Back to Truth, Back to Jesus

I was practically born in church.
No, really.
My mom went into labor at church in Honolulu just three weeks after her 21st birthday, and I probably spent more time in church or participating in church-related events throughout my childhood than I did anything else. 

If you've read any of my other entries, you know by now that I'm extremely competitive, and I also happen to be a recovering people pleaser- so add all that up and I DOMINATED memory verse challenges.
 Every.
 Single.
 One. 
I would recite the Scripture, and then mentally spike God's word and do a Baptist-approved victory dance, which probably consisted of clapping to Victory in Jesus just a little off the beat and 'smiling with my eyes.'  I would ask for forgiveness after peeking through my fingers during the closing prayer.  I'd run through the sanctuary when people weren't looking.  I'd take seconds of cheesy potatoes and act like it was my first helping.  And I'd memorize Bible verses for praise and candy.

Between church and my awesome godly parents, I was daily immersed in God's word.  Scripture was woven into my mind and memory, as well as my pillow case and most of my screen printed tees.  As a parent, I'm more thankful for this than I ever have been.  God promises that His word doesn't return void, and that if we hide His words in our heart, it will help guide our path.  I don't regret learning a single verse, and if I'm being honest, I don't regret a single helping of cheesy potatoes either. 

I love cheesy potatoes.

All that said- pounding something into the short and even long term memory does not guarantee change, it doesn't touch your heart until your heart is ready.  In my case, I was so accustomed to the language that I got lazy and began to callous myself to the truth, and the truth behind the truth.  I wouldn't say I stopped appreciating my salvation, but I definitely numbed myself to the gravity of God's greatest gift, and that's bad potatoes folks. Rotten...left in the bottom of the pantry...search desperately for the source of the smell for 44 days bad potatoes. 

The thing with rotten potatoes is that they not only destroy your chance at enjoying the potatoes, but they also fill the rest of the pantry with a stench that ruins your appetite for anything inside.  The smell makes it hard to want to try, why go to all the trouble of cooking at all?  So you just settle for Chinese takeout.  Money out, carbs and MSG in.  Bad potatoes=no good for your health.  Revelation says that the Church of Ephesus left their first love, and I think that's a little like bad potatoes.  I might be reaching on this analogy.  Just go with it.

Anyway, I felt distance between God and I, and it felt like maybe I'd lost my first love.  I realized that it wasn't bothering me like it should and this was a problem, so I got to fixing my problem.  I tried to stimulate my emotions by digging into the details of the crucifixion.  If I could understand the physical pain Christ endured a little better, maybe I'd be given renewed purpose. 

Side note: I tend to tread lightly on the 'stimulating emotions' topic all together.  Growing up, I stood tall on the fact that Faith is not feelings.  True, it's not, but I now have a healthier understanding of why God built me to have the emotions and feelings that I have.  I believe He was intentional about emotion, and it is absolutely part of the designed creation that we are.  It's often noted that Jesus wept, and more than that-- I bet he laughed.  Side note on my side note (it's my blog, I'm allowed): When I'm in the darkest moments of my days, I think about Jesus laughing.  It overwhelms me.  That might be just me.  Moving on- I also believe God sometimes draws us to Him through emotion, He wants us to feel Him.  I do believe that emotions must be checked and not always acted on, and Faith is not based on emotions, but I truly wish having emotion or being emotional wasn't always portrayed in such a negative light, it's a fine line... just saying.  Okay I'm done. 

Back to my quest for understanding.  I tried to study the pain Christ probably suffered to put things in perspective, but it wasn't the physical torment that woke me back up to Salvation.  Watching the Passion of the Christ  isn't a fix for complacency.  I then tried to listen to different sermons talking about why it's just peaches to have a relationship with Christ.  I heard some preachers touch on the do's and don'ts and why we need to strive for holiness.  I thought yes, but being called a good person isn't a good enough reason to give my life to someone.  If I wasn't already a believer, I wouldn't want to give up a life of doing what I want right or wrong for a good-person medal, or slap on the back.  Other preachers would talk about how God will bless your life if you live for Him.  Okay but come on, I knew that.  I believe it, and it's great, but the possibility of a blessed life didn't awaken my passion either.  The most articulate, eloquent preacher couldn't help me rediscover the fire I needed.  Notice all the "I" in these attempts?

Then one night I was reading in I Corinthians 2, and something in me stirred.  Paul writes, "And I, when I came to you, brothers, did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God with lofty speech or wisdom. ² For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. ³ And I was with you in weakness and in fear and much trembling, ⁴ and my speech and my message were not in plausible words of wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, ⁵ so that your faith might not rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God."  Wait.  So I couldn't revive my own soul?  Answers weren't the answer?  I was then reminded of a passage in I John.  "See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are."  So if I approach Him humbly, He'll do the rest simply because He loves me?

