A Poem for My Man

15 Tuesday Sep 2015

Posted by Lauren Scott in Home and Family

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I think this is the first acrostic poem I’ve ever done. I wanted to write something for Nathaniel for our anniversary, so I did.

Nathaniel,

Now looking back on eight years past

Amidst life’s joys and tears we’ve cast

Together our cares on Him;

Here we stand despite the storms we’ve seen

Aware of one indisputable thing:

Nothing we are in ourselves.

Intertwining of souls, sharing life’s greatest treasures

Every joy a picture of that Delight beyond measure

Let us continually seek Him together,

Nathaniel.

Called to Unlikely Service

06 Thursday Aug 2015

Posted by Lauren Scott in Home and Family, Living Faith

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Cancer, Ecclesiastes, Embracing Obscurity, Man's Best Friend, Servanthood, Service, Who is my neighbor?

Most of the time we think God must call us to serve Him in ways that are consistent with the gifts and interests He’s given us. Take for example, say, a church bulletin board on which are posted numerous opportunities for service within the local body. If I were perusing the options listed, I’d probably consider signing up for teaching a ladies’ bible study, or washing the linens after church events, or making meals for those who are sick or who have just had babies. Those are right up my alley. I can outline a passage of scripture in order to teach it. I do laundry all the time, so what’s another load or two? And sharing good food with others brings me joy. You could call it my love language.

They all seem like reasonable options.

But sometimes we don’t get the luxury of a sign-up sheet. Sometimes the “call” to service isn’t a check-off list in which we get to choose our most preferred ministry style. Sometimes it’s chosen for us. Sometimes it’s just dumped into our laps. Sometimes what we feel called to do is not the same as what God is indeed calling us to right this very moment.

Such has been the case the past few weeks and months.

Confession: Neither my husband nor I are dog people. We like animals alright, and see the need for them to be sweetly cared for—but not by us. We aren’t so much into pets.

But about four months ago, our neighbor Carolyn found out that her husband George had cancer. Brain and lung cancer. And these neighbors, these friends of ours, have two little dogs that mean the world to them.

When I think of friends dealing with cancer, the first things I’m willing to sign up for are to pray for them, bring them meals, and offer to clean for them. While those things are certainly appreciated, what was the first thing we were actually asked to do?

Train their dogs to stay in their yard. Help bury the wire for the invisible-fence-and-collar system to keep the little pooches from getting out again.

Our neighbors were too busy with doctor’s visits, cancer-induced vomiting and headaches, brain surgery, radiation, and dealing with the myriad physical and emotional effects of being in the throes of an ongoing battle against cancer to do it themselves. So, Nathaniel and I, who had no experience training dogs, found ourselves being made useful to the Lord in an area in which we felt woefully under-prepared. To be sure, it was a good experience for us and for our boys to learn about caring for and training dogs. The boys loved it! But it was awkward feeling so under-qualified and knowing that surely there are other people out there who could do a much better job…

Eventually the situation with the dogs was solved, and our less-than-competent services were no longer needed. Praise the Lord He made good of it despite us.

Then there was good news. George’s cancer had all but disappeared! The treatments seemed to be working! He was going for walks around the neighborhood with Carolyn, and even mowing the lawn on his riding lawnmower. We praised the Lord!

But then there was a heart attack. And then pneumonia, which seemed to take him down harder than the cancer had.

And about three weeks ago, the vomiting and severe headaches returned. Something was wrong.

For about a week there was quiet suffering at home as George didn’t want to eat anything because of all the nausea and pain. On a Friday two weeks ago, they went in for a routine check-up with the oncologist at a hospital about an hour away. They haven’t been home since.

George’s cancer had spread to his neck. He had become so weak that he needed to be admitted to the hospital immediately. I got a call that day. It was Carolyn asking me if I could take care of the dogs for a few days. I’d go over to their house a couple times a day to feed and care for the dogs. It was a pleasant enough task, aside from the reminder of George’s failing health every time I entered their empty house.

