Quote

Last night we went to Belmont to hear Tod Bell speak. As Don Finto introduced Tod, he said something profound:

"You cannot draw to yourself that which you condemn or criticize."

Judah Conversations (6 months ago)

January 2007

Judah accompanies his daddy to Target on a Saturday morning before heading to Publix to do their weekly daddy/baby grocery shopping. They begin to exit the van.

Judah says, "Daddy, I need a spank."

"Why do you need a spank, Judah?"

"Because I did not obey. "

"What did you do?"

"I played with the cookie bar and you told me not to."

"Oh, so what are we going to do about that?"

"Can you give me a soft spank?"

Judah Conversation (this morning)

Daddy: Judah, Miriam's eating the horse's hair! If she eats it all up, the horse will be bald!

Judah: Then he will be a daddy.

Got a lot on my mind today...

The family is asleep. It's Sunday afternoon. The house is quiet. I can write. Sigh.

I often write in my head while I'm doing mindless tasks around the house (washing dishes, sweeping, doing laundry) or while I'm push-mowing the lawn. I not only think about what I'm going to write, but also how to write it. I think about phrasing. I think about rhythm. I think about humor. I think about tact. I'm a little short on the latter. I think that's one of the reasons I married James. He has a much softer way of presenting ideas--one that's more diplomatic, more palatable. His parents grew up in Tennessee. Mine grew up in New Jersey. Maybe that has something to do with it. Northerners aren't exactly known for their syrupy sweetness (the availability of sweet tea in the South must be symbolic).

When we first moved from New Jersey to Kentucky, I was nearly seven years old. I remember asking my dad, "Why does everybody wave at us? They don't know us." He said everybody down here waved. When I reached junior high, my perception of Northerners was that they outwardly hated everyone except family and friends. Southerners seemed to like everyone except foreigners (at least they pretended to, anyway). Being from New Jersey, I was a foreigner. I talked funny. I corrected the teacher's pronunciation of certain words. I read books.

When I read Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson in the 6th grade, I fell in love. I instantly connected with the character Leslie Burke. Leslie's best friend Jesse Aarons Oliver, Jr., reminded me of my quirky childhood friend who dubbed me Her Royal Excitedness. Neither character felt as though they fit in their small town. She moved from the city to a home across the road (not the street) from Jess. She had a vivid imagination and no TV. He had a gift for art and a dad who didn't understand him. To him, Leslie was just like one of the boys (since she was, after all, the fastest kid in the 5th grade). To her, Jesse was a blank canvas on which to paint her Terabithian ideas.

While in college, "my Jesse" sent me a copy of Bridge to Terabithia in the mail. He strategically placed his handwritten letter between two pages toward the middle of the book. Before I read his letter, I knew to look at the pages to discover the reason for the letter placement. My deliberate Jesse didn't do much of anything without thinking it through first. (In fact, he stopped saying, "Hi," at the beginning of telephone conversations and "Bye" at the end because he felt as though it was irrelevant, understood, and a waste of breath. My parents called him weird. So, naturally, I liked him.) Anyway, Jess of Terabithia was trying desperately in his etchings to capture "the poetry of the trees." In the letter, "my Jesse" asked if I knew why he placed the letter in the book. Well, of course I did. It was all about the poetry of the trees, silly.

Why "Her Royal Excitedness"?

It's actually a code name used by a friend I've known since the 3rd grade to talk about me with his former roommate in college. When I created my first e-mail account almost 10 years ago, several of the e-mail names I tried had already been chosen. Her Royal Excitedness was available. I like it. I think it fits.

Another Event

Have I mentioned that I majored in communications in college? While I don't own a TV, subscribe to the newspaper, or buy any magazines, I LOVE to help get the word out about stuff that interests me. Hence, one of the reasons for this blog.

The folks behind CoolPeopleCare.org are throwing a one-year birthday party on Friday, August 17, from 7-10 p.m., and The Gabe Dixon Band will be playing (another life-enhancing discovery). To hear some of their music, click here and scroll down to "All Will Be Well"; then click on "streaming."

