Sometimes Medicine Comes with a Tail and Four Paws

I'll be honest, I've never been a dog person.  We had a dog growing up, but he and I really didn't like each other.  He was my sister's dog, and that was all there was to it.  I don't remember Scally having a whole lot of personality.  I remember his hot dog breath breathing down my neck on long car trips, I remember him snipping at me as he grew older, and I don't really remember many fond moments with him.  I actually remember being afraid of most dogs growing up.  I've always been more of a cat purrson.

Gretta and Lilly have changed all that (don't worry kitties, Mommy is still a cat purrson too).  Gretta had, and Lilly has, so much personality.  At times, it's easy to forget they are dogs!   Many times, I expected Gretta to verbalize the wisdom that showed in her old eyes, and sometimes, I expect the same from Lilly.  How is it that the oldest and youngest of us seem to be the wisest?  How is it that we lose that wisdom in between childhood and old age?  Whoops, now I'm getting off track--sorry!

Gretta was Noah's dog, but Lilly--she's become mine.  And I really do love this dog.  She's become one of the best things to happen to me.

Gretta joined our family because I insisted that Noah, like all boys, needed a dog.  Shawn was resistant at first, having had--and lost--a childhood dog of his own.  I was persistent, and we soon found the perfect dog for Noah.  Having a dog would teach him responsibility, about loyalty and love, she'd be the friend he'd always have, and there would be so many other great things about the two of them romping through life together.  I was right.  They quickly became inseparable, and she truly loved her boy with all her heart.

Lilly joined our family because I knew she would be the healing balm for our grief wounds when Gretta died. This time when I insisted, Shawn was fully on board, and I didn't have to do any arm twisting.  Again, I was right.  Lilly settled right in with our family without missing a single step, and we haven't once regretted our decision to adopt her.

Life with Lilly has taken a little turn, though.  I really wanted her to be Avery's dog; I recognized that Noah would be busy growing out of us and home over the next several years, and even leaving home, which meant that Avery would be left here with Lilly. And, Noah had already had Gretta.  So, while I had hoped she would attach herself to the boys and become the family's dog, she has attached herself right to my left hip instead.  She still loves the boys and Shawn, and is eager to play with anyone who has a toy in his hand, but I'm the one she centers her life around.  I don't know if it's selfish of me, or just happenstance because I'm the one who is home with her all day, but I'm grateful for her just the same.

I've never been a morning person (I'm still not), but because this puppy needs several walks a day, I drag my sore, tired and weary butt out of bed at the crack of dawn each morning in order to get a walk in before my day gets started.  I love watching her enjoy our early morning walks; her plumed, curled tail flops back and forth as she trots joyously, her nose is lifted to sniff the fresh air, and I swear she smiles.  She barks her morning greetings to the other neighborhood dogs, jumps with excitement (and sometimes tries to chase) when she sees the children gathering at their bus stops, and "talks" to me constantly, chattering in her little doggie language.  After morning chores, during which she follows me throughout the house, sits at my feet, hugs my legs and gives me someone to talk to, we go for another walk.  Then it's errands and picking up Avery, and later, another walk to pick Noah up from the bus stop.

Lilly doesn't like being left alone (she eats everything she can find to show me her displeasure), so I think I'm going to have to start crating her.  I feel like I'm letting her down, especially after everything she's done for me.

Lilly gives me someone to talk to during the day, just as Gretta did.  Sure, the kitties are here, but they're off doing their own things, seldom around for conversation.  This dog makes me laugh--the way she jumps into the picture window when she hears the garage door go up, and I can tell her tail is wagging as fast as it can by the way her head and body are shaking, because she's so excited I'm home, then she jumps to greet me when I walk through the door, wrapping her front paws around my waist in a hug.  It cracks me up to watch her trying to herd the boys in the backyard, and the more boys, the more fun she has!  She gets very frustrated when they all head in opposite directions after she has them where she wants them!  She makes me laugh when she drops a toy in my lap, or at my feet, or brings it to me and keeps it in her mouth, demanding a session of Keep Away instead of Fetch. I love the way she launches herself at me when I'm sitting on the couch and she comes in from playing out back with the boys (her new role in their play is Dr Doom), landing square in my lap; how she lands her kisses all over my face with excitement that I'm finally awake in the morning; the way she sneaks into bed with me, or onto the couch (the two places she's banned from), until Shawn comes to join me.  If she's not settled next to me on the furniture she's not allowed on, she settled at (or on) my feet, or on the floor near my head at bedtime.  She's a fabulous, goofy dog, a terrific addition to our family.  I love her puppy-ness, her happiness, her pure excitement with life.  I'm learning so much from her, and she just makes me happy. She makes me feel unconditionally loved and accepted.  I am missed when I am gone, and greeted wildly when I return.  In her eyes, I can do no wrong.  Everyone should be so loved.

