HAPPY BIRTHDAY FAITH!!!

My Dear, Sweet Little Lollipop,

Everybody always says they can't think of just one favorite thing they like most about someone they love so much. There are just too many good things to pick from. But I can.

It's your laugh. You have absolutely the purest, most genuine laugh that I've ever heard! It is at once robust and girly, sincere and infectious and I have NEVER ONCE been able to keep from smiling when I hear it! Not even on my darkest days.

You are a joy from top to bottom! A "favorite" just means that it is the best of many good attributes - and you are full of them!

I know it might not be your favorite thing, but I LOVE the way your freckles dot only one side of your face! It reminds me so much of your life. From one angle you look so grown up, and it reminds me of how gracefully you are maturing into a classy young lady. But on the freckled side, I still get to enjoy you as the carefree little girl deserving of all life's innocence for just a bit longer.

And I love those ADORABLE round little buns in a bathing suit! I'm sorry, but I do! You CRACK ME UP when you do "squeezy cheeks," when you lock those knees together and scrunch your buns up, walking in little baby steps like a Chinese woman while speaking hilarious stories in that IMPECCABLE British accent! Oh, my, word - how you can make me laugh! You are SO FUNNY!

And smart. I've been blown away by all you've learned this year Biblically. You have such great questions and you never settle for the simple explanation. You want to know WHY you should believe what you are told and I LOVE THAT! Your teachers are equally as blown away with the depth of spiritual understanding you can garner and even explain to others from your Bible lessons. God has given you tremendous insight in this area, and I am so proud of you for using it for humble purposes and honest living.

This year, you have also practiced courage in a way that has made me so proud of you! You had a rough year last year, but you have never used that as an excuse. I have heard that the definition of courage is not the lack of fear. But that it is fearing the unknown and facing it anyway. You have been the absolute embodiment of courage by that definition and I couldn't be prouder! God richly rewarded you for it this year, too.

I guess every Mom wants to be the one to give her daughter the present that her daughter likes better than all the rest for her birthday. But this year, you got one even greater than the one that Daddy and I have picked out for you. God gave you Jenny. I LOVE to watch the two of you riding your bikes down the street together, giggling about secrets that only the two of you know. I love watching your matching pigtails bob up and down as you pedal, shadowing the tassels hanging from your handle bars. Your fair hair and skin color and her dark hair and complexion, often in matching outfits. God has given you the joy of a best friend. Jenny was the answer to some of my most earnest prayers for you.

My prayers for you are many and they always will be. I want you to be happy and grounded and for the deep love that we have for you to always be apparent to you! I want the world to be kind to you. You are such a vital part of it. The world is such a sunny place in the spot where you stand. You are amazing to me in every way! So humble and forgiving and sharing and kind. So encouraging and funny and smart. Like I always say, you are SWEET ON A STICK - forever our LOLLIPOP!

HAPPY 8TH BIRTHDAY SWEET GIRL!

WE LOVE YOU WITH ALL OF OUR HEARTS!

A Little Late, But Quite Sincere

A week ago Sunday was Grandparents' Day, but I missed it because I had it written down as this past Sunday. Then I missed it again because I've been sick. So my great parents and my lovely Grandmother never heard from me. My MIL and I had dinner for other reasons altogether, but I never mentioned it because I am, obviously, losing brain cells by the bunches. But we love them all four, dearly, and my hubby's handsome Grand dad, because they are quite simply some of the best human beings for us to have the privilege of sharing a legacy with, for a whole host of reasons:

For being willing to explain the details of a sport, even right in the middle of The Big Play.

For hosting "just because" parties for the grandchildren including real invitations by snail mail for them to receive.

For purposely being too slow to beat the train across the tracks, even though it makes you late to an appointment.

For hours on a ladder painting clouds upon their ceilings.

For learning new talents and skills and computer programs with them around, so they know that they're never too old to learn and grow. Or never too young to be a help. :0)

For spending time picking vegetables in the garden - or fishing or riding four wheelers or running errands, visiting family, shooting guns or making crafts - instead of always huddling in front of the television.

For having patience while they were still learning that "sharing" referred to bicycles and toys, but not to toothbrushes and drinks.

For biting your tongue while we as parents were learning the difference between defiant disobedience and simple childhood foolishness, and for when we mistook the latter for the former.

For telling them stories of their parents as kids and for making us sound like heroes.

For deferring to our preferences as their parents and letting us raise them our way. For respecting our choices on drinking and movies and world news and dress and Santa Clause.

For so many of our ways being the very way we were raised because they work and they are right.

For not allowing any disrespect with the excuse that they are "just kids."

For being equally interested in ALL their activities, as diverse and silly and new as they sometimes are.

For holiday traditions they look forward to for weeks.

For telling them "You can do it!" when you're not completely convinced yourself.

For remembering the time I crawled into bed with one of them after a particularly bad nightmare, but not the time I punished one of them for stalling bedtime, when they really had a case of pin worms. And for assuring me that even the cleanest home wouldn't have prevented them from getting it.

For pancake breakfasts and fun discussions about what they'll be when they grow up.

For reminders that they have many years until they HAVE TO grow up.

For sharing with them the "Good Ole' Days" without making their own days sound bad or scary by comparison.

For praying for our efforts in raising them!

For making a trip to your home seem inviting and familiar and adventurous and new - all at once.

For saving the housework until we leave.

For hanging their artwork on YOUR refrigerators.

For referring to your grandchild in heaven by name.

For admitting to feeding them ice cream every night before bed and setting that precedent for honesty. It was the more important lesson. :0)

For not buying them EVERY thing they want, just because you can.

For telling them "you look JUST LIKE your mommy at that age," and meaning it as a compliment.

For watching the same rated "G" show for the tenth time when you would really like to see "48 Hour Mysteries."

For trying to still lift and hold and swing them, even though it hurts a little more now that they're bigger.

For treating the boys like boys and the girls like girls - guilt and PC free!

For making the drive to see us more than we do to see you. It hasn't gone unnoticed - or unappreciated!

For being at so many Birthday parties, even though they are too busy with their friends to pay much attention. They cherish you there in the photos!

For being "Grandma" or "Grandpa" to their friends and cousins who don't see theirs'.

For letting them call home at midnight if they want to.

For meaning NO when you say "No." And for not saying it very often.

For imposing a bed time, but not necessarily a sleep time. For extra kisses and tickles and "boog-a-doo, boog-a-doos."

For introducing them to your own circles of wise and weird and accomplished and quirky friends.

For reminding them in speech and in deed that virtue and character and church and friendship and hard work and forgiveness and God ARE IMPORTANT!

For making God bigger than the four walls of our own home.

For being such top-notch examples of integrity and love. They only have 5 grandparents. But you all are enough to show them all they need to see.

