A Worthy Life

happy dress-up day

price-less family wall

Another recent project. A collage of family photos out of, let's face it, junk for less. Most of the frames I had already. I spray painted a few and switched up the mat borders. One is a cabinet door from, you guessed it, Ikea As-Is. The decorative cast iron I found scratched up at a floral shop for a few bucks and continued distressing it to lighten it's reddish tones. One frame is a broken mirror I covered with fabric from an old favorite skirt and the scrolly thing is from an old headboard.

Further proof you don't have to spend a lot to make a custom decoration. Total cost: $13.

cheap-cheap

They say to save the planet we should reuse, reduce, and recycle.

They say to save some money you should reuse, reduce, and recycle.

I say you can and should do both.

For a birthday party we were invited to over the weekend I had less than a week to come up with a gift. On a week when I was home alone with four kids no less. With little time and with a desire to spend as little money as possible I decided to make some decorative boards for the birthday girl's newly painted room. A quick stop at Ikea's As-Is section helped me score one solid cabinet door and a whose-knows-what piece of wood for one buck each. The dollar store had five rolls of ribbon for one buck and two charms for the same. A few minutes with the hot glue gun and embellishments from our craft box and two fabric flower pins (they can be taken off to affix to headband, shirt, purse, etc.) and we had two personalized boards ready for their owner's unique touch.

Ok, Pottery Barn, your board might be bigger and more vivid with lots of colors and patterns. But at $289 a pop you might be headed into a recession since we can make a much, much cheaper version!

and a note from Jo the Plumber

Election Day is just a week away. Over the course of the primaries, debates, and press scrutiny I have been challenged to research and rethink many of the reasons why I would vote and for whom. At the foundation of the decision is honoring one's moral conscience. Many people argue we should be helping "the least of those" among us. Others insist the least among us are the unborn so vote for life. In each I fear that people are seeking the same thing, seeking what was well spoken of in the great novel The Brothers Karamazov: "...all that mans seeks on earth-that is someone to worship, someone to keep his conscience, and some means of uniting all in one unanimous and harmonious anthill, because the universal craving for universal unity is the third and last anguish of man."

Unfortunately for those seeking a savior from our economic and moral recession either candidate will come up far short. For we are a country made up of more than the ideals and plans of one man. We are a nation that was founded on Christian principles and with freedom for all as the ambition. Our nation is the sum of it's individuals and their unique stands and morals.

No man can keep your conscience for you. It must be kept with courage and resolve, refusing to bow to the culture of greed, excess, and self indulgence. It must be exercised with you personally reaching out in your time and your money and your resources to help the least among you.

There are many issues and statements made by both parties that seem to make so much sense. They have dared me to buck tradition and rebel against my first Love. But again, to quote Dostoevsky, "Such things you love not with your mind, not with logic, but with your insides, your guts, you love your first young strength."

One such thing that speaks out from my gut that I cannot silence is an issue that has to do with what lies inside, with what lies inside many women. That issue is the one of Life.

I know what it is like to live with Choice, wishing so much that I could usurp control over the life that was growing inside me as I suffered for months, hemorrhaging and losing strength and health each day. In my case the doctors insisted and pressured me to choose Death so that it could mean a better life for myself and my other children, who they felt should not have to suffer with a disabled and needy sibling. The Life inside should be spared a sub-par life. We should be spared the same.

Our daughter came into Life two and half years ago and has no disabilities or special needs. The doctors wanted to choose but the doctors were wrong. God chose the Life she would live and she has lived each day fulfilling His purpose. The politicians want to choose that Life that has yet not taken it's first breath deserves Death but the politicians are wrong.

On Election Day I will choose to keep my conscience and the freedom to live my life as an exercise in loving the least among me, both young and old, rich and poor, Republican and Democrat. I am not voting for a savior but for the preservation of life and the recognition of it's gift.

Because, don't you think, that's just what "Jo the Plumber" would have me do?!

*I am Jo the Plumber and I approve this message. This is not an endorsement for either candidate nor a plea for you to vote any other way than with your conscience.

Here is another compelling story of the purpose of each life, that there is no sub-par life. Each one was created for a reason. Have tissue ready: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qILw1iFzmIE

true religion

 

A friend of mine had an idea: to reach out to women in need.

So we brainstormed together awhile. Maybe we could provide child care for moms in the same low-income neighborhood that we do BOUNCE and bbqs while offering fellowship time for the moms and have weekly drawings for a free grocery gift card. We nixed that plan after realizing we had 6 kids between us that also needed child care and after soliciting advice and input from full time workers in the area.

My friend then called around to some local nursing homes, offering her time as a volunteer. They would love to have her, until she mentioned she would have two pint size volunteers in tow. She mentioned her frustration to me and I said I would call up a home that I had contact with in years past. The events coordinator welcomed our offer with open arms and met with us to create a schedule of visits and activities. She even had a name for our group: Adopt a Grandparent/child.

This past Wednesday was our first official visit, although the kids had met many of the residents at an earlier visit. The residents were gathered in a room awaiting our arrival and the kids greeted each one and introduced themselves. We started by singing a couple songs a capella with the residents joining in as we taught them the accompanying motions. Snack time was served by pirates and princesses, undercover kids in costume, and then it was time to bust out the volleyball. The residents were all smiles as they and the kids were divided into two teams. Laughter filled the room as kids and residents forgot their ages and joined together as one for an hour of fun and exercise. When it was time to say our goodbyes the kids, who were much more warmed in affection towards their new friends than at the onset of our time, gave and received hugs that left them gasping for air.

I think we've found our niche, my friend and I. A way to share love with those whose daily quota is at a minimum. The bonus was that we found a way to include our kids in a ministry of service while providing an education in respect for elders, giving of yourself, and, as I spoke of later to my children, a lesson that true religion does not take the form of piety and self-indulgence but of looking after the widows in our midst.

Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress... James 1:27

stayed

Earlier this week I had a 50 lb. tumor removed from my back.

Figuratively.

After another consult with my doctor, he mentioned some possible and not so desirable diagnoses for my deteriorating health. I've always wanted a name for my condition. Give me a disease with a face so that I can know my enemy and call it names by name, for goodness' sake. I always figured if I specifically knew the cause of my ailments that I would be that much more prepared to fight it. Turns out, I'm no David and had no desire to fight a 10 foot Goliath by the name of suchandsuch disease. Instead I ran from the office blinded by tears, tears based on an unconfirmed diagnosis mind you. I returned home paralyzed by fear, as if the disease had already advanced to it's final stages in the preceding two hours since the doctor visit and lay as if comatose to my strength and health and life buzzing all around. Later that evening I poured my heart and fears out to my husband who lovingly listened and reminded me that God was in control. The truth, to be sure, but not something that comforts a victim of circumstances that God could have controlled right out of her life. But as I talked and listened to my husband and later to encouragement by a friend, I brought my fears to God Himself.

I believe in the power of prayer. Not only do I believe in the power of the get-down-on-your-knees-and-close-your-eyes-and-pray kind of prayers but I also believe in the power of prayer through singing. No matter that mine is usually off key and with humming in place of forgotten lyrics. In my times of crisis I have found my immediate habit is to comfort myself through song, words whispered in rhythm and melody as old hymns and scripture comes to mind. I first noticed this when in labor with my firstborn. When the severest of contractions would come, instead of screaming, I would call out softly in song, closing my eyes to the pain and getting lost in the comfort of promises set to music. Again, I found myself in the moments of debilitating and unexplained stomach pain rocking myself to peace with stanzas learned in church or choir. Even today I continue singing myself to sleep when my husband is gone or when my soul is unsettled within me with words from my favorite hymns.

Songs such as, "Stayed upon Jehovah, hearts are fully blessed, finding as He promised, perfect peace and rest." I find peace as I recite scripture such as Isaiah 26:3, "You will guard him and keep him in perfect and constant peace whose mind [both its inclination and its character] is stayed on You, because he commits himself to You, leans on You, and hopes confidently in You."

As I cried out to God for comfort from my fear this week, I immediately felt a 50 lb. burden lift from my shoulders. I was no longer bogged down with fear and anxiety but felt strangely buoyed with indescribable strength and peace. The secret to my peace and joy was found only as I stayed my mind on God, on giving thanks for what He has done for me already, on contentment, on trusting that God knows my need and can deliver me from it (should He so desire), and on casting my every care and anxiety to the One who knows and cares for me.

Everyday we are faced with uncertainty in our lives. For most, those anxieties seem to be ever increasing. The economy, our health, the condition of our planet, and the politics of our countries are always on our hearts and minds. Unless we choose to take them and place them into the hands of God.

This week, I want my heart to be Stayed. Stayed upon Jehovah so that a "[tranquil state of a soul assured of its salvation through Christ, and so fearing nothing from God and being content with its earthly lot of whatever sort that is, that peace] which transcends all understanding shall garrison and mount guard over your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus." (Philipians 4:7 Amplified)

Where is your heart stayed??

 

bros/sistahs

: frenemies.

gotta love 'em. just can't stand 'im.
she's so choot! he's a cool dude!
leave me 'lone!! i wanna talk on phone!
i do it. only a little bit.
my papa! my mama!

Sometimes you gotta wonder if a brother was born to help in adversity or if his birth ushered adversity into a sister's world!

Manu, someday you'll grow up to love your older brother. I always wished I had one, someone to teach me mad ball skills, to drive me places, to protect me from bullies, to throw a arm around my shorter shoulders. I didn't get the answer I thought I hoped for. Instead God brought me a big brother in the form of a super cool guy just a few years younger than me. Uncle Dave is the best brother I could've asked for and someday you'll see that Jakes is perfect for you too!

olive ma hummet

(msg to ma hummet's [my husband's] blackberry while on a bizness trip this week)

had an impulse. started trimming my hair. got carried away. too much gone now. it's short. but not too short. hope you like it as much as me. didn't want to scare you when you jumped into bed with a ***** me and a shorter haired me. ;o)

xolv

Dina

ps the pic is the best I could do one armed.

(I've been threatening to cut my hair for a loooooong time. Ma hummet insists it's my [only ?] glory and threatens to disown me if I do. Thought I'd get a chuckle out of him at my prank but he bought it hook, line and sinker. Oops! Good news: he wasn't mad at all. Hmm, something tells me I'm due for a hair appt this weekend! ;o))

mom-pire <:

Is it weird...

...that my love language to my son is ways that I'm going to eat him for dinner or make a Jakie-pizza out of him or bite his cheeks or chomp on his booty or dip him in honey and devour him or squeeze the living daylights out of him or some such terrible and violent act of mama-love?

And yet, strictly forbid him to point play guns at people or use the word 'kill' or freak when I read a Shel Silverstein poem with 'suicide' in it?

Oh, the irony of motherhood!

girls nite

Because every woman/mother/human needs a night to let her hair down and get tipsy on infinite refills of H2O (I really live it up!) and gorge on sensless chatter. Oh, technically it was my second night out of the week. I know, not easy on the pocketbook, but really good in my belly and for my sanity. Wait. Did I mention the date night with the hubby while the kids slept over at dear Ammachi's while we grocery shopped in (near) solitude and stayed up late and slept in late? Yes, it was a good week! Ahh! Now to face a week of mon/tues/wed/thurs/fri-days. Grr.