it was one busy weekend
Monday, November 29, 2010
Here's a random mish-mash of pictures from our weekend. A couple of friends of ours were getting married, and Joey was in the wedding party.
Friday, November 26, 2010
is spending time in the word of God, in prayer, and in praise together. The best thing is rejoicing in our great Saviour.
It is good for a man and wife to worship God in their marriage.
4 But when the goodness and loving kindness of God our Savior appeared,
5 he saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to his own mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit,
6 whom he poured out on us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior,
7 so that being justified by his grace we might become heirs according to the hope of eternal life.
It is good for a man and wife to worship God in their marriage.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
It's no secret to the general public that we are a cloth diapering family.
And you should be aware that my baby is eating solid foods.
Also, it may come as a shocker to you, but when your baby soils a cloth diaper, you cannot (or should not) just throw it out.
Do you see where this is going?
I doubt that you do, actually.
Because I had one of those "mom fail" moments today. And it had to do with cloth diapers. And baby poo.
I changed my baby's dirty bum like a pro. I set him lovingly on the ground and grabbed the soiled diaper to get rid of it's contents.
Said contents were plopped safely in the toilet. And I closed the lid.
As I was rinsing all of the leftover bits from the diaper, I heard a funny little splashing noise.
I turned around to witness a frightening sight:
My baby.
Toilet lid open.
Hand in bowl.
Playing with poo.
Mom fail.
I'm splitting my gut just typing this out.
I grabbed him as if he was going to drop off a cliff and plopped him in the sink, where I abundantly supplied his little hands with soap, LATHERED LATHERED LATHERED, and rinsed.
Oh...
Parenthood.
And you should be aware that my baby is eating solid foods.
Also, it may come as a shocker to you, but when your baby soils a cloth diaper, you cannot (or should not) just throw it out.
Do you see where this is going?
I doubt that you do, actually.
Because I had one of those "mom fail" moments today. And it had to do with cloth diapers. And baby poo.
I changed my baby's dirty bum like a pro. I set him lovingly on the ground and grabbed the soiled diaper to get rid of it's contents.
Said contents were plopped safely in the toilet. And I closed the lid.
As I was rinsing all of the leftover bits from the diaper, I heard a funny little splashing noise.
I turned around to witness a frightening sight:
My baby.
Toilet lid open.
Hand in bowl.
Playing with poo.
Mom fail.
I'm splitting my gut just typing this out.
I grabbed him as if he was going to drop off a cliff and plopped him in the sink, where I abundantly supplied his little hands with soap, LATHERED LATHERED LATHERED, and rinsed.
Oh...
Parenthood.
have we forgotten about holiness?
If you have noticed, I have a section heading over there on the right called "Discernment" with a few links underneath. Why would I care to put something so serious on my personal blog, you ask? It's because I cannot separate my personal life from what I believe. What I believe is my identity.
I believe that there is a very disconcerting shift happening in churches today - a very subtle shift that has taken years upon years to even register on the charts. I believe that the most important doctrines of the Christian faith are:
I believe that there is a very disconcerting shift happening in churches today - a very subtle shift that has taken years upon years to even register on the charts. I believe that the most important doctrines of the Christian faith are:
- Mankind's sinfulness, depravity, and inability to be reconciled to God
- Jesus Christ's holiness, divinity, and absolutely sinless life on earth
- the penal substitution of Christ on the cross for our sins - He bore not only the punishment for our sins, but the actual sins themselves and died to satisfy the wrath of God, which we deserve as sinners
- the resurrection of Christ in which He loosened death's grip forever and was glorified here on earth, as He should be
- that Christ came not only to save us, but then to sanctify us
Everything hinges around these doctrines.
In Tim Challies' daily A La Carte, I found a very pertinent article written by Kevin DeYoung that draws attention to the aspect of holiness in the Christian's life - perhaps one of the most misunderstood/forgotten/ignored things in Christian circles today. I won't say much about it because Kevin DeYoung does it far better than I could. I trust that you will prayerfully read the article.
I love the way he sums up his article:
It’s not pietism, legalism, or fundamentalism to take holiness seriously. It’s the way of all those who have been called to a holy calling by a holy God.
it came upon a midnight clear
Monday, November 22, 2010
My husband and I are so burdened for the word of God. We are desperate to learn from it, desperate to have it opened up to us, that we may grow in our faith. We want to dive into it and pay attention to every detail, dig into the context, and discover why & how the Scriptures are written. We want to be taught the principles of Hermeneutics and the doctrines of our depravity and God's holiness. We don't want to read it merely for the discipline of doing so, nor do we want to adopt the attitude that it makes us better people by doing so. We want more.