I have to tell you, if it weren't for Lilly, I wouldn't have started this new, much-needed walking routine. My body balks at any kind of exercise and work--not because I'm lazy, but because of my illnesses.  Lilly has been better for me than anything my doctors have prescribed over the last 9 years.  I loved Gretta too, but most days neither of us were inclined to take a walk.  Most days, we sat around comparing our hip pain!  Lilly doesn't understand when Mommy hurts, or when Mommy's body doesn't want to work.  This puppy has more energy than Noah and Avery combined (well, almost....), and the only way to get that energy out is to work it out.  She needs play, she needs exercise, and she needs lots of it!  I'm not exactly walking at a great pace, or even going much further than is necessary for Lilly, but I'm doing it, and to me, that's the important thing.  I'm even looking into running agility with her, or trying to find a way for her to do herding trials, both of which she'd love.  I would never have actively sought out a dog for these sorts of activities (that was my sister's thing), but this is where we've found ourselves!

Now, after I say this, this post will self-destruct.  And we'll never speak of it again, okay?  Because I wouldn't ever want to be caught admitting that exercise might be good for me!  Got that?!?!  But getting out early with Lilly has begun to set my day off right.  I've had a little more energy in the morning, I've felt a little better, and my mood has been a little better.

Medicine doesn't always come in a bottle.  Sometimes it has a tail and four paws, and a goofy, ear-to-ear grin.

Putting Things in Perspective--and Keeping Them There

Our little community has suffered several tragic blows this week.  Earlier in the week, there was another bad car accident involving more high school students; one young man did not survive, his sister was severely injured, and another young man has to live with the choices he made.  Lives changed forever.  My heart aches for their parents, their families, their friends, and the young man who was driving.  Awful.  Still reeling from that blow, we awoke this morning to learn a young girl we rallied around lost her fight with cancer during the night.  This dear child inspired our entire community with her perseverance, her will to fight, and the challenge she gave cancer.  She was amazing in life, and her legacy will live on long after her.

We are mourning, we are praying for the families involved, we are reaching out to love one another.

As always though, there are still those who choose to mumble and grumble.  Negative FB posts abound, pity parties are thrown, nasty things are said...  And we forget.  About perspective.  About the grand scheme of things.  We forget about the blessings we experience each day, beginning with being able to get out of bed and take a deep breath.  We forget about what we do have, forgetting about what others really don't have.

We take things for granted, we take our friends and families for granted, we take our children and our gifts for granted.  We forget to stop and simply enjoy the sunshine on our faces.  We hurry, we rush, we stumble through life wondering what the big deal is.  Everyone experiences a bad day at some point in their lives, but the truth is, it's what we do with that experience, and how we handle it.  We have the choice to mope, or move on--and in moving on, reaching our hands and hearts out to others in need.

I've been concentrating on the gifts I've been granted by my Father, really trying to be grateful for every day I've given, for everything in my life.  I don't want life to pass me by, and I don't want these children to have died in vain.  I want to take lessons from the way Sydney lived--the way she fought to live--and I want to mark the lessons made by the experiences of others.

Sunday night, Noah and I had words, but seeing him get off the bus Monday afternoon, intact, safe--I felt that hiccuppy feeling in my chest and I had to hold back sobs.  I was so grateful to see him, and we're both trying to do better.  Unlike another mom that afternoon, my son came home, and I was able to hug him.  That afternoon, I hugged Noah for all the moms who weren't able to hold their sons.  I was up until 3 this morning with a coughing, asthmatic Avery, but I was able to comfort him, and make him better.  I sang to him and read to him for all the moms who are no longer able to sing and read to their babies. And today, we just snuggled and played.  I'm so grateful for these chances to be their mom.  I'm grateful for the way they bless me, how they touch my life and make it better, even when they frustrate me.  I love these boys.

