tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36705937625003776682023-11-16T10:05:22.534-08:00Strength in WeaknessElizabeth Cravillionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03401354629234038550noreply@blogger.comBlogger76125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670593762500377668.post-44217833663243924032014-11-02T14:32:00.001-08:002014-11-02T14:32:01.079-08:00New blog!Hey! Just letting everyone know I'm now blogging over at <a href="http://www.elizabethcravillion.com/">ElizabethCravillion.com</a>: God's Word in Everyday Life<br />
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See you there! Elizabeth Cravillionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03401354629234038550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670593762500377668.post-48301010572577483772014-09-18T20:35:00.001-07:002014-09-18T20:35:32.581-07:00Five-Minute-Friday: Hold<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5dUqqhsu24R7WwOTLTTDkWEVpuW4QPgx7gX2qFDs91mS07ZEMLWe6XL3lxn2bK7iYPMv_h8b2SmGp6eWPfijSBPym-9uBQAWlkM_CuIQKgl_IE97KbnNPb9jLmijnjzqCqnVE1nnb6Nev/s1600/IMG_1511.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5dUqqhsu24R7WwOTLTTDkWEVpuW4QPgx7gX2qFDs91mS07ZEMLWe6XL3lxn2bK7iYPMv_h8b2SmGp6eWPfijSBPym-9uBQAWlkM_CuIQKgl_IE97KbnNPb9jLmijnjzqCqnVE1nnb6Nev/s1600/IMG_1511.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a>Hold.<br />
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I have an almost 4-month-old baby girl. Sweet. Angelic. Lovely.<br />
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When her brother was born two years ago, I became stressed and worried. Why was he crying? Was I doing everything right? Let's get him on a schedule asap!! I don't remember savoring the moments as much as hectically filling my days.<br />
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This summer I've spent hours holding my Lou. Holding her little fingers that she's curled around mine since the moment she was born. Holding the memory of her round face and long dark lashes in my heart. Holding my breath when she smiles.<br />
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Years fly by even when days seem to last forever. I've been taking a lesson this time around from Mary's playbook: "<span class="text Luke-2-19" id="en-NLT-24961">Mary kept all these things in her heart and thought about them often</span>." Her time as Jesus' mother must have felt so fleeting. And she held those days in her heart.<br />
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I want to let my children go as they grow, yet hold the memory of their sweet smiles and sticky fingers and cuddles and tears in my heart forever. <br />
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<br />Elizabeth Cravillionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03401354629234038550noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670593762500377668.post-76204233934898007452014-09-17T20:55:00.000-07:002014-09-17T21:06:47.039-07:00Roots of BitternessThis past Sunday's sermon was about forgiveness. It struck a chord in my heart and probably many others. God brought me back to a couple of years ago when I learned a valuable lesson on forgiveness.<br />
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One verse used Sunday was Hebrews 12:15:<br />
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<i>Look after each other so that none of you fails to receive the grace of God. Watch out that no poisonous root of bitterness grows up to trouble you, corrupting many.</i></blockquote>
I have a dear friend who does an amazing job at looking after me to make sure I'm receiving the grace of God. We text back and forth often and once a couple of years ago, when she was planning her wedding, I brought up something from our first year of marriage that was laced with bitterness. Our first year being married, living in Dubuque was so much harder than we planned. Even though we'd been students for four years in the city, we felt like outsiders for much of that first year and beyond. We moved three times, experienced a difficult pregnancy and 3 or 4 jobs changes, and changed churches. So for a long time, I assumed that everyone's first year of marriage was just as difficult as ours had been.<br />
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What I didn't realize was that I had let bitterness seep in and wrap its fingers around my heart. And as I told my friend about the hardships of marriage, she graciously pointed out to me how harsh and negative my comments were. And I wondered where that ugliness had come from.<br />
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As I unpacked my feelings little by little, I discovered years of unforgiveness against many, many people for big things, little things, stupid things, hurtful things, and pointless things.<br />
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Anger at the woman at the government office who barely believed me that our marriage license from Kansas was official when it didn't look as fancy as Iowa's.<br />
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Hurt from the rejection of a person I cared deeply for in college.<br />
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Embarrassment from that one comment a friend made about something in my personality when I was 14 years old.<br />
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Inward rebellion at rules I had been expected to follow in various situations. <br />
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I took a pencil and paper and wrote out everything that came back to my mind that still bugged me from the past. Everything. Even the things that seemed stupid or small. And then I burned the paper. I let it go.<br />
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I'd had no idea that I was being weighed down by all that junk. No idea.<br />
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See, you've got to name things or they will keep having power over you. Recognize them. Stop ignoring the pain or anger they are still causing you. Speak them out loud and then speak God's grace over them. Forgive yourself for the mistakes you've made that your head still reminds you of. Forgive others for their wrongs or their mistakes against you. Then there will be release. <br />
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Today as I was getting dressed I pulled on a t-shirt I loved (before it became ratty, haha) and remembered a stupid comment someone made about it when I first got it. I realized that literally every time I put on the shirt, I thought of that comment and it ruined my experience of wearing the shirt - every single time. Bitterness where it wasn't welcome, without even realizing it was there. So I named it and let it go. <br />
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What are you holding onto? What memories spring up as you go about your day? What or who makes the hair on your neck stand up when you're reminded of them? Those are a pretty good indicator of unforgiveness you're holding onto. Let it go. Receive the grace of God and walk in freedom.<br />
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It's so worth it. <br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="arial14"><i>To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable, because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you. - C. S. Lewis</i></span></blockquote>
<br />Elizabeth Cravillionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03401354629234038550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670593762500377668.post-21505017865573483992014-09-16T12:14:00.001-07:002014-09-16T12:14:45.148-07:00We Trust the Ones We KnowToday the kids and I were out enjoying the local botanical garden. Breathing in the crisp fall air refreshed our souls, let me tell you! Charlie brought his bike and I pushed Lou in the stroller and we just relished being outside together. We stopped at the gazebo, which Charlie loves, mainly because there is an owl statue in the rafters. He likes to shriek, "OWL! OWL!" and try to jump up and touch it.<br />
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Today while there a couple came with two toddler boys and the man was lifting the boys up to actually touch the owl (I'm not nearly tall enough to do that with Charles). He offered to lift Charles up and of course Charles accepted. But when he was lifted above the man's shoulder, Charles refused to let go of the man's jacket collar - too scared to be lifted up several feet. He wanted to, but he just didn't trust the man to keep him safe.<br />
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It's hard to trust someone we don't know.<br />
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Often I struggle to trust the Lord on something. Why is he allowing this? Why isn't he answering my prayers with a yes? What's going to happen next? What if it's something bad?<br />
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But if I remembered what I know to be true of my God, I wouldn't have such trouble trusting him.<br />
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Do I really know God's heart? Know it to the point that I feel safe trusting him and his ways?<br />
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If I believed that God was completely good and only did good things, would I worry about bad things happening, or would I trust that he knows what he's doing when he allows hard stuff into my life?<br />
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If I believed that God knows and cares about my needs, would I fear tomorrow like I do? <br />
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If I believed that God's love for me lasts forever, would I doubt my worth and wallow in insecurity?<br />
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If I believed that God forgives my sin, would I keep allowing myself to feel condemned and guilty?<br />
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Ten to one if Nate had been there to lift Charles up to touch the owl, it would've been much easier for my boy to let go and stretch out the extra couple of feet, because he has a steadfast relationship built with his daddy. He trusts him because he knows him.<br />
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How well do I know God? <br />
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<br />Elizabeth Cravillionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03401354629234038550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670593762500377668.post-74184711647332691162014-08-28T12:12:00.003-07:002014-08-28T12:19:01.211-07:00Freedom to LoveKyle Idleman wrote in his book Not a Fan, "Following Jesus is not about trying every day. It's about dying every day." For years I've been coming out from the burden of self-imposed legalism and when I heard those words last winter, they set the last bit of me free.<br />
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For years I tried so hard to please God. I knew that salvation from hell wasn't accomplished by my works, but somehow I believed inside that my sanctification - my becoming more like Jesus - was accomplished by my good works. If I do everything right, don't waste a moment of my life, and be as responsible as possible, I will earn God's smile - his "Well done, daughter!"<br />