It wasn't about being inspired by fancy words, it wasn't about being motivated by possibilities of blessings, it wasn't about being frightened into submission by man-made standards...it has always been about being loved by Jesus.  Paul says he didn't come with lofty speech or wisdom, he purposed to know nothing except Yeshua, Jesus.  It's always about Jesus, it's always about Love.  We love him because HE FIRST LOVED US.  He started this love thing, and let me just tell you little lady-- Love is bigger than any motivational sermon or possible reward could ever be.  Chapter 2 goes on to explain that we as natural people cannot even comprehend this Love, it's conveyed to us through the Spirit as only the Spirit understands God's unconditional love for us. 

Wow!  When trying to renew purpose in my Christian walk, I assumed I needed to simply gaze at the Cross or try figure out why I was given what I was given on my own.  While the Cross is where the Love came to earth, Love didn't stay there, and neither can my relationship with Love.  The Cross is just the beginning!  It's like ending In Christ Alone  after the 'here in the death of Christ I stand' verse.
Gasp

He didn't die for me and stay dead, He rose and now while He prepares my home in Heaven, He left me with His Spirit.  He speaks with me, He mediates with the Father on my behalf, He cares what I'm up to and how I'm feeling.  He understands what I'm up to and how I'm feeling.  He's perfect, and yet He loves me enough to forgive me every time I hurt Him if I'll just ask.  He dries my tears, He picks me up, He laughs with me, He holds me.  That's why I want to live for Him.  Not only did my Savior die to save me, but He wants to walk with me so I'm never alone.  He promises to be here with me until I get to see Him face to face.  He has written me in the palm of His hand.  He delights in me, I'm His child.  He doesn't just want my decision to accept Him, He wants a relationship with me.

I'm rambling, but is this making sense?  Salvation isn't just about being saved from hell, it's about being saved from having to live a life without Jesus.  Eternal life with Jesus starts the day we take Him as our Savior.  To me, it's beautiful and incomprehensible.  Back to the Truth, back to Jesus.  Why?  Because He loves you with a love you've never known. 

 

Happy Fathers Day!

I've never known where the apostrophe is supposed to go with salutations like "Happy Mothers Day" or "Happy Fathers Day."  I bet my husband would know, that's one of the reasons I love my English-correcting German--here are the rest.

Andy is a special kind of father.  Where most of us are either called to career or home-life, Andy is beyond excellent at both.  He's one of the only men I know that can manage three boys under 5 while going to school full time and possessing unlimited understanding with all of the flexibility my career requires.  I need to be in Nevada for 5 days and then New Orleans for 4 and then I'm sorry but I have three events this week so I'll try and be home by bedtime to help if I can.  Does he ever complain?  Does he ever whine about all the responsibility that lands on his plate?  Nope!  He's a Dean's List honored, butt wiping boss.

Andy knows how to properly utilize caffeine.  He gets up and makes coffee and manages the day.  He doesn't require naps.  He then either makes more coffee or an energy mix from the gym and buckles up for school when I get home so he can finish whatever the boys didn't allow him to during the day.  Again, no complaining, just doing what's got to be done.  How does he do this?  Caffeine.

Andy is EVERYONE'S favorite.  Between being the "golden boy" of his family, the only reason my siblings visit, or the undisputed preferred parent- the party just isn't a party until Andy graces us all with his presence- and trust me, I'm jealous.  I TRY to entertain, I TRY to be funny, but people light up when Andy shows up, and he knows it. You won't find low self awareness on any list of Andy's attributes, but I love that too. 

Andy is an incredible cook.  The boys and I would survive on a menu of grilled cheese and Golden Grahams if it weren't for him.  My idea of 'trying extra hard' on a meal is Homestyle Mac & Cheese ... you know, the mac with the bread crumbs on top?  One time when my inlaws were on their way, I ordered 6 individual servings of pasta from Dominos and put it in a 9x13 pan in my cold oven so it would appear that I cooked something delicious-other than frozen lasagna.  Sorry Stauffer's, but they can tell.  Judge away, but if you ate something my mother in-law cooked or even Andy, you would be intimidated into such ridiculous antics too.  My mother in-law's dinners melt in your mouth, and Andy's are equally impressive.  It's gotten to where when he asks me for help in the kitchen I instantly get a little sweaty and shaky.  I'd rather present a new idea to a 40 year veteran purchasing agent then over-toast an English Muffin in La Kitchen De Andrew.  "Em, how long has that baby ravioli been cooking?" 
I panic. 
"Yes Chef! 
I mean.. no Chef! 
Somewhere between 2 and 11 minutes, Chef!"
He made eggs benedict last week completely out of scratch right down to the Hollandaise, and after he finished and we devoured it, he let me know that not only had he never even tried eggs benedict before, but he was also adding it to his monthly menu and calling it "Eggs Benny" from now on.  My best friends had a housewarming party last weekend and A called me to ask Andy could make a couple dips for it.  When I go to the grocery store he sends me pictures of the exact ingredients he's looking for so I don't accidently buy bagged sauerkraut again or pre-cooked brats.  He's nice about it, but I only go shopping with an entire text thread of pictures now.  I hit strike three in 2009 and never looked back.   Goodview Court is a yummy place to live, thanks to the man.

