Krispy Kreme Baby

***photo by our dear friend, Nikko

When We Call God a Liar

I do not know why some people think that it is meritorious to express doubt in matters of religion. They think that it is somehow vain or impolite to be certain and that it is humble and therefore desirable to say, "I do not know...I hope so...I would like to believe...I think..." Nothing could be more faulty. The humble person is the one who bows before God's revelation and accepts it because of who God is. It is a proud man who thinks he knows enough about anything to doubt God. Besides, God says that doubt is the equivalent of calling Him a liar; it is as much as to say that His word is untrustworthy. (cf. 1 John 5:10).

James Montgomery Boice, The Christ of the Empty Tomb

Six Things That Surprised Me About Parenting Teens

Our oldest son turns 18 on Friday. Yes, his fingerprints on the wall have become fingerprints on the keyboard, as he faithfully slings the ink, the words, that leave me in wonder at the gifts God has given him.

I would love to go back to day one of becoming a Mom and know then what I know now. But I take much comfort in God's perfect pacing of my sanctification, and His wisdom and sovereign care in writing our stories.

Yet, navigating the often turbulent teen years has surprised me in quite a few ways. I expected much, but here are a few things I didn't know:

1) We'd really disagree about music and other stuff: I remember the arguments my parents had with some of my siblings over music. And rightly so. Much of the music was offensive and dishonoring to the Lord. But I just knew our children would like the same music we did and agree with us about everything else. When I realized this wasn't true, and yet, our children still honored the Lord in their choices, I stopped taking our differences personally, and began to enjoy learning from my sons.

2) It could be so hard that I would be tempted to employ the silent treatment, and other passive-aggressive soul-starving methods of non-communication: Yes. There have been times that butting heads has felt like clashing hearts, with a pain and frustration so intense that I didn't think I could bear it. Those are moments that leave you with more questions than answers and drive you to your knees as almost nothing else can. I'm grateful the Holy Spirit kept me from letting the sun go down on my wrath and has kept our hearts tender towards one another.

3) We would enjoy each other's company and talk with one another so openly: I heard so much about the teen years being that time when children shut down and shut you out, but I'm thankful to God that I have teenagers who can't stop telling me about what they're reading and learning, who let me know when I have a log in my eye, who tell me when I'm parenting inconsistently, who want to know my opinion, who make me laugh, who like being with me.

4) Perfection doesn't appear at 16, but neither does rebellion. I will be the first to tell you to teach your children first-time obedience early on. "Obedience is all the way, right away, and with a happy spirit." This is exactly what I tell our younger children. Somewhere along the way, influenced by books and other teachings, I began to equate obedience and maturity with perfection. But our children will not leave our homes perfectly sanctified. They're still pilgrims-on-the-way, just like we are. They're growing in grace, just like we are. Yet, it's easy to hold them to a different standard as we forget our own ongoing sanctification.

5) There would be so much grace and forgiveness: Satan often whispers to me in those moments when I've blown it again to just give up repenting (since I have to do it so often) and move on. Or my pride rises up and wants to justify my fleshly responses.  BUT, years of asking forgiveness and repenting before my children for having sinned against them and our God, has reaped a most beautiful only-by-the-grace-of-God thing--they do it, too. The Holy Spirit is at work in them, convicting them of sin and moving them to keep short accounts. And, oh, the GRACE they extend to me...it's simply overwhelming at times.

6) There would always be more to learn: No matter how many years you've been parenting, the learning never stops. The only thing I'm an expert at is knowing that godly parenting can't be confined to a method. Rather, it rests on His wisdom and grace and the manna that doesn't come years in advance, but rather day by day.

I have many more teen years to parent through. No doubt it will be hard. There will be more tears, and even more prayers. There will be disappointments and heartaches and perhaps many changes. But He is faithful, His mercies are new every morning, His grace is sufficient, and He has promised to finish the good work He has started in us. Thanks be to God!

With love,
Trisha

Ditch the Paralysis and Divining Rods and Just Do This

Many Christians take a "passive trust" approach to seeking guidance and direction from the Lord. They think that knowing God's will comes as God reveals His secret plan to them; then they will know what to do. But guidance is really a matter of obedient, active trust. I examine the options before me using the principles, themes, and perspectives of Scripture. Then, to the best of my knowledge and ability, I apply biblical wisdom and make a decision. My decision is not based on reading God's mind, but on things He has clearly revealed in His Word. As I step forward, I entrust myself to the Lord, knowing that He rules over everything and will place me where He wants me. This is the biblical model of guidance. Too many people have their "Christian divining rods" out in hopes of discovering the secret will of God. Meanwhile, the Bible in their hands is unopened--the thing God has said will be a "lamp to their feet and a light to their path"!
~Paul Tripp

Thankful Thursday-20 Days from Now

To be silent over God's mercies is to incur the guilt of ingratitude; it is to act as basely as the nine lepers, who after they had been cured of their leprosy, returned not to give thanks unto the healing Lord. To forget to praise God is to refuse to benefit ourselves; for praise, like prayer, is one great means of promoting the growth of spiritual life.

