Partner versus Helpmeet

I can tell you, this one will be hard for me to write.


I have been married a long time. It probably seems even longer to my sweet husband! Just this year, I believe I am finally coming to understand my role as a wife. (Kregg has been so patient with me.) Many of you already know what I am just learning and you will wonder what the big newsflash is for me. But, I truly did not know about this principle and it is changing everything. Praise Him!


My sister recommended a book that has completely redefined my job description. The book is called "Created to Be His Helpmeet" by Debi Pearl. Word of warning: it is not for the faint of heart.


I have long known things my job included: cooking, cleaning, children, etc. But I have mistakenly made these tasks my job. I have viewed tasks as the primary focus of my role as homemaker. I haven't understood His definition of my job. I have not understood the framework in which these tasks belong.


As a wife, my role is to be a helpmeet to my husband. Everything I do in my home is to be in that context, with that purpose. It may, at first, sound like a thin distinction, but it has brought about a paradigm shift in my life. The difference is between "doing" and "being".


We have always been hands-on, do-it-yourself types. We've taken on all kinds of projects from remodeling our whole house, to roofing it, to building furniture, to making clothes, to raising critters. You name it, we've probably tried it, or at least thought about trying it. We work well together. But, all these years, I have thought of myself more as a partner in our tasks than as his helpmeet.


I didn't really even know what "helpmeet" meant. I thought if I helped him do things and took care of all my jobs, that was being a good wife. When I read this book, I asked the Lord to reveal how to truly be the helpmeet Kregg needed. My heart was devastated by what He revealed to me. In His most loving Mercy, He showed me just how far removed my interpretation of "wife" had been from the Lord's blueprint for a wife.


The main issue was, as usual, the posture of my heart.


I've tried to make him happy; I've tried to take care of his needs and the needs of our children and home. But, when the Lord told me that my first priority in our home had not been to serve as Kregg's helpmeet, He had me. It had not been the motivation behind everything I did. OUCH!! He was stepping on all ten of my toes at once.


I have been guilty of thinking in my heart, at times, that I "knew better". I have second guessed things he said or did. I have been guilty, oh so many times, of feeling "interrupted" in the performance of my tasks to do something for Kregg. As a true helpmeet, my tasks have the potential to interrupt my service of my husband, NOT the other way around. When my heart focuses on seeking out ways to serve and please my husband as my top priority in our family, our home is a different place. When I stop what I am doing to serve him cheerfully, I am functioning as God designed me to function. It helps Kregg do his job better! It changes how he feels about his job. In honoring my husband the way the Lord intends, I am glorifying God. I am worshiping Him through my obedience. When my heart owns its true job, I am free.


Because I have been functioning outside God's design, I have not been filled with a level of joy that spills over onto everything I touch; not for a long time. I have become more and more "practical" over the years as a means of surviving, of keeping my head above water. My heart has felt discouraged thinking, "I can't be everything for everyone". In my own strength, the best I have been able to do lately is just get through the list. Make sure everything is taken care of for everyone.


On to the next thing . . .


Not enough hours in the day . . .


Shortest distance between two points . . .


Is that really enough? Am I not a daughter of the King? Surely there is more. Yes, there is more, but He had to let me come to the end of self; the end of my strength.

"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me.
Get away with me and you'll recover your life.
I'll show you how to take a real rest.
Walk with me and work with me-
watch how I do it.
Learn the unforced rhythms of grace.
I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you.
Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly."
Matthew 11:28-30 (The Message)

Functioning fully within God's Design=living freely and lightly. It is not about my list, my tasks, my anything! It is all about what He made me to be; how He designed me to function. I have had the bit in my teeth for so long, trying to help "steer" our family's wagon, that I have a stiff, sore neck!! Guess what?? It is not my job to steer! It never was!! The Lord is the One that helps Kregg steer! Do you know how liberating that is? Do you know how liberating that is for my husband??!! How many of us, as dutiful wives, have circumvented the very desire of our hearts? I have wanted to help him lead instead of letting him lead. No wonder I have felt like I've been going in circles! No wonder I'm dizzy! (Don't say anything!!) I have been preventing the very thing I wanted!!! No wonder he has wanted to wring my neck, at times!


