Graham, our 3 & 1/4 year old, is gaining some serious independence. He wants to try it all and do it all by himself! One night after an attempt putting our shoes on, we ended in tears.
Finally through the sobs, he shared that he needed his daddy's help.
His daddy responded that all he needed to do was ask. Just say, "Daddy, I need help". And my husband reinforced that he would come right away to help him.
I admired my husband, the father of our children for the way he reacted and taught our son a major life lesson...and my heart quickened as I realize I have a heavenly Father that told me the very same thing.
Rachel...all you need to do is ask, "Abba, I need help", and I will come.
The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. -Psalm 34:18
No matter what life brings me today...tomorrow...4 weeks from now...He is near and ready to help. My Abba Father...
Taking a MOMent to cry out to my Abba....
Rachel
Monday, September 15, 2014
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
Chalk Lines
It's been a busy summer...and the blog has gone on the back burner. I've enjoyed time reading other's blogs and loving on my family! :)
About two and a half months ago, I left home headed to work. I left a few minutes late since I was hugging and kissing some cute little boys at home with Daddy before I headed into the office. As I drove the familiar county road and ended up at the stoplight I come to everyday, something was very wrong. The stoplight was working...but no cars were crossing the intersection. I was in the right turn lane about to turn when I saw it...a horrible wreck across the intersection. A pick up truck with its front end smashed and a few seconds later, I saw the motorcycle on the ground. My pulse quickened, my stomach knotted, and I knew it was time to act. You see, I was the first one out of my car...not an ambulance, not a police car...nothing but cars and people in shock and panic and one lonely victim lying painfully still on the ground.
Jumping from my car, running across the pavement in my dress khakis and snakeskin flats, I came over to the accident and the image will forever be ingrained into my mind. A woman...with her backpack on, her helmet on had been thrown from her bike landing quite awkwardly and without any movement and without a pulse. As the words, "Oh... my... God" rushed from my lips as a prayer, another woman came up behind me. She was an ER nurse and with myself as a nurse practitioner with a trauma background, we quickly began to figure out together what we needed to start doing. The next man on the scene - an off duty paramedic. While the other bystanders called 9-1-1...we started working to try to save her life.
The paramedics arrived quickly and took over and continued working on her en route to the hospital. With the help of the newspaper, I found out she did not make it. Her life was cut short at that intersection that Tuesday morning.
I went on to work that morning while the police worked to figure out the accident. When I came back home for lunch, the site was clear and the street had been hosed down. The blood and all other evidence there was ever a crash was gone...
It wasn't until a few days later driving past the same intersection, I noticed new marks on the ground. Spray paint marking the outline of the vehicles involved...unnoticeable to those who didn't know.
It's been months, but I still think of her face every time I pass the intersection and I see the outline reminding me what happened. As a nurse, I've seen death...but it doesn't get any easier.
God keeps speaking to me through it...and I finally have the words to put down what He is teaching me.
You see...we all have these marks on our lives. Points in our lives that are forever marked by small marks on the pavement of our lives. Marks that may or may not be visible to others. But we know...
What are these marks?
Death of our dreams or desires
complete surrender of our lives
(insert your own...)
Maybe our marks signify the death of our former selves and we cloak ourselves with the righteousness of Christ...there are some people that are left wondering what happened, trying to figure it out...
Whatever your mark is...hold fast that Jesus doesn't forget your marks...He carries His own from the life He lived and gave for us.
Until the next MOMent and mark...
Rachel
About two and a half months ago, I left home headed to work. I left a few minutes late since I was hugging and kissing some cute little boys at home with Daddy before I headed into the office. As I drove the familiar county road and ended up at the stoplight I come to everyday, something was very wrong. The stoplight was working...but no cars were crossing the intersection. I was in the right turn lane about to turn when I saw it...a horrible wreck across the intersection. A pick up truck with its front end smashed and a few seconds later, I saw the motorcycle on the ground. My pulse quickened, my stomach knotted, and I knew it was time to act. You see, I was the first one out of my car...not an ambulance, not a police car...nothing but cars and people in shock and panic and one lonely victim lying painfully still on the ground.
