Happy Birthday, Jewel!

Friday my only little girl enters the world of double-digits. Happy 10th birthday, Jewel! Ten years ago today, my belly already wracked with contractions, I waited to see if my daughter would enter the world completely healthy, or die in my arms soon after her birth. I've told you the story of my pregnancy and her birth before, but if you missed it, you can read it in the post titled Special Delivery.

She's changed so much since the first time I got a look at her tiny round face, button nose, and auburn hair. Her face is still round, her nose still pug, but her auburn locks were replaced with honey-colored hair that is stick straight all except at the nape of her neck where it curls. She's developed into a word-girl, full of stories and songs, jokes and facts, words and more words, enough to make your head spin. You can read more about Jewel by clicking on the page "Meet the Cast of Characters" or by clicking here.

She loves Jesus and trusts God to protect her and rescue her since, as she says, "He's already saved my life once." Not only has God spared her from the chromosomal disorder that could have taken her life before it barely got started, but he healed her from small cysts on her eyes while she was still a pre-schooler. God has been good to her and to us and surely has a plan that he's already working out in her life.

A fanatic about the Titanic, she can spout facts you never even thought to ask and is a veritable well of information. If she hears it, she remembers it, so the year she watched a Disney promo-DVD, all we had to do when we had a question was to ask Jewel and she'd regurgitate the answer verbatim. Not bad when you're debating the good points of Epcot versus Animal Kingdom! If we can get her to memorize a map, it'll be like having our own personal GPS/tour guide along on every trip.

She isn't afraid to stand out or stand up for what she believes. My friend Zella hits the nail on the head when she shakes her head, smiles, and says, "Jewel is her own person!" She frequently asks her dad for Gideon Student Bibles to give to children at school that she's told about Jesus and led  in a prayer for salvation.

Imaginative and creative, vibrant and talkative, gregarious yet solitary, Jewel, just as her name implies, is comprised of many facets. She is a rare find; one to be held dear, yet shared with the world. A colorful bit of fire that reflects all that's good about her Creator.

I recently reviewed a children's book by Diana Symons. You can read my thoughts on the book (and a little of Jewel's) below, but one sentence stands out, spoken by the wise King to his daughter. "If such a jewel is to be had, it will be worth the journey." The past ten years have been quite a journey with our Jewel. I can honestly say, it's been worth it. Happy Birthday, Jewel!

Review of "Where the Jewels Are" by Diana Symons

WHERE THE JEWELS ARE--Book 1 Tales from the Throne
by Diana Symons
Gold Pen Press, ISBN 978-1-934995-02-0, Paperback, 45 pages, $5.99.

There once was a Princess who had it all--looks, material possessions, and a wise and kind father, the King. The Princess wanted more, specifically a jewel that would shine as bright as a star in the night sky. Her father, being both wise and good, sends her on journey that will test her body and melt her heart. The lessons she learns along the way change her attitudes about what she holds dear and her beliefs about everything she thought she knew.

A small book with big lessons for young ladies, aged 8-12.

Jewel says, "A good story about friends who set out to find a jewel and it ends up being each other."

You can visit Diana Symons at her website, http://www.dianasymons.com/

Hail to the Chief

If you’ve ever run the gauntlet of potty training, you know that, for a time, all things revolve around the bathroom. That sets the scene for today’s President’s Day post.


In early 2005, the whole household attempted to advance Jot from his diaper-clad derriere to a Hanes-covered heiney. Jewel (aged 4) and Justice (aged 8) tried bribery by candy and books, teasing, impromptu demonstrations, cheerleading, and sticker charts. All was for naught—Jot knew what to do and how to do it, but just wasn’t interested in joining the ranks of those wearing “big boy britches.”

Then Jewel got an idea—she would appeal to the innate sense we all have for wanting to belong. She declared that all of us in the family—except Jot—were members of the Pee & Poop Club. I found this rather amusing. Justice found it down-right hilarious. My husband, when he heard about it, inquired as to whether the Disney princesses were also part of the club. “No,” said Jewel, “they are not. Princesses don’t belong to clubs like that.” Jot didn’t care whether he was part of any club or not. He liked his droppy drawers just fine, thank-you-very-much.

That evening when I talked on the phone with my mom, I filled her in on the new club forming in our home. Jewel said to tell Grandma “hi” and that she was invited to be part of our club whenever she visited. I wondered if I would be expected to come up with snacks and keep track of minutes for our club meetings. I reasoned that I didn’t have time for that. I was, after all, in the middle of potty training!

I sought to pass the buck. “Who is the president of the Pee & Poop Club?” I wondered aloud.

