Bats and elephants. It only happens at Turkey Bottom Haven.

Imagine, if you will, waking up an hour after your alarm was supposed to go off.  You quickly remember that you still have 2.5 hours before you need to be anywhere so there's no need to panic.  You grab your Bible and start reading.  You send off a few text messages all before your feet hit the floor.

Not a bad start to a rather warm January morning.

Realizing that you have paint in your hair from projects that you worked on the day before you decide that a nice shower is in order.  As you pull back the curtain to step in you hear what sounds like a herd of elephants racing past the bathroom door and down the stairs.

You might think to yourself ..."What in the world are they doing?"

Before you complete that thought you hear a horrible shriek and your stomach sinks.  Something is not right and you have a feeling you know what's going on.  You have a split second decision to make, ignore the panic outside the bathroom or quickly hop into the shower and allow your children to fend for themselves.

Soon your oldest screams, "MMMMMMMooooooooommmmmmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyyyy!"

And before she says anything you can predict what she's going to say next.

"There's a bbbbbbbaaaaaaaaaatttttttt!!!!!!"

And even though you knew she was going to say it your stomach drops a little bit lower.

Great. Just great.  Nothing like fighting bats off naked.

Grabbing a towel you duck into your room and grab clothes because there is no way, and I mean NO.WAY., you're going to have that killer bat attack you in the nude.  Plus chasing after a bat while swinging a tennis racket in the nude will do nothing but scar your children for life.  It will.  I promise. Don't do it.

Once dressed, complete with winter boots, because even bare feet is too much skin exposed for bat chasing, you get your courage up to whack the bat. At this point it was last seen in your sons' bedroom and you just have to locate the tennis racket.

Why is it that you're tiptoeing through the house?  The bat has no idea what you're up to and doesn't know that you're coming for him. If the herd of elephants didn't scare him off your normal walking won't tip him off.

Time to put your man pants on and get the job done.  Finding the tennis racket you work up your courage and open the door a crack.  Sure enough the bat is flying in circles around the room.  You quickly shut the door and swallow the girlie squeal that's stuck in your throat.

As you look down the stairs you see your herd of elephants looking back at you.  You consider posting a guard outside the door all day and leaving it in there until your better more courageous half gets home.  You decide that this is not a viable option.

Again you find the courage to duck back into the room only it's not flying around anymore.  You may have missed your chance... oh, but then you see it hanging in a corner.  If only you brought the BB gun instead of the racket.

You shut the door and go on a wild manhunt for the BB gun; that you have never shot but are completely confident that if you could only get your hands on it your inner sharp shooting skills will prevail over your inexperience.

No luck finding the gun.  Probably better that way, you decide.

You determine that this has gone on long enough and you prepare yourself for your final stand.  Racket in hand, courage in your heart, elephants silently cheering you on with their big innocent eyes you slowly open the door and see that the killer vampire bat (so common to Iowa) is back flying in a pattern.

You take one weak initial swing missing the bat horribly.  But, in response that ugly monster switches his direction.  For whatever reason you switch the racket to your other hand, thinking that the direction of his flight pattern determines which hand your required to use (I think this was covered at the Geneva Convention).  Another awkward swing at the bat and you start to doubt that you can do this.

Quick pep talk reminds you that you've done this at least 10 times before and that you really can do it.  Pep talk works and you stand up tall, shoulders back and take a final swing.

Success!  He falls to the ground among a pile of marble run pieces.  You quickly run over and see that he's still breathing.  You will not fall apart now.  You yell for the oldest boy elephant to grab a shovel, before realizing that a shovel may be overkill.  Grabbing a nearby box you scoop him into it with the racket and run wildly to the door where the littlest elephant is staring at you with wide eyes.  You may start hollering at him to open the door and as his chubby fingers fail to open a door a third time you may be convinced that the bat will regain consciousness and somehow find his way out of the box before your young chubby elephant will get that door open.

