our neighborhood is ours.  This isn't a contest to see how scary and sketchy our hood is compared to yours, its just our reality.  Simple.

When we first moved into our home there was a host of friends who lived in the hood.  There was talk about how it was a hard place to live, but everyone had hope that it would it would get better.  Slowly, friends were moving away because the crime was hitting closer and closer to home.  And yet, we have remained.  People have slowly been giving up hope that anything will change in North.  That no matter how many young families move in and improve their home, make a life for themselves, they will eventually get scared off and move away.  The others that stay can't afford to leave and so they hunker down in their homes and don't participate in the improvement of the hood.  That was our neighbors story for 30 years, until the tornado came and claimed their house, forcing them to leave.

Five years ago the Lowry Bridge got shut down for repairs and then eventually was blown up to be replaced by a beautiful bridge that was stronger and sturdier than before.  The Lowry bridge is one of the main veins that runs from North Mpls to NE Mpls.  Before the bridge went down, NE Mpls was considered the crime epicenter of our area.  After the bridge went down, it got locked down and concentrated in North.  Crime has since remained and flourished where we live, whereas, NE has become the "New It" place to be.  It's been interesting to watch the transformation of NE Mpls and how the art scene has exploded there.  Old buildings have turned into art warehouses, co-ops have started, small creative consignments shops have started, coffee shops and local cafe's decorate dozens of corners.  Tourists visit Uptown Mpls, locals who know the inside tract hang out in NE, and many are too afraid to come to North.

You can tell that locals here are excited and anticipating the shift of culture for North.  They are hoping that with the bridge opening, which it did this last fall, that the good things that are happening in NE will make its way into our little area.  The warehouse district is also spreading closer and closer to our area.  We are only two miles from downtown and the warehouse district is the "New It" place to live.  So on the other side of the bridge is the New place to be, and the other side of the Highway is the New place to live.  Old buildings are being resurrected.  Art and co-ops and small business are popping up all over.  New life is being breathed into the areas surrounding us, and we wonder,

Can it infiltrate, or will it just compound and lock the crime into our hood?

Two years ago our neighborhood was hit by a tornado.  Though it sounds terrible, and in the moment it was, it has given a face lift to home after home in our area.  For 18 months what was a war zone has turned into a mosaic of beautiful homes.  In my mind, this can only serve to help North siders feel proud of our little hood.  However, we get nervous to hope.  To hope that things can turn around.  To hope that our little hood in Mpls could be a safe place to be after hoping for more than 10 years.

Last summer was the hardest on our family.  Crime has slowly moved closer and closer to our home.  A few years back a girl was murdered in front of our home on the corner.  Two summers ago, I was trampled down by the S.W.A.T. team breaking down our neighbors door looking for stolen weapons.  Last spring while making breakfast we watched the police throw smoke bombs in the home across the alley from us and bring out 5 hostages.  But last summer, in the middle of the night, gunshots and bullets rang out in our backyard and alley.  It brings on a whole new dimension when your husband dives over your body to protect you from stray bullets.  It's when I truly felt scared for the first time.  Things shifted for me then.

How long can you hold out hope that things will change?  10 years ago things were supposed to be looking better for North Mpls, and yet, to me it just feels like it has gotten worse.  Everywhere I turn in my neighborhood there are bars on the windows, gates on the doors, graffiti on the walls and garbage on the street.  So many homes are boarded up and abandoned.  When I drive my kids to school passing business after business gated to protect themselves, I think, what do my children see?  How do I explain to my children that our home got broken into...again... without inflicting fear in them?  How do I create a safe place for them, when our safe place has been robbed?  When the evidence of vandalism is all over our broken back door?  How do I reassure them that they are OK, when I am not even sure I believe it myself.

Today I realized how often my spirit is ready for battle.  I live in a neighborhood where before I leave the house now, EVERY time I leave the house, I need to brace our backdoor with a 2x4 wood beam.  I need to be on guard to keep my family safe, while at the same time resting in trust that God is bigger than our fear.

I want to hope that things are going to be better where I live.  I want to hope that I could feel safe in my home.  Right now my spirit is uneasy as I look at our open drawers that were rummaged through and my bed that was moved around by men who robbed us.  My personal space was invaded again.  Strangers were looking and tearing through our stuff.  And somehow I become distanced from that because, well, its happened before.

