A little contest.  Don't tell my kids.  Below are the pumpkins they painted to decorate the porch.  Delia was not able to paint with us this year, so, to be fair, I'm showing last years pumpkins, also.  Gotta give my oldest baby a chance to win.

Check them out, double check, triple check, and post a comment with your favorite. 

I'm going to buy the winner a new car, or a yacht, or stuff their pumpkin with several trillon dollars. So vote responsibly.



#1

#2

#3

#4

#5

#6

#7

#8

#9

Here's a few candid shots of the artists at work.  Such geniuses - they make a mama proud.

Check out the tongue - such concentration.

Check out the tongue - like father, like son.

OK, vote.

 

Aprons, Part 2

Back to the basics.  Back to aprons. 
http://justcallmerie.blogspot.com/2009/10/youve-come-long-way-baby.html

I promised you a part 2, and here it is.

Today's apron has come a long way since the 12th century.  Like aprons, we do not have to stay the same.  Unchanged.  Unmoved.  Stifled.  We can grow and blossom and bloom into the beautiful creature God intended for us to be - but only if we prepare ourselves.  Like today's aprons we can be beautiful with a purpose.  Our Father's purpose.

I challenge you all, if you don't already have one, to find an apron you love and begin wearing it.  It will make you feel pretty and powerful.  More importantly, find within yourself your purpose - and wear it proudly.  Stains and all.

My sister, P., will not blog.  She says she knows her weaknesses all too well.  I think she's not giving her strengths enough credit.  I enjoy her writings often and wanted to share them with you - and, as usual, when I ask, she gives.  I'm six years older than she, but for years now I have been wondering exactly who is the big sister here.

Enjoy my guest blogger - my sister, P., and her musings on aprons.  Be careful, she'll get 'ya thinking.

Have you ever known anyone like this? No matter where they are—fine restaurant, cheap fast food, or at their own dinner table—they are going to drop something on their shirt. Maybe you are this person, I know I am. I have a friend that used to laugh at me about it, but has recently discovered that she is fast becoming a part of this special breed. The problem for her is that she hasn’t been like this for long. Thus, she hasn’t learned the fine art of checking EVERYTHING in case it needs to be sprayed BEFORE you wash it! She has ruined quite a few shirts lately because of this fatal error.

I not only have this problem when I eat, I also have the “spillage” problem when I cook. Since I bake often it is not uncommon for my sweet husband to come home and find me much dirtier than when he left for work. Then one day I got a brilliant idea: why don’t I wear an apron?

It is amazing the thoughts that go through my brain sometimes.

Now, in some areas, I am not a simple person. Most of my ideas are not-so-simple things. When I get ideas, I get ideas! I have a friend (the same one who is now a sister-stainer) that often laughs at my inability to just do something. She says that I wander … you know what I mean. I will get an idea and then make the statement, “I wonder (wander) if I could make it better if I did this or that?” I am never satisfied with just using the same ol’ wheel. I have to reinvent it. So, when I got the brilliant idea of an apron, I had to find the “perfect” one. Thus began my googling search for an apron pattern. And, I found it. I spent way too much on the pattern only to have it arrive and discover that the apron was cute, but not sufficient to cover my entire boob area. I hate those one-size-fits-most things.

This is where my sweet husband came in. He is really great at just about everything. Do you have one of those?

He drew some new strap pieces for me and redesigned the main part so that it would cover most of my rear. (I have that bad habit of wiping my hands on the sides of my rear instead of a towel … oh well)

Finally I got what I was looking for! Now I can enter my kitchen (actually, my sister says that I never leave it) and not get disgusting while I cook. My apron has just the right amount of material to offer ample coverage for my boobies and my rear. I even have a rather large pocket on the front. I only use it for my cell phone, but I like it the size it is. This apron does an excellent job of keeping me clean.

Did you know that the Bible speaks of aprons? Well, not exactly in the term “apron,” but the idea is similar. In Ephesians 6, Paul writes to the people of God about being “strong in the Lord” (v.10). He tells God’s people that they should “take up the full armor of God” (v.13). Verse 14 also instructs them to “put on the breastplate of righteousness.”

Did you see the apron? It is called the "breastplate of righteousness."

Can you tell that I am a girly-girl? Most everyone else sees “knightly” armor like King Arthur would have worn, but no, not me. I see an apron.

Even though Paul discusses several different pieces, I just want to look at the breastplate of righteousness (the apron). Romans 3:10 tells us that “there is none righteous, not even one.” Jesus tells us in Matthew 6:33 that we should “seek first His kingdom and HIS righteousness.” Second Corinthians 5:21 states that “He (God) made Him (Jesus) who knew no sin to be sin ON OUR BEHALF, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.”

You see, when I put on my breastplate of righteousness, I am putting on Christ’s righteousness. And His righteousness is more than sufficient for any “mess” I might face during my day. The Bible tells us that “His strength is perfect” (Phil 4:13) and that “…God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able ” I do not have to worry about my breastplate of righteousness being too small in some areas. God knows exactly what size I need (unlike my one-size-fits-most apron pattern).

