By Their Fruits (or Gifts) Ye Shall Know Him

For the past year, I have prayed like never before. It has been the hardest year of my life.

Since I was 20, I have felt very secure in my choice of religion, but during the past year I have found myself questioning. I guess most people would if given my circumstances. I felt faithless and I have been ashamed of myself.

Nonetheless, I have persevered in prayer. I have remained obedient, even when I felt like my prayer wasn't being answered. I kept asking God to reaffirm my faith. I love God with all my heart and I would never want to dishonor Him by following an untrue path. But, for months I felt like He wouldn't answer my prayer. I wasn't sure why.

The other night Sophia kept ringing a jingle bell and we asked her to stop because she was driving us crazy. She said ever so nonchalantly while ringing the bell to her own ear instead of ours, "What? I don't hear anything. Remember, we don't believe in Santa. This should not be annoying you." Thank you Polar Express.

Well, lately, I have felt like a non-believer. No matter how much I wanted to hear the bell jingle, it just wasn't working. Others will say that it's not true because I have always believed, but really, I wasn't hearing what I felt like I should be.

Well, tonight I wouldn't be more convinced of an answer to prayer if God himself arrived on my doorstep.

It has been said that God does his mighty works through other people.
It has also been said that "by their fruits, ye shall know them."

Well, this Christmas, the works have come. And they keep coming. I can't make them stop.

We have had so many anonymous gifts left at our door, that I have completely lost track. We have also had friends who have tried to pretend that their kids just wanted to get our kids something for Christmas. We have had other friends bring stockings fully stuffed for every one of our children. Every gift has been equally thoughtful and equally appreciated. It has been totally humbling, yet wondrous to behold.

The climax of the giving came the other night when while one friend was making a delivery, another friend doorbell ditched with more gifts and a gift-card.

Tonight, was the clincher for me. Someone left us a bag of multiple gift cards and some treats. They left us $40 in Chuck E Cheese bucks, a $50 movie card, and $50 to our favorite local used book store. My kids were going absolutely nuts. It's been a hard year for them too, and this was just too much at once. It was like Christmas wasn't even big enough to contain their excitement.

I had to walk back out to the van to cry. I didn't want my family to see me lose it.
And lose it, I did. I poured my heart out to God and thanked Him with all my might.

I thanked Him for His love, and for watching over us. I thanked Him to be surrounded by such wonderful friends. And I mostly thanked Him for finally giving me my answer.
If my church wasn't true, why would the people I surround myself with have such wonderful works?

Now, I also know that I have some wonderful Non-Mormon friends who may have been part of this Gold Christmas miracle, and for them I am also grateful. But, tonight, while I read the card with the aforementioned gift, I knew God was telling me that He has let me struggle, so that He could show forth His power, which lies in the people's hearts...His love is a living force for good.

And let me tell you something. That love and power is described as light because there is no other way to describe it. It's warm. It's invigorating. It's mighty. It's the giver of life. It's all-encompassing. The only way to receive it, is to let it consume you.

And after the crappiest year ever, and the months and months of prayers of mighty supplication, I all of the sudden found myself surrounded by the light. In fact, I was the light. In every direction I looked, all I could see was good. All I could see was love. And all I could see was the face of God. With a smile. It seemed to say, "I'm so proud of you for sticking in there Alice. Now go to Chuck E Cheese and enjoy some downtime."

Oh, and, "Be still and know that I am God."

What a year.

So, here is your Christmas card.
If you are a diehard,
you can print us out and put us up on your wall
so you can prove to all incomers
that you really do have friends.

This year was the kind
that we didn't have a professional photo.
We also didn't want to spend for the
cost of printing and mailing.

To put it lightly,
our family has been tried tremendously.
To put it honestly,
we have walked through hell
and we are hoping that we are on our way back.

It was the kind of year that made me grateful
for a simple family snapshot.
Even if it was
as an afterthought,
and we ended up with a crappy backdrop,
and the sun was in our eyes.

You see
we were on our way to church,
together.

And together
is
huge.
It's more than anyone can ask for.

This morning
I realized that I wanted a living record
of the end of this year,
as I looked at my daughters
and the love of my life.
We were all in the colors,
black, white, and red.

And I saw that as a great representation
of a very hard year.

We are all
still trying to do the right things.
Together.
And that pretty much sums it up.
God has held us together
in the palm of His hand.

And I am extremely
humbled
and
grateful.
And happy.

I look forward in faith.
Even if the sun has been blinding.
And what better Christmas message is there?

