A Lettered Legacy

34 Valentine's Days

2012-02-14T12:59:00.000-05:00

We love because He first loved us.

1 John 4:19

Each day is steeped in His favor, just the breath I draw. So while I struggle with being sick and with all that has happened in the past several months. No, I'm not over it yet (a testament that love grows with time and proximity). And especially with feeling that He is near and that in being near He cares.

I choose to find 34 gifts; 34 things I love.

I love brown eyes.
I love dimples.
I love mommy.
I love salt-and pepper.
I love snow.
I love big black dogs.
I love little snores.
I love coffee in the morning.
I love seeing him off.
I love all the things I hear when no one thinks I'm listening.
I love arms wrapped around me while we fall asleep.
I love hearing my dad's voice when I call.
I love the way my mother offers to take the children so I can recover.
I love friends who offer to take my children, too.
I love snow.
I love a good book, children's or grown-ups.
I love candlelight.
I love bare trees in winter.
I love crocus's hinting, just hinting, at spring.
I love familiar handwriting in cards bringing love.
I love holding hands in the parking lot, especially when they are volunteered.
I love Amazing Grace and It Is Well with My Soul.
I love a great piece of fabric making things new.
I love little crocheted hats.
I love that look men (but especially dads) get when they hold new babies.
I love lego creations.
I love pictures of thunder.
I love the way peace comes when I ask.
I love the way the day can come together when we need to start over.
I love a good nap.
I love rocking chairs.
I love the sunrise.
I love finding Orion on cloudless winter evenings.
I love a full moon hanging low while the sun is shining.

I especially love these three, just because they are these three.

When Church Is Cancelled

2012-02-13T20:57:00.002-05:00

for the first real snow of the season, and you've been cooped up for going on a week because of random germs, you go outside. My mom calls it getting the stink blown off ya'.

When Feeling Miserable

2012-02-08T15:15:00.000-05:00

Diagnosed today with a head filled and an ear infected, I was planning to do more, but I think a list is what is in order. . .

::a dog without a limp (fixed or not we don't know but healing for sure)::

::a girl working to get those books in order::

::hiccupping all the way::

::his prayers only God can make sense of::

::swallowing tea::

::the pharmacy technician who remembers names (and isn't the same as the one who talks with little boys about balls)::

::restraint when all I want is to shout Be quiet!::

::remembering that they will only be little once::

::thinking that maybe the snow will herald a winter freeze that will kill the bugs surviving::

::the song to help her practice::

165-174

Regardless of the time or the misery, rejoice. Sometimes it moves you to do something you don't feel like doing, but something that definitely needs to be done.

On Enslavement

2012-02-06T14:49:00.000-05:00

It was for freedom Chris has set you free;

therefore, keep standing firm and

do not be subject again to a yoke of slavery.

Galatians 5:1

Apparently there are more ways than one to be enslaved. Of course, we all know that. But as I am walking through this self-declared Year of Jubilee, I am reminded of the ways I get myself entangled in slavery.

A slavish devotion to

my to-do list
the list of dutiful wife, loving mother qualifications
the constant nagging worry that I have sinned in some especially awful and unknown way
the wonder about the when of the next big event in our lives

I want to laugh at the outrageousness of it all right now when the sun is shining and the children are resting. But later when dinner clean-up comes and I glance at the list or I see the mess still on the living room floor, the hidden devotions, sneaky slavery pops up. It steals the hours of productive joy behind me and the hours of relaxed joy before me. It steals away moments of conversation and connection with children growing all too quickly and it steals my husband's sense of well-being at home.

If I notice though, the moments throughout the day, the chains binding me in the evening lose a little of their grip. And so I have a planner re-purposed, a place for listing daily lovelies, a place for counting, a place for declaring freedom.

::being able to start his car for him this morning::

::and seeing the stars clear::

::a girl and legos (is she ever consumed)::

::a boy picking a ball::

::little ones paying with their own money::

::the pharmacist who has conversations with chatty little boys about new balls::

::a good timer::

::and a good plan::

::early morning mom calls::

::expecting nieces::
(144-153: my counting is going so slowly as I keep starting in spurts. I think this is attempt 5.)

Wednesday's News Reel In Brief

2012-01-25T14:53:00.000-05:00

If you see streaks, don't tell!

Dog escapes house. Runs around muddy yards like a maniac. Has crate-bound, bed rest more rigidly applied due to new level of limping and increased inability to keep from happy-doggy-dancing in the kitchen. Dog owner is driven nearly mad from the incessant nose-whistling whine.

Tea is best taken on a crammed kitchen table with stories of visits to Africa.

If my chores aren't done, my excuses follow.

We need to cover all the owls in the book.
A missionary we are already familiar with isn't from the proper country and finding a missionary to India isn't easy.
A simple bandana is the last resort to pirate hats after stapling two pieces of card stock together and finding they do not stay on a head.
Assistance is needed to erect a flag for the pirate ship.
Little boys want to help walk lame dogs on semi-freezing mornings. (Do you know how long it takes to convince a two-year old that a coat and gloves are necessary and then get them on said two-year old who just wants to walk his beloved 90 pound dog.)

There is always time for a clean house when we don't need to learn and play.

Need Graham Cracker Crumbs Anyone?

I may start a petition to relabel seven-layer bars. Gluttony and to poach the Lays Potato Chip jingle. So much for my diet. Though I have lost 5 pounds total, and I've become convinced of two things.

Sugar is really bad. If I stay away, severely limiting the stuff, I forget it exists. But if I give way, in say a pop or grilled stickies, the next day I eat say 10 oreo cookies or 12 seven-layer bars.
In all my food research obsession, I have reached an important conclusion--too much food is eaten overall, and whole foods are best. We will be increasing our vegetable intake while decreasing our intake of everything else to meet a diet kinder to ourselves and the world. Animal products humanely treated in life will remain a part of our diet.

Coats are now able to be hung from hooks in our newly defined mud room.

Declaring the Year of Jubilee

2012-01-24T07:47:00.000-05:00

We’re coming off of a rather rough year, my family and I, my friends and I. And as 2011 was drawing to a close and 2012 showing signs of promise, I started evaluating. I wanted to figure out what I had done to contribute to or cause all one of the struggles that we experienced. I wanted to make a list of all the things I must change to make sure 2012 is a better year. This actually started somewhere near the month of May when my husband’s security clearance came through clearing the way for a new job with a heftier-than-we-were-comfortable-with commute. It continued as we thought about growing our family and I became pregnant. It culminated when I lost the baby to miscarriage and all the plans that we thought were set became unglued. Perhaps culminated is the wrong word there. It culminated when dear friends experienced the loss of their little girl after a wait for which there are no words. That brought back memories and grief I would have sworn were worked through. And I ended up grasping for control of my life, making plans, assuming guilt. Walking in a dark place.

As December wore on, I thought. As a disclaimer, “over-thinker” is a word created for me. I think about a lot of stuff—who makes my kid’s clothes, how the cow who gives the milk we drink was treated, what God is thinking when awful things happen.

It has the potential to make a person crazy. It was making me crazy. I was taking on far more guilt than I should have for what was happening. I was assuming a great deal of control and responsibility for children in China, and cows in Wisconsin—not that I should not have been aware of such things and acting responsibly with what I knew, but to blame myself for the struggles we were going through on the decisions we made regarding those things was more than my heart and mind could handle.

As I struggled through all these thoughts, God in His generous mercy began leading me on an adventure, and for that adventure I have a title and a declaration.

2012 will be my Year of Jubilee!

The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me,
Because the LORD has anointed me
To bring good news to the afflicted;
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
To proclaim liberty to captives
And freedom to prisoners;
² To proclaim the favorable year of the LORD
And the day of vengeance of our God;
To comfort all who mourn,

³ To grant those who mourn in Zion,
Giving them a garland instead of ashes,
The oil of gladness instead of mourning,
The mantle of praise instead of a spirit of fainting.
So they will be called oaks of righteousness,
The planting of the LORD, that He may be glorified.

Isaiah wrote this description of the year of jubilee, and Jesus said that He fulfilled it. So I am claiming it; and working toward it. Won't you join me over the next few months as I meditate on this and make 2013 a year I am looking forward to because I've experienced the favorable year of the Lord?

Ten Things

2012-01-23T19:00:00.003-05:00

I'm thankful for today. . .

::invitations for family learning and fun::

::soaking in the sun::

::outdoor coat-less play::

::friends we haven't seen in a while and the sound of reunion play::

::a lazier than normal afternoon::

::all the laundry folded::

::his barred owl call--Who cooks for you? in toddler treble::

::a good children's book-- Owl Moon anyone?::

::understanding husband while I stay cuddled in bed with a girl::

::His faithfulness in finding freedom (you haven't seen my kitchen nor the peace I feel with it)::

I Had Help

2012-01-20T20:02:00.000-05:00

About Abigail

2012-01-19T14:22:00.000-05:00

Ten Things

Her farm is assembled on the pink insides of her sleeping bag
Everything from walls to furniture to accessories should be either purple, or cheetah print (aka leopard)
With a few cardboard boxes from Aldi she can create a bed and bath for her dolls
Colored duct tape is valuable for decorating anything
Small pieces of paper lying about re casualties in her on-going quest to build a home
If it comes from a pig and has been cured, she will eat it
The balance beam is her favorite exercise at gymnastics
The vaulting at gymnastics can make her cry in frustration
Her brother can simultaneously be her best friend and worst annoyance
Her reasons for everything will be laid out in a matter-of-fact grown-up voice with authority

It is incredible that this long-legged little girl of six is the same person, who came home with us from the hospital. I am so gifted.

Wednesday's News Reel

2012-01-18T16:43:00.001-05:00

Abigail Painting Her Birdhouse Attention Grabbing Purple (the Closet Follows)

Family

We sent our preliminary application into Bethany last Friday. I got Chris to sign it minutes before the father-son-grandson door hanging event of 2012. Now we wait for the formal application to become available for us to fill out and the training schedule for foster/adoptive parents to line up with our remodeling schedules. We are warily excited. I have banned myself from forum for the likes of me. The stories are almost always bad, but as a wise poster once said, This is where we go to blow off steam. You are seeing the bad days. Our case worker said nearly the same thing admitting that while the write-ups of the children are supposed to be positively driven, the times they hear from guardians, teacher, other adults about the children are when incidents occur.
Oh how we pray and covet prayers from those who care.

House


Because Abigail and I Are Painting, He Must. It is really paint sculpting.

As mentioned previously, doors have been hung in the newly remodeled basement bedroom and bathroom. A few coats of paint and a closet door and we will be ready for trim 90% painted. The stairs still make a wonderful slide and the children make use of all the corners. I recently had ot spend a morning reclaiming our library (I don't know if library is exactly the right word, but school room certainly isn't, and no matter the size isn't a library a lovely thing to possess.)

My Plea for Picking-Up Cooperation

We are waiting on some semblance of guidance on where we live. We have reopened the door to moving and found an overpriced house we like on acres of property with trees. But we have exhausted our monthly budget on home repairs and while we may not be ready till February to carry out said repairs, it is discouraging. Couldn't we just find a place and stay there? Yes, Mother, we could stay here, but for the trees!

Food

I did one week on the South Beach Diet and lost a depressingly small amount of weight. Declaring that a waste, I decided to return to a moderate approach to dining with more exercise. On Monday, I indulged in a grilled stickies a la mode. Ten oreo cookies later, I understand why the carbs are cut out for two weeks. Maybe a moderate approach with no sugar. Oh, my, do I need some sort of self-control in this area.

School

How I hate thinking about school. It carries such stress with it. I feel like I'm not doing enough, but Abigail is absolutely on track as a kindergartener. I have real issues with the public school system, but so far the issues I'm having with the homeschool system aren't being well resolved. We went to the library and checked out a good number of books, mostly for me, mostly parenting, mostly seeking encouragement.We continue to do ten minutes a day of various subjects with reading and math being non-negotiable.
We've been reading Owl Moon, as I've severely limited the children's book collection due in part to misplaced library books but mostly due to re-purposing as projectiles, sleds, and stools. They are a creative problem solving crew. If you hear the call of the Great Horned Owl in this area, be aware that it may be coming from this house.Whoo, whoo, who, who, who, whooooooo.

Corrections

I feel the need to address a comment made by me yesterday regarding my friend's article. It is a delightful read; in fact I plan to return to it again today. My comment came from weariness I have been feeling lately with my own faith being more work than friendship, and the seriousness with which I have been living my life and translating that to the lives of my children. Do we pray in the restaurant because we are grateful to a gracious God or because that is what we Christians do to be set apart? Her words came at a particularly vulnerable time for me. They were good words for me to hear even if misinterpreted, or extrapolated from her true meaning.

