Where Is The Happy?

Yesterday, as we celebrated Elsie’s 5th birthday, it marked the end of my birthday week.  I actually thought her birthday was today.  As she went to bed on Sunday night she told me in her sweet little voice, I’m not going to be grumpy anymore!  When I asked why, she told me, Because the day after tomorrow is my birthday!  I was pretty tired and took her word for it.  Not until I woke up yesterday and saw some special birthday emails for her, did I realize that yes, indeed, it was her birthday.  Please tell me something like that has happened to another mom out there.  So, I scrounged in my secret trunk trying to find and hang up the Happy Birthday banner I made for such occasions.  All I came up with was BIRTHDAY.  Where is the HAPPY?!  I kept asking myself.  Before I go into more of her surprise (for me) birthday, let me back up a week and divulge all the fun that was had the past week.

It all started on my birthday, when the three older kids came with Matthew & I on a road trip to NJ.  We drove 3 hours there and 3 hours back, with about 45 mins in NJ total.  It was work-related, so nothing too exciting.  The highlight was hitting the beach for fifteen minutes.

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I had some wonderful friends over that night for tea and snacks and a whole lot of fun.  The next day I was served breakfast in bed by my oldest.  She loves to do this.  The rest of the week was full of dentist appointments, Betty learning to put the car windows down with her bare little toes streeetching across her carseat, sweet sleeping children, lincoln log creations, school, tea, and much more.

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Then came Friday.  After dropping off the kids, Matthew and I spent the weekend away.  What a wonderful time.  Becoming disconnected happens so quickly!  As it should be, we have both changed and grown, and sometimes we miss that happening and we look at the other as if they are a stranger we should know, but don’t. It was a treat and a blessing to have this time.

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From the beautiful inns where we stayed, to the memories made, it was a weekend to remember!

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The week was completed with an impromptu meeting with dear, old friends.

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There’s the Happy.

 

 

My Perfect Normal

 

Tonight as I sit and sip my Bavarian Wild Berry hot tea, I am plunging into the memories of the past week.  A wonderful weekend with my sisters and sister-friends.  These girls knew me way back when… I never wore shoes, lived in mango trees, and seldom took a shower.

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Can you tell which ones are blood-sisters, and which are sister-friends?

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As I was thrown back into “normal”, I’m starting to swim again.  Before, I was gulping for air, unsure of where to put my feet, and had forgotten how to tread water.  Pennsylvania is vastly different from Haiti.  There are some things I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fully put into words.  My heart has a hallowed pondering ground, where thoughts between me and the Lord reside.  I’ve been asking Him to give me the ability to come back and 100% accept and take on the responsibilities given to me today, here, and now.  It’s not worth my breath to compare myself, my life, or my experiences with any other person.   I am realizing how perfect my crazy, messy, full, busy, joyful, loud, spontaneous, and beautiful life is. It is just as it should be, and is custom-made for me by our Creative God.

This week was full of perfect examples.   An empty box, full of clementine peels, stashed in the living room.   Betty sitting on the kitchen floor, pink jammies covering her sweet piggies, reading out loud with a tiny pile of pretzels beside her.  Being called into the living room, in the flurry hour of supper-making and evening rowdies, to see the amazing sight of all five kids on top of Matthew’s back.  Are we heavy, Daddy?  Schoolwork, flips on the trampoline, haircuts, beautiful shows by the sun while I’m driving, painted nails, a lost tooth, oats in the hair, on the face, on the floor, spills, fights, apologies, notes, special deliveries, and more punctuated my normal week.

March 2013

Today Elsie was crying about a sore tooth.  After calling the dentist, I was able to come in right away.  It turns out my mad scheduling skills forgot about her and Jack’s  check-ups for over a year.  Thankfully, found out there was nothing wrong with her teeth except super sensitivity, was able to schedule Jack for tomorrow, and earned a pair of silly glasses as a reward.  Ironically, yet another child has an already-scheduled appointment the next day.  I think that’s a record for us. Three kids, three days in a row to the dentist.

Since this happens to be my birthday week, so far the icing on the proverbial birthday cake was my Ikea date yesterday with Mom & Heidi.  Mom brought mugs and teabags, I ordered chocolate cake and other yummies, and we sipped hot tea at the cafe, then enjoyed ourselves at Ikea for the afternoon!  Tomorrow I will be three times the age I was when I was one year older than Nadine is now.  Yep.

