Puddles

Puddles

One day when my older two were little, 2 and 3, I took them outside after a rain shower.  We love rainy days.  Well, Micayla and I do.  We'd watch the rain make tracks on the windows, hug the sills and then then kiss them goodbye and fall into the grass.  We'd watch the lightning streak across the sky and count how many beats til our bones shook with thunder.  Dale, on the other hand, would stomp with his boots on, stick his lower lip out, point to the door and say, "when?" Meaning, when could he go outside?  He loved being out there.  He didn't find a grain of dirt that wasn't his friend...he loved all this friends and tried to bring them all home.  He loved running, jumping, rolling in mud, frogs, bugs, rocks...um, outdoors.  

Which brings me to the day of the rain shower.  It hadn't rained long.  By the time we went out, the driveway was nearly dry, the grass looked like it had drips of dew on it.  I was in the garage getting their bikes out and when I turned around, they were in the street.  Now, we didn't live on a horribly busy street, but it was a street!  With moving cars.  That came by regularly.  I believe I reached them at the speed of mom when I realized that they found the only puddle in the city of Janesville.  They were soaked from knees down, hands to elbows.  Faces shining not from the rain but from sheer kid-joy.  Even my prissy-girl, Micayla, was enjoying herself. It was a beautiful sight.

Yeah, taken another day on the sidewalk.  Cute, huh?

I find it hard, even at their age now, to restrain my kids after a good rainfall.  They're out there stomping, splashing, playing in the puddles.

In the street...again

I guess you never grow out of it... A year or so I went to Wal-Mart to get a few things.  I knew it was going to rain, but I didn't know how bad.  The lights went out, people were freakin' out.  I thought it was cool.  I've always loved storms. I grew up in the country.  Every time there was a bad storm or tornado warning, my mom would shoo us down into the basement.  I somehow found myself sneaking up by my dad watching the storms roll by.  Fascinating.

Anyway,  after I checked out at Wal-Mart, it was pouring out.  It was like God had unzipped the bag of rain and it came down in sheets.  I stood under the awning a few seconds to see if it would let up. It didn't.  I watched a lady unload her groceries into the back of her car, struggling under a Hello Kitty umbrella.  Hilarious!  A lady was hunched under the awning with me, and said, "well, now or never" then booked to her car.  I just laughed.  I started to run to the van, but it was such warm rain.  The water was past my ankles soaking through my flip flops making them squishy.  Fun.  I strolled to the van.  As I was unloading my car, I glanced at the lady with the umbrella and literally laughed out loud.  I don't know why she bothered, she was getting just as wet with it.  I slammed the door shut and took the cart back (as well as umbrella lady's...I've never seen a lady more grateful and miserable at the same time).  On my way back to the van, I stomped in every puddle bring some very odd looks  from adults, and longing from some children.  It was fun.  I looked like a drowned rat.  But it was fun.

drowned rat

A few months later, Micayla, her friend, Desirea and I went to a concert in Beloit.  When we arrived we quickly found out that there was a misprint on the artists website and the concert was at a different location.  It had rained on the way there so, yep, lots of puddles.  I watched the girls as they ran from puddle to puddle....well, yeah, I joined too.  We watched our flip flops float in the deeper ones and splashed each other like kids. 

Desirea and Micayla

We drove back home, looking for places where we could find more puddles.  We found them.  As the girls ran across the parking lot, I turned around and saw this ginormous double rainbow stretched across the sky.  It was the first time that I ever saw one from one end to the other.  I told the girls that and they said in unison, "really?"  I said, yeah...at least I don't remember noticing it. Maybe my eyes had never been opened to it before.  I remember seeing a million rainbows in my life.  Corners, tops, the beginning here, the top there, the end over there.  But not one in it's entirety.  I tried taking it's picture on my phone, but it wouldn't fit.  It was too big to contain.  It was breathtaking. I kept saying it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.  I felt like that random guy on YouTube.  "What does it mean?!"  haha Well, not quite that bad.  But this rainbow was amazing.

