All posts by Jeff

Wow.  Tonight Jeff and I crept into Dutch’s room and watched him sleep.  As we tiptoed out of the room, we gently closed the door and Jeff pulled me into his arms.  “We did it, Sauce.  We did it.”  I smiled up at him.  Yes, we did it.  We made it through one year of parenthood, and a first birthday party. 🙂  And it all was more wonderfully amazingly deliciously fabulous than we could ever have imagined.

Dutch was so wonderful today.  We sang him happy birthday this morning as we got him up from his crib, then I made Dutch Babies for breakfast, a sort of baked pancake that puffs up in the oven, that you eat with powdered sugar on top.  He played contentedly, had a bath, went with us for a walk, and watched me give Daddy a hair cut.  He was too wired for an afternoon nap, so I was afraid that he might melt down when we had 18 guests for his birthday party.  But, once again I underestimated the Dutcher.  He was wonderful.  But most of all I was wowed and amazed at the friends and family who made this day so special.  Oma and Papa worked, getting things ready for the party.  Papa vacuumed and Oma went into town for special balloons for Dutch’s big day.  Daddy put out the Happy Birthday sign and helped me get the food ready.  Grandpa and Grandma Patterson and Great-Grandma Ricketts came from California just for the party!  Papa and Nana Richter made the trek over from Bend for the day just for the party.  Uncle John, Aunt Brenda, and cousin Brooke came from Phoenix, and Aaron and Candi and baby Hannah came from Boston!  Jeremy, Melea, Megan, and Vicki made special appearances for his special day, and Great-Grandma Ruthe came down from Lake Oswego.  They absolutely showered Dutch with gifts–new clothes (that will fit him!), an amazing classic Radio Flyer beginner bike, his first big tub of baby Leggos, a complete Nerf sports ball set, books that sing, a savings bond (!), a gold Kruggerong (!), a sizable check (!), bath toys, meal-time toys … the list goes on and on!  He is one blessed little boy!

What I’m left with is this:  Raising our son is definitely not a solo act.  Of course it’s God who gives us the strength, wisdom, preserverence, and patience every day. But it is our friends and precious family who stand with us, love our son, bless him and invest in him and take joy in him and care for him, it is these amazing people who live life with us who truly make Dutch the amazing boy that he is.  I want to do whatever I can to invest in these amazing relationships, so that Dutch can learn from them and so that his life can be colored and shaped by theirs.

THank you to all of you who blessed Dutch today with your presence, phone calls, cards, and gifts.  Wow.  Jeff and I collapse into bed tonight sweetly exhausted.  What an amazing day.  I am truly blessed.

We did it.  We made it through the first year.  Because of you all.  We made it because of you.

Tonight I was frosting a birthday cake.  After swirling the vanilla frosting, I stuck on the little decorative baseballs diamonds, then poked the huge number one into the middle and laid the collegiate block lettering across the top: “Go Dutch!”  I had to shake my head and marvel.  I was decorating my son’s birthday cake.  My son is having a birthday.  Tonight as I put him to bed, I almost didn’t want to lie him down.  I snuggled him in my arms and told him how proud I was to be his mommy, how proud I was of how big he is and how brave and strong and fun.  I laid him down and he giggled, the way he does, like it’s a game, then he pumps his legs up and down, sliding his heels down the sheet and kicking off his blankets.  He reached up and held my hand as I covered him back up and began to pray.  I prayed, as I do every night, that he would come to know God at a young age, and that He would walk with God all the days of his life, and that He would change this world for Christ.  I prayed that every birthday he would know and love God more than the year before.  I prayed that God would give him many more birthdays and that He’d be gracious enough to let me see many more of his birthdays.  I can’t believe that one year ago I was in the hospital.  I had just received my epidural (God, bless whoever invented those things!), and was just hours away from delivering our little blond-haired blue-eyed boy.  In some ways this year is a blur.  It’s like a ball starts slowly rolling down a hill and you can’t stop it and it goes faster and faster.  One minute ago I swear Dutch was just starting to bat at the toys on his play mat and coo at us in the mornings.  Now he cruises through the house behind his walker at top speed, crashing through chairs and into walls, laughing and clapping for himself.  I’m sure it’ll be a blink and he’ll be cruising behind the wheel of a car … but I can’t even let myself go there yet. 

