Tiny Blessing

Today was great. I went for a run, worked on back-to-school stuff, made plans for the new youth track team we're starting this fall, played Blokus with the boys, and ate supper with friends. But today was supposed to be so much different. Today, I was supposed to be having a baby.

We really thought we were done after Max. I was even OK with it, despite thinking that I'd always want to have "just one more." After Max, I felt like our life was complete. I even said, "Heck no!" when people asked if we were going to try one more time for a girl. So, when I called my doctor to ask about some weird period issues and she told me to take a pregnancy test, I was sort of filled with dread. I drove to a different town to pick up the pregnancy test, not wanting rumors to get started in our small community. Wouldn't you know a former student was working the counter. And that pregnancy tests are frequently stolen (I sort of see why now) so now you have to ask for them. Awkward! Anyway, after giving her a clumsy, TMI explanation, I drove home, anxious to take the test to confirm that I was NOT pregnant. After all, I had just bled profusely a few weeks ago. But of course my mind wandered to the what ifs. What if I really was pregnant? We did NOT need a baby right now! Plus, that bleeding couldn't have been good.

I took the test with shaky hands and when I read the results, the word I muttered under my breath was not a nice one. I broke the bad news to Ryan with tears and fears. He was amazing. He right away said, "This is a GOOD thing! We'll be fine." That made me a little hopeful, until I remembered that I'd bled twice recently, once a LOT and with clotting. We decided to try not to get ahead of ourselves. We just prayed and waited. Well - that and I talked out every single possibility ad nauseam.

While I tried to process everything, I made five trips to the doctor in a little over a week's time for blood tests, ultra sounds, results, etc. It was an emotional roller coaster to say the least. At first, I really didn't want the life-altering event of another baby. I couldn't coach track for several years! We'd have five more years of driving to--and paying for--day care! We wouldn't be able to pay off the house as quickly as we had planned! I was going to get fat and stretched out again! And then I saw the baby for what it was - a precious life. Another little Reed or Calvin or Max or maybe a little Ella Raney! Then, I desperately wanted the baby to be all right. And I had a lot of guilt about my reaction when I first thought I was pregnant. The unexpected had brought out an ugly side of me. Things like finances, schedules, coaching, and my body were more important to me than a life. I was sort of brought face to face with my selfishness.

For most of the time, we thought we were dealing with a miscarriage and preparing to process everything when it was all over. I prayed for strength to handle either a miscarriage or a baby (both equally scary possibilities) and I also prayed that God would use this uncertain time as a "reset" button for me. For years - probably every since becoming a mother - I have prayed for the ability to "let go" of so many things, most of them completely stupid. Laundry, cleaning, school work, perfectionism, and unrealistic expectations kept me from enjoying a large percentage of my life. I felt really blessed and life was great and all, but I always carried a lot of stress around. I was so high strung that I rarely FULLY enjoyed the moment - or the people sharing it with me. While I was praying for forgiveness for placing stupid priorities over the life of my baby and asking God to give me a chance to right that wrong, I realized that I had three "babies" already who deserved to be more of a priority in my life. Whether I got a chance to cherish this baby or not, I could start treasuring the children I'd already been blessed with.

After a second ultra-sound, we were told that our dates were wrong. The strange bleeding that I thought was a period was probably oddly-timed ovulation bleeding, not related to the pregnancy. It explained low HCG levels and an undersized embryo at our first ultra sound. It explained how I got pregnant in the first place. The baby was probably fine, just a little younger than we thought. The doctor still wanted to watch closely, but she was confident waiting a month before checking in again. I was so relieved and, just like that, my fears vanished, and I became  so excited about a new little one. I started a secret Pinterest board and reconfigured our house and my schedule and our budget to make room for another little Layton. Ryan settled into cautious optimism, not wanting to get too excited in case things were still not right, but we decided to go ahead and tell the boys on Christmas Eve. They were THRILLED!

After Christmas, we headed to visit my family in Kansas. I started bleeding lightly the night before we left. I cried. We prayed. And we left the next morning, not knowing what else we could do. I bled all the way to my parents' house, dreading every pit stop. It stayed light, but it never really stopped. It continued through the next day, my Dad's birthday. The day after that it got worse and we were pretty sure we knew what was happening. I very much wanted to miscarry on my own--not in a hospital, so I just called the doctor to ask what to expect. Ryan took me to Wal-mart to get thicker pads, and when we got back I decided to take a shower. Within seconds of stepping into the shower, I passed the baby. It was the most awful thing I've ever experienced. I stayed in the shower until the hot water ran out and Ryan came to check on me. We cleaned up and I crawled into bed, exhausted.

Awful as it was, it was such a blessing to be where I was. The boys had no idea anything was going on until we told them. They were sad, but they quickly had lots of people to take their mind off of the sadness and keep them occupied. Ryan was able to be there for me without having to worry about distracting the boys. My sister had suffered a miscarriage about a year before and it was so comforting to have her here. We ended up seeing my aunt who also had a miscarriage years prior and she could speak from experience on the grief.

