Say It Enough, You'll Start to Believe It
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No words today. Just silence and thought.
Remembrance.
FATHER!
Pierced for our transgressions.
Bruised for our iniquities.
Thorns.
Mocking.
Caiaphas.
Pilate.
Herod.
Taunts.
Manipulate.
Whip.
Silence.
Cross.
Terrible.
Dice.
Gambling.
Darkness.
Grace.
Forgiveness.
It is Finished.
Jesus.
It starts with one.
Then another.
A third stumbles in.
A fourth comes bearing coffee.
All before 7:00. This is what dreams are made of…
I have lots on my mind today. Not just Georgia, although that song has been rolling through my head all morning. I love that song, don’t you? I’ve had the amazing opportunity to sing with a local jazz band a couple of times in the last few months and twice I’ve gotten to sing that song. There’s something about that song that just kind of takes you over when you’re singing it. It may be one of the greatest songs ever written and recorded.
I have other things on my mind, too. Sleep. I’d like to do that again and I think I’ll have the opportunity once Easter passes by. Maybe. I can at least hope, right?
The house. While I wasn’t sure I was ready for it to sell right away, I am officially over this business of trying to keep it clean. What a hassle! I miss my floor being dirty and beds going unmade. But the good news is that we’re having showings almost every day, so high traffic is a positive.
I’m thinking about schooling and summer vacation, kids and life. I’m wondering where our next house will be and I’m so thoroughly overwhelmed with trying to sell this one that I haven’t been looking for a new one.
I’m thinking about coffee with Peppermint Mocha Creamer (and yes, I currently have six bottles of it in my fridge. I refuse to run out of it). I’m thinking about rain and the dream I had about tornadoes last night that woke me up all feverish and nervous. I’m thinking about how my kids wake up frequently with similar dreams and I usually laugh at them for it, but dang! Those dreams are scary.
I’m thinking about missions and what kind of missions journey God would like to take our family on. I love this post by my uncle, an amazing missions minded and hearted man that I look up to. I’m thinking about when, how and if I’ll ever be able to take my children to Ukraine, which feels like a second home to me and something that I should share with them.
I’m thinking about how I need to run today but I don’t really want to, but really I should because I signed up to run a 5k in June. I’m thinking about how foolish I am to keep running when I don’t really enjoy it very much. I’m thinking about how I can possibly get an awesome, toned runner’s figure without actually running…
I’m thinking about how we need to write to our Compassion International sponsored child. Jonri is seven years old and lives in the Philipines and my kids faithfully pray for him. But I am admittedly not good at having them write to him. We are overdue for another letter.
I’m thinking about Easter and what that means. The drama our church is putting on is really amazing and I’ve learned more about the death and resurrection of Christ in the last two weeks of working on that than I ever have before.
I’m thinking about making another video, as soon as time presents itself for me to pull it off.
I’m thinking about washing my face and how much I love to do it. I got new face products the other day and it just made me happy. It’s the simple things…
What are you thinking about today?
“Hey Mom,” he said as we walked along a path enjoying a beautiful spring day. “Did you know that the moon was created when a big meteor slammed into the Earth and bounced off of it?”
I snorted and gaped at my boy-man, sure I must have heard him wrong. “What?!”
“Yeah. The whole world was created that way. Giant meteors slamming together. BOOM!” He clapped his hands together and made the bomb sound that only a little boy can make. While he reenacted the world forming out of meteor’s slamming together, I gathered my thoughts. The absurdity of that theory is not lost on me, but to his seven year old mind it’s a really cool image so I gave him a minute to envision it.
“That’s really interesting, buddy,” I said, after a moment. “Where did you learn that?”
“Oh, I saw a video at school.”
“Huh. Well, do you really believe that’s how the world and the moon were created?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged.
“Do you remember learning about God creating the world, forming the sky and the land and the water and all the animals out of nothing?”
“Yeah, I guess,” he said, picking up a rock and tossing it into a nearby stream.
“Look at the trees,” I said and we stopped. “Look at how each one is a little bit different. Now look at the clovers in the grass.” He and I knelt down next to a patch of clovers and I ran my hand over it. “See how they have three leaves on them? But if you look long and hard enough, you might find a clover with four leaves.”
I stood him up and pointed at the moon that was already faintly showing as the evening began to fade to night. “Look at the moon. Look at the details in the moon. And look at your own hand, at the lines and the marks that are unique and can only be found on your hand. It seems kind of strange that all of these amazing details could have happened by accident, do you think? It seems to me that there had to have been a Creator to place all the finer details together.”
“Well, yeah,” he said. “But the video at school said that’s what happened!”