Jumping from my car, running across the pavement in my dress khakis and snakeskin flats, I came over to the accident and the image will forever be ingrained into my mind. A woman...with her backpack on, her helmet on had been thrown from her bike landing quite awkwardly and without any movement and without a pulse. As the words, "Oh... my... God" rushed from my lips as a prayer, another woman came up behind me. She was an ER nurse and with myself as a nurse practitioner with a trauma background, we quickly began to figure out together what we needed to start doing. The next man on the scene - an off duty paramedic. While the other bystanders called 9-1-1...we started working to try to save her life.
The paramedics arrived quickly and took over and continued working on her en route to the hospital. With the help of the newspaper, I found out she did not make it. Her life was cut short at that intersection that Tuesday morning.
I went on to work that morning while the police worked to figure out the accident. When I came back home for lunch, the site was clear and the street had been hosed down. The blood and all other evidence there was ever a crash was gone...
It wasn't until a few days later driving past the same intersection, I noticed new marks on the ground. Spray paint marking the outline of the vehicles involved...unnoticeable to those who didn't know.
It's been months, but I still think of her face every time I pass the intersection and I see the outline reminding me what happened. As a nurse, I've seen death...but it doesn't get any easier.
God keeps speaking to me through it...and I finally have the words to put down what He is teaching me.
You see...we all have these marks on our lives. Points in our lives that are forever marked by small marks on the pavement of our lives. Marks that may or may not be visible to others. But we know...
What are these marks?
Death of our dreams or desires
complete surrender of our lives
(insert your own...)
Maybe our marks signify the death of our former selves and we cloak ourselves with the righteousness of Christ...there are some people that are left wondering what happened, trying to figure it out...
Whatever your mark is...hold fast that Jesus doesn't forget your marks...He carries His own from the life He lived and gave for us.
Until the next MOMent and mark...
Rachel
Sunday, July 13, 2014
Sometimes there is no answer to Why?
Hanging out with my Graham...I hear the word WHY work itself into much of our conversation. It seems every other sentence out of his little mouth begins with Why.
Well, I wonder if I sound like that to my Heavenly Father. If every other sentence out of my mouth is Why God?
Well, I'm sure He would offer me the same comfort I offer my Graham. Sometimes you just have to trust me to know the Why, you may not know the Why for a long time and it's okay because I know why.
I'm comforted because He is good and He know the why's of my life (and the why nots). And like in Jeremiah, He works it all together for good. His plan is perfect and one not meant for harm.
Who hold your answers to your Why?
Well, I wonder if I sound like that to my Heavenly Father. If every other sentence out of my mouth is Why God?
Well, I'm sure He would offer me the same comfort I offer my Graham. Sometimes you just have to trust me to know the Why, you may not know the Why for a long time and it's okay because I know why.
I'm comforted because He is good and He know the why's of my life (and the why nots). And like in Jeremiah, He works it all together for good. His plan is perfect and one not meant for harm.
Who hold your answers to your Why?
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
Move over Mom, Jesus said He would drive.
A couple weeks ago, I was taking the boys to someone's house, Miss Kate. A little voice from the backseat piped up and asked if I knew the way to Miss Kate's house. I resisted the urge to shoot back with, 'of course I do, we drove here just last week' and I responded with a simple 'Do you trust me to get you there?'
He was quiet for a moment, and then confirmed that he did in fact trust me.
I waited...and then asked my son if that reminded him of what Jesus is like.
Well, I got the typical three-year-old response, "huh?".
So, I went on...You trust me like we should trust Jesus. You may not know exactly where to turn, but I do. And that's how Jesus works. We trust Him and He guides our lives and our steps because He knows where we are going.
And then my three year old taught me..."Ok Mom, I"ll pray for you."
Now, when my Graham starts praying, he has always looked directly up at the ceiling. So, he looked up to the van's ceiling and started interceding for his mother.
Dear Jesus. Please help Mommy get to Miss Kate's house, she doesn't know where she is going.
(still looking up...there was a long pause)
Ok Jesus!
(he looks at me)
He said to sit over there (points to the passenger seat). He said He would drive.
Oh man...that kid can preach...