When I put my apron on I am ready to do battle … kitchen battle. I can handle just about any mess that will come my way. It becomes my covering as well as my towel. I can face my counter top and my stove with confidence!

The armor of God does the same for a Christian. We become outfitted to do battle—spiritual battle.

So, how’s your spiritual apron? Are you wearing it today? If not, spend some time seeking first His kingdom and then go put that other apron on and make something chocolate to celebrate!

“I will rejoice greatly in the Lord, my soul will exult in my God; for He has clothed me with garments of salvation. He has wrapped me with a robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decks himself with a garland and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.” Isaiah 61:10 nasb

Cute x's 1000

Put your shoes on and get to Dollar Tree.  My daughters went Operation Christmas Child shoebox shopping for children ages 2-4 today and found the cutest thing I've seen since the first time my babies streaked through the house butt naked.

Look at this.

It is a blanke' with a doll attached.  For only one dollar.

Can't you just envision a child carrying this and sucking on her thumb.

This is sweeter than candy, for only one dollar.

Hurry, bet they are going fast.

Happy shopping - for only one dollar.

Give This Christmas Away

For there will never cease to be poor in the land. Therefore I command you, ‘You shall open wide your hand to your brother, to the needy and to the poor, in your land.’ —Deuteronomy 15:11

Around twelve years ago our church began participating in Operation Christmas Child. Even if you are familiar with this, please keep reading. We were introduced to OCC by Marianne (see post A Life, A Death, and Pasta Salad ).  Someone who is crazy for shoeboxes is my friend J.  My friend D. has had hers packed and ready to go for weeks now.  Special ladies those two, trust me.

This year Veggie Tales has partnered with OCC to help spread the word of this ministry. Love those Veggie Tales - what a BigIdea!





All of my children love this cause; but there is a special place in my daughter Delia's heart for this shoebox ministry. She has packed a shoebox every Christmas for years and years. Each item is lovingly purchased with her own money, and ordinary items will not do. An entire day must be set aside because she shops store after store, carefully selecting for the child she envisions will open the box. If she is packing for a little girl there always, always, must be a doll. If it is for a little boy there must be a soft and squishy stuffed animal.

Delia faithfully checks everyone else's box, rearranging the items so that they fit perfectly, and in the process making room for more. Few can pack a shoebox as full as Delia, or with as much love. It has been a joy and a privilege to watch our daughter grow from a child to a young woman with a giving and knowing heart.

What does she give? A part of herself to each child.

What does she know? That her Father God will bless each box and each child that receives it. As she signs the letter that goes in each box she lifts that child up to our Lord with a special prayer for their salvation.

Won't it be great one day in Heaven when she has the unimaginable joy of singing and dancing with her shoebox children; for in faith we believe in answered prayer.

For the past few years I have watched Isabela plan her box and I see another Delia in the making. Already this year Izzy's box is wrapped and waiting on the counter - ready to fill with love.

One day I will post about my daughter Shelby's personal passion and a little girl we have all grown to love.

How is it, with all the mistakes I have made, that I have mothered such amazing girls? They are not perfect. Their bones are full of greed, selfishness, jealously, envy - all that sin stuff - just like their mama's. But through grace they have each accepted our Lord Jesus Christ as their Savior - and with His help each day they rise above their human natures and thrive in a world that is difficult for us all to understand.

Rewards await each and every one of us if we give with a heart full of Jesus; but, if you know Jesus, it is not your own reward you long for.  You long for the knowledge that the list of party attendees gets bigger by the day (see post When the Roll is Called Up Yonder) if you pray and believe in the power you hold in your own hands.

Won't you pack a shoebox this year? Watch this video with Amy Grant and Matthew West and give this Christmas away. I guarantee you won't regret it.




Whoever closes his ear to the cry of the poor will himself call out and not be answered. 
Proverbs 21:13

The Incredible Quilting Adventure (I've had better ideas)

Here are the promised photos of Izzy quilting blocks in unusual places.  Once we spread it out over three days she began to have fun with it.

This was her favorite spot.  In her Daddy's deer stand.

On PaPaw's tractor.

On sister Delia's bed watching TV.  This is a good spot, also.  I think it's the TV part.

In Dairy Queen at lunch.  Have ya'll tried the Georgia Mud Fudge Blizzard?  Wow, they should have never concocted that one - with extra fudge - yum, yum.

Nana's bathtub.

In an orange chair.

On top of the panel saw.

In Emily's tree.

In a boat.  I feel like Dr. Suess.

In Max's baby bed.

On top of the house - she liked it so much up there she did two.

This is the spot she had looked forward to the most, it is one of her favorite places at Nana's and PaPaw's. By now her fingers were falling off one by one and pouring blood. The adventure was over - good thing you can't see her face.

Tonight she finishes the binding and tomorrow we may throw a party.  With bells and whistles and fireworks - a humdinger of a celebration.

Next Wednesday in class we will begin a new quilt.  Ssshh . . . don't tell Izzy.

A Time to Quilt and A Time to Quit, Lessons Learned

This one may be a little long, but bear with me.  Lessons learned are worth sharing.

Monday morning Izzy and I awoke to twenty-three blocks left to quilt.  That's not quite as bad as waking with a toothache, but almost.

