Just Another Perfect Day at the Pumpkin Patch

pumpkin patch 1 pumpkin patch 2 pumpkin patch 4Well, we went to the pumpkin patch on Tuesday.

For some, it was a very emotional experience.

pumpkin patch 3pumpkin patch 5 pumpkin patch 6 pumpkin patch 7 pumpkin patch 8 pumpkin patch 9The Happy Baby wasn’t exactly thrilled about our ‘fun’ family outing.

Although he did stop crying once someone gave him the stickers (note above).

But by then the Happy Buddy was losing interest (note facial expression).

Ha!

You know every year I give it the old college try and every year someone cracks under the pressure of having a camera in their face.

My children clearly do not have a future in child modeling.

They are just way too cooperative. :-)

Even with the Happy Baby’s fluctuating mood, I decided to be ambitious and go for the whole family shot.

pumpkin patch 10 pumpkin patch 11 pumpkin patch 12And that was as good as it was going to get because then the memory card on my camera was full and I’m pretty sure Happy Baby got a pumpkin stem in his eye.

Ahhh… Who needs perfect photos when these ones are so much more entertaining?

Of course as soon as we got in the car the Happy Baby said with an enormous grin,

“Pumpkin Patch?  Again????!?!?!”

Did you get the ‘perfect’ pumpkin patch shot this year with your Happy Home?

Happy {{early}} Halloween!  Don’t forget to add these FREE Printable Witnessing Stickers to your Halloween candy!  And you might want to try some Trick or Treat Practice before you head out tomorrow! :-)

- Julie

Why We Say Grace

why we say grace at happyhomefairy.comWhen the Happy Buddy was born I was completely overwhelmed by the responsibility of caring for a HUMAN.

There were ridiculous amounts of what I thought were life or death decisions to make.

I would go online to try to find information about how to best care for my baby and I would end up walking away from the computer ready to take a Valium.

A simple Google search brought me tons of articles about the atrocities of GMOs, the shocking truth about pesticides and the Dirty Dozen, the ever-evolving conversation about carbs are bad vs. good, why diapers could cause cancer, how Johnson and Johnson corporation is run by the devil himself, why breastfeeding and making homemade baby food is the ONLY WAY, photos of kids happily guzzling green smoothies, and detailed horrific videos about where our grocery-store meat and milk actually come from.

The pressure these ‘voices’ put on me to do the perfect right thing for my kid was a very large burden in my life.

And I am already a bad combination of Perfectionist and Person-who-used-to-have-an-eating-disorder, so the level of fear and expectations I had going was kind of nuts.

I found myself frequently wishing that I was an Israelite who never had to wonder if manna had antibiotics in it.

Then one day I was hanging out at my in-laws’ house and was feeling quite depressed that I wasn’t doing what I thought was a good job of feeding my family.  I think that one of my friends had just started grinding her own wheat for bread and making her own yogurt and was also considering buying a cow for her condo and suddenly the Publix-brand sliced whole wheat bread and vanilla yogurt from the tub I bought seemed insufficient and downright toxic.

Seeing my despair, you know what my father-in-law said to me?

He put his hands on my shoulder and said this,

“Julie.  Everyone is going to die one day.  GOD knows that date and what you feed or don’t feed your family is not going to change that date.  You do the best you can to eat a balanced diet, and then you trust that when you pray before a meal – He hears it.  He is in control.  He loves you.  The end.”

I guess somewhere along the way I had gotten the idea that what I did or didn’t put into my child’s body (or my own body, for that matter) was going to determine his future health.

Like he’d become terminally ill if he didn’t have organic this or straight-from-the-cow’s-udder that AND IT WOULD BE ALL MY FAULT.

But my father-in-law’s words opened my eyes to an aspect of faith and trust in God that I had let go of in my quest of what I perceived to be the ‘perfect’ mom, wife, and homemaker.

God will not say to us when we get to heaven, “Did you grind wheat for your child’s sandwich bread?”

