Recipe

This is one of my favorite "quick and easy" dinners. It's not all that healthy, but I've tweaked it to make it a little better.

And of course it involved my Crock Pot. I have an unnatural affection for my Crock Pot. It makes my life so much easier. I hope the lead accusations aren't true. If they are, then we might be in trouble. :)

Anyway, the recipe is called Italian Crock Pot Chicken

Here's the orgininal recipe:

4-6 boneless skinless chicken breasts

1 block cream cheese

1 stick of butter

1 can cream of chicken soup

1 packet of Italian dressing seasonings (in the salad dressing section)

Throw it all in the crock pot and cook on high for 4-6 hours. Take out the chicken, shred it and add it back to the slow cooker. Cook some spaghetti, drain and  add that to the slow cooker. Stir and let sit for just a few minutes. 

So good.

Here's how I made it tonight so that it's not "heart attack in a Crock Pot."

2 chicken breasts (still fed the whole family with just two breasts)

1 block of reduced fat cream cheese

1 can organic cream of mushroom soup

1/2 stick of butter

1 packet Italian dressing

1 box whole wheat spaghetti

You only need to cook it for about 4 hours since there's not so much chicken. I also cook a lot of broccoli to have as a side dish. The kids love this too.

I'd take a picture of it, but it's all gone!

School - Week 2

Week Two - Done. 

Whew. 

It was good, really. We are starting to think about getting used to the schedule. I thought we only needed two weeks to adjust, but as a sweet friend pointed out yesterday, a month is a little more of realistic goal for said adjustment. 

Okay. 

So in two more weeks, we'll be used to school. 

That's good to know. 

Laney is doing okay in school. This last week was crazy with her, though. I'm really starting to see that pre-teen girl start to sneak through. I've been praying over this for a while now, so I'm not too worried, but it is weird. 

Okay, fine,  I admit I cried when I uploaded this picture.

I'm good with her getting older. Really, I am. I look forward to having teenagers. (Don't snort or roll your eyes at me.) I like all these big kid stages. It's just hitting me that the hard days of them being little are really over. I'm weak with thankfulness that God carried me through all those hard days. Now I'm begging Him to help me be a good mom to a pre-teen girl. It's a huge responsibility, and I'm sensing that it's even more of a requirement that I stay right with Christ so that I can be the mom she needs me to be. It's so weird, that they seem to not age forever, and then all of a sudden.... BAM. They are in the next stage of life. Weird.

I so remember this stage of life, and I really want to guide her through it with her eyes on Christ. Lord, please help me do that. 

When thunderstorms thwarted our swimming plans, we met friends at the Flight Museum to end the week. It was free, and that was a great time to go! We had a great time, and hopefully learned a lot, since I'm counting it as a field trip!

Jude very literally said, "Man, I wish I had a bathtub big enough for THIS!" I love that kid.

This was special to me, since I blogged not too long ago about my great-grandmother going to work during WWII. It made me realize how completely easy our lives are in SO many ways. We are oh so weak compared to that generation. They were tough. They lived through so much.

They had some really cool exhibits.

This was my kids' favorite part of the day. *rolling eyes* They don't get lunches packed for them much, so I tried to make it all "field-tripy" and pack lunches for them to eat on the road. Zane made me add superhero stuff to his bag. That's a sideways bat on the left, Superman in the middle, and a spider web on the right. My artistic skills are lacking, let me tell you. :) Jude's are Lego's. That made him happy.

Family worship. This picture just made me happy. Zane is blurry because he's swaying to the music.

Speaking of Zane, prior to this year, he would have gotten the "#1 most difficult aspect to homeschooling" award. 

Oh the stories I could tell. 

I don't know if it's because he (finally) turned 4 or what it is, but this year, he has been amazing. He will sit in the floor and play with Lego's for the longest time while we are doing school. I don't think there's been one day when he played Wii, which honestly, is the only reason we survived last year. I'm so very thankful. God took care of us through all that hard, hard stuff, and now things are easier. I don't take that for granted either. I'll never forget how much God carried me through things where I literally thought, "I just can't do this." He is so faithful. 

This is a Leggo creation he made all by himself. He looks proud, doesn't he? Ha. That stinker. I adore him. 

So that was week two. God is good. :)

Back to School!

This blog has been so very heavy for a while. For a time, I hated to have a post without pictures. Now it seems like it's a heavy, long winded, rambling clutter of thoughts that have been thought already, and without pictures to boot.

