These Two . . .

These two little girls can . . .

- Make peanut butter toast

- Pick out cute clothes for Piper and Otto Fox

- Help Bergen put on his favorite footie camouflage pajamas

- Change Piper Finn's diaper (not requested by Mommy mind you, just took their own initiative one day)

- Spread cream cheese on a bagel

- Take a shower like a grown up

- Answer the telephone politely

- Read a book to Piper

- Load the washing machine

- Clean up their own bedrooms

- Secretly prepare breakfast in bed for their parents

- Fold towels

- Unload the dishwasher

Truly, these little girls are such helpers. Most days, they REQUEST chores!

As London frequently reminds me, "Mommy, it's a good thing you have so many kids because you have so much work to do. You need our help."

By The Numbers

3 - Number of meals I prepared, consumed and cleaned up

5 - Number of small people who were bathed by me

39 - Number of tiny sunflower seed kernels that Mosely spilled when she dropped the container she was holding while trying to illegally climb up onto the counter

16 - Number of ears of corn that were shucked this afternoon

6 - Number of blood curdling screams that Mosely released after falling/scraping her elbow/ being splashed by hot corn cooking water/ being chased by Magnus/ not being able to open the door from the outside when her hands were full of dog food bowls/ expressing her displeasure at not being allowed to hold the garden hose when it was actually still London's turn

22 - Number of bug bites all over my body that itch incessantly

7 - Number of times I have fed my beautiful infant son today (beginning at 6 a.m. - hooray for 6 a.m.!! I'm not kidding. Honestly.)

1 - Number of actual personal phone calls I have received today (By the way, Riley is doing wonderfully in Africa!!)

8 - Number of telemarketing phone calls I have received today

1 - Number of spankings administered today

4 - Number of loads of laundry washed today

0 - Number of times I have left my house today

Countless - Number of times I have had to remind myself of the words I typed just a few days ago . . . this job matters. Everything is spiritual. This is worthwhile work.

Exhibit A

So lately Maggie has been boldly issuing demands and challenges from her blog. She even claimed that her spouse was the most lovable of all spouses and encouraged her pals to make glowing lists about their own husbands' incredible attributes on their own blogs.

The two Sarahs made endearing lists about both of their beloveds. But those girls are newlyweds after all.

Instead of a list, and because I like to buck the system for the mere sake of bucking the system, I offer you instead . . . a photograph.

Let's call it Exhibit A.

This photograph features a little girl's Barbie doll wearing a pair of home-created sandals. Please notice that the doll is also sporting a one-of-a-kind, hand-stitched chic felt skirt. Both lovingly and carefully crafted by one Kevin J. Keigley's own capable hands.

Doesn't that say it all?

Everything

Sometimes I think it is ironic how often the stuff of my daily life reminds me of Biblical truth in some random way.

And then I remember.

Everything is spiritual.

A couple of years ago Kevin and I heard a speaker named Rob Bell teach at a funky little club in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. His speaking tour was entitled "Everything is Spiritual".

And I really believe it is.

Remembering that truth actually brings much more meaning (and importance and accountability) to my daily existence. If everything truly is spiritual, then I guess it does matter how I respond to my children when I am exhausted. Or which words come out of my mouth when I discover Bergen peed in the bed, changed his clothes, shoved them back in his closet and slept on top of the pee stain all night without telling me. I guess I am accountable for the lessons I teach my children through my actions and the very manner in which I order our days and our weeks.

If everything is spiritual then God probably ordained those moments and situations in my life that I find cumbersome, burdensome or plain old boring.

A former teacher of mine recently read my blog and wrote me a really encouraging note. He said, "In my life I have achievements of which I am proud, and foolish low points which I pray be removed from mine and all who know memories. I thank God that he can remove as far as the east is from the west. Between these extremes, are the routines of our days. Your blog reminds me not to let the routines become routine, but rather that their sum is the value of our lives."

Yeah, that's golden. Because that means that the every day stuff which takes up most of our time and energy (the sum) is really the important part of our lives. It means . . . everything is spiritual.

Although thinking of everything in our life being spiritual places a heavier emphasis on our daily decisions, the stuff we think God just doesn't care about, it also makes our lives so much more worthwhile. It makes it easier to keep my kitchen tidy. Encourages me to enjoy the nightly bathtime ritual. To hold my tongue when I want to complain about the long line at the grocery aisle or the slow car in front of us with his left turn signal still on.

Since so much of my life during these years of raising small children is spent in mundane tasks, I find it empowering to believe that everything is spiritual. I find it redeeming to know that God sees my ministry to my family as an act of worship to Him. Because that's what it is. That's what I want it to be. Everything is spiritual.

How we spend our days, is, of course, how we spend our lives. - Annie Dillard

You Tell Me

Is it wrong to dress your children in Run DMC and Rolling Stones t-shirts if the shirts were on sale for 75 cents at Target?

I drew the line at ACDC.

A girl's got to have standards - right?

Friday Morning

Yesterday morning I broke an unwritten Keigley household rule.

I turned on the television first thing in the morning.

Let me 'splain.

Because Wilder had eaten breakfast off his normal routine, Kevin had already left for work before I was able to take a shower.

I really wanted a shower.

"Hey guys? Who wants to watch Curious George?"

You might call it poor parenting - I call it buying a half hour of my life.

My aspirations actually reached beyond the cleansing shower. I had just purchased some eyeliner (don't tell Riley!) and I wanted to experiment. While in Virginia Emma had given me brief instructions on applying eye liner. (My mom never taught me how - bless her heart. Just as I have never shown my daughter - bless my heart.)

So I did it. I let my kids watch PBS programming while I spent an entire half hour in the bathroom.

