Just Another Week

Today it's just a short post involving a few tidbits of my week.

--When you don't think you can possibly home school another day because you feel like you're drowning in chaos, and most certainly a school could do a MUCH better job than your paltry, pitiful attempts that reek of failure...just look up Christian school tuition fees and you'll find that you can probably stomach another week or two. And so you resolve to find a little more time again and a little more patience.

--A 2 year old's tantrum will immediately cease when you point out that his socks have orange on them. Of course, you have to have amazing foresight and ensure that he's wearing his orange socks everyday to utilize this parenting technique.

--Friendship is free--which is a great thing cause some days there is just no way to repay a friend. So you pray that God, the Giver of the best gifts, would heap great blessing and reward upon them.

--After trying all week to get our passports done, Dan comes home from work early, we rush back into the city with the kids and our paperwork, just to find out that they don't process passports after 3:30. It was 3:41.

--Thomas Boston is just as fantastic to read as 2 years ago. I did not over exaggerate in an earlier post. I think he's officially become my favorite Puritan.

--My super cute baby has turned into a nasty mutilation machine. She crawls all over the floor and when she finds an abandoned book on the floor, she mutilates, slimes, rips and ultimately destroys it.

--Lindsay has perfected the art of making paper snowflakes. Of course, this coincides perfectly with Courtney's love for eating tiny pieces of paper that gets left on the floor. I suppose as a bonus to me, I don't have to sweep or clean up after Lindsay;-)

Foreshadowing?

A boy heads upstairs on a Monday morning wearing a crookedly buttoned, red checkered dress shirt, a bright blue snap-on tie, with dark blue pants to complete the outfit. Paul informs me that he is going to be a minister. He tells me that he will know every song in the songbook. He assures me that he can find EVERY chapter in the Bible. And I quote, "I will tell all the moms to make their kids listen in church otherwise they have to take them out and they can't have their special snack when they get home. I will ride a motorcycle everywhere I go. I will tell the people about God and I will tell them to listen to me. I will also have a big dog. I will be a GREAT minister. But I have to practice preaching a lot."

So there you have it. I know he's only 4, and that his career choice will very likely change several thousand times. But this momma often prays that the Lord will call one of her sons to this heavenly, holy calling. I understand that the Lord's will shall be done, and perhaps He has other plans for my sons. In fact, all parents ought to pray that their children bring glory to God both now and in the future. But I still smile when I watch my 4 year old, and hope that one day his game of pretend will become reality. Regardless of our station in life, may the Lord use us all for the furtherance of His Kingdom!

Sweet Justice

When the children are grown I'm going to visit them.

~ I'm going to take marshmallows out of the pantry, throw them on the ground and step on them.
~I'm going to peel the paint off the walls.
~I'm going to mash the keys on the computer keyboard so the letter 'W' is permanently stuck.
~I'm going to color on their fridge, blinds, walls and babies.
~I'm going to dig in the honey pot then touch the TV.
~I'm going to lick their lamp.
~I'm going to whip wet pieces of toilet paper around the basement.
~I'm going to lay in their bed with my boots on and line the sheets with grit.
~I'm going to open the window and holler at all unsuspecting passerbys.
~I'mm going to pull out a gallon of milk and hide it in the living room between the couch and the TV.
~I'm going to take the hose and spray down all the contents that are in the garden shed.
~I'm going to shred Sunday's bulletin unto 3961 pieces and scatter them throughout the van.
~I'm going to lick the windows.
~I'm going to throw my collection of bugs in the clean laundry.
~I'm going to use an entire roll of toilet paper in one 'sitting'.
~I'm going to scrub their laminate floors with CLR.
~I'm going to throw my bread crusts unde the couch.
~I'm going to knock on the window at passerbys while my counterpart changes in front of said window.
~I'm going to pour a cup of water around the base of the toilet.
~I'm going to wash the outside windows using water from a mud puddle.
~I'm going to lay the snow shovel down in an obscure corner of the yard just before a 2 foot snowfall occurs.

17th Century Friends

I've been writing this post for over a week now. In fact, I already have the NEXT post ready once this one is done. It is written on a scrap piece of paper that is stuffed in my bookshelf. I often write bits of this and that while I am running helter-skelter. Then all I have to do is add a bit of punctuation and WAA LAA...a blog post appears and another tid bit from the year 2011 is stored.

My love for books goes deep. Books speak to me. They encourage me. They challenge me. I'm not talking about fiction. No, I need a healthy dose of non-fiction every week for sustenance. I guess you could say some of my best friends are long departed saints, whom I have come to know and love through their work they left behind for other pilgrims. Over the past few years I have learned where to go for my various needs. For encouragement it's Spurgeon or Sibbes. For enlightenment it's Boston, Flavel or Brooks. When I have a question, I've had Manton, a'Brackel, Owen and Edwards answer it.

