A Beautiful Girlhood Birthday Picnic (inspired, of course, by Nanny McPhee Returns) – Part Two

So, like I was saying in yesterday’s very important and explanatory post, on a Tuesday afternoon in early June, Rebekah’s siblings and a handful of beloved cousins departed to a remote and mysterious location, laying down a trail of flowers for her to follow to her picnic party.

Here they are again, in case you forgot how cute they looked. Please excuse my daddy’s ugly trackhoe…and backhoe…and tractor…in the background. They were NOT invited to the party, but they came anyway.

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About fifteen minutes later, my husband and I gave Rebekah her basket and informed her, with great melodrama and gravitas, that there was a trail of flowers for her to collect that would lead her to her party. Once every flower was picked up, not only would she be at her surprise you-know-what (pssst! “picnic”), she would be a “big girl”.

Daggnabit, I’m ’bout to cry again.

Stop looking at me. Here. Look at these pictures instead.

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"The Flower Path to Girlhood" - a rite of passage birthday party

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“The Flower Path to Girlhood”. I might have to frame this one.

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Gasp! I see a picnic up ahead!

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Now, before I show you the rest of our celebration, I’ll show you some pics Amy took of the party set-up before the guests arrived. To have a “Nanny McPhee” inspired picnic, all you really need is a wheat field, some quilts, some baskets, some potted plants, a miniature picnic table, a lot of food, some old furniture, some metal chairs and a thousand antique dishes. That’s all. But especially the wheat field.

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Our menu included fried chicken, biscuits, little mason jars of fruit salad, a basket of Gala apples (Rebekah’s favorite), chocolate pie, miniature apple, strawberry and blackberry pies, and homemade ice cream.

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To wet our whistles, we had lemonade, sweet tea and a little pitcher of water with sliced strawberries.

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Now, a word on these fantastic little drinking vessels. I noticed some very similar to these in the Nanny McPhee Returns movie, and, just happening to have a giftcard burning a hole in my purse, I went posthaste to Anthropologie to buy some of my own. Fortuitously, these glasses in my cabinets will now serve two purposes, 1. to hold thirst-quenching liquids and 2. to remind me of the day my 5-year old became a “big girl”. Oh, great. Now I’m going to cry again. Good thing I have these gorgeous glasses to catch my tears. (Click on the photo to find these glasses at Anthropologie!)

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This is skipping ahead a little, but speaking of drinks, I really liked the contraption my mom came up with the pour the tea into some glass bottles we brought along…

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it’s not every day that you find a lady with an antique enamel funnel laying around.

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Now, a series of food pictures. A bucket o’ glasses o’ fruit salad!

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apples!

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fried chicken!

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biscuits!

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pies!

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pies with hearts in the middle?! (Nice touch, mama).

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But, enough with the still-lifes. Let’s get back to the party! The flowers had all been collected…

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and it was time to par-tay.

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Now I have to interrupt this series of party pictures for a funny announcement. See this little boy eating an apple?

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This one right here?

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He’s about to lose a tooth.

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Ta-da!

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But wait, that’s not all! A couple of minutes later, Gideon’s cousin, Anna, ALSO lost a tooth!

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It must have been all those apples.

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In a funny twist, the apples that helped the big kids lose their teeth brought relief to Baby Shepherd who is GROWING teeth. Apples are hilarious!

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And, while we’re on the subject of apples, here’s my nephew, Abel, enjoying one, too…

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But, enough about them apples. Back to the party!

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After everyone had eaten to their belly’s content, we brought out the pie, Rebekah’s favorite, Grandmother’s chocolate meringue pie. This also happens to be MY favorite pie, so thank you, Rebekah. (And thank you, Grandmother!!)

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I think this next picture is funny because I was so beside myself as we lit the candles, thinking that Rebekah was probably also beside herself with excitement, when actually she was, you know, yawning and messing with her dress. Birthdays schmirthdays.

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Now, may I interrupt this party to tell you a little story about the stuffed piggies who attended our party? The following is from a Facebook status I shared back in June:

“A birthday story…

For Christmas, I impulsively bought a little stuffed pig for Rebekah’s stocking that was at the check-out counter at Pottery Barn Kids. It was on sale, and it was just sitting there looking at me, and Rebekah has this thing for pigs, so…I snatched it up and gave it to her for Christmas.

It turned out to be her favorite gift, and the two have been inseparable. She named her “Oinky” and it is the first thing she wants when she is sad. She LOVES that little piggy!

Last week, Rebekah’s Sunday School teacher approached me and told me that, when she asked her what she’d like for her birthday, Rebekah answered “a mama for Oinky so she’ll have someone to take care of her when I’m gone”.

Long story kind of short, we started looking, and there just so happened to be a mama-sized Oinky available at Amazon. We ordered it, and when Rebekah arrived at her class this morning, it was hiding in a birthday giftbag for her from Miss Linda.

When Rebekah pulled that big ol’ pig out of the bag, her face went through three levels of surprise before she could get a word out! “A mama for Oinky!!” she squealed (NOT like a pig). “I have to show her!!”

Together, we ran to the pew outside her Papa’s office where Oinky was hanging out with Baby Shep in his carseat.

I hid Oinky behind my back.

She hid “Piggy” (aka mama pig) behind her back…

“One…two…three…” we said, and we pulled the piggies out of hiding so they could meet.

I have to say, it was a pretty precious reunion.

Did they hug?

No.

Kiss?

No.

Rebekah grabbed Oinky and immediately settled him in to nurse.

Which, after having four little piglets of my own, is pretty much exactly how those first meetings go.”

All that to say, it was such a joy to have both Piggy and Oinky at our party. They were our honored guests!

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And the rest of our evening was spent just running around, snacking, playing, laughing, eating homemade ice cream, and getting bit by ticks. Simple, country fun, the best there is, and I am so happy that Amy and her kids could be in town on this beautiful afternoon to celebrate with us.

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As the peaceful evening wrapped to a close, Rebekah mozied back to the house with her basketful of flowers in her hand and a memorable rite-of-passage evening in her heart.

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She was a big girl now, and I could finally go to sleep that night feeling that the occasion had been appropriately memorialized.

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Happy Birthday, Rebekah Sunday! May your “beautiful girlhood” be as lovely as your golden hair, your Nanny-McPhee-Returns-inspired picnic and your favorite pink dress. Now quit makin’ me cry, you little stinker! You’re not allowed to turn 5, ever again, and that’s an order.

A Beautiful Girlhood Birthday Picnic (inspired, of course, by Nanny McPhee Returns)

So.

Who is PUMPED for some birthday party posts?!

This is going to be totally out of order, but I can’t wait any longer to share this particular party with you, so it gets to go first. But first, a tiny bit of backtracking…

As my eldest daughter’s 5th birthday approached, I found myself in alternating states of distress and bewilderment.

