Coffee CubBuster

There was a large fence separating our backyard from the next door neighbor's, and they weren't very friendly when it came to our climbing over it every five minutes in order to retrieve our kickball. My parents had to instill a "no climbing the fence rule" when I was about five years-old to maintain amicable relations. Thus, I was surprised when my sister encouraged me to climb over that same wooden barrier a few days later to get our bouncing ball back. "What do I say if mom asks me if I got it?" my undefiled voice questioned. "She won't ask you, and if she does, just lie." My big sis had already mastered this cunning craft that completely evaded me. Presumably, my mama scolded and disciplined my behind that evening after my first attempts at the art-form, (some how mothers always find out) and I don't think I've ever readily lied since that day.  I'm not sure if it's a firstborn trait or not, but my eldest child seems to be

Haul out the holly Put up the tree before my spirit falls again Fill up the stocking I may be rushing things but deck the halls again now For we need a little Christmas right this very minute Candles in the window, carols at the spinet Yes we need a little Christmas right this very minute Hasn't snowed a single flurry, but Santa dear we're in a hurry (excerpt from "We Need a Little Christmas" by Johnny Mathis) I never noticed until today that some of my favorite Christmas tunes propagandize my natural instincts to accelerate. Even though I have recently promoted the essentiality of being still and silent this time of year, I find myself always "hurrying" my kiddos to the next thing or feverishly anticipating what could occur next. It's not until our "quiet time," "nap time," or "bed time," that I breathe slower and more peacefully. Maybe that's why much of Europe shuts down mid-day in order to savor, rest and reset.

Most people either love the holidays or jump in the Grinch/Scrooge wagon for the month of December, but I think I have a equal parts love and hate for Christmas. I'm sure that sounds either negative or sacrilegious, but I think it's possible to retain both love and hate for something without it contradicting or incurring connotations. As much as I love people, I hate the ugliness that rears its head in each of us. Just as God "loves the sinner but hates the sin" I love Christmas, and I hate Christmas all the same. When I was a child, it was certainly "the most wonderful time of the year," yet having children has changed my tune a bit.  After a week at home for Thanksgiving, I understand even more how much my children (and probably all children for that matter) thrive on structure and simplicity. When there are no standardized tests, appointments, or regular routines kids begin to fall apart. Couple this with a plethora of sugary treats, too much attenti

A few days ago our neighbors had their grandchildren over to play. One was an infant clinging to his mama, the other a soft-spoken girl about five years old content staying at Nana's house, but the third, an almost nine year-old boy, was more than happy to visit our house and play all day with our crew. I was given a quick glimpse at my future, and for the rest of the day all I could think about was how thankful I was to be exactly where I am today. Thankful doesn't quite sum it up, but it's a gratitude worth remembering... Thankful there are tears from my boys eyes due to spankings instead of my tears from their separation. Thankful I have to deal with speech therapy instead of screen therapy. Thankful I have to learn potty training again instead of party training. Thankful my kids are still sweet, sincere and simple, NOT sassy, sophisticated and stressed. Thankful they don't think to compare their lives with others, yet. Thankful they are excited about t

Recently I was discussing an audio book my husband read about the human species and their evolvements over the years. After understanding insights around the agricultural revolution and juxtaposing those with my own findings in Exodus, I'm convinced our thanksgiving dinner needs more mouths. Once upon a time man ate what he had for the day; until learning to "store" our goods, we were not a slave to them. There wasn't "efficiency" in work, there was just a "days work".  As much as I love leftovers, I also see the commonalities between our excess in food and our excess in cultural life. The more we have, the more we think we need, and the less we trust we'll obtain our "daily bread" whatever that may involve. The more efficient we have become as a society, the more time we have. Yet somehow we have managed to use that extra time poorly because so many people describe their lives as "busy" or "stressed". We are f