Just now I went and peeked at Dutch while he slept.  On his belly, with his arms to the side and his face burrowed into the bumper at the side of the crib, his perfect little lips puckered slightly and the sweet sound of his breathing.  What a perfect, precious sight.  My precious little Dutch is a baby no longer, he is a little boy, full of joy and vitality and energy and creativity.  God, give us the grace to raise Him to be the man of God You want Him to be.  Happy Birthday, Dutch.  Being your mommy is the greatest joy I could imagine. 

The second sermon on our Restoring Christmas series was entitled Spend Less.  This sermon was awesome, although Pastor Dale said that there were a lot of really unhappy people after the sermon!  People don’t like being told how to spend “their” money.  The message is basically this:  We have so materialized Christmas.  Americans spend an average of almost $1,000 dollars on Christmas gifts!  Can you believe that amount?  That is a total of about 457 BILLION dollars spent on Christmas gifts alone. Goodness gracious.  Can you imagine is even HALF that amount was given instead to foreign missions or to feed hungry children or provide medical care or disaster relief?  Just half?  Most Americans will pay off Christmas credit card debt through JUNE of the following year.  That is ridiculous.

The sad thing is that we’ve equated Christmas with spending money.  Most of the gifts we buy are obligatory.  We feel we should by so-and-so a gift and it has to be worth a certain amount or else it seems rude.  But the wrong thinking is this:  Where did the idea come from that in order to show someone we really love them we have to spend lots of money on them?  The most meaningful things Jeff has done for me have nothing to do with money.  But I have often felt this way.  I’ve often felt bad because my gift didn’t seem big enough or expensive enough or they weren’t wrapped that great and didn’t wow the recipient.  But that is a selfish motive.  If we buy someone a nice gift in order to impress them, we’re really giving ourselves something: pride!  It is truly sad how twisted our thinking has gotten in terms of gifts.

 However, keep in mind I’m not saying that gifts are bad.  I bought lots of gifts this year.  But, we always make a CHristmas budget before hand and we always stick to that budget.  More and more, we are giving relationally and spiritually valuable  gifts more than monetarily valuable gifts.  For example, now that we have a son, we give photogifts!  Photobooks, calendars, mugs, sweatshirts, and t-shirts are such a great way to bless grandparents.  I was recently given the gift of a Family Question set: a glass cube filled with cards with questions as conversation starters.  What a great gift!  I love it because it is something I’d never buy for myself but it promotes family and relationships and significant conversation.  This year my brother requested that for Christmas we buy farm animals for Gospel for Asia families.  It was so easy, you just go to their website (click there for link) and we were able to purchase a pair of rabbits and pair of chickens for an Asian familyh in need in my brother’s name.  What a great idea!  So for his gift we got him a little rubber chicken and a stuffed bunny from the dollar store to signify the animals that were given at his request.  I have to admit, I’m not as selfless as my brother yet–I asked for gift cards to clothing stores for Christmas. 🙂  (Hey, give me a break–that’s how I do all my shopping during the year!)

I had the sweetest day this week because my parents wanted to provide food for the charity food boxes that our church gives away over Christmas.  So my dad gave me $100 cash and I went to Winco and loaded up on all the things from the church’s list of needed items.  It was SO MUCH FUN to pick out healthy non-perishable items and think about blessing people with them.  After that I was able to give some to a homeless man I saw on the on-ramp on I-205.  But then you know what?  I splurged on a pair of jeans (“for Christmas”) and that was the least fun part of my day.  The one part of the day where I got myself something ended up being the most draining. In fact, I wasn’t happy with them later and took them back.  But what that showed me was that the joy of doing something for other people was a million times better than doing things for myself.  I’m not cured, that’s for sure, but I think I’m maybe starting to learn.

So, perhaps it’s a little late this year (although it’s not too late to return things!  Today I returned that pair of jeans I bought), but I challenge you to spend less this Christmas.  Take at least 1/4 of what you usually spend and give it to a charity organization.  We have so much.  And if you can’t buy everyong on your list an amazing, pricey present–who cares?  SHOW them you love them.  Make them a card, write them a letter, paint them a picture, change the oil in their car, give them a tank of gas, bake them cookies, enlarge their favorite picture.  Let us not love in word (and dollar!) only but in deed and in truth. 