Still sinking under a lingering postpartum fog, I just could not get it together! My brain was kaput and, two weeks before her June birthday, I still hadn’t nailed down much of anything. State Fair party? Pretty picnic party? Lots of guests? Just the cousins? Meal? Just dessert? Presents? No presents?

I DON’T KNOW!!!!!

I was so heavily annoying myself that I can’t imagine what a bother I was being to my husband, my mom and my party-planning soulmate and sister-in-law, Amy, for not a day went by that I wasn’t discussing and hemming and hawing over what we were or weren’t going to do. It was sincerely obnoxious.

Finally, for the love of Pinterest, after flipping and flopping and switching and swapping, Rebekah’s 5th birthday extravaganza did me a favor and seemingly planned itself for me with a crazy-busy weekend:

On Friday, we attended Abigail’s 10-year old Kit Kittredge party (more on that later!) and stayed the night. Honestly? This would have been enough of a party for Rebekah. We could have put a candle on her piece of cake, sang her the birthday song and called it a day.

On Saturday, we popped over to Grandpa and Grandma’s house in OKC and spent the day swimming. This, too, would have been enough of a party for Rebekah, especially when she saw the giant “Frozen” balloons her Grandma bought as decorations.

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On Sunday morning (her actual birthday), before we left for Sunday School, we had a sweet little breakfast in the sunroom together. Again, this would have been enough of a party.

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On Sunday evening, we celebrated with our church friends after prayer services by sharing the cake Rebekah had been DREAMING of for an entire year: chocolate with chocolate icing, chocolate chips, marshmallows and M&Ms. This was all for her, a true gift from me (making bizarre custom cakes is not my love language), but when she saw it and thanked me over and over again, I had to admit it was completely worth is.

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And SERIOUSLY. I truly could have stopped there and it would have been a fun, blessed family-and-friends-filled weekend of celebratory birthdayness, MORE than enough for anyone, especially a FIVE-year old.

But you guys know me by now.

I needed to have just one more little party, not so much for Rebekah, but for me.

You see, we’d been zipping all over the place all weekend, bookending her birthday around church services, and I just needed to steal another day to celebrate my daughter.

Because, in my heart, birthdays are not just about my children. They’re about commemorating the days when our entire family’s life changed forever. This is big stuff we’re celebrating! And so it is an important personal ritual for me to meditate on the gifts of my children by sweating like a mule while I haul furniture and decorations all over the countryside to host a party that matches up with all the sentimentality of my heart. It’s what I want to do and what I need to do and what I like to do.

And so I did it.

And it turned out to be one of the sweetest days of my life.

The inspiration for this day sprang entirely from one of my favorite movies, “Nanny McPhee Returns”. I am so captivated by the Nanny McPhee movies, but the second one in particular is extremely dear to me. I love the set, the costumes, the scenery, the story, the casting and, did I mention the costumes? I die.

And every time I watched it and observed the family’s celebratory picnic in their wheat field, my heart swelled up with this longing to follow suit.

Well, with a very special birthday to celebrate and the perfect pink dress hanging in our closet, the time was right! Watching the movie once more and taking extra notice of the details, I made a few purchases and, added to a mountain of stuff I gathered from my own house, the perfect scene was set for our own Nanny McPhee picnic.

But, you guys, what really tickled me the most about our evening had to be the “Beautiful Girlhood” theme that sprang upon us at the last minute, adding a sweet rite-of-passage element to this party that nearly bowled me over. I could share all the details of how it came about and how it all centered around a heavily-discounted flower-picking basket that we stumbled upon at Williams Sonoma, but I’ll spare you and just tell you what we did:

After spending much of the day setting up in the surprise (and rather remote) location while the kids played in my parents’ backyard and my mom cooked up a storm, we all started getting gussied up in our Nanny McPhee inspired clothing.

Once everyone was dressed, Mr. Gore, Rebekah and I stayed at the house while the rest walked to the party and dropped a trail of flowers along the way that would lead Rebekah to them.

Twenty minutes later, with the flower-gathering basket on her arm, the three of us prepared to depart down (and go ahead and make fun of me) “THE FLOWER PATH TO GIRLHOOD”. Getting down on my knees, I looked into my 5-year-old daughter’s eyes and told her that, once she collected every flower, she would not only be at her surprise party in the woods, she would be a “big girl”.

Oh, man. Call me silly, call me sentimental, call me melodramatic, I don’t care, for, other than my wedding walk down the aisle, this was one of the sweetest and most meaningful walks I have taken! Not to mention that it fully captured the fancy of our girl who is entering the world of “beautiful girlhood” right before our eyes.

Sniffle, sniffle.

I’m so pleased to share our party with you today and, with it, the reminder that life is beautiful and so worth celebrating.

~

One of the biggest parts of this party was the clothes.

Rebekah’s girlhood has centered so much around this dress, for which I am forever indebted to my sister-in-law, Amy, who gave it to us after we accidentally stole it out of her dress up box. (Long story, but THANK YOU, Amy).

Vintage Gunne Sax, it makes Rebekah feel so beautiful and she wears it about every other day.

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I curled her hair with a curling iron (first time!) and I let her borrow my floral metal headband from Anthropologie…

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There is no doubt that much of her joy on this day had to do with how her dress and hair made her feel pretty and celebratory.

We all need days like that, don’t you think?

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And I was so thrilled by everyone’s clothes! One thing I love about my mom and Amy is that they “get me” and, never making me feel stupid, they just show up in the perfect ensembles to please my silly eyes and heart.

While I put some last-minute things together, Amy took some fun pictures of the kids in front of the corn crop.

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Finally, after a day of hard work and preparation, the hour had arrived.

Whisking Rebekah inside the house, her siblings and cousins fulfilled their task and began laying down the trail of flowers…

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and…

I’ll show you the rest tomorrow. :)

Help a Mother Out: the How-to

Biblical and practical tips for keeping the mom in your life from going INSANE

I hope that Saturday’s blog post about helping the moms in your life impacted you, and I’m excited today to move on to the more practical aspects of how to make that happen. But first, I have a tiny little story to tell…

My fourth child is about to have his first birthday, and just recently, I have found myself rising above the funk that I have been in since his birth. For ten long months, I’ve been in a haze, heavily sleep-deprived and unable to conquer the realm that I have been charged to keep. In fact, the only area of my life where I wasn’t failing was my ability to make egg-in-the-hole for our supper every. single. night.

Two months ago, however, I realized with a start that I had signed up to host our church’s monthly ladies fellowship at my house. Talk about kicking me into gear! For a concentrated week, I cleaned and polished and organized and before I knew it, I was on top of things again. My house was sparkling and so was my heart. It was perfect timing to match the clearing postpartum fog in my brain and, with this completely fresh slate, I have kept my house comfortably tidy for weeks, even managing to keep laundry cleaned and put away.

Until two weeks ago. A busy schedule interrupted my new mojo and, day by day, the house slipped, and with it, my attitude.