And God's timing was so evident through the whole ordeal. If I'd lost the baby right away, I would have really struggled with guilt over not wanting him or her. We "had" this baby long enough to want and love it. If I'd lost the baby just a few days into knowing about it, we wouldn't have told the boys. Even though it was hard, I think our family is stronger because of going through pain together. And I don't want to keep a secret like that from them. It could have happened before Christmas break while I was at school. It could have happened while I was at home alone with the boys. It could have happened a few days before we left, when our water heater conked out and we were without hot water for a few days. Or on the road between Missouri and Kansas. Or on my Dad's birthday. Even just twenty minutes earlier and I would have been alone in a stall at Wal-mart.

But it didn't. This fallen world throws some ugly stuff at us, but God gives us what we need to withstand it. I am so glad I was already in the privacy of the shower and Ryan didn't see me go through the loss. For some weird reason, I'm really glad it was just me and God in that awful moment. I was in a warm, soothing place, alone, but surrounded nearby with people who loved me, knew me deeply, and could also distract me and my family from our sadness. Even the date has significance. New Year's Eve. The next day I sort of felt like we could box up the ordeal in 2015 and start 2016 with optimism instead of uncertainty.

And then we headed back to Missouri. Now I realize that our visit delayed the grief a little, because it hit pretty hard after we left. Ryan and I processed it more fully as a couple on the drive home. And then we had a day or two at home before we had to go back to work. Those were the hardest days I think I've ever experienced in my life. I felt so alone in my pain. Sure, Ryan and the boys were sad, but the baby was just an idea to them. I felt like I was supposed to protect and nurture a life, and my body failed.

But I'm grateful God provided those last few days to grieve and pray--and go on a long sobbing walk and then try to croak out the chorus to "Praise You in This Storm" in the shower. I needed that time. And then the real world returned even though I didn't feel ready for it, and going back to work was exactly what I needed to move on with life.

It's strange now, because in some ways it feels like it never happened. And yet God has used the few weeks of that baby's life to change me. I have tried to let go of stupid stressors for YEARS and just couldn't do it. Now, I can't believe I ever worried about some of the things I did. My house has been messier and I've been more relaxed than ever. Oh sure, I freak out every once in awhile, but then we give it a 5-5-5 and I'm good to go. And, I'll be honest here, around the time this all happened, I was to the point where the very presence of my children (and, quite frequently, husband) annoyed me a good portion of the time. I loved them, sure, but more than anything I just wanted them to go away and leave me alone! I won't lie and say I don't still feel like that from time to time, but it's much less often.

And the parts of my life that I thought were going to be "messed up" by a baby I regard with new gratefulness. We enrolled in a Financial Peace University class through our church and are buckling down with our finances. Coaching track this season was so amazing! And I've been eating a little better and exercising a lot more and feel better physically than I have in awhile. I told Ryan that I feel a little guilty about being so happy about the very things that were going to be "ruined" by a baby. But he pointed out that those are the silver linings to our loss, and I shouldn't take the blessings for granted. The other thing that this miscarriage has changed in me is a yearning for heaven. No, I don't want to die young, but I guess I see more clearly what I always knew--that this life is fleeting. We weren't meant for this world forever. And someday, I'll get to hold that baby. The one that I thought was going to "ruin" my life, but whose tiny existence ended up making mine so much sweeter!

Camp Allen

I guess it's official. Reed is no longer a little kid. He's big enough to go to summer camp. Overnight. For a week. With no parental contact. At all.



And he did great. Mama even did fine. Until it was time to pick him up. When we parked, we saw a little blonde head rushing out of the church van. He ran to us, crying. I felt horrible for not calling or sending a package or visiting or picking him up and taking him home so he didn't have to suffer a week of misery at that terrible place!

After hugs all around, though, I asked him if he was ok and he said, "Yeah! It was awesome!" Turns out he wasn't miserable at all.  He just got homesick the day he knew he was coming home. In fact, when he started telling us every.single.detail. about his experience, it sounds like it may have been the best week of his life! It was the quietest week of ours, but it sure was good to have him back!

Children's Church: Lent

I've been posting Sunday school ideas each week in case there are other teachers out there in need of ideas. Check out others here.

I won't be teaching this lesson on Ash Wednesday, but on the Sunday afterward, but I thought I'd post it early in case anyone was scrounging for Wednesday night ideas. Not all of my kids will have even heard of Lent, but I think getting them thinking about Easter and its importance can only be a good thing. 

First, I'll give the kids four different colored papers with Easter verses on them. While I teach the lesson, they'll be cutting the papers into strips and taping them in order to make a scripture chain. Each link of the chain has a verse about Jesus' last days on earth, death, or resurrection. They'll remove and read one a day. There are 43 links, which will get them from the Sunday after Ash Wednesday to Easter Sunday. The links are numbered, but I split them among four pages and printed them on different colored paper, so the chain will have a cute pattern.  I've attached the pdf version of the scripture chain.  

 

While they cut and tape their little hearts out, I'll introduce the kids to Lent with a quick Prezi I made. Embedded in it are three short video clips about Jesus in the desert. I've posted two of them here in case the Prezi doesn't work. The third one was a Lego stop-motion animation narrated by a kid, but I couldn't get it to embed here for some reason. 

Then, I'll tell them the story of the pretzel. Basically, some monks had given up milk and eggs for the Lenten season. They made a special bread with water, flour, and salt. Then, one monk took the dough and shaped it into the traditional pretzel shape to represent arms folded in prayer, the way people prayed in those days (hands crossed over chest) After learning the history of pretzels, we eat them!