If you haven't discovered Cool People Care, it's worth a few minutes of your Internet time. I subscribe to their daily "5 minutes of caring" e-mails. Here's an example:

Thursday, July 26, 2007
5 Minutes of Caring from CoolPeopleCare.org
JUST SOME CRAYONS by Sam Davidson
If you're familiar with us, you should know that we believe in the power of a little thing to make a big difference. With that in mind, for many children living in homeless shelters, things like crayons, games, and toys allow them to escape the unfortunate reality that is their current situation. Usually, when we think of homeless shelters, we think about helping in terms of serving food or donating clothes. But the next time you're at the store, **grab a set of crayons** and some coloring books and drop them by a family shelter for children to use.

Read this Article, peruse our Calendar, and Support our Partners at:http://www.coolpeoplecare.org/article/513/f35bc4c6cbc0a9320a82862a3ea00042

Tod Bell at Belmont this weekend!

If you're as big of a fan of Tod Bell as we are, you might want to go to Belmont's service tomorrow night at 6 p.m. or either one of their Sunday morning services to hear him preach. Here are two of my favorite excerpts from his excellent book it can be done: the marketplace maximized for the kingdom of God.

Chapter 2: a macrowaved marketplace--maximizing the release of marketplace ministers
One of the members of the fellowship [Glenda & Dair Sutton's Family Affair Ministry in East Nashville] has started a fruit and vegetable stand on the corner of the church parking lot. She received a prophetic word through a worship leader during a worship gathering that she was going to pursue a life-long dream. She had always dreamed of operating a fruit and vegetable stand! The stand opened on a Wednesday, and by Saturday of that week, she had led 50 people to Jesus Christ! Fifty! Neither she nor Glenda knew when she opened it that twenty years before, there had been a vegetable stand on that very corner! The older people within the neighborhood remembered the previous stand and flooded her with business. She sold out her stock every single day, and in the process, ministered the gospel and prayed for the customers.

Chapter 3: forgiven like me--maximizing our mindset for reaching the lost
Once, when I was driving in a notorious section of Nashville, I spotted a prostitute. The Lord told me to go talk to her. When I got close to her, I realized she was no older than 20 and she was pregnant. I approached her and asked her what she was doing. She said, “You don’t know?” I then told her I knew she was selling herself for sex, but I still asked her why. She said, “I have three kids, I just moved here from Chicago, things aren’t going well. I have to put food on the table.” I didn’t know how much of this was true, but one thing was obvious, she was pregnant even then. She told me she was only two months away from giving birth.

I took $40 out of my pocket and told her to get in the car. She thought I wanted sex for that money, so she got in. I asked her where she was staying; I was going to take her there. She said, “NO! I want to follow through with this. What do you want?”

“Daughter,” I said to her (Jesus often used this expression with women), “I only want to bless you and let you know God loves you.” She burst into tears, which are never far away from anyone if you touch their heart. I said, “I only want this, to kiss you on the cheek and take you to your house.” I pecked her on the cheek (first time I had ever done that, but when you are being led by the Spirit, you just do what He says). She could not stop sobbing. Right then was the first time I had ever heard this phrase from the Holy Spirit, “Expect nothing from her; expect everything from Me.”

May I tell you that this message from the Lord set me free, right then! I did not have to see the conclusion of the matter, where this was going, how she would or would not respond! My only role was to be the vessel for the revealing of the Father’s heart for this moment. Nothing less, and there is nothing more! What a privilege.
She guided me to where she was staying and she got out, saying, “I have never met anyone like you.” I got to tell her, “The person you met that has touched you is Jesus, and He loves you more than you can know.”