I was cranky.

I was frustrated.

I felt ten steps behind and I felt like a failure. And in the midst of all that gloom, I lost site once more of my purpose: to glorify God in my home and to share the gospel with my family.

 Until last Thursday.

When we were in the city for our kids’ music classes, my mom snuck in and cleaned my house for me.

Just like that, in the span of one afternoon, with clean floors under my feet and an uncluttered backdrop in my periphery, I am on top of the world again, and I tell you this story for this specific reason: in a couple of hours of unmerited and unsolicited service, my mom not only cleaned my house, she gave me freedom.

The next morning when the children came downstairs, I was able to greet them with a happier heart than I’ve had for days. I made my bed, I did a load of laundry, I started on the dishes and I made my family a good breakfast, simple things that, in my previously frustrated state, felt almost impossible to accomplish.

My point is this: when you give up your time and energy to “help a mother out”, you are not just giving her a good surprise or making her feel loved. You are not spoiling her. You are contributing to her ability to mother her children well, to love her husband well and to commune with God, and in so doing, you are helping your local church body and you are living the gospel message out for her family to see.

Helping the moms in your church is, without a doubt, powerful and life-saving Kingdom work and it spans generations.

 ~

 So, we’ve established that moms need help.

 How are we going to help them?

 #1. Love.

 Because it is obviously impossible to address every possible situation in one blog post, I want to start with this, the one act that will never fail and that will work for any mom: love. Love the fire out of the moms in your church. I assure you, they need every ounce of it they can get, regardless of how “together” they seem to have it. Pray for a heart that is full of love toward this group and see how the Spirit moves you.

#2. Compassion.

Many young moms are not just facing the most physically hectic and draining years of their life, they are learning to spiritually die to themselves for the first time. At least, that’s how it was for me. I needed practical help, but I also needed patience as I found my footing in a world that I was completely unacquainted with and slowly learned how to work hard and live for others. If you can manage to help the young Mrs. Gore’s in your life without being put off by their seeming lack of vision, purpose and get-up-and-go-ness, you’ll really be doing them a favor. Hang in there with them, teach them by example, instruct them gently and someday, they’ll be writing super-long blog posts about how you helped them through their metamorphosis.

 #3. Use your giftedness.

I am learning great things about how God crafts the church. Our gifts are chosen by Him to be used by Him for the benefit of the church He has placed in our life. So what are you good at? It is no mistake that you’re good at that thing you just thought of. It is also no mistake that you attend church with that frazzled mama two pews behind you. How might you turn your gift toward her?

#4. Use your season.

I remember when some of our friends were in a season of life where discontentment could have become an issue for them. They were ready to have kids, but circumstances were preventing it and so what did they do? They POURED themselves out for us and invested in our kids. This was just downright beautiful! I have also learned so much by watching my mama, at a time in her life when she could be traveling and doing whatever she wants to do, invest countless hours and funds into giving us the help that she remembers needing as a mom with young kids. This is how the body of Christ looks so different from the world, choosing to die, even when they don’t have to. God has you where He has you for a reason and that reason is to help me. ;) I kid. But, seriously. Bloom where you’ve been planted and watch as God unifies your church and causes it to flourish.

 #5. Service with a smile.

If you took a survey and asked moms where they most need help, I am almost 15% positive that their answers would fall in the category of housekeeping. There is just so much to do and, when the children are little, there is no one to help. I would daresay my life is easier with four children (aged 7, 5, 3 and 1) than it was when I had a 3- and 1-year old! And if it weren’t for the support of those around me, I don’t know that I would have graciously survived it. Here is a short list of things that have been done for me that knocked my threadbare socks right off my feet.

  • Laundry. Laundry is a great way to start helping moms out, because it is something you can pick up and take back to them. At least once a week, my own mom drops by and demands that I send a couple of loads home with her. The next day, she brings them back and, being very comfortable in my home, puts them away. Sometimes she helps me with the ironing. Sometimes she helps me fold the five loads I have stacked up in the laundry room. All of it is immeasurably helpful. Like, to the moon and back.
  • Cleaning. Being served in the area of cleaning has been life-giving. I’m talking, LIFE-GIVING. My husband, my mom, and my friend, Chrissy, have each routinely surprised me with a completely cleaned house while I was away, and I almost die of happiness, every time. It NEVER gets old. Also, as often as she can, my mom drops by and spends the day helping me clean my house. When you add a helper, a filthy house goes from completely overwhelming to totally doable. I don’t know how I’d make it without these boosts. I’m not exaggerating. I also once heard of a church member hiring a professional deep-clean for her pastor’s wife who had small children. I can’t think of a better or more useful gift!
  • Cooking. I’ve mentioned this before, but when we came home from the hospital with Baby Shep, our church ladies prepared healthy, delicious meals for us for an entire month. It was heavenly. And, occasionally, even if we don’t have a newborn in the house, a friend will drop off food for no reason at all. Sometimes it is a half a lasagna that their family couldn’t eat alone. Sometimes a basket of fruit. Sometimes garden-fresh produce. Sometimes a dessert, fresh out of the oven. ALL of it is a gift that deeply blesses me and lightens the load.
  • Miscellany. During particularly difficult seasons, we’ve had neighbors and friends drop by and mow our yard. We’ve had friends surprise us by cleaning out our van. And here’s something kind of awesome: I have loved observing one of our older church ladies who is gifted at gardening use her time and energy to plant a garden for a friend with young kids who showed interest in planting one. She faithfully checks in and helps them tend it, as well. Be creative and remember that there is probably no area of the mom’s life that couldn’t use some “tlc”. Personally, our life is chaotic from our cars, to our sidewalk, to our porch and to every last inch of our house. Pick a spot, any spot.
  • Childcare. I’ve come down on “me time” in past writings, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think it is important for young moms to have some time to themselves. Just today, my husband took all four kids for an hour so I could clean without interruptions. It was so nice and helped me to be refreshed for the second part of the day. There are so many options for helping in this area. Sometimes my mom and dad take all four kids overnight, giving us two whole days to rest and reorient our house and schedule. Sometimes they take one kid overnight or for the afternoon (don’t underestimate how taking even one child off a mom’s hands will help her!). You could get with some other ladies and offer to keep the kids from several families at the church for the afternoon. You could offer to baby-sit one evening. But if those ideas cause you to shiver, how about acting as a mother’s helper? It would be so helpful to have someone come to the house and play with the older kids in the yard while the babies were napping. Or come for an hour and read books to the little ones if mom is homeschooling older kids. I also know of a lady in our church who accompanies one of my friends to her doctor’s appointments, keeping the siblings in the waiting room. Whether your goal is to give mom some me-time or to help her juggle the chaos of her life, the possibilities are extensive.
  • Church nursery. Again, moms are first and foremost responsible for their own kids and should be happy and willing to help in the nursery at church; that said, I cannot express what a HUGE blessing it is to get to go to church and not go straight into a room to do what you’ve been doing 24/7 for the past week. Getting out the door with little ones in tow is a herculean effort, and some weeks, I am exhausted before we’ve even walked in the church doors. And remember, the more people who participate in a nursery rotation, the less any one person in particular will have to keep it. Spread the word, get people excited and do whatever you can to ensure no one is routinely stuck in the nursery (something we’ve all probably experienced!)