Dessert Obsession (and Invention)

If you know me, you know I lika de sweets. I come from a long line of dessert lovers. My siblings and I were just today reminiscing on facebook about the huge bags of powdered donuts Mom used to buy us and how we'd eat the bottom powder crusties with a spoon. My dad still rubs his hands together in anticipation of all things sugary that my mom "whips up" for him. His dad ate raw cookie dough like it was going out of style (he also ate raw hamburger - That trait, I did not inherit). I know the quantity of sugar I consume is a little ridiculous. I know it's not healthy, but I figure I don't smoke, don't drink soda, don't consume too much red meat or alcohol or salty junk food, so I'm doing better than your average American, right? Still, I've given up sweets for Lent most of my non-pregnant adult life (thou shalt not deny a preggo her sugar!) I plan to do the same this year. I like the idea of giving something up that may have become an idol to take a little more time to focus on my walk with God. And though I'm not literally bowing to a statue made of carmel (If I had one, I'd totally eat it), I do spend a LOT of time thinking about, concocting, and consuming sugary deliciousness. So the Lenten season is 46 days (yeah - no one told me about those extra 6 days they snuck in there!) of painful, unfulfilled desire, which I'm sure is good for me physically and spiritually. Yet if I was asked to give up prayer or Bible study for 46 days, I'd probably be relieved to have a little extra time on my hands. In fact, at several points I've probably "given it up" for 46 consecutive days without even knowing it!

Anyway, knowing lent is approaching, I've been celebrating "Fat February" and, since Easter is later this year, a few days in March I like to call "Fat Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday." I know it makes no sense, but we've had Girl Scout cookies, Valentine's candy, Max's birthday paraphernalia, and Krispy Kreme fundraiser donuts on our hands. What's a girl to do? Maybe I'll make myself so sick of sugar I won't miss it. Fat chance.

So, recently I invented a new concoction with Max's leftover birthday ice cream. Because the only thing that ice cream is missing is a little more sugar. And honey.

Sopapilla Ice Cream

- vanilla ice cream
- honey
- cinnamon sugar
- a really big sweet tooth

1) Drizzle honey on ice cream.
2) Sprinkle cinnamon sugar on top.
3) Go into a diabetic coma with a smile on your face.

The first bowl I ate casually standing up in the kitchen, praying no one would notice. But I was selfless and shared my idea with the fam today (mainly so I could have cute pictures of the boys for this blog instead of a picture of me with ice cream dripping down my double chin).

Clearly, that worked out...

Max was napping, so I'll he'll eat his later, but so far 8 thumbs and several fingers up!

Children's Church: Job and Suffering in the World

I've kept up with this feature for a few Sundays now. I'm on a roll! It's to help Sunday school teachers out there who are looking for ideas like I always am. Check out other ideas here.

Job is a tough subject to tackle! But God included his story in His Word and it was in my ABC curriculum, so I thought I'd take a stab at it.

First, I had the kids taste a little pinch each of flour, baking powder, salt, and shortening.

The boy who never smiles for the camera couldn't stop smiling long enough to make a "yucky" face for me. Grrr!

They weren't impressed when I told them we were going to make something out of those ingredients. I led them through this recipe without telling them what they were making:

Clabber Girl Biscuits

- 2 c  flour
- 2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/3 c shortening
- 3/4 c milk
- butter/jelly

1) Mix dry ingredients.
2) Cut in shortening with fork.
3) Add milk and blend lightly with fork until flour is moistened.
4) Knead lightly for 30 seconds.
5) Roll out (we just mooshed out on foil with our fingers) and cut out with round cookie cutter or cup rim.
6) Place on a lightly-greased pan. Brush tops with butter (we skipped this step, but I wish we hadn't).
7) Bake at 475 degrees for 12-15 mn.

I had pre-measured ingredients and put them in baggies to save time. I had three sets of ingredients, 3 bowls/pans/etc. and divided the kids into three tables. After we cleaned up our gargantuan mess (holy cow!) and while the biscuits baked, I led them through the story of Job. I used peg dolls and plastic animals to "act" it out. They got a kick out of it.

Job had a wife, 7 sons, 3 daughters, 7,000 sheep, 3,000 camels, 500 donkeys, and many servants.

We had to use our imagination on the animals just a little...

(My peg dolls were unfinished, but I'd love to make some of these from Watkins Every Flavor Beans blog. How cute are they!?)

We read Job 1: 2,3 and 6-12 and talked about how Job feared God and how Satan was "roaming through the earth and going back and forth in it" (that, in itself, is a lesson) and how Satan said that Job only feared God because he had been blessed. Then, we discussed all of the horrible things that happened to Job in 1:14-19 and 2:7. I knocked over the animals and Job's kids when they died. I put a band-aid on Job when he was infected with boils. Then, we read Job's responses in 1:20-22 and 2:9-10. We discussed how hard that would be, but how Job knew that God was sovereign (one of the words on our "characteristics of God" poster).

