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When Life Gives You Lemons

December 12, 2011 by

Make Lemonade, right?

Or in our case, when Target gives you a Gingerbread House that refuses to stay together…

Eat it.

While our annual Gingerbread House construction did not go quite as planned, we did partake in what I can only hope will be a new tradition over the weekend when we attended the boat parade in Clearwater.

The perks to living minutes from the ocean keep adding up.

It was even chilly enough to necessitate the wearing of the coats for the first time!  It felt downright Christmasy…

 

Our friends, Mike and Carol, joined us on the water.  One year ago at this time we were all sledding down the hill in their back yard.  Now we congregate at the beach, instead.  It’s so good to have familiar faces nearby.

So how about you?  What traditions, new and old, are you enjoying this holiday season?

Filed Under: Christmas, Holidays Tagged With: , , ,

Read with Kleenex

December 12, 2011 by

Today I want to give you a few links to some of the most powerful words I’ve read on the internet these last few months.  These writers are real, honest and have an incredible knack for weaving word pictures in such a way that makes you stop cold and think deep.

Refreshing.

The pastor of the church we have been visiting preached a sermon this morning titled Come Before Winter.  Apparently it is an annual tradition for him to preach this message and I really wish someone would have warned me ahead of time how emotional this message would be.  Although, it’s probably best I didn’t know, because I may have been tempted to skip it altogether.

The theme was centered around Paul’s final letter to Timothy when he urged him to come back to Rome quickly, before winter set in and travel across the Mediteranean would be impossible.  Paul knew he had little time left and there were still words he wanted to say to his beloved Timothy.

The message?  Life is short and goes by in an instant.  What are we doing to seize every opportunity while we are here on this Earth to glorify and honor God with our relationships, our gifts and talents and the tasks set before us?  He finished his message by reading something he wrote about his youngest child, who will graduate from high school this spring.  This was written days before he would watch his son play his final football game.

Get your Kleenex handy.

He was born on an October weekend 18 autumns ago. I was proud then. I am proud now. He has graced my life and blessed me in immeasurable ways.  And now it’s his senior year. It’s the last week, the last game. It was bound to happen. Where did the time go?

Read the entire story here.

Folks, there were grown men throughout the sanctuary blubbering like small children, most of them crowned with silver hair.  It was the kind of morning where you walk around with a burning lump lodged in your throat and you laugh inappropriately just to keep from crying.

Or maybe that was just me…

The next two ladies are hands down two of the most amazing bloggers to grace the internet and I’m not just saying that because I happen to know and love each one of them dearly.

Okay maybe I’m a tiny bit biased.

Becke’ not only has an amazing, God-given gift for photography, but she also has a deep and profound love of scripture and understanding of grace.  Oh, and she just so happens to be my sister-in-law.  If you’re not reading her blog, I really encourage you to do so.  You will be blessed.  And you might be slightly jealous of her pictures….

God wants light in His house so we could see.  The seeing would enable generations to hope for the one Good Olive, the one who would be beaten in that Garden of Gethsamene (garden of oil press), in order to bring true light.

Read the full post here.  And then look at the rest of her posts.  Just be prepared to go deep because Becke’ takes you to church when she writes.  You can also go ooh and aah over her pictures here.

And then there’s Wendy.  I’ve mentioned her a time or two…because she’s awesome.  And she may write one of the most refreshingly honest blogs on all the interwebs.  She’s sincere and real and bold and she writes with a humility that is like a breath of fresh air.  Wendy is an actress and a writer and she oozes creativity.  But more than that, she is a wife and a mom and she embraces those roles fully and completely.

Joy is not dependent upon our circumstances, the health of those we love, or how physically well-rested we are; JOY comes from abiding in Him, ever thankful that He abides in us.

Read the rest of this post here and then go read some more of her posts.  I actually had a difficult time choosing which post to highlight.

Speaking of life moving quickly - this kid is going to be FOUR this week!

There are a lot of places where you could spend your time online.  But I hope that by reading the words of these bloggers you find yourself encouraged as you see their genuine authenticity.  And I pray that as you head into your week, you find yourself feeling blessed and renewed.