These are chances we are given.  We get to do these things.  Don't miss out.  Don't let life pass you by.  Don't blow it.  Enjoy every minute of it.  Soak it up.  Live fully, and gratefully.  Go hug your babies, and don't forget to tell your husband how much you love him, and how much you appreciate all that he does for his family.  Give that friend you've been thinking about that long overdue call and just listen.  Put your big girl panties on and keep life in perspective.

No Middle School Blues Here!

This post is loooong overdue.  Truth be told, since Noah started middle school, he's developed more than a bit of an attitude, and I haven't been sure how many nice things I could say about him (after talking with several friends, I learned I'm not the only one, so I'm feeling a little better about that!)!  I figured I'd give it a try this morning and see how I do.

I had a lot of misgivings about sending Noah off to middle school.  I met with the counselor and SPED director last year, I met with the assistant principal over the summer, I debated contacting his teachers when we didn't have an IEP in place, I worried about what his locker would look like two days into the school year (and I worried how many concussions the kid with the locker under his would suffer throughout the school year....  Okay, so I'm STILL worried about that!), I worried about how little time he had between getting his schedule and school starting--you name it, I lost sleep over it.  In the end, I decided to not contact his teachers before school started because I didn't want them to have preconceived opinions of him before they'd even met him.  I wanted them to give Noah a chance, just like the rest of the students.  We went through his schedule several times, and I offered to go more--and got a hand in the face with, "Mom, I totally got this.  Chill."  Alrighty then!  And as always, Noah has surprised me--he does, in fact, seem to have this!  No IEP, no inclusion classes, no "heads up" emails from Mom--he's doing it all on his own.

Sixth grade started off with a bang almost five weeks ago.  So far, so good!  I really don't feel as though I could ask for a better school.  From the administration, to the front office staff, to the nurse, to the resource officer, to the teachers, to the custodians--everyone is there for the students and their best interests.  You're thinking, "Well, isn't that how it's supposed to be?"  Yes it is, but unfortunately, that hasn't always been our previous experience.  We are hugely grateful to be turning over a new leaf with such a great school, and looking forward to three fun years for Noah.  I really just can't say enough good things about this school--we've been so pleased.  It is a comfort to know that Noah is not just physically safe, but emotionally safe as well, and if any issues should arise, all I have to do is pick up the phone and I'll be taken seriously.  On Back to School Night, these teachers and administration genuinely impressed me; there is no reason for any child in this school to do poorly (unless he or she just refuses to do the work), as these teachers are willing to do everything they can to make sure each child does well.  I had to giggle as the assistant principal was making the announcements that night also--I thought to myself, "Oh my, did he really make a joke?"  That sense of humor from an administrator, and a few other things, are new concepts to us!  It's all just a very nice change.

Noah seems to be enjoying his classes, is managing his time well, mastered his locker without any issues, figured out the whole change-for-PE thing (although he has yet to figure out the bring-home-the-uniform-and-wash-it thing....  GROSS), is pulling an A average, and is well liked by his teachers.  I've been in touch with them, and they all said there is no need for a conference at this time, he's doing well, participating (a little too much, but they're working with him on that!) and hasn't had any problems.  This is of great relief to me, as I had nightmares of Noah sprawled out in the middle of the classrooms, completely unorganized with all of his papers, books, folders and other assorted items all over the floor, not getting it together until halfway through the class.  I really feared for him, but he's got it together!  I'm quite proud of him.  It seems the school has thought ahead to children like him, also, and prepared well: The sixth graders are kind of quarantined in one part of the school for most of their academics, they are allowed to the lockers only at certain times and told what they need to grab while there, the teachers strategically place themselves throughout the hallways in case help is needed, and so on.  The first few weeks there was quite a bit of hand holding going on, and it seems the genuine caring and gentleness has continued.  As with Noah's teacher from last year, I always appreciate the teachers who can look past the extra energy and see Noah for who he really is.  It seems that he has been blessed with quite a few of those this year, and I'm very grateful for them.

