A grungy christian -Part 2

So the challenge was, for a bit, to get comfortable with what I had spent a decade doing. The temptation was to sweep it under a run and pretend it didn't happen. 

That was kind of hard to do. Even with church. As I had left church, we dressed up, sang hymns, had an invitation and two services on Sunday.

When I came back, people wore jeans, we sang songs from an overhead that weren't in a hymnal, there was no invitation, one service, and *gasp* people drank coffee in church. It was weird, but, okay. I can hang with this. 

Not so easy to again identify with the people there. I wasn't like them. It was disconcerting, to say the least. By God's grace, I made friends. Good friends. Sister-type friends.

That was good. And they really didn't care that the fact that I had once been white cardigan and pink nail polish but it had faded to leather and black nail polish. Now I was some sort of odd concoction of the both of them. 

That was good. The acceptance, I mean.

As I pondered this all yesterday, I had a strange thought. I wonder if my insistence on being {dressing and otherwise} different is a way of separating myself from those "normal" Christians. Eh, that's probably a stretch, but I guess part of me thinks that if I put on Dockers and Sperrys or a linen sundress and sensible shoes, someone might mistake me for a person that didn't have a decade of debauchery. 

And I know there's a fine line here. I certainly don't want to advertise my plethora of sins. I don't want to encourage bad behavior. That's not true. I don't want to encourage sin. So I'm still trying to find the fine line between honesty and making people feel uncomfortable.

It kind of happened last week. There were a bunch of us singing some song I didn't know. Something about "My Father's House." I took issue with the song because it insinuates that in Heaven, there will be football. I looked at my friend, incredulously, and said, "I was assured that there would in fact be NO football in Heaven." 

He laughed and commented that he couldn't believe that I hadn't heard that song before. "It's from the 90's..." he said. 

"Oh, that explains it," I replied. "I was too busy dancing on bars to know anything about that."

He raised his eyebrows and appraised me slightly, trying to decide of I was serious or not. I didn't push it. No need to. But it's true. I'm probably not going to get any jokes or references to anything 90's-DC Talk, Rich Mullins, Michael English (I had to Google and see who he was and what happened to him)  and I'm sure there is more. I'm slightly caught up on Rich Mullins, which is a great thing.

The flip side, though, is what got me started on all this. I opened the door slightly on what I've been through with a friend recently, and she unleashed with a flood of confession, feelings and desperate pleas for prayer. I was quite taken back, since I wasn't sure exactly how my tale of my past was going to be received. It provided her with some sort of reassurance that I wasn't going to judge or condemn her. Um, yeah, I'm really not going to do that. I'm going to take us always back to Scripture, but that's it. It was precious, though, for me to see this in action. I think it makes me feel "safe."

So I've continued to ponder how to continue on in this. To be used most fully by Christ, for the spread of His gospel and glory. To use it all, so that it won't be a waste. I know that it wasn't God's will, that time spent away from Him, but I also know that it made me who I am-able to identify with those that others would not. Not that this makes me better than some other Christ follower out there making a difference. Just different. 

I'm not proud of those years, but I'm also learning not to be ashamed of them. Not promote them, but humbly tell of God's great rescue of me. Not make people feel comfortable about them, but felt reassured by my experiences. And listen, those years make me very secure in my walk with Christ. I've been out there, and I don't want to go back. I've lived not seeking His face, and I honestly don't have a desire to ever be there again. I lived through it once. That's enough.

So maybe I need to take my friend's advice and just file all this under "Grace" and be done with it. But that still doesn't feel right. I don't want to chew over this forever, but I'm determined to use it. How ever He leads. 

I still prefer my black nail polish to frosty pink,  but I do have a cashmere sweater. And it's black. :) 

A grungy Christian

"She was the kind of girl who wore white cashmere cardigans and frosted pink nail polish..." 