I pray the same for myself.  A word to the wise – don’t drink caffinated tea at night.  You could just find yourself up and kickin’ at 2:00 am.  Not that I would know anything about that…

Blessings, friends.

Filed Under: Blogging, Random, writing Tagged With: , , , ,

The value of a man

December 8, 2011 by

Earlier today, Albert Pujols signed a massive deal that took him out of the Cardinals uniform and put him into an Angels uniform….and all hell broke loose.  I heard the wailing all the way down here.  Mournful weeping.

Gnashing of teeth.

As I heard the details, I was struck by only one thing: how has the value of one man become so displaced?

This is not a question of Albert Pujol’s character.  While I do not know him personally, I know several people who do and I know that he is the real deal.  He gives more than he takes, he isn’t looking for attention and he constantly deflects praise.  If I had to pick someone who I felt could handle the responsibility of $250 million dollars, I would choose Albert Pujols.

“He’s greedy!”

“So I guess it is all about the money!”

“Backstabber!”

“Don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya!”

All of these sentiments popped up online as everyone lashed out at the surprise last minute deal.  And I get it…sort of.  Pujols is a hometown hero.  Not only is the he face of baseball, but he’s an amazing person and who wouldn’t want to keep him around?  I understand the disappointment, but let’s keep perspective.

He is just one man.

The truth is, none of us know everything that went into Albert’s decision to move his family across country.  Was it the money?  Well, probably to a degree it was.  How many of us would have turned down $34 million for loyalty’s sake?  At the end of the day I don’t believe this was greed so much as business.  Can it be argued that there comes a point where enough is enough?  Sure.  But it can also be argued that a lot of good could be done with $34 million and to simply walk away out of principle is kind of foolish.

In other words, Pujols was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t.

To claim that it was solely the money that brought him to this decision simplifies things far too much.  As my super smart (and freakishly handsome) husband explained to me, Albert Pujols is thinking about his career as a whole.  Where can he establish himself that gives him the best opportunity to finish out his years as a baseball player?

St. Louis wasn’t the place.  And that is okay.

So I do not begrudge Albert Pujols.  And I fully trust that he will give away more money than most of us will ever know or comprehend.  This bigger deal gives him the opportunity to give above and beyond what he is already doing.  If I’m being totally honest, I’d tell you that I’d rather see $250 million in the hands of Albert Pujols than in the hands of the US Government.

Ouch.

Honestly, my initial and gut reation to the news today was not anger toward Pujols but rather toward our society as a whole.  I felt a heap of righteous indignation at the thought that we as a nation have placed such an enormous value upon a man who swings a stick and hits a ball.  I do not say that disrespectfully by any means.  I hope I’ve established that I have nothing but respect for Albert Pujols.  But the fact remains, he’s just a guy with a bat.

Why is the value of a baseball player so high, yet the value of a teacher so low?  Is it a wonder our school system is failing, our economy tanking?  Does it not seem that the value we as a society have placed upon man is only slightly off kilter?

This is not Albert’s fault.  This has nothing to do with him and everything to do with a society that has drastically lost perspective on the value of influence.  Or does it?

Is one man worth $250 million dollars? Well, though my first response is a resounding HECK NO, the truth is that’s not really for me to judge or decide.  I really believe that God Himself ordains some to be stewards of much and for others to be stewards of little (Matthew 25).  It’s not for me to decide how much a man is worth, but rather to be responsible with that which I’ve been given.  This is where my criticism for the amount Pujols has been promised gets shattered into a thousand tiny pieces and my writing starts to sounds schizophrenic so I find myself simply needing to wrap things up.

I’m happy for Albert Pujols.  Truly and completely, I am happy that a man of his character has found favor in such a way.  And for my part, I will continue to cheer him on, not because I value what he does on the field, but rather what he does off of it.

I am, however, still a bit shocked at the priorities of our nation and the value we place on those who entertain.  I am afraid I feel both emotions equally, though they are a bit conflicting.

Your thoughts?

Image Credit

 

Filed Under: Sports Tagged With: , , ,

What if we all slowed down?