The students have been placed in enrichment classes based on the area they need help in the most, according to their SOL scores.  I giggled a little when I found out Noah was one of the students they had difficulty placing because his scores were so high.  He said they finally put him in a math class, and "Mom, I'm like, sooooo booooooorrrrrred in there."  Like any mom, I told him to pay attention, maybe there's something new he'll learn.  Noah loves his English teacher, but is having a bit of difficulty with her book rules (certain books can only be read in class because they work in accordance with her lessons) because he loves to read.  I supposed this means she's choosing great books!

Last year before the school year ended, I invited the middle school's resource officer (a sheriff's deputy) over to our home to have a talk with Noah about a few things.  There are some of Noah's behaviors that concern us, and we wanted Noah to understand what could happen if they ever happened outside our home--and even what could happen if they continue to happen in our home, or get worse.  So one afternoon a few months ago, Cpl Ellis came over to talk with Noah.  We talked afterward, and he agreed Noah is not your typical problem-causer.  It appears that Cpl Ellis has been keeping a good eye on Noah this year, without Noah really realizing what Cpl Ellis is doing!  He's a good man, loves the kids in this school, and wants what is best for them, so he looks out for them....  And it just so happens that Noah is on his radar (but not in a bad way--this is a good thing!)!  It's good stuff.

I cut the apron strings a little more this year, so Noah is riding the bus for the first time in his school career.  While he hasn't had to deal with any of the previous years' bullies at school because of how classes, hallway time, lunch, and everything else are handled, there is one of them on his bus.  I'm beginning to understand that Noah tends to instigate some of this other boy's behavior (they are oil and water to each other), but that's not to say the other boy is without fault or Noah is completely at fault.  The first few days I had to hear "J did this" or "J did that."  I finally put my foot down and told Noah that he's going to have to figure out how to get along with this boy, because unless either one of our families moves, they are stuck with each other for the next 6 years.  I told Noah that I don't want to hear about this boy in our house again, and he needs to learn how to make it work.  And you know something?  That was the end of it!  I haven't heard anything about it since.

I also haven't been checking Noah's homework, or keeping track of his work like I have in the past.  I thought for sure this was going to come back to bite me in the rear, but when I checked with his teachers, I learned that Noah has been turning in his homework on time, receiving full credit for correct answers, doing well on quizzes and just generally being responsible.  Whew!

The teachers and staff have these yellow "praise" cards they hand out to students for any kind of good deed, good work, good behavior--just to acknowledge the student and encourage continued good behavior.  Noah earned THREE last week!  He organized one teacher's bookshelves for her (thank you, OCD!), was awarded another one for responsible behavior from another teacher, and received his third one from the assistant principal and resource officer for knowing what to do until the adults arrived when another student was having a seizure (thank you Scouts!).  I think the one I'm most proud of for Noah is the one he received for responsible behavior because it shows how much he's matured in the past few weeks.  Yes, I'm proud of him for knowing what to do in an medical emergency situation, but he was thinking beyond himself, and being responsible for others.  He knew I was picking him up early, which meant he would miss the class he had a group project due in.  He had the project, and realized that if he didn't turn it in the rest of his group would suffer, so he made sure to get it to his teacher before he left the school.  For Noah, that is HUGE.  He was thinking ahead, thinking of others, thinking of consequences, and putting it all together, problem solving on his own.  This is something we've been working for years (literally) with him, and to see it come together like that was amazing.  Yes, his reaction to the medical emergency shows much of the same thing, but I suppose you have to live in our world to fully understand the difference.  And yes, I'm proud of him for knowing what to do in that situation also, and I do recognize that is not a trait most kids his age have.

I'm proud of Noah, and I'm proud of how well he's doing.  All on his own.

Bats in the Belfry

*Yep, you're getting a two-fer today!*

The past week has been horrible for sleep here in the Furr household, especially if you're 3 years old, Mommy, or Daddy.  For some reason unbeknownst to the rest of us, Avery suddenly has bats in his room at night.  Bats that the rest of us can't see, but bats that have sent him into absolute fits of terror nonetheless.

We have cajoled, bribed, danced around his room, done whatever we can to convince Avery there aren't any bats in his room, but the second we turn his light out and shut his door, the poor child  completely melts down, literally sobbing hysterically and screaming about the bats.  If we actually get him to sleep in his own bed, he wakes up screaming hysterically about the bats, and inevitably ends up in our bed.  We've been up rocking with him, singing to him, turning his special light on and off, then on again, moving him to our bed, waking up with him in our bed after he's moved himself....  Like I said, miserable for sleep.  