~C. H. Spurgeon

                                                                              ****

20 days.

In that short time, God-willing, I'll have the joy of seeing my Mama walk through those airport gates, and she'll be delighted to see Elijah and hold him for the first time.

What a gift.

While we wait, life goes on, busy and full, reminding us of God's endless mercies and affirming the comforting truth that this world is not our home.

Ink's recovery from his wisdom teeth went so well--no complications at all. When I took him for his check-up, the surgeon was even surprised (and pleased) that the holes had already closed up.

We walked out of the office only to discover our van battery was dead. Thankfully, AAA was there in less than 10 minutes and replaced the battery, and we were soon on our way. I praise God for CONVENIENCE. Those few extra dollars I paid to have the mechanic take care of everything right there were more than worth it!

 I'm thankful our children love to have Sarge as their Bible study companion.

 I'm thankful for the reminder from a dear friend that less than perfect, i.e. blurry, shots are worth keeping when they capture moments like this.

 I'm thankful for mashed bananas and rice cereal and high chairs.

 I'm thankful to open the refrigerator and see the lunch Ink prepared the night before to take to work. It shouts "responsibility" to me, and it's a blessing to watch our young men be men.

 I'm thankful for children who love to watch Daddy eat on those night when he gets home extra late, and who can't resist the impulse to mooch.

 I'm thankful for new dining chairs and little men who want to be like the big men.

 I'm thankful for twin mugs, one for me and one for Tami. They're not theologically correct, perhaps, but maybe God will have me singing praises to Him while dancing in a chocolate fountain.

 I'm thankful for pink roses from Tami.

I'm thankful for notes like this, sweet graces, that humble me and remind me again what a great mercy it is that God made me a mother, trusting this wretched sinner with discipling tender souls for His glory. Oh, how I fail over and over to be like Jesus to our children, and yet, they extend me such grace and are the hands and feet of Christ to me.

I'm thankful that a most precious houseguest arrives tonight, and that for the first time, I'll get to hug a Pliego.

I'm thankful for Paul Tripp's book Instruments in the Redeemer's Hands. You really should read this one. Like, right now. :)

With love,
Trisha

How Many Sisters Does It Take

...to care for baby after his bath?

Did You Hear Janie Has a New Wheat Grinder?

Ok. So maybe you're not coveting a wheat grinder, but what about someone's book collection? Her house? Her recent vacation? Her freedom? Her hours of "alone" time?

Are you coveting someone's family size or income? Maybe you're coveting the atmosphere in another's woman's home or the way she finds the best deals at garage sales or the number of friends she has. Maybe you're coveting her way with words, her baking skills, or her knack for posting Facebook updates that get hundreds of "likes,"--you know, deep stuff like, "just painted my nails chartreuse."

Nothing is out of reach of our sinful hearts. We can envy big thing or small things, the most serious things or the most ridiculous. When someone has something we want, and our wanting leads to sinning, we've already forgotten Who the Giver of the gift is. We forget we're bristling against God's sovereign care of us. We mimic the sibling who throws herself on the floor and screams, "That's not fair!"

We just do it with a bit more self-control, at least on the outside.

But what if every time we're tempted to covet what someone else has and withhold good words of affirmation, to refuse to rejoice with those who rejoice, or to simply ignore another's blessings, we remember it is from His Hand that all these blessings flow?

"Women tend to grouse about the blessings God give to others. But if we looked at it in those terms, that God has blessed Janie with a new wheat grinder, we would probably be much less likely to complain and covet. It's much easier to complain when we think circumstances happen at random, than when we remember that God brings all things to pass."
~Denise Sproul, Tending Your Garden

With love,
Trisha

When No One At Church Is Just Like You

My family is a mixed bag.

Some of us love sweet while others prefer salty. Some of us are fair-haired and light-eyed while others are olive-skinned and brown-eyed. One child loves horses while another prefers dogs. Some of our children love singing. Others do not. Some are natural organizers while some struggle just to keep their sock drawers in order. Some are diligent in their lessons. Others require prodding.

But, in the midst of all of our differences, we've never looked at one another and said, "We're just not enough alike. I must leave this family to find others who are exactly like I am." Instead we remember God has put us here together. He has formed our family according to His perfect wisdom. We learn from each other's differences and meet each other's needs, refusing to let differences be points of division. 