God cares about the condition of our hearts.

When my heart gets filled up with fear about things like the pesticides and refined flours in this world, I am no longer trusting Him.

Most of the time, we cannot afford to buy organic meat.  So I am learning to buy the regular kind, prepare it faithfully and lovingly for my sweet family, and then when we hold hands around the table and say grace, pray that God will have the final say on how that meat is processed in our bodies.

Now, hear me out.  I am NOT saying you should just scrap everything, buy KFC every night and think that grace will cover all the blocked arteries you have coming in about 10 years.

No, we still need to be responsible.  We need to make good decisions for our families and feed them the best we know how.  We need to strive for balance in our eating.  We can learn to listen to His voice if we think He is calling us to try something new (like making bread from scratch, cutting back on processed foods, exploring Paleo, or the Mediterranean Diet, or finding the best menu options for an ill child’s struggling digestive system – like Happy Buddy had to go mostly dairy free after THIS happened and I was having a ton of tummy trouble awhile back, so gluten free helped me get back on track).

But we cannot get into the idol of thinking that WE carry the burden of our loved one’s or our own health for the rest of life on this earth.

Because what happens when you see things on the news like those bags of organic frozen berries from Costco that made 119 people sick with Hepatitis A?

Or what happens when you hear of a bunch of people who were enjoying some spinach (SPINACH, for crying out loud) and ended up with E. Coli?

Or what happens when you take all-natural pre-natal vitamins and eat 98% organic food during your pregnancy and your child is born with life-threatening health issues and has to stay in the hospital for 96 days?

Are we going to shake our fist at God and get angry at Him because we thought we were doing everything ‘right’???

Our world is BROKEN, dear ones.

BROKEN.

The point is, eating (like driving a car, getting on an airplane, and pretty much everything else) is an act of faith.  We could eat as ‘clean’ as we possibly could and there would STILL be disease and sickness.

At the end of the day, our job is just to do our best to be good stewards of the body Christ has given us (and those of our children) – the bodies that Christ died for – and then we allow GRACE to fill in the gaps.

Remember, whenever Jesus sat down to eat, He gave thanks to His Father.

He acknowledged the Giver of ‘daily bread.’

How awful would it have been if the people on the hillside said to Jesus as He passed out miraculously multiplied loaves of bread and fish, “Does that bread have gluten in it?” or “Does that fish have mercury contamination?”

Instead, they were thankful.

So when you sit down as a family to eat peanut butter sandwiches on store bought bread, don’t forget to bow your heads, close your eyes and truly give thanks.

He’s got this.

The whole baking your own bread works for some super amazing people.

But this mama prefers to buy hers at the store.

I’d rather use the time I’m not kneading dough to blog. :-)

- Julie

“And don’t be concerned about what to eat and what to drink. Don’t worry about such things. These things dominate the thoughts of unbelievers all over the world, but your Father already knows your needs. Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and he will give you everything you need.” Luke 12:29-31 (NLT)

We Win In the End

happy babyThe Happy Baby was freeeeeaking out the other day because he lost his favorite DVD and as his cries escalated into hysteria I found myself frantically searching the house and praying, “Oh, Lord please help me to find my boy’s lost DVD!”

And then I was immediately plagued by this thought -

“How can you pray about something so silly? There are women in parts of the world whose children are being beheaded.”

I get grumpy because I have to wake up early and make lunches for school…

“But what about these women and children in Iraq??!”

I fuss about the tornado-like state our house is constantly in…

“But what about these women and children in Iraq??!”

I find myself longing for that cute lamp I saw at Target.

“But what about these women and children in Iraq??!”

Lately it seems like there is pain and evil and tragedy and darkness growing in leaps and bounds across the world.

These horrific events that pour out from every channel and website make me feel so unsettled and I find myself wondering why is God letting this stuff happen and what is my place in the midst of it?

Then the Holy Spirit whispers across my soul…

Read my Word.