Kids Consignment Sale TODAY

My friend Adina told me about an awesome kids consignment sale in West Nashville. Almost everything is half price today from 10-6. Check it out! http://www.oncearoundtheblockkids.com/

Recruiting Readers

Judah and I used to read to kindergarten and pre-K students before Miriam joined our family. We loved going into the schools together once a week. We had 15 minutes to read a book, ask questions, and interact with the students. The kids are SO sweet. And they absolutely adored Judah. Now, Love Helps, the organization behind the volunteer effort, is looking for readers:

Reading volunteer recruitment begins

Do you have a few minutes to invest in children around lunchtime once a week beginning in October? Love Helps, inc. is looking for volunteers to read for 15 minutes in kindergarten classrooms at schools near downtown Nashville for at least two months. You will work in teams, and we will provide training as well. Click here for more information about the LEADING by READING program.

School Uniforms

Yesterday I discovered that my neighbor is looking forward to the new uniform policy. Since her government-assistance budget doesn't allow for $100 jeans and designer tops, the uniforms will help to put her daughter on more of a level playing field among the other students--at least at first glance. My neighbor, who lives with her 70-year-old mother, is a single mom with two grown children, two grandchildren, and a 6-year-old. She also has 10 or 11 adult siblings. Her sister and her son have taken her daughter shopping for the new attire. I love it. I'd really like to see more families "adopt" children and take them shopping. That's what we did with our Tiffany. The experience of eating out together, laughing together, shopping together...and seeing her expression when I tell her how adorable she looks...is priceless.

If that doesn't work, then partnering with a school or a non-profit to provide clothes or money to buy clothes, I think, is the next best thing. I need to do a little research to find out which organizations are already in place with this need on their agendas. We have countless volunteer organizations in Nashville. Surely there are several who are distributing school uniforms! A website that we enjoy (and that provides a nice list of non-profits and other partners) is http://www.coolpeoplecare.org/. Check it out!

New Pictures

I just uploaded a new set of photos. Most of them are of the kids with my parents, my sister, and my niece. You can check them out by clicking HERE.

Watch and Learn

James noticed that I think a lot about how our choices will affect our family long-term. An example that I shared with my mom today:

When Judah was not quite as communicative as he is now, maybe a year ago, he hit his head on the coffee table. His Mimi said, "Did that table hurt you? Bad table!" And she hit the table.

Now, this may seem trivial. For my mom, it was familiar. But it absolutely drove me nuts. I could just see Judah playing with other children, getting hurt, and telling the kid who accidentally ran into him that the kid was bad, hitting the kid, and feeling justified.

I believe that everything we say and do teaches our children. When Judah walked in on me recently with my hands in the air, my eyes closed, and tears streaming down my cheeks, he said, "Is that a tear? Why is that a tear?"

I said, "I'm crying because my heart is so full. I love God and I love you and sometimes it comes out in my tears."

A few days later, Judah whimpers in the car. I look at him, and he says, "I'm crying because I love God."

See.

They pay attention to EVERYthing. They're brilliant little creatures who soak it all in, just waiting for an opportunity to show us what they've picked up from us. There is so much I didn't know about myself until I began to see it in my son.

He got me.

NOTE: This is a guest post from MH (Mr. Honey, a.k.a. My Husband). I'm SW (Sweet Wife).

Judah and I were up late because we ate at the salty-bread-place (Macaroni Grill) and rode on the carousel and pet the stingrays.

As I put him to bed, both SW and I asked him to be very quiet because Miriam was already sleeping.

After I tucked him in, he grabbed his birthday bear from Auntie Bec.

The birthday bear is a handsome beast with a 700-watt THX Bose Surround Sound with Subwoofer in his arm that plays a knockoff song to “Happy Birthday” (you know, just different enough from the standard to avoid paying royalties).

Judah then looked at me slyly and said, “I want to push the bear’s arm.”

Of course, that would have awakened Miriam (and the neighbors across the street).

Before I could tell him to stop. He began squeezing the bear’s arm.

I must have had a panicked look on my face because he smiled at me and said, “That is the arm that doesn’t play.”

That boy. He got me. He really got me.

Our Tiffany

Tiffany is Judah's best friend. She's eager to please, kind, helpful, and a delight to have around. When she comes over, I actually get housework done and have the motivation to pull something together for dinner.