God's Promise...Picture given to me by Micayla through the magic of Picnik

I wonder how many things my eyes haven't been paying attention to.  Countless, I suppose.

When my kids were little, if they had something on their chin or cheek, I would lick my finger or thumb and wipe it off.  My husband would look at me with disgust and say, "Ugh, my mom use to do that to me; I hated that."

Yet, I remember that story in the Bible where Jesus used his spit, mixed it with mud, put it on the blind man's eyes and healed him (John 9:6).  That's my prayer to the Lord... that He would lick his finger, wipe the dirt off my heart and heal it.  That He would open the eyes of my heart so I can see the things around me...see Him.

There are times when I become so busy, irritated, frustrated, complacent, have tunnel vision on the tasks that I have to complete, that I don't look at the things around me.  There's an acronym about the word "busy" that spells out Being Under Satan's Yolk.  I think that's true.  We get so busy that we forget about loved ones needs.  Forget to look at God's creation. Forget to pray and study His word.  Forget to play in the puddles.

Lighten up.  It's a rainy day.  Enjoy it.  He has things that He wants us to see...to big for hearts to even contain.

"Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we can ask or imagine..."  Eph. 3:20

An Angel?

An Angel?

I met God yesterday.  Well, I had an experience that was definitely God-like and the man was sent from God.

I hadn't been to zumba in a long time.  I was excited.  The "pre game" music was pumpin' in the gym, I was hopping and pretending that I looked Latina as I pathetically passed off my footwork as zumba-ish.  Then I was told a man was at the gym doors, looking for a pastor...barely speaking English.

I'm a little unsure of what to do at first.  All of the pastors were gone.  My Spanish equivalency is about as fluent as Dora's.  So, I called my husband, who just happened to be working in the church's garage....which is odd, and a God thing...who also had my son with him.

What I gathered from the man was that he lost his job in Chicago because he hurt himself.  He had gashes on his face and his hand was wrapped in a brace.  His cousin lived in Lancaster, MN so he was going up there to live with them because his wife could get a job cleaning.  On his way there, his tire blew on his car, and they fixed it, but now have no money.  Then he said, "we're hungry."

I thought about all the TV shows that I have seen where there are starving kids in Africa, and the money that we raised for the earthquake in Haiti.  While all of those things are legitimate and completely necessary to help and take care of... we have hunger issues literally on our doorsteps.

I'm gullible.  I'm a sucker.  I can have the wool pulled over my eyes and someone can take my last dollar and it would be me that gave it to them.  But something, or Someone, told me that this story was legit.  I looked at Rich and I said, we have to help him.  He said, what did he say?  ;)

Rich said, call Pastor Hernandez and see if there's anything else that he needs; if there's a baby involved, whatever.  So, while I was looking for a directory, I found a stash of candy bars, like 20.  I took five and gave them to Dale and said, go give them to him.   At least it's something until we figure out what to do.  So, sorry to the teen/person/pastor who I stole from.  It went to a good cause.

When we gave it to him, it was like Christmas.  So sad to me.

The Hispanic Pastor's wife, Isabelle, told us that they needed instant type food because they would need to heat it up in microwaves at rest stops or eat it in their car.  So we loaded them up from the church pantry.  Gave them paper towels and sanitizer, juice and water too.  As I helped him to his car, he told me, "people in there (zumba) so happy.  I can't be happy now."  Broke. My. Heart.  I told him, "I know it's hard right now, but it WILL get better.  God will bring you through this."

His wife had been waiting in the car.  It was an old, rusted, broken down car. He was embarrassed.  He commented on how nice the vehicles were in the parking lot compared to his.  I told him, it didn't matter as long as it got him from point A to point B. His wife had to sit in the back seat of the Jimmy and prop the front seat forward because it was broke.  The air didn't work and only pushed out hot air...and the window didn't roll down.  His wife's leg was hurt in someway...I didn't understand how.  My heart went out to them.  I had nothing to give.  So I asked if I could pray with them.  She smiled and held out her hand.  My son had been with me the whole time.  He put his hand on the man's shoulder.  We had church for a few minutes.  =)  I don't know how much they understood of my prayer, but the Holy Spirit did.

