Thirsty Grass: A Thing of the Past

After a long five hour drive on Friday, we made it back safely.

I always feel such a sadness to leave my family, but I love the feeling of opening the front door and knowing that we are indeed home. Park usually runs around reacquainting himself with his favorite toys while Chris and I unload suitcases and reminisce about our time away. There is just something very calming about sleeping in your own bed, with all the comforts of the familiar surrounding you.

And now I'm going to abruptly shatter any serenity the above description may have conjured up by switching gears into something far less beautiful.

Urination.

Judging from the amount of times we stopped for Park's roadside relief, I pity any mommies of recently potty trained girls who frequently take trips on long country roads. "Don't worry, sweetie, there is a bathroom just 20 miles ahead" just doesn't cut it when your tiny bladder is telling you NOW. I had never realized how efficient Park's knack for outdoor bathroom usages would become.

However, I was not so pleased to see him attempt a repeat performance on the grass in front of our church Saturday night. And if you are not completely cringing for me yet, might I add that services had just let out.

What an opportune moment to be spotted by someone wanting to introduce a friend to the wife of their high school student's pastor.

Hi, it is so nice to meet you. This is your first time at our church? Well, we are so glad you are here. Yes, my husband is the Sr. High pastor. Oh, and let me introduce you to our son. Um..... he would be the one attempting to water the grass. PARK RYLAND! (Nothing says welcome better than freshly fertilized grass, right?) Please excuse me, will you?

Maybe those mommies of recently potty trained girls should pity me instead.

Part 2 Adventures

...Continued as promised....

So we arrived at Lolli and Pops' house just in time to for the Village Creek Festival that takes place here each year. And as an added bonus, Challi, Rob, and their boys made the trip as well to complete the impromptu family gathering. Can I just say that there is nothing that makes Lolli happier than having all her ducks (and baby chicks) in one place? Even if they spread their feathers all over her normally clean household.

Since shopping together in Dallas, this was my first time to see all the new remodeling that has taken place and to have a chance to see the fruition of our massive fabric hunt. I must say it is coming along quite nicely. And judging from some of the accessorizing that took place behind my back, I might be consulting them for future decorating choices. Who knew there was such a design diva hiding in Lolli's little 5 ft body? This bathroom turned out to be one of my favorite things hands down:

But, these counter tops and back splash take a close second:


And for his part, Pops' did his best not to cringe when Park and Krew threw footballs at a recently purchased lamp and wiped blueberry stained hands on brand new furniture. Who knew there was such a pushover hiding in Pops' 6ft 2 body?

As for the festival, complete with a parade, I'm not sure if Park could have enjoyed himself any more. Unfortunately, not everybody shared in the enthusiasm. The first ride of the night was the flying elephant and poor Krew may never feel the same about dumbo again after crying so hard they shut the ride down early out of mercy.
Park was undaunted by Krew's terror. In fact, the elephant experience only fed his desire to ride everything from the tiny roller coaster to the hobby horses. But I had to draw the line when he tried to bypass the height requirement and break in line for the Zipper.

The two cousins found common ground once again when Park and Krew both fell in love with the large slide. However, I'm not sure either of the boys had as much fun on it as Pops did.

Chris and I even took turns taking Park down just to get in on the action. Now,I've always considered myself an amusement park junkie, but apparently I'm losing touch in my old age. The festival slide was so fast that my heart took residence in my throat and I had to will myself not to faint halfway down. I envisioned the paramedics wheeling me out on a stretcher as Chris explained to Park why we shouldn't be so excited to ride in an ambulance.

Not a pretty picture.

But, all in all, this week with grandparents is shaping up to be full of magical memories (and broken lamps.)

Lil' Gentleman, His Mommy, and Their Suitcases

With Chris meeting with other youth pastors in Houston all week, we decided it would be the perfect chance for Park and me to spend some quality time at Lolli and Pops' house. I chose to withhold this information from Park until the day before the trip because I've learned the anticipation of it all is more than his little 2-year-old heart can bear.

Well, actually it is my 30-year-old heart that can't bear the excitement of the million "I NEED TO GO NOW!" declarations from said 2-year-old, but same difference , right?