This whole post is jumbled in thoughts.  It is fearful and somewhat hopeful that all the good things happening around us could finally come and be apart of us in our neighborhood instead of always just being slightly out of reach.  We live in this confusing place of protecting ourselves, but trying to let go and trust.  Looking over our shoulders waiting for the next attack, but trying not to let fear dictate everything we do.  And finally raising children who see God's goodness in everything.

Living in the hood felt very personal today, and somehow I had let my guard down.  I want to only see the good things happening around us.  The parkway coming to our street, all the community gardens, the park parties.  But I'm not gonna lie, lately, all I see are the bars on the windows and the drug deals happening in the cars in front of our house.  My heart is heavy with the lack of hope I felt today.

When you start to feel hopeless, you realize how important hope is.  We need to have hope.  We need to be able to believe.  Believe that God is still good.  Believe that people can choose love instead of hate.  Believe that people can change.  Hope that sin and hurt won't overtake a city.

When the kids and I talked about the break in today, we prayed for the young men who broke into our home.  And I guess that is what I am asking from you.  We as a family need your prayers.  Prayers to head God's direction for our lives.  Prayers for my children that we as a family can talk about this, but that they won't live in fear.  Prayers that Paul and I can help our children understand. Prayers that hatred and bitterness would not claim our hearts and home. Prayers that we won't loose hope. But prayers especially for the young men and women, not only in North but all over the world that choose hatred and anger, and retaliation for the hurt they are struggling with.  Hatred breeds hatred.  Those that choose to hurt others are deeply hurt themselves, and need our prayers.

Close friends and family asked me today how I was doing.  They showed concern and I am so thankful for them.  I guess this post is my response.  A jumbled, confusing, scattered response.  But that is how I feel right now.  Jumbled.  Confused.  Scattered.


Update:  Sometimes I forget how far these posts go.  Sometimes I write because I need to process what is happening in our lives, and I forget that there are hundreds of you reading it.  Thank you so much for the outpouring of love that you showed me in the last 12 hours.  Thank you for your prayers, and your kind words.  Thank you to my friend who showed up today at my door to visit with me over coffee.  I love being apart of the Church.  The church that lives in the hearts and soul of the people I am honored to call friends and for those I have never met face to face but pray for us anyway.  I want you to know that God has used you all to encourage me and find strength in my trust in our Lord.

There is so much I love about where we live, and it was never my intent to degrade North Mpls. What I will do is give an honest opinion about the fact that here, in this urban setting, we have the gift of daily surrendering our control to God.  We are taught and challenged to trust.  We don't sit comfortably and safe in our home, but many times I see that as a gift.  Yesterday I just didn't want the gift.  I also want to say that we never moved here to this neighborhood to do "ministry".  We do however believe in living as Christ like examples wherever we are, wherever we live, wherever we work.  So we try to shine brightly here.  And when the time comes and we are able to move, we would like to venture a bit more out into the country.  But even if we still decided to move today, we would remain here until our home sold and all was in order, which means we still live in a tension of fear and trust.

Thank you for being being with us.  For loving us and for walking through life with us.

Stopping the cycle of dysfunction

***Yes, you probably noticed the blog is different.  I tried to update it a little.  There is still some work to be done, but I am happy with the progress.  Maybe in a couple weeks, my blog and website will be in one spot.  Simplify right?***

Back to this blog...

I wasn't blessed to have faced all of my demons before marriage and incidentally before having children.  So it has become their burden as well to walk this life with me, broken, struggling, full of mistakes.  Just as  my husband hasn't laid down his dark spirits either, but I walk with him through dark times.  Our sweet innocent children haven't had major heartbreak yet, so their time will come.  I am not talking about sin, I am talking about the issues in your life that tear at your spirit, the ones you live with and are afraid to let go of.

For years, I  didn't want a daughter. I was scared she would see the demons.  In true honesty, I am more terrified I am slowly revealing the demons to her and handing them to her in a fun package that will weigh her down for the rest of her life.  I am handing them to her in the things I say, in the way I talk about myself, in the way I talk about other people.  Dark things that don't reflect confidence, or security.  Negative self talk, eating issues and one of my greatest downfalls, comparison.  Always seeing the better in others and the worse in myself.