The last Sunday that we lived in the big City, the Husby and I decided to go to a church we had never attended before. I honestly have no idea how we came to the church we did, save the guidance of the Holy Spirit. We had always noticed how the words that were put up on the sign along the street weren't the usual "God loves you" or "Everyone Welcome" (not bad things to say in and of themselves), but things that were sure to cause those driving by to avert their eyes and try not to process the truth that was being proclaimed. We knew before stepping into the building that the leadership there knew they had authority to speak the truth with boldness to anyone and everyone.
As we walked into the sanctuary, the pastor was greeting his congregation like a shepherd caring for his sheep. It was clear that his compassionate words for them were not born out of an obligation to say the right things, but out of a deep love for God and a burden for those under his care as a pastor. He was watching all who entered the doors of that holy place as if taking the pulse of his varied community. He looked into the eyes of his parishioners and silently assessed the burdens these weary Christians had brought with them to the house of God that morning.
I felt his eyes on us as we nervously made our way across the creaky wooden floor to a care-car worn pew near the back. Oh God, I don't want to be noticed. Not this Sunday. Not when we're moving out of the City tomorrow. I knew that we'd be hard pressed to get out of the building unnoticed after the service was over.
I don't remember much detail about the service that day, except that I was quite skeptical that the lengthy order of service in the bulletin would be completed in the "normal" (read: North American) Sunday service timeframe.
Needless to say, when the pastor had assumed his place at the pulpit for the "meat" of the service, quite a bit of time had elapsed - although, for some strange reason, it didn't really seem to matter to anyone. He opened his mouth to proclaim the word of God.
And we were hit by a tidal wave.
At least, that's what it felt like to witness the outpouring of truth that was coming from the simple, wooden pulpit. The word of God was alive and active. Both my husband and I were convicted and changed because of the authority with which the pastor spoke. We were filled to overflowing.
I looked down at the bulletin in my hand to find that he was just giving the Scripture reading for the morning. The sermon was still to come. I thought that there must have been a misprint. Maybe he had rolled up the Scripture and sermon all into one...? But, as the order of service unfolded, it became more and more clear that he still had a message from the Lord for his congregation on the Lord's Day.
Rarely have I heard the word of God spoken with so much authority, at least in person. Then again, maybe the hearts of the other people were far from the service that morning, and Joey and I were the exception. Who knows. What is amazing, though, is that we had blindly walked in to a foreign place without knowing that it was exactly where God had wanted us to be on that specific morning.
When the end of the service came, I no longer felt the need to dart out the back door as soon as the pianist picked up her hymnbook. Joey and I sat dumbfounded by the awesome power of God's word. I watched to see if anyone else was in the same state as I was. Everyone seemed to be picking themselves up off the benches quite easily, whereas I felt like I was scrambling to scoop up the puddle of myself off the floor. In the midst of all of this, more than one person came to talk to us and find out who we were. It was not a fake "Visitors! Visitors! We know what to do with visitors!" conversation, but one that was genuinely interested in how we had come into the house of God that morning. Throughout the whole conversation I was simultaneously thinking about how I never wanted to leave that building. I'm pretty sure Joey felt it, too.
The time finally came when we were able to head towards the back entrance. There was the pastor, shaking hands and conversing with his sheep. I felt a little shy about having to say "hi" to him - I knew that we would never get the chance to be a part of his congregation permanently. Nevertheless, he grabbed our hands warmly and claimed to remember seeing Joey on one or two other occasions. This was true, and Joey was a little bit shocked that he could even remember something like that. He asked who we were, what we did, where we were from. Eventually, we had to break the news to him that we were moving out of the City the next day. His countenance fell, and he (quite sincerely) said, "Oh! You break my heart." I don't think I would have believed any other complete stranger if he said this, but I believed him. He then asked if he could pray for us. So, right there in the entrance way, he put his arms around us and petitioned the Lord for us.
I will never, EVER forget that experience. I had entered that building almost giving up on church entirely. I hated that we were randomly sitting in some unknown congregation's worship service. I hated being "obvious". When I left, however, I had gained perspective. I had been refreshed and reminded of the importance of the body of Christ. I had been honestly loved by a fellow body of believers. I had heard the word of God spoken with boldness and authority. I was convicted of my sinfulness and left praising God for His holiness.
I thank God for that day. And I crave more and more of His word as we meet with believers each and every Lord's day.
The last Sunday that we lived in the big City, the Husby and I decided to go to a church we had never attended before. I honestly have no idea how we came to the church we did, save the guidance of the Holy Spirit. We had always noticed how the words that were put up on the sign along the street weren't the usual "God loves you" or "Everyone Welcome" (not bad things to say in and of themselves), but things that were sure to cause those driving by to avert their eyes and try not to process the truth that was being proclaimed. We knew before stepping into the building that the leadership there knew they had authority to speak the truth with boldness to anyone and everyone.
