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No Excuses

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Today marks the 31st day since I was in labor all night, went into major surgery the next morning, and since I’ve had a stretch of more than 3-4 hours of sleep at one time.  If my mother were not here, I would have surely lost it.  But even though my mother has been here to help, it has been perhaps the most difficult weeks of my life.  And yet, God saw it fit to teach me one crucial lesson.  I have no excuse.

After watching the messages at GYC via live streaming on our website, I had made several commitments.  I was particularly impacted by one message by Sebastien titled, “But Now”.  There were so many times that I made commitments to the Lord concerning myself, my husband, and my children.  Yet, often times my promises were like ropes of sand.  After so many times, it is easy to become afraid to commit again.  But I praise God for Sebastien’s message that challenged me to make commitments even though in the past, I’ve failed.  But Now.

One of the personal commitments that I made was to spend more time alone with the Lord.  I also committed to reading through the Bible cover to cover – something, I sadly admit, I’ve never done before.  Before it seemed I could never find the time.  I had so many excuses and there were also many people who assured me that I was justified.  I mean, my life was consumed by raising 2 young boys, being a pastor’s wife, GYC work, taking care of our home, cooking, cleaning and the list could go on.  Then, add to the list how my life has been these past 31 days…

But God is so patient with us.  And He is so desperately waiting for opportunities to reveal Himself to us. 

One night as I was up in the middle of the night feeding Ty, the Lord impressed something upon my heart.  Look at my life!  I’m so worn out by the end of the day and yet I still willingly wake up every few hours to feed Ty.  And I don’t even complain about it.  How could I have ever used the excuse that I was too exhausted to wake up a little earlier or stay up a little later to spend time with Jesus?  to study His Word?  Very few people could possibly be more worn out than me!  It struck me: 

Mothers have no excuse! 

If we are willing to wake up every 3 hours throughout the night to spend an hour feeding/burping/changing our babies, what is one hour every morning and evening to spend with our Savior and the Giver of our children?

If we are willing to cut out foods, no questions asked, for our nursing babies because we suspect it may be giving them gas, what is modifying our diets for the temple of the Holy Spirit?

If we are willing to defend and protect our children at all cost, what is being unashamed for the One who gave up Heaven for us?

I believe God, in His mercy, has paid special attention to us women, and particularly mothers.  He has shown us our capability to deeply love others – particularly our husbands and children.  And yet, often times we end it there.  But that just means we can love Jesus so much more.  Enoch’s experience should truly be ours! 

So, despite my failures in the past, I am determined to love Jesus more.  By His grace, I have been able to read and study His Word every day since I made that commitment.  I find time.  It helps that I am awakened every few hours during the quietness of the night to take care of Ty.  In the busiest, most trying time of my life, I have found the most time to spend with Him.  The difference is that I realized, I have no excuse.  The Lord has given me so many people in my life whom I love so very much – the latest being my precious newborn Ty.  But even now, I can love Him more!

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The Umbilical Cord

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So, Ty’s umbilical cord fell off last night.  As I was changing his diaper after a feeding, I noticed that it was gone.  I thought it was a semi-exciting moment, so I called Israel in the room to share the news.  I asked him to help me look for it since it must have fallen in his onesie.  We weren’t able to locate it right away and Israel’s first response was, “Bentley probably ate it.”  I kept searching to which Israel exclaimed, “Who cares, it’s not like we’re going to keep it anyway.” 

I would have let that comment slide were it not for the fact that over 3 years ago, we had a very similar scenario, but our conversation and outcome went very differently. 