We were set to leave Friday morning, so I thought I it was safe to deliver the big news Thursday afternoon. We packed our suitcases together and were sure to include everything known to man. Because we are nothing if not over packers. And that would make perfect sense if Lolli hadn't already overstocked her home with everything we might possibly need from now until the return of our Lord.

After the suitcases (no need to disclose the exact number) were packed, Park informed me that he would be loading them into the car because he was a, "Genneleman, Mommy." That made my heart smile.

Especially after the episode last week at Kohl's when he tried to hold the door for two ladies engrossed in conversation. After they did not notice his attempts, he promptly slammed the door angrily, screaming at them, "But I was tryin' to be a GENNELMAN!!" Clearly, what my little guy lacks on the road to gentlemanhood, he more than makes up for in the passionate determination department.

And judging from the way he slammed our suitcases around, I'd say he is more than well on his way to becoming a "man". It's the "gentle" portion of the word that's still a work in progress.

After allowing him to load a few suitcases, I told him Daddy would put the rest of them (again, no need to disclose the exact number) in the car the next morning. That's when the flood gates opened and I realized exactly how wrong I had been on my previous "safe to disclose the trip one day in advance" decision.

The heartbreaking lip trembling ensued for a bit, with intermittent sobs of "but I waaant my Pops now. My Lolli is waitin' for me and I need to see her noooowww!". I worked at comforting my sweet little man, assuring him that Daddy would drive us there first thing in the morning. After hunkering down in preparation for the long bouts of tears that were sure to be released, I was surprised to catch a glimpse of a smile on his face as I felt his little body jump out of my arms and run to his room.

Perplexed, I sat and listened quietly from my position in the living room.

Nothing.

No tears, No whining, No fit throwing.

Just as I began reflecting on how grown up my precious love had become, he came strolling out of his room, dragging stuffed animals in each hand. With his fully stuffed back pack in place, hat flipped backward, and shoes on the wrong feet, he announced with confidence that he didn't need me to take him to Lolli and Pops' house anymore.

"I sided (decided) to walk there, my Mommy. ALL BY MYSELF!"

Considering the gas prices, that may not be such a bad idea. Judging from all the suitcases he'll have to carry, though, it's a good thing my not so gentle man is passionately determined to get to his Lolli and Pop's house.

*Stay tuned for more on "Lil' Gentleman, His Mommy and Their Suitcases' Adventure at the Grandparent's" .....Part 2 continued next post....

Stumbling Blocks

If you ever question if spiritual warfare is real, just try and make it to church on time and see what happens.

Judging from how badly the devil wanted to keep me away from Bible study yesterday, there is no doubt that God is using this class in a mighty way. And when he wasn't successful at keeping me away, his next plan was to steal so much of my joy before entering the building that I missed the message altogether. He is nothing if not persistent.

Fortunately, I've read the end of The Book and Christ wins anyway. Game over, devil.

Yesterday was one of those days. THOSE days. You know, the kind where you leave 15 minutes early, yet arrive 30 minutes late. Where despite your best efforts to be responsible, you realize that you forgot just about everything you tried to pack the night before, including your Bible. And the contacts that allow you to see long distances.

Thankfully, I did remember to put my child in the car, at least. Which brings me to the next stumbling block of the day. Literally.

Minutes before I finally arrived to my class, poor Park fell on the steps leading into the church childcare classrooms. He screamed bloody murder, which was appropriate considering that was exactly what his face looked like. There was so much blood, I couldn't even decide where it was coming from. My feeble attempts to clean him up finally revealed a very busted lip, scraped up chin, and a pink shirt that was in desperate need of a spit bath.

Oddly enough, the pink shirt in question belonged to him instead of me, which is probably why he felt the need to cover it in mud and spill his blood over it. Men do like to mark their territory, don't they?

But lo and behold a servant of the Lord appeared . Now, when she asked if we were in need of some ice, I expected that it would be fairly similar to the Elmo boo-boo ice pack that lives in our own refrigerator at home. The ice pack that Park refuses to put on any injury because it is , "TOO COLD, MOMMY!"