Lighter Notes

After an embarrassingly long time this chair has been returned to a usable piece of furniture. I used it while it's upholstery was disintegrating. I took said upholstery off and painted the legs, arms, and previously upholstered back this wonderful shade of green when we lived in our rental in Uniontown. I covered it last spring. We used it careful not to wiggle in such a way as to disengage the top and bottom pieces. Today, I figured out how to connect the two and still swivel. It so works for us after five years or so of evolution.

My children continue to love the word butt above all others with the bodily functions that have their origin from said region reign closely in ability to illicit gales of laughter.
The Cosby Show is a wonderful way to cuddle close in the evening.
We've, Chris and I, become fans of White Collar. Now we don't have cable and have only found it though recommendations of fellow Netflix users. We have depleted the offerings of Netflix, and are sad. The mood rallied when we found the show going strong in season three. But hope was deflated when we found that the USA network does not stream its shows. On to iTunes, I fear a wait through summer. All other shows have paled in comparison.

Belief

2012-01-17T15:44:00.000-05:00

The cat and I sit on the couch. Stripped of its slipcover the upholstry tells the tales of pets and children learning to relieve themselves appropriately.
It is a gray drippy day. The cherry tree's branches are part of the picture framed in window sill. Dark and segmented they contrast with the clouds. Some how I feel them, reaching from all this earth and cold. Wanting something more. Grounded and free at the same time.
I wonder how many oreos it takes to negate even the need for a workout. The videos just purchased sitting shrink wrapped on my desk.
I want to think coherent thoughts, but I remember this morning. Trying to make it from house to T@arget to library and home again. The ugliness with which I responded to childish disregard. Days worth of practiced self-pity reigning down on one caught up in story and wandering off with the book and another tormented with nail grown long enough to pick at.
They cried and I've been empty since. The only reprieve -- we read three snuggled in a little rocker. Then I felt.
I read an article by my friend. About evangelical upbringing and the scars of worry it left her. Not even an indictment just a quick glimpse into her world and hear. It brings back the indictments lowered on Chris by his brother, accusations of right-wing disregard for humanity and earth.
It makes me angry to be found in their minds in these ways. I struggle to have a true and authentic relationship with my Creator, to value the things He values, to live whole before Him. It is assumed I who attend a CMA church wear Republican colors, that this homeschooling mother of two cheers Santorum's announcement that if he's elected homeschooling with happen in the White house, an announcement I skim the headlines of. And I am sickened and empty.
I know of my friend's worries. I carry them now deeply as I tuck two children into bed desperate that Jesus will be real to them. Heaven forbid I do another thing wrong! What more can be taken but that which would utterly destroy me?
And I don't believe. But I want to.
I pull quilt over my head, assume fetal position. With phonics rules as background, I listen and whisper truth. That He who ate with tax collectors and met after dark with Pharisee still is, and He is still upsetting the rules of perfection. And I find I do believe. Maybe I'm a little more free. And perhaps I need to go deep again with that friend. Because she has traveled where I must go.

Freedom

2012-01-16T14:42:00.001-05:00

I've been thinking lately about the year of Jubilee, the favorable year of the Lord. About how very much I want one. I planned on writing much more about it today, but those words will need to wait for the coming days and weeks. For today, after checking and replying to my email, and attempting to make homemade whole wheat pasta, I find myself more crunched for time than I like. So a longer post will need to wait. But a short one, I can write. . .

The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me,
Because the LORD has anointed me
To bring good news to the afflicted;
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
To proclaim liberty to captives
And freedom to prisoners;

Isaiah 61:1

I have a superpower. I can become captivated by words. Not the best superpower in the world for it is easily manipulated for evil. Yesterday, I was trying to think through this week and I found myself feeling a little trapped in the list. Not a long list, but a list I knew would be added to by husband and children as their needs became urgent. It seemed a lonely list.

Not satisfied to stay alone in my prison of listed tasks, I began a new list, a list to account for all that I do that no one notices, that others undo, a misery that I alone am martyred for daily. Oh, yes, I heaped coals of frustration upon the heads of my husband and children in my head while plunging myself deeper and deeper into a fury. All of this while readying us for the evening Bible studies at church; a time I truly love. I was a mess of self-pity.

I had written in my journal just that afternoon, asking for freedom from the should dos, the could dos, the must dos, the will dos, the need to-dos, all the dos I could think of. I was trying to take my freedom by blaming those around me. When all I needed to do was remember His touches throughout the day. Freedom from the prison of my to-do list came in the listing of His love apparent.

::a moon hung low even in the sunlight::

::sun, moon, and clouds holding conference just to the east::

::sweet Sunday afternoon naps; letting go is invited::

::his voice reciting God is good all by himself::

::the softness of her cheeks during bedtime hugs::

::caramel iced donuts::

::sweet letter of encouragement and resources for our adoption journey tucked onto our dear secretary's desk::

::and her delivery at just the right time::

::the determination not to try to guess::

::carbohydrates::

::middle school boy trying hard to not give me a hard time::

::the Revelation Song:: (can you imagine the day?!)

If from His hand drips such sweetness as this, then will He not guide me though the listing of tasks granting me freedom from the self-imposed boundaries of to-do lists too long? The favorable day of the Lord, indeed.

Simon Says

2012-01-12T14:03:00.000-05:00

This is our boy. Playing drums with his new pistols, licking his sister's cake batter from the spatula, eking every ounce of enjoyment out of each minute or feeling deeply the moments in which he finds no enjoyment. He is truly a joy.

Before this picture I hear hollered, Mommy, can we take ours licker into the library? I had no idea what he meant till he came frustrated to the kitchen repeating himself the whole way.

My all-time favorite thus far has been an exchange between he and Chris. A little background. We are working on potty-training the child and aren't there due to shear stubbornness on his part, and I am going with it because with Abigail I caused way too much stress. Anyway, I wanted him to pee in the potty and he didn't want to. We, he and I, were in the bathroom. Chris was putting dishes away. As is often the case in our house, the bathroom door was open and it is mere steps from our kitchen. Chris was growing frustrated with the stubbornness.
Oh, Simon, just go to the bathroom.
Hey, I'm am in the baffroom.
No response.
Hey, Dada, I'm am in the baffroom.
I shook with the silent laughter of a mother who knows she shouldn't laugh, but can barely contain herself.

And if you will indulge me one more memory.
We were watching Mary Poppins Friday night. All of us snuggled on the couch--Abigail, me, Simon, Chris. And the father of Jane and Michael comes into the scene once again rather grouchy.
Wow, he is a grouchy father. Do you know any grouchy fathers?
No.
When I turned for Simon's response. He silently lifted his little hand off of Chris's thigh, stuck out his pointer finger and pointed straight down to Chris's thigh. He then looked up to make sure Chris was looking and grinned. Chris tickled and Simon got exactly what he was going for--a tickle romp with Daddy.

Don't worry, soon I will post about Abigail and all of her changes. But today, I wanted to spend a little time recording Simon. With two, it is sometimes difficult to find the space to make records (or even to find the things you would want to record.) And I think the boy needs some time that is all his.

Wednesday's News Reel

2012-01-11T15:33:00.001-05:00

Diets

I started the South Beach Diet on Sunday. I've had a little sugar in my coffee when away because I've forgotten my stevia and those other sugar-free sweeteners frighten me, and I've had ranch dressing a couple of times. But other than that I'm on day 4 of carbohydrate-free living. And I know some things about myself.

eggs for breakfast are good because of the toast and bacon
I don't much care for bacon, sausage, or other breakfast meats.
bagels have voices and can call your name at 9:00 PM
cheese promotes an odd feeling in my mouth and makes me paranoid about bad breath
I can't chew gum after the cheese because gum has those sweeteners which frighten me or sugar

So, though in three days the scale has moved ever so slightly downward, I am excited to eat oatmeal and potatoes. We will see how this does for resetting my cravings and helping me to lose those 20ish pounds I want to lose. I am planning to add exercise and Made to Crave to my diet plans shortly.

School

Abigail is learning. We work for 10 minutes a day on reading and math. We read lots of books; our current favorites are "A Photographic Fantasy" which are little stories of winter from the perspective of wild animals. The photographs are beautiful. We are adding in nature study.
I struggle with feeling like I, we, are doing enough. So we are adding slowly. Next up is a return to geography by way of Voices of the Faithful and good books.
Currently social studies is taken care of in living with an annoying little brother.

Rules

I've established a couple of new rules regarding the dinner table.

No reading at the table.
No bickering or trying to agitate at the table.

These will replace the rules currently on the refrigerator.
The dinner table is becoming sacred to family time and those things that promote disconnection are being expelled. Abigail and Simon almost lost breakfast this morning for all the ruckus they were creating to get their own way. I am standing firm, I tell you!

Other Items

Simon and Abigail miss each other when they are apart, but when together find ways to torment one another--see school and social studies or bickering.
We are pursuing older child domestic adoption, slowly. But our names are on the line.
There is a house, overpriced, but otherwise what we would be looking for. Our house isn't ready, but will be soon. Perhaps a move. Perhaps a stay. Waiting. I have strong feelings about waiting.
Tonight I have a date with a short cutie to watch the Dukes of Hazzard, followed by a date with a taller, more distinguished cutie to watch White Collar. It is ironic that there is more cleavage, both top and bottom in the video for the short cutie than the one for the taller cutie.

Making

2011-12-20T11:33:00.000-05:00

This Christmas season while I'm attempting to embrace relaxed celebration, simple giving. We had to make some time for making.

Book-making for Teachers and Friends (more planned today)


Duck Tape Bible Cover for Chris's New Bible

The Bible Chris was using was fifteen years old and had bit the dust. I gave him his new Christmas-gift Bible when it came and he needed a cover. Doesn't Duck Tape fit him?

Melting Beeswax (and coconut oil and shea butter), Much Melting

Bars of Lotion, Tins of Lip Balm, Replacement Candles

This Weekend

2011-12-13T14:51:00.000-05:00

Abigail was a prophet and a donkey. Simon a reluctant, eventually retired, shepherd.

See how she helps by holding him in place. She is a loving if forceful older sister.

We had cookies after the carol sing that followed the pagent. There is nothing like Chris in the kitchen making his own batch of cookies, and Abigail crushing candy canes for a cookie recipe change I had in mind. We scrambled to get out of the house. We were one of the last to leave the church. It is over and it was good.

We Interrupt This Regularly Scheduled Chore Time

2011-12-09T14:26:00.000-05:00

To play in the snow.

Yesterday's snow marked the first sticking-around-for-a-while snow of the season, though what season it is I find difficult to tell Abigail.

Is it winter?

No.

Is it fall?

Yes.

But it is snow? Snow should only come in the winter. . .

And on it goes. Round and round.

The weather called for sunny, snow-melting warmth to move in during the afternoon. The forecasters were wrong, but not wanting to take a chance, we headed outside.

And I am so glad we did!

Preparing to Throw the First Handful

Stopping Before the Scary Wall (and drop). Perhaps a Fence During the Thaw.


We Can Do It While You Wait at the Scary Wall to Stop Us Though Why You Would Want To Is Beyond Simon's Comprehension

The snow was less like snow and more like little snow covered blobs of frozen rain sticking to the grass. There wasn't much of it, but definitely enough to justify sledding (and good, speedy sledding at that), throwing, making tracks through, and finishing with hot cocoa. Which I finally made to my liking.

Thursday's load of laundry was finished and ironed. My jeans were hemmed. Mittens were attempted. And pasta was mixed and cut. The dishes weren't put away. The counters were left covered in pasta-making flour. The living room floors were passable only with great care.

But we went outside!

and played!

and laughed!

and I wasn't deemed grouchy!

I'll take it.

Decking the Halls

2011-12-07T12:45:00.000-05:00

Last night we decorated our Christmas tree, put out the moveable nativity, and generally squeezed it all into the space between gymnastics and bath. It was a little bit of time, and a little bit of argument, but a good time.

So with the exception of planned family nights, because one must plan such time in the midst of everything else in this season, we are decked and able to enjoy this time.

