Year of Whimsy

All week, I’ve been pondering my word for the year.  I used to do this regularly.  One year it was the year of “miracles”.  That was the same year our Elsie was born.  We were told there was a good possibility we wouldn’t be able to have more children because of the medicine Matthew was taking.  Miracle indeed.

This year I think we’ve nailed down the word.  Whimsy.  It means: Extravagant.  Excessively playful.  Spontaneous.  Unpredictable.  It seems to define my life right now.  I don’t like the negative connotations like, “superficial, careless, unstable and  wayward.”  However, though life is full of whimsy, God is full of the constancy, dependability and steadiness I lack.  Though He is steadfast, He brings unpredictable events into our lives.  He is constant, yet loves spontaneous action.  Through changes, He remains dependable.

Our year of whimsy actually stems from a book Matthew and I just finished reading.  It is called Love Does, by Bob Goff.  Hands down, one of the best books I’ve ever read.  It drips of unpredictable and crazy stories, steadied by the unflinching action of love behind it all.  It’s one of those books you take everywhere, peruse it at a red light, read excerpts to your friends but end up reading entire chapters instead.  Whimsy can be looked at as being a bit odd.  I often feel this way, doing things a little differently, living my own dream, not wanting to be typical.  Sometimes I feel like a girl wearing a red dress at a black and white party.  But that’s ok, and I know God has different styles of writing our stories.  What I do or don’t do are not intended as judgement on anyone else’s actions.  Things I like or don’t like is not intended to be criticisms for what you may enjoy. What He pens for me will be very different from what He pens for you.  The way we raise our kids, spend our money, and use our time is both based on what the Bible says, and also how the Holy Spirit whispers in our individual ears.

I’ve never been very typical.  I don’t like epidurals, car payments, cable, video games, fast food, or makeup.  I wear clothes I’ve had for ten years, and buy a brand new outfit maybe once a year.  I use pencils until the led is the same size as the eraser.  I don’t know what it’s like to drive a new car or have matching furniture.  I’ve never been to college, and never gotten drunk.  I’m not sure what certain swear words mean.  I empty out my vacuum bags by hand until they fall apart, because I see no need to buy new ones when they get full.  Sometimes we eat expired food, because it’s what we have and it won’t kill us.  I’ve touched African soil and its dirt is ingrained on my soul.  I’ve lived and swum in the Caribbean with sea urchins an inch from my skin.  I’ve kissed and made love to one man alone, and have been captivated again and again by his love and loyalty.  Our bank account has said $.03 balance, and we’ve gotten down on our knees and prayed.  Our account has said $10,000 balance, and we’ve gotten down on our knees and praised.  Twelve times a home has been miraculously provided for our family, at just the perfect time, in just the perfect place.  A few times we have tried to walk the expected road that seems most practical and traveled.  Yet the burdens and turmoil which have met us along the way have never been worth the trying.  It is in the unexpected, less traveled paths where we have found the most peace and joy.  Sometimes we are weary with waiting, tired of hacking through the underbrush.  I raise up my whiny cup of tears and complaint, wishing for an easier way.  The road with no aches, no pains, no oddities, and clear steps from here until eternity.  But the path through the fog is most sure, because the step before me is always as clear as it needs to be.  I’m much more likely to grip the strong hands of the Man in the boat, when the water is rough, than when it is calm.

So I’m looking forward to this year of whimsy.  Full of thankfulness, I pray it brings glory to the Author of my story and Perfecter of my faith.
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Christmas Week The Second

What better way to start Christmas week, part two, than with a double dose of Joy?  My new favorite tea at Starbucks is Joy… the name alone is perfect, but the taste too is amazing.  Joy: A source or cause of delight.  We headed towards Syracuse, NY, van full, bodies sleepy, and arrived at my sister’s house around midnight.

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We had a full three days with cousins.  Betty got sick half-way through, so I wasn’t able to participate in any of the extra-curricular activities like sledding and ice-skating.  We hung out at home, and she napped.  It was sad to miss out, but baby girl needed her rest.  The first day there, she was her happy self, though!  Joy: the expression or exhibition of delight..

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It snowed a LOT.

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Joy: a state of happiness or felicity.

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A chess tournament between the kids put game-playing in high demand.

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Sister-time is always sweet.  One of the nights we left Grandpa and Grandma with all 13 kids and saw Les Miserables in the theatres with our hubbies.  It was fabulous!  Joy: something or someone greatly valued or appreciated.

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Joy: keen pleasure.