He was quiet for a moment, and then confirmed that he did in fact trust me.
I waited...and then asked my son if that reminded him of what Jesus is like.
Well, I got the typical three-year-old response, "huh?".
So, I went on...You trust me like we should trust Jesus. You may not know exactly where to turn, but I do. And that's how Jesus works. We trust Him and He guides our lives and our steps because He knows where we are going.
And then my three year old taught me..."Ok Mom, I"ll pray for you."
Now, when my Graham starts praying, he has always looked directly up at the ceiling. So, he looked up to the van's ceiling and started interceding for his mother.
Dear Jesus. Please help Mommy get to Miss Kate's house, she doesn't know where she is going.
(still looking up...there was a long pause)
Ok Jesus!
(he looks at me)
He said to sit over there (points to the passenger seat). He said He would drive.
Oh man...that kid can preach...
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Look how far I came...
Graham's new thing on our walks includes him looking behind us to show us how far we have come. It all started with my husband encouraging him to continue on his tricycle and showing him that he had already come so far on it! Mostly because Dad didn't want to have to wheel the trike by himself around the block! :)
So...now as we walk, Graham is looking behind him to see how far he has come. I stop each time and acknowledge our distance accomplished while encouraging the distance yet to be completed. These walks fill my heart with joy...time spent with my little ones, but it is far from a cardio workout!
In the way Christ usually speaks, I uttered the words, Graham, if we spend all our time looking backward, we'll miss what's up ahead. And then I realized He was speaking to me.
So many times, we look backward...look at how things have gone and wish they could change. Walking a different path could have ended us elsewhere, but this is the path we have chosen (or has been chosen for us!) and so, here we are. But time spent looking backward is time spent missing the blessings Christ has ahead for us.
There are days my Bible doesn't get opened...weeks my Bible spends in the car between Sundays...I am not perfect. But I know that if I look forward, my path is wide open and waiting with options and blessings I never knew possible if only I'd quit looking back.
What do we look back at? The hurt we've endured, the loss we've grieved, the missed chances...the list goes on and on...
But oh how much sweeter it is to walk forward walking toward Jesus and what He has in store for us.
Walk on to your next MOMent...
Rachel
So...now as we walk, Graham is looking behind him to see how far he has come. I stop each time and acknowledge our distance accomplished while encouraging the distance yet to be completed. These walks fill my heart with joy...time spent with my little ones, but it is far from a cardio workout!
In the way Christ usually speaks, I uttered the words, Graham, if we spend all our time looking backward, we'll miss what's up ahead. And then I realized He was speaking to me.
So many times, we look backward...look at how things have gone and wish they could change. Walking a different path could have ended us elsewhere, but this is the path we have chosen (or has been chosen for us!) and so, here we are. But time spent looking backward is time spent missing the blessings Christ has ahead for us.
There are days my Bible doesn't get opened...weeks my Bible spends in the car between Sundays...I am not perfect. But I know that if I look forward, my path is wide open and waiting with options and blessings I never knew possible if only I'd quit looking back.
What do we look back at? The hurt we've endured, the loss we've grieved, the missed chances...the list goes on and on...
But oh how much sweeter it is to walk forward walking toward Jesus and what He has in store for us.
Walk on to your next MOMent...
Rachel
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
Watering Flowers versus Watering Roots
Spring is here! My husband and I have completely 'black thumbs' without any hint of green. We seem to kill more plants than we can keep alive. So...we were again replacing and replanting some plants.
We planted a new azalea bush in the front that is now producing beautiful white flowers. So, like any good gardener knows, a new plants needs a good watering, so while my son played outside, I grabbed my watering can.
Pretty soon after that, Graham headed over with his watering can wanting to share in the chore of watering, so I filled up his blue plastic elephant shaped watering can and he headed over to water the new plant. When I got over there with my full watering can, he was pouring his water on each and every flower that plant had produced. I quickly let him know that we must give water to the roots of the plants for they are what help make beautiful flowers.
And then in that quiet, simple statement with the breeze blowing and those beautiful hazel colored eyes looking up at me, God spoke.