My daughters would not be any more beautiful
with a professional photo to prove it.
My marriage would not be as strong
without the trials and intense work.
My friends would not have reached out to us
in such love
without our pain.
Our gratitude for loving parents
would not be as deep
without the struggle.
And our testimony of a loving God
would not be as intimate.

I think we have every reason
to
rejoice.

Jesus Christ makes all things possible.
He is love and light.
He will blind you
if that is what it takes
to heal you,
to love you,
and
to know you.

And when you get through it,
you will be grateful for a sun so bright.
Even if it hurt temporarily.

Merry Christmas to you.
Especially if the sun is blinding your eyes.

Happy Birthday Jesus Christ

Thanks to my bloggy friend Sheila for this share.
It brought tears to my eyes and greater love to my heart.
There is something special about
this child's narration to the greatest story of all mankind.

I love MY Jesus.
He is all mine.
And He is yours.
He is the Savior of all mankind.
Whether they accept it individually or not.

He condescended from the realms on high,
to be born in a stable.
And this year,
His lowly beginnings
have been a fervant reminder
that God wants me to know
that things don't matter.

Only one thing is needful,
and that is Jesus Christ.
He is the way, the truth, and the life.

And I love the time of year when
people treat each other with greater kindness.
It's the kind of birthday present we all can enjoy.
And that is so like Jesus.
He never asks something of us
that won't make us happier.

Christmas Pageants

Every Christmas I try to read

The Best Christmas Pageant Ever

with my children.

It is one of my all time favorite books.

Of course it consists of two of my most favorite things:

laughter and the Savior of the world.

I have the book that my Aunt Shirley

gifted to my family one year.

I treasure it.

My Aunt Shirley loves literature like I do.

I want to grow up to be like her one day.

She writes better than me.

I am of the opinion that Christmas Pageants

should only be given by children or professionals.

A few years ago they had LG dress up like a wise man

and I just thought it was pure mockery.

Especially since they had him dressed in the costume

that was obviously meant for an African.

He was one big white African King.

Well, anyhow, somebody forwarded me an e-mail

with a funny little Christmas pageant tale.

It showcases WHY exactly children are the ones to give any pageant.

THE CHRISTMAS PAGEANT

My husband and I had been happily
married (most of the time)
for five years
but hadn't been blessed with a baby.

I decided to do some serious
praying and promised God
that if he would give us a child,
I would be a perfect mother,
love it with all my heart
and raise it with His word
as my guide.

God answered my prayer s
and blessed us with a son.

The next year God blessed us
with another son.

The following year,
He blessed us with
yet another son.

The year after that we
were blessed with a daughter.

My husband thought we'd
been blessed right into poverty.
We now had four children,
and the oldest was only
four years old.

I learned never to ask God
for anything unless I meant it
As a minister once told me,
"If you pray for rain,
make sure you carry an umbrella."

I began reading a few verses
of the Bible to the children
each day as they lay in their cribs.

I was off to a good start.
God had entrusted me
with four children a nd
I didn't want to disappoint Him.

I tried to be patient the day
the children smashed
two dozen eggs on
the kitchen floor searching
for baby chicks.

I tried to be understanding...

when they started a hotel for
homeless frogs in the spare bedroom,

although it took me nearly two hours
to catch all twenty-three frogs.

When my daughter poured
ketchup all over herself and
rolled up in a blanket to see
how it felt to be a hot dog,
I tried to see the humor
rather than the mess.

In spite of changing over
twenty-five thousand diapers,
never eating a hot meal
and never sleeping for more
than thirty minutes at a time,
I still thank God daily for my children.

While I couldn't keep my promise
to be a perfect mother -
I didn't even come close...
I did keep my promise
to raise them in the Word of God.

I knew I was missing the mark
just a little when I told
my daughter we were going
to church to worship God,
and she wanted to bring
a bar of soap along to
"wash up" Jesus, too.

Something was lost
in the translation when
I explained that
God gave us everlasting life,
and my son thought it was
generous of God to give
us his "last wife."

My proudest moment came
during the children's
Christmas pageant.

My daughter was playing Mary,
two of my sons were shepherds
and my youngest son was a wise man.
This was their moment to shine.

My five-year-old shepherd
had practiced his line,
"We found the babe wrapped
in swaddling clothes."

But he was nervous and said,
"The baby was wrapped
in wrinkled clothes."

My four-year-old "Mary" said,
"That's not 'wrinkled clothes,' silly.

That's dirty, rotten clothes."