He said they only had a little gas, so Rich took them over and filled them up.  He got tears in his eyes and looked up to the sky and said, "Gloria a Dios!  Gracias! I pray for church." And pointed at our church.

Maybe it was a scam for free food and free gas.  Maybe Rich and I are fools.  But maybe, he really was a man in need.  Hmm. Imagine that the church really helped a hungry and needy soul.  Imagine if it were you and you needed help.

The Bible says to "do unto the least of these." (Matt 25:40) It warns us to help  because if we do, it's like we're helping Jesus.  Or just maybe if we help a stranger, "we could be entertaining angels unaware." (Heb 13:2) Yesterday, it honestly didn't enter my mind that I was helping Jesus.  I was just trying to do the right thing to people in need.

Although as Dale and I were cleaning up, I was telling him, just when you think you have it bad, someone always has it worse.  He said, I know.  I was just waiting for John Quinones to come out (from What Would You Do?).  =)

I don't know who this man was.  Never caught his name.  Doubt I'll ever see him again.  Yet he gave me a gift; he showed me how lucky I am.  I caught the last zumba song.  My steps were a little higher...perhaps a little less awkward?  Maybe?  After all, I did shake an angel's hand.

Thank you, Lord, for your provision.  For my husband who provides for us...that you have given him the knowledge to work on our vehicles so we don't have to pay a mechanic.  Thank you for giving Rich and Dale a tender heart.  They were as willing as I was to help this couple.  I am blessed. Thank you for the man and his wife yesterday.  For allowing us to bless them in some very small way.  May you provide for them in the rest of their journey, and bless them 100 fold in their life.

Firsts & Lasts

Firsts & Lasts


Tiny, pudgy feet skipped across my hardwood kitchen floors. She tilted her head to the side and her long brown hair slipped off her shoulders. She smiled liked her mother did when she was three, her eyes danced around my heart, then in a soft, high voice, "Aunt Becka? You sure are getting old!" Awesome.

My Friday was filled with little Miss Ellie Mé.  She entered my home and announced, "Aunt Becka, can you paint my nails?  Because my nails are ruined.  So can you paint them? They're just ruined"  Well, a girl can't go through life with ruined nails.  So after mommy's instructions, a big kiss and a last glance over the shoulder from mama, we went and checked out the nail paint.  Neon pink, neon yellow and white.  Subtle.

In case you're wondering, my day was not void of conversation.  "Aunt Becka? Does Kayla like this color?  Uncle Tyler saw a rainbow.  There was purple and wellow, and red and... I like pink... and wellow... and purple... (insert every color) How much longer is this going to be?  How long is a few minuths?  No, Aunt Becka, I want pink dots on the wellow.  <giggle> That wooks pwetty.  Thank you Aunt Becka for doing this."  (You're welcome, Ellie)  "Now you should say thank you to me."  She cracked me up!

We had a healthy snack of powdered donuts and chocolate milk as we watched Strawberry Shortcake. She was sure to tell me who the villain was.  She had the theme song down pretty well too.  Oh, that little girl loved to sing.  Even on the potty she was singing.  "On the first day, God made light..." Why that was appropriate bathroom music, I'm not sure.  When we went to pick up the girls at school, "Don't stop, don't stop, keep tryyyying, keep tryyyying.  Don't stop, Don't stop, keep tryyyying, keep tryyyying...." Over and over.  And over.  Did I mention it takes me 45 minutes to get the girls?

I asked her if she wanted to make cookies with me.  I think when any three year old has an opportunity to make a mess, they jump in with both feet...or hands.  We pulled back her hair like they do in fancy bakeries and washed our hands.  As I was getting all the ingredients ready, she was paging through my cookbook.  "Aunt Becka, you have a cool Bible!"

