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.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Friday, November 18, 2011
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.
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.
Friday, November 4, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
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.
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.
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