This is how you lose your soul

It was August. 

We had left our beach vacation after a mere 36 hours into it due to a hurricane headed straight for our condo. 

The husband was starting a new business, and he decided that since we were home, there was work he really needed to get done.

So the kids and I hung out at the house. For nearly a week.

We had fun, but we were a little out of sorts. Not bored, but just sort of stir crazy.

I'm glad now looking back that we rested for a bit.

Mainly because a hurricane of a different kind was brewing, and it was headed straight for us.

Busyness. 

The insane sort of busyness that slowly bleeds your soul dry.

And I was unprepared for it. 

I remember us leaving our first flag football practice and seeing one of the dads running across the parking lot, two small boys in tow. He was yelling over his shoulder, "We have to hurry! We have another practice across town and we're late...!"

We got into our van and inched our way out of the parking lot with all of the other families that had come to a sport practice of one kind or another and finally merged onto the main road clogged with weary commuters trying to slowly make their way home, and as we barely creeped down the road I thought, 

This is how we lose our souls...

We are so busy. We are so busy we don't think or feel or breathe. We just keep spinning constantly every day until we collapse into bed way too late at night so that we can get up way too early the next morning so that we can do it all again.

And then we die.

Really.

This entire life of ours spins and spins and then it's over. 

And it made me sick inside. And a little panicky.

I whined to the husband, and he said, "You got boys. They play sports."

Well, okay.

I mean, I understand that. 

I guess. I mean, I wanted them to have a fun thing to do. They spend all their time with me, and I really thought them having something fun to do outside the house would be... fun.

I don't think I really thought it through all the way. 

I narrowed my eyes at the husband and said, "I have spent the last 5 out of 7 days/nights in some way doing something with flag football. That is not okay with me."

It felt good just to whine about it.

The girl kid was also doing an extra voice clinic. That meant that the only night that we weren't busy during the week was Tuesday. That night quickly filled up too. Saturday mornings were now dedicated to football games, so that meant there wasn't a morning where we weren't up and at them early. 

I felt like I was going a little crazy.

And the whole world is like this. Everyone I knew was like this. When you greet someone and you say, "How are you?" they would respond, "We are so busy!"

And now I found myself saying this too.

Why?

One thing the Lord was clearly showing me here was that I needed to get out of my house. I need to be around people. I need to interact with people other than those in my own tiny little world.

I got that.

And it was nice. To meet new people and be around different folks. 

Okay.

And I realized that I cannot be at home all the time. 

I got that.

But how do I be this busy and not lose myself?

And getting this busy made me feel disconnected from God. 

I really, really hated that.

And then I hated even more when I started feeling okay about being that disconnected from God.

That made me really panicky.

I hated having one eye on the clock in the morning when I was spending time with Him. I hated knowing that I had only a certain amount of time and then I had to move on. I hated feeling the clock ticking all the time.

I hated how I felt: scattered and tired and emotional and in the middle of a giant mess.

The up side was that I didn't have time to think. 

I see why people get this busy. It's sort of like being drunk. You're numb and like a robot. 

Nothing real happens. 

We anesthetize ourselves so we don't have to deal with what's going on inside of ourselves.

And by "we," I mean "me."

And I think we use our kids to do that, for the most part. There's plenty for them to do, and you can literally spend all of your time shuffling them from one thing to another. 

I ended up this way, and it was quite by accident.

I kept wondering, "Why? Why do we do this?"

To avoid the realities of life? To avoid what's deep inside of us? Because life didn't turn out the way we had hoped it would so we pour everything into our kids and into making our lives busy so we don't have to think about what could/should have been? 

It's hard to think these things at the YMCA when your kids are happily at flag football practice. 

You feel sort of abnormal.