When Imanuel’s umbilical cord fell off, it was such a momentous occasion.  It meant that we had properly dried that thing out and we could finally give our son his first bath!  We were so excited.  We looked at each other and asked, “What should we do with the cord?”  It was something that held so much meaning. And the cord was like a piece of him – a piece of us!  We were not sure what to do with that hard, raisin-looking piece of flesh.  So, we kept it on our night stand for a couple of days because we couldn’t stand to just throw it away in the trash…like it didn’t mean anything.  After about a week of it just sitting there, I revisited the cord issue.  I felt we had given it its due respect.  It was time for us to throw it out.  But Israel said no.  He liked it right where it was…sitting and collecting dust on the night stand.  In fact, he liked looking at it so much that he ended up keeping it there for over a month! 

So last night, I reminded Israel of this.  I ended up finding Ty’s cord in his onesie and gave it to Israel.  I asked him if he was sure he didn’t want me to tape it into Ty’s baby book.  We had a really good laugh.

It’s so interesting how much things change from going through the experience of raising your first child to subsequent ones.  I remember when Imanuel was first born, sometimes being moved to tears just thinking about how as each day passed by, I would never be able to relive them.  It saddened me to think that one day, I wouldn’t be able to hold him in my arms or rock him to sleep.  I didn’t want him to change so quickly!

But now that Imanuel is older, it almost seems silly that I thought that way.  While there is something special about remembering the past, in each growing stage of Manu’s life, I love and appreciate him even more.  There are lessons to be learned and we must move on.  I’m so glad he is no longer a newborn! In His wisdom, God has designed us so that in each stage of development, we are meant to grow and be strengthened.  Just as in the Christian experience, we are created to grow more and more into the stature of Christ.  In each stage, we can find completeness in Him.  That is nothing to be sad about.

With Micah and Ty, I have found emotional freedom from trying to hold on to what you can’t.  Each new day brings hope for character development and ultimately hope for salvation.  In the meantime, I am going to enjoy and savor every moment with my boys…because I know time will fly by. 

Israel tossed out Ty’s cord in the trash without a struggle.  He will soon have his first real bath…and a whole series of his “firsts”.  While the excitement isn’t quite the same as for #1, the depth of love starts with each new child where the other kids’ left off.  Ty, you are deeply loved! 

(And just to let you know, no slackers here on filling out the baby books and picture taking!  🙂     

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Am I Ready?

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The past weeks prior to baby Ty’s surprise arrival were crazy.  I was frantic trying to get all of the last minute preparations made.  Part of the reason was because I was nesting like never before.  The majority part was the fact that Israel was planning on going to California the Monday to Wednesday (Dec. 14-16) before my schedule c-section (Dec. 21).  I wanted everything ready before he left so that when he came back, we would be ready to go.  I wanted the house clean and I had an enormous check-list.  The baby room was temporarily transformed into my mom’s bedroom for the month she would be staying with us, I had scheduled an appointment for our furniture to be professionally steam-cleaned, Micah and I had our doc appointments taken care of, I dropped off a few large bags of miscellaneous items to Good Will, I bought last minute baby necessities, I loaded the freezer with food from our Schwan man (in case we got stranded by a winter storm), extra wood was stocked in the house, our bedroom was transformed into a temporary baby room, and my bag for the hospital stay was packed.  Physically, our house was pretty much ready. 

Last Friday, Dec. 11, I had finished tidying up the kitchen and I crawled into bed.  I sat there debating whether I should read or if I should work on the baby book.  I decided to work on the baby book since I still had to write a letter to the baby.  After all, it was one of the things on my check-list.  I started the letter with “Dearest Baby”.  Immediately the other two letters that I had written to my other boys came to mind.  I had poured out my hearts to unborn Imanuel and unborn Micah expressing how much I loved them and how it is my goal to raise them to love Jesus.  I shared with them how I may fail them, but how I would do my best, by God’s grace to always point them to our Savior who died for them.  And then tears began to well up in my eyes.  I thought of the past few weeks.