This servant of the Lord was no rookie mom, though. She was a seasoned veteran of mercy that knew the way to win over a man's boo boo was through his stomach. Her special ice came in the shape of a green flavor ice Popsicle and Park found no fault with it's temperature. He compliantly left it in the package, nursing his gaping wound, in exchange for the opportunity to eat it as soon as he felt well enough for me to leave him.

It took about zero point eight seconds for him to thrust his fat lip my direction for a quick kiss and a "See you later, Mommy!"

That boo boo ice is some powerful stuff, I tell you. Why didn't I think of that one myself?

But you know what's even more powerful than that ice? The message that I got to hear yesterday when I finally made it to Bible study.

With my joy hanging by a thread, but still in tact.

The Greatest of These is Love

This weekend our house was alive and well, filled with the love, laughter, and warmth of people I've come to cherish.

Chris is from a very large family. Three brothers and three sisters to be exact, spanning in ages from 30 to 13. The three oldest of those siblings (Chris included) have since multiplied themselves, producing six young children as of yet, with plans for more in the works.

I'll never forget my first family gathering with them. Chris and I had been dating for a few months, and although I had met each person individually, I had yet to experience them as a collective group. Now let me just say, there is a fierce love between my husband and his siblings. They give new meaning to having each other's back because they will defend one another to the death, if need be.

With that being said, they are also NOT afraid to throw down over a good board game, or pretty much ANY game. With the majority of siblings having played college athletics, they have grown up fueling their already competitive natures. So, you can imagine how well it went over when I suggested we just agree to a tie after sitting in the midst of Scategories gone wrong, watching helplessly as the bloodshed ensued around me.

But, with age comes refinement and most of that competitive edge has now been passed down to the next generation. Cousins, suffering from the sins of their fathers, go toe to toe in everything from kickball to who can eat their meal the fastest. But, you better believe that they also inherited the "got your back" gene. Gang up on one and you're asking for it.

Perhaps one of the best things is that, with the exception of a brother away at college, everybody lives within 45 minutes of each other. And although getting everyone together doesn't always happen in an orderly fashion, the important thing is it happens on a regular basis. Despite very different schedules and multitudes of competing conflicts, each family makes a very solid effort to place gathering together as a top priority. Period.

But one of the things I'm most in awe of about Chris' family is God's sovereignty. When you look at the picture of who they are today, it is impossible not to recognize the healing hand of the Lord in their lives. Chris' parents divorced very early in his life, each remarrying shortly thereafter.

Yet, what the devil meant for harm, God used for His glory. Through restoration that only comes from Christ, my husband's family often gathers as ONE family. There is no discussion of "half" siblings or "step" parents, merely sisters, brothers, moms and dads, all united in a self-sacrificing love for family. A love that has kept no record of wrongs and has no stipulations attached. A love that they, themselves, were extended through the grace of Jesus Christ.

Although no family is perfect, they are living proof that your past does not determine your future because love covers a multitude of sin. And I am so very blessed to call them my own.

Well, except when we play Scategories.

Truly Once in a Lifetime

When my husband came home last Thursday night with three tickets to the NASCAR qualifying race the next day, I wasn't exactly turning cartwheels.

Now, Chris is by no means a NASCAR enthusiast, but after he attended a race last year with a friend, he has told me on multiple occasions that it is something everyone should experience at least one time in their life. Especially since Texas Motor Speedway is "close enough for us spit on it", his words, not mine. So, when these tickets were graciously donated to us by one of his co-workers, I reluctantly agreed to go with him and Park to see what all the fuss was about.

Now, I'm from small town Texas, where every business within a 100 mile radius shuts down for Friday night football. And I currently reside in the DFW Metroplex where Mama's (and Daddy's) BEG their babies to grow up to be Dallas Cowboys. Forget Doctors and Lawyers, and such. So, I'm no stranger to die hard, fanatical fans.

Or so I thought.

Upon driving into the facility, it was as if we had entered an entirely new dimension. One that might affectionately be dubbed, The Twilight Zone. Travel trailers, housing people who had navigated cross country to view advertisement laden vehicles endlessly circle a track, were parked in rows so long my jaw dropped. People, dressed from head to tow in color coded garments of support for their chosen driver, were waiting in forever long lines to buy MORE garments of support.

And others were dressed so scantily that I debated BUYING them garments of support just to cover them up. (Enter hand over Park's eyes.)

