wade in the water

You may remember the series of posts on Davis's journey of faith; we talked with our pastor about baptism and he advised that we continue to talk with Davis about the gospel and watch for the evidence of the grace of God and fruit of faith in his life.

Though we waited quite a while, there is no doubt in his mind (or ours) of the transforming power of the gospel in his heart.

So, on Father's Day, Kevin had the honor and privilege of baptizing Davis.  We helped Davis understand baptism as a ceremony.  In the same way a wedding publicly proclaims a man and woman belong to each other, a baptism publicly proclaims you belong to Jesus.

the best job

Some of us choose the calling, to others it was definitely given.  I am in the second category, but because our second, third, and (technically) fourth children were planned I also feel I am partially in the first category.

My oldest son wanted to talk to me, just the two of us, no Daddy and no Ronin; this kind of time is pretty hard to come by, but we managed to sneak away to the back porch on a Sunday morning for some conversation.  He asked what it was like being a mom and dad (he also asked what it was like being married, because he's really nervous about it---that is probably a post for another day).  I responded honestly, "It is the hardest job I've ever had."

"But it's the best one."

It's true isn't it?  There are moments that I think really highly of myself, those times when all the children behave really well when we're in public, and I contemplate all the hard work we have done in raising them thus far.   Then we get home and they start whining, I yell at one of them, one of the babies will inevitably hurt himself, and on and on.

Reality sinks in...I am not the perfect mother and I do not have the perfect children.

To continue the hard work despite behavioral outcomes is incredibly challenging, a task I cannot bear; I do not have the consistency, the patience, nor the perseverance needed to be all the things our four children demand of me.  It is only in the power of Jesus Christ that I find all these things, I discover on a daily hourly basis I need sustenance that I can't provide for myself.

He is enough for the sometimes monotonous tasks of a mother's day.

Motherhood is a calling (it is not more noble than that of being a father or even of being single), and it is hard.  It is hard because the by-products of your work are constantly in front of you, because there is a temptation to count yourself worthy often, because to be successful it requires trust in Jesus--for the strength and for the future of your children.

It is the best job because it provides a daily means of my sanctification, because I see and understand more God's love for His children, and because when I slow my mind down long enough, my heart swells so with love it is hardly bearable. 

10 months

It is hard to believe that a just over a year ago, I was in Houston for fetal intervention surgery. Today, our little guys are ten months old, and healthy as can be. They are reminders of God's grace and miraculous power everyday.

Ronin put the cowboy hat on Eli, but Eli managed to give us his best John Wayne face all on his own. Eli is still "low crawling," but is pulling up when he feels like it. He prefers to use his brute strength to get places, he is determined to power through anything to get where he wants to go, even if it's your leg. He's got heart, and doesn't give up!
Evan is completely mobile now, he crawls, pulls up on anything with ease, and his favorite thing to do lately is pull everything out of this coffee table and climb inside. He is our little explorer, he ventures into the kitchen, the hallway, the bathroom (if he can get there while it's open), and any place he sets his mind to.
They are moving through baby food pretty quickly and seem interested in solids; we finally had to buy a second booster seat because they sit with us at meal-time occasionally.
They are incredibly smart and are already completing alphabet puzzles! Well, tasting alphabet puzzles is more like it. They love playing with the big boys on the floor!
A couple days ago, Evan was pulling up on everything in the living room and Davis said to me, "Mom, I can't believe how fast they are growing up! It won't be long and they'll be walking."

shut the door

Since learning the meaning of the word "privacy," Davis has also found a need for it.

He always spends a notoriously long amount of time in the bathroom for, umm, let's just say #2, and has never felt a need to close the door, he usually tries to have a conversation with you or sings. But now he shuts the door for "privacy."

We had several conversations about the word to clarify the definition, yet for a few weeks each time Kevin hugged me Davis would say to Ronin, "Umm, Ronin, c'mon, let's go to our room, Mommy and Daddy need some privacy."

"No, we don't," we told him.