Well, if that sentence didn't just sum up what I was trying to say. Gracious.

This post will be short(er) and have pictures. That makes me happy. 

I know it was time for school to start, and I really think I was ready. I have never prayed over a school year like this one. We made it through the week! I didn't get up on time, not once. We didn't start school on time, not once. We had sickness too. But God was faithful, and week 1 is over.

I had to suppress the urge to sigh with relief after that first week was done. It's a "Whew, glad that's over..." kind of sigh. Then an "OH WAIT! I have to do that week 35 more times!!!!" moment follows. That's overwhelming. Help me, Lord, to keep my head down and look at what is directly in front of me. If I look too far ahead, I lose it. 

I've also had this conversation several times with friends here lately. I know without a doubt that God has called me to this, along with some other things too. It's not enough that He called me to do this; I know that He's equipped me to do this, ( Now the God of peace, who brought up from the dead the great Shepherd of the sheep through the blood of the eternal covenant, even Jesus our Lord, equip you in every good thing to do His will, working in us that which is pleasing in His sight, through Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory forever and ever. Amen. Hebrews 13:20-21 ) but it also seems like He makes it as hard as possible. 

Does that make sense? 

This is the image that I get in my head every time I have this conversation:

 

That's me, pulling my airplane. 


God says, "Hey, you're going to home school."

I say, "Okay!"

He says, "Okay! There you go!" 

*Exit stage left.*

I stand there wondering what just happened. 

So I do. I home school.

But, let's make it harder. Let's pile on twenty things that make it harder. 

Okay.

God?

And then it feels like that picture. I'm pulling my airplane.

But doesn't everyone feel this way? In whatever God calls you to, doesn't it sometime feel like you're pulling your airplane? With no help from Him? 

Why does He make it so hard?

I don't have all the answers but this verse rings in my head: Faithful is He who calls you, and He also will bring it to pass. (1 Thess. 5:24)

I know Paul wasn't talking about home schooling, but I'm claiming this verse anyway.

I'm claiming it for all the things that He's called me to that seem huge and impossible. 

He is faithful, and He is doing in me and getting me ready for far more than my feeble mind can imagine. 

And probably you too.

So there you go. Not too long, and has pictures.

Do you like me? Check "yes" or "no"

I already hate this post. I don't want to write it. It's been rolling around in my head for so long, though, I'm going to bite the bullet and get this sucker out. 

A couple of weeks ago, I had a strange altercation with a friend. It ended rather badly, and my first thought was, "Huh. Guess she doesn't want to be friends anymore." I was talking to my husband, and I relayed the story to him. He responded, "Instead of thinking you aren't friends anymore, how about thinking she was just having a bad day. How about trying grace and mercy?"

Mental note: Girlfriends are for sympathy, husbands are for fixing things. Think after almost 15 years I would have figured this out? I was whiny, wounded and hurt. I wanted petting, but you know what? I got what I needed instead of what I wanted.

So now, the overthinker had two things to ponder. 

1. Why did I care so much that someone wanted to end a friendship? Why am I so afraid of someone not liking me?

2. Where was my grace and mercy?

*sigh*

I know full well that there are people that don't like me. I've had altercations before. I'm not afraid of conflict, actually. I'm usually rattled after the fact, but I'm thankful for the spitfire that God has created in me after years of being too shy or afraid to confront someone. :) I don't relish the conflict, but I am sure as heck not afraid of it. (Unless it's going to be damaging in some way.) So conflict and it's resolution is fine.

Someone not liking me is not fine. And I get it. There are things about me that are totally unlikeable. I'm loud. I talk a lot and usually quickly. I'm stubborn, brash and passionate about what I believe, and loud about that. I've been told that I'm intimidating and make people defensive. That's just the short list. 

So what's not to like?

Still, it bothers me to think that someone has an issue with me, or simply doesn't like me. And I wrestled with why I care so much. I know I shouldn't. I know who I am in Christ. I know what He's transforming me to be. I know that He's eliminating all the bad in me to make me more like Him. I know He's given me good qualities. I try to maximize them through Him.  I know that being filled with the Spirit and staying in the Word are ways that He flows through me more, beating down the bad that I really am. 

So why do I care when someone doesn't like me?

I really couldn't find an answer.

Until. 