Then I briefly summarized what his wife and friends said to Job, and how their advice was wrong, but Job talked to God. He asked God "WHY?" and God more or less said, "I am God! Who are you?" That's hard to hear! But God restored Job's health, wealth, and a new family to him and he "blessed the latter days of Job more than his beginning." I pulled out new animals and children and pulled the band-aid off of Job. Then I told them that people are still reading Job and gaining insight and encouragement from it today. So maybe God knew what he was doing all along.

Then, we sampled our biscuits. I added jelly on top. We compared the individual ingredients to the finished product. We talked about how sometime, life on this fallen earth stinks! And until Jesus returns and creates a new earth, there will always be suffering in this world. Then, we read Romans 8:28 and talked about how not all things on earth are good, but God can use all things for good. And sometimes he adds a little jelly to our lives, too.

Saved

On Wednesday while we were eating supper before heading to church, Reed sheepishly told us that he had gone up for prayer at the front of the church the week prior. We casually asked him what he went up to pray about and he said, "That Jesus would save me."

As a Christian momma, there's nothing more important in the world to me than the salvation of my kiddos. So, this announcement made me so happy. But, if I'm totally honest, it scared me a little too. As a girl who grew up in a Christian home, I don't remember when I accepted Jesus. He was kind of always a part of my life. I knew I had asked him into my heart, but I don't remember one single moment. It was almost more gradual as I matured and started to understand more. I remember rededicating myself at a church function in middle school, but it didn't feel like a huge life-changing moment. In fact, I've never had a huge life-changing moment of faith. And sometimes that causes me to worry that I'm not a "good-enough" Christian. I know where my salvation comes from. I know Who I serve. But my testimony is really boring, and I never feel like I'm serving Him enough.

Reed's faith reminds me so much of mine. His Wednesday night announcement didn't seem like a huge deal. It's not the first time he's prayed for Jesus to save him. As early as we started talking about God, he's always been on God's "side." He's asked deep questions, but always been satisfied with my clumsy answers. He sees everything in the world as so black and white. Even Santa. Several years ago, when he was asked if Santa had visited our house, he replied, "I believe in Jesus, not Santa." Oops. I thought I did a better job of not explaining our personal choices in a judgmental way, but clearly I was wrong. And I know exactly his little mentality. Because I remember seeing certain things (not even necessarily sin) as indicators that you couldn't possibly be a Christian, even though I know my parents never taught me that. If I saw beer in a person's fridge, I was so disappointed in them. I do not want that mentality for my kids! And yet I do want to teach them right from wrong and best from good.

I've been SO careful in the way I word things in moral and religious discussions. I want him to recognize sin, yes. But I don't want him to see people as "good" and "bad." I want him to know that we're all bad! We all need Jesus, whether our sin is murder or sexual sin or gossiping or yelling at people.  Mostly, I want it clear that he's not saved just by default because he lives among other Christians. I think so many "Christians" in America bear that label because it's the box that most closely applies. They're not Muslim or Jewish, so they must be Christian. I don't want that for my boys. I want them to come to faith, yes! But, I want it to be their faith, real to them and freely their choice. I want them to hear, "Well done, good and faithful servant!" when they meet Jesus, not, "Depart from me. I never knew you." And if they do choose it (Lord, PLEASE let them choose it!) I don't want them to take it for granted like I often did/do. I want them to really serve God with their lives, not just give him props on Sunday.

I guess all I can do is give my kids' hearts over to the One who created them. And pray they'll give their hearts over to Him.

Children's Church: Confusion - Tower of Babel

This regular (ha! We'll see...) feature is for Sunday school mamas like me who are easily distracted, especially by Pinterest (a.k.a. The Evil One) and want to see ideas for children's church organized by topic. Check out other topics here.

I love how my ABC curriculum summarizes the history of the world with the 7 C's:

Creation
Corruption (the fall)
Catastrophe (flood)
Confusion (Babel)
Christ (Christmas)
Cross (Easter)
Consummation (end of Earth)

This lesson took two weeks and focused on the fourth "C" - confusion.

First, I gave the kids cards that said "hello" in different languages. They had to find someone with the same language as them, then divide into two groups. Each group then raced to stack coffee cups. Each cup had words from our recent memory verse.  I've seen this done where you write on the lip and stack the cups inside each other like this picture, found at When You Rise.

For this lesson, I wanted a tall tower, though, so I wrote on the body of the cup and had the kids stack top to top and bottom to bottom. I had to alternate writing words right side up and upside down to get it to be readable after it was stacked. The tower looked like this picture, found at The Educators' Spin on it. 

After this, I had the kids build a tower, like this one from Wisconsin Country Mom, only with toothpicks and marshmallows.

I explained in detail how to build a square base, but I gave the next set of instructions in gibberish. I acted really frustrated with them when they didn't understand me, repeating the nonsense words over and over. Of course that led to the story of the Tower of Babel.

We briefly talked about how people groups became separated from one another and over time lost genetic material and had more similar features, like eye color, amount of melanin in skin, hair, etc. We read Acts 17:26-27 and talked about how scientists have mapped the human genome and discovered that there really is only one race. Science confirms the Bible! This also led to a discussion about treating people equal and not judging someone by their physical features. We finished with this craft:

My sample to show the kids what to do

Calvin's finished product. Reed was so meticulous, he didn't finish at church and I'm sure his paper is currently hiding with 1.000 other unfinished-because-I'm-a-perfectionist projects. I wish I could find it, because it was adorable!

