He is good, always

Yesterday was a strange dichotomy of heartbreak and celebrating.

I left my phone at home when we hurried out the door to get to the courthouse to finalize Amby's adoption. In hindsight, maybe the Lord was protecting my heart. Had I peeked at it throughout the morning, I would've been devastated during a time that was meant to be so happy. After our court proceedings were over we had a big breakfast with all of our family and came home.

I had missed a slew of calls and text messages on my phone and it was clear something had gone wrong. I quickly dialed one a friend whose call I'd missed. I didn't want to leave you a message... she began. In inhaled deeply. I knew what was coming.

My beautiful friend had gone to heaven. She fought breast cancer for three years. She was 44. Her daughters are 8 and 9.

I just felt such disbelief. I knew it was coming; she had been on Hospice for about a month. I took turns with other women in our church spending nights sleeping on her couch so that she always had someone with her. The last time I was with her was two days prior to her passing when we had our last "sleepover." She wanted a Coke so badly, but was no longer allowed to drink liquids. So we mixed in this gelatin stuff so she could eat it and laughed about the Coke-babyfood concoction. Then, as I helped her get ready for bed, she went through her nightly skin-care routine. I told her how impressed I was that she washed, toned, moisturized and even spritzed her face before going to bed when half the time I fall asleep in make-up. She gave me a good lecture on proper skin care and said that if I wanted my skin to look nice when I got older, I needed to take care of it now. She was sassy and feisty and I loved her for it. 

She loved being prayed for, and everytime I was with her she asked me to pray. Over the past month or so, I've read her this passage everytime we've been together.

The LORD your God is with you,
the Mighty Warrior who saves.
He will take great delight in you;
in his love he will no longer rebuke you,
but will rejoice over you with singing.”

¹⁸ “I will remove from you
all who mourn over the loss of your appointed festivals,
which is a burden and reproach for you.
¹⁹ At that time I will deal
with all who oppressed you.
I will rescue the lame;
I will gather the exiles.
I will give them praise and honor
in every land where they have suffered shame.
²⁰ At that time I will gather you;
at that time I will bring you home.
I will give you honor and praise
among all the peoples of the earth
when I restore your fortunes

   before your very eyes,”
says the LORD.

The part of this passage that struck me the most was about how the Lord would restore her fortune and gather her and bring her home. The first time I read this to her, she frowned and said, "Lara, does this mean I'm going to die?" and I said, "It means your restoration is coming." After that, she had me write the verse down for her and I would often reread it to her.

Watching her walk this journey, I often found myself asking God, why.

One day when she was in the hospital a couple of months ago, I sobbed on the drive over to see her and kept asking why. I believe I got my answer that day.

I don't need to know why. All I need to know is that Jesus is real and good and He is on the throne. I've clung to that ever since. When I would go see her and it felt so grim, I would murmur to myself, Jesus is real and good and He is on the throne over and over until I believed it.

Tonight my baby girl took my cheeks in her hands and gave me a kiss, I sorry you cwying, Mommy. I looked across the room to see my son deep in conversation with his Daddy about life before he was spoken for. He talks about metal cribs and being lonely. The doorbell rings and it is our sweet neighbor, bearing a warm cheesecake to say congratulations and she's sorry. I look around and my heart is joyful and aching at the same time. I know the truth more than I ever have before.

Today, my blue eyed friend walks alongside our Savior. No longer gasping for breath or wincing in pain.

Friends, if I can say only one thing with certainty in this life, it is that Jesus is real and good and He is on the throne.

I pray that you get to see and know Him in life's mountaintops and valleys.

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Catching Poo, Bunker Building, My Fashionista & More

We're long overdue for a miscellany post about the resplendence of my everyday life.

I caught poo. In my bare hands. Ellie woke up. She wears a diaper at night and without thinking, I opened one side of it with her standing up. Out came - well, you know what came out - and it was either going on the carpet or my hands. And I caught it, in all its glory, all the while unable to believe I was holding fecal matter. Then came the panic. I suddenly felt like I was holding a live grenade that I MUST GET OUT OF MY HANDS RIGHT NOW AT ALL COSTS. I ran to the bathroom and plunked it in the toilet then began the long arduous process of getting the remnants off my hands. I turned the water as scalding hot as it would go. This was super-poo or something, because IT WOULD NOT COME OFF. After sustaining third degree burns to my hands and scrubbing up to the elbow with antibacterial soap for 16 minutes, I was poo free. Good thing, because my next option was to find the nearest can of gasoline.

The other night Jon and I had movie night at home. Our date night movie was the romantic flick Contagion (my choice, not his.) About halfway through the movie, somewhere around the part where people begin foaming at the mouth and convulsing - oh, wait, that's the whole movie -  the Farmer started piddling around on his phone. When I asked what he was doing, he told me he was researching bunkers and we had a good laugh about how we would survive, or not survive, global contagion. A few nights after that, I was cranking out earrings for the shop, swearing under my breath everytime I pinched my fingers while Jon was watching The Discovery Channel and a little program came on by the name of Extreme Bunkers. Ohmylawd. The men on the show said stuff like, "If you're not prepared, you're already dead" and then they did zombie drills with their families. I suddenly felt very, very normal.