December 7, 2011 by

We wandered through the brush, the bristled fronds scraping against our bare arms.  December 7 and in shorts.  This is the things dreams are made of.

We stopped and peered inside the little windows and I let my mind wander.  Who were they that lived there then?  What sounds filled their homes in a time when the whirring of electronics was not yet realized?  When televisions didn’t dictate every thought and movement?  Did they, too, feel the rushing passage of time – they who had no option of jumping in the car and buzzing to this meeting or that event?

As the quiet moments ticked away the evening hours and their hands, weary from a long day’s labor, sat still in their laps, were they able to drink the moments in?  Or did those mothers, like me, find themselves each night wondering what happened and how did the day blur by in a blink?

One day older.

Did those mothers nestle their babes each night and wish they could freeze time for a brief moment just so they had the opportunity to drink it all in?  Did those same mothers also have some nights when the darkness brought a sense of sweet relief as the bustle and the energy finally stopped and they had a few brief moments of peace before it all started up again?

I imagine the mothers were very much like me in this regard.  Equal parts sad to see the days fly by and anxious for the peace the nighttime brings.  Perhaps even more so as the burden they shouldered was far greater than mine.  Their days were filled with much more labor and with far fewer luxeries.

As we walked into the tiny house, the tour guide met us with twinkling eyes, the lines in his face evidence of a life well lived.  With a gentle smile, he guided us through each room, his aging voice filled with awe, wonder and appreciation.  He understood simpler times and I heard the longing in his words as he pointed out the small tools and toys.  The days of quiet are not far removed from his mind.

I love the quiet, too.  Not setting up cable has been one of the best decisions we’ve ever made.  Evenings are filled with quiet togetherness.  Sitting on the floor, rolling the ball to one another.  Walks around the block.  Ice cream on the lanai.  Together without the noise.  It’s a step toward the simpler times.

What if we all slowed down just a little bit?  What if we all spent a little less time watching the lives of others and living our own? What if we all cut out just a few things so that the precious moments could at least be soaked in a bit before zipping past?  What if we just stopped for awhile?

I confess, the stopping and soaking in is hard for me.  It’s really, really hard.  There is so much to be done and the stopping feels like a halt in progress.  But is it?  When we stop, sit, listen and wait – does this stagnate us or, perhaps, move us forward still but in a deeper and more fulfilled manner?

As we pulled out of the gravel driveway, I turned off the radio and rolled down the windows.  This is a big deal for me.  I’m not a “wind in her hair” kind of gal.  I find it annoying and loud.  But today, instead, I listened to the wind whipping through the car, the echoes of movement passing through.  I breathed deep the salty air and glanced at the ocean just across the street.  I drove the speed limit, not pushing my speed but instead taking the time to enjoy the journey.

And they enjoyed, too.  We talked about the seagulls and the graceful way they danced on the wind.  The discussed what we would do if each of us were a bird.  How would the world look from the sky?

Even the (smokin’ hot) minivan has the potential to slow down.

What if we all just took the time?

What would life look like and how would it be different?

All photos taken during today’s field trip to Heritage Village in Largo, Florida.

Filed Under: Family, Heritage, Homeschool, Kids, Motherhood Tagged With: , , ,

Just me and my thoughts

December 5, 2011 by

The title of this post alone should scare you all.  I am welcoming you into my thoughts?

Frightening.

Because the truth is, I can go from thinking of something super brilliant and kinda deep to thinking up alternate lyrics to popular songs in the same breath.  “So, Kelli.  What ARE your favorite made up alternate lyrics?” I’m so glad you asked!

Sung to the tune of Justin Timberlake and Janet Jackson’s “Rock Your Body”

I’m gonna wash your body

Make it clean

Scrub with me

No lie, I sang this to the kids every time I bathed them and they ALL sing it now when they pick up a bar of soap.  It. is. awesome.

So yeah…that’s the kind of stuff that floats through my head.

Okaaaaay, then.  Let’s bring this crazy train on in to the station, shall we?