While I was physically getting our home ready for the baby’s arrival, spiritually, I was an absolute mess.  From the minute I would wake up to the seconds before going to bed, my mind was consumed with making sure we were cleaning and ready.  Imanuel and Micah were my biggest hindrance to keeping the house clean and getting Israel to do anything helpful was impossible.  My temper was short and my patience was somewhere on vacation far, far away.  I must admit that each night that week, before going to bed, it was very difficult to even pray.  I would keep it pretty generic so conviction wouldn’t fully set in.  I kept rationalizing and thinking that if I could just get everything done or make good progress, I would be happier.  If the kids just helped pick up their toys or if Micah would stop throwing any and all objects down the stairs, I would have time to play with them.  If Israel would help, at least with his chores, then I wouldn’t feel so exhausted all the time and would have time for devotions.  I was angry and bitter and hated it.  With this frame of mind – still quite fresh I assure you – what was I supposed to write to this new baby?  Could I honestly write that my deepest desire is to be a godly mother?  That I would do my best to raise him to love the Lord?  Every sentence I wrote took a lot of faith.  Finally, I couldn’t handle it any longer.   

With tears streaming down my face, I spoke to the Lord.  I cried out to Him in utter despair.  The thought kept going through my mind over and over again, “How can I possibly raise another child when I’ve already failed You so miserably?” 

I experienced a true repentance that I haven’t felt in a long time…and it wasn’t a good feeling.  Then, I felt a deep need for forgiveness.  Primarily from my poor husband.  I went to the bathroom to wash my face and marched into the living room where he was preparing for his sermon.  I could barely get the words out, “Israel, I just wanted to say…” and I got all choked up.  It wasn’t graceful nor pretty.  First of all, he thought something horrible had happened so he was all concerned.  Then I finally blurted out that I wanted to say sorry for treating him so horribly.  He ended up smiling out of relief and giving me a hug.  I told him what had happened as I was sitting in bed trying to write my letter to baby #3.  He gladly forgave me and assured me that I was still the best wife and mother in the whole world.  I don’t even try to argue with him anymore about that. 

I went back to the room so Israel could finish preparing and I spoke some more with Jesus.  I told Him that I honestly felt there was no way I could possibly be ready for this child to come, nor did I even feel worthy.  I had been faithful in getting “ready” for a child from a purely human perspective, but I hadn’t been faithful at preparing myself spiritually for the challenges ahead.  I needed more time.  Good thing I had over a week.  “Lord, I cannot do this on my own.  I proved that this past week.  I’m nowhere NEAR ready.  I need Your ever-present help every moment of every single day!”

And that night, I went into labor.  As I was timing the contractions, I spoke with the Lord.  I couldn’t believe this was happening and I honestly thought they would stop.  But with an overwhelming impression, the Lord spoke to me saying, “Judy, now you are ready.”

At around 5am, with a soft, calm voice, I called Israel’s name. 

Titus Israel Ramos was about to make his entrance into the world and I couldn’t be happier.

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Silly Songs with Micah

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I thought I’d share a couple silly songs that Micah has made up in recent times.  In case you didn’t know, Micah LOVES to sing.  When he is happy, he bursts out in song – usually falsetto.  LOL. 

The first silly song that I can recall – and by silly song, I mean Micah singing his own rendition of the song – was his his take on “The Farmer in the Dell”.  Israel’s mom bought the boys almost every Cedarmont Kids DVD and the boys love watching and singing along.  On the “Pre-School Songs” DVD is where Micah learned this song.  It ends with “The cheese stands alone…the cheese stands alone….hi-ho-the-dario the cheese stands alone.”  Well, I was sitting in the house with Micah and we were petting Chance, our orange cat.  Now, this was a rare occurrence since Chance is still a bit wary of Micah.  Anyway, Micah was so happy to be able to pet Chance that he starting singing,

“Chance stands alone!  Chance stands alone! 
Hi-ho-the-dario…Chance stands alone!” 

I could not contain my laughter.   

