Mom of the Year Moment – The Perfectly Timed Poop

This is Mowgli…er…my son.

Today I reached a new level of understanding as to why many of us moms wear a few extra pounds. I am currently sporting about a hefty toddler’s worth more than I did when I got married.  I knew going into this motherhood gig that things like a slowing metabolism as I age, the rigors of pregnancy, and the increased demands on my time (meaning less time and energy to exercise and eat purposefully) would be something I’d have to deal with. Add to that my Texan-bred love of queso on everything and my clear devotion to chocolate, and you know how I got this rockin’ bod.

Jesus, Labor and Delivery

Christmas is days away. Our nativity is up, and my children are playing with the figurines of Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus. Labor and delivery is on my mind, not only because of the Christmas story, but also because three of my friends have had their sweet babies in the past three weeks. Each of their stories is different. One had to be induced early due to a medical condition. One had her little nugget past her due date with no pain meds. The third has yet to give me the details of her birth story. All of them, however, now have cute little potatoes (which is what I think all newborns look like) wrapped up in swaddle blankets and topped off with knit caps.

There is something profound about having a baby around Christmas time. I had my son weeks before Christmas three years ago, and I remember processing that Jesus, the Word, the second person of the Trinity, the One by whom and through whom and to whom all things were made, humbled himself to go through the birthing process.

Just Between Us Moms

Not just “Littles.” Eternal souls.

This weekend, I had the privilege of attending a baby shower for my sweet friend Kristin. She’s awaiting baby #3, so it was more like a “sprinkle” than a shower, but the women in her life wanted to show her how much we are anticipating this next stage of motherhood for her. I was asked to reread the letter I wrote for another friend’s first baby shower, and though I did keep some elements the same, I prayed through what this letter should be, and the Lord laid on my heart some different thoughts. I wanted to share in hopes of encouraging any moms out there who are in the thick of wonderful, glorious, messy, sanctifying motherhood at all stages!

Dear Kristin,

You are loved.

You are LOVED.

Yes, you are loved by many of us here on earth, but most importantly, you are loved by Jesus. He loves you in all your functions. Jesus loves you when you function as a mom. Jesus loves you when you function as a wife. Jesus loves you when you are a friend. He loves you when you are a daughter. Most importantly, Jesus loves you as just you.

Worship and Tears

Hello. My name is Erica, and I am an emotional person. I don’t vehemently swing from extremes too often, but I frequently react to circumstances and people emotionally.

My particular emotional reaction usually manifests itself as tears. I cry when I’m happy. I cry when I’m sad. I cry when I’m mad. I cry when I see something poignant (Humane Society Commercials, anyone??) And I don’t just shed a tear or two. My eyes swell up, my face gets blotchy, I snot everywhere and I can only croak out words.

The older I get, the more quickly the emotions rise to the surface. I’d like to think that this is because as I age and mature, I see and understand things more clearly. What once went right over my head as far as its significance or its ramifications or its depth now makes an impact on my heart. My emotional moments often catch me by surprise, too. I don’t have this seething pool of frustration or angst simmering below my smooth exterior. My emotions are more like a geyser. One minute, I’m totally calm. The next, something triggers “all the feels” and I’m spewing forth emotion like Old Faithful.

Anybody Feel me on This?

 It has been one of those days where I’m thankful for legal stimulants. I woke up thinking about taking a nap. While I was driving all over town dragging my kids from one errand to the next, I daydreamed about taking a nap. It wasn’t until I’d stopped by a new local coffee joint (check out “Sure Shot Coffee” in Fishers if you’re a local) and consumed an entire mocha that the fog cleared and I was able to act like a normal human being. So this week’s art journal tribute is to coffee and all that it does for society. Long live coffee.

Art Journal Journey

It’s been almost a year since I started this blog, and although I was not able to crank out an entry every single week, I have loved the challenge of writing regularly. Thank you to those of you who have followed my posts. For this next year, I wanted to morph the creative challenge to doing an art journal. One entry for every week of the year.

For those who are unfamiliar with art journals, it’s pretty straight-forward. Get a journal and be artistic with it. You don’t have to be a trained artist. You can fill it with words, colors, textures, scraps, and thoughts. I want to use my art journal to re-sharpen my inner artist. Adulthood can do a lot to squeeze out creative juices if we let it happen.

As I stretch my art muscles, I’ll be posting some of my pieces here on this blog. I also plan on continuing “regular type” pieces here, too. (Teen Girl Squad, anyone?: “That’s whack!” “Wiggidy whack?” “No, just regular type.”)

Here’s my piece from week 1:

Fo Yo Tastebuds!

That is not my spatula. I’ll get it back to you someday, Bonnie!