Spying 50+ port-a-potties as we walked through the field leading up to the raceway, I feared we had left civilization 5 miles back. Chris coerced me into continuing the journey by promises of real bathrooms, complete with soap dispensers, up ahead. So, I pressed on through the thick clouds of cigarette smoke, hoping to find some redeeming quality in the distance.

Finding our seats, we settled in just in time for the first car to rev up it's engine. Being that we were at the qualifying race, each car would take 1-2 laps around the track in hopes of achieving a fast enough time to secure a great starting point for the big race scheduled two days later. Don't I sound so schooled in the inner workings of NASCAR, folks?

When the first car took off at lightning speed, I felt my pulse begin to quicken and knees get weak. As it made it's way back around the track, the energy in that stadium was electric. Then I looked over and caught a glimpse of the excitement twinkling in Park's eyes. And I knew in that moment that things had taken a turn for the worse.

Somehow, I had (gulp) become an unlikely NASCAR fan.

Car after car raced around that track and we watched with baited breath. Could this driver find a way to shave a second off the time set before him? Could he keep control while taking those corners at such terrifying speed? Could we get another corn dog without endangering Park's college fund?

The suspense of it all just added to the excitement of the reckless abandonment. But, ultimately it is also what caused us to leave the event a little early.

Well, that coupled with the fact that after watching the 20th car go round, I wasn't quite as much a fan as I had originally believed. Park, on the other hand, was sold on the sport after getting to take his picture with Sparky. And it didn't hurt that he got to come back with Chris the next day to attend the Kid Fish at the NASCAR lake.




But, I must admit that all in all, hubby was right. Everyone should experience NASCAR once in their lifetime.

But Chris, because I've already gotten that chance, next time, let's opt to give my ticket to someone else who hasn't had the opportunity to do so.

Perhaps to someone who doesn't mind using a port-a-potty, let's say.

Vanessa

***UPDATED (4/9): I wanted to take a second to thank you for praying for our church and ask that you continue to do so. The funeral service today was a beautiful celebration of Vanessa's life. The glory of God's presence was so overwhelmingly abundant in our sanctuary that it overshadowed the devastating grief. And as I watched the entire staff, along with Vanessa's husband, intimately worshipping the Lord in the midst of heartbreak, I have never been more proud to call Fellowship Church my home. Her fingerprints on our church are proof that Vanessa will never be forgotten and the work she started will continue through those she has inspired. ***

I was going to write a silly post about our weekend experience at NASCAR, but have decided to delay it in light of recent events that take precedence.

My heart is so heavy right now as our church grieves the unexpected loss of Vanessa Whitwell. Despite only being in her mid thirties, she has been a fixture on staff at Fellowship for many years and has served in everything from the worship ministry to the women's ministry (and pretty much everywhere else in between.) Please join me in prayer for her husband, family, our pastor and his family, church staff, congregation and all who have been touched by her life.

There is no mistaking that the grief will be immense. Yet, there is undeniable power in knowing that we do not grieve like those without hope. And I dare say that nobody understands the source of that hope better than Vanessa at this very moment, standing in the presence of her loving Father.

Although I've known Vanessa in many capacities over the last eight years, I will most remember her as a person that loved God regardless of her circumstances. And despite the dark days that lie ahead, I know that her husband Andy will continue to live out that legacy, as well.

Jesus,
I pray that as those who love Vanessa pass through the waters, they will not be overtaken. I ask that grief not overshadow the fact that she has gone HOME to be with you eternally. Please use her death as an extension of the ministry you gave her on earth, allowing this time of heartache to bring others into a personal relationship with you. Thank you for drawing close to the hearts of the brokenhearted, binding up wounds. Please grant Andy peace that passes all understanding. Guard and protect the hearts of our church and help us to lean not on our own understanding. I praise you for Vanessa's life.

When Life Gives You Mud, Make a Mud Pie

Last night, as I hopped into the car with Sarah and Bridget to partake in our monthly Chili's date, Park and Chris were on the driveway waving goodbye and blowing me kisses. But before I could even get the door shut, I distinctly heard a cheery squeal from Park as he pumped his fist in the air and shouted, "Yesssss, Jussss the BOYS now!!"