That week things were very up and down for our friends in the hospital. I suppose you could say they were very up and down in our home, as well. Nathaniel had just arrived home on Sunday from a long business trip, and while we were thrilled to have him home, we had no choice but to welcome him into a gastrointestinal house of horrors. So for several days, I was wiping up puke and diarrhea off of the floor at home and then going over to another house to wipe pee off the floor when the dogs had an accident (which thankfully was only twice). Nathaniel and I didn’t get much sleep at night because the boys were having their issues two or three times a night.

It was at this moment that I had to laugh. I had just been reading a book called Embracing Obscurity, which examines the call of Christ to be lowly servants for His glory rather than seeking to build our own kingdoms of “ministry” for our own glory. It’s been a great read, quite challenging, and here I was seeing the “practical application” of what I was learning. Thanks for the object lesson, Lord! You washed the dirty feet of sinners. This is totally fitting work for one of Your followers. I get it.

The stomach virus finally left us alone and we had a beautiful Saturday working together as a family around the house, taking care of the dogs over at their house, and celebrating our oldest son’s birthday at the lake. But that night we received a distressing text from Carolyn. She wanted us to take the dogs into our home—she didn’t think they were safe at her house.

This was a bit confusing, and the next morning we called her to clarify. There was indeed a situation, so after deliberating (which included me listing all the reasons why it would be a bad idea, and then recognizing those reasons were rather selfish), we said we’d do it.

I mentioned before that we are not “dog people”. What I didn’t mention is that we had both long decided that if we ever were to have a dog, it would most definitely be an outside dog. Our neighbors’ dogs were very decidedly inside dogs. The irony here couldn’t be missed. God was taking one of the few things on our “never” list and asking us to move it to our “whatever you need” list. This was more than just “Come over and help with the dogs and then go back to the relative peace of your own home.” This was invading our space.

I remember when we were deliberating, Nathaniel said something quite insightful: “If we do this, it clearly won’t be for us. It will be out of service to them.” We’ve often talked with our children about the fact that merely helping others when you want to isn’t so helpful. It’s far greater to meet a real need when it arises. Here was our opportunity to practice what we preached. Yet again, we were being called to something that was a rather unlikely service for us. It didn’t fit. There were surely other people who could more easily have taken these dogs into their homes. But here we were—evidence that God doesn’t call the wise or powerful, or even the qualified. He stretches us beyond ourselves and qualifies us for the task by His grace.

So what was our first order of business as doggy foster parents? Well, it was a Sunday morning, so we took them to church! Being a part of a home church has its perks. 😉 And starting out with the dogs in someone else’s home (another dog-owner’s home, to be precise) seemed to ease the transition for us. The dogs were very well behaved, and our church family loved on them and prayed for our neighbors.

The past week has been challenging as I wake up to little ankle-biters that demand my attention more loudly and persistently than do my preschooler and kindergartener. The invasion of my space, and particularly when that space would normally be quiet, has been a kind of static interference in my days. While our sleep was interrupted last week with sick children, it has been interrupted this week by sad puppies who miss their people. Still, I’ve kind of gotten used to it. And we couldn’t have asked for sweeter, cuter, or better behaved dogs. Really, all things considered, caring for them in our home has been quite easy. It’s the caring about our neighbors that has been the hardest.

I finally heard this morning that George has only days to live at this point. We hope to visit him in the hospital before he dies.

There is indeed a time for everything. A time for rejoicing and a time for mourning. A time for serving with our strengths and a time for serving despite our lack of the same. A time for fighting for your life and a time for saying goodbye when your Heavenly Father calls you home.

God is good.

Please pray with us for our friends.

Many Christians estimate difficulties in the light of their own resources, and thus attempt little and often fail in the little they attempt. All God’s giants have been weak men who did great things for God because they reckoned on His power and presence with them.

