Keeping It Real: the Tale of Rodeo-Riding Brothers

I am sure sometimes people wonder about my family.  I often use the description of "hot-mess" about us.  And the idea of calling the blog "the hot-mess" Samaritan crossed my mind, but "Broken Samaritan" just flowed better and was easier to type.  Why would I call my own sweet darlings a hot-mess?

On Friday night, our church had its first family night in the sanctuary.  Chairs were pushed aside to make room for blankets and sleeping bags.  Kids wore their jammies and slippers. Parents got cozy beside them (and noted how old their hips felt after sitting on the floor of the sanctuary) where they watched Despicable Me 2 on the big screen. The church also went "old-school" for the concession stand and charged 50 cents per item with unlimited refills on popcorn. Sound picture perfect right?

Here is a picture of my family:  My two youngest were so jazzed I was actually letting them get something from the concession stand, they were pinging off the walls.  In fact, my youngest, who is only 18 months younger than my third and exactly the same size, was riding on his brother's back rodeo-style all the way to the line.  One might ask, what is rodeo-style look like? Lots of hooting and hollering and one hand grabbing at the back with a death grip and the other hand waving in the air.  That my friend, is rodeo style.  Yes, the younger one was riding his brother rodeo style to the back of the concession stand line.  And, a 50 cent per item menu with a church that hosts 2,000 attendees a weekend,  creates a pretty long line.
As my youngest yippee and yahooed on the back of his brother, I could see his brother's legs weakening. They fell to the ground and began a bit of WWW (world wide wrestling) because for no other reason than hyped-up boys on the ground with nothing else to do but match each other in a bout of wrestling.  It was a scene.  And to boot, did I mention it was at the feet of the senior pastor.  And did I mention, one boy's pajamas were inside out and the other couldn't find pajamas so he wore gray thermals that clinged to his gawky, six-year-old body? While this spectacle is happening before my eyes, my 11 year old is embarrassed and proceeds to take disciplining into his own hands by punching each of the boys in the throat.  I promise I have never used it as a discipline measure, so I can only sum that up to his school friends or modern technology. I gathered my boys and marched them to our seats. Of course, they had put our blankets down front and center in the sanctuary. They wanted the best seats in the house. So I tip-toed over sweet families laying on neat blankets. I looked at my kiddos  and the mess my boys had piled at the front of the sanctuary.  I likened the entire ordeal to the aftermath of a civil war.  But as I smiled, I knew it as my own civil war and we always seemed to wear our mess out for everyone to see. Yep, we are that family. And you know what?  I am okay with that. I don't know if it is because I am a little lazy to try and create an image that we have it all together or long ago I realized people liked me a lot better if I were real. More than once, I have heard, "I just love you because you are so real." Which really means, I look at you, sweet girl, and gosh, I can relate."
Now don't get me wrong, sometimes I get caught up in the comparison machine that feeds a feeling of inadequacy and jealousy. But being "that family" sometimes suits me better. It seems a lot easier being me, hot-mess and all. I look at that family that appears to have it all together and I am not really drawn to them. I don't want to put that kind of pressure on myself. I am okay with inside-out jammies and rodeo-riding brothers and cheese quesadillas for the fourth night in a row for dinner.  I am okay with a ball cap for my go-to hair-do, if it saves me 30 minutes in the morning and legs unshaven until April.
So I say this with great enthusiasm, "Sisters, give yourself a break and each other. We have only one, short life. And it is qAtoo great to waste on the things that don't matter."

The Case of The Red-Eared Slider Turtle that Turned Bully

A gold medal in heaven for being a mom.  No lie! And limitless refills of hot coffee, too!

In a previous post (), I urged moms not to discount parenting as a good service.  I am here to tell you I have broke up wrestling matches between my kids in the car, at school and even at church.  Each time I remind myself of the service I am doing as a mom.  This week I have been in unchartered referee waters. And, I am chalking my fulfilled duties up as service.

For the last seven years, we have had the easiest pets in the world,  two red-eared slider turtles. Many Christmases ago I got these little guys or girls off Craigslist.  I mean, Santa, brought these little delights to my two youngest boys.  We love pets at the Pfalmer house.  We are just not always the best pet caretakers.  I think during these seven years we have buried seven hamsters (one was lost in the house forever and may still roam the air vents), flushed more fish than I can count and grieved the death of Cucumber, the chameleon. Through these seven years, the turtles have been easy and to my disbelief are alive! But God, you are a funny one with a good sense of humor.

After seven years, one of the turtles has developed an attitude problem and has begun to bully the smaller turtle.  Really? Can't we all love each other and play nice? I secretly believe the bully turtle started watching what was going on outside the tank, picked up a few Kung Fu moves and decided to be the next Bruce Lee.

