True Love Died

We took Communion at church today. I remember as a kid thinking that I wished the ceremony meant something to me. I sort of understood it, always took part in it, but it didn't resonate with me. Like, I totally get that Jesus died for me. That sucks. Moving on.

Sometime in the last few years, though, I GOT IT. God watched his son die. For ME. Jesus went through THAT. For ME. He was betrayed and abandoned by the people on earth he loved most. He experienced separation, sin. For ME.

Oh.

I don't deserve it. I wouldn't choose for him to do that. I would never ask that of anyone, much less of the creator of the universe. As the depth of his pain and my unworthiness became clear, it broke my heart.

I fought it. I completely, utterly disagree with the choice God made. I am not worth THAT. He shouldn't have done it. I wouldn't do it, never, ever. And yet, he chose to. It was his choice to die. Really, he didn't have to, he could have let us all go. But he chose to die.

So now, during commuinion, I find myself trying to rest in being loved. He gave me a gift I don't understand, don't deserve. I am so grateful.

Six Months Old

Crazy

Sorry I haven't blogged in a while. I feel like a lot has been added to my plate in the last few weeks, and I'm trying to figure out how it's all going to fit. I'll be back soon, though!

Brenna's Love, Part Two

"Mama, me wub you up to Heben.

Me wub my bed up to Heben, too."

It Totally Works... In Theory

I think I've solved my laundry dilemma. The everlasting mountain of laundry will be gone!

So here's my idea:

Each person in the family will get a color. Like red for Nathan, because he looks great in red. He will get five of the exact same red shirt, a pair of jeans and a pair of khakis. AND THAT'S IT (well, he can have red underwear and socks too, because I'm generous like that)!

I already do laundry everyday, the problem is that the quantity overwhelms me. So this way, I can easily sort a small amount of clothing, get it hung up, and voila! Laundry's done. No need for socks in every color for Brenna, because she only wears pink! Five pairs of pink socks, and they are all hers! If she gets food all over, no problem, because we'll just change her shirt to another just like it!

This is awesome. I'm a genius. I'll even let them pick a new color every year or as they grow out of the old stuff, whichever comes first.

I guess they'll also need one set of dress up clothes... and a couple sets of jammies... and swim suits... crap. Wait, their old shirts can become the jammies! Yes! Another problem solved!

Seriously, this is what I think about while I face my own personal Mt. Everest.

Why a Boy Needs a Daddy

Yesterday Nathan had judo class. This was his third time, and he did not want to go. The first time, he had fun. He has a friend in the class and he just joined right in, running laps with the other kids.

The second class didn't go so well. We were running late, so we were stressed and got there amidst a crush of bigger kids. Then the teacher was new. Apparently the teacher from the first week is actually the tae kwon do teacher. Nathan refused to join in, so I had him sit on the side and watch and told him he could join at any time. He chose not to.

So this week the tears started as soon as I told him to put his gi (his uniform) on. We talked about it, about being scared, about getting used to something new. We talked about how cool it will be to wrestle Uncle Walt, because he's taking judo too! And the tears continued. He didn't want to go.

I explained my dilemna: the first week we asked him if he was sure he wanted to take this class and he enthusiastically said yes, so we bought the uniform. I think he'll have so much fun learning how to wrestle. It's important to follow through. But he really, really didn't want to go.

We prayed about it. I asked God for wisdom. He's only four. He's scared. I don't know what the right thing to do is.

Then Daddy came home. He was going to take Nathan to class. I pulled him aside and explained the situation, my doubts, Nathan's tears.

And in a way that always amazes me, Brian gently laid down the law. He told Nathan that he has to go four times, then he can decide. He didn't give him a choice. Then he promised ice cream for a good attitude. Then he made him laugh.

Nathan was still scared. He still cried a bit. But his friend in class came and took his hand, and they took off running together. After dinner, we made him a big sundae with a brownie. He dropped the ice cream on the floor then stuck his toe in it. Good Times. And when I asked, Nathan said he had a great time, he definitely wants to go back.

We'll see if Daddy needs to be there for next week too.

Really, It's the Piano that's Faulty.

On the way home from our camping trip we listened to some instrumental piano music that I've enjoyed for a long time. I think my mom and I got the CD when I was about 12 years old.

Nathan was asking me about the songs and what they meant. He sat back and listened for awhile, then asked,

"Mom? How come our piano and Nana and Papa's piano don't sound like this?"

"Well, because this man knows how to play the piano."