Mommy a pwincess 1

It is too late at night! Another one of those late nights, lying in bed, waiting for my thoughts to slow down. I do not often get a good night sleep on Saturday nights. All of the sugar from Sabbath fellowship goes through my veins and keeps my mind racing and my heart pumping. I guess I will take advantage of the energy and share a testimony, as I said before, I have many.

10 years ago my husband interviewed for a youth pastor position at a conservative Anabaptist church. I live in Northern Indiana and there is a pretty large community of Anabaptist; Mennonites, Amish, ect. This particular church, the church of the Brethren, came out of Germany around the same time as the Mennonites and settled in Pennsylvania. There are a few distinctives in Anabaptist believers. For the most part, we are pacifist, we try to live simple lives, we are less evangelical and the outward appearance is pretty important, not in a vain way but in a pious way. One of the most obvious forms of our outward expression comes right out of 1 Corinthians 11, a little hat that the ladies and sometimes children, wear on their head.

The Amish have been very good about trying to stay true to there pious garb and for the most part they set themselves apart from the rest of the world. The Mennonites and the Brethren have gone much more main stream and have become more liberal in their thinking. Many  ladies  have thrown out their dark shapeless dresses for fashion and have tossed there little hats, or coverings, for short goofy haircuts. This was done to appeal more to the masses, in hopes that they might grow.  Also, because they were tired of living under the thumbs of the men in  churches. We found the Church of the Brethren through a very liberal church and only saw the head coverings come out a couple times a year at communion. But in the church Larry interviewed, they wore them every meeting.

It was different that this new church wore a covering but I guess it was Biblical. I was trying very hard to follow the Bible, I knew very little but I knew if the Bible said so and theologians agreed, I needed to do whatever it took to be a good Christian. I have always been strong willed and I told my husband that I wasn't sure about those silly things. I also told him there was no way I was wearing one just so he could get a job. I would really have to pray and read and feel lead that it truly was scripture and not just a tradition.

So I prayed and read in my immaturity.  I felt that it was truth and that it needed to be done. It was a good thing I came to that conclusion because Larry was offered the job.  Now it would be expected of me. In the mean time, we still had about 3 months in the current church he was serving. This church did not practice the covering, in fact, there were some that were very much against wearing it. They had seen many woman oppressed and abused in the name of the covering. They must submit, it is all about submission right?......no, but I'll speak to that later.

So what do I do in this three month transition period? It was December when I had the revelation to wear covering. I did what any "mature" Bible believer would do... I decided to make it my News Years Resolution to wear my head covering every Sunday morning. No matter what church I was attending.  I'm pretty sure that is how it was commanded in the Bible.  Don't worry about the rest of the week when you are not around church people, wear your covering every Sunday morning.  1 Hypocrite 1:1  

I was pretty close with the kids in the youth group at the church, I told them my conviction and told them that no matter what, come January first, I would start this practice of covering my head. Well the first Sunday in January came, then the second. One of the young girls, to whom I shared my conviction, asked me in a meeting why I wasn't wearing my covering.  I told her that I chickend out, I was afraid of the reaction I would get from the others at church.

Do you know what this 17 year old girls loving response to me was? .....let me see if I can remember all of what she said.  It went something like this.....BOOOOOOOO!! She booed me, not because she believed in the head covering but because I did not follow through with a conviction, even after making it known to others. She was so right, I love that girl.

This blog could go on forever, and it just may. I have so much to say on this topic....

to be continued...

Everyday is the first day of the rest of my life...

It is 10:30 Friday morning, and I really should start preparing for Sabbath. Everyone in the family gets excited about the Sabbath, even the baby. Sunset was one of his first phrases. Everything will stop in the Rice home about 6:30 this evening. I only have a few hours to get this place clean, cook a turkey, and make some challah. 
But....

I had to stop this A.M. and put some thoughts down.

Last evening my husband had the last of many meetings. Five years ago the meetings started, and Larry has been singled out for one reason or another. He has been put in the position to defend his beliefs and his God to, who else, other "believers."  My mind spins and my heart aches for so many reasons. How could a pastor and mentor hatefully slander someone he once called brother? How could a district of churches, who desperately need young people, and who just as desperately, need educated pastors, turn down a young zealous man with a large young family? A man who, while working a professional job, pastoring a small church, and totally renovating a house, graduated cum laude with 2 masters degrees? I just don't understand....

What does YHWH say about this:

Barbra, who are you to question My motives? who are you to second guess My plan? Do you think you could do a better job with your life than your Creator? Who are you....you are My child. I wove you together in your mother's womb. I know your thoughts before you speak them. Stop wiggling and fighting in My arms and calm down, trust Me. I've got you and as long as you will let me, I will carry you through this.  Rest peacefully in my loving arms.  My sweet child, you don't have to understand, just trust.  Oh..... and my arms are big enough to cradle your faithful husband too.  He knows this, that is why he is at peace. Now, get the house together so that you can enjoy my gift to you, my Sabbath.  I look forward to being with your family this evening' and I will give you the strength to get your work done today. You know that' sweetie? I love you so. Get going....it isn't Sabbath yet.

Well, it is 4:30am, and the house is really quiet. I made sure I shut the door to our bedroom so that the sound of my typing wouldn’t wake anyone.

I was awakened by my little dog,and his long nails lighting tapping on the floor.   It is the faintest sound, but in the middle of the night, it might as well be a gong. I wake up with him almost every night.  If I let the tapping go I‘m sure to find a puddle in the morning. Sometimes I feel like I have a baby again.

It is no good that I am up this early. I used up my last bit of coffee yesterday so I don't know how I am going to function come 10:30am. Maybe I could scrounge up a dollar and take my kids to play a McDonalds. I have a friend I could call.  Maybe she could meet me there, and we could spend the morning sipping coffee and chatting about our woes.