What is one to do with a bully turtle?  You have to put him in time out, I mean separate him.  Not an easy task when you have only one tank.  I have been transferring one turtle from a rubber tote to the water tank every few hours, and have had to doctor the victimized turtle's shell from bite marks.

Above, the call of duty? Yes. Service? Yes. God with a sense of humor? Yes. Seriously who has to deal with bullying between turtles? Maybe we are more like animals than we think!

Shouldn't All Good Church Girls Love To Read the Bible?

I love words.  It is easy to see how much I love them when you come into my house. Books are stacked everywhere...on the entry table, on every night stand in my bedroom and on each of my kiddos' night stands and dresses, too.   Not only do words I admire, crave and get lost in come from the pages within the hard covers of all these books, I write inspirational words on chalkboards.

So maybe I have went a little chalkboard crazy. It seems I have put a chalkboard on every flat surface in the house to remind the kiddos of homework and household chores, to remind every one in the house to be "kinder than necessary" as they walk out the front door and across from the kitchen table to remind us of all who we need to pray for.  

The only few flat surfaces that don't have a chalkboard hold framed scripture printables.

Our eating area has a collage of signs reminding us what we do "in this house," "a family that prays together stays together," "in our home let love abide, and bless all those that step inside," and "let us be silent that's we may hear the whisper of God." Okay, now that I see it in print I realize maybe I have gone a little word crazy! But "word crazy" is what I have always been.

In first grade, I was the first one to read every book in the classroom. My teacher was unprepared for it and what she would give for her promised reward so...she gave me a Hulk coloring book as big as I was.  The only problem is that it had already been colored (another post altogether).  By the time I was in fourth grade, I had read most of the classroom books and a good portion of the school library's books as well. You can imagine my sheer joy, when I learned the book mobile would come once a month to my rural school. For anyone that didn't grow up in a rural area, imagine a small library in a large van, circulating the latest books from school to school.   My mom graciously signed a form allowing me to read any book in this new book Mecca.  Once I completed high school and scampered off to college, it seemed a natural choice to get my undergrad in literature. How else can you go to four years of all college and get to read great literature?  

So you see, I have always had a love affair with words. They have inspired me, provided counsel when needed and transported me to a place I could escape to as well.  What I say next will shock you. As much as I love words and reading, and the fact I love God even more, why can't I love reading the Bible? There I said it. I am starting to pit out just typing it, glancing over my shoulder to see if any lightening clouds are brewing.  Every morning I read my devotionals that are why can't I love reading the Bible? There I said it. I am starting to pit out just typing it, glancing over my shoulder to see if any lightening clouds are brewing.  Every morning I read my devotionals that are conveniently sent to my phone.  Every Tuesday, I go to church to do a bible study with my girls. Every morning (I try, see post with melted butter) I do devotionals with my kids. I help them memorize scripture and read passages about Noah and Goliath.  Then, why can't I remember it all? Why do I look like a deer in the headlights, when people chat about their favorite scripture? You know mine is the one when God talks about those things we are commanded to do and He commands us to love him and our neighbor and yep, it is somewhere in the bible, maybe toward the middle.

You see, I have a dilemma.  What is a church girl to do when she struggles reading the bible, her brain turns to mush when she tries to memorize scripture and she needs a strong will just to get through morning devotionals without glancing over to Pinterest? I don't have the answers.  I think God gave me as one of my thorns in my side like He did with Paul (don't judge if I got the wrong disciple).  My answer to myself, keep on trying. If I can make a million attempts to read Shakespeare in college, since God's words trumps anything even Shakespeare, I am going to make a gazillion attempts to stay in His word. Maybe it isn't supposed to be easy for me. Maybe it is because I don't respect the easy. Maybe God is telling me to get off Pinterest and don't fill your head with things you don't need. If you only have so much space up in that noggin, you better do a little house cleaning and make room for what you really need! So pray dear ladies, pray that I can get this bible thing right and honor the one that truly deserves it, our Heavenly Father.

Taking the Time: Serving Your Family with Your Time

I just hung up with the doctor doing my surgical breast biopsy on Friday. Chances are it is nothing. But I will tell you this for sure, since yesterday I have been kissing my kids more and telling them every chance I get 'I love them." Also, I can tell you the impending to do list of cleaning bathrooms, organizing the games and pantry have lost their sense of urgency. I even felt the sunshine beating on my face and took a deep breath of the crisp, fresh air.  For the past few hours, I was able to feel childhood.  Remember, when you would just bask in the sunshine  without a care in the world.  I had that for a while as I jumped on our trampoline playing crack the egg and then scissor kicking and yelping with my middle guy.  I also really listened when my youngest was throwing sticks into the snow playing like they were arrows. I then was able to watch him grab them with hush bare feet and pull them out. Hilarious and definitely a moment a couple days ago, I would have missed. 