It was my junior year in high school. We were on choir tour, on our way to Houston, Texas, by way of churches in Mississippi and Louisiana. We spent a lot of time on a bus. Tons. It was worth it. It was the first time , and only, so far, I got to visit New Orleans. I think it was the last time I've been west of Alabama, actually. *sigh* 

Being the book worm I am, my best friend and I spent most of that time on the bus reading. I'll never forget something my friend read aloud to me- Something so small and seemingly insignificant at the time. I don't recall the book even. But it stuck in my head... After she read the above sentence to me, she literally exclaimed with pride, "Amy, that's us!" Ha. It was, too. I was firmly in the midst of my run as a "good girl."

And that run would last a bit longer. But not much.

Where did I go wrong? That's another post for another time. Where I am today is learning how to live with those bad choices and see how they fit into my walk with Christ now.

See, here's the thing. I made some bad decisions. Like 7 year's worth. I normally just call it the "decade of debauchery" because that feels right. It was a time where I hedonistically lived how I wanted to. It wasn't pretty.

Since I've come home to my Father's open embrace, so much like that prodigal son, I've wrestled with where to shelve that decade. In the "live and learn" section of life? In the "eternal regret" section? Or in the "ministry opportunities" section? Much like a favorite book, I take the book of the shelf, from one section, hold it, flip through it and then shelve it in a different section.

It can be exhausting. 

I had a conversation about all this with a preacher friend, and his response was, "Grace is a fix all." 

That was it. It made me kind of mad. I spend 7 years out of the will of God and you want to repair it with "Grace is a fix all?"

Huh. And no. I mean, kind of. But not really. It's not that easy for me. Right or wrong.

I promised God that I wouldn't apologize for those years any more. I didn't want to cheapen the forgiveness found there. But I'm still remorseful. I still hate it. I still wish I could have stayed "good" - You know, gone to a Christian college, married my first boyfriend without having ever kissed him, had a baby straight away, all the while serving in the church nursery. 

Or something like that.

But here is where I ended up yesterday, in the solitude of my van with the "Eclipse" soundtrack blaring:

Was it in God's plan for me to fail miserably for a decade? Nope. Is He going to use it now? Yep. In a huge way. 

I was on the way to the doctor, for strep. The illustrious strep that has chased my family in circles for a month now. So I was on the way to the doctor, and what I really wanted was a doctor who knew what strep was, how bad it feels and how to make it better. A doctor that had experienced strep, so he'd feel the urgency to heal it. 

Not a doctor who had never had it and but had read about it and knew how to heal it.

Small difference, but huge.

Maybe that's a bad analogy, but it's all I could come up with in my sickly haze. 

So here it is. As the view of God's plan for ministry for me starts to barely come into focus around the edges, I see a bit of where this is going to fit in.

I don't have the power to heal, obviously, but I can point to the One who does heal. Because He healed me.

more tomorrow...

Pressing matter

Normally I'm pretty good at resting in Christ, no matter what's going on. I've gotten better at this over the years. I used to be horrible at it-tossed about like a boat on the wild waves of a storm. Thankfully the Lord has done a great work there, and I'm so very thankful. I still have a long ways to go, but boy, I can see how far He has brought me. 

A lot of that rests in His promises to me. I guess one that's pretty worn out is Lamantations 3:22 - 23: "The LORD’S lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, For His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness."


And normally I know that no matter how tough it is when I lie down at night, in the morning, things are going to feel better. But last week, things were especially tough. I lay down Saturday night, and I really just prayed that God would do a work in me over night. I prayed for the mercy for the next morning.



My eyes flew open Sunday morning, and you know what? There was no mercy. That's how it felt, anyway.  I felt as despondent as I had the night before. That was unsettling, to say the least. Then in that same moment, a verse flew into my head, "This is the day the Lord as made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." (Psalm 118:24) I love the almost forced "I will be glad..." It's not, "I am glad..." it's "I will be..." after I pray and praise myself out of this mire. 


But I didn't feel it. I think I just groaned aloud, told God I was sorry, and climbed out of the bed. Time to go about life. Just do what I need to. I did, giving myself my very desperate pep talk as I went: "Okay, God, we an do this. I love you, Lord. Just help me. Just help me..."