Isn't this what most families do?

And yet, when it comes to our church families, we have different expectations. We want others members to mirror our family size, our season of life, our tastes in books, our disabilities, our introvert or extrovert tendencies, and so on. 

In my own small church body, no two families are exactly the same. Our family has nine children, ranging in ages from 17 to 6 months. Another family has no children at home, but lives with their aging parents, giving them constant, loving care. Some of the families know what it's like to have adopted children or have a child with a disability. We're different, often radically different. 

This used to bother me. I longed to have another mom in the body who was parenting children the same ages as ours, whose family landscape looked more like mine. But the tie that binds is not Sally's liking the same things I do or having a family that mirrors mine, but rather who we are in Christ. 

Paul reminds us that each part of the body is important, and the body suffers if even one part is missing. While he was referring to gifts, the principle applies in other ways, too.

The single woman is part of the body. The mother with many littles is part of the body. The divorced mother is part of the body. The woman who loves theology is part of the body, as is the woman who has no clue about antinomianism or latitudinarianism. No matter how "different" we are, the fact that we've been redeemed means that He has given us the blessing of being just right for one another. Will we choose to be so?

When our eyes are fixed on ourselves, our differences are magnified to divisive proportions. Those differences keep us in bondage to self. They're devices Satan uses to foster discontentment and church-hopping. But when our eyes are fixed on Christ, we see those differences as opportunities--opportunities to learn from one another, love each other, encourage each other, to dwell together in unity.

We see the big picture of making it all about Him and not about Us.

So, when we're looking for a church family, let's not be so quick to find out if it has a singles group, a group for those who hate red jello, or a mothers-of-many group. Rather, let's focus on whether the Gospel is being preached, remembering God's wisdom in forming church families often includes having its members look very different from one another.

With love,

Trisha

Fill Their Minds with Scripture

**Luke was holding Elijah one morning while doing his Bible reading. Then Elijah wanted to take part of the feasting, too, although more with the intention to crumple some pages. I love this visual reminder to faithfully set the Word of God before our children.

Why I Welcome Intrusive Fertility-Related Questions and Those Pats to the Pregnant Belly

I've heard plenty of rude comments and questions in my years as a mother.

"Don't you know what causes that?"
"Don't you have a television?"
"Better you than me."
"Are you done, yet?"
"Are you trying to get your own television show?"
"What are you trying for, a baseball team?" (said not so affectionately by one of our pastoral candidates)
"You must be rich to have that many children."

I know the impulse is to say, "This is really none of your business." I've been tempted to do this myself. But I've noticed a disturbing trend in a world that calls men to be effeminate and women to be the men and life to be snuffed out for convenience and the right amount of money:

The invisible pregnant woman.

I remember the attention a pregnant woman used to get. Perhaps I'm speaking of exceptions right now, but I fear my observations are becoming the norm.

Men used to defer to pregnant women. They'd let us go first. They'd open the door. I remember Target stores having special "stork" parking spaces for mothers-to-be. Women would ask questions like, "When are you due?" "Is this your first?" They'd say things like, "Congratulations!" "How wonderful!"

And yes, women would often touch the belly.

But the pregnant woman is becoming invisible. Men charge past. Women ignore. There is no wonder at the truth that another human being is growing life within her, because there is no wonder at life itself or the distinction between the sexes. This is happening even in our churches.

Feminism has declared women are no different from men and that our bodies are our own. Abortion has declared life is worthless. And every one of us will be forced at some point, feminist or not, to taste their poisonous fruits, whether it's around the dinner table when our daughters insist they want to be single and pursue their dreams and not be shackled with the burden of children, or when they're forced to give their lives on the front lines of a battlefield. We'll taste it when men let the door slam in our faces or refuse to give up their seats. We're tasting it in a multitude of ways, right here, right now.

So when others take notice that you're pregnant, rude questions or not, it is an opportunity to declare the beauty of LIFE, of God-given, God-fashioned, LIFE, and of the giving of one's life for another.

When a woman reaches out to touch your swollen belly, often she's expressing that hunger to connect in some way to this wonder, this glory, of created life, that other women and society itself have convinced her is insignificant and unnecessary.

Too many women for too long have tried to squash that God-given instinct, the hunger to be fruitful, and for some that desire will emerge at the oddest of times, like when she sees a pregnant woman next to her in the grocery store.

