Most of you know that we left our home to live six months in California, so we can be together as a family while my husband works on a project. Here are my reasons for celebration:

1. Valuable Legal Lesson Learned. Never, never, never enter into a lease or any other contract unless you’ve SEEN with your own eyes what you are purchasing. Pictures do not count. Nicely furnished models are deceptive; your apartment will NOT look like the one they show you. It won’t have the same appliances (or as in our case, some may even be missing).

2. Compulsive Habit Possibly Broken. I have the tendency to check on my babies several times a night to make sure all is well. Being in a tiny apartment, one doesn’t have to get out of bed at night to hear everyone breathing.

3. Exercise. When the laundry facilities aren’t in the vicinity of your dwelling and you have a family of 6, there is ample opportunity for daily cardio workouts. The parking spaces are also not near your door, so that $200 Wal-Mart trip is also cause for calorie burning. This all makes up for the advertised work-out facilities that never materialized. (The exercise room has been under construction since we’ve been here, but the not-yet-broken-ground fancy new leasing office is near completion.)

4. Valuable People Skills Being Honed. Having to call the management office on a weekly basis to report what has gone wrong now has helped me refine the fine art of motivating people. Offering the maintenance guy a caffeine-free Coke will not get him to return. When he says that he likes his caffeine, get the guy some caffeine.

5. No Need to Watch Reality Shows. When you are the prime witness to your upstairs neighbors’ every footstep, cough, door shutting, shower taking, and toothbrush hitting on the sink, why watch a reality show? Hey, why even watch TV when you can just listen to his?

6. Cultivating a Longing for Home. Yes, I miss my house in Florida. I look forward to returning. But why long for a temporary house when the Bible promises an eternal Home?

1 Thessalonians 4:15-18:

For this we say to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive and remain until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive and remain will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we shall always be with the Lord. Therefore comfort one another with these words.

Then, in Hebrews 6:19-20 we are told that this is a sure thing:

This hope we have as an anchor of the soul, a hope both sure and steadfast and one which enters within the veil, 20 where Jesus has entered as a forerunner for us…

And finally, Hebrews 11:13-16 gives us this glimpse of the promise to come:

All these died in faith, without receiving the promises, but having seen them and having welcomed them from a distance, and having confessed that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. 14 For those who say such things make it clear that they are seeking a country of their own. 15 And indeed if they had been thinking of that country from which they went out, they would have had opportunity to return. 16 But as it is, they desire a better country, that is a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God; for He has prepared a city for them.

If you know Christ, you have this hope. And that, my friend, is a reason to celebrate.

Mommy, these pants can’t fit me anymore because they grew smaller.

Such was the statement from my dear three-year-old, Annalise, just yesterday. In the mind of my young observer, who needs a little training in the Scientific Method, there must be something wrong with those pants, because the problem was certainly not her own growing legs. I marveled that she simply received this notion without any thought of personal responsibility.

No, honey. You’re just getting bigger. You’re growing now. You know you’re a big three-year-old…

[a little impatient now] Mommy, the pants grew smaller.

Perhaps she gleaned this manner of deduction from the adults (not me though) that go about blaming others for the cause of their own bad judgment:

11He said, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten of the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?” 12The man said, “The woman whom you gave to be with me, she gave me fruit of the tree, and I ate.” (Genesis 3:11-12)

Or perhaps she just thought the pants grew smaller. I don’t know; it’s a tough call…

Hey, what happened to you Amy? Are you OK? ~Kim

Hey, remember I said that I was a lazy blogger? Actually, we just arrived home this weekend from our Tennessee/Virginia trip (where we purchased rental property and attended a conference), which we took off for about three days after we arrived home from six month “business” trip in California. To say that I’m drowning in details, dreaded boxes, and domestics is an understatement. :) If I didn’t have enough to wash from the house being vacant for six months (It’s not vacant anymore, so don’t bother robbing us), I also did the brilliant thing of washing a huge pile of clothes and sheets twice. [cough, won't say why...]

Enough about what I ate for breakfast ;), I’m not dead, dying, or otherwise incapacitated (though, my fingers freeze up without pain on occasion, and I can’t control them–any ideas anyone?). I’ll post soon.

Hey, what’d ya expect for free?

Yesterday, I saw that two people came to this site because they googled “wailing” and “teaching your kids not to touch strange animals.” Glad I’m keeping it spiritual around here.

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Remember when we met this great family?

John writes about our two families finally meeting, and I must note that he grew deathly sick after he wrote that post. Maybe he shouldn’t stretch the truth so much. He also confesses to misplacing his #9 daughter. I suppose he learned his lesson about being honest in posting and decided to spare no details. ;)

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While we were living in California, we did not have laundry facilities in our apartment. Upon returning home, not only do I have a washer and dryer in my house, but it’s also pretty spiffy and family friendly. My handy husband can not only launch rockets and parse Greek verbs, he can also remodel laundry rooms. We’re only missing the countertop, but you’re looking at one grateful Mama.