The Fast And The Furious And Down For The Count

I have worn myself out. My body is refusing to agree with my brain that I am still the same woman I was when I gave birth to three children, albeit not all at once. I've NEVER been THAT energetic. But I have always prided myself on being able to do 83 things at once and still manage to have my hair look done. Of course, pride is a sin and perhaps the good Lord has been trying to show me a thing or two. Like that rest is actually a GOOD thing. I am home with the flu and.........honestly, rather enjoying it. It's nice to sort of feel too dizzy to drive, wrapped up in a thick warm blanket doing NOTHING. It's quite nice in fact. Although doing a lot sure was fun too.

Friday after school - watched my boys play football on the front lawn while talking life with my stunning young girl on the front yard park bench. I loved the whole atmosphere. A crisp breeze. A really clear view of the bright yellow sun over the ridge into the town below. The kids periodically coming over to eat chips straight out of the bag (a special treat.)

Friday evening - helped the kids clean their rooms before taking them to their cousin's 8th birthday party. Stayed after the cake and ice cream/gift-opening/boys-allowed part to help my overwhelmed SIL paint nails and do facials for the "spa" theme. Heard 16 (it was a sleepover - she's crazy, folks!) little people squeal in alternating drama, angst and delight for three hours.

Came home and went straight to bed early (for me.)

Saturday morning - went to my little guys very first ever football game (at 8 am!) He loved it! So did I! He was so great.

Picked up my pretty princess from the party. Switched off little guy for older brother. Went to his two football games. So proud of his sportsmanship and perseverance. He made the last great play of the game!

Came home to change clothes. Took an allergy pill. Went to sell popcorn for Cubscouts.

Took son to Grandma's house.

Took my daughter to see "Princess Wishes On Ice." (TOTALLY wacky people at the fair this year! It's usually pretty colorful, but, OH MY........and again with the traffic! Worst ever.) Loved every second. So glad she's still into it.

Feeling yucky and exhausted, didn't want to cook. Took MIL and kids out for dinner at super fun diner she suggested. Had wonderful conversation and the best chicken fried steak ever. (I don't usually crave that, but I hadn't eaten much all weekend and it sounded good. Tasted delicious but unfortunately I got to "enjoy" it twice. Oops.)

Came home. Did laundry for church. Listened to younger son and hubby describe the very crazy scene at the fair that we had already witnessed earlier. Went to bed early, smiling.

Sometimes, not constantly, but sometimes, it's nice to just live until you've got nothing left for a couple of days. It really was a sweet weekend, even if I've had to resort to short phrases in describing it. It really was.

If hubby seems conspicuously missing, his time was spent working on the yard (which he likes), cooking for his men's prayer breakfast, and going to a college football game and then the fair with our youngest son. Today he's offered to take the kids to church and out somewhere fun so I can rest.

Tenderness And Deep Deep Love

The only way to sufficiently explain the way my daughter has touched my heart tonight is to admit that I lost it. I mean I totally, utterly and completely lost it this morning when she threw her temper tantrum. It's not what I said to her that I regret. That was pretty much what it needed to be. But I yelled it in such anger that it escaped my throat almost as a growl - a loud, angry, overbearing growl. And it devastated me for much of the day as I worried about how devastating it must have been to her. In getting through the proper spoken message, I really screwed up the subconscious one, and it hurt.

Then just now, I went in to crawl into bed and found four beautifully sprawling sunflowers and a note: "I love you Mommy."

She certainly is not perfect, but she has the forgiveness thing down pat.
And I would die for her.

Pink Glittered Lint

Reason #437

why I love the darling little girl I get to call DAUGHTER

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Glitter in the pink lint after doing a load of her laundry.

I once heard a prominent Christian women's speaker suggest using daily chores as a reminder to pray for certain people or situations in our households. Like praying for the owner of the clothing you are washing, drying or folding. I love this kind of advice - practical and applicable. I am a logical deduction kind of gal and I appreciate such direct advice. Still, parables are important too, sometimes, to understand the context of Divine ideas. So I thought about that lint. How it could easily represent the sin that we all have in our lives. It must be trapped and removed in order to make our apparel the best we can put on. How it hinders the laundering process if not removed. But looking at the lint, it is also indicative of the owner of the laundry it comes from. My husband's lint is almost always a light or reddish color. He works outside and wears light-colored clothing in order to tolerate the heat. The red comes from the Oklahoma dirt. My son's lint is almost always full of small scraps of paper that I somehow missed cleaning out of one of his pockets. He is a list maker deluxe, much like his Momma. Mine is always colorful. I love a different feel to my outfit each day. Fashion is fun for me. And my daughter's lint - it almost always contains pink and glitter.

So even our struggles and particular temptations make us unique. I don't love my daughter because she has lint (or sin), but I don't NOT love her for it either. Yes, I have to stop and pick the lint out of the filter each time I do the wash. It is an extra step and a little bit more work. But I have been given this awesome privilege to be the one to teach her to eliminate more lint from her life. But if I didn't get to be the one to do it, if life were "easier" and the lint removal was left to another, I would also miss the unique personality, the glitter and sparkle, that's peeks through the dust of the lint.

I guess the glitter would be love, since God is Love, and He is the Light - the sparkle. So I thought about my lint, that sin that God removes as He passes me through the wash of the blood of Jesus. It reminded me how much He loves me. That like I do with my daughter, He must pick the lint out of my life, but stop to smile at the glitter. He clothes me in it, just as hubby and I clothe our daughter in her glittery garb. So I guess my prayer would be that I would continually choose the sparkly bright outfit that glitters of LOVE, so that there is always sparkle in my lint. My lesson from the laundry today reminds me to love my family as they are. Help them, pray for them, and give thanks for the note-filled, red-dirt-stained, and pink glittered lint.

A Symphony Of Snoring

I am staying up well into the night in order to clean up the mess from cooking dinner for my husband and daughter. She had been at a friend's house all day while I dealt with Dalton's illness at the emergency care. And my husband had not had time to eat between work and the ball games, so dinner ended up being at about 10:30 tonight. Besides everything else that took place today (see below), Greg had to come home and study for his teen class at church tomorrow. To say he is exhausted would be quite the understatement. So, he has gone to bed to get up and do it all again come 6am.

Dalton is knocked out by all of his medication and is snoring loudly on the couch. That says something about the rest he really needed because he is not usually a snorer. (Is that a word?) Dh (Dear husband/Designated hitter, for my family who is learning the terminology), however, is. Big Time. And I would be lying if I tried to pretend I always (or even usually) have a good sense of humor about it. Most often, my reactions lack much compassion and leave me needing to repent when I am far too tired to care about doing what is right.

Right now, however, I'm listening delightedly to Dalton and Dh trading turns taking in breath, then blowing it out with a roar. It is causing me to giggle uncontrollably at the two of them and wishing I had someone to share the humor with. They sound like a well-planned symphony of snoring! And tonight this makes me smile, for it's proof they are getting what they both need most at this moment - some well-deserved, deep sleep and rest.

