Lessons from the Pool

At the pool today, I watched my friend’s son run around, completely carefree. As he was running, he spotted a discarded watering can and quickly picked it up and started playing with it. Within minutes, seconds really, a mom came over and took the watering can out of his hands and promptly gave it back to her daughter who had been, quite contently, playing with a different toy.

Though my friend’s son didn’t seem to mind, I started to fume a little. “Is this really the world we live in that instead of teaching selflessness, we’re teaching our children selfishness?” I thought. “Even had the little girl shed a few tears, what a great time to teach her that we share what we have.”  I stood there for a bit being pretty judgmental, thinking about what a brat the little girl would probably end up being since she obviously was handed everything.

A few hours later, as I played the scene over in my head, the Lord gently reminded me of the plank I have in my own eye (Matthew 7:3-5) “What things are you holding onto? Where are you selfish?” I felt him asking me. A list instantly came to mind:

My house. I have a small, but happy, home that I could easily invite people into. Yet, rarely do we have friends over. I use the excuse that I’m and extrovert and enjoy “getting out,” but my guess is that others enjoy getting out too.

My money. Sure, we tithe, but could I be giving more? Do I really need another dress, even though it was on clearance? Do I need to get coffee out when I have a perfectly good coffee maker at home?

My time. This is the biggest one. How often do I choose selfish ways to spend my time (TV, anyone?) instead of caring for my family or loving on my neighbors? I use the excuse “Well, I do so much during the day, I deserve a little rest in the evening.” While rest is good and important, do I really need 3 hours of down time?

Quietly, the Lord whispered to my heart, “How many times have you taken something from my hands to use your own way?”  Here I was, judging a woman I’d never even met, when in reality, I am a perfect example of how to live a selfish life. I expect things from my own children (you better share that truck!) and random women at the pool, that I’m not even willing to do. Instead of just demanding selflessness, maybe I need to start actually living it. What better way to teach my children selflessness than to act it out daily.

Lord, teach me to be selfless. Teach me to hold nothing back and to give everything I have. Let me go to bed tired every night because I have served you by serving others. Let me be the hands and feet of Jesus. Amen.

Adventures in Love (part 2)

As we got to Pizza Hut it looked closed, so we pulled into the parking lot to turn around. There was a car stopped in an odd spot and John was focused on trying not to hit it. I, however, looked over and saw a man checking the tire. I also saw a woman and two kids. “Stop, John. Help them. There are kids with them.” My husband, being that kind of guy, instantly stopped and got out to check on the people. I followed closely behind and found out that their axel had just broken.  Over the next three hours we were able to help them get their car towed and get home.

If the story stopped there, it would be something nice that we did. But what actually happened is amazing and it was what God did.

As I transported the kids and their mom, Maria, to their home, John shared his story (testimony) with the man, Carlo.  Then, he shared a tract. Carlo looked at John and said, “I don’t think it was an accident that you guys stopped tonight. I want to do this.” John was able to pray with Carlo right there for him to accept Christ as his Savior!

John got Carlo’s phone number, and though they couldn’t attend church with us that week, they want to go next time we come to town. Maria and I also have plans to get our kiddos together for a play date.

In Matthew 9:35-38 we read:

Jesus went through all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and healing every disease and sickness.  When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.”

I love my husband, but he isn’t special. He just listened to the Lord and did what he was called to.

One of my favorite songs is “I will Follow” by Chris Tomlin. The chorus says:

Where you go, I'll go
Where you stay, I'll stay
When you move, I'll move
I will follow you

Who you love, I'll love
How you serve, I'll serve
If this life I lose, I will follow you
I will follow you

As followers of Christ, this needs to be the cry of our hearts. More than anything else, who He loves, we need to love. Joanna Weaver says that we should be like Jesus and minister to (love) others on our way, out of our way, and in all kinds of ways (Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World, pg 88). There are people who have needs around every corner. Some needs are easy to spot; other needs aren't so obvious. But if we love God, then we have to love others. And if we love others, we have to be willing to let God use us in their lives. The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few.

Love God. Love others. Love the hell out of them.