I’ve been thinking a lot about Christmas these last few weeks.  I’m wrestling through my desire to teach my kids to really, truly embrace the power of this Christmas season without completely turning away from the magic of gift giving and receiving.  There have been a lot of really wonderful blog posts written lately on the topic and I’m awed at how many people have given up gifts altogether on Christmas, choosing instead to focus on the true meaning behind why we celebrate this holiday.

I’ll be honest.  I’m not there and I’m okay with that.

Because I really love the moment my children walk around the corner and see the twinkling lights and the gifts and the excitement leading up to that magical moment.  And I think we can still enjoy that tradition without losing ourselves to the marketing mayhem that Christmas has become.

Truthfully, the last few years we have pulled back significantly on how much “stuff” we give our kids.  Because they don’t need all the stuff.  Last year we gave fewer gifts and tried to make them more meaningful and useful.  And we are pulling back even more drastically this year.

There are other things we plan to do with the kids this year to keep the focus of Christmas outward and not inward.  And I may or may not share what those things are.  I am trying to keep some things private as a way to preserve the traditions, memories and even acts themselves as sacred between us, our children and the God we serve.  It’s a balance.

I can tell you this, though.  As the kids and I discussed the way that Christmas would change a bit this year, I mentioned today that we would be spending less on one another and more on others.  I was immediately met with disappointed stares and protests and for a brief second, my heart sank.  Perhaps we had gone wrong all these years if my children were going to pitch a small fit over receiving fewer toys.  Then Tia spoke.

“But Mom,” she said, her eyes big and round.  “I really, really wanted to get you a special present this year!”

“Yeah, me too,” Sloan said.  “I had a plan for exactly what I wanted to get you.”

*tears*  *hugs*

Then I promised them a pony.

I thanked them for thinking of me and not themselves and told them I would be honored to receive gifts from them, but that I wanted them to spend more time, energy and money on gifts for people who are in need than on me.

IMG_0084

Our nativity scene usually includes Santa, Luke Skywalker, Moses, a Construction Worker and on occasion C-3PO likes to make an appearance.

I won’t tell my children they can’t buy me a gift.  (I think they’re going to buy me Peppermint Mocha Coffee Creamer – Mercy, I am loved).  I will, however, encourage them to think outside the box on how we can give to others.  I loved some of the ideas in this post – particularly the suggestion of giving children a sum of money and allowing them to use it however they want, as long as it’s for someone in need.

I am not opposed to giving gifts at Christmas, personally.  It’s not something that I feel we need to cut out entirely.  I am, however, finding myself more and more drawn to celebrating more simply, with the traditions surrounding the gifts and not the other way around.  I don’t have a problem with my kids believing in Santa because we don’t make him the reason for the season.  I don’t play the Santa card to encite good behavior (mortifying) and I read the story of the real Saint Nicholas every single year so that they know and understand the historical significance of who he was.  Santa gets a bit part in our the Christmas celebrations in our home.  And I don’t mind that.

These are things that I, personally, don’t sweat.  Because I don’t let them get out of hand. I am, however, pondering and thinking and praying over exactly how Christmas will look for us this year – how we will incorporate gift giving and receiving into our holiday in a way that is meaningful and precious.  Rest assured, though, that no matter what, Christmas will still be magical and filled with wonder.  How could it not be so?

The Lord is Come.

Magical, indeed.

How do you keep your focus during the holidays? Any plans to help your kids think outside the box this year? I’d love to hear what others are doing!

Filed Under: Christmas, faith, Family, Holidays, Random Tagged With: , , , ,

Just Call Me Grandma

December 4, 2011 by

“You are definately having trouble converging,” he said pulling the spidery metal contraption off my face.  “And you’re a bit nearsighted.”

And I was all, “Um…excuse me, what?”

SIT DOWN!

Try taking three kids to the optometrist and NOT sounding like you have Tourette’s.  Try it.  I dare you.

*sigh*

I’ve gotten ahead of myself.  Let me back up a bit.

For the past couple of years I have had difficulty focusing when I read.  My eyes feel tired and the words on the page actually seem to move around.  The last two months have been terrible, though, and I finally decided that I should, perhaps, go see someone about the swimming words.  Because either I was going crazy and words really were moving around, or something wasn’t quite right with my eyes.