I have to tell you, trying to fit three people in a double bed is rather difficult, especially when one of them sleeps sideways with his feet in Daddy's ribs and his head on Mommy's bum.  Shawn has woken up to find that Avery has taken his pillows and he has Avery's pillow pet.  I've woken up to a lump at the end of our bed, kicking it (whoops....), thinking it was our 15 pound cat and wondering when in the world he'd put on so much more weight, then realizing the lump was too big to be Jethro, so I thought the puppy had snuck up on our bed.... Nope, it was Avery, tucked down between our feet.  I've found myself clinging to the edge of the bed at 3 am, and Shawn, after falling to the floor, has just stayed there.

Avery has finally slept through the night with this new sleeping arrangement, but Shawn and I have not.

Realizing that we cannot live--or sleep--this way, we've been wracking our brains for solutions.  Desperate for sleep, the other night we outfitted him in his Batman pjs and his Batman mask, convincing him that he would blend in with the bats in his room, and because he is bigger than them, they would think he is their leader and leave him alone.  Ah-ha!  That seemed to appease him and he was eager to give it a try.  Until the lights went out and we shut his door.  Stupid bats.

Longing for respite, I rummaged under the sink for an empty spray bottle, and came up--well, empty handed.  I did find a can of Febreeze, though!  Armed with my "Anti-Bat Spray," I walked into Avery's room with only thing on my mind--ridding his room of the bats, and setting his little mind at ease so we could all get some sleep.  Okay, that's two things.  After asking Avery to point to where the bats were hiding, I sprayed in that general area, then I also gave his room a good once-over, just for good measure.  And because it's always helped him in the past, I anointed my child with oil and said a special prayer of protection over him.  Avery directed me to leave both the Anti-Bat Spray and the oil in his room where he could see him, and with that, he was satisfied.

The can of Febreeze is now empty, and Avery has the best smelling room in the house (I was so afraid it would cause an asthma attack, but God must be on board with the Anti-Bat Spray), but Avery hasn't seemed to notice the can is empty.  Just having the can in his room seems to do the trick, and praise God, we are all finally sleeping through the night!

Off to Preschool

It seems so hard to believe, but Avery is officially a "fwecooer!"  He's quite proud of his new rank in the world, a little disappointed he doesn't get to ride a bus, but still pretty excited about all the new things he's doing.

Unlike with Noah, I had no misgivings about sending Avery off to school.  This child is ready to fly the nest for a few mornings every week, whether I'm ready for it or not.  We still did what we could to prepare Avery for the big event, from making a special trip to buy his beloved Avengers "packpack" that now goes everywhere with us, to talking preschool up as much as we could.  I promised Avery he would sing songs, read books, learn how to write his name, make new friends, and do all kinds of other fun things that I didn't know about.  We read books about getting ready for preschool, we packed his first lunch together, we talked about the fun he'd have, and how Mommy would always come for him right after lunch, every day.

The first day, he bravely walked in, hung his "packpack" on his hook with his own red frog, put his frog in the pond, put Puppy in his cubbie (lovies are allowed to stay in cubbies, and he can check in with Puppy for a hug or a snuggle when he needs to, but no toys--which hasn't been a problem until this morning when he didn't want to leave his "For" hammer and Captain 'Merica shield in the car....), put his lunchbox on the lunchbox bench, went potty and washed his hands--then said, "Mommy, why are you still here?"  He couldn't even work up a crocodile tear for Mommy, so off I went home, to my very quiet, very still house.  *sigh*

When I picked him up that afternoon, I greeted him with as much joy as I could muster, only to be given The Eyebrows.  I excitedly asked him what he'd done that day, and he only sighed melodramatically.  So, I asked him again.  This time he replied, "We didn't sing songs."  Ohhh.  Still trying to be upbeat, I said, "Well, what did you do?  Did you color, or read books, or make new friends?"  He replied, very grumpily, "We didn't sing songs." I was so afraid that would do him in, but he woke up the next morning, at the crack of down, ready to do it again!  And fortunately, Tuesday went very differently:  He came bounding out of the classroom, shouting, "Mommy!  Some man bringed his guitar and we singed somebody's got the whole world in his hands!"  It was just way too cute, and he was so happy! 

