Like Father, Like Son

This little helicopter took about 45 minutes for Dave to build.......while Seth watched and observed. Even though the helicopter is small, anyone with legos knows the pieces are small, so the job can be tedious.

We were wondering how long it would take for Seth to take it apart. Surprisingly, he played contentedly with it for a few days, we went away for a few days, and then last night upon arriving home, the first thing he did was go into his bedroom and take his helicopter apart.

He was so tired that I told him he couldn't "rebuild" his helicopter again until today......he had to go to bed. Truthfully, I didn't think he would be able to rebuild it without his dad's assistance.

This morning he got up, shut his door, and came out a short time later with his completed helicopter. Dave told me that he didn't help him at all, that Seth put his helicopter together completely BY MEMORY, and did it absolutely perfect. I must confess to being shocked. It's been almost a week since he watched his dad put it together, he took apart last night, and still remembered everything perfectly today.

This afternoon while Hannah and I laboured delivering 150 flyers (in the -29 C with-the-windchill-temperature......((whine, whine......:)), Dave and Seth built a much bigger fire engine. It took several hours to build.

Now, less than two hours later, Seth has taken it apart. I await in anticipation to see if he can rebuild it on his own.

Somehow, I think he can. I believe he's found his forte.

Point Proven

This proves the point of my previous post. My son can't just do his school. In this picture his foot is on the table because he wanted me to "rub the middle of it".

It is taxing.......and hard on a person's feet after all..........to sit on your bum for longer than five minutes to do school.

Woe Is Me.......:)

I won't ever, ever, EVER let myself get behind with Seth's school work again.

EVER.

Because of my lack, we are spending a few days ON WHAT IS SUPPOSED TO BE A BREAK playing catch up with his school. I fully intend to be done tomorrow. However, before tomorrow comes I may find myself totally bald. In fact, when we finished school today, I walked into the bedroom where my dear hubby is studying (he is off for two weeks, and writes an exam in early January, or so was his excuse reason for being holed up in the bedroom while I slaved away.....:) and pointed to three spots on my head.....warning him in a sinister tone that "very soon there would be no hair there at all".......

He managed a lopsided grin. I guess having a bald wife bothers him not at all.

One half of my brain laughs hysterically at my son. The other half of my brain is in the depths of despair. I am speaking truth. He comes up with such funny things that I dare not crack up about because he needs no encouragement at all to be funny. I also realize, however, that he has far to go regarding some areas of study. Very far.

Today, he was to fill in the blanks. The first question asked (with an accompanying picture) was:

Sally Skunk ate ___________________. He filled the blank with "a cairt". Translated: "a carrot".

The second question: Tim Turtle crawled ____________________. He answered, "ovr a roc". Not a hard one to figure out.

The third question: Billy Beaver swam ____________________. His answer? "In too the loj". Translation......"into the lodge". Lodge? Loj? Why Billy swam into a hotel is a mystery to me.

Fourth question: My teacher's name is _____________. He answered, "darlu", even though he has spelled my name a hundred times. AND in spite of the fact that capitalization has been one of the major focuses right now.......((heavy sigh)).

And finally......my favourite of all that almost sent me into hysterics.....

What is the best part of the day in your class? The best part of the day is_________.

His answer? "rim".

"Rim?" I asked. What is "rim"?

"You know," he answered. "Rhyme." (NOTE: He has been learning root words and suffixes too, but clearly needs help with this as well).

Oh......of course. He loves to rhyme. He certainly does NOT love to spell. He rhymes so much in fact, that there have been some near disasters.

Like when he gets on the "truck" and "duck" rhymes.

Yep. That's when it's time to end.

Precious Truth

**DISCLAIMER: This is very frank and perhaps offensive to some. If you are not interested in hearing a rant about what I believe to be Biblical Truth, this post is NOT for you***

When I was 14 years old and desperate, God introduced Himself to me. He did this by sending someone my way, proclaiming just the right amount of His Word, and then in a Still Small Voice to my heart, telling me that "this was what I was searching for". In later years after learning to recognize His voice speaking to me, I understood this more clearly. Even now it astounds me how clear His voice was then. I remember that moment and still hear His exact words; I still feel the tingling down my spine that I felt back then. Most importantly, I still BELIEVE IT.

And I believe with all of my heart, this is what has kept me from believing a lie throughout the years. This is what has kept me from *changing* what I initially believed. The truth is down deep in my spirit and God has confirmed it over and over and over. I cannot and will not change it. It is NOT my Word to change.

I am disturbed at the confusion about *standards*. I am disturbed at the blatant rebellion against what was once believed. I understand fully, 100 percent, that standards do NOT save us. I understand that my sleeves could be to my wrists and my skirt to the floor and I could have a heart full of hatred, a tongue that gossips, a bitter spirit. And that I WILL be lost if those remain unrepented of.

What I don't understand is the belief that *forsaking those standards* might actually make us CLOSER to God.??? Why forsaking the standards suddenly gives a special insight to what GRACE really means. I understand the potential for self righteousness. I understand that God HATES self righteousness. But I don't believe we forsake separation in order to get a grip on self righteousness. The closer I get to God, the more I understand that my own righteousness is nothing but filth. But I also understand that there are many things that could defile my temple, and it certainly doesn't give me carte blanche to do what I please. It's all about balance.