I also made an appointment for Tia to have her eyes checked.  Two birds – one stone.  The problem is I had to bring along the other two birds and they weren’t happy about it.  At all.  Vocally unhappy.

*eye roll*

So we piled into the opteometrist’s office and Tia hopped up in the chair and began her exam.  The first time she had her eyes tested, she didn’t know most of her alphabet so I was never really sure if her eyes were tested properly.  Turns out, they were.  Her eyesight hasn’t improved.  But her command of the English Alphabet is masterful.

Thank you.  Thank you very much.

So is Landon’s, by the way.  Because every time the doctor flashed a letter up on the wall he would blurt it out, much to the doc’s consternation.  Finally, Tia finished and it was my turn in the hot seat.  At this point, the boys were reaching the melting point.  I hissed a couple of warnings, then settled into the chair as the doctor lowered his space-age contraption.  Looking through the doo-dad’s on my face I saw not only the letters flashing on the wall, but also my children throwing down a serious wrestling match on the office floor.  It was all kiddie WWF and I was mortified.

“I can see you,” I said and the three froze, their eyes locked on the goggles nestled over my eyes.  “Sit. Down. Puh-lease,” I said through clenched teeth and the doctor chuckled in my ear.

“So when was your last eye exam?” he asked.

“Uh…gosh, I don’t know.  I guess maybe in high school?”

High school was a long time ago.

So after he ran his little tests and gave me the skinny on my not so stellar eye sight, he dilated my eyes and I headed out to the waiting area with my kids still wrestling on the floor behind me.  Then things got a little dicey.  The doctor assured me that the dilation would not affect my ability to drive, but within minutes I couldn’t see a blasted thing.  Nothing but a blur.

I called my husband, explained to him my dilemma and asked if he was nearby.  His reponse?

Laughter.

“You need glasses?!” he howled.  “That means you’re getting old.”

And I had no come back because dang it he seemed to be right.  Some people are born with poor eyesight.  It’s genetic and there’s nothing they can do about it.  And that’s okay.  But some people, like myself, are naturally gifted with good eyesight.  I’ve always been 20/20.  So the fact that my eyes are no longer able to focus the way they once could is merely evidence of the fact that I’m not as young as I once was.

I’m not a spring chicken anymore, people.  I need glasses to read.  Reading glasses!

He prescribed bifocals, for the love of Pete!

He also gave me a second prescription specifically for when I’m working at the computer.  He suggested I start with that one and if I felt like I needed something stronger he could fill the bifocal prescription at a later date.

My grandparents wore bifocals…on little chains around their necks.

Bifocals!

It was a little traumatizing, my friends.  I have to be honest.  My eyes are failing me.  But upon thinking it over the last couple of days, I’ve come to the conclusion that I can’t really blame my age.  Nah.  It’s not that I’m getting old at all!

It’s the kids!  I blame them.

Three pregnancies and my feet didn’t grow at all.  They’re the same size they’ve been since junior high when I galumped around like Marmaduke for two years before my body caught up to my feet.  But, clearly, my eyes were terribly affected by pregnancy hormones.  They have been irreversibly damaged!

I have pregnancy eyes.

And I’m sticking to that story. Don’t try to tell me that’s not the case.  I’m not old.  I’m a MOM.

I went back to the doctor’s office the next day to pick out my glasses.  I couldn’t get them the day of the appointment due to the dilation and the fact that I couldn’t see anything at all.  I didn’t want to end up paying an arm and a leg only to find out later I had blindly picked out a pair of glasses with a tiny picture of Justin Bieber on the middle of the frame.

We were at the office inside the Holy Land Target, thankfully, so the kids and I walked around until my eyes cleared enough for me to feel confident driving home.

And you better believe I picked out the coolest looking pair of glasses I could find.  Think sexy secretary.  Because I’m not old, dangit. I’m not.  I’m just…uh…

*sigh*

Whatever.  Just call me Grandma from now on, m’kay?