Remembering

2011-12-05T15:11:00.000-05:00

--laughing till my cheeks hurt--

--an excuse for the purchase of a game--

--and the game night--

Not the Tree but a Good Size to Examine

--a tree farm--

--finding the tree and finding it fits--

--her sixth birthday party--

--having friends to celebrate with--

--pizza places down the street--

--ranch dip--


The Cake that Really Looks Like a Cheetah

--finding the costumes--

--finishing the costuming--

--their presence, readiness, and willingness to worship in whatever He gives--

It was a full weekend of deep joy and deep sorrow. I think it is why the list matters.

Birthday Gift for Six Years Old

2011-12-02T15:22:00.000-05:00

After weeks of waiting, birthday money accumulated and doll received!

Belated Birthday

2011-12-01T19:52:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was Abigail's birthday. We lived yesterday, not that we aren't living today, but I didn't get a chance to post.

So, to my dear girl, Happy Sixth Birthday.

We did some shopping. She had the day off of chores and school (and but for the birthday lunch at Applebees she would have stayed in her pjs all day). The wait-staff at Applebees sung to her and she opened two of her gifts there. She skipped Awana for cuddling on the couch with The Cosby Show. She sounded out the words she could in her new Bible.

It was a good day (in spite of a trip to the urgent care for her brother who was cranky with an ear infection).

I can hardly believe she is six. It feels like yesterday that she came to us, that I was holding a five and one half pound little body close to mine. So very grateful for the length of her days.

So many things have changed. She has grown tall and strong. She is compassionate and is beginning a quest to be funny, though I fear she will be more like her mother. She is thoughtful and wise for one so young. She runs and talks, dances, jumps and sings, asks questions that require prayer to answer. She so isn't a little baby anymore.

Definitely a little girl, many things have stayed the same. She still would rather do just about anything rather than eat. She remains intense and patient to try new things.

I had plans to write her a letter, but I find the words can't escape my heart. I can't find the words to tell her how proud I am to be her mother, how grateful I am that she was God's choice for us, how very much I love her. I lack words to express the utter delight I find in her life right now as she is becoming so much her very own person. I don't know how to write of my dreams for her, my deep desire for her to follow Christ with every part of her being, my excitement to see, to know, the woman she will become.

We ended the day by making shortbread and vanilla-maple milk and watching The Cosby Show. We read the Bible and prayed. We changed into pjs and sang and tucked her in. We are one-third of the way . . . and to a mother's heart this is bittersweet.

But how can one explain happy/sad tears mingling on a little girl's sixth birthday, so her dad and I will whisper of it all when we turn out the lights.

Though I Dwell in Darkness

2011-11-29T14:37:00.000-05:00

Tears were falling as I came to the Word this morning.

The screen calling louder than paper-bound. I thought I was weak checking email before listening to His voice, but waiting was a message preparing my heart.

The end of a wait is nearing leaving the unknown to rest in our minds--foggy darkness churning stomachs making words tense and terse. Another wait is drawing nigh. We know not what will be. We know the diagnosis--a name with definite meaning, without timeline. I know their soul-weariness, yet I know only in light of our own wait and loss. I, soul-weary from loss so recent, find myself without words. My dear, dear friend and I can only say I pray, my heart breaks and I pray. (Oh how I wish I prayed well, remembering the always. How I wish I could pray with words that have meaning. My heart left only with pained groaning, weary "helps!" uttered.)

With this I come to His Word, trying to make friends with the minor prophets. Finishing Micah. And here in old, old words--eternal Word--I read

But as for me, I will watch expectantly for the Lord;

I will wait for the God of my salvation.

My God will hear me.

Do not rejoice over me, O my enemy.

Though I fall I will rise;

Though I dwell in darkness, the Lord is a light for me.

. . .

Because He delights in unchanging love.

. . .

Thou wilt give truth to Jacob

And unchanging love to Abraham,

Which Thou didst swear to our forefathers

From the days of old.

Micah 7:7-8, 18, 20

My very life bears testimony to these words. I am blessed by the faith that stumbles through adversity and can speak confidently of His love. Dare I pray the same for this family--as they walk into the unknown, into waiting. Such a prayer brings depths of pain, terrible grief, I can't wish on anyone. But dare I pray it knowing that He can make His promises our very real reality.

My tears fall, when there isn't time for falling tears, for the years with their daughter they are waiting to lose, for the very un-rightness of it all. Without a miracle, they are waiting to walk into deep grief. My tears have been redeemed, they have bought me a testimony of His grace and love, knowing they will grieve, I pray.

If you would join me in praying for God's hand in the final days of this pregnancy, for His great mercy and unending grace to be so very real in this time giving them immeasurable peace, to His glory and their eternal treasure, I would be so very grateful. And would you comment that I may share it with my friends that they would be encouraged.

After Thanksgiving

2011-11-28T13:34:00.000-05:00

I have been away from this place a terribly long time. I've had several hormonal upheavals with being pregnant and then not being pregnant. We've been busy with living in those moments and will probably continue to be family busy. I was looking for our Christmas picture, I realized I've done a poor job of capturing the living we've been doing. So I return to this place to slow, to remember, to create a story-legacy for us.

I want to talk about Him and them and find the joy, happiness, and thanksgiving in all of our lives. I don't want to go months without a record of our lives allowing a journal filled with disjointed thoughts be all that connects the daily to the future.

To start again at this place, a list. . .

--the early morning (too?) sounding out of our December books on the couch--

--feeling like she is gaining confidence after all those hours of letter sounds--

--his imitation of her while being very much himself--

--a blue fountain pen--

--feeling like myself--

--looking for the morning to come--

--seeing it--

--a programmable coffee pot--

--a birthday party for my dad--

--creating quiet--

I have found delight in 5:30 risings--the quiet stillness that heralds beauty, light, and children. This morning the quiet was broken much earlier than I anticipated or desired. It makes my heart race; I can find myself frustrated with the interruption. Then if I listen, if I share the morning, I can find joy, and sometimes happiness in the unquiet quiet early morning hours. The listing of delights helps.

Do you have lists? Do you have a list of joys?

Having a Baby

2011-10-27T14:42:00.000-04:00

If you didn't know from Facebook, we are having a baby and something happens when I start swimming in hormones. . .

You know I don't want this blog to die, though I think I've given up on it ever becoming terribly successful, but my desire to write and take pictures and record our lives here seems to have dissipated.

So I don't know what I'm doing here except giving baby news--April 18th--and saying I don't know what I'm doing here, but I think I still want to be here.

Anyway. . .

It Hasn't Been Quite a Month

2011-08-04T14:28:00.000-04:00

I keep sitting down to write and finding something else to occupy the time. That and my brain has been far from words. I've signed on to too many projects, and there are/were/may be too many things up in the air--waiting. I'm one overwhelmed, exhausted woman. But. . .

I'm going to slow down-again.

Let Him show me what it is I am to be working for. Practice the word no. Give thanks always. And stop talking. I don't like stirring the pot, but once someone is I have found I fear a tendency to join the stirring. So I must do it--walk away, think on other things, stop talking.

I want to read to my children, teach my daughter, write and sew, talk with Chris, put my newly filled jars of food away before I need to go to can some more, reinstate family fun nights, sit on my porch.

Do you ever do this--make something just what you want (with what you have) and then fill up all your spaces to spend time there?

Five Little Monkeys

2011-07-12T17:19:00.000-04:00

Or rather

One little monkey jumping on the bed

He fell off and bumped his head

Neighbors were contacted

Boy was washed and dressed

Settled in the car

Girl ushered to the neighbors' house

For an afternoon of air-conditioned attention

Urgent care took his temp

Listened to his story

Washed and glued the rocker-induced cut on his head

Sent home with a glove balloon

One little monkey jumped on the bed

During nap attempt two. . .

Dear MedExpress,

Apparently Simon is a slow learner when it comes to physical injury caused by activity he is warned against--jumping down the steps, jumping on the bed, running full-steam-ahead down the drive way, standing in the swivel chairs, climbing over the swivel chairs, hitting his recently injured head off of things.

Expect to see us often.

Thank you,
Simon's Mom

P.S. His father and I will get the benefits stuff straightened out tonight so you are no longer confused as to how you will be paid.

We Are the Butt-crack Family

2011-06-15T14:26:00.000-04:00

Yes, I know. I've posted about it before, but this time I must offer the explanation first that they really don't have much chance in stopping the use of the word. In untimely situations, it is going to be used.

From the lips of my sister and adopted by all in the family
I've got to get up at the butt-crack of dawn.

Chris gives old songs new lyrics. New words were given to the Diego Rescue Pack tune--

A poop attack

You better watch your back

You're gonna need some toilet paper for your butt-crack.

So really what chance do I have. Yesterday we were on our way to the library.
Momma (I know enough now to start praying at the first mmmm sound.)
Yes, I replied with great trepidation. I wanted to go to the library and knew we didn't have time for another Does-God-live-in-a-dark-and-gloomy-place conversation.

Will Daddy still be able to sing the butt-crack song in heaven?

I don't know. (I wish for a certain answer, but how am I to know for sure that the One who created the man who writes such songs doesn't enjoy a good butt-crack lyric once in a while.)
Well, in her quite reasonable, perfectly logical voice, God doesn't have a problem with the butt-crack song. He just has a problem when we sing it too much and annoy our parents.
OK. Really, I ask, what else was there to say.

Besides after another conversation--

Your daddy is funny.

Yes, Daddy is funny. And Simon is funny. And I am funny some of the time. . . .

After waiting till I was uncomfortable. What about me am I funny?
Without skipping a beat, No, Mommy, you're not funny.--
I don't think I have any authority on humor what-so-ever. (I console myself with the fact that when anything serious, sad, scary happens I am the one run to. Apparently non-funny parents are useful when the situation is dire.)

Finite

2011-06-13T14:46:00.000-04:00

I come often to this keyboard throughout the day. And each time I think of this little blog and feel guilty. Guilty for not having words left after a weekend that included one day of watching one so full of words. Guilty for wanting to know if our Realtor has the information on the houses we are interested in and checking my email instead of writing. Guilty for reading the posts of others feeling bone weary from the long evenings, early mornings and interrupted sleep of weaning a boy from his pacifier.

Guilty for being finite. It makes me a little defensive. An infinite God giving a finite girl a life, and a call, and a purpose, and a whole plethora of thoughts and words dancing around in her head doesn't seem fair on the surface.While those thoughts dance in my head, pet hair swirls on the floor, a girl dances, a boy catapults, and they all expect dinner.

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

Perhaps, it is indeed infinite Christ in me who can do all that finite me feels called toward. Maybe it isn't about more striving but more giving over. Could it be less about being competent and more about asking and yielding? Perhaps it isn't about schedule and balance and order, but rather about wind and fire and Spirit.

I started The Forgotten God by Francis Chan. Then I started teaching middle school Sunday school, and didn't go back. Perhaps I will return to the chapters waiting.

The End of Waiting

2011-06-06T20:34:00.000-04:00

We've been waiting for the silver truck episodes to end. Friday we relieved ourselves of the possession of the vehicle traded for the silver truck. Friday we also got a letter from Chris's lawyer returning (in writing) the remainder of the retainer to disentangle Chris from liability in an accident which occurred after he traded said truck. We are still waiting for the check or credit to our card to be applied, but it seems the ordeal is over.

We've also been waiting for a security clearance. Chris was offered a job in January contingent upon obtaining a federal security clearance. He completed the paperwork in the middle of February. And we waited. The company turned the paperwork in on the first of March. And we waited. The feds asked for more information the first of May. And we waited. Through two business trips and one horrible performance review, we waited. Today the call came! He has been awarded a security clearance, tendered his resignation, and will begin his new job on the 20th. Ahhhh.

Now we work. We live an hour south of his new job. We would like to move 30 minutes north. So we work to get our house ready and our possessions packed. Then we will wait again. I learn peace in waiting.

Catch-Up Lists

2011-06-02T20:37:00.000-04:00

So much seems to be happening all the time here. Funny things said. Lots of things to do and learn. Sandboxes and make-shift pools. I always mean to keep a record--pictures and words, but by the time bedtime hits, or nap time, or any quiet time really, I seem to only have energy for filling. Everything is gone--words, memories--except the feelings--joy, guilt, sweet, bitter.
Here is a little listing of where we are:

Abigail

is over halfway finished with her learn-to-read curriculum and is reading BOB books
laughs hysterically at any bathroom humor encouraging her brother to shout said bathroom words that much louder
spends as much time as possible in the sandbox
comes up with the most difficult or outrageous questions imaginable
shouts at TV-via-Netflix shows

Simon

has some of the funniest expressions ever seen
doesn't enjoy being in the water (unless it is a pool the size of a sweater box)
stands on the seat of the big potty to pee when he wants to
says what the whaaaaaaa? which sounds like what the insert the foulest of four letter words here totally embarrassing his mother in public. yes, this is worse than saying buttcack in the church nursery
runs, jumps, leaps, hits, and wrestles in true all-boy fashion

When the Spring Stays Rainy

2011-05-19T14:39:00.000-04:00

Find a walk with plenty of puddles
Put on proper rain gear

Find that the puddles are too deep

Listen for the belly laughs of a girl delighted
Have the server reject any pictures including the wetness of a toddler boy who wants no help

Heard in the Car

2011-05-18T14:31:00.000-04:00

Our car has the SYNC system. It is voice controlled for phone and certain parts of the entertainment system.
On Saturday we were taking a drive, looking at some houses, and getting ice cream.

