Where I’ll be next week and also why I’ve been a bit scarce on the blog this week.  Preparing, praying, readying the house for all the kids to arrive for this exciting time together in God.  Check it out - some truly amazing, genuine and seasoned men of God will be pouring out their hearts and sharing their lives with us from Tuesday through Thursday and then we’ll all celebrate together at a big July 4th barbecue bash and find some fireworks to enjoy later in the evening.  And you are more than welcome to join us!  Can’t wait can’t wait can’t wait!  And….

Happy Saturday! I’m sneaking out to buy some Noah’s bagels with strawberry cream cheese for my fourth-born Levi Aaron, who turns 16 today (he loves white bread, so I’m indulging him today :)  Levi is a very trendy radical conservative Christian apologist, gifted writer, musician, intellectual and humorist who is changing the world every single day as he lives his life and defends the Truth of God’s Word.  Here he is on a ferry heading into his favorite city in the world - Seattle, Washington.  Happy Birthday Levi.  You Rock!

OK, Mom, you’ve spent time in God’s Word and had some decent prayer, which marks the only time you will likely be sitting still for any length of time for the next 12 hours of your day - unless you’re nursing a baby, and I’ve done that while standing up, sweating in the heat of summer, stirring gravy, while correcting toddlers, which, I imagine, so have many of you.  So…all that to say that nursing a baby isn’t necessarily break-time!

You’re up and running, preparing the oatmeal, throwing in a load of laundry, unloading the dishwasher, dicing potatoes to toss in the crock pot - the race is on to accomplish every…last…possible…thing you can, while the rest of the house sleeps.  Once the crew is served, dishes done, children directed to their next assignment, you’re on your next assignment, be it correcting papers, running a carpool, spanking a bottom, browning the meat, refilling containers, pre-treating a stain, searching for keys, chasing the crawler…

As you - possibly - sit to eat a sandwich for lunch (if you’re not eating it while bopping about, doing 6 more things), you grab the pepper, give it a shake, and realize - this needs to be refilled.  Drats. Thought I had it all done.  Then, upon visiting the rest-room : ) you find 2 squares of 2-ply left on the cardboard roll - drats - T.P. needs refilled throughout the house. You run to the ‘linen closet’ (fancy word for place you shove everything you might need, ever, to wash, fix, clean, sleep, medicate, etc.) and, while searching for T.P., you notice this closet has never been so messy.  Drats.  Add ‘clean linen closet’ to the list.

It’s always ONE MORE THING.  Praise Him!

…start playing tennis again.  It’s only been, what, twenty years or so?  I remember the last time I really played.  I was pregnant with my third son, and one day as I was battling through a set with my old friend Vicki, I had too much trouble running to the net with my big pregnant self, and that was that.  I put my racket down and haven’t picked it up since, to speak of.  Since that time I’ve played a good amount of pickleball, a common game in the Northwest.  It’s sort of like tennis-meets-ping-pong on a mini-court.  You play with large wooden paddles and whiffle balls.  It was a game easily played inside, and due to the often wet weather in Seattle, it became quite popular.  But here in northern California, the weather is great for tennis and there are courts everywhere, so, why not?

Back to my story.  So I see this flyer advertising a ‘drop-in’ tennis lesson with a coach and drills and a ‘good work-out’ all for $10.00 so I decide to go.  A couple days ahead I went over to a school playground and hit balls against a concrete wall so I wouldn’t embarrass myself too much at the lesson.  A lot of good that did.

I walked on the court and realized these chicks were all ahead of my game by a long shot (oops, another pun).  So after I was corrected out loud, multiple times, by the coach on issues like where I was standing, or not following the game pattern or whatever, I was tempted to leave because I really thought this was perhaps the wrong place for me to be. :)  But I hung in.  Then as I walked by him, the coach said, out loud in front of everyone, “hey, let me see that archive!” as he reached for my ancient ProKennex racket from the early ’80s that I bought for about $30.00 at Kmart.  “You gotta get a new grip on that thing…or at least get it taped.  Taping only costs a couple bucks.  Hey Allen, bring your racket over here and show her.”  Allen brought over his $200.00 toy and let me hold the handle while everyone watched.  (OK, thanks coach, I feel like a moron now).