Bridget cracked up.

I assured her that this was not a one time reaction, but rather the norm for when they get to have a special night together sans Mommy. And I have to say that it warms my heart to see how much Park loves his time with Daddy. There is no place he would rather be than right beside Chris, regardless of what they do together. Hanging on Daddy's every word and laughing at anything he says, I'm often reminded that their relationship is everything I've ever prayed it would be and more. Chris has far exceeded any expectations I had for the type of father I wanted for my children.

That being said, there are some things I've also come to NOT expect from their time of male bonding .

Cleanliness tops the list.

No baths will be taken. PERIOD. Vast amounts of dirt will be involved in most activities and mismatched clothing will be worn while partaking in such endeavors. Potties will not be necessary because the yard will be used for the majority of relief purposes. Muddy shoes will not be removed upon entering the house and unclean clothing will not make it to the hamper. Teeth will usually not get brushed before bedtime and pajamas will be optional.

Now, my dad was a daddy to girls. He was forced into being a clean man, held to those standards set by a mommy of girls. He became a man that learned to invest in the hygienic well being of his daughters when they were left in his care.

Not to mention he learned to fix a mean pigtail.

But, the truth is, I'm outnumbered. I live in a male dominated household, where my voice of reason is merely like spitting in the wind. Which, by coincidence, is also a pastime they enjoy together in my absence.

And just like my father learned to do, I have had to figure out how to somewhat conform. Coming to terms with the unwritten man law of filth, I've become a much happier wife and mommy. Released from the oppressiveness of allowing their dirt to define me, I've learned that boys will be boys and at best, my influence will cultivate a small need for a decent degree of cleanliness somewhere down the road.

I pray.

Because , truly, it's all about setting realistic expectations. Well, that and scrubbing Park down the next morning after a night of "JUSSSS THE BOYS!!!"

Call me conformed, but a little dirt seems like a small price to pay for the joy I get from seeing the love between my Park and his beloved daddy.

And a night out with precious girlfriends was just icing on my mud pie.

These Boots Were Made for Splashing

Rain, Rain...You went away,
But your leftover puddles entertained me all day!

My Little Potty Trainee Trainer

I've been hesitant to post this for fear I might have to eat my words. But, here goes nothing...

We are POTTY TRAINED!

Well, technically I've been potty trained for well over 28 years now, but having successfully completed over a week of Park wearing big boy underwear is the excitement to which I'm referring. And honestly, I feel completely justified in using "we" because it really is a bit of a joint effort, what with the wiping and all.

Originally, the lack of success with pull-ups led me to assume it was time to scrap the whole effort for a few more months. But, a little over a week ago, our paths crossed with a pair of Diego underwear that changed everything.

Desperate to sport Diego across his backside, I decided to drop diapers/pull-ups cold turkey (minus while sleeping) and see where that left us. Coupling Diego with a sticker chart (that Park helped me make) gave us the makings for a very smooth transition into potty training success. And also led us back to the store for more Diego underwear, as well as contemplating buying stock in the sticker industry.

But, one week and only three accidents later, I'm once again reminded that all phases really do pass. And why worry about today what probably will not even be an issue tomorrow?

Hopefully, I'll remember my newly adopted philosophy when visiting the bathroom 3 times in the span of an hour long trip to the grocery store. And when enjoying a playground with a bathroom no closer than a 1 mile hike away. Or when stopping the car twice for potty breaks when only 45 minutes into a five hour road trip.

At least I finally have company in forcing Chris into bathroom breaks!

And can I just say how proud Park is of himself? He saw a leftover box of diapers yesterday and informed me, "That's for babies, Mommy! Let's give them to Kage." So, we called Challi to see if Baby Kage (10 months) wanted a box of size 5 diapers, and she broke the news that they would fit Krew (age 2) much better.

After getting off the phone, Park looked at me with concern in his eyes and said, "Well, Krew needs to be a big boy soon, too. Tell Cha-Cha not to worry , OK Mommy? I teach him to use the potty and flush. Krew can ride the potty train with me!"

Your Cha-Cha will be so relieved, my sweet big boy. Two tickets for the "potty train" coming right up.