~Hudson Taylor

A Time for Everything

20 Monday Apr 2015

Posted by Lauren Scott in Home and Family, Living Faith

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Tags

childbirth, devotional, Ecclesiastes, seasons, Who is my neighbor?

As I type I am anxiously awaiting a phone call. A sweet friend of mine is expecting her firstborn son. Her due date has passed, and her usually intermittent contractions have been intensifying today. I have the incredible privilege of being on the “first-call” list, even (hopefully) getting to play a support role in the birthing process.

You’d think I was in the earliest stages of labor. My anticipation and excitement is through the roof, I’ve been busy today trying to focus on the ordinary things that need to be done (like laundry, the dishes, schooling, and food prep) while also scrambling to make sure my bag is packed for the hospital—with personal items I may need, lotions and massage therapy tools that may be useful during labor, snacks, a Bible, my journal, a notebook for keeping track of labor’s progress and hopefully soon baby’s stats.

Bags packed, I finally got a text saying they were in town walking to encourage things to move along a bit more quickly (apparently the going has been slow). Sigh. Ok. Not needed yet. Hang in there, Lauren. Don’t get too excited. This could still go on for a couple of days. Just move on with your day and be ready whenever the call comes.

It’s a beautiful day, so I decided to walk down our long drive way to check the mail. The boys were in bed for nap time, and I usually like to step outside at this time of day for some fresh air. The grass and ivy, ferns and flowers, trees and bushes are all so lush and bright with color. Spring is a beautiful time of year, reminding us of God’s promise of new life. What a wonderful time of year to have a baby!

As I walked down the driveway I saw that the large trashcan was at the curb. Yes, the trash truck had been by and now the can was empty. I’ll get to pull that back up to the house, I thought. It wasn’t a hard job, but something about the slight physical exertion required sounded perfect to me right now. It would give me an opportunity to exert some of my pent-up energy. As I drew closer to the mailbox and the dumpster, I took a look down the road to our next door neighbors’ house. We had collected their trash in our can so that we could help them out during the difficult time of trial they’re facing.

It suddenly struck me that I could be celebrating the birth of a precious newborn and comforting a grieving widow this week. I do not know what the future holds exactly, of course, but it is a possibility. Our next-door neighbor, George, was recently diagnosed with both lung and brain cancer. About a week and a half ago, his wife Carolyn had to drive him to the ER as he suffered a heart attack. Just this past Saturday, when we stopped by to check on them, we found out they had just returned home from an overnight visit to the hospital—the cancer in George’s lungs had metastasized and began causing internal bleeding that had to be dealt with immediately. Carolyn is weary but hopeful that the Lord will deliver them from this trial. Our prayer is that we can be a blessing to them, that the Lord would intervene on George’s behalf, and that most of all they would hope in the Lord no matter what happens.

And so I walked back up to the house, mail in one hand and the handle of the trashcan in the other, remembering how, about six years ago, and about this same time of year, Nathaniel and I felt many of these same emotions. We lived next-door to a woman named Evelyn. At about the same time I gained a husband, she had lost hers. And with her husband, she had lost the will to go on. I visited her from time to time. We’d sit and have a snack and talk, or I’d sit with her while she watched TV. It was a very hard decision for both her and her daughter when they finally sold the house she had shared for decades with her husband and moved her into a nursing home, but one bad fall when Evelyn was home by herself sealed that fate. I continued to visit her in her new home—and Nathaniel and I were glad to share the news with her—we were expecting our firstborn son. I had hoped Evelyn would get to meet him, but we told her goodbye in the nursing home a couple of months before he was born. Life and death. Rejoicing and grieving. I remember how stunned I was to experience them so close in time.

Once the trashcan was back in its proper place, I gazed at the irises that had already bloomed and withered next our front porch, and I considered how fleeting life is. How beautiful, but how fleeting. Like the flowers that spring up as the days grow warmer, but fade ever so quickly away. We enjoy their radiant beauty—a reminder of the creative splendor of our God—but soon they whither as the cycle of the seasons moves on.