I have such fond memories of sitting and reading certain pieces. One night when Dan was working for Greyhound and wouldn't be home for a few days, I read Thomas Boston's 'Man in His Fourfold State.' I was so gripped by the way Thomas Boston explained God's gentle dealings with a soul who continually turns away from Him again and again. Page after page I turned, hour after hour I sat and read. I was so enthralled, so wrapped up into that mysterious, heavenly work. I would not have picked up the phone had it rung. At midnight, after reading for 4 hours I was filled with such an enthused delight that the only damper I felt was that there was nobody to share my joy with. Naturally, it took a long time to get to sleep that night. I do remember firing off an e-mail profusely thanking the lender for the use of the book.

Richard Sibbes made a significant impact on me when I first read him. I was at a low point in the walk of life. It was a sporadic, off topic question I asked that, providentially, landed me volume 1 of Richard Sibbes, 17th century Puritan, in my hand. The Lord knows exactly how to orchestrate events to lavish such blessing in people's lives. As I read from 'the heavenly doctor' as he is penned, my soul was lifted, my thoughts turned toward heavenly matters, and I was greatly encouraged. Again, the book spoke so much to me, that when I had read the piece earmarked for me, I kept reading...and reading...and reading. I read another treatise held within it's cover, and then another. I kept the book for 5 weeks and devoured all 400+ pages before returning it--with a resolve that soon Richard Sibbes would sit on my shelf. Well, today he does. And I still turn to him when life gets messy--when perspective and encouragement are necessary. He focuses my eyes and thoughts on Christ and has such a soothing salve for my soul. Indeed, he became the first of my 'dear friends.'

Thomas Brooks soon followed. I started reading his books and once again that thrill overtook me. His desciptions of what it meant to be in the presence of Christ kindled a fierce longing in me I did not know existed. It was like listening to dear friend I had never met--he spoke to me with such a tender fatherly tone. Using his typical allegorical style of writing, his word pictures of heaven filled me with such comfort, yet at the same time a hopeful trepidition came across me that drove me to ask the question 'Is he safe to read?' And indeed he is! When I read his treatise on the importance of private prayer I was sorely convicted at the patheticness of my own prayer life. It was when I read Brooks that I truly FELT like a pilgrim. I no longer felt as if I belonged to this world--just travelling through, biding my time, working at a post God entrusted to me until my 'tour of duty' was over and I could go HOME!

And I can't leave Spurgeon out. Spurgeon is my 30 minute encourager. If I can find a 30 minute pocket in my day, it's Spurgeon I run to. I have (on a nice day) locked the kids outside because I needed some time to focus my eyes heavenward. Spurgeon doesn't mince words. He doesn't make me dig for spiritual nuggets of gold. He spells out hope, encouragement and Christ on every page he writes--perfect for a tired, discouraged mom of 5. I have 6 years of sermons from him and am already planning out shelf space for more.

And I could go on. John Flavel showed me the beauty in Christ, and now I can only refer to Christ as precious. Thomas Manton gave me great insight on solitude. Edwards made me appreciate my congregation all the more when he wrote about heaven being a place of love between God and saints. John Owen taught me a great deal about the Spirit's work.

And then, I found the greatest gem of all--Thomas Goodwin. Of all my Puritan friends he is the dearest. From the very first page I read, his words brought the sorest of rebukes. The first lesson was not to fall in love with the sentiments of Christ in my heart, but to fall in love with Christ Himself. And when I willingly and prayerfully placed my soul in his able hands my eyes were truly opened to see the love Christ has for His chosen. Moved to tears, there were moments when the book had to be shut--so intense were the words.  Yes, Thomas Goodwin is my very favorite.

If this blog post has encouraged anyone to pick up a good Puritan, then I would say that splaying my feelings out for everyone to analyze was worth it. Yes, I love books. I love my Puritans. I say that without shame or embarrasment. I have been blessed far too much by them to say otherwise. And these guys have so much to do with who I am today. The focus has been taken off myself. The focus is off others. But everything points to Christ--as it should.

Stitches

I was contemplating a few days ago how we have not had any major injuries in a very long time. With 3 boys in the house that's pretty good. Of course, those thoughts are also a guaranteed precursor to some horrible random event that can shatter our lovely euphoric age of bliss.

Eric was taking a bath after supper. In our house we have a running gag that anyone who takes a bath and keeps the door unlocked runs the risk of having a cupful of ice cold water flung at them. Seth, even though he's 2, knows about the gag. He was the one who caught Eric bathing behind an unlocked door.

