The Day God Said No

We helped a friend move yesterday. She has a big house, big furniture, big and beautiful and expensive possessions. So, when I was driving over there at 7:30 a.m., getting the donuts and coffee, I prayed, "Lord, I have seen Your angels at work before. For me and my family, for Nick, for the Scott's, at the soup kitchen, doing amazing things that are not humanly possible. So, Lord, send Your angels today and help us move J." I had this sense that God was saying to me, "Nope," and I didn't understand it. So, I arrived at J's and was setting up the coffee and looked around at what needed to get done and I prayed, "Oh Lord, send Your angels here today." Again, I had the sense that God was not going to honor my request and I didn't understand it. 15 minutes later another friend arrived and said, "Come outside, you have to see this!" This is what we saw. Trucks and vans pulling into the driveway with big strong men willing to do the work of an army of angels. 20 volunteers, 40 hands and 40 feet, showed up to help a dear friend in need of man power. God didn't need to send His angels, He did even better, He sent ordinary people to do an extraordinary task. It was a beautiful statement of love and support for a friend and obedience to God. It went so well that my husband and I were able to leave by noon to see our son play baseball. He was pitching his first game for the Varsity team. I love watching him pitch, but. . . it makes me so nervous . . . so, I began to pray, "God, send Your angels." For the second time that day, God told me no. You see, my son had earned the right to play without assistance, he was ready!! He pitched an awesome game, they won, I cried and all was right in the world..............

On The Boy's Perspective

Our son stayed with our friends while we were away. I called him when we got to Florida and told him about our check-in situation at the resort. I assumed (big mistake on my part) that he shared the situation with my friend. (I knew she'd ask.) I stopped by her place when we got back to thank her for taking care of the boy and she asked, "How was the hotel?" I smiled and said, "He told you what happened, right?" She said, "When I asked all he said was that you got cookies." I'm like, "Really? Cookies? That's what he got from the conversation?" Figures. I have to tell the story myself. . .

. . . We pre-paid for our room at a very fine resort right on the east coast of Florida. Pre-paying got us a special rate in a King room with an ocean view. When we went to check-in the clerk said, "We don't have any King rooms with an ocean view, but I do have a double that overlooks the parking lot." I'm like, "No way, I didn't come all the way from NJ to look at a parking lot, we've got plenty of parking lots at home. I paid for a king room with an ocean view and that's what I want. I paid you in January!" The clerk was annoyed and clicking on her computer keyboard, rolling her eyes, sighing. I'm like, "I didn't come all the way from NJ to have someone roll their eyes and sigh at me, I get plenty of that at home." So, she says (with a tone, a roll of the eyes and a shake in that snippy little head), "Alright, I'll have to put you in the Penthouse." Well, alrighty then. So, yes, I had secretly ordered fresh baked cookies and fruit and a little love note for my husband and the hotel staff managed to find us in the penthouse to deliver them. Somehow, all the details, except the cookies, escaped my son. He told my friend, "Yeah, mom and dad got there okay and they're eating cookies." Yeah, eating cookies in the penthouse, looking at the ocean, in a suite, with two balconies and three picture windows. . .

See Ya

What an interesting couple of days we have had. Good food, good friends, good times, new beginnings, harsh words, misunderstandings, parenting snafus, laughter, tears, obedience, resentment . . . all in the day of a life adapted . . .

. . . a weekend away is just what I need, which is really just as well, because this is our 25th wedding anniversary and we'll be going away . . .

. . . love and blessings to you all . . .

. . . I won't send postcards, because then you might be able to find me and right now, I don't want to be found . . .

. . . I'll write when (if) we return . . .

Natural Consequences

My son got in trouble at school the other day. When my kids were little I didn't leave them under the care of others very often. I always figured I was the best person to be raising them up in the way they should go. If they weren't with me, they were with daddy. That's about it. Before my kids were even born, I took a parenting class. The class was called STEP - Systematic Training for Effective Parenting. That's when I was introduced to natural consequences and raising children that are loved, but not conceited. If I told my son to get his coat before a hike and he didn't and it got cold on the hike, he would either be cold or sit in the car and miss the hike - simple natural consequences. My kids were taught to do the right thing because it's right, not because of an ill-suited consequence (a punishment that didn't fit the crime). I had little confidence that my children would be "taught" under the care of others as well as they would be under my care. That is, until I met Mrs. V - the Vice Principal at my son's school. I have total confidence that Mrs. V will be firm and fair, using natural consequences. My son was sent to her office and she gave him an after-school detention. My son didn't want to miss baseball practice and risk not starting at the next game. He said, "Mrs. V, I will come for a week of lunch-time detentions if you let me go to baseball practice today." She calmly and slowly responded, "Do I look like I have 'Let's Make A Deal' written across my forehead? No, I didn't think so.'" Way to go Mrs. V! I couldn't have said it better myself . . .

The Soccer Series - Part VI

The End

One beautiful fall day we headed to the soccer field to watch our oldest play in a very competitive girls game. The key word is competitive. At this stage of playing soccer (11 year old girls) the game was not about running around the soccer field being distracted by clover patches and bumble bees. It was all about scoring points for your team and not allowing anyone to score against you. My daughter was playing forward and it was a fast paced but low scoring game. The fans were biting their nails and glaring at any girl who made a mistake. My daughter had the ball and she was going for the goal. She dodged opposing players as she dominated the soccer ball and the soccer field. She ran toward the goal and had a clear shot of scoring, she pulled her leg back and she kicked the ball with all her might . . . and to the total surprise of everyone who was watching, the goalie, a petite girl, dove through the air and body slammed my daughter's legs. I was up and on the field in a flash. I cleared the field, called 911 and sat with the goalie as we waited for the ambulance. I knew she had broken her collar bone. My daughter, fighting back the tears, sat on the sidelines waiting for me. Some insensitive parents pointed at her and said purposely loud enough for her to hear, "She's the one who did it!" My daughter sat there with her head down and crying on the inside, thinking, "But I'm not a bad person. I love Jesus. It was an accident." Our spark for soccer faded after that. I mean, how many soccer pictures does a parent need anyway? So . . . softball pictures . . . oh yeah, that's what I'm talkin' 'bout!

Spring Blooms

The Soccer Series - Part V

The Fun

We had some fun with soccer for 6 years. We watched our first daughter just bloom on the soccer field. She loved her daddy coaching her, she loved running around outdoors, she even loved those special yellow goalie gloves. She was a great defense player. You had to be really quick to get a soccer ball by her! We watched our second daughter with delight as she eagerly came to every practice and every game. She would bring her "dolla" with her, her little purple suitcase filled with her treasures and as long as we put neon colored shoelaces on her soccer cleats, she was good to go. She earned about 6 items from the dollar store that first year. And our son - watching him was like watching an old Kong-Fu/3 Stooges movie - he'd run up the soccer field, kicking the ball and doing flips and somersaults, jumping over kids and doing The Curly Shuffle after scoring a goal. He always wanted to dump Gatorade on the coach (daddy) after a game (win or lose). He tied his sisters shoelaces together when they weren't looking and barked at them like Curly when they got mad. My husband loved coaching the kids. He knew when to be serious and when to lighten up. He once ducked-taped a kids shoes onto his feet because his shoelaces kept coming untied and when he kicked the ball his cleats would fly off. Me . . . I loved soccer season. All 3 kids were someone else's responsibility for a few hours a week. I got myself a comfy lounge chair, a little sunscreen, a cappuccino and a wallet full of soccer pictures. . .