So, too, does the cycle of life move on. It can be a bleak meditation to consider that just as life seems to really get going, we begin to realize that our parents are aging, our friends are aging—we are aging. And not only this, but we see that when one person dies, the rest of the world just keeps on going without them, the majority of people unaware that someone has died at all. Our own insignificance and mortality begins to stare us in the face, and we wonder, what’s the point? We’re here for such a short amount of time. Much like the Preacher of Ecclesiastes, we ask, Why do we go about our work or pleasure just to leave it to another? Our lives are so fleeting, a vapor. Where is the significance that I long for?

But oh, when I consider the creative beauty of God, and His purpose in ordaining the seasons—both the natural seasons of each year and the changing seasons of our lives. There is much beauty to behold. And its purpose is not merely to grant us some bit of pleasure here and now, as precious a gift as that is, but to point us to the true and lasting beauty that is the Lord Himself in all of His glory and perfections. As we ache for the changing of winter into spring, so too our hearts long for the eternal spring to one day relieve us of every dark and dreary winter. He has set eternity in our hearts. He is not far from each of us.

And so this mixed up time of anticipation—in which I both delight in the thought of a friend’s new baby and fear the impending death of a dear neighbor’s husband—I remember the wisdom God has given concerning such things:

There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven—

A time to give birth and a time to die;
A time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted.
A time to kill and a time to heal;
A time to tear down and a time to build up.
A time to weep and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn and a time to dance.
A time to throw stones and a time to gather stones;
A time to embrace and a time to shun embracing.
A time to search and a time to give up as lost;
A time to keep and a time to throw away.
A time to tear apart and a time to sew together;
A time to be silent and a time to speak.
A time to love and a time to hate;
A time for war and a time for peace.

What profit is there to the worker from that in which he toils? I have seen the task which God has given the sons of men with which to occupy themselves.

He has made everything appropriate in its time. He has also set eternity in their heart, yet so that man will not find out the work which God has done from the beginning even to the end.

I know that there is nothing better for them than to rejoice and to do good in one’s lifetime; moreover, that every man who eats and drinks sees good in all his labor—it is the gift of God.I know that everything God does will remain forever; there is nothing to add to it and there is nothing to take from it, for God has so worked that men should fear Him.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-14

There is indeed a time for everything. Including that phone call. I suppose now I can take a deep breath and continue on with my day.

Even Receipts Can Tell a Story

14 Wednesday Jan 2015

Posted by Lauren Scott in Home and Family

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I haven’t been writing much lately. The New Year has come and come hard and I’ve found myself spending copious amounts of time in the kitchen preparing nearly everything I eat from scratch in order to comply with the elimination/gut healing diet I’m on, I’ve jumped right back into schooling the boys with an added preschool curriculum on top of what we were already doing in the fall semester, and I’m trying to get caught up on finances so that I can crank out our taxes next month.

And when I say I’m trying to get caught up on finances, I mean I’m entering receipts that date back a full year. Yes, we track every purchase, and yes, I am that bad of a procrastinator in this area. I’m highly motivated to catch up now and stay on top of it from here on out, but for now I’m swimming up to my ears in receipts, statements, bills, and other miscellaneous papers.

As I was rolling along today through more receipts than I usually have the time to enter in one sitting, so much of 2014 flashed before my eyes. The big birthday parties we hosted this year–for Nathaniel’s 30th, the boys’ double birthday party, and my 30th birthday. All we really bought for these was food…but still, it adds up! Good thing we don’t have any “big” birthdays coming up in 2015. That’ll give our budget a rest.

Then there were the receipts for frivolous things like frappuccinos, clothes, impulse snacks on the go. You know, the kind of things that seem like a great idea at the time but later you wonder if they were necessary.