 #6. Teamwork.

This is for all the husbands out there. Your wife needs help! It took a lot of communication, a lot of trial-and-error, and a handful of years to get there, but my husband and I are getting into a routine that helps our marriage to thrive under the stress of this season of our life. For instance, here is our recent bedtime routine: he puts the big kids to bed upstairs while I put the baby to bed downstairs and tidy up the living room. We sit down and relax and watch a television show. We get up, clean the kitchen together and start the dishwasher. We go to bed. And then, in the morning before he leaves for work, he unloads the dishwasher and makes the coffee. This gives me such a headstart on the day! We also take turns keeping the kids so the other can go out with friends. We’re a team, and it makes all the difference in our home life and in our marriage – when everyone is working hard together, it makes resentment a true rarity. It takes time to learn these things, but if you’re new at all this and have ever harbored the notion that your wife “just stays home all day” while you’re at work, I humbly invite you to get a new worldview, and godspeed.

#7. Sisterhood.

We need to return to the world where it took “a village to raise a child”. Us moms are so busy being either paranoid or prideful that we try to do everything by ourselves. Posh! It is such a blessing to me when our church ladies grab one of my kids and help them fill up their plate at potlucks. It helps me when they tell my kids to slow down when they’re barreling down the aisles at church. It helps me to be in a room with my friends who also have little kids and tag-team holding babies and wiping noses and breaking up arguments over toys. We’re on the same team, you know, and today would be a good time to start acting like it.

#8. Encouragement.

And lastly, encourage the moms in your church. Every so often, someone will say something out of the blue that just knocks me over…

“Your children are really well behaved. You’re doing a great job.”

“You’re a natural mama.”

“The gospel is so evident in your home.”

Who? ME?! Are you talking about MY kids? It is always a shock to my unsure heart to hear that I’m doing okay. Kind words bring refreshing to the soul and do wonders to calm the inner storms that we try so very hard to keep quiet. Gifts of encouragement can be as varied as the giver, a hand-written note, a quick Facebook message, a token of love and appreciation, a short prayer in the hallways of the church, and you’d be surprised at how big of a boost a simple Facebook “like” or comment can give. You “like” the 25th picture I’ve posted of my kids this week? Lady, you just made my day.

It always pays to remember that every single person we pass – even on the internet – is fighting personal battles and could use a pat on the back.

~

And there you have it. In just under three thousand words, I’ve managed to write a book on the one thing I wanted to say today…

When you help a mama, you have helped the Church, both present and future.

~

And now I invite you to share. My original intent was to ask only those of you with moms in your life to share this on their behalf, but I also want to challenge YOU, little mama. Do you need help? Are you drowning? Tell your church family. Tell your pastor. Ask for help. Let people into your messy house and your disorganized life. Break down the walls of pride and perfection and begin a transparent conversation about your REAL life. Your help may not come overnight and it may not come ever – and if it doesn’t, you must not point fingers – but do your part and entrust the rest to God.

And thank you to ALL of you for hanging in there and reading this lengthy post. I am passionate about the church and long to see it strengthened and purified! I hope these thoughts help us along just a tiny bit.

As ever, you can follow Mrs. Gore’s Diary by signing up at the top of this page to receive e-mail notifications or by ‘liking’ us on Facebook.

Help a Mother Out: A Cry for Help. A Call to Arms.

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Over the past year, I have shared a couple of posts that directly relate to the heart of a mom; personal responsibility is a big deal to me, and if I’ve learned one thing in the last decade, it is that most of my problems begin and end with sweet little ol’ me.

I truly believe that the Spirit’s work, paired with a believer who is eager to mortify sin and grow in godliness, can overcome the most overwhelming odds.

(I speak, of course, of dishes).

In that regard, we moms are without excuse and should flee from entitlement and bitterness.

We’ve established these thoughts.

Been there.

Done that.

Roger, over and out.

Today, however, I humbly want to grab the ear of, well, basically everyone else.

The friend of a mom. The mom with bigger, more independent kids. The single. The newlywed. The grandmother. The widow. The married couple who haven’t had children. The aunt. The uncle. The neighbor.

I need to let you in on a little secret…

the mom in your life with young kids needs help.

It’s an emergency!!!

Because, as responsible as we each are for our own actions and territory, we were also created for community. We’re supposed to be there for each other. We’re supposed to bear one another’s burdens.

Er…not that little children are burdens.

That totally came out wrong.

Anyhow, to flesh out my point, I’ve been looking at it this way…

imagine that one of your church sisters is taking in her ailing mother.

Imagine that her mother needs round the clock care and can’t do anything for herself, that she frequently needs to be spoon-fed, to be cleaned up, and to be changed. Imagine that she cried uncontrollably for long periods of time as her daughter tried to find ways soothe her. Imagine that she woke her daughter up several times a night, night after night after night, sometimes for weeks or maybe even months in a row.

That would be enough, I suppose, but let’s keep going for a little bit.

Now imagine that the woman also had an ailing father, one that was a little easier to care for but that still needed constant care. He could pick up food and eat it, but all of his meals had to be prepared for him. He needed help getting dressed. He had to be bathed. He would have random meltdowns, especially when he was sleepy. He would make giant messes when his daughter was focused on taking care of her mother.

And then imagine that this woman had other typical responsibilities to shoulder. A house to clean. Classes to teach. A yard to care for. Groceries to buy. Laundry to wash. Relationships to nurture. Etc., etc., etc., etc., etc., etc.

Now…

please.

Pretty, pretty please, tell me her church would rally behind her to help?

Would not a sister or a brother come alongside her and help her carry the load?

Or would they cross their arms and say “she made her bed, now she can lie in it.”

Would they roll their eyes at her when she grew weak and wonder why she’s being so dramatic?

Would they smirk and say “I paid my dues when I took care of my own parents. Now it’s her turn.”

Oh, dear. I sincerely hope not.

I think you know where this is going…

Our churches are full of such women who have found themselves in a season of life that is routinely exhausting and overwhelming, caring for one, sometimes two, sometimes three, sometimes…FOUR!! (haha)…and sometimes even MORE little human beings who are wholly dependent upon them.

And, in many churches, I’m afraid this group of women are suffering alone. I think the reasons for this are manifold:

1. Many young mothers put on a brave face. Pride keeps them from asking for help because they don’t want to look weak or needy or imperfect. Thus, they show up to church, paste on a smile, and save their tears and honesty for the privacy of their homes. No one knows they need help because they never ask.

