I posted this picture to my Facebook page a few weeks ago:
(Because, y'all, my night snack is a very documentable part of my day.)
Besides partaking in that delicious Easter candy/chocolate egg, I was also beginning a new book that night- you can see a smidge of the cover in the background of the picture.
It's an incredibly encouraging parenting/homeschooling book written by Michelle and JimBob Duggar titled The Duggars: 20 and Counting!: Raising One of America's Largest Families--How They Do It.
While Matt and I aren't having another baby, (3 is our perfect number.) I still really, really enjoyed what she had to say about what her life was like when her kids were young. Because it speaks a lot to me about where I am in my life right now. Y'all, she admits that when her oldest babies were all young- she cried. A lot. Who knew?! Looks like I'm not the only one who can feel overwhelmed by two preschoolers and an infant in the house. Thanks, Michelle!
One thing she talked about in her book was why she and JimBob felt so strongly about homeschooling their children. And, for myself and Matt, those are questions that we are beginning to answer for ourselves. We are in serious, deep, prayerful search about the educational path we are going to take the kids down. I've always felt, maybe even on some deep level that I might not have even been totally aware of, the desire to keep my kids at home for school. I can remember holding newborn Luke in his sweet little swaddled blanket in my hospital room, just hours after delivery and feeling that little, quiet tug on my Momma heartstrings about homeschooling. I jokingly told Matt about how I felt, and he/we might have blown it off as the post-delivery hormones talking.
But still, even as the years have passed and as we have added two more little souls to our family, that desire has not faded. In fact, it has grown stronger. More determined. More intense. More urgent. God is impressing on my heart and mind the drive and desire to homeschool. And, while I am excited and anxious and *maybe* ready- at times, I am petrified.
We still have a year or so before Luke is old enough for us to have to make an official "Homeschool vs. Public School" decision, but for now, for us, for my heart- keeping them home is what is I feel God is leading me to do. And I'm going to continue follow those leadings. Those quiet whispers. Those gentle nudgings in that direction.
A friend of mine and I were joking last week via text messages about my desire to homeschool the kids. She is a SuperMom if I've ever seen one. (Y'all- she has FIVE. And she can sew like a Project Runway contestant. She's got skills. I'm way jealous.) She was laughing with me about the madness that will undoubtedly ensue while I'm homeschooling Luke with two other little ones running around. I told her that I wasn't sure if I was crazy or just a glutton for punishment. And, for the moment, that's about the best way I can figure to sum it all up.
But another thing that Michelle talked a lot about in her book was how God has always provided for their needs. The big ones and the small ones. He's provided them with buisness opportunities to provide for their super-sized family. He's provided for their small needs, though, too. Even down to one of their little daughter's request for a new blanket.
One of her younger daughters had grown attached to one of her older sibling's pink blankets. She had a blanket of her own, of course, but she love, love, LOVED her big sister's pink one. She asked Michelle on numerous occasions for a new pink blanket, but money was tight for them and they just couldn't afford to spend money on a purchase like that.
At that time, JimBob was running a used car lot/towing company out of their front yard. (Michelle- you are a gooooood woman.) He got a call one night to tow a car, and as he was accustomed to doing, he went through the interior before impounding it to check for miscellaneous items that may have been left behind. That night, when he opened the back doors of that car, lo and behold: there was a pink blanket lying on the backseat. Like a little folded up answered prayer for his littlest daughter. Michelle said the happiness that found pink blanket brought to her daugheter was a reminder to her of just how much God loved her. And her family. And how He was watching out for their needs, even the smallest ones.
Reading that story really struck me. It made me stop and think about how God has blessed me, too, in similar ways. We're a one income family, much like The Duggars. We live without credit cards or debt. (Except our house- we haven't quite made it to that step in the Dave Ramsey plan yet.) And nowadays, while things are quickly becoming more and more and MORE costly, we are always able to meet our monthly financial obligations. Sure, we might not be taking lavish European vacations (But we are saving for a Disney trip- the kid's first!) or buying a big ol' fancy car, but we are still blessed- both financially and spiritually, in a world where there are so many others who are struggling. We realize how fortunate we are. God has taken care of these big needs of ours, of course, but He's also taken care of our "pink blankets", too. One of those instances was just last week, when Luke got another splinter.
