He Has Dealt Bountifully

Of course I would be tested immediately. Following last week's post, I came down with the flu. But that didn't stop me from focusing on the beauty and listing the goodness of my God. Each night, before my head hit that ol' pillow, I wrote it down. Even if it was as simple as "Kleenex" or "A good sneeze!" Because, really, wouldn't it be a bummer if we couldn't blow our noses on something soft? And you know how good it feels to sneeze three times in a row, even if you don't like the reason for sneezing. And when I couldn't go to sleep, I got to listen to Emma on CD and let the nice British narrator lull me to sleep. That was something to be thankful for.


The girls invented a new game. Those tights really snap back when you pull hard on the feet.

I kept my camera handy, too. "Sneeze, sniff, 'click!' Sneeze, sniff, 'click!'" Miss Kate has been on a roll. She kept me smiling during the flu -- not only the things she did, but the things she said. I'll share with you a few of our smiles, along with a verse that I kept close to my heart while sneezing. Three times in a row.

But I have trusted in Thy lovingkindness: My heart shall rejoice in Thy salvation.
I will sing to the Lord because He has dealt bountifully with me.
Psalm 13:5-6

Sneaking a brownie. I love how she opens the cupboard and steps up to reach.

Latest lines by Miss Kate . . .

"I need a deep drink."

An original verse . . . (written a while ago, but I must share):

"Be so good and love God and do not be bad or you will be sent to jail." Philippians 25:90

"As I become six, seven and eight, will you become 36, 37 and 38?"


Just playing "Cleopatra" one day . . .

"Mom, I'm hungry. I want . . . some brown beans."

"Daddy says we're going to leave as soon as pie!"

And I love the wonder of discovery: "Mommy! Did you know that fog is little drops of water?!"

This is why I chronicle. This is why I have notebooks everywhere. Because He has dealt bountifully with me. Even during the flu.

It's Probably a Good Idea

If I could hire a maid to do just one of my jobs, I would immediately usher her into the laundry room. It's not so much the sorting I mind (especially since the kids are starting to get the hang of it), and I certainly don't have trouble cramming stuff into the washing machine and then transferring it to the dryer.

But the minute the dryer signal sounds, that load is doomed. Sometimes it makes it into a basket, where it quietly resides until the basket is overturned by the child who needs to use it as a crib for her dolly. Sometimes the load makes it to the couch, providing extra padding during family movie night. Sometimes I exaggerate just a tad. But you get the idea. Laundry is not my favorite.

I've tried many systems, such as attempting to do all of the laundry in one day (epic fail) or tackling just one load per day (we go through too many loads for that to work). I've come up with a new plan, and I think it's probably a good idea. It worked really well for a while, and then I got sick. (I don't think the two were related.) I still think it's a good idea.

Here's the plan: Two a day, then put 'em away.

I realized that we're much more likely to fold a basket of laundry that is just moderately full -- it's not so daunting. Compared with that towering mound of whites? Oh, it makes my stomach churn just to think of it. So I'm trying to do two loads a day, even if the load isn't quite full.

I've also calmly explained the situation to the dear peeps: Mama needs your help!!! Today during our afternoon reading, for example, they folded and put away their laundry. It was extremely helpful, and it's a system that is becoming more and more efficient the older they get. Drew and Bethie also sort the kids' dirty laundry. They have a hamper that is divided into two sections, so the lights and darks are already separated. Their job is to make sure the jeans aren't wadded into balls and the pockets aren't full of LEGOS and pennies.

This is what the week boils down to:

Monday: Two loads of kid laundry (darks)
Tuesday: One kid load (light), one parent load (darks)
Wednesday: Two parent loads (delicates, whites)
Thursday: Two loads of linens (towels, napkins, dish rags, etc.)
Friday: Two loads of kid sheets/blankets (alternate boys/girls each week)
Saturday: Two loads of whatever is left (our sheets, cleaning rags, etc.)


Being caught up on laundry is especially helpful on unexpected snow days . . .

The kids are being trained to fold and put away their own laundry. (Drew and Bethie have it down. The others are still working at it. I am ever hopeful.) Every Monday morning I also have them do a quick drawer tidy-up in their rooms so it's easier for them to put in the fresh laundry as it's ready. They also help round up towels, bedding, napkins and other linens as necessary to keep that machine hummin' all week.

