Bethany across the Jordan

We called her Bethany Jordan.  

Friends, knowing how much name meanings matter to me, have asked what her name means.  Well, technically Bethany means "house of mourning" and Jordan means "descendant," but that isn't why this name belongs to her.  The first time I was pregnant, I had the most vivid dream I've ever had that we had a baby girl and her name was Bethany.  It was strange because I had never been a fan of the name, but figured there must be some significance.  A couple months later we found out our first was a boy and the whole idea left as we decided that his name would be Lucas Emanuel, because he would bear the light of our God with us.

A year after we had our little light bearer we learned that our second baby was on its way, and it did turn out to be a girl.  Her name was Rachel Katherine ... for a couple months in utero.  One day I looked at  Matt and said, "I love the name Rachel, Matt, but my baby isn't Rachel.  She's Bethany."  As we thought about middle names, I found that most often when I looked up Bethany, Bible verses would show up talking about Bethany beyond the Jordan River.  Thus her full name was birthed first in my heart and then she arrived, and there is absolutely no other name that could ever capture her  femininity, fervor for living, or her fantastically feisty personality.  She is Bethany. Beth. Bethy. Beth-beth. Bethanee-nee. B.

For me, her name reminds me of the town in the Bible.  Bethany beyond the Jordan was the place Jesus went after cleansing the temple, healing people and being called the son of David.  All of these good things were ignored by the chief priests who criticized Jesus for allowing the children to refer to him as the son of David (Matthew 21).  Bethany was a retreat.

Jesus' good friends Mary, Martha and Lazarus lived in Bethany and hosted him several times (Luke 10, John 11).  Bethany was a place of fellowship.

Jesus is baptized prior to ministry in Bethany (Mark 1:9-11).  It was a place of preparation.

He is prepared for his death and burial through a woman's sacrificial anointing of his body in Bethany (Matthew 26:6,7).  It was a place of purposeful adoration.

To me the name connotes a place Jesus felt welcome and comfort; a safe place.  When I say her whole name (which is most often when she is in trouble) it reminds me that even Jesus was sometimes weighted down by the worries of this life and needed to be ministered to ... that he doesn't expect me to be above neediness.

It has been a day inundated with redirection for my B.  Today, in my weariness, I am encouraged in my parenting to not make contention between Bethany and I the means or the end to these troublesome hours of discipline.  When I speak her name, I am reminded to minister to her; that what she needs isn't scolding, but Mommy's eyes, attention, redirection, yes, but more than that my heart.

And as I attempt to minister to her, I acknowledge the beauty of a God who doesn't scold, but who loves me.  A king who left the safety of heaven, and traded it in for the ferocity of the cross.  A man who has grappled with sorrow.  A Savior who has become my safe place.

I didn't understand why I was so convinced of the need of naming her Bethany when at the time it was not my favorite name, and yet as I look into the pools of shimmering mahogany that are her eyes, I realize that she is his child first and second, his reminder of his gift to me.  She is a handful for sure, but  so am I sometimes.

I am grateful that the Lord saw fit to bless me with a little girl ... this little girl.  Someone who reflects the good parts of me and the parts that God is reforming in me, but more than that, I am grateful that the Father can use the heart of a child to lead me closer to his, by reminding me that his arms are outstretched to me, always welcoming me into my safe place.

Sometimes he holds me close and other times I imagine him taking my face between his hands as I just did with Bethany, and lovingly whispering to me that my present pain, self-centeredness, or attitude is not his best for me.  It is not why he came.  In these times he redirects my heart to his purposes for me, and as he trains and guides, he gently loves and encompasses me in the safety of his arms.  Sometimes he doesn't change the situation, but with my eyes fixed on him he calms his child.

New Dreams

Dream job. PUSH! New Dream Job.

I took the challenge of this contest to write a very brief story.  I think this pretty much sums up the last six years of my life in six words.  This was a contest put on by She Reads, a division of Proverbs 31 Ministries.  I am hoping to be a part of the She Speaks Conference this summer.  For more information, click the link below.
She Speaks

A Conundrum

In just over a day, we'll be moving ... our fifth move since we were married nearly seven years ago. This evening, Matt took me over to our new house, and as I walked through each room different emotions coursed through me. It was overwhelming.  Not just because, I felt like each room exudes Price-ness nor envisioning how my red appliances in the kitchen painted in "sanctuary" (a really crisp shade of blue/green) will have just the right amount of sass; not even knowing how Lucas and Bethany will make the middle room their play space on the first afternoon. No, it is definitely more than that. My tiny little house is an exact answer to prayer; evidence of a God who comes close to his daughter.