A wrestling match broke out
between Mary and the shepherd
and was stopped by an angel,
who bent her halo and lost
her left wing.

I slouched a little lower
in my seat when Mary
dropped the doll representing
Baby Jesus, and it bounced
down the aisle crying,
"Mama-mama."

Mary grabbed the doll,
wrapped it back up
and held it tightly as
the wise men arrived.

My other son stepped forward
wearing a bathrobe
and a paper crown,
knelt at the manger
and announced,
"We are the three wise men,
and we are bringing gifts
of gold,
common sense
and fur."

The congregation
dissolved into laughter,
and the pageant
got a standing ovation.

"I've never enjoyed a Christmas
program as much as this one,"
laughed the pastor ,
wiping tears from his eyes

"For the rest of my life,
I'll never hear the
Christmas story without
thinking of
gold, common sense
and fur."

"My children are my pride
and my joy and my greatest
blessing," I said as I dug
through my purse for an aspirin..

Yesterday at church

somebody read Wally's Christmas Pageant.

It was also a heartwarming tale.

which supports my idea of

children being the best actors for a pageant.

I cried as Wally the innkeeper

felt compassion and interceded with

"Wait, you can have my room."

This made me ponder on what I am willing to give.

Sometimes I don't even think I am smart enough

to give up my own room;

even when I have promised to give everything.

I will end this Christmas post with

my favorite

Christmas poem.

In the Bleak Midwinter - Christina Rosetti 1872.

In the bleak mid-winter

Frosty wind made moan,

Earth stood hard as iron,

Water like a stone;

Snow had fallen, snow on snow,

Snow on snow,

In the bleak mid-winter

Long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him

Nor earth sustain;

Heaven and earth shall flee away

When He comes to reign:

In the bleak mid-winter

A stable-place sufficed

The Lord God Almighty,

Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him, whom cherubim

Worship night and day,

A breastful of milk

And a mangerful of hay;

Enough for Him, whom angels

Fall down before,

The ox and ass and camel

Which adore.

Angels and archangels

May have gathered there,

Cherubim and seraphim

Thronged the air,

But only His mother

In her maiden bliss,

Worshiped the Beloved

With a kiss.

What can I give Him,

Poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd

I would bring a lamb,

If I were a wise man

I would do my part,

Yet what I can I give Him,

Give my heart.

I hope that I can give Him my heart.

My whole heart.

Every day.

And be like Him.

More selfless.

I know

that

just how I enjoy

unexpected outcomes from

funny Christmas pageants,

He accepts

my best attempts at worship.

No matter how

unorthodox.

Or how

far from

perfection

they are.

Because the imperfect kind

are often the best

and most meaningful.

Better Blogs and Christmas Cheer

I am not in a blogging mood.

I am more occupied with negotiating Christmas with my husband,

who apparently doesn't want to buy our kids any sort of magical Christmas gift.

Can I say the man is imagination challenged

without spurring on my haters

to call me to repentance?

Do you know that the father of my children

let Santa's cat out of the bag

three years ago?

Oh, Yes he did!!!

Our kids were 8,5, and 4.

And they now think the world of their daddy.

Because he is Santa and the tooth fairy.

But I am still struggling to forgive.

Because I believe in magic.

And Harry Potter.

But because of all the things I have been learning lately,

I will not Christmas shop until LG and I are on the same page.

Because that is what Dave Ramsey says.

And that is what the Bible says.

And who can argue with the Bible or Dave Ramsey?

And I have to say after reading the Bible just now

and hearing God's admonition to reverence my husband,

I am feeling guilty about this whole post.

I guess I will have to repent.

Once I do I am sure that

our marriage will prevail.

One challenge at a time.

Even if everything seems to be a challenge lately.

I think Christmas should not be a challenge.

Who knew two people could be married

for 13 years

and never be on the same page?

This year if anything,

we will be on the same page.

And both of us will be happy with what is under the tree.

Even if it is only due to the generosity of others.

And hours of negotiation.

I've said it a million times before

but

2011

is gonna be our year.

Next Christmas will bring no negotiation.

And that will be LG's best gift to me.

The fact that he cared enough to negotiate this one.

If that makes any sense.

From now on,

we will hopefully be on the same Christmas page.

Is that just wishful thinking?

The older I get, the more I think

that life is really just one negotiation after another.

T'was the night before Christmas

and all through our house,

no raised voice was heard,

because we're espoused.

We negotiated until our hearts

were content.

And now the wife will not overspend

and have need to repent.

