We All Fall Down



Photo credit: stock.xchng

If you're a mom, you already know this--motherhood requires multi-tasking. So, frequently when one of the kids practices, the other two kids and I also try to squeeze in some exercise. Last spring I found myself scheduled to attend yet another flag football practice on a gorgeous spring evening. I loaded up all three kids, one scooter, and a bike and donned my running shoes. While Jot practiced with his buds in the large field behind our church, Justice rode his scooter and Jewel sang songs while riding her bike in the empty parking lot on the far side of the church. A lovely neighborhood sits beside our church, so I can run the curvy streets while still keeping an eye on the kids as I loop around the parking lot every quarter mile.

Just into the beginning of my third lap it happened. "Skillet" spilled from my iPod into my left ear (gotta keep the right one free to hear traffic or the kiddos) and  the sun warmed my face as a light breeze made for enjoyable running weather. I rounded the corner on the tiny stretch of busy roadway that I had to travel into the the sub-division. Before I even had time to prepare myself, I sprawled in the gutter. It seems there was a thin metal circle hidden in the silt along the side of the road. My left foot stepped on it and the toe of my right foot caught in the follow-through. It effectively hobbled me and threw me to the ground before I even knew what happened. Like most adults do, I hopped up, scanning the horizon and wondering if anyone saw my spill. I dusted off my scratched and pebble-encrusted hands and peered at the nice-sized tear on the knee of my running pants. (And wouldn't you know it, these were my favorite pair of pants--the ones that made me look skinny!)

I finished my lap and as I neared the kids I yelled and asked if they had seen me fall down. They hadn't seen a thing so they were full of questions as to where and when this all played out. "Did you get hurt?"

I showed them my road-rashed hands and my ripped pants. "Pull up your pant leg!" yelled Justice, just a little too enthusiastically, I thought.

As I yanked up the leg of my grey running pants, I notice the blood trickling down to my sock. Upon further inspection, a deep abrasion graced my right knee. The kids were totally enthralled. They asked to see it again, as soon as I'd lowered the fabric. So I hauled it up again and sported my injury.

"Does it hurt?" they wanted to know.

"How did you do it again?" they inquired.

"Where were you?"

"Did anyone see you?"

It seemed as though I couldn't answer their questions quick enough. Why all this interest in their fumbling momma? As we returned to pick up Jot from practice, they announced it to the other moms and dads then raced to be the first to tell Jot of my wounded status.

It took several weeks for the wound to totally heal and the scar still hasn't totally faded. Over that spring and summer my kids would frequently ask to see my knee or have me repeat the story of how I fell.

Like He usually does if I'm willing to listen, God taught me some lessons through my fall and my children's reaction to it. God reminded me that He can use our falls, injuries, failings, and wounds to teach others. My kids didn't have to take a tumble themselves to learn that sometimes danger hides in everyday places. They didn't need to feel my pain to understand that we must always be cautious no matter how safe we may think we are.

God also reminded me that my kids need to see me vulnerable. I'm a strong, independent farm wife, so usually I just get things done myself. I don't like to rely on others. My kids don't often see me hurt or unable to care for myself--but they need to. They needed to see that sometimes I get hurt. Sometimes even their Mom falls down. They needed to see me tend a wound and to ruin a pair of pants and to squish my eyes closed when I poured peroxide on that road rash. They delighted in seeing my human-ness.

And God showed me in living color the truth of  2 Corinthians 1:3-4: Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort,  who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. My kids were full of ways to help me find comfort in spite of my injury. True to their personalities, Justice gave advice ("Wear shorts so it doesn't rub."), Jewel drew me pictures, and Jot smooshed his head against my cheek and patted my back. My past run-ins with the pavement were far-removed but my kids knew all too well what it felt like to come face-to-face (or knee) to the asphalt.

God used that spill for a lot of good in my life and in the lives of my kids. I wear my scar with honor. How about you? Has God ever used pain in your life to teach you (or someone else) a lesson?


Nikki Studebaker Barcus

Out, Out, Dark Spot!

Photo credit: sanja gjenero

Each year when spring bustles in, I have good intentions of spring cleaning. I remember my mom turning the house upside down and inside out, washing windows, cleaning carpets, and searching out every mote of dust like a blood hound on the scent.

But with the busyness of spring on the farm, all the extra school activities, and all the dust kicked up by the farm machinery, I rarely have the time or the desire to spring clean.

But come fall, it's a different story. I usually host both Thanksgiving and Christmas and when you throw in Justice's New Year's Day birthday and assorted gatherings of friends and church family, we have a lot of company between the middle of November and mid-January. So the house that looked "okay" in the spring is really in need of a deep cleaning to become company-worthy.

A few weeks ago as I hit the house hard in a yellow rubber-gloved frenzy, I texted back and forth with my friend, who happens to clean houses for a living. We were bemoaning the fact that we were stuck indoors on a warm, sunny fall day. God reminded me of another truth as I texted this sentence:

Thankful it's sunny--always easier to see the dirt w/sun shining.