Rollin' On (well, minus the rolls)

Today I drove to a special grocery store across town with one purpose in mind; buy some killer rolls.

We are having some precious young couples over for dinner tomorrow night that we are very much looking forward to catching up with. And nothing complements good conversation like good rolls. Except maybe the to-die-for ice cream dessert that I stole from my mom's repertoire. (*recipe disclosed at the end of this post)

Having already bought the ingredients for the rest of the meal yesterday, I made a trip specifically to obtain the buttery goodness that this particular store is known for baking. With Park in tow, we perused the aisles until we secured the treasure, navigated our way through the express line, and somehow made it back to the car without even pinching off a single bite. Even though I wanted to REALLY badly.

Thank goodness Park talked some sense into me.

After running a few more errands, we pulled into our garage, ready to unload our bags. But while digging in the trunk, I made a very sad realization. One that left my rumbling tummy feeling even more empty and defeated. What should have been two bags had somehow turned into just one.

And I highly doubt our guests will be interested in eating a package of Diego underwear.

I am still not quite certain how I managed to leave the grocery store without the ONE item I went there to purchase. Especially since I vividly remember walking up to the register, paying for my rolls and exiting the building. However, the whole putting them in the car details are a little sketchy. So, what exactly happened between the store and the parking lot is a mystery that, most likely, will never be solved.

Although I highly suspect it had something to do with the little distraction holding my hand, who was determined to play chicken with every car we came in contact with.

Or perhaps the Mommy brain that I inherited after his birth.

Either way, there will be no rolls tomorrow night. Unless of course you count the ones I plan on adding to my tummy from all the dessert I'll be inhaling. Because like I've always said, nothing goes better with good conversation than killer ice cream .

*KILLER ICE CREAM DESSERT RECIPE
Melt one cup of chocolate chips in a large bowl in the microwave
Add 1/3 cup of peanut butter to chocolate mixture
Add 3 cups of Rice Crispy Cereal and stir thoroughly
In a separate pan (I use a large casserole dish),
spread 1 gallon of semi-thawed vanilla ice cream
Evenly distribute the chocolate/PB/Rice Crispy mixture
over the ice cream, cover in tin foil, and freeze overnight

Prepare yourself for wanting to eat the entire pan in one sitting!

(Not like my sister and I have ever done this, or anything, though. However, I hear the key is to eat with a minuscule fork straight from the pan. By doing so, it somehow negates all the calories you would otherwise be getting. Mom, only you can attest to the fact that Challi and I wholeheartedly believe in this theory.)

Because the Tomb is Empty, My Heart is Full

Last year as a family, we went to the doctor a total of two times. And really, neither of those actually counted because one was my yearly check-up and the other was a well-baby visit for Park.

But sadly, in the last two months alone, our total number of visits has increased to a whopping six times, plus we threw in a trip to the emergency room for good measure. To make matters worse, all but one of those appointments belonged to Park.

To say it has been a rough winter would be an understatement.

Thankfully, though, we have only been dealing with minor annoyances such as bronchitis, an ear infection, pink-eye and so on. However, this season of illness has done wonders for me in the empathy department. My heart aches for those parents out there who are helplessly watching their children battle life-threatening illnesses or even ongoing medical complications.

While sitting in the emergency room for 5 long hours several weeks ago, as we held our feverish little one in our arms, Chris and I discussed what a great equalizer the hospital waiting room is. Regardless of your income, education, influence, status or lack there of, every person sitting in that room is simply a parent in a position of desperate need. It is the ultimate definition of powerless to watch your child suffer, knowing there is nothing you wouldn't give to take their place.

Can you imagine what God must have felt as He sent His Son to the cross? While hearing Jesus praying fervently in the Garden, did He long to intervene and spare Him from the path ahead? Did He ache to relieve the devastating burden from His shoulders? Oh, the torment of knowing He had the power to stop His Son from enduring so much pain, yet in the same instant, loving ME enough to allow it to happen.

In my limited human wisdom, I dare to say that decision must have been beyond agonizing; a gut wrenching kind of torture I may never fully understand. But because of His sacrificial love for me, God stood unwavering.

And enduring both physical and mental anguish, Jesus remained unchanged, as well. Together with His Father, unmoved from seeing my salvation to fruition because NOTHING can separate me from His love.