When I read about Davidson Co. schools switching to Standard School Attire , I immediately wanted to take Tiffany school shopping. We've known her and her family for two years, but this is a first for us. Tonight we bought a navy blue jumper and a white blouse at Wal-Mart (after walking the Cool Springs Mall to no avail). Before school starts in mid-August, I'm hoping to find a couple more outfits--at least two shirts and two bottoms.

When I took Tiffany home tonight, her mom mentioned some other needs (for the first time in two years): a box springs and frame for Tiffany's bed (which is on milk crates right now), a small or adjustable dining room table (which is wobbly), a couch that doesn't show stains easily (their couch is sinking), dressers (which they don't have), and a computer (especially for her 16-year-old so she doesn't have to go the public library where there's often a wait as well as a 1-hour time limit).

Tiffany's family has been living in an apartment (in a sketchy neighborhood) since September, and everything is still in boxes because of their lack of dressers. I told her that most of what we own is handed down and that oftentimes people just hang on to furniture until they know of someone who needs it. I'll be checking Craig's list for free items, but I thought I'd post about it in case someone I know has something they can use.

After seeing how happy and absolutely adorable Tiffany looked trying on her new clothes (new clothes!), my head is swimming with ideas for helping low-income families with the new SSA. Anyone else interested in this topic?

Explain and Learn

I'd like to preface this one by saying that I live in a predominately black neighborhood. There are actually people who won't come to my house anymore because they don't feel safe. My neighbors had a Gospel meeting at their house last week and a community fish fry this week. I'd like to know how many "safe" white neighborhoods are gathering their neighbors, worshiping together, praying together, and sharing food together. Ok, now that I've got that off my chest...

My neighbor Gwen invited me last week to a "Gospel Meeting" at her house. She said it was her sister's idea, but that she ended up doing all the preparation. She cut out huge blue letters and attached them to her chainlink fence: THE WORD 7 pm. She told me twice to invite anyone who might want to come. Her sister bought some tiki torches and citronella to try to deter the mosquitos from showing up in droves.

"Sister Can't-Remember-Her-Name" came with a keyboard, microphone, and speakers. She preached stuff I hadn't heard in a long time--stuff that is foreign to me now but that was once familiar (in summary, get your act together or God's gonna getcha). I'll probably write more about that later.

What I'm thinking of now from that night is that after the second or third song, Judah turned around and said, "I worshiped God." He had been sitting in the seat in front of me banging a tamborine on his leg. I shared with one of Gwen's sisters what he said. She responded, "I hope these other kids know what they were doing. They probably don't."

Later I thought, Judah only knows what I tell him, show him, read to him...he learns through observation. He asks a lot of questions. We worship and pray at home. He constantly asks me what I'm doing, and I tell him. I explain everything. I don't expect him to figure it out on his own. I believe it's fully my responsiblity to "train him in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it." He tells me he is a worshiper. And when we finally made it on time to Grace Center on Sunday, I was able to say, "You know how we dance around and worship God at home? That's what all these people are doing. You can do that, too. We can all worship God together."

I was raised in a home that expected the local church and public school to disciple and train their children. I'm raising my child in a home that takes full responsibility for his discipleship, training, and education. Anything we get at Grace Center, in a classroom setting, or in our neighborhood is a bonus.

Write or Sleep

I really want to write tonight, but I'm being bombarded with a million questions by a very curious 3-year-old whose daddy fell asleep while telling bedtime stories. I think I'm going to brush my teeth, wash my face, and go to bed instead. Yawn. Yep, it's bedtime.