Does this principle only work if you are married to a perfect man? Kregg would tell you "no". (And, yes, he read my rough draft of this before I put it out for the world to see.) Because women are designed by God to be intuitive, it is very easy for us to become critical of others, especially our husbands. The Lord doesn't give me insight for the purpose of telling Kregg all about it. He gives me insight so I will know how best to pray; how best to serve those I'm called to serve. When I pray, the Lord has asked me to bless my husband, not complain about him or make suggestions for his improvement program. I am to lay all my expectations before the Lord and allow Him to take care of things. All of the things I think I am "due" as a wife, mother, etc., I am to lay at His feet; release them to the Lord. Then I joyfully serve. It's actually much easier than my former flawed job description!!


Now, even though I now know this, I am still learning to abide here. My husband is happier. He senses in his spirit that I am truly striving to stay under his authority in all my thoughts, words, and actions. The Lord is so Faithful to tell Kregg all the things I thought I was supposed to tell him. (Now, guess who he'd rather hear these things from? I'll give you a hint: NOT ME!) When I fully submit to Kregg's headship in our home, his heart is actually more tender and sensitive and appreciative toward me. The Lord affords me so much Grace and Protection by being under the authority He set over me. What a blessing to our children!


Lord, help me walk in the perfect center of your Will. Thank You that our daughters can learn this lesson so much earlier than I did. Help me embrace Your design more fully each day. Thank You for Your Spirit that indwells me and teaches me. Help me to hear You more quickly. Help me listen more intently. Help me revel in the joy of being Kregg's helpmeet.

Consecrated to God

After Caleb, our third child, was born we were told it would be very dangerous for us to have any more children. We were devastated. We went home and cried and laid it before the Lord. We knew we wanted more than three, and that desire comes from Him, so we asked Him what to do about it. Were we supposed to adopt? He asked us to wait.

Waiting on the Lord. I hear that phrase often used among Christians and I must confess that I have been guilty of using it rather lightly, at times. It is a very serious choice to commit to wait before the Lord. I, in all my wisdom (excuse me-I started choking), want to "influence" the Lord to see things the "right" way. Definition: my way. That attitude or posture of my spirit has NOTHING to do with waiting on the Lord. The arrogance of my heart knows no bounds. Can you imagine: Me tell Him how things should go??

"Search me, O God, and
know my heart;
test me and know my
anxious thoughts.
See if there is any offensive
way in me,
and lead me in the way
everlasting.
Psalm 139:23, 24 (NIV)

In His most loving Mercy, He had us wait. For several years, we waited. Precious years to enjoy the three wonderful incarnations of His Love He had already entrusted to us. Still the longing for more children would surface.

One day, I was sitting at the desk in our kitchen working on something. Mackenzy was eight years old. She came up to me and told me that she had had a dream. Well, there's a way Mackenzy says, "I had a dream", that means the typical thing it does for most of us. Then there's the other way she says it that means much more. She is blessed of the Lord to be very sensitive to promptings of the Spirit. When she said it this time, I knew this wasn't the normal retelling of a dream. She told me that the Lord had told her that we were going to have another baby. The baby would be a girl, and we were to name her Elizabeth. In all my wisdom, I said, "That's nice, honey, go play." Typical me. What does He have to do? Hit me over the head with a baseball bat??