“Yes, I know and I’m so glad to know that you’re paying so close attention in school. I also want you to know that you don’t have to believe everything you learn.”
“But I’m supposed to trust my teachers,” he protested.
“No,” I responded. “You’re supposed to respect your teachers. You can respect them and you can respect the different ideas they are teaching you. I will tell you where Mommy and Daddy place our trust and that’s in God and in His Word. We trust that it’s true and when Genesis tells us that God created the heavens and the earth, the sun and the moon and all the creatures upon the earth, we trust that to be Truth.”
We walked in silence for a moment as he thought.
“Do I have to believe what you’re telling me?” he asked.
“No,” I replied. “You have to decide on your own what you believe to be true. I can’t tell you what to believe – I can only tell you what I believe and I believe God’s Word to be True.”
“Well how do I know what to believe?”
“Prayer. And knowing what the Bible says about Science. God is the creator of Science and there is a lot we can learn from His Creation. But it’s always important to weigh what you learn about Science against God’s Word.”
He sighed and kicked a rock with his toe. “Okay,” he mumbled, clearly feeling conflicted until…
“Wow! Look at this awesome rock!” He picked up a shiny rock and held it in his hands like a treasure. He looked at me and grinned, the evening sun dancing across his smattering of freckles. And just like that, he was a kid again.
This was a conversation I had with Sloan last week. It’s not meant to start a bashing session against the public school and OMG what are they teaching our kids?! Admittedly I was a little upset when I first heard what he learned, but after thinking about it I realized I shouldn’t be surprised. I knew they wouldn’t be teaching my child Creationism. That’s my job. And I’m glad that, at a young age, he has been exposed to the idea that there are different schools of thought on how the Earth was created.
Vigilance is key when raising kids, whether they go to public school, private school or you teach them in your living room. We must vigilantly teach our children how to weigh academia against Truth. While it wouldn’t have been my first choice for him to learn a modified version of the Big Bang Theory at such a young age, I am glad that we had the conversation that we had. (Seriously, a meteor bounced off the Earth and that’s how the moon was formed? I’ve never even heard of that before! 🙂 )
How are you teaching your children to defend Truth in a world that is fighting against it?
Four years ago, a runner friend of mine convinced me to join her in a marathon relay downtown. Fancying myself a runner with untapped potential, I happily agreed and then spent the next four months cursing myself for agreeing to do something so reprehensible. I finished the race, running the last leg, which was uphill. Six point three solid miles of incline.
One week later I found out I was pregnant and never ran again.
Until, somehow, I was convinced to do the race again this year. I think my friend used some kind of voodoo mind trick on me to convince me to do it. Wait…actually I believe it was MY idea to run the race this year. Clearly I was possessed or on crack or something because why would I willingly choose to do that?
I must say, the training this time around wasn’t nearly as bad. Probably mostly because I did a pretty pathetic job of it. But I didn’t hate it. I finally figured out my rhythm in running and actually found myself, dare I say, enjoying myself.
The week before the race, I ran my longest run in four years. I did four miles, on the road, by myself. Major mental victory given the fact that I much prefer running on the treadmill mostly because it helps you out. On the road you actually have to do all the work and you have to run up the hills and can’t set a negative incline to recuperate.
I felt like super woman when I finished. Take that FloJo! Until…
The next morning I could barely walk. Seems my left hamstring was in rebellion and for the next week it begged me to back out. But I wouldn’t have it. Being the stellar athlete that I am, I refused to back down. Ahem.
Race day came and the alarm went off at 4:40 in the am! Again, I cursed the gods of road races and stumbled out of bed. I was running the first leg of the marathon so tardiness was not allowed. As we lined up at the starting point, I began to feel the buzz of excitement in the air. Running isn’t so bad when you are doing it with 17,000 others who are all excited. We took off and I quickly fell into a nice pace thanks to a friend who showed up and happened to be standing next to me. He was running the half marathon just for fun.
Just for fun.
Let that simmer for a minute.
It was nice to have a partner and off we went. A funny thing happens, though, when you’re running with someone who likes to run 13 miles for fun…you get left behind. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
At about the half mile mark we went under a bridge, which was apparently labeled the pee spot as roughly ten men were lined up, peeing against the fence. “Good to be a guy,” I remarked to my friend, who simply grinned.
At about the two mile mark, we began to head up hill – steeply up hill. I wanted to keep up with Scott, I really did. But alas, I needed oxygen. “Go,” I gasped. “Save yourself.” He hesitated, wanting to help me out and encourage me, but it was clear that my lungs were dangerously close to combustion, so on he went, the back of his head bobbing and weaving all perky like.