Can we listen to some children's music?

SYNC please say a command.

Clocklate milk!
SYNC please say a command.
Clocklate milk!

A few minutes of silence, or rather children's music.

Buttcack. . .

Buttack. . .

Shake you boobie!

No, it's Shake Your Groove Thing.

Shake you boobie!

Simon, no it's Shake Your Goooooove Thing!

Shake you boobie!

Abigail just let him be and listen to your music.

(For those of you waiting for Chris to be repeated in awkward situations. It has happened, often, and usually he is absent. Yes, ladies in or from our stay in Michigan it is time to laugh.)

Monday Chris's parents offered to take the children to the avairy. We were going to meet them halfway between Uniontown and Pittsburgh. On the way. . .

Does God live in a dark and gloomy place?

Where does Jesus live?

Yeah, I know it is heaven. Why is He making us a place? Heaven is already done.

Why do we need a new earth?

Will Jesus live with us on the new earth or will He stay in heaven?

Jesus and God are the same, right?

What is a mystery?

Poor Simon didn't even have time to interject buttcack or shake you boobie till the last five minutes of the thirty-five minute drive.

This home of ours is quite a noisy place. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

I Still Like Him

2011-05-13T13:33:00.000-04:00

Today we have been married eleven years. Some have been wonderful. Some have been challenging. One or two have been down-right awful.

Thru it all I am so glad it has been us, together. I wonder what is in store next.

More In Our Pursuit of the Proper Smell of Children

2011-05-11T20:08:00.000-04:00

what to do without a pool in non-pool season


and creating quiet space afterward

On Continual Rage

2011-05-11T10:38:00.000-04:00

I raced a shopping cart at the last MOPS meeting of the year.
We sang and talked and committed small traffic violations.
We laughed and at the end we three planners talked and lost track of time.

The day was pretty awful. I spent it crabby and cleaning and impatient and praying. I informed Chris that if we are ever to move again to expect continual rage. It is difficult to clean well (and that was yesterday's goal) around the piles and un-put-aways of our lives. I don't know why I picked MOPS day to do such a cleaning job.

One of the ladies called MOPS "soul rejuvenation." I went knowing that my soul was a mess. I came home ready to meet my family and thinking that perhaps continual rage might not be a destiny.

Abigail read her first book yesterday (a Bob book). What a joyful little girl.

Changing

2011-05-09T20:55:00.000-04:00

they smell of the out-of-door just as those their size are meant to smell as the days lengthen and warm
the nightly ritual of foot-washing begins as spring feet find their way uncovered into still cool soil
faces smudged and hair damp from big play I breathe deep wondering when I started to smell so grown-up and silently whisper for time
fingers dig into soil making room for the tiniest seeds
hlp, hlp offered from the tiniest hands
she and I practice reading on the swing in the sun
he mows
it is time for meatloaf to become hamburger, casserole to become salad

Mushrooms, Ramps, and Sweet Spring Grass

2011-05-08T21:42:00.000-04:00

I called my dad early twice. First to ask for a visit today. Second to clarify that the lasagna I would be bringing would need baking before we ate.

We went on a long walk, too long for little ones if we had known how long it would be. But we were hunting--ramps and mushrooms. Mom and Dad had a bunch left so they made a side of fried mushrooms for the lasagna, because I love fried mushrooms and they love me. Abigail cackled as she ate a ramp raw. Simon sampled one and blew raspberries at Mom while she carried him.

Abigail ran through the meadow, grass well-watered to her knees. When you breathed just right, you could smell spring and the hay-making to come.

There Isn't a Tree On My House

2011-04-18T15:02:00.000-04:00

Before it was taken away Abigail and Simon had to climb it. And who could blame them?

It wasn't warm Sunday, but my parents were there to help. My dad is a forester and has been doing some sort of tree removal work for a while. Who better to get rid of an offending tree. My sister who has been coming to help us since we were married and her husband came to Uniontown for a livestock flea market and to help with the tree removal.

Stabilization Measures in Place; the Cutting Begins

All said and done I think we were outside for an hour to take care of all of it. Moving the toys. Watching the cutting happen. And carrying away the pieces.


Chilly Children Retreat to the House to Watch

We said good bye to the siblings who refused the lunch I skipped church to make. (OK I really skipped church because strep had invaded our home, but it sounds so much more guilt-inducing to say it that way.) We visited and napped and planned and said good-bye to parents who had come to get rid of a tree.

Now there is a birdbath to commemorate the event. Oh, and a scuffed shingle and a dented gutter. The possibilities for greater horror from a tree landing on one's home are numerous.

Sometimes I want to ask Why something is allowed to happen. As if God was absent from the scene or the cause of inconveniences and worse. But I think I am slowly learning to see His hand in What could have happened. Perhaps instead of searching for His reason in all things, I can see His hand in all things, protecting, preserving and I can know Him. His Hand and His Love. Then I can see all things worked for good (because somethings just aren't).

There Is a Tree on My House

2011-04-16T12:21:00.002-04:00

Yep, the tree fell today during the winds. Needless to say a visit to MedExpress for Abigail's second round of strep fighting antibiotics followed by a quick pick-up-the-medicine trip to Target and a tree on our house means that there is another day with more added to the list of things to do than taken from the list. But the girl is healing and the tree didn't do much more than land on our house.

Chris and his dad de-limbed the tree while our neighbors who actually owned the thing carried the branches away. I called the insurance company and our tree-removal service, known affectionately as "Daddy" when such times arise. He will come with Mom tomorrow and many of the things on my to-do list will be marked off when they leave. Chris and Kevin also got the basement ready to begin framing the bathroom and bedroom down there. We had tortilla crust pizza, the beans and corn meal are soaking for tomorrow's lunch, and oatmeal is waiting for the timer to go to church tomorrow.

Next week has been planned. A head was measured. Stuff printed.
We colored Easter eggs, watched Twas the Night Before Easter (Note to Self: watch The Easter Carol instead!), and ate ice cream.

I want to call it a bad day. Condemn myself to the land of the ineffective, the unintentional, the unproductive, and perhaps that is my home, but when I write, I find that perhaps that land where things happen and we do with what we have isn't a bad place to live after all.

Sleepy Simon

2011-03-23T21:18:00.000-04:00

Dear Simon,

I know that you are quickly entering the year of two. I know that you so want to do whatever the bigger people are doing. I know that when we restrict your ability to do whatever the bigger people are doing or when your size or ability restrict you, you will get frustrated, yell, and cry.

But I have noticed something--since you have been trying not to sleep things have been making you so much more frustrated.
You learned to climb out of your crib and quickly learned that you could flip through the window onto Abigail's bed and wander through the house. To keep from injuring yourself or Abigail, we changed your bed. Now you sleep in a toddler bed.
Or you rather, you wander throughout the house asking for hugs, following your sister to the bathroom, checking out the kitchen cabinets, and using your parent's toothbrush on the back of the bathroom door. You fall asleep wherever you little legs stop moving. You have fallen asleep on the stairs waking yourself and scaring us when you fell down the two steps. You have climbed over the gate and fell asleep at the top of the stairs. We have found you in our bed and in the rocking chair in your room.

Darling Boy, every time your body leaves your bed because you don't want to fall asleep you are setting yourself up for frustration tomorrow morning. Every time you fall asleep in an odd and uncomfortable position, you are setting yourself up for a frustrating afternoon. And every time someone has to move you back to your bed, you are setting yourself up for some sort of meltdown.

Please, go to sleep.

Love,
Your Mama
(slightly frustrated with the three visits during the typing of this post)

Sheetz

2011-03-22T14:26:00.000-04:00

It was here that you first said Abigail. I murmured to the girl in the backseat.

We had been at my in-laws house for the afternoon. Needing to get gas we stopped at the Sheetz between their home and ours. The kids were in their pajamas and were semi-quiet. Chris was pumping gas. It was dark with a supermoon we couldn't help continually talking about.

She doesn't remember referring to herself as Agaba, always when someone asked it was Agaba. I couldn't help but think of Alladin whenever she would say it.

I can't recall the date. When we were sitting in the dark while Chris pumped the gas at this Sheetz on the way home. But I remember the practice. Abeeeegail. Abeeegail. Abeegail. Abigail. I remember being tired and wishing she was asleep, according to plan. But it was quite nearly the last time I was to hear her little voice claim Agaba as her name.

Oh, how I want to be the woman reminding young moms to savor the moments for they go by so quickly years from now with the joy of one who has savored. Lord, create in me a patient and joyful heart present here with my children.

It was here that you first said Abigail.

Ordinary Is Good

2011-03-18T13:27:00.000-04:00

It is almost 70 degrees outside the last time I checked the thermometer. After yesterday's delightful warmth, my children's heads smell of playing out of doors. Books have been read on the swing and toys carried from room to porch. 3:30 promises another exodus from the house and when Chris gets home from work, I will take a walk.

We have friends coming for dinner in place of small group. I've saved money on our electric. The wind chime is tinkling. Abigail is playing and Simon is sleeping. We've arrived in Neverland in the original story taking tiny bits at a time.

The windows are open and the winter quilt covering the couch is being washed for next year. Everything is budding. Crocuses are in their glory and the first of the daffodils has smiled at the sky. I received a beautiful magazine yesterday and have a good book to read.

Tonight after our friends depart, we will sneak in a half hour of TV via the internet. Last night's Big Bang Theory. Then we will go to bed to have buckwheat cakes tomorrow morning.

Today I am all here. And all here is good.

Heard

2011-03-16T20:53:00.000-04:00

My children are early risers. I am an early riser too, but to be earlier than them I would have to skip sleep altogether. In addition with out a quiet hour carved out of the early morning, I become a rather unpleasant mother. In order to solve this issue, we have inacted two morning protocols.

First--the children aren't allowed to come to the public areas of the house until seven at which time I will have been up for one-half hour (excluding early morning bathroom runs or sleepless nights with sick children).
Second-when they enter the public spaces they may watch about one hour of TV. This consists of choosing between our DVD collection suitable for youngsters or Netflix's children's offerings that don't drive me crazy. There are about four TV series that meet those criteria. Netflix offers between 1 and 3 seasons of each. We've watched alot of the same thing.

Recently though, Simon has developed an opinion about what to watch so we have had to set up a morning TV viewing rotation. He mostly picks Diego who for a while was referred to as gooooo! goooooo! but more recently has been called by deago. Abigail is tired of Diego.

You wonder how I know. As I was sitting at the kitchen table studying Esther, I heard. . . .

(Imagine the most derision you can place in the tone of a pink footy pajama five year old girl.)

Diego, if you keep being so bossy, I'm going to stop watching you. (in response to his request to stand up)
That is ridiculous. (responding to the offerings of the knapsack who I want to refer to as Backpack but know that is Dora)
You know the answer to that. (in response to the end puzzle questions)
Look, I am not an animal rescuerer. (when Diego asked that they climb a tree with him)

Simon, on the other hand, follows directions are replies on cue.

What a pair!

Note to Self

2011-03-04T14:42:00.000-05:00

A few reminders--

If you think Simon is chasing Abigail to catch her red boa tail while you make dinner, it would be best to check behind the closed door of the bathroom. He may be using the cat's water bowl to scoop the toilet water into the bathtub.
Just because it says stickers on the package, motif wall stickers are not made for five-year-olds to apply. They will only boss you until the headache you've had since the cold Chris gave you for Valentine's Day returns. You will move to the toddler's section of wall only to be chattered at. You can tell her you don't want to be bossed, but then you may make a mistake and here, So I guess you do need my help with Simon's stickers. At which point you will decide that cheese sandwiches, pickles, and leftover brownie pudding cake would be a proper lunch.
Always, always, always inform children of an items use. If you do not tell them a clock is for telling time (which they already know), they may get great delight from turning the hands round and round. You may not notice. They will come to tell you quiet time is over because the clock says so. There will be an argument. This can also happen with your electric blanket. You will click it on and hours later go to a cold bed only to find that the controller has been turned to two. I ask you what good is two in electric blanket speak?
If you watch My Fair Lady more than twice, sometimes the Words, Words, Words song comes into your head while your children talk.
The days can be excruciatingly long, really the hours can feel like years, but before I've noticed art has been done, steps taken, and years passed. Create the moments. Record the memories. Listen to all the words (and record the best of them so that the world can read them.)

