I feel like it's been busier than usual. Sarah and Abby have both had some major events this past week.
Abby's was on Saturday. She attended her first rated Working Equitation show. The shows she's been attending have been schooling shows and she has had the opportunity to learn even while competing. She has really taken those things she's learned and applied them. She's always scored well in Ease of Handling (EOH). Dressage has been her difficult test. But each time she's competed her personal score has been higher than the time before.
This was an exciting show. Dressage is always first. I knew when they came out that they did excellent. They ended up placing 1st in Dressage!
EOH was next. I was a little concerned here. Obi's best obstacle is typically the gate. They excel at this point. But he did not do well this time. Okay, he did well, but not what he is capable of. They still looked great throughout the entire test, but I knew it wasn't their personal best. They placed 2nd in EOH!
Their combined scores were high enough that they placed 1st overall! Wow! What an exciting first rated show! Abby was pretty elated...
Later that day we headed over to help Sarah with her campaigning. And Monday. And Tuesday. 😜 The girls had already been helping prior to this final week, but this was "crunch time" and required all of us!
Of course, Sarah's big event was the primary on Tuesday. I am certainly glad that the primary is over. And that Sarah comes home today! 😍
So Sarah will not be going to DC. I must admit, there's a little relief there. I wasn't really looking forward to it but I would have been happy for her if it had worked out. There are still many plans ahead and I have a feeling she won't sit still for long. All in the Lord's timing and plan... However, Abby found out this week that she was accepted as an intern at a facility in New Mexico! Aargh! I think they are racing to see who can put the most gray hairs on my head the fastest! 😁
Last Saturday, Michael and I headed over to Nichols Hills to help campaign as well. During the course of our door knocking, we met many interesting people. One lady I met was astounded at the number of children we have. Our conversation has been heavy on my mind.
She regrets the way she raised her 3 children. She said that she raised them in fear of what was going on around us. Now two them have remained single and one is married with one child. She is in her 80s. She said, "I wish more Christians weren't afraid to bring children into this world."
It made me think of how much we let fear control our lives. Fear of the unknown. Fear of the known. Fear of trouble. Fear of heartache.
But the truth is, God calls us. He doesn't call us to a life of ease and luxury. He calls us to duty. The plan He has laid out for us is to marry and replenish the earth. We were meant to do this. Our work is all secondary. He never told us to have children only when they would face no hardship. Look at the Christian's of Nero's day. I wonder how many of them would have intentionally chosen not to have children to keep them from Nero's wickedness.
It is definitely hard. I fear for the things my children will face in future years. I fear for what their children will face. But that fear cannot prevent us from doing God's will, fulfilling His plan.
However, it does do 2 things: it keeps me ever on my knees and it's what keeps me active in our government, fighting for freedoms. I fight to do my best to prevent my children from having to face what I fear is coming. When it does come, I pray for God's sustaining hand over them.
"Cause me to hear Your lovingkindness in the morning, for in You do I trust; Cause me to know the way in which I should walk, for I lift up my soul to You." Psalm 143:8
Thursday, June 28, 2018
Thursday, June 21, 2018
Yep!
Words are important.
I've always known that. Words have an impact and they make a statement about who you are.
Long ago, Michael and I decided that we wanted to raise our children to be people who showed honor to others. We have always required them to use "complete" words (like "yes," instead of "yeah"). It has always been a pet peeve of mine. They have always done well with it. I notice it in others. When a person replies to me with a "yes," instead of "yeah," it tells me something about their character and who they are. Especially when they don't give a one-word reply ("yes, thank you" or "yes, m'am" instead).
But we have gotten lax. Severely.
You see, William never said yes. He couldn't. He always had a hard time with 's'. We worked on it, but it was only at the very end of his life that he began to be able to say 's,' sometimes. Somehow, his signature word became "YEP!" (I'm really glad it wasn't "yeah," although I don't know how that happened).
As a family, we kind of played with him with "yep," responding to him in like manner. It was just the cutest thing. I loved his "yep!" I miss that sound terribly.
But I've noticed that we've also gotten very lax regarding our speech. Michael and I don't even notice when our children use words like "yeah" now. But we're starting to move out of that fog and remember things again.