The big kids were at my Mom's, so it was a rather quiet morning getting ready for church. I was in Zane's bathroom, doing something, and he walks by the door. As I look over my shoulder at him in the mirror, he bursts into song. This is unusual for him. He's not my musical child, and being the unfortunate third child, I haven't sat around and sang songs with him like I did my first child. So it's super rare for him to sing, especially all on his own. I mean really. 


So as I glance over my shoulder at him, he bursts into song. And guess what song it is? Yep. "This is the day. This is the day that Lord has made. I will rejoice, I will rejoice and be glad in it. And be glad in it. This is the day that Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it. This is the day. This is the day that the Lord has made..."


I just froze. I looked at my self in the mirror, make up half on, crazy hair going crazy, and just stared at myself. Then I said something along the lines of, "Good grief, Lord." 


I chased Zane down, got in the floor in front of him, and said, "Zane, where did you hear that song?" 


He grinned at me and said, "Mrs. Jennifer sings it to me at church..."


I just sad there. Okay, Lord. I hear you. You are here. You do care. You are upholding me with your righteous right hand. I'm not alone. 


I'd really love to say that I bounded right up and started praising and singing and making my merry way to church. Eh, not really. 


I did become profoundly thankful. But this was more than just a simple bad morning. Or weekend. Or week. Or year. Or two years. This is a place that I'm not comfortable with. This is a path that I'm not used to being on. It's a way that is precious, but perilous. This is a process of deepening my faith and my trust in my Savior, and in my King who rescued me from the clutches of Satan, but who also is saving me over and over again, and mainly from myself. This, that morning, was another rescue from the depths of despair, but this was like saving me from the lion only to place me in front of a snapping turtle. Not as dangerous, but not fun still.  And oh, I felt the weight of it all. 


As I sat in church, I started thinking of all the ways my flesh would like to sooth itself. And I'm definitely using some of those unhealthy coping mechanisms more than I'd like to admit. But God in His never ending patience and love poured over me this verse: 
"...We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not despairing; persecuted, but not forsaken, struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying about in the body the dying of Jesus so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our body." (2 Corinthians 4:8-10) 


Ah. The Word of God is powerful. It was the balm that allowed me set aside myself and worship and learn in that moment. 


And later, when I had time to ponder it all, I thanked God again for His Word. "All Scripture is inspired by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for corrections, for training in righteousness, so that the man of God may be adequate, equipped for every good work." (2 Timothy 3: 16-17)


And when I looked up my afflicted verses, I loved even more what I found, the verse before the ones that rang in my head:

"But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, so that the surpassing greatness of the power will be of God and not from ourselves..." (2 Corinthians 4:7) 


I loved how this translation put it: 

"Our bodies are made of clay, yet we have the treasure of the Good News in them. This shows that the superior power of this treasure belongs to God and doesn't come from us. " 

And I loved these thoughts from Wesley:

"But we - Not only the apostles, but all true believers. Have this treasure - Of divine light, love, glory. In earthen vessels - In frail, feeble, perishing bodies. He proceeds to show, that afflictions, yea, death itself, are so far from hindering the ministration of the Spirit, that they even further it, sharpen the ministers, and increase the fruit. That the excellence of the power, which works these in us, may undeniably appear to be of God."

That's me! Frail, feeble and perishing! Or I was that morning, at least. But yes, Lord, further the Spirit in me. Sharpen the minister.  Increase the fruit. That makes it all worth it, you know?

And as I closed out that rather difficult Father's Day, I decided to turn it into Abba's Day. That felt better to me. He is my Father, in most senses of the word. The only one I have, really. And into my head flew a picture, painted by one of those cheesy artists and probably in oil and on velvet. 

Nonetheless, it was a picture of me, and God, walking this path. Me, small and trembling, but looking up at Him, holding His hand. The cheesiness of it all made me smile, but the truth was there. This is all worth it, because of the fruit it's bringing. I'll go whatever path, as long as He's leading and as long as He's holding my hand. And everything else. He holds it all. Isaiah 40. Thank you, Lord. Thank you.

