Loving Channie God's way

Training Channie Mae has been one of those day to day kinda things.

She is so much like me that I wonder if I can train her at all.

The virtues that I want her to have I'm still working on. I will always

be working on them.

An unruly tongue;

A fretful disposition;

An unwillingness to bear the burdens of others;

Fine words hiding shabby thoughts;

A friendly face masking a cold heart;

Many neglected opportunities and many uncultivated talents;

Much love and beauty unappreciated and many blessings unacknowledged.

I want every worthless affection brought to the surface.

A clean heart within her that keeps her clinging to her Father.

Let not the noises of the world ever so confuse her that she cannot hear Thee speak.

Let her have grace to think, not of what she can get, but what she can give.

Having mere joy for living

For the sweet country farm she calls home and her grandfather before her

called home. Let her be thankful for a childhood of rest without loneliness

and sickness.

Help her to remember her place in life. How small she will always be

compared to you Father.

As I have these few fleeting moments to train her I pray that

I will teach her to laugh and be happy in the Lord and her

circumstances. I pray that I'm gentle with her and long

suffering on those days that are hard.

I, therefore, the prisoner of the Lord, beseech you to

walk worthy of the calling with which you were called

with all lowliness and gentleness, with long suffering,

bearing with one another in love, endeavoring to keep the unity

of the Spirit in the bond of peace.

Ephesians4

Teach Them Well

Her little nose cold and runny from the temperature outside. I wouldn't trade this life of mine for anything. You see I don't have to be a mommy. I could just be a woman with many kids but I'm 100% mommy. I love the wet clothes that pile up by my front door as the kids come in from playing in the snow. The puddles that pile there are from the precious babies that I adore.

I have a passion and my passion is my family. I love keeping home. I love

driving a big red van that has old french fries from last week squished between the seats.

I see him walking and I know that one day he will walk away from this farm and start his own life but for now I get to walk beside him and keep him safe. I get to hold his hand and tuck him in at night. His footprints in the snow on this farm will melt and unless you sell yourself out and just be engulfed by your family you'll miss the small prints they leave behind. Don't miss it. Be their biggest fan... hug them so much that they run from you when they see you coming... then run and hug them some more. Don't let them leave without missing the love that you have poured into their life.

Help them enjoy the small miracles God puts in their life.
Teach them to love God
Teach them to love their daddy
Teach them to love each other
and they will love you.
this takes daily work though.
Working through squabbles without taking
sides and teaching them to be friends that will
last a lifetime.

Be kind and gentle.

Don't raise your voice.

This year, start off by saying what

you have to say calm and loving.

Practice until you get this right.

Love is patient, Love is kind.

Be kind..Be fun...

Be happy and let your

kids see you being happy.

Teach them to carry each other through the day...

Remind them everyone has bad days and when your brother

or sister is having a bad day help them carry their burdens.

Turn them to the Lord in every situation.

Sing. Sing. Sing.

Teach them songs that promote love and harmony

surrender yourself as mother

and have fun.

When you learn to love in color your kids will notice

and you will not mind the puddles on the floor

or the clothes piled up high. The meals will become

a banquet and the mess a safe haven that you get

to be a part of.

Be Thankful..

Enjoy them.

Smile at them.

Tickle them.

Be with them always and when

the day comes and the seasons

change, they will be

with you.

My days are very full. I grow weary. I have sickness,

I have health, I get through a day one day at a time just

like you but I have these beautiful faces

that need me to be happy, thankful, and trusting..

They don't expect me to be perfect and perfect I'm not,

but I'm trusting in the unfailing love

of a Savior that loves us all.

To God be the Glory for such beautiful smiles.

He's black she's white

He's black

She's White

He's her brother

She's his sister

he'll do anything she needs

she on the other hand

is a different story.

She has 4 brothers that protect her

and she's used to being protected.

She loves him in a way that

is beautiful and pure.

Their love is one of the reasons I

love being a mother so much.

Thank you God for the gift you have given me in sharing in their love.

Unspoiled, true love...

untouched by the world and

only seen through the eyes of children.

My children

God's Children

He made them both a beautiful color

of black and white and He lets me

be their mamma.

What a gift.

benefit no.204 of having a large family...

You're never sick alone..

I can honestly say that I have never ever had so many kids

throwing up at one time. Within a matter of 20 mins I had seven kids

down. I'm glad it happened this way. Hubby came home

to help hold babies and heads as they leaned over garbage cans

and box's. Honestly, do you have seven garbage cans in your home?

Weak eyes staring at me and wanting mommy to hold them. I did.

Did I mention throw up?

everywhere..

Did I mention mommy getting sick and the adding of another

body to my already full hospital?

No matter which way you look at it it's

still love. Josie hated being alone on her cot so

Coop layed beside her and wouldn't move once she

went to sleep so he

wouldn't wake her up.