And I walked up the hill. No shame. I walked.
This turned out to be a terrible idea because once I stopped, my protesting hamstring tied itself in four knots from my butt to the back of my knee. It was like an indignant toddler, arms crossed, foot stomping, “No I won’t GO!” But with four miles to go, I needed to keep running so I stretched the bratty hamstring out and off we went, this time with a slight hobble.
I round the three mile marker and thought I was going to hurl – have I mentioned it was close to 90 degrees that day? – when I looked over and saw a woman stop, pull down her pants, and pee on the side of the road.
W-H-A-T?!
200 yards later we passed a Port-a-Potty, but whatever, right?
At five miles, both amstrings were screaming at me. They were in full out tantrum mode but on I foraged, stopping only once more to walk up what seemed to be a mountain, but was actually probably a very slight inline.
I rounded the corner of my six mile run right at the 70 minute mark. Much slower than I anticipated, but I blame that on my stubborn hamstrings. As I handed off the belt to my friend Amy, who was way too excited, I might add, I exited the course, high fiving perfect strangers all the way.
“Great job!” they cheered. “Awesome – way to go!” I felt so loved and encouraged and I decided I wanted to run another race…maybe the half marathon?
Someone remind me – what’s the definition of insanity?
Right. That what I thought.
The amazing spring day yesterday made for spontanaity when the younger kiddos and I met up with a friend for a last minute trip to the Zoo. I love our Zoo – it’s big, it’s beautiful, it’s free… In addition to seeing animals, we also got to soak in the Zoo’s beautiful landscaping. I just love tulips, don’t you?
I love taking pictures of my kids looking at the animals. I love how intent and excited they are when they see God’s creation. This picture just makes me think of childhood.
It also makes me think of this post. Oy…
Have you ever tried to rangle four squirmy children into one small canoe and then sit and smile for the camera? It’s not possible. But check out my friend Bethany’s little boy. How handsome is he?
Tune in tomorrow to hear about how I didn’t die in my race this past weekend. It included a whole lot of prayer, a bit of will power and the entertainment of a couple of shocking sights.
Riv-e-ting.
I am having a hard time focusing on blogging lately. There are a few reasons for this: First, I am just really busy. Between the kids activities, Lee being out of town, preparations for Easter at our church, the house on the market and general everyday things that pop up, I have little time to sit and think.
Second, my heart feels anxious right now. It’s probably mostly magnified by Lee’s absence and all of the aforementioned craziness, but I am truly feeling restless inside. I feel like I’m not doing enough and equally I’m doing too much. This morning I got up early, while the house was still. I opened my Bible and just began to read. It was so refreshing. You know when you walk outside on a warm summer morning and step into the cool grass and your whole body buzzes from the cool? That’s what this morning felt like – stepping onto the cool grass.
Third, when I do have a few minutes to sit down and write, I want to work on The Novel. I don’t want to edit pictures or video. I just want to release the characters in my head. In June, I have a trip planned with a dear friend and a couple of other writer’s. For four days we will sit on a lake in Northern California and get lost in words.
I’m only mildly excited because it sounds like heaven.
Today I give you one more small sneak peek. I won’t give too many of these, because I don’t want to give it all away, but a few here and there are fun for me to share…and I hope it’s fun for you to read! This is, of course, the first draft and contains few edits. It will change with time and re-reads, but it’s slowly beginning to take form.
This part of the story is told by Ivan Kyrilovich Petrochenko, a father of three teenage children and husband of Tanya. They are living in Kiev. This is June 22, 1941, the morning of the bombings, after the smoke has cleared. Ivan and his son Sergei are headed out to survey the damage.
The memory of that night will haunt me. The whistle of the bombs and the thunder as they found their targets still move through my head, my heart, my soul. Intertwined with the noise is the sound of screaming. Masha, turning and crying, confused and afraid. Tanya and Anna gripped in the corner, their cries mingling together to form a low wail. In the midst of all the noise, I see Sergei, my son. He is silent. I watched him through the flashes and tremors. Between dark and light, he became a man.
As the terror of the night slipped into a balmy, dusty morning, I watched them all closely. Tanya and Anna, both delicate and small, wrapped in one another’s arms, their faces worn and strained. Masha sat tucked beneath Sergei’s arm, her head nodding and falling, stubbornness alone keeping her from succumbing to the sleep that so clearly longed to take her away.
And the man Sergei, who sat with his back straight against the wall, protecting the sister he so deeply loved. I knew the decision he made in those long, quiet hours. I saw him wrestling, an inward battle flashing through his grey eyes. And when the war was over, he looked at me resigned, brave, grown. I nodded, a silent confirmation of what he needed most – my blessing.
