These Are A Few

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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

An Expression of Light

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My favorite thing about Christmas decorations are lights.  I could exist the entire month of December with just little white lights to shine each night.  Today the first surprise in our stocking revealed that we were getting a Christmas tree today!  We have traipsed many a farm, and though that may be in our future again, we tend to stick to Produce Junction, where the trees are inexpensive and hardly ever drop their needles.  Our top farm-traipsing trip had to be in California when we chopped down, and very carefully drove home, a 17-ft Christmas tree.  The second best year was when I went with a friend and our (then) four kids and we were chosen to get a free tree.  I picked out as big a tree as we could manage, and basked in the fact that it was a gift.  I love big trees, and maybe one year we’ll have another huge tree with a thousand lights, but this year I really like the one we have.  Before we could decorate it, we pulled out all our strings of lights.  Dead.  Or half-dead, which is as good as dead.  So, off Elsie and I traipsed (see, we got our traipsing in after all!) to get some more lights.

The first thing we do is string the lights.  At the beginning God expressed himself. That personal expression, that word, was with God, and was God, and he existed with God from the beginning… In him appeared life and this life was the light of mankind.

Of course when it came time to hang up my banister lights, the same thing happened.  Half-lit strands.  I finagled big time, and made it work without traipsing this time.  The light still shines in the darkness and the darkness has never put it out.

Then amid all this joy, a despondency overwhelmed my spirit.  I think it was the end of a long, draining week, finally catching up to me.  I think it was the sight of my woolly husband, so kindly offering to make me oven-fried chicken because that is what I was craving.  (No, I’m not pregnant).  I think it was the beauty of so many white lights.  I know it was the realization that no matter how I feel, Emmanuel,  God with us, was there.  Sadness at my human-ness and short-comings, blended together with the awe and joy of God with us, then mingled with my salty tears.  So the word of God became a human being and lived among us. We saw his splendour (the splendour as of a father’s only son), full of grace and truth.DSC_8941-001

Month of Socks

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In last-minute fashion, I prepared our annual sock calendar Christmas countdown tonight.  We always manage to have at least 24 lonely socks by December, and they are usefully re-purposed    Instead of warming toes, they carry special secrets and surprises for the kids to find throughout the month of December.  When I asked them if they wanted to try something new this year, there was a resounding no way!  I think the socks are here to stay.  There will be cards in each one with a clue about what we’ll be doing that day, or directions to something they’re supposed to open, or coupons good for special treats.  Some will involve people outside our family, some won’t.  I’m not as good of a planner as I am a dreamer.  I was taking down our Happy Birthday banners from the past two months of birthdays, in the same hour I was putting up our Christmas socks.  But I ‘m thankful the kids roll with my haphazard ways.
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I don’t feel real pressured into the commercialism of this season.  I am more drawn to the man in the boat who slept through a wicked and wild storm, then firmly but surely rebuked the chaos into complete submission.  I would much rather possess the peace He came to bring, rather than the crazed yet drained look I sense in people’s eyes in line at the grocery store.  I’m drawn to the baby wrapped in rags, lying where a cow had just eaten its last meal.  I’m drawn to Him because He calls me to come and follow Him.  Where He is, there is much calm and contentment.  This is where I need to abide.
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My Weeping Shadow

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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.

Thanksgiving in a Nutshell

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Instead of writing what I am thankful for, I have been enjoying those things the past couple of weeks.  Other reasons kept me from the computer as well, but here is my short recap of our Thanksgiving.  It was wonderful to see both sides of my family for a few days in a row.  First mine, then Matthew’s, then mine again.  Thanksgiving morning was spent with Pop & Grandmom and the Weldons.  I just can’t take enough pictures of these two.