And instead of spending so much time glued to the news channel filling my head with more things to fear, He invites me to spend time filling my head with Truth.

Light to obliterate darkness.

As I read, I am reminded that this wickedness we are hearing about in the news, it really isn’t anything new.

happy baby 2At the time of Moses’ birth, hundreds of Israelite babies were thrown into the river at the hand of an unrelenting and proud Pharaoh.

Then again when Jesus was born we read about the hundreds of baby boys under the age of 2 who died at the hand of jealous King Herod.

No, this evil – it’s not new.

And while I do not know the pain of losing a child to a heartless, wicked act, I vividly recall the feeling of watching my child suffer.

The night that we walked in and saw our child looking like this, I remember the gasp – the sob that racked my body and made me physically lean into my husband.

We watched in horror as a machine pumped hard and steady blasts of air into our tiny baby’s lungs.

I remember feeling so troubled by the way the machine pressed his nose upward – almost like a pig’s – and how the nurse casually said it might get stuck that way.

It was torture – to me.  And to him, no doubt.

But that same evening the elders and deacons and pastors of our church were coming to pray for us.

So I stumbled from the room, anxious to go but yet longing to never leave my baby’s side, and the hubs and I headed toward the hospital’s conference room.

And as we walked down a long, cold corridor feeling utterly defeated and without hope, there was a sudden shift in the air.

I raised my head and saw about 20 men – tall and strong – walking in our direction.

It was like an army of God’s angels were making their way toward our desperate, thirsty souls – their presence alone tangibly redirecting the downward spiral of my weak and weary flesh.

While we did not receive an immediate miracle that night, nor were specific prayers answered in an instant, our spirits were reminded that we were not alone in the battle.

And that the battle we were fighting alongside our little baby was a battle already won.

Because He who is in us is greater than he who is in the world (1 John 4:4).

That same power that conquered the grave was the same power with us in that NICU room.  A power that filled us with confident hope that God was, indeed, doing something in the midst of the CPAPs and chemotherapy treatments and feeding tubes and misdiagnosis after misdiagnosis.

Just as He was doing something in the midst of all the lost lives of innocent Hebrew babies -

God was raising up a deliverer named Moses.

Just as He was doing something in the midst of the deaths of all those innocent boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity -

God was raising up a once-and-for-all Deliverer named JESUS.

first day photo 2The enemy is doing what he does best – deceiving, confusing, hurting, destroying and making it seem like all hope is lost.

But his acts of cruelty WILL NOT destroy or interfere with the greater picture – the Greater Power that is at work.

Because He is a Father, after all.

The feeling of compassion and desire to help my boy find his lost DVD – the hurt and agony I felt with him in the NICU – on a small scale, is reflective of the way our Lord is stirred when ANY ONE of His children suffers.

first day photoSo, dear readers, let’s put one foot in front of the other, faithfully carrying out the duties He has called us to at this time – in this season (like searching for lost DVDs and making lunches and raising little warriors of Light and Truth and possibly staying away from Target for a little bit). :-)

And while we are doing these things, let’s pray for our persecuted brothers and sisters – pray for our broken, messy world.

Then let’s rise as Moses’ mother, who during a time of great uncertainty bravely trusted in God’s power.

Let’s rise as Mary and Joseph who chose to listen carefully for direction from the voice of the Lord rather than panic about the disturbing events around them.

And let’s remember that the battle is already won.

“The LORD is my light and my salvation; Whom shall I fear?  The Lord is the stronghold of my life – of whom shall I be afraid?” Psalm 27:1 (NIV)

My Free Babysitters Are Leaving

SONY DSCOh, I kid.

(Well, kind of.)

:-)

But it’s true.

My parents are moving to Georgia.

Right now I am doing a great job of stuffing my feelings on the matter wayyyyy down deep.

I’m sure that sometime soon there will be a volcanic eruption of emotional chaos that might involve ugly crying, fist pounding, binge-eating… lots of fodder for a therapy session.