Maybe I'm over thinking it all. Maybe we can just be happily super busy and have deeply committed, active, intimate relationships with our Savior. Maybe this is just a joyously happy busy season of life, and when the kids are gone we settle back into a slower paced existence with our spouses, content to just be alone with them moving slowly through life for a change. Maybe we are allowing God to do a work deeply in our hearts and spirits more than I think we are, and there is fruit later from this season of life, and we will reap in joyous plentitude all that we are sowing in our lives now.

And by "we," I mean "me."

I'm reading a book on prayer, and this quote jumped out at me this morning:

Many Christians give in to a quiet cynicism that leaves us unknowingly paralyzed. We see the world as monolithic, frozen. To ask God for change confronts us with our doubt about whether prayer makes any difference. Is change even possible? Doesn't God control everything? If so, what's the point? Because it's uncomfortable to feel our unbelief, to come face-to-face with our cynicism, we dull our souls with the narcotic of activity.

It's easier to be busy than to think.

I get that. 

I also worry that when I'm this busy that there is the potential for me to mess it all up. I'm too tired to be kind to my husband. I'm too busy to listen to the depths of my daughter's heart. I'm too distracted to teach my sons how to be men of God. The house certainly isn't clean and we aren't eating healthy food and I'm bossy and nagging and weepy and angry and stressed and not good for a lot of anything positive, much less eternal.

Then our first sermon from a sermon series on prayer happened. 

I sort of knew that it was going to kick my butt. The Lord was gracious enough to have prepared me for that beforehand. I knew it was coming.

Luke 17 ~

And just as it happened in the days of Noah, so it will be also in the days of the Son of Man: 

they were eating, they were drinking, they were marrying, they were being given in marriage, until the day that Noah entered the ark, and the flood came and destroyed them all.

It was the same as happened in the days of Lot: 

they were eating, they were drinking, they were buying, they were selling, they were planting, they were building; 

but on the day that Lot went out from Sodom it rained fire and brimstone from heaven and destroyed them all.

I think mine would look like

she was cooking and baking and eating, and schooling and doing laundry and cleaning, and teaching and reading writing and running and trying to lose those exasperating 15 pounds, and dying gray hair and laughing and watching zombie television shows and doing lots of good in Your name and texting and listening and sharing and studying and talking and...

then she died.

(The Bible doesn't point out all the evil that society was doing during these times. Just the happy, normal business of life.)

So maybe that's not so bad. Maybe that's what we all want. Have a good education, get a family, and nice house, enough money to go to WalMart when you need to, go out to eat, take a vacation and be nice.

Don't get too wild and crazy. Don't talk about the Bible too much. Don't get all weird and make people feel uncomfortable. Most definitely don't ruffle any feathers. Just be nice, normal and go with the flow. Be ordinary. 

Then you die and stand before Christ, and you and He can hash it all out. There's grace, right? He understands. He understands that I had a house to clean and kids to get to football practice. 

I'm sure of it. He understands. 

He just wants us to be happy.

This is what my busy soul thinks, anyway.

Reflections on Revelation

We studied Daniel when Zane was a baby.

I'll never forget studying in the bed each night with commentaries spread all around me, trying to do so quietly, barely moving as not to disturb his little baby body snuggled next to me. I remember sitting in the floor sharing with the ladies of our Bible study group while he crawled over my legs. I remember literally being on my knees asking God to help me understand the complexities of the last half of Daniel. I remember making manipulatives and dancing them across the floor trying to explain verses and chapters. I remember being so completely exhausted at the end of that study, and I remember asking the ladies to do Revelation.

And I remember the resounding, "NO!"

Not that I can really blame them.

I have wanted to study Revelation since then. I tried a time or two on my own, but I felt the longing to study it with someone. I waited patiently, trusting that time would come.

And as God so often does, the opportunity to study Revelation didn't come when or how I expected it, but I also recognized the opportunity to grow in trust of this God. So there it was: a sermon series. 

I was a little nervous and very excited.

It started really well.

I plunged into this enigmatic book asking God to do a work in me.

And He did.