We played a Thankful game which Mom made up.  I pulled the card about a man, and got to gush on my wooly husband.  He hasn’t shaved or cut his hair this month which makes him look very different.  His eyes looked tired in most of the pictures, so I told him to keep them open wide and got the funny one in the corner.  I loved every minute spent with him during Thanksgiving.
Back at my parents’ house, we took a walk through the 500-acre wood.  My dad made a scavenger hunt of trees and other forest-y things to observe.  It was lovely.


Hanging out with Daddy is one of the best things in the world!

Our wonderful host and hostess for the weekend… they put up with many mouths to feed, many messes to clean, and many noises to be heard!
One of my favorite parts was just being with my sisters and mom!  I don’t know if we’ve ever had a picture of just us!  I am thankful for my family.

Don’t Just Try… DO.

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This week at church we were challenged name ourselves as we perceive ourselves to be.  Much like Thomas the Doubter, or Marvin the Stingy, or Lois the Lazy.  What we often don’t claim to be true, is the fact that when we are in Christ Jesus, we are a new creation!  The old has passed away!  Yet we cling to our old name.  We refer to ourselves by a name that is dead, and pass by the new name God has given us.  I am Amy the Quitter.  When things get too hard, I give up.  When circumstances seem impossible, I tend to doubt God is really in it.  When  I’m tired of doing something, I stop doing it.  I’m still fitting into my new name of Amy the Doer.  Even when things get tough, impossible or no longer fun… I must keep going.

In Judges 6, we’re introduced to a man named Gideon.  Threshing wheat in the wine-press  he is hiding from his enemies.  God calls out to Gideon and meets Him right where he is: lonely and fearful.  He reassures him: The Lord is with you.  Then He names him:  mighty man of valor!  Gideon doesn’t respond very valorously.  He doubts– a lot.  He complains some.  He whines a little.  He makes excuses.  He even tries to convince God that He has named the wrong guy.  At last, he puts God to the test, to see if He really is who He says He is.

When Gideon finally perceives he was indeed speaking face-to-face with God Himself… a Theophany of Jesus in the form of the Angel of the Lord… he is afraid.  Again.  The Lord comforts him with the perfect words: Peace be with you.  Do not fear, you shall not die.  Gideon builds an altar to the Lord and calls it, appropriately, The-Lord-Is-Peace.  Gideon’s story continues and he does go on to do what God told him He would accomplish.  He occasionally slips back into his old identity of fear, but God is so gracious to remind him of how He sees Gideon–  able to fight victoriously.

God uses our weakness not to define who we are, but to magnify His strength and power in our life.

He doesn’t pick at us, like we so often do ourselves.  Are you fearful?  Let Him be your courage.  Are you tired?  Let Him be your strength.  Are you weak?  Let Him be your power.  Are you believing the lies of the enemy?  Let His truth fill your mind.  Is your life feeling rather chaotic?  Let Him be your peace.

For Gideon, being a mighty man of valor didn’t mean he never felt fear again.  He did, but he consciously claimed God’s promise of being with him, and he actively stepped out into fearful situations, relying on God’s power for victory.  For me, being a doer doesn’t mean I will never feel like giving up again.  I must consciously rely on God’s strength to step out and finish tasks He has told me to do.  I can’t keep drifting back to my habit of giving up.  I know He is gracious and will provide His own power to will and to do His good pleasure.  He also provides people to come alongside and encourage me to keep going.

So, off I go to DO what needs doing today!  I have been given the gift of today, and the incredible power of God to DO things… both great and small.

World’s Toughest Mudder Experience

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Our tendency is to shy away from pain and discomfort.  This weekend I came face to face with over a thousand people who thought otherwise.  My husband was one of them.  Matthew competed in the World’s Toughest Mudder in New Jersey.  Nadine and I went to support and cheer him on.  If I could recap everything in a couple of words, I would choose: Muddy, Cold, and Stinking Hard.  Willingly, they began a 24-hour race stretching 10 miles, dotted with 32 obstacles.  The goal: get through as many laps as you could in 24-hours.  It started out as quite fun.  Beautiful weather, warm gloves, french fries and treats made our spectator spot quite appealing.