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In my very personality, I want to get things right. I want to make people happy. Unfortunately for me. It became this almost sick obsession. I could take care of the needs of everyone around me and keep them happy. And doing that kept me happy. I felt satisfied. But the satisfaction didn't last and God started showing me that keeping people happy wasn't always what was best for them. Sometimes they needed some things to be hard or to go wrong, so they could learn dependence on God, not me.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-I5MK6ON2DGWwZgQuIi8aDZLmmnJWP96VqTd2xyPjksRsi8e2hqlwWw7xsVx7vw6U5MtMNjkIXsDfuBLl6ZSmVTMLnFUh84eCRJM8tcUUdIythUjsOlJmZKzK-Hw6PvHlJxoA2MS6OEyd/s1600/IMG_0876.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-I5MK6ON2DGWwZgQuIi8aDZLmmnJWP96VqTd2xyPjksRsi8e2hqlwWw7xsVx7vw6U5MtMNjkIXsDfuBLl6ZSmVTMLnFUh84eCRJM8tcUUdIythUjsOlJmZKzK-Hw6PvHlJxoA2MS6OEyd/s1600/IMG_0876.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a>And then God began revealing that he loved me just as me and I didn't have to DO anything to make him happy with me. Anything I did for him should be done because I loved him and because we had a relationship - not because I had to earn his favor. Grace is favor we don't deserve. God is so good to us.<br />
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But it was hard for me to connect the dots in a practical sense. We still have to put in work on our end of the relationship - that much is evident in the New Testament - we don't become more like Jesus automatically. But I was still trying hard. Too hard. And feeling like I was failing all the time.<br />
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That's when I began to understand that following is not about trying and failing. Following is about love. And love is sacrifice. Love is laying down yourself to meet another's needs. Just like God did in Jesus. He died to pay for my sins. The ultimate sacrifice.<br />
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Love in any relationship is sacrifice. Sometimes that means giving up the chance to make a person happy so that they can learn something on their own - in particular dependence on God. Sometimes it means stepping in to serve them, over and over again, with no reward. Sometimes it means give and take - you give and are blessed with a return. But you can't have a meaningful relationship with anyone unless you die to yourself in some way.<br />
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Jesus talked about this all the time.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. </i></blockquote>
In his own death, the seed of his life brought forth a never-ending harvest of fruit.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. </i></blockquote>
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Taking up our cross means DYING, not TRYING. I don't know how I got it confused but for literally years, when I thought of being Jesus' disciple, I thought of working harder to be a better Christian - giving more of myself and my resources, thinking less of myself, trying harder every day.<br />
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But it is relinquishing, not grasping. It is "How can I lay my life down today in sacrifice for my relationship with Jesus?" not "How many things on my 'Be Spiritual' to-do list can I scratch off so Jesus is happy with me?"<br />
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This is freedom.<br />
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1 John 5 says<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><span class="text 1John-5-3" id="en-NIV-30628">This is love for God: to keep his commands. And his commands are not burdensome.</span></i></blockquote>
In a way this verse has always confused me, because aren't commands in their very nature a kind of burden?<br />
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But not if they are kept out of love! God gives us commands in love - life goes better when we obey (I am always reminding my son!) - and he wants life to be the best it can be for us. So if I keep them because I love him and trust that what he says is best, I am obeying God because I love him, not because I want him to love me.<br />
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Oh, my heart. God is so good. And it is so good to breathe the fresh, free air of grace.Elizabeth Cravillionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03401354629234038550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670593762500377668.post-74688381011929321262014-08-27T17:14:00.000-07:002014-08-27T17:14:01.349-07:00Power in your WordsWords have power. Been thinking lately about how our kids become what we expect of them in some ways. Today I was at a clearance event for a kids consignment store and was sifting through 50% off t-shirts and has to ask myself - "Is part of the reason our kids are so self-centered because we put them in t-shirts that say, 'It's all about ME!'" Or are they jerks because we talk about them like bad attitudes are all they are capable of?<br />
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I know it's not completely the reason, but could changing our words help our kids truly see themselves the way God sees them?<br />
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It's easy to label your kids. We call our boy "silly" and "crazy" all the time and I can tell he's starting to act that way more when we treat him like that's all he's capable of. I'm starting to use words like "strong" and "gentle" to define him and am seeing how that makes a change in his actions (on a good day, lol).<br />
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And what about our lives as adults? When I say all the time how overwhelmed I am, or how tired I am, it honestly is defeating, and in a weird way, I like to feel that defeat because it gives me license to feel sorry for myself. But what if I used words like "blessed" and said things like "My days are full but I have so much to be thankful for"? Then I would be worshiping rather than complaining. And I'd be refusing to let those negative words overwhelm me.<br />
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"Life and death are in the power of the tongue." Proverbs 18:21Elizabeth Cravillionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03401354629234038550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670593762500377668.post-4150868303592082722014-08-25T20:45:00.002-07:002014-08-25T20:45:43.909-07:00Book Review: Beyond Bathtime***I've written here before that God has given me a heart and a passion to write. I read mom blogs daily and am so incredibly thankful that God has laid a burden on so many women's hearts to write for moms. As of yet, he hasn't given me that same burden...my interest for writing lies in several different directions. But I value the blogs and books written by women about motherhood because I am a mom after all! In the past year or so I've read a handful of incredible books about motherhood and want to review them briefly here to encourage other moms to pick up these books and be encouraged. Most of them cost less than $10 on Amazon and are well worth the money.*** <br />
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<i><br />Beyond Bathtime</i><br />
Erin Davis<br />
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Not long ago I heard <a href="https://www.reviveourhearts.com/radio/revive-our-hearts/bigger-vision-motherhood-1/" target="_blank">Erin being interviewed on a podcast with</a> Nancy Leigh DeMoss and was so encouraged by her words and her fresh perspective on motherhood from God's Word that I ordered her new book immediately. I just finished reading it today and was so blessed by every chapter.<br />
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Erin takes us to God's word to find our perspective for motherhood. Our culture views children as a burden; the Bible portrays them as a blessing. <i>Beyond Bathtime</i> uncovers lies in our culture and lays out the truth from God's word. I had never thought much about what a woman like Eve could teach me about being a mom, or how the fact that God chose for Jesus to come to earth through a womb and be raised by a mom (Mary) shows how he values the role of motherhood. And Erin's perspective on the story of the loaves and fish that the little boy brought to hear Jesus and ended up relinquishing for Jesus to multiply for the crowd blew me away:<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Let's trace the journey of that little lunch. Mom packed the lunch. Boy carried the lunch. Disciples noticed the lunch. Jesus blessed and multiplied the lunch. More than five thousand people ate the lunch. And millions know that Jesus is God because the story of this miracle has been told for thousands of years. </i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>That's how mom math works in the kingdom. </i>(pp 107-08)</blockquote>
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<i>Beyond Bathtime</i> includes loads of practical ideas for putting truth into practice. My favorites were in the chapter about celebrating your kids. Her illustrations of how we show by our words and actions that our children really are more of a burden than a blessing really convicted me. Do my kids really know that they are a blessing from God to our family? How do I demonstrate that? Erin had lots of great ideas.<br />
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As a young woman I often felt like there were other ministries I would be better off giving myself to than motherhood. God has gradually been changing my heart, so these words from the book struck a chord with me:<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>If a woman surrendered her life to share Bible stories with children in an unreached people group overseas, we would consider that big and rightfully so. </i><br />
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<i>But your children are also an unreached people group. They don't come into the world with a knowledge and heart for God. It's your job to teach them, and it's a big job. </i>(p 108)<i><br /></i></blockquote>
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<i>Beyond Bathtime</i> is not a long book - 10 easy-to-read chapters with questions you can answer to help soak up the information even better or discuss with friends. I've put this book down feeling more than inspired but more so equipped to view my daily life as a mom as actual work for God's kingdom. Elizabeth Cravillionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03401354629234038550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670593762500377668.post-66937473007708741682014-08-22T13:11:00.000-07:002014-08-22T13:19:01.059-07:00Five Minute Friday: Change<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Change.<br />
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What a word.<br />
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In the past 8 months our family has had more changes than I can count.<br />
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We renovated a house and moved into it.<br />