Our pastor’s is currently teaching on Restoring Christmas and last week’s message was the first point of the series: Worship More.  I have to say that Christmas is by far my favorite holiday.  Many people say that it’s ruined because of materialism and Santa Clauss (I don’t even know how to spell Claus(s)!), but I don’t agree.  Yes, it’s deteriorated beyond imagination, but every year, there is one thing that restores the entire season for me–Christmas Worship Music.  I’ve written before about Mercy Me’s Christmas CD.  Well yesterday as I drove to tutoring, I saw that Jeff had slipped a copy of that CD for me to listen to in the car.  I slid it into the CD player and turned up the volume. Within minutes I was in tears, raising my hands worshipping my Lord with all my heart.  Those age-old Christmas carols are powerful.  How often do we reflect on what they’re truly saying?  Every year I am astounded at the power of their words, at the greatness of our God. I feel like going up to every silly CHristmas shopper and saying, “Do you have any idea what you’re missing?!  There is so much more for you!”  So, today I’m just going to leave you with some of my favorite Christmas lyrics.  Reflect on these, sing these.  DOwnload some Christmas music, perhaps updated by your favorite band, and sing, really sing.  Listen, really listen.  Worship. Really worship.

From O Holy Night:

Chains shall he break for the slave is our brother,
and in his name all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we;
Let all within us praise his holy name.
Christ is the lord, that ever, ever praise we.

From Hark the Herald Angels Sing:

veiled in flesh, the Godhead see
hail the incarnate Deity
pleased, as man with men to dwell
Jesus, our Immanuel!

Other ways to worship more:  Choose to slow down, plan less, shop less, spend less — and spend time being relational.  Posessions lose value over time.  Memories gain value over time. 

Let’s make our goal to worship God this Christmas–it is His birthday that we celebrate!
 

…Not sure what to write tonight, but just need to say that saying goodbye is hard. Tonight we packed up my brother–he is moving to Salt Lake City, UT with his wife and newborn baby daughter. His wife and baby left earlier this week, so my parents, Jeff, Dutch and I spent the evening over at his home, cleaning and loading the U-Haul and eating deli Chinese food off paper plates. We turned up the Christmas worship music and I strapped Dutch onto my back in his carrier (he is SO heavy now!) and we sang Christmas songs and mopped and swept while Mom vacuumed and the boys loaded the truck. It was sweet. Family is sweet. Then Mom and Dad left and Kris and I made a quick trip to Fred Meyer together to get a padlock. Then said goodbye. As I turned to go, there were a million things I could have said, and there are a million things I can write right now. I’ve said them all before. He’s my hero. I love his wisdom, his humility, his quiet confidence. I love fun memories I have of college days eating Melorine 99cent non-dairy frozen dessert from Cub Foods (known to youngsters as Winco). I love fun memories of pre-marriage days, staying over at his house, eating his home-cooked dinner of meat, meat, and more meat. No veggies, no sides, no salad, no bread. Just meat. Those days were fun, but these days are better. I’m a million times happier and he’s a trillion times happier now that he’s got a beautiful wife to take care of him. But I’m still going to miss him because he’s my big brother and I love him. I’m going to miss him so much it makes my stomach get all knotted up and ache all the way up into my chest. And now I’m going to stop writing because I’m done crying and I don’t want to wake up with a migraine and eyes swollen shut, so I’m signing off. Saying goodbye is hard and I love my brother. That’s all. Goodnight.

At church our pastor is teaching a series called Restoring Christmas.  We’ve only received the first message, but I’m already challenged and spurred on to see this season reflect the one whom we’re celebrating: Jesus!  I wanted to include here, on my blog, some of the thoughts and reflections both from these messages and just from embracing this season fully. 

 Last year, as I prepared for Christmas, I was also preparing to give birth to our firstborn, a son.  I felt so incredibly blessed to be able to feel what Mary must have felt as the days approached her due date.  (Ok, I know Jesus wasn’t born on Christmas day, but it represents when he was born.)  The emotions, the impatience, the discomfort, the joy at times, and sorrow at times, the preparation and anxiety about the birth, the myriad of feelings that every mom experiences in the final weeks and days of pregnancy. 