Today, he made up a song about his “puppy-jamas”.  Let me explain.  Micah has a favorite outfit and that is his pajamas with brown puppies on them.  From the time he got them, he loved wearing them because he loves puppies.  He affectionately calls them his “puppy-jamas”.  Well, today as I was changing him out of his PJs to his regular clothes, he starting singing this song: (sung to the tune of the first line of “Sabbath is a Happy Day!)

“Puppy-Jama – Happy day!  Happy Day!  Happy Day!
Puppy-Jama – Happy day!  Happy Day!  Happy Day!”

Here’s Micah wearing the bottoms of his “puppy-jamas”. 

Micah sings a variety of songs ranging from “Mercy Said No” to “Happy Birthday”.  However, his all-time favorite song for the last several months has been “Only A Boy Named David”.  He requests this song every worship – morning & evening – and he sings it at least a dozen times in between.  Sometimes he sings it in a silly-hyper way and other times, he goes all out and tries to sing operatically.  I’m still trying to get that version on video.  I think his love for this song is partly what inspires him to always carry a rock or small ball in his hand almost at all times and especially if we are going out somewhere.  If he doesn’t have one, he’ll come up to me and say, “Mama, hold it…rock”  or “Mama, hold it…ball” with his hand outstretched. 

*sigh*  These are things I never want to forget…for they will always bring a smile to my face.

Perhaps God has great plans for Micah to be a composer or singer.  But for now, we all know one thing is for sure…he is a ham!  He never fails to bring joy and laughter to our family. 

I read this yesterday morning from the book “Child Guidance” on page 205.

“Marked diversities of disposition and character frequently exist in the same family, for it is in the order of God that persons of varied temperament should associate together.  When this is the case, each member of the household should sacredly regard the feelings and respect the right of the others.  By this means mutual consideration and forbearance will be cultivated, prejudices will be softened, and rough points of character smoothed.  Harmony may be secured, and the blending of the varied temperaments may be a benefit to each.”  Taken from the chapter titled, Study Age, Disposition, and Temperament.  

We’ve always referred to Imanuel as our sweet boy.  He cares about the feelings of others and will always defend the underdog.  He is affectionate and sensitive.

Micah is our silly boy.  He is our independent one who is often in his own world.  He enjoys making people laugh, but is focused on his wants/goals much more so than those of others.

The other night, Israel and I were talking about our kids and wondering what our third boy will be like.  It’s hard to imagine, but it’s always comforting to know that each child that comes into our lives is predestined by God to be a perfect match for our family.  There is strength in diversity. 

By God’s grace, it is our hope and prayer that we will all help each other become the people God wants us to be.  We are not placed in families or connected to friends by chance.  However different we may be, God allows us to cross paths to bring forbearance, mutual consideration, and to smooth our characters.  This will ultimately bring true unity!  Let’s be thankful for each one who is a part of our lives.  I couldn’t be more thankful for each member of my family. 

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A Morning to Remember

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In the morning, Micah had been whining quietly for some time.  He wasn’t in a good mood.  Usually we are summoned by a cheerful, “MAMA!  MAAAAAAAAAMA!”  This morning, it was a series of whimpers and cries.  Yeah, there were a few “mamas” here and there, but he seemed so grumpy that I was hesitant to let him out thinking he may fall back asleep.  I waited a while and then I decided to go get him.  I knocked and he answered with a weak, “COME IN!” 

As I entered, there was a horrible stench.  He obviously had a messy diaper.  As I neared Micah’s crib, he was in the corner of his crib sitting down.  Usually he is standing and waiting for me to get him.  Then I noticed that there were stains all over his sheets and blanket.  Then I realize that it is brown.  Then I realize that there is brown stuff COVERING both hands, his clothes, and part of his face & hair.  I’m not even exaggerating, it looked like he had just played in a big, gloppy mud pile.  There was poop everywhere.  The sheer quantity of it all was outrageous.  I was beyond myself.  I was in shock.  I’m surprised I didn’t go into labor right then and there. 