Well, Kregg and I decided that we should at least go and talk to the doctor to see if anything new had been learned about our condition in the intervening years. An explanation would seem helpful here. During Caleb's delivery, something happened. The doctor said we will never know how this happened, but some of Caleb's blood got into my bloodstream. Everyone has a unique chemical composition to their blood and when two are mixed, funny things happen. Genetically, he had some things that I didn't. No problem separately, but when combined, my blood reacted by producing negative antibodies to "protect" itself from unknown invaders. It has basically the same effect as the Rh factor in pregnancies. Major difference is this condition is not treatable. If a later baby had some of the antigens that I had reacted to, my blood would try to destroy the blood of the baby. Intervention is the only option if the baby gets in trouble. The two options for intervention are: in utero transfusions of the baby performed about every three weeks to keep its blood at a level sufficient for it to continue developing, and then if we could get to 27 weeks in the pregnancy, they would deliver the baby because the prematurity was less of a risk than the transfusions. They don't even perform these transfusions in west Texas. We would have had to travel to Houston or Dallas for each one. Well, that scenario was pretty terrifying. I remember the doctor saying, "It's not ALWAYS fatal." This doctor was new to the area since Caleb had been born. He was a specialist in high risk pregnancies.

" . . . for your Father knows what you need before you ask Him." Matthew 6:6-7.

Kregg and I left his office, went out to the van and just sat in the parking lot. What do we do? As if we could do anything. Besides, He had already done it. We had no idea, but we were already expecting!!! We didn't have to "decide" anything. We just had to wait before a Sovereign Father God.

After finding out we were expecting, we learned it was, of course, a little girl. Do you know what the name Elizabeth means? Consecrated to God.

The pregnancy was scary, even with the Faithfulness He had already shown. They had to monitor her carefully, so every doctor visit required blood work to measure how she was doing. The titer numbers would bump up against the "ceiling", at which point they perform an amnio to get a more exact measurement before determining what to do, but they never got above that first "ceiling". We made it all the way to full term! We thought we were in the clear, because the incompatibility problem was only during the pregnancy. After delivery, no more incompatibility.

When she was born, everything initially looked perfect. They took her to clean her up after our time together. Kregg left to coach Hannah's basketball game at the Y and was going to be back shortly. Before they brought her back, our pediatrician came in to see me. Something was wrong. She told me she just sensed it, so she ordered a complete blood work-up. She explained to us that Elizabeth had become very jaundiced very quickly and the blood work revealed a problem. She had already called in a pediatric hemotologist (who just happened to be here at a satellite clinic of a big children's hospital in Ft. Worth. He left not long after Elizabeth was born. )

" . . . for your Father knows what you need before you ask Him."

When he came to see me, he had already examined her, moved her into an isolation room by herself, started photo therapy, and was requiring everyone to wear gloves, masks, and gowns to enter the room. He explained to me that there had apparently been other antibodies present that had gone undetected. She had no neutrophils, the kind of blood cell that fights off bacterial infection. There were two possible scenarios: her body was unable make them (like the "bubble-boy" who had to live inside a germ free bubble, until he eventually contracted an infection and died), or her body was making them and my body had been destroying them. If her body couldn't make the blood cells, they could try a bone marrow transplant. Otherwise, it would certainly be fatal. If her body could make them, then we had to keep her from contracting an infection for long enough to allow her blood to "catch up".

He told me he wanted her out of the hospital as soon as possible. We would have to set up an isolation room at our house with no visitors, even our other children. Nurses would come each day and draw blood. She would require a portable light therapy machine to treat the jaundice. We would only be able to tell which scenario we were dealing with, if the neutrophils started showing up in the blood tests. I was in shock. I asked him to please stay until Kregg came back and explain it to him. There was certainly no way I could.

We called friends and family to pray. Many of our friends came to my room and bathed us in prayer. They went to our house and cleaned our bedroom so it could be used for isolation. And they prayed. They took our other three children and fed them. And they prayed. They fixed meals, they mowed our yard, they gave us an impromptu "Welcome Home Elizabeth" party complete with cake and balloons. They came to our bedroom door that looks out on the patio and used it like a viewing window to see her. And they PRAYED.