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Empty Suitcases

Recently my prayer has been to change, to grow.  So He challenges me.  He pulls out all the stops until I’m left with nothing but His grace alone.  I’ve come face-to-face with the hard reality that our enemy isn’t after Christians who have everything to lose.  He’s after those who have nothing left to lose because they’ve given it all up for Christ.  Jesus is after total surrender.  I assumed that because we’re traveling to another country this week, God would keep us from sickness.  He is more concerned at honing my trust in Him than He is about keeping me comfortable.   As I washed sheets covered in vomit at dinnertime, then bathed another child reeking in their waste at midnight, I had to praise Him for the strength to do these things.  The water to wash.  The clean sheets to replace.  The comfort I could give.  As my tummy gurgles uncomfortably tonight I have to praise Him.  The other choice isn’t an option, because it will just keep me where I am, and I want to grow and change.

The suitcases sit empty, and I anticipate their filling soon.  As they are filled, I pray I would be emptied of myself so I have nothing but Christ to offer those He puts in my path.suitcase

Doing the Beautiful

Between the lines… what really happens?  More than I can write about.  I want these writings to be something my children can look back on and see… love… laugh… learn… remember.  This month has been full to the brim with adventures, excitement, ordinary happenings and trying ordeals.  Some days have felt full.  Others have felt more like everything has broken all around me and what was once beautiful is being spilled onto the floor and wasted.  But more on that later.

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Sometimes I feel like I’m looking in a mirror when I glance up at this girl.  She’s eye-level with me now.  When did this happen?

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Sometimes I am looking in the mirror.  Yes, I was rather grossed out to see there was enough dried-on toothpaste flung onto our bathroom mirror for someone to play tic-tac-toe on it.  Yes, I took a picture.  Because I know this aberration will not be seen when these kids have flown the coop and I have all day long to polish my bathroom mirrors.  That is what I’ll be doing, right?

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This guy’s blue eyes fill a special place in my heart.  They are the first to open in the morning.  They are tender with tears when he misses his little sister visiting Grandma.

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Way back on January 5th, we were woken up with rustling feet and excited voices.  Big sister pulled everyone’s signatures and proudly presented this card to us.  Then littlest sister proceeded to eat the breakfast I was served in bed.  It was a special morning, marking eleven years married to the love of my life.

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Before the leg was hurt, everyone enjoyed watching Daddy crank out some moves on his blades.

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Don’t be fooled by the princess helmet, polka-dot pants and Mary Jane shoes underneath those plastic fisher price wheels.

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This girl can bust out some moves of her own!

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Sometimes I have helpers in the kitchen.  Sometimes an egg beater covered in vanilla pudding is the trick to stopping the evening-blues that tend to hit sweet two-year-old girls.

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Often there are hand stands, flips, break-dances, and other movements thumping the floor.

January 2013

After our December journeys, our van really did look that bad.  Not a speck of shine.  Since we had exactly enough money for a car-wash, we treated our van to a little pampering.  I’m not sure who was more excited: the kids or I.  Betty was in awe and when we exited the wash and kept saying, Again!  Again!

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Five days a week, there is school.  I relish the one-on-one times.  Jack is like an airplane who has stopped its taxi only to get faster until its airborne.  He is flying over obstacles, and getting better and better at sticking to a hard task until it’s finished.  The new camouflage overalls given to him recently have been a huge hit.

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Other spaces in my day find more messes.  More brokenness.  More being spilled out.  Sometimes I react like Jesus’ disciples did to the woman who broke a very expensive jar of perfume with which to anoint Jesus’ head:  Why this waste, Lord?  The time spent cleaning up, making beautiful, or saving for something special.  Then, disaster, messiness, shattered glass.  What’s the point?

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I hear Jesus speak in return to my disgust, my wondering, my anger.  You have done a good work for me…  You have done what you could.

Jesus never wastes trials.  Our perspective is so temporal.  It sees the shards.  He sees the end.

The ultimate brokenness was for you and for me.  He hung, perfect and sinless, bleeding and broken on a wooden cross.  More pain than shattered glass or ruined hopes.  In His brokenness, He crushed through the worst barrier separating us from God: sin.  While his mother wept and wondered at this loss, this waste of a perfect life… God saw the end.  He saw what we get to see now!  Resurrection power poured out on all who believe.  Forgiveness of sins.  Eternal life.  All because of brokenness.

Nothing we are going through is a waste.  He redeems, sweeps up broken pieces, restores, heals, forgives, and makes beautiful that which we thought was defective.  He turns what we think is worthless into something of unimaginable value.