Out of Doors

2011-03-02T16:18:00.000-05:00

It is a beautiful March day. Blue skies made all the bluer by the puff of white passing through them. It is chilly, breezy with a hint of winter still.

Our crocuses have popped up, some brave enough to form buds. They will hold their little yellow petals skyward soon. The daffodils have grown taller and the tulips fat red-tinged leaves have pushed through.

George's water has been returned to the out-of-doors, semi-freezing overnight but melting with the proper application of big black nose and determined tongue.

I herded everyone outside yesterday afternoon in coats and shoes. It took about half the time to get outside and about a quarter of the time to get back inside. They explored the yard recently uncovered by the sun after I removed the many signs of a large dog living in a smallish yard. They dumped cold water out of toys missed in the fall pick-up. They, mostly he followed by she, discovered that with a certain amount of ducking they can play under the deck. They ran and shouted and jumped over piece of post they tired of rolling and threw the sticks that only fall in big winter winds. I spent time in the shed. Seeing what we had. Thinking about yard and garden, flowers and vegetables. I ignored the under-the-deck play making a note of the necessity of making an actual deck plan. We came back in dangerously close to dinner.
Thankfully we had plenty of leftovers.

I know spring isn't fully here. There will probably be one more snow that will cover the ground. The rain and the muck will come and the little stream through town will fill. There will be more days to play inside and temperatures that demand soup for dinner. But spring and new is on the way. Soon we will be spotting life everywhere. The thought makes me smile.

A Weekend Away

2011-02-28T10:45:00.000-05:00

We went to my parent's house this weekend. We went for an auction. The auction happened, but they weren't selling what I thought they were to be selling. We didn't buy anything. But, we did get a breather, a bit of rest and community.

And I'm counting those ways He manifests His character in my everyday.

the way they get so excited to see family

playing with their cousin

his little face

all the talking

holding up cards

climbing on chairs and uncles

the entertainment value of a toddler

glorious sunny warm February days

walking hills filled with memories

listening to my sister's plans

Some Things Stay The Same

2011-02-25T10:36:00.000-05:00

May 15, 2009

February 19, 2011

Heard at Our House

2011-02-22T08:20:00.000-05:00

I put the chicken in a box and stood on it.

Bleee. Bleee. Bleee. when he finds himself upset.

You know I can't fall asleep at nap time when we don't have anything to do after dinner. But when there is something to do, I find the strength to go to sleep.

Woof, woof. Zoom Zoom! (Loosely translated: There is a dog in the car in front of us going to Target.)

Look, Mommy, God is painting the sky!
Pain kyyyy.
Who paints the sky?
God! Simon say God.
Gah.
God paints the sky.
Gah pain kyyy.

Grateful

2011-02-21T14:14:00.000-05:00

We've had the flu. First Chris, then me. Yesterday Simon had a fever and this afternoon Abigail feels warm. In the midst of achy, coughing, crankiness I didn't write. I was too tired. But I did notice

brilliant blue skies
jacket warm days
sunsets
and standing on the porch watching God paint
his first strings of words
happy birds singing in milder weather
having just enough energy
parents who come visit and give garden advice
naps
The Big Bang Theory

100 Pieces

2011-02-04T13:26:00.000-05:00

All By Herself!

My Son . . .

2011-02-03T21:29:00.000-05:00

hates it when Abigail wants to go to sleep before he does so he throws books, toys and her own water bottle at her. She punches him. (We're still trying to figure this one out.)

has a breakfast cheer, and a lunch cheer, and a dinner cheer, and a snack cheer, and a dessert cheer. He shouts yea! and does a little hopping run to his seat. Then he tries to jump into his seat.

used to take his turn saying grace--sus, cucooo, men (Jesus, Thank you, Amen). Now he just interrupts if he thinks grace has gone on too long--men. . .men. . .men!

calls things by their sound instead of their name.

makes us laugh everyday!

has brought something that only the Lord could have known we needed.

Beauty for Ashes

2011-02-02T20:49:00.001-05:00

Yesterday we went for a day at our friend's house. The last time we were at her house was the day of our car accident. On the way Abigail decided to think, and to ask questions, and make declarations.

Mommy, can we talk about my hand?

Why would that crash down on me when I was just trying to put the toys away?

I didn't know it was falling so I couldn't get out of the way.

It wasn't right. It had no right to fall on me.

Did God make it fall on me?

I already love Jesus and want to follow Him.

He didn't have to let that fall on me.

We had to talk about the car accident.

What do you say to that? Did God cause those awful accidents to happen? If He allowed them, how is that different than causing them? But five years old isn't the time for discussions about sovereignty and free will, prefect will and permissive will, tension in the text, balancing human responsibility with all-powerful God.

No, let us talk of what we know.

So we talked of redemption and growing.

The ways that God takes a nervous, timid little girl who wanted to do everything perfectly the first time or not try at all, and turns her into a brave and confident little girl who will accept her best and keep trying.
The ways that God uses ugly and bad things to help those who love and follow Him know Him better and grow stronger.
We talked about how He sent Jesus to die on the cross which was an ugly, bad, awful thing so that we could be washed clean of our sins and be friends with Him.
We talked about how just like God let, sent, Jesus (to) die so that we could know Him sometimes He will let, send, bad things (to) happen so that we will know Him or so that others can know Him through us.

She went to play satisfied. I went away feeling as though I needed another quiet time to be ready for the drive home.

But I am left struck by the conversation. Perhaps I don't need to worry over how God will accomplish His will, or what kind of will I am living in, or how His sovereignty and my free will work together. Perhaps it is enough to cling to the cross--to the God who loves so deeply and whose daily work is one of redemption. Perhaps it isn't in the understanding so much as it is in the clinging.

To grant those who mourn in Zion,

Giving them a garland instead of ashes,

The oil of gladness instead of mourning,

The mantle of praise instead of a spirit of fainting.

So they will be called oaks of righteousness,

The planting of the LORD, that He may be glorified.
Isaiah 61:3

January 30th

2011-01-31T21:09:00.000-05:00

On a day when one's husband needs to make an afternoon trip to Pittsburgh, one should convince him to take the entire day off and go to the zoo in the morning.

It was seventeen degrees when we arrived to find that two of our party didn't have gloves. But that was forgotten when we got to see the snow leopard up close and the tiger walking about and watch his giant paws move him closer and closer to us. And when we stood outside the elephant enclosure and she came over to the glass, we realized just how big they were!

We spent an hour in the primate house and another in the aquarium and even more time looking at the reptiles and admiring the bats.

The best part of going to the zoo when it is seventeen degrees is that there is time

time to admire

time to laugh

time to count

time to watch

time to think

time to ask

time to answer.

Usually this zoo is packed to the gills, but today we were one of only a few families. Instead of spending my time teaching my children how to behave in a crowd, we were able to talk and learn about God's handiwork. Next year we'll add long underwear, sweaters and a proper glove count to our supply list, and go again.

Yep, we've become the family that goes to the zoo in the middle of the winter. That family time is too good to pass up.

Ordinary Is Good

2011-01-27T20:30:00.000-05:00

Have you ever noticed how going outside, getting out some paints, and giving everyone a little space and a little of their special requests makes for a lovely day.

I haven't been feeling especially well the last couple of days--a migraine that is manageable but never quite gone. And I have been showing it--irritable, lethargic, blahhhhh. But today, I decided to fake it. (Of course, it didn't hurt that my head didn't hurt as badly as it had been.)

We went outside. I shoveled and they played. We threw snowballs and made two snow people--mama and baby.

We came in and had lunch. He napped. Abigail and I made a cake and she played while I made lotion, a new recipe. She napped. I wrote and read and talked to my mother.

They painted while I made dinner and cleaned up the kitchen. Why haven't I done that before? It so worked!

My friend called. We had dinner and I went to pick up our insulation.

The children are in bed now. I am writing a simple little nothing of a post. A lot of little details that ended up labeling the day good. As the month draws to a close and I begin thinking of the next discipline, I know that celebration is good and I pray that this month will stick as I walk forward into the next.

When One Doesn't Pay Attention

2011-01-24T21:02:00.000-05:00

I tucked the children in a full half hour later than normal. Chris and Abigail were planning the upgrade from Barbie jeep to radio-controlled Barbie jeep. Sometime in the not distant past, Simon caused an accident resulting in the loss of a wheel. I think it was when he was trying to move the ottoman with said jeep.

Anyway, to the story at hand. A tired mama, I just wanted to use the bathroom, post, and curl up on the couch with a blanket and The Big Bang Theory.

I walked into the bathroom. I walked out. I whined, Chris I just wanted to use the bathroom.

Well, what's wrong.

You have to see it to believe it.

While he went to look, I retrieved the long handled salad tongs and a large pot. And I walked to the stairway leading to their room, Abigail, come here.

Oh yuck, uttered from the bathroom as a completely unsuspecting five year old walked into the scene, green footy pjs and all.

What?

I handed her the tongs and guided her to the toilet. She glanced in and wondered, Who did that?

I wonder.

Daddy?

No.

You?

No.

Who then?

Who do you think?

Me? Incredulously, as wet tights covered in unflushed toilet water dropped into the pot.

Splat.

Yes, you. Put those in the sink.

As she walked back to bed, she commented, I had no idea I put my tights in the potty.
Kisses and laughter.

What else is there to do? I mean aside from laundering the tights and washing the tongs and pot in extra hot water. Oh, yeah, write about it.

Note to Self

2011-01-20T20:08:00.000-05:00

Dear Self,

Staying up until midnight means that you will have a long day. Don't stay up till midnight any more.

Turn off the computer. Don't delve into deep conversations at 10 PM.
Read a book. Cuddle under the quilt.

Be ready to sleep at 10 PM.

It will help your days go better.

Love,
Me

PS By the time you can write the post you have been marinating over all day, you will also be too tired for that and will write something frivolous reminding yourself not to get too tired.

What We've Been Doing

2011-01-19T22:07:00.000-05:00

Chatting Up the Pets

Relaxing with a Good Flick

Reading with Expression Perched Precariously

Sliding

30 Minutes a Day Leapster-ing

When Left with a Played Drum He Reads

I keep getting rid of stuff--toys, agendas, appointments--and this is what we're left with. It's a pretty good life.

Quietly

2011-01-18T19:19:00.000-05:00

The last few days I have not felt 100%. In fact yesterday I felt about 50%. But I invited Him and we did the next thing. I smiled as the children played together. I allowed my husband to let me feel bad without feeling bad about it (quite imperfectly but better than before). I left things un-checked on the list and went to the homeschool night out anyway. I absorbed the wisdom of those who have gone before when they told me to worry less, when they said my children will learn.

Today I spent the whole day in the kitchen. Not my favorite thing to do, but the next thing always kept me here. Tomorrow I will rise to a kitchen in order, to sourdough bread in a bag, to roast leftovers in the fridge, and the dutch oven purchased in the heat of summer finally seasoning. It will be a good morning to sit with coffee and the Lord. And even better because we did the next thing together all day long.

Turning the mundane into quiet celebration.

:: snuggled in a chair with littles and poems ::

:: breathing warm cold winter air before the next wave of cold cold winter air ::

:: a walk by myself ::

:: Simon feeding the dog from the table ::

:: the dog lying calmly behind the children during dinner ::

:: toys in baskets ::

:: holes patched ::

:: evening plans ::

:: his insistence on that walk by myself ::

:: spinach smoothies ::

2011-01-13T19:33:00.000-05:00

God is the happiest being in the universe.

From The Life You've Always Wanted

The streak ended today. The easy way of the days. Finding pleasure in the lives of these little ones. Giving in service stopped being a joy today.

We have small group coming tomorrow. And the basement isn't ready for children and the toys aren't ready for children and the projects waiting in the basement are waiting and not finished so the living room isn't ready for adults. And Abigail and Simon like to be read to and to get out art supplies and to bicker and to . . .. And Chris is working on the car of a friend. And the ironing isn't done and the apples are still in their box and the....