She gave me a play by play as we made the cookies, telling me what each ingredient was as we poured it in.  Then told me how noisy the mixer was.  We laughed.  I forgot how silly three year olds were.

It's easy to forget how little my kids were.  How thick and pudgy their feet were.  The small and tiny hands that fit just right in yours.  Silky, soft skin.  Such innocence.  The thirst for knowledge.  The belly laughs.  The way they turn and snuggle into you.  Love it.  Miss it.

Now I look at my 15 year old and think, man how quickly the time has flown by.  Time is a thief.

Micayla was my independent one.  Couldn't wait to do things on her own.  I remember when Micayla was around Ellie's age and wanted me to paint her nails too.  Only, she didn't wait for me.  I came in the bathroom and found her sitting in her undies.  She had painted her nails herself... well, her nails, her fingers and her legs... BRIGHT red. Awesome.

Dale was my content one. He rarely fussed or cried.  He smiled and cooed at everyone.  He was the one that in the midst of the chaos of the house, was my little puddle of peace.  We had moved into a new home when Dale was around two months old.  I had a "johnny-jump-up" that was in the shape of a duck.  He was content to kick his tiny legs that barely touched the ground and smile at the endless river of boxes that floated by.  It dawned on me that I had taken this little guy's good-naturedness for granted for a little too long and checked on him. He had cuddled against the duck and fallen asleep with all the commotion of the move.  My little peacemaker.

Abrieanna.  Well, ask anyone in the family and we'll all come up with different adjective to describe her. Maybe because she's the baby of the family.  She loves to be the center of attention.  All of my kids make me laugh consistently.  Abrieanna makes me laugh hysterically.  When she was around 4, I bought her a skunk costume for Halloween.  She put it on, jumped down the stairs, turned around, wiggled her butt and farted!  Well, she plays a part and sticks to it!  She keeps us all laughing  "Mom, can you hand me my pie? I'm too lazy." "Mom, you know what is crap? *honey, don't say crap* Why? Dale says crap. Well, that fan is crap!" "Mom, we have a lost and fountain at our school.  It's where all the lost stuff goes." And my favorite... at Christmas time, "Mom, why do people kiss under missing toes?"

The baby and toddler stage is over.  The cribs, baby gates, rattles and pacifiers have disappeared a long time ago.  There are no diaper bags, potty chairs or baby socks hiding in my house.  I get a little nostalgic when I see a baby or if I'm around a toddler.  It's easy to forget...

Yet I remember.  I remember how exhausted I was when I had to get up four times a night to nurse Micayla.  And I was the only one who was able to do it.  I remember the nurse calling me when she was like two or three days old and asking how I was.  I burst into a thousand tears while she asked me what was wrong.  I had no clue.  I had a beautiful baby girl, what could possibly be wrong?  She said, do you think you may have the baby blues.  Umm <sob> maybe.  Haha.  You think?

I remember my skin glowing while I was pregnant, my hair being thick and glossy.  People told me how beautiful I was.  Then, after I had my baby, every pimple that was hiding for nine months came out, as well as my hair, and people were still asking me if I was pregnant as I held the baby.

I remember my oldest being a perfect child until my second child was born.  They were 17 months apart.  And we planned it that way.  I would sit down to nurse Dale, and she would decide at that moment to stand on top of the table and not get down.  Or pull out all the embroidery floss one by one.  Or pull all the toilet paper off the roll.

I remember I had to go into Target and a certain little girl refused to get out of the car.  I had a little boy on my hip and was gritting my teeth and doing the mom-pinch-under-the-arm-thing on this toddler when she took off her shoe, threw it at me and it bonked me in the forehead.  This whole time a lady was getting into her car next to me and was witnessing this precious scene.  She backed up and rolled down her window and said, "You have the patience of Job.  While that one is throwing a fit, the other one is blowing me kisses!"  Oh, if she only knew!