I yelled to Israel for back-up.  I was afraid he had ingested some too.  I told Israel to take off his clothes as I ran off to started the bath water.  After stripping our poor child down, I stood him in the tub and began rinsing him off.  It took about 15 minutes to remove all of the brown stuff from his whole body.  Then, I plugged the tub and had him sit down for a bubble bath.  (Their bubble bath is scented like grapefruit so it helped the overall smell of the bathroom while at the same time, lifting his spirits.)  In the meantime, Israel hand-scrubbed the poopie clothes, blankets, sheets, and mattress protector and then threw them in the washer for a pre-wash, wash, and then extra rinse.    

The most pathetic part of the whole ordeal was that while I was washing him off with the warm water, he kept saying in between whimpers, “Thank you, Mama…thank you.”  The poor boy – I wish I would have gotten him sooner.

The moral of this story is to never feed Micah homemade soup – complete with squash, corn, carrots, potatoes, tomatoes, cabbage, and vegetable “mandoo” – for lunch AND dinner with grapefruit for dessert.  I don’t know why we didn’t see it coming.  This was the worst disaster ever.  It beats the Eucerin episode by a landslide. 

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To Clean or Not to Clean

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Today has been one of those rare days.  I do not want to clean the house anymore.  In fact, I feel almost as though I’m actually avoiding what needs to be done.  At one point, I did feel like cleaning the house, but then I felt like moping around and doing nothing.  I finished up GYC stuff and played outside with Manu while Micah took a nap.  I’ve eaten a couple of instant meals.  But overall, I’ve been lounging around refusing to pick any toys off the ground because there are just too many.  And because I just don’t want to.  There are clean, folded clothes that need to be put away but I don’t feel like it.  I started doing the dishes but ended half-way and I almost dread having to finish them.  I feel like I’m in a sort of rebellion – against being my OCD self.  It may be that I’m just burned out.  It may be that my hormones are out of whack.  The thought actually crossed my mind right now that I’m glad I’m grown up and don’t live in my parents’ house because they would surely would have made me clean by now. 

It would be a wonderful and liberating feeling to be OK with my house being in its current state.  Israel has been trying to “help” me feel this way for a while now.  I think it actually would be very therapeutic for me to not clean and to see that nothing horrible will happen.  The only problem is that on Friday, colporteurs will be coming and staying with us for a week.  So, then that makes me go into a minor state of panick.  The house needs to be clean by Friday.  But I’m not sure what I should do.  I’ve considered asking Israel to clean the whole house, but that just wouldn’t be fair to have him clean while I sit around and peruse through FB.  Should I just suck it up and clean now or wait to see if tomorrow finds me with renewed inspiration to clean?                

Is this how men/husbands feel about helping around the house or doing chores?  Is this how some wives feel about housework?  It really is a horrible feeling…to really not want to do something that you really need to do.  I’m guessing this is probably where discipline and self-motivation comes in.  So, maybe I should just get a cleaning lady?  Yes, it’s that bad…   

PS:  I hope this is no indication of this baby’s attitude towards cleaning…  

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Third Time’s a Charm

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The number three brings completion to many things: triangles have three sides, the work of God is done in three Persons, (Judy says:) we have three pets, we eat three meals in a day (except Judy, she eats like 5, but “that’s part of our story” — Morgan Freeman, March of the Penguins), etc.

This has been a huge inspiration and guide in our family planning strategies.

So the Ramos family is happy to announce that on December 24, 2009, the last member to be born into our family is due to arrive (unless the doctor visitations that will soon follow don’t live up to their expectations). Although grandparents (and many of you!!!!!) are fasting and praying for a girl (and have managed to brainwash our oldest to want a little sister), Judy and I are really excited for either! Here’s our reasoning:

BOY BENEFITS:
– Three boys in a row — how many people have it in them to do that! That’s the most consistent I’ve been in my life!
– We can roll with a men’s quartet (assuming that they can sing as well as their daddy).
– They can all share one bedroom until they’re 18 (with the suffering economy, we have to be prepared “for anything that may or may not happen” – GW Bush).
– More MANual labor for difficult times.
– Manu’s hand-me-downs to Micah could survive one more kid, right?!