Andy's a big picture guy.  This is a quality I never would've thought of praying for in a husband, but God knew and I'm so very, very thankful.  We started dating at a young age, and we were 6 hours apart.  In all honesty, I figured at best we'd write a letter or two and fizzle out, but Andy knew what he wanted and could look farther down the road than most 16 year olds.  I remember writing a letter to him in December that year and saying that I couldn't believe we were staying in touch, his reply letter started with the line, "Really?  I knew that as long as you wanted to we'd be talking."  He also claims he told his cousin in 7th grade while meeting me at camp for a couple days that he would one day marry me.  I'm not sure that's big picture as much as creepily prophetic.  Either way it's adorable and I'm down.  Since then, we've faced trials including but not limited to- financial stresses where we skipped meals to feed our little Charlie and donated plasma to pay the electric bill, my unemployment, the dangerously early birth of all three of our children, the death of his grandfather, and my moving our whole family on the hopes that I could run a company with no construction experience.  Not once has he wavered, not once has he doubted.  When I feel like the entire world is crashing down he gently reminds me that God hasn't scheduled the destruction of the planet until after the 7 year tribulation, and we won't be here for that.  He will be that direct and matter-of-fact too, on account of the simple fact that Andy's German.

Andy's German.  This isn't my favorite thing about him, but it does come in handy, sometimes.  Other times, it's difficult--like when I want to win an argument or pick the radio station.  But, I knew this about him when I met him, and I like that he's strong.  So that's all I'm going to say about his being German...except that I'm really tired of pickled sausages and sauerkraut.  They stink and look completely disgusting.  There, I'm done.

This will surprise no one that knows him, but Andy's funny...hilarious, actually.  He can make anyone laugh anytime, and I'm his biggest fan.  He once told me (this may fall under the he's German category) that his favorite part about me is that I think he's funny.  It's true though!  He can have me belly-laughing after my hardest day over his impression of one of the boys, or his 'Yak' call.  He's been making me laugh with the yak call since 2005.  Ask him to do it sometime, you won't regret it.  He listens well, and he's very intuitive and observant and he'll make you laugh at yourself before you even realized you do the habit he's observed you doing.  One time I had to leave church because he told me that I involuntarily keep my head on a constant swivel as the worship starts because I like to see who's at church that day.  His impression was so funny that I walked out and completely skipped communion. 

Overall, I love my husband.  We're a team, we've only ever needed the Lord and each other to be okay or have a good time.  In years past, men were known solely as providers and protectors, and Andy is that but so much more.  He provides our family with the leadership and strength we need, and as cheesy as this sounds- I'm never afraid of what comes because I've got the God of the universe on my side, and He's given me someone on earth that takes the scariest things in life and makes them look like nothing compared to what we can handle. 

So- Happy Fathers day to all the fathers out there, but I win.  I have God, I have my wonderful earthly father, and I have a German I call my best friend.  Boom.
 

To Be A Mom

Happy Mother’s Day!  Here is my list of things you HAVE to do in order to be a mom.  Enjoy, and feel free to take notes.

To Be a Mom:

1.       You have to have a child.  It needs to come from inside your body, or you need to have adopted a child as your own.  Babysitting doesn’t count and neither does kidnapping.

2.      You have to accept that for the rest of your life, sleep is a luxury and not a right.  People will say it’s only while they're babies, or young children- but I have boys and I’m already up at night worried about the college versions of Charles, Lucas, and Sawyer.  I’m not kidding, last night I was concerning myself with whether or not Charlie would be the type that goes to bed with his composition homework done or tells himself that he’ll wake up extra early and finish then.  He’ll be 5 this July.

3.      You have to acknowledge that with every loving little face comes two elbows, two knees, a pee hole, and a butt.  From your pregnancy on you will be kicked and elbowed in places you didn’t know were vulnerable to another human.  When they’re born you’ll need to get real comfortable with being peed and pooped on.  It’s inevitable, so if you’re one of those easy gaggers- get ready to not be.

4.      You have to work on your patience….always.  You have to learn to be patient with your kids when they ask for the 7593^rd time if they can have a piece of gum or when they slam their head into your nose while throwing a tantrum.  You have to be patient with facebook friends as they tell you just how they did it and what they recommend to improve this positively rewarding parenting experience.  You have to be patient when you hear childless friends explaining how it’s just so frustrating to have a thunderstorm that only allowed them to sleep 7 hours last night.  Cut that amount of sleep in half and you would’ve been happy with that, but you can’t say that or you’re complaining…so be patient.  Their time will come.