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We added Baby #2.<br />
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We bought a van.<br />
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My husband began a new customer service job and then was hired full-time at the church. Two job changes.<br />
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My grandpa died.<br />
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My sister got married.<br />
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And those are just the outward, big, noticeable changes.<br />
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But the little everyday changes add up so much more, don't they?<br />
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The little changes in my attitude from day to day, learning to be more thankful, less stressed and less of a control freak.<br />
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The little changes in our two-year-old's behavior, his learning to obey, and adding words to his vocabulary, and whining less.<br />
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The daily growth and development of our new baby.<br />
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My husband's ever changing responsibilities with work and all that we've learned about money and taking care of a home and vehicles.<br />
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Change mystifies. But God is constant through it all. So thankful that he never changes and that he guides us every day toward fresh perspectives and new horizons.<br />
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Change is good. God is good above it all. <br />
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<br />Elizabeth Cravillionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03401354629234038550noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670593762500377668.post-64954669265889657552014-07-29T20:34:00.001-07:002014-07-29T20:45:18.987-07:00Days in the Life of Moms<br />
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</style><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Motherhood
makes me laugh.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">How about
you?</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">What
little things in your day today made you just blink as you thought, "Did I
really just see that happen?" or "What did my child just say?"</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Today I
heard my little man, whose vocabulary consists mainly of action verbs, say to
his friends on the playground, "Guys, come!" It reminded me how God
showed me that he has the heart of a leader pounding in his little chest. Oh,
how I want to cultivate that!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgurtAQVGCqnRZqQnQ0IFynqOus8M5vykv0GaKn88s25EIvFy4WWYptt9tW37EZkrMpHYHDrnpalgkK230ttcdil_VGzYa8nfMHT0XmMdYLYlAuFpfSDVv0-A9KgydCLzzkSoEPa3m4f-Wu/s1600/IMG_1308.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgurtAQVGCqnRZqQnQ0IFynqOus8M5vykv0GaKn88s25EIvFy4WWYptt9tW37EZkrMpHYHDrnpalgkK230ttcdil_VGzYa8nfMHT0XmMdYLYlAuFpfSDVv0-A9KgydCLzzkSoEPa3m4f-Wu/s1600/IMG_1308.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Today I
fed my baby girl twice for over an hour straight and then heard her smacking on
her fist for more when I put her down. Sorry, kid, you're going to have to wait
before you get another course.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Today I
was scolding little man for climbing on baby girl and when I actually looked
into their faces, both of them were grinning at me. Oh no. It dawned on me for
the first time that now my mischief-maker will have a cohort...and it looks
like she'll be a willing one.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Today I
played soccer with my boy who couldn't stop eating the soccer ball. Is this
normal behavior?</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Today as I
was feeding baby girl, when little man came into the living room with a cup and
a pitcher of far more iced tea than would fit into that cup, I heard myself
say, "Don't pour. DON'T POUR! </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 24.0pt;">DON'T POUR!!!!!!"</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 24.0pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt;">To no avail. </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt;">Today on my way to an impromptu
meeting for the non-profit I work for I realized on my way to drop little man
off I hadn't even looked in the mirror before I left the house. I smiled when I
saw how messy my hair was and remembered that it got that way when he hugged me
from behind and got his hand stuck in it. </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpdx2uwbi1Aarn43kYQbpSImsJjQ45RhTtWZCqKA9JlCj_gCMBh36jpYZsUPfiSEaIHueiwYyFB6MqYORk0ncX6nAWOnm6Y7HNaOhaVlBtHhDzAaV4Yyl7Wl48UociPWWEdq8fBxsbH8nr/s1600/IMG_1333.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpdx2uwbi1Aarn43kYQbpSImsJjQ45RhTtWZCqKA9JlCj_gCMBh36jpYZsUPfiSEaIHueiwYyFB6MqYORk0ncX6nAWOnm6Y7HNaOhaVlBtHhDzAaV4Yyl7Wl48UociPWWEdq8fBxsbH8nr/s1600/IMG_1333.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt;">Today as I was feeding baby girl,
her little fingers tickled the underside of my arm as she grasped for something
to cling to. I love her love of the cozy things in life. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt;">Today the boy dumped an entire
bottle of not cheap natural baby shampoo into his bathtub. The. Entire. Bottle.
For the second time in the two months his sister has been on the planet. He's
the cleanest little boy in town tonight. And our bathtub is the slipperiest one
in town too. </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt;">~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt;">The thought has been flitting in and
out of my mind lately: </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt;">They're not going to be like this
long. </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt;">As I followed little man around the
public swimming pool the other night making sure he didn't drown himself at the
church party (literally - no joke and no exaggerating momma here, folks),
wishing I could be chatting with my mom friends on the side of the pool, it
came to me in this form: </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt;">One day he's going to be diving off
the diving board and being a daredevil capable of not killing himself
inadvertently and I won't have to hold his hand or catch him when he comes down
the water slide. And that day is going to come all too soon. </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt;">And so I smiled and kept following
him around, more contentedly this time. </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt;">Being a mom is no joke. Add in extra
work, whether that's work from home or outside the home or church ministry, or
whatever else, and life gets even zanier (is that possible?!). Creating a
routine with two littles got difficult quickly, and now adding in my work from
home I've felt easily overwhelmed in the past two weeks. </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinG_lPtJYszga4kXYnWdafhyphenhyphenr9onLICRKGiEch7tbjbT57CguqAqQhCxXcFBsCMyE0S8h0qLZSu91WaJlmLN6tFCx4C2CAksxq36pXWz_dpZS1OwU-KmCLpoaocnpQZkXV-ttDW51JCad-/s1600/IMG_1120.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinG_lPtJYszga4kXYnWdafhyphenhyphenr9onLICRKGiEch7tbjbT57CguqAqQhCxXcFBsCMyE0S8h0qLZSu91WaJlmLN6tFCx4C2CAksxq36pXWz_dpZS1OwU-KmCLpoaocnpQZkXV-ttDW51JCad-/s1600/IMG_1120.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt;">My violin teacher would always say
something like, "Excellence is the sum total of a lot of little things
done well." I don't feel like an excellent mother most days. Or an
excellent childcare provider, or an excellent pastor's wife, or an excellent
administrative assistant. But maybe it's more about the little things done well
throughout the day than the overall patchwork of how I think excellence should
look. (My life feels like a <a href="http://nebraskahistory.org/images/sites/mnh/crazy_quilts/1922-122-15.jpg">crazy
quilt</a> right now!) </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Am I
living in this moment, fully living? Full of gratitude, of contentment, of
dependence on God?</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Then I can
laugh instead of cry in the motherhood moments that shock my socks off.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">And then I
can rest in God's definition of excellence rather than my own.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">After all,
he's the one I'm living for in the end. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
Elizabeth Cravillionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03401354629234038550noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670593762500377668.post-42499148311641494052014-07-01T20:58:00.002-07:002014-07-01T20:58:40.723-07:00When it's hard, worship. Tonight someone told me that my life looked perfect from the outside and they asked if I have anything hard in my life. Besides wanting to slap that person, who I was going out of my way to help (pride alert here, sorry...), my mind flew to about 6:00 pm today when I was lying on my bed crying after disciplining my son because he had deliberately wrecked up all the covers on the bed on which I had just changed the sheets, thoroughly exhausted, completely done with discipline for the day, and dreading the task that was in front of me (helping said person).<br />
<br />
Now I am sitting here wanting to eat literally everything in the house, especially anything chocolate I can get my hands on, just to de-stress from my day. Being a mom of a toddler is the hardest thing I've ever done - and believe me, I've done some hard things in my life. I'm pretty close to saying I would rather take another year of Greek or Hebrew in college than go through what I do on a daily basis, but I'm not quite there yet. :)<br />
<br />
No one tells you that when you become a mom that you're going to face waking up every day to a toddler yelling in your face that he's hungry and wants to watch a movie, and then you're going to fix him his favorite breakfast (which he won't eat a bite of) and then have the most unreasonable discussion of your life about what movie he wants to watch. EVERY. DAY.<br />
<br />
No one tells you that no matter how many times you discipline your child he will still treat you like you're his slave and disregard everything you say. ALL. DAY. LONG.<br />
<br />
(Nate's dad quote of the week: Don't negotiate with terrorists, honey!)<br />
<br />
Motherhood is hard. Darn it. <br />
<br />
But the thought came to my mind of something I heard the other day. When things are hard, like King David, refocus yourself by worshiping the Lord. <br />
<br />
Today I was reading Hebrews 13:5-6<br />
<i><span class="text Heb-13-4-Heb-13-5" id="en-PHILLIPS-2592">God has said: ‘I will never leave you nor forsake you’.</span></i> <br />
<i><span class="text Heb-13-6" id="en-PHILLIPS-2593">We, therefore, can confidently say: ‘The Lord is my helper; I will not fear. What can man do to me?’</span></i><br />
<br />