GIRL GOODIES:
– It would make all of our friends and family very happy.
– Judy would no longer be the only female in the household (including the 3 pets)!
– A girl would help soften the rough edges of the boys (me, not included because I’m a man).
– Israel would get to do his favorite thing: go on a shopping spree.
– Does anyone else think that a baby girl would be able to have her daddy wrapped around her little finger?

Thankfully, God gets to make that decision for us. We will gladly accept either.

On a different note, Judy has been really sick! This has been the worst one yet. But her willingness to be happy, press on, and still work hard have been a silent witness to all in our home. I can truly say that she’s one of the best mothers I’ve ever known in my life and that our upcoming baby will be lucky to have her as a mother.

So as we enter into the next stage of parenthood, we ask for your prayers. We really want to be the best parents we can be and have a desire to take this responsibility seriously.

Thanks,

Judy and Israel

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Growing Pains

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It’s been at least a couple months now since Imanuel has been complaining about pain in his legs.  Particularly his knee.  It would always be after I put him down for bed in the evening.  He would come out and start crying and saying that he hurt his knee.  But whenever I asked him if he bumped it somewhere, he’d say “no”.  It just hurt.  The first couple weeks of this, I thought it was a ploy to get himself out of going to bed.  So, I didn’t have much mercy and would just make him go to bed.  He would cry and cry.  After it kept reoccuring (-it wouldn’t hurt for several days in between), I began to think and pray. 

Then the Lord brought to my remembrance a short conversation that we had had with our realtor, Kristen, when we first began trying to sell our house 3 years ago.  She mentioned that her son was going through growing pains.  At first I didn’t know what this meant.  I thought maybe she was saying that he was going through a rough phase emotionally in his life.  But she went on to say that she had been massaging his legs every night because they really are bothering him.  That’s when I exclaimed, “Growing pains are real?!  Like a literal, physical pain from growing?” 

I never knew that before.  Anyway, I’m glad we had that short conversation because I believe that is what Imanuel is/has been going through.  I did some research online and his symptoms from the unexplained leg/knee pain usually in the evening or at night, and the fact that he fits the age categories of 3, 5, or 8 years, all point to this.  I read that this happens to about 30% of all kids.  How lucky of Imanuel to be a part of this elite group!  From time to time, he will wake up in the middle of the night and just start crying/whimpering.  Then, it will get worse and worse until he opens the door and starts yelling for me and saying that his knees hurt.  So far the best thing that has helped ease his pain is massaging and putting a heat pack.  I’m not sure what else could work.  Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated!

So, now I know that “growing pains” is not only the name of a great TV show from back in the day, nor is it an expression used for drama during adolescence, it is a real pain that Imanuel is unfortunately going through!  Pray for us!

      

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Our Little Miracle

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This past Friday, the Lord gave us a little miracle. 

It was a crazy day because I was frantically trying to clean our house, cook dinner, and get us ready for the Sabbath, in general.  A turn of events found us in the boys’ bedroom where I was changing Micah’s diaper and Imanuel was crying because he just had a little accident where he hurt his leg.  It felt better as we were walking out of the room, but as I swung the door shut, I didn’t realize that Imanuel had his fingers in the crack of the door where the hinges are.  I literally heard a crunch.  I immediately swung the door open and pulled his finger out.  He had never cried like this before.  It was one of those silent cries where he didn’t breathe for about a minute but his face was contorted to form the most pitiful, pained look.  I tried hugging him, but his body was frozen and stiff.  Needless to say, he was in some serious pain and I felt so terrible.  After about 5 minutes of crying and whimpering, he calmed down enough to let me know that his finger hurt.  Then he went on to ask, “Why did you close the door and hurt me?”  And then he started balling again.  Yes, I felt horrible.  Anyway, I explained that it was an accident and he knew that.  His finger was blue and majorly dented where the edge of the door pinched his finger against the wall.  He was sitting on our green couch when he looked at me and said,

“Mama, I want to pray and ask Jesus to heal me.” 