My daughter went to a spend the night party with several girls. She came home the next day, and during our conversation about the party, she blurted out, "Mom, one of the girls was mean to me. She didn't like me!" 

We talked about it, and it did seem, based on the little girl's actions, that she really didn't like my girl. And I could see it all reflected on her face. Then it hit me. That's why it mattered to her. And to me.

It hurts. 

So that was it. That's what happens when someone doesn't like you. It hurts. Whether you are my ancient age or whether you are 8, it hurts. 

Well, that cleared things up. 

I got over it. Honestly, I don't care if people like me. As my precious fellow overthinker pointed out during on of our "processing out loud" conversations about this, it's preposterous to think that everyone you meet will like you. It's even narcissistic to want everyone to.

Furthermore, if I'm walking in obedience to Christ with my eyes on Him, isn't it probable that I'm not going to be liked by everyone? Didn't Jesus kind of talk about that. A lot? 

Yep.

Okay.

I'm feeling better. Who cares. Really. I can say that now. I'm not saying that the next time I find a new person that doesn't like me, and I'm sure it won't be long even, that it won't take me a moment to re-process and remind myself of all of this. 

And I don't want to come off as having a pity party. I am blessed SO far beyond measure with the super amazing and incredible girls who love Christ and push me to be more like Him. They truly love me, all my faults included, and tell me so often. 

That makes all this even more ridiculous.

I told you I didn't want to type all this out. 

Now that I had that taken care of, back to my husband.

Where was my grace and mercy? Why was I so quick to cut something off instead of extending grace. And mercy?

Huh.

There's tons and tons to this, and you can keep reading, because I'm SO not going to type it all out here. 

I did ponder this, though. A lot.

I had a book in my shelf that I hadn't ever read. It was on grace. I pulled it out and dove in, just trying to get some sort of grip on some of this.

I didn't get very far in the book. You know what the author said? He asked if I wanted a definition of grace. He said instead of offering that, he was going to show me what it was instead of defining it. 

I just closed the book. That was all I needed. I don't need to examine what grace it. I just need to show it. 

That may not have made any sense. 

It did to me, though. 

I want to finish reading that book, but more importantly, I want to demonstrate the same grace extended to me, by God, and not because it's intrinsic to me in some situation. I want to be intentional about how I extend grace in situations where everything in me really just wants to walk away. That's hard, for me anyway.

My sweet friend also pointed out that I favor justice.

A more precise comment is that I'm obsessed with justice.

How ironic, since I'm shown no justice for all my sins. Only grace. And mercy. 

I guess that's it. 

I'm okay if you don't like me. I'd prefer that you still be kind, but if you're not, that's okay too. That's between you and God. I'll show grace. I'll be grace. 

And I sure hope you'll do the same for me. 

(I'm also sure that an opportunity for me to demonstrate this will be right around the corner. Please pray I put into practice what I've learned. Thank you.)

Of all things...

I spent my rockin' Saturday night organizing curricula and listening to old sermons. (Whoa, that is such a geeky think to admit.) I got done with a stage of organizing, so I was set to steam clean some carpet, since the offending carpet destroyers were in bed. I was about to get up, when I thought to go ahead and load the kids' cds that have their scripture memory verses on the computer. I couldn't find the new cd for Laney, and after searching, I finally found in in a plastic bag with some other things. I popped the cd into the computer and pulled out the other items from the bag to see what they were.

There was an envelope, and on the outside it said, "A gift for you, Mom." And here's where I snorted. It said, "Please open in a quiet time and place."

Yea, I snorted. I mean, my kids are in bed, but only a few minutes ago did Laney stop coming downstairs to tell me "something." I do get quiet time in the mornings and at night, in the vein of complete honesty, but finding an envelope meant for a  homeschooling mother that said to read it in quiet and peach was just to ironic to me. 

Anyway.

I opened the envelope fully expecting to find something really cheesy. Because you know, I'm a cynic like that. 

And here's what I found - A note that said this:

"Dear Mom,

{Blah, blah, some stuff you don't care about, ie. how great Sonlight is.}

As I think of what you will learn together-not only from the books and the academics, but, far more, from the relationships you will deepen one with another-my heart wells up with joy. What a difference your sacrifice and commitment will make in your children's lives... and through them, I pray, in the lives of many, many others... possibly to the ends of the earth!