<span class="text Heb-13-6" id="en-PHILLIPS-2593">So right now, I just want to say, Thank you, God, for being my defender. Thank you for not treating me with disrespect. Thank you that I'm YOUR child and can be the one running to YOU for comfort and kisses and snuggles, so to speak. Thank you for always being with me - when I'm cleaning salsa off the toilet seat, or chasing bunnies with my two-year-old, or soothing my baby, or popping popcorn for our picnic, or changing the tenth poopy diaper of the day, or resting in the quiet after the kids are in bed. Thank you for the confidence I have that I'm not alone. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="text Heb-13-6" id="en-PHILLIPS-2593">The person I was with this evening also asked me how you apply scripture when times are hard. How do you get through the difficult things. I told them this, and I know it's the truth. Only by choosing to be content no matter what the Lord allows into your life. </span><br />
<br />
<i><span class="text Heb-13-6" id="en-PHILLIPS-2593"><span class="text Phil-4-10-Phil-4-13">I have learned to be content,
whatever the circumstances may be. I know now how to live when things
are difficult and I know how to live when things are prosperous. In
general and in particular I have learned the secret of facing either
poverty or plenty. I am ready for anything through the strength of the
one who lives within me.</span> (Phil. 4:11-13)</span></i><br />
<br />
<span class="text Heb-13-6" id="en-PHILLIPS-2593">Once upon a time I thought marriage and children were the perfect life and if I could only have those, I'd be happy. I'm so glad God started to show me then the secret of being content was in finding my home in him alone, and not in any place or person. Being married and being a mom are wonderful blessings for which I am incredibly thankful. But they are nothing I can find true satisfaction in without being first content in the Lord. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="text Heb-13-6" id="en-PHILLIPS-2593">No matter what your life looks like, choosing to worship God rather than yourself (in self-pity) is the only way to endure the hardness and be at rest. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="text Heb-13-6" id="en-PHILLIPS-2593">What are you thankful for? </span><i><span class="text Heb-13-6" id="en-PHILLIPS-2593"> </span><span class="text Heb-13-6" id="en-PHILLIPS-2593"> </span></i>Elizabeth Cravillionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03401354629234038550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670593762500377668.post-52555675863506815142014-05-28T16:07:00.002-07:002014-05-28T16:10:15.013-07:00Anniversary time! <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuS7fzyB6Z62-YBTKiWznjD7M7QsdBMoE76nDFOXqsmBxwIJLx5kBn6tzZpAqg8YJ1yqh9T7vS9gJjNLBY8qWYfxbBYoEMPz5a0RcMLcXxU0nw69epcowe-Wt5MKGgvXXjFV4qe-afHkjm/s1600/259086_10150211576778963_7667507_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuS7fzyB6Z62-YBTKiWznjD7M7QsdBMoE76nDFOXqsmBxwIJLx5kBn6tzZpAqg8YJ1yqh9T7vS9gJjNLBY8qWYfxbBYoEMPz5a0RcMLcXxU0nw69epcowe-Wt5MKGgvXXjFV4qe-afHkjm/s1600/259086_10150211576778963_7667507_o.jpg" height="268" width="400" /></a><br />
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3 Years with my Nate.<br />
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5 changes of address.<br />
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2 children (one coming within two weeks still counts).<br />
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2 1/2 years of church ministry as a family.<br />
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12 1400-mile round trips from Iowa to Kansas.<br />
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Countless Brewers baseball games on the radio.<br />
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Maybe just as many meals at Asian King Buffet. ;) Almost. <br />
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9 jobs changes between us.<br />
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5 seasons of Community.<br />
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Lifestyle overhaul for the healthier.<br />
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_____<br />
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How do you encapsulate marriage in a few words? It's easy to rattle off a list like that, but when you look at each thing and just think about it all added up... It blows my mind.<br />
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It's amazing how God writes your story and how it's YOUR story and no one else's. No marriage but Nate's and mine could look like ours. It's as unique as the people who make it up.<br />
<br />
There have been things so far in our story that I haven't loved, but I'm thankful that there has been so much that I have loved. There have been many hard times. Many. Stress that prevailed far too often. But we've worked together through the stress and let it draw us closer to each other and closer to Christ. And I love that.<br />
<br />
3 years is not a long time in the grand scheme of things. Each year goes faster than the last. But 3 years hold a lot of memories already and I look forward to what the future brings because I can rest in God's love and sovereignty and I'm thankful for the man I married 3 years ago on a Kansas ranch in the summer sunshine and his faithful heart. <br />
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What does your story look like?<br />
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<br />Elizabeth Cravillionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03401354629234038550noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670593762500377668.post-79082655034055075992014-05-14T10:23:00.001-07:002014-05-14T10:25:11.498-07:00GratefulSo I need to write. H.a.v.e to write. I'm pulling my hair out from motherhood and 8 1/2 months of pregnancy (which technically could be classified under motherhood I suppose) and the micromanaging of some people in my life. I'm sick of resorting to Facebook for entertainment and even the good blogs I read are starting to blend together.<br />
<br />
Solution: go to one of my favorite blogger's sites and look up last week's <a href="http://lisajobaker.com/2014/05/five-minute-friday-grateful-3/" target="_blank">Five Minute Friday</a>, where she gives a word and challenges women to blog about that word for 5 minutes. I go to the site and laugh.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQJlSMFmS45-fpnr9e6IMqri4Bm3lpi5TnAl1zJ9vWiC2Lix49E-MJ6uGNAfo0VVaCM9ynlMAfs2hBBP-bNGk2cGw4luWf0nj4KR5CKIJHFHxbV5pBQQgEbtGiPisWHJL038MOoXlQ9nV2/s1600/IMG_9872.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQJlSMFmS45-fpnr9e6IMqri4Bm3lpi5TnAl1zJ9vWiC2Lix49E-MJ6uGNAfo0VVaCM9ynlMAfs2hBBP-bNGk2cGw4luWf0nj4KR5CKIJHFHxbV5pBQQgEbtGiPisWHJL038MOoXlQ9nV2/s1600/IMG_9872.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a><br />
Because the word is GRATEFUL.<br />
<br />
So here I go.<br />
___<br />
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Grateful.<br />
<br />
Oh the irony. Earlier this morning I sat outside writing a thank-you note to the Lord while my boy and his buddy played in the sunshine. I kid you not...in between every sentence I had to hoist up my 8 1/2 month pregnant body with all its aches and pains and Braxton Hicks contractions and solve some problem. My son chasing his friend with a plastic shovel. His friend wanting to swing and needing help. My son tripping on the sidewalk and bawling his eyes out. My son grabbing my hand and begging mom to "come," because he so desperately wanted to go outside of the yard either through the front or back gate.<br />
<br />
I sat down again. I had been just about to pen the words, "Thank you for spiritual rest," in my journal, and as I sat from making my boy apologize for something, I asked the Lord, "Really? Spiritual rest? Do I really have it?" And I knew without a doubt that I did.<br />
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The thought came to me, "You don't have to feel something for it to be true."<br />
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And so I penned it, and thought about rest. The quiet in my soul even when I want to explode. What grace does within my soul is a pure miracle.<br />
<br />
So grateful this morning for fresh beginnings. After a snack and Cars movie, my boy is in so much better of a mood and here I sit sipping red grape juice from a wine glass just because it feels right and sometimes you just need the sugar (if it were tonight believe me it'd be my Riesling...). But God is so kind to me.<br />
<br />
In a month or less our baby will be here. Until then, and hopefully as the summer wends on, I look forward each day to rest - soul rest - because of what Jesus has done for me.<br />
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And I'm grateful. Elizabeth Cravillionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03401354629234038550noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670593762500377668.post-32973282925519674802014-03-11T14:31:00.001-07:002014-03-11T14:33:17.527-07:00When Life is Not OK<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhByYP6fmK3rZ-oTW7se45OLrdupUDxSDEENtpq3yh_wEyYnhNzANQkcUv7fSBtA8fTU4eNnICVcn3Vjk2fC6gLAizr21_DQuvh67QEsgAwSZt8BEdN_yl4ZUAzdkapr3LcxBVbUlO9TGy0/s1600/IMG_7557.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhByYP6fmK3rZ-oTW7se45OLrdupUDxSDEENtpq3yh_wEyYnhNzANQkcUv7fSBtA8fTU4eNnICVcn3Vjk2fC6gLAizr21_DQuvh67QEsgAwSZt8BEdN_yl4ZUAzdkapr3LcxBVbUlO9TGy0/s1600/IMG_7557.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a>Have you ever woken with the realization that things in your life are not OK right now?<br />
<br />
Maybe it's grief overwhelming you - the loss of a loved one, or a broken relationship.<br />
<br />
Or some pain or suffering in your life that haunts your days.<br />
<br />
It could be stress from being too busy - overwhelmed with just life in general. Nothing in your family feels under control or restful anymore.<br />
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We can't change circumstances. We can't make pain go away. We can't banish trials from our lives just by wishing they would leave.<br />
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Life isn't always OK. I don't like that. I want to be OK. I want to feel composed, in control, and settled. To have that balance of hard work and rest, or of joy and sorrow, or of trials and relief. To know when things are going to settle down or when the pain is going to leave.<br />
<br />
But the reality is that we live in a fallen world, where stress and setbacks and pain and grief fill our lives at times. Yet the better reality is that it's OK to be not OK. Circumstances don't have control over our lives. God does. And God's mercies are new every morning.<br />
<br />
Andrew Peterson writes,<br />
<i>They walked in the rain of His mercy
<br />Let it soak them down to the bone
<br />And they splashed in its puddles
<br />And danced in its streams as they'd go.</i><br />
<br />
The rain of his mercy. What a picture! Every day God's mercy rainstorm pours down on us. The question is - am I moping inside the house or am I splashing in its puddles, dancing in its streams?<br />
<i> </i><br />