But for now I am trying to stay strong and civil for the sake of those around me (and because I can’t afford a therapist).

Ha!

In light of their departure, I thought I would share a few things about these important and precious people in my life.

Last summer the hubs was away taking classes at a seminary in St. Louis for 2 weeks.

While he was gone, I managed to find myself in a state of utter panic because my head was abnormally itchy.

Of course I convinced myself over a period of several hours and frantic Google searching that I had lice and even found the ‘nits’ to prove it.

This is what happens when my level-headed, un-fearing husband is not around to help me tame my inner beast of anxiety.

I called my mom at 10 o’clock at night completely undone by the fact that I probably had a scalp full of bugs and was threatening to torch every surface in my house that had potentially come into contact with my infected head.

I may have even said things including (but not limited to),

“THIS WORLD IS TOO DANGEROUS FOR MEEE!”

“IF THE BOYS GET LICE I’LL JUST DIEEEEEE!!!!”

“I CAN’T GO ONNNNN!!!!!”

My mom somehow talked me off the ledge and offered to drive out with my dad to take a look through my hair.

At this point it was almost 10:30.

But they came anyway.

My mom wasn’t afraid to touch the bugs and my dad offered to run out and get me some dandruff reducing shampoo at the local 24-hour pharmacy.

Because that’s all it ended up being.

Just some dry, itchy scalp.

And for some reason this whole story has become one of my favorite memories of my parents.

Maybe it’s because it accurately sums up the whole Parenting gig:

Even when your child is 30 years old – you are still obligated to check their head for lice.

:-)

In all honesty, though, being a parent is a never-ending job that often calls on you at random times of the day or night to be there for your kids – especially when they’re adults.

Like maybe the Holy Spirit wakes you up for a middle of the night prayer session on behalf of your child.

Or maybe you know your daughter could use a therapy trip to Target to buy new underwear or shoes.

Or maybe when you stop by to see the grandkids you bring a roll of paper towels or toilet paper just because.

Or maybe you wash the dishes while your daughter and her hubby are on a date.

Or maybe you help them paint the nursery (and the master bedroom, and the porch, and the dining room…).

Or maybe you show up at your daughter’s speaking events even when you have a full time job.

Or maybe you take your daughter to see that new chick flick her hubby refuses to be subjected to.

Or maybe you pick up a Costco rotisserie for her whenever you’re there shopping.

Or maybe you take the kids for the day because you know your daughter needs to get some extra sleep (or simply stare at a wall for 3 hours without interruptions).

Or maybe you put an encouraging note on your daughter’s pillow one day when you are over.

Or maybe you mow the lawn for her when her husband is out of town.

Or maybe you drive down to the church at 10 pm to help your daughter finish decorating for an event.

Or maybe you accompany your daughter at the school’s talent show.

Or maybe you build closet shelves for her.

Or maybe you help tighten the teeny tiny screws on your daughter’s glasses whenever she comes over.

Or maybe you host sleepovers for them when her hubby is on the church men’s retreat.

Or maybe you replace the burned out light in the garage.

Or maybe you come over to clean the house and dust the ceiling fan blades when your daughter is 400 pounds and 42 weeks pregnant and can’t move.

Or maybe you go with her on a trip to Ikea just because it is safer for everyone involved that a 2nd adult be present.

Or maybe you give really great bear hugs when things are hard and there just aren’t any words.

Or maybe you arrange a trip to Disney for your daughter and her husband using your timeshare points and you watch their kids.

Or maybe you have an awesome paper shredder and offer to shred all of your daughter’s old documents that are taking up 13 bins in the garage.

Or maybe you’re there for birthdays, holidays, and Grandparent’s Day at the grandkids’ preschool.

Or maybe you drop off a new shirt from Macy’s on your daughter’s doorstep.

Or maybe there’s the Easter Dress Tradition.

Or maybe you take her to get a surprise manicure a few weeks after her NICU baby finally got to come home.