While in the Holy Land a few years ago, John and I made the acquaintance of a Christian shop keeping family in Bethlehem. We purchased one of the Jerusalem Cross pendents. Made of stering silver and blue opal, and crafted by Bethlehem Christian friends of the shop keepers, I thought it might serve as a fitting "token of appreciation" for you... and an encouragement to you to persevere in your often unrecognized labors.

Sincerely, Sauta


PS. The rich heritage of the Jerusalem Cross dates back to the fourth century. The four small crosses represent the four Gospels spreading to the four corners of the earth, and the large center cross represents Jerusalem, the city where Christianity began. 

I pray the shape of this cross will remind you of the foundations of your faith - geographically, of course, but far more, historically, since the Cross, itself, stands for the ultimate sacrifice Jesus made in our behalf. Beyond this, however, when the blue jewels sparkle in the sunlight, I pray you might remember that you play an astonishingly valuable role in spreading God's Kingdom as you invest in your children - the next generation. "
  
(Bold and italics theirs)

Oh. my. gosh. 


I just sobbed. I don't know why, exactly. Maybe it was the week we had. :) Maybe it was being without my kids all afternoon and realizing that I really could NOT wait to see them, and hug them. Maybe it was the time I spent praying over the upcoming year. Maybe it was the stress I was feeling, again, about what a mammoth job this is, and wondering why God would entrust me with such a ginormous job. 

I just cried. I took off my other cross and slipped this one onto the chain I wear around my neck. And as silly as it sounds, every time I touch this cross, I'll think of this sweet note, written not to me, but written by someone who really does understand why I home school. By someone who gets how hard it is, but gets WHY I do it. 


And stamped on the back of the cross is the word "Jerusalem," which reminded me of my commitment made a while ago, to God, to pray for this HIS people. I don't pray for them like I said I would. This will help.


Oh my. My Lord is so sweet and so gracious to bless and encourage me with some completely serendipitous treasure found on my bookshelf. He is so involved with each and every intricate detail of my life. This fact ushers me into such sweet worship with a God that I simply don't even have words to describe my feelings for.

Hot as Hell

I was driving the other day, when I saw a church sign. I usually always hate church signs. For obvious reasons. This one, though, was so bad that I said, "SERIOUSLY?" out loud. Really loudly.  I've thought about it ever since, and I cannot wait to get this out so I don't have to think about it anymore. Except maybe I should think about it more.

The sign said, "You think it's hot here?"

Pause. Read it again. Okay, one more time.

*sigh* 

This is what we've reduced hell to. "It's hot." You don't want to go there, because it's hot. Really hot. Hotter than Alabama in August. Really?

Hell, fire and brimstone- Everyone knows what that means. You may have even been fortunate enough to hear one of these sermons. Are they effective? Do they make one long for Christ? I guess it would be presumptive to answer "no" to each of those questions. 

How does my understanding of hell affect me - as a Christian? How does it affect the way I see those that are lost around me? Do I have a firm grip of what hell actually is?

Sometimes, when I see huge group of people, I wonder how many don't know Christ. Like a crowd in a football stadium. I wonder if the stadium blew up, how many would meet Christ? (a little peek into the mind of the overthinker. Scary, huh?) Or when I'm watching television, I'll wonder, "Do they know You?" Reading a magazine, in a store, in church. 

"How many don't know You?"

And oddly enough, panic will rise in me. They have to know Him. How do I express that to them? How can I make them see?

Because here's the thing: Hell isn't just hot. And dark. It's total and complete separation from God. From Christ. From the Spirit. And I know that people say they want no part of Him. I hear that. I see that. I know that. BUT. What these people don't realize is that they live in a world controlled by Him. They get that benefit without even personally knowing Him. God is in complete control of this world. He controls leaders' thoughts. He has Satan on a leash. My favorite song says, "He holds everything together by the word of His immovable power." The lost live in a world where He's holding it all together, whether or not they want to admit or acknowledge that. No one has ever lived in a world where He wasn't in control What will a world look like when He's removed His hand? That thought terrifies me. 

But it's not just that, even. There's hope, even for the lost, that they will find Christ. It's why we as Christians are still here on this planet. To point the way. To tell them. To give them that hope. Can you imagine living in a place where that hope wasn't there? 