Thoughts about Chemicals

The way we eat radically changed when I first read about partially hydrogenated oils. After we eliminated food that was made with them, we each dropped around 25-30 lbs. (except Judah, of course, who only weighs 30 lbs.!) Now I'm beginning to realize how inundated and dependent our culture is on chemicals. I hadn't given it much thought before now. Almost everything we use, wear, and eat is chemically treated. And it's totally normal in our culture--not only is it normal, but it's also expected--not even deemed a "necessary evil"--just "necessary." Think about it...soap, shampoos & conditioners, lotions & moisturizers, make-up, deodorant, bathroom cleaners, kitchen cleaners, floor & window cleaners, anything processed, anything plastic, anything grown with pesticides...crazy. So I'm starting to use vinegar and water to clean and coconut oil to moisturize. We also participate in a CSA (community supported agriculture) and frequent a local farmer's market, both of which sell fresh, organic, local produce. It's a start--just like revolutionizing our diet by changing one element at a time.

Judah Hears from God, Part 2

This afternoon, I asked Judah to help me clean up the living room. He didn't want to. So I told him he could help me clean up now or he could go upstairs to his room and sit on his bed until he was ready to help me. I checked on him twice (just to make sure he was actually on his bed and not dragging out more toys). He was sitting on his bed both times, just hanging out.

Now, this comes after two or three days of telling me flat-out, "I won't...(fill in the blank)." To be perfectly honest, it made me a little nervous. I wasn't sure how long it would last or if it was here to stay. He had reached a new level of realization: Mommy can't control me. I'm in control of myself.

A few minutes later, he comes down the stairs saying (in his sing-song voice), "OK, I'm ready to help you clean up!" Then he says, "It's good to obey your mom and dad."

I asked where he learned that, and he said, "My dad taught me that." And then a few minutes later, "I learned that in my class." Oh, thank you, God, for Sunday School at Grace Center.

(A few weeks ago at Grace Center, Judah learned to say, "When I listen and obey, good things will come my way." As I look at my tidy living room, I realize I'm reaping the reward!)

Judah Hears from God

While we were visiting friends in VA, I read some Bible stories to Judah before bedtime. We read the story of Samuel and Eli, and I said, "You know, Judah, God talked to Samuel when he was just a little boy and he told people what God said. You can do that, too."

Judah said, "If God says don't share my toys then I won't share my toys." Of course, he's 3.

So I said, "Ok, just talk to him and find out what he says." Short pause. Then, a look of sheer surprise covered his face...

"God said share my toys!"

"He did? That sure sounds like God."

Short pause. Another look of surprise...

"You must play music for Miriam."

Hmmm...doesn't sound like Judah. He'd say, "You need to" or "You should," not "You must." Taking that one from God, too.

And then he said something silly about a boat that reminded me that he really is just 3 years old. I love this kid.

A look at my DNA

I'm starting to remember things I haven't thought of in a while. I'm beginning to see that what I'm about--what I really care about--has been a part of my makeup since I was born--that my values are part of my DNA--that the way God designed me hasn't changed much based on my circumstances or where I've lived.

As a little girl living in New Jersey, I remember playing on our front porch, which was a small concrete area with a few steps leading up to the front door (it could look completely different from the way I remember it). It was there that I often played with a few of the neighborhood kids, including a little girl named Ginny who was obviously poor. She was the least polished of my friends. And while we weren't an affluent family, my mom has always cared a lot about our appearance.

Ginny stole some of my toys. I can remember being really sad, angry, and hurt. Then, I thought, "She probably took them because she doesn't have any toys of her own." And my heart welled up with compassion. I was still hurt, but I was able to feel both emotions at the same time. Maybe my mom introduced the thought. Maybe it was God. But I was about 5 or 6 at the time, and I remember it pretty clearly.

Not long after that, we moved to Kentucky. I told my mom that I wanted to invite a friend to come home with me. She said I coached her on how to behave: "Don't laugh at her because her hair isn't brushed and her clothes are dirty." I was in the second grade.

When I was in the 4th grade, an African American family from New York moved to our small Kentucky town of 1,000 white folks. My teacher asked our class (in front of the new girl) who would like to befriend the new student and show her around the school. Complete silence. No one raised a hand. I was stunned. Then, a boy named Matthew, who was sitting in the left-hand corner of the room spouted off some derogatory statement using a double-negative and the word "colored." The teacher asked Jennifer what she prefered to be called. She responded, "Jennifer." So the teacher clarified, "Colored? African American? Black?" She said, "I guess just call me what I am. Black."