Lucas and Bethany in front of our new home, Easter, 2010

Over two years ago, I walked into that living room before serving in kids' church one Sunday night. I've never experienced anything like it, but I just knew I could make that house home. The only problem was we were very happy in our townhouse on Maranatha's campus and of course the fact that the house was being used for meetings, groups, kids' church, etc. At first, I just pushed the thought out of my mind, knowing that it was just my love for old homes that was in this case misdirected. Then in August 2007, I really felt like I needed to pray for a housing miracle. We were moving out of the townhouse, our rent was now way too high, and I would often feel overwhelmed if any extra expense came up. I've always known that God provides for our needs, we had three years at Fuller paid for without loans, and the check registers to prove that we've never gone without, but it was a stress. I began to pray specifically for this little house.

I felt silly.  I didn't tell anyone how specifically I had been praying, it seemed presumptuous after all. There have been plenty of times in the past two years when I've been discouraged. Dealing with a diagnosis of hypothyroid seven months after the birth of our daughter just compounded all of that, but it also gave me hope. For months, maybe even years I had felt something was not quite right, that I just wasn't me and finally it seemed as though "it" had been pinpointed. I've struggled with having to work for the same period of time, often battling envy, not a hateful kind, but more "why do they get to stay home with their kids ... why can't I, too?" There have also been great moments of joy when I've known beyond a shadow of a doubt that my God is for me.

lake country, England, June 2008

I can definitely say that there have been glimpses of God's love for me in the past two years.   Hey, I've been on top of the world! There have also been months of debilitating pain; pain that led me to three months of a medical treatment that I believe helped, but also made life so difficult. I've questioned why so many times, it is ridiculous to recount. I think the first two and a half months of 2009 were some of my brightest. My relationship with Christ was great and thus my relationship with Matt, Lucas and Bethany were wonderful too, probably better than they had ever been. My job was great, church was wonderful, life group supportive and I was physically feeling so much better. To top that, I found out I was pregnant with our third child, a surprising miracle, my miracle in the midst of the worse symptoms of endometriosis I'd ever had. My God cared ... heard my cry for another baby ... answered.

It is easy to trust God when things are amazing. March 21, 2009 forever changed my life. Losing a child, even one you've never held, is the hardest thing I've ever experienced. Miscarriage is a progression characterized by utter loneliness and understood completely only by those who have been there. Healing is a process, one that is not yet complete in me, and while I can say that I never lost my faith in God, my faith has been rocked; affected in such a way, that up until a few days ago I've known God is for others, that he provides and cares for others -- I'd never doubt that, but to truly and completely in my heart know those things are true for me, that seemed to be gone. For this reason, I panicked about sending my kids to Texas and flying to Europe. I made sure our will was in order and cried knowing someone else would have the privilege of raising my sweet boy and girl. I endeavored to finish two quilts for each child before boarding the plane, so they would always think of me before going to sleep, since I would no longer get to be there to tuck them in at night. I wrote each of them a letter, not anything morbid, but I wanted them to know how they hold my heart! I came close to hyperventilating when I dropped them at the gateway. If I wasn't enough to keep one baby here on earth, there was nothing that could convince me that God would really choose me to raise the other two. Certainly nobody could speak words adequate enough to flush out all my questions and doubts.

Me (2 months after miscarriage) with my group of students in the Czech Republic

So many friends spoke truth into my life in the days leading up to our departure for Germany, and each one of them without knowing it, used the same words ... words from my favorite Psalm, in the version that my new Bible is in. I read the words my sister sent me over and over again on the first twelve hour flight. "The way you look after Luke and Beth is topped only by the way God looks after you and Matt and Bethany and Luke." Wow! I know how much I love Lucas and Bethany and how much time, effort and energy goes into caring for them. This comparison was and is a comfort to me and yet again I am faced with a conundrum.

Matt and I after arriving safely in Berlin, Germany

Obviously our plane didn't crash and I am thrilled to say that there were many moments on each of our four flights when I felt the loving arms of the Father hold me, calm me, bring me peace, soothe me to sleep with words of Psalms, prayers and songs circulating in my mind. He is faithful even when I question.