While I was shopping at Costco, a woman noticed Elijah. She was enamored with him. And then, this 60-something year old stranger, asked if she could hold him. It was a bit awkward, but I passed him into her arms. She then told me, "I've never had any children of my own." For her, this was a moment to embrace LIFE, and God had given me the privilege of being part of that.

In our being fruitful, we are given an opportunity to keep LIFE before the world, to keep the conversation going and direct it to His truths, to make visible what the world is trying to ignore or destroy.

Because sometimes the most powerful protests against the lies of this world are found in wearing our womanhood differently as we embrace the gift of children and answer rude questions with a smile and tolerate pregnant-belly pats cheerfully. It's found in remembering that our bodies are not our own, but are to be used for His glory, including publicly affirming the goodness of God in giving LIFE and the joy of giving up one's life for another.

With love,
Trisha



***I do not know the pain of answering hard questions about infertility or other fertility-related struggles. Obviously, my post is not addressing this. I would say, however, that even these are opportunities to point to God's sovereign care over us, our trust in Him, and the power of the gospel.

***yes, there are many ways to be fruitful, but Scripture uses the word in this way, too, "Be fruitful and multiply."

Ella's Big Week

Ella, 7, had a big week as she lost her first top front tooth (isn't she lovely?) and proved herself to be stellar "buddy" material after successfully changing Sarge's diapers and getting him dressed. It's a beautiful thing from the Lord to have daughters who delight in caring for babies, who see these tiny ones as gifts from His hand, who will often reply, when asked to do something, "But I'm holding a baby." (Because we all know that trumps everything.)

It looks like Sarge is pretty happy, too.

Seven Things

I just got home from taking Ink to have his four wisdom teeth removed. Praise God all went well with the procedure. Now we're dealing with the painful part--the recovery. A few things observed:

1) Four teeth removed at one time, though much less of an ordeal in the long run, still stinks.

2) When you're part of a large family and have your wisdom teeth removed, you have an audience for everything. Removing gauze. First bites of food. First sips of drink. And the Little People who make up that audience like to give a play by play of your behavior and your facial expressions, as they also declare that they don't want to go through what you're going through, but they'd love some of your Gatorade and ice cream.

3) For the first and probably last time, I controlled the iPod on the way home.

4) Ink's surgeon was a cool guy, even putting on Ink's driving cap BEFORE he put on the ice pack.

5) A mother never gets used to seeing her child in pain, no matter how old that child is.

6) "Oh, Mom," I told my mother, "he looks pitiful." Ink managed to get out something akin to "Humph."

7) Ink's passion for books runs deep. His first concern when we started driving home (and he's still a bit out of it)? Where I put his book.

Please pray God would give us all thankful hearts, and that He would spare Ink complications, providing quick healing.

With love,
Trisha

Wait! That's Part of My Heart You're Takin' to Texas!

Almost 15 years ago we moved to this desert land. That was the last time I had to leave a bosom friend behind. You know. The kind of friend with whom you don't need words, with whom you feel completely safe.

My dear friend gave me a Mary Englebreit mug when we parted. It shows one girl pulling the pigtails of another and says, "Pals." I still drink from that cup, and I never fail to think of my friend. Even now when we see each other, perhaps once every several years, it's as though we've never been apart.

Not even two years ago, God graciously gave me another friend like this. Our hearts were connected through our blogs way before she stood at my front door, before we sat on my couch together and cried over God's providence in moving her from Texas to NM. From the start, she blessed me in word and deed. I found I could trust her, and after having dealt with the very painful ending of some friendships, her kindness and steadfastness ministered so sweetly to my heart.

When I returned home from my Dad's funeral in Virginia, I was greeted by flowers from my sweet Tami. She even brought groceries over. Yes. She's THAT kind of friend. She's seen me through my Dad's death, my cousin's death, a miscarriage, church challenges, and a pregnancy and birth.

She's walked on my dirty carpet and sat on my worn couch. She's feasted in my cramped dining room and has seen my bedroom, with its piles of books and stacks of stuff.

She knows my fears. My hopes. My struggles. My longings.

She's loved on my children and laughed with them. She even LIKES them. And I know if something happened to me and my Mountain Man, she'd care for our children and love them like her own. (After the initial panic of such an increase in family size, of course.)

And her family? How much do we love them? Well, we'd vacation with them in the same house in a heartbeat. You know that's love. Her children warm my heart and her husband and Mountain Man get along together so well. Yes, my Mountain Man and our children will feel the emptiness, too.

Tami and I are classic opposites. She's a dark-eyed and dark-haired beauty, and I'm not. She was born organized, and I fight to be so to this very day. She'll eat anything except fish, and I'll eat fish and very few other things.