Before you know it the door is opened and your flinging the bat onto the front yard.

At this point you expect news crews to show up at your doorstep and ask you how you did it.  You will look stronger, taller and sexier than you ever have before and you will have not only  have the respect and admiration of 5 adorable elephants, but the entire world will pat you on the back as you walk down the street.

I know because it happened to me once.

Update:
Killer bat remains in front yard.

Not for young readers...

Have you ever seen a dead baby?

I have.  I will never forget her either.  How could I?

She was perfectly formed from her little button nose to her kissable chin and ears that curved along her lobes that didn't attach to her face.  She was pink, like all of my newborns, but graying almost from the inside out.

The grayish color seemed to be overtaking her and even now it turns my stomach.

She was swaddled in a blanket and placed in some weird bassinet that looked more like a coffin than a baby bed. 

Her mom went into early labor.  The doctors gave her a shot in hopes that the contractions would stop.  She had a reaction to the medicine that sent her into horrific seizures.  The mom, my friend, was dying. 

The doctors gave her boyfriend a choice... the mom or the baby.  He didn't have the luxury of time, he had to make the call literally in the matter of seconds. 

They had an 18 month old son at home.  He made the decision that he lives with to this day.  He picked his girlfriend, now wife, and not the baby.

Can you imagine the horror of that moment?  Or hours later when his girlfriend woke up and realized that she was no longer pregnant and asked about their baby? 

I have often thought of this precious life that was lost so early... I wonder what she would have been and wrestle with the images of her lifeless body.  It is something that on this side of eternity that I will ever forget.  It's one of those things that get filed in the "To ask God about later" folders in my head. 

A single moment in life that will forever be marked in my mind and will continue to bring great sadness to my heart.  Life isn't meant to be lost before it even started.

I wonder as the ban on women in the front lines has now ended what we have done in the name of equality?  What images will be branded in the minds of women as they fight for freedom.  I'm just not sure that we have been made to do this task. 

I know that it is not something that I ever want my daughters to face.

Help a Mama out!

Emma is having a rough time lately.  She's a girl.  Obvious, right?  As a girl she's also a little emotional and she comes by that naturally.  Not only does she come from a long line of criers, there's also that first girl Eve that we would all like to kick in the teeth for her dumb dumbness!

Ohhh, do not even get me started on Eve.

Back to Emma.  Yesterday I found her in her room with the lights off, the radio playing leaning up against the steps to her bunk bed sobbing.  She's 8.  She's also a girl.  But, I honestly thought this scenario would take 5 more years to develop!

Weeks before this she was crying because she doesn't have any friends.  Her older sister has a hand full of girls her age and whenever they see each other there is hugging and much rejoicing.  Emma has no one to hug or to join in a chorus of squeals at least she claims that she doesn't.

Yesterday was a reminder that she didn't have the friends that she would like to have.  Her Awana handbook had various tasks that she's to complete in order to be a better friend.  But, she feels like she doesn't have any friends, so how can she be a better friend to nobody?

So when I found her crying alone in her bedroom, I had an idea of what was going on.  I started stroking her hair and let her cry for awhile.  She immediately clings to my middle and as a fun mixture of tears and snot fall on my shirt I am mindful of keeping my gagging to bare minimum. 

"Emma, what's wrong baby girl?"
"I miss Gus."

The "I miss [our dead Cocker Spaniel that I don't really remember]" is her go to answer.  Anything involving tears or sadness somehow ties directly to the dead dog.  If that dog would have escaped the clutches of death all would be right in the world.  Well, that and if Eve would have never touched that dang piece of fruit...

"No Emma.  What's really wrong?"
Out pours the many woes of a lonely 8 year old girl.  Oh, how I wish the dead dog answer would've stuck.  

And so what do you do?  I don't dare tell her that she needs to pray for a friend.  I once prayed for a friend and that did not go the way I had envisioned it and I'm not about to do that to her.