Seth threw a glass into the tub. Coinciding with the law of physics, naturally it shattered. Startled, Eric spun around, slipped and fell into the jagged edge of the broken glass. He screamed! I ran into the bathroom and saw blood everywhere. I first looked at his face, then noticed the elbow. There was a huge flap of skin dangling off the elbow in 2 places. It was not pretty. Even I knew this was a guaranteed emergency room visit. I grabbed a towel, folded it in half lengthwise and wrapped it around his arm. I dressed him and off we went to emergency.

We sat for half an hour before we were really noticed, then were waved toward the triage desk. When I took the towel off it was sopping with blood. So immediately they had to redress the wound. They put a little freezing on a thick white bandage then wrapped his arm tightly in gauze. That would make him a little more comfortable. We sat back down in the waiting room and started chatting. All they had were health magazines--how BORING is that?! But we chatted and were laughing, doing Garfield impersonations and the like. I told Eric only a Gordon carries on in the emergency room this way. Eric replies, "Then it's a good thing we're Gordons otherwise we'd look pretty weird!"

We were called in before a lot of other people. Putting the freezing in did not go so well. They wanted to open it up to ensure no tendons were grazed, which thankfully were not. I actually had to hold Eric pretty tight to make sure he didn't flinch. Then the stitching began. Of course I didn't want him to look at what they were doing. So I talked about a movie called "Baby's Day Out." We talked about what game we would play on Saturday night (settled on Carcasonne) and decided when we would go swimming again. Finally we were done. 10 stitches!

On the way home we stopped for an ice cream at McDonalds. Eric said, "I really liked hanging out with you tonight, mom. And thank you so much for holding me when they kept putting the needle in my arm." Awwwww! So tonight I was supposed to go to a conference by Dr. Riddlebarger--I was really looking forward to it too. But I'll go to the next one. Tonight God blessed me, through a hospital visit, to share a special moment with my oldest son.

The Tenderness of Sons

I wanted to briefly add this little story about two of my sons. Sometimes you see such tender moments that they themselves orchestrate...

On Sunday evening in church, Eric tentatively came up to me in the pew and quietly told me that he wanted to sit with a certain elderly lady in the congregation. He told me, "She is just such a nice lady and I think it would make her happy if she had a kid sit beside her. Otherwise she's kind of lonely." This is the same lady who often gives our children a few candies now and then. She is not very easy to understand and essentially our relationship with this lady has thus far been confined to Sundays. So we let Eric sit with her and I am sure it completely made her day. She was beaming! I'm proud of my son to recognize how important it is to have relationships with the people within our congregation. At night he also thinks of different people to pray for. After the service he asked if he could go out the back so that he could shake the minister's hand. Again, yes. I am thankful for the relationship my children have with the minister and his wife.

Paul has also been so sweet lately. Yesterday he walked around in church pants, his church vest (under a muscle shirt) and his tie. He was playing church. He dressed up a whole bunch of animals for the service. He showed me his monkey and informed me that he was sure that Monkey would be good during the service because Monkey was promised a piece of pie with ice cream on it if he was good. It just sounded so...fatherly:-) Later when Courtney had a dirty diaper it was Paul who wanted to change Courtney. I let him and he was so sweet. He did not shy away, nor did he pull a face. He did the job (with some assisstance) and gently talked to his baby sister the whole time. He is going to be an amazing father one day. It makes this momma's heart melt to see tenderness in her sons. I think it is such an important quality for men to possess.

Kraft Dinner on the Ceiling

The ceiling is 8 feet from the floor. More importantly, the top of the dinner table is just over 5 feet from the ceiling. That's quite a trajectory for a few pieces of pasta. For us it's exciting to travel around the world. For a piece of macaroni, flying across the room could be considered an equally satisfying experience. The obvious culprits include an eight year old male, a six year old female, a four year old male, a two year old male, and a 6 month old female.

I suppose you'll need some circumstances or a backround story to properly assess the situation. There was no food fight, no temper tantrums, no overt silliness going on. The tone of the meal was actually quite somber as I had just finished chewing the kids out...AGAIN. At this point you could ask a question that would get you closer to the truth. WHY are we eating KRAFT DINNER for SUPPER? This is not normal in The Gordon household.

It was a rough day to put it nicely. I had retreated to autopilot. You see, when things get beyond the point where I know what to do, I become really quiet and start working madly. It's best if no one speaks to me--in fact, please don't. I move silently at lightning speed, hoping to eventually work myself past the situation and into that great era called bedtime. I needed to get the kids fed and packed away for the night. The quickest meal I could put together was Kraft Dinner. I figured I would eat toast later. (Hubby had a stomach flu and wasn't eating anything).