The first day I had both my boys in school I cried a lot because I missed them.  I was a wreck for awhile, seriously, I didn't think it would be that hard.  But on that first day, I had a friend trying to cheer me up, and she said, "You get all this time with Little.  You have this rare three years of just you and her, and you get to teach her what it means to be a girl.  To be a woman."

My fear and insecurity and treacherous negative thoughts enveloped me at the thought of teaching someone else how to be something I don't even know how to be.  I am to be her role model.  Her example of a woman.  A wife.  A mother.  A christian.  A girlfriend.  A girl.

I took this picture the other night when I was up late, and Little woke up sad.  I pulled her out of bed and crawled on the couch to snuggle her and rub her back till she peacefully drifted back to her dreams.  I laid there looking at this face and just praying to God that I wouldn't screw her up so deeply that even He couldn't fix her.  How do I love her enough to hopefully not pass along all my issues, all my faults, all my insecurity about what it means to be a woman?

And then God slowly spoke in my ear..."give them to me.  You can't give them to her, if you've given them to me."

(what I love about this picture is that by just looking at it, you would never know the doubt, fear, control issues and insecurities that lie deep within someone.  Everyone is more than skin deep.)

See in order to teach Little how to love herself for who God created her to be, I need to face my issues with who I am and love me because I too belong to my creator. It's easy for me to say to my children, "I don't love you because you got a golden ticket at school, or you learned how to tie your shoe, or helped wash the dishes."  The same is true for the mistakes they make.  I don't see the good or the bad, I just see my kid, and I love them because they are mine. (I know they are God's and I do pray that my control issues will always allow me to understand that and not hold on too tight.)  But really, its just because they are apart of me, they are mine.  That is why I love them.  And I know that God would express the same opinion  about me if I dare ask that question and open my ears to hear the answer.

I love that face.  I mean I really love that face and the personality that goes with it and the girl that she is.  I am wholeheartedly in love with my daughter.  That night while she laid on my chest, I just wept.  I want the most for her life.  I want her to love without abandon.  I want her to have real confidence, the kind that comes from knowing that no matter what, she belongs to God Almighty and no make up or boy will ever change that.  I don't want her to be a people pleaser, always bending for the approval of others to the sacrifice of herself.

I deeply wish she won't be a perfectionist like me, never pleased with what she creates because it won't ever be good enough.  I don't want her inner dialog to be negative thoughts that tear at her character and value in this world.  I want her to live a life outside of guilt, unlike her mother, who is a struggling recovery addict to guilt.  I want her to feel comfortable in her body and skin without make up and a dress.  That she could love herself just as much in sweats as she would in glitter.

I deeply desire that she would know that her beauty is far more greater and goes much deeper than her skin. She will be told she's beautiful her whole life, because she is, and I am terrified that it will take her a lifetime to realize that it is her heart and character that make up her beauty.  I don't want her to use her beauty to manipulate people like her mother did in High School.  I don't want her to use her beauty to obtain privileges that aren't rightfully hers just because she has big stunning eyes.

I don't want her to think she has to perform for us to gain our acceptance.  That she needs to be funny, outgoing, creative, exciting all the time, but that truly we love her without those things.  That she could be whoever she wants or needs to be and that is all we ask, for her to be true to herself and in tune with the creator who made her.

I desperately want her to realize that I don't want her to be me, but I want her to be her.  I desire for her to forge her own path.  To find out what being a woman looks like for her.  To love and respect who've I become, but look at me and say, "I want to do things different."

Helping her means having to face my own demons.  Helping her means letting go of all my baggage.  Teaching her means forgiving myself.  Guiding her means loving myself.  Respecting myself.  Believing in the woman I have become.  It doesn't mean perfect, it means respect.  Respect for the mistakes I've made and the forgiveness and understanding I've gained.  It means respect for my body and how it ages.  How I talk about myself will speak directly into her self talk of what a woman is.  Oh man, I am one respect away from quoting the song, so I'll stop before my inner Aretha comes out.

So far this girl has her own strong opinions about everything.  Her clothes, the way her animals should go to sleep on her bed, her hair, her toys, her books, her food.  She has nothing short of the strongest will I've ever seen.  I don't want to break that with giving her my issues.  I want to help train her in how to use that.