Even as I typed, my heart beat faster at the truth of that statement, for it is always when we apply the Son to our lives that the dirt shows up. Every time I bow my heart in prayer, each time I immerse myself in the Bible, whenever I spend time studying God's truths, it is like a giant, cosmic spotlight shines into my heart and life exposing all the dirt lurking deep inside. The cobwebs of selfishness are illuminated. The crumbs of impatience stand out in stark contrast. The ugly, dirty sins of my life can't hide in the presence of the Son.


And, just like my house in the fall, when the dirt is evident, it makes it all the easier to sweep, mop, dust, steam, or wipe it out.


This holiday season as you prepare and clean our homes, let's commit to preparing and cleaning our hearts as well.


Nikki Studebaker Barcus

Never Be Satisfied

*Usually I write about lessons I learn from my kids. Sometimes God uses other critters to teach me.*

Sit. Stay. Shake. These are a few lessons I’ve taught my dogs.

Be aware of your tone. Say what you mean. Never be satisfied. These are just a few of the lessons my dogs have taught me.

I’m the proud "momma" to two pug-beagle mixes. Four-year-old Dulcie, with her chocolate-brown fur and white feet, takes after her beagle mother. She is intelligent, an insatiable chewer, and tracks every bird or mouse that traverses our backyard. Stella, at 2-years, takes after her pug daddy, not only in her caramel body wit black muzzle, but with her smaller, more delicate stature and her penchant for climbing onto any lap that remains still for a moment.

Their contrasting characteristics taught me more than a lesson in puppy personality. They taught me a lesson about God and His desire for relationship with His people.
 Each morning, the dogs slide from their beds, stretch, and head out into the backyard to relieve themselves, to sniff the air, and to patrol the perimeter looking for anything amiss. Most mornings, they re-enter the house into the fray of three elementary-aged children eating breakfast, completing morning chores, and preparing for school. The dogs always get their breakfast between 7:00 and 7:30, but depending on the crisis of the day, it may be on the earlier end or not until the kids leave on the bus at 7:30.

I never wonder where the dogs are or what they are into during time period. If I’m digging up misplaced homework; they’re right with me. If I’m fetching sports uniforms from the dryer; they’re right behind me. If I’m packing lunches for a field trip; they’re right under me. You see, they never leave my side because they are hungry. They don’t want to take the chance of missing what I have for them or worse yet, that the other dog might get a double portion. Their rich brown eyes follow my every move and their excitement and intensity is evident in the perk of their ears and the wag of their tails. In this, they are the same. I have something that they want and I’ve never let them down.

The contrast comes after they’ve been fed. With the kids gone, I settle into the schedule of a work-from-home mom. Dulcie, now satisfied, goes off in search of a soft bed, a warm chair, or a trash can left unattended. Stella, on the other hand, follows me from room to room, never straying far from my side. If I go to the laundry room, she makes herself comfortable on a pile of dirty clothes. If I pay bills at the kitchen counter, she curls up on the doggie bed in the corner and snoozes. If I move to my office, I hear her tap-tap-tap on the tile behind me and then her contented sigh as she sprawls in a patch of sunshine. Her belly is full, her bladder is empty, yet she stays beside me. She is satisfied in what I’ve given her, yet she still desires my presence.

God wants us to get to the place where we are satisfied, not only by what He gives us, but simply by resting in His presence. I believe in an effort to deepen our companionship with Him, sometimes God makes us wait on an answer or He seems silent in the face of our pleas. He knows that when we receive what we want, often we no longer seek His will or desire His presence. Speaking of the Israelites in the book of Deuteronomy, and their attitude toward Him, God reminds them that He is their God, their Deliverer, and their Provider, but says, “When I fed them, they were satisfied; when they were satisfied, they became proud; then they forgot me.” Perhaps God keeps us waiting for an answer or stays silent just awhile longer because it is only in those times of desperate seeking that we remember Him, and He wants the connection to last just a bit longer. Satisfaction allows us to retreat; desire keeps us pressing deeper into communion in every type of relationship—marriage, friendship, parenthood.

 I love both my doggie-girls, but in her choice to stay beside me all throughout the day, Stella benefits more from our relationship. I talk to her more, because she’s made herself available to me. Our relationship is closer and more fulfilling for both of us. She gets more belly rubs, head pats, and ear scratches than her absent sister. She is blessed with more treats. If a cookie crumb or a popcorn kernel falls from my hand, she is at my feet to retrieve it—oftentimes before it hits the floor.

Dulcie wants what I can give her; Stella just wants me. In her satisfaction with a small bowl of dog food in the morning, Dulcie misses out on an entire day of rewards and relationship from her master. Through her loyalty and constant companionship, Stella reminds me to stay close to my Master and to never be satisfied with the depth of any of my relationships.

Everything's Springing Up--Kittens!

So, you know April showers bring May flowers. But do you know what May thunderstorms bring? Kittens! There is just something about the atmospheric pressure changes of a storm or maybe the fact that ready-to-pop momma cats are snuggled in tight in the hay that cause kittens to crop up after a spring storm.

So, with all this rain this spring, it's the perfect time to announce a new arrival at our house. No, not kittens, but a book about kittens. Well, not just kittens, but cats of all ages and stages.

Recently available in stores and on-line, this newest addition to the Chicken Soup family of books is all about cats--the good, the bad, and the ugly parts of life with those clever, crafty, cuddly felines.