Shuffling into the still street, I turned to my son and grabbed his shoulders with both hands. I felt the muscles that rounded over the tops of his arms and for the first time noticed the sinewy nature of his frame. My son had developed the taught muscles of a man without me even noticing. Surely this did not happen overnight.
Looking straight in his eyes, I spoke to him not as a father to his son, but as a comrade. “You will wait until your birthday. When you are eighteen, you may enlist.”
My voice came out gruff, almost harsh and tears stung the corners of my eyes. Sergei’s chin lifted slightly and he nodded calmly. “Yes, Papa.”
Not caring who might look out and see, I pulled him into my arms and gripped him with the passion that only a father can feel for his son. Sergei’s arms engulfed me in return and for a long while we held one another. And in that embrace I bid farewell to the boy I had rocked, fed, played with and taught for nearly eighteen years. And somehow I knew that when my son left, I wouldn’t see him again.
©Kelli Stuart April, 2011
Have a lovely spring Tuesday!
When Lee and I first moved to St. Louis, the land in which I spent most of my formative years, we immediately set out to develop new relationships as a married couple. I did not want to only think of St. Louis as my childhood home, though it felt that way since I spent six years in Texas learning the culture and laws of that strange land.
Big Hair. Big Accents. Big Belt Buckles. Big Hearts.
One of the first families we met was the Krosley family and we fell in love with them from the start. They were fun, giving, kind and one life step ahead of us. They had three young kids, we had a baby. We looked up to the Krosley’s in every sense.
We worked closely with the Krosley’s to develop a new ministry in our church geared toward young married couples and in our time with them we learned of their heart for adoption. We prayed with them as they waited to adopt from China and we rejoiced when God answered their prayer in a mighty way with their fourth child – a little boy they named Andrew.
In the eight years that we’ve known the Krosley’s, we’ve watched their children grow. Their two oldest are young adults now, both impacting the world in different ways. Their sixteen year old daughter, Lauren, was so moved by her brother’s adoption that she longed to return to China and work in an orphanage. And this summer, her dream will come true when she and her mom, Pam, go to Choayang, China with Visiting Orphans to minister to the little ones so desperately in need of love.
The most exciting part about this trip is that we can all be involved in helping Lauren and her team raise money to build a new playground for the children in the orphanage. Most of the children these students will be minstering to will likely grow up in their orphanage and a new playground would be such a delight for them.
Would you consider donating to Lauren’s team?
Here are the details. Click this link and under Gift Designation put June 22-July 3. Under the tab Designate to a Specific Team Member, put Lauren Krosley.
Thanks everyone! I would love to see Lauren and her team raise all the funds they need to build the orphans of Choayang a place to dream, play and be kids.
Switching gears…
A few years ago, Lee asked me to not watch Oprah anymore. “Why?” you ask. Well I’ll tell you. In general, I have never been a big Oprah watcher mainly because I just don’t have time to watch TV at 4:00 in the afternoon. But every so often I was intrigued by her previews and tuned in.
In the span of a couple of months I watched several Oprah specials on the plight of orphans worldwide, specifically orphan girls. I heard horror story after horror story of the sex trafficking that these young ones were subjected to and I would dial Lee up in tears, bouncing an infant Sloan on my shoulder.
“We need to adopt a little girl or five from Romania,” I sobbed once. “You should hear what happens to those girls!” Another time I called him blubbering about the abandoned girls in Africa and begged him to consider adopting a few children from that country…in addition to the five from Romania and three or four from Russia. It was at that point that Lee gently suggested I quit watching shows that upset me so much.
So I did. But the stories didn’t leave. I’m horrified at what little girls around the world are facing. It’s nauseating and heart wrenching and it makes me physically ill when I dwell on it. It horrifies me that any child would go through being sold into sexual slavery, but I was especially disheartened to find out about it happening in this very country.
I’m posting a video below that I saw on Shaun Groves’ site last week. It’s long, so if you don’t have time to watch it right now, that’s fine, but I strongly urge you to watch it later when you’ve got 30 minutes. It’s extremely well done and is gut wrenching, both visually and in subject matter.
This is a short film from Whitstone Motion Pictures called The Candy Shop. It was made to specifically highlight the issue of sex trafficking here in the States. You can read more about it here.
The Candy Shop from Whitestone Motion Pictures on Vimeo.
You can also visit StoptheCandyShop.com to find out more ways you can be involved in fighting sex trafficking in young children.
Thanks for taking the time to read and learn about these organizations and ways you can make a difference in the lives of little ones worldwide.