Not missing these moment made me wonder about what was happening and why and what God's plan might be.  Had this little bump in the road really been such an inconvenience?  Of course, it wasn't in my plan? I have bible studies to go to, kids classrooms to volunteer in, yoga classes to sweat through, groceries to buy, and basketball games to coach. But inconvenience? Or just not my plan. I wonder if God gives us these moments to remind us what is really important.  Is He doing us a service? Is my busy life too filled with tutors, competitive soccer practices, organized game closets and pantries that I am missing the warm sunshine on my face, little toes that grab sticks and a middle child's belly laughs?

I hope no matter what the outcome, I will remember to take the time to appreciate the small things that really matter in being a mom.  My kids don't care if things are organized.  Shoot, I think they operate better in the mayhem. They just want a mom that really listens.  A mom that takes time to jump on the trampoline (even if she needs to make a bathroom stop first). A mom that can appreciate the sunshine on her face.

Seeing the Light in A Fallen, Dark World

When I think about how this year has gone, I can get in a bit of a dark place.  Sometimes when we are younger the darkness and evil seems so abstract and so far away.  But as we grow older and lose some of that innocence, the darkness seems to be all around us and affects either ourselves or the ones we love.  My dear friend recently lossed her husband to cancer, leaving her to raise three daughters. Another dear friend, husband decided walked away from what seemed a great marriage.  One of the most darkest struggles I can imagine is a dear friend is watching her four year old battle brain cancer for the second time.  When I sit and really think about these struggles. When I let the bitter, ugly taste of them permeate my senses, I am sicken d sink to a dark, faithless state.

But that's not the place I want to be in. I don't want to be stuck in the dark. And guess what?  I can help by doing something for someone else.  I am a part of an incredible organization called House of Light (www.thehouseoflightproject.blogspot.com). It is a group of women that got together, drank a lot of coffee, and came up with an idea.  This idea was to take furniture people did not need any longer and give them to families that do!  Partnering with a downtown homeless shelter that places deserving families into houses.  Houses of Light makes those houses a home!

Last week, was proof there is light.  On Monday, the House of Light team began flexing some muscles by loading a U-haul truck full of furniture that would prove essential for the end of the week furniture drop. And when I say flex some muscles you have never seen stronger girls (more ways than one!).  Let's just say a couch with end recliners, an 80s dresser and a love seat can be very heavy.  Wednesday, the group met to divvy out the to-do list and make sure we were all set for the furniture drop for the single mom with five kids, ranging in ages from 13-5.  Friday morning we were all set and have you ever wondered if you were doing the right thing?  Here is an excerpt from Emily, one of the moms involved with HOL, after the furniture drop and it sums up how God has his hand in this:

" I don't know about you, but I literally had tears dripping off my nose all the way back from our delivery today.  I just wanted to share with you how incredible this drop was and all of the ways that it seemed that what we did today was meant to be.  First, it was all that I could do to hold back tears as I overheard one of the little girls saying that today was the best day ever.  Their house was empty except for beds when we got there and when we left it was filled with cozy new bedding, bathroom towels, furniture, pictures for the walls and little boys and girls digging through bags of toys.  Prior to our arrival, there was not a toy to be seen in their house.  

What I noticed, and what I don't think are just coincidences, but confirmation that we are doing something bigger than ourselves that God is truly in the midst of, are these things:

- I overheard Nicole telling someone that sunflowers are her absolute favorite flower.  Not only did we bring her sunflowers, but there were five in the bunch.  One for each child.

- We took sports bedding and yellow bedding for the two boys.  One boy loves sports and the others favorite color is yellow.  They fit the exact bed that each boy sleeps in.  That is not a coincidence.

- We took purple bedding that matched the room of the little girl that it was for and whose favorite color is purple. 

- The table that we took this family was donated to us just yesterday and not only did it fit perfectly in the space, but it allows ample seating for this family of six.  A perfect blessing."

As I stop to reflect on the light and dark-the good and bad-the hopeful and hopelessness; I pray to God to remind me of the light.  Remind me of the  blessings he gives us every day and our opportunity to receive those blessings by serving others.