Do I recognize God's mercies every day, even on the days that aren't OK? Am I taking time to thank him? Am I resting in his strength to carry me? Even in the hard times we are surrounded by blessings. But if I don't notice them, humbly accepting his gifts with outstretched hands, acknowledging how much I need him and his mercy, I'm going to stay miserable in the middle of my not OK.<br />
<br />
<i><span class="text Phil-4-5" id="en-ESV-29431">The Lord is at hand;</span> <span class="text Phil-4-6" id="en-ESV-29432"><sup class="versenum"> </sup>do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.</span> <span class="text Phil-4-7" id="en-ESV-29433">And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.</span><span class="text Phil-4-7" id="en-ESV-29433"> Philippians 4:5-8</span></i><br />
<br />
<span class="text Phil-4-7" id="en-ESV-29433">Do you see it? Thanksgiving ties directly to peace. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="text Phil-4-7" id="en-ESV-29433">Today pour out your heart to God - all of the ways you're not OK. Dump it out at his feet, but mingle it with thankfulness. Thank him for his mercies. Feel the refreshing quiet raindrops on your face. It may not take the pain away, or lessen the stress, but it will bring the desperately needed peace of his presence.</span><i><span class="text Phil-4-7" id="en-ESV-29433"><br /></span></i>Elizabeth Cravillionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03401354629234038550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670593762500377668.post-33229021208882867822014-02-25T09:18:00.002-08:002014-02-25T09:18:21.392-08:00Moment by MomentLately I've been thinking about living in the present. I'm a very "in the moment" person, so you'd think it would be easy for me to enjoy life since I'm not usually worried about the future. However, I'm so goal-oriented that I often get caught up thinking "What am I accomplishing right now? How am I making this day count?"<br />
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Reality looks different from the blueprint in my head. What I consider accomplishments are usually just ticks off a to-do list. Are getting the dishes done or folding the laundry or running errands really accomplishments? What is "accomplishment," anyway?<br />
<br />
A definition of the word says it is "<span id="hotword"><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">an</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">act</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">or</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">instance</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">of</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">carrying</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">into</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">effect;</span> <span class="hwc onclk" id="hotword" name="hotword">fulfillment." So what am I trying to fulfill? Where do my priorities lie? </span></span><br />
<br />
<i><span id="hotword"><span class="hwc onclk" id="hotword" name="hotword"><span style="font-size: small;">Man's chief end
is to glorify God, and to enjoy him for ever.</span> </span></span></i><br />
<br />
<span id="hotword"><span class="hwc onclk" id="hotword" name="hotword">This. This should be my aim. Fulfilling this would be true accomplishment. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span id="hotword"><span class="hwc onclk" id="hotword" name="hotword">I can best glorify God by giving my life as an act of spiritual service. Dying to myself daily and following Christ. Sacrificing my own will and desires moment by moment to my Savior. And I can only enjoy him as I spend time with him, or as I notice and thank him for his gifts. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span id="hotword"><span class="hwc onclk" id="hotword" name="hotword">I think that the biggest accomplishments are the little sacrifices. Laying aside my work to play with my son. Putting aside my comfort to discipline him. Ignoring the whining of my weary body to serve my husband. Refusing to believe the lies or give into the temptations of the enemy. </span></span><span id="hotword"><span class="hwc onclk" id="hotword" name="hotword">Taking time away from my housework to just watch my son at play, or to point out to him the beauty of the winter sunshine and snow. Making a conscious effort to thank the Lord for his gifts, like the fragrance of coffee, or the baby kicking inside me, or the mercy of a situation working out better than I hoped. </span></span><br />
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<span id="hotword"><span class="hwc onclk" id="hotword" name="hotword">It is a sacrifice for my busy mind and body to savor the moments God gives. I accomplish my "chief end" when I glorify God and enjoy him daily. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span id="hotword"><span class="hwc onclk" id="hotword" name="hotword">Our baby is coming in June. Before then we will be finishing a remodel of the home we're renting and then moving in there. We'll be visiting Kansas for my sister's wedding. We'll be taking the youth group to a conference. We'll keep working our tails off day in and day out. Several people have asked me, "Are you so ready for the baby to get here?" I'm not a huge fan of pregnancy, I'll be the first to admit. However, I've decided that I really just want to savor life. I want to enjoy being the only one to hold this little person for another 4 months. I want to love the moments with just one little boy running around. I want to settle into a new life in our new home (and with a second family vehicle -hooray!) with joy and not frantically. </span></span><br />
<span id="hotword"><span class="hwc onclk" id="hotword" name="hotword"><br /></span></span>
<span id="hotword"><span class="hwc onclk" id="hotword" name="hotword">These things are richer accomplishments. </span></span><br />
<span id="hotword"><span class="hwc onclk" id="hotword" name="hotword"><br /></span></span>
<span id="hotword"><span class="hwc onclk" id="hotword" name="hotword">Just glorifying God and enjoying him today.</span></span><br />
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<span id="hotword"><span class="hwc onclk" id="hotword" name="hotword"> </span></span><span id="hotword"><span class="hwc onclk" id="hotword" name="hotword"> </span></span><i><span id="hotword"><span class="hwc onclk" id="hotword" name="hotword"></span> </span></i>Elizabeth Cravillionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03401354629234038550noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670593762500377668.post-49675978510992773072014-02-21T06:49:00.000-08:002014-02-21T06:56:55.410-08:00Five Minute Friday: Small Victories<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW5CJfKfjTk-_3-lv2J75u-F23SdLH4dSo5vcvnYCZL-wSsWBF18kFiX0xVlcZtlDO33V886WbUtjcxpF7xgMGXSsQUh7sjXc0F5u0AGX4Dc9_OcdsvzWUlQxQtmdv7KIiZfi_SGnEHBJ_/s1600/IMG_4809.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW5CJfKfjTk-_3-lv2J75u-F23SdLH4dSo5vcvnYCZL-wSsWBF18kFiX0xVlcZtlDO33V886WbUtjcxpF7xgMGXSsQUh7sjXc0F5u0AGX4Dc9_OcdsvzWUlQxQtmdv7KIiZfi_SGnEHBJ_/s1600/IMG_4809.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a>Small.<br />
<br />
This word makes me think of small steps. Little victories.<br />
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Like gradually making a habit of doing dishes once a day instead of letting them pile up until I can't see from under them anymore.<br />
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Or like the little boy obeying the first time I ask him to do something.<br />
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Maybe the little snatch of sunshine or the quiet thank you I whisper instead of a grumble.<br />
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I used to think everything had to be perfect. All had to be great. If you can't do something well, try something else.<br />
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Now I'm finally, finally starting to get that even the small victories count for something. God doesn't ask perfection. Ever. He just asks for obedience. And "those who are faithful in that which is little will be faithful also in much."<br />
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Last night I read, "Every man will proclaim his own steadfast love, but a faithful man who can find?"<br />
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I want to be a faithful mom.<br />
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Even in the small steps. Especially in the small steps.<br />
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Every day I can faithfully do one small thing to make my husband's day lighter, my boy's day more fun, and my own body stronger. Those things will build on each other. Victory comes from God. <br />
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______<br />
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This post is done as a part of Five Minute Friday, an initiative started by <a href="http://lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday/" target="_blank">Lisa Jo Baker</a>.<br />
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<br />Elizabeth Cravillionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03401354629234038550noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670593762500377668.post-58482102322606498652014-02-18T14:12:00.001-08:002014-02-18T14:12:32.610-08:00Sometimes Correction...Sometimes MercyJust a thought from this morning...<br />
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Our little man came to the steps of our bedroom this morning at 6:30, an hour before Nate or I had to be up. Early mornings may be one of my least favorite parts of motherhood. It's not fair that I not only have to care for my son 12 hours out of the day, but that he also gets up long before I'm ready to start my day and I can't even get the sleep I deserve. That's a rotten attitude, but it's what I feel every morning I have to rise before I'm ready.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf3NR8cRz3efAwo7X_2InFY6ZOWHu3-FAnmGm-81ZZLHoWSj7AIWznIoChuoQjyVO8Lzn54H1dWvls4YYtFPVDpaA1sBsBnhFSNc8JQijzI6ZRdFFAU4ifM7V5UgXLE9GTrpGgb6gXELap/s1600/IMG_0524.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf3NR8cRz3efAwo7X_2InFY6ZOWHu3-FAnmGm-81ZZLHoWSj7AIWznIoChuoQjyVO8Lzn54H1dWvls4YYtFPVDpaA1sBsBnhFSNc8JQijzI6ZRdFFAU4ifM7V5UgXLE9GTrpGgb6gXELap/s1600/IMG_0524.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>Today I tried to settle him back in bed. We rocked, and sang, and even looked at books, but he wouldn't go. I disciplined him, but he didn't even care. He just wanted me. Just wanted me to hold him, to snuggle, to be with him.<br />
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"I have to teach him that he can't just get up and bug us when we're trying to sleep," the thought kept coming to my mind.<br />
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But then like a whisper, the thought filled me: What if he doesn't need a lesson right now? What if he just needs his mommy? What if he doesn't need correction, but mercy?<br />
<br />