And there were about a hundred other such instances of entering receipts for groceries, gas, gifts, and all things necessary for fixing up our house which we bought in the Spring (I don’t so much have a receipt for that as I have a piece of paper that says it’s ours).

Those were much what you would expect. And then there was a series of receipts that made my heart skip a beat…and a knot form in the pit of my stomach. At first I couldn’t figure out why we’d spent a night in Little Rock back in February. Why did we both eat at the airport? Was Nathaniel traveling for business? Was I just there to pick him up or did we fly somewhere together? I didn’t think I had been on a plane since before our eldest son was born. At least not until…Oh. My Grandpa. Mi Abuelito. I had been in an airplane since then. When we flew to San Antonio for his funeral.

I had been thinking about him recently, thinking I need to double check the date he died and be sure to give my mom a call on that day and maybe send her a card ahead of time. Silly me, I might get the date mixed up, but I knew she wouldn’t.

Anyway, while my Grandpa and my Mom have been on my mind lately as the anniversary of his Home-going is getting close, I still wasn’t prepared for a pile of old receipts to walk me through the emotions of that trip. I didn’t expect receipts to tell such a moving story, to remind me of the sweet little old man who prayed for me, whose prayers were a part of God’s nudge for me to trust in Jesus, who wrote to me in Spanish, loved all things Mexican (especialmente la comida y cervezas), who loved adventure, and who loved Jesus and others.

I didn’t expect receipts to remind me of my mom’s labor of love: overseeing my Grandpa’s finances, paying his bills (I have a hunch she didn’t get so behind on his finances as I am on mine), making sure he was well taken care of, and making the five-hour drive to visit him as often as she possibly could. Her faith in the Lord through the grieving process, and the way her face beamed with joy as she read a passage of Scripture at his funeral–looking forward to the return of Jesus and the resurrection of the dead in Christ to life eternal–her light shined so bright, even while his was dimming.

This trip was the first time I’d been that far away from my precious children for any length of time. It’d have been over ten hours had we driven. So we flew. And thus the receipts from the airport restaurant and parking service that began this cascade of emotion for me just half an hour ago.

Even receipts can tell a story. I’m thankful that today mine have told a particularly good one.

The Grace of Grape Tomatoes

29 Monday Dec 2014

Posted by Lauren Scott in Home and Family, Living Faith

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clumsy me, devotional, grape tomatoes as a means of grace, grocery shopping, He Remains Faithful, Jesus, love, meditations, motherhood, weaknesses revealed

I was on my period. I hadn’t had enough to eat. It was about 11am, and I was at the grocery store with two little boys. We grabbed some bananas and carrots, and then I saw them: organic grape tomatoes. With the exception of one picky eater, my family enjoys snacking on these little red gems. So I picked up a package to examine it. Some of the tomatoes looked a bit wilted, so I placed it back on the temperature-controlled shelf and began to reach for another box.

And that’s when it happened. The box didn’t exactly like the way I had set it down, apparently, so in protest it decided to slowly lean forward until it fell to the ground, bouncing from cauliflower to lettuce to floor, where the box finally burst open, allowing over half of the precious fruit to scatter on the icky grocery store tile. Since there was no store clerk around to tell me, “Oh, it’s ok, I’ll take care of that,” I bent over and picked up every last tomato, closed up the box, and put it dutifully in my cart, with the words, “You break it you buy it,” spinning around in my head.

I thought at this point God was trying to teach me something: despite my being a bit of a grump about the whole thing, at least I did the right thing by picking them up and paying for the potentially damaged goods. But God wasn’t done with me yet, nor was He done with the grape tomatoes.

We meandered through the store, grabbing the things on my list (or was this the day that I went in for nothing more than peanut butter and made a list in my head as I shopped and ended up with half a basket full of groceries?), until we finally made it to the checkout line and then headed home.