I have no comment

I disabled the comments on my blog. Yes, I did. Since it seems to keep coming up, I thought I'd address it. Subjects of national importance, you know. :)

I guess the main reason is that this blog continues to be mainly for me. And sometimes I censor what I type, because I'm afraid of what someone might say. Not that disabling the comments is going to keep someone from saying something, but somewhere in my mind it does. I need to get out of my head what I need to without worrying about what someone might say.


I am humbly reminded, though, that people do read this darn thing, and that's fine. Good even, I guess. If God wants to use all the ramblings for His glory, that makes me thankful. I also don't want to write anything in anticipation of what someone might say. That's the opposite of the last point, I guess. I don't want to need validation. 


I guess the bottom line is that if you want to comment on this mess of stream of consciousness musings and ponderings, you know where to find me. I just needed to remove the desire to want to hear what people think of what God is telling me to do, good or bad. :)

 

#Crazygood

God has called me to rest in Him, praying earnestly, passionately, fervently, continually. And most of the time I'm good with that. It's just that the last few days, I've less okay with that. Wanting to jump into what God is calling me to. Hearing Him say He needs me to rest some more.

I'm not good at resting.

I feel like I'm coming out of my skin.

But He asked me wait some more, and pray.

Okay.

So I have been. Studying the Word, listening to His voice, obeying Him, and trusting Him. 

I headed out into the damp, heavy, hot air this morning. I ran at the gym yesterday. The cold gym. That was good. Today, God said, "Run outside." I assumed God hadn't been outside yet today. 

But I obeyed. I walked a route that wasn't my usual. I prayed for my next door neighbor, a college aged boy playing basketball in Kansas. He lives with his single mom. His dad, years after the divorce, was murdered. He was in high school at the time. I prayed for him a lot then. Then I stopped. I hadn't seen him in over a year. Maybe longer. God put him on my heart, this morning, and I prayed for him. 

Minutes later, he walked out of his front door. I tried not to laugh.

I got to talk to him. Kansas is good, but he misses Alabama (huh?) and wants to come home. I got to tell him I'd been praying for him. And I meant it. Because I had been. 

Then, of course, I cried. (After he drove off.) Because yet again, God is allowing me to see that I am right where He wants me to be. No matter how hard it is. And He's blessing that obedience.

Glory and honor. Wisdom and power. Grace and fury. Splendor and might. Matchless beauty. Endless light. 

from "God Almighty, None Compares"

Wisdom

The sermon last Sunday was on wisdom. I'm not gonna lie, I beg for wisdom all the time. Mostly because I'm desperate to not mess up my kids. But truly I do need wisdom in all areas of my life, and I've seen what God has done in and through me as a result of these fervent prayers. There's so much more I'd love to share, but as usual, someone did it better than I could. 

I would just post the link to the sermon, and I will do that too, but mostly what I hear from people is, "I just don't have an hour to sit and listen to a sermon." That's cool. I get that. Mostly what I think in response is, "That's a shame. You're missing out on some good stuff."

So I thought I'd just post here a part that really just made my heart beat fast. It's so good to hear expressed eloquently what you have experienced in your own life. And I want to have these thoughts nailed down somewhere so that I can reflect on them again. 

"...(Matt. 7) 'Hear my Word, put it into practice and you will be wise'. Guaranteed... The fruit of a right relationship with God is what? Wisdom....Wisdom is the fruit of a right relationship with God. Through Christ we have a right relationship with God. Which means wisdom is flowing here. Jesus is our wisdom. What does that mean? How is Jesus our wisdom? 

1. He gives wisdom to us whenever we ask. 2. Not only does He give it [ wisdom] to us in Christ, He guides us in this wisdom where ever we go... You have in Christ all the treasures of knowledge and wisdom, which means in every single decision you face this week, you have Christ who has all the treasures of knowledge and wisdom in His spirit living in you, guiding you and leading you in everything you're walking through.