2. Motherhood is such a normal part of life. Sure, we’d rally behind the lady who was caring for her parents, because that just doesn’t happen everyday. But the lady with the toddler and the infant? That’s normal. Comical, even. It’s so cute to see her plop down in a heap of exhaustion while her two-year old climbs on her back and her baby crawls under the church pews (really…it IS cute).

3. We fail to recognize how drastically society has shifted. Where once local communities thrived and neighbors could be called upon to watch over the kids so mom could run down to the grocery store, or grandmothers were close at hand to help however they could, many moms now live on an island of sorts.

As a result, many of the young moms in our congregations are drowning in housework, fatigue and loneliness and feeling completely cut off and alone.

Now, before I move on, I know what you’re thinking…

“Presumptious, much?”

Should a lady who has little children REALLY be writing a blog post about how women with little children need help with their little children? Isn’t that like announcing your birthday on Facebook with a link to your Amazon wishlist?

You’d think. But what you may not know is that I have been approved to write this article, because of the following factoid alone: I have a LOT of help in my life. My husband works flexible hours right down the street, my mom lives 10 miles away and I have a church full of wonderful people I could call upon should the need arise.

In fact, the helpful and thoughtful people in my life are actually the ones who INSPIRED this blog post, giving me experience to draw from and a success story to tell of how moms can thrive under the care of a loving support system.

As such, I feel very comfortable today initiating this conversation and speaking on behalf of the demographic that I represent; for their sake, I will shout from the internet rooftops what they’ve been hiding. Listen closely and you can hear the cries of their heart…

HELP!!! I’m sinking, I’m drowning, I’m dying, and I don’t know what I’m going to do.

~

I hope I’ve caught your ear and your heart. Stay tuned for Part Two, full of practical ideas for helping the moms in your life. Coming up Monday!

Love in the Midst of Parenthood

Love in the Midst of Parenthood

Nine years and I still find myself, at times, sinking under the glorious weight of my adoration for him.

It is different than it used to be. I was so young and free, with nothing better to do than lie on my bed or curl up on the porch swing and daydream about him. My days were filled up with a yearning that he answered however he could, a love letter in the mail, a midnight e-mail, a two hour phone call, a stroll down our country road with hands intertwined…

he was my world and I was his.

From morning until night, my heart was gazing at him, feasting on the love that God had written for us.

The memory squeezes so hard, it hurts.

Today, however, there is little time for gazing and feasting. We are surrounded by a boisterous and spirited army of tiny noise-makers who are hungry, thirsty, dirty, tired, bored or have a desperate need to be tickled. When we whisper, they want to know what we’re talking about. When we have a conversation, they want to add to it. When we kiss, they giggle, and when we hug, they want to join in and make it a group affair.

They crawl into our bed at night.

They come downstairs during our evening free time.

And even when the world is dark and their voices are no longer heard, there is the baby across the room from us in his temporary crib. He may be sleeping, but he is present.

But you know what?

It’s okay.

Marital love is more resilient than I ever gave it credit for, bouncing back from interruptions and finding a way to grow through the cracks; our life may be more crowded, but our capacity for love has only multiplied with each new life that has joined our ranks.

There is no competition here for my affection.

This is no war for my heart.

We are a family.

And when I look at my children, I see their Papa.

When he treats them tenderly, I am wooed.

And though the love between us that was once a beam is now a zigzag, jumbled up in the four stairstep offspring who share our home, they all lead me back to him, anyway.

The romance comes in snatches now. When I am sweeping the crumbs into the dustpan and a random thought of him crosses my mind. When a sweet song plays over the radio. When I see a photo that captures who he is. When I am sitting in the living room and overhear his laughter from the upstairs nursery…

love washes over me just as surely as it did when our hands first met and when our lips first kissed.

I can see him, you know, over the tops of their heads.

And I don’t plan on ever taking my eyes off of him.

 

How to Iron Without Having to Iron

How to Iron

How many of you have little girls?

How many of you love to buy precious clothes for your little girls?

How many of you have been sad to realize that the most precious clothes usually need to be ironed?

And so how many of you let those precious clothes hang in the closet because you never have time to iron?

Yeah, me too.

Until my mom showed me this mind-numbingly simple tip that has completely changed all of the above.

It is so simple and so obvious, I just want to slap myself on the forehead everytime I realize that I never would have figured this out on my own, but would probably have kept hanging up those beautiful wrinkled-up dresses and looking at them forlornly every Saturday night when I laid out church clothes because I knew I didn’t have time to iron them.

“Next week…” I’d think.

But no longer!

Every single dress that hangs in my daughters’ closet is ready to wear and generally wrinkle-free, and in case you need a little boost like I did, here’s how that happens without ever plugging in the iron…

This is what a typical dress looks like when you pull it out of the dryer. Obviously, this is unacceptable.

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But ironing this tiny collar and bow just isn’t at the top of my priority list. Plus that’s a great way to burn my most important blogging fingers.

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That’s why my girls’ nice clothes (and some of my boys’ clothes!) never make it to the dryer anymore. Straight out of the washer, I place them on a thick, plastic hanger and, using my fingers, I smooth out the wrinkles and straighten out the collars and bows until they are ready to air dry.

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Here’s the bow before I “iron” it with my fingers…

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and here it is after…

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And, just like that, this sweet little sailor dress is basically ready to wear (minus the fact that it is still wet). Mind you, it isn’t perfectly pressed, but for this frazzled mama of four children, it’s like Proverbs 31 praiseworthy.

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Here’s another example of a tricky little girl’s romper that, if put in the dryer, would be a mess. Ruffles are the worst, are they not?

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But after hanging up the romper and smoothing out the ruffles with my fingers, they look tidy and spiffy!

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Here’s the bow on the romper’s pocket before I “ironed” it…

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and here it is after…

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Every little dress in our collection receives this exact same treatment, and believe me, it makes my laundry room very happy.

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I hope it makes your laundry room happy, too!

(But don’t thank me, thank my mom).