I just love mud. Mudlove, that is. I rock the wristband on an almost-daily basis. This week only is the Great Mudlove Sale at my shop, The Farmer's Wife {On a Mission.} Everything Mudlove is 30% off!

Plus, shipping on orders over $25 is free using the code FREESHIP25.  And, in case you missed my tribute to '90s rap blog post yesterday, I've also got new colors of hooped earrings! Exciting news about my progress in fundraising for my missions trip coming soon.

I've been working with my boys on respect and using "Yes, Ma'am" instead of grunting responses at me like the little baboons they sometimes are.  About half the time Amby says, "Yes, man." or, on occassion, things like "Yes, sir, Captain Caillou." Because I must resemble the balding 4 year old on PBS.

Ellie really enjoys digging through tubs of clothes that no longer fit her and coming up with strange combinations of hats, old Sunday shoes, and skirts. Yesterday she walked into the kitchen with her little feet stuffed into a pair of shoes that I had just put in the tub to go to the garage.

"Mommy! My shoes!" she squealed with excitement.

"Ellie where did you get those shoes?" I asked

"Shoes on my feet, Mommy!" (Excitement undeterred.)

"But, Ellie, where did they come from?"

"From my house, Mommy!"

Let this serve as a representative sample of the fashions I see regularly.

Today is a BIG day for our family, but more on that later. Let's just say for now that *someone* will be officially our son by the end of today.

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Hoop! There It Is.

Yes, I did just misquote a 90's song which I may or may not have owned the single of when I was 8.

I've been gettin' my hoop on this weekend (wow, I'm getting nerdier by the second) and here's what I made for the shop:

Hoops in red and purple, $10. Get 'em here.

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Weekend Rewind: The Things We Hold On To

This week's rewind is from January of 2011. With Spring springing, many of us are cleaning out our closets and purging things, so this seemed appropriate.

Something has been bothering me lately. Isn't that always how craziness starts?

I don't know how to write about it. It has nothing to do with adoption or motherhood or any of my usual topics.

And it started in my closet. With a tub of jeans.

I have a collection of jeans ranging from sizes 2-12 and maternity sizes. Now, I normally think it's tacky to name sizes, but the size 2 ones are laughable; I went on a crazy diet after having Cade and got super skinny for a good 5 minutes. In that time, I managed to go buy every pair of small jeans I could possibly button up.

Because, yeah, I cared what size the tag said.

But that's not the point.

I have exactly three pairs of jeans that fit me well enough to wear everyday.

Three.

And a tub A TUB of jeans that don't fit.

And that's just the tip of the iceberg.

My closet is a sea of shopping misadventures. Clothing purchased because it was on sale, not because I needed it, that quickly found it's way crammed in with the ranks of the other bargain clothing. This year I have shopped much less, but I have still bought things I didn't need.

source

And I've held onto it all.

In case I lose weight.
In case I gain weight.
In case I get pregnant again during the summer. Or winter.
In case I go back to work full-time.
In case we get invited to a cocktail party. And I'm 15 pounds lighter. And it's winter. What do you think are the odds of that all happening at the same time??

I wear the same thing everyday; jeans, TOMS, and (usually) an adoption shirt. It's comfy. It's clothing I feel good in, and I never feel self conscious about. I never worry if I'm measuring up to anyone's style standards because I'm not even trying to be stylish!

Statistically speaking, I wear about 3% of my possessions.

Yet, I hold onto the other 97%.

Why?

I know that one dimension of all of this is that I used to dress to try and look good. For me, it was a source of pride. It is so hard to write those ugly words down, because while I looked decent on the outside, my heart was anything but pretty a that time. I've come to realize that being dressed a certain way builds walls between people, rather than bringing them together. Who would you rather strike up a conversation with: the mom in $200 jeans and a perfectly matched ensemble or the regular looking mom in jeans and a t-shirt? Who is more approachable? From my perspective, I get intimidated by women who have that air about them that they have it all together maybe because I remember what my heart was like when I looked that way? They are much harder for me to befriend than your garden variety mom.

The other day, I just couldn't take it anymore. The clothing crammed in my closet a tribute to wasted money, as well as a reminder of how prideful I once was. I realized that the promotional e-mails I get from basically every major retailer usually incite this feeling in me that I JUST DON'T HAVE ENOUGH. And if I do, what I have ISN'T GOOD ENOUGH. And if it is, I JUST NEED A LITTLE MORE.

It's what our culture tells us.
In TV, magazines, it's everywhere.
We're supposed to want more.
If you don't want more, something is clearly wrong with you.

Cautiously, I began taking clothes off of hangers. At first it was hard. I had to stop myself from asking all those old "what-if" questions about each piece. But after a few minutes, I found some enjoyment in it. The bridesmaid shoes I saved from a wedding - I thought of how some young girl is going to find those at Goodwill and love them. The button up blouses and work clothing - someone is going to have the confidence to wear those and find a job. One after another until finally, I was left with three pairs of jeans, a couple of items of dresswear, and my beloved t-shirts. It seemed like so little, but when I considered how most of the world lives, it still seemed like so much.