A Sick Boy, A Super Dad, and A Ball Game - Lord Willing

It's a crazy crazy crazy crazy day in our household. Tonight, for the first time since the scheduled June 6 start date, our little guy is getting to play t-ball! For six looooooong rainy weeks, he has waited patiently and sometimes not so patiently to finally get to don his uniform and take the field. (He is asking me how much longer every 10-20 minutes. This can get a little annoying, but honestly I love it.) He has wanted to play ball since he was old enough to talk and now the night is finally here - a double header!

My husband will be coming home early to take him. Originally I was to take him to his first game and hubs would show up for the second after work, but Dalton (our 10-y-o) has come down with the meanest sickness he has had in at least 4 or 5 years. He is vomiting, even water, and his fever has reached a whopping 104 degrees! (This is particularly concerning to us, because as an infant he spent his very first Christmas Day in the emergency room when he fell semi-conscious due to a fever reaching 107. His body does not fight fevers very efficiently.) So I am not willing to leave the room from him until he begins to improve enough to retain liquids. The doctor is not sending us to the ER for now, but is prescribing a medication to help with the nausea in hopes of keeping him hydrated while "waiting out the bug."

In the meantime, hubby just went back to work this week after nearly 4 weeks off for bad weather (he runs a construction company) and his morning started off with two trucks stuck in the mud for two hours so far. This means the concrete is setting up INSIDE of the drum while everyone scrambles to figure out what to do. It's several thousand dollars worth of concrete sitting there, the job was already started so he can't quit midway through, but he can't eat the cost of it either. (These NO-FAULT situations are the worst, because a decision can't be made until everyone agrees on who will pay for it.) Through all of this, he is trying SO HARD to resolve it in time to actually make money today so his guys can get paid, and yet make it home in time to ensure our son's dreams of his very first big ball game are not dashed. His priorities were not always so aligned. I am both proud and IMMENSELY grateful that he is making such a hard effort on such a hot and problem-filled day!

As nutty as all of this sounds, it is a life style that we have lived for quite some time. It is stressful, and often quite aggravating, but it no longer throws us into panic mode. It's actually become the kind of routine we have become accustomed to. Not every day, thank goodness. But often enough to make us realize that EVEN this kind of a day will be O.K. in the end. Or it won't. It may stay terrible and get even worse. But even then, God will have His way. It will ultimately be what is best for us. And it will teach us something more about Him if we let it. That is the part we have to constantly remind ourselves. We are learning the best response is to just say "oh, well" and try to smile.

And, hey, at least it's not raining!

Edit to Add:

Dalton's nurse called and wanted us to get to a particular intermediate emergency facility. (Like an after hours, with more x-ray technology and where he could stay overnight if needed, but not one of our major hospitals.) She called ahead to tell them he was coming because the pediatrician did think he needed to be seen sooner rather than later.

Everything is fine. They are glad we came in tonight as opposed to tomorrow because Dalton was beginning to dehydrate. Thankfully, we should be able to treat him with nausea medication as opposed to IV since we caught things early. Hopefully, with the medication, he will be able to retain his fluids and his fever reducer more effectively. (His temp was VERY high.) He is now snoring peacefully while I prepare him a fruit smoothie. (He's had nothing to eat in 3 days and wanted something a bit more substantial than water, now that he's on the medication.)

One big blessing was that the physician who saw us was the same surgeon who sewed up our younger son's lip when he fell against a swing set three years ago. In our town of nearly 100,000, I know that God orchestrated that. He didn't remember us until I reminded him how shocked I had been to learn they use cocaine as a blood vessel constrictant in treating bloody wounds. It was nice to have someone treating Dalton who we had already had such a great experience with. He is a very compassionate doctor toward his patients and their families.

We arrived home from the doctor simultaneously to my husband pulling in from the game with Justice. He was every single tiny bit as excited as I hoped and assumed he would be! He has relayed all the details of all the individual plays to each one of us separately and to Grandma by phone. And he's already counting the days (by each twenty minute increment) until Thursday night's practice!

Field of Dreams....But Not The Sleeping Kind

Pics to follow - I used a disposable and need to have it developed.

Have you ever waited for YEARS to finally get to do something you have been looking forward to with unrestrainable anticipation? Most of us might think of graduating college or having a baby or meeting a family member. For my fifth grade son, it wasn't something quite so weighty, but he had been looking forward to last night since he first joined Cub Scouts in kindergarten! Our city's Triple A baseball team hosts the Cubscouts one night each summer for a sleepover in their outfield. Every year, my son has wanted very badly to attend and every year our answer has been the same. "When you are a Webelo, we'll go." Last year, my son became a Webelo, but we were smack in the middle of moving and could not logistically work it out. He had a very fun alternative, though.

So I was sweating it last week, realizing there had been so much rain and flooding. This was my son's last year to be able to attend, and I was praying hard. It turns out the smart folks down at the ball field have been not only covering the infield during the rains, but last week they began covering the outfield as well. My son has been talking about this night since he was little bitty. He could not wait!

What delicious weather the departed rains gave us for our Big Night! Instead of our usual sweltering 100 degrees by this time of year, the high yesterday was about 78! My husband has been working extra long hours the past three days to make up work after 3 1/2 weeks off, so he wasn't too keen on attending the game with us. He loves baseball all right. What he doesn't love is my daughter not loving it so much. She is a girly girl through and through and has a tough time appreciating the point of sitting in a stadium chair for three hours "watching guys spit and swing at a ball." I really wanted my husband to go, because we were going to have to walk through some parking lots late after the game to retrieve our things for camping and there are a lot of bars in the vicinity of the ball park. So I was thrilled when my niece called my daughter to come over and play and my SIL and BIL offered to keep her until 11p last night despite their many errands.

As my husband and I set out with the boys for downtown, we realized that was probably the first time it had ever been the four us without our daughter. It felt sort of weird. As we arrived downtown, we stumbled across a parade of shiny speedboats showcasing their grit through the streets before today's big race. And Oh My Word, I could do a whole other post on the traffic and parking nightmare that ensued but the details are much to tedious and gor*y. Suffice it to say, it took us about 40 minutes, a policeman, and some illegal driving maneuvers (condoned by the policeman) to go around the block once.

It was nice to get into our favorite Mexican food restaurant and consume the most delicious fajitas anywhere in these parts! (And these parts are rather expert at fajitas in general.) It was not so nice to be hounded by the "balloon boy" as my husband so affectionately dubbed him, a forty-ish year old man who was undoubtedly just trying to make a living. But our boys are too big for balloon animals and we couldn't carry them into the stadium and besides all that he insulted me when I very politely told him "no thank you."! To the point my hubby looked at me with saucer-sized eyes right in front of him to show his surprise at the man's manners. No worry. I was here for my son's big outing and I was not going to let "balloon boy" spoil our fun!