I wanted this to be a life changing study for me. I really did. I wanted to learn things that would change me forever. I wanted to raise an ebenezer that I could look back on for the rest of my life as a result of spending time with this book.

I decided I needed something tangible to keep my mind stayed on what I was studying. I chose this beautiful carnelian bracelet. {The lady that made it lives in the Canary Islands, and receiving a package from there was almost as fun as the bracelet inside.} I haven't taken this bracelet off since I received it. I love to rub the stones and feel the coolness and smoothness of them under my finger.

I am so very addicted to the tangible.

(And He who sat there had the appearance of jasper and carnelian...Revelation 4:3)


I studied and studied this book. I studied until I dreamed about it. I studied until I talked about it to nearly everyone who would listen. I read commentaries and articles and listened to sermons and taught it and thought about it and longed to have deep discussions with hot cups of tea until the early hours of the mornings. I stayed up late and got up early.  I studied until I was sad and nervous and discouraged and fearful and wanted to quit this life and run away.

I'm sure that's about ninety percent all the wrong things to do. But that's what I did.

I opened one of the books that I use for the kids in school one morning and these words leapt off the page at me:

I heard the imploration, "See the big picture." Stop studying the intricacies and step back. See it as a whole. What is the main message? What is the big picture?

I'm not good with the big picture.

I like the intricacies.

I like charts.

We got no charts.

{I'm still a little bitter}

But I learned something in that too. I'm learning to ask myself more, "What is the big picture here?"

In life. In my walk. In God's plan for my life. "What's the big picture?"

See? I'm practicing.

I also learned not to be too hard on myself here. I didn't walk away from Revelation with a perfect understanding of this book. Or even a perfect understanding of why it's okay not to have a perfect understanding of this book.

But God was so gracious to remind me of the first time I studied election. I studied and studied and came away from that study just as confused and broken and sad and searching as I did when I started.

God said, "Rest." So I did.

I studied it again later. I came away from the second study not as confused but still sad and less trusting of God. I felt like everything I had known had been wiped clean but I still didn't know what I truly believed. I felt unsettled and exhausted.

And God said, "Rest." So I did.

A sermon ushered me into my third study of election. I wearily opened the Bible and thought, "Here we go again."

And this is where God did a work. He showed me new things in verses I had read so many times before. He took me on a journey through Scripture and led me through this study with such sweetness and light, and I came away from it rejoicing in His perfect plan. I still couldn't fully wrap my mind around election, but my need to explain it all humbly crumbled to the desire to embrace it rather than process it.

It was good. Now I see this beautiful plan of God's woven all throughout Scripture and wonder how I missed it all before.

As I wrestled with the way I studied or failed to study Revelation, God poured out His grace in reminding me of this other journey. He reminded me that I have a sweet foundation of what I did learn in Revelation this time and there will be a time to study it again and build on this foundation.

I am so deeply and profoundly thankful for that.

We start a new series tomorrow in church. As Revelation fades into the rear view mirror, I find myself oddly sad. Tears drip down my face as I think about closing this book that seemed so daunting just a few weeks ago. I don't want to leave it behind. Ringing true is Revelation 1:3

Blessed is he who reads and those who hear the words of the prophecy and heed the things that are written in it...

I am sentimental by nature, but more than that, I want to remember what I learned. I want to stay changed. I want to be challenged by these words still, even after today.

Perhaps what I want to remember the most is the simple summary that rang from the pulpit and continues to echo in my head over and over again:

our God wins

Despite what my humanistic eyes want to see and what my deceptive heart wants to believe, this simple truth has the potential to change every single nuance of how I live. And I want to continue to strive to let it.

And oh I want to worship this way every single second of every single day~

"Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power and riches and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing...To Him who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb, be blessing and honor and glory and dominion forever and ever." 

Farewell, Revelation, for now. I promise to think of you often. And I look forward to spending time with you again. I'm really thankful you are the most spectacular and unimaginable ending to this great Canon I love so much. 

Should we shop with purpose?