As we walked into the sanctuary, the pastor was greeting his congregation like a shepherd caring for his sheep. It was clear that his compassionate words for them were not born out of an obligation to say the right things, but out of a deep love for God and a burden for those under his care as a pastor. He was watching all who entered the doors of that holy place as if taking the pulse of his varied community. He looked into the eyes of his parishioners and silently assessed the burdens these weary Christians had brought with them to the house of God that morning.
I felt his eyes on us as we nervously made our way across the creaky wooden floor to a care-car worn pew near the back. Oh God, I don't want to be noticed. Not this Sunday. Not when we're moving out of the City tomorrow. I knew that we'd be hard pressed to get out of the building unnoticed after the service was over.
I don't remember much detail about the service that day, except that I was quite skeptical that the lengthy order of service in the bulletin would be completed in the "normal" (read: North American) Sunday service timeframe.
Needless to say, when the pastor had assumed his place at the pulpit for the "meat" of the service, quite a bit of time had elapsed - although, for some strange reason, it didn't really seem to matter to anyone. He opened his mouth to proclaim the word of God.
And we were hit by a tidal wave.
At least, that's what it felt like to witness the outpouring of truth that was coming from the simple, wooden pulpit. The word of God was alive and active. Both my husband and I were convicted and changed because of the authority with which the pastor spoke. We were filled to overflowing.
I looked down at the bulletin in my hand to find that he was just giving the Scripture reading for the morning. The sermon was still to come. I thought that there must have been a misprint. Maybe he had rolled up the Scripture and sermon all into one...? But, as the order of service unfolded, it became more and more clear that he still had a message from the Lord for his congregation on the Lord's Day.
Rarely have I heard the word of God spoken with so much authority, at least in person. Then again, maybe the hearts of the other people were far from the service that morning, and Joey and I were the exception. Who knows. What is amazing, though, is that we had blindly walked in to a foreign place without knowing that it was exactly where God had wanted us to be on that specific morning.
When the end of the service came, I no longer felt the need to dart out the back door as soon as the pianist picked up her hymnbook. Joey and I sat dumbfounded by the awesome power of God's word. I watched to see if anyone else was in the same state as I was. Everyone seemed to be picking themselves up off the benches quite easily, whereas I felt like I was scrambling to scoop up the puddle of myself off the floor. In the midst of all of this, more than one person came to talk to us and find out who we were. It was not a fake "Visitors! Visitors! We know what to do with visitors!" conversation, but one that was genuinely interested in how we had come into the house of God that morning. Throughout the whole conversation I was simultaneously thinking about how I never wanted to leave that building. I'm pretty sure Joey felt it, too.
The time finally came when we were able to head towards the back entrance. There was the pastor, shaking hands and conversing with his sheep. I felt a little shy about having to say "hi" to him - I knew that we would never get the chance to be a part of his congregation permanently. Nevertheless, he grabbed our hands warmly and claimed to remember seeing Joey on one or two other occasions. This was true, and Joey was a little bit shocked that he could even remember something like that. He asked who we were, what we did, where we were from. Eventually, we had to break the news to him that we were moving out of the City the next day. His countenance fell, and he (quite sincerely) said, "Oh! You break my heart." I don't think I would have believed any other complete stranger if he said this, but I believed him. He then asked if he could pray for us. So, right there in the entrance way, he put his arms around us and petitioned the Lord for us.
I will never, EVER forget that experience. I had entered that building almost giving up on church entirely. I hated that we were randomly sitting in some unknown congregation's worship service. I hated being "obvious". When I left, however, I had gained perspective. I had been refreshed and reminded of the importance of the body of Christ. I had been honestly loved by a fellow body of believers. I had heard the word of God spoken with boldness and authority. I was convicted of my sinfulness and left praising God for His holiness.
I thank God for that day. And I crave more and more of His word as we meet with believers each and every Lord's day.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
I have found that date nights look quite different when you have babies.
Take last night, for example. Joey came home and suggested that we go for a Timmies run after supper. It wouldn't be much, but the 25 minute drive to the nearest "city" sounded like a much needed getaway to me. After a little more discourse on the topic, we just decided to go for supper there as well. Because dishes are just dumb when you don't have a dishwasher.
So, we insulated our small child as best as we could and hopped into a freezing car to "live a little".
It was magic. The boy fell asleep within a couple of minutes. We talked. We drove. We ordered our food in the drive-through, then started to drive back. Then I realized that hot soup in a moving car on our horrible Prairie highways is not a smart idea. So, we pulled over on a little gravel road and enjoyed our prefab supper while the Cuteness chugged a bottle silently in the back seat.
Ok, so maybe it wasn't magic. But it was special, as odd as it may seem. And, to tell you the truth, I quite prefer these little, strange date nights to the over-the-top romantic ones. Being all Prince Charming and romantic is wonderful, but simple day-to-day life has it's own charm as well. I rather prefer finding the odd little treat in the everyday!