I want to help her embrace her life.  I want her to always love food, art, music, people, books, God and her family.  I desire for her character to run deep and her faith to be strong, so that when she is faced with trial, she can confidently stand in the grace she has known all her life.  I prayed a lot that night with my daughter tucked in tight with me.  I let go of my fear and insecurity of raising her.  I held on to my other issues, because apparently I'm not done with those yet.  But I don't look at her with fear anymore.  I look at her with hope.  I am hopeful because I know God is capable of healing me and helping her.  I have hope, and in that hope, I can love my daughter with abandon and fearlessness.  I don't know what "a woman" is supposed to look like, but I look like me, and I'm what she's got, so we'll start there.

And the thing I pray over Little every night is, "Let your insides match your outsides sweet girl."  And I believe God answers prayer.

Preparing for Dedication

The fall and winter is usually when Paul and I travel the most for work.  He is a graphic designer by day, but plays guitar in a band at night.  That really is a side project and he isn't gone all the time doing it, but he travels and practices and takes time to write so it still takes up his time and energy.  I travel when I speak at conferences and retreats and have been writing a lot more these days.   He will be gone 1-2 weekends per month and I will be gone 1-2 per month.  We always make sure we are home as a whole family at least one weekend a month together for these winter months of crazy.

People always say that it sounds incredibly hard and busy.  We understand it is a bit busier than usual, but really, how we approach it makes all the difference.  We try very hard to look at our priorities and make room only for the things we won't compromise on, faith, family, fun and structure.  We withdraw from everything else during those times to protect our family.  We don't schedule dinners, parties, classes, or kickball or extra circular activities.  We take the things we usually do and replace then with travel.  So during the week, we don't do anything else.  Whenever we are home, spending time together as a married couple and family is our top priority.  That's probably why people think we are so busy, because we are either traveling or hiding for months, and then in the spring, we come out to play.

Paul and I both feel called to our family, our marriage and to our ministries.  We in no way want one of these aspects of our life to allow the other to suffer.  And we deeply believe that if God has called to us these aspects of our life, then if we seek him continuously and ask for his guidance he will provide a way.  So we pray and talk and schedule and find a way for each of these aspects of our heart and lives to empower the other, not destroy it.  We want healthy rhythms and routine for the kids.  We want and need time together to keep our marriage strong.  We see how our whole family flourishes in our regular life schedule of slower paced living.

I have learned how to prepare for this season of our lives each year. On New Year's we open our schedule and we look over the next six months.  We discuss priorities, time as a family, what we will cut out of the schedule and what we need to keep to stay healthy.  We discuss sitters, schedules, merchandise, food, family chores, the whole bit.  So I have learned how to prepare the house.  Get things in order.  I have learned to love friends through emails and phone calls while being in the airport since I don't see much of them.  I have learned to make lists of financial items that need to be taken care of during the week when I am home.  I have not mastered the birthday thing and remembering and sending cards.  I am horrible at that, and not sure its in my DNA to be that girl that will send you a card to arrive on your actual birthday.  That just seems way too hard.  I have though learned how to organize multiple sitters and a network of people to take care of the kids.  (And this is just all the house/family stuff, I didn't list all the business arrangements that need to take place, writing and preparing speeches, and ordering and organizing merchandise to sell.  Preparation in of itself is a part time job.)

The last two years I have needed to include food preparation into this list which is an enormous task.  I can't leave money for the sitter to buy pizza or McDonald's   I can't let Paul make the kids PB&J for lunch.  I need lists of the "DO NOT EAT" foods.  Lists of the "APPROPRIATE SNACKS".  Most of the time, I need all  the food prepared so that our friends and family watching the kids feel comfortable and confident in their ability to love them and take care of them.  I want to bless them as much of a stress free weekend as I can.  So that now includes lists and lists of food, days of cooking and freezing food, and organizing the menu and vitamins that each kid takes.  Then I think about myself.  What am I going to eat?  I usually take some hard boiled eggs, Larabars, apples and almonds and scones.  I am happy to eat salad for the weekend and know that usually in the green room are veggies and fruit.