Filed Under: funny stuff that happens, Kids do the darndest things, Life, Motherhood, Random Tagged With: , , ,

The Brazen Laver

November 30, 2011 by

“You shall also make a laver of bronze, with its base of bronze for washing; and you shall put it between the tent of meeting and the altar…” Exodus 30:18

I brought him home from the hospital, his hair aglow in the soft afternoon light.  Looking at him, the sleeping cherub with the bowtie mouth, I stood in awe.  I didn’t know he would break my heart.  I didn’t know he would turn my life over and upside down with a love so intense and blinding I would sometimes find it hard to breathe.

I didn’t know that he, and the two others that followed him, would be the brazen laver in which every ounce of my dirt would be revealed.

Of course the God of the Universe had a reason for His command that Moses should place a laver of bronze between the tent of meeting and the altar.  As the priests dipped their hands and feet into the cool water, they were forced to wash away the dirt that prevented them from entering the Holy of Holies cleansed.

One can’t approach the altar with dirt stained hands.

Parenting requires that we gaze intently into the laver, all the dirt revealed in the mirrored waters of our children’s actions; their words, their laughter, their tears and fears, their sin all reflecting a small piece of us.  I tried to ignore the intensity of this gaze for a long time.  With the veil torn and the Holy of Holies available to me, I attempted to merely dust my hands off and approach the altar with a dangerous sense of entitlement.

Grace allows me to be here, I thought.  So I will come without so much of a glance into the mirror.

But God, in His infinite wisdom, gave me a child so much like myself that I found myself stumbling to my knees.

“I can’t do it!” I cried.  “I am incapable of parenting him!”

Drama much?

And in the tumble and stumble of utter exasperation, I saw…I looked. The brazen laver, always there standing between me and the Holy of Holies, but rarely approached with any sense of humility.

In the looking it was there that I saw the dirt and the grime that had hindered my communion with my children and, more devastatingly, with the One who gave them to me.  With trembling hands, I dipped my fingers into the cold.

It was equal parts fiery pain and refreshingly cool.  A washing of Grace.  A hope for restoration.  Face to face with the parts of myself that were so easily reflected in my child, I realized I had been blaming him for my dirt.  I had been trying to wash him clean with mud cake fingers.

That hurt.

But after the gaze inside the mirror and the washing clean of my selfish, tainted heart, I found myself finally, fully approaching Him.  I stood inside the Holy of Holies.

Me.

The one who left the waters blackened with filth.  I am permitted to stand before Him.  What love is this that desires and accepts communion with me?  Who am I, that the God of the Universe would be mindful of me?

I see my dirt much more clearly these days, though if I’m honest, I would tell you I am often tempted to pass right by the laver before moving into communion.  I don’t like to see my tainted reflection.

But then I look at their faces, each one bearing the beauty of His mark.  And my heart aches to usher them into the Holy of Holies, to see them bowed low before the altar, clean and whole.

It starts with me.  They are my reflection.

And they are His.

Click the play button to hear one of my favorite songs of all time.  At around 4:38 start listening closely to the lyrics.  You will get goosebumps, I promise.

My Tribute/Glory To The Father/It Is Finished (Album Version)

Image Credit

Filed Under: faith, Family, Motherhood Tagged With: , ,

The Doctor is In

November 29, 2011 by

First, let me start off by saying I thought up all manner of cheesy titles for this post involving doctors.  I finally settled on this one – the most cheesy and least inappropriate of them all.

Disclaimer #2: I really try hard not to push a lot of products on you all over here.  I’ve never been a big fan of product pitches myself so, for the most part, I aim to not recommend or talk about a product unless it’s something I really love and feel would be beneficial to you all.

With that said, when the Rug Doctor contacted me several weeks ago and asked if I would be interested in coming to St. Louis to learn more about their product, I initially said no.  To be painfully honest, I simply didn’t care about the Rug Doctor.  However, when they sweetened the deal by offering to fly the kids up with me, I decided to jump on board, not because I had a sudden change of heart but because I wanted to go back home for a visit.