Then I got online and began unsubscribing from e-mail lists. I will not be duped into falling for clever advertising that preys upon my insecurities anymore.

I am letting go of the things I've been holding onto.


Because -
who I am is not what I wear.
the resources God blesses us with are too valuable to be wasted on the endless pursuit of more.
certain clothes on my body will never create peace in my heart.
I have enough.
He is enough.

So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. — 2 Corinthians 4:18

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First Impressions of Homeschooling

It's been just a few weeks of home education for this family and I thought I'd share my first impressions of it.

1. I am LOVING reconnecting with my teacher self and planning lessons. We've been using different stories from the Sonlight Pre-K and I'm planning around them.

2. I realized very early on that I had to let go of my perfectionist side. Or my kids will hate me. I know that my boys are not yet to a place where we can spend much time at all using paper and pencils, but part of me keeps wanting to push them toward it. Cade hates handwriting and this voice in the back of my head continues to try and get him to practice writing his name. I have to be really conscious of this because he is so young that learning should not be drudgery.

Last week we had a blast reading Jack and the Bean Stalk and then comparing and contrasting it with other fairy tales. We didn't pick up one blessed pencil all week. We made flashcards by gluing beans in the shape of the letters, we counted, added and subtracted beans, planted a bean and made daily observations of it's growth, and sketched and colored a storyboard of the story. Then we dressed up and acted out the fairy tales.

3. Homeschooling is tiring. And requires a lot more patience than I naturally have. The other day by 5 PM I plunked my kids down in front of some Leap Frog and begged for quiet.

4. My house is significantly messier now that I'm homeschooling but since I'm educating our kids and all I somehow feel totally okay with it.

5. I really, really like getting to be around all our kids all day. Even though Cade was only in half day preschool, it's so nice to have him with us all the time. He has such a great sense of humor and big personality.

6. Our whole pace is much slower and calmer now. This is one of the best things for me so far. I love not rushing them around everyday and all the extra time they have just to be kids.

7. I'm getting to know my children on a whole new level. I see so much of my personality in Cade.

8. On a personal level, I am someone who has always struggled to find contentment "just being home." I am a go-er and a do-er. By His grace, I've begun to develop joy in the mundane, everyday. I look forward to our "nothing days" where we don't leave the house (this only happens about twice a week for us.)

So far, this has been a huge blessing for our family. I can understand completely why not everyone would want to do it, but for us, in this season anyway, it's the right choice.

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{Crockpot} Creamy Salsa Chicken

The other night I had chicken, a can of salsa and cream cheese and came up with this and it was a hit!

1 lb boneless, skinless chicken breasts
1 jar of salsa
1/2 a brick of cream cheese
1 1/2 cups of colby jack cheese
1 can of corn

Place chicken in the crockpot. Pour salsa over it. If needed, add a little water so it doesn't dry out. Place the cream cheese over it. Cook on low for 4-ish hours. Open it up and add the colby jack cheese and corn. Close it and cook for 2 more hours. Use two forks to shred the chicken. Serve with beans and tortillas.

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Finding Freedom During Lent

I'm 21 days into my Lent fast and I would say the one word to describe how I'm feeling is free.

It's funny, because when we consider the idea of giving something up for Lent, it sounds very legalistic and rigid and old. Yet, in these 21 days, I have found freedom.

Freedom from being consumed by food, body image, eating for comfort, eating for celebration, eating, eating, eating. Nowadays, food is used to fuel my body. Oh, sure I enjoy it, but I don't fixate on it anymore.

The other day I asked myself, why did I wait so long to deal with this? I don't know why I didn't ask God to set me free from this sooner. Other than, I really liked this sin. It was comfortable and tasty. That is, until I was done chowin' down and  felt horrible about myself. Have you ever had one of those - a sin that you coddled  because it just wasn't as bad as a "real sin?" It seems like those ones are the most deceptive. They look so innocent and harmless. It's only now, in the baby steps of freedom, that I can see how this little sin crippled me for so long.

At the same time, I'm learning that freedom isn't a one-time event. It's an ongoing process. It's long and uncomfortable. It took me the last 13 years or so of distorted eating habits to get here, so I don't expect to break them overnight. It's a slow trudging, everyday trying to seek His face over any other thing. It's been hard. I don't like discipline. I don't know why chocolate is easier to turn to than God Almighty when things get hard.

Yet, I already feel myself forming new habits. The old habit of reaching for food when I was sad, happy, bored, stressed, etc. is slowly slipping away. It's no longer my first instinct, and that is how I know I'm being set free.

You see, this is about so much more than sugar and Diet Coke and white bread. It's about loosening my grip on this thing that I've held so tightly. It's about saying, I need my Jesus more than I need                             .  Food just happens to be my "thing", but it could just as easily have been something else. It's about consciously and joyfully choosing HIM over that thing I think will immediately fix everything. It's about taking a long look into the mirror at my own weakness and then bringing it before God, asking Him to make something of it.

It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.  - Galatians 5:1

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