 I drew a globe and wrote Acts 17:26a around the edges (I totally would have typed and printed, but my printer was - and still is, months later - not working). Then I gave each kid a baby wipe and spread out ink pads in different flesh colors. The kids were supposed to stamp around the world, wiping their finger clean between colors. Then, they had markers to draw on hair, faces, and bodies. As we worked, I would point out different features, "Oh! Reed put freckles on one of his people. I think freckles are so cute!... Don't forget different eye shapes too. My friend Ann is Korean and has the most beautiful almond-shaped eyes...You could draw people with disabilities. God loves people in wheelchairs too. It's a good thing they'll be no more wheelchairs in heaven, though. Why do we have wheelchairs on earth?..." I thought they'd either rush through it or get bored with the craft before our time was up, but they were almost all very intently working - some even after church dismissed.

A Few Good Men

Ryan's been reading a book given to him by my Gramps. We have so much respect for Gramps. We named Max after him, in fact. He is such a godly man, and full of love and generosity for everyone in his circle of influence - which is huge. Recently, he passed this book on to all of his grandsons along with handwritten notes because he thought it was "valuable for instruction and insight." He suggested that Ryan read it one chapter at a time to let it really soak in. The book is about men "stepping up" into the role that God has for them as leaders. 

This morning while Ryan and I were getting firewood out of the pasture he said he was enjoying the book, especially because it made him more aware that he needs to be consciously teaching our boys exactly what it takes to be good men. We dreamed a little about the future (I was looking forward to the day when we'd have three more sets of hands to help us load the truck with wood!) and just had a great conversation (no naughty boy events this time...)

When we brought the wood down to the house, we recruited our little future men to help unload and stack it. One unnamed child didn't emerge from the house until the truck was halfway unloaded. He made a lame excuse about not being able to find his coat and Daddy launched into a lecture about shirking your duty, doing what needs to be done, etc. Basically a six-year-old version of the "step it up, man" lecture. We left the boys with a task and went back for load #2 with a promise to be back with even more work. Round two went much better, with everyone pulling their own weight. In Max's case, pulling his weight meant making loud grunting noises while throwing chunks of bark near the woodpile. Then, Ryan decided to split a few larger pieces. He had the boys back up so they wouldn't get hit. They lined up nearby and oohed and ahhed at how strong Daddy was. I took that opportunity to brag on what a hard worker Daddy was, and how it's so nice that he keeps us warm in the winter and all the wood we just loaded came from trees that he cut down and sawed into logs without any help from us. "You have a hard workin' daddy," I told them. They admired him for several minutes and I had to shirk my duty long enough to snap this pic.

I love that my boys have a good, strong daddy to look up to. And I love that he has a godly man to learn from, too. My prayer is that someday our boys are the ones wielding their own axes with admiring eyes looking on and that Ryan is the one writing messages inside books for young men in his circle of influence.

Doesn't get much cuter than baby Gramps!

Gramps as a daddy - that's my mom!

Children's Church: Catastrophe - the Flood

If you teach Sunday school or children's church, these Sunday posts are for you. I get so distracted when I look for ideas! So, I thought compiling ideas by topic might be helpful for others--plus it helps me clean up one of my Pinterest boards! Check out other ideas here.

I've been following the Answers Bible Curriculum. It goes through the Bible in chronological order with a strong apologetics component. It has great info, but I've started to supplement with more hands-on activities. Several months ago, I taught several lessons on the flood. I think it's one of the biggest scientific answers to the millions of years interpretation a lot of people come up with when they look at layers of the earth, the fossil record, canyons, continental drift, etc. I wanted to make sure my Sunday school kiddos really saw the flood as a historical event, not just a cute little story. Here are a few of the activities we did over several weeks. 

- Edible ark - the kids built an ark out of graham crackers and filled it with animal crackers. I wish I would've had frosting or peanut butter to aid in construction.  (inspired by a similar snack found at the Easy Preschool Craft blog) 

- Sorting plastic animals into "kinds" - The boys have two massive tubs of animals. I dumped them all out and had groups sort them into similar species. Then we read Genesis 6:20 discussed that Noah wouldn't have had to take as many animals as some people may think. For example, he wouldn't have had to take two horses, zebras, and mules, just two from that kind. The variety in their DNA allowed for many different species to result as the repopulated after the flood. I made sure to include dinosaurs too, to emphasize that Noah would have taken dinosaur kinds. 

- Comparing plastic animals of different sizes; particularly dinosaurs. We discussed that Noah might have taken the babies, because they'd be smaller, live longer, sleep more, and eat less. I shared with them that even the largest dinosaur eggs we've discovered are only about one foot long, so even big dinos started out small.
- Pouring water into a "world" in a pan high enough to cover tall rocks and showing that shorter rocks are covered. This helps kids see why, if the Bible is true, Noah's flood had to be global because it says the highest mountains were covered. 
- Reading the ark dimensions from the Bible. (11 1/2 school buses long and four school buses high) and then analyzing depictions of the ark as realistic or not (I made a slide show of cartoon-y and realistic pictures and had the kids label them as reasonable or ridiculous)
- Fingerprint rainbows  (sorry - can't credit this source - it was a just a pinned photo)

- Discussed how rapid burial is necessary for fossils to form and that the flood would have quickly buried billions of creatures. 
- Fossil cookies (inspired by these from Martha Stewart)

- Fossil necklaces (similar to these from Vintage Paper Moon, though ours didn't turn out nearly as cute) - I used bake-dry clay. The kids cut it into circles or rectangles (with a letter "i" cookie cutter) and punched a hole in it before I baked it and strung it on ball-chain with a large jump ring.