My story, The Truce, is nestled among 100 other cat-chy stories from people who love and learn from their cats--whether they want to or not.

So, even if you don't have new kittens popping up in your hayloft...or bushes...or doghouse...or window well, you can live vicariously through the stories in this heart-warming book.

Nikki Studebaker Barcus

Congratulations! It's a...

...Book!

I've been expecting this little darling since last summer, so I'm so excited to share the news with you!

This little baby made a safe delivery on March 8, 2011 to all the places you like to buy books.

Here are the stats that I know you're dying to hear.

Name: Chicken Soup for the Soul New Moms: 101 Inspirational Stories of Joy, Love, and Wonder
Born on: March 8, 2011
Time: Anytime you need a short, enjoying read.
Measurements: Just under 400 pages, about 5" x 7" x 1", lightweight enough to fit in the diaper bag, purse, or hold one-handed during those 3 am feedings.
Proud Parents: Chicken Soup for the Soul Publishing and over 100 contributors, including me!

You can find my story of a lesson learned as a brand new momma on page 246. Noah to the Rescue recounts the harrowing story of the day I was locked in the nursery and how help came in the form of a very unlikely hero.

I hope you'll check it out.

Nikki Studebaker Barcus

Keep Your Hands Off My Jesus!

This originally appeared as a blog post on Hoosier Ink .

You know those Christmas movies where the whole family gathers around a beautiful tree, singing and decorating while they munch on popcorn and sip steaming mugs of cocoa? You know, the ones where the whole family fits at one gorgeous dining table, dressed in their finest and eat from fine china? Yeah, those movies make Christmas seem so sweet and warm and wonderful.

Well, that is not the way things go down around my house. Inevitably, the lights on the tree don't work and hubby grumps and growls, kicks the cat, and finally gives up, turning the dark spot toward the wall. The kids fight over who gets to put on which ornament and while their attention is diverted the dog slurps the marshmallows off the top of the hot chocolate. Our entire family never fits at the same table and elastic-waisted pants are in vogue. And even if we owned enough china for the whole clan, what nut would trust the kids with it and who wants to spend the afternoon sweating over a sink full of suds anyway?

But every year I look forward to the one tradition that is mine and mine alone. I can complete it to perfection, it always produces beautiful results, there are no fuses to blow, pieces to loose, or someone to show up at the last minute and throw off my carefully laid plans. It is the staging of the nativity set. In the minutes after the tree is up and the stockings are hung, when hubby carries boxes to the basement and the kids lose themselves in the rediscovered Christmas books, I pull out my beloved nativity set. No one begs to help. No one tells me how it should be done. No one gives me unwanted pointers. You see, it's always been my job.

In the little wooden stable created by my dad when I was a young girl, I arrange the ceramic animals. The donkey rests beside the feed box and the ox balances the scene with her dark bulk near the door. Then comes the Holy family. Mary is always on the right; Joseph to the left; baby Jesus positioned just so, front and center. Finally, I symmetrically arrange the three wise men and the shepherd boy carrying his lamb. I stand back and sigh a contented breath. No one can mess with my artful arrangement, my pleasing symmetry, my balance of color and light. Amid the chaos, it is one thing I can count on year after year to give me peace.

That is until the year someone couldn't keep their hands off my Jesus. The kids were small, all still in single digits, and I never did find out who did it. I'd walk past the stable only to find the entire entourage lined up shoulder to shoulder facing the newborn King. I mean, you couldn't even see the little guy because they stood like a police line-up, backs toward the open doorway. I'd re-arrange everyone and breathe in a happy sigh, setting things to rights.

The next day, I'd walk by and now the whole crew formed a protective ring around the Tot in swaddling clothes. Reminding me of wagons circled to guard against enemy attack, there they stood, laid, or rested, eyes focused on the Baby. I'd huff, thinking that in their messing with my manger, my kids were likely to break one of the fragile figurines.

Then God spoke to my heart. Was Christmas about presenting a perfect picture? Was it about projecting a polished and put-together presentation? Or was Christmas about Jesus? Wasn't He the star of the show? Wasn't it His story that needed to be told and remembered?

For the rest of that year I left my hands off Jesus and His posse. I let my kids have their way with the cold, hard figurines because God had melted and softened my heart by their innocent actions. This week leading up to Christmas I pray for each of us, that we'll make Jesus the star of our holiday. That we will focus on Him. That we will strive less to create the perfect atmosphere and work more to capture the perfect attitude. I pray that in everything we do--working, writing, loving, entertaining, preparing--that we never fail to keep our focus on the One who came as a helpless babe, into a dirty, flawed, and sin-filled world so that we could be made perfect.

Merry Christmas!
Nikki Studebaker Barcus

Maddox the Magnificent, Part 2 (or KittyBoy Genius)

After quite a long absence, I hope I'm back for awhile. The harvest is complete, the field work done and a graduate class to renew my teaching license is on the books, so I hope to have a little more time to devote to writing this blog.