Me and my students on our way up to Neuschwanstein

Walking through our new house tonight is yet another reminder of a God who loves me, cares for me, protects me, right down to the exact house I imagined our family living in and carried in prayer for two years. A house isn't a little thing. A house being the means for a mother to realize her dream of staying home with her children is amazing. Peace in the midst of a storm is by no means trivial. The redemption of a fouled relationship is miraculous. Doctors diagnosing and treating medical conditions ... God's hands on earth. Children are gift from God, and being entrusted with raising them right, a heavy privilege. The solid support of a man in the midst of surrendering the ability to tangibly express your love for your unborn child day after day, overwhelmingly an expression of Christ's love for his broken children.

When I leave this apartment on Saturday, I leave behind rooms where I doubted, felt pain, places where I'm reminded of loss, but also rooms that will always signify for me God's redeeming love; a love that is too great to disallow me to question. A love that is so amazing that it hears the details of my prayers. A love so concerned with my heart that a Savior died to capture it.

So while I may not hold my third child in this life and my whys will not be answered in this life, and although I cannot always trace his hand, I can hold on to the knowledge that my God is for me; that even when I'm walking through the valley of the shadow of death, his love casts out all fear (Psalm 23:4).  My God is a conundrum to me ... his thoughts are higher than my thoughts, but he is undoubtedly worthy of my praise. I am confident that I have and will continue to see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living, and when I fear or question or when doubts begin to cloud my mind I will remind myself "The one who lives under the protection of the Most High dwells in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say to the Lord 'My Refuge and my Fortress, my God, in whom I trust" (Psalm 27:13, NIV; Psalms 91:1,2, HCSB)


I wrote these thoughts nearly two years ago, about two months before we discovered our newest gift from God was on his way.  When I think about my life, it is often the times which seem darkest that I find my Lord drawing me closer to his side, calling me to a life of more complete trust in him.  I am entering this post for a scholarship opportunity to the She Speaks conference.  This event is designed to connect the hearts of daughters of the King more closely to His heart.  My heart continues to wonder how I might best serve him and his children, and any opportunity I have to better understand his heart for me and calling to me is such a gift.

Our newest gift, May 2010

http://www.aholyexperience.com/2011/03/how-christians-create-art-she-speaks-scholarship

 She Speaks Conference

Changing the world

Confession: For as long as I can remember I am always looking for the next thing I can do that will somehow make me memorable.  Perhaps this is the result of moving a lot as a child and feeling the need to be known or remembered once I had moved on to the next town.  Maybe it is because as a middle child, I always have lived in the shadow of my older sister who seemed to never do wrong and the wake of my younger, artsy/gutsy sister and my Midas-like brother whose talent is enviable.  It could just be my humanity, and my natural instinct to make a name for myself.  Whatever the case, as a kid and through college I was known for my need to be at the top of my class, to engage in meaningful Socratic dialogues, to be known by professors and the head of my department.  The problem with this kind of being known is that once there was no valedictorian status to attain to, no goal of summa cum laude, no one to discuss pastoral literature or the early roots of Nazism with, this overachiever felt lost and unknown.

When I was a teacher, the need was somewhat met by the experience of kids who changed their behavior and academic achievement for the better over the course of the year, the discovery of some new mnemonic device that really worked, a great annual review, and a new contract.  Since I became a stay-at-home mom, I haven't really found anything that fulfills my innate desire to be seen.  Indeed, what I do each day (the interminable laundry and dishes, the budgeting and meal planning, the cooking and the cleaning, the child disciplining, organizing, picking up after three little ones and one not so small one) is draining.  As I've said previously, I am a perfectionist, an achiever, but nothing is ever perfect or complete on the home front and I fight against frustration constantly.  For some time, this frustration was unnamed and unnoticed as I tried to love what I'm doing, and don't get me wrong -- I do love it, but so often when the day ends and it feels like nothing has been accomplished, I lay in bed at night and guilt-fully long to do something worthy of the history books which I so long studied and taught from.