The hematologist told us that if her body could make the neutrophils, it normally took 2 to 3 months to "catch up". I was wondering how on earth I was going to be able to stay shut up in my bedroom with Elizabeth, and still be able to take care of the other three children for that long.

Within two and a half weeks she was released from treatment! Completely healthy with no residual effects! Consecrated to God: our precious Elizabeth. A miracle in every sense of the word.

He is Sufficient for what concerns me today!! This day, this hour, this minute, this breath. I should never doubt again!! But, of course, I am me. So the lessons continue . . .

Grape Juice and Grandma's New "Off White" Carpet

Hannah had just turned two years old when we visited Kregg's parents for the weekend. I was 7 months into Mackenzy's pregnancy. We knew before we left home, that Grandma, three days prior to our arrival, had new carpet installed: Off-white carpet. Needless to say, we had explained this to Hannah and told her that she could not take her sipper cup or any food out of the kitchen. This was before the "spill-proof" sipper cups.

You have to understand something about Hannah. She came forth from the womb speaking in complete sentences. Okay, maybe not quite that soon, but it sure didn't take her long. She never missed a thing, and she could tell you exactly what she thought about any topic by the time she was two. Talk about exhausting!

Anyway, our visit to Grandma's new carpet, I mean to Grandma's house, had been uneventful. That is, until Sunday morning. That fateful Sunday morning that is seared so painfully into my brain.

We had gotten up and were getting ready to go to church. I was feeling tired, but didn't think anything of it. I had a pretty, borrowed maternity dress to wear. I was in the bedroom getting dressed. I pulled on my hose and proceeded to stick my finger right through them. To keep them from running, I grabbed my fingernail polish to dab a bit on the run. Red fingernail polish. Here I had been reminding Hannah ALL weekend to be careful of Grandma's carpet. You guessed it! I dripped a drop of red fingernail polish on this brand new carpet!! My heart stopped and I wanted to dig a hole and bury myself. Instead, I went and asked my mother-in-law, did I mention she is a saint, to come see what I had done. I could not believe I had actually ruined her carpet. I told her we would pay to have it replaced in that room. She was so gracious about it, telling me not to worry. It was not a big deal. It would be okay.

While I was standing there staring at the red dot on the carpet, Hannah came in to see what all the commotion was. She was standing beside the bed and I was explaining to her what had happened when, without ANY warning, she just threw up!! GRAPE JUICE!!

Small red dot of fingernail polish, cantaloupe size puddle of grape juice. . .

My mother-in-law and I just gaped!

Then Hannah took a step backward and really let go!! We're talking a swimming pool!! Okay, not a swimming pool, but it might as well have been. I just started weeping. Hannah walked out like nothing had happened!

My mother-in-law still remained calm and gracious. She said, "Now, Anne you just do not worry about this. I will go call the man who installed it and ask him what I should do." She did and he told her to blot it up the best she could and he would come out later and see about it.

I told her that I was going to stay home from church and keep Hannah with me, not knowing if she had a stomach bug (with zero symptoms except instantaneous vomiting). My mother-in-law said, "She is fine, and I don't want you sitting here worrying about that carpet. You get ready and let's go on to church."

What are you going to do? We went on to church. While we were sitting through the sermon, I started feeling so tired. I thought it was simply being seven months pregnant, having a two year old, and having just destroyed my mother-in-law's new carpet. Seemed reasonable to me.

When the service was over, we headed to the car. Oh yes, I didn't mention we had ridden to church in my in-law's car.

Well, on the way home, I started feeling like I had been run over by a steam roller. The dots STILL did not connect in my rather muddled brain. Kregg's parents live seven or eight miles out of town. I kept sitting there thinking to myself, "What is wrong with me?" Well, if Grandpa hadn't stopped in the driveway to pick up the paper, I would have been out of the car. Instead, just as we pulled up under the carport, you guessed it!