No answer. (Some things on TV cause children to be unable to hear the high pitched sound of their mother’s voice.)

“Who is the president of the club?”

Silence.

“Jewel! Who is the president?”

“Huh? Oh. George Dubbya.”


That day I learned two important lessons from Jewel. The first is that we all want to belong. No matter our age or what we have accomplished, we all want to be part of a group of people who accept us. That can be a strong motivator—either positive or negative—in my life and the life of my kids.

The other lesson I learned is that our kids are listening. Whether we think they are or not. Whether we think they understand or not. When I talk on the phone to a friend while they color at the table—they hear. When I whisper to my husband in the front seat of the car—they take it in. When I watch TV or listen to the radio—they absorb what’s playing. When I speak to the cashier at the store—they are registering too. Are the things they are hearing and seeing beneficial to them? Will those things make them into the adults I pray they’ll be? Or are they learning to judge or to gossip or to disrespect authority by my words and actions? I must do everything I can to point them to the greatest Commander in Chief.

23"Everything is permissible"—but not everything is beneficial. "Everything is permissible"—but not everything is constructive. 31So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God. 32Do not cause anyone to stumble…33For I am not seeking my own good but the good of many, so that they may be saved. 1 Corinthians 10: 23, 31-33.

You Are So Beautiful To Me

In honor of Valentine's Day, let's talk about love. I have a boyfriend, but don't tell my husband. My boyfriend is handsome and charming, funny and sweet. He has gorgeous blue eyes and a dimple. He also is only 4-feet tall and has a lisp. Oh, and don't worry; hubby knows that Jot is my "boyfriend".

A few weeks ago, as I stood folding laundry in the basement, I could hear someone messing around in the kitchen directly over my head. I heard the metalic clink of the utensils as someone rooted around in the drawer. I heard the cabinet doors open and shut. I heard the thud of a glass bowl on the counter.

I went to the stairway and shouted up, "Whoever is in the kitchen needs to get out. Snack time's over." Silence. Back to the laundry.

A few minutes later, I heard it again. Either I have really big rats or someone is not listening to me. I went to the stairway once more. "I will be coming up in a few minutes and if I find anyone in the kitchen, they will be in trouble." This time I heard frenzied whispering and the pounding of size-4 feet. A moment later, Jot appeared around the corner. He stood with his scrawny, 7-year old arms stretched between the edges of the door jamb. Crossing one foot over the other and tilting his head, he grinned at me.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Nothing."

"So when I go up to the kitchen, I'm going to see 'nothing'?"

Jot just grinned and winked, made that click-click noise out of the side of his mouth that you expect from constructions workers with a roving eye. I figured it was high time I checked out exactly what was going on in my kitchen and attempted to by-pass Jot. He stood firm.

"Wait", he said and planted his feet.

"Move."

Jot wrapped his little arms around my middle, gazed up at me with fluttering lashes and asked, "Mom, have I ever told you how beautiful you are?"

Now I could have bought into this charming micro-Cassanova, but I know the truth of Proverbs 26:23: Smooth talk from an evil heart is like glaze on cracked pottery. I've been around enough to know not to listen to empty words from my kids. Sometimes they speak genuine words of praise or thanks. Occasionally they will slip an give an honest compliment. But more often than not, if their words are too flowery, I can be sure that something's rotten in Denmark--or that there's a mess in my kitchen. My kids have taught me that empty words of praise are as useless as a pretty shine on a broken pot.

Do you ever find yourself praying the words you hope that God wants to hear so you can have your request answered in your favor? Do you ever let your mind wander while singing praises on Sunday morning and find you have no idea what you've sung for the last five minutes? Do you ever say a prayer, read your Bible, or quote Scripture from rote but not really feel it in your heart? Do you ever praise God with your mouth while your heart, mind and body wade through sin? Just like we don't like being patronized, neither does God.

The Lord says: "These people come near to me with their mouth and honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. Their worship of me is made up only of rules taught by men." Isaiah 29:13

Just in case you wondered, Jot and Jewel were making homemade grapefruit juice, complete with several cups of sugar. They cleaned it up and apologized--sincerely.

Special Delivery

It should come as no surprise that Jewel loves to write stories. You see, her life started as a story of what one tiny baby could teach her mama, even before she was born. It contained all the makings of a good story, too-- conflict, angst, a gripping climax, and a happy ending. Read on to learn what God taught me during my pregnancy with Jewel.