I had the sweet opportunity to work for one of my favorite organizations several weeks ago at a conference that was here in town. 

We have sponsored children through Compassion International for a while now. Sponsoring a child through this amazing organization has been a joy for me and for the kids too. If you have never considered sponsoring a child, I hope you will click the above link and see what your $38.00 a month can do in the life of a child.

It was hard to look at all those faces that needed someone to sacrifice what basically amounts to a take out meal for a family once a month to provide education and other basic necessities. I am thankful for the new sponsors that we saw sign up and take a child's picture home with them that day. 

We got a break from working in the booth while the speakers at this conference were on stage, and I took that opportunity to wander around the vendors and see who else had booths there. I spotted some super cute tote bags and made my way to that booth, drawn in by the lure of a new purse. 

As I stood admiring the goods, I remembered a friend's birthday approaching. I had her a few small things but thought how much she would like a tote bag to use in school/work. Something clicked in my brain, and I thought how fun it would be to purchase the next few gifts I needed here, with people who were using the goods to raise money for worthwhile causes.

As I wandered to a few other booths, I felt the wheels turning. 

What if I shopped for Christmas and birthday presents that would not only make people feel celebrated but would also help others?

It seems like a simple idea and fairly obvious one at that, but for some reason it had not really occurred to be intentional about gift giving.

Because let's just be real here:

Do we really need anything? 

Oh sure, I pretend I need more shoes or cute clothes or books or Sharpie pens or whatever, but the fact is that I don't need anything. 

Not really. 

And neither do most people I know.

So what if I decided to give small gifts that helped someone know that I love them and was thinking of them on their birthday or wanted to celebrate the Christmas season by giving a gift but really gave gifts that helped someone else in the process.

You know, really helped someone, and I don't mean China.

Try to find something not made in China. It's hard. 

The more I thought about this, the more excited I got about it. 

So.

I thought I would put together a list of people that I either know personally or enjoy supporting. 

 I hope you will take a look at what you could purchase that could really make a difference not only for the person you are giving a gift for, but for the foundation or organization or the person selling the good(s). 

Some of my friends are making and selling goods to help them bring home children they are adopting. There are friends of mine, and I have purchased things from them personally and have loved the things I have gotten:

~My friend Kathy and her mom are making jewelry. I haven't taken this blue bracelet off since I purchased it:

Designed for Hope 

They have lots of jewelry in lots of styles. If you want something custom made, ask! They update with new items too, so check back often!

~My friend Jenny has the cutest Etsy store. She also sells beautiful magazine bead bracelets and necklaces and gorgeous cross necklaces too. I have several of them, and have given them as gifts too!

The Underside of the Universe (link to store and contact info for Jenny)

You could even have a bead party at your house or office and help your friends get stocked up on stocking stuffers and gifts too!

~My other favorite organization is Neverthirst. The men who started this amazing organization are close friends of my husband and mine. You can also sponsor a women or a village through their website for a small charge once a month. Read more about them here. Take a minute to look at their website and see the good that they are doing in places where basic necessities like water are desperately needed. 

I have tee shirts and a hoodie from them, and I wear them constantly. Money made from the sale of items in the shop go towards putting wells into communities that need clean water. They are also about to add more items to their store, so check back and see new things arriving soon! (I really need a travel mug for Christmas. ahem.)

~The organization that I bought tote bags and purses from at the conference is Freeset. I'm not kidding you, these purses and totes are SO CUTE. Every time I carry my purse I get so many compliments on it. The  totes are roomy and wonderful. These bracelets can be purchased individually or in a set of 3 at a discount. They are so beautiful and are made from recycled saris. I am also eyeing some other of the bags for gifts too!

~Another vendor I met that day was an organization called Ornaments for Orphans. The nice man that runs this operation was so kind and I loved their wares so much that I am about to work for them at a local Christmas shopping bonanza called Christmas Village. They have tons of sweet cross ornaments that would be so great for teacher gifts, friend treats, stocking stuffers and present toppers. They have so many great items, and you can even have an ornament party at your home or work to help your friends shop easily. 