Take last night, for example. Joey came home and suggested that we go for a Timmies run after supper. It wouldn't be much, but the 25 minute drive to the nearest "city" sounded like a much needed getaway to me. After a little more discourse on the topic, we just decided to go for supper there as well. Because dishes are just dumb when you don't have a dishwasher.
So, we insulated our small child as best as we could and hopped into a freezing car to "live a little".
It was magic. The boy fell asleep within a couple of minutes. We talked. We drove. We ordered our food in the drive-through, then started to drive back. Then I realized that hot soup in a moving car on our horrible Prairie highways is not a smart idea. So, we pulled over on a little gravel road and enjoyed our prefab supper while the Cuteness chugged a bottle silently in the back seat.
Ok, so maybe it wasn't magic. But it was special, as odd as it may seem. And, to tell you the truth, I quite prefer these little, strange date nights to the over-the-top romantic ones. Being all Prince Charming and romantic is wonderful, but simple day-to-day life has it's own charm as well. I rather prefer finding the odd little treat in the everyday!
for you today
 |
| Do you think I should unpack? the Cuteness doesn't think so. |
 |
| I just can't go anywhere without him latching onto my pants. |
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Did you know that my husband is a poet? Oh, yes, he's always making silly rhymes - mostly about the cat. This is the most recent:
That is the cat. See how her tail sways.
Do not envy her ways; her life is simple. She eats, she sleeps, she poops-not even a dimple.
At any rate, it made me laugh - mostly because he was just sitting in the kitchen with J on his lap, saying it so nonchalantly. I barely even heard it.
Thinking about my husby being a daddy gives me so much joy. It was one thing I never considered before we got married. My mind was all like "WE'RE GETTING MARRIED WE'RE GETTING MARRIED WE'RE GETTING MARRIED WE'RE GETTING MARRIED!!!!!" instead of rationally considering all of the (wonderful) things to follow. All I saw in my future was a white dress and a handsome man. I was pretty nearly blind to everything else that moved. It was the same when I was pregnant, the dominating thought being I'M. HAVING. A. BABY.!!!
But now?
Watching those moments when the boys have each other in spasm-inducing laughter make me think of all the laughs they'll share as Judah grows up. Seeing my baby squeal in delight when the Husby comes home makes me wonder what it will be like when he can run and jump into his arms. Witnessing those tender moments between father and son as he puts Judah to bed foreshadows thousands of nighttime stories and snuggles to come.
I can't wait, and at the same time I want those moments to last a lifetime.
Being a mother is being blessed beyond measure.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Sixteen hours of driving. In one weekend, that's a lot. With a baby, that's insane. Thankfully, Judah only had to deal with half of that (in four hour stints) thanks to my parents' willingness* to look after him.
Friday, November 12, 2010
My parents really do love their little grandbaby--so much so that they are always encouraging us to have more*. To reply to said encouragement, I said:
"I may turn out to be the size of the Titanic, but you'll have lots and lots of grandchildren!"
To which my loving husband replied:
"THAT'S why your parents' hallways are so wide!"
He's so supportive.
*Just so people know, if we have more babies, it will be because WE want them and not because anyone else wants us to!
"I may turn out to be the size of the Titanic, but you'll have lots and lots of grandchildren!"
To which my loving husband replied:
"THAT'S why your parents' hallways are so wide!"
He's so supportive.
*Just so people know, if we have more babies, it will be because WE want them and not because anyone else wants us to!
Tuesday, November 09, 2010
He's teaching me. He's always teaching me.
There is a certain folly to declaring oneself righteous, to saying, "how glad am I that I am free from the vices of the world!" Thinking such things only leads to destruction. The sentence is ever nearer if we think that we see clearly, for then we are deceived all the more severely and are revealed to be utterly blind (Jn 9:39-41). Our wealth of wisdom, Christ came to make into folly.
Sunday, November 07, 2010
Today was going to be a bad day.
I forgot my ceramic flat iron, my makeup, my bobby pins, my deodorant, my toothbrush and my hairbrush at my in-laws' house last night. And I'm going to church today. Playing piano. Singing in a choral group. On stage.
I forgot my ceramic flat iron, my makeup, my bobby pins, my deodorant, my toothbrush and my hairbrush at my in-laws' house last night. And I'm going to church today. Playing piano. Singing in a choral group. On stage.
Friday, November 05, 2010
Forgive me for the essay that follows, but I think it’s really important for me to post it.
When I first started blogging, it was intended as an outlet for me to share my opinions on things (mostly Christianity). I had a few regular followers which frequently commented on my posts, as I did on theirs. I longed for a bigger audience while at the same time being grateful that it wasn’t any bigger.
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