I could tell her to make Jesus her bestie, but I'm not sure that's Scriptural.  Though our culture of over saturated lovey dovey-ness would make you think that Jesus came to the earth to be our BFF... I don't think that's what He had in mind. 

I actually just had a picture in my mind of Jesus wearing thousands of those best friend heart necklaces.  The ones where it says, "Best" on one side of the heart and "Friend" on the other side and you and your friend each wear one half!  Would it be inappropriate to also mention that he looked like Mr. T in a robe and sandals too?  Probably.  Best if I don't say that then.

Emma loves everyone and I really think that she has a lot more friends then she realizes.  It's just that they're not as visible as Hannah's crew of hugging, screaming, we just entered a rock concert groupie friends are.

So, what did I say?  Something about how her daddy and I would always love her.  How God loves her.  How her siblings love her.  How the number of friends is never as important as how good of friends that she has. Nothing profound.  Nothing blog worthy really.  But, I am wondering what other moms have said to their lonely children?

Help a Mama out!

A little advice take it or I'll PYITNOJ

Have you ever been in a situation where you think... I should walk up to that complete stranger, give her a piece of my mind, and if she tries to say something back I will punch her in the name of Jesus?

Or is that only me?

I'm not so certain that God is pleased with punching in the name of Jesus, so I held back.  Besides, Ben thinks that I'm a crazy person and told me that I couldn't go say anything to the woman.  He's such a spoil sport some times.

So, here's what happened.

We received an amazingly generous gift certificate to HuHots as a Christmas present and took the Turkeys out for a late lunch.  While we were there I noticed a very young couple with two young kids.  The older of the two children looked barely over a year and the baby was in an infant carrier.  The couple was so young that I actually wondered if they were just babysitting the kids. They intrigued me and I have a horrible staring problem.

The one year old was playing with his food and dropped a few noodles onto the floor.  He was not throwing a fit or being what I would say would be "naughty".  But, it annoyed the mom.  So much so that she grabbed her son's face and said in a angry whisper, "Eat your f*&%$#g food or I'm going to take you into the bathroom and beat your a$$."

Take a moment to soak that up.

He was little.  She was young.  She didn't follow through.

She did look at her boyfriend/husband/friend and laugh after she said it.

Not sure if that meant she was just joking with her son or if she was just being super cool by saying those things.

Either way it was completely inappropriate and broke my heart.

After telling Ben what she said and seeing his sickened expression I knew that I wasn't alone in my response.  Though he seemed to think that I couldn't get involved by the whole PITNOJ plan I had.  (Um, that's short for punching in the name of Jesus ... it's going to be bigger than LOL.)  Seriously, what is with him being so calm?

So, if there was to be no punching on this day, I decided my next response should be to pray.  I prayed for the little boy's heart.  I prayed for the mom to receive wisdom from an older more mature woman who could help her parenting skills.  I prayed that I would have the opportunity to say something constructive and not lash out in my anger.

Turns out that as we were walking out of HuHots so were they ... and they headed in the same direction that we were ... and they happened to cut me off from the rest of my family and I needed to get around them.  So I decided that as I was walking by I would say something:

"Are both of these babies yours?" I said.
"Yep!" She replied seemingly pleased with herself.
And then the only words that came to my mind were angry words.  Words that would just make her defensive and ticked off.
So I kept walking.

We stopped at a bathroom and I prayed more.  "Please give me another opportunity to say something that will build into that young mom's life."  I prayed that if God would have me to say what I planned on saying (without anger or punching) that I would run into them again.

We left the bathroom and I kept my eyes peeled for them. Lo and behold they were walking straight towards us!!  I cleared my throat and gave myself a pep talk.

And then they turned and went the other direction.  Shootfire.  I lost my opportunity.

So here's my advice to all the mama's out there.  Take it or leave it:

Please be wise with your words.  Because your words are written on the tablet of your child's heart forever.