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Matthew’s work of art.

This year we did 100% home-made or “second-hand” for our Pollyanna gift exchange.  It was awesome to see everyone’s creativity spilling out through paper, wood, cloth, or other means.

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My gift from Heather was a hand-made W covered in red berries.  It looks perfect sitting on my “beautiful” shelf.

Our drive home was slower than usual.  About 3000 miles in 2 weeks made our van very tired.  Today we blessed it with a car wash.  When we came through the other side, Betty grinned and exclaimed:  Again!  

Joythe emotion of great delight or happiness caused by something exceptionally good or satisfying.  We have been blessed with a week full of joy.  A filled to the brim, sweet, and running over kind of joy.

 

 

Christmas Week The First

It’s hard to believe we were getting ready for our big road trip last week.  Now it’s come and gone.  Just like the seemingly endless roads from Pennsylvania to Indiana.  The two older kids came along with us on our thousand-plus mile adventure.  The van felt oddly familiar in an old sort of way.  More than once Matthew and I remarked about how big the kids had become since our last cross-country trip with the two of them in that very space, nine years ago.  We joked at how I didn’t have to hand Elijah a bottle this time, or that we didn’t give Nadine handfuls of Q-tips to keep her hands busy, ripping them apart.  They contented themselves with a kids’ meal toy, books, Odyssey, and talking.  I was a tad miffed that I never won a single round of the Alphabet Game.
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We had a marvelous time at our friends’ wedding.
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Then it was back on the road again.  We stopped in Ohio to visit our dear friends.  There is nothing quite like driving through the night, in the snow, on roads the map seems to make up as you go along.  Somehow we made it, with much opening of the windows so the freezing air would keep us alert.  It was an exciting memory!

From Ohio we arrived back home, and happily reunited with the other three kiddos.  We enjoyed a Christmas Eve-Eve with Matthew’s cousins.  There’s nothing quite as precious as a new baby.  Zachary Taylor made a perfect little Santa.
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Christmas morning was spent at home by ourselves for the very first time ever.  Matthew’s parents, brother, and sister flew to Italy on Christmas Day to visit his other brother and family who are stationed there right now.  It was strange to be on our own, but special as well.
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Then came the snow.  What a delight!  The kids played and played.
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Today was spent doing things which needed doing.  Making laundry soap was so much more fun when I had a cute helper who liked to smile into her reflection on the mixing bowl!DSC_1416-001

Next, an impromptu trip to Chic-Fil-A for the younger three kids to get their faces painted.  DSC_1455-001

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Betty sat oh-so-still while the lady painted her face.  Once she finished, it was as hard to keep her still enough for a picture, as it is to keep a butterfly from flitting away.  
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She became the butterfly painted on her cheek.
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It has been a full week.  Full of miles, brimming with memories, and overflowing with whimsy.  Tomorrow we get to keep our Christmas week going, as we pile into our van once again and trek our way up North for a Christmas weekend with my family.

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Merry Christmas!

Got Baking Soda?

This week has been what I would call a baking soda week.  Sometimes when you’re eating a really delicious cookie, all of a sudden you bite down on a mouthful of baking soda.  No matter how marvelous that cookie tasted one moment ago, even the memory of it is temporarily spoiled by that one bitter bite.  Friday started it off.  We excitedly took a train into the city and blissfully enjoyed a day with the three older kids, while Grandma watched the younger two.
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We saw the light show at Macy’s, then headed to the Franklin Institute where Nadine and I saw the Titanic exhibit, while the boys watched the Hobbit. 2012-12-13
Elijah got to blow up a balloon with fire.  He was a great sport during the chemistry class.
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We hopped on buses, took tons of pictures, and enjoyed every second.
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I noticed a flag at half-mast, but since we are disconnected while out and about, I had no idea what had been happening in CT while we happily rode the train.  It was a bitter bite to swallow once I read the news that night.

Then Sunday rolled around, and I excitedly got my special Christmas outfit on, threw clothes on the kids that hopefully weren’t too torn or stained (it’s inevitable on Sunday mornings that these articles of clothing surface the most) and Matthew made me a nice big cup of hot tea to take in the car.  We had five minutes to get to church since the kids were singing, and as we happily started to pull away from the curb, what would happen?  Why, of course: the handle of my mug broke completely off and the entire cup of scalding tea (now it is no longer hot, it is scalding) spilled all over my specially-picked-out dress.  The tears immediately sprung, no, gushed out of my eyes.  I took my handle-less mug, yanked open the van door, slammed it (yes, I struggle with this even still), stomped up to the front porch crying… then stomped back down the stairs and sort-of intelligibly told Matt to get the kids to church on time and come back and get me.