We left the restaurant stuffed like it was our last meal on Earth and headed for the stadium. Excitement was everywhere! It's one of the things I have always adored about baseball. Besides being a brilliant game anyway (the strategy of ONE MAN against a whole team at any given moment, but part of a team of his own - brilliant - the stark difference between offense and defense), I love all of the hoopla that surrounds it. The promotions, the giveaways, the games played on top of the dugout during inning changes, the fan participation, the music, and the mascot. And what other sport lets players eat while they play? Fun I tell you! Last night was "Child Advocacy night." So the kids each scored free ball caps, rubber bracelets and t-shirt jerseys with our team's logo, plus membership into their kids' club at a seriously discounted price. The game was great! Several outstanding plays, only one questionable call, and our team won in overtime. The boys seemed to come within inches of catching a foul ball so many times! (Maybe some day.) Plus our old neighbors spotted us while they were working a booth and came over the last five innings to catch up and trade new addresses.

Now it was time for the camp out! My hubby and younger son walked us back to our car where Dalton and I loaded in and headed over to the VIP lot. We sat in the car and watched the fireworks display from the staging area. It was fun to watch the motorized "gun machine" shoot out fireworks in perfect patterns, then watch the night glow from such a close distance. Next we headed back into the stadium, sleeping bags and tent in tow. We were taken to the VIP Sponsors' balcony overlooking the first base line and treated to popcorn, lemonade and cookies the size of my face! (Those didn't look so good after such a big dinner.) Dalton and I had the lemonade and then headed for the field to be one of the first to pick our spot. We needed extra time to e*re*ct the tent since we had just purchased it that afternoon. (The 16 man we bought for our youth group retreats just didn't seem that practical.) The tent was easy until the last step when the stadium lights were shut off to start the movie. Thankfully about 5 other people had purchased the same tent on the way to the game as well, so together we all helped each other to figure it out!

As "Little Big League" began to play on the scoreboard, the boys ran around the great big outfield, living every little boy's dream! I think all girls have fant*as*ize*d at one time or another about living at the mall and every little boy wonders what it would be like to live at the ball field! How I enjoyed listening to Dalton as he detailed this wish out loud! "Our bedrooms could be in the sky boxes and we could visit a different concession for each meal and my friends could come over and play ball anytime......."

None of Dalton's Pack members showed up for this camp out this year and I was the only mother there without her husband (one of three ladies total), but Dalton didn't mope. I was SO PROUD of him for getting out there and involving himself with his new friends. They played tag amongst the tents and shone flashlights at the police chopper overhead who was saying "hello" with his own spotlight. But mostly, they just threw the ball around and envisioned it all being real. Dalton also shared his ball with several little kids who hadn't brought equipment and treated them to an impromptu training camp pitching against the padded wall. He has always loved teaching and leadership. I milled around and met some of the other parents from other towns in our metro, then fought sleep watching the movie.

Finally at about 2:40am, the movie ended and Dalton came back to the tent. We had sweet, quiet discussion about blessings and being together before he picked up his new video game to play a little. Then he asked, "Mom. I never have pulled an all nighter. Do you care if I try to stay up all night?" He's growing up so fast. I looked at the clock. It was 3:06 and wake up was scheduled for 6:30 anyway. "Naaaah. But I'm going to have to try to sleep just a little so stay in the tent, O.K?" "Yes ma'am."

I fell asleep so contented to be on this soft grass next to my first born.

This morning, we woke with the sun, minutes before the ball field started piping "Journey" over the loudspeakers. Dalton hadn't quite made it. He said he fell asleep at about 4:30, but he'd had a lot of fun. That's all I needed to hear. We disassembled our tent quickly to avoid the afore-warned 7am sprinkler setting and partook of juice and pancakes before heading home, exhausted and happy. It's 2:15 now and Dalton is still sleeping, and finally, I would imagine, dreaming dreams of the subconscious variety.

He's had the most incredible opportunities in his young years to "sleep" over in such fun places - the ball field, the Science Museum, various lakes and even his own school. I can't wait to ask him when he wakes up where this one ranks.

More Observations Of A Wedding

Read previous post first for a good overview.

Names used are ones that are already public. Otherwise, I've used initials or titles to protect privacy

For my own memory, here are some of the more outstanding events from last night's wedding, for better - or for worse.

Three dozen butterflies being released at the moment the couple was introduced as Mr. and Mrs. - Beautiful. Stunning.

Every table at dinner had a framed piece of the couple's handwritten love notes to each other. THAT is the coolest idea I have EVER seen for a wedding! So sweet!

It didn't rain! After 20 straight days of rain and five over the previous record, how fitting that it stopped the very day of the outdoor ceremony!!!

My 5-Y-O practically dragging my 7-Y-O back down the aisle during the recessional! She was trying to do the slow graceful walk she had been asked to do during practice, while he was trying to rush back to the building to get some air conditioning! Everyone was cracking up as he pulled at his tie and everyone could tell exactly why he was rushing! He is so much his father's son.

My camera battery dying without warning (literally - the warning light never came on), then coming back on long enough for one more photo, of my three kiddos in their tuxes and dress, who instead of saying "Ewww" hugged lovingly in front of the cascading waterfall and vine-covered arch.

Nobody tripping on the cobblestone like had happened at least four times in rehearsal. Thank you God.

It took four full days of nothing else but wedding preparations for my three children to be in the wedding. Which means for my sister-in-law, the mother of the bride.......well.......like she said, the PARENTS deserve the hone*ymoon!

We added the pink Gerber daisy my daughter wore in her chignon to the bag of dried flowers her flower girl will throw at her wedding. The other flowers in the bag are ones my husband has given her for Valentine's Days and Birthdays - and the first day of school.

A little girl in attendance threw an absolute, all-out, throw-down-on-the-floor-and-scream temper tantrum because my younger niece would not let her hold the butterfly she and my daughter were holding. But the girl had already had it once before and practically dism*ember*ed the thing. (Probably why it wasn't flying away.) My niece and daughter were holding it for the photographer until he could get a picture of the bride and grooms' hands and wedding rings with the butterfly sitting on the rings. This little girl was the daughter of a business associate of the bride's parents and since everyone except for the bride and groom had already been excused from photos, she shouldn't have even been down there. She was SOMETHING ELSE!

As much as I occasionally enjoy dressing up to the nines and sitting at a formal dinner, my husband does not. I know he was bored out of his gord. But I was so proud of him. I never once saw him play on his cell phone! (This was my first formal dress since the p*rom! And ironically, it was the exact same color and similar style.)

Men should never ever be subjected to black tuxedo jackets....outside....in the Midwest in July. I was uncomfortable just looking at them.