~

If you are like me and need to really have things spelled out for you, here are a few more tips, in detail:

  • Sometimes it helps to toss these clothes in the dryer for about five minutes on your lowest heat setting before you attack the wrinkles. It will get out a few of them for you!
  • Now, grab the top of the article of clothing with one hand and the bottom with the other and pull, firmly enough to beat the wrinkles, but gently enough to not rip anything. What are you, a backwoodsman? Do this all over the article of clothing, smoothing out all the fabric with your hand. Then, smooth out the bottom hem. Then, smooth out the panel and all buttoned areas, pull out pocket flaps and smooth them down, put your hand in the pockets to straighten them, smooth out any sashes and pull them taut, and fluff up any bows. Lastly, do the collars and, after placing your hanger on a hook or doorknob, give everything one last once-over. Basically, however the clothing looks when you walk away from it is how it will dry.
  • Don’t do all of your high-maintenance clothes in one load. I’ve done that a few times and it feels so overwhelming to see all of them lying in a heap that I have to “iron” before I can move on to another chore. I have instead started a habit of keeping these items in their own hamper and, with each load of laundry I wash, I throw in just a couple. Doing it this way is practically painless, and it ensures that clean dresses are being hung back in the closet almost every day.
  • And you know what that means, right? We are actually WEARING all the pretty clothes we have purchased instead of letting them go to waste! Hip hip hooray!!
  • If you aren’t too picky about perfectly ironed duds yourself, you can do this with your own clothes, as well. It gets the major wrinkles out around hems, collars, pockets and panels and allows you to look presentable enough. I do all of my button-ups this way, and it keeps me wearing them, even though they sort of look like I took a nap in them.
  • Go fix yourself a tall glass of sweet tea and congratulate yourself on being the QUEEN of the laundry room!!

~

If you have any questions or just want to tell us how brilliant we are or how we’ve saved your life, feel free to comment below!

This and That and Lots of Nonsense

Greetings, bloglings.

This is Mrs Gore, coming to you LIVE today from, you guessed it, Panera Bread.

I can’t well remember the last time I spent a quiet hour at one of these tables, my husband sitting across from me with his Kindle and his juvenile drink (today he went with a smoothie, definitely a step up from the Horizon sippy milk he bought last time).

There is a steaming cup of Hazelnut situated a safe distance away from my new laptop, and…sighhhhhh…I feel so very relaxed.

I’m wearing REAL clothes.

I’m toting my beautiful, leather birthday purse that I never get to use because it is too tiny for diapers and wet wipes.

My make-up is on, and my hair is freshly washed, dried and curled, and I think I’ve already said this, but I’m sitting at a QUIET table. Very, very quiet.

Did I mention that there is coffee involved?

Yes, I think I did.

Anyhow, July is upon us and, as is usually the case, we are just now getting away to celebrate our June 11th wedding anniversary.

Because, you know, June 8th birthday parties always supercede June 11th wedding anniversaries; the day before our big day, we were celebrating Rebekah’s big day (5 years old? Are you kidding me??), and although we did pause for a few anniversary pictures at her party, we decided to table any observations of our marital union until a better time, i.e. when our babysitter wasn’t completely fried from the crazy schedules of her ten grandchildren, three of whom had birthday parties in the same week.

So. Here we are!

And if you didn’t know it already, you know it now. Me and Mr. Gore are, as the little girl in Sleepless in Seattle describes it, “mfeo”.

(Made for each other).

In our mind, nothing says “romantic” like sitting here in silence with our electronic devices. And after this, we’re going junk hunting at a few antique stores!

But before I sign off, I wanted to mention a few things…

1. It never dawned on me until this week that some of you who are subscribed here do not know about the “Mrs. Gore’s Diary FACEBOOK page“. I know, right? There’s MORE of me on the internet! If you haven’t joined us there yet, I do hope you will. It is without a doubt my happy place.

2. As such, many of you who are not following the Facebook page may not know why I’ve been blogging far less in the past couple of months: I’m writing a book! I have 76 completed pages thus far, and have been buckling down in hopes of finishing it before August, when my heart and mind really must be shifted back to homeschool. I am very excited about this project, although I really cannot objectively judge yet if it is the best book ever written or the absolute awfullest. 

3. I was so thrilled by your responses to “The Most Important Article You’ll Ever Read on Child Safety“. Without a doubt, that post was emblazoned on my heart, so that I simply had to take a one-night break from book-writing to spit it out, staying up FAR too late for a mama of four. It seemed more like a cathartic exercise than anything, and so imagine my surprise when it began to take off and gather almost as many hits as “I Signed Up For This“. But what thrilled me the most about the entire thing is that the Word of the Lord landed upon so many hearts with that post and momentarily replaced fear with truth and peace. Incredible. Not to mention that I am super happy to welcome a new gaggle of readers. Welcome, new friends!

4. But wait! My week got even MORE exciting when I noticed I was getting an uprecedented number of comments on a blog post I wrote a month ago, titled “Refusing to Blink“. It had been fairly well-received when I first wrote it, but nothing spectacular, so I could not for the life of me figure out what in the corn-Sam-hill-heck was going on. But then my eyeballs fell out of my head when I saw the tweet from “Freshly Pressed” and realized I had received the great honor of being featured by WordPress in their Parenting section! So NOW, I have another new group of readers to welcome from the blogging community! Hi, guys!! I’m so excited to have you along and am waving at you very energetically in my mind. Can you see me?

5. Which leads me to my last point, made for all readers of Mrs. Gore’s Diary, whether you are from WordPress or Facebook or if you are my Mom or Aunt B. I read a blog post last week about “blogging etiquette” that actually gave me trouble sleeping. It was about the common courtesy of responding to your blog comments, and the writer made it clear that it is kind of rude to fail in this area. I understand what she is saying: if someone in real life said “hi” to you it would be rude to not say “hi” back. If someone said they liked something you said, you would say “thank you”. And if someone asked you a question, you would most certainly answer it. The article didn’t sway me, so much: I remain confident in my conviction that, as a homeschooling mama, I can spare no extra time on this computer with my back to my kids. BUT, as a hopeless people-pleaser, it did distress me very much to even think that I might come across as rude by failing to respond and interact with you who have been so kind to find a home here. Thus, I just had to take a minute to say “thank you!” to each and every one of you. I didn’t set out to blog for an audience outside of my immediate circle, but I’ve received one, anyway, and therefore, you are a GIFT to me. Seriously. You have no idea. Every comment, every ‘like’, every reblog, every facebook message, every kind word…it is noted and appreciated to the tippy-toe bottom of my heart. You guys are the best! Thank you for receiving me when I have so little to offer in return. And I promise, someday when I’m a little old lady with no tiny people running about my house, I’ll be the most interactive blogger you ever did see.

Phew! I guess that’s about it…

I’ll be back soon with some really fun birthday party posts, including a Kit Kittredge “penny pincher” party and a Nanny McPhee inspired picnic. Until then, I’ll be plugging away at the ol’ bookaroo and making almost-daily updates at facebook.

Now, if you’ll please excuse me, I need to get a refill of Hazelnut and smile adoringly at my husband over the top of my computer.

Happy Anniversary, Mr. Gore!

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The Most Important Article You’ll Ever Read on Child Safety

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Sorry about that title.

This article probably won’t help you much when it comes to child safety.

Because, frankly, for the past seven years, I have learned one important lesson from the internet and the news: children die out there.

There are the obvious fears that we face as parents: cancer, drowning, strangulation, suffocation, choking, car accidents, being ran over, accidental shootings, targeted shootings…

but in case we weren’t scared enough already, there’s also all of the obscure stuff out there that makes the rounds on Facebook and 24-hour news channels like wildfire: secondary drowning, sandhole collapsesbrain-eating amoebas in pond water, etc., etc., etc.