5.      You have to take that idea of how perfect things will be and chuck it.  You thought it’d be fun to take the babies to the zoo and take pictures of them with the monkeys?  Wrong.  They hate animals.  And it’s hot out.  You’re now wishing you were in the monkey cage where it’s quieter.  Low expectations when it comes to Pinterest ideas with children are where you’ll find true satisfaction-success is always a bonus.

6.      You have to learn to juggle-physically and mentally.  Your hands used to be full with your purse and cell phone, now you can carry two babies, a diaper bag, a laptop, a purse, keys, and your phone all while opening a door and saving your older (but not smarter) child from eating old gum off the ground.  You used to make a target run when you were out of something.  Now unless it’s baby Tylenol you’re scheduling your target run after your husband has a break from class and the boys lay down for their 14 minute nap.  Juggling, Not Just for Clowns: A Documentary.

7.      You have to let yourself play, cuddle, nap, giggle, and take time for the little things.  I do a lot better with the twins on this than I did with Charles.  I had wanted the house in order before sitting down to play but I now see just how fast the time goes, and nothing balances the chaos of child raising like down-time with your child. Until you’re a parent this won’t make sense.  I babysat and entertained kids as a teen but never really enjoyed it until I looked in the little faces of my boys.  It’s just different.

8.      Finally, and I think this is one of the hardest but most important.   I’ve been a mom for almost 5 years, so I clearly know everything about motherhood- so lean in.  FORGIVE YOURSELF.  You’re not a perfect mom, and you never will be.  You should’ve spent more time with them as a baby, you should’ve been more patient when it came to late night feedings, you should’ve been more strict with tantrums.   These are just the 'small-child regrets!'  I know one day I'll screw up much worse, and I know one if not all of my boys will break my heart at some point and I'll take responsibility.  As I pointed out what my mother was doing all wrong when I was growing up my mom would always say being a mom is the guiltiest job there is.  It is, but a guilty mom isn’t the mom our kids need.  Love your babies, love their daddy.  Love God.  You’ll be alright. 

 

That’s it-I didn’t plan either of my pregnancies but I wouldn’t trade anything for the craziness that happens at Goodview Court....except for a llama farm, a good night sleep, or a body like Jennifer Aniston. 

Just kidding. 

Happy Mothers Day!

Hi. Here's what I do for a living. If you start reading please finish..if you stop too early it's depressing and you'll miss what God did. Thanks:)

Well hello there friend.  Old friend, new friend, girl friend, man friend, family friend, mutual friend, Facebook friend that I don't even know.  How are you today?  Doing well? Good, I'm glad.
I'd like to share with you, dear friend, what I do for a living.  I spend the majority of my life working, and being that I started at an even more impressionable age, my career has greatly shaped who I am.  That may not sound pretty or motherly or domestic, but it's true, so I'm very sorry but you'll need to get over it.  Bless your heart.

As most of you know, for a while I wanted to be a professional musician.  My husband and I put a lot of money and I put a lot of time into trying to make it happen.  I was out in Nashville, my husband was in Minnesota, and the money was only running one way...out.  Every time things were looking promising, something happened and it fell through.  I guess you would normally call that 'God shutting a door'- but God knows my very stubborn heart and so He knows that shutting a door rarely stops me from forcing my will over His.  I'm convinced that instead, He gives it a good SLAM, and then digs through his drawer labeled 'Emma Never Listens' for yet another iron padlock so I don't try and weasel my way back through.  It hurts to have doors slammed on me, but even more to know that the slam is what it took to get my tunnel vision to open up a bit.  It's unfortunate, and it's painfully humbling. 

When music didn't pan out, we found ourselves in debt and I was without direction.  I was back at the bank with my tail between my legs and let's just say the paychecks weren't touching the interest on the loans.  Things were looking even more bleak when I lost my job at Wells Fargo and Andy was only working part time while incurring more student loan debt, oh, I mean----getting an education.  Go America.  I decided to look for something completely different.  I was all done with Fortune 500 companies and corporate balooey.  I had worked on several insurance claims with some of my mortgage clients at the bank because of a storm that went through my area, and I came into contact with a lot of local contractors in the process.  As I applied for jobs, I kept thinking about the contractors I'd come to know.  I had no background whatsoever but it was different, and I couldn't speak construction- but heck if I couldn't learn. 