Or maybe you hear that the Toys R Us by her house is going out of business so you rush in time for the liquidation and buy 50 new things for the grandkids.

Or maybe you get tears in your eyes and tell your daughter how proud of her you are after she sang the solo at church.

Or maybe you brought a check by to help pay for your grandson’s swim lessons this month.

Or maybe you offer to babysit again.

And again.

And again.

And all the love and all the time and all the presents and presence you give your child gives her the strength and vision she needs to keep pressing forward in her own calling of parenthood.

That is what my parents do for me.

They show me how it’s done.

The feeling I get when they save the day – when they come to my house at 11 to check my hair for imaginary lice – that is the feeling I want to pass on to my own kids.

Mom, Dad…

Even though you won’t be 15 minutes away anymore, I know that a 10-hour drive won’t stop the love and inspiration you pour out on me and my family on a forever basis.

And there’s always FaceTime for the scalp checks.

:-)

Georgia – our loss is your enormous gain. <3

Love you so much and miss you already.

- Julie

“Let the Lord watch over us while we are separated from each other…” Genesis 31:49

Provisions

When we got back from this trip we were greeted by the squishing of our toes in the corner of our dining room carpet.

Somehow water had leaked into the house while we were away and soaked through the dining room carpet as well as part of our tiled pantry.

Personally, I preferred the squishing of my toes in the sand of the Bahama beaches, but whatever. :-)

The hubs pulled the carpet back and set up a fan and we thought we had it all figured out.

Until a few weeks later when I went in the pantry to pull out my craft bin and low and behold discovered a garden of mold growing.

This led to the discovery that the outside of our house had a bunch of cracks which led to the unveiling of more mold that stretched all along the left side of the kitchen which led to the ripping out of cabinets which led to the relocation of waffle makers and mixing bowls and utensil drawers which led to the entire pantry needing to be stored on the dining room table which led to my children thinking that our home was now a Grand Corral buffet open all day long which led to the realization that we had absolutely no money to fix anything which led to us contacting our insurance for help.

As much as the water damage and mold was a big pain, the prospect of getting some financial assistance to fix things up was kind of exciting.

So I did what anyone would do.

I started a board on Pinterest for a kitchen remodel.

I’ve always been pretty happy with our kitchen.  It’s old and it has some funny quirks, but they never bothered me.

That is, until I began pinning.

Then I became hopelessly troubled that I didn’t have granite countertops and 42″ cabinets.

Armed with the knowledge that our insurance adjustor was ‘busy working behind the scenes’ with the claims department, we visited Home Depot and started dreaming up our perfect kitchen.  I began praying that insurance would give us a specific amount so that I could get my granite countertops AND possibly throw in some updated appliances AND maybe have a bit left over to replace the carpets.

**You know, totally and completely not selfish prayers.**

7 weeks later and we received a call that our insurance would not be helping us.

Not one little bit.

And I found myself feeling kind of grumpy.

What about my beautiful new kitchen?  What about my stainless steel things?  What about my granite?

And the Lord whispered to my spirit,

“Insurance is not your provider.  I AM your provider.”

Talk about a swift kick to the knees.

I repented of my selfish prayers.  The ones that didn’t take into account all the people in the universe who live in homes with dirt floors and no kitchens AT ALL.

I thanked God for giving us all that we could ever ask for or need in Jesus Christ.

Then something amazing happened.

Over the next few days, a man at church approached my hubby and said that he felt the Lord telling him to help us fix the leaks on the outside of our house as well as help repaint the exterior.  Then another man approached the hubby and said he could help rebuild the damaged cabinets.  Then another man took care of all the mold.  Then a few friends showed up with casseroles.

Then a friend of my neighbor’s found out about my Summer Bucket List and told me she worked at Benjamin Moore and could give us paint for my beloved yellow front door.

And we found ourselves completely and utterly in awe of the Lord’s provision.