Bittersweet

Today, I turned in my letter of resignation from a job I have loved for almost twelve years. I've gotten misty-eyed, burst into unexpected tears, and full-on ugly cried several times in the last few weeks thinking that soon, the place I've called home won't be "my school" anymore. I'll be an outsider. I'll be leaving students I've watched grow up since kindergarten. I'll be leaving some of my closest friends. My two oldest boys will be leaving theirs.

We sort of always planned for my stay at my current school to be a temporary one. When I took a job there, I was an early childhood major, dead set on teaching kindergarten, but heading into a year of gangly fifth graders. It was one of the lower paying school districts in the area, so I figured I'd just use the opportunity to get my foot in the door of education, tough out the preteens, then find something "better" the next year. Except I fell in love. With the gangly kids, the school, and the community. It felt like a family, not a job. On my first day on the job, I found creatively-wrapped gift bags from total strangers on my new desk. Later, when I asked for advice on a particular student I heard insights into their lives that told me these kids were really known and cared for by their teachers. And in no time I felt known and cared for, too.

A few years ago, Ryan and I started discussing me looking for a different job. The district where he works made sense for our family in a lot of ways. But every time it came down to making a move, I just couldn't bring myself to go for it. A strong sense of loyalty to my home coupled with fear of the unknown pulled me back. We discussed it every year, and it never felt right. I whined that this was all I knew. I loved it. My friends were there. I felt like I made a difference here. Ryan waited patiently, telling me if I never wanted to leave that was ok. I took comfort in that, but something in the back of my head told me a move was inevitable, just not right for now.

Then something changed this year. On a long car ride with my soon-to-graduate sister, we discussed her own fears about finding a teaching job. She could only see herself at the school of her student teaching, same grade, please. It was all she knew. She loved it. She did a great job there. I told her that she would soon feel just the same about whatever classroom she entered, probably within a short period of time. God would put her where He wanted her and she could be happy anywhere. She might even like it better than what she wanted so badly. She turned my advice around on me. Hadn't I felt a nudge in a different direction for several years and used the same excuses to resist it? Couldn't this new place be just as good? In fact, I already had my foot in this community. I taught Sunday school there. Our kids played baseball there. We stalked their library every summer. I cheered on a batch of 30-some teenagers every Cross Country season.

So, I stepped out in faith, and I went to an interview in the same suit a wore 12 years ago (Let's just pretend it fit the same and I didn't have to fold under the totally unbuttoned pants and pray the zipper didn't slip), more qualified, yet somehow less sure of myself than when I was a fresh-faced idealist. I entered the halls of foreign turf, terrified. I arrived early (brownie points?) and got to witness the 3:00 rush. I got smiles and waves from Sunday school kids, summer reading program kids, T-ball moms, friends of Ryan's, Cross Country runners, and acquaintances I couldn't quite put my finger on. The turf wasn't quite so foreign. Several people chatted me up in the office, easing a little of my tension. Then, I faced a panel of six. Of course I felt intimidated, but I also felt like I got to interact with some really great people. People who wouldn't seem so scary if I got the chance to share the halls with them. And soon, I found out I would. I was thrilled! Excited! And also a little sad.

A few weeks ago, I worked the concession stand at homecoming. I wrapped hot dogs and squeezed cheese and made change alongside former students, teased them about where they learned their math skills, admired them for being so diligent or good with customers or able to figure out the popcorn machine. Then I watched them and other former students march in the homecoming guard - lined up in their uniforms, suits, and prom dresses. All those gangly fifth graders had grown up and turned into fine young men and women. I'm so proud that I was a small part of that. I left misty-eyed, fully expecting an ugly cry on the way home. But then I thought about the kids just a few miles down the road. Kids I'll meet next August. Buck-toothed third-graders who will grow up to be fine young men and women someday. I'll watch them march someday too, their uniforms a different color, but I'll still get misty-eyed thinking that I got to be a small part of their "raising."

So, to my old home; thanks for welcoming a clueless college girl and taking her under your wing.  You are where I really grew up, where I really learned to teach. I'm glad I have a few more months to call your school home, your kids, "mine." It's been a privilege and a joy.

And to my new one; I'm not sure all of the reasons God has led me to you, but I can't wait to see what He has in store for this next chapter of my life.

Better than Legos

Sometimes I wonder if anything we say will ever get through the thick little skulls of our children. We try to "train up our children in the way they should go," and it feels like we're constantly teaching little lessons about kindness, sharing, generosity, and gratefulness. And then Christmas happens and it's like they've never even heard of those concepts!

The boys had a slumber party in one bed on Christmas eve and were up so late giggling that they let us sleep in to a decently reasonable hour, as far as Christmas mornings are concerned.

They enthusiastically opened their presents, then spent the rest of the morning feverishly assembling their favorite gifts, the Lego sets they'd received.