And I am cranky. And as much as I want to find joy, I am tired--physically in need of a nap. Joy doesn't happen in exhaustion, or in list making, or in counting the ways I, my family, and my home are deficient.

Ortberg precedes the above quote with this,

God also knows sorrow. . . . But the sorrow of God, like the anger of God is his temporary response to a fallen world. That sorrow will be banished forever from his heart on the day the world is set right. Joy is God's basic character. Joy is his eternal destiny. pg 63

He doesn't ruminate in the fallen. He gets on with the business of the day, with the redemption of His world.

I ruminate and I fuss and I fume and I am not God.

So what have I learned today about becoming joyful--making my days a celebration. I have a list.

routine is good. my children do better if they know what is happening so they don't have to keep asking about the next thing. i don't get aggravated if they aren't asking 54.5 times.
naps are necessary when one is tired. movies are too.
since God is joy, I need to ask for Him--joy is a fruit of the Spirit and without His presence there will be no joy.

There you have it. Today had joys--

:: cuddling with Abigail on the couch ::

:: the friendship of Frog and Toad ::

:: Simon's love of food and dog ::

:: toys sorted and put where they belong ::

:: husbands who understand ::

:: and get their tools out of the kitchen ::

::Strawberry Shortcake on Netflix ::

Tomorrow will have joys. I just want to live in those moments instead of living in the list of what my friends will think.

God's Breath

2011-01-12T21:21:00.000-05:00

Dear God,

You told me that I needed to celebrate the eternal. You have been whispering to me for a while that I cannot be grateful for the cardinal and for the snow and for the quiet in spite of the life happening around me. That while breathing frustration at my husband or impatience at my children the gratitude for the cardinal was praise devoid of power.My heart wasn't changing.

So I've been finding delight in the laughter and in the questions and in the life that happens around (and lately in spite of) me. Today we frittered away a morning--the library, some shopping, lunch out. We came home. I called my mother, we snacked, put away some clothes, and we went back outside. They played; I shoveled. I got impatient with the constant asking for a snowman, but. . .. They laughed and they played and they yelled at the dog. I came in without stress, without anger. . .free.

My friend remembered our date--getting together while Chris and Abigail were at Cubbies. I had forgotten. In the storm, schools and other extra-curricular activity had been canceled. Chris said to go. I said thank you.

We met at Panera. We talked about our families and our dreams, our husbands and jobs. We ate good food and drank equally good hot beverages. I talked more this time. The last she talked more. That is the way of friendship. I left satisfied by both the food and the camaraderie. I left heart-full.

That is why you want me to celebrate those with Your breath! Heart-full is Your gift. The snow and the quiet and the cardinal, they're the whipped cream and chocolate shavings (for a woman who doesn't like cherries on top.

Thank you.

Love,

Sarah

Yay!!

2011-01-11T20:29:00.000-05:00

Today it snowed. Well, it waited till we canceled our MOPS meeting, but after that it snowed and made the MOPS cancellation a wise move. We took advantage of it! It being the snow (not necessarily the no MOPS night.)

Shoveled everything that needed walked upon.

Threw some snow balls.

Rolled a snowman up.

Built a fort (or a defensive wall if we were invaded by snow ants).

Rode our sled down our tiny hill with a retaining wall drop off at the bottom which doesn't worry me at all with Miss Careful Consideration, but gives me serious pause with Mister Consider-And-Go-Ahead-Anyway-Because-It-Looks-Like-More-Fun-Than-Injury.

My glasses are still spotty from the evening. We went out at 4 and came in about 5:30, mostly because it was getting dark and we were getting hungry.

Dinner was late, and the kids are watching a movie and will end up in bed later than normal. But for the laughter it was worth it. Especially since Chris joined us when he got home from work. See, not being able to get out just as I planned ended up in a special treat for us all.

Celebrating Well

2011-01-10T20:14:00.001-05:00

Yesterday while listening to the message I was struck by the thought that I might be missing some of the point of all this celebration work I am doing. You see, I keep a list of the things that God gives that make me happy--

:: the cardinal couple in our neighbors' tree ::

:: the big eyes the dog gives me ::

:: the birds huddled in our rose of Sharon ::

all while gritting my teeth at the interruption that one of the eternal gifts He has given me is causing in my grand plan for the day. I'm not sure it is possible to truly be thanking God for a temporal gift (oh, yes, given for my pleasure and I will enjoy) while becoming angry at the words of a child defined as an eternal, forever reward.

Well, let's just say I don't like conviction. Oh, I will respond, because I do like Him and them. But the deep down disappointed-with-myself feeling that comes with such heart-news I don't like. Nor do I like the work that such deep heart-news requires to change from rock to flesh. But I like Him and them and I deeply desire to be a woman pleasing to my Lord, and a wife who brings honor to her husband, and a mother whose children will speak well of her to their friends.

So today I embarked on the celebration of the eternal.

:: Abigail's incredible imagination ::

:: the way Simon wants to be a part of the family, to contribute ::

:: how she practices till she improves ::

:: the way she shares ::

:: his overriding joy at everything ::

:: cuddling for reading ::

:: the way he feeds the dog from the table ::

:: her deep heart ::

:: his consideration of and disregard for consequences when the potential fun is deemed greater ::

:: that my deep heart issues of pride and selfishness didn't make me unworthy for His gifts ::

But even if I am being poured out as a drink offering upon the sacrifice and service of your faith,

I rejoice and share my joy with you all.

Philippians 2: 17

Celebration

2011-01-07T15:34:00.000-05:00

So, really, I need to practice some celebration. How do I know?

It is easy. I couldn't think of anything to post for two days. I'm supposed this month to be concentrating on joy--celebrating His goodness. I live with three people who love me and are funny. I live in a free country and am able to worship and eat and drive and say what I want.

And for two days I couldn't find anything to say!

Today we did school per Abigail's request. She worked on phonics while Simon scooted blocks on the table. Really, Abigail, reading does require looking at the letters. She also traced her name and wrote the letters we practiced sounding while Simon scribbled on the paper I gave him and the wall beside the table. We looked at the calendar she acquired last night while we hung it to hide the wall Simon scribbled on. We learned about Meerkats (I would like one for a pet). I say we because Simon is intent on any animal study we do especially when he can stick his head between the screen and the sister inciting her to frustration.

Today we also worked on the train track trying to make it into a figure 8. We need the father for that. So there is a track laid out in the living room that is neither a figure 8 or an oval but a shape that was not advertised on the box. I love that it doesn't quite comply with the engineers. (Sorry spouse, but we both know engineers have to engineer around me. We've had the discussion.)

I've read and emailed and talked on the phone. I've received good news and bad today. It is snowing and the cardinal seems to have left his post in the tree. The laundry is waiting. The cups of coffee were delicious. Simon's lunch time acrobatics did not end in falling off of the table. I think they are sleeping.

Isn't He good. It is the little things that bring joy. It is even the mundane when shown in the Light of mercy and grace.

I Don't Do It Often

2011-01-04T11:57:00.000-05:00

Swear, that is. And really I only have one word--damn. (Shocking isn't it. I know.) It is my go-to word when the toilet overflows or I spill something all over the kitchen or something goes seriously awry.

Apparently Abigail has caught on.

A: Can I sit by Simon at lunch?
M: No.
A: Damn!

Chris wanted to yell. I wanted to laugh. OK, I did laugh after they went for quiet time. Chris loves the fact that Abigail's first swear word was learned from me. I hold that he has taught her far more disrespectful words.

Seriously, though, we did have a good conversation about how that isn't a good word and how we all need to be more careful of what and how we use the gift of language. And it make me wonder how the way I say things may be worse than the words I choose.

Enough seriousness . . . this is celebration month!

Some other things that we have heard here.

S: Doooooooood

C: What are you thankful for?
S: Poop
C: Anything else?
S: Cukick (cupcake)

A: Breadsticks! When did you make breadsticks?
S: Last night when I made the pizza.
A: Oh, so that's how it went down.

A (during quiet time, shouting): Mommay! How many more minutes till three?
S: 24
A: (plaintive): Mommy, why do you choose to believe the clock?

A: I hated the accident. I couldn't sleep because I had a heart attack after the accident.

Starting with Celebration

2011-01-03T14:04:00.001-05:00

I've been mulling over this new year. What shall I make of it? What shall I name it? How shall I live in this new year?

Then in the midst of sick husband, stir-crazy children and feeling like my life was 1100 square feet and I was about to burst it, I decided to pray. You know, ask guidance from the Lord of the Universe, the One who knows what the year holds, who created me and knows what He wants me to look like. Ask that guy.

And I came to a book I've read before, started again, and need to walk through again. I haven't thought of this book in a long time. I didn't know where it was. But as I asked and as I kept being reminded of its presence in our house, I thought I would go on the search. There were three bookshelves, two cabinet shelves, one tote and a drawer that were potential resting places for the book. I wasn't expecting much success.

In fact, I had steeled myself against any idea of finding it on my first try. Yet, that is exactly what happened. I walked into the room, glanced at the shelves (glanced!) and the bright blue book jacket popped right out at me! So there you have it. A slow year-long walk through John Ortberg's The Life You've Always Wanted: spiritual disciplines for ordinary people. It is a book about the disciplines. He highlights ten leaving November and December for the merging of them all. Or for thanksgiving and giving . . . I'm not there yet. Marinating in one book, spending a month learning a way of the Lord. Sounds like a good year.

And to kick it off we Celebrate! Yay. Perfect for a multitude Monday post.

:: new year's morning at Ohiopyle ::

:: buckwheat cakes ::

:: sauerkraut and sausage ::

:: the way their laughter makes me laugh ::

:: Simon using Chris as a tree to shimmy ::

:: the way Abigail loves the auto parts store ::

:: kind people who let me cross the parking lot and smile when Simon drops his car and I drop my purse picking up his car ::

:: reading on the couch ::
:: hearing my husband say he has another day off ::

:: sunshine on January 3rd ::

2011-01-02T17:02:00.000-05:00

Brethren, I do not regard myself as having laid hold of it yet;

but one thing I do:

forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead,

I press on toward the goal for the prize

of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 3:13-14

2011

2011-01-01T07:54:00.001-05:00

Chris informed me that today is 1/1/11.
that at 11:11 it will be 1/1/11 at 11:11
this year we will have 9/10/11
and that twice in one day it will be 11/11/11 at 11:11.

Fun stuff it is being married to a nerd. But what fun to think of this new year!

Happiness to All!

Last Day 2010

2010-12-31T20:31:00.000-05:00

I didn't get everything accomplished, so I fight starting the new year frustrated, feeling like I am behind as the calendar turns blank.

But we did have our sauerkraut for dinner, and though I failed for the first time ever I did make ice cream. The buckwheat cakes for Saturday morning breakfast are set and the Sparkly New Year's Juice is chilling.

I don't have a word for the year yet. We still need to hammer out that 2011 budget. A new schedule and a plan for schooling.

Plenty of work to be done. Good reason to sit still this first weekend and listen, pray, write. Be.

Happy New Year!

2010-12-30T14:19:00.000-05:00

The little yellow triangle is telling me that I have mere minutes for this post as I am not going to the basement to get the cord.

But we are here all together for another day. Finding a new rhythm before he returns to work. Resting for the last days and hours of 2011.

Dreaming. . .

Planning. . .

Searching. . .

Will the word for the year be revealed before the stroke? Will the new budget be finished to greet January First? Will the delivery to the thrift stores be accomplished and the insulation be purchased before the employees go to celebrate?

What of last year's goals and words, plans and dreams?

Oh, but this has been a grand year, a year belonging to Him.

That I will be able to say that about next year. That will be enough.

2010 Ten Things

2010-12-29T15:36:00.000-05:00

Chris

took a trip to Germany
paid $45 for a pair of fly-less underwear
received a promotion at work
patiently waited through four family emergencies in as many months
owned an obscene number of cars for one year
has begun to write a screenplay
took up running again
secretly loves the dog
finished a room for the children
bought his own box of crayons for family art night

Abigail

asked no less than 4,593,287 questions
learned the art of keeping a secret, and she's a steel trap
was an innkeeper and a donkey in her first Christmas play
had a picture frame fall on her head and cut two tendons in her right hand
went through kidney reflux testing
rode her bike for hours in our drive-way, on the walking path near our house, at Ohiopyle
planted a tree with her dad
charmed the socks off of all the older men and women she met, receiving money nine times out of ten
found her Christmas present before Christmas
turned five, FIVE!