Sweat slicked my forehead and mingled with the wetness squeezing from eyes closed tightly against the glare of the fluorescent lights. Late July sun poured through the large window to my right, adding to the piercing artificial light. The room was stuffy. The metallic scent of blood mixed with antiseptic hospital smells and made my stomach swim. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I struggled as each new wave crashed over me.

“Just a few more pushes and your baby will be here,” coaxed a nurse. I knew the pain was necessary to bring this baby into the world, but I also knew her connection to my body might be the only thing keeping my daughter alive. Upon her entrance into the bright, stuffy room she would either split the air with the lusty wail of a healthy newborn or pierce my heart with the mewling cry of a terminally ill infant. While my body struggled to bring forth life, my heart fought to keep death at bay.

The ordeal was culminating on July 30, 2000, but it had begun months before. In March, we first glimpsed our tiny baby. Arms and legs waved and her profile revealed a sweet, turned-up nose. She kicked and wiggled, oblivious to the cartwheels her acrobatics caused in our hearts. The doctor called a few days later. In reviewing the ultrasound images, he had discovered a problem.

“The images show a cyst in the baby’s brain. It’s in an area that doesn’t necessarily cause a problem, but there is a high incidence of this type of cyst being linked to a fatal disorder,” he explained. We later learned that the disorder was nearly always fatal within the first week after birth, that it affected girls more than boys, that our child had one other trait that seemed to link her to the sickness, and that there was no treatment or cure for it.

One morning, as I prayed my way through the day’s chores, I grew frustrated. God, you and I both know you have a plan in this. You’re going to do what you want to do. There’s no magic prayer that I can say that will take this all away. Why should I bother? No sooner had the thought flown through my mind when a voice thundered in my heart, hitting me so forcefully that my body jolted with the shock: I don’t ask you to pray so THINGS will change; I ask you to pray so YOU will change.

The remainder of my pregnancy passed with the normal struggles of swollen ankles, backaches, and insomnia, followed by thirty-six hours of labor. But I no longer struggled to pray. I knew God was using my prayers to prepare me for the journey ahead.

When I gave birth to our daughter, red and squalling that Sunday morning in July, the doctor placed her on my stomach saying, “It’s a girl. And she’s healthy.” All those months of praying and waiting were over. We could now move into a new life with the tiny girl with the button nose. But the lesson God taught me about prayer has continued to live and grow within me.

Meet the Cast of "Characters"

Welcome to Day 2 of my blog experience. I want to introduce you to the cast of "characters" that comprise my home-zoo. I'm not using the actual names of my children, but bestowed upon them names indicative of their personalities (okay, let's just say it--their oddities). It is my hope that as I talk about them, you will learn a little more about who they are and why they make life so, uhh..ummm..INTERESTING! :)

"Justice" is my 12-year-old son. I call him this because he is a typical first-born, follow-the-rules-type guy. He is accurate to a fault and wants to make sure justice is doled out (except when it comes to him). He is a sports nut and a natural student, pushing himself to excell at every undertaking. He is my mini-me. His favorite characteristic about himself are his freckles. He teaches me to guard my words for accuracy and truth. "Here is my servant, who I upheld, my chosen one in whom I delight; and I will put my Spirit on him and he will bring justice to the nations." Isaiah 42:1



My 9-year-old daughter I'm calling "Jewel". She is a priceless treasure who has a heart for anything art-related, but excells in writing. She has many facets and, as one friend says, "She is her own person." Her heart is full of love for Jesus and she regularly introduces others to him. She's my messy, left-handed, head-in-the-clouds dreamer. She is an animal lover who is on a constant vigil to add a cat-any cat- to our home.
She teaches me to be true to the song God put in my heart. "Gold there is, and rubies in abundance, but lips that speak knowledge are a rare jewel."  Proverbs 20:15

Rounding out the under-age crowd in my house is "Jot", my 7-year-old son. On this blog he will be known by this name simply for it's meaning: the smallest character. Anyone who knows him would agree that not only is he our smallest guy, but he is quite a character. He will attempt anything the other two come up with and what they don't think of, he does. He loves to make people laugh and is the most tender-hearted of the crew. He is a natural investigator, often attempting to figure out the mechanics of appliances and conducting "science experiments", which unfortunately usually involve bodily fluids or once-live things. He might be small, but he is mighty. He teaches me to laugh and explore the world God's given us. "Gideon said to him, 'Me, my master? How and with what could I ever save Israel? Look at me...I'm the runt of the litter'. God said to him, 'I'll be with you...'" Judges 6:15,16

Now you've met the characters, come back next time to see what lesson I learned this week from Justice's first basketball game of the season.

Nikki Studebaker Barcus