Avery is genuinely happy at preschool, and excited to be headed off every morning.  He reminds me every day there are two Averys in his class ("A boy Avery is me, and a girl Avery is the nother Avery"), and he ticks off all the daily activities he will take part in.  

He still hasn't been able to eek out even one crocodile tear for Mommy, but that means he's settled into the routine very well for his teachers.  He didn't have any problem switching back into daycare mode for Thursday, but was very disappointed to find out we didn't have anything more exciting than grocery shopping planned for Friday ("Then we go to fwecool after Walmart, Mommy?").  Poor kid!

*As for daycare, I really do feel that I need to give Avery's daycare teachers their proper credit here; I think the transition to preschool was so easy for Avery because of everything they do upstairs with these little ones.  Avery was already used to the structure, routine, and other aspects of being part of a toddler group.  It is also most likely what made saying goodbye to Mommy so easy that first day!  His daycare teachers continue to bless us tremendously!*

Avery has great teachers, and everyone there remembers Noah, so it's been a gift to be able to come back to this preschool.  We truly love Noah's teacher, but with the help of the director, decided to pair Avery up with a different teacher--and we truly love her too!  This preschool was a blessing when Noah was there, and I can see it still is.  Preschool and daycare are in the same church, so it's meant less change and more consistency for Avery, too--another huge blessing!

Hanging his Avengers "packpack" on his red froggie hook.

Ready for the Froggie class!

We found his froggie in the pond, it's right above his head.

Are we really sure he's old enough for preschool?

First day of preschool!

Off to Preschool!

Pets are Punny... I mean, Funny

The pets in our home are people too, and I'm always trying to figure out exactly what's going through their minds.  I'm sure, if I knew, I would be completely appalled... Our pets are not without an extreme amount of personality (or purrsonality, in the case of the kitties....), and I find their antics quite amusing.  This week's photos seemed to supply quite a bit of caption-worthy material.

"Dad! Talk to me!  What did they do to you?"

"Um, Mommy, I don't see any coupons for kitty treats or canned food."

"There's a DOG on the couch????  WHERE???"

"You don't see me.  And neither does that puppy!  I'm blending in....  Shhh..."

"Dude, Dad that was my escape hole.  Why are you patching it up?  Now I'm gonna have to start all over, and I gotta tell ya, that wall does NOT taste good at all!"

"NO, you may NOT have your recipe book.  Not unless you're cooking for me!"

"Oh maaaaaan....  I totally shoulda stayed away from that wicker basket and slipper cosmo!"

"Ohhhhh.... give me a home, where the buffalo roam...."

"What do you mean this isn't the dog bed?"

"I'm making copies of my heart for you, Mommy!"

Our God Reigns

As all of you know, today is the 11th anniversary of the terrorist attacks on America.  Even for those of us not personally affected by the death of a loved one on that awful day, many of us are still deeply affected, for lack of a better word.

My intent tonight is not to rehash that day, even though it has been in the forefront of my mind all day.  I cried as I saw gentlemen hanging American flags on Main St, and I bawled when the local radio station played our national anthem at 8:46, followed by Proud to Be an American.  Truthfully, I did my best to stay away from mainstream radio and tv today.

My children do not know what it is like to live in a pre-terrorism/war-free country.  Noah was almost eight months old on September 11, 2011, and of course, Avery wasn't yet to be.  As their mom, I feel it is part of my job to educate them, to help them understand what happened that day: What it was like, what happened, what I remember, how much of an impact it made on every single American.  Avery is too young to understand any of this, but Noah is reaching the age at which he can grasp the concepts.

I started talking with Noah about it last night, explaining how vivid my memories still are, right down to what I was wearing, what he was wearing, and what we were playing with on the floor when Shawn called me from work.  I talked with him about the rest: How my mom was supposed to fly back from Maine the next day but couldn't, how my uncle had to buy a car to get home from Las Vegas because trains, buses and planes were grounded, how phone calls couldn't get through, how my dad was in DC when the plane hit the Pentagon and Daddy was less than five miles from Dulles, and just how frightened we all were.  I explained to him how the country literally stopped, how we all just stood still for days on end, praying for survivors and happy endings.  I told Noah that even today, scientists and other specialists still continue to sift through the rubble, which has been moved to other locations, hoping to find something, anything, for surviving family members to have for burial or memorial purposes.