Simon

celebrated his 1st birthday
fell in love with the cows at my parents
climbed over the porch swing
learned to duck the dog's tail swing
knocked his two bottom front teeth out before getting all 20 of his baby teeth
jumps from the ottoman to the couch and the couch to the chair and (You get the picture; there is lots of jumping.)
loves food
ran away from the gift-unwrapping on Christmas day
finds the house too quiet at times for his liking so torments his sister
throws a ball, rides anything with wheels, stacks everything possible

Sarah

has perfected one bread recipe
cried again over the plight of orphans
took on the hospitality role on the MOPS steering team
totalled the van
read about whole foods and found they are more work but we feel better
read the Ann of Green Gables series
found time-outs work for her too
kept a list of joys
picked great colors for the children's room
went to Target many, many times

Thoughts of Barberries

2010-12-20T13:45:00.000-05:00

The barberry bushes have lost their leaves. The stems naked reveal twists and turns, skinniness and thorns, ugliness. I pick them and bring them in creating little vases of barberry and evergreen. I like the reminder. Eternal life has its price. The ugly made beautiful in red-stained thorns. And it is in that juxtaposition that Christ came--the glory of God contained in a man, the sinless becoming sin, the death that brings life.

And I count (131-142)

:: bread rising for last minute gifts ::

:: peace even from a "no" ::

:: weekends with colds ::

:: taking a walk ::

:: thinking of babies ::

:: counting our stockings ::

:: Christmas gifts stashed ::

:: St. Nicholas truth ::

:: the fun had in the truth ::

:: gifting girls ::

:: Christmas carols ::

(There is no baby announcement in this. Just thoughts of and dreams about and research on. More will come after our mothers call to have this issue clarified.)

House o' Germs

2010-12-16T15:27:00.000-05:00

I alone am awake, head stuffy, body weary though awake from a afternoon nap. The rest sleep. Chris home from work has lost an octave when he speaks. Abigail's nose has been running with such abandon that her entire upper lip has become chapped. And Simon the final one to succumb sleeps deeply in his body's last ditch effort to be excess-mucus free.

The cancellation of our Christmas party sent out left us ham rich, thawed, huge. I just turned the oven off. We will be eating ham till the cows come home. And since we have no cows you know just how long that will be. But for an ill mother who must mother regardless hunks of meat meant to feed a crowd promise moments of rest that would otherwise be spent in work. Dinner will come early this evening. I know sugar is an enemy of the immune system, but a lovely dessert is just what this mama feels her little clan needs. What shall it be--warm and cakey and easily made, gentle on throats and giving delight to bellies? That sounds just like pudding!

Simon even feeling badly has left Chris surprised with his busyness and his noise. It does seem he is always making noise, always. For everything has a sound effect!And many things require discussion, laughter and clapping. This is not mentioning the obstacle course that our house naturally is with this twenty-month old boy.

Abigail has been basking in Chris's presence with a book virtually the entire day. She did move to my lap in order to finish a time-telling activity in her Cubbies gift from last night. Soon maybe we will be putting an analog clock in her room to mark sleep and wake. She has admitted that her cake experiment may have been a flop. We won't be eating the remainder though the next time I bake, I am positive she will want to try again. An opportunity to encourage proper execution.

The natives have awaken. The snow is sticking finally to the road. And the cardinal is high in our neighbor's maple tree. I think he knows he is making a statement against the cold harshness of a winter storm. It is a good day.

In Praise of Routine

2010-12-13T14:31:00.000-05:00

Sometimes like in the holiday season our routine becomes regular mealtimes and sleep.

Simon is so good with that. As long as his little belly is fed at breakfast, lunch, snack and dinner and he is in bed by 8:30 and naps for the afternoon he could care less what happens in between. Seriously, give the boy a toy and do with him what you please.

Abigail isn't. It has been five holiday seasons and each one I forget that without steady moments between mealtimes and bedtimes and rest she can't eat or sleep and the stress builds from there.

Today she was melting down because of a banana. Yes, a banana which she couldn't open and wouldn't ask for help, opting instead to slam it off of the table and rage. The poor girl needed a nap, yet, I knew she wasn't about to fall asleep. And it wasn't about disobedience. She was going to be unable to sleep until the stress built up in her little body was spent.

I carried Simon to his bed, gave him his pacifier. He went to sleep. I prayed walking back to my wailing girl. And I remembered. And I sit with our waking hours and I place again stops between those of physical sustenance, places where her heart can rest.

And I become grateful for the mundane, the everyday life we live--

:: baskets of books ::

:: 7:00 on the clock ::

:: time set for glue and paint and paper ::

:: snow pants and big coats ::

:: sleepy songs reminding us that He is steady ::

And I remember that it is the expected that makes the unexpected, the waiting, the surprise so much better.

2010-12-10T09:05:00.000-05:00

Have you ever noticed that wen the snow falls it fights gravity? A flake falling circles upward, dances right and left. Some are more resistant than others.

I want to be the dancing flake. The one who resists the pull downward into the depths of this world's reality. I prefer to live in joy, rapturous celebration. Suspended as I am between heaven and earth, I want to remember that my home is heaven. I am a citizen of another world.

He came from that world to rescue me from this. He bought my citizenship. He gave me dancing feet, reason to celebrate.

I can dance in the space between.

Light

2010-12-09T16:18:00.000-05:00

Oh, doesn't light flickering, filling feel so good as we wait.

We put up our tree on Saturday. We got our sconce on Friday as I was longing for a fireplace. With candles and dark and a little touchable nativity, or two, we can snuggle in and wait for the celebration of His love.

Sleeping

2010-12-08T11:46:00.000-05:00

bottom jacked up
resting on crossed feet
a blue hump of snores

doll tucked safely
stretching sprawling
a covered spring of dreams

It Snowed

2010-12-02T20:47:00.000-05:00

Our Sledding Hill

Making Angels

His Hats Caused Some Disillusionment

So we sledded. Is that even a word?

2010-12-01T08:25:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was Abigail's fifth birthday! I can't believe that time has passed so quickly even on the days I felt would never end. Five years have passed.

Today it is snowing. In 2005, we were living in Michigan and we had a cold snap before Thanksgiving and for Thanksgiving it had warmed considerably. Though every indication and all the prayers said she would be a Thanksgiving baby, we went to the hospital a week later. I knew that this baby would come home in the snow. The day after she was born it was snowing and though it had tapered off by the time we drove away from the hospital, it was cold and snowy!

Today, twelve hours earlier than the predictions, it is snowing.

Today also starts our Advent countdown. Half the envelops are filled with good December activities. Now I just have to find a place to hang them. Nothing like waiting till the last minute.

What Is

2010-11-23T15:21:00.000-05:00

an INFP mama to do when her children develop sleep issues, as in they aren't?

Answer: Beg her husband to watch them while she takes a walk. Check her favorite blogs and play free cell while waiting for him to come in.

Gotta go, he's here!

What Do You Do When Dad Is Using the Bathroom

2010-11-18T13:58:00.000-05:00

Drag a Chair to the Door and Try to Open It


Drag the Chair Back Impatiently When Thwarted

I know that is exactly what I would do too. Oh, the ways he makes us laugh!

On the Third Wednesday

2010-11-17T14:15:00.000-05:00

Pastor Rob sang this song during Adyn's memorial service.

I was going to post the way we had to go shopping for a suitable outfit for me and how engorgement set in with a vengeance and how we never imagined to be greeting guests at a funeral service before we were thirty. I thought about writing about how our senior pastor was on a mission trip so our very much our age expecting his own child soon associate pastor had to preach this message doing a wonderful job. I was going to share the way a lady in the ladies bible study asked her studying to be a funeral director husband to take care of us, and the way he did. And the way a family who had also lost their first sat with us and witnessed that they still believed and were still together and strong. And the way all the love showered on us and the promises friends made to my mother to keep watch allowed her to trust that we were OK so far away.

But I think today that the miracle prayed for during all those days is that I Still Believe.

Conversation

2010-11-16T14:33:00.000-05:00

Come on you can do it!

No, I'm scared. I can't jump.

Yes, you can do it.

one can of black beans encouraging another perched atop a 5 pound bag of flour in the shopping cart.

Bye, bye couch. Thanks for letting us read on you.
as I was carrying her to the rest time spot

Do you know I wen to the doctor for a check up and they were blocked. Guess why? Because I am having another baby. It is number 13. I don't know what I am going to do. I am tired of having babies.
just the start of a conversation held at an incredible volume while on a walk (One must disregard the questions you won't have time to answer them.)

The Third Monday of November

2010-11-15T13:22:00.001-05:00

I sat on the couch in my pajamas. Chris had gone to work. My mom was sitting in the recliner we had hauled up in September with a bassinet and a crib. They were in the room upstairs that was supposed to be his in March, still in travel condition. My dad and sister had returned to West Virginia.

I remember my words and the tears and my mother's arms and her tears that morning.

He is supposed to be here with me.

Today sitting on the same couch in a house far from that one. My tears still well in my eyes with grief, but I know things now that I didn't then and as I did then so now I find the things that speak His love and bring joy to my heart.

:: comments that tell me that I am not alone in feeling the weight of his life ::

:: friends here who know the story and ask ::

:: yellow grocery store daisies and pink cards delivered on the day ::

:: the blanket unfinished ::

:: early ultrasound pictures ::

:: cards filled with kind words ::

:: a recording ::

:: the angel and two bears, gifts for mother and child::

:: a box in our closet ::

:: touching love ::

And those two

:: boys with brown eyes and round faces ::

:: girls who ask for more babies ::

who will never replace him, but who like him are good gifts of transformation from a God who proves Himself so faithful.

Legally Free for Adoption

2010-11-14T20:57:00.001-05:00

That is the terminology we use in the United States for children whose mothers and fathers can no longer care for them. It seems like such a nice cleaned up way of presenting these children to the world but the fact remains that they are without families which is a terrible place for anyone to be.

I listened to this from Focus on the Family. It is an interview with The Chapmans.

According to the Pennsylvania Adoption Exchange there are over 800 children waiting for adoptive families in Pennsylvania alone. Please pray.

Six Years Ago on the Second Saturday in November

2010-11-13T22:24:00.000-05:00

I delivered a still little Adyn Michael. The doctor drugged me well and so I slept through the labor. My parents came out and sat with Chris for most of the day, but left before his body arrived.

I didn't have an elective abortion. Because well-meaning people encouraged its consideration, and some assumed that was our course of action, I feel the need to make that statement. We were prepared to care for our son until God saw fit for his life here to end. God chose the day Adyn stopped kicking in my womb.

The environment and the deformity ended my son's life early. Yesterday, six years ago, the doctor in Kalamazoo told us he had passed and sent us back to St. Joseph, to the doctors familiar to us.

The induction was scheduled for Saturday, November 13, 2004. Eleven hours after the doctor started the medicine, Adyn was laid in my arms by a cautious doctor almost pleading with me to avoid the pain his appearance might cause. But I held him, wrapped in a blanket, I held him and loved him, and then handed his body to a nurse.

This song played on the radio near the time of his death. I still listen to it and I wonder. . .

I feel the need to stop for just a moment and say that this doctor was a kind and gentle grandfatherly sort of doctor. He cared about our loss. He wanted to spare us unnecessary pain. Though I talk of strong pain medicine and his concern for our seeing Adyn, I would be remiss if I didn't say that of all the doctors in the clinic, he was the best one we could have had in at this moment.

Four Planes and the Moon

2010-11-10T21:33:00.000-05:00

On our walk this afternoon,
in the growing colder with the setting sun
blue of a fall sky,
we spotted four planes
and a fingernail of a moon.

The laundry wasn't put away and crumbs from a snack hurried by the desire to go outside lingered on the table. Abigail had to wear non-snuggly pajamas to bed and a visit to the farm tomorrow promises the messes will reside a little longer.

But for four planes and a moon
spotted from a small town path
by two little ones and their mother
the messes lie in wait.

Looking Outward

2010-11-08T13:12:00.001-05:00

because sometimes looking inward makes me cranky.

:: blue skies ::

:: blue fuzzy spruce branches ::

:: Abigail crossing off the list ::

:: fancy caramel coffee drinks ::

:: fall sunshine ::

:: a home church where children feel safe, loved, competent ::

:: husbands home for lunch ::

:: made beds ::

:: strawberry breathed little girls ::

:: chocolate goatees on little boys ::

:: resources to fill shoe boxes ::

Grandpa Walks

2010-11-05T08:53:00.000-04:00

My parents came up on election day.