Sometimes God doesn't convict me with a scolding. Sometimes he teaches me by his mercy. He's there for me when I need him to just hold me, just like he's there for me when I need discipline and correction. He allows me to face trials that shape my character. He also gives moments that are so full of grace I can feel his closeness.<br />
<br />
Momma's the boss but Momma doesn't always have to be bossing. Sometimes she can just give herself away to wash little man's feet by snuggling with him at 6:45 am before the sun comes peeking over the horizon. <br />
<br />Elizabeth Cravillionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03401354629234038550noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670593762500377668.post-29116264913414887322014-01-17T21:33:00.000-08:002014-01-18T12:19:17.623-08:00Motherhood = ServanthoodJust a simple thought I had this evening...<br />
<br />
Our days at home have been full of defiance and declarations of independence lately. They leave me worn and discouraged and feeling like I could care less about discipline and good manners. They're also full of just plain childishness that, while not particularly driven by naughty motivation, would still exhaust even the most energetic of moms.<br />
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This evening our little guy turned from a happy camper into a growling bear right about supper time and wouldn't let me put him down while I tried to saute zucchini and set the table. He didn't want to eat and then didn't want to play. But I got him involved in his Mega Blocks, which kept him happy for a little bit, until I discovered as he rolled around on the carpet, that his whole back was covered in poop. Literally. (No wonder about the grouchies...must have had a tummy ache.)<br />
<br />
So we had a good rinsing off and scrub in the tub and got back to our blocks. Then he pulls out his giant white teddy bear which is his playing companion for everything from basketball to cars to Mega Blocks. Before I knew it, he trotted off, bear in tow, and dumped him headfirst into the still full bathtub. I wanted to just leave the bear in the bathroom to drip dry but he begged me for it, so there I found myself rubbing down his bear with a towel and blowing it dry with a hair dryer while he "helped."<br />
<br />
I have to admit, the thought in my head was, "Why am I sitting here blow drying a teddy bear? What is the point?"<br />
<br />
Not long afterward, we were snuggled up reading from our favorite "The Jesus Storybook Bible," which, incidentally, he calls his "buh-bye." We were reading about Jesus washing the disciples' feet in John 13:<br />
<br />
<i>One by one, Jesus washed everyone's feet. </i><br />
<i>"I am doing this because I love you," Jesus explained. "Do this for each other." </i><br />
<br />
That's when it hit me. I do these things because I love my 21-month-old son. Love is sacrifice. Love does the seeming silly things because they make others happy and takes care of the gross messes because others can't take care of them by themselves.<br />
<br />
Being a mother means being a servant. If I can't reconcile myself to that, I will spend the rest of my life being miserable, expecting rewards for thankless jobs and being discontent with the hardships of this servant life.<br />
<br />
My Jesus loves me enough to clean up my messes and fulfill my simple requests not unlike blowdrying teddy bears. He came to earth as the Servant King to die for me. Thankfully, just like vacuuming crushed popcorn from the living room and dealing with temper tantrum after temper tantrum is all in a day's work for me, saving the world is in a day's work for him. <br />
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<br />Elizabeth Cravillionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03401354629234038550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670593762500377668.post-32482628658895976652013-12-23T13:48:00.000-08:002013-12-23T13:53:22.013-08:00The Reality of ChristmasSo...I am a cozy, tradition-loving woman whose ideal Christmas fell out of an HGTV Christmas special. Everything perfect. Gorgeous Christmas goodies for all the neighbors. Christmas parties every weekend of December. A warm, crackling fireplace with a sparkling Christmas tree covered in sentimental ornaments.<br />
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And I don't think I'm that unusual - especially when it comes to Christmas. Isn't that what most of us wish for?<br />
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It's not just a cozy house thing, either. I always feel "lacking" when it comes to the sentimental, worshipful feeling I think I should have when I think about Christ and the "Christmas story." Why don't I tear up and feel warm and generous and thankful inside like I should?<br />
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I've been listening to Andrew Peterson's song "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nQZmni-oeg4" target="_blank">Labor of Love</a>" a lot this month. It has struck a chord with me, especially this year, because it focuses on Mary's labor and how uncomfortable Christmas night was for her and yet how God was in control of it all. <br />
<br />
Christmas wasn't cozy for Mary and Joseph, or Jesus, for that matter. But what gets me every time is how Luke recorded that Mary kept everything treasured in her heart. She held onto the gifts that God gave her and would remember them for the rest of her life.<br />
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I've been working hard at making a habit of counting my blessings - writing them down - to remember the gifts God gives me. Today I was making cookies with my Wild Child and suddenly decided I had to document what Christmas has been looking like in our house this month. You won't find these pictures on Pinterest.<br />
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Misshapen cookie dough balls</div>
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A new Christmas tree skirt...but rather disheveled. </div>
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The "mantel" with its decorations...and lotion...and game pieces...and random bells that fell off of elf hats...and probably multiple other things hidden in the garland.<br />
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The Wild Child taking a moment to poop and<br />
read his Bible storybook at the same time. </div>
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Looking out at the snow through *very* smudgy - not "frosted" window panes, despite what the song says. <br />
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The presents actually NOT under the tree but on TOP of the bookshelf.<br />
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This. Whatever this is. Not a clean floor. That's what it's not.<br />
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Random ornaments on the TV stand because someone removed them from the tree and now their hooks cannot be found<br />
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The poor tinsel<br />
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The Wild Child himself</div>
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This is what all those goodies and Christmas cards look like before they leave your house<br />
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A helper who eats more chocolate than he puts on the cookies<br />
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Words aren't enough. </div>
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That, folks, is the reality of Christmas. And it's okay. It's full of precious blessings and unexpected laughter and too much sugar and moments of thankfulness and worship that I choose to give back to God, rather than "feeling" them spontaneously in my soul. Once Jesus was a rowdy toddler. I expect that Mary had just as challenging a time as I do treasuring those moments in her heart, too, until she gave herself the same reality check.<br />
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God is good, friends. Merry Christmas. Elizabeth Cravillionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03401354629234038550noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670593762500377668.post-20576085142288898862013-12-06T15:00:00.001-08:002013-12-06T15:06:16.839-08:00A Deeper CallingIt has been 6 weeks since I last blogged. Part of me regrets that. The other part of me doesn't care because I've given up letting myself regret things I fail to accomplish. That's been one of the best things I've learned in the past year. However, I've been thinking lately about dreams and that part of me that sits getting rusty while I love my men and care for them.<br />
<br />
I was created to communicate. It's as much a part of my DNA as my brown eyes and the freckles on my face. Teaching. Writing. Talking. Praying. Journaling. It flows out of me naturally. Someday I'm going to write a book. Or a children's church curriculum. It's a dream I've had since I was 3 years old drawing the pictures for a Cinderella book my mom had to fill in the captions for me since I still couldn't write. I remember sitting on my playhouse steps as a 10-year-old writing a stories in my notebook. I wrote a fictional book as a young teenager that will never be published for obvious reasons (think - a Janette Oke book written by a teenager). I wrote a discipleship book as an older teen that may never be published either, although for different reasons. From when I was 18 till I left for college at 21 I wrote letters to camp kids on a daily basis. I've filled 15 journals since I was 9 years old. I taught and counseled at camp for around 7 years in many capacities.<br />
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None of the desire or ability that led me to write for so many years has left my soul. However, one important element has: time. <br />
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I follow a lot of blogs written by moms who have as little time or less than I do. Often my desire to write stirs up and I think and think about it, and try to eek out words again. There is so much in my head and heart that screams, "Communicate me!"<br />
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When I dreamed as a girl about writing, I never realized that I would one day be writing a living epistle in the life of a little boy that would take most of the hours in my day, every day.<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b><span class="text 2Cor-3-3" id="en-ESV-28828">And you show that you are a letter from Christ delivered by us, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts. 2 Cor. 3:3</span></b></blockquote>
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In June my little Rascal will be joined by a second little Munchkin and my days will be even fuller. I don't anticipate pulling out the old notebook again for a while (unless God were to free me from the responsibility of the work I do for others from home and give me that time - or somehow miraculously create more hours in the day). I really did strongly consider starting a book for middle-school-aged kids this summer but never did and the content still swirls in my head.<br />
<br />
