Getting seven people up and out of the house in sixty minutes or less is a ton of fun. I have pitched this concept to the networks as the latest reality show. It would be called Wake Up and Smell the Coffee. It would be a family competition and I know the Byrds could win big bucks.

Dad would be team captain. He actually wakes up every morning without an alarm clock. You might say that he wakes up with the birds (the other ones.) He works out at 5 o’clock in the morning. By 6:30 a.m., he’s been up for hours and is ready for some company. He cheerfully wakes up all the kids. Cheerful is an understatement. He actually channels the Robin William’s character in Good Morning, Vietnam. He wakes them up with songs, comedy numbers, and character sketches. He lets me sleep. I’m not a Robin Williams fan.

Caroline, Julia, Daniel and Trevor are all woken up in the 6 o’clock hour. As you can imagine, there is a mad rush for the shower and lots of door pounding, accented with “Hurry up!” and “I left my toothbrush in there!” or the forlorn cry, “Can someone bring me a towel?”

Alex, at 17, has a very hard time waking up. He sets his cell phone as an alarm. It goes off at 6:30 and every 5 minutes thereafter. As a backup, he sets the alarm on his iHome, the ipod deck. That alarm goes off every 10 minutes. Alarm bells are ringing at 6:30, 6:35, 6:37, 6:40, 6:45, 6:47...you get the drill. Still, Alex tenaciously refuses to get up. He stays in bed until someone yells, “Alex! It’s 7 o’clock!” Yet he’s a tenacious competitor. He can shower, dress, eat breakfast, brush his teeth, and corral his siblings into the car in 25 minutes or less. Alex would be an awesome contestant in the Wake Up Reality Show.

His alarm(s) really bother me, his loving mother. Why? Because I’m still enjoying my sleep, and don’t like to hear the jarring bells and odd song selections. His little sister says his alarm sounds like the scary monkey music in the Wizard of Oz. Clearly, this is upsetting, even all the way down the hall. Yet he is immune. When complaining about it the other morning, the whole family chimed in on how irritating his alarms are to us. Dad said, “What alarms? I never hear a thing.” Dad is relentlessly upbeat in the morning. I am not. Therefore, I opt to stay in bed as long as possible.

My goal is to stay in bed until three things happen. One, I hear the coffee grinding. Two, I smell it brewing. Three, I hear the bus pass by. Then, and only then, do I emerge from my room. Julia is our only child who still rides the school bus. t comes at 7:04 every morning. Hearing the bus pass is Julia’s signal to get her coat on. It’s also my signal to hop out of bed. Julia wants a “Mommy and Daddy sandwich” before she leaves in the morning. This is when you hug with your child stuck in the middle. I have just enough time to enjoy a Julia Sandwich before she gets on the bus.

Speaking of sandwiches, they are a big part of the morning routine. Happy Daddy (one of Dave’s comedy characters) runs a sandwich shop in our kitchen. He keeps up a hilarious patter of jokes as he makes peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Because special orders don’t upset Happy Daddy, the kids expect to have it their way. Some like crunchy. Some like creamy. Some like their sandwich loaded with peanut butter. Others like extra jelly.

Mom likes coffee. And I like to stay out of the sandwich business whenever humanly possible. I’m so thankful for Happy Daddy. (When Happy Daddy goes out of town on business, Crabby Mommy instructs the kids to buy lunch at school.)

It may sound like Grand Central station, but I’m telling you, we’ve got it down to a routine. And part of our routine is someone forgetting something important. The most critically important item to the success of their day is placed on the kitchen island “so I won’t forget it.” For decades, I have been saying, “Put it in your backpacks!” Or the variations, “Did you put it in your folder? Did you put it in your gym bag? Did you put it in your binder?” But no, these kids know better. Their system is to put the most important item on the island. It may be the paper they typed until the wee hours. It may be their uniform for the big game. It may be the recorder they absolutely must have for music class today. It may be a library book that has to be turned in or else.

Naturally, they proceed to the car laden with bags, lunches, backpacks. It’s crazy how much they have to carry to school each day. Sadly, routinely, daily, they forget the island items. This is when I spring into action. In my bare feet, gigantic red bathrobe and bed head, I sprint after them, flailing the forgotten item. This must amuse the neighbors. I know it will be the funniest part of the Wake Up and Smell the Coffee reality show. I’d howl with laughter seeing a crazy mom running after the bus with a Sponge Bob Lunch Box and a Recorder. As long as it’s not me, that is.