The boys were so thrilled with the Legopalooza at our house, that one little gentleman didn't even want to leave to go to the Layton Christmas that afternoon. He was whining that he wouldn't get any Legos there. Insert big speech about nobody owing you any gifts at all, being grateful, Christmas is about Jesus, not you, etc. etc. In one ear and out the other, with a quick trip around the eyes to make them roll. But he got over it, put on a good face, and ended up opening some great  presents, including a Lego set. And he seemed to be genuinely grateful for and happy about all of his new loot. But when I asked the brothers to pose in their new deer hunting get-up, this is what I got:

A mini political statement? Surely not!

Fast forward to the Raney Christmas. When Uncle Trey showed the boys around the playroom, occupied by his cousins, a 2 year-old girl and a 6 week-old baby boy, they found a vanity, dress up clothes, and a million baby dolls and accessories. Calvin took a quick tour of the joint, then announced, "Can we open presents now?" I coulda killed him!

But a few days later, Mr. Selfish redeemed himself and all three boys gave me hope that maybe a little of our instruction is sinking in. My dad had a significant birthday which I will not divulge (I'll just say that it rhymes with pixty). We threw him a little party and after he opened presents, he took the opportunity to share his heart with his family. He told us about how he went to a Bible study with someone years ago and learned about Jesus. When Max heard that name, he piped up with, "Jesus can save you!" Interrupting? Yes, but also true--and cute. My dad (a.k.a. Papa) described how when he accepted Christ he literally felt a warmth crawl up his body and settle in his heart, to which Reed interjected, "That must've been the Holy Spirit!" (I gotta admit--I was sorta bustin' my Sunday-school-teacher-mom buttons right then...) Then he went on to share that from that moment on he knew that God was real. Then, he said that God has communicated to him at various times in his life, including when he told him to marry Mimi. Calvin had to get his two cents in to this speech, so he said, "I'm glad He told you that, cuz' (big eyes and big finger point to Mommy)," which of course elicited an explanation by Reed and random chatter by Max. After the speaker got his audience back under control, he warned us that Satan is spreading two big lies: that God isn't real and that the Bible can't be trusted. Then he encouraged us to seek God and try to learn more about him because He's real and He loves us. "So, I guess that's my gift to you," he concluded. And how did my selfish, toy-obsessed child reply? He perked right up and said, "That's better than Legos!"

That'll preach.

Theology Lesson

Overheard today:


Calvin: You can't interrupt me! You're going to go to hell because you interrupted me...

Daddy: Calvin! Why did you say that?

C: Reed interrupted my while I was saying a Bible thing.

Reed: It's not a Bible verse! He said, "Sticks and stones may break my bones..."

D:  (proceeds to give lecture about Jesus being our judge, not Calvin.)

Max (to Mommy, who was already eavesdropping): Calvin say, "Go to hell" to Reed and he get in trouble!

C: Max!

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This little convo reminded me that earlier this week, while building blocks, Calvin exclaimed, "What the hell!" He genuinely didn't know that what he said was wrong. Welcome to public school, where you learn the 3 R's and all the 4-letter words...

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It's gonna be a long 3-day weekend...

God's Math Doesn't Add Up

I write my prayers down because I have ADD. Proof: This morning, I stopped writing mid-sentence and didn’t realize it until almost lunch time when I noticed my prayer journal still sitting on the table, unfinished. I have no idea what drug me from my talk with the Lord, but if I had to guess, I’d say whatever it was had two legs and a loud mouth. 

Anyway, I looked back and saw this prayer Monday, “Please bless my efforts and multiply my time.” Here’s a run down of my week:

• 14 hours spent at school - completely ready for Open House next week and cleaned-out files. Not going back to my classroom until I have to on Monday.
• Started, worked on, or finished SEVEN crafty projects. Got farther than I ever dreamed.
• Took boys on the first round of school supply shopping and an enjoyable (!?) errand run with SIX stops! (It should go without saying that one of the munchkins was home with Daddy.) 
• Read at least six children’s book a day to the short ones.
• Hung out with friends a few nights -- in a tornadic house (yay, me!)
• Reorganized all of my Pinterest boards.
• Blogged a few posts and started several drafts for the future.
• Laughed at 80 cheesy jokes (we’re on a comedic roll around here) and oohed and ahhed at 132 Lego creations.
• Cooked supper every night.
• Took the kids to another short VBS and attended family night.
• Washed sheets (and blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals) almost every day for a certain bed-wetter whose capacity is increasing dramatically.
• Enjoyed 90% of my time and stressed 0% of it!

People, if you know my day-to-day life, you will immediately recognize that this is a miracle. Most summers, I return to school an entire week before I have to and am NEVER ready for Open House until right when they unlock the doors. Usually, I’m hiding half-finished stuff in the closet when the first parent walks in my classroom. I haven’t been this crafty since my nerdy middle school days when I strung packing peanuts and foil star stickers on dental floss and called it a necklace (I think my tastes have improved since then -- wait for future posts to judge for yourself). And normally when I’m this productive, I’m also stressed out, tired, and totally unable to enjoy my family. I’ve felt relaxed, energized, and like we’re all just doing our thing side by side with occasional intersections. It’s only halfway through Friday as I type this. We still have last-day-of-summer-celebration events planned for the afternoon. 