And I really struggled with this decision.  It was a gamble of integrity and I wondered if I’d made the right choice.  Sure I got to go home, but I also had to write about a product now that I knew nothing about.  What if I hated it?  And worse yet, what if my readers felt duped and used?  All because I wanted a free trip to St. Louis.

After arriving, I set the kids up with sitters in our hotel room and I joined the Rug Doctor team and several other bloggers on a tour of the Fenton factory where Rug Doctor develops, tests and assembles their product.  And it was here that I got my first real glimpse at the Rug Doctor and the quality of the product.

From the Rug Doctor website: From its beginning, Rug Doctor has serviced both the professional and the Do-It-Yourself carpet cleaning market through the manufacture, sale, and service of carpet cleaning products and machines.

During the factory tour, we had the opportunity to see scientists testing and developing the carpet cleaning solutions with the intent of creating a superior product that truly does what they claim it does.  Rug Doctor’s products are made with a specific ph range that is effective for deep cleaning without damaging the fibers of your carpets or upholstry.  If a batch of product does not test to standards it is thrown out and they begin again.  Quality is of the utmost importance and the employees took great pride in that.

We were given the opportunity to speak with a number of different people from the head of the company to the head engineer in charge of building, testing and improving the features of the carpet cleaning machine.  And I actually found the whole thing very interesting.  It was nice to see a company take pride in who they were and what they offered.

At the end of the day, Rug Doctor informed us that we would each receive a Rug Doctor machine and a box of product so that we could try out it on our own carpets.  I must confess, this actually excited me a little.  The people that owned the house before us had animals and they weren’t big on the whole cleaning thing so our carpets are nasty.  Not to mention the fact that the Rug Doctor can also be used to clean upholstry, area rugs and cars.  Did you hear that?

IT ACTUALLY HAS THE POTENTIAL TO MAKE MY MINIVAN HOT FROM THE INSIDE.  That mysterious brown stain in the back? GONE!

I have used my Rug Doctor in several places around the house and I can honestly tell you that I no longer question my integrity for recommending this product to you.  It is, no doubt, amazing.  Don’t believe me?  Check out this picture:

People of the world, that is a picture of the water that came out of my machine after I used the Rug Doctor on my couch.  MY COUCH!  The place where guests sit when they come to visit.  This is what it was hiding.

Horrifying.

I have also used the Rug Doctor on the kid’s mattresses after bed wetting and it lifted the stain and odor out immediately.  The only stain I haven’t been able to get out is the bright blue one on my office floor, which occurred when I dropped the paint brush while painting the room.  So let the record show that the Rug Doctor can’t correct stupidity.

I can now honestly tell you that I love my Rug Doctor machine.  It is absolutely worth both your time and your money to rent and use one.  I plan on using it on every piece of fabric in my house and I am oddly excited about that.  It was extremely easy to use and it absolutely did what they claimed it would do – deep cleaned my carpets and couch without damaging the fibers.

The best part of all this is you don’t have to actually own a Rug Doctor to use one.  You can rent one at grocery stores across the nation for anywhere from $20-$32 for a 24-hour period.  Add in the cost of product and you’re looking at no more than $50 for the opportunity to deep clean everything in your house.  The Rug Doctor machines are serviced regularly and are quick and easy to rent, use and return.  For more information about what Rug Doctor can do for your carpets, from removing allergens and pet dander to eliminating stains and odor, check out this page.

Disclaimer: Rug Doctor flew the kids and I up to St. Louis for the blogger outreach event.  I was not compensated for this post and all opinions expressed are my own.  And yes, my couch was actually that dirty.

*hangs head in shame*

Filed Under: Domesticity, Product Reviews Tagged With: , ,

Lazy Monday

November 28, 2011 by

I think I’m still in a turkey coma.  Actually, it’s not so much the turkey as it is the stuffing, salad, pies and petit fors that have rendered me all but useless.  My brain has slowly shut down over the weekend.

It’s lovely.

This morning, as the alarm sang in my ear, begging me to leave the warm, plush covers of my bed (which I strongly believe has been sanctified by God Himself as a Holy Place), I found myself thinking over the blessings of this holiday weekend.  Good food combined with amazing family made this weekend my favorite since our move.  A visit from Lee’s parents was the icing on the cake.

