Not My Home

Recently I counted up how many times I've moved since high school - eight. I was sort of surprised by that number, particularly as I am still a few years away from being thirty. There are certainly some people that have moved a lot more times in a lot less years, but eight is a big number for me. Particularly because I detest moving.

The rigid boxes, the disorder, the unnatural "jumbulation" of your worldly goods - when else do your kitchen knives spend time with your floral stationary and your winter sweaters - the adjusting to new locations of light switches, the unfamiliar sounds of new furnaces and water pipes, the dreaded learning of new street names, new mailing addresses, new telephone numbers. Yes, I really do detest moving.

If it were up to me, I'd plant myself somewhere and live out the rest of my days there. I'd dig myself in, sinking my roots so deep that when it came time for me to leave this world, they'd have to use a backhoe to dig me out.

It's probably a good thing it isn't up to me.

In the Word, people are always on the go: Abraham, the Israelites, the prophets, even the disciples where constantly moving from place to place. Hebrews 11 highlights many of those faith giants:

By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going. By faith he made his home in the promised land like a stranger in a foreign country; he lived in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise. For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God. . . .[Others]wandered in deserts and mountains, and in caves and holes in the ground. These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised. God had planned something better. . ." (vs. 8-10,38-40)

On our last return for The Big City I commented to Seth how the High Arid Plains don't really feel like home yet, but neither does The Big City. We're in an in-between place. We just don't really belong here or there.

And maybe that in-between place is exactly where we are supposed to be.

I won't be presumptuous and assume that I know why God seems to like to keep His people moving around a lot, or even why He moved us here. However one thing is for sure, moving eight times in just about as many years is a fantastic reminder of the fact that this world is not our home. "Surely God has planned something better . . . a city whose architect and builder is God Himself."

The more I move the more I'm looking forward to that "something better" - to that special, special city. To the place where I belong.

And once thing is for sure,when I get there I'm staying put!

Who Knows Best?

Having ten younger siblings, I'd like to think that I know a thing or two about taking care of babies. Of course, having your own child is a bit different than just taking care of another person's. Even so, I had quite a few hours of child care under my belt, well before I had Juliette.

Seth, on the other hand, has one sister, less than two years younger than him. That's it. And his baby experience? Limited at best.

So when it comes to settling Jewel down or figuring out the reason why she is even upset in the first place, I often take charge. Mother knows best, right? I like to remind him of her schedule, teach him how to play mind-stimulating games with her, and show him all the things required in the proper care and feeding of a child.

I tend to think that I'm the expert parent.

I think a lot of moms are like me. It is easy to see your spouse struggling with something, and just step in to 'help' him. It is easy to belittle his attempts at parenting. To act like you know everything and they don't know anything. Anyone ever been there?

Last night Seth's golf league ran late. Juliette was already in bed, settled down for the night, when he got home. He wanted to spend some time with her, I wanted her to get a good night's rest. I was just looking out for her best interest, right? (Certainly, it didn't have a thing to do with the fact that I was tired, and wanted a quiet evening!)

Typically I would have pitched my own fit, and insisted that Seth leave her in bed. But for some reason I relented. Seth rescued Juliette from her crib, and we proceed to have a lovely game of family hide-and-go-seek, topping the evening off with a family band session complete with banging wooden dowels on tambourines. We had a great time together, and I would have missed out on some wonderful moments with my husband and daughter if I had insisted that she stay in bed.

And you know what, she slept just fine last night.

I hate to admit it but there is a time for a routine, and then there is a time to throw that routine out the window. There is a time to be the "expert parent" and then there are times to just let Daddy do his thing.

I want Seth and Juliette to have a deep and rich relationship - so if that means that I have to sit back and let them bang some tambourines with wooden dowels late at night, so be it. Seth likes to tell Juliette that "Daddies are fun, but Mommies mean business". My new motto: "A little fun never hurt anyone."

Mt. Rushmore Vacation - 2009

My allergies have really flared up, so I'm feeling rather sluggish and fuzzy-headed. So rather than make a pathetic attempt at being witty, I will just stick to pictures today. It's better for all of us. Really.

Driving Overdose

Family Golf

(Plus the added bonus of seeing a mtn. lion chase some deer across the course.)

Big Faces

Three in a Tipi

Her First Fourth


Giddy-Up Pardner

Patriotic Alien (?)

Fireworks (with Juliette conducting)

The Fouth of July and Family

We spent the long weekend with friends and my Dad in South Dakota. What a treat! We visited Rushmore, went golfing, watched movies, posed for family pictures, oohed and awwwed over the fireworks and ate way, way, way too much food.

I've got lots of laundry to do, lots of diapers to put away, and lots of pictures to download. For now, I'll just post some of the fabulous pictures that Dad took.

It Is So Expensive

Freedom.

It isn't free.

It isn't even cheap.

In fact, it comes at a very, very high price.

No one uses a fur coat to clean their bathroom,

Or diamond-studded shovels to muck out animal stalls.


And yet, how often do we abuse our precious freedom, using it in selfish and destructive ways.


Paul said it best, "You, my brothers, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the sinful nature; rather, serve one another in love." (Galatians 5:13)


Therefore, on this holiday weekend, let us soberly remember the sacrifices that have been made to secure our freedom, and let us resolve anew to honor those sacrifices by using our freedom to serve others in love.


Happy Independence Day!

~~~

A tisket,

A tasket,

A baby girl in a basket.

Look Kids, A Forest!

Well, a High Arid Plains' version of one anyways. You've got to love the middle tree - you can tell it has seen a bit of wind in it's day. But hey, it has leaves and they're green, so there is no complaining from this side of camp!

What's In A Name?

I've been studying a lot about the life of Joshua lately, in preparation for teaching some teen girls this summer at a Bible camp. I came across something really fascinating about Joshua yesterday, that I never knew before.

In Numbers 13:16 it says . . ."Moses gave Hoshea son of Nun the name Joshua."

So Moses changed Joshua's name - what is so fascinating about that?

Well, the interesting part surfaces when you look at the meaning of the names. Joshua's original name, Hoshea, means "deliverer". Boy, his parents sure hit the nail on the head with that name. Hoshea was such a great and mighty leader of the Israelites, delivering them from the idolatrous tribes that surrounded them on all sides, leading them to victory after victory, fighting and winning battles against nations that were stronger, bigger, and more heavily armed and fortified. Hoshea was definitely a deliverer!

But Moses obviously thought that he could do better than Hoshea's parents. He had a name in mind that was even more fitting.

Moses changed Hoshea's name to Joshua. And what does Joshua's name mean? It means "Jehovah saved".

Who knows the exact reason why Moses changed Joshua's name, but I like to think it was because Moses wanted to constantly be reminding Joshua where the victory came from - not from men, or weapons, or even Joshua's own strength, but from God alone. I like to think that Moses wanted to constantly be cultivating an attitude in Joshua that focused all the glory on God, giving Him tribute for anything good that came out of Joshua's life.

That is were I find the challenge - am I cultivating an attitude not only in my life, but in the lives of those around me, and particularly in the life of Juliette, that points directly to God. When we rejoice in the gifts that God has so graciously bestowed upon us, are we mindful to deflect the glory to where it is rightfully due - God Himself? When victories come will I be content to dwell on my own accomplishments, or will I be ready to point skyward and say like Moses, "Jehovah saved"?