My primary reason for being in the bridal room was to help my daughter (the flower girl) and my younger niece (the mini-bride) get ready. I am somewhere near the middle age-wise of my sister-in-law (the bride's mom) and her kids, who were also my husband's and my students in Youth Group at church when we were the co-leaders to the youth pastor and his wife, our best friends. Got all that? So in the past, I've had the privilege of having my nieces confide in me the things they might not otherwise tell a parent. But yesterday, as Lindsay's mom would sometimes be somewhere else busy with the staff, I felt that Lindsay was needing to talk to her Bridesmaids about all the things that are meant for Girlfriends alone. Things like the stress she was feeling from the last-minute details and anticipation of the honeym*oon night. But I'm just guessing. So I made sure to spend moments that I could outside the room with the two younger girls. She no longer views me so much as the friend as she does just like her own parents. And that's O.K. She's a grown woman now. With grown up young adult friends all her own. That's a big part of what marriage is. A new life with chosen friends and a circle of trusted confidantes you build together as your own new family.

A former youth group student of ours (7 years ago, when he was much, much smaller!) arrived at the wedding and seemed to not even know who I was. An hour later, though, he ran up to me with the biggest hug, picked me up off the ground, and exclaimed "Miss Nikki - one of my very favorites!" That made my night! Even if my appearance has changed so much he couldn't recognize me, at least when I was pointed out to him, he had good things to say. :)

While we prepared for three hours in the bridal room, the venue piped in 1930's and 40's style Jazz Love Tunes. One favorite of mine - "It Had To Be You."

Having an older niece is good preparation for having a daughter. I suspect it also just won't seem right seeing her in lacy pa*nties and an adhesive *bra either!

The DJ played "S*tript*ease Bur*lesq*ue" as Leo took the garter off of Lindsay - hilarious!

As Lindsay's little sister caught the bridal bouquet, her dad could be overheard yelling, "Huh-uh! Give me a few years to pay for this one first!"

When the couple walked back down the aisle for the first time as husband and wife, the song played was "Let's* Get It *On" by Marvin Gaye. Everything was done so tastefully that this actually came across very cute!

Judging will always be one of people's favorite pastimes. Lindsay and Leo sought premarital counseling from the same sweet Christian woman who was already counseling Leo's family through his mother's impending death from cancer. When they found out this woman was also a U.S. Justice, they asked her to perform the ceremony because of the relationships that have been developed, not because they've lost their Baptist beliefs. But it's funny how many people will automatically condemn what they do not even know.

Leo's mother looked stunning! No one ever said, "she looks so good for having cancer." She just plain looked good! My sister-in-law also looked the prettiest I have ever seen her!

One of my favorite things about weddings is that it expands families. Leo and his older sister Lacey are getting extraordinarily close to Lindsay's family, with their mother's blessing, because she will soon be gone. Their father has not been around since the two of them were little and there is no extended family. So they will have each other, and us. (The entire small town where they grew up is like family to them as well. They are extremely graceful, well-rounded people.) And it's just neat how the parents are nurturing it all. Leo's sister and myself, Lindsay's aunt by marriage, are really hitting it off well!

It is awesome to be in the wedding party of a girl who works as a hairdresser in a Spa, with plenty of hairdressers as bridesmaids. I've never seen so much good hair at a wedding!

I didn't think I'd hit the dance floor. But when the DJ plays "The Twist" and "Shout (Lift Your Hands Up)," and your five-year-old is getting his groove on, it's just too fun to pass up!

My (seven-year-old) niece garnered a circle of onlookers and chanting of her name in unison when she started break dancing in a mini-bride dress to "Disco Inferno."

The venue was an old orphanage (in an 80+ year old building) restored now for weddings and receptions. It was so beautiful, both architecturally (which I love) and in history. You could look all around and be glad that someone once thought enough of the children there to give them a beautiful place with lots of big windows and outdoor play areas. My kids had a BLAST exploring with all of the other child guests.

Personalized water bottles and hand fans are the PERFECT party favors for guests of a hot July wedding!

Thank goodness for dark lighting when you have a MAJOR breakout the day before a swanky soiree.

I unintentionally caused my niece (the bride) to begin weeping all over again when I beamed "Well, Miss C., in fifteen more minutes, you will be Mrs. M!" Obviously, her emotions were on a huge roller coaster ride.

Bridesmaids leave things. Lots and lots of things. One of Lindsay's friends and I returned to the bridal room after the reception to collect a trunk load of items belonging to many of the girls who had already left.

Chicken smothered in wild mushroom milk sauce and my daughter's French silk flower girl dress had exactly the relationship I had hoped they wouldn't. But it is just "so her" that I couldn't help but to just shrug and smile. I hope it comes out!

Lindsay's sister three years her junior was the Maid Of Honor and is a wonderful public speaker. During her toast, T. told a story about how she and Lindsay would be trying to fall asleep in their dark room as kids. Lindsay, the older sister, would get scared and beg T. to sleep with her in her b*ed. T. told how now that Lindsay getting married, she would miss being the one to keep her sister safe at night. (And everyone "awwwed" and cried.) Then she said, "but if anyone else is going to take that responsibility from me, I'm so glad it is Leo. He's an awesome brother-in-law and I know he'll be the best husband to Lindsay. And, maybe someday, he'll be required to make some business trips and I can go over and take HIS place again while he is gone. Besides, everyone needs a break sometimes!" And as quickly as we all had shed tears we were roaring with laughter. (This only egged her on.) "Especially from Lindsay." Her comment was unplanned. T. is just really good with impromptu speaking. Leo's best man, whom I don't know, also expressed heartfelt words of admiration for Leo. He said that of all their buddies, he had probably had the most hard knocks in life, but it had made him the strong man the rest of them looked up to.

Leo looks like a perfect mix of James Dean and the guy who played "Dylan" on Beverly Hills 90210.

Young boys are disappointed by limousines at weddings. They would MUCH RATHER put shaving cream and tin cans on an old beater!

I REALLY WISH I didn't have to return tuxedos today! Or that my hubby didn't have to go to work since it's not raining today, but it's fore casted all next week! Ugh! We were up much too late.

Even guys can admit that a couple hundred laser wands and crickets chirping in the summer darkness during the send off of a couple who is "Just Married" is very romantic!

As wonderful as the evening was, I CAN WAIT until it's my daughter. About thirty years, in fact!!!

Love is a special and weddings are fun!

Flowers And Vows And Bittersweet Changes

Every once in a blue moon, I'll have what feels like complete clarity of thought. Not in the sense that I have life all figured out. Just that I am seeing all the many facets of my existence through the filter of absolute Truth. But the vast majority of the time, I feel like there is always something or other that I am still figuring out. I am awestruck by the speed at which life changes. EVERY SINGLE DAY holds multiple situations to gain some new perspective I've never known before. Every single moment has never happened before - and it never will again. I only get one chance to soak it in, to assess it for what it's teaching me, and to enjoy it before moving on. Sometimes....I get stuck at the "moving on."