I don’t think we were ever meant to do this mothering thing alone. The days are long and the years are short, and sometimes the minutes until naptime are even longer. There is no place I’d rather be than here in my home with my children underfoot and my cup spilling running over. There isn’t even a “but.”

However. That said. I just emerged from Mt. Laundry, and I thought to myself, #1. (yes, I number my rational thoughts) I can’t be the only person this happens to:

2. And my whites will never make a Clorox commercial.

3. I can’t be the only one who wants to see how Martha Stewart’s crème brulee turns out with a baby on her hip, and three preschoolers on the counter.

4. My girls’ bangs are below their eyebrows.

5. And I don’t even feel guilty when I cut them a little crooked.

6. I folded a pair of size 4 shorts for my 7-year-old. And didn’t blink an eye when I gave him his stack to put away.

Due to discretion, my list stops here. But, be assured, I could make it to [an undisclosed number] without batting an eye. But I have some socks to put away in drawers–without their mates.

With Mount NeverRest still waiting for me to scale it, I am putting aside more leisurely activities in order to accomplish the feat. (For the male readership, there was a reference to laundry in that sentence.) When Mom is sick (see last entry), everything just backs up. The work ahead makes you wish you were still in bed, but good health is always preferable to sickness, even if that sickness presents an excuse not to accomplish anything.

But it is good work, and that makes for a good life.

When I finished the introduction and first chapter of Lord, Meet Me in the Laundry Room, I cried. Now, I’m not a regular crier, and even my advanced maternal state has me making “to do” lists, not wallowing in my hormone laden idiosyncrasies. Still, Barbara Curtis’ book resonated with me as no other mothering manuscript before.

The language wasn’t flowery; her thoughts were not new. Perhaps it is because she is a mother of twelve, and I could tell that every feeling and thought I’d ever nursed, she had already nursed before. Perhaps it was that I enjoyed reading more from a woman I had grown to know only online. Perhaps it was when she said this:

This book is about spending some time together sorting through the things that get in the way of finding joy in motherhood. It’s about getting real about the past and mistakes we’ve made, the limitations of our lifestyle as mothers, the competitive spirit that robs us of intimacy with other mothers, and the lack of affirmation that sometimes makes us want to cry.

This is a book about seizing each day, squeezing every bit of joy from every peanut-butter-and-jelly-smeared moment, finding God in the hum of a washing machine or an unexpected bargain. (page 9)

From the title, you might infer that the book is a “how-to” meet God in your everyday life as a mom. But it’s much more than that. Barbara (it seems more right to call her “Barbara” than the more formal “Curtis” when writing) begins her book by connecting with the reader. She doesn’t do this by saying, “Hey, I’ve got all these kids. Whatever story you’ve got, I can top.” Instead, Barbara weaves a story of her own misjudgments and creative mishaps with the old story of God’s faithfulness.

Then from the backseat I heard Zachary clear his throat and in his deadpan four-year-old Eeyore voice ask, “Mom, when are you going to get a job?”

“This is my job,” I said, maybe just a little edgy.

But homeward bound, as the kids fell asleep one by one and I was left alone with my thoughts, I began to see the beauty of Zach’s question: somehow—even though it could be hard work and even though I had my testy moments—my kids didn’t think of motherhood as a job.

And I decided that was a good thing—because it’s not really a job at all, but a calling… (page 98)

Today’s mothers are tired, due to nurturing the distractions that compete for our attention and affections. Reading this book was like a cup of cocoa on a cold day: Barbara’s warm candor and not-so-perfect stories were a treat to me, a mother in the trenches. Lord, Please Meet Me in the Laundry Room is a story of deliverance, Barbara’s own, as well as the one waiting for us younger mothers who have the willingness to learn some wisdom from those who’ve gone before.

My husband doesn’t realize that I was still listening when I left his class to tend the baby. Sometimes I will watch (or listen as the case may be) when he doesn’t know, and like watching sleeping children, it is a good thing to do. As I was listening to him teach, he said something that caught my attention: We are saved by grace, but so often we live by works. When really, we ought to live by His grace as well.

He was speaking last week on “Perseverance of the Saints,” and I was glad to be reminded of God’s hand in bringing His saints to the end. We will see Him one day, and it will be of His own good grace. This thought came to mind as I read this:

I am a 28-year-old homemaker that gets easily overwhelmed, depressed, and/or lazy pretty easily. I have a 4½-year-old son and a 1-year-old daughter. I have been married to my high school sweetheart for 8 years.

I read about becoming a hard worker in the home, raising many children, homeschooling, learning the art of homemaking (skills to employ in the home) and hospitality and I want to sink in my chair and take a nap. I read and read and take in a ton of info but rarely put it into practice. I have a college degree and yet I feel so incapable or at least just lazy with my home life… Do you have any idea what can help me?

Another nap.

