Memory Loss

I was very forgetful during my last pregnancy.  Part of it was simply being pregnant.  But, part of it was trying to get ready for my third child, as well as getting my family ready for all the changes. 

My son recently reminded me of how forgetful I was during the last few weeks of my pregnancy.  As we were getting ready to leave for school one morning, I didn’t have enough hands to grab his backpack and all the other things we needed in the van that day.  “Mommy, don’t forget my backpack!” he chided from the back seat.  “I didn’t forget it, buddy, I just didn’t have enough hands,” I told him.  “Well, you used to forget everything before the baby was born.”

I’d like to say that my forgetfulness has changed since I gave birth.  But it hasn’t.  There are mornings where I do forget a backpack or a permission slip.  The evenings when I realize I’ve forgotten to put supper in the crock pot are pretty crazy.  I can’t count the number of times I’ve forgotten the reusable bags at the grocery store, or to purchase something that was actually on my list!  And my bank isn’t so happy when I forget to transfer money between my savings and checking accounts.

For me, forgetfulness is usually bad—until I put it into heavenly perspective.  God forgets all the time.  He forgets the times that I forget to read my Bible.  He forgets the times when I forget to pray with my children.  He forgets the times when I’m too lazy to deal with my children’s bad behavior in the right way and instead bribe them to do what I want them to do.

As I think of all the things I need to remember, I pray that God helps me remember how forgetful he is.

Lazy

I got to be lazy over Christmas this year.  My husband and I and our three kids made the 21-hour trek back to my parents’ house.  For five days my kids had someone besides me to entertain them, to help feed them, to snuggle them and tuck them in at night.  Then, we went to my husband’s parent’s house, and my kids had another three days of grandparent love.  And I had a great time relaxing with my husband, sneaking off to Walmart, Kwik Trip, Farm and Fleet and explore the new bypass in my husband’s home town.  (Can you tell we’re from the Midwest?)

Unfortunately, my laziness carried over into my Bible reading.  I started out okay, reading before bed at night.  However all my visiting and relaxing had me staying up later.  I had a hard time reading anything, much less the book of Revelation, and not falling asleep.  And so I just stopped.

While we were visiting, my Mom gave me a book to help me in my walk as a busy mom.  I’m not positive, but I don’t think she gave it to me hoping to encourage me to get back into my Bible, but that’s what happened.  The first chapter in the book reminded me of the importance of daily Bible reading.  As I read through the author’s suggestions for reading the Bible, I realized that my laziness had not just started over the Christmas break.  Even when I had been reading my Bible nightly, I had been lazy.  I had been following my daily Bible, but not really thinking about what I was reading.  The author of the book made a few good suggestions, one of which I think I’m going to follow.  She suggested reading a Psalm and using the words of each verse to write a prayer back to God.

Even though I was lazy over Christmas, my God was not.  He didn’t stop caring for me, watching over my family as we traveled, providing for us more than we could ever ask.  Sometimes it’s nice to be lazy.  But, I’m going to ask God to help me not to be lazy in my Bible study any more.
P.S.  Thanks to my parents and my in-laws for letting me be lazy!

Hope Sure

Today I am writing while I am sitting next to my oldest son.  My other two are napping, and I’d really like for him to be napping, too, mostly for my sanity later on this evening.  But, he’s at the age where it’s hard to make him take a nap, so I’m settling for quiet time on the couch.

Before he climbed up next to me, he asked if he could play with his new train set.  After I told him he couldn’t because his siblings are napping and the train is loud, he said, “Mama, I hope sure I can play when they wake up.”

He’s been saying things like that a lot lately.  “Mama, I hope sure I can have a Christmas cookie for snack.”  Or, “Mama, I hope sure Baby Jesus can come to Bethlehem soon.”

Usually my kids mixed-up vocabulary causes giggles in our house.  But this one has me thinking.  It reminds me of a discussion we had in Bible class not too long ago about the use of the word hope.  The Greek word we translate as hope, according to our Bible study leader, is more of a confidence of what will happen.  It’s like saying, “Hope sure.”