Not so long ago, my niece served as the flower girl at my wedding to Greg, her mother's brother. Tonight, my own daughter served as the flower girl for Lindsay. And I was rather awed by the full circle that Life seems to create. Some of the guests were people I went to church with years ago. Some were distant relatives with grayer hair and shakier voices than they'd had the last time we saw them. Others we didn't know brought new babies in carriers who slept through all the hoopla. My sons, who are usually too shy to garner public attention, thoroughly surprised me by cutting up the dance floor. They also learned the existence of some new language and lost some trust in some people who decided to sneak alcohol into the celebration, which was quite conspicuously confiscated when the perpetrators beligerant behavior tipped off the staff. But I have a new nephew, whose an old-fashioned kind of gentleman because his single mother raised him right. Tonight, she openly thanked God for sparing her from her wide-spread cancer long enough to see this day. We all wept at that. And the bride - had a complete stereotypical wedding-day-jittery meltdown just moments before walking the cobblestone aisle. The moment became a flashback for me. I handled awkward uneasiness the same way, with lots of crying followed by goofy inappropriate giggling to thwart the crying!

Lindsay looked STUNNING! Everyone always says their bride is the most beautiful they have ever known and they each are right. That's how it's supposed to be. But Lindsay is the type of light-eyed, wide-smiling brunette that looks like she walked right out of the pages of a classic black-and-white GAP ad. She's just that pretty. And I must say, my own little flower girl looked her best EVER! I let her wear a little makeup for the special occasion, another milestone in my life that seems to change much too quickly. One that at once brought me both pain and immense pride. I will never ever forget looking at her Daddy looking at her with her pink lip gloss and pink Gerber daisy in her hair. (She looked so sweet, even one of the butterflies released during the first kiss landed right on her fingertips!)

Even the nature of my relationship with my sister-in-law changed a bit through these wedding preparations. We have always been close, but she is a tough-as-nails, take charge kind of woman, raised with four brothers. I came in as the only SIL, several years younger, and Kim took on the role of bossy, protective older sister. Tonight, I got to clean up the bridal room so she could relax her feet. I got to run back to the room for tissues the girls had forgotten so she wouldn't miss watching which guests were coming in. I never told her about the spills I mopped up in the hall so she wouldn't worry about her reputation with the venue staff - or getting back her deposit. She was the Mother Of The Bride for the first time in her life and I wanted her to enjoy it. And you know what? I loved that! Usually because she's older and wiser, she gets more opportunity to help me through things. But roles sometimes shift. Times change. Ready or not. Tonight, a girl has changed her name. My sons have changed their minds that a wedding is boring. My daughter changed right before our eyes with a professional updo and a little dab of blush. And tomorrow, I'll be changing my perspective.....AGAIN.....about what it all means.

Good Advice

I have always sought to follow the advice of those who have gone before me and to try my best, yet without their perspective, to take it to heart, especially to "enjoy your husband and children and don't take a single second for granted." But this particular article I found at An Ordinary Mom worded it so beautifully and so succinctly that I had to share. It was such a vivid reminder to go hug my loved ones, really hard......and right now!

“All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.

“Everything in all the books I once poured over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach., T. Berry Brazelton, Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education, have all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories.

“What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations –what they taught me, was that they couldn’t really teach me very much at all. Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One child is toilet trained at 3, his sibling at 2.

“When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing. Eventually you must learn to trust yourself.

“Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton’s wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet codicil for an 18-month old who did not walk. Was there something wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane?
“Last year he went to China. Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk, too.
“Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the, ‘Remember-When-Mom-Did Hall of Fame.’ The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language, mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, “What did you get wrong?”. (She insisted I include that.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald’s drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?

“But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them, sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night.

“I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.

“Even today I’m not sure what worked and what didn’t, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I’d done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be.

“The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That’s what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.”~ Anna Quindlen, Newsweek Columnist

Summer Camp

I guess I sort of expected it to be easier to blog in the summer once things have slowed down a bit, but the trouble is, they haven't! In the "relaxation, spend-time-together-and-not-have-as-rigid-of-a-schedule" kind of way they have, but in the sit-down-at-the-computer-and-have-a-specific-time-to-type-each-evening kind of way, not so much.

My oldest son just returned from a week of camp. Welcoming him home yesterday was an all-day event. It was so nice to have him home. It was the first time he has gone anywhere more than overnight without being with SOMEONE in our family. But I felt remarkably calm about it the entire time. First, because he was in the capable hands of our church counselors, the main one of which is one of my best friends. But also because I trust him. This past year he has really started to show the kind of responsibility that makes me feel O.K. about letting him try the new ventures that approaching teenager-dom brings. He has always been a "good" kid, basically obedient to his father and me, but now we are beginning to test his responses when we are not right there to guide him and this week, he has made us proud. He took first place in the instrumental solo division for his age group, which made me so happy because he has only been playing since Christmas, but we are always stressing to our kids the extreme importance of PRACTICE to be successful at any thing. He has done that. And it paid off.

But more so, I was proud of him and my friend's daughter for including their friend in their puppet skit. The friend is mentally handicapped and can not read well, so every time his turn came (an equal part to theirs), the flow of the scene was interrupted. This is a team who without this boy took first place last year, but chose this year to include their friend, even with some other kids tempting them "you won't win with him in it." But they chose their friend and his feelings over an un-guarenteed win or temporary recognition, and without the prompting of her mother or me. I loved watching them practice together. Just three friends having fun and doing their best. I'm glad they weren't given any special consideration. I'm convinced that with more time to practice together, they are going to do even better next year.

I have been surprised at so much this year about my reactions to this changing phase in my son's life. This phase where as a parent, you slow the teaching and lecturing and let them go ahead and fail and make mistakes so they can learn in real time the consequences, good and bad, of certain actions. I thought I would be a basket case having him gone all week. And I thought I would kind of hope he would be a bit of basket case without me too. But it's nice, watching this child you've put so much effort into parenting, becoming their own person. It's nice to get a front row seat to who they are going to be in this world, different AND the same as ourselves. And yes, of course it's nice to get to know they will eventually miss you just as much as you miss them. For both of us that happened on Thursday, the night before they returned home. All week, when I had spoke to him, Dalton was eager to hurry the conversation and get back to being a part of whatever antics were taking place inside his cabin. And I was too thrilled for all the fun he was having to wish any feelings of home sickness upon him. But Thursday evening, the conversation lingered until we had talked out everything about what Dalton had done that day, what they served in chow hall, why there were no pranks allowed this year and random details of bugs in suitcases, somebody getting in trouble for something, or something that had struck him in a preaching message. Then after a few seconds of silence between us while I overheard him laughing at a friend's cell phone tone in the background, I offered "well, I guess we don't have anything left to say" he said to me "that's O.K. We can just sit here." SIGH. That's quite a Valentine from a boy to his mama - and he doesn't even know it. :)

Sorry for the confusion on the last post. The birthday greetings were for my good friend's husband and daughter. They celebrate on the same day and have recently moved away, so I was missing being there to watch them open presents and eat cake together. :(

A Cinco De Mayo SUPER CELEBRATION!