Their diligence helps me stay on task, too. Surely I can handle putting away Daddy's and my laundry. Right? (Cue the chirping cricket.) Of course I can handle it. I just need to do it.



The goal is to wake up Sunday morning with an empty washing machine, an empty dryer, two empty baskets -- and an empty couch. And now if you'll excuse me, I have some laundry to fold.

When You Lie Down

I recently awoke and found that I was praying. It wasn't like I woke up and was reminded to pray about some pressing need. I woke up and it was already happening -- I was in the middle of talking with the Lord. It was absolutely glorious. I felt complete, as though I were doing exactly what I was created to do.

Last weekend I went to a baby shower where I was reminded of the powerful words in Deuteronomy:

Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one. Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.

I so desire this "when you lie down and when you get up" kind of life. I want to wake up in prayer every day. And I want to impress this upon my children. This, of course, means that I sure better be practicing it myself. Sometimes it helps me to be literal. So I've placed a small notebook on my nightstand -- open, with a pen already uncapped -- all ready for the "lying down" part of my day.

My desire during these 40 days of Lent is to not let my head hit the pillow until I've said thank you to the Giver of gifts. This "lying down" exercise means that I fall asleep with gratitude on my lips. Gratitude for the midnight rain on the roof, gratitude for the four children tucked in bed, gratitude for the man at my side . . . gratitude, gratitude, gratitude . . . until each line on that day's page is brimming with thanksgiving -- yes, even the hard thanksgiving that some of you precious mamas have shared with me this week . . . .

Each night, as I look back over my day and am reminded of His goodness toward me, I know that I will lie down and sleep in peace. And when I get up in the morning? There's my chronicle of blessings, waiting on the nightstand -- proof that He who blessed yesterday is just waiting to do the same today.

A Powum

The other day Miss Kate was working on a reading lesson. She came to the word "poem" and stopped abruptly. "Where's the 'L'?" she demanded. "There should be an 'L'!" She grabbed a pencil and wedged an 'L' between the 'o' and the 'e.' "There. Polem."

She's my fourth child. All four of them have thought that the word poem was pronounced polem. I'm beginning feel self conscious about my diction.

But poor diction hasn't kept Miss Kate from penning eloquence. I share with you her latest, followed by a translation:

bethie powum

bethie concked my head
with a oerdumit yestrday
on chrismis i wusit very
mad bcus it didit hrt
not atal but
the tree wobold
intel it fel over
and brok the
oerdumiits
dad was mad SO mad
the next day derw
took a pesol and
pooshed it in my
nail it rily hrt
and the next day aidan
poosht me in the pool
by and by i
thru up on
the cowch wal wocheng
kippr
by-by

A (rather necessary) translation:

Bethie Poem

Bethie conked my head
With a ornament yesterday
On Christmas I wasn't very
Mad because it didn't hurt
Not at all but
The tree wobbled
Until it fell over
And broke the ornaments
Dad was mad SO mad
The next day Drew
Took a pencil and
Pushed it in my
Nail it really hurt
And the next day Aidan
Pushed me in the pool
By and by I
Threw up on
The couch while watching
Kipper

Bye-bye


By and by, I feel compelled to add that none of this actually happened. No wobbling Christmas trees, no excessive "pooshing," no conked heads. Just plenty of Kipper. And just a girl who is coming to grips with the word polem no longer existing. So she writes powums instead.

A Conversation

Aidan: Mommy? What's a tat?

Mommy: Well, it's a very delicate kind of stitch, like knitting or crocheting . . . .

(Aidan's brow furrows in confusion. Mommy decides to gather more information.)

Mommy: Um . . . . Where did you hear that word, Sweetie?

Aidan: You know, it's in Jesus Freak: "I saw a man with a tat on his big fat belly."

(Pause. Mommy is pretty sure the gentleman with the protruding midsection is not sporting a doily.)

Mommy: Oh. Never mind. That would be short for tattoo.

(The light dawns. Aidan is relieved to know that DC Talk has nothing to do with lace.)

My husband thinks I'm so weird.