During those final days and weeks, I was also in seminary full-time (!) which meant driving 1.5 hours each day several days a week for class.  Jeff bought me Mercy Me’s Christmas CD, so I filled my drive time with Christmas tunes redone by one of my favorite bands.  One particular song will stick with me forever: Joseph’s Lullaby.  I would play that song, over and over and over, singing and crying.  I know that Dutch is not the Son of God, so of course the words don’t directly apply to Him, but He is a son of God, and I sensed, throughout my whole pregnancy that this little boy was somehow destined for greatness, that God already had His hand on Him for a special use, to spread the gospel and further God’s Kingdom. 

The song is sung by Joseph, and the power of the Words reflect a feeling every parent who desires their child to be used of God, can relate to.  I can only imagine what both Mary and Joseph must have felt, and the joy and the anguish, the honor and the sacrifice.  I taste only a tiny portion of it, and still feel engulfed by that same feeling.  The song goes like this …

 Go to sleep my Son
This manger for your bed
You have a long road before You
Rest Your little head

Can You feel the weight of Your glory?
Do You understand the price?
Does the Father guard Your heart for now
So You can sleep tonight?

Go to sleep my Son
Go and chase Your dreams
This world can wait for one more moment
Go and sleep in peace

I believe the glory of Heaven
Is lying in my arms tonight
Lord, I ask that He for just this moment
Simply be my child

Go to sleep my Son
Baby, close Your eyes
Soon enough You’ll save the day
But for now, dear Child of mine
Oh my Jesus, Sleep tight

This past weekend Jeff pulled out the Mercy Me CD.  Now, my precious son is hardly a baby anymore, and certainly doesn’t want to be cuddled and held still.  But as this song played, I held him close to me and danced with him, singing the song that same way I sang it to him as a newborn, the same way I sang it to him before he was born.  I do know that the glory of Heaven lies in my arms–my son.  I do know that our children have a destiny, a calling, from God, and we as parents are to shepherd, train, and nurture our children to discover that destiny and fulfull that calling.  Even as I consider the shootings over the weekend, it’s scary to know that our precious children will be the ones standing up for Christ in a hostile world tomorrow.  Can we feel the weight of the glory of God?  Do we understand the price?  We must consider these questions.  But for today I’m so thankful that he’s just my child, my blond-haired blue-eyed baby boy who points and claps and dances whenever music comes on.  I’m so thankful for his round cheeks and pundgy feet and the way his thick lashes look laying down against his cheeks when he sleeps.  For now, dear child, sleep tight. 

Sorry! My site has been down for 4-5 days … but we got the problems all fixed and I’m back in action.  This was written last week but never got to post it so here goes.  More to come later …

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No, don’t worry.  I am NOT writing about Billy Ray Cyrus OR his millionaire 14-year-old daughter.  But I do want to write about hearts, and how they do ache.  Do you know the feeling where you long for something so much it aches inside you?  I don’t just mean you want a new car or you want a better job or something, I mean a longing that just feels like it’s boring a hole in your soul?  Yeah, I thought you did. 

I think the thing I battle with is feeling like I’m never quite sure what to do with that ache.  In the past, usually when I’ve had that sort of intense longing, it’s been for something that God does indeed want to do.  We are told in Proverbs that when we delight ourselves in God He will give us the desires of our heart.  However, I think that that speaks more of implanting His desires into our heart (gives us) rather than just giving us the things we want.  So, my prayer is constantly that God would implant His desires into my heart, so that my thoughts and motives and desires are in line with His.  Sometimes it’s easy to know whether things are from Him or not.  An aching to see a loved one saved is obviously a desire from God, we know that God desires that everyone would come to faith in Him.  On the other hand, sinful desires are obviously not from God and we can be safe in refuting those thoughts and desires and setting our minds on things above.  But what about the rest—the world of gray area in the middle?  That’s where we acknowledge that ache, and turn it to God.