But then someone gave me the best advice a young mom could get:  Don't wish away the years.

It's so easy to get so frustrated in the moment that you can't wait for the next stage to come.  "I can't wait until they sleep through the night."  "I can't wait until they walk."  "I can't wait until they're in school."  "I can't wait..."  Oh, it goes by so fast! Time is a thief.

When Micayla turned 10 it was so profound to me.  The first ten years had gone by so quickly for me, and if they went by that fast, then the next eight would go by even quicker.  I wrote in my journal that night about all the firsts that I could remember.  First night she was born, first time she spoke, first birthday, etc.  But this is what I want to share with you:

"We've celebrated every first, but what I haven't counted on was the last.  They go by unnoticed, barely acknowledge or cared about.  But things I desperately long for.

"I never celebrated the last day I nursed her.  The last time I was up with her through the night.  The last time I shampooed her hair for her.  The last time I held her on my hip.  The last time I checked her closet and under her bed 'just to be safe, Mommy.' The last time she called me Mommy.  The last time she gave me a fist full of dandelions.  The last time she came running to me and jumped in my arms.  The last time I rocked her.

"We don't celebrate them because most of the time we don't know it is the last time."

It is impossible for me to believe that my daughter is now 15, a sophomore in high school and in drivers ed.  I can't believe that I have a son who is going to be 14 in three months and likes girls.  It's crazy.   We now have our niece living with us...Nikki.  She is going to be twelve in just a few weeks.  Seems like she was just born.  The baby that I nearly lost in utero, is now a healthy seven year old who is incredibly sassy, and in second grade.  I'm blessed.

I know that there will be many more firsts for my kids as well as many more lasts.  But I think the key in celebrating the lasts is to enjoy the moment. Stop fretting; make every moment count.  What if today was your last?

Welcome... maybe later

Welcome...Maybe Later

I have been wanting to start a blog for the last few years, yet I have put it off. Procrastination seems to be one of my more glaring traits. Kids, basketball games, church activities, TV shows that I've dvr'd...you know the important things =)  they all seem to catch up with me.

I was always the one in school who did the project the night before it was due.  I scrambled to find a bottle of glue, found the cap glued on, had to cut the orange tip off, and then discovered it was dried up anyway.  So then I had to tape all the dried bugs to the poster board...where I had collected the nasty things from the bug zapper on the porch earlier because I neglected to collect them two weeks ago.  I was the one that crammed in study hall the hour before the big test in US History.  Sorry Mr. Hess.  

Yet 20 years later, procrastination hasn't left this body.  However it seems like the horror of putting things off has been passed on to my offspring.  

Take for example, the other day, my child (who shall remain nameless) was given two weeks to tell me that he/she needed two scrapbook papers for class.  Two weeks.  However, this child told me the night before.  Did I look empathetically, take their hand, remember all the times when I was a kid where I did the same thing and say, "Oh honey, lets frolic to the store together hand in hand and get these precious papers together.  How I know exactly what you're going through.  Don't fret, my pet.  All will be right with the world."  No.  Instead what dripped from my lips was, "Dang it!  You knew this for two weeks!  Why do you always wait until the last moment?  You need to be a little more organized."  

Geez.  Why do I become so impatient?  I have the perfect Parent as an example.  Yet, I constantly make the same mistakes over and over.  I'm thankful that He gives me grace to start again.  I pray that my kids are as forgiving as my heavenly Father is to me.  Lord, knows I love them more than basketball games, church activities and the tv shows I've dvr'd.  More than life itself.  

Psalm 78:8 says, "Heaven forbid they be like their parents, bullheaded and bad, a fickle and faithless bunch who never stayed true to God." Now I know that I have stayed true to God; I love the Lord with all my heart.  My prayer is that Micayla, Dale, Abrieanna and Nikki will be God-like in all their actions, in spite of my imperfections and foibles. Ok, my MAJOR imperfections and foibles.