Tonight was one of the absolute, bar-none, best nights of my life. Tonight at 10:45 p.m., my sweet, amazing, wondrous, beautiful miracle, my daughter, gave her heart to Jesus Christ! I got to be the one to pray with her. Wow! And the first thing God did afterward was to give me such an indescribable peace to trust that what she had done was real through the immediate fruit she bore. My sweet shy daughter said she CAN NOT WAIT to go forward at church tomorrow and ask to be baptized! If you knew her whole recent background, you would understand that THAT is straight from the Heavenly Father! Then as I was just praising Him for all of His goodness, He reminded me......just two weeks ago I had asked Him to at least once in my lifetime let me lead someone to Christ from start to finish. From telling them of Him for the very first time to planting the seed, to watering, to finally share in them getting saved. And I guess when I prayed that prayer, for some reason I was envisioning a stranger, someone I would meet and lead. But God gave me exceedingly abundant above all I could ask or imagine. In just two weeks, He answered my prayer through someone far more important to me - my flesh and blood. My only girl. And in this I believe He also answered for me another unspoken prayer as well. Yes, this was a fantastic Cinco De Mayo! A fiesta where even the angels were singing!!!

My Muddy Little Missionary

Last night while I was at a very important school curriculum meeting, my hubby took all three kiddos with him to check jobs. We have a construction company and it has rained so much lately that he needed to know if there was a site dry enough to go to this morning. When I returned home last night from my meeting, I found this:

And then this:

It's one of the things I love most about Faith. She is almost ALWAYS thinking of others and their needs. Especially their most important need.

Life Is Lighter

Blogging is a sort of signal of the drastic changes that are taking place in my life. That I have time to do something I really enjoy. Three years ago, I could have never guessed that the trials we were embarking on could bring so much strain. It still doesn't make sense to people when we try to explain it. "So, you lived in a home that was too small; then you moved. Who doesn't do that at some point? Sure it's stressful, but it's really no big deal." But that was just the part of our situation that was visible. There is SO MUCH MORE to the story that was mostly unknown, because the details were far too tedious and complicated to repeat more than about that first five times. And frankly, we just haven't had the time to linger on recounting the tale for either sympathy or prayers. Those who know us best just trusted that when we emphasized rather emphatically (MANY times) that we needed prayer, well then, we needed it. The rest had already forgotten that the whole cycle of stress was set in motion by the death of our brother. It really was no small thing.

But what it all boils down to is this. The past three years brought more responsibility than time to deal with it. It wasn't so much the trials themselves that were so extremely frustrating to us. It was the lack of time to DO A GOOD JOB at it. And the well-intentioned people, albeit mostly ignorant of the situation, with an abundance of advice that was some version of "you make the time for what's important." We said so many prayers - MANY - for God's clear direction on what to eliminate from our routines that wasn't exactly necessary, and many mistakes in trying to follow through. I, particularly, eliminated hobbies and fellowship entirely, assuming they must be frivolous. Big Mistake! That makes for one grouchy, estrogen- laden lady, doing that! But from that mistake I learned the value of PLAY. I eliminated home school, though I still sometimes miss it very much. But I learned that I was trusting IN the home school more than IN Him to keep my kids on the straight and narrow. I, along with my hubby, eliminated, or at least really limited, our couple time. Not a good idea either. But television watching, church obligations, and other people's expectations had already been eliminated by that point, so what to do? Well, I'll tell you. We realized that God HAD ALLOWED such a season for a purpose. He in fact HAD put more on our plates than 24 hours daily allowed time for as much as some people will argue that point with me, but I know now why He did it and what He accomplished in me because of it. I was FORCED to let things go. To realize that the world will not fall apart EVEN if we don't eat dinner one night or send someone birthday greetings a week late by phone as opposed to on time with a nice card or the kids skip school for one day because there is NO clean laundry. God let the pendulum of my Perfectionism swing SO FAR the other way and because of it, I'm so much more laid back. So much more encouraging and less demanding of people. I'm more willing to try and to fail, realizing that success is not about reaching goals only, but about the lessons learned in the PROCESS of trying something new.

Why is all of this on my mind tonight? Well, I realized after a conversation with a friend today at the kids' school that scorpion season is upon us. She relayed how she was very recently bitten and proceeded to tell me, with all sincerity, that she would take child labor over the pain of a scorpion bite ANY DAY! And I panicked, realizing our home still looks like we've lived here only a couple of weeks though we moved in July. It's a tornado zone really. Not just cluttered - but after an extremely busy week, it's not vacuumed. There are no dishes done. There are spots on the wall where someone shook up and opened a bottle of Pepsi. There are still boxes in every room and piles of laundry in most of them and dirty toilets. There's paperwork in every conceivable nook and cranny. Half of the beds have no sheets on them.....etc., etc., etc.

All the way home I thought about those scorpions. We had four in our house here last summer. And then I thought again about how busy our week has been. And about some posts I've read this week from people with devastating health issues about the brevity of life and choosing what's really important. And about how God has taught me so many of those same lessons these past 3 years, but through my very different set of circumstances. And about how that is so much of WHY my house is in the very state it is in. Because I HAVE BEEN choosing hugs over dusting and discipline over laundry and forming new friendships over doing the dishes. And then I thought about how those things WILL indeed HAVE to be done at some point. And then the scorpions again. And then I carefully weighed the pros and cons - because I will never quite entirely know how to pinpoint that fine line between striving for excellence and going over board trying to be TOO perfect. That will probably always be a struggle for me. Finally, I looked out at a perfect evening and the four people nearest and dearest to my heart. And I made a choice. I went out to watch my boys take batting practice, my daughter play with the baby next door, and my husband plant trees with such contentment on his stress-free face. And though we'll probably be having popcorn for dinner and wearing the same jeans tomorrow, I didn't regret it. Sure, I know I could be catching up right now instead of typing my blog, but as much as I thought I would remember all those magical moments from bygone years, so many of them have faded. Now I have this gift of blogging to ensure they're not again forgotten. I've no time for the guilt. I'll reserve guilt for those times that I treat people other than I ought to. Right now all I feel is gratitude. I'm so thankful for the trial that taught me to relish such moments, even though that trial is not entirely over. But even more so, I'm thankful to finally have more of those moments to stop and appreciate!