I applied and experienced complete culture shock when I was hired and found myself working in Tennessee a couple weeks later.  I'm the girl that needs to google how to work a coffee dispenser.  I appreciate that you're giving me the benefit of the doubt, but I'm not referring to a Keurig- I'm talking one of those twisty top thermos deals they give you at IHOP.  My mom and my husband know the struggle is real for me and they still love me... so I'm over it.  Can't change, can only learn.  Anyway, being in Tennessee and not playing my guitar was tough, talk about that slammed door leaving a mark on my cheek.  I was there for three weeks and came back feeling even more defeated.  In Tennessee, however, I met someone who had owned a construction company all his working life.  He was a little older than my dad and had looked to retire but was deciding instead to start building his company up again.  He offered me a sales position, and after some time working with the original contractor I applied with as well as the new one, I jumped in with both feet.  I drove my little old car from my townhouse in Sartell to the office in southern Lakeville- it was about an hour and a half each way without traffic, and double that with it.  (see previous 'Confessions of a Driveaholic' post)  I left at around 4am every morning and would sleep in the office parking lot if traffic hadn't been terrible.  I would get home around 8pm and spend whatever time I could with Andy and Charlie before passing out.  Andy was working and being a full time dad, and our family made sacrifices we didn't want to, but I'll always be thankful for Andy's faith and trust while we took a giant leap with no idea where we would land.

After some time, the owner of the company presented an opportunity I could never have expected.  He wanted to know if I wanted to be a partner.  It would be split down the middle, and I'd make my own terms.  I still don't know exactly what he saw in me at that point except that he knew I was a hard worker and was willing to do what it took to provide for my family.  I read roofing and siding books, I put myself through training, and I taught myself to do the company's accounting.  It wasn't quick or easy, and years later I'm still learning about my industry daily, but I've always been happy to learn.  I invited myself to important meetings and tried to follow conversations that didn't make sense at the time.  I wore false confidence like it was my only clean bra, but I didn't have a choice.  I was a 21 year old girl in a man's world.  Earning respect was and is more than difficult in my industry.  The industry will eat you alive, it's vicious and jaded and cold-  you better be tougher than it or it'll spit you out; it doesn't care if you're a young woman or an experienced man, I've seen it happen.

So all that to say- this is what I do, and it turns out it's my calling.  My natural bossiness has found its place.  My job consists of selling myself and my company to both commercial and residential builders, and development companies and associations.  My salesman do a wonderful job selling to homeowners and association boards.  My project managers supervise my 38 crews in the field as they install roofing and siding for the biggest builders in the country, right down to Mike Mussman's house from K102 radio.  I also manage scheduling for all my crews and builders, and I run the books and payroll along with every day office management.  We've just purchased a new office building to provide much needed space as we continue to grow, and I've enjoyed getting settled in there.  My company doesn't slow down all year long and in the winter and spring I travel to different parts of the country and attend functions put on by my suppliers and other vendors.  I meet with local committees for several projects all over the Midwest  and stay very involved in local associations supporting the building industry such as BATC and NARI.  Sometimes I'm in the field checking things out in work boots and a hard hat and sometimes I'm in a fancy dress eating veal on a rooftop in Vegas.  I never turn my phone off, and I never ignore a call- there's a lot of stress and many days I've wondered how I'll even get through, but responsibility and integrity are what have helped us grow to be one of the top three exterior companies in the state for volume.  I work a lot, I'm away from my family more than I want, but I also have the flexibility of being there when need be without having to haggle with a boss about what's important.  It's hard, the hardest job I have ever or will ever have- I am a contractor and though it's not girly or glamorous most the time, I'm a proud one at that. 

I think it's so strange how we think we have ourselves figured out when we're younger.  We let the expectations of the only environment we know shape our futures and set our standards.  I thought of myself as a teacher, or at one point a singer, and if you would've told me I would be looking at a blueprint of the Viking's new stadium with the chief architects I would've told you that you were loco en la cabeza.  We've since moved to Lakeville and we bought a house.  We're currently planning to build nearby on some land if God allows, and add the house we're in now to our rentals.  In my industry, we're market based so we don't take anything for granted and I realize everything we're given is a blessing.  Thanks to God's grace we've been able to pay off our debt and save for the future- and when we look back to donating plasma after work to feed Charles, it only points to a God that knows when to slam a door on a stubborn struggling musician so he can open a better better one.  Praise Him.

Shoe Beets and Miss Shee-lia

Well hello!   

It’s been a while- and even short periods of time seem to mean a lot of change with the Helmers of Goodview Ct.  Where to begin?  Charlie is four and half and he’s just started pre-school.  I knew there would be challenges that accompanied sending our first baby to school, I just never could have foreseen how hard his little head could be, even with new people in charge.  I’m sure he gets it from his mama, and I’m sure I deserve it- but poor Charles truly believes what is or  isn’t is decided by what he says it is or isn’t.  For instance, he does not give two little hoots if the rest of the world holds a pencil one way, he’ll hold it his own ridiculously inefficient way and that’s that.  His C’s look like O’s and his A’s look like a stick figure, but the boy never stops praising himself for such impeccable penmanship, and who do I think I am if I don’t agree?  Also, it’s no skin off his nose if the world refers to small sweet round cakes with frosting as cupcakes- but he calls them pancakes…so they’re pancakes.  “Thirteen, fourteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen.”  That’s good Charlie but you forgot fifteen.  “No I didn’t.  You know I don’t like fifteen.”  On top of that, he absolutely refuses to call his teacher by her correct name- Miss Shiela.  As far as Charlie’s concerned, she is ‘Miss Sheel-ia.’  He says it’s a better name.  A couple of weeks ago, ‘ Miss Sheel-ia’  sent home a project where Charlie had to fill in the names of his four closest friends.  I was so excited to see who he’d bonded with at school, but I should’ve known better than to get my hopes up.  He listed his best friends as: Luke the Duke, Soy-Bean, George, and Poop.  Before you assume too much about sweet George, keep in mind that George is Charlie’s imaginary friend that lives in the drawer in our upstairs bathroom with his brothers ‘extra toothbrush one’ and ‘extra toothbrush two.’