That’s how I feel right now.  Jeff and I had a crazy week.  Basically I’ve had a dream in my heart, one of those that aches so bad.  And this week we unexpectedly experienced a glimmer of hope that this might come to pass.  But now is the scary part.  Do I hope in this possibility?  Do I tell myself it’ll never happen so that I guard my heart and don’t get disappointed?  Do I “have faith” and believe that God will do this thing, but then at the same time risk having my heart break in half (or so it feels) if He doesn’t.  What do I do with my emotions?  It keeps me from sleeping.  The possibility of things gets me so excited I can see how God could possibly work some miraculous thing.  But I am so afraid of getting kicked in the gut, that it makes me fearful, especially because of our experience in San Jose (See The Road to Santa Clara under Featured Posts).  So much of what happened there has made me so scared and leery.

Ok, so there are my honest heart questions.  The answer?  I know it in my head.  Surrender my desires to God and say not my will but yours be done, Lord.  Surrender my emotions and thoughts to God, acknowledging them as valid but not letting them carry me away.  Surrender our future to God—He is God and He is good. Have faith in GOD, not in the hope of some certain event happening or event coming true.  Wait on GOD, not on a person or something specific happening. And then pray, being honest with God about my desires and longings and achings, while recognizing that He alone is the best and greatest desire of my life.  It looks so easy on paper, huh?

Oh our hearts are such remarkable things!  So complicated and easily swayed, so powerful and yet so tender.  What I take from this whole discussion is that I long for my heart to ache for God.  I pray that His aches would be our aches.  I pray that we would ache for His glory, for His gospel to be spread, for reconciliation and peace in families, for nations to be saved.  God, help us know how to handle the aches in our hearts, and let us ache for the things of You.  Amen.

Here’s a sneak peak into a side of me that might surprise you and/or you might think is cheesy:  I love the movie Sweet Home Alabama.  As a whole I’m not a huge “chick flick” fan, and I don’t like to cry so watching tear-jerkers is not my idea of a good time.  I think perhaps growing up in Podunkville I rebelled by distancing myself from anything that had to do with twangy country music, rodeos, and Wrangler jeans.  But, there is some mysterious place in my heart that comes alive when I watch Sweet Home Alabama or when I listen to certain country music, or when I daydream about raising my kids in the country and teaching them to catch crawdads and skip rocks.  And what moving back to Molalla has taught me about myself is that I’ve just been plain old prideful.  Somehow I thought that I was too good for this place and that real success meant living in a city and having fashionable things.  Coming back here meant I’d somehow failed. 

I think that’s why I love watching Sweet Home Alabama. Now obviously I am not Melanie Carmichael.  I didn’t go and become a fashion designer and I certainly did not come back home to my high school boyfriend.  I’ve got the man of my dreams right next to me, and wonder of wonders, he loves Molalla too.  What I love about it is that it reminds me that there are some really precious things about living in a small town where everybody knows everybody and you have a history together.  That is so rare these days because we are such a mobile society.  We move so often that nobody has a history with anybody.  But as I look back, I cherish the fact that I lived in the same town my whole life.  Some of my best friends have been my best friends longer than I can remember.  And that history is irreplacable.  Since Jeff and I have moved seven times since we’ve been married (!) I think that longing to stay is extra strong in my heart.  As I contemplate Dutch’s growing up years, I desire that he would have that continuity, that security, that consistency.  In the movie Jake tells Melanie, “You can have roots and wings.”  I pray that Dutch would have both.

I also learned to appreciate the people here.  As we attend and minister at Foothills, our home church, and get to know people, sometimes I feel like our world’s clash.  At times I’ve felt conspicuous, at times awkward, but as I’ve been slow to speak and quick to listen (not always) I’ve come to cherish these precious people.  We may have different educational experiences, different views on certain issues, and different dreams for our life, but we love Jesus all the same and we can learn from each other’s perspectives.  In fact, one of the reasons why I’m thrilled that we’re here is that I feel like the church has so much to offer us and we might, perhaps, hopefully, have something to offer them as well.  We’re certainly not in a sea of clones–but that is what makes it special. 