So "the girl from New Jersey who talked funny" volunteered to be the friend of "the black girl from New York." We both thought we had seen each other before. I dug out my class pictures from kindergarten and 1st grade. No black students. I thought of all the friends I had left in NJ. No black friends. I wondered what made me so comfortable with her--so willing to be excommunicated. Maybe I was already an outcast. Maybe I knew what it was like to be different. Maybe it was God.

I hadn't thought much about it, but my friend Rachel had a conversation with my dad right before we moved to Uganda, and she said that he told her he could see now why I've never been very interested in material things. It all made sense to him as he watched us give away most of what we owned and head to a third-world country to live among the poor.

I've found that I tend to be more comfortable around the poor than the rich. In fact, I don't know very many people who would be considered rich.

My mailman asked me once why I don't have any blinds or curtains. I said, "I don't have anything to hide." One of my neighbor kids was happy that I put curtains in the dining room, which faces the street (my girlfriend was visiting from MN and I thought she'd appreciate the privacy). He said that we lived in the ghetto and that people would be looking in our house since it was a nice house. I said, "And what would they see? Nothing worth stealing. Everything we own is a hand-me-down or handmade. Besides, if someone felt like they needed to steal something from our house, they probably need it more than we do."

I don't feel like I live in the ghetto. I honestly don't know what would cause an area to receive the ghetto label. Is it because my neighbors are black? poor? unrefined? I was asked point-blank by someone yesterday, "What made you choose this neighborhood?" I told her, in essence, I'm a Believer and I drove around different neighborhoods for months and prayed about where to live and this is where I found peace.

James says I don't make decisions based on fear. I just happen to be attracted to people who are different from me, and I make decisions based on love. Only recently have I begun to realize that my decisions cause other people to sometimes feel uncomfortable.

When I lived in Clarksville, I attended Willowbend Baptist Church. A couple of Sunday mornings, I picked up one of my neighbors and brought him with me. I usually had to remind him to put out his cigarette before getting in the car. He was probably the same age as my parents. He lived with his mother in a rundown home near Riverside Drive. He was tall, slow of speech, and African American. My car always reeked of cigarettes, alcohol, and body odor when he went to church with me. He kind of had the Pigpen thing going (Peanuts character). I can't explain it, but I liked him. Since playing pool was his favorite pastime and he needed quarters to do it, I gave him a roll of quarters as a parting gift the day I moved to Nashville.

His presence probably made some of the folks at Willowbend feel uncomfortable. My presence in this neighborhood probably makes some of my friends and family feel uncomfortable (in fact, I know it does). But I can't help but be my Father's daughter--and that means loving the poor and not being afraid.

Potty Training Advice

Dear mothers of toddlers,
When your little boys are big enough to stand up to pee, please advise them to step away from the potty before closing the toilet seat to avoid hysterical screaming, slight swelling, and purple bruising. Dads, this is not an excuse to leave the seat up.
--Mommy with experience

Ingenuity

This is the kind of ingenuity Judah has when he says he wants something but no one is available to help him. It's also the reason we grab the camera before we find out why he's being so quiet.

Where I am now

That being said (see the Fire entry), I now live in a neighborhood where I am in the minority. I love being around people who are different from me. Many of my friends and the people I'm attracted to are either from other countries or have some sort of disability or are different colors from me. I am stretched and challenged and inspired by people who look, act, think, and behave differently from me. And I am perfectly comfortable where I am.

When we decided to buy a house, my son was 9 months old. I would strap him in his carseat and drive in every direction for at least a 60 mile radius surrounding Nashville looking at houses and feeling out neighborhoods. It wasn't until I found North Nashville and Bordeaux that I found peace. We nearly bought a house in West Nashville, but whenever I would go there, fear would creep in. Something about it made me nervous. When I checked out more affluent neighborhoods, I found myself thinking, "Who needs a house this big?" So I was either moving in fear or judgment.