In the middle of a time with very little fellowship, much pain and sickness, greater frustration yet, Matt told me that I'm recluseing.  It's true, you know.  I pretty much have a standing coffee date with an amazing group of friends, also daughters of the King, intentional and selfless wives, intuitive mothers, and in the midst of them is messed up me, and I've felt like I don't belong.  I think time away from them, with my mind focusing on their strengths and everything about them that makes me grateful for their friendship, caused me to focus on all my shortcomings and desire to not be as well known.  I mean, I've wanted to be known as something great, but not living up to my own standards and expectations, my shadow mission of supermom, and living in raw community where it is obvious that I am not these things is so hard and yet so sweet.  I had forgotten about the sweetness; about the camaraderie that helps us enjoy the ups and downs of this journey together.

I've been thinking about this post for a week now.  I had been trying to withdraw from being known for who I really am.  (Hey, why not start friendships up when you have arrived?)  When I went to get groceries last Friday, I randomly selected an album on the ipod that I had purchased and never listened to.  It is amazing when the Holy Spirit knows what my heart is feeling and needs when even I cannot put my finger on it.  What I heard, I imagine is what my friends sometimes feel too, and so I just had to share.

You're up all night with a screaming baby
You run all day at the speed of life
And every day you feel a little bit less
Like the beautiful woman you are

So you fall into bed when you run out of hours
And you wonder if anything worth doing got done
Oh, maybe you just don't know
Or maybe you've forgotten

You, you are changing the world
One little heartbeat at a time
Making history with every touch and every smile
Oh, you, you may not see it now
But I believe that time will tell
How you, you are changing the world
One little heartbeat at a time

With every "I know you can do it"
Every tear that you kiss away
So many little things that seem to go unnoticed
They're just like the drops of rain over time
They become a river

And you, you are changing the world
One little heartbeat at a time
Making history with every touch and every smile
Oh, you, you may not see it now
But I believe that time will tell
How you, you are changing the world
One little heartbeat at a time
-- Steven Curtis Chapman

So when I want to become a hermit because I am not who I want to be, yet, or when I'm just overwhelmed by the duties of the household, I am beginning to remember that it is about training their hearts; the merit of my daily doings will be in who they become.  We as mothers have been entrusted with the greatest responsibility, and though messy, the honor of the challenge to change the world cannot be taken lightly.


"She looks well to the ways of her household
   and does not eat the bread of idleness.
Her children rise up and call her blessed;
   her husband also, and he praises her:
"Many women have done excellently,
   but you surpass them all."
Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain,
   but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.
Give her of the fruit of her hands,
   and let her works praise her in the gates."

Proverbs 31:27-31

Learning to laugh at myself

I pride myself on being organized.  For those of you who have been in my home this may seem hard to believe, but everything does have a place and I like for everything to be where it belongs.  This morning as I was showering I realized something that I had not realized before.  A year ago I could have said I've never lost a check book, debit card, credit card or money.  In the last twelve months, I have lost money, my credit card twice, thrown away my debit card once, totally misplaced my debit card another time, lost my check book a few times and lost the refills once ... without clearly marked boundaries I have very little space that is just my own.   I know that this is due in part to many life adjustments occurring at or around the same time.  I quit my job, I had our third child, Bethany started pre-school, Lucas started kindergarten, and of course all the behavioral adjustments that each child has experienced because of those changes.  I am not running on adrenaline, I do not have set deadlines, and chaos sometimes reigns in my home.  For me, the challenges of being a stay-at-home mom far outweigh the obstacles I experienced as a working mom, but the benefits also coincide.

As a working mom, I forced myself to get up before the kids so I could get ready for the day, have quiet time, make lunches, leave instructions for the babysitter, fold laundry, exercise, etc.  Being gone five to eight hours a day was very emotional for me.  There were few times that I did not long to be home.  The major down side to being a working mom was emotional.  When things got out of hand as far as cleaning goes, I would simply hire someone to come in and clean what I didn't have time for, but for the most part I would come home on Friday and clean the whole house and then have the weekend to enjoy with my family.  Now I can't afford the cleaning fairy, and as I focus on spending time with my children, always being available for their needs, never feeling the pressure of  time constraints (however right or wrong that may be), there are many days when I'd love said "fairy" to appear.

So my debit card is missing, my extra checks have disappeared ...  I am sure they have taken refuge in a place similar to where Matt's wedding ring is also hiding.  (Yes, it too is missing, but that is a whole other story.)  Please don't imagine that the house is in complete chaos.  Other than a couple loads of laundry on my sofa, it is clean ... deep cleaned, BUT there are things missing that have become a treasure to somebody with little hands, I'm thinking.   My kitchen is now my sanctuary.  It is where I create, dream, plan, and maintain cleanliness.