Lastly, I love watching Sweet Home Alabama because what Melanie discovers is that home is where the man of her dreams is.  Today I was having a rough day, just feeling like that ache for wanting a place of our own, to actually call home, was so strong it burned in my gut.  For whatever reason it just made me so sad today.  On top of that, something else happened that caused me to feel like perhaps our stay here, without a home of our own, would be longer than we’d realized.  At any rate, I felt discouraged.  Mom and Dad were gone, so Jeff and I were just sitting playing with Dutch, and Jeff went over and turned on the stereo and stuck in a CD we’d gottten from a friend’s wedding.   The first song was one he loves to dance with Dutch to, so they danced around the living room while I sat and watched, soaking up the sweetness of the sight.  Then came on the song, You’re Like Comin’ Home by Lonestar, a good ‘ole twangy country song that goes:

Ridin’ restless under broken sky,
Weary traveller, somethin’ missin’ inside,
Always lookin’ for a reason to turn around.
Desperate for a little peace of mind.
Just a little piece of what I left behind:
Well, I found it now: you’re like coming home.

Go head an’ let your hair fall down.
This wanderlust: it’s gone now.
I’m here in your arms; I’m safe from the road again.
These are the days that can’t be erased:
Baby, there isn’t a better place;
You’re like heaven: you’re like coming home.

You’re like a Sunday mornin’, pleasin’ my eyes;
You’re a midsummer’s dream under a star-soaked sky.
That peaceful easy feelin’ at the end of a long, long road.
You’re like coming home;
You’re like coming home, all right.
As the song played, Dutch was happily busying himself with toys, and I went over and curled up on Jeff’s lap, eveloped by his arms, with my head resting on his chest, my face in his neck.  His familiar smell, the sound of his heart, prickle of his face stubble–it all was like coming home.  I just inhaled and lost myself and forgot my silly self-pitying over wanting a place of our own.  He is my home.  Where Jeff and Dutch are–they are my home.  When Dutch was first born, I used to play the Dawson’s Creek song, It feels like Home to Me and sing along while I slow-danced with Dutch in my arms.  I loved singing that song to him while I changed his diaper or got him ready for bed.  Somehow it just seemed right–having Dutch was like home, so perfect and right that it just set my heart at rest.   So yes, it might be cheesy–gleaning life insights from Reese Witherspoon movies and country western songs, but you go ahead and laugh.  I’m going to savor the sound of the river, the cool, clean, country air, the peals of delighted laughter from my son as he plays, and the warmth of Jeff’s arms around me as I sleep tonight.  It’s like comin’ home. 

Falling boys: Well, I am not a mom who overreacts when Dutch gets a little bump or bruise.  He’s already had his share of trips, bumps, and scrapes.  To date he’s fallen off the bed three times, all occuring under (of course) my watch.  Each were in a split second, a quick look away, and whoop! there he went off the bed.  Of course as a mom you feel horrible, but seasoned mothers reasurre that every baby falls off the bed at some point.   In May we were at Lake Shasta and Dutch fell over off the little seat where he was propped and landed on his head on the linoleum.  I wanted to die and I think I was more upset than he was, but thankfully Darcy was there, a mom of two who immediately began telling me when she accidently dropped her son on the tile floor in their home and cut his head open.  Somehow this story made me feel better and less like a negligent mom. 

Well, now that Dutch can crawl around and handle himself just fine, I thought maybe the days of falling down off things were over.  Wrong.  Today, he crawled out of his crib.  Yes.  He crawled up over the edge of his crib and landed on the floor.  We had the edge down just slightly (it was still up to his armpits!) and somehow he managed to get up over the top.  I had friends over and all of a sudden I hear this super loud cry and it sounds like Dutch’s door is open because I can hear him so clearly.  I ran upstairs and I could hear the clicking off the little wooden letters of his name on his door, as if the door was open.  Since I knew I’d shut it I couldn’t figure out why it’d be open unless Jeff was in there, but he wasn’t.  As I got closer, my jaw dropped as I saw that our little boy had apparently gotten out of his crib (by falling!) then crawled over to the door, pushed on it (it doesn’t latch well so it pops open easily) and opened the door and was trying to get out of the door while still crying from his fall.  As I realized what had happened I could not even believe what he had done–and of course I scooped him up and comforted his little sobs and wiped the tears from his face. 