I'm going to forgo any reservations I have and just be perfectly honest with you without worrying about how this is going to come across. I only want Christ. I'm at a point in my life where I don't care what I have as long as I have Him. And I mean that. I gave up the American Dream years ago. I have dreamed of being an overseas missionary for probably that long too. (yes, the "no bathroom" kind of missionary) I wrestled with letting go of my family. Take my husband. Take my kids. Would it be hard? Oh yeah. Indescribably. I'm to the point, though, that I know, without a doubt, that He is all I need. And He is all I want. I don't want to live one single second without Him. (I'm struggling to let Him be all and everything. For real. Not just in thought or word, but for real. But I don't want to be without Him for a second.)

The thought of Him not being here, with me, makes me panicky. And I feel that panic for the lost. They don't know. They won't know until it's too late.

So what am I doing? I pray, but is that enough? Hell just isn't a hot place, it's eternal separation from the one Thing that I can't live without. And I can't imagine anyone having to do that.

How does this affect how I live? How does it affect how I pray?  How I share my faith? How does it affect how thankful I am for my own salvation?

Do we talk about hell enough? Do we (sanely) assure people that it is real? 

Do you want to know a secret that will firmly cement my insanity? I think about hell. Surprised? And sometimes I imagine that hell will be empty. (Except for Satan and his entourage.) I imagine that when someone dies, God pauses everything. And He in all His great power, in some way I can't really explain, shows the glory and beauty and majesty of what happened on the cross. Somehow He shows the love that Christ displayed on the cross. And in my scenario, no one can deny that, and even though they missed it here, they get that one last chance. And they bypass hell and all of it's horror. Because here, they will understand what we as the Church have failed to convey. Or what the individual's hard heart or pride or whatever kept them from seeing. And believing. 

I certainly can't support that idealistic creation with Scripture. I'm sure there's even Scripture that points out the incorrectness of that whole paragraph. (The rich man and Lazarus comes to mind.) And I'm ignoring predestination for the moment. But I can't help it. I don't use this to excuse my role in furthering the Kingdom. And don't judge me based on a silly scenario that I came up with in my head. Okay? 

I don't think I did a very good job of adequately conveying all that was in my heart on this one. It's hard and complicated. Hell is real, and serious.  It's not just a hot place. It's not an expletive. (This is why, to me, hell is a "bad word" It's not a word you utter when you stub your toe. Could this be another one of Satan's ways to get us numb to a word. A concept? How scary is some thing that you say and hear in a causal context day in and day out?) It's not a place where a guy in a red suit with pointy ears and a pitch fork lives. It's not a place that a sweaty preacher is  threatening you with if you don't walk an aisle. It's not the pun to a joke, it's not a place to compare the summer to heat to, and it's not a place you wish to send your worst enemy. It's the only place where my Savior isn't. It's the only place where there is no hope. It's the only place where my Lord can't reach you. Or touch you. Or save you. And I don't want anyone to experience that. 

You can't really fit that on a church sign. 

I saw a sign the next day that said, "Come to Jesus. It's a happy life." WHAT????? You can probably imagine the blog post that coming on that one..

Your Love is Extravagant

I was working in the kitchen with the forever present Pandora set to my favorite channel. This song came on, and the singer's voice made me pause. It was a unique voice, and that's what made me pause at first. Then I started listening to the words. They were raw and just shot right through me. I had to share them.

Extravagant:
 –adjective

1. spending much more than is necessary or wise; wasteful: an extravagant shopper.

2. excessively high: extravagant expenses; extravagant prices.

3. exceeding the bounds of reason, as actions, demands, opinions, or passions.

4. going beyond what is deserved or justifiable: extravagant praise

Yes. Your love is all of the above. 

Your love is extravagant,
Your friendship so intimate,
I find I'm moving to the rhythms of your grace,
Your fragrance is intoxicating,
in our secret place,
Your love is extravagant.

Spread wide in the arms of Christ,
is a love that covers sin.
No great love have I ever known,
You considered me a friend
You've captured my heart again,
You've captured my heart again.

Your love is extravagant,
Your friendship so intimate,
I find I'm moving to the rhythms of your grace,
Your fragrance is intoxicating,
in our secret place.
Your love is extravagant.

Spread wide in the arms of Christ,
is a love that covers sin.
No great love have I ever known,
You considered me a friend.

Spread wide in the arms of Christ,
is a love that covers sin.
No great love have I ever known,
You considered me a friend.

You've captured my heart again...