Two Dollars

Tom needed to go.  It was a Sunday morning when he was responsible for picking out songs for the Worship Team and on those Sundays, he needs to be at church a half of an hour before the rest of us.  Typically, he handles writing a check for our offering (which is interesting, because it is the only check he writes).  On this morning, he was running late, so I told him I would take care of bringing the offering.

I looked back in the check register to see how much the previous weeks offering check was for, that way I could be consistent.  I found the entry and thought, huh, that seems like more than normal.  I looked back one more week and again thought, huh...... This amount went back for a month of Sundays (no pun intended).  I decided to take the checkbook to church with me, that way I could make sure I was giving the "right" amount.  I sat down next to my husband and quietly asked him if he realized that for the last 4 weeks he had given more than double what we normally tithe.  He looked at me, almost disgusted and said "I give what we can afford, yes, I know what I have written the checks out for"......I was convicted.  I had implied that he gave away too much of "our" money; I was ashamed of myself.  Not only is Tom generous, but when he gives, he is very purposeful and thoughtful in designating where/how he wants our offerings allocated. 

Flash forward to this past Sunday.  Another crazy Sunday morning when I was, with a slightly raised voice,  asking my children to kick it in gear, get their shoes on, grab what they need and finish that last drop of beverage in their cups.  Luke, who is my consummate dawdler, ran upstairs.  This is one of his infamous moves, "Luke, are you ready?"  to which he replies "yes" and then a minute later has realized that he doesn't have what he wants and then must run upstairs to retrieve it.....ugh, I find this so frustrating.  Anyway, this is what he did.  My response was to remind him, loudly, that he should have had everything ready.  I asked him what he was getting......"my wallet".  What? Why do you need your wallet?  We are just going to church, their is nothing there to buy....said very sarcastically.  Silence from Luke, then "mom, I know, I want to take my own money to give toward the children's offering".....Another mommy fail for me....Tucking my tail I told him that was great.

Putting his wallet in his pocket, Tom asked him how much he planned to give.  Luke said "two dollars dad".  Tom then asked him how much he had.  Luke said he had ten dollars.  My husband then explained that 10% , or one dollar would be a generous donation and that he did not have to give two dollars.  Luke thought about it and said "thanks dad, but I am still going to give two dollars".

During the offering portion of our service, the children go to the front and put their money in a big jar.  That money goes toward humanitarian projects. One year it went toward a clean water project, one year it purchased live stock for a family, you get the idea.  Luke proudly got his two dollars out and walked that money to the front.  He returned to his seat, leaned against me and just smiled.  He had just experienced the joy of giving from the heart.  Not out of obligation, or because it was required, but out of a desire to be generous with what he had....He was his father.

My eight year old has renewed  my spirit on the gift of giving and I give his father the credit for that.  Being mentored by your child is a humbling, yet proud experience.  

...Meanwhile on the other side of me sat my daughter who returned to her seat with some of her money still in hand....Um, why didn't you put that money in the jar Cora?  ..."mommy, it is so shiny, I just wanted to keep the shiny ones, I put all the others in"..... One child at a time I guess.

Memories on a mower

My husband takes care of the mowing at our house. Not because I don't want to or because I don't know how. It is just something he does.  But this mowing season has crept up on us (him) and between lack of time and uncooperative weather, our acre of land was knee deep with dandelion. Our neighbors pretended they didn't mind.  It was time for me to help, time for Tom to trust me not to run over rocks and show me how to use this mower.

Friday morning was perfect. So, being self employed I declared the day off from office work and hopped on the mower. Well, first I had to listen to a tutorial on how to operate the mower and then I was off and mowing...."yes, I'm sure I understand, I got this, go get your work done..." 

As I mowed I started thinking of my youth and all the time I spent mowing in the summer. My brother and I mowed 13 of the 20 acres we lived on...it was a project...that never ended!  As I thought of my youth I thought of the man that taught me how to mow (and so many other things), my dad. He has been gone for 4 1/2 years, but he lives in my memories.  And on this warm day in may, some of his lessons were flooding my mind. 

My mowing memories included my dads need for me to be mechanical. If I was even remotely mechanical, I would have a skill that would aid in my independence.  To his credit, I am moderately mechanical.  I can figure out how to operate equipment, tools and yes even mowers.  I have helped friends change flat tires in the pitch dark and used jumper cables to start dead cars.  

He taught me that there is a time to get dirty and a time to be "pretty".  He taught me how to work hard and that being a "girl" didn't excuse you from it.  He told me I was beautiful and made me realize that I didn't need a man to complete me.  He told me I was a prize and should be treasured and followed that up with date nights to show me how I deserve to be treated.  He treated my mom like his queen, teaching me that words should correlate with actions. He praised me when I succeeded and then challenged me to reach even higher. He made me a confident woman.  He insisted on meeting every man who wanted to date me and let those men know my importance to him.  He taught me how to dance by first standing on the tops of his feet.....he bragged to people about me whether they wanted to hear it or not. 

When first married, my car broke down on the way to work one morning. Instinctively,  I called my dad...he told me to call my husband: )...he taught me how to let go and move forward in life. 

Remembering these lessons reminds me of the things I need to be teaching my children and makes me grateful for the parent my dad was to me.  ....it's time for my kids to learn how to mow. 

Holiday Hangover

The day after Christmas my mom would get the itch to start putting away the Christmas decorations.  I never understood what the rush was.  We had spent so much time (most years) getting everything Christmas related out of the attic only to be so ready to clean it up and drag it back up there......

Flash forward - I get it!  The day after Christmas this year I found myself collecting  and putting away the misc. Christmas decorations that were strewn throughout our house.  In fact, I boxed up a bunch of said decorations and dropped them off at the local thrift store.  I was over it.  We love the baby Jesus, but it was time for him to go back in his box (I mean no disrespect).

Christmas is great, I am the first to admit that I love the Christmas holiday.  I am confident that I get it honestly as my parents loved the holiday too. Cora said to me early in the season that Christmas time gives her a feeling of butterflies in her stomach...yes, that is how I used to feel too.  She told me she was so excited she could hardly stand it....yes, that is how I used to feel too.  (I still enjoy watered down versions of these feelings)  But, after many weeks of preparation followed by 2 children and 1 husband off of school and work for a week and a half, I am over the structureless, party-filled, sleeping in, never getting out of our pajama days.  I had/have a holiday hangover.

Two days after Christmas, everything in our house became fair game; I was collecting, boxing and giving away.  Closets were being cleaned, kids rooms were thinned, kitchen cupboards were de-cluttered, clothes were given away....my kids are lucky they made the cut.

Our Christmas Tree still stands, but it's days are limited.  It will be de-decorated in the next day or two.

Christmas break reminds me that yes Virginia, I am a type A personality.  I am structured and organized and I like a schedule. 

And with that schedule I vow to return to my commitment to journal through blogging - Thank you Emily Stott Patterson for reminding me.  I am back in the game : )

Happy New Year!