But something I've been considering is that my life is communication. Everything I do and say is absorbed by my children, as well as those watching me. And I do get the privilege of teaching in children's church every Sunday - possibly my favorite part of the week (although definitely the most exhausting hour of it!), and those children are living letters I am writing as well, in some small way.<br />
<br />
Today I've been listening to Hillsong United's song Oceans (link below). The bridge says,<br />
"Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders<br />
Let me walk upon the waters<br />
Wherever You would call me<br />
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander<br />
And my faith will be made stronger<br />
In the presence of my Savior"<br />
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My thought this morning was, "In all of the adventures I've had following the Lord, all of the things he's asked me to do, all of the 'great' prayers I've prayed, answers I've expected, I never imagined that the hardest one yet would be motherhood." You know...I've asked God to use me to change lives - to speak truth to those who haven't heard. I've asked him to stretch my faith and use me to show others that a life lived trusting him alone is possible. But I never expected that living in suburban America as a wife and mom could be that place that is "deeper than my feet could ever wander."<br />
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As much as I would love to write a book, until it is clearly God's calling for me, when he speaks to me out of the burning bush, it would not be satisfying, nor would it be accomplished very easily, since I would be doing it in my own strength.<br />
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I'm not writing this to bring on a pity party, or to complain about motherhood, or set myself up as some wonderful martyr who is sacrificing her dreams for her son. Heavens, no.<br />
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It's just that this is the thought on my heart: when God calls you to do something, it may be nothing like you imagined he would call you to, and secondly, when you ask God to use you, he may choose to place you somewhere you never dreamed. But that place he has for you, that mission he has called you to - it will be for his glory, for your purifying, and for the growth and encouragement of those around you as well.<br />
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In my mind, publishing something would be the ultimate joy. But maybe my sights are set too low. God's plans are always bigger than mine. <br />
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Where has God called you today? Are you working out that mission with joy, no matter how hard, how foreign it still sometimes seems to you? <br />
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<br />Elizabeth Cravillionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03401354629234038550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670593762500377668.post-32919296210018773342013-10-23T09:44:00.001-07:002013-10-23T09:46:37.977-07:00An Offering of WorshipI watch my little boy chasing a balloon around the living room. Gasping in wonder, he bounces everywhere the balloon does. He tips over and bumps his head on a chair while missing the balloon. But he just rubs his head and keeps chasing. He drops the balloon and rolls over backwards. The sunshine coming through the window makes patterns on the floor and his shadow chases him around the room as he follows the balloon.<br />
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My heart fills with a song. He loves life so much. Everything is a miracle to him. How I long to see through his eyes. He loves purely. Simply. If he wants to be with his momma, you know it. He won't leave my side. If he'd rather play with Daddy, he runs to him and throws him the ball. When his little friends come over, he runs to greet them with delight, arms stretched open wide. He snuggles when he wants to, or when we want to. He's just so free with his expressions of delight or sadness or interest.<br />
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So often I'm trapped in my spirit. Worrying what people will think. Wanting to keep others happy. Haunted by the questions of "Is this responsible?" or "Am I doing the right thing?" Preoccupied by the never-ending to-do list of my life. <br />
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Lately I've been thinking about Jesus' invitation, "Follow me." He invites us to come walk with him. And not just down the road for a day or two, but for the rest of our lives. To relinquish the grasp we have on things, on perceptions, on responsibilities, on fears, and to just walk by his side.<br />
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Someone I was talking to recently said that they felt like Jesus was a boss who would fire us if we did anything wrong. I don't blame that person for their limited understanding. Even I who should know so much better live my life that way too often. I find my life is every day about trying harder. Is Jesus going to be happy with me today?<br />
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This morning we overslept and almost missed our 8:45 appointment to the chiropractor. We go every other week, so it's not the end of the world if we were to miss, but it's not ideal. Nate said, "You just go; I'll watch Charles." So I sped off at 8:43 toward the office and realized about halfway there I forgot my id card to swipe for my appointment (Charles had taken it out of my purse). Lately I've felt like I've screwed up every appointment I've had there by being late, or forgetting, or such. The condemnation was pouring over my spirit and I thought about our small group discussion last night.<br />
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Being a follower of Jesus isn't about trying every day. It's about dying every day. Jesus said, "If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and <i>take up his cross daily</i> and follow me." <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6uf5HrDVx630eU2FCAXaK0xdw7uhFQzdWGkhvj9inVzu7CqbPUGW2z11uFln-7M2RbVKoixJncmfgE1RdEEqOqxahDZP_JPVpuR17DgedQ00HGWnct1PdaOjLh0t1S8xYGuKuhT7_SVVy/s1600/IMG_8966.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6uf5HrDVx630eU2FCAXaK0xdw7uhFQzdWGkhvj9inVzu7CqbPUGW2z11uFln-7M2RbVKoixJncmfgE1RdEEqOqxahDZP_JPVpuR17DgedQ00HGWnct1PdaOjLh0t1S8xYGuKuhT7_SVVy/s320/IMG_8966.jpg" width="213" /></a>There is such a difference between trying and dying. Trying means more. Dying means less. Does the idea of less appeal to you as much as it does to me? Every day I'm cramming more into my life. More activities, more attempts at perfection, more people-pleasing, more priorities, then more comfort-seeking to remedy my stress. <br />
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When I look at my little boy chasing his balloon I realize his life is full of less. Less stress and more joy. Less worries and more delight. Less failing and more overcoming. He doesn't know anything about following Jesus or dying to himself yet, but he really has no idols to chase after. He just lives.<br />
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What are my idols and why do I carry them on my shoulders? Pursuit of perfection. Approval of others. Comfort. They are nothing. Jesus is everything.<br />
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I think of his tender compassion and love for me. How he walked the difficult path of life with perseverance, and died a shameful death with unending love, all for me, for us. I want to cry a little in relief. I don't need to try harder.<br />
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I get to die daily. And live in the freedom he extends gladly to me. Elizabeth Cravillionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03401354629234038550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670593762500377668.post-58692775850259893972013-10-06T19:45:00.002-07:002013-10-06T19:46:03.398-07:00An October in IowaAnne Shirley of the Anne of Green Gables series said, "I am so glad to live in a world where there are Octobers." I have this feeling that Octobers on Prince Edward Island are probably pretty spectacular. Growing up in Kansas I never quite got the autumn experience you read about. Oh, you get a taste of it, but it lasts about a month and then it's gone. Rake leaves? Who does that in Kansas? You've got that wonderful south wind blowing... Eastern Iowa autumns fill the world with much more color, and the coolness lasts longer. More rain also pours down on us, which I actually love, because it enhances the already wonderfully cozy feeling of fall. Mmmm. Cup of cider and burning candles anyone?<br />
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Today my son was wearing me to a frazzle so we left the house in search of something autumny to do. We found a dirt road to explore and a barn with cows to watch. Delightful. We both needed the fresh air.<br />
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So thankful for the little touches of beauty God gives us. Sometimes you just have to get outside the city limits to remember them. Elizabeth Cravillionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03401354629234038550noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670593762500377668.post-69711372772003765172013-08-14T11:43:00.002-07:002013-08-14T11:45:28.542-07:00Of little hands and bottomsI get the privilege of staying home with my little son and being a full-time mom. Several days a week, I also get to take care of some of his little friends in our home. Overall, I love it. Overall.<br />
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Some days I am pulling my hair out. Other days I probably should be pulling my hair out, but I'm laughing too hard. And I'm always pretty thankful when it's one of the latter. <br />
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Like today.<br />
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I have two tired boys who won't take a morning nap, thus demolishing my plans to do some writing and note-taking. But after a quiet time they're not grumpy, so they play nicely for awhile as we listen to cowboy music and I scribble in my notebook. Then I start to get lunch ready. Suddenly, they are the World's Hungriest Toddlers, trying to eat everything from raw carrots and celery out from underneath my chopping knife to cheerios they found on the floor to the chocolate chips they spy on the counter.<br />
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Chicken and veggie potpie is finally in the oven and we go out to the living room to play. One of the boys loves cars and tractors, so I grab a cookie sheet and make a ramp with a wooden stool. I'm going to be like one of those awesome mom bloggers who comes up with these creative ideas for playing with her children.<br />
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Well, little boys may love trucks and cars but intuition doesn't always equal smarts. Both of them were interested in the ramp, but more for sitting on then for rolling their vehicles down. I caught myself saying, "What part of 'block the road' do you not understand?" while laughing as I removed yet another little bum from the sheet pan ramp.<br />