Deep breath mama. 

He’s giving us a run for our money at home too.  I asked him to eat his vegetables after his sandwich one Saturday afternoon and I handed him the pouch veggies we’ve been getting for the boys.  Luke and Sawyer love them and they’re pretty easy- you just squeeze the pouch and the blended veggies squirt right out in their mouths.  He was excited to try a new one, but showed up in the bathroom I was cleaning not a minute later.  “I don’t like this mama.  It tastes like shoes.”  I looked at him and told him to try three more squeezes and if he still didn’t like it, he could be done.  He stared at me for a moment, and complied.  Normally that’s more of a fight so I proudly added a tally to my very, very small victory column.  I continued to clean the mirror when I hear Charlie from the kitchen.  “Eeeeeeeeeeew.” Pause.  “Yuuuuuuuuuck.”  Pause.  “Ygluuuuuuuckyyyyy…..  I’m done!”  I felt a little guilty for making him eat something he clearly hated and told him he could have a banana with peanut butter for listening so well, which he gladly accepted with a big smile.  I thought nothing else of the pouch.  That night at supper, my grandparents were over visiting and we sat and talked after we finished eating.  My grandma brought up a topic related to vegetables and I began to commend my four year old on eating the beets he didn’t like without arguing.  Before I could finish my rendition of the story, Charlie stopped me.  “Oh mom,” he said with a condescending tone.  “I didn’t eat those shoe beets.  I squirted those babies right in the trash.”  I sat there, shocked that I’d been had by my son.  He cocked his head just a little to the side and gave his best I pity you smile.  Before I could speak, Charlie looked back at his plate and mumbled under his breath, “ I told the woman I didn’t like those things,” and then turned to my Grandpa and explained quietly, “They taste just like shoes.”

 

Deep breath mama. 

Having twins is more fun with each day.  They’re are growing and changing by the hour it seems.  Luke is still his daddy’s little buddy and is more than content to snuggle as long as Andy has time to hold him in the evenings.  Luke’s biggest hurdle at this point is that it seems he still doesn’t know if his name is Luke or Sawyer.  He’s so soft hearted and goes into a state of complete devastation every time Andy or I get after Sawyer for misbehaving.  Sawyer doesn’t give a rat’s rear-end when he’s in trouble, and we usually spend the next several minutes consoling Luke for Sawyer’s crime.  Both boys are walking and though the living room is overwhelmed with every toy imaginable- the only things they seem to be interested in are separated plastic easter eggs and the forbidden remote controls.  Though there’s not much rest involved, I do believe this stage is my favorite of having little ones so far.  They smile, they giggle, they wake up happy, they eat well, and they can get wherever they need to within the safe confines of the kennel of course.  Sawyer is his usual boundary pushing, curious self and he brings a totally different dynamic to our family.  He’s pure bone and muscle, and his long hair and brown eyes intrigue even strangers at the grocery store.  He may be covered in scars, but he’s one of the most inspiring human beings I know, and he’s only 20 lbs.  I’m sure later on he’ll be the one to give us fits, but I really believe that Sawyer will do great things, and keep us entertained along the way.  He’s got a thing for violence, but hopefully he’ll grow out of that.

Deep breath mama.

All in all, things are great- God watches closely over our home on Goodview Court and we're very blessed to watch our crazy boys learn and grow each day.  I'll try and update more often, thanks for reading yall!  Much love :)

I'M COMING JESUS!

It happens to every Church-going family, and it happens often.  I can say this with conviction because I was raised in a family of redeemed sinners, and I now help my husband lead one.  Without a doubt, Satan's favorite morning to attack is Sunday.  I picture the Devil prowling the earth Sunday mornings with a skip in his step and a cheeky grin on his face, knowing he'll be successful in interrupting several parents from worshiping their Savior and absorbing God's Word.  How does he strike?  Well I don't know about your home, but here's how Sunday went down on Goodview Court.