And if you are coming to Christmas Village, please look for them (and me)!

~The last vendor I met that day was the vendor that I have thought about a lot since then. Sweet Sleep helps provide orphans with beds and/or mosquito nets. A quick look at their website shows the good that they are doing for these children. It also made me extra thankful for my bed that I sleep in. There are so many ways you can get involved with this organization and get your kids involved too. I snagged a present for myself the day I shopped and it's become my most favorite hat. 

There are so many cute things in their store that would make great gifts. 

~Another organization that we love dearly is Amazima Ministries. Honestly, her necklaces are my most favorite. 

This one was a gift and I love it so much. You can wear it long, double or triple it or even wind it around your wrist and wear it as a bracelet.

I really love the blue one too...

Sponsoring a woman through this organization is also a beautiful way to give a gift that lasts all year long. For a monthly contribution, you can really make a difference in a woman's life.

~And lastly, but not least, if you want a new something for yourself, or want to buy a shirt for a gift, Sevenly is a great place to get something new and help an organization. The organization changes each week, so get on their mailing list or follow them on Twitter/Facebook to get updates. I try to only support them when something is especially close to my heart since it could get a little expensive to shop their weekly (which I could totally do.)

Though my good friend Dave is styling much more than I am here, this is one of the ones I have. I love this style of shirt (and it's super soft). Clothing with a purpose. Good stuff.

I didn't even scratch the surface of all the amazing people and places and organizations that do good for others. I'm sure I left off lots of great ones, but for brevity's sake, I only put the ones that I have purchased from recently or know very well. 

I do hope you'll consider shopping differently this year. Not everyone can do big huge things in this world like starting an organization like one of these, but we can all make small changes that have a big impact. 

Simple things, like shopping wisely. 

Limiting the frivolous things we give. 

Spending our hard earned dollars wisely. 

We can all do that. 

Magnum Opus

I don't remember when I didn't write.

I have scrapbooks that I made in second grade where I documented in detail each and every item that went into that book. I have journals from nearly my entire life packed now in boxes under my bed.

They saw daylight just a few weeks ago and I was thoroughly embarrassed to read them now.  I think I'll give them to my daughter to show her how not spend her teenage years.

Gosh.

Anyway.

I have journals documenting my pregnancies. I have journals documenting my walk with God.

I hoisted my current journal, which has been relegated to a giant binder, onto the kitchen counter recently and asked my friend if I could take it to the beach with me. She shook her head "no" and I panicked, asking her what would happen if the house burned down while we were gone?

She wondered aloud if I might have a small issue with that journal, but I have no idea what she could mean by that. 

I do know that I am addicted to the written word. 

I can't remember a time when I wasn't.

I wonder if it's genetic. My girl kid has the same issue. She has numerous journals. Notebook after notebook is filled with stories, illustrated drawings, doodles and notes.  She has written stories since she could form letters. Her bedroom is a sanctuary of papers, most of which are written on. This drives me nuts, and I will sweep through and fill a trash bag frequently when I think she's not looking. There is no shortage of pages written on. She writes  something every single day. 

It has to be genetic.

When blogging came into being, I was hesitant. To think of people reading what I wrote was absolutely appalling. I had given up on the scrapbooking hobby when my main (fine, my only) goals became to feed and bathe the three kids I had that were four years old and younger, but I still wanted to document our lives for my old age in some way. Blogging looked like a great, and easy, way to do that.

Occasionally I would outwardly process something I was thinking about, but the main objective was to have fun and have a place to put things.

As the Lord started doing more and more of a work in me, I found myself really needing a place to process it all. Since my blog was there, that's where it all went. I still largely ignored the fact that people could read what I wrote. I just wrote. 

If on the (very extremely) off chance someone did comment on something I wrote, it always jarred me. I never responded well, but in my weird awkward way would attempt some sort of response and usually ended up just fleeing the scene quickly.