Conquering death, HE ROSE AGAIN!

The emergency room might be a small picture of such, but the cross truly IS the greatest equalizer. Regardless of income, education, influence, status, works, or lack there of, we are each in a position of desperate need. Unable to save ourselves, we can choose to fall into the welcoming arms of the Savior that has already done the work for us.

And by his stripes, we are healed.

(Happy late Easter, Y'all!)

*statue at the Charles Bridge in Prague , courtesy of my sweet friend Liz

All in the Family

I've realized lately that God has placed extremely talented people in my life and I need to extend their wealth of knowledge to my "blogosphere" of influence. It's all about spreading the love, folks.

Which is definitely a better thing to share with you than the pink eye that Park is currently enduring. Yikes, poor baby. But, that is another story for another day that I will hopefully forget to tell.

First up, is my mother-in-law, known best on this blog as the creatively gifted Grandma who is gracious enough to host art classes for her grandchildren. However, that only highlights a small portion of her talent and it is time you see more of her Rustique Art designs. Feel free to check out her new blog and leave a sweet comment to make her feel welcome.

The next person I want to introduce is someone who also came from the above creative gene pool. My sister-in-law has just started a brand new cloth diaper blog and if you use them, are interested in learning to use them, or know some one who is, this is the place for you. I also should mention that her husband is our chiropractor and she is well versed in homeopathic medicine. If we ever have questions on natural healing or nutritional supplements, they are our "go to" people and would be happy to be yours, as well.

In line with "keeping it in the family", I thought I'd use this opportunity to disclose that my husband will be making a few appearances on my Holding Little Hands blog in the coming weeks as a guest contributor. He said the time has come to share "The Man's Point of View", which will consist of periodic posts that counter things I have written about him, impart financial wisdom, help with do-it-yourself projects, give insight into the teenage mind (based on his experiences as a youth pastor), share openly about fatherhood, and encourage woman in their faith, marriages, organization, and creativity. Even though I can't promise correct comma placement, I can tell you that you will be blessed by his heart.

And although this person is not technically a family member, we grew up together from the ripe old age of 6. Reigning from my own hometown and kindergarten class, my childhood friend Traci , who now resides in Houston, has grown an on-line business out of her God-given talent for making things beautiful. After becoming a stay-at-home mom to her precious son, Caven, Beady Queen was birthed as an outlet for her creativity. (And my accessories have never been the same since!) To follow more of her journey, you can find her blog here.

Last but certainly not least, I can't discuss creativity without mentioning our other family, Fellowship Church. Our senior pastor, Ed Young, has also started a new blog that I would love for you to check out. I'm confident in saying it will be full of insightful wisdom, funny stories, and spirit led discussion that will enhance your day.

So there you have it. Happy linking, friends!

Latchkey Brilliance

Have you ever noticed that it is the simple things that sometimes revolutionize your life the most?

When I was a brand new mom, my diaper bag often consisted of 4,062 items that I may or may not possibly need at some point in Park's existence. Traveling light was not my cup of tea. While sitting at a restaurant with Chris one day, he realized that we didn't have enough silverware at the table. Without even having to bother a waiter, I simply reached into the trusty bag and whipped out alternate utensils.

Although Park wasn't capable of eating solid foods at the time, you can never be too prepared, right?

Back to the issue at hand, though. Storing my keys in my suitcase of a diaper bag was equivalent to dropping them into the Bermuda triangle and just hoping for the best. I stood in many a parking lots with Park on my hip, contemplating how well Chris would take to leaving work to drive across town and deliver a spare set of keys to his damsel in distress.

Thankfully, though, I never found out because I couldn't locate the cell phone to call him anyway.

And for those of you that know me in real life, you've now solved the mystery as to why you talk to my voice mail more than you talk to me. It's the bag's fault, people, THE BAG.

One day, though, my friend Kelly and I met up to walk the track around the lake at church and I noticed that her keys were magically attached to her Baby Bjorn. When I asked her about it she nonchalantly said she had put a clip on her key chain because latching them to her stroller, carrier, or diaper bag was the only way she could ever find them when necessary.