The writer to the Hebrews says, “Now, faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.”  (Hebrews 11:1)  This is the kind of hope we need to have.   God promises us many blessings, and we can HOPE or we can hope that they come true.

After the tragedy that took place this last Friday, I’ve been praying a lot more for our country.  I am praying that God comforts the families who lost loved ones.  But I am also praying that he use this as an opportunity to bring more people to him—to give those people HOPE.

“I know that my Redeemer lives and that in the end he will stand upon the earth.  And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God.  I myself will see him with my own eyes—I and not another.  How my heart yearns within me!”  (Job 19:25-27).  This is the HOPE that all believe in Jesus have.

Playing with Trains

My house is quiet right now.  It’s a rare occasion to have all three kids napping at the same time.  Of course, my four year old is only staying in bed because I bribed him.  (I admit it.  He’s battling a cold and needs to rest.) 

A friend of ours gave us a train to go under the Christmas tree last night.  My husband and I did a pretty good job of sneaking it home without the kids noticing it.  Unfortunately, we forgot it in the back of the van last night, and my two oldest discovered it this morning.  My four year old begged me to play with the train instead of go to school.  I took it out of the van and put it in the shed with the promise that we would get it out after nap time, as long as everyone stayed in bed during nap time.

Now, my son is laying in my bed, patiently listening to “soft music” (the classical station), waiting for the radio to turn off so he can jump out of bed and get the train out of the hallway.  Putting it mildly, he’s eager for nap time to be done.

This Advent season, I have had a hard time getting into the “eagerly waiting” spirit.  Normally, I love decorating the house, baking, and making Christmas gifts.  This year though I have been more than willing to let my husband put up the tree and hang the lights and the stockings.  (I have managed to do a little of the baking.)  I can’t pinpoint the specific cause for my lack of enthusiasm this year; suffice it to say I’m giving into my sinful nature.   Watching my children has helped me—they are overly excited to go to Grandma and Grandpa’s house in a few days.  And now, seeing how excited my son is to play with this unexpected gift, it’s really starting to hit home.

Jesus isn’t an unexpected gift to us.  God promised us thousands of years ago he would send a Savior to crush sin and death for us.  He did.  We are now waiting for our Savior’s second coming.  He is coming to give us the rest of the promise—a home in heaven.

My son is now standing next to me, a large box of trains in hand.  His eager expectation is that I will help him play with trains.  I pray that I am as eager for our Lord’s second coming.

My Help Mate

Part of the reason I haven’t blogged in so long is that we’ve been doing some serious traveling lately.  When we travel I like to leave my house clean (cleaner than normal clean, even), mostly so when I come home I have one less thing to do to get back into our routine.  My husband knows this about me, and after 5 years of traveling on holidays and summer vacations, he still loves me.  Here’s how I know.

The Tuesday before Thanksgiving, we were getting ready to go visit my Aunt and Grandma in Michigan.  We were both really looking forward to this trip, as we like to get away from the fast-paced craziness of living 12 miles from the Nation’s Capital.  However, we had also both had a crazy week (all two days of it), and our house looked like Santa’s toy sack exploded in a mountain of laundry.  As I was chasing my two-year-old out to the van after school that day, I overheard my husband telling one of the parents, “We have to go home and clean before we go.  Leigh likes to come home to a clean house.”

And clean the house we did (after putting the three kiddos to bed).  We vacuumed and folded laundry, put away dishes and packed suitcases.  My husband didn’t even roll his eyes when he found me sorting toys in the basement.  Instead, he simply asked, “What can I take upstairs?”

I knew when we were married that I would find more and more reasons I love my husband.  This is one way he showed me how much he loves me.  And I am so grateful that God gave me such a wonderful help-mate.  I pray that God helps me be such a blessing to him.