Noah, as always, wasn't without his observations and questions.  He wanted to know why they haven't rebuilt the World Trade Center.  I told him that for a lot of people, it would hurt too much, and that it would it be too difficult for them to return to those rebuilt buildings.  I reminded him what he told me after Gretta died: That he would never be able to own another Chocolate Lab again because it would hurt too much.  I told him it would be something like that, a painful reminder for many people, so instead they are building memorials.  Noah also wanted to know why God allows evil, if I thought that sometimes God maybe allows evil so we can learn to rely on Him and see His greatness.  Oh child, I don't know if I can keep up with you sometimes.

I did my best to explain that God does not allow evil.  Evil exists in this world because we are human, and as humans, we have been given free will.  I told Noah that evil makes God sad, but yes, there are times even evil can be used for good.  There are ways for God's light to shine through the evil, and as Believers, that should always be our ultimate goal: for others to see God in us, even through the worst of times.

Noah still wanted to know why God allows bad things to happen.

This was when I got my Bible out.  I took Bible-based disaster training a few years ago.  The chaplain who taught who the course happened to have been one of the first responders at the Pentagon, and worked with pilots and flight attendants after the attacks.  He told us the question he heard the most was "If God is so powerful, why did He allow this?  Why didn't He stop these attacks?"  While this chaplain did not have exact answers to these questions, he was able to give Biblical examples of God's Providence.  These were the answers I gave Noah to his "Why?" question:

* Protection from the crisis event.   Psalm 91: Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.”
Surely he will save you from the fowler’s snare and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.  You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday. A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you. You will only observe with your eyes and see the punishment of the wicked.  If you say, “The Lord is my refuge," and you make the Most High your dwelling, no harm will overtake you, no disaster will come near your tent.  For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways;  they will lift you up in their hands,  so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.  You will tread on the lion and the cobra and you will trample the great lion and the serpent. “Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him;  I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.  He will call on me, and I will answer him;  I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him and honor him.  With long life I will satisfy him and show him my salvation.”

*Preservation through the crisis event.  Psalm 18: 1-6: I love you, Lord, my strength.  The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.  I called to the Lord, who is worthy of praise and I have been saved from my enemies.  The cords of death entangled me; the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me.  The cords of the grave coiled around me; the snares of death confronted me.  In my distress I called to the Lord;  I cried to my God for help.  From his temple he heard my voice;  my cry came before him, into his ears.

*Presence in crisis event.  Psalm 23:  The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.  He makes me lie down in green pastures,  he leads me beside quiet waters,  he refreshes my soul.  He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake.
 Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.  Surely your goodness and love will follow me  all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Noah and I talked about what all of these mean, we went over them line by line, and we talked about what these Biblical answers mean to us as Believers.  I don't know how much more Noah--or even I, myself--understands about where God is when bad things happen, and moreover, why bad things happen--but one thing we do know is that our God is with us always.  He reigns, plain and simple.

I Locked My Kid in My Car

Accidentally, of course.

This week I'll be making a special delivery to the local sheriff's department with fresh-baked bread, cookies and thank you notes for two local heroes.  I'm incredibly grateful to Deputies Coppage and Pennington for helping me, and Avery, out--literally.

Lately we've been dealing with a lot of Noah issues and I've been incredibly distracted by them.  The distraction nearly drove me to insanity last Thursday!  I'd made a trip through the Starbucks drive-thru for a sanity-saving chai (again...), and inhaled the blessed scent the entire way home, while Avery chattered non-stop about his morning at Kingdom's Kids while I'd been at "work."  I was grateful the rain had finally let up, so I just cruised home on auto-pilot.

I pulled the car in the garage,  turned it off and realized I hadn't rolled the windows down, as I've gotten in the habit of doing.  At that point I just wanted to sit on the couch for a few minutes and sip my chai relatively undisturbed, so I figured, "Oh the heck with it," tossed the keys on the passenger seat along with my cell phone, got out of the car, popped the unlock/lock button and slammed my door shut while reaching for Avery's door.  And it hit me....  I'd just locked my child, my keys and my cell phone (and my chai)--AND MY CHILD--in the car with the windows up.  In my distracted desperation for a few quiet moments, I'd locked the car rather than unlocked it.  Really?  