She's the kind of gal whose home is always spotless. Mine? Well, not so much. She's a pro at technology, having her lists on an iPad or phone, while I prefer good 'ol pad and paper. She's an extrovert with lots of friends. I'm an introvert who cautiously guards the entrance to my heart.

She balances me out, tells me like it is, points me to Jesus, over and over. And she says I do the same for her. This is the bond that hold us together, our love for Jesus, our being His hands and feet to each other and cheering each other on and picking each other up.

She's seen me at my worst and loves me anyway. She feasts daily on God's grace, so that grace spills over to me. Perhaps one of the biggest ways she's poured out this grace on me is enduring my limited availability.

Friendship with a mom of many is often different. I lost a friend once because she couldn't understand my delay in responding to an e-mail. This Mama of 9 just isn't  as available for girlfriend get-togethers. I'm not as apt to talk on the phone for extended periods of time. I'm not always able to be there when needed. In fact I know I let Tami down as she spent her first months here trying to adjust. But she continued to love me faithfully anyway.

Tonight we'll break bread together for the last time for some time. I'm piling on the waterproof mascara and will try my best not to embarrass anyone. But, my heart is stuck on my sleeve, and when Tami walks out the door tonight, a piece of my heart will go with her.

Yes, tomorrow, part of my heart will be in Texas. Not because I know and love that state, but rather because the friend who knows me, and yet, still loves me so steadfastly (which is so amazing to me!), who shines so brightly with the love of Jesus, will be there.

Of course my advice to you if you have a friend like this is to hug her real tight the next time you see her, let her know what a blessing she is, and make time to have that lunch date...real soon.

With love,
Trisha

How to Judge a Preacher

"May I beg you carefully to judge every preacher, not by his gifts, not by his elocutionary powers, not by his status in society, not by the respectability of his congregation, not by the prettiness of his church, but by this--does he preach the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation?"
~C. H. Spurgeon

6 Months

Six months old.

That's what Elijah is today.

He's not consistently rolling over, and the little man can't sit up by himself. In other words, he's not conforming to those milestone standards devised by childless pediatricians.

Now if he were my first baby, I would have already called the doctor and thumbed through baby books and searched the internet. I would have imagined one thousand reasons as to why he wasn't progressing like "normal."  Instead, I've only considered a few.

This chunky-hunk-of-love seems to be my easiest baby of all. He falls asleep on his own. He only cries when he's tired or hungry or, on rare occasions, when he wants to be held (rare because he's usually being held).

He eats well and sleeps well. He's happy.

So my first thought for his "delay" is simply that God is being kind to me, you know, stretching out what could be my final moments of this season of motherhood. When you're a brand new Mama, you can't wait to watch the show unfold before your eyes. But, when you've been there a few times, or you're keenly aware you might not be there again, you're delighted to take things slowly.

My Mom still hasn't held this little guy, but I'm hoping and praying that will change in April. In the meantime, I'm thankful for every grin and laugh and coo and diaper change and....

And I love that his siblings are still crazy about him.

Happy 6 months, Sarge!

The day after the birth (of my granddaughter) I was in the grocery store getting some vegetables and grains for the family. There were several mothers shopping up and down the aisles with young children in tow--many of them snarling and snapping at the over-lively, curiosity-filled, wildly energetic kids. I wanted to grab the mothers, embrace them, tell them, "Do you realize what you have done? You have given birth to a child, a child--this miracle, this wonder, this glory."
~Eugene Peterson


With love,
Trisha

Yielding to the Chisel

God uses suffering to purge sin from our lives, strengthen our commitment to Him, force us to depend on grace, bind us together with other believers, produce discernment, foster sensitivity, discipline our minds, spend our time wisely, stretch our hope, cause us to know Christ better, make us long for truth, lead us to repentance of sin, teach us to give thanks in times of sorrow, increase faith, and strengthen character. It is a beautiful image!

And it's an image like no other. When Christ is unveiled in me, it's a unique sculpture. It's what patience, self-control, endurance, gentleness, kindness, as well as a healthy hatred of sin, looks like on "Joni." That's different than the way sensitivity and self-control look on my husband or anyone else. My particular affliction is divinely hand-tailored expressly for me. Nobody has to suffer "transversal spinal lesion at the fourth-fifth cervical" exactly as I did to be conformed to His image.

Yielding to the chisel is "learning obedience from what we suffer." Our circumstances don't change; we change. The "who" of who we are is transformed, like a form unfolding, into His likeness with ever-increasing glory. "And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into His likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit" (2 Corinthians 3:16-18).

I cannot afford to focus on the hammer and chisel. I cannot look around me and bemoan what God is chipping away.
~Joni Eareckson Tada, When God Weeps