Some friends sent us off with a package of treats which we enjoyed immensely   Another friend mailed me a package with 24 gifts to open at each hour.  We lined them up on the dashboard of our van, and I took a picture of most of them, but once it got dark I put my camera away.  I appreciated the toothbrush and toothpaste for when my mouth got “woolly”, and the glow sticks at 9pm were a great hit.  The handwarmers at midnight were a lifesaver!  Books to pass the time, and other gifts to simply make me smile and take my mind off the shivers.  Thank you! 
Matthew’s “tent” site, without a tent.  Simply a blanket, chair and box of ice-tea and food… everything that wasn’t consumed was frozen solid by night.


My wonderful daughter who kept me company and helped my spirit tremendously throughout the day.

Coming off Everest.  One side they slid down, then on the other side of the lap they had to scale it again.
Our favorite guy.

Once the sun started dipping over the horizon, however, things took quite a different turn.  The temperature dropped so low that everything wet started to freeze.  That basically meant every single surface, since there was mud and water everywhere.  My boots no longer kept my feet warm, and I wondered at the wet sneakers of each runner, and how their toes weren’t falling off.  I won’t give you a breakdown of every hour, but between the hours of 10pm and 1am, I was at my lowest.   The hat and gloves Matthew was wearing didn’t fit him correctly, so he had taken them off,  which later made matters worse.  His hands were so cold.  This was in the back of my mind while Nadine and I warmed ourselves in the van.  She eventually fell asleep and I set off to try to find Matthew since we had lost contact with him for 3 hours.   At midnight I walked the now familiar mile to the 29th obstacle, to see if I could find him.  I did.  He was the best muddy sight I have ever seen.  Holding back my tears, and while my feet froze in my dry boots, I watched him go through icy cold water and then through some electroshock “therapy”.  We walked the last frigid mile together.  When we split up, he told me he would see if he could warm his hands and feet.  I went to our van to close my eyes for a bit, and the next thing I knew, he was knocking on the window, bags in hand.  His body felt physically able to continue, but the cold dominated.  He completed 40 miles total.

I’m so incredibly proud of his determination, his courage to face very difficult situations, his stamina, and his wisdom to know when enough is enough.  I’m so thankful for the people who rallied around us during this weekend.  I’m so thankful that Matthew didn’t suffer any injuries, and that we were able to grow closer to each other through this experience.

Last Night’s Robbery

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There’s nothing quite like hearing your kids tell you there are policemen at your door.  And they weren’t friends who are policemen, delivering pizza.  Yes, that has happened.  This policeman and policewoman got straight to the point.  Do you know where your car is?  Um… we pointed out to the street where is was supposed  to be and our mouths fell open.  Gone.  My mind flitted to the afternoon.  We were  all frantically searching for the car keys because it was time to drive Nadine to her horseback riding lesson.  I ended up having to cancel it because we couldn’t find the keys.  I had checked the van around 4pm, and  that was the last time I knew for sure it was in the street.  After going over with the kids the events of the afternoon, we concluded that one of them had accidentally left the keys in the car when they went out to get something out of it earlier in the day.  We guess that someone took them, then later drove our car away once it got dark.  A neighbor in the hood where it was parked, called the police, because they noticed it had been running in their alley for about 4 hours.  So, Matthew got into the back of the police car, they took him to where they had found it, and then he drove it back home.  It was a strange evening.  The kids all surmised that maybe the mystery thief was really going to steal it, but since it was so messy inside (the story of my life) they changed their minds.  I’m just amazed that it was found so close by, and that we didn’t notice it in the morning when it might have been harder to put the pieces together.  It caused a bit of unrest, but we trust God is in control of our lives and surroundings, and there is nothing we can do to change that.  He promises to never leave us or forsake us.  He knows we need our vehicle, and thankfully He saw fit to keep it for us a bit longer.