Every possible way in which a child was harmed or has died is cataloged and published and shared and you’re sitting there zoned out in front of your computer reading about it like a slumped-over toad (because isn’t that what we all look like while we’re on the computer?), but on the inside this scream of hysteria is building in your throatal regions because your greatest fear – losing this little piece of you that you love so fiercely – is being described in another harrowing tale, and even worse, in a new horrible way that you never even dreamed of!!!

Seriously?

A sandhole collapse on the beach?

The water and the sharks weren’t scary enough?

Or the pedophiles?

Now we’re dealing with sand, too?!

Please, please, PLEASE don’t get me wrong: I love the idea of being prepared, and I am so grateful to the brave mothers who shared their stories to inform us of potential dangers that might threaten our children.

But you know what I don’t love?

Adding fear to my fear.

Adding worry to my worry.

Adding terrifying tableaux to my suitcase of worst-case scenarios.

I had so many of those already.

And now, I’m not only a wreck as I watch my kids swim, paranoid that I won’t see the nearly undetectable signs of drowning

now I’m watching them for hours afterward to make sure they are not secondarily drowning… 

and my mama-sized panic is compounding and I’m thinking crazy little somethings like this...

You know, Rebekah got some water in her nose and choked for a while. I read that the symptoms of secondary drowning are lethargy and sluggishness. But…my kids just swam for seven hours and now they’re all sacked out like corpses in the living room…what if she is drowning right now??? Should I wake her up? I know I’m being crazy. But…what if I’m wrong and its too late?!..

Sometimes, when I’m not panicking in the midst of all these potential dangers, toils and snares, I can’t help but reminisce about my carefree childhood in Oklahoma where my best friend and I could go meandering down our remote gravel road, sticking our feet in the creek, playing alone in the barn, going swimming in the pond…

you know what?

My kids don’t know that life.

Because, six years ago, two girls were shot and killed while meandering down an Oklahoma country road very similar to the one that I used to frequent.

Gravel roads haven’t looked safe since.

And there are snakes in the creek.

And there could be deadly amoebas in the pond.

And there could be sex offenders near the barn.

And that’s just the beginning.

They can’t drink out of the waterhose. That’s toxic.

If the baby falls asleep in his carseat, we should wake him up after we bring him inside because nine babies died from sleeping in carseats this year (by the way, why is this article all over Facebook right now when it was written in 2006?!).

Oh! And speaking of Baby Shepherd, OH MY GOSH, there is a balloon next to him and it must be popped and discarded of because if a baby even touches a balloon, they could inhale it and choke to death!!!

And sorry, this is off the subject a bit, but did you know that having a child blow out the candles on a birthday cake is a great carrier for germs?

(not to mention their hair could catch on fire).

God?

I’m freaking out here.

Again, I sincerely don’t want to be misunderstood: my point is not that it is bad to be informed.

Information is good.

Warnings are great.

Education is a gift.

And you’d better believe that if something tragic happened to my child that I could help others to avoid, I would do everything I could to get the word out.

My point has nothing to do with the information, really…

and everything to do with what we DO with the information.

How do we respond when we read these warnings?

Do they make us paranoid?

Do they chew up our bellies with fear?

Do they cause us to imagine the worst?

Do they make us feel helpless?

These kinds of responses are red flags, and they are scarier than pond water, because they belie a problem that is deeply rooted within us, a problem that is as old as time and feels impossible to shake…

We don’t trust God.

We want to BE God.

And, deep down, we hope that if we do this and avoid that and plan for this that nothing bad will happen to our children, ever.

All of which point to a most unbiblical conclusion…

we think that the only hope for our children is us.

And that is how the simple act of reading internet articles can be a diving board that catapults us into very dangerous waters; cataloging every possible death trap and fearing every single worst-case scenario, we subconsciously trample upon every word the Bible says about God’s sovereignty, about His goodness, about His will, and about His calling.

Through our fear and helplessness, we discard the scriptures that we so vocally uphold, saying aloud “Yes, Lord! You are so good and ‘I surrender all’ and ‘have thine own way’ and all those Christiany things I’m supposed to say” while our hearts are kind of screaming “YOU AREN’T BIG ENOUGH, GOD, AND YOU DON’T CARE ENOUGH”.

If you think that sounds like an exaggeration, consider how the article about secondary drowning receives our rapt attention while God-breathed texts like Romans 8 gather dust on our bedside table…

“And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. 

For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. And those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified. 

What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. 

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written, ‘For your sake we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.’ 

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 

For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Did you hear that?

This is just one tiny excerpt from a book that is TEEMING with hope.

Hope for me.

Hope for my kids.

And while those ancient words may not contain step-by-step instructions for keeping my kids alive, they provide so much more, a bountiful feast of peace and truth for my fearful soul…

a wellspring of beautiful principles that my starving and terrified heart devours.

God is in control.

God is good.

God does everything for my good.

God created my kids.

God loves my kids more than I do.

God has a plan for me that will bring Him glory.

Nothing can separate me from the love of God.

I am in Christ, and my children can be trusted to Him.

There are greater things to fear than death.

Granted, the Bible makes no promise that all of my safety- and wellness-centered prayers for my children will be answered; in fact, most passages of comfort in the Word were written to a people who were enduring suffering like many of us have never seen.

It is inevitable: every person dies and no one is exempt from pain and sadness.

But when I read the Word, it helps me to breathe.

It realigns my heart with a truth that I cannot inwardly deny.

It stamps a purpose and a hope upon even my worst-case scenarios.

And it reminds me that this life isn’t even the one I’m supposed to be living for, anyway, and that, if God would be so gracious, I have eternity to spend with each of my most-beloved children.

Eternity!

So yes, let’s read and share all the articles and take the precautions as we slather on the suncreen and zip up the sleepsacks and fasten the safety helmets and cut up the grapes and mince the hot dogs and AVOID ALL WATER, PERIOD…

but let’s also stop living as if there is no God.

After all, there is really nothing more toxic, hazardous, poisonous or dangerous than that.

 ~

Want to keep up with Mrs. Gore’s Diary? Find us on facebook! I promise not to share scary articles there. :)

Refusing to Blink: savoring the season of childhood

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If I’ve heard it once, I’ve heard it a thousand times.

“Enjoy every minute.”

“They’ll be grown before you know it.”

“It goes by so fast.”

In my pre-motherhood days, I thought these were just the sentimental musings of people who were either being dramatic or who couldn’t think of anything else to say and so they just made the token grandparent statements they’d heard other people make.

At one time, it even frustrated me. After being encouraged yet again not to get in a tizzy about dishes and housekeeping because I’d have plenty of time for those things when the kids grew up, I thought to myself “Lady, I am cherishing my children, okay, but I can’t just sit and look at them all day long! At some point, I HAVE to do the dishes…”

But that was just my hormones talking; if I was being more honest with myself and less prideful, I knew what she meant and that her intentions were only to help me.