She just wants to make sure she's not alone

and she never was. She always has someone to lay with.

 

I smile as I write because I just heard someone say,

"did anyone clean up puke with this rag?"

The clothes are piled up high, my room is set up like

a hospital. 

I have sick babies everywhere. I'm glad we're together.

I'm glad that we have to be at the end of it..right?

I'm thankful that when you're sick in a large family

you're never ever sick alone.

Living with full hands

The smell of fresh dough almost always on the counter. Little noses can't resist the smell and their little tummies can't wait till the biscuits are done.
My hands busy preparing meals and teaching little ones to cook.

The mess is always worth the out come.

Staying up late to watch the nutcracker, getting ice cream and hot chocolate, and riding around looking at Christmas lights, remembering to slow down and see this season through the eyes of my children. My arms full of little boys and girls who love to snuggle.







Yeah, life gets messy sometimes but it's well worth the work.

Everyday being his wife and being their mommy is work but I signed up for it and I plan on finishing well.
Its not how you start that's so important it's how you finish that counts. I'm not working myself out of a job. I plan on working until I die. My hands being useful. My hands always eager to help others.

Being useful to those who need me. Complacency kills the creativity that God intended for us to have. When I'm busy it keeps me out of trouble.:)



One of the most said comments to me when I'm out is, "you have your hands full". yes, I do and
unfortunately women have decided  that having your hands full is a bad thing.
Everyone is working towards an easier life and that easy life draws you away from the very heart of God.
The service of loving and being dependable. Caring for others and doing for others is being lost in our world for that easier life. 
It's always about our comfort and what we can handle. What do we know about handling things? We have food and clean water and a home. We have cars and doctors. We are the rich and the poor live better then us because it draws them to the Lord. The African people are some of the happiest people I have ever been around. They rejoice because of their Lord not because their life is easy.
Our richness and our working toward an easier life draws us only towards ourselves....Ironic..
So I will continue to live with hands full..As full as the Lord will allow and keep myself dependent on the only one who can see me through another day.

What are your hands doing?

The art of being beautiful

The door is leaned up against a corner in my bedroom. A reminder that things

that are built right just get more beautiful with the years.

I pray my marriage gets more beautiful. The rough spots of trying to

work out the logistics of having a large family and having a loving, romantic,

intentional marriage is hard some days. As a wife, I see myself getting older

in the mirror and wonder, "will he always find me attractive?"

 Am I the only

one who thinks such things??

 

 Is my love for the Lord growing so that the love for my husband

is growing. Am I kinder and more gentler than I was the day before?

 Am I tuning out the world and tuning into my design as

 his wife

When the day comes and the kids are gone and it's just us again

will I look more beautiful to him then when we started? Will he, the one that

chose me above all others, think I'm more beautiful or after living with

me all these years not be able to see the true beauty because for all

the years I didn't grow in love, I just grew older. 

So many times

I didn't search out his favor I searched out my own.

I put him last when I should have put him first.

I didn't laugh at his jokes.

I didn't make love to him because I didn't have time.

I didn't make his favorite meal because it was easier to

make a quick meal for the kids.

I didn't stay up late and listen to his dreams.

I didn't forgive easily.

I forgot to write him letters.

I wanted him to romance me instead of me romancing him.

I didn't make his coffee and bring it to him in bed.

I didn't iron his clothes because I don't iron. 

I didn't make his lunch

or make his favorite supper.

or a thousand other things I should have done

 that I'm called to do.

I forgot that my job was supposed to be all about him.

Somewhere along the way we forget that we were created for our husbands

 and that's what takes away our beauty. Little by little

the world tells us it's about us and we believe.

When I'm around women that have not forgotten the true

art of their beauty, which is to love and respect their husband with all of

their heart, I think to myself, "now, she is a beautiful woman."

and she will get more beautiful with age...

Are you aging well?

Motherhood from the kitchen

My kitchen is not the most beautiful nor is it the most functional, but it's mine and the time I have spent puttering around it makes me happy. As I get older I realize very few things in life will continue to stay the same, but my kitchen is someplace I share with every one of my children and, Lord-willing, will share with my grandchildren.The flour is always tucked away and can be pulled out to whip up some rolls or cookies,

and the chocolate milk is kept on hand for the hurt feelings that roam through my kitchen. The hot chocolate too, for those days when they come in from feeding the chickens with cold cheeks and noses.

The heat from the oven spilling out to warm the place I seem to spend most of my time. The fridge is never clean and the floor is always dirty but it's the place my feet really touch the ground.