I explained to him there are things we need privacy for, but hugs are definitely not one of them.

never, never, never

As a disclaimer, let me say I am a fan of PBS Kids. Solid programming for my children who are six and three. However, we watched an episode of "Super Why" on Saturday that I am regretting more and more each day.

There was a prince who had a seriously bad attitude and any time he was prompted or encouraged to try something, he would respond with, "I'll never be able to do it, never, never, never!"

Davis has used the word "never" more in the last three days than he has the last three years. I prefer the saying, "Never say never," over the pouty prince's never, never, never chant. The goal of the story in the cartoon was to prove the prince needed to be positive, but in actuality it encouraged the opposite because of the repetition of the negativity.

It had to happen sooner than later, so tonight we had a nice talk about ways that are appropriate to use the word "never." I asked the boys to give me examples, the negativity continued; Davis gave me this one: "I will never fly." It took some hard thinking, but we finally came up with some positive ways to use "never" and my favorite was this: God never changes.

quotables

One from Davis:

"Mommy, I think I like playing with the babies better than I like my toys."

Two from Ronin:

After singing a song to him at bedtime, "Mommy, I like you. You're the best singer ever!"

Kevin asked Ronin, "Is Mommy strong?"

Ronin, "No."

Kevin, "Is Daddy strong?"

Ronin responded emphatically, "Yeah, like Superman!"

3rd installment

A week after the second conversation, Davis approached Kevin on a Sunday afternoon telling Daddy his dilemma that he couldn't seem to shake: he was the worst person in the world. Kevin looked over at me, and then said to him, "Mommy has a book she wants to read to you about that when you get home."

When we got home, I got the boys ready for bed, they had snacks, and then I pulled out the book to read to Davis. The end of the book has a helpful explanation of how to talk to Jesus about your sin and receive the gift of Life. However, when we got to this part, Davis was not really interested so I stopped reading. I assumed that he just wasn't ready; the boys brushed their teeth, went to the bathroom and got in bed.

I scratched Ronin's back and sang him a song, then did the same for Davis. He stopped me and asked if he could pray. Davis began to pray, "Dear Jesus, thank you for dying on the cross for me and that You're alive and coming back again so I can go to heaven...[right here I interrupted and asked Davis if he wanted to talk to Jesus about the bad things he's done and thought, he looked at me sincerely, said yes, then continued] I'm sorry for everything I've done that's bad. In Jesus Name, Amen."

According to the Bible, Davis just became a Christian. I looked at him and said, "Do you know what just happened?"

"No."

"You're God's son now. The Bible tells us if we believe that Jesus is God's Son, that he died for our sins, and rose again, that you will receive the gift of eternal life, that's what you just did."

He started bouncing up and down in his bed, so excited he could hardly contain it. We called Grandma and Grandpa, Mawmaw and Papa, and Daddy (because he was working the night shift) and Davis excitedly told them he was now God's son. After the phone calls, I asked Davis, "Did you think you had to do something?" He nodded his head, and I assured him that there's nothing he can do, in fact that is why what Jesus did is so amazing, we really can't do anything to become God's children.

He was stunned, he sat there looking at me in near disbelief that is was all Jesus' work the entire time he had been dealing with the weight of his sin.

I think we both had a hard time going to sleep that night because of just how excited we were.

can't walk or drive there

Two days following the conversation I had with Davis about him being the worst person in the world, another one came.

Every night I scratch both the boys' backs then sing "the Grace Song" to them. Before even starting to sing, Davis assured me, "Mom, I promise, I'm the worst person in the world." I responded, " Have you been thinking about Jesus?" Because I know that's the only hope for a feeling of such despair.

This time our conversation was even heavier than before. We talked about the cross, and why Jesus died, which Davis knew well. Next I asked if he knew where you went when you died if you are a part of God's family. He knew the answer was Heaven. I asked the oppposite question, and he knew that answer too (he called it the bad place, and I told him it's name).

With tears building in my eyes, I explained to Davis that hell is a place where God will never go. He asked a logical question: "But can't you walk out of there?" No. "Drive?" No. I could tell he felt the weight of this as much as I did, and I asked if maybe now he wanted to talk to Jesus about everything we had been talking about.