When we last talked, I'd introduced you to the newest member of our home-zoo, Maddox the kitten, affectionately called Maddox the Magnificent by Jot. I've affectionately (or not) renamed him MadMax the Assassin Cat. But that's another story. Since you last saw him, he's taken over the house, whipped the dogs into shape, made two trips to the vet, and had a delicate (ahem) surgery scheduled for just before Christmas. But he's also been teaching us lessons. He's taught the kids that, unlike dogs, when you tease kittens they seek revenge. He's taught hubby that kittens can sleep so soundly when snuggled up to you that they appear dead; even sometimes after you shake them. And the little guy's reminded me of another lesson about just how much God loves me (and you!).

One afternoon shortly after MadMax moved into the house I found a few spare hours squeezed in between working, cooking, and running around like the proverbial headless chicken and took the little guy to the vet. I knew he had fleas and despite my countless baths (not a job for the weak), I couldn't get rid of them. And if he was going to live in the house he needed his vaccinations. So, in the carrier he went and off we headed to fix the kittyboy up.

The vet laughed at his blond-fluff appearance, cooed at his reluctance to exit the carrier, and cringed at the fleas vacationing in his long locks. The poor cat didn't know what hit him! He received two shots to rid him of untold maladies, a shot of some yucky yellow cream down his throat to kill the worms in his belly (yes, he had them), a dose of a smelly, oily topical to fend of fleas (yes), ear mites (oh, yeah), and more worms (you betcha). A thorough investigation of all his parts and a not-to-welcome thermometer in an unmentionable place sent him scurrying back into the carrier wide-eyed and fluff-tailed.

When I finally deposited him at home, you won't believe what that filthy, parasite-invested, diseased feline fiasco did. He didn't wring his hands thinking of the bad things he had done. He didn't slink embarrassed that he was full of gross stuff and wait to emerge when he was cleaner and healthier. He didn't scratch his way through the screen and run away, too mortified to face the family who loved him now that he knew how far from perfect he really was. Nope. None of that. He slept.

Yes, he crawled into his little bed under my desk and slept the afternoon away, only to awaken when the calls from the kids after school floated through the open window. He purred in response to their petting. He wove in and out of their legs as they stood making snacks. He crawled sleepily into their laps as they perched on the couch to watch cartoons. In short--he reveled in their lavish love of him.

Unlike so many "smarter" humans, that kitty didn't try to get himself clean, right, or holy before he accepted the love of his master. How many people do you know who try to clean themselves up, get their life in gear, or walk the straight-and-narrow before they will accept the love and salvation of their Master? We should take a lesson from a tiny kitten. Submit to the perfect care of the One Who loves us and He will become the Remedy for all that ails us.

Just like Jot says, "Maddox, you're a genius!"

Nikki Studebaker Barcus

Maddox the Magnificent

Well, what do you think? Does it look like my barn-cat-turned-house-cat is happy with his new arrangement? Here is Maddox the Magnificent, as Jot calls him, sound asleep on Jewel. His tiny raised paws remind me of my kids when they were newborns. It their tiny arms raised over their heads like that, I knew they were deep in sleep and would stay that way for a long time. This was my cue to take a shower, run the sweeper, or stretch out on the couch and be assured that I'd get at least 20 winks before my little bundle of joy beckoned.

The kids are in love with this blond, blue-eyed fluffer-nutter. They argue about who gets him in their bed. They come through the door after school calling his name. They pet him, hold him, and love on him any chance they get. And he just eats it up.

What did this little guy do to earn a place in my house and their hearts? Nothing much. He couldn't control that he was born a kitten instead of a rattlesnake. He didn't put in an order for his soft blond fur with the cute white feet. He had no say in the fact that his warm, soft, purring body makes him irresistible to hold. He is just living the life he's been assigned and they love him anyway.

What's more, they adore him in spite of his faults. I mean that little guy has some razor-sharp daggers that come out of the ends of his soft paws. His teeth are like lightning fast staples. He is a mite over-zealous in his use of the litter box, flicking the stuff all over my bathroom. When we brought him in, he hosted an army of fleas in that wealth of long hair. None of it mattered to the kids. The love Maddox simply because they invited him in and he's here to stay.

Kind of reminds me of when I brought each of them home from the hospital, a scenario that plays out in homes all over the world every day. Not even mentioning the pain or labor and delivery, we bring these foreigners into our homes and let them turn our worlds upside down. They have no way of communicating but to cry, they drain us of our energy, deprive us of our sleep, and defile us with bodily functions that spew from every orifice. But we love them, care for them, and sacrifice for them because we've invited them in and they are here to stay. We want them here and we'd give up everything to keep them with us.

Reminds me of another Parent. In the midst of our sinful lives, in spite of our horrendous faults, He gave up everything to keep us with Him. God gave up His only Son so we could live in His house with Him for eternity. Jesus gave up his sinless life to make a way for us to be reconciled to the God who can't even look at sin, but gave up everything to provide a way to make us sinless. And we did nothing to deserve His lavish love. We had nothing in us to draw Him to us. We stumble along this road called life and He loves us anyway.

Rest assured of God's love of you today. Be encouraged by Jesus' sacrifice for you today. Be comforted by the Holy Spirit's power in you today.

Fan the Flame

Crisp fall leaves, warm jackets, bonfires, s'mores. All the things we love about fall. And those things aren't just fun, but just like most of life, if you look close enough, you can find a lesson.