Last night we also finished reading the story of Nate Saint.  He and four other men willingly risked their lives to bring the good news of Jesus Christ to people who had never heard the gospel before.  Jesus said, The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they might have life and have it to the full.  John 10:10

Today, I’m thankful for this promise!  I want to live life until it overflows!

Our birthday day yesterday!  Nadine’s present included a homemade robot, puppy from Elsie, nine cents, and a letter.  I attempted making lego block cakes, but my specialty is not decorating cakes.  Elijah wasn’t sure what they were at first.  


Our birthday boy now at nine years old!

Nine Years and Thirty-Two Weeks Later

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I woke up and our bed was soaked.  Something wasn’t right.  We had been living in my in-laws attic for a few months.  The baby inside of me kicked and squirmed, but something still was not right.  The bleeding I had experienced for six months straight took its toll on my body.  My water had broken, and it was time to go to the hospital.  Once there, they gave me shots to help his lungs develop.  I prayed he would cook a little longer.  Thirty-one weeks wasn’t enough.  As I lay still in that hospital bed for a week, listening to Christmas music, our baby boy grew .  A week later, however, things started to change.  Matthew and I had just ordered food from TGIFriday’s.  I had a huge BBQ chicken salad, and enjoyed every single bite.  A couple of hours later, I started to feel funny twinges.  Having had a baby only 13 months previous, the feeling was recognizable.  The twinges became more painful and significant.  I watched the clock, and let Matthew sleep in his little pull-out cot next to my bed.  He had spent every night with me, thanks to his parents who were watching Nadine.  She had learned to walk that week, and had come toddling into the hospital room with a pretty new dress, white stockings, and shiny patent leather shoes.  A lot had happened that week.  Now these birth pains were beginning.

I finally called a nurse and told her was labor.  She assured me that the monitor wasn’t showing anything significant.  Awhile later I woke up Matthew and reassured the nurse that I knew what I felt, whether or not the monitor did.  They finally believed me enough to wheel me down to the labor and delivery unit.  Sure enough, on the newer monitors the contractions showed up sky high, and I was already 7cm.  He was still breech, so they prepped me for a C-section, not wanting to risk anything.  Everything happened so fast, and before I knew it, I was in the OR, Matthew leaning over my head.  Then they showed me this precious tiny baby, and I kissed his small nose before they whisked him away to the NICU.  By then, Matthew was looking very green.  He eventually had to leave the room, and the anesthesiologist kept me up to speed on what was happening on the other side of the curtain.

Nine years ago, in the wee hours of the morning, Elijah Watt Weldon became a part of our family.  He was 3lbs 6oz, and Matthew’s wedding band fit around his ankle.  He spent five weeks in the hospital before we were blessed to bring home our special Christmas present on December 18th.  What a love he was and is!  Our Mr. Fix-it.  The person who almost knows where anything is that is lost.  He is so sweet with babies, has a great ear for music, an incredible memory, and makes us laugh.  Thinking back to his birth, I chuckle about the salad I ate a few hours before he was born, because he absolutely loves BBQ sauce.  Happy birthday, Elijah boy!  We love you.

Got Funnies

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Today I’m thankful for the funny things my kids say.

I  want to be a policeman when I grow up  because they eat donuts and drink  coffee.- Jack

I want to be a ballerina, not a ballerina coach.  Just a ballerina.  -Elsie

Raise your hand if you like oaps [oats] the most. -Elsie

When asking Nadine if something was too hot, she said, Not enough to make my flexibility  [reflexes] leave. 

While driving, Elijah and Nadine were talking about different colors, and Elijah mentioned the color of Abendigo.  As in, one of the men thrown into the fiery furnace.  I think he meant indigo.

Of course, Betty is full of cute things every day.  Her latest is an exuberant, Let’s go!  Whenever we go somewhere.