The Maxwell's

Last night and today we attended the Maxwell Conference that our homeschool group organized. The Maxwell's are an amazing Godly example. They have walked the narrow way and have grown children and a lifetime of experience. You can read about them here.

They were such a blessing to me and to our family. I didn't know this until this conference, but Terri Maxwell, also suffered with depression. In all this time, I didn't know that. I know she talks about it some, but didn't know it was because she suffered with it. It was freeing to hear her testimony. Comforting. It's good to be reminded you are not the only one who curls up in a fetal position crying. But she didn't stop there, she talked about things God showed her to do to get rid of her depression. And that was just the answer to prayer I needed. I do have some medical hormonal things in dealing with my depression that the doctor helps to take care of.

But depression doesn't always end with the slather of hormone cream on my inner arm. Depression runs much deeper into the soul. And the devil gains access to us through our thoughts. And that cream can't erase the damage he has done. But God's word can. Like the most amazing cream ever massaged into our soul, it soothes like a cooling balm, erasing bad thoughts, calming our worst fears, restoring our joy.

And I needed to be reminded today that I have all I will ever need right in front of me. Between two pieces of purple bound leather. In 66 books. In soft, delicate pages. His love poured out. His answers. His wisdom.

I only need to read it. To ask. To open my heart and let Him speak.

"Word of God speak. Would you pour down like rain? Washing my eyes to see your majesty. To be still and know that you're in this place. Please let me stay and rest in your holiness. Word of God speak." Casting Crowns

Ending the silence

There has been a lot of silence on this blog. Mostly because I suffer on and off with depression.

How's that for breaking the silence?

Sigh.

Life is hard. I have heard it said, "Life is not a playground. It is a battleground."

And it is true. When I take my eyes off of that. That I am fighting for my life. Fighting to follow Christ. When I drive my minivan onto the battlefield into the heat of battle, hit the automatic door button, and yell, "come on kids! Hop out! Let's go swing!" Yes, when I do that. That is when I am knocked down. Taken out. Mortally wounded.

I lie there. Blood gushing. Staring at the sky. All the wind knocked out of me. What was I thinking? Why do I forget this is a battle ground. Why do I walk daily without my armor? Without the Sword of the Spirit, my breastplate of righteousness, my helmet of salvation, my sandles of peace, my belt of truth.

What was I thinking this morning as I ran around getting dressed in these t-shirt and jeans? I obviously didn't forget those things.

Yet they hold absolutely no power.

They don't keep my soul and mind from drowning in depression, yelling at my kids, speaking disrespectfully to my husband, sinning against my Lord. How is it so easy not to pick up the sword?

Because it's a battleground! And everyday my mind dresses for the playground. For sandcastles and slides. Swings and sunshine. The devil enjoys watching me practice this fun routine. Packing my little picnic lunch for the park bench. And I know he throughly enjoys watching me walk out onto that battle field unarmed.

I am posting a picture on my mirror. A picture of the proper way to dress each morning. I obviously need THAT big of a reminder.

Enjoying the small things

Snow days and snow days and snow days. The saddest part about them? My kids are homeschooled. My husband NEVER closes his office. So snow days are nothing but a terrible confinement! We are going a little crazy. So much so that I made edible play dough out of total desperation at 4 o'clock this afternoon. Feverishly scouring the internet for a recipe that held the ingredients I had on hand. And then another search for homemade alfredo, praying silently under my breath that a recipe containing all the ingredients I had would pop up. God heard my prayers. And while I simultaneously cleaned up cake batter play dough, I whisked with my other hand this delicious, buttery sauce. My kitchen looked like a bomb went off. Sprinkles, chocolate chips, sticky dough, and splattered alfredo everywhere. A crabby baby calling from the high chair, a little boy eating cake dough as fast as he can, while I scold him for doing so. Yes, snow days are not that hot. Pun intended.

But good chicken alfredo made it all better.

Aubrey's 1st Birthday

Presto Blocks Girl Birthday Invitation

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The First

It's February 1st. This time last year I was huge pregnant and due. It's my sister's birthday today too. But last year at this time, I was sitting working puzzles with my mom. The electrician had hooked up a generator, there was a ton of snow, my mom was cooking sloppy joes and french fries, and I was doing my best to keep my spirits up. I was having lots of contractions, but no sign of baby. The snow melted, my parents returned home, and another week of waiting began. The dreaded, "I'm over due week." And technically, you are not "over due" until 42 weeks. But NO ONE I know acknowledges that or either doesn't know it. So I got lots of emails, phone calls, and fb messages. I basically become anti-social that last waiting week.

But rest-assured, babies always come. And she did. A week later. And in just one week, we will celebrate that magical day. The day she finally made her appearance. All 7 pounds 12 ounces of her.