What's the lesson in a bonfire? Click here to read my story on the home page of this month's Devo Kids website. The story, Fan the Flame, is written for kids, but the lesson is for everyone who wants to know what to do with the gifts they've been given.

Check it out and remember the lesson the next time you enjoy a gooey s'more or sit in the glowing beauty of a fall bonfire.

Nikki Studebaker Barcus

True Love Story Part 3: In Good Times and in Bad

This week, I've let you take a peek into the early days and months of my relationship with my hubby. So far, you've seen how and where we met, you've traveled on a canoe trip with us and our friend Phil, and are probably wondering how we ever made it down the aisle. But never fear, on January 1, 1994 we stood before God and a motley assortment of family and friends and pledged or love and commitment for the rest of our lives.

If you'd like to read the final installment of our Real Life Romance, click here. If you leave a comment, you may be the winner of a copy of Shannon's book White Roses.

Next week, we'll return to regular programming.

White Roses by Shannon Taylor Vannatter

This week we are taking a little detour down Romance Lane. If you've been keeping up with our True Love Story on Shannon Vannatter's blog, then you also know she is giving away a copy of her book to some lucky comment-er.

I had the good fortune to read Shannon's book this summer and wrote reviews that will appear on Amazon.com, Goodreads.com, Shelfari, and BarnesandNoble.com when the book releases later this fall.

I've re-printed my review here if you want to read what I thought of Shannon's book. Join me on Friday as Shannon shares the last part of the story--the wedding day.


Book Review of Shannon Taylor Vannatter's White Roses

How could anyone know that one fateful day, one selfish choice, one man could cause the ripples of grief to reach into so many lives? In Shannon Taylor Vannatter's Christian contemporary romance, White Roses, we are introduced to two families--Pastor Grayson Sterling, his young son Dayne, and his sister Sara; and brother and sister team, Mark and Adrea Welch.


A drunk driver left Grayson without his beloved wife and Dayne without his devoted mother two years ago. Sara steps in to try and help her brother, but Grayson can't seem to get over the loss of his wife. Longing for some time to focus on Dayne and heal from his loss, Grayson convinces his church to hire an associate pastor. Enter Mark Welch and his beautiful and loyal sister Adrea. In a unique turn of events, Grayson comes face-to-face with the florist who has been creating the arrangements of white roses he ordered for his wife Sara. The arrangements he faithfully presented to her during their life together, he now leaves at her grave.

Grayson and Adrea find themselves unable to deny that their pain and loss on Valentine's Day three years before is the only thing drawing them together. But fears and secrets, all grounded in the past, seem determined to drive them apart.

Vannatter, a pastor's wife, knows the ins and outs of church leadership and uses that knowledge to give the reader glimpses of the real-life struggles and humanness of those called into ministry. In a refreshing, easy-to-read style, Vannatter shows the reader true-to-life believers wresting with the same things we all do: fear, doubt, forgiveness, and anger. There are no squeaky clean, never-fail Christians in this book. Rather the reader will meet believers trying to do the right thing, sometimes succeeding and sometimes failing, in the face of difficult circumstances. The reader is likely to recognize himself or herself in one or many of Vannatter's unique characters.

Vannatter develops both the story and the characters to a satisfying conclusion, teaching us all a lesson about trusting God and remaining faithful even in the midst of the most heart-rending circumstances. Readers of contemporary romance will enjoy the believable characters and the universal themes portrayed in this delightful story that is compact enough to enjoy in a weekend or even one late-night read.

Nikki Studebaker Barcus

Ture Love Story: Part 2 Maybe He's Trying to Tell Us Something

We continue with Part 2 of the True Love Story on Shannon Taylor Vannatter's blog this week. Today's post features a few stories from our dating life--all that include a character named Phil.

Phil is a friend of my hubby's and we started to get the feeling that either Phil didn't approve of our relationship, or that God didn't and was using Phil to tell us so.

Click here to go to Shannon's website where you can read the next installment. Leave a comment to be entered to win a copy of Shannon's book White Roses. Tomorrow I'll post a review of Shannon's book so you can read all about it.

Nikki Studebaker Barcus

True Love Story: Part 1 Toilet Tissue Romance

We are going to break from the norm this week on celebration of my True Love Story running on Shannon Taylor Vannatter's website this week. I wrote the 3-part story to help Shannon give away a copy of her book White Roses a sweet, contemporary romance published by Heartsong.

The book is available now to Heartsong Club members and will be release mass-market in November. If you leave a comment on my story this week, though, you get a chance to win a copy! Cool!

Just click on Real Life Romance--Part 1 of 3 to read the Real Life Romance on how I met my hubby. Click over Wednesday and Friday to read more.

Nikki Studebaker Barcus

An Apple a Day...Keeps Satan at Bay

"An apple a day keeps the doctor away" is how the old saying goes, right? Apples are great for you and tasty too, but that's not what we're going to talk about today.

September 18 is International Eat an Apple Day, so in celebration of that momentous occasion, let's look at how an A.P.P.L.E a day can not only keep the doctor away, but also goes a long way toward keeping Satan at bay. Ironic, don't you think considering how many people attribute the apple with fouling Adam and Eve up so long ago in the Garden?