So I decided that to save the only dignity I had left, I would fight for every single ball that came anywhere near me, and a particularly mean shot bounced over - one of those evil ones that drop in real close to the net, forcing you to run like crazy to attempt to scoop it up.  I shifted into 5th and gave my life to get to that ball, whacked it back up and over the net with such ferocity that my feet somehow got tangled up, and before I knew what happened I fell so hard on my backside that I just about saw stars.  I yanked myself back to an upright position in half-a-heartbeat and by now, all ten people on the court were doing the obligatory, “are you okay?”  “are you okay?”  “that was a great tuck and roll move!”  “are you okay?”…I mumbled something like, “thank God for Advil.”

But hey, I’m back in the game.  What’s there to fear now?  

  I passed my written test with flying colors.  I knew you’d want to share my joy!  Most of my life is spent giving tests to my kids, so when Mom aces one, she celebrates.  Usually at Starbucks.  After studying for 3 1/2 hours - yes, folks thought that was overkill, “after all, Denise, how many years have you been driving?!?!?” - but the last time I got too confident before a driver’s exam, I missed too many and I knew I didn’t want to go back to the DMV and have to do it all over again this time, after waiting in lines a mile long (can anyone say “AMEN”!), not to mention, taking the time to look presentable for the photo - you gotta live with that mugshot for nearly a decade, you might as well have make-up on. Sooooo…..I read/highlighted/re-read that book, consulted with hubby and spent an entire afternoon, because IT HAD TO BE DONE!  Boy was I glad I studied.  Do YOU know how many feet you can ride in the bike lane before taking a right turn?  Do you know the appropriate time to drive with your parking lights?  Do you know the speed to drive while approaching a railroad crossing with low visibility?  See?  Tricksy.  Very tricksy.

   …and this is one amazing man.  Gregory is a rare and precious vessel.  Not just because he is the hands-on, ever-watchful, ever-prayerful, effective father of five sons, and the steady, rock-like husband to this oft-times emotional woman (me).  Admirable qualities indeed, but more than that, he’s a real man, and there don’t appear to be many of those left in our culture.   Gregory is never moved by men’s opinions.  Seriously.  Driven only by kingdom and energized by faith, come what may, he’s a rock.  Twenty-nine years ago, I fell head-over-heels in love with everything about him, but I was especially attracted to his unusual strength. He’s a pillar.  Not a pushover or a politician. What you see is what you get.  He is tenderhearted and deeply and practically compassionate, yet strong as steel and immovable when it comes down to Truth.  I’ve learned so much from him and benefited greatly by being his wife these past 28 years.  And, he’s still my hunk o’ hunk o’ burnin’ love. (My boys always cover their ears on this part, but it’s true.  He takes my breath away.)

He’s faithfully sowed into too many lives to count across the earth.  He’s also paid a dear price to hold fast to God’s Truth.  I’m so proud of him.

Happy Father’s Day to a truly great man.

…and every dollar it will cost you, even at its $59.99 retail price.  This 7-part video series chronicles the extraordinary life journey of one of the primary shapers of our independence and government, whose legacy has often been eclipsed by more flamboyant contemporaries like George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Alexander Hamilton, and Benjamin Franklin. Set against the backdrop of a nation’s stormy birth, this sweeping miniseries is a moving love story, a gripping narrative, and a fascinating study of human nature.  Based on the Pulitzer prize winning biography by brilliant historian/writer David McCullough.

Just released for purchase this week.  What a prize for Dad on Father’s Day.  The kids will love it, too.  We were riveted.

Trust me on this one.  

(Qualifier: Some mature content - view with small children at your discretion)

…came yesterday, when, due to a bad case of chickenpox, Seth missed out on a pre-planned  beginning-of-summer-festivities-104-degree-waterpark-fun-in-the-sun-day with friends. 

We’re talking Major Bummer.  As the Mom-driven, kid-packed partying SUV, music blaring, pulled up out front to pick up big brother, the cloud of despair settled over my people-person, activity-LOVING, Mr. Thirteen.  No super smoothie, chicken soup or oatmeal bath was gonna fix this torture  We sat and rehearsed the time his bigger brother missed out on the opportunity of a teen-lifetime to spend the day boating and sunning at an NBA player’s local lake home, due to sudden strep throat.  And, the time Mr. Thirteen missed out on a music concert 3 hours away - a really special planned event, due to sudden sickness.  These details weren’t helping the situation, so, I suggested he phone a dear friend in Seattle.