But, I will have to repent about the reverencing the man.

How can I reverence Santa Claus?

Huh? Huh?

He's fictional.

I hope your kids don't read this blog.

Or maybe they should.

Because then my husband will have some more

little people to reverence him.

He needs that.

Since he isn't getting it from me.

Well anyhow.

I wanted to share some better blogs.

For my loyal readers

who I have just left totally confused.

But before I do.

Really, how do you married people

agree about Christmas?

Just curious.

Did you negotiate year 1

and never argue again?

Or do you still fight about it?

I love my husband.

A lot.

I want to be on the same page.

Even if his page is to pay the bills

and give the kids as little as possible.

And mine is to make Santa magical.

There has to be a good medium.

Do you ever even think about these things?

Are all other married couples like us.

I can remember my parents always fighting over Christmas.

Mom wanted to make it magical

and dad didn't want to go into debt.

I wonder if this is the same story in every household?

So, on with the real fun.

My friends all have it figured out.

They don't blog about their private business,

leaving their blogs actually entertaining.

Unlike mine.

There is good reason why I am not blogging right now.

Check out Cally's homemade gift tags.

And Lori's movie making skills.

And Erika's honesty.

Jeremy's love for an awesome father, who just passed on,

and made me have a greater desire not to fight over stupid stuff.

Gina's photography.

Jennifer's yummy food.

Rachel's consistent gratitude, maturity, and resilience in the midst of battling childhood cancer.

There are definitely a lot better blogs out there.

But at least many of them belong to my friends.

I am off to make a spreadsheet for my husband.

Maybe it will help if I speak his language.

Lesson With a Flair

Abigail has been making dinner on Sunday nights.

I got really stressed about her learning to cook before she goes to college.

I am not sure why since that is at least 7 years away,

but it's all good since it gets me out of dinner duty on Sunday.

Abigail loves to search the cookbooks for something.

She is completely opposite from me.

I like to cook the same thing over and over again

so I don't have to refer to a recipe.

Anyway, last Sunday, Abigail found a recipe for

Chicken Catchatore. Or however you spell that.

I have never made it before, how would I know.

We decided to tweak the recipe a bit

because we don't shop on Sunday

and we didn't have all the required ingredients.

However we did have ginger.

Abigail wanted to add it.

LG kept saying to add more.

I told him that ginger is really strong

but he wanted more.

We ended up chopping and sauteeing

what Abigail calls

a whole leg of ginger.

About an eighth of a cup.

We fried it up with garlic and onion

and the diced tomatoes

and added some spinach

and then added the leftover Thanksgiving turkey.

And Abigail declared proudly to her sisters

that we would be eating

turkey catchatore with a flair.

I said, "One big flair of ginger,"

as I secretly added some brown sugar and milk

to lighten up the overwhelming ginger.

Abigail and Bella then got into it

about what kind of noodles were being served.

Abigail assured Bella that they were linguine.

Bella argued back, like she had some kind of authority in the matter

knowing full well that Abigail was

the one to fetch the noodles from the box.

Before I knew it, Abigail and Bella were having it out

about noodles.

I then hollered,

"Fine, you are both right

the noodles are NOT linguine,

from now on in our house

they will be called:

'Love one Another, who gives a crap what kind of noodles they are' ".

End of story.

As we ate Bella says,

"So we are having

Turkey Ginger Catchatore over 'Love One Another, who gives a crap kind of noodles they are."

And Sophia in typical Sophia fashion.

Always with perfect timing

and always keeping the peace

says "with a flair."

So from now on, our noodles will remain nameless

(don't they all taste the same anyway)

and anything that has ginger in it

will be with a flair.

And I call that one productive Sabbath.

I'm thankful for

frozen pies

frozen rolls

a turkey small enough to fit in my crockpot

redbox codes for FIVE free redboxes

(yes, we will probably watch all five in one day)

a family who is happy to spend time all by ourselves

a fridge full of food

a good book or the fourth good book in four days

friends who are smart and kind and thoughtful

(even when just an hour before doing something extremely thoughtful

they swore they were never thoughtful)

a singing baby in footed jammies and curls

(I always wanted ONE daughter with curly hair)

a place to live, no matter how humble

coupons

good weather

a working washer and dryer

cragislist - I made $20 today

good good kids (the best)

a husband I love

faith

peace

hope

grace

love

and

did I mention frozen pies?

and Sister Schubert rolls?

Peace and Quiet

Tonight I am grateful for peace and quiet.