Amazingly enough, there was no damage.  Minutes later he was laughing.  Falling this far for an adult would be like falling off the roof.  But he is just fine, thank You Lord, and we put some wooden wedges in the side so that the side-rail stays up farther.  Goodness gracious. 

Besides that I am just savoring the fact that we have a weekend at home.  Did you hear that?  Home.  Yes, I am at home.  It isn’t my home, but it is home all the same and I’m so happy to be here.  Today there was the tiniest bit of snow fluttering outside, and I watched it fall above the icy cold white water of the river.  This morning Jeff and I took our long walk with Dutch, breathing deeply the fresh country air and thanking God for the beauty of the country.  Tonight I’m making a yummy dinner and maybe even cookies–a Friday night at home deserves a treat!  I’m thankful for a warm house and a fireplace a curious and adventurous little boy who can climb anything.  He must take after his uncle Kris, the rock climber. 

Enjoy your evening too, wherever and whoever you are.  Remember to breathe, laugh, and thank God for life. 

I believe CS Lewis coined the phrase “surprised by joy.”  I love that.  Have you ever been surprised by joy?  I mean, have you ever been caught off guard realizing that your heart has changed and the things which bothered or grieved you before have actually been a source of happiness or at least that your sorrow has been replaced with joy much to your own surprise? 

So many feelings are actually decisions first.  Love is certainly a feeling, but it is first a decision.  Respect is a feeling, but it is first a decision.  Though I love and respsect my husband, often I love and respect him as a decision first, then my feelings follow.  If I choose to not love and respect him, my feelings will dwindle soon thereafter.  But when I choose to love and respect him by my thoughts, words, and actions, my emotions and feelings usually trail along not too far behind.  The same is true of thankfulness and contentment.  At times, I feel thankful and content, and often I don’t.  But the amount of time that I feel thankfulness and contentment is directly proportionate to the amount of time I spent deciding to be those things.  This deciding includes praying for these qualities, taking negative thoughts captive and replacing them with thankful ones, and choosing to look and dwell on the things that I have and love. 

Several recently things have got me thinking along this vein.  The first is obvious: we just celebrate Thanksgiving.  It is unfortunate so it is so often referred to as Turkey Day because the giving of thanks is so much ore worthy of celebration than some oversized bird.  At any rate–I began to think of how thankful I was.  Secondly, my friend Caila (check out her blog on my blogroll) wrote a post about perspective, and how we need the right perspective in order to be thankful.  Third, I was marveling to Jeff on Saturday because I told him that I was thoroughly and honestly loving living here with my parents.  I was, as I said, surprised by joy.  Lastly, my brother shared a message at his church about humility, and so I’ve been pondering that characteristic and exploring facets of it in my mind.  Thankfulness the trademark of humility.  Thankfulness and pride cannot co-exist.  I suppose you could say, “Wow–I am so thankful to myself for being such a wonderful person!” but that seems a little absurd.  When we are thankful and contnent, we are recognizing that we have more than we deserve and all that we need.  Pride is the voice that says we don’t have enough or don’t have what we want.  Humility manifests itself in a thankful heart, and a thankful heart manifests itself through joy. 

So, I have to say, I am surprised by joy.  I am so thankful for my life.  In fact, I want to share with you 10 reasons why I love my life. I could go on forever, but you’d probably get bored.  Perhaps you should write your own list on why you love your life.

1. I have been set free from the power of sin and death and am right with my Heavenly Father, who loves me!

2. I will spend forever with Him in eternal glory in Heaven.

3. I have a husband who loves God and adores me, who is funny, hard-working, intelligent, humble, respectful, and honest.

4. We get to look outside at God’s glorious creation and can’t even see another house–only forest, river, and wildlife.

5. I have a healthy body and am able to walk, run, exericse, and play with Dutch.

6. I have the most beautiful, funny, hilarious, curious little boy who I absolutely adore.

7. We have all that we need in life–clothes, a beautiful home here with my parents, food in the fridge, a car to drive.

8. I live in Oregon, the most beautiful place in the world. 

9. I have the privilege of going to seminary, a rare and amazing experience.

10. I have both my parents and they are still happily married to each other.

Oh. . . and I have this really fun blog and some people actually read it! 🙂