Y'all, I'm positive that Luke's feet must be a magnet for little pieces of wood. He came in one evening after playing outside and showed me a new splinter that he somehow managed to get jammed in his foot. Again. For like the millionth time this year. (We have a newly instituted "No Bare Feet On The Deck At Any Time For Any Reason" rule, by the way.) It was a freshly acquired wedge, so I was able to quickly, and painlessly, pull 80% of the offending wood out. Whew.
It left a smidge behind, but it was so small and so far below the surface of the skin that I wasn't going to traumatize him (or myself) further by digging for it anymore that night. I rubbed some baking soda/water paste onto it, slapped a BandAid on it and told him to watch it and let me know if it started to get red or puffy. Which, y'all know, it did.
A couple of days later, even with the repeated baking soda pastes, it started to get swollen and red. I knew that I was going to have to go in with a needle and tweezers to get this thing out. He wasn't excited about it and neither was I.
I told him in the most cheerful voice that I was going to just have to get that 'bad ol' splinter outta there'. He wasn't fooled by my fake sunny disposition. The hot river of tears started and I could tell that he was scared. I was, too. I pulled Luke into my lap and spoke softly to him before we stared. I explained exactly what I was going to have to do and why I was going to have to do it. I let him see and touch the needles and tweezers that I was going to use. I let him help me sterilize them with the alcohol and paper towel. We said a prayer together and asked God to help him be brave and me to be fast. We prayed that the splinter would be easy to take out and that he would be so still and brave and quiet, just like Daniel.
I tried to cajole him with a pack of gummis and an episode of Peter Rabbit to distract him: No dice. I tried to entice him with a homemade popciscle on the deck: No dice. I even tried to do the stern-Mom-voice: No dice. I knew after the third failed solo attempt that we were gonna have to call in reinforcements. Daddy was gonna have to help me hold him.
Y'all, there is no worse feeling in the WORLD than to hear your kid crying "Please, Momma! Don't hurt me! Don't poke me with that needle! Don't make me bleed!" Man, if I could be the one to take the pain FOR my kids- I would. We called Daddy into the living room and he pulled afreaking out reluctant Luke into his lap while I struggled to hold his foot still enough to prick the pocket of puss with the needle. (Sorry, I know this is a little gross. But, what part of raising kids isn't gross sometimes? Am I right?)
It wasn't easy, and to be honest- I wasn't exactly sure how I was going to get that splinter speck out. It was so small, and sooo deep. But his foot was red and beginning to get hot and had gotten that yellow ring of wet, infected skin so I knew I had to do SOMETHING. So, popping that wet skin was gonna be my first step. After that, I was cluleless. I pricked the skin, and Luke almost came unglued. The thrashing and crying and tears were almost too much for me to see.
He was clearly paniced, and for good reason. Nobody likes to have their foot dug into with a needle and tweezers, and my heart was absolutely breaking for him. I put the needle down and dabbed at the open skin with a fresh paper towel. Luke calmed down, and got still enough for me to take a closer look at what I was dealing with now that the puss/water/icky stuff had drained from around the splinter. I looked, but I couldn't see it clearly. I got a flashlight out and pointed it at his foot, but- even with the extra light, I couldn't find the splinter. I turned the flashlight off and pressed both sides of the wound with my fingers, but still couldnt see that dark offending speck of wood. Y'all can imagine how much Luke is loving life right now. Ugh. Y'all- It was ridiculous.
I reached for the paper towel to dab some of the excess water off of his foot and when I looked down, I am not exaggerating: THERE IT WAS. Like a relief personified into a little black speck of wood. In the towel. Blammo. It was already removed. It must have gotten dislodged into the infected area and when I pricked his skin, it must've come out with all the yellow puss/water/icky stuff. Y'all, I know that after you read this next sentence you may think I am crazy. And I know I sound a little radical myself. But I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that God took that splinter out that day.
In as much time as it took us to get settled onto the living room rug and get started, the whole event was over. I couldn't believe it. Matt couldn't belive it. Luke couldn't believe it. I pulled Luke into my lap and squeezed him tightly. I smoothed the hair off his sweaty forehead and wiped his wet face dry. We whispered a prayer of thankfulness. God was so good to us that day.
I was reminded again that day of how perfectly God takes care of us. And how well He knows our needs. From the biggest necessity down to the smallest splinter. God loves us. He sees our splinters. And He helps us with them. My cup runneth over.
What splinters has God taken care of lately in your life?
Besides partaking in that delicious Easter candy/chocolate egg, I was also beginning a new book that night- you can see a smidge of the cover in the background of the picture.