I will likely sit there by myself, staring at the people. I'll watch the workers behind the counter franticly filling orders. I'll watch the older lady that wipes down the tables and straightens the ketchup and sugar. I'll watch the old man with his coffee and biscuit reading the paper. I'll wonder about him. Is he lonely? Does he go to McDonalds for company , to get away, or to get his fill of coffee so that he can have the strength at 11:30am to stop the two year old from shoving toilet paper in the toilet.

I just heard a yelp from the back room. Mom! My typing has woke someone up...maybe I should come back to this later and for now go watch some infomercials...

Well, it is a few days later and I was able to get together $2.00. Enough for coffee and cookies, one for each child. The children happily played with the others in the playground, mostly toddlers, any older ones would have been in school.

I was surprised at how packed the place was at 11:00am. There wasn't just one old man sipping his coffee.  There were 15.  You could tell they met there regularly. Some of them had their wives along. They all seemed happy, and it was a blessing to watch them laugh.

I took my Bible with me. I do that often, take my Bible thinking I will read it while the children play. But the fact is thatI never open it. I am way too interested in what everyone else is doing. It is impossible for me to tune out a crowd of people to read, or do anything. I secretly want to be part of their lives. I want to know how they live.  I want to know if they are married, or what job their husbands have. Surely, they would have to have pretty good jobs for all of the children to get a happy meal.

I feel so blessed that I have four beautiful and smart children. I feel doubly blessed, no matter the price, to be able to stay with them all day.

Sometimes I feel sad that our parents miss out on all of the amazing things they do. Amazing things like Mati trying so hard to eat with chopsticks, or Eli telling one of his incredibly creative stories. I guess I just need to come to the reality that even though I want the world to think my children are amazing and to see them grow, maybe God has given that just for me and Larry to cherish.

If I could save time in a bottle there would never be enough space to hoard all of the memorable moments, and I'm only a third of the way through my life.

I have many sorrows and regrets, but they are totally overshadowed by the snapshots of joy that define my family.

Oh, God.......... thanks.

Poems from my family

. 
A poem from Eli:

I like my belly, belly.
I like it really well.
I like my belly, belly.
It makes me look swell.


A poem from Wynnie:

Yeshua, Yeshua
Yeshua is king.
Yeshua, Yeshua
King of everything!


A poem from Lily to Wynnie, written last year for her birthday.

Tomorrow is Wynnie's birthday. I hate to brag, but it is true.
I can't wait. How about you?

We will probably have cake and ice cream.
I hope I can get her a present.
Maybe some made many,
But I don't know how much I will get her because, I only have a penny.

Her favorite toy is littlest pet shop. There are dogs and cats,
Some even have hats.

Canaan is Wynnies favorite game. Canaan comes from the Bible.
She wins almost every time.
It is her favorite game, but I know it's not mine.

Wynnie is the best sister,
I could never have one like her.
I thank God every night for giving me a sister like her.

Happy Birthday Wynnie, love Lily.


A poem from Larry. This was written before we had children and before we knew the truth about secular holidays. (Although, I'm pretty sure St. Patrick kept the Sabbath.)

Barbra

When the sun is darkened, and the moon turns red,

then shall we see Jesus, coming overhead.

We shall stand together, if it be our Lords will,

listening to the trumpet sound, as we be still.

Then being changed, in the twinkling of an eye,

going hand in hand, to meet Him in the sky.

Finally, shall we stand, before His glorious face,

forever to behold, His true mercy and grace.

For now we pray, that our children, be there too,

waiting to hear them say, "Jesus, I love you."

Oh, how I long to be called from above,

For then I shall give thee, a more perfect love.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day

Love forever, Larry

My husband is a hospice chaplain. I hate to acknowledge this, but he is gifted in giving compassionate and beautiful funeral services. I've been there to hear him speak at many. His words certainly have a way of comforting the family. He is perfectly suited for the job God has given him. Perfectly....except, that the job drains him so. As an introvert he is totally exhausted by comforting others all day long. I feel like the children and I are the only ones who think to comfort him. That is, after we have asked him to meet all of our needs.

Larry's family has been gifted with poetry. My children must have a little bit of that gift. I am useless at writing poems. Poetry is something I think is kind of....magical. People like Larry and others I know that can effortlessly write a poem are a marvel to me.

I know that poetry is not a gift God has given me. I am totally ok with that. I don't have to write poems, just appreciate them

My Symphony by William Henry Channing

Lily came home today with Homework. Her assignment was to pick out a book at home that she liked and take it to school to read to some kindergarten children. I have quite a few children’s books, but because I didn't read much to Lily as a baby, she couldn't pick which one was her favorite.

As we thumbed through the bookshelf I came across a lovely book illustrated by Mary Engelbreit. M. E. is my mothers favorite artist. "Lily, Grandma gave you this book when you were born. I used to read this one to you."  Lily looked at the book, read the inscription, and said  "Mom, this isn't my book."  "What!" I said.  I grabbed the book from her and this is what the inscription read:

To Barbra,
I love you so very much. As you read this book, let it be your symphony to share with your children.
Love, Mom Dec. 1998

This was a timely find. The other day I told my mother that she had never written anything nice to me, I guess I was wrong.

Here is the poem:

To live content with small means;

To seek elegance rather than luxury,

and refinement rather than fashion;

To be worthy, not respectable;

and wealthy, not rich;

To study hard,

Think quietly,

Talk gently,

Act frankly;

To listen to stars and birds,

To babes and sages, with an open heart,

To bear all cheerfully,

Do all bravely,

Await occasions,

Hurry never.

...To let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious,

Grow up through the common.

This is to be my symphony.

Thanks Mom, I love you.