My blood sugar levels were dropping by now and my muscles felt a bit weak. But we had to unload and put away the groceries before sitting down to eat lunch, so I got to it. I rearranged a few things in the fridge, managing to make room for the abundance of groceries I hadn’t planned on bringing home today (but when you’re out on Monday you might as well make the most of it and try to get what you need for the week so that by the time Thursday rolls around you can be at home doing something productive instead of having to go out to the store again, right?).

Then there they were, the last item to put away, those floor-germ-infested tomatoes. I figured I’d give them a preliminary rinsing off before putting them in the fridge using just water, until I thought better of it and pulled the vegetable cleaning spray out from under the sink. Spray, spray, spray. Toss, toss, toss. Rinse, rinse, rinse. That wasn’t so bad. Maybe I’ll just do this again before serving them so I feel confident that they’re clean.

And then it happened again. As I was turning toward the fridge, my limbs defied me and, after bumping into the refrigerator door, I dropped the box of tomatoes onto the floor…the kitchen floor that didn’t get cleaned last Friday like it was supposed to. And, sure enough, the box opened on impact and all those clean tomatoes went rolling on the floor, under the lip of the fridge, the oven, and the dishwasher.

I started to get angry. One of those less-than-justified “Why, God?!?” moments. But then I felt the tension in my clenched fists subside as I realized this was from His hand—not a curse, but an opportunity. An opportunity to see that I don’t have it all together. Not only am I not as physically in control as I’d like to be (hello, dropping the same box of tomatoes on the floor TWICE in the span of about 90 minutes), but neither do I really have things together emotionally or spiritually. I was ready to raise my fist at heaven, figuratively speaking, to whine and complain and throw a grown-up tantrum…over some tomatoes. Forget that I “did the right thing” in purchasing them at the store. I grumbled against the God of heaven. These tomatoes were simply a small chisel in the hand of a master craftsman, working to chip away at the hardened, bitter stone of my heart, in fact rebuking my self-righteousness by revealing to me that there was work to be done there at all.

On many occasions this kind of scrutiny, though private, would cause me to despair because I wasn’t living up to the perfect standard that I so desperately desire to meet. But in this instance, those tomatoes became a means of grace for me. As I washed them off again, with tears beginning to form in my eyes, I realized that Jesus came to save sinners. He came to die for sinners, to make them clean. And I am one. There is hope for me. There is grace for me, a sinner.

Like those tomatoes that needed washed yet again, so did I. What a joy that His gift of forgiveness, love, and cleansing is not given begrudgingly, as I grumbled at first to clean the tomatoes, but freely. In the very moment that I knew my sin and unworthiness, I also knew that “It is finished,” and I am redeemed, restored, and loved.

There are a lot more elaborate ways the Lord could choose to show me my sin and His love. But this simple little demonstration was sufficient to show that my attitude in such a small thing revealed big things about my heart. But “where sin abounded grace abounded all the more.” His mercy and grace are infinitely bigger than my sin. And so I thank God for the grace I found in an ornery package of grape tomatoes.

Books Read from July 2012 to June 2013

13 Saturday Dec 2014

Posted by Lauren Scott in Books, Home and Family

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children, devotional, Home and Family, Jesus, motherhood, parenting, Reading List

I have, for quite some time now, wanted to keep a record of the books I’ve read each year. What better place than on a blog? I started keeping track of this in 2012 in my day planner, but now here it is making its debut on the interwebs.

Shepherding a Child’s Heart by Tedd Tripp Excellent overview of parenting and child-training according to biblical commands and principles. At the time I had a one- and three-year-old, so it was a good time to take a first pass at this book.

The Autobiography of George Mueller Incredible testimony to God’s grace and provision, not to mention a great example of faith and prayer. Must read.

The Hand of God by Alistair Begg This book was given to me by my youth pastor when I graduated high school. It’s a look at the life of Joseph, eleventh out of the twelve sons of Jacob (Israel), sold into slavery in Egypt, raised up from the dungeon by God to save his people and declare God’s good purposes in it all. It’s a Romans 8:28 kind of story. And one that I’ve read through twice now.