Adventures in Love (part 1)

Nine years and one month ago, nearly to the day, I started dating my husband. Most couples fall in love over coffee or dinner—we fell in love over a homeless man. John and I were on a mission trip together, and though we’d never met before, we bonded quickly. On one of the last nights, we were in Hollywood. As we walked up and down the street, we saw a homeless man. Even though we were “off” that night, we stopped, asked his name (Charlie) and asked if we could buy him dinner. A different couple was bringing back dinner for him, but we were able to chat for a bit. When the other couple (strangers to us) came back, the five of us prayed together. Oh, and did I mention this was all in the shadow of a three story version of the Oscar statue, since award season was just around the corner?

You’d think that if that’s how we fell in love, the last nine years would be filled with amazing times of sharing Christ’s love with others and making disciples of men. There are a few stories, but most are from our first months of dating. The last nine years have been mostly spent selfishly, to be honest. Don’t get me wrong, we love the Lord and have grown in Him in many ways, but we haven’t shown His love to those around us in the ways we should have been.

Three years ago, my husband started at Trinity EvangelicalDivinity School. This past semester, he had an amazing class on evangelism taught by Lon Anderson. I watched my husband’s life change. The heart he’s always had for evangelism bloomed. He even shared Christ with one of my family members…something I’ve never done in my 25 years of following Jesus. Meanwhile, last year, I read Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World by Joanna Weaver. Because of her book, I gave my fears up and asked God to help me love Him with all of me. Then, three months ago I read Crazy Love by Francis Chan. It just confirmed everything I’d been feeling: all I want is God. After years and years of spiritual milk, I just want spiritual meat.

Now, fast forward to Friday night, April, 27^th. We dropped our kids off with my in-laws and went to Wheaton Bible Church to hear Francis Chan and Rend Collective Experiment.  There are no words to explain what the Lord did in both of us that night. The song “Build Your Kingdom” started the burning in our hearts and was followed by an amazing message by Mr. Chan. In short, he said to go out on a limb, do crazy things for Jesus, and see what happens. Jump!—He’ll catch you. And maybe, if you’re lucky, the ground will shake. J

As we left, John and I were exhausted, but excited and pumped up. As we started making plans on how we’d love the lost, I looked at him and said, “This is how we fell in love. Why on earth have we wasted the last nine years?” I also said, “I’m starving! Can we please get some food?” With a grin that said, “Lets share Jesus with our waitress,” John actually said, “Let’s go to Pizza Hut for bread sticks.”

Sabbatical: Over

That's all. The sabbatical that I've been on for the past few (many?) months is over.

Adventures in MOPS

As I walked into the church lobby, I started to sweat. It wasn’t because it was warm out (goodness knows January in Chicago isn’t warm) and it was only partially because I was carrying two babies in their carrier car seats. Mostly, the sweat came from pure, unadulterated nervousness.

After living in our Chicago suburb for six months, three which had been spent caring for our newborn sons, I hardly knew anyone and had no real friends. I was tired, bored, and lonely. Though John had agreed to move back to Wisconsin in a few months, I knew I had to make friends, or at least meet people, if I was going to stay sane. I decided to try out MOPS, since at the very least, I knew I’d get a break from my kiddos.

I didn’t meet my new BFF that year but I did make enough friends that we changed our plans and stayed in the area. The next year, I made a few more friends, this time creating deeper bonds. By the third year of MOPS, I was leading the group and had made deep, life-long, life-changing friendships.

That’s why I love MOPS. Sure, the break from our kids is nice. So are the breakfasts and speakers. But we can find all of those things at a play group or a story time. The difference with MOPS is that we come together, as sisters, living life together. Ecclesiastes 4: 9-12 says “Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up. Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone? Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.”

Sisters, we are going to fall down and there are going to be days when we feel cold and overpowered. My prayer for each of you is that you find someone to walk with you—someone to come along and help you when times get though, and someone that you can help out too. God’s plan was never for us to walk alone. If you haven't found a MOPS group, do (mops.org). It honestly could change your life. Start walking with someone today. No mom left behind!

Adventures in Rhino Hunting

Okay, so I’m not really going big game hunting, though it would probably be easier than getting the boys to sleep.

A few months ago, George started waking up sobbing. When I’d ask him what was wrong, he’d tell me that he was scared of the rhino in his room. Patrick jumped on the bandwagon and started to tell me about hippos in their room (though he never woke up scared, so I think he was just trying to get some attention). Needless to say, our nights began to get a bit “zoo-y.”  