All I could think to do was put my head in my lap, so I caught most of it in the skirt of my borrowed maternity dress, and jumped out of the car as soon as it stopped rolling. I just stood there dripping! What else can you do, but stand there. Now, I have not only ruined the carpet in the house, but I've thrown up in their CAR!!!! All you can do is weep, at that point. I told Kregg, "Okay, the only thing left is for you to go throw up in their offices, and that will complete the destruction."

My sweet mother-in-law told me later, because I was as sick as a dog for about the next 24 hours and don't really remember the two and a half hour drive back home, she has never felt so sorry for anyone in all her life.

I repeatedly asked her about the bill for the carpet. What did they have to do? Replace it? She never would tell me, but the next time we visited, the bed had been moved over the scene of the crime. She kept telling me it that wasn't the reason. Do saints ever lie??

Unpacking This Fevered Brain

Okay, since I just found out what a blog is, I am unaware of the existence of any "Proper Rules of Etiquette for Blogging." (that can't really be a verb, can it?) I figure, in this case, ignorance is bliss and I will proceed unfettered by any preconceived notion of how this is supposed to work.

My mom used to describe my children as "animated". I've always thought that was so tactful of her, don't you think?

Well, I guess it is time I introduce them. Because, only in the context of our children, will my ramblings make much sense.

Our oldest is Hannah, she is almost 22. She married a wonderful young man named Jeremiah in May. Talk about a milestone reached! One down, six more to go! She is a professional photographer and is very talented, if I do say so myself. He is in business with his grandpa and is doing very well. They manufacture and distribute a soil supplement. They each love the Lord with all their heart and are so in love with each other they can hardly see straight. It's adorable! Just what we have prayed for since before she was born.

Our second daughter is almost 20 and her name is Mackenzy. Actually, it's Sarah Mackenzy. I couldn't think of a middle name to go with Mackenzy, so I gave her the life-long burden of having to explain that she goes by her middle name. I am sometimes accused, as a mother, of lying awake at night thinking of ways to make the lives of my children difficult. I still deny that charge vehemently. Ideas of that nature just pop into my head all day with no effort whatsoever on my part, certainly not requiring the loss of sleep! (Do they think I'm a rookie at this, or something?) She is starting her second year of college, studying graphic design, and still lives at home. Mackenzy is a dreamer. I have always said the rest of us are wired 110; she is wired 220!!

Our oldest son comes next in line. His name is Caleb and he is a 17 year old, beginning his senior year in high school. He plays basketball, has Jeep fever, got his Eagle Scout this year, loves the outdoors, and hunting and fishing, and playing his guitar, and he just got a new puppy. Years ago, he started praying for brothers. He was just a little fella then and I would smile and think to myself: "he's nuts!" Well, God answered his prayers and gave him two little brothers, by way of Russia! But that is for another post.

Next in age is our oldest adoptive son, Joshua. He is twelve years old, a Boy Scout, loves the outdoors, and anything "rough and tumble." He is as tough as a boot and as strong as an ox. He is saving his money for a compound bow.

Elizabeth comes after Josh. She just turned 11. She is an animal lover, and a dead-shot with her deer rifle. She is able to run the house, just about single-handedly. She loves to bake and fish and read. She is a peacemaker. Thank you, Lord!

Benjamin is our second Russian son. He and Elizabeth are only 1 month apart-he also turned 11 this summer. Ben loves all of the things the other kids like, but most of all he loves being a clown. He is very good with younger children and loves to entertain the world.

Rebekah is the youngest. She is 9, going on 20. She loves to read and draw and dream. She has her own private window into my soul. She is very hard-headed, but can then be the most loving, intuitive little thing you ever knew. She knows my heart-she always has.

My wonderful husband Kregg is my best friend. He has the patience of Job-he has been married to me for 24 years and is still nice to me! He works very hard to support all of us and is very good at what he does. He loves me and he loves our children. He is a wonderful and wise father, but he is also a lot of fun. He loves the Lord and serves Him in our church. I am truly blessed to have such a family!