So we now have 4 kids eating their starchy, unhealthy supper silently. The pot, with the scoop, is sitting in the middle of the table. I strap my baby into her carseat (cause that's where she eats when she gets her rice cereal in the evening)and I plop her, carseat and all, down on the table. Unbeknownst to me, the carseat hit that scoop with enough force that it catapulted a spoonful of orange pasta into the air, hitting the celing and rained down on the poor unsuspecting 6 month old (wonder how many hours of therapy that's going to trigger). Of course, the kids thought it was great and they broke the unspoken code of silence. Pandemonium broke amongst the 4 oldest and there was an eruption of uncontrollable laughing and cheering, yes cheering. Lovely. Glad I could make their day.

For me, it didn't even phase me. I didn't say a word. You'd think Kraft Dinner on the ceiling was normal. I simply brushed the macaroni off my daughter's forehead, pointed at my children's unfinished plates, and spooned another pile of mushy baby food into my daughter's mouth.

My ceiling still has blobs of orange on it. In fact, I don't even care too much. I will have to paint it since I have not been able to wash it off. I can probably find some time to do that today.

There you have it. Kraft Dinner on the ceiling put there by none other than....me.

To Despise this Present Life

I don't quote John Calvin much, pretty much because I have read very little of his work. But I came across an article and I really appreciated it. Here is a portion of it.


"Our mind never rises seriously to desire and aspire after the future until it has learned to despise this present life. For there is no medium between the two things: the earth must either be worthless in our estimation, or keep us enslaved by an intemperate love of it... If heaven is our country, what can earth be but a place of exile? If departure from the world is entrance into life, what is the world but a sepulcher, and what is residence in it but immersion in death? If to be freed from the body is to gain full possession of freedom, what is the body but a prison? If it is the very summit of happiness to enjoy the presence of God, is it not miserable to want it? (2 Cor. 5:6). Thus when the earthly is compared to the heavenly life it may undoubtedly be despised and trampled under foot. We ought never, indeed, to regard it with hatred, except in so far as it keeps us subject to sin; and even this hatred ought not to directed against life itself. At all events, we must stand so affected towards it in regard to weariness or hatred as, while longing for it's termination to be ready at the Lord's will to continue in it, keeping far from everything like murmuring and impatience. For it is as if the Lord had assigned us a post, which we must maintain till He recalls us.

Paul indeed, laments his condition, in being still bound with the fetters of the body, and sighs earnestly for redemption (Rom.7:24). Nevertheless he declared that in obedience to the command of God, he was prepared for both courses, because he acknowledges it as his duty to God to glorify his name, whether by life or death, while it belongs to God to determine what is most conducive to His glory. Wherefore, if it becomes us to live and die to the Lord, let us leave the period of our life and death at His disposal. Still, let us ardently long for death and constantly meditate upon it, and in comparison with future immortality, let us despise life and on account of the bondage of sin, long to renounce it whenever it shall so please the Lord.

--Excerpted from The Institutes of the Christian Religion by John Calvin, Book 3, Chapter 9: "Of Meditating on the Future Life."

Introduction

I'm not an exciting person. Really, if you don't believe me come and talk to me for 5 minutes. As I get older I find that I have less and less to say. Maybe by the age of 30 I'll be completely silent:-) Besides, I've been told I write better than I speak.

This blog will regale you with tales of my children--some sweet, others horrifying. Enjoy! Sometimes I like to write some thoughts on any book I am reading. This may be intensely boring to many of you, but since I am the writer, editor and publisher of this blog I get all the say:-) At times you'll get a strongly worded rant on something I feel passionate about. Sometimes you will get a host of random thoughts rolled into one post. I love quoting authors I am reading so you will be sure to see a bunch of that too.

I'm not going to apologize if my posts have large lapses of time between them. Caring for 5 little ones, homeschooling, laundry, meals, paper route, church library and cleaning ALL take priority to this blog. My calling is not to blog. God has called me to be wife and mother. However, I love to write and as I have time I will update this little space.

I believe we ought to live life in such a way that we are always looking toward eternity. With eternity constantly in our minds it puts life into it's proper perspective. The time is short, there is much work to be done. There is little value in what the world deems exciting and glamorous. Oh give me Christ instead! That is why I chose the title of my blog that I did. We live here in this world, working hard at the post God has placed us. But it is just an assignment. It's not our home. And any pilgrim will always have their thoughts directed toward home. Oh, this reminds me of a quote already! I will leave it for the next post as it is a tad lengthy.

Now lest this post become too serious, I confess that I really should sign off and clean off the Kraft Dinner that's been clinging to my ceiling.