The old me would worry about the mess and forgo quality time with my kids to get it fixed, but the new me is looking for new solutions.  A lesson I've recently learned is that it overwhelms my kids when I say "Okay, we're going to clean the house today.  We aren't going to do anything else until we finish."  Once a week I've started saying "We're going to play a game today.  It has five rounds.  Everyone gets ______ for this round.  The winner gets an extra ________."  I don't know how it is for other kids, but games and rewards speak loudly to mine.  At least once every day, I'll say "Fifteen minute pick-up!"  I let each kid know what they are responsible for and I set the timer.  When the timer goes off we are done.  It is working like a charm, with little redirection necessary.  The house isn't pristine, but it's peaceful.

When I dreamed about staying home, I assumed I'd get better at the things I was good at and improve at the things that are a struggle for me.  If I'm really honest with myself, I'll admit that I work better under pressure (which is absent for me at present), so the  only thing I've begun to improve at is the giving and receiving of grace, but I have a long road ahead of me in that regard as well.

Today, as usual is not a perfect day for me and so I've decided to laugh at the old me and the new me.

1. When we first got married I would iron our slip covers at least once a week and always before friends would visit.              

 

2. I currently almost always have a load of laundry on my sofa waiting to be folded or put away.  I have stopped apologizing about it to maintenance men, friends, family, etc.

3. I used to set the table for every meal Matt and I ate together. (Now we're lucky to not eat on paper plates some nights.)

4. I don't have a picture of this, but must share why I don't ask Matt to help with much of the cleaning.  When I was working three jobs to put him through Seminary I once asked him to clean the bathroom and discovered that he basically flooded the bathroom to do so.  It took him almost two hours to finish the job.  Hey ... he was thorough, but it is not his gifting. :o)

5.  I must not be very good at sleep training.  Even though I did with the older two and am in the process with our youngest, there are still nights when Lucas cannot fall asleep.  This is how I found him (beside the laundry, haha) when I came home from Ladies' Night Out.

6.  When my kids are sick, I have an unreasonable fear that they will stop breathing in their sleep.  Here they are sleeping on our floor, so that I could check on them without getting out of bed.  (In my defense, I was very pregnant when this was going on.)

7. I have a tendency to take on too much when it comes to birthday cakes.  Until this year, it was not uncommon for me to stay up well into the night to finish a cake.  I'm learning to let this go.

Bethany's 3rd birthday cake ... Ariel

Lucas' 3rd birthday cake Rocket

Lucas' 4th birthday cake Diego

Lucas' 5th birthday cake Spider Man

Matt's 23rd Baked Alaska

Simple boats from Tangled

Simple "Tangled" hair cupcakes

Matt's simple Bavarian Apple Torte (31st Birthday)

8. I am okay with my kids running around in their underwear until they are well potty trained.

9. I used to take time to get myself ready for in-house dates.  Now I enjoy the days when I don't have to wear make-up.

10. Every year we do a Christmas card.  We rarely get them in the mail.  So that all you kid-less (or those with more subdued children) can understand the "gift" of a photo card, I am including a small portion of our self-taken attempts at a Christmas card.

So ... my priorities have definitely shifted, and I'm loving every moment in my little piece of paradise!

When I don't have a perfect day ...

It has been a long time since I've written.  Truth be told that is a result of deep discouragement.  When last I wrote I was hopeful that the months of cyclical sickness were at an end and we were on an upswing.  Unfortunately that has not been the case.  Kids got sick, Matt got sick, kids got well, Nicholas got sick, Matt got mostly better, Nicholas is still coughing but inhalers seem to help.  I was working through Nick's sleep schedule (which was totally thrown off by illness) and feeling like we were about to be 100%.  I was getting into a good stay-at-home mom groove, and then on Saturday I began feeling all too recently familiar sensations in my lower back.  It is certainly not as bad as it was, but it has put all progress on the home front on hold.

All this sickness and pain has really taken a toll on me.  I am not as patient when I'm in pain.  I cannot accomplish anything when I can't move.  Even lifting the baby to his high chair isn't doable for me right now.  Inability on my part seems to highlight the innate differences between Matt and I.  We just do not see things the same way.  I shouldn't be surprised.  Many months ago as we were driving along I voiced a revelation to Matt "I'm beginning to understand that other people don't see things the way I do."  I'm all about order and responsibility and he's all about thinking and dreaming.  We are -- a perfect match, but the differences and pain could give way to frustration.  I am resisting the urge to expect him to be an exact replacement of me on a good day in the midst of my neediness.