In reflection, I am so humbled by how quick I was to exalt money to a position that was equated with my happiness.  As if receiving a large sum of money would fulfill the deepest desires of my soul.

As if a double oven could even do that.

When I look around our home, I see my Father’s handprints. I see the dining table that my parents bought for us.  I see the bookshelves a dear friend in college gave to us as newlyweds.  I see the crib and changing table from a former student’s mom.  I see a playhouse from my mother-in-law.  I see a couch we bought for a steal because the manager felt moved to accept our offer.  I see a bed given to us from another friend.  I see a dresser that we found in the garbage.  I see the mirror that a friend bought for me as a happy gift when our baby was in the hospital.  I see the dresser that used to be my brother’s.  I see the piano given to us by a girl we knew at Florida State.  I see our bedroom furniture that belonged to my parents when they first got married.

Provisions.  Needs met.  Every single one with a story behind it.  A reminder of GOD’s faithful provision through precious, obedient people.

Like the Church as described in Acts 2.

That is the stuff that works itself into our souls.

So as we face these ‘trials’ – these fallen world problems – I’m trying to train myself to see things with eyes fixed on a different home.

A home that is way more perfect than any of the ones in Southern Living.

A home that won’t ever have settling cracks or mold or damaged cabinetry.

A home that is full of glorious riches far greater than a check from insurance.

A home that is eternally provided for us through the perfect work of Christ.

This perspective gives freedom to be patient while it looks like your kitchen vomited its contents all over the living room (going on week 8).  It gives peace in knowing that He sees what we need.  It gives overwhelming gratitude when needs are creatively met.

And it gives joy to be fully trusting in the One who knows best.

Which reminds me…  I picked out a color for our front door -

pure joyBenjamin Moore – Pure Joy #327.

:-)

- Julie

“And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:19 (NIV)

Your Greatest Success (Is Not In a Selfie)

your greatest success

The other day I posted a photo of myself on Instagram and then found myself checking my phone every few minutes to see who liked it.

After about an hour, I decided that it didn’t get as many likes as I had hoped, so I took it down – a little ashamed and a little embarrassed.

Then I went on to obsess about what my next social media share would be and how to redeem that deleted fail.

Am I 13 years old???? :-)

No, but I am one who tends to struggle with being a people pleaser.

This part of my personality can be a great blessing because it helps me think about how I can love and serve people better.

But it can also become a curse if all I focus on is how to make people happy.

That’s why social media stuff can be dangerous for pleasers.  Sometimes we care too much.

Sometimes we get a little too focused on promoting ourselves because we like being ‘liked.’

Then our identity gets all tied up in what the people say.

We are often left with the thought – if the likes were not enough then I must not be enough.

And we feel like we have failed.

Ah, friends.

What if real success is something completely different than what our social media-driven world has to offer?

What if our greatest successes were the things that NO ONE on the planet could see in an Instagram or Facebook feed?

Consider Abraham…  Do you think Abraham would have stopped to post a selfie before almost sacrificing his son, Isaac, on top of Mount Moriah?

No…  His act was one of quiet obedience.  He didn’t share it with anyone but His Father.

And God credited that humble act as one of Abraham’s greatest successes.

What about Mary?  Do you suppose she would have snapped a shot of the opening of the cave before entering it to birth the Savior and hashtagged the photo #heregoesnothing?

No…  She quietly submitted to the Lord’s leading and entered that cave alone.  Only God, her husband, and some animals saw that precious choice.

Now think of your own successes – the quiet ones.  The ones that never pop up on a mobile device.

Like when you chose not to yell at your kids today.

God saw that as a great success.

Like when you got up early to read your Bible and pray.

God saw that as a great success.

Like when you sat with your child and built some Legos instead of checked email.

God saw that as a great success.

Like when you chose not to wear the sexy shoes to church.

God saw that as a great success.

Like when you decided to praise Him instead of be anxious.

God saw that as a great success.

Like when you didn’t click that link to an inappropriate website or read that questionable book.

God saw that as a great success.