It's an incredibly encouraging parenting/homeschooling book written by Michelle and JimBob Duggar titled The Duggars: 20 and Counting!: Raising One of America's Largest Families--How They Do It.
While Matt and I aren't having another baby, (3 is our perfect number.) I still really, really enjoyed what she had to say about what her life was like when her kids were young. Because it speaks a lot to me about where I am in my life right now. Y'all, she admits that when her oldest babies were all young- she cried. A lot. Who knew?! Looks like I'm not the only one who can feel overwhelmed by two preschoolers and an infant in the house. Thanks, Michelle!
One thing she talked about in her book was why she and JimBob felt so strongly about homeschooling their children. And, for myself and Matt, those are questions that we are beginning to answer for ourselves. We are in serious, deep, prayerful search about the educational path we are going to take the kids down. I've always felt, maybe even on some deep level that I might not have even been totally aware of, the desire to keep my kids at home for school. I can remember holding newborn Luke in his sweet little swaddled blanket in my hospital room, just hours after delivery and feeling that little, quiet tug on my Momma heartstrings about homeschooling. I jokingly told Matt about how I felt, and he/we might have blown it off as the post-delivery hormones talking.
But still, even as the years have passed and as we have added two more little souls to our family, that desire has not faded. In fact, it has grown stronger. More determined. More intense. More urgent. God is impressing on my heart and mind the drive and desire to homeschool. And, while I am excited and anxious and *maybe* ready- at times, I am petrified.
We still have a year or so before Luke is old enough for us to have to make an official "Homeschool vs. Public School" decision, but for now, for us, for my heart- keeping them home is what is I feel God is leading me to do. And I'm going to continue follow those leadings. Those quiet whispers. Those gentle nudgings in that direction.
A friend of mine and I were joking last week via text messages about my desire to homeschool the kids. She is a SuperMom if I've ever seen one. (Y'all- she has FIVE. And she can sew like a Project Runway contestant. She's got skills. I'm way jealous.) She was laughing with me about the madness that will undoubtedly ensue while I'm homeschooling Luke with two other little ones running around. I told her that I wasn't sure if I was crazy or just a glutton for punishment. And, for the moment, that's about the best way I can figure to sum it all up.
But another thing that Michelle talked a lot about in her book was how God has always provided for their needs. The big ones and the small ones. He's provided them with buisness opportunities to provide for their super-sized family. He's provided for their small needs, though, too. Even down to one of their little daughter's request for a new blanket.
One of her younger daughters had grown attached to one of her older sibling's pink blankets. She had a blanket of her own, of course, but she love, love, LOVED her big sister's pink one. She asked Michelle on numerous occasions for a new pink blanket, but money was tight for them and they just couldn't afford to spend money on a purchase like that.
At that time, JimBob was running a used car lot/towing company out of their front yard. (Michelle- you are a gooooood woman.) He got a call one night to tow a car, and as he was accustomed to doing, he went through the interior before impounding it to check for miscellaneous items that may have been left behind. That night, when he opened the back doors of that car, lo and behold: there was a pink blanket lying on the backseat. Like a little folded up answered prayer for his littlest daughter. Michelle said the happiness that found pink blanket brought to her daugheter was a reminder to her of just how much God loved her. And her family. And how He was watching out for their needs, even the smallest ones.
Reading that story really struck me. It made me stop and think about how God has blessed me, too, in similar ways. We're a one income family, much like The Duggars. We live without credit cards or debt. (Except our house- we haven't quite made it to that step in the Dave Ramsey plan yet.) And nowadays, while things are quickly becoming more and more and MORE costly, we are always able to meet our monthly financial obligations. Sure, we might not be taking lavish European vacations (But we are saving for a Disney trip- the kid's first!) or buying a big ol' fancy car, but we are still blessed- both financially and spiritually, in a world where there are so many others who are struggling. We realize how fortunate we are. God has taken care of these big needs of ours, of course, but He's also taken care of our "pink blankets", too. One of those instances was just last week, when Luke got another splinter.
Y'all, I'm positive that Luke's feet must be a magnet for little pieces of wood. He came in one evening after playing outside and showed me a new splinter that he somehow managed to get jammed in his foot. Again. For like the millionth time this year. (We have a newly instituted "No Bare Feet On The Deck At Any Time For Any Reason" rule, by the way.) It was a freshly acquired wedge, so I was able to quickly, and painlessly, pull 80% of the offending wood out. Whew.