And now?

Well…now, I’m the one making these statements.

Because, while I’m far from being a grandparent, I totally “get” it.

Babies don’t keep” isn’t some figurative thought that sounds good in a poem.

It is literal.

Childhood is literally short.

A year used to be the amount of time it took me to get from one Christmas to the next.

Now, it means that my infant has gone through at least three sizes of clothing and has grown teeth, a personality and the ability to communicate.

It means that my toddler has gone from eating markers to making works of art with them.

It means that my preschooler has gone from talking super cute to talking super normal, perfectly pronouncing “r’s” and “l’s” and correctly using pronouns.

It means that my 1st grader has gone from sincerely asking if we could go to Little Bear’s house for a visit to requesting anything other than “Little Bear” when we turn on the television.

A year in a child’s life might be 365 days, but those 365 days are crammed full of growing and shifting and changing.

And what about four years?

Four years used to measure the amount of time it took to get through high school.

Now, four years means I can go from a world completely immersed in “all things baby” to a world completely devoid of cribs, playpens, highchairs, bottles, diapers, onesies, and strollers.

If that thought is one part wonderful, it is three parts terrible!

So you see what I mean?

The cliches make perfect sense…

blink, and you really might miss it.

And that’s why I am feeling this urgency in my spirit, one that is reorienting my goals to cradle this season of my life like it will be over tomorrow, because…

it will.

I can see it everytime I look at Gideon’s big-kid front teeth…

everytime Rebekah laughs at a joke that I thought would be over her head…

everytime Betsie sings a song and gets the lyrics right…

everytime Shepherd eats a more solid food than he ate the day before…

everytime I look at a picture from last year and feel the floor drop out from under my feet because they’ve changed SO much and I didn’t even see it happen.

Motherhood, itself, is so full of change and growth and bewilderment, and it can be exceedingly difficult to grasp these things in the moment; young pups like us are sadly gifted at getting everything flipped upside down.

We have to shuttle the kids around like this because we have to get “this” done because “this” is so important.

We have to feel the burden of the mess and the clutter and we can’t rest until it is cleaned up!

We need to get this project – that we voluntarily invented – completed NOW. Today. Without delay. Before we run out of time!

But I’m looking around at my life, and the only thing that truly has a deadline around here are these four little humans that are getting taller every minute.

If childhood is literally short, there comes with it an expiration date.

A ticking clock.

And I have lots of stuff to squeeze in before the buzzer goes off…

Nursery rhymes. I want to read them every day until we can recite them in our sleep.

Silly songs and lullabies. I used to dream of the day when I could enjoy my favorite vintage kid songs with my children, but now that I’m in the midst of the perfect season, I’m too busy sometimes to even pull up the playlists.

Looking at the stars. Night after night, the sun goes down and a masterpiece lights up the sky, and all I want to do is put them to bed and watch a stupid TV show.

Cuddles. I want to curl up to them as often as they want me to, and then for ten minutes more.

Flower picking.

Flower smelling.

Rainy puddles.

Forts and flashlights.

Cookie baking.

Dress-up.

Puzzles.

Swings and slides.

Jokes and riddles.

Toys.

Coloring.

Painting.

Creating.

Playing catch.

Playing chase.

Teaching.

Pretending.

Tucking them in.

I want to feast on ALL of it while my table is brimming with childhood.

And I want to read to them every day until my throat hurts.

My house…my plans…my dreams…my projects…my money-making endeavors…

Lord willing, they’ll all still be here when the “blink” is over, and I can pursue them until my face is rosy.

But for now, I have some advice to heed.

“Don’t blink or you’ll miss it”?

I refuse to blink.

~

I am so honored to be among the “freshly pressed” with this blog post! Thank you for all of the kind words, reblogs and likes. As I am “refusing to blink” and can spare no extra time with my back to these precious kids of mine, I am unable to respond to comments during this season of my life. But your words are dear to me. Thank you so much!

 

Mrs. Gore’s Hearty and Unsolicited Endorsement of “Moms’ Night Out”

You guys know that I have hermit tendencies.

If it weren’t for a few good people in my life, I would be tempted to hole up and become buried under the rubble of puzzle pieces and mismatched socks and stray Cheerio’s that is my house.

One of those good people is my friend, Chrissy.

Since moving to our town, she has made a faithful effort to plan a ladies’ night once a month where a group of us meet up to do something…anything…different than the stuff we do the other 29 days of the month (i.e. putting the puzzles back together, matching the socks and sweeping up those Cheerio’s).

One time we went out to eat and gab and cackle like hens.

One night we met at my Mom’s house to play board games (and eat and gab and cackle like hens).

Last night, we decided to go see a movie…

and eat and gab…

And OH, did we ever cackle like hens!

The movie?

“Moms’ Night Out”.

Since I live in a black hole, I had heard only a few things about it. Someone shared the trailer on facebook, but I never got around to watching it. I heard rumors that it was shown at a ladies’ retreat at Falls Creek which really intrigued me. My mom heard someone talking about it on the radio…

but the only thing I really knew about the movie going in to it was that it was apparently clean and that it was resonating with women.

And what I was completely unaware of when I took my seat in the theatre, flanked by my friends, a small cup of Dr. Pepper to my right, a pile of buttery popcorn in my lap, is that I was about to be taken on a two hour journey cataloguing MY LIFE.

You guys, it was like watching my every day activities, my secret frustrations, my rarely-expressed fears and the chaos and hilarity of raising my little children play out on a giant screen in front of my face.

The main character was even a homeschooling mommy blogger! You can’t get much more relatable than that.

And sure, the story took twists and turns that my life probably (and hopefully) never will, but throughout the entire story was a thread of spot-on humor, a glorification of motherhood, and a wellspring of encouragement for the tired mommy heart.

I don’t want to give too much away, but by the time the movie was over, my life seemed so normal. So sweet. And most importantly…

so important.

And silly things that at one time tempted me to lose my cool were all of a sudden typical and funny, even…

the day Betsie left hot pink nail polish footprints in the living room…

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the day that I sold my soul for a sandwich (read the AWFUL story behind this picture here)…

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the list of things I “signed up for” (read the life-changing blog post here)…

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all of it.

Even this.

(God help me).

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I came home renewed, refreshed, and eager to embrace this season of my life with a healthy and biblical and light-hearted perspective.

And as I sit here on my stairs with my laptop, a naked toddler next to me begging for nail polish, a baby asleep in the next room, and two always-hungry kids in the kitchen, I’m seeing it all with fresh eyes.

This mess is beautiful, and there is nowhere else I’d rather be.

And so it is official: “ladies’ night out” watching “Moms’ Night Out” was a night well spent.

Go watch it!

And be sure to eat, gab and cackle like a hen while you’re at it.