Wake up Em, wake up.  Your twins haven't slept two out of the four last nights, but they're cutting 5 teeth between the two of them, and their poor butts are as red as the smoke detector light you've been staring at since 1 am while they let you hear all about it.  Desitin, clean diaper, tylenol, orajel, more cereal, more bottle, rocking, singing, sympathy sobs from mama...... and repeat.  But Jesus knows what you're dealing with, and he still wants to see you with His people today.  I'm up.  I'm up.  I hear the speaker from the women's conference in the back of my mind telling me if I'm not willing to make space in my family for being where Jesus is me and my family could miss all Jesus has for us, and my family NEEDS Jesus.

Directory pictures today- we need to look nice.  Did I wear this dress last week?  In order to answer that, I'd have to think hard about choices I made 7 whole days ago and I'm not sure my brain is there yet this morning- Polka Dots Round 2 it is.  I brush my teeth and start making bottles and Charlie's cereal.  Where's Andy?  Why isn't he helping?  I remember to keep the joy of the Lord, I won't let Satan destroy what I need so desperately this morning.  Charlie walks up the stairs and he's...well...disgusting.  We're not going to God's house like this.  I tell him to eat fast and then I'll run a bath for him.  I greet my drool soaked little screamers and realize they too need to be scrubbed down before Church.  Three baths, two bottles, and one bowl of cereal later everyone is clean and fed.  It's times like this I'm glad I don't have little heads of hair to braid.

Andy gets up and I bribe him to make me an english muffin while I get the boys dressed.  I originally was going for a matching look, since that's apparently the twin thing to do, but then settle for one lucky twin with a cute outfit and one unlucky twin with a nineties hand me down.  Praise God for clothing they'll be warm in, even if it's corduroy knee patches and color-block polos.  I remind myself Jesus doesn't need us to meet Him only when we're attractive, he just needs us to show up.

On the way to Church Charlie tells us all about how green light means "Go," yellow light means "Whoa," and red light means "GO HOME!"  ???   He goes on to explain that he's "Starving-er than Kuhle (our child from Swaziland we now sponsor)."  No you're not, not even close.  Andy's jokes are striking the very nerve I'm barely keeping and the twins are still crying.  I can basically hear the drool ruining their shirts.  Deep breath, don't let the enemy win.  I'll miss these days one day, isn't that what they say?  I politely tell Andy that once we get inside I'm dumping the twins in the nursery and giving Charlie two pieces of gum, which usually muffles the questions... if not halting them all together so I can focus on worship.  His response, "Well you can do what you want with Sawyer and Charlie but I'm holding the fat one- he loves me."  PERFECT! You do that-  Just sit a few pews behind me and take a plug if you don't mind.  I have a much needed appointment with Jesus I can't miss...or else.

I can honestly say my heart was still in the right place and I was choosing to take courage over the situation rather than giving in as we started toward the Church doors from the back of the parking lot.  I was carrying an oversize purse, a diaper bag, the before mentioned 'fat one' in his carseat, and coaxing Charlie to walk faster.  We were moving as fast as possible with all my cargo and then Charlie insisted on doing the 'hokey pokie' all the way to the door.  He keeps yelling, "Mom watch me!  I'm growing up SO fast."  It was at this point as I was waddling awkwardly towards the sidewalk I just kept thinking that if Jesus could just get me to the door, I promise I'd be receptive and surrender myself to His teachings, I'd apply His principles and promises to my life every day this week.  He'd just have to get me inside these walls and I'd be His.  I don't remember saying anything aloud, but I'm told that I then loudly exclaimed "I'M COMING JESUS!  I'M ALMOST THERE!" 

Imagine the sight of a disheveled woman toting far more than she should and dragging four boys as fast as they'll move towards Church, and then hearing her screaming phrases to heaven on top of it.  I'm surprised they didn't just lock the doors before the craziness could enter!

Praise God He always gives us a way of escape, and that we can take courage over circumstances that try our patience and test our peace.  Just writing this two days later, my morning obstacles seem ridiculous and petty, but at the time it took constant dependency on Jesus to not snap at one of my boys and then beg for them to put a smile over those tears for Directory Pictures.  Making space for Jesus where there seems to be no give in life is something I haven't done well- it's way too easy to blame backsliding on life, whether it's having babies, crazy work schedules, a family member with a sniffle, or even out of town company.  Someone once told me it's very rare that a child grows up to have higher expectations for themselves than their parents did- and if that's true we need to put the utmost urgency behind maintaining a relationship with Jesus and His people, even when the world gives us an out.  His Mercies are overwhelming and I've learned some amazing things these last few weeks, this is just one.  Hopefully it encourages you to not lose hope or momentum- we're leading little souls and it's an enormous responsibility.  Praise God for His never-ending patience when ours runs out.  II Timothy 2:13- it's just who He is!

Bald Spots and Lukey Piggies

You know when you start a new job, or a new relationship, and you sometimes have to pinch yourself in the beginning because it just hasn't sunk in yet?  Normally that wears off as new becomes old, and fresh schedules fall into routine.