A--Adoration. The first step in keeping Satan from gaining a foothold with our kids is to adore them. Yeah, I know, we all love our kids, but I'm talking more than that. I'm talking about letting your child know s/he is the "apple of your eye". (Sorry, couldn't resist.) If you aren't head over heels about your child, really, who else will be other than probably Grandma. Teachers, coaches, friends--they all care about your kid, but none is as invested as you are and none will be there for the long haul. Find the stuff in your child you can adore--then let them in on the secret.

P--Prayer. We live in the middle of a battlefield whether we can see it or not. Prayer is the biggest weapon in our arsenal and we better get pretty liberal at pulling out this big gun. Cover your child in prayer or you leave him/her open to attacks from Satan.

P--Perspective. If you want your child to thrive in this life, you are going to need some perspective. What I mean is that first of all, you've got to get both an eternal and a long-term view of this parenting thing. You are going to have good days and bad days and days that make you question everything you've ever known to be true. Remember you are growing an eternal being and you are in it for the duration. Look at things with that attitude and today's struggles come into focus a little clearer.

I also mean you need perspective about your child's strengths and weaknesses. I know I just told you to adore you kid, but don't feed into their esteem so much that they can't recognize any faults in themselves. Help them learn the great and the not-so-great so they can become the people God created them to be.

L--Leadership. A sure way to protect your kids is to lead them well. This involves displaying patience when you want to scream, integrity when you want to fudge, strength when you want to buckle, wisdom when you don't have the answers, and grace in the face of adversity. By modeling the way things should be done, you lead your kids by example and they will often rise up to follow. Leadership is not a dictatorship or a democracy--you are the adult, act like it. Make the hard decisions, call the unpopular shots, and live out a life of character with each new situation.

E--Education. It is not the job of the school, the church, or the babysitter to teach our kids. We need to make the most of every opportunity to mold and shape our kids into people we will be proud to claim. That means using every moment to explain, challenge, disciple, and discipline our kids. Seize every chance to guide and direct their learning, whether it be academic, relational, spiritual, or emotional. We are the best teacher our child will ever have. Make the most of every moment you can grab with your son or daughter.

So, there you have it--an A.P.P.L.E. a day will keep Satan at bay. Grab some caramel sauce, an apple, and your kid, and get started today!

Grab Some Chinese Take-Out--It's National Fortune Cookie Day!

Crab Rangoon...Egg Drop Soup...General Tao's Chicken. My family has a love affair with Chinese food. Actually the kids love any kind of buffet-style dining so they can choose the things they like, which generally consist of everything yellow or beige on the slab.

The crowning moment of the meal (after they hit the self-serve ice cream cooler) is the arrival of the fortune cookies. We each grab a package, tear it open and laugh or wonder at the message inside. The fortune on his tiny paper is one of the first things Jot ever read aloud to the the rest of the family. It is a fun ending to an enjoyable time together.

Recently we each got a fortune so fitting to us personally that we could have submitted them ourselves. All ten blue eyes widened, all ten eyebrows shot to our hairlines, and all five mouths hung open, but after a moment's thought, we shook our heads and laughed. We don't leave our futures to fortune cookies, fate, or chance. No matter how accurate the fortune, we remember what God has said in Psalm 139:15-17: My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.

You were not a mistake, surprise, or unplanned blessing, regardless of what your parents said. You were carefully pieced together, planned out, created with care. Your journeys were set in motion long before you drew your first breath. God knew you, and your entire life, long before, as they say, you were even a twinkle in your daddy's eye.

So the next time you feast on Chinese, crack open that fortune cookie, have a good laugh, and thank God that your future rests securely in the hands of a loving Father, not in the proclamation of a tiny slip of paper.

Stump, Duck, Bridge

Summer is winding down and most people's minds have turned toward fall. Recently we took the camper out for one more weekend before we winterized it and put it away until after the crops are in the field next spring. We hiked, we swam, we ate s'mores by the fire, and biked the beautiful paved biking trail at the state park. But that was a little too tame for the "rules-are-made-to-be-broken" men in my life.

So just before we packed up and headed for home we set out on a bike ride. We biked the 2.6 mile trial and then decide to take a short cut back to the campsite along walking trail #5. Hubby led the way followed by Jewel. Justice wasn't along for this ride, so Jot followed his sister with me bringing up the rear. Years and years of hikers' feet had beaten the path down to a smooth dirt trail, but occasionally roots or stumps jutted up from the brown road. Periodically, branches hung down low enough for us to catch one in the eye if we weren't careful. And strewn along the lovely path were rickety wooden bridges crossing trickling clear streams. As we traveled along, Jot took on the role of my bicycle tour guide. "Stump!" he'd yell so I'd know to watch the ground. "Duck!" came the command when he thought a limb came too close for comfort. And I knew to slow down and keep it steady when he yelled "Bridge!"  Jot let me know what to expect on our bike ride. There were no sudden turns, heart-stopping surprises, or close calls because I knew what was coming.

