Planted on the ROCK

My recently turned three-year-old is decidedly a big boy.  He no longer wants sippy cups (less to wash!) or help with his hair and clothes.  He wants to be a big kid like his siblings.  He has even started enjoying Bible story time before bed.  Because of his enthusiasm for story-time with the other kids, we have put aside our Bible geared for older kiddos and have pulled out the My First Bible Stories.  He loves to talk about the pictures (especially the snakes and fiery furnace) and listens as we read.  It is such a blessing to hear the older kids retell the stories to their littlest brother. Last week, we read the story of Martha and Mary.  This particular version of the story was very clear that Martha's tone of voice was less than appealing and even boarded on the nagging and complaining side.  And this was not complaining with thanksgiving but just plain ol' feeling sorry for herself complaining.  Martha whined about all of her work and lack of help.  I retold the story

February! It's the month of love. Spring flowers began to peek up through the ground. Diamond dynasties and card companies create in our heads visions of ginormous rocks on a band, heart-shaped chocolates, and sappy but heart-felt sentiments from our loved ones. Our expectations of a over-the-top romantic Valentine's Day increase with each passing day. As a teenager, Valentine's Day was the best day all year. Boys could buy their sweethearts a single rose and have it secretly delivered during the middle of Algebra II or Chemistry. All the girls would gush excitedly while secretly hoping their own beau would have their flower delivered during the next period. Please, oh please! As I've gotten older, I tell my husband not to spend money on flowers and candy. I don't even need a card. Just let me sleep late. For a week. Serve our kids breakfast so I can linger in the shower. Alone and without an audience. Acts of service make my heart melt. If he does