Well we're going on 10 months with the twins now and I still have to pinch myself daily, or let one of them do it, because having three little boys still seems so surreal.  Me, Emma, I, have three children, three boys.  I haven't even begun to understand what blessings and challenges my little wolf pack entails, but I'm starting to get small glimpses.  So.....here are a few glimpses straight out of the loudest home on Goodview Ct.

Last night I walked in at about 4:15 from work and Charlie greeted me, along with every pair of shoes he's the proud owner of, at the front door (which I could barely swing open due to said footwear).  What do I see?  Glasses on his face that I'm 110% sure he cannot see through with all the fingerprints and . . . food?  I hope those are food chunks?  What else do I observe on my four year old?  Why none other than the very same shirt and shorts he's worn since Monday.  Four days, one outfit, not bad.  He gives me a big hug and says, "I missed you mommy!  How was work?  Are those guys just drivin ya cwazy?"  Someone's been listening in on mommy and daddy's conversations about mommy's work.  I quickly kiss the clean spot on his face and carry two babies upstairs.

Since the arrival of our twins, our home has lost it's cozy clean feel; it's now cluttered with baby things, the largest obstacle being their 'kennel.'  Judge away, but Andy and I are all for the kennel.  It keeps hot-wheel cars out and babies away from stairs.  I plop my purse, the diaper bag, my laptop, and the car seats down and put the babies in their respective jail cell, on separate sides of course- gotta buy myself a couple minutes.  I then grab a cold glass of pineapple juice and head toward the couch to convene with my husband about dinner plans.  No sooner have I attempted to sit when Charlie's lion toy "Alvie" makes an appearance out of nowhere under the burp rag I sat on.  Ouch.  Every dang day I manage to sit on Alvie.

I then hear screaming from the kennel and look to find Sawyer making a snack out of Luke's toes . . . again.  Luke's still a little gummy bear but Sawyer has popped through a set of beautiful chompers and I'm not sure if it's because they're so pink and plump, or if it's revenge for Luke pulling his comb-over hair chunk all the time, but Sawyer's very favorite things to chew on are Luke's toes.  Where Luke puts everything in his mouth, Sawyer is particular.  He'll take a pacifier, or a plug as we call it, and other than that it's just Lukey Piggies for him- no teething rings or rattles.  Poor Luke.  The twins spend at least an hour each evening in a vicious circle of toe chomping and hair pulling, which they can conveniently do simultaneously while lying side by side.  Socks and hats you say?  Oh they're far beyond figuring out how to remove those, and barriers like that just make the forbidden fruit all the more enticing.  Good grief.

As soon as I remove swollen piggies from Sawyer's clenched jaw the crying stops, and the silence allows me to hear what's going on in the kitchen with Charlie, and what I hear is spitting, a lot of spitting.  I choose to ignore and let the problem come to me- never a good decision but sometimes all my patience, or lack of, allows.  It doesn't take long and Charlie comes running in.  I'd say nothing surprises me anymore, but that would be underestimating a four year old boy.  Charles runs in with a mouth FULL of cat fur.  I bypass the pointless question, why, and go straight to how.  He's gagging and spitting and attempting to pull fur out of his mouth- so I take him to the toilet and we start pulling it out together.  This was quite the task and by the end of it his four day old shirt was soaked with sticky drool and fur.  When his condition was stable, I asked him if he bit Tink.  His reply was simply, "No, she scared me so I grabbed all her fur and put it in my mouth."  Well alright then, seems reasonable.

We made dinner and after eating I was sitting at the table and Charlie walks up and puts his finger about a half an inch from my eye and says, "Mom I love you, this is for you."  By the time my eyes focus on his finger, and the giant booger on the end, it's too late and I now have a Charlie booger on my eyelid.  I can't help but wonder if this happens to other moms.  I explain why it's not okay to put your boogers on other people, a concept I've explained before, and one that is completely confusing to Charlie.  He sees it as a true gift, a piece of him has been shared.

The rest of the evening was relatively low key, mostly consisting of Charlie telling me Jesus wants him to have a cell phone and following me around with his extended Zebra jaw clincher.  He uses Mr Zebra to bite my butt and speak ridiculous nonsense like "Luke and Sawyer want Zebra teeth for their teeth mom" through his zebra friend, directly in my ear, wherever I'm sitting.

Alas, the evening finally quiets and my three little gremlins settle in for bed around 10 and my husband leaves for work.  Tonight in my cluttered home you'll find a sticky four year old with all the best intentions, a smiley bald chub of a baby with teeth marks on his toes, and a toothy baby and paranoid kitten both sporting bald spots.  They're so sweet when they sleep and I cherish their little calm faces knowing tomorrow is coming with a new set of fabulous adventures, and if we're lucky, a different shirt for Charlie.