Ingenuity kicked in and our brillant minds came up with a plan.  First things first - teacher declared a holiday and principal He's Too Good To Me approved it - so, we set about trying to find twenty-three fun ways to quilt blocks.  Twenty-three different locations. We had a few laughs, squenched a few thoughts, high-fived a few, and then hit the road.

Believe me, I've had better ideas.  Remember, it was a school holiday - it started out as fun, but not too far into it Izzy realized this was not fun for her - no, it was much, much work.  Ten year old hands were not made to quilt twenty-three blocks in one day.  At least not in this century on your first attempt at a quilt.

After one teary plea to stop I watched her soldier on and thought of all the things I've "begun" in my life and never finished.  Specifically in my Christian walk.  Kindness, charity, tackling projects at church - all my good intentions.  Then there's the monster, the king of them all, my biggest failure - daily quiet time and prayer with my Lord. 

I'm not talking about praying while you drive or cook or clean.  I'm not talking about sitting down to read HomeLife.  Sure, those things have their place, and, of course, God hears every earnest plea, but I'm referring to my small promise I made to Him in response to His unending promises to me. 

The kicker - He keeps His.

Just a little of my time.  Not time split between Him and whatever urgent (if only that were true) activity I feel needs my attention; but my undivided, exclusive, unbroken quiet time with Him.  Time to hear Him speak.  Time for Him to reveal His plans for me.  Time for Him to make me understand why the answer is no, or wait.  Time to take pleasure in my King and friend. Time to immerse myself in His immeasurable love and goodness. Time to learn and grow.

Psalm 25 tells us, if we seek Him, who God will teach.  Verse 14 says that the Lord confides in us.  Can you imagine that?  It gives me finger and toe tingles to think about the maker of everything sharing a secret with me.  Little 'ole me.  But that is what He desires, an intimate relationship with me.  What is keeping me from reaping the full benefit of this?  You said it honey -  me.

Just look at what He revealed to me Monday in that quiet moment of watching my child.  No one was around.  All I could hear was the birds, tools from the shop, and an occasional sniffle from Izzy.  He spoke and forgave my disobediance.  I made a new committment, arose, and took my daughter home. For the time being quilting had come to an end.  Such a simple lesson because I became quiet and drew unto Him.  Imagine what He could have taught me if I was reading and soaking up His Word at that moment.

I required too much of Isabela.  I require too little of myself daily when I excuse disobediance and laziness. Quiet morning time with Him allows me to begin my day with His instructions.  Maybe that's why Monday fell short.  The teacher approved it, the principal approved it, but I forgot to check with the Headmaster.  We left Him out - and because we know better - our glory was cut short.

Sandy Smith, wife of evangelist Bailey Smith, says, "It has taken me years to realize that God doesn't love me because I have a quiet time - He just loves me!  This knowledge alone has increased my desire to be with Him."

" . . . resulting in a true knowledge of God's mystery, that is, Christ Himself, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge."  Colossians 2: 2-3

Tomorrow I will post some pictures of places she is quilting blocks. Three days have passed, she is asleep in her bed, and there is only one block left to quilt. We missed our deadline but the world did not end, the earth did not stop spinning in orbit. And, all in all, we are creating a good memory.  Lessons learned.

Gorgeous Gourds Part 2

I know some of y'all have been tossing and turning -  you can't sleep because you are itching to know what is going on with the gourds.  No?  Sorry, my mistake.

The cleaning of the gourds went fairly well except I now have 243 bleached towels.  What does one do with 243 bleach speckled, hole-filled towels?

The gourds are cleaned out to be filled with rice. The musical instrument ones are glued shut.

Oh, how I love those hands.

For the rainsticks you need skewers . . .

Lots of skewers.  Love those pink fingernails.  I just can't seem to pull that off.  Dishwater hands, you know.

For gourd purses you'll need . . .

fabric scraps . . .

Mod Podge (in a pretty little yellow bowl) . . .

and a clown.  For good measure.

or an alien, either will do.

Soon these gourds will join this one . . .

Izzy's first gourd.  The creme of the crop, the cat's meow.  She painted this gourd over the summer at Camp Agape Children's Camp in Tennessee.  My sister, P., is children's camp director there and she brims over with great ideas.  They just tumble out of her brain as she uses the Word to teach children how Jesus loves them.  She teaches young girls how to be princesses and young boys how to be knights.  She teaches modesty and chilvary and love for every culture and race.  She teaches that God is our Redeemer.  She teaches Truth.

Trust me, SHE'S GOT CAMP.

Finished gourd rainstick.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 Finished gourd purse.
 

She looks so proud. Pride can sometimes be a good thing.  So, for now I'll let her bathe in her accomplishments.  The smile on her face is worth packing away in the corner of my heart.
 
The mess in the kitchen - worth putting off until tomorrow.

Remember in the last gourd blog I asked you what shade God has given you lately?  Don't forget to thank God for that shade, lest a little worm comes and devours it.  And love your fellow man - more than yourself.  It's a Jonah thing, it's a gourd vine thing, it's a lesson. 

It's a God thing.

But this video is a private homeschooling mom thing.