We have a naughty little Monkey in our midst. He’s mischevious and sneaky and you never really know where you’ll find him. See for yourself:
Sometimes this mischevious little monkey convinces the stuffed bear to join in on the antics and we find them together on the shelf.
Thus far, however, he hasn’t been able to convince Old Monkey (aka, Steve) to climb with him. Steve just doesn’t have it in him anymore. He’s a little over three years old. In Sock Monkey years that’s 104. He also has a bum arm and leg…
There are squeals of delight multiple times a day as we discover where New Monkey has settled himself. “I fink he must be awive!” they cry.
We’ve tried to catch Monkey in the act of swinging and climbing, but he’s just too clever. As you can see from some of the pictures above, we’ve almost caught him. We’ve seen him mid-swing more than once, but he always manages to freeze before we can get to him.
Yesterday they were determined to keep Monkey in their sights all day in the hopes that they would see him move. But wouldn’t you know, when they turned their backs for one second he managed to scamper up on top of the fridge!
Silly Monkey.
I have several brilliant posts rolling through my head. They are witty and thoughtful – or at least they could be. You’ll never really know for sure because they are totally and completely stuck there, bouncing off the sides of my brain like pinballs. Our house officially went on the market yesterday and keeping it in decent shape to show it is as close to a full time job as I’ve ever had. Oh, and did I mention Lee is in New Jersey for two weeks?
Mama’s tired.
So today’s post is full of random facts you’ll never really need to know. Facts about me. Calm down, calm down…I know you’re excited. Take a minute to catch your breath and maybe go grab a cup of coffee. Ready?
– I have a secret crush on Hugh Grant. I think he’s adorable and hilarious and no matter how silly the movie, if he’s in it, I’m almost certain to enjoy it.
– I have another secret crush on Will Ferrell who I am fairly certain might be the funniest person alive.
– Those are just my secret crushes, of course. Not my out in the open celebrity crushes.
– I have always wanted to voice a cartoon character. Back in the day when Disney movies were not soley voiced by already famous actors who bring their own star power to the movie, I was certain that my future would be as the voice of a Disney Princess. *sigh*
– I hate running.
– I am training for a marathon relay that takes place this weekend. I ran four miles last Saturday and in the process managed to destroy my left hamstring. After running two miles this morning I can barely straighten out my leg. I’m trying to decide if I’m truly a determined enough athlete to work through this pain and conquer the race.
– I haven’t showered in three days. There hasn’t been time. All you women who are single moms, my hat goes off to you. You are heroes. Now tell me, please, when do you manage to eat, sleep and shower?
– I get bored if life becomes too predictable. I love a little excitement to keep things spicey.
– I have no idea what my natural hair color is. I think the color likely falls somewhere in the palette of dishwater.
– I am definately more fun as a blonde than as a brunette.
– I feel like I stopped aging at 25 and can’t believe I’m creeping toward my mid-thirties. Of course, my blown hamstring after one four mile run kind of gives away the fact that I’m no longer a spring chicken.
– Getting old kinda blows.
– I’m kind of a hot head. Not real proud of that one.
– I really, truly, to the depth of my soul love being a mother.
– My favorite book growing up was Julie (Andrews) Edwards’ The Last of the Really Great Wangdoodles. I’ve read it no less than 100 times. It’s a great, great story.
– I looked out the window this morning and saw Landon riding his Hot Wheel on the front sidewalk. He was so content and having so much fun, his mouth moving constantly as he chattered to himself and I felt deep gratefulness and happiness bubble up inside. It is a mental snapshot and a feeling I’ve filed away for all time.
– I’m nervous about selling my house.
– I long to travel the world and want to show my kids the world. I’m not sure how much of the world we’ll be able to afford to show them, but I hope to instill in them an appreciation for other cultures and a love for adventure and travel so that someday they will want to see new parts of the world on their own. I don’t want to just take them on lavish vacations, though. I want to expose them to the world through missions. I want them to see the need around them, in their own communities and abroad, and to be ready and willing to respond.
– I’m not sure our family is complete yet. Someone still feels like they’re missing. But who? We are praying over that one.
– I really need a shower today.
– I have never broken a bone. At least not technically. I developed a stress fracture in my back when I was fourteen from gymnastics, but I’ve never worn a cast. Knock on wood…
– Part of me wishes I had more energy and drive to expand myself as a business woman, but I have recognized my capabilities and know how much I am able to handle and still maintain my priority as mom without stress. I have found a lovely balance and contentment in both business and work.
– I will never, ever, ever get over my fear of crickets.
I can think of no more random, boring facts about myself to share. Now it’s your turn. Tell me a few random facts about you!
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