I’ll get straight to the point. I made something tasty tonight, and I want to share the recipe with you. Forget long stories that give context to the recipe. All you need to know is that it works great as a topping for grilled chicken or as a stand-alone side dish. It all depends on how tiny you chop the pieces.

Cranberry Sweet Potato Apple Chutney Stuff

2 sweet potatoes, cubed (however big you want)
3 small apples cored and cubed (again, whatever size)1/2 yellow onion chopped
1/2 cup of dried cranberries
coconut oil (as much as you darn well please)
salt, pepper and thyme to taste

Get your coconut oil singing on a skillet (medium heat). Add the cubed sweet potatoes and

I just wanna shove it in my mouth.

stir them until coated with coconut oil. Then sprinkle with salt, pepper and thyme. Allow the potatoes to cook a bit before adding the rest of the ingredients. I like to turn up the heat for a bit and let them get a little toasted on one side. Wait 5 – 7 minutes depending on the size of your sweet potato cubes, and then dump in the rest of the ingredients. Let all ingredients bathe in the gloriously hot coconut oil until they look tender. Watch out, though, because my pan spit hot oil on me a few times tonight. I think it was ticked at me for burning egg on it at breakfast. Saucy skillets. Can’t live with ’em, can’t live without ’em.

EAT IT!!!

Teach Me to Use the Hours

Fancy Nancy scavenger hunt with Tweedle-Dramatic.

I’ve officially been a stay-at-home mom for one year.

It’s crazy how swiftly 360 days have flown by. I’ve had a whole year to do days at the splash park, trips to the pumpkin patch, reading time at 10am, puzzles, gardening, Christmas shopping, preschool workbooks, afternoon wrestling, and more.

I’ve learned a lot, too. One of those things is that this IS a job. A full-time job that requires every ounce of love, patience, management skills, creativity, and chutzpah that the Lord gives me through his grace. It’s been invaluable to me to talk with other stay-at-home moms about how they manage their homes and do their days, and I’ve had a few ask me about my weekly planning strategies (sounds so official, doesn’t it?).

So I wanted to share how I approach my week as a mom of a toddler and a pre-schooler.

Saying Goodbye to Belwop

Spending time with the kids on Veronica’s front steps

It’s my last day at Belwop – in three hours, our team will pile into a matatu (the kind of van where the top raises for safari tours) and drive three hours south to Nairobi.

The clamor of the airport will replace the sounds of Belwop – the children laughing outside our guest house, the call of the disoriented rooster (his favorite time to crow is between midnight and three o’clock in the morning), and onions grilling on a nearby jiko (an open fire propane grill that, if transferred to America, would bring on a lawsuit faster than you can say “burn risk”).

To Worship Together

There is nothing quite like the sound of children’s voices singing.

This morning, our team had church service with the family here at Belwop. What a wonderful reminder that though nothing is wrong with the trappings and gadgets we use to do “church service” in America, we don’t need any of it to worship the Lord as a community of believers.

All morning, I could hear voices around the property telling each other, “We are doing church service soon,” or “I think we will start church service at ten o’clock.” At around 10:15, children began trickling into the gathering room inside the little ones’ dorm. At 10:20, some of the older girls stood up and asked one of us to pray, and then they launched into a medley of songs complete with clapping and jumping and dancing. The melodies were woven together by strong, young voices, and the words were a harmony of Swahili, English, and maybe a bit of Kukuyu (the tribal language in this area).

After our singing, Veronica read from 1 Kings 17:7 – 16 and exhorted her children to remember that this God who is able to supply oil and flour in the midst of drought to the widow at Zarephath is the same God who has supplied, and will supply, their needs here at Belwop. He is a faithful God who is not bound by human parameters. She also encouraged those of us visiting that we also serve this God whose resources are unending and who will remain faithful to his purposes.

Immediately after that, she called for “presentations,” where each child had a chance to stand up and share a song or a verse or a testimony of something they had seen God do for them recently. Even the little ones stood up and sang a song of praise in their sweet voices.

We ended with a prayer of thanks.

No one arrived “on time.” There was no sermon outline. There were no instruments. There were no microphones, lights, projectors, words to the songs, or bulletins. It was a sweet offering to God – a time to remember his faithfulness and respond to Him.

I am not saying their church service is a better offering than ours. Different cultures and different contexts make for different methods of coming together. But true worship, both in Kenya and America, is worship in spirit and truth. It is a time to focus on and respond to God. And it was a good reminder to me that He is in charge and will receive worship from every tribe, tongue, and nation. And He doesn’t need it to look any certain way. As long as it is focusing on and responding to Him.

I am thankful that our God is knowable. I am thankful that he made a way for our worship of him to be acceptable. I am thankful that he has revealed himself through his Son, Jesus, and through his word. I am thankful that I had the chance to worship with my Kenyan brothers and sisters today.

Until later!