Training has begun. 😉
So if you notice any of us using a shortened form of "yes" or "no," by all means, correct us. Please. Unless it's "yep." We're going to hang on to that one.
I've always known that. Words have an impact and they make a statement about who you are.
Long ago, Michael and I decided that we wanted to raise our children to be people who showed honor to others. We have always required them to use "complete" words (like "yes," instead of "yeah"). It has always been a pet peeve of mine. They have always done well with it. I notice it in others. When a person replies to me with a "yes," instead of "yeah," it tells me something about their character and who they are. Especially when they don't give a one-word reply ("yes, thank you" or "yes, m'am" instead).
But we have gotten lax. Severely.
You see, William never said yes. He couldn't. He always had a hard time with 's'. We worked on it, but it was only at the very end of his life that he began to be able to say 's,' sometimes. Somehow, his signature word became "YEP!" (I'm really glad it wasn't "yeah," although I don't know how that happened).
As a family, we kind of played with him with "yep," responding to him in like manner. It was just the cutest thing. I loved his "yep!" I miss that sound terribly.
But I've noticed that we've also gotten very lax regarding our speech. Michael and I don't even notice when our children use words like "yeah" now. But we're starting to move out of that fog and remember things again.
Training has begun. 😉
So if you notice any of us using a shortened form of "yes" or "no," by all means, correct us. Please. Unless it's "yep." We're going to hang on to that one.
Thursday, June 14, 2018
Learning to Stay
I have always been a runner.
No, not exercise. I hate that kind of running. But I've never been one to put down roots.
Even growing up, my childhood was topsy-turvey and helter-skelter. I never stayed in one place very long...or around the same people, really. I do not know one single person from my childhood. My oldest friend is one I made after I married Michael.
Over my entire childhood, I think I averaged a move about every 2 years. It became every 3 years after my mother married my father who adopted me when I was 13.
When Michael and I married, we lived in a tiny house. I fought moving because I really wanted to be "normal." I wanted to be like those people who stay put. We ended up moving during my pregnancy with Abby. Three children in a 2-bedroom house was just too cramped.
So the next house I declared we would stay in forever. Or at least until we found our dream location.
We ended up staying 10 years. That seemed an eternity for me.
Several things nudged us into moving at that time. I still really, really wanted to wait until we found "the" place, but it just wasn't to be.
The next 10 years were insane. I forget how many moves we averaged. Ugh.
But in a way, it was kind of normal.
At the sign of trouble, my first instinct has always been to pick up and go.
And if I'm honest, I'll admit that we have discussed running away several times over the last few years, amidst all the turmoil and heartache. And I think we would have done it, but God closed every door.
I'm thankful that He did.
We finally feel ready and able to plant roots.
We feel home.
Things are definitely not perfect, but I believe we are where we belong.
I was counting up moves today. I could only remember 10 during the course of our marriage but considering we stayed in one place for 10 years, that's pretty significant. But the funny thing is, we have only belonged to 3 churches. We have consistently attended for the entirety of our marriage, yet in all the moves we didn't move churches.
I don't know why that struck me as such a pertinent item of recognition, but it did.
Perhaps it is because we have been attending a different church for several months.
I like it. I really do.
There are so many positives about it.
The theology is good. The teaching is good. I love the challenge and growth I see in my children. Well, all of us, really. They practice the Regulative Principle of Worship (major plus). There is solidarity and consistency. I appreciate the worship. I really like the order of service. All the little things that really don't matter...I like them. Of course the big, must-haves are there.
You know what's missing?
William.
I know it is irrational and unfair, but I have such a hard time "plugging in" to a place where no one knew William. I just don't feel like someone can really know us without knowing him.
Our church friends have always been our "family." I have to wonder if we'll ever be able to achieve that again...
No, not exercise. I hate that kind of running. But I've never been one to put down roots.
Even growing up, my childhood was topsy-turvey and helter-skelter. I never stayed in one place very long...or around the same people, really. I do not know one single person from my childhood. My oldest friend is one I made after I married Michael.
Over my entire childhood, I think I averaged a move about every 2 years. It became every 3 years after my mother married my father who adopted me when I was 13.
When Michael and I married, we lived in a tiny house. I fought moving because I really wanted to be "normal." I wanted to be like those people who stay put. We ended up moving during my pregnancy with Abby. Three children in a 2-bedroom house was just too cramped.