I told him that that was a GREAT idea.  So, I asked him to pray and he did.  It went something to this effect: 

“Dear God, Please help my finger to feel better and heal me.  In Jesus name I pray, Amen”. 

I had wrapped a little bandage around it, but right after we prayed, I decided to take that off and I asked him if he wanted a bandaid.  I took off the bandage and looked at his finger (-it was primarily his pointer finger that got pinched).  Then I momentarily got confused because I didn’t see the bruise or the dent.  So, I got his other hand and looked at that finger.  Manu was like,

“It was this finger.  It doesn’t hurt anymore.” 

He started wiggling it and moving it around.  I touched it and asked if it hurt and he said “no”.  I think I was more shocked than him.  Anyway, I kept looking at his finger over and over again and touching and pressing here and there in disbelief.  I was so surprised and said, “Your finger is better!!”  Then Imanuel exclaimed, “I want to pray again and say ‘Thank You’ to Jesus!”  I agreed that that would be a good idea.  He prayed and thanked Jesus and said that He was “so nice” to heal his finger! 

I must admit that after this whole ordeal, I began to doubt this miracle.  I was rationalizing. 

Babies and little kids have super-quick and efficient immune systems.  Little cuts and bruises heal so quickly!  Maybe that’s why it went away so fast…etc.etc  But I’m so glad that Imanuel thinks it was Jesus!

As if God was trying to prove Himself, Imanuel got hurt a couple hours later.  He bit himself on his fingernail.  He was crying and crying again.  It was a little red.  I immediately suggest that we pray since that worked last time.  So, I prayed for his little finger.  After I said, “Amen”, I asked if his finger felt better.  He said, “no” and continued to say that it still hurts and that he needs a bandaid.  It hurt for the next 10 minutes and he wouldn’t stop whining about it. 

Sometimes I believe God must get so frustrated with my unbelief and hypocrisy.  He knew that often when I pray with my kids to “help” them with a problem, (or even to thank Him for that matter!) it is more of a lesson to teach this “good habit” as opposed to really believing that even at this young age, God could truly answer any petition we ask Him and that He is our Lord who is beyond worthy of our worship.   

I’m so thankful for this experience for my son & for myself.  There is no doubt in my mind that Imanuel believes with his whole heart that Jesus healed his finger because He is “so nice” AND that He is able and willing to help us.  And now I believe it too.  I was so rebuked by this experience.  God truly does care.  He wants to reveal Himself to us.  He is just asking for a simple, child-like faith. 

Prayer is such a privilege and I hope to never take it for granted again.

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Another Sabbath is Here

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 After a tiresome week of traveling (-driving down to Lansing, meetings, visiting, & driving back up), we arrived back home and are adjusting back to normal life.  Traveling always has a way of throwing things off when it comes to parenting.  Not only does it mess up the daily routine/schedule, but it always leaves opportunity experiences that make character building challenging.  I must add that often times new experiences and influences greatly benefit children.  But outside of the safety and protection of home, you never know what will come up.  It takes a lot of wisdom and patience to discern what you should/shouldn’t do.  I think I could write forever on this topic since we do so much traveling, but I’ll refrain for now.  Let’s just say that I’m glad to be home where Imanuel’s bed which is easily accessible when it’s obviously nap time and with Micah’s toys so he is content to play on his own…for the most part. 

I think I can officially say that he can walk, but half of the time he wants to hold my hand and a quarter of the time he still crawls.  So, we’re almost there.