I've always felt that context is crucial. It determines the interpretation of any variables in the equation. As I continue this journey, and unpack this fevered brain of some of the stories and images and lessons learned along the road, I wanted the big picture to be clear, so the little pieces will make more sense.

Dressing at Dick's

My husband and I decided to take a weekend alone. We left instructions and the lists of "Thou Shalts" and "Thou Shalt Nots". The occasion for this adventure was the wedding of our friend's daughter.

We were headed for the beautiful Texas Hill Country. We packed up our stuff and lit out, leaving early enough on Friday to drive by our piece of property in Bandera, before heading to Austin for the rehearsal dinner. We took the scenic route along the backroads.

Rock Springs was the nearest town at lunch time and so we stopped at a cute little restaurant. It's always nice to be able to dream about what the future may hold for our family, and that was the main topic of conversation that day.

Driving on to Bandera after lunch, we got out and tromped around our little piece of hill country heaven. When it was time to go, we loaded up and headed toward Austin. Well, from Bandera to Austin, there is no quick route. The distance does not give you an accurate gauge of how long it will actually take to drive there. As it got later, and later and the distance wasn't dropping accordingly, I started to panic.

Our hotel was located in downtown Austin. The rehearsal dinner was in the suburbs. By the time we hit the outskirts of Austin, it was obvious there was no way to make it to the hotel to get ready. What now??? It's not like we were really presentable-we had been out climbing around in Bandera in our grubbies.

We decided to go toward the rehearsal dinner instead of the hotel. But where will we get dressed? I need to wash my hair! I have to at least put on some mascara! EEEEKKK! I finally face the inevitability of my situation. The ONLY option is to wash my hair in somebody's sink! And get dressed there, too? Of course, no simple option presented itself. There couldn't be a huge, clean truck stop. Don't people shower there sometimes?? There was nothing that looked even remotely "nice". But I'm down for the count, now, and I have no choices left to me except a convenience store. How can this be happening? I don't even have kids along that I can blame any part of this on. It's just us two responsible adults and we have gotten ourselves into a mess!

Well, I pull into a convenience store, buy the only shampoo they had (Johnson's Baby Shampoo) and brave the restroom. Thankfully, it's not actually too bad. Thankfully, I have very short hair that I just wash and go. I partially dried it with the hand dryer and went back out to the truck. My husband had refused to go in and he certainly did not plan to change clothes there. We drove on.

Still hoping against hope that a public dressing room will magically appear, we are almost out of time and options. I see a fast food place and ask if he thinks it would work?

Nope! Fine!

Last chance: huge almost empty parking lot at a Dick's Sporting Goods. I pulled out to the very end and took a deep breath. I scanned the area to make sure there were no security cameras to capture this mortifying moment for posterity (or YouTube). I slipped out of my grubbies into my dress, the whole time trying to hunker down and be invisible.

Then I pulled out my half slip. You have got to be kidding me!! I brought the wrong one!! It's about a foot too long! Past the point of no return, I just pull it up over everything, almost up to the neckline of my dress. Can you imagine? Never mind, don't try. Shoes on, make up slapped on in the rearview. It just doesn't matter anymore. I'm numb!

Needless to say, I thoroughly savored the luxury of getting dressed for the wedding in a HOTEL ROOM!!!

I asked myself, how do I get into these situations? My answer: When it's just two of us, not 8 or 9, I don't really think much about the details. Should be a piece of cake! When the whole family has to make an appearance, I know I have to plan out everything!

The good news is that when we arrived, no one could tell we were any the worse for wear. Of course, they may have secretly wondered to themselves why I was reluctant to stand up after being seated. The truth of the matter was I was scared to death I'd lose my slip!!

Saying Goodbye

I said "goodbye" to my precious Uncle Blaine yesterday. He was 83 years young. His beautiful bride had her cheek pressed against his when his spirit flew from his body. My cousin described it as a "whoosh" and, all of a sudden, he was gone. He had flown to his Heavenly Father.