But on Thursday what I wasn't expecting and totally forgot was that Paul was now on our diet.  It was Thursday morning and Little and I came home from dropping the boys off at school.  We were going to paint nails, read books and play a game while we waited for the new stove to arrive. (which it didn't and we are hoping comes Monday!)  But then my mind drifted to the fact that Paul was going to be leaving for his Chicago weekend gig at 5am the next morning.  He would be gone all weekend.  Then it hit me, what's he going to eat?  Oh shoot!  So I looked at Little and we struck a deal.  Cook one thing for Daddy and do one thing for her.  What was tricky about this is that Paul may be on our all natural diet, but me and the kids can be fine eating snacks and bird like food for a few days.  We are happy being granola, seed, nut and fruit and veggie people.  Paul needs meat.  Paul need substance.  How the heck am I supposed to do that?  So I did the only thing that made sense to me. I prepared food that he could take, but if he gave me the look of, "am I really supposed to eat that?" then I had it already prepared for the kids.  To me it felt like a win/win.

So this is what I sent with Paul to help fill in his gaps of meals, and hopefully when in a pinch, make a  meal in and of itself.  My goal was that he wouldn't hate the diet so much that he wouldn't want to do it anymore.  The challenge was great, but I have already heard from him that he is doing well, and every time he eats the food I prepared for him, he knows how much I love and support him.  And that's the goal right?  Take care of our loved ones.  Support them in their dreams and dedication to being the best they can be?  He wants to eat healthy, take care of  himself for me and the kids, rid himself of some chronic issues.  How can I not do everything in my power to help him in that. I can either be apart of his downfall, or his success.  I am his wife.  I want him to succeed.

So I sent him with:

I made our coffee cake which I get from thespunkycoconut.com.  Its really delicious and sent Paul with three HUGE pieces, one for each morning he was gone.

Paul has eaten Larabars before and I believe his response was, "It tastes like chalk.  I can't believe you eat this."  Welcome to the diet!  So I splurged and bought a bunch of different kinds of bars for him to try.  His homework was if he didn't like it, put the rest of the bar in a baggie and bring it home so the kids could eat for a snack, they are too expensive to throw away, seriously.  And if he liked it, he needed to keep the wrapper so I knew which ones to get him next time he traveled out of town.  And yes you will see Enjoy Life candy bars in there.  I figured, he would be watching everyone else eating oreo's in the green room, if he felt like something sweet, then he had something on hand.

Hard boiled eggs are a great snack in this house.  One splurge item we use is smoked salt.  It it just to die for and we can't eggs any other way.  We are adding it to pop corn and roasted veggies, its just too good not to.  We get ours from here.  It takes our usually every day very plain food, to a whole new wonderful place of goodness.

I found this box of a cookie mix, so I decided to cook them up and had Paul try them.  He loved them, which is a huge test in this house.  So I sent him with some, ate quite a few myself and then each kid got two in their lunch the next day.  Yes, cause I ate that many if you must know.  The cookie mix was Pure Elizabeth.  Don't remember where it came from, but I will keep my eye out for it now.

I was a little surprised that Paul wanted to take the Quinoa and bean salad with walnuts in it.  I thought this was pushing his limits, but he actually really likes it, and its ALL protein   So I am hoping this big batch will help with the hunger over the weekend.

These scones are really very British and not sweet at all.  But they work great dipped in coffee or slathered with a nut butter or jam.  So that is what I sent with Paul, scones for a lunch with a can of our homemade strawberry/apple jam made this past fall.

Here is the jam and the cashew ranch dressing that I sent with him.  I figured, most of the time salad is your only option, so I wanted him to have dressing that he enjoys.

I am not gonna lie, I never thought I would see the day that meat and potato man would take a suitcase of granola, hippy, authentic real  food with him.  He had bamboo silverware and everything.  He was so happy to have food to eat, and I was so happy that was willing to pack a whole other suitcase of food.

Weekend one is a success!  Now in two weeks we will both be gone, so I guess its back to the kitchen to start preparing food for five people, two who will be gone and three that will have sitters.  I should start now so I will be done in time.

But in true confession, every minute in the kitchen is worth it.  It is worth it that my husband is happier with himself and his body and his attitude.  It is worth it for my sons ability to have friends, and interact in a healthy way with others.  That he has stayed of meds because of the food he eats.  The absence of my depression makes every moment in the kitchen worth it.  To pursue our dreams.  To use our God given gifts to bless others.  To have joy in our home.  You will probably find my body dead in the kitchen when I go, but yes it is worth. every. single. second. for the life we have.  The good things are absolutely worth the work.