I found a pry bar and attempted to pry my driver's side door open (Avery's fine...  Are you laughing yet?).  I told Avery to try to unbuckle his car seat and reach the keys or the front door.  The one time his car seat works when I don't want it to...  And having him reach for his door to unlock it was pointless because we'd engaged the child safety lock after he'd opened his door while I was zipping down the highway at 65 mph.  After realizing there was no way I could pry the door open, and realizing Avery didn't have the strength to pop that final button on his car seat, I resorted to banging on the back window with a hammer, hoping to break it.  At this point, if any neighbors were watching, I'm sure they were backing away from the screaming, crying, banging crazy lady as quickly as possible.  I had Avery cover his head with his blankie, and hit that window as hard as I could, only to realize my rotten body was betraying me once again--I just didn't have the strength to make it happen.

After telling Avery I'd be right back--thank goodness he thought this was just a grand adventure--I tracked down a neighbor who was home, and we called the police, who dispatched someone to help me out.  My neighbor did what she could to calm me down--and God bless her, she prayed over the situation--and waited with me and Avery in our garage, singing songs and ABCs with Avery while I was wringing my hands.  After what seemed like forever, but I'm sure in reality really wasn't that long, two police cars pulled into our driveway--lights, sirens and all.  That's right, THIS IS MY BABY, PEOPLE!  About 30 seconds after pulling into our driveway, Avery was out of the car, happily sipping on a juice box, and refusing to share his Cheez Its with Deputy Coppage....  And I was in tears of relief.  I'm very grateful these men were gentlemen enough to hold their laughter in until after they'd returned to their cars!

Shawn, of course, has yet to let me live it down.  He said his first thought upon hearing Avery tell him--over the phone--"The fohweece hep me Daddy!" was "WHERE IS MY WIFE???  WHY IS MY SON CALLING ME AND TELLING ME THE POLICE HELPED HIM?"  He said it didn't even occur to him that the phone call had come from our home phone, or that it wouldn't be Avery calling if something had happened, it would either be social services or the police.  Even though Avery seemed to think it was a grand adventure while it was all happening, it apparently did traumatize him enough to cause him some panic when Shawn put him in his car seat to teach him how to unbuckle himself.  My BABY!

I am beyond relieved that Avery is okay and the day was not hotter or more humid than it was.  I am also extremely grateful for a praying neighbor who was home and available to help, and two deputies ready to answer my call for help.

Have I learned anything from this?  Yes:  We're stockpiling house keys, car keys and an extra cell phone in our garage from now on.  Oh, and we're never leaving the house again, either.  Ever.

Ah yes.  Another left field story for the books.

How to Really Frustrate a Toddler

As you know, I do a lot of baking.  I'm always in the kitchen, usually clothed in flour, and frequently perfumed by vanilla, cinnamon and sugar.  My kitchen work is my therapy, my livelihood, my ministry.  It's what makes me tick.  In my kitchen, I can provide for my family, I can provide for friends and their families, and I can provide for families I've never met.  I can say thank you, I can say you're welcome, I can say I love you, with the products of my kitchen.

Sometimes, my baking and cooking drives my family nuts.  Their least favorite words?  "Hands off, that's not for you!"  Pretty much, nine times out of ten, it really isn't for them.  Poor guys.

This is a seriously frustrating bone of contention, especially for Avery.  

Sometimes, he figures a way around it and takes it for himself anyway.....

Sometimes, he gets to help with the baking, cooking, and prep work.....

Always, he is given the job of Mommy's Official Clean-Up Helper, and that makes all his frustration worth his while!

She's Here! She's Here!

Let all creation sing!

Kierstyn Ann, my niece Katie's first child, finally arrived early Saturday morning, making me a great aunt!  She's beautiful, but I'm sure I'm just partial.  Her tiny little head fits in the palm of my hand.  She makes the sweetest little squeaks, and she snuggles in just right.

I love this beautiful little girl, and I'm honored to be her Great Mamie.

Congratulations Katie and Todd...  Kierstyn, Great Mamie loves you so very much.  I promise that you will never run out of hair bows, dresses and pink clothing, and I promise to teach you about God's love for you.  May the Lord bless you and keep you always.

 For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.  Jeremiah 29:11