It was all really just for me. 

The first time someone asked me if I had considered writing a book, I literally laughed out loud.

No.

Why in the world would I write a book?

I'm a horrible speller. I don't think much about grammar or structure or anything that would make writing proper or easier to read when I pour out my heart onto a keyboard. I overuse the word "so" and use way too many adjectives and abhor long paragraphs and abuse the comma to the point of absurdity and center things strangely and pretty much make most every mistake the The Harbrace Handbook preaches against. 

(I still love that book, whether or not I abide by its rules.)

My husband asked me that question one day though: 

Why don't you write a book?

"Why would I?" I meant it. "Is there a book that hasn't been written?"

Yes. 

He only said that one word, but he meant it. 

Huh.

I still thought the idea was so completely ridiculous. 

The idea haunted me though. Not the idea of me writing a book, but the idea I had conjured up that every book has already been written. What if a musician thought every song had already been written? Or if an artist thought every painting had been painted?  Or every sculpture formed? What if my favorite authors had decided that no other books needed to be written before they wrote my current most favorite book ever?

It was an interesting thing to ponder. 

A friend and I talked about it. 

"I have nothing to say," I said to her. I didn't mean it in a a self-deprecating way, but in an honest way.

"Yes, you do," she responded. 

You have your story to tell.

Oh. That. Well. Ugh.

I'm not sure I want to write my story. And I'm not sure anyone would benefit from reading it. 

So writing stayed what it had always been for me; A processing outlet largely ignored by all but my mom and maybe two of my close friends who would faithfully read the dribble I had written and say kind things about it. I mean that's true friendship right there. I cannot image getting to the bottom of one of my posts.

The sort of posts like 10 Rules of Blogging only prove to me that I know nothing about blogging. I break nearly every rule.  

And that's okay.

It was all just for me and I was very happy about that.

Then...

That notion got a tiny bit upset.

One of my friend's father died. 

I wrote a post about it. I had been back in town for only twelve hours when I woke up from a fitful night of sleep, sat down with coffee and annoyed my entire family by stuffing earphones into my ears and clicking away until it was done. I barely edited it because I couldn't bear to read it more than once. It was too painful. I posted it and was much relieved of the burden of carrying it any longer.

She texted me and asked me what I was doing and I told her I had just gotten finished with a blog post about her dad. She asked for it, and I sent it to her. 

She quickly responded with the information that her mother loved it and was posting it on her dad's Caring Bridge site.

I nearly had an anxiety attack. 

I stuffed the earphones back into my ears, much to my family's chagrin, and started editing, all the while sweating profusely. 

I just wrote it for you. It was all just for you. I knew you'd be overwhelmed that day and I just wanted to be your memory... I told her this emphatically.

 But that's not exactly how it worked out.

I cannot tell you how many people texted and emailed and called and commented on that post. 

I was overwhelmed.

A friend sat across from me. Her eyes were bright and she leaned forward, clasping her hands between her knees. 

Amy. It was your magnum opus. You'll never be able to top it...

I shrugged.

"I didn't mean to write it. It wasn't me. It was him. It's because of who he was. That's all."

She shook her head. 

"No. Own it. It was good. Really good. It was your best ever."

"I can't top it, so why even try?"

 I wasn't sad. It was just a fact. It was an accident. I just pounded out something and it looked like God decided to use it. 

Which was fine with me.

My friend texted me from Dallas. 

"I am so tired of hearing about your blog post... Everywhere I go, people comment on it."

Um. What? Oh, sorry about that...

I went to check the blog. I clicked "stats" and good gravy. Over one thousand hits on that one post.

I felt sick.

Now I know that's not a lot. I guess it was just a lot for me. And a lot for something you think you and three other people might read.

And it gets more hits every day.

Oh well. It's done now. And besides, Brian, you deserve it. I'm glad it's about you...