Like when you chose contentment while standing in a room with laundry piles, stained carpets, and unidentifiable odor.

God saw that as a great success.

Like when you made the effort to go to church even though it would interrupt the baby’s schedule.

God saw that as a great success.

Like when you didn’t nag your husband but complimented him instead.

God saw that as a great success.

Like when you decided that you would not compare yourself to that other woman.

God saw that as a great success.

Like how you took extra moments at bed time to read a Bible story and pray with your child.

God saw that as a great success.

Like when you chose love instead of bitterness or anger or gossip.

God saw that as a great success.

God saw it.

Not your here today, gone tomorrow ‘friends.’

As we grow in the Lord our focus should become less about how to make ourselves ‘liked’ more.

Less about needing the approval of the planet to feel successful and good about ourselves.

As we grow in the Lord our focus becomes more about the quiet little things that only God sees because He is the one we want to make happy.

Lately I have been rehearsing this verse from Psalm 86:12 over and over in my heart,

“I will glorify YOUR name forever.”

Not my name.

Jesus’ name.

Jesus, who never posted about all his miracles.  Jesus, who didn’t take a selfie with the woman at the well.  Jesus, who didn’t throw his arm around the resurrected Lazarus for a quick pic.

Jesus, who was often trying to GET AWAY from the crowds.

Jesus, who after feeding thousands of people with just 5 loaves of bread and a few fish, quietly slipped off to pray instead of sticking around to hear how many people ‘liked’ his meal.

Because Jesus was more interested in hearing his Father’s voice of loving assurance, “This is my son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased,” than being affirmed by the voices of the people (the same people who would inevitably be hungry again in a few hours).

Are selfies bad?  Is Facebook wrong?

No, we just have to be aware of our motives before making a post.

Then we remember to find our worth and value in Jesus, who didn’t just ‘like’ us, but LOVED us enough to die in our place so that we would never have to feel like failures again.

And that, sweet readers, is really and truly the only success that matters.

- Julie :-)

“Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise,
Thou mine Inheritance, now and always:
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,
High King of Heaven, my Treasure Thou art.”

Lyrics from Be Thou My Vision

Baking With Grandmommy

baking with grandmommy 1.jpgbaking with grandmommy1.jpgbaking with grandmommy 6.jpgbaking with grandmommy.jpgbaking with grandmommy 3.jpgbaking with grandmommy 5.jpgbaking with grandmommy 4.jpgbaking with grandmommy 7.jpgbaking with grandmommy 8.jpgWe spent a morning with Grandmommy (the hubby’s grandma) last week.

She didn’t freak out when the Happy Buddy flung sugar across the counter and all over the floor.

She didn’t mind that the snickerdoodles were shaped like baby carrots instead of melon balls.

She knew the importance for a little helper to push buttons like set the timer and turn off the oven.

She stayed patient even when it took about 5 minutes (and a few distracted trips to play with Legos) to fill up the measuring cups with Crisco or flour.

She let him have the first bite (and several dozen more).

She sent us home with 2 giant bags of goodies.  And a couple of pizzas.

She praised and encouraged and inspired my budding little chef.

She gave us memories to treasure forever.

She was a reminder to me that her and Grandaddy’s faith was what God used to inspire my father-in-law’s faith which was what helped inspire my husband’s faith which inspires my own and my boys’ faith every day.

I hope that one day I will get to bake with my sons’ children’s children (phew).

I won’t be as lovely or spirited as Grandmommy when I’m 86.

I will probably be bald, in a wheelchair, have no teeth, and look like a human raisin -

But we will make some pretty scrumptious snickerdoodles and we will talk about how great our God is.

:-)

Thank you, sweet Grandmommy, for your precious faithfulness.

This family knows Jesus because of it.

- Julie

“Blessed is the man who fears the Lord, who greatly delights in his commandments! His offspring will be mighty in the land; the generation of the upright will be blessed.” Psalm 112:1-2 (ESV)