I am not sure what is making me so grateful.

It may be living 24 hours a day with a very hyper 17 month old.

Or the fact that I am now the mother of a teenager.

Or that I have a daughter exactly like me who could talk non-stop all day.

Or the cheers and incantations that my only quiet child has felt loyal to practicing.

Tonight, LG is getting a sleep study.

I can't wait until he gets his C-pap machine.

There's nothing like a c-pap'd husband that can make a woman feel old.

For some reason, that just made me think the man was getting his yearly vaginal exam.

What is that? Not c-pap. But some other form of pap.

So, tonight, I am grateful for peace and quiet.

Because it may not be too much longer that I will enjoy this luxury through the night.

(Insert the sound of c-pap)

But really, I have found serenity.

In peace and quiet.

And I long for it.

Even if I only get it for a few short hours during nap time and before I conk out in bed at night.

Really Important Stuff My Kids Have Taught Me #25

Toads aren't ugly, they're just toads.

My two cents:

people who pose kissing toads

are ugly.

I Get By With a Little Help From My Friends

At the end of last week,

when I was having a really bad day,

a friend showed up

with a beautiful sketch

and a hand written poem.

It told me to

keep having faith.

It was perfect.

And then earlier in this week,

on my birthday,

my husband and I weren't speaking.

I am not trying to talk bad

about my husband

because I love him dearly.

It is what it is.

And it is as much my fault

as his.

But

what does a girl do

when she isn't on good terms

with her bestest friend

on her birthday?

I contacted one of my

newest and coolest friends

and begged her to go to lunch with me.

She ended up paying for my lunch

and bringing me a gift.

And it was all so sweet,

but the conversation was the best part

of my day.

A lot of my other friends

had already planned a lunch for later in the week.

And I couldn't call any of them because

we all had our kids home.

A lunch out for your birthday

is no fun with your kids.

And I had to eat out for my birthday.

And I really didn't want to do it alone.

My birthday was on election day

and it was so nice of Knox County

to give the kids the day off

for my birthday.

As my girls grow up,

every day,

they are becoming greater friends to me.

It's an awesome sight

to see them growing

into women.

Women who I want

to hang out with.

God is good.

He let me birth

some of my best friends.

They all know their mom well.

They let me sleep in

and baked me a birthday cake.

And they know how I feel about

birthday candles,

so they lit my cake up

for me to make a wish.

They said, "Hurry mom,

unless you want a wax cake."

I did it.

I blew out

all 37 candles.

My birthday wish

was for my husband to

...........................

Now that I told you,

I guess it isn't going to come true.

But it's o.k.

that we still weren't speaking

in time for him to take me to dinner

because two friends took care of it.

A friend on facebook recently

asked if Mormons put crack in their food

when they brought people meals.

Someone answered it

wasn't crack she was tasting

but

love.

That Mormon dinner was scrumdeliumptious.

And so was the venting binge

with the friend

who had made it.

Understanding hearts and

big hugs are sometimes the best gifts.

Yesterday I had lunch with

the previously mentioned friends

at one of their homes.

They got me a mani/pedi

and Baskin Robbins

gift certificates.

They also gave me a framed picture

with a mom laughing with her children

entitled

"Time to Laugh."

And one made me some

homemade salsa.

Again the conversation

was the best part.

And the

yummy homemade chinese.

I think it had crack in it.

Well, I almost made it through my week.

But I have been extra tired all week long.

I think we have a little bug.

This morning both Caroline and I slept until about 11.

Abigail walked in the door at noon.

She was supposed to be at school.

She said that she wasn't feeling well.

And that Rita had brought her home.

LeGrand was out of town for the day,

and everyone had tried to call me,

but I never heard my cell phone.

We got rid of our home phone last week.

LG ended up calling Rita

who went and brought my sick baby home.

Where would I be without my friends?

I don't think I would be getting by.

I love you all!

Thanks for helping me

scrape by.

Especially as of late.

Need to knows

Let's just say that Caroline

can be pretty intense

when she gets a hold of something

and doesn't want to give it back.

Let's pretend that she has never poked someone with a fork.

Mom's Revenge

I'm 37 years old today,

and the last thing I want for my birthday

is cake.

Why, you ask?

Keep reading.

This morning I shopped at Food City

so that the school would get a portion of my sales

for new computers next year.

Even though I may have gotten what I needed cheaper elsewhere.

(For the sake of this story,

let's just pretend I shopped at Food City

out of school pride,

and not because it is

the closest grocery store to my house.)