I can’t explain how it works, but when I let go of pressure and ask God to help me, I am able to do immeasurably more than when I try to do everything on my own strength, running around like this dude...

...only minus the head. My next challenge -- REMEMBER THIS LESSON! 


Linking up to Women Living Well. 

Sloth

June was super amazing. The weather was nice. We were on a great schedule. I was productive. Everyone was happy.  Life was good. Then July hit. We were good until I attended a week-long class for a grant I'm in. That was all it took to get us out of whack. The next week I threw myself into Vacation Bible School preparations (I was the director at our church) and gave myself permission to sleep in. The week after that was VBS week, so I figured, what the heck, sleep in another week, you deserve it. I didn't jog. We went to the garden every few days only to harvest. Housekeeping was nonexistent. I broke my already-loose "no pinning or facebooking when your children are awake" rule. And every morning, I rolled out of bed only when absolutely necessary. Usually a poopy diaper was involved. And the culprit is on a pretty consistent 8:30 B.M. schedule, and waits until the contents of his diaper are no longer completely housed in his diaper, so I was getting to "sleep" almost an extra two hours each morning. (I put "sleep" in quotation marks, because there was a good deal of chasing around the "track" in our house, which goes right through our bedroom. Plus, I had to get up to pour milk and keep an ear out for trouble. But I was in bed and my eyes were closed.)

One morning, I woke up to Max eating mini-wheats in our closet. (?)

It was nice. But it wrecked July. Garden? Total disaster! Benefits of jogging daily for five weeks? Completely erased - and piled on top of by two and a half weeks of sloth (SO not fair, by the way!) Devotions? Maybe once or twice a week. "School at home?" Nope. Productivity? Nil. Mood? Crabby all the time - especially the first hour after getting out of bed. My morning mantra was, "Stop talking so loud! You're hurting my head!"

It wasn't pretty. I knew it, but it was just so hard to drag my butt out of bed, and the days spiraled from there. And then two days ago, I was reading my Bible (for the first time in a week) and came to this verse:

"Do not love sleep, or you will grow poor; stay awake and you will have food to spare." - Proverbs 20:13

I thought, "Yeah, I probably should stop sleeping in and get back on my schedule...starting next Monday," and went about my lazy business for the day. The next morning, a super-runny nose (mine, btw) work me up before two of my children had even stirred. I stumbled out of bed, grabbed a roll of toilet paper and headed back to hit the two-hour snooze button. And that verse from the day before struck me, so I decided to slog through the morning.

Only, I didn't slog. I jogged. And read the Bible. And made breakfast for my kids instead of hoping they put together something healthy on their own (remember I trained them to be independent?) We started tackling the weed jungle that had taken over the garden. We read books and ate popsicles. And then, I proceeded to have the best, and most productive day in a long time! I played badminton with Reed. I painted six pallets and installed two shelves for a super-huge project I'm excited about! I painted a window for another project I've been meaning to do. Max peed on the potty without fussing every time I suggested it, many times with a dry diaper! I worked on my social studies curriculum for this year. I tried a new recipe from Pinterest. Then let the boys help me test a dessert pin. I showered AND put on make-up so I wouldn't look like a skanky slob when Ryan came home from hunting. And at the end of the day, I felt like I had gained six hours, not two.

Guess God knows what he's talking about, huh?

Heathens

Every summer, a coworker and friend of mine invites our boys to her church's vacation Bible school. VBS is their church's biggest outreach event, and my friend is the director. She's an all-star teacher, so she puts on a great VBS. We've been several years, but this summer, I was especially excited because Max is old enough to leave. This year's experience would be two free hours of babysitting a great opportunity for him to learn about Jesus, too.  Like always, my friend and her church put on a great program and the boys really enjoyed themselves. Tonight, when I picked them up, she came over to me to share something that happened. "I asked the kids if they knew what diligent meant and Calvin..." she began. I immediately begin mentally patting myself on the back. Just a week ago, we had discussed diligence in great detail because it was the hero trait of the day in a comic book devotional my Dad had given us. Go on, go on and tell me how brilliant my five-year-old is, I thought to myself, and how spiritually well-trained my kids must be. And she went on. "Calvin raised his hand and said that when you're diligent you do your best job and work hard and don't do a crappy job." Crap. Guess my penchant for potty humor is coming back to bite me in the butt bottom.

To fully appreciate my humiliation, let me share with your a little about the parishioners at this church. It's a small, country church with a small congregation. I'm fairly certain several of the families homeschool. I'm also fairly certain most of the women wear dresses to church every Sunday. At least one woman (my friend's mother-in-law and the late preacher's wife) wears skirts every day. There is some debate about the King James version being the only acceptable version of the Bible for believers to study. I think the thys had it. And I'm not sure, because I read the NIV version, but I'm guessing "crappy" isn't in the King James vernacular.

And now, let me tell you about another experience this congregation had with my lovely middle munchkin a few years ago. On the final VBS family celebration Calvin managed to defile both the painstakingly-crafted watermelon cake (with his fingers) and the side of the church (with his urine).

Now I'm starting to think that there's another reason my friend invites my boys to VBS every summer. It is their church's biggest outreach event.