What does God’s grace have to do with the small dailyness of life? Everything, really. There are many tips and tricks for motivating ourselves to get the job done: laying out clothes the night before, wearing shoes in the house (I don’t know why this helps me…), making lists, and creating some routine so that the children have a sense for “what’s next.” Women of the “old school” seem to have a better propensity to get things done, as opposed to our generation who grew up on a steady TV diet that encouraged us to, “Have it your way.”

Doing what we ought is a simple thing, really, yet it falls in the category of “easier said than done.” Motivation is difficult sometimes. Life is filled with choices and we choose that which we most want to do. Shall I fold the laundry while reading to the toddler and bouncing Baby Cakes or shall I turn on a video for the kids and take a nap? Hard choices. I know this because I don’t always choose what I ought.

But back to grace. So often women will use these common things as a measure of our spiritual conditions. If my girls don matching bonnets while they recite their catechism in between bites of homemade bread, then I must be doing a good job. When really, Jesus tells us there is another measure entirely in Matthew 22:36-38: “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” Jesus replied: ” ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment.”

If we love Him, we will obey Him. This might work itself out in the things you describe. But the first question is this, “How can I love Him more?” Every glass of juice poured is a chance to do it for Him. There is no greater motivator in daily, common life than loving Christ more.

I wouldn’t describe myself as a “mover and shaker,” but it is fair to say that I’m usually wondering, “OK, what’s next?” And I don’t want the answer to be, “Another load of laundry!” On a good day, you could refer to this character trait as adventurous; on a bad day, you might as well call it for what it is: discontentment.

Our often quoted friend Elisabeth Elliot writes, “Most of us would like to do something special in life, something to distinguish us. We suppose that we desire it for God’s sake, but more likely we are discontent with ordinary life and crave special privileges. When Israel asked if they should offer some spectacular sacrifice–thousands of rams, ten thousand ‘rivers of oil,’ a firstborn child–the answer was, ‘He has showed you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God’ (Mi 6:8 RSV).”

If you want to be extraordinary or spectacular, God has told us all we need to know. In these times, those who take God at His Word aren’t ordinary at all.

My theology is orthodox, but my notes this week are unorthodox. That is, if my confessions assault your good senses, then feel free to hang me out to dry. Speaking of, let me begin with the laundry.

I prefer knit clothes for the three-and-under crowd because of how it helps with the laundry. I stopped folding baby clothes after the third baby, because really, the piles never stayed neat. Here is my laundry area, which is technically a hallway off the kitchen. The tall basket collaspes flat when it is empty.

So far, so good. Here’s where it gets unorthodox.

Baby clothes go out of the dryer into a deep drawer. All of baby’s clothes (except special outfits) fit into one convenient drawer that is accessible to big kids who are helping. Baby is messy? Send the two-year-old to grab an outfit. This will work because your outfits are only one piece or pre-matched. (Always ask the youngest-abled child to fetch, as you don’t want to over-burden your older ones.)

Pre-matched usually means knit dresses for the toddler girls and onesies for the baby boys. Sometimes we are given shorts and t-shirts, but when I buy, I stick to one-piece items. This helps little ones dress themselves sensibly, and it means there are less casualties in the laundry (i.e. turquoise pants without a match). When boys outgrow the onesie-type clothes, I look for neutral bottoms: navy, brown, and denim.

Everyone wears white socks so that the brands and sizes don’t have to match. They just have to be close.

The sooner they can dress themselves, the better. At age four, they have dressers with folded stacks; this age group puts their own laundry away. I fold, and they do the shuttling upstairs.

And for my last confession regarding the laundry. The reason we are usually on-time for everything is because… I dress the little ones the night before.

I moved this comment by Lora Lynn to the top because she’s brilliant. She captures the whole thing perfectly—life with little ones— with her laundry game. She totally gets it:

I don’t have time to wait till mine are four to make them put away their own laundry. My twins are not 3 yet and I’ve already taught them this task. I got three big galvanized buckets from IKEA. I labeled them with pictures of pants, shirts, and pj’s. Once they learned the system, I use laundry time as a way to get out little boy energy.

They take their clothes upstairs, one or two pieces at a time. After five trips up and down the stairs, they’ve burned a few wiggles. I’ve now taught them to help me put away my own laundry by showing them which are mommy and daddy’s sock and underwear drawer. They have races to and from the drawers as they put away each item INDIVIDUALLY. That part is key for me. Putting away laundry (a task I hate) and burning some energy.

I like how she combines work and play. She turns work into a game. All my kids go bonkers for our “30-second Pick Up.” This is where I countdown (slowly) aloud from 30. With four of them scampering about, our family room is presentable in 30 seconds—even the floor schmutzies are up.

Since the Bible teaches that all of life is worship (I Cor. 10:31), we ought to live with God’s glory in mind in whatever we do. Work and play; play and work. There are plenty of opportunities to bear one’s cross, but in the instances where we can make some lemonade, we should. Have some fun.