Jot's kind protection of me reminded me that God does that for us too. He gave us the Bible so we'd know what to expect. I've heard others refer to God's word as a "road map for life" and in reality, it is just that. Now, don't go randomly opening up your Bible and see what will tell you. And don't try to divine tomorrow's lotto numbers from some secret formula. That's not what I'm talking about. Some people say the Bible is full of "dos" and "don'ts" but really it is just God yelling out to us "Stump!" or "Duck!" or "Bridge!" God is wise and He knows that oftentimes when we do A we get B. So He warns us and encourages certain behaviors because He knows the outcomes that fall from them.

God says things like: The wise don't tell everything they know, but the foolish talk too much and are ruined (Proverbs 10:14). Or like this: A beautiful woman without good sense is like a gold ring in a pig's snout (Proverbs 11:22). And like this: Peace of mind means a healthy body, but jealousy will rot your bones (Proverbs 14:30).. God doesn't say "don't talk" or "don't fall for beautiful women" or that "you will never be sick if you aren't jealous", but He gives us warnings to be on our guard against. There are countless warnings to us throughout the Bible. If you are in need of a road map for your life, start reading in the book of Proverbs and then branch out from there. Don't picture the words as coming from a grumpy old man trying to ruin your fun. Accept the truths found there as from a loving father, calling out the pot holes in the bike trail of life so you can avoid the pain and scars associated with them.

Ride on!

Labor Day Lessons

Recently a friend, who was great with child, had the following conversation with a young teen at church.

Teen: Wow! When are you due?

Friend: Actually, today is my due date.

Teen: (With horrified expression) What time?!

For all of you mommies and daddies out there, I hear you--If only it were that easy! Babies are notorious for taking there own time getting here. I'm thankful that all three of my bundles of joy arrived a little before there ETA.

The morning of Justice's arrival I knew something was up as soon as I got out of bed that morning. I warned hubby that he might want to work close to a phone that day. (That was before we had cell phones, can you imagine?) It also happened to be both New Year's Day and our fourth anniversary, so we spent the day putting around the house. That afternoon, during a nap, my water broke and we were off to the races.

Jewel made her debut slowly, like she still does in all aspects of life. Thirty-six hours of hit-and-miss contractions finally crescendoed into full-blown labor in the still-dark wee morning hours on a Sunday in July.

Jot, true to form, woke me early on a Saturday morning with contractions that weren't long enough or regular enough to send me to the hospital, but decided to wait until I had finished giving both his brother and sister a bath. There we were, crammed into the bathroom together, Justice wrapped only in a towel, Jewel poised dangling from my hands half in and half out of the tub when my water broke. As hubby finished up the last of the field work, I re-dressed myself, dressed the two kids, called for back-ups, and loaded the van. Hubby arrived just in time to drive to the hospital and Jot arrived just in time for dinner.

It is ironic that this Labor Day weekend found me sorting through baby clothes and reminiscing over "labor" days of the past. The kids are switching rooms and the closet we've always used as storage will soon be Justice's, so the baby gear has to go. It is also ironic that I made the kids help and they repeatedly told me that it was so unfair that they were made to work on Labor Day--a holiday!

But God reminded me of a truth in all my remembering--babies aren't on anybodies time schedule. They arrive when they are good and ready and at just the right time. That's the way it is with God, too. I can't count the times when God has waited right down to the wire for something to happen. The saying goes, God is rarely early, never late, but always right on time. That's been true in my life and in the lives of countless other people. Although I wish that God had a "hurry-up" button (along with the "easy" button I also wish He had), He has never let me down. He's never missed an important date, arrived just a moment too late, or failed to show up when the chips were on the table.

Just like babies, God arrives right on time, every time.

Can You Hear Me Now?

Now that school's back in session it is a lot quieter around here. No more fights over who got the Wii games out. No more blaring music pounding down the stairway. No more annoying noises just for the sake of noise.

I might turn on the TV to watch the weather, tune in the radio for a radio program, or pull up Pandora on the computer to listen to some music while I work, but for a large part of the day, there is silence. Well, until 3:12, that is, when the bus rolls to a stop at the end of the driveway.

Have you experienced the feeling of being in an uncluttered room? Maybe in an empty home you are leaving or moving in to? Maybe during a redorating or painting project when the room is cleared of furniture. It is so easy to hear any tiny sound. Nobody's going to be sneaking up on you in there!

Have you ever wondered how to hear from God? Well, the absence of my kids at home reminded me of a lesson in hearing God. Just like an empty room transmits sound so easily, a head and heart void of clutter transmits the still, small voice of God so much better. So in the midst of our noisy, crazy lives, how can we get a little piece of quiet?

1. Turn it off. If you desire to hear God, you are going to need to listen. God is a gentleman and very rarely yells to get our attention. Turn off the cell phone, iPod, TV, computer, radio--whatever is creating noise. The problem isn't really with the gadgets, but the fact that they take captive our attention.

2. Drive in silence. When you find yourself alone in the car, resist the urge to pop out the "Five Million Songs That Kids Love and Moms Loathe" CD and put in a little something more to your liking. Take a few minutes and breathe in the silence. You can spend some of the time in prayer, but don't hog the quiet. Just listen and see if God doesn't have something to say to you.