As he and his buddy chatted, all pain and itching was dispelled.  Laughter and energy bubbled over.  His friend just had serious oral surgery and is also recovering - he can’t eat solid food and is experiencing his own form of suffering.  The jabbering went on for a good hour and was the best medicine my boy could have had.

Last night was especially difficult, and I finally grabbed my pillow and tucked in beside him to try to bring him some relief.  I’m hoping - please, Lord -  we’ve hit the peak, as there really isn’t a whole lot of room on his skin for one more itchy bump! 

The pox saga continues.  Buying myself an hour to get with God last night, I gave my little patient the opportunity to watch an animated 90-minute movie, hoping it also to be a welcome distraction to his misery. 

When the credits began to roll, it was my cue, once more, to be ready for action.  Around our house, it’s not just about Momma serving popsicles, applying Calamine, taking temps and preparing cool rags for the forehead.  It’s about being there.  On call every moment. 

Observe:  After presenting a fresh bowl of sliced fruit, arranging bedding and engaging in some brief, sincere, commiseration with the little fellow, I ran out of the room to transfer laundry and attend to kitchen duty (someone is always hungry at our house).  As I flew, I heard a little voice proclaim, “I have just two words for you:  HURRY BACK!“

Then, he launched into some fun facts about how Orangutans can’t cope if the female disappears, likening the tendency to that of our household.  He went on to describe how they arrange a ‘hunt’ until they find her.  If they couldn’t find me, he continued on, they would first go to Starbucks and then to Trader Joes.  Well, by then, I was laughing out loud.  But he was very serious.  He wants Momma there, right next to him.  Now.

I plopped down next to his makeshift bed in the living room and opened a book we’d been wanting to read together. As I began to read, he reached his arm as far as he could, to hold my hand.  It took him quite an effort, and reminded  me just how much of a comfort I am to him. 

Mommas were made to lessen the pain, soften the blow, comfort the afflicted and most of all perhaps, just be there.  I’m so grateful to be spending my hours attending to him at the moment.  Yeah, it meant waking to his cry at 4 a.m. today, interrupting my sound sleep to attend to his pressing needs, but I consider it a privilege.  Truly.  At thirteen, he’s becoming very independent, and the times he feels a need to have me around become fewer and farther between.   So for the next few days, you know where I’ll be.  Right there.

Yep.  Mr. Thirteen (that’s what we call our resident adolescent just for fun on occasion) woke up this morning with itchy bumps all over his chest, neck, spreading to the arms…slight fever increasing some throughout the day, topped off with feeling pretty yuck.  So you know what I’m doing.  Cold drinks.  Off to the store for Popsicles and pudding.  Plumping pillows, taking temperatures, Calamine lotion, preparing soaking baths, comforting, serving soup, pretty much all day…intermittently, of course, with laundry, dishes, meals, changing sheets, tidying, answering pressing emails, running up stairs, down stairs, ironing, answering phones and attending to ‘Frankenstein’ - as my fourth-born Levi has proclaimed himself today, since he woke up with a ‘frozen’ neck and can’t ’tilt’ his head or  look side-to-side without turning his entire trunk.  I told him he’s way too young for this, while I handed him a bag of frozen peas to ‘ice’ for 20 minutes, then a heating pad to ‘heat’ for 20 minutes, repeat, then assorted other natural remedies…Mr. Thirteen just informed me that he and his brother had each other in severe twin headlocks last night on the living room floor…hmmm. 

Happy Monday!

$50.00 VISA Gift Card Sue. P.

$25.00 VISA Gift Card Jen Sarg.

Jeff Allen Comedy Video-Shannon B. and Amanda P.

Tim Hawkins Comedy Video-Dimitri N. and Katy

Dan and Louie Bible Story CDs - Caryn, Maria, Lindsey R., Jennifer Sar., Diane, Cristin T., Malisa P., and Tammy A.