The girls who wear me out before my children even have a chance to get to me.

See this gal? This is Allie, and she is my aerobics instructor. Don't let the cute smile and little pink weights fool you. This gal is tough. Some days, she kicks my rear end with all those lunges (with the knees at right angles), and I remember the days when even doing the bunny hop with her left me out of breath. But, she's good. So I keep going back to her. Truth be told, she is probably my favorite instructor, because she's fun. I like all the cardio routines with her. And those lunges? Well, she just smiles and says, "I know they're tough. They're good for you."
She says this while making me do four lunges with a three-count pulse at the bottom, of course.

Pam's ok, too. She's got a toned-down southern accent that can be fun to listen to -- all those long vowels. I keep waiting for her to use the word "ya'll" but she hasn't slipped up yet. But she's cunningly deceptive. See, if I'm feeling tired, but know I REALLY should keep up the discipline of excersizing I think, "Maybe I'll just work out with Pam today. She only works me for 40 minutes." So I start working out with Pam. And then, just about the time that she has me doing tall box climbs (with the wide climb thrown in to keep things popping), I remember. Pam is not easy. Pam likes to body sculpt. Body sculpting equals pain! But it's too late, because there I am, panting audibly and hoping the noise doesn't wake up my girls.

I used to think that Stephanie was just short of evil. I mean, all those sets at warp speed and just as soon as you make your arms and legs do what her arms and legs are doing -- at the same time she's doing it -- she changes to three new moves. So you start moving like a reject contestant for Dancing with the Stars when really you just want to hunch your shoulders forward and catch your breath. And maybe mop up the puddle of sweat you're standing in. You know, just so you don't slip.
But I think I've got her beat. Well, not right now, but soon. I've started adding my knee to all those moves on the step, and soon I might even be able to use all the power options. So there, doubt. Take that.
Bible College weight? I'll see you soon. One and a quarter? Hello, new goal.

Saving Memories for You, Part 2

Dear Elsie,
Last week you had your first birthday. And I was so proud to be your mommy. You are one amazing baby! If I could pick some memories for you to have of your first year with us, here are some I would choose:

1. We are pretty sure your first word is "hi", and I love that. It's so friendly. You say hi when you've gained someone's attention, and your little, high-pitched voice is so sweet.

2. You love your big sister. When I get you out of your crib in the mornings, you look over at Natalie in her bed and smile. You love when she plays games with you, and laugh so hard when she tickles you!

3. You hold cups in your mouth. As in, you put a cup in your mouth, take your hands away, and hold the cup with your jaw. Sometimes you move it up and down with your jaw. So funny.

4. You know how to be heard. Even when you were only 3 months old, people could hear you through the phone even though I was in another room. Then it was a very shrill squeal, letting us know how happy you were. Now, when you get in the mood, you talk so loudly that no one else can be heard (although, this does not happen too much).

5. At about 10 months, you started making a face anytime I tried to give you a food you didn't want to eat. Your face would be scrunched up, eyes closed, lips pursed. If I still tried to give you that bite, you would shake your head from side to side so that I couldn't get it in your mouth!

6. You love books that have parts to touch. You know where all those parts are in our books now, I don't even have to show you or put your hand there.

7. You really like your ducky tub. Sometimes you try to repeat duck. It usually comes out as "da". And if you hear quacking, you will try to repeat it: "ba ba ba ba."

8. You laugh all the time. You even have a little polite laugh; a very pronounced "ah ha ha". You were so rightly named Elizabeth Joy. Elizabeth means "consecrated to God", and Beth means "house". You are joyfully consecrated to God, and you are a house of joy!

9. You suck your thumb, but only when you are ready for bed. Sometimes as soon as I start walking up the stairs to lay you down, you put your thumb in. So cute!

10. You are a great snuggler. Even when you were younger, you would throw your hands on my shoulders like you were trying to give me a hug. Now you like to lay your head on my shoulder. And I like it, too.

Happy Birthday, my beautiful Elsie Joy!

I question so that I can make it all count.

I lost a friend last night. She was not perhaps what you would call a close friend. I hadn't really talked to her in years. But I went to college with her for a year, and worked in the same building with her for two. I saw her practically everyday for three years.
She was killed by a tornado while trying to find shelter. The tornado sirens didn't go off until later.
A person, of course, usually has questions at a time like this, but since I don't know the full details of her story, and hadn't spoken with her to know the details of her life, I think I have even more. Was she afraid? Did she die instantly? Was she ready? Did she know she was going to die?
I tend to have this optimistic hope that, when people are going to die suddenly, they get some sort of warning so they can be prepared. I think I got that from a documentary on Abraham Lincoln; apparently before he was shot he had more than one dream that he was floating down a river in a wooden box. But now... I can't swallow that optimistic hope quite as lightly today. Because what if she just didn't know?
And so I have questions today for myself. Am I living my life to the fullest? And how do you even do that realistically? Am I doing what I am supposed to be? I'm at home with my girls now; am I honoring them the way Jesus does? Am I loving them right? Am I being the example I want them to follow? Have I really shown my husband my love for him? Have I been a helpmate the way a wife should? Have I served him so that he can do and be everything that he is supposed to do and be?
Dear Alisha, I cannot pretend to have had more of a relationship with you than I really had. But I am thinking of you today. And, while I am very somber, I know that surely you can't be. For you are looking into Love. Enjoy it for me, too. And perhaps, if the knowledge does not make you sad, know that many people are having trouble understanding how the world can go on as usual today.