"Some glad morning when this life is o'er, I'll fly away,
fly away;
To a home on God's celestial shore, I'll fly away,
fly away." (Alfred Brumley)

Isn't that a great old hymn? I'm glad to know that is how my sweet uncle left this earth!

Some of my fondest childhood memories are all tangled up with Uncle Blaine.
I loved it when our family traveled to Uncle Blaine and Aunt Jean's house for Thanksgiving, with all the aunts and uncles and cousins. This is my mother's side of our family and if I had to describe them, the description would include lots of storytelling, and laughing, and singing.
The singing was beautiful-lots of old hymns sung in four part harmony. Everyone would join in and sing at the top of their lungs. The blending of voices and hearts gave us a preview of heaven. In fact, I think heaven opened a window to listen.

And the stories . . .
We would laugh until we cried. They found joy in everything. Even though they grew up during the Great Depression, their lives were full of love and happiness. They chose it. They chose to fill themselves up with Light. And their faces still glow with the light that shines from inside their souls.
I remember the Thanksgiving after I had turned six. I was in first grade and was learning to read. I took my reader, "Tip", with me so that I could read it to Uncle Blaine. He would scoop me up as soon as we arrived and use his best Donald Duck voice to tell me all kinds of wonderful things. I would laugh and hug his neck and just enjoy being loved so much by this wonderful man. I adored him! I always will!
His funeral was hard but wonderful. It took 45 minutes for people to file past the casket and speak to his family. I watched them. I wanted to see who else loved him. I wanted to know them because they loved him. There were little children, young couples, lots of elderly people, and so many teenagers. He was known to many of them as their honorary Grandpa. I love that! It speaks so much about who he was and how he impacted this world. Having always lived several hundred miles away, I guess I had never really thought about the fact that there were so many others, like me, who thought he was wonderful.
. . .so many others who looked forward to seeing him.
The world seems a little darker knowing he has left it.

What am I doing here???

I have been told so many, many times that I should write a book. For someone who has difficulty even thinking in complete sentences anymore, that task is formidable, to say the least. So when someone suggested this as the "perfect" solution, I figured I should at least find out what a blog is . . .


I must confess: it feels very vulnerable, but also intriguing. I have decided on a trial period to see how it fits. Is it therapeutic, or does it pinch? We'll see. Don't know when, but it will be obvious. If not, all that would otherwise follow, can just keep rumbling around in my head. Even if I post more than this first one, I don't know that I will ever let anyone I actually know read it.


I am still in the middle of parenting, even though I have been at it for over 20 years. Allow me to pause for a moment, and let that actually sink in.


Okay, I can breathe again. Yes, our oldest is about to be 22 and our youngest is 9. We fit everywhere and nowhere. We have 4 lovely daughters and 3 manly sons. 5 of the seven came the "regular" way. The two youngest sons came by way of Siberia. Far, far eastern Siberia.


I believe that God knew what He was doing when He, in His Sovereignty, made me mother of 7 children. (I just don't know what I am doing half the time.) I remember when our first child was born. It was an amazing experience, and I think I could birth a dozen more if I just didn't have to be pregnant for 9 months. Anyway, they teach you all about how to prepare for and survive labor and delivery. (Lamaze breathing is a skill I still use at times.) But I remember with chilling sobriety the feeling of utter helplessness and cluelessness and every other mind-numbing "ness" I experienced when we came home from the hospital and set her down in her little car seat in the middle of our living room floor. Everything inside of me screamed, "WHAT NOW??? What on earth do I do now?"


Well, He has been teaching me the answers to that question ever since. What is to follow, assuming there is anything, will be my perspective on what He has taught me and continues to teach me from inside the antbed, otherwise known as my life! Thank you, Lord, for Your enduring Faithfulness and Sufficiency. May You be Glorified.


Anne