There was another memorial service for Brian in Birmingham. Her uncle that I had spent the most time with in Dallas came up and put his hand on my shoulder. He said, "About your blog post..." She was standing next to me, and I grabbed her hand and held it tightly, trembling all over. He told a sweet story about his family and the post. He hugged me and walked away and my friend, after disentangling herself from me said, "I told you so..."

I still didn't know what to say or how to respond. 

The irony of it all is that I wanted the obscurity and the quietness of my little world back. I am quiet happy when largely ignored by the rest of the world. 

I don't know what the Lord had for me in the way of writing. I'd be perfectly happy sitting right where I am, listening to my music and punching my thoughts into this wonderfully clicky set of black keys. I nail them down here and walk away a bit lighter, freed of the burden of thought. 

{And it's quite embarrassing to read older posts. I wonder how far removed from this one I'll have to be until I'm embarrassed of it.}

I supposed if the Lord calls me to write a book, I would, but the thought of all that the "book world" would entail makes me want to burrow deeply into a hole and hide.

A book review? I'm not sure I could live through someone critiquing my book. It's my heart, soul, blood, sweat and tears for goodness sake. How do you critique that?

I guess we will all know if something like that happens, it really was the work of the Lord.

And besides, I can barely think of this, this writing thing, as anything other than hugely comforting. Give me a deadline? Make me write? I'm not sure that would work. I'm trying to imagine thinking of writing as a discipline, and that makes me want to twirl away from the computer and sink deeply in my chair and read a book someone else already wrote.

 I'd be quite happy to let my Magnum Opus stay where it is, uncontested.  

The First Day of School

It was time. 

All the prayer. All the preparation. All the anticipation. 

Fine. Dread.

Anyway. It was here. 

It was Sunday night. I made myself a cup of tea in my favorite mug and went to work. 

Copy work. 

Prayer corner. 

More prayer. 

Glad that date was written in pencil...

I quit panicking when I realized we really only started 7 school days later than I had originally planned. 

No big deal.

The Lord sweetly gave me some fun things to do for them for the first day.

~write them letters

~decorate

~do something fun after school

Okay. 

I love it when He helps me homeschool.

Then the day dawned...

The quiet before the storm.

The kids made their "first day of school" signs. 

And they read their cards. 

They liked that.

Thank You, Lord. 

We didn't have all of our books yet, but we had enough to have a pretty full day. 

Even Fluffy got in on the action.

They liked the new stuff and seemed excited about the ancient time period we'll be studying this year. 

Egypt, here we come. 

Speaking of Fluffy. In a moment of lunacy, I scheduled her a grooming appointment for this same day as the first day of school.

My mom is keeping her for us next week, and in trying to space out all the extra things I had to do this week, I decided to get this taken care of on Monday. 

This made the day a little extra crazy.

When we went back to get her, they weren't quite through yet. She saw the kids and nearly dove off the table. She went nuts.

She does not like the beauty shop.

She was glad it was over. And we were glad it happened. She looked good and smelled better too. 

Whew. 

One of our favorite things to do is get Sno Cones. 

So we did. That was our fun (quick and cheap) treat.

The extra fun part was that they got mediums instead of smalls.

I know. I know. I'm spoiling them rotten.

(joke)

They were pretty excited, though. 

Another bit of scheduling chaos resulted in this also being the first day of flag football practice for the boys. 

They were beside themselves with excitement.

No, really. They were.

They just didn't show it when I paused the happiness to take a picture.

In which they look rather blasé about the whole thing.

Stinkers. 

So they really liked that.

Then it was dinner, baths and bedtime.

Then the sweet and simply amazing girl that does Bible study with me on Monday nights brought a treat.

It was my "back to school you did it and it's over and it wasn't a terrible disaster like you had worried it would be and you got everything else done today too" treat. 

Oh, it was such a good treat. 

Lemon Icebox might be my new favorite.

So that was the first day of school.

Only 179 more to go...