Or the whip cream on the pie.

Or the sprinkles on the Petit Fors.

You get my drift.

We topped off a weekend of extreme laughter with a third visit to a church we really like where the message so moved me I found it difficult to breathe most of the day yesterday.  And for the first time, this place we’re in felt like home.  It felt as though we fit here.  As if, perhaps, this thing that we did – moving our family half way across the country – was…right.

Thanksgiving, indeed.  Or perhaps it’s better to say Giving Thanks.  Because this morning that is what I’m doing.

Though my eyelids are heavy and I feel more exhausted than I have in a long, long time, I find myself relishing the fatigue.  It’s only evidence of a weekend filled with laughter, food and love – five days of grace poured over my family.  I am, indeed, Humbly Grateful.

How was your Thanksgiving?

Filed Under: Holidays, Moving, Thanksgiving Tagged With: , ,

Humbly Grateful or Grumbly Hateful

November 23, 2011 by

Utter peace.

As a child sitting in the back seat of my parent’s Cutlass Supreme, I remember belting out the words to this song:

Are you Humbly Grateful or Grumbly Hateful?

What’s your attitude?

Do you grumble and groan,

Or let it be known

You’re grateful for all God’s done for you?

On days when the tasks of life seem overwhelming and my first, natural and selfish tendency is to moan, I still find myself singing this song softly.  And there is no greater time than the holidays to reflect on the attitude of my own heart.  Am I humbly grateful or am I grumbly hateful?

What’s my attitude?

As I walk across the tiles of our home, dirt crunching beneathe each step reminding me of the need for yet another sweep, vaccuum and mop, am I humbly grateful for a tile floor on which to walk?

As I make beds yet again, and strip soiled sheets off of beds just one more time adding to the never ending pile of laundry, am I humbly grateful for the simple luxury of extra bed sheets and a machine that washes the clothes for me?

As I search the refridgerator for food to prepare for dinner only to find that I need to run to the store yet again, am I humbly grateful for the convenience of a store just down the road and the money in the bank to buy more than enough food?

As the three little people gifted to me screech through the house, arguing over invisible pies and other insanity, am I humbly grateful for the gift of my children?  Am I grateful that I have been given not one but three blessings to care for, nourish and guide to adulthood?

Sometimes it is so much easier to be Grumbly Hateful.

Then I read a story like this one about Jonathon.  Alone.  Abandoned in the jungle.  No one to love him.  No hugs, no promise of a next meal.  No washing machine.  No one.  And yet, when presented with a small package of food and gifts his eyes light bright.  Humbly grateful.

This Thanksgiving, as I scrub floors and wash sinks, as I prepare food and make beds, I do so with full knowledge and understanding of just how blessed I am.  Life is easy, it is grand, it is full – not because of, but rather in spite of, all the “stuff.”  Yes, I’m grateful for beds and a roof and a yard and…everything.

But mostly, if I boil it down, I am grateful for Him and all He’s done for me.  Humbly Grateful.  I read this quote by Abraham Lincoln yesterday, taken from his Thanksgiving Proclamation in 1863 when he officially declared the last Thursday in the month of November to be a holiday of Thanks.

“The year that is drawing toward its close has been filled with the blessings of fruitful fields and healthful skies. To these bounties, which are so constantly enjoyed that we are prone to forget the source from which they come, others have been added which are of so extraordinary a nature that they can not fail to penetrate and soften even the heart which is habitually insensible to the ever-watchful providence of Almighty God . . . . No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy”

This often forgotten and overlooked American holiday of Thanksgiving is so full of opportunity to remember, to praise, to thank.  For more information on the history of Thanksgiving, visit the website, Celebrating Holidays.

Thanksgiving is more than just remembering the Pilgrims landing on Earth first gathering and shared meal between the Pilgrims and Indians in 1621.  From our earliest history, Thanksgiving was about acknowledging with grateful hearts the One who has given us far above and beyond all that we could ever ask or imagine.

Today I am Humbly Grateful.

Filed Under: faith, Holidays, Thanksgiving Tagged With: , , ,
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