{Quick question: Have y'all ever tried to approach a preschooler with a needle and tweezers? Because yeeeeah, Luke gets the "Fight or Flight" response going and he somehow can summons the strength of like 9 grown men and an elephant. Seriously. If it's a deep enough, big enough splinter that I'm going to really have to fiddle around with, I can't do it without Matt home to help me hold him still while I try to work it out. Luke has got some strength in those legs. I'm lucky to have catlike reflexes because he nearly kicked me straight in the eye one day while I was on splinter removal duty.}
It left a smidge behind, but it was so small and so far below the surface of the skin that I wasn't going to traumatize him (or myself) further by digging for it anymore that night. I rubbed some baking soda/water paste onto it, slapped a BandAid on it and told him to watch it and let me know if it started to get red or puffy. Which, y'all know, it did.
A couple of days later, even with the repeated baking soda pastes, it started to get swollen and red. I knew that I was going to have to go in with a needle and tweezers to get this thing out. He wasn't excited about it and neither was I.
I told him in the most cheerful voice that I was going to just have to get that 'bad ol' splinter outta there'. He wasn't fooled by my fake sunny disposition. The hot river of tears started and I could tell that he was scared. I was, too. I pulled Luke into my lap and spoke softly to him before we stared. I explained exactly what I was going to have to do and why I was going to have to do it. I let him see and touch the needles and tweezers that I was going to use. I let him help me sterilize them with the alcohol and paper towel. We said a prayer together and asked God to help him be brave and me to be fast. We prayed that the splinter would be easy to take out and that he would be so still and brave and quiet, just like Daniel.
I tried to cajole him with a pack of gummis and an episode of Peter Rabbit to distract him: No dice. I tried to entice him with a homemade popciscle on the deck: No dice. I even tried to do the stern-Mom-voice: No dice. I knew after the third failed solo attempt that we were gonna have to call in reinforcements. Daddy was gonna have to help me hold him.
Y'all, there is no worse feeling in the WORLD than to hear your kid crying "Please, Momma! Don't hurt me! Don't poke me with that needle! Don't make me bleed!" Man, if I could be the one to take the pain FOR my kids- I would. We called Daddy into the living room and he pulled a
It wasn't easy, and to be honest- I wasn't exactly sure how I was going to get that splinter speck out. It was so small, and sooo deep. But his foot was red and beginning to get hot and had gotten that yellow ring of wet, infected skin so I knew I had to do SOMETHING. So, popping that wet skin was gonna be my first step. After that, I was cluleless. I pricked the skin, and Luke almost came unglued. The thrashing and crying and tears were almost too much for me to see.
He was clearly paniced, and for good reason. Nobody likes to have their foot dug into with a needle and tweezers, and my heart was absolutely breaking for him. I put the needle down and dabbed at the open skin with a fresh paper towel. Luke calmed down, and got still enough for me to take a closer look at what I was dealing with now that the puss/water/icky stuff had drained from around the splinter. I looked, but I couldn't see it clearly. I got a flashlight out and pointed it at his foot, but- even with the extra light, I couldn't find the splinter. I turned the flashlight off and pressed both sides of the wound with my fingers, but still couldnt see that dark offending speck of wood. Y'all can imagine how much Luke is loving life right now. Ugh. Y'all- It was ridiculous.
I reached for the paper towel to dab some of the excess water off of his foot and when I looked down, I am not exaggerating: THERE IT WAS. Like a relief personified into a little black speck of wood. In the towel. Blammo. It was already removed. It must have gotten dislodged into the infected area and when I pricked his skin, it must've come out with all the yellow puss/water/icky stuff. Y'all, I know that after you read this next sentence you may think I am crazy. And I know I sound a little radical myself. But I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that God took that splinter out that day.
In as much time as it took us to get settled onto the living room rug and get started, the whole event was over. I couldn't believe it. Matt couldn't belive it. Luke couldn't believe it. I pulled Luke into my lap and squeezed him tightly. I smoothed the hair off his sweaty forehead and wiped his wet face dry. We whispered a prayer of thankfulness. God was so good to us that day.
I was reminded again that day of how perfectly God takes care of us. And how well He knows our needs. From the biggest necessity down to the smallest splinter. God loves us. He sees our splinters. And He helps us with them. My cup runneth over.
What splinters has God taken care of lately in your life?
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