3. Turn it on. Okay, so maybe you are a person who never gets a moment's silence. I understand. I used to go to the grocery store at 10:00 pm just so I could actually go by myself. So, if that is the place you find yourself in life, don't despair. Get your iPod, a portable CD player, or just a set of ear buds. Now, download or pop in a wordless CD, or just tuck the ear buds (attached to nothing--no body will know) in your pocket. Most people won't bother someone who looks like they are listening to something. The beauty of music without words is that is lets your mind wander and your ears stay open. Keep the volume down low. This is not the time to jive, but an exercise in solitude.

The next time you want to hear from God or just find yourself in need of a little peace, give one of these tricks a try. Can you hear me now?

When Life Gives You Lemons...7 Steps for Making Lemonade

You've heard the saying: When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. It means to take a bad situation and make something positive, something good of it. If you are a parent or if you are involved in ministering to others (and parenting really is a ministry), you know that some days working with people can get ugly. Here are some tips I've found that make parenting or ministry a little less like lemons and a little more like lemonade.

For many kids, their first (and maybe only) try at entrepreneurship (is that a word?) is setting up their own lemonade stand. One year during a garage sale, my kids and a couple friends sparked and idea. The kids thought they could use the captive audience to their benefit and set to work dragging their faded yellow and orange plastic picnic table to the driveway, constructing eye-catching crayon signs, and rounding up an assortment of plastic drinking glasses. They also arranged a small cooler with Twinkles, Ho-Hos, and Ding-Dongs to arouse the attention (and thirst) of unsuspecting shoppers. The deal was, they could keep any money they made, but they couldn't stalk the customers.

They did a fair business that day, aided by the sweltering heat, their cute faces, and their stellar salesmanship. It was fairly easy work too. They didn't have to purchase any of their wares, they made the lemonade with my powdered mix and my help, and they sampled the merchandise when business was slow. But thinking back on that memory, it reminded me that both parenting and  ministry are sometimes like making lemonade. But more often than not, it is more like making lemonade from scratch. Let's look at the seven steps in making lemonade and see what each step can teach us.

Step 1: Prepare your work area and yourself. You will need to gather your supplies and ingredients. For ministry this might include questions, a Bible, a lesson, notepaper. For parenting you will need questions, answers, a Bible, life lessons, natural consequences, and lots of money. You will need to prepare yourself by washing up. This might include spending time in prayer, learning how to hold your tongue, preparing some wisdom and knowledge, gaining a humble attitude.

Step 2: Gather some ripe lemons. The number will depend on the people to whom you are ministering. In a mentoring relationship you will need one. For parenting, a handful is adequate--I'll take three, please. In larger ministry settings, you could have upwards of 30 or even a couple hundred. It is important to note that the lemons must be ripe or you will not have success with your final product. You can't hurry the process.

Step 3: Prepare the lemons. To do this, first wash the lemons. In ministry this looks like bathing those little buggers in prayer. In parenting it looks like bathing those little buggers in prayer, and in, well, soap. Sometimes a little life-style ministry is effective too. You know, just getting into people's lives. The second part of prepping the lemons is to press them on the counter so they will release the most juice. This might look like it hurts the lemons, but it is necessary for the final outcome. In both ministry and parenting, this includes setting boundaries, applying discipline, and teaching. In parenting it may also include punishment.

Step 4: Add water to your pitcher. Without the water, the lemons would be too overpowering and bitter. For both ministry and parenting, a good dousing of the Holy Spirit will give the lemons just the right balance of tartness and refreshment.

Step 5: Add sugar. The sugar is the easy part. It's like icing on the cake, gravy on the biscuit. Sugar is all the stuff that is so easy to do in both ministry and parenting. It is the fun outings, the time spent investing in a relationship, the giving of gifts, the sharing of secrets, the good days of special memories and the not-so-good days of helping someone grieve. Sugar is inside jokes and on-going traditions. The fun stuff. Be liberal with the sugar.

Step 6: Cut the lemons and squeeze their juice. This step is easier when you've already taken the time to prepare the lemons. This requires getting right to the heart of the lemon, baring their cores, and then applying pressure so they give up every ounce of good that is within them. In ministry, this is when you ask the hard questions, take them to a new level, stretch them from their comfort zones, and teach them to give of themselves until they are empty. In parenting, this is when you help you children really know who they are with all the good, the bad, and the ugly of their hearts. When you ask the hard questions, stretch them to independence, and teach them how to be others-focused. This is the most dangerous of the steps. If you are not careful, you may cut yourself. Or you run the risk of not having prepared the lemons enough in advance and they squirt you in the eye. But, ministry and parenting can be messy business, so don't back down. Press on toward your goal, adjusting as necessary.

Step 7: Stir it all together and enjoy the fruit of your labor. Your job is now complete and you can sit back and relax or start a new batch of lemonade.

I'm sure there are many more days of sun and heat left in this summer for you to get started on making some refreshing lemonade. Just remember to follow the seven steps and your chances of ending up with a great glass of lemonade are high.

Check it out!

A simple lesson for children. An eternal truth for everyone. Summed up in nineteen words.

Check out the awesome and fun-filled website Devo Kids--Christian Devotions for KIDS where you can also read my children's devotion and read my bio.

Just click here. Couldn't be any easier than that! If you are a regular reader of Lessons from the Carpool Line, you'll probably recognize the story.