We got home on Tuesday afternoon and on Thursday (-yesterday), we found ourselves driving Israel to the airport for another trip.  He is in Germany for ATS Youth.  What a lucky duck.  I sometimes wish he had a video camera attached to his forehead that was always on “record” so we could share in his experiences.  That would be preferable to us actually going with him.  I must add that many people often ask me how it is that I manage by myself without Israel when he goes on these trips – taking care of the babies and the pets, keeping the wood stove burning, working for GYC, cooking, cleaning etc. 

The answer is quite simple. 

First of all, Israel always asks my permission to go on a trip.  Now just to make things clear, I’ve never told him “no” except once.  And that was for New in Ministry the week Micah was due (in the middle of winter).  How can I say “no” to God’s calling?  I don’t think I could live with myself.  I also trust his judgment because he has sometimes said “no” himself. 

Secondly, he always offers to fly all of us over when possible (-using airmiles, of course).  I know that is what he really wants.  However, I usually tend to make the head-not-heart decision to stay home.  It’s just so much easier that way. 

And thirdly, I’ve found that in a strange way, him being away occassionally on these trips has actually strengthened our own presonal relationships with God as well as our marriage relationship.  Sometimes we need to be away from each other to truly appreciate them.  And when we’re away from each other, we have more alone time with God.  I think that’s important.  So, while this may sound strange, Israel being gone is often a blessing!   

We often bicker about which is more difficult:  to be the one left at home or to be the one gone on a trip.  I think being left at home is definitely more difficult because you’re at home in your element missing someone in your everyday life.  On the other hand, when you are on a trip and you leave your family at home, you are experiencing a completely different lifestyle/schedule and usually you are busy enough to keep yourself occupied. 

Anyway, to sum it up, it’s difficult and it always will be.  But I think it’s been much more manageable since I’ve realized that God often uses Israel’s trips to reveal Himself more to me AND since Imanuel can talk now and we can actually hold a conversation.  He also is my little helper and is always willing to be there for me (-unless he is napping).     

As Sabbath approaches, our little family traditions make us miss Israel even more.  From Friday dinner to Sabbath family worships, it’s not the same without him.  (And it’s impossible for us to read the Spanish story with any clarity!)  It has been about a month since Micah started partaking* in the Sabbath Roll (-minus the dah-guang: pickled radish).  He can down an entire roll by himself and eat plenty of edamame on the side.  I think that’s his favorite meal for sure.  Imanuel eats 1.5 rolls.  So, for those of you who understand how much this is, when I make the rolls for our family, I have to make 4 cups of rice!  Anyway, it was a good day and I’m glad it is the Sabbath.        

*And speaking of partaking, a couple Sabbaths ago, I forgot it was communion Sabbath and therefore forgot bring an alternative, unblessed, edible distraction for the boys.  Surprisingly, Imanuel didn’t mind not partaking at all.  Praise the Lord!  I think Grandma Karen explained it to him.  Micah on the other hand was a mess.  We had to hide our bread (-“we” meaning me and the two ladies sitting on both sides of me) but when the juice came, it was over.  He kept grunting and lunging for our juices.  Oh, and he did remember to emphatically sign “please” plenty of times.  Next time, I’m sitting in the back.      

Here are some pics that we wanted to share with Daddy of us eating our Sabbath Rolls:

   
I cut Micah’s rolls skinnier because I knew he would stuff them in his mouth whole.  I caught him once trying to stuff 2 at a time.  When his mouth is filled to capacity, he requests a swig of “Sabbath juice” then swallows it all in one gulp.  I think when he gets older, we’ll sign him up for the veggie hot dog eating contest (-if that exists).  We’ll be rich. 
 
the Micah and his “kim-bbops”.
 
Manu ate with his new chopsticks today.  We got complimentary kids’ trainers from P.F. Chang’s (for Tennille’s birthday!) while we were in Lansing. 

Manu demonstrating his skills.

We love Sushi!  🙂