Be careful little mouths of what you say.....

I am Italian. On a bad day, I can get very passionate and say things that I don't mean when I am frustrated. It doesn't happen often and to many people, but usually the one person I love the most. My best friend and soulmate, Travis. Being Italian, I guess you can say it runs in our family. :)

I doubt I would classify as having an anger problem because my "moments" are very few and are between. But when they happen...look out, Mama ain't happy. And I become historical. Thank goodness God isn't finished with me and I have a very patient husband. Wive's can you relate?

Do you have scars from someone else's anger? Are you passing that on to your children?

Are you leaving scars on anyone you love?

The other day I helped in Logan's Sunday School class. They sang a little song that I feel we can all learn from even as adults..."Be careful little mouths of what you say, cause the Father up above is looking down below so be careful little mouths of what you say..."

Our words are powerful. Make sure they are communicating what we want other people to remember and hear.

Last year at our Moms and More bible study a wonderful gal came and shared on the topic of "Angry Mom". She shared this story. Since she shared this story it has been something that I think about semi-often.

(I promise I won't become a story/article girl....last one for a while I promise, I have just been wanting to share this for awhile)

There once was a little boy who had a bad temper. His father gave him a bag of nails and told him that every time he lost his temper, he must hammer a nail into the back of the fence.

The first day the boy had driven 37 nails into the fence. Over the next few weeks, as he learned to control his anger, the number of nails hammered daily gradually dwindled down. He discovered it was easier to hold his temper than to drive those nails into the fence.

Finally the day came when the boy didn’t lose his temper at all. He told his father about it and the father suggested that the boy now pull out one nail for each day that he was able to hold his temper. The days passed and the young boy was finally able to tell his father that all the nails were gone.

The father took his son by the hand and led him to the fence. He said, “You have done well, my son, but look at the holes in the fence. The fence will never be the same. When you say things in anger, they leave a scar just like this one. You can put a knife in a man and draw it out. It won’t matter how many times you say I’m sorry, the wound is still there.”

The little boy then understood how powerful his words were. He looked up at his father and said “I hope you can forgive me father for the holes I put in you.”

“Of course I can,” said the father.

What Motherhood Really Means

During nap today I pulled out an old faithful bible study that I thought I would pick back up and start going through again. I found a copy of this article. I wasn't even a mom the last time I did this bible study to I know it was Gods intention for me to stumble upon it today and read it. I am so thankful for this little sweet reminder. What a gift.

I hope if you are a mother that you would feel encouraged today.

Here is a digital copy of the article I read...

It is "Condensed from "Everyday Miracles" and credits dale Hanson Bourke:

Time is running out for my friend. While we were sitting at lunch, she casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family." What she means is that her biological clock has begun its countdown and she is being forced to consider the prospect of motherhood.

“We’re taking a survey,” she says, half joking, “Do you think I should have a baby?”

“It will change your life,” I say carefully, keeping my tone neutral.

“I know,” she says. “no more sleeping in on Saturdays, no more spontaneous vacations…”

But that is not what I mean at all. I try to decide what to tell her.

I want Her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes: that her physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but that becoming a mother will leave an emotional wound so raw that she will be forever vulnerable. I consider warning her that she will never read a newspaper again without asking, “What if that had been my child?” That every plane rash, every fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be be worse than watching your child die.

I look at her manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That urgent call of “Mom!” will cause her to drop her best crystal without a moment’s hesitation.

I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for child care, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think about her baby’s sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her child is all right.

I want my friend to know that everyday decisions will no longer be routine. That a five-year-old boy’s desire to go to the men’s room rather than the women’s at a restaurant will become a major dilemma. That issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in the restroom. However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.

Looking at my attractive friend, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the ponds of pregnancy but she will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years – not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish his.

My friend’s relationship with her husband will change but no in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is always careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his son or daughter. I think she should know that she will fall in love with her husband all over again for reasons she would no find very unromantic.

I want to describe to my friend the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to hit a baseball. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who strokes the soft fur of a dog for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real it hurts.

My friend’s quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. “You’ll never regret it,” I say finally. Then, squeezing my friend’s hand, I offer a prayer for her and me and all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this holiest of callings.

Is it really August already?

Time seems to be slipping through my fingers like sand. (as my sister Annie would say) It has been a rich month. A month of rich time with friends and family. It makes me glad to think I haven't had the time to update my blog. That means I am doing what I should be doing. Spending time and being present with those I love.

A couple weeks ago we took a last minute trip to Santa Cruz. There is something very nostalgic for me about Santa Cruz. We spent many summer vacations there as a family when I was growing up. So summer almost doesn't seem complete without a trip to Santa Cruz. Even though it has changed over the years, there is still a comfort that comes from being there. I love being able to take pictures of Logan knowing my parents took the exact same pictures of me at that age.

Thanks Uncle Ken and Aunt Peggy for letting us come and be with you for the weekend.

Logan Favorite ride..."The Horse"

Jason grabbing a ring. One of the highlights for the boys of SC.

Group Picture.

About to get on the train. The one ride I could ride. :(

Annie, Logan, Michelle and Jason
Logan on her first roller coaster. She is so tall she passes for a lot of the bigger rides. It went fast. It made me very nervous but of course she loved it.

Pool side with Annie and Jason

Logan rediscovered that she loves to swim this weekend. She was a little fish.