Everyone Looks Like Someone

A friend of mine used to get told how much her step-daughter looked like her. She would say God only created so many faces, so everybody looks like somebody else. I think people see what they want to see because depending on which side of the family we are with, people tell us my daughter looks just like me or just like her father. (For the record, I have dark hair and eyes while she is blonde with blue eyes. Identical!) 

This morning my youngest asked me how to make his hair grow faster. He got it cut (at his own request yesterday) and hates it. He told me "I look like Frank Johnson like this!" Who is Frank Johnson you ask? Beats me. He says random stuff sometimes, so I googled images of this Johnson fellow, and I think the kid may be onto something. There's a definite resemblance! My son and his haircut twin. 

Courage for the Cowardly Mom

I used to be brave. Not fearless, on the contrary. I have always been afraid of just about everything, but I could push myself to face and do scary things. I have spelunked (there's your SAT word for today) through treacherous caves, held a rattlesnake, sky dived (sky dove?), and jumped off a cliff into a lake. Mostly I did those things because I had a fearless little brother, and I wasn't about to let him one up me. It's amazing how much courage we can muster just to save face.
Since becoming a mom, I have developed some irrational fears, and it's a daily battle to hand them over to God and trust that He will care for my family. For example, every time my doorbell rings I have a fleeting fear that it will be armed gunmen, and even though we live in a very quiet cul-de-sac, I am afraid of stray bullets from drive-by shootings coming into our house. I am frequently terrified of one of my children being harmed or making fatal mistakes even though we have successfully navigated 5 rounds of stitches, a broken leg, 4 trips to the ER, and a couple of calls to poison control. Well come to think of it, maybe my kids' choices thus far are the reason I am scared of bad things happening to them. Either way, God has to remind me over and over again that He has given me a spirit of power and not timidity (2 Tim 1:7).

It's 12:04 a.m and my hubs is on a business trip. 4 minutes ago an alarm began blaring in the house. No dog or child was startled in the least, but this mama nearly peed herself when it blasted through the midnight silence. No, I recant my opening statement. I still AM brave. I no longer jump out of airplanes or squeeze through crevasses in the earth because I don't want to risk the possibility of not being able to care for my children, but have overcome other fears that once crippled me. I speak confidently to strangers whereas I used to be extremely shy and terrified to talk to anyone. I have trekked through the jungles of Central America to share Jesus with people who had never heard His name. I had enough courage to get out of my bed and check on the children when the middle of the night alarm went off, and tomorrow I will have the courage to send my babies off to school without the assurance that evil will not touch them there.
God reminded Joshua repeatedly to "be strong and courageous." (Joshua 1) With each day that I conquer a new fear, I am learning to be strong and courageous as well. God tells me He "will never leave [me] or forsake [me]" and to "not be terrified," for He is "with [me] wherever [I] go." (Josh 1:5, 1:9) This is reassuring news! It gives me hope that one day I might actually come face-to-face with a mouse and not have a panic attack. But I still hope I never find out!!!

A Boy, His Dog, and His Shop Vac

Last night the 10 yr old wanted the great dane puppy to sleep in his bed. She's 9 months and 120+ pounds. My hubs warned me it was a bad idea, but they were so cute snuggled together, and I was so tired that I just let it happen. Well of course, this morning there was a war zone in his room where the dog had gotten up in the night and  chewed up whatever she could find. The majority of the mess was from a destroyed roll of toilet paper. The kid used the shop vac to clean it up. The following is his account of how it went down:
"I shoved the tp in the hose of the vacuum, and it got stuck. So then I thought 'wet tp is slippery,' so I put water in the hose. It didn't help. Then I hooked the hose up to the other hole in the vacuum. Turned it on, and toilet paper started flying out all over the place. I couldn't control the hose and was hanging on for dear life. It was stuck to all the walls. And then I cleaned it all up." 
Events like this explain why my hair is turning gray. I am terrified to go in there and check his work. Something (experience) tells me he and I have very different views of what CLEAN is. But if reading this makes you thankful for your own life, then you are welcome!