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They eventually figured it out and we had some fun races down the ramp. Their favorite was loading all five of the vehicles we had onto the sheet pan all at once so they could race down together. They never did get that if they sat at the end of the ramp, the tractors wouldn't actually race...they'd just stop. I'd have 4 innocent eyes blinking up at me after a pileup saying quite plainly, "I didn't know that would happen."<br />
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Then I got this inspiration. If I got all my sheet pans, we could make a road! Then I could actually blog about it! You know...one of those "Activities for a Rainy Day" blogs that gets pinned a million times.<br />
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So we made a sheet pan road and I started showing my son's friend how to drive his tractor on it. He sat there, on top of a sheet pan, banging the tractor up and down, when I turned to see if my son might get it. And there he sat, calmly holding a sheet pan and banging it against his head.<br />
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I couldn't stop laughing.<br />
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Enter lunch. In spite of their ravaging earlier, neither child would eat a single thing I put in front of them. My rascal burned his tongue on a piece of chicken and spent the rest of the meal blowing on the food on his fork and saying, "Hot, hot," while tapping it with his hand to test the temperature, eating about 5 bites in total. His friend ate about the same amount, scrunching up his nose at everything I tried to give him. I eventually caved and handed him his bottle, but even that merely started getting dumped on his tray.<br />
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That's when a mom says, "The end. Nap time."<br />
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And now they sleep. And I write. And laugh about ideals and silly little boys that know nothing about mom blogs. <br />
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Enjoy the moments. They won't last forever. Elizabeth Cravillionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03401354629234038550noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670593762500377668.post-26039340010499544212013-08-05T10:36:00.000-07:002013-08-05T10:36:19.013-07:00Ruth, Laura Ingalls Wilder, and Me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When Nate and I went on vacation last month, we visited the Laura Ingalls Wilder birthplace in Pepin, WI. Loved going there because I'm a bit of a Laura Ingalls Wilder freak, even though the cabin and museum weren't that impressive. I jabbered to my husband all about the Ingalls family and reminisced about reading the books as a seven-year-old. So naturally I fell to reading them again once we got home. Just finished the series and loved them just as much as ever. Every time I read them, something new strikes me.<br />
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This time around I was amazed by the Ingalls' family simple trust in God for what came their way. They worked hard, doing their best, and left the rest in God's hands. They weren't trying to be super spiritual, either. It was their way of life. You don't complain. You don't whine. You're just thankful for what you have and make do for what you don't have. You just did life. You worked hard, with no excuses. You performed your chores and housework every day and that was just a part of life. You didn't wish that things were easier, although you worked toward a day when you hoped they would be.<br />
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Today as I read from the book of Ruth in the Bible, I read about Ruth gleaning in the fields to provide barley for herself and her mother-in-law. This was the description of the field overseer of her:<br />
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<i>She said, 'Please let me glean and gather among the sheaves after the reapers.' So she came, and she has continued from early morning until now, except for a short rest.</i><br />
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Ruth worked hard. She faithfully did her job.<br />
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Sometimes as a mom, it's so easy for me to get stuck in a "poor me" mentality. I have to take care of this exhausting little man all day. I have to do dishes every day. I have to keep the house tidy. I have to figure out how to make our budget work this month. I have to do all this and no one thanks me.<br />
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It comes from our culture, that teaches us that we are entitled to the absolute best for us. But I can't blame it all on the culture. I'm guilty of giving in to the voice in my head.<br />
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And so I've decided to buck up a little bit. Perhaps housework isn't my favorite activity, but it's necessary, so I'm choosing to be faithful in it. Perhaps being a mom is thankless sometimes. Who says I need to be thanked? God sees and knows every little thing I do, and he appreciates it. He cares. <br />
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In a world where everyone lives to please themselves, women who can fulfill their calling with a quiet and thankful heart seem to be few and far between. But that is the desire of my heart. And it's not going to happen on its own. Elizabeth Cravillionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03401354629234038550noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670593762500377668.post-42978464890772756462013-07-31T10:41:00.002-07:002013-07-31T10:41:38.829-07:00Whole Grain Blueberry PancakesCharles and I are pancake afficionados. Pumpkin, banana, blueberry, chocolate chip, oat flour, whole wheat flour, almond milk, applesauce....just a few of the many ingredients we've tried. I wanted to share these that I made this morning because I fell in love with them. So delicious. I usually use frozen blueberries in pancakes but opted to use the fresh ones I had in the fridge. Boy, was there ever a difference! The fresh ones just burst in your mouth and had so much more flavor.<br />
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I didn't post a picture of them because you probably would think I was off my rocker. My food tastes good but is rarely photogenic - ha! My son is, however.<br />
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Whole Grain Blueberry Pancakes<br />
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2 egg whites (we had some left over from ice cream - otherwise one egg would work the same)<br />
1 cup almond milk<br />
1 tsp vanilla<br />
1 Tbsp baking powder<br />
1/2 tsp salt<br />
2 Tbsp canola oil<br />
1 Tbsp honey<br />
1/2 cup millet flour<br />
1/2 cup whole wheat flour<br />
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Beat eggs and milk together. Add following ingredients one at a time, beating as you go. Fry in sizzling canola oil and drop fresh blueberries on top of the batter in the pan.<br />
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Drool and enjoy with a drizzle of pure maple syrup. <br />
<br />Elizabeth Cravillionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03401354629234038550noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3670593762500377668.post-72291953649086172412013-07-30T20:11:00.000-07:002013-07-30T20:18:26.194-07:00Ways My Child has Already Proved Me Wrong<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Before you have children, you formulate theories. I-will-never-be-that-kind-of-mom theories. Far from being the exception, I'm probably one of the leaders in this folly. I mean, when you're from an opinionated family like mine, there's no way you can NOT formulate them. Which I realize was actually a very opinionated statement in itself.<br />
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So...this list may surprise you. Definitely surprised me. I think the key is being flexible. And willing to eat crow. My child is 16 months old today and he's already proven just about every theory I had about parenting wrong.<br />
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<b>* Child-proof locks are for sissy families that are afraid of everything.</b><br />
I actually thought of this post while fenagling with the child lock on our bathroom cabinet. Seriously...when you live in a little apartment with nothing to do but get into everything...they become necessary. We even have one on our oven. When I bought the first set of them, I laughed at the one that keeps the toilet lid shut. Can't say I haven't been tempted to buy one myself multiple times since then.<br />
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<b>* Only parents up on the latest fads with nothing better to do with their time teach their child sign language.</b><br />
Well...when your son screams at you for e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g...you start to teach him "please," "more," "all done" and "thank you." Out of desperation to keep your sanity. Then, as a stay at home mom going crazy for new activities to keep the boy occupied, you start working on learning other words - "light," "dog," "hurt," "scare," etc.<br />
It's been so incredibly beneficial I can hardly believe it. Just this evening he made a new connection. He was hitting me on the head with his dog, very hard, and I expressed that it "hurt," and he got it! Actually stopped smacking me. We try to do "love," as well, and he just gives hugs and kisses instead. I'll take that. We're having a lot of fun with it. <br />
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<b>* My child will never misbehave in public.</b><br />
One word: HA!<br />
Now...does he have to keep misbehaving in public? No. We're working on it. But I never in a billion years dreamed that my child would be the one hitting other kids with their toys because it was funny or throwing a temper tantrum in the eye doctor's office. Kids are actually rather unpredictable. Imagine that!<br />
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<b>* I will not be a pushover mommy.</b><br />
When your son looks at you with that mischievous twinkle in his eye and signs, "please," if my reason for saying "no" was in the least bit invalid, it suddenly flies out the window.<br />
On a serious note, it's also far easier than I realized to just give in to his little tantrums or begging just because I'm lazy and would rather give him what he wants than discipline him. Challenging but necessary to teach him he can't always have his way.<br />
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<b>* We will never own noise-making toys.</b><br />
We don't own many. But he loves them. So...they're in his repertoire. They do make life a little more exciting for a kid.<br />
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I'm sure there are many more, but these are all my tired brain can think of at the moment. Just funny, though, how every day you realize you never knew what you thought you did before. I used to have theories about parenting teenagers, too. Guess where those are now? Out the window, in the dust bin, yeah....gone. Elizabeth Cravillionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03401354629234038550noreply@blogger.com1