I played with tweezers, glittery powder, hair product (my favorite grooming item) and the new eye liner. In case you are wondering - I could use a few more lessons. I didn't take photos.

I put on earrings, a necklace. I tried to choose an outfit that could even meet the approval of Clinton and Stacy.

No, it was not a special day. Just Friday. Our day's plans included nothing more than eating lunch at home and then taking Magnus (Silver Hammer Rigby) to the lake for a swim. (Him - not us!) Maybe a trip to the grocery store to pick up those bananas . . . and dog food.

I emerged from my half hour, turned off the television and went about the business of living at our house.

After I fed Wilder I burped him.

And then he spit up. All over my great outfit.

I wanted to curse. (You think that's an extreme over reaction? Okay, you may be right.)

But changing shirts altered my carefully groomed hairstyle. And caused my necklace to no longer coordinate.

I guess this snapshot of my sad little existence one ordinary morning really has no point.

I don't think spending half an hour to get ready to go nowhere is actually wrong.

But it did remind me of a verse.

"Charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting - but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised."

So I must remember the balance between caring about what people think of me, or of what I think of me, versus what the Lord thinks of me.

And I guess I can't buy that in a bottle on the beauty aisle at Target.

Something About Love

Piper has a little friend. His name is Beckett.

Piper is not always very kind to Beckett.

Beckett will be standing still. Minding his own business. Being happy and content - a model citizen.

Piper approaches out of the shadowy background. She walks behind her young companion. And then, without provocation, Piper two-hand shoves Beckett.

It's awful. I am so embarrassed by her behavior. Ashamed. What in the world? Why would she do that? I scoop her up and take her off to the other room for some baby discipline.

But I don't stop loving her. When we are done with the discipline, I don't turn away from her affection. I welcome her next hug and kiss openly.

Because I love her.

Even if she shoves her friend, my friend's son.

I love Piper. She is my child.

And when she messes up, and I know she will, I keep loving her.

Not because she's good.

Not because she will never push Beckett again.

Just because she is mine.

She's my child.

And I love her.

Guess what this is just like?

Yeah. It all comes back to Him.

Do I even have to explain it?

Romans 8:37-39 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Just What We Need

What do the Keigleys NOT need today?

New brakes on Kevin's Tahoe? No. We needed those. And purchased them this afternoon.

Groceries? Actually, we do need these. There is neither milk, bread nor bananas in our house currently.

How about a new puppy? You're right! We do NOT NEED a new puppy today.

But guess what we picked up and carried home this very afternoon?

Yes.

A new puppy.

A beautiful twelve week old chocolate lab puppy.

Magnus. (Middle name yet to be determined, although it must contain a reference to The Beatles, as all of our other domestic pet names have.)

It was free, after all. And registered. A better pedigree than our children probably. Doesn't that count for something?

I still need bananas, milk and bread though. Do puppies produce that?

Oh Virginia!

After each bathroom break and after every question of "When will we be there?" you begin to question whether the drive is worth the effort.

But then you pull in the farm's driveway.

The air is sweeter. The trees are shadier. The breeze is breezier.

Yeah, it's worth every squabble over a crayon, every fast food meal indigestion, every mile and every hour on the road.

Last Night

This photograph was taken last night at 10:22 p.m.

Wilder was crying.

Bergen popped out of his room (note the time again, please) to see what the dishwasher was doing and to offer his four year old assistance.

The cell phone was beeping to let me know a text was arriving.

The oven timer was screeching telling me the blueberry muffins were ready.

All of the laundry in our home was clean in anticipation of our Virginia journey. (Please acknowledge with me the miracle that this feat is.)

There was not even one dirty towel to soak up this mess. I think using clean towels and having to do another load of laundry was the most upsetting fact about this event.

10:22 p.m. at our house.

Wishes

Mosely came running in from playing outside.

She approached her older sister cautiously. "Riley, do wishes really come true?"

Riley hesitated and glanced in my direction. I just smiled and figured I would let her handle this one on her own.

"Well, Mosely. Sometimes they do. Sometimes they don't," Riley ventured diplomatically. "What did you wish for?"

Mosely looked skeptical. "If I tell you my wish, then it definitely won't come true."

"Actually Mosely," Riley said, "Sometimes when you tell someone your wish, it can actually come true. Like if you tell Mom and Dad your wish, it might come true."

Smart kids.

Sometimes wishes come true. Sometimes they don't. But when you share your secret wishes with someone you allow an opportunity for God to use regular old people to make those wishes come true.

Mosely quietly shared that she was wishing for a teddy bear.

I think that one may just come true for you kiddo!

A Rose By Any Other Name . . .

Is it really true?

Does one thing become another thing if we use a different word to describe that thing? (That sounds complicated.)

Because here's a word I would rename.

Prison.

I'm thinking about calling it by another name.

I'm thinking about calling it . . . vacation.

Yeah.

Vacation.

Three meals a day. Not prepared in any way by my own hands. And if I am really contrary, those meals will be carried to me in a private, quiet room where I sit alone on the only piece of furniture available. A bed.

Time set aside with regular consistency each and every day to exercise. And a facility in which to do said exercise. All at absolutely no cost to me. None whatsoever.

Early bedtimes.

Loads of uninterrupted reading time.

I don't have to fold anyone's laundry - not even my own.

No concerns over what to wear because the clothing is already provided. And who cares what matches or doesn't? Everyone is wearing the same classy brand and style.

Unlimited time to write and to think.

I'm pretty sure I can even take some self-help and educational, inspirational classes.

No need for make up or even basic grooming - there are no men around to impress.

More time for a phone call than I currently have.

Sounds good.

Hmmmm. So if I officially rename "prison" to "vacation" do I have to commit a crime to be included in on this sweet deal?