Dad was able to put two shelves in a wardrobe cabinet repurposed into a pantry as well as take these two on a walk. Well, really one of them walked. The big one somehow coerced a ride from grandpa. I guess that is what happens when the first grandchild is a girl wearing a pink vest, purple hat, and cowboy boots. The basket came back filled with walnuts in various states of being hulled.

My mom peeled and cooked apples for sauce and now on the shelves Dad built sits seven quarts of applesauce. She also colored and read and kept the children out of the way.

I was able to clean out a closet in the basement. Well, clean out is a bit of an overstatement. I was able to sort through a couple of boxes and organize some of the pile. Storing all the paint we have used and the clearanced cans I want to find uses for takes more space than I thought and the closet shelves don't hold as much as I envisioned, but I can find my stuff in the little closet without having to take six boxes out before I could look.

It was so nice to have them come without an accident being the starting point!

The First Tuesday--Prayer Lots of It

2010-11-03T15:14:00.000-04:00

Adyn Michael

That was the name we chose and the name we announced when asked at a time of prayer set by dear friends for us. I don't know how many Tuesdays they met on our behalf. We intended to attend more of them, but in all that was happening, we forgot. I remember the prayers offered for us and this little life whose face we wondered if we would ever see.
Our pastor catching me after church with arm around me asked for healing and mercy and comfort and kingdom will to be done.
Another friend asking for glory to be manifested as only miraculous healing could accomplish it. Would God form a torso for this little one so that we could sing songs of wonder and praise for all the world to know?
Prayers uttered for our comfort and our strength. Words asking for wisdom and grace and understanding for doctors. Hearts poured out for the creating and preservation of a family, of our family.

It was a holy night.

The next day, the first Wednesday of November, Adyn Michael stopped making my belly flutter.

Months later one of those gathered on the floor of the sanctuary that night remarked at how well I was doing, at my strength. I remember replying that it was God's doing. But I don't think I reminded her, or perhaps at the time I didn't realize, that the preservation of my faith, the kindness and goodness of God poured out on our suffering in those terrible circumstances was really an answer to the pleas be uttered by so many on our behalf.

The Last Friday

2010-10-29T08:42:00.000-04:00

We sat through the genetic counseling. Naming relatives and their defects. Wondering what he had that could have caused this. The counselor with as much compassion as possible discussed the trisomy trifecta. Telling us the results of each chromosomal abnormality. Trisomy 21--Downs Syndrome would have the best chance for survival, but based on the pictures sent from yesterday, our baby didn't have Downs Syndrome. Trisomy 13 or Trisomy 18 were fatal abnormalities. Our baby wouldn't survive long outside the womb.

The doctor told us that we needed an amniocentesis to determine whether or not this was a genetic issue. There was a slight chance that this would harm the pregnancy or the baby. He told us that we would get another ultrasound so they could maybe determine what was happening in my womb. He said they could take care of whatever we needed.

So we went back to another dark room, a larger dark room with all the ultrasound equipment of a well-equipped hospital. My belly was smeared with ultrasound lubricant. The technician found the baby and its heartbeat. The doctor came, wondering at the small amount of fluid and removing some. We would know the results from four tests in two days. The rest in ten. The ultrasound technician looked and looked and looked and took as many pictures. I don't know how much time it took, but the monitor was, again turned away, and the technician quiet.

Finally the radiologist came; she was able to talk to us. We had a name--Limb-Body Wall Complex Abnormalities. Basically our baby's torso didn't form within the first ten weeks (actually it would have not happened within the about sixth week). They couldn't tell, yet what its gender was. Usually babies don't survive as long as ours had. Usually they don't survive the entire pregnancy. Amniotic fluid is hard on organs. These babies don't survive outside the womb more than minutes. She was compassionate. We had a few options. We would think about it.

That was Wednesday.

Decisions we thought were cut-and-dried weren't so cut-and-dried. It was understandable. It was advised. It was expedient--take care of the pregnancy, get your rubella shot, try again in three months. Get on with your life. Don't torture yourself for twenty more weeks. The baby was abnormal, defective.

But this was our baby. I had cared for and loved it for 20 weeks. We were going to love and care for it for as long as God gave us the chance.

We went to work. We answered the phone and the questions. Our friends gathered close and answered their own phones and even more questions. I don't know how many questions and how many calls were made on our behalf. I don't need to know; I just know I could not have answered them all and a buffer was what we needed.

On the last Friday, my parents had come up to paint the baby's room. We were painting the kitchen instead. And we got the call from the genetic counselor; our baby boy only had limb-body wall complex abnormalities. There was no indication that he had any genetic issues. Most people who have babies with this developmental abnormality go on to have children with no issues.

I just wanted this child. Maybe my God who could heal would heal.

After Tuesday's post a friend here wrote asking if I was OK, and I feel the need to say Yes. I have never put this story to the page, not when we were going through it. I got a journal to tell his story, that he would be real, but I couldn't sit with it. There is something in me now to write it now. I am not good with dates; hence, the titles of "the last. . .", but I looked for November 13th and find that this year it falls on the second Saturday. It is time that he is made real through a story with words, for he is so very real in our history. And his life is reflected in my motherhood.

The Last Tuesday

2010-10-26T12:41:00.000-04:00

It was six years ago on the last Tuesday of October that we went for our ultrasound. The room was darkened for the taking of pictures. The technician was silent and the monitor was soon turned from our vision.

Chris and I held hands in the silence wondering where our joy was going. The eighteen week ultrasound was an occassion for delight. We were to find out what gender our baby was and sneak a peak at his hands and toes.

When the technician said she needed to get the doctor and left the room. We commented that maybe something was wrong and even so that the technician was rude. The doctor came in; she was the one who had witnessed the ultrasound that confirmed the end of our last pregnancy. Her presence was not reassuring though she was compassionate.

They talked, whispered really, about what this thing was they were looking at. The sensor moving around on my swelled lubricated belly. Chris and I aching for something to be said, even if it wasn't great. Just stop whispering and talk to us. Finally the doctor said

We don't know what we are looking at, here. The baby's spine is bent and we can't find it's heartbeat. This isn't good. I'm sorry. We will send you to Kalamazoo to meet with the doctors there.

We left with no pictures printed with words and arrows to explain the parts of a fuzzy little person each day becoming more real. We returned home to phone calls, not of joy, but of more doctor's appointments and the unknown and explanations we didn't have. It was not a good day.

It is why toward the end of October I struggle to find my joy, and why toward the end of October Michigan feels so much more like home, and why toward the end of October my heart misses most those who carried us through.

This Mama's Body

2010-10-25T14:04:00.000-04:00

I complain to Chris about it. Some how I think it insults him, my constant worry over the softness this body has developed with the years.
I fuss to friends who join in the harassment of our bodies, bodies that have carried babies, that have rocked and held and nurtured life.
I worry to my doctor about the number on the scale remaining bigger than I like.

And I wonder how many more comments are going to be unnoticed by this little girl dancing in her underwear. When will I create a fear in her of the shape, size and function of her body. When will she say "I'm sorry I'm not as skinny (if one could ever call me skinny) as I once was."?

And I find that I am conspiring with the culture to make another girl, another woman, sorry for the body she has been given. That I am conspiring with the world to steal the beauty God has placed in her, because she is woman.

So in repentance, for the damage I have done to myself and the damage I have spoken into her life with my fussing, I count

::scars which brought forth life::

::strength to make a boy laugh while flying::

::swimming (of the Pilates kind) giggles::

::legs that carry us to water and leaves::

::arms to cuddle::

::softness to be cuddled into::

::hands to prepare nourishment::

::and to wipe tears::

::races run, puddles jumped in, tag played::

::seeing, hearing, smelling, touching, tasting, living::

Fearfully and wonderfully made.

Thank you, Mindi, for calling this to my attention.

Adjusting My Vision

2010-10-18T21:50:00.000-04:00

:: two scars on my belly ::

:: an especially soft tummy ::

:: blocks and cars and balls ::

:: little shoes and dolls and houses ::

:: words, words, words ::

:: play invites ::

:: nursery rhymes and fairy tales and nonsense songs ::

:: noise ::

:: dirt ::

:: ready for sleep ::

Mama gifts from His hand. When I chose my lens carefully.

When You Have Wine But No Corkscrew

2010-10-13T19:22:00.000-04:00

My family is a moonshine kind of family, not a wine kind of group. So when we went to the festival and I found a WV winery represented in the arts and crafts vendor area and I had to support a place that makes wine from red currants and pears, blackberries and blueberries, strawberries and ramps, and, yes, grapes, we were left unprepared to share the red currant wine. We improvised--a screw, a screwdriver, and a claw hammer.

The wine was good. The memories, pictures and all, are priceless.

Resentment

2010-10-11T20:58:00.000-04:00

Sometimes, it is shocking I know, I resent my husband. I resent that he goes to work and leaves work and I don't. I resent when he works on something he has planned all week while I work on something I have planned all week with interruption. I resent the way he sleeps in and the way he can sleep without hearing any little voices.

But the reality is that he has plenty of reason to resent me. He works for a company that wants to be rid of the division of itself in this area while I work for a man who respects me and what I do and with people who love me. I get quiet moments with precious little ones. I spend time with people I love and want to spend time with.

And he lets me escape when I've had enough.

It is all in how I look at it. Resentment will build when I concentrate on what he has or gets from this relationship. Resentment will be squelched when I look at what I have and what I am given from this relationship. This isn't meant to say that there is never failure on each of our parts that needs addressed, but if I wait and if I look up I have the attitude of love and kindness during the address instead of the anger and resentment. And that always helps.

Some things I thought about this weekend wondering what is addressable. . .

::he sends me out alone for girl's events no less than twice a week::

::he unloads and reloads the dishwasher::

::he folds laundry::

::he plays with them::

::he pursues me and won't let my moods fester::

::he looks at me::

::I have a meticulously maintained car::

::he treats other people well::

::he makes me tea::

::he loves my family::

Family

2010-10-10T21:01:00.000-04:00

It was a beautiful, beautiful fall weekend here. The sun was shining, a breeze blowing, perfect October weather. We spent it in the front yard. In the driveway. And in the street.

With Each Other

A Family

Please join me in praying for Christopher. He is the featured child on AdoptUSKids. He is sixteen. He has issues. Of course, don't we all? Pray that the God who heals and who frees will touch Christopher with His love and mercy and grace and that He will lead just the right family to Christopher's profile, touching their hearts and minds, giving Christopher a family for a beautiful fall weekend.

Little Girl in Pink

2010-10-08T10:57:00.000-04:00

Watching Princesses and Dancers

One at a Time

2010-10-06T20:50:00.000-04:00

Charlotte instructed us, “The mother devotes herself to the formation of one habit at a time, doing no more than keep watch over those already formed” (Vol. 1, p. 136). From Smooth and Easy Days by Sonya Shafer

Often, I feel like that cartoon where a stressed-out individual complains

Lord, I try to take it one day at a time,but recently several days have attacked at once.

Perhaps the reason I feel attacked by several things at one time is because I won't concentrate on one thing at a time!

Exploration and Entrapment

2010-09-28T14:41:00.000-04:00

Slightly Askew

2010-09-27T08:55:00.000-04:00

Everything in the living room is just a little off. The chairs don't quite swivel as they should to view morning's arrival.

I hosted my first baby shower Saturday evening, fifteen women in our living room to celebrate new life. A living room that daily has seating for six or seven accomodated many more. We were cozy and everything was left sort of askew.

And isn't that the point. As we humans walk close to one another, we are left changed. We feel it, something askew in our hearts. We start to move our heart stuff around, but never find the exact same place for it. And so in our closeness we are changed, for good or for bad, we can't interact without change.

And isn't that His plan for us in fellowship, working as one body, to change and be changed to reflect glorious love, true and tender affection for one another.

I pull my chair to proper swivel distance from the wall so that while I write I can see the day come, light pushing back dark, and I make a list of those who should come, who should make me rearrange my heart's living room once more.

And I count the ways He has revealed Himself in these weekend moments of being rearranged.

:: a husband fluffing the nest because of love for his bride ::

:: cheese and garlic, tomato and basil, chocolate and fruit ::

:: sitting close for conversation ::

:: friends to cook alongside ::

:: sinks full of the dishes ::

:: a dishwasher ::

:: introducing others to my kitchen ::

:: being good for one another ::

:: a mama of four ::

:: babies ::