You have no reason to be worried. You have no reason to be anxious. And you have no reason to wonder if you're going to make the wrong decision, if you are trusting in Christ, abiding in Christ. He is good... Trust in Christ who is wisdom from God in you... And what we discover is the goal is not an answer to our questions, the goal is intimacy with Jesus Christ himself. It's not about getting to a destination... Christ is the destination. And it's not as much about knowing His will. It's about knowing Christ, and  trusting in Christ, and leaning on Christ, and walking with Christ, and enjoying Christ as our wisdom at every step of the journey that He leads us on."

So here is the link, so that you can listen, you know, when you're walking, or cleaning your kitchen or folding your laundry. :)

http://www.brookhills.org/media/series/a-chronicle-of-redemption-part-3-failed-kings-in-a-united-kingdom/

It's the June 6th sermon, "Walking in Wisdom." And I had to leave some stuff out, so go check it out for yourself. I'm thankful for this word and for the God that inspires it. 

This is who I kept thinking about today...

This is the little girl I kept thinking about today. My kids were sick. Zane was actually pretty sick-much sicker than the other two. We had to wait so long to see the doctor that his ibuprofen wore off. He curled up in my lap, trembling from the fever. When the nurse took his temperature, it was 102 under his arm. Then he started throwing up. At the doctor, in the van, in the Publix parking lot while we waited on our prescriptions to be filled. I knew, though, once I got some medicine in him, he'd be fine. And I kept thinking about this little girl. 

I do tend to feel guilty about everything, and today was no different. "Why do I live here, in this country?" was what kept running through my head. We struggle with insurance issues with being self employed, but I don't feel that I have the right to complain about that. I knew with out a single doubt that my kids would get the help they needed, and that they'd be fine in 24 hours or so. 

But that's just not the case in so much of the world. This little girl almost died, and all she needed was some of the same medicine that my kids had today. I walked into a drug store, where the shelves were lined with the stuff. It's all I could think about. This kind of stuff can make you feel pretty crazy. When you want to cry in CVS over the children's pain reliever that lines the shelves, you don't feel like everybody else. :)

So I spent a lot of time today thanking God for the simple things I take for granted. Medical care. My precious, gentle doctor who always sees my kids and makes them better. For the pharmacist that was so kind, saw my predicament with a 3 year old throwing up and rushed to get my meds as soon as she could. For the *FREE* medicine that I got that has allowed my kids to rest and feel better. For the medical missionaries and for the regular missionaries that are working so hard to care for those in need. 

And for those mothers who have to sit and hold their own dying babies. For moms whose children are suffering. Who feel helpless and can't do anything for their children. For those fathers who can't help and get their children anywhere to anyone who can help them. I prayed that God would take care of them.

And over and over again I played "Psalm 145" where we hear that God is good to all. And I struggled with whether or not those parents, and those children, felt that God was good to them. And I rested in knowing that God sees the suffering and He comforts and heals and knows. That was enough. I confessed that my faith in Him and my love for Him believed that He was and is good, no matter how ugly things in the world looked.

Oh, and this picture was taken by my friend Amy, and she allowed me to put it here. This was from a medical mission trip to Sudan in March. And here is the caption she wrote for this picture:

This little girl broke mine and Stephy's heart. I watched as her mom left her laying on the ground, and took her other child with her to be assessed. I asked Gary who she belonged to and he said he didn't know. Steph looked at me and asked if she should go over the immediately. I knodded. This child was laying on the ground covered head to toe in blankets. Steph took her temp it was 102+. I immediately went over to try to get her information down so we could go see the doctor. She was very lethargic. Steph picked her up, and she went limp in her arms. Dr. B said that she needed oral rehydration (ORT) and to be started on Malaria meds as soon as possible. 1 bottle of ORT, some tylenol, and 1st dose of Coartem later...her temp had rose to 103+. Dr. B said we should wait on giving another bottle of ORT, but to place cold compresses on the little girl. Steph and I grabbed some waters and surgical towels. We laid her on a duffel bag and got busy covering her with cool towels. It took this little girl a good 2 hours (and some motrin) to start perking up. When she started to cry, Steph and I both teared up, she was going to make it. We continuously rechecked her temp and slowly it started to decrease. Eventually, the little girl looked up and pointed towards her mom. The next thing I knew, I saw the little girl walking out of the clinic holding her mom's hand.