Our God, the Stand-up Comedian

Yes, there is a God and he has a sense of humor.  To get the full appreciation for this story, I need to give you some background about how this year has gone for my sweet fourth grade boy and then a little bit about the boy, too.  It has been a hard rocky, tear-filled year full of bullying, missing homework, "miscommunications" with teachers with no kids (moms you know what I mean) and lack of enthusiasm to make any of it better from that fourth grader.  Some of this lays the groundwork in seeing what kind of subject I am dealing with here.  I believe every family has that one child they worry about more than the other kids.  Well, this is my kid.  The one I pray for while driving home from the gym. The one I lie awake at night thinking about.  The one I drill immediately after school about who he sat by at lunch or played with at recess.  And the one I lose my patience with the most.  I always find him with his nose in a book or tinkering with Legos.  He is taking apart some mechanical things to look at its insides or drawing up plans to make a canoe.  Sounds like great things to do, right? Wrong.  This little angel has bad timing.  He So needless to say, I feel like he owes me more than the other kids.  I mean when it is time to take care of mama instead if sending her to the nursing home, he better step up.

Back to why I know there is a God.  We have been playing bingo at a certain nursing home for four years now.  The residents are quite serious about the game.   Serious may be an understatement.  There is not much messing around when it comes to it.  My kids have learned this.  Tey usually grab a card and take a spot among the residents or occasionally call out the numbers.  I try to set them at different tables to help out if needed.  On this particular day, Luke had been trying my patience and was making my nursing home trip all about him.  He wanted to just stay home!  He wanted to play the iPad!  He was hungry!  He was tired! My patience was wearing thin ad I forced, I mean strongly encouraged, him to sit at a table with an elderly woman by herself.  Justice was served!  As he stacked the bingo chips  on the table in 
different towers of blue and red.  She sharply told him to stop.  Then continued to tell him how to sit, how to hold his head and how to talk.  if that wasnt enough. She had a problem hearing the numbers and kept nagging him to repeat every number.  What was that they called repeated about a hundred times.  I saw him change from the nagging pest to receiving a little of his own medicine.

Thank you God for the service!  It was worth every minute!

Service an Antidote to Being Grumpy: A Valentine's Day Recap

Ever have one of those weeks where you are grumpy and you do not know why? When the sound of your  sweet child's voice is like fingernails on the chalkboard? Or your husband, bless his heart, leaves his dirty socks on the floor?  Or someone has left the last gallon of milk on the counter to spoil and doesn't that someone know milk these days is like liquid gold?  Ever had one of those weeks, when these little things or some similar are going to make your head pop off?  I mean seriously, put both hands on the top of your head , because it may pop right off your body. It has happened to me all this week and to add to my "mother-of-the-year" credentials, it is Valentine's Day this week. Shouldn't it be the week of love? Hugs and kisses? Pink pancakes and sweet love notes in lunch boxes? 

Yesterday, I was going to help out a good friend clean her house because her sweet daughter is battling brain cancer again. (Makes my previous paragraph sound like I may be the worst person in the world!)  And I was nervous. I can organize with the best of 'em and dig something out of the trash and make it beautiful with a quick coat of spray paint, but my bathrooms are only one step above fraternity house.  In fact, my husband, bless his heart again, said, "They asked you to clean?" 
So yes, I was nervous. Would I clean it well enough? Was I supposed to bring my own cleaning supplies? Should I bring rubber gloves? Gasp, I don't have any rubber gloves or many cleaning supplies for that matter.  Anyway, I was nervous and the kids were talking and those sweet little voices were, like I said, fingernails on chalkboards.  I never went so far as crazy mom, but I had to take a deep breath and pray when my oldest heated up a stick of butter to soften for like 10 minutes in the microwave. And you know what? The bowl and butter got hot. So what is one to do? Well, of course, drop it like it's hot...all over homework folders and the wood floor and dripping down my white cabinets.  I didn't yell, steam just leaked from my ears.  My kids knew I was mad. I don't know why I can't let accidents happen...well, happen and just smile sweetly.  "Oh sugar, don't you worry. Accidents happen and I like having a butter-like ice skating rink in the kitchen ten minutes before the last bell rings for school."

 Guess how I got out of that funk? I dropped the kids off for school and I drove my rubber-gloveless self to my dear friends house and I knocked on the door. I waited and when I saw her sweet face open the door, my heart melted. Here was my dear friend, God's child, and she didn't care if I had rubber gloves or I wasn't the best house cleaner, she needed some fellowship and friendship. I did my best scrubbing bathrooms and cabinets and I am sure they have seen better.  But, I did an even better job at being her friend.  We talked and laughed. We hugged and cooed at babies.  When I left her house my heart was full. It wasn't about cleaning a house, it was about friendship and doing something for someone else...the best remedy for getting rid of the grumpies.