Then, I pulled up to my house. I said to my son, "I think this might be our house!" We walked around the big yard, sat on the porch, admired the tall trees, and even checked out the tire swing. We took a walk around the neighborhood. We spoke to all the pedestrians. The lady next door came over the second time I was there (I was showing the place to my sister-in-law), and she said, "You are welcome! You are welcome! You're gonna love this neighborhood. It's nice and quiet...well, except for the 4th of July and my birthday. Then we get a little loud. But we'll be cooking out and you can just come on over!"

I found myself praying for the neighbors, the pedestrians, the people driving by, the land, the neighborhood businesses...and I thought, "This feels like God." Three months (and a lot of negotiating) later, we moved in.

I pray a lot for my neighborhood--especially when I'm taking walks with the kids or driving late at night or going to bed. I love my neighbors. My heart fills with joy when I come home and see the trees and the porch and the tire swing.

When we moved in, I was reading a book called The Children by David Halberstam. The author was a newspaper reporter in Nashville during the Civil Rights Movement. In this book, he chronicles the lives of the students who participated in the Nashville sit-ins and the Freedom Rides. It's one of the best books I've ever read. I fell in love with each of the students. I started on a quest to find out more about their experiences and the impact they made on our country.

I checked out documentaries about Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King from Blockbuster while we were still living in Antioch. I shared my heart and my passions with my students at the homeschool academy where I taught. After we moved, I discovered the main library in downtown Nashville. The first time I visited their Civil Rights room, I watched videos of civil rights demonstrations and wept uncontrollably for about an hour.

I felt as though God was leading us to our house to be salt and light and to change the spiritual climate in the area. Now I also feel that if we had chosen a more homogenous neighborhood (after sensing God's leading us to this one), we essentially would have been spitting in the faces of those who fought so hard and suffered so much for us to live together in harmony.

I'm honored to live so close to one of the colleges that several students attended during the sit-ins that we can actually take walks on their campus. And I'm honored to be raising the great-grandchildren of Molly Todd, who participated in the sit-ins. This red-headed, fiery relative's husband managed Harvey's, a successful department store which also housed a small restaurant. She sat in her husband's restaurant and protested beside friends of color. Yet, she remained a faithful and loving wife. Sounds like my kind of woman.

Fire

Years ago, while I was still in college, I was dating a guy who was from PA. We went to his family's house for Thanksgiving, and in the middle of the night I heard a sound that made me think someone was getting a beating. I imagined a domestic violence situation in my mind and asked him to go check it out.

The building across the street was on fire. It was a cold November in Pennsylvania, and a woman in nothing but a button-up shirt and panties was walking up and down the street shouting while her five small children sat across the street in a running car trying to keep warm. I said, "We've got to get these babies inside." I walked over and told the lady what we were doing, and we ushered the kids into the house. I ran upstairs to find my pajama pants and slippers and rushed back out to give them to her.

We brought the kids in and gave them a little bite to eat, something to drink, and tried to distract them with drawing and stories. After the firefighters left and the Salvation Army representative came to find out the clothing and shoe sizes of the mother and children, they all left the house.

The niece of my then-boyfriend said to me after they left, "Granny's never had black people in her house before." It struck me that I might have overstepped my bounds. I might have made them uncomfortable by bringing the kids in the house. It had never dawned on me that these people might be racist. They lived in Pennsylvania, not Alabama. Later, the guy I was dating said to me, "You don't see a difference, do you? I mean, you really cared about those kids and it didn't matter to you at all that they were black."

Nope. It didn't matter. And nope, I don't see a difference.

Making it Right

Brian Smallwood, who was the senior leader at Grace Center for years, says, "When you get married, you hear the Holy Spirit in stereo." Well, Brian, when you have kids, you get surround sound.