I have more about this trip I want to blog about, but that's going to have to wait. It's good stuff, though. All of it. And it's life changing, really. 

A great day/Beautification project

Sunday after church we went to lunch to celebrate Allen's birthday with my mom. He chose Kobe, which surprised all of us. We went along with it, since it was his birthday, and we ended up really enjoying it! The food was great, and the kids loved the cooking "show." Zane didn't like the fire, because it "burned his face," but he was okay with the rest of it. He especially liked the koi pond, and really just wanted to "go fishing" there. Oh boy.

Sunday was also our family "beautify the backyard" day. It was such a sad backyard-a victim of the long, cold winter. And a busy spring. Laney went to a friend's house, Allen and Zane took a nap, and my hard working Jude and I hit it hard. :)

Here is the after picture!

The week before I had found some inexpensive patio furniture that was actually good quality. We have wanted to do this for years, and now that the kids are bigger and we can just hang out and stay up late, we decided to go for it. We have loved having this little out door space. I want to have coffee out there in the mornings, read out there and just be somewhere other than in our house! 

It's really shady in the backyard in the afternoon, so it's been so nice to have this place to go. 

 And here I am, dirty, sweaty and happy. I like to get all dressed up and girlie, but I almost think I'm most comfortable like this...

After all the hard work, I sat and watched Allen and the kids play a game they invented with water guns. It was hilarious. I emphatically refused to play. I payed my dues with the hard work. I was the audience:)

After dinner, the kids discovered that we had a huge mud whole, due to the lack of grass in certain parts of our yard. As much I don't mind getting sweaty and dirty, mud is not my friend. That's putting it mildly. I don't like it. But I kept quiet and let the kids have a ball. The funny thing was that Zane was fine while he stomped around in his shoes, but once he took those off, he wouldn't get his feet in it. That made me laugh. I guess he got that from me. 

We stayed out a long time, and the kids had fun chasing fireflies. 

I love this picture. It was a total accident (I have got to learn to use the manual setting on my camera) but that's Zane dashing through the middle of the frame.

This is Allen, making fun of me, calling this is "Amy face." Stinker. 

Just because this just says, "summer." :):):)

Okay, this is the very best part of the whole day. The kids are mortified that I'm putting it up here, but I don't care. It makes me the most very happy mom ever:

The best part is that Zane, as he rides by on his scooter, is yelling out the letters before Laney and Jude can get them out. This is a song that our amazing Mrs. Kimberly had taught Laney's group at church that morning. Have I said lately how much I love our church? Besides the real truth they are being taught, this is the fun kind of thing that just makes me happy. We are so blessed by our church. 

And lastly, the girlie girl in me came out when I realized that my new very favorite fingernail polish matched our new patio furniture perfectly. You should go get some. It's this:

OPI - You Don't Know Jacques

So that was our super amazing Sunday. Summer is good.

Okay, Blogger...

I have long despised Blogger's composition format. It's rude, doesn't obey and makes usually mild mannered me want to throw heavy objects at near by walls. I was tinkering with the settings the other day and found a "new and improved" way to compose. I'm trying it out, as a last ditch effort to stay here and not go to Tumblr. 

So far, I'm not impressed. Again. 

I added this picture to see what they improved here, and they actually made huge improvements with adding images. Huh. 

I also think that I'm looking for reasons not to haul this blog over to Tumblr. :)

Oh, and this picture is ironic, because I've been wanting to go blonde again. This isn't the best pictures, because it wasn't actually two very distinct colors as it appears, but you get the idea. Huh. Blonde...

I forgot what I was talking about. Maybe that's why I want to go blonde again. I act like a blonde, so maybe I should look like one. ;) 

School's Out!!!

It's my favorite time of year! I love to look at how much they've changed over the year. They both changed a lot, but it seems like Laney has taken the plunge from "little girl" to "young girl." Does that make sense?

And Jude looks so much bigger too. He has changed a lot this year. And I need to add that he's not at all excited about going into the first grade. I repeat-at. all.