Still, his answer was no. He still wasn't ready, he thought maybe someday he could do that.

worst person in the world

Your mind's racing, maybe Hitler?

But no, about two weeks ago, my son came into the bathroom while I was getting ready and told me he was sure he was the worst person in the world. Perhaps the reaction from most parents would be to assure the child of his/her goodness. My heart just could not go there.

Instead, I told him about Paul. Paul, the missionary in the Bible, who called himself chief of sinners. We talked about God's grace and how amazing it is to cover over all the things, thoughts, and problems we have. I continued by telling him how you get a new heart when you become part of God's family; and that new heart is like Jesus' heart. It means when God looks at you, He no longer sees the worst person in the world, He sees His Son.

I sat Davis down in my lap and held him for a few minutes, and told him we could talk to Jesus about all of that right that minute.

He looked at me, still overwhelmed and a little sad, and said, "I'm not ready yet."

working boy

We are now regulars at Waffle House on Sunday mornings. Most of the workers know our children by name, and our boys know several of the employees' names. Last Sunday, we let Davis pay; coincidentally, they keep the applications at the register.

Davis went straight from the register to me to tell me he really wants to work at Waffle House. The boys' favorite worker showed Davis how to greet people when they walk in, and it was only affirmation for Davis.

He walked over to inform me, "Mommy, I'm going to work Thursdays and Tuesdays, 'kay."

We had to discuss his schedule conflicts later in the car.

After a week of excitement about working at the Waffle House, he's decided what he really wants to be is a firefighter.

when I grow up...

We were driving the other day, and Davis excitedly declared to us that he wants to be a doctor astronaut when he grows up.  I applauded his choice, asked him some questions, and encouraged him that he can do anything he wants when he grows up.

Next, he looked at Kevin, and asked, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"  I love that he doesn't think we're grown up yet, because he asked me the same question.  I hope I continue to keep some sense of child-likeness, hopefully not in maturity but in my sense of wonder and dreams.  

When I was very little my mom picked me up from Sunday School one morning only to find me very upset.  I explained how I wanted to be a star when I grew up, but my teacher told me I couldn't.  Angry with the teacher, my mom began to assure me I could be a star; if I worked hard enough I could be anything I wanted to be.  When I elaborated on how I love that stars get to shine so brightly in the sky, mom realized her error.  

My mom's explanation brought me to terms with reality, and I found new dreams and new aspirations, but the desire to bring glory to God simply by being what I was created to be has never left me.  Seems as though Jesus keeps teaching me that there are other ways to shine.

weeds are wonderful

Davis was playing outside today and he rushed in with a dandelion in his hand.  He quickly assured me that he was not done playing, but wanted to give me this flower for Mother's Day.  I received a kiss and a hug, then he was out the door.

Jesus in the tube

Today we spent quite a bit of our day at the hospital, so I could get a shot. We were all over the place: in our clinic, at the lab, and then to the Carson Care Clinic where they actually administer the shot. But before the shot, it's the waiting room.

There was a 19 month old with a feeding tube, and the nurse was explaining the tube to Davis. He asks her, "Have you heard about Jesus and the tube?" My mind went into overdrive...tube...tube...what could he be talking about? And it hit me, tomb. I say to him and the nurse, "tomb, I think you mean tomb."

With that, Davis continued, and the nurse asked questions. He told her how he died on the cross and the people put nails in his hands and his feet. She asked why he died, and he told her it was to save everyone. She asked specifically for who, for Jacob (the boy with the feeding tube), for her, for Ronin, for me, for Jacob's mommy? Yes, for all of them.

In the fifth floor waiting room, my son told this nurse the gospel. She responded with enthusiasm and even encouraged him as she was leaving, "Keep telling people about Jesus!"

davis the scholar

Davis wanted to write to Kevin, so I put him in my lap and let him pound away at the keyboard. He loves it when I make words out of the craziness that he types. After he was finished typing, I asked if there was anything he wanted me to type for Daddy. This is what erupted from our four year old:

cow makes a noise
man makes a pan into a word

he puts the blinds up to fix 'em

he bakes the blinds in the oven

he puts a pillow in the telescope

and the chair is on his doorbell

the cow eats grass under mud

he makes the cow into a bad guy

Sounds like poetry to me!

a weasel in our house

Yes, it's true! Ever since we got back from Oklahoma we've had a weasel in our house. At least that's what Davis calls it. The real name: art eisel. I have even corrected him (only once, because c'mon we need the laughs), but he still calls it his weasel.

