Thank God

I hear that phrase a lot: Thank God! 

I mean, a lot. So much, that the "Thank" and the "God" are merely shadow words. They are there, but are they really there? Am I honestly thanking God when I say:

• Thank God I packed another outfit in the car for my almost-potty-trained child.
• Thank God I drank a mocha latte this morning. It's going to be one of those days.
• Thank God the season finale of Glee is still on Hulu.
• Thank God the Gap Outlet had one pair of $4 jeans in my size. (Four dollars, people!)

Probably, not. Well, okay, I did actually praise God for that last one. Finding a great-fitting pair of jeans on a Goodwill budget can be nothing short of miraculous. Regardless of budget, a great pair of jeans is almost as elusive as a great bathing suit. You might read about them in magazines or on blogs but you seldom encounter them in real life.

Everything God does is worthy of praise. Everything. He gave me life. He gave my children life. I want to reclaim those words: Thank God. Starting today.

"I will give thanks to you, O Lord, with my whole heart." (Psalm 9:1)

A Little Sunday Grace

"Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!" -- Philippians 4:4

A Little Sunday Grace

"He replied, 'You give them something to eat.' " (Luke 9:13)

God challenges us to think bigger - not only about what He can do but also what you can do in His name.  Whose angel can you be today?

It's a No-Go-Sew

I fell in love with a fabric on Yummy Fabrics a few months back.

I didn't expect to fall in love. I don't sew. Not even buttons. But I had plans. Big plans. And a sewing machine my mother-in-law bought for me 7 years ago. (I guess she had big plans for me, too.)

So I mail-ordered my fabric bride. The fabric arrived but my knowledge of sewing machines was not in the box. I did discover, however, that although I earned a degree in English and French, I apparently can not comprehend the instruction manual that came with said sewing machine. Not even the visuals. Talking to the sewing machine didn't help either. My French did come in handy during our, um, chat.

Now, it's just me and my fabric. Shakespeare was right: "The course of true love never did run smooth." Well, I guess my English and French came in handy after all.

A Little Sunday Grace

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!" (2 Corinthians 5:17)

Monkey See, Monkey Do

God calls Christian parents to a higher purpose. As "imitators of God," our children learn how to be Christians by watching us and modeling our behavior. Our parenting should aim to provide a safe, loving, God-centered, developmentally-appropriate environment for our children where they can grow up to contribute to society and live the life God intended for them to live as a Christ-follower.

No pressure there.

I think I do okay imitating God in some aspects. And by God, I mean the Wrath of God. You should see my evil eye. When wielded correctly, it can stop disobedience faster than saying "Stop calling your sister Mrs. Poopy Head."

Imitating God's grace, on the other hand, needs some help. I recognize my shortcomings each time I speak to my girls from a place of anger instead a place of love.

Thank God He is more patient and more loving and full of more grace than I am. He is the type of parent I want to be. And even though I fall short, I know that He will forgive me...and one day my children will, too.

Daddy is a Superhero and Mommy goes to the grocery store

I don't own a cape or a spandex uniform. Masks tickle my face. No invisible jets or secret rooms full of gadgets in my house either. And no, I can't stop a speeding bullet, but in all fairness, I haven't tried.

So, armed with that knowledge, I don't know why I was shocked by my daughter's dream last night. At 2 am, she woke up screaming as in "get-in-my-room-right-now-before-this-monster-eats-me" kinda of screaming. So, I did what most sleeping mommies do (or want to do), I sent my husband. 

A few minutes later I hear rapidly approaching tiptoes and barely miss being smacked in the face with Lambie.

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"Are you okay, honey?"

"I'm scared. I had a bad dream."

"Oh, I'm sorry. You are safe now baby. What was it about?"

"Me and Ellery were left at home by ourselves and a bad person was trying to get us. Then Daddy came and he was a Superhero and he saved us."

"Oh, honey, that does sound scary. Where was mommy?"

"You were at the grocery store."

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Um. What? I was at the grocery store?!

My husband gets to be the superhero and I get to go to the grocery store? Is this because I quit work and stay at home with our girls while Daddy disappears most days to that mysterious place called work? Did I hang up my future superhero cape when I hung up my 401k?

Maybe. Maybe not. 

I like to think that all moms--working outside the home and not--are superheros. For how else can our hearts handle the joy and heartache that comes with being a mom. And, yes, some days it takes superhero strength to make it through the day. 

So for now, I'm okay with my husband being the superhero in our daughter's dreams. I'll just settle for a trip to the grocery store. I only hope I brought home something good for dinner.