Last night, James and I had an argument in front of Judah. I pushed James out the door and shut and locked it. Then, I tried to go to bed, but Judah was sleeping in our bed so our guests could have his room. My conversation with Judah went something like this:

Mommy, why did you push Daddy?
Because I was frustrated.
Why were you frustrated?
Because Daddy was angry with me and hurt my feelings.
Why was Daddy angry at you?
That's between your Daddy and me.
Why did you lock the door?
I don't know, Judah.
Are you going to unlock it when it's morning?
No, I'll go ahead and unlock it now.
Why did you do that?
Because I made a bad choice. Sometimes mommies and daddies make bad choices.
Are you going to make it right?
Yes.
When? When are you going to make it right?
Maybe when Mira wakes up.
When it's Day?
No, in a couple hours.
You're not going to make it right Now?
Well, I thought I'd go to sleep, but I guess the Bible says not to let the sun go down on your anger.
Silent pause.
Are you going to do what God says?
Um, yes.
Now?
Yes. Will you stay in bed while I go make it right with Daddy?
Yes.
Thank you, baby.

I went downstairs to tell James what happened. We laughed really hard and made up. Then Judah calls from upstairs, "Mommy! Are you done yet?" It was so nice to go to bed with a clear conscience and peace in my heart.

07.07.07

Yesterday was 07.07.07, the day of The Call, Nashville. I went for about an hour with my parents and little Mira. It was a massive assembly of fasting and praying Believers who love Jesus and want to see God's Kingdom on Earth. Our dear friend Maggie connected us with a group from Baltimore, and eight people from the group stayed three nights at our house. The other eight stayed in Franklin. I miss them already, and they just left this morning. They filled our house with worship and prayer. Our time together was so rich, and I'm so thankful for their gift of friendship.

While they were here, Judah said some pretty profound things for a 3-year-old. He came downstairs the first morning and said to two of our guests, "Jesus loves you, and God has mercy and forgives you." The next day he said, "When you obey God, he takes the mean things out of you." And finally, the night before The Call, he went to a gathering with James and told his new friends, "I'm going to worship God. I'm a worshipper." Oh, I love his sweet little voice.

Judah Quotes

"Perhaps that is a bug. I think it's dead. Mommy, will you touch it to see if it's dead?"

Naptime

I love joining Judah for the first part of his afternoon nap--especially since it means that Miriam is sleeping at the same time. This time, we're lying down in his bed and I'm about to fall asleep when Judah says to me in his sweetest toddler voice, "Mommy, can I wipe this on your dress? This booger?"

My (least) Favorite Things

I love it when I hear, "I needa go potty." But when I'm in the middle of lunch and have to stop to "wipe the bottom," I don't love it as much. But when James is working from home and happens to come downstairs at the exact moment that Judah approaches me with one square of toilet paper, I love it again.

Babysitter for Hire

Our good friend Gloria Isaacs-Downton is looking to supplement her income by babysitting on weeknights & weekends. She used to watch the Reese & Smallwood kids when they were little (so she's an adult with experience!) and she really gets into it with stories and art and music and play. (She's a music therapist, by the way.) We've already booked her for tonight and next Tuesday! I told her I'd help get the word out. E-mail her at gloria@pediatrictherapies.com. She's amazing!

Judah Quotes

"Where is my play-dough knife? It was here a minute ago. I can't find it anywhere. That is peculiar."

Conversations with Judah

Even though I prefer to be called "Mommy," Judah occasionally calls me "Mom." A recent conversation:

Judah: Mom, hold me, Mom. Mom, I want you to hold me.
Me: What's my name?
Judah: Lori. Hold me, Lori.

Just get it down.

I want to write more. I want to get my ideas down somewhere. I want to be able to access the things I've written whenever the kids go down for naps or while I'm nursing. I have discovered that I have issues with journaling. I can never seem to find my journal, and if I do, I can't find a pen before one of the kids wakes up. I have a million things I want to share. I want to share them as they happen rather than waiting until I have enough to warrant a mass e-mail update. I want to try to blog again.

Care to join me?