I’m starting to wonder if they do it on purpose. Running after them is how Crabby Mommy shows her love.

Martie Smith Byrd lives with Happy Daddy and their five children in Roanoke, VA. Their youngest, Julia, officially becomes a pre-teen this month. Happy 11th Birthday, JB! (And no, you can’t have a cell phone now.) Martie is a encourager and would love to speak at your club or organization. Contact her at martiebyrd@yahoo.com.

I like light. The brighter, the better. I'm a 100 watt girl. I like it positively glowing around me. So I must admit how much I hate the new, dim, energy saving light bulbs. (Is it just me?) I know they last 200 hours longer and will allegedly save our environment, but they don't shine. I want shine out of my light bulbs. Shiny shine. I want to be blinded by the light. Not dimmed out like the "evening" setting on my make-up mirror, but shining like the sun. Shine, light, shine!

So is it any surprise at all that I found this "light" Scripture the other day, and wanted to eat it all up?

"He redeemed my soul from going down to the pit and I will live to enjoy the light." (Job 33:28)

The pit is dark, dank, despair. But hallelujah, God has saved me from that pit, that coal mine, that darkness of my soul. He's brought me to the light and while I was once blind, I now can see. It's so beautiful out here in the light. I am grateful, and I promise to always, always, always enjoy the light He has shed.

I will live to enjoy the light! It's a promise, a shout-out, a celebration. Picture it being yelled out at a football game or from the top of the Empire State Building:

I find encouragement in the strangest places. For instance, this barf bag. I picked it up on a flight some months ago. I hung it above my desk. It speaks to me. Now some would say that God doesn't speak through barf bags. I would disagree.

The front side of this barf bag is unremarkable. It says, "Feel better." That's a lovely sentiment one would not likely take the time to appreciate when regurgitating mid-flight. Take it from one who knows. When you are vomiting at 10,000 feet, you are not appreciative of the airline's well wishes. You just want to land. (Or die.)

So the front said, "Feel better." Big deal. But the back said, "I'll be back." God speaks. I felt him saying, via the barf bag, "Feel better. I'll be back." And He will. The Bible tells me so.

Why do you laugh at the idea that God speaks through a barf bag? He spoke through Balaam's donkey. He speaks through creation. He speaks through His written "logos" word, the Bible, and through His revealed "rhema" word. The barf bag was a revelation to me.

I love the Mandisa CD "True Beauty." It's chockful of wisdom and she's got an awesome set of pipes! This is how Mandisa teaches that God speaks in unusual ways.

God said He loved me through a barf bag. Today, may you hear God speaking in unusual and personal ways. Expect to hear from Him and you will.

My desk calendar says this today,

This is a timely reminder. One of my 15 1/2 year old sons got his learner's permit on Friday. There is nothing like teaching a teenaged son to drive. It drives me to my knees in prayer like nothing else. And soon, we'll have two 15 year old drivers, joining their 17 year old brother on the road.

Pray, people, pray!

Every stage of a child's life is a process of their gaining independence and our reliquishing control. But who, exactly, are you reliquishing your child to? We can surrender them to the gods of public policy. You know, the ones who establish what "everyone" does. "Everyone get their license the first day possible. Everyone wears jeans this low cut. Everyone is going to see this movie. Everyone wears a bikini, Mom, GOSH!"

Or, we can surrender them to the God of the universe, who created this world, and created everything in it. We can reliquish our idea of control to the One who actually has control. Our kids are His kids, anyway.

But I'm not saying it's easy. Where do we put our fears, our angst, our reluctance to see them cross another milestone (especially one that has the potential to hurt them in some way?). We can stew in our own juices and marinate ourselves into a frenzy. Or, we can pray. Just pray. Simply pray.

Jesus said, "Don't be afraid, just believe." What circumstance regarding your child are you fearful about? There's always something. Either they're biting other kids in preschool, or they're being bullied on the bus. Or they are bullying someone else, or telling lies, or running around with the wrong crowd. Maybe they aren't doing as well in school as you'd imagined they would, and you fear for their successful future. Fears, fears, fears. I know you have more than this little list.

Just believe. Don't be afraid. In fact, look up all the Scriptures that begin with the exhortation "Do not fear." But take it from a mom of teenaged drivers, fear can't be merely talked away. It can only be prayed away. Pray. And then let peace (not fear) guard your hearts and your minds.

will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Philippians 4:5b-7 (New International Version)