Over the past few months, we’ve tried everything to rid ourselves of these pesky rhinos. We’ve prayed, we’ve sprayed “Rhino Repellent,” we’ve yelled “Go back to the zoo, rhino!” For a short while, the rhino seemed to have gone away. However, the last two nights, our rhino infestation has begun again.

Here’s where I have a problem: there’s a fine line between genuine fear and nearly-three-year-old manipulation. How can I be a sensitive, supportive mom without becoming a pushover when it comes to bed time? I think this is one of those times I need to trust my MomSense and go with my gut: I think my boy is scared and needs extra love right now.

So far, we’ve got nothing that is consistently working. Each night we tackle our rhino issues in a different way. Last night, George slept with my pillow and I slept with his. Tonight, we sprayed a room spray and called it “keep away rhino spray.” Tomorrow night, who knows?

But there is one thing I do know. This time of “rhino hunting” will not be in vain. If nothing else, I want my boys to know that no matter when they’re scared and no matter what they’re scared of, they can always call on Jesus.

One of my closest friends shared the following verse with me as we’ve been going through this:

In peace, I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety.  Psalm 4:8

I pray that long after the rhinos have left, my boys will remember they are safe in the Lord.

Adventures in Potty Training

The subtitle to this could easily be "A Surefire Way to Make Mama Crabby and Want a Glass of Wine (which we happen to be out of)."


I try to be very careful about comparing life with twins to life with a singleton, mostly because I have no clue what life with one child is like. In fact, this is only the second time that I (publicly will comment on the difficulty of having twins in comparison to having one. But as you read, somehow I doubt any parent of singleton children (even those parents with "almost twins") are going to argue with me on this one.


Potty training twin is horrible. It slowly sucks every ounce of patience and life out of a person. I think this last week has shortened my life by at least a month or two.


We’ve been thinking about potty training for a while, and I finally decided that the boys were ready, and so was I. I was ready for messes. I was ready for laundry. I was ready for endless "potty talk" (thank you Elmo Goes Potty for teaching my boys the word "dookie"). I was even ready for giving up nearly all of my self-respect by making up silly little cheers for each bathroom success.


However, I was not ready for losing all control of my house. The chaos is wearing me down.


Here's how our day used to go, in relation to bodily functions:

George has a dirty diaper. I'm drinking my coffee. George waits a little bit, then, when I'm ready, I change the diaper. Two hours later, Patrick needs a diaper change. Again, I change him, but not until I’m ready to. We leave for Target. Two more dirty diapers that can wait until we get home. Another change before bed and that's that.

Here's what life looks like now:


George says, "Mommy! I have to pee-pee." I put down my coffee so quickly that some sloshes over the top of the cup. Mental note: clean that up later. I open the gate on the living room and let him go to the potty, because of course, both boys refuse to use the froggy potty we have available in the living room. George runs to the bathroom, strips naked, and climbs up onto the potty, where he quickly does his business. Then he has to use two squares of toilet paper (after I tell him to use one), puts them into the toilet without actually using them, flushes, and puts his face nearly into the bowl while yelling "bye-bye pee-pee and wipe." Then, he washes his hands, getting water everywhere, and I re-dress him. Meanwhile, Patrick is running all over the house because I didn’t close the gate behind us.


An hour later, both boys have to go potty. Patrick gets there first, strips naked, and sits on the potty (while reading a book) for about ten minutes. Meanwhile George, who again is naked, stands waiting for his turn. Patrick eventually goes, but George barely sits on the seat before he is going. Flush, say bye-bye, wash hands, dress both boys, and try to explain why we don't need to brush our teeth just because we see the toothpaste by the sink. Both boys take a quick run through the house, knock a few things over, and we head back to the living room.


Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.


I decide that we need to get out of the house. We get in the car and just start to drive when Patrick says he has to go potty. We find a public restroom to use where I won't feel too guilty for not buying anything. He sits for about five minutes. Nothing comes out. I re-dress him and help naked George go. Two seconds of tinkle. I re-dress him. Everyone washes their hands, while I continuously say, “don’t touch anything. Stop, no, no, seriously, don’t touch anything.” We get back to the car, buckle up, and re-start on our way. Patrick says he has to go potty. I then realize that what I thought was "go potty" is actually "go party." The boy wants to go to a party. We stopped for nothing. I weep internally about the headache I just caused myself.



A sweet lady at church said to me, "Oh, in twelve years, you'll miss not having to remind them that they have to go potty." Somehow I really doubt that.