Kelly's simple brilliance is one of the reasons I love that girl so much. And I told her so in that exact moment.

Right after I chewed her out for not finding it necessary to share this life changing tip with me sooner. She laughed and said she figured I would have thought of it on my own because it was such a quick fix.

Fair enough.

However, if you are my long-lost sister, currently standing in a parking lot while unable to locate your keys, perhaps this post can serve as your life line. Other than the fact that if you are in said parking lot, you aren't at your computer hanging on my every word.

Now, I would be happy to call and give you this information one on one, except I haven't quite figured out how to keep my cell phone from disappearing into the Bermuda triangle.

And I'm guessing that if you're following in my key issue footsteps, you probably couldn't find yours in time to answer it even if I did.

Forget the key clip, folks. Maybe we should just all invest in a very small hand bag.

* For the key to finding other bags of WFMW tricks, head on over to Rocks in My Dryer. (Sorry, I couldn't resist the corny puns:)

Share and Share Alike

I am always amazed at how strongly toddlers feel about relinquishing their rights to a toy they are enjoying.

Sharing is not something that comes easily. We are born with a very selfish, sinful nature and this is never more evident then when watching two-year-old children trying to interact. "That's mine!" and "I want it!" are being shouted, while toddlers yank each other back and forth in hopes to free an otherwise occupied toy.

More often than not, my sweet Park is smack dab in the middle of that tug-of-war action. He is so very passionate, a go-getter to the very core of his being. Oh, how I love that little boy and his precious zest for life.

A few days ago, one of Park's favorite playmates came over to spend the day with us. Cooper's mommy, my sweet friend Bonnie, recently gave birth to a new baby boy, and it was a win-win situation for both of us to have the boys entertain each other for a bit. They played and played, laughing and enjoying their time thoroughly. Although they get along extremely well, in keeping with the nature of a 2 year old, there were some teachable moments involving the sharing of a coveted guitar.

I set a timer for the boys and we discussed how each one would get a chance to enjoy the instrument before the bell signaled that it was time for an exchange. It was somewhat humorous to me as I watched Park painstakingly attempt to keep his hands off the toy until his appointed play time. The poor little guy was having such an internal struggle as he battled his innate desire to rip it out of Cooper's arms in order to comply with the opposing directions I had given him. He was so anxious that his sweet little hands were actually trembling in anticipation.

But, alas, he made it until the timer rang and he was so proud of himself for the accomplishment.

"It feels so good to do the right thing," I reminded them both, as I distributed a round of high fives and hugs. While doing so a picture that Park had colored at church caught my attention from it's place on our refrigerator. The message on it brought a smile to my face.
What a relief to know that God helps us with this because I have to admit that I have trouble sharing, too.

Now, don't get me wrong, you won't find me cat fighting over a toy if you come over to our house for a play date. And I have no problem lending a book or sharing maternity clothes with an expecting friend. Things that cost me little are not that hard to give up. No, my sharing issues are more inconspicuous and covert.

They tend to emerge when I am asked to sacrifice or get out of my comfort zone.

Am I willing to share my time when there is nothing I can gain by doing so?
Am I willing to share an ear with a long winded acquaintance?
Am I willing to share my home with someone that needs a place to live?
Am I willing to share my finances with those who are less fortunate?
Am I willing to share my talents and gifts through volunteering at church?
Am I willing to share my testimony with an unbelieving neighbor?
Am I willing to share my heart with God by daily spending time in His Word?

Sacrificing in any way or putting someone else's needs above my own does not come naturally. Nor is it something I can do on my own. Thankfully, though, I don't have to because of the simple truth that God helps me share. Just as I aid in teaching Park, the Holy Spirit is at work within me, leading and equipping me to be more like Christ. But also like Park, I often face an internal struggle when trying to obey, forcing me to suppress my own selfish desires to follow His leadings.

Oh, but the joy I experience when I am successful at following the tugs of the Holy Spirit. It isn't always easy, but it sure "feels so good to do the right thing".

Thank you Jesus, for showing me more of yourself through Park. Examine my heart and get rid of whatever is not pleasing. You are the ultimate example of sacrifice, sharing your very own Son with a sinner like me. It is my prayer that as I grow to be more like you, my son will come to know Yours.