So I will keep on doing what is before me.  What I can do.  I will give Him my best, my cracked, empty self.  Jesus says when we do this, we have done a beautiful thing for Him. (Mark 14:6)

ER Date

Please, God, just let us stay at home tonight, I kept praying.  Matthew went to bed at 8 o’clock, looking feverish and limping into bed.  A two-week-old gash on his leg changed from a sore that looked like it was healing, to an angry, swollen, sore leg.  Infection was swiftly making its home in his blood, taking up residence where it has no right to belong.  So, here we sit in Hallway Bed A.  Emergencies all around us, requiring us to take a hallway bed.

Thank you, Lord for his leg.  In a different century, that might not be.

We see how frail our bodies are.  How quickly a small trip up can lead to more serious consequences.  It was just a wooden box.  It was just a little wound.   How can it wreak such havoc?  One thing leads to another.

We see people we know.  A friend of theirs rushed here by ambulance because of an overdose.  One choice ravages a life.  One thing leads to another.

The red creeps past the black marker.

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It’s been awhile now.  Antibiotics are surging into his bloodstream.  Picking a fight with the nasty bad guys we can’t see.  The red stops creeping.

Fear collides with peace.  We will keep our eyes on You.  

Going home for the rest of the night.  We’ve had fun on our ER date.  It’s been awhile since we had one of those.  Prayers all over the globe were answered on our behalf in a lavished-on grace-full way.  Home tonight.  We eat popcorn in our bed, fully aware that God is good.

We will keep our eyes on You.

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 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!

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.

These Are A Few

Today was sprinkled with a few of my favorite things.  Photos.  Friends.  Tea.  Lights.

The gorgeous weather called for the perfect photo shoot day.  Since I was taking pictures of some friends, I thought I should also get some shots of our kids.  So we scrounged in our drawers and closets for some outfits that sort of resembled winter.  The kids rolled around on a grassy hill and I learned not to face them directly into the sunshine.  I’m not kidding, these are their exact faces.  My eyes are watering!  Elsie cried.  Betty sneezed.
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So we moved, and got some better shots.
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Then tonight the kids did so great going to bed, and I had some girls over.  Friends sipping hot tea in front of white Christmas tree lights… that is my definition of Joy.  What a blessing!DSC_0269

My Weeping Shadow

Every night I look back on my day and wonder at a few of the things I did or did not do.  When all is quiet, it’s hard to truly remember how very trying all the noise really was.  When there are no more voices calling my name, I wonder why I was so irritated at that hundredth call for mommy.  I know there was constant activity all around me all day long, because of the evidence.  An apple core hidden here.  A stuffed animal under the table.  Loads of dishes scrubbed and ready for more carnage tomorrow.  Baskets of folded clothes, indicating they were once mounds of laundry.  The ever-emptying refrigerator.  Not to mention everything in my dustpan at the end of the day.

This morning started off with about a quarter cup of cereal.  Since that doesn’t divide between five children so well, I used some leftover bread dough for a monkey bread breakfast.  Served on my Italy plate, it was a splendid start to our day.  Then all of a sudden all I could think about was how long everyone’s hair was, and we had haircuts all around.  The boys got spiffed up, and Betty lost her baby mullet.  She did a great job, and her whole face looks older.  It matches her just-about-two personality.

Today I called her my weeping shadow.  After the morning cheer, she laid down great for her nap… except she never fell asleep.  A poopy diaper later, and she was not doing the whole nap thing today.  So we battled through many tear-filled moments.  She had her first time-out yesterday.  She is experiencing the “try one bite” at supper ordeal.  She understands every single thing we say, and is sprouting like a little seed in a jar of water.  Between my weepy shadow who couldn’t leave my side, math, geography, and everything else required of us today… supper ended up a last-minute outing where the kids were so enthralled with their surroundings that they didn’t eat.  Then we went to Matthew’s exercise class, and by the time we got home at 8 o’clock, my bearded husband was whipping out the pancake recipe for a late-night-second-supper.  The full moon was wreaking havoc on everyone’s ability to settle down anyway, so why not enjoy a few chocolate-chip pancakes before bed?  We did just that.  Betty relaxed her sweet chubby feet on my warmed up rice bag, and everyone ate their fill.


 I’m thankful for my messy life.  For the hair which shows growth.  Our daily bread, especially cinnamon and sugar-covered bread.  The beauty of a full moon.  Tears to show a heart alive, filled with emotion and the ability to feel.  I’m thankful for strength to do more than I feel physically able to do sometimes.  For creativity to color the mundane.  For chattering which makes silence more precious.  For grace upon grace upon grace.  For little shadows that need me to scoop them up and feel cherished as they are.