I bought frosting with Box Tops on them

even though they were 50 cents more

than the generic brand.

The frostings I bought were in special containers

that had TWO boxtops

each worth 25 cents for my school of choice.

And my kids get prizes

from the PTSO

if they turn in the most boxtops.

I then proceeded to make

TWENTY

cakes

for the second grade's

cake walk

at the school's

fall festival tonight.

In case you are wondering

what I did for the third grade,

I already bought

items for their

gift basket

auction

last week.

Coincidentally,

last week,

I also bought

the

sugar free

frosting

for the third graders

to decorate their

healthy rice krispy treats.

The sugar free kind is

mandated by the federal government,

who doesn't seem to care if it cost me

a dollar more than the regular

kind with actual sugar.

Oh, and for the second grade

I bought frozen yogurt

(also mandated)

and it

cost me $2

more than

the ice-cream

I would have preferred to eat.

I am sure that my kids

will not come home

tonight

without one of my cakes.

I wonder how much that is gonna cost me?

Not to mention

how many songs I will have to endure

as they hope they

get picked.

1/20 chance.

"Teachers,

I made 20 of those cakes,

please take mercy on me

after ten tries."

And

tonight

when I get a bite

of my own

homemade cake,

that ended up costing me

who knows how much,

and gave back to

the school

more than my tax dollars,

I will smile

because somehow I beat

the federal government,

and got a cake

full of sugar

from a public school.

I will also be smiling

because I will

be 100% certain

that I am an amazing mother.

If only I had some

regular ice-cream,

instead of leftover frozen yogurt.

Oh, and did you notice

the silly bandz

as part of the packaging?

HA!

Two can play at this game.

Even though my cakes might be

smaller,

yuckier,

and

cheaper to make

you know my cakes

are gonna be way more

desired tonight

than those store bought ones.

Thank you to the

founders

of Silly Bandz,

who have also taken

who knows how much

money

from me

in

the past year.

P.S. I wrote this post yesterday.

It only took $6

to win a cake.

And Bella chose

someone else's

cupcakes.

And nobody was choosing mine.

So much for mom's revenge.

But, I am still the best mom in the world.

Because it's my birthday,

and guess what my girls did

this morning.

They let me sleep in

and they baked me a cake

for breakfast.

Southern Drawls

The other day

LeGrand was getting onto Abigail.

How could she have a crush on a boy

who is always misspelling his texts?

I took the opportunity to tell him

that while I was on my mission

every time I read a letter from him,

I would cringe

and resist the urge to edit

with a red pen

and mail it back.

I know

I'm just a tad controlling.

But he had to admit

that I am about

the smartest gal in the world.

Not because I can spell

(for the most part)

but because I chose to marry him

before he could.

And he was in the 14th grade.

Abigail then said,

"Dad, it's texting,

you don't have to spell right."

I am sure LeGrand

was secretly wishing that he

could have dated me via text.

Stuck

This morning while trying to fold laundry

the baby was out of sight

for a few minutes.

She began hollering.

I ran to the rescue.

She had climbed onto the kitchen table.

My last post makes this story even funnier.

This morning someone had left the maple syrup

in the middle of the table.

Of course that is Caroline's spot.

I assume she had climbed up to claim it back.

In her 16 month old mind

I guess she decided to take that syrup out.

Out of the bottle to be exact.

The table had a healthy layer of syrup

across it's whole surface.

And of course Caroline

had it all over herself too.

She was hollering because she didn't know

how to get out of the mess.

If she moved, she would stick in place.

I scooped her up and put her in the bathtub.

Clothes, shoes and all.

I'm experienced like that.

We got the job done.

Caroline was stick free.

The clothes were in the dirty laundry pile.

And the shoes were washed out.

The table was also scrubbed

to shine.

Now that Carline is down for a nap,

I've had a minute to reflect

on my relatively unproductive day.

About how this little incident

parallels my life right now.

I feel stuck in the middle

of a lot of sticky goo.

No matter where I choose to move to

or even if I choose to sit,

it's still not fun.

And I want to holler out for help.

I wish someone would scoop

me up and throw me in the bath.

And then clean up all the messes.

And then I remember that I am 37 years old

in three days.

And no longer 16 months old.

And I have to find my own way

out of messes.

Even if I don't like syrup

and would have never

spread it across my living space.

I need an

Aunt Jamima size miracle.

And I am sure that God will deliver.

Because I am his 16 month old

who cries out of help.

Even when I am 36 and 362 days.