While I'm down, I've had so many friends offer to help in very practical ways.  Instead of being immediately grateful, I've felt ashamed.  So maybe as we (hopefully) catapult out of the cycle of illness, I must need address my pride.  And I know that's what it is, otherwise the temptation to delete pride wouldn't be so strong.  When I'm at my best, I love to give.  When I'm at my worst, it's not that I like to withhold, it's more that I have a hard time graciously receiving.

Recently we went to our daughter's first school program.  She was so excited and serious about this performance, and I was struck by one of the lines of her poem.  "When I don't have a perfect day, God smiles at me."  I look at my children each night and my heart overflows with gratitude for the gift they each are; that I have been entrusted with the weighty privilege of raising them.  It doesn't matter how hard the day was; how many times I had to redirect them, train their hearts, discipline in the midst of a tantrum ... when it comes to the end of the day and I look at my three sleeping miracles, I smile. 

Parenting so often reflects the Father's heart for us.  I want the best for my children, but often that means "tough love" ... discipline.  The best for them is to have their hearts turned toward me and Matt, so that we can turn their hearts to the Lord.  I am in that place as a child of God right now. I can feel him so dearly speaking to my heart,  "Lindsey, you needn't be so proud.  I have given you friends not only for companionship, but also for in times of need."  Thank you, Lord that you can gently and compassionately redirect a heart that has strayed from your best.

As I begin to turn my heart toward him today, I am encouraged at the thought of being known ... of being seen ... of his presence filling our home and his peace our hearts.

"The Lord your God is among you, a warrior who saves.  He will rejoice over you with gladness.  He will bring you quietness with his love.  He will delight in you with shouts of joy."  

Zephaniah 3:17 HCSB

Recasting, Ruminating and Retail Rewards

After each baby I spend a weekend recasting to find my equilibrium appetite and eventually over several months, my most comfortable weight.  Well, with a season of sickness in the Price home this has been put off longer than normal. So this week as my back continues to heal, I decided to re-read French Women Don't Get Fat, which outlines the "magical" weekend and the French lifestyle that I aspire to.  This is my third time reading the book, but since I loaned it out a couple years ago it has been missing.  I purchased the Kindle edition, and let me tell you that was not a waste.  It is awesome to be able to click on a reference to a recipe and not have to thumb through an index and leaf through pages to find it.  Way to go Amazon!

Anyhow, whether it is due to illness (hopefully we're at the end of it, with Matt now on antibiotics and Nicholas finishing up his second round of them), or our indecisiveness about whether or not our family is complete with five members, or my awesome girls' night out this week, or all my friends who have not only brought dinner but sweets as I and my family recooperate -- whatever the case, I've put off the recasting long enough.  However, since I still provide Nicholas' main source of nutrition, I can't go all out and do the magical leek soup.  Instead, I will be trying the mimosa soup and Matt and I will restart P90X on Monday (note: such strenuous workout is not French, but Matt needs relationship with workout and I feel so good when I exert myself daily).

This has been a week of questions for our family, some humorous, some weighty.  Why on earth did Lucas pretend he couldn't read his high frequency words? Well, his friends "bees" were still on "flower one", and he wanted his bee to be there too, instead of on flower 4's petal.  I am told I will laugh about this someday, but even now it is frustrating for this former teacher.  How do we live well, save, provide and thrive in pricey Los Angeles?  Do we need to reevaluate where our "treasure" is?  Perhaps owning a home is not the end all ... And then the question that I keep asking, why (especially when living in L.A) do I most often desire another child?  I don't know.  This year and especially the past couple months have been difficult, but the longing, never abating, is at the back of my consciousness.  Silly and serious questions abound, but one thing I do know, I LOVE where God has placed us.  I am grateful for the ministry opportunities, friendships, home, and church. 

One last thing ... I have made it to the end of the budget challenge. Dum de de dum ... This week I spent $12.96 at Target and $32 at Ralphs (saving over $60 on that trip).  This brings my grocery total to $321.43 for the entire month ... $53.57 under my goal and $138.57 under our normal grocery, cleaning and toiletry budget.  So for those who doubt the value of couponing, come over and see my little dance of joy and be convinced of its merits.  Woot, woot!