That was really bitter on a morning that started off so incredibly sweet.  However, I am blessed to own more than one outfit, and so thankfully was able to still go to church, albeit late, and hear our children sing their sweet hearts out for Jesus.  The bitterness faded.

Then all of a sudden we were plunged into the week before Christmas.  How did this happen?  I’m loving the late-night sewing sessions, but the time is really going too fast for my liking.  I had a very bitter moment today when the long hours of Christmas preparations were “spoiled” after somebody saw my secret stash of presents.  Something about it just got to me so much that every single last ounce of sweetness turned into a bitter, unable-to-swallow pill.  I lost it.  The snotty mess that I was turned into even more of a mess when I experienced yet again the deep forgiveness children offer to their sinful parents.  God has quite a way of reflecting His grace through our kids.

God is actually in the business of turning bitter into sweet.  It’s not His purpose for our lives to be bitter and full of despondency   In Exodus 15, when the Israelites came to the bitter waters of Marah, God provided a way to sweeten the water and meet their need.  He also causes beauty to rise from ashes and mourning to turn into dancing.  His specialty is turning what others meant for evil, into good.  So often we focus in on that one bitter bite.  Yet we must remember: there is a reason for every sadness, every trial, every hurt, every tear.  We might not know it on this side of eternity, but we have to trust our Father because He is good.  God is good because that is who He is, not because of what He does or does not do.  He never tires of our tears and in fact He holds them all in a bottle.  (Psalm 56:8)  This week I thought maybe that bottle would be close to overflowing.  Yet He never stops unfolding grace upon grace on this child of His.
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Thursday Morning

This morning, Elsie came down with her pillow and blanket and cozied herself on the couch.  When I asked her if she was ok, she answered, I feel sick.

Oh?  Where do you feel sick?

She scanned her whole body with only her eyes, then looked at me with them wide and full of conviction and answered solemnly, My arms.  Both of them.

I tried not to burst out laughing.

Now all five kids are piled on Elijah’s bottom bunk.  The reading light hangs down, and they keep pushing its red button.  The bunk bed has been transformed into an imagination station.  They apparently are visiting a castle and Tarzan came back with them once.  Loud, excited voices trail all over the house.

This joy is punctuated by arguing over not wanting to get mixed up on their adventures.  After all, if something goes amiss, the boys could end up being “Robin Hood in a pink tutu!”

Then Betty trots over to me with her big fuzzy blanket, plops in on my lap, and stands there.  When I don’t respond immediately, she taps my legs and says, Lap, lap.  Up she comes, and we cuddle while she flashes a huge smile, knowing she’s communicated with me properly.

So our morning begins.  So similar to every other morning, yet always unique.2012-12-12

Hand-made Giveaway!

 

In honor of this marvelous date of 12-12-12… I am having a Christmas giveaway!  I’ve been crocheting snowflake ornaments, and would love to give some away!  I will send three winners a unique, hand-made snowflake.  To enter, either leave a comment on here, or my facebook page, telling me your favorite or funniest Christmas memory.  To have an extra chance at getting your name drawn, you can subscribe to get an email version of these blog posts.  I will announce the winner tomorrow!
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How To Use A Runaway Truck Ramp

This week I had the privilege of reading a brand new book that just hit the shelves.  Our friends, Shawn & Maile Smucker, are two incredibly talented story-tellers and writers.  They not only dream big dreams, but they live them out, and have beautifully and poignantly shared their latest adventure with us.  I literally felt as if I was another passenger, traveling across the country alongside them and their four children.  I was mesmerized by the scenery and people they encountered along the way.  As I read, each chapter felt like another delicious bite of a feast that I didn’t want to end.  Here is a short excerpt to whet your appetite:

Saturday night we cruised north on I-75. We had spent a few beautiful days at Reed Bingham State Park in Georgia (where Maile’s imaginary mugging took place), and a wonderful afternoon with friends just outside of Atlanta. By the time we left, it was growing dark – our destination was a truck stop close to the Tennessee border. The highway was a sea of red, and rain streaked the brake lights across the bus’s massive windshield in arcs and splashes. But the traffic charged forward, sweeping us along with it.

In the distance, the lights of Atlanta’s skyscrapers rose above the trees like the center of a newly formed galaxy.  