I do not understand you, Jason Benson!

I do not understand how one man can create so much laundry.

I do not understand why you ate yogurt for breakfast even though you tell me how bad dairy is for you.

I do not understand why you want the fan on at night even though it obviously makes our room very cold!

I do not understand why you bring home ice cream for Natalie right before her bedtime. But I think it's pretty cute.

I do not understand why you read Natalie's books the "wrong" way, but she seems to like the change of pace.

I do not understand why your whiskers make those red marks on Elsie's face, but she's willing to forebear them in order to get smothered with your kisses.

I do not understand why you wanted to start dating me. But it still makes me smile when I think of it.

I do not understand how you crawl out of bed at 3am and go to work. But I'm so proud of you for doing that for me and our girls.

I do not understand why you choose to love me everyday in so many ways, in spite of my very evident faults, but I'm so grateful that I want to cry.

And I do not understand why you have not won an award by now.

Happy Mother's Day!

Dear Mom,
Here is what I remember of you from when I was a kid:

-- You were the best cook in the whole wide world.

-- I have some memory of you singing a special (at a baseball field?). You did an awesome job, and I was so proud that you were my mom.

-- "If it was a snake, it would have bitten you by now." Several times over, I'm sure. Thanks for not giving up on me when my locating skills were useless.

-- The house was always filled with music because you were always teaching someone how to sing or play piano. I was convinced you were the most knowledgeable person alive when it came to music. And although I didn't know it then, I love how you have never turned anyone away, even if they couldn't pay, because music belongs to everyone.

-- I remember how tender you were to me the day that I wore my brownie uniform to school when our meeting had been canceled for a week. Nearly everyone in my troop saw me that day and reminded me that we weren't meeting, which was too much for my little third grade soul. I came home embarrassed, took off my uniform, threw it on the kitchen floor and stomped on it. You came in and held me while I cried, and told me that it was really your fault for not remembering and reminding me. Thanks for that, Mom.

-- I remember the dresses you made, the enormous puzzles you put together, and amazing birthday cakes that you made from scratch and decorated with those special frosting tubes/pipes/whatever they are.

--You constantly did things to support our family. You worked three part time jobs while Dad was out of work, and you home schooled us when things at our local school turned sour.

-- You watched our three best friends every Wednesday, and let us have Mac 'n' Cheese and Blue Koo (that was our cool name for blue Kool-Aid) over and over and over again. Then you'd give us popsicles made from chocolate pudding or red Jello. I was convinced you were the coolest mom in the world. And I still am.

There is wisdom in a multitude of counsel.

Last year around this time, I was one week away from delivering a baby. My baby shower was on May 10th, and on May 17th my Elizabeth Joy was here.
As a present to me, a box of index cards was passed around. All the guests were told to write encouraging words for me to keep and read once I became a mother of two. Anyone reading this is welcome to steal this idea for an upcoming shower -- it was a wonderful gift and I've read them over several times! Here are some of my favorites to read:

--I can tell you for sure that you cannot be a mom without the help of God. I have tried to be a mom without God and it doesn't work. When the going gets tough, the tough go to God.

-- Sometimes as a mom, I would be looking forward to when they were all potty trained or whatever. So my encouragement to you is savor every moment because time flies all too fast. Enjoy!

-- You will love being the mother of two girls! When the emotions and drama are running high at your house, just remember that God has given you grace to raise strong, confident women of God.

-- Remember: God's grace is enough for each day and each moment. The enemy tries to get us to look at ourselves and our inadequacy, but he is a liar and accuser of the sisters. God is enough. He says ask for wisdom. Pray with other mothers who have lived through it! Did I say I love you? I love you!

-- One time, when my children were small, I was at my wits end. I sort of screamed at God that if He had soooo much patience then He would show me how much patience He had. I felt God smile and He said, "You only have two children, and look at how many I have." .... Think about that.

Thank you so much, Ladies! You have no idea how many times already these words have lifted my perspective!

Lucky for Benjamin that you get your identity from your father .

I read Genesis recently, and I was struck with something that I'd overlooked many times before. Rachel gives birth to her second son in anguish, and just before she dies, she names him "Ben-Oni". The very next verse says, "But his father called him Benjamin." Without thinking I looked to my footnotes: Ben-Oni means "Son of my trouble," Benjamin means "Son of my right hand." I've probably read those same footnotes every time I've read that passage in this particular Bible. The story immediately moves on to the rest of Jacob's journey, but I was stuck right there.
Before, I've just thought, Boy that was pretty mean of Rachel. How could you stick your child with a name like "Son of my trouble?" But this time my thoughts stayed on Jacob. The father renamed his child; gave him the name he would always be known for from this time forward, "Son of my right hand." This time, I grasped the parallel.
So many things push for the chance to label us. The devil tells us we're worthless, inadequate. That we should have just stayed in bed today, and every day from now on. The world tries to get us to compare ourselves, but we never measure up. There's always someone who meets the standard a little better than we do. Someone who is prettier, smarter, funnier, more spiritual, gets rewards that we deserve. But, it's the Father who gives us our identity. And no matter who the world says that we are, it's God who gets to name us. The things around us have spoken to us, trying to make us believe that we are nothing more than a son of trouble. But the Father is the one who gets to sign our birth certificate, and He has named us the sons of His right hand. I am seriously excited about this!
Here's to living like a Benjamin!