Managing God’s Money by Randy Alcorn Very thorough look at the Christian view of stewardship. Challenging our usual perspectives, freeing us to give generously and manage our money well so that we can use it wisely for God’s purposes (because, as the title suggests, it’s all God’s anyway). I only slightly disagree with the handling of the subject of debt, being that my husband and I have a conviction to never go into debt–even for a house.

Loving the Little Years by Rachel Jankovic I read this little gem of a parenting book twice that year. Encouraging. Hilarious. Spiritual heart-surgery for moms.

Lose Your Mummy Tummy by Julie Tupler Having a one-year-old at the time and recently discovering that my stomach muscles were not quite where they used to be, I picked up this book and have been doing the exercises (when I think of it) and have indeed significantly improved my condition.

Keep a Quiet Heart by Elisabeth Elliot One year after giving birth to my second son, I had just gotten off of prednisone, and the darkest year of my life was finally giving way to somewhat brighter days, but the struggle for joy, vision, and stability continued. Elisabeth Elliot’s words in this devotional pointed me to tough, trusting stability in Christ and in Him alone, helping me to crawl out of my pit of depression. God bless Elisabeth Elliot.

The Ministry of Motherhood by Sally Clarkson Dealing with depression you can hardly see straight enough to motivate yourself to do anything, much less inspire your children as you care for and train them. This book by Sally Clarkson gives fresh perspective on motherhood, encouraging moms to give grace to their children, looking to the life of Jesus as our example.

Eat Fat, Lose Fat by Mary Enig and Sally Fallon This would be a follow-up to Nourishing Traditions which I must have read the previous year. They promote properly prepared grains and legumes, whole foods, low sugar, and healthy fats (particularly coconut oil and cod liver oil) to aid weight loss and alleviate health problems. Good read, but many of the recipes are far fetched for my lifestyle.

Preschoolwise by Gary Ezzo Love ’em or hate ’em, I have read most of the Babywise books. I don’t necessarily endorse them, but have found them helpful in establishing order (generally more so with toddlers and older) and especially for the tools I can add to my child training toolbox (blanket time, anyone?).

The Pilgrim’s Regress by C S Lewis Listened to this as an audiobook. Fascinating exploration of ideologies that compete with a biblical worldview. The “regress” section of the book, however, is quite disappointingly short, but that is understandable since Lewis penned this book shortly after becoming a Christian himself. He couldn’t write what he didn’t yet know. 🙂

Oh, For Real! by Heavenly Homemakers’ Laura Coppinger This is a cookbook. And it is a wonderfully practical whole-foods cook book. Yes, I do read cookbooks. This one has a great bunch of introductory information and tips.

Made to Crave by Lysa TerKeurst As you may have noticed, there are a couple of cook books on this list. So you might safely assume I have a thing for food. And that explains the need for this book.

Large Family Logistics by Kim Brenneman I revisit this book regularly. It’s a great read every time, and a great resource when I need to refocus on one particular area of my life as wife, mom, homemaker–so much is covered in this book. It is a manual for life. I believe this was the second time I read it.

Gathering Blue by Lois Lowry The follow-up distopian novel to Lowry’s The Giver. Nathaniel and I read this together on a road trip. I still need to find a copy of The Messenger to complete the series…

The Jesus StoryBook Bible by Sally Lloyd-Jones I have read this through I don’t know how many times with my boys. What a joy to cover the stories of the Bible from beginning to end, all with an eye to the main story of redemption through Jesus Christ. It is beautifully and whimsically illustrated. While I enjoy this book with my children, I do feel that at times it does a bit more interpretation than I would have liked, especially in the way it puts words into Jesus’ mouth that are not even real paraphrases of things He actually said. Creative license? Yes. Main message remains unchanged? True. But it is still an area in which I think we ought to exercise a bit more caution. That is all.