And here is the obligatory silly picture. I guess I should add that Zane defied all the odds of staying little forever and grew too. He's a much different kid these days, which bodes well for his survival.

How did I get this reaction, you may wonder? I yelled, "SCHOOL'S OUT!!!!"
and there you go...

"Stop messing with my summer fun..."

This was the response I typed in response to my husband's request that I do some bookkeeping:

"Please stop messing with my summer fun by making me do work..."

That's kind of how I approach all vacations. I don't want to do anything at all. I don't want to cook, clean, do laundry, get up on time, go to bed on time, exercise, eat correctly, study the Bible, or do any sort of business dealings. I just want to play.

And then I end up feeling just gross.

So I'm trying to head it all off this year and act like some sort of real grown up. How do I do that? By a schedule, of course. Everything can be fixed with a list and/or a schedule.

Now I might want to interrupt and say this is one of those posts that's just for me, really. But if you're bored, feel free to keep reading...

So I'm here to say that I'm still going to get up at 5:30, unless I happen to align the planets and get to have some girlfriend time one night. And I may have to Tweet some super annoying early morning Tweets to keep myself accountable. I am still going to have my hour of exercise at 6:30, because dangit, if I can go out in the dead of winter when it's in the 20's, I can get out there in the summer. I'd much rather go when it's 20 degrees, though. And if I have any chance of being outside exercising in the summer, 6:30 is probably the only time I'll make it without dropping dead.

I'm also going to revisit Jillian Michael's "30 Day Shred." I love to hate her, and I'm going to stick that workout in for the late afternoon. Oddly enough my kids like to do it. They are weird little suckers. Anyway...

I am also going to schedule our family worship time for 9 am. It was easy to do it during school, because we just did it before we started school. But now with no school, I don't want to let that go. It's too important. And I don't want the kids to equate Bible study with school. So that is my plan there.

And if you want a good family worship plan, go here:

http://www.radicalexperiment.org/

Scroll down to where it says, "Family Worship." You'll be blessed, and your kids will learn. I promise.

I also am making a rule that for now, NO toys come down the stairs. I just cannot keep up with the mess, and I'm going to try and see if this is help some.

I'm also having to stick with some pretty strict media rules. Normally the kids can watch one show in the morning before school while I'm out exercising, and then the television goes off until it's time for me to cook dinner. The kids can't play video games until the weekend, and no computer time for Laney until the weekend either. Now that it's summer, I do want to relax those rules a little, but still keep them away from all that stuff. I'm trying to work that out.

I myself have some big projects to do before school starts back. Here they are:

• clean out the garage
  
• clean and beautify the back yard
• steam clean the carpets in the house
• purge my scrapbooking supplies and organize our school section
• transfer this blog over to Tumblr (*shiver* This one must be done, but scares me to death)
  

I also want to be disciplined about my housekeeping this summer too. Right now, it's a joke. Allen joked that he was about to fire the maid. (I think my cuteness was the only reason he said he was keeping me. He's forbidden from using that horrid "hott" word, on a completely unrelated note. I h.a.t.e. that word, just for the record...) And he was kidding, by the way, but honestly I can't remember a time where the house was this much of a mess. So what I'm proposing to myself (!) is that we stay at home until after lunch every day to give me time to deep clean this house. Then, hopefully, after school starts back, it will be easier to maintain. And I am going to be harder on the kids about keeping their stuff picked up.

The last thing I need to work on is letting go of my disappointments over last school year. I really didn't bust it like I have in other years. My kids learned, no doubt, thanks to God and my amazing curriculum. But I really struggled with the weight of home schooling this year. I don't think I realized how heavy that weight was until it was lifted. I know without a doubt that I am called to do this, and that Christ will enable me to do this job. I just think that I need to be harder on myself and push through when it's hard more than I did last year.

Or something like that. I also have to let that disappointment go. It's all good. They learned. I taught. We spent all day, every day together. God is good. :)

So there is my summer plan. Oddly enough, we'll start school back on July 6th, so we're only talking 5 weeks off. But that's okay. I think we'll all be ready to start back then *crossing fingers* I'm praying we are, anyway...