Mothering to so many is hard some days but as Spurgeon said,

"God forbid that we should offer to the Lord that which costs us nothing" and so with the Lords help I serve day in and day out. My life constantly being poured out to the souls before me... offering Him something of myself that seems so inadequate. Some days that pouring out is as if I were a full pitcher and my family is watered easily. Other days my pitcher feels bone dry and I keep tipping myself but nothing comes out, or so I think.. something always comes out... words of love, or words of discouragement. Critical spirit or a kind loving spirit.

It's on those hard days that I set out to baking, warming my kitchen with my oven, and sweetening my mood with rich cookies that I place before them when I'm not able to offer them much..it always seems to do the trick....  by the time I clean the last dish my mood has been cleaned as well and I'm full again.

In my kitchen I cover them with love with the food I make.

I warm their bones or delight their tummies. I give the girls a passion for feeding those God has entrusted us with and a passion for their future husbands and children.When their daddy comes home he will have a warm, special meal on the table waiting for him. It's not fancy, the meal is simple and economical, but it's always an experience. New candles, a bunch of wild flowers, and the laughter is new with every meal but I've noticed that lately that their feet don't dangle like they used to. I catch myself in the middle of dinner searching underneath my table when no one is watching. I used to smile a smile of "oh, I have lots of time, their feet don't come close to touching the ground." but now I notice that their feet are closer to the ground than to the bench and I lean back up and start searching their faces and I realize it's happening...

They're growing and I'm growing older and with the time that is set before me I have to be about the business the Lord has appointed me to.

Teaching the next generation to love Him.

 

The same small space

The whispers in the night can be heard. The giggles of sisters roam my halls, bouncing off the beams

like rays of sunshine bouncing off my windows. The sound warms you deep inside somewhere.

There is 13 years difference between them and I still thank the Lord that we followed Him instead of the way of the world when the world told us we should stop. 

"I'm glad that's you and not me having all those babies... you'll never have a life.."

Really? I dare to differ with you. 

God's way is always better than

your way, world.

So we followed God and we end up with scenes like this

all over our house... not a bad turn if I do say so myself.

  

They cook together and share the same small space they call their room

and at night they can be found snuggled up together reading or finishing some un-done

project for the day, but they're together. They're always together.

Their worlds so mixed up that you hardly notice one without the other one.  As I walked in

their room it hit me that the years of their togetherness is slowly finishing up.

Her desire is to marry one day and so with marriage she will move and leave

a little sister behind.

 My walls will cease to hear their giggles and the silence will be replaced by different noises

but for now I'm convincing my heart that I'm doing the right thing

by teaching her to leave. Teaching her that she will one day take her place

beside a man and cleave and yes leave.

but until then..... 

I will enjoy the view from their door-way and enjoy every single moment that I have with

them under the same roof, because one day it will be different but for right now

they share the same small space..

Together.

If you hear the world tell you you're crazy for doing something, you're probably doing the right thing.

Dwelling Place

Dwelling place may be translated to "refuge" or "abiding-place" and provides the

thought that God is our abode, our home. There is a fullness and sweetness

in the metaphor, for our home is dear to our hearts, although it may be the humblest cottage

or the tiniest loft; and dearer still is our blessed God, in whom we live and move and have our

being.

It is home that we feel safe: We shut the world out and dwell in quiet security. So

when we are with our God we fear no evil. He is our shelter and retreat, our abiding refuge.

At home we take our rest; it is there we find repose

after the fatigue and toil of the day. And so our hearts find rest

in God when, wearied with life's conflict, we turn to him and our souls

dwell secure.

At home we also relax; we are not afraid of being misunderstood, nor of our words

being misconstrued.

Home, too, is the the place of our truest and purest

happiness: And it is in God that our hearts find their deepest delight.

We have joy in Him that far outweighs all other joy. 

including a hot bubble bath

 and a moms skirt to cling to.

It is also home that we work and labor. The thought of it gives us strength to bear the daily

burden, and quickens the hands to perform the task; and in this

sense we may also say that God is our home.

Home is a shade to our eyes

Home is where an earthly father teaches and guides

and reads the words of His heavenly Father. 

Home ...The beautiful dwelling place of our Lord.

Spurgeon

A nice place to recover....

My kids are sick. My bed is full with their hot little bodies. I fuss over them and pray over them.
I hold one after the other, my lap constantly being used as a place to lay their weary heads on. I don't mind.

I have cancelled all the unimportant things that can wait. I put a big pot of soup on my stove and just plan on holding up here until the Lord intervenes. Wiping noses and tears.The warmth of the sun finally making it's way through my kitchen window. My eyes keep looking at the clock waiting in anticipation the home-coming of my beloved. My home is not home until he's here. Making his home a home while he is away fighting his battles. The menu for the evening being thought out perfectly with him in mind.The smell of fresh dough rising in a bowl for the evening meal always brings a smile to my face.

 My little girls helping me out with the dishes and a little cleaning also brings a smile:)  

A little candle light and hot muffins help my home feel

like a nice place to recover.