Everyone asks Davis what he got for Christmas, and the two things at the top his list are: the light saber and the weasel. People always give me a strange look until I clarify quietly that he means art eisel. He has yet to leave anyone with a frown.

a heart-felt prayer

A few nights ago it was really windy, in Colorado we don't have to fear the wind quite like the folks in Oklahoma. However, Davis came to our room in the middle of the night to tell me it woke him up and it was scaring him.

I snuggled with him and reminded him that the wind couldn't come inside and that it wouldn't hurt him. He suggested that maybe we should pray, and so he did, eyes to the sky he sincerely asked, "God, can you make it not be so windy?" Then laid back down beside me, I asked if he wanted me to pray for him too and he did. I prayed that he would get good rest and that he would know that he's okay even if it's windy. Moments later, the wind died down and Davis looked at me and exclaimed, "God heard our prayers!"

Indeed He did hear our prayers and I was humbled. God doesn't need for us to pray what we think we should, He wants us to pray honestly. Isn't that what David did? It's God that changes our hearts and even our prayers to be what they should, we don't have to pretend with Him.

out of the mouth of Davis

This past week has been a little difficult with the boys at bedtime. They have laughed and played and laughed some more every night. As each day passed, I had less and less tolerance for them both. On Friday night, I laid Ronin down first, waited until he was asleep then sent Davis up. All it took was hearing his voice from downstairs, and I was up there in a hurry. I walked with purpose into his room, and just as I approached his bed, he says to me, "I was just talking to God."

"Can you talk a little softer?" And I walked out of the room, deflated of every ounce of steam.

the airport and communion

After picking up Davis from his Sunday School class, we wandered back into the sanctuary to meet up with some friends. He was checking out the set on stage for an upcoming presentation of Scrooge when something caught his eye: the gold container for the communion cups. He lifted the lid curiously and my two friends and myself harmoniously but gently told him to put it down.

"But what is it?"
"We can talk about it later, okay?"
"Okay."

Later was only ten minutes when we were in the car on our way home. Communion is incredibly symbolic and therefore difficult to explain to a four-year-old who understands things literally not symbolically. We have had to go to the airport a few times and each time Davis watches for the blue and white sign to know which way to go. This was my starting point: a symbol. After understanding this concept we moved to the very special dinner that Jesus had with his disciples before he died on the cross.

In the end, he actually understood that the bread and wine are symbols of Christ's body and blood. I explained that Jesus told us to eat that same special dinner often to remember all that he did on the cross. He asked when the special dinner was and when Jesus died. I gave him a rough number and he was amazed that the Church (which is God's people) has been eating that same special dinner for that many years.

mister mommy

Occasionally Davis calls me, "Mister Mommy." And while I laugh and correct him assuring him that I am not a mister, I seem to fit the bill.

One of the challenges of being a spouse of a deployed soldier is you are responsible for two roles. For me that happens to be mom and dad; Disciplinarian and Nurturer. It was amazing to see the difference in Davis during the two weeks that his Daddy was home, and now that I'm taking over that role again, I'm seeing the decline in his "boyhood" and an increase in his shrill screams. Overall, he really does well, but some days are just harder than others. Today has been a hard day for Mister Mommy.

a funny face?

Davis still hasn't mastered wiping his own rear after a poop, so after he's done he hollers and tells me he's finished. Today, I went to do my duty as a mom and he's singing what's on the counter: "Little clippers, toothpaste, soap," while I'm wiping his bottom. I was cracking up and I tell him, "Davis you are so funny."
"My face?" Which made me laugh even more.
"No, just you, I love your singing. It makes me laugh."
"Oh, yeah."