The kids played in the back of the bus, long past their normal bed time.  Maile sat beside me at the front of the bus, her feet up on the dash. We talked about how years change people. How life has made us a little more tired, a little more mature, a touch more cynical, a little less selfish.

Then we entered the city, the lights rising around us. It’s a fascinating feeling, driving through such tall buildings late on a rainy, Saturday night.  The lights reflected off the wet highway, battered the windshield. Passing cars glared into my side view mirrors, then flashed past, making disgruntled sounds in the rain. When I opened the small sliding window beside the driver’s seat, the smell of wet, hot macadam rushed in to where we sat, filling the bus with an early summer.

Lightning flashed. Or was that a streetlight blinking out?

Then a quiet rustling through the curtain beside me. In the far reaches of my peripheral vision, out at the edge of a different galaxy, 2-year-old Sam had quietly walked to the front, pushed through the curtain that separated us from the back, and sat on the step beside my seat. He looked up through those huge pieces of glass, up through the rain, up at the forty- story office buildings with lights just blinking out.  

Like a cricket in the forest looking up at the moon. Was there anything smaller than him in that entire city, looking up at its expanse? For a moment, he seemed like the center of it all.  

Then, in a whisper, he said one word: 

“Uh-mazing.”

A few times my heart beat faster, as I mentally went through some of their stories.  Other times I wiped my eyes on my sleeve and kept reading through the blur.  An adventure like they experienced tugs at me in a way that’s hard to describe.  I encourage you to pull up a seat on their big blue bus named Willie, and get lost in their 10,000 mile adventure.

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Shawn Smucker is the author of How to Use a Runaway Truck Ramp and Building a Life Out of Words. He lives in Lancaster County, PA with his wife Maile and their four children. You can find him on Twitter and Facebook, and he blogs (almost) daily at shawnsmucker.com.  Maile blogs at mailesmucker.blogspot.com.

Home is Where our School Is

Recently I’ve had a lot of people asking me about why we homeschool, what is our method, how on earth do I manage?  To be honest, it’s been a real challenge this year.  With an almost two-year old in tow, life gets pretty noisy around here!  We are Exploring Countries and Cultures, traveling the world in our imaginations and through books.  I absolutely love reading biographies to the kids, and our favorite so far has been Nate Saint.  Now we are reading about George Muller, as we are in Europe, and Germany is a part of Europe!  If we had the means, we would be hopping on an airplane so we could actually touch and feel and smell the places we are reading about.  In addition to Geography, we do independent reading, write letters, do math on the computer (I am relieved not to teach that this year), and grammar.  In Science, we’re learning about the world’s biomes, or ecosystems.  As to the why we are schooling at home… God wants us to, which equals the fact that He also equips us to follow through with His desire.  So, it is not me having or not having the ability, strength, patience, etc. to perform this overwhelming task.  It is God working through me and giving me what I need.  The days where I fly off the handle (yes, this happens) are most certainly the days where I am depending on my own means and strength to do what’s at hand.  Even in the last couple of weeks, my mindset has changed a lot as to why and how I do this.  I’m learning, daily, to let go of my own agenda, and surrender to the Lord’s plan for our day.  I know I do things a lot differently than many homeschool moms, but I’m a work in progress.  As a friend so encouragingly told me this week, being a planner is something that can be learned!  I’m so thankful for that, because it is something I need to learn more efficiently.

Here is a sneak peek into a typical day at our school:

Betty, our ever-present babbler, has been calling Elsie, Abby, Abby, Abby! for a while now.  Elsie says, She loves brothers and sisters!  She loves to sing and say, The B-I-B-I-B, Bible!  Often I have one of the older kids watch her upstairs while we do one-on-one stuff at the school table.  A lot of the times, Elsie is very capable of keeping her entertained.  Sometimes she just sits on my lap, colors, or plays with play dough at the table.

Elsie has been wearing the same outfit she got from a friend… for three days straight.  Yesterday we sat on the couch and she read four short stories to me.  Just like that.  I think she surprised herself!  She and Jack are both doing the same phonics program.  She shows an earlier readiness than he did, and they work well together.DSC_4054
Jack has turned a corner in reading and small light bulbs are starting to go off in his mind as he unlocks the code of letters and sounds.  He is easily frustrated, so we take many breaks, but he now wants to read, which helps so much in the learning.  My goal was never to push him until he showed a real desire to read.  I really love the books we’re using for phonics.  They are called First Start Reading, by Cheryl Lowe, and I couldn’t say better things about this method.  Each sound is mastered and built upon, not in the order of the alphabet, but rather in the order of how the sound is made.  For instance, since “M, N, P, C, F, S, G, and T” are all sounds made without adding any extra sounds, they are learned first, so there is no confusion.  The approach is vowel-consonant blended with word families.  This means, in the second lesson, they are reading the words “I am…” and fill in the blank with their name.  It’s exciting for them to start reading right away, but words are never introduced that aren’t sounds they have already learned.  I highly recommend it.DSC_4349