So the next house I declared we would stay in forever. Or at least until we found our dream location.
We ended up staying 10 years. That seemed an eternity for me.
Several things nudged us into moving at that time. I still really, really wanted to wait until we found "the" place, but it just wasn't to be.
The next 10 years were insane. I forget how many moves we averaged. Ugh.
But in a way, it was kind of normal.
At the sign of trouble, my first instinct has always been to pick up and go.
And if I'm honest, I'll admit that we have discussed running away several times over the last few years, amidst all the turmoil and heartache. And I think we would have done it, but God closed every door.
I'm thankful that He did.
We finally feel ready and able to plant roots.
We feel home.
Things are definitely not perfect, but I believe we are where we belong.
I was counting up moves today. I could only remember 10 during the course of our marriage but considering we stayed in one place for 10 years, that's pretty significant. But the funny thing is, we have only belonged to 3 churches. We have consistently attended for the entirety of our marriage, yet in all the moves we didn't move churches.
I don't know why that struck me as such a pertinent item of recognition, but it did.
Perhaps it is because we have been attending a different church for several months.
I like it. I really do.
There are so many positives about it.
The theology is good. The teaching is good. I love the challenge and growth I see in my children. Well, all of us, really. They practice the Regulative Principle of Worship (major plus). There is solidarity and consistency. I appreciate the worship. I really like the order of service. All the little things that really don't matter...I like them. Of course the big, must-haves are there.
You know what's missing?
William.
I know it is irrational and unfair, but I have such a hard time "plugging in" to a place where no one knew William. I just don't feel like someone can really know us without knowing him.
Our church friends have always been our "family." I have to wonder if we'll ever be able to achieve that again...
Thursday, June 7, 2018
On Grief and Regrets
I am rather late making my Thursday post. I've been wrestling with my thoughts. Quite honestly, I've been wrestling with just how vulnerable to be.
The most moving part of the funeral, for me, was when Dylan spoke. He talked about their time together. It was so short, but sweet and meaningful. I am so thankful that they found each other and committed to each other early on. What a beautiful testimony.
I'm tired. Not physically tired, just tired.
We got back from Dianna's funeral just this morning. It was sweet. And heartbreaking.
I got to hold sweet little Vincent through the funeral. At one point, I looked down at him and smiled. He looked right into my eyes and gave me the biggest, dimpled grin. That was when the tears started.
Oh, that sweet innocence.
Oh, how much he looks like his precious Momma.
Oh, how my heart breaks for Dylan.
The most moving part of the funeral, for me, was when Dylan spoke. He talked about their time together. It was so short, but sweet and meaningful. I am so thankful that they found each other and committed to each other early on. What a beautiful testimony.
But he also talked about having no regrets and taking care of issues as they arise. No secrets. No anger. Nothing hidden. Just openness and love. He talked about making our relationships right and valuing them, while we have the opportunity. One thing he said, in particular, stood out to me.
We are told over and over again that we aren't promised tomorrow. We say that we understand it and we might even believe it. But that's not how we live our lives. We live like there will always be time to say the things that need to be said, to make things right, to give love or forgiveness where it should be.
But there isn't.
There's never enough time.
God has only given us now. Now is the time.
The thing about not saying what needs to be said is, it's hard on those left behind. Over and over and over again, on grief sites, I see some heartbreaking rendition of, "If only I had known...I would have done ______ or said ________." Basically, I would have done things differently.
That is one thing that I have great peace over. I know, without a single doubt, that William knew how much he was loved. I don't have to regret what wasn't said or done. I don't have to wonder if he knew. I spent his last night cuddled in the chair next to him. Of course, I never dreamed it would be my last night with him. But I'm ever so grateful that it was spent loving him. Like so many other nights.
I'm thankful that Dylan has that assurance, too. Nothing left unsaid, undone. No regrets.
Relationships have always been somewhat difficult for me. I've never let myself get too attached but have generally kept people at arm's length. Michael is an anomaly.😍 But since William's death, I've tried to make every effort to change that. I want the people I care about to know it. I don't want to leave them wondering. I want there to be no doubt in their mind that they matter to me.
Sometimes it's a struggle and sometimes it's awkward, but I'm trying.