How many times do we water the flowers or the fruit of other people's or our own lives? A quick spritz of water onto the superficial and walk away feeling like we've accomplished so much? Don't think I'm pointing at anyone else without thinking first of myself. A blog post about God and how He speaks...but yet failing to dive heavily into His Word consistently. I get some 'flower' watering on Sunday and when I pick up my Bible...but sometimes the excuses and exhaustion kick in and the Bible gets put off another day.
I forget to water the roots...a good deep, refreshing watering to my roots of my soul.
Thankful for each MOMent I get to spend in His refreshing Word...
Rachel
We planted a new azalea bush in the front that is now producing beautiful white flowers. So, like any good gardener knows, a new plants needs a good watering, so while my son played outside, I grabbed my watering can.
Pretty soon after that, Graham headed over with his watering can wanting to share in the chore of watering, so I filled up his blue plastic elephant shaped watering can and he headed over to water the new plant. When I got over there with my full watering can, he was pouring his water on each and every flower that plant had produced. I quickly let him know that we must give water to the roots of the plants for they are what help make beautiful flowers.
And then in that quiet, simple statement with the breeze blowing and those beautiful hazel colored eyes looking up at me, God spoke.
How many times do we water the flowers or the fruit of other people's or our own lives? A quick spritz of water onto the superficial and walk away feeling like we've accomplished so much? Don't think I'm pointing at anyone else without thinking first of myself. A blog post about God and how He speaks...but yet failing to dive heavily into His Word consistently. I get some 'flower' watering on Sunday and when I pick up my Bible...but sometimes the excuses and exhaustion kick in and the Bible gets put off another day.
I forget to water the roots...a good deep, refreshing watering to my roots of my soul.
Thankful for each MOMent I get to spend in His refreshing Word...
Rachel
Friday, April 11, 2014
Hold my hand.
I think our little 10 month's old first words will be 'Hold my hand, Graham!'. Not really...but it's a serious thought since we say it enough!
But as I grabbed my older son's hand before crossing a parking lot, I realized I'm thankful for my Father holding my hand. If I can even begin to compare my holding Graham's hand to Him holding mine...but it was a moment God spoke!
See...as I grab his little hand whether he is cooperating or not, not holding my hand isn't an option in a parking lot, crossing the street, etc. It's just a rule we have as I'm sure all parents have for their little ones. It's meant to keep them safe and close. So, as I'm holding his hand anticipating the pull of resistance, I watch. I watch for danger, things that could entangle his little feet, threats, things meant for harm. You see, as I hold his hand, I can quickly and efficiently move him out of the way of things meant to harm him. I remain in control of him. If I am prepared, I can resist the pull away and continue holding on.
That's how I want God to hold my hand. Hold it while I squirm, while I learn whats around me meant for harm, and while I'm just plain not paying attention to the world around me. His grip on my hand is for my own protection, my safety, and my comfort. I know my Father God loves me, has His hand on me and is guiding me through His perfect plan. The walk is much easier and much more enjoyable when I am holding on as well and not trying to pull away. But I'm thankful He doesn't let go.
Rachel
But as I grabbed my older son's hand before crossing a parking lot, I realized I'm thankful for my Father holding my hand. If I can even begin to compare my holding Graham's hand to Him holding mine...but it was a moment God spoke!
See...as I grab his little hand whether he is cooperating or not, not holding my hand isn't an option in a parking lot, crossing the street, etc. It's just a rule we have as I'm sure all parents have for their little ones. It's meant to keep them safe and close. So, as I'm holding his hand anticipating the pull of resistance, I watch. I watch for danger, things that could entangle his little feet, threats, things meant for harm. You see, as I hold his hand, I can quickly and efficiently move him out of the way of things meant to harm him. I remain in control of him. If I am prepared, I can resist the pull away and continue holding on.
That's how I want God to hold my hand. Hold it while I squirm, while I learn whats around me meant for harm, and while I'm just plain not paying attention to the world around me. His grip on my hand is for my own protection, my safety, and my comfort. I know my Father God loves me, has His hand on me and is guiding me through His perfect plan. The walk is much easier and much more enjoyable when I am holding on as well and not trying to pull away. But I'm thankful He doesn't let go.
Rachel
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