What I do understand is how people who forsake the *legalism* - bless God it's grace alone after all (completely not understanding that GRACE teaches us, not permits us) - end up losing the revelation of ONE GOD, BAPTISM IN JESUS NAME, THE INFILLING OF THE HOLY GHOST BY THE EVIDENCE OF SPEAKING IN TONGUES. And I ask, do they really forget the times God moved on them in their spirit and they spoke in a language they did not learn? Do they really? If they don't forget that, why do they suddenly believe IT'S NOT NECESSARY?

How can they attend a church that believes God is a Trinity?

All the clothing/hair arguments go up in smoke entirely to me when those same people forsake the very foundation of Truth. The Oneness of God. Baptism in Jesus Name. The infilling of the Holy Ghost. Why can't the foundations be kept once the *standards* are gone? If standards are the issue, why don't they still believe in One God? If they still believe in One God, why do they go to a Trinitarian church?

I have a lot of standards for my children. Likely quite a few of them are unnecessary. Being unsure, however, of exactly what might ensnare them, I keep the standard high. Likewise, being married, I conduct my behavior AND dress in like manner. I do NOT flirt with men, married or single. I do not wear provocative clothing (and wouldn't even if I was svelte).

Why would a Christian wear provocative clothing or dress in any way that could be considered seductive? To some extent this is an individual conviction, but my goodness when someone's individual conviction is to show their cleavage, then I can certainly understand why there is a standard!

I don't feel like I am explaining my heart very well, but I my main point is this: Once upon a time, God gave me a revelation of His Truth. He then proved it by giving me a supernatural experience that was promised from His Word when I received the Baptism of the Holy Ghost. He helped me understand that He took flesh on Himself, came to earth as a man, and that he is not THREE persons. Why on earth would I risk losing ANY of that precious revelation because I feel restricted by *legalistic* standards?

I have yet to see one person retain the knowledge of that Truth once they rebelled against those standards. Not one.

It is that Truth that is precious to me. Not the length of my sleeves per se. However, even if NONE of the guidelines I keep is necessary - and I truly won't know until Glory - history has shown me that it is not worth rebelling against them because of the risk of losing the knowledge of His precious Truth.

The Truth that He spoke to me in that Still Small Voice 29 years ago.

On The Brink

My son sends me to every extreme of my emotions. (Whether or not I have extreme emotions is for the jury to decide....:)

I am convinced the sparkle in his eye grows brighter every day. Obviously in some respects I adore that. In others, it purty near drives me over the edge.

For instance, while he is cleaning his room, he sings at the top of his lungs. He dramatizes stories. He yells. While he is singing and I am elsewhere, I can't help but smile. My heart is warmed when he sings his own versions of every kind of gospel song.....from Gaithers to Gateway, IBC to bluegrass (we have a varied taste in music). That warmth quickly leaves me, however, when I go to his room only to discover he got involved in a building project and forgot what he was supposed to be doing.

He is happy. He is carefree. He laughs constantly. He sings all the time at the top of his lungs, everywhere in the house. He tells jokes to make people smile. My heart is mush.

He is lazy. He is an invalid. He procrastinates. He over-reacts and dramatizes pain worse than a girl. He drives me mad.

Last night he complained after church that both of his feet/ankles and his left elbow and wrist were aching. His dad had some compassion and rubbed them for a while. I remained cold-hearted. I've been through these dramatizations too many times. He managed to survive through his snack. He thrived through his story. However, when he went to go to the bathroom at bedtime, the tears began. AGAIN.

"I can't walk. AT ALL!"

I remained unmoved. He continued his cries from the bathroom.

"MOM! I AB-SO-LUTELY CANNOT WALK!!!" he wailed.

I finally go into the bathroom (because I wasn't prepared to stay up all night) to find him on the floor. I tell him to get up. INSTANTLY. He somehow manages to find strength in the midst of his extreme pain and.....rises. I tell him to go to the bathroom. NOW. In spite of his protests that he can't STAND, I witness the miracle of his RISING. He finishes. By himself without my assistance.

"Mom, I still really can't walk you know. I have to hop," he protests, much less however. I ask him how he can manage to hop when he can't even walk.

"Hopping is easier. That's why," he 'splains.

We brush his teeth. He is increasingly-amazingly (bad grammar, I know) healed. So much so that he runs to his bedroom, forgetting his ailment.

We pray and do our nightly rituals. He kisses me good night.

And I do not hear a peep from him all night. Nor all day today. It's a miracle.

And that is why I rarely take him seriously.

And that is why he drives me to the brink.

Today while I took my granny to an appointment, daddy took the kids to Mickey D's. They had quite the time playing. I discovered when I finally arrived that my son was the gallant knight. According to him, he rescued "a little cutie" (his words) from a bully. He proceeded to talk about it off and on for the next couple of hours. He also let me know that this girl was sure a "sweetheart".

He is six. SIX! And I am more grey every day.

Pray for me. Please.