Elijah has been feverishly building an intricate crane with his new Erector set.  For two days now, whenever there is a break in school, in meals, or in sleep, he has been at it.  I look at it and wonder how on earth he figured it out.  So many pieces, so intricate, and it actually works!  His strengths are memory-work, science and art.

Nadine sparkles around horses.  She dreams about what she will do with them one day, and wants to help people with the skills she is learning.  We don’t know what that will be, but we love to encourage our children’s dreams.  During the hours she is not in the saddle, she works hard on school.  Her strengths are reading and math.

Today, being Pearl Harbor Day, we stepped out of our regular studies of Europe and delved 71 years ago into history.  They became acquainted with the day that lives in infamy, and were sobered by the reality that is war.  I love this aspect of home-schooling, which allows us the freedom to study pertinent dates and important historical events.   Jack whispered to me during the documentary we were watching, Mom, is this for real?  Yes, it really happened.  I think it’s so very important for our generation of children to know the heroes of their past, to understand there is more to their world than i-pods, video games, and drama.  There were and are real men and women who are fighting for our freedoms.  There is an entire generation who has passed from their view, and with them their memories and experiences.  I really don’t want to forget.

So, that is a small glance at what we are doing.  I am no expert, but I’m working hard to do my best and instill a love of learning to our children.

The Gift of Need

I’m not sure how many people know, but Nadine & I are planning on going to Haiti in February for a short mission’s trip.  We have seen God providing for us through many incredible ways.  We were able to send away for our passports two weeks ago, and are eagerly waiting for them to arrive.  As I pray for God to prepare my heart, I am finding that He’s not doing it in ways I was expecting.

The past few months have been an incredible ride of faith.  By incredible, I don’t mean that it’s been smooth-sailing, bump-free, or fear-less.  It’s been more like a wild stomach-losing ride that’s left me breathless and wondering how I’ll make the next turn, or the next day.  It’s been a constant leaning on the Man in the boat.  I have, at many times, panicked instead of trusted.  I’ve cried out, We’re perishing!  When in reality we are just being rocked a bit.

As part of my preparation, I’ve been feeling very needy.  Not exactly what I had in mind, God, I think.  Especially three weeks before Christmas.  Yet He’s been telling me this: needy is a good place to be.  It allows room for God to meet us and others to bless. Yet it’s hard to admit need, isn’t it?  Hard to let God take me where I feel uncomfortably dependent on Him alone.  Hard to be in a spot where I’m accepting other’s help instead of offering my own.  A lot of times, people have no idea they’re even doing it.  I can’t express it enough: we need to listen to the Holy Spirit’s promptings.  They might just be the echo of someone’s prayer in need.  Twenty dollars tucked in an envelope… no one knew the gas tank was empty and there were places to go.  A gift card for some coffee… no one knew how badly this mama needed that break.  A meal… no one knew the fridge was empty.  A letter, a comment, an encouraging word… no one knew how many doubts have risen up to try to break down this heart with discouragement.  Generosity trumps need.

We each have our own poverty.  It is a difficult thing to embrace.  Yet I think it is something which brings us closer to the power of God.  When we have an empty, impoverished part of our life or soul, God is able to fill it.  If we have need of nothing, then we have no need of God.  This must be why Paul said that he would glory in his weakness.  We often think of poverty as the obvious famine-ravished country in Africa.  Yet there is more to poverty than just a hungry belly.  Sometimes it is financial: five dollars left in the bank, with bills still arriving in the mail.  Sometimes it may be more hidden: a relationship which is torn, a loneliness that is insatiable.  Sometimes it is a poverty of the spirit and soul, a feeling like there is nothing left to give, nothing to offer. God blesses those who are poor and realize their need for Him, for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs.  (Matt. 5:3)  We are blessed.  No longer self-sufficient.  God’s blessings are more meaningful because He is able, in our poverty, to meet our need.   When we experience poverty, that is when we experience God’s power to provide.  And when we’ve experienced that power, it is impossible not to give back to God and touch others in need along the way.DSC_7094