Treasure Hunters - Family Edition

It's hard to know where to start on this particular post. Do I begin by describing my incredible mother-in-law, who has the strength and grace to endure the death of her husband, both parents, and her oldest son with a press-on, can-do attitude while working full time, caring for two dependent sons and still being the prototypical game-playing, cookie-baking Grandma? (Did I already mention the woman is INCREDIBLE?) Or should I start with my playful, only recent, just-daydreaming-because-it's-fun sudden desire to own a lake house where we can take our children and their friends on the weekends to avoid the eventual pitfalls of heightened weekend temptations?

Maybe I'll start with Easter Sunday. It was SO RELAXING and fulfilling to go to Grandma's (my MIL) house for our traditional holiday gathering of my husband's family. This includes my husband's mother, his two unmarried brothers, his married sister and brother-in-law and their four children (three grown and a girl my daughter's age), my MIL's sister and her husband and the five of us. Plus the girlfriend, boyfriend and fiance of my nieces and nephew. Confused yet? Anyway, we love our time of getting together for holidays at Grandma's house because there are no expectations but hugs. We eat, the ladies gab or play games, the men watch sports and fall asleep on the couch, the kids play billiards and jump on the trampoline, and then we eat again. It's heavenly.

And though we all live in various directions on the outskirts of a large metropolitan area, we just don't get to see each other all at once like this very often. So we exchange more detailed accounts of life since we last saw each other and make plans for more fellowship between certain ones of us. You know, typical family stuff. Until I mentioned my lofty little wish. Someone had asked about our new neighborhood and school and how we were enjoying all the changes lately in our lives and somehow we got around to discussing the dwindling possibilities for friends for our children who actually, um, behave and encourage rather than tempt and put down. And how we absolutely cherish the good friends that they do have and wouldn't it be nice if you could just isolate them on a island for the weekend and set them free with kites and sloppy sandwiches and boogy boards and let them be kids?! And the whole thing was really just so tongue-in-cheek and light hearted and "Aw shucks.....don't you wish they could just experience 'the good ole' days?"

UNTIL.

My sweet MIL forms an invisible light bulb over her head and runs off into her office. She returns a couple of minutes later with a yellowed piece of neatly folded paper and a look of deep thought on her face. "You know. I had forgotten ALL about it, but when you guys were very, VERY little, your father purchased a piece of land on Lake U. and I know I we have the deed in there somewhere, but here is a map of where it's located. Do you think it's anywhere near the water?" She hands the paper to my husband and I and we study it with my BIL and SIL looking on behind us. We decide to go the computer and use GOOGLE Earth to try to match the lay of the land to the lot lines. Instantly, we find a matching street name. This was not expected at all since the lots located on the map were apparently the first construction in that area and ours was purchased before my husband's birth and all.

Now, let me just explain a bit here that I've been toying with this whole idea recently purely for my personal entertainment, never expecting to actually really pursue it. And I never ask for material things in prayer. There is no intention to sound pious here; I just don't need to ask for material things because God has been SO GOOD to us and I have so many more pressing matters that I fall asleep practically begging for those before I've ever had a chance to get around to thinking about that stuff. But the other night, I did feel sort of supernaturally led to just share with God my silly little wish for a private place for my family to escape whenever we wanted to enjoy ourselves without the world's influence. I never specified that I hoped we could own it. I just casually let God know it would be such a blessing to have a place to occasionally recharge from the almost daily exposure to innappropriate examples and naughty billboards.

So we match up the general location of the two lots my FIL bought 40 years ago for an astounding $250! And it's AT THE POINT OF THE ONLY ISLAND IN ONE OF THE BIGGEST LAKES IN OUR STATE ONLY 2 HOURS AWAY!!! Can you here my screaming? AHHHHH! And my amazing, sweet, intelligent, completely crazy MIL had "just forgotten all about it!" (Let me interject here that this officially constitutes a pattern. On another occasion, she was reminded her husband had purchased 10 acres in a mid-size town that turned out to have a gas station on it in a prime location. This cracks me up! I was blessed in every way for the MIL I get to have, but has she lost her fun-loving mind?! And I have always heard stories of how my FIL like to "dabble" in entrepreneurial efforts, but it seems he did all right with it after all!)

The funny thing is, I have had no problem keeping my anticipation in check. We are all planning to make a trip out there to scout out the EXACT location (we could only narrow it down to 2 rural neighborhoods) together in a couple of weeks. We also found out my FIL's brother also owns half the property, so we will invite him to go with us and hear his rightful input as well. It may turn out to be a terrible location. Forty years later, who knows what has become of the development? But just the fact that we have been given this fun little extended family adventure is thrilling! I really haven't had to force myself not to care how it actually turns out. I just love the opportunity to hunt down this fun mystery together. And if we find out we own some lake front property that's actually usable, then you can bet I'll be singing Hallelujah even underwater. At least on the weekends - when I'm not otherwise helping my husband to ransack his mother's office!

He Knows

God knows when you're at that limit when you absolutely just can not take any more. I used to think He must not REALLY know because He used to push me WAY BEYOND my limits. Or at least that's what I thought. Really I was capable of so much more than I thought I was - through Him, of course - and it was that "through Him" part He was developing in me. But today was kind of rough, again, and He knew that. So tonight He made very, very sweet. To anyone else, it may sound entirely boring, but God knows me. He gave me what I needed. A misty rain falling while sitting at Sonic with my kiddos, who were getting along nicely. (Hubby was stuck after hours at a job that got rained on.) The window rolled down. Nostalgic road music playing on the loud speakers. Details about my children's day, spoken in turn one at a time. A delicious coney dog and raspberry slushy. A leisurely hour to spend before the next "to do." A polite and friendly waitress. A crisp breeze. A warm sweater hoodie and my favorite pair of jeans. And on the way home, a smoky gray sky and a Nora Jones CD with quiet kid chatter in the background. For me, it was a small slice of Heaven.

More Cute Quips

What would this world be without children? They save your sanity on weeks like this one where getting out of bed seems like a dangerous risk to take. How I love all their sweet funniness!

As I tried for fifteen minutes to arouse the children from sleep this morning and they remained in their state of comfortable comatose, Faith finally offered a pucker of the lips as a sign of life. Perhaps it was her way of tricking me into thinking she was making a real effort at bona fide movement. "I'm a fish" she moaned. "Well" I said, "why don't you be a Fashion Fish and go put your new clothes on? I laid out your new pink sparkle shirt and pink rain boots." Within 4 1/2 seconds she was up and on her way to get dressed. All it took were the words "new", "clothes", "pink", and "sparkle" for her to snap to!

Later as we ate breakfast, Faith declared with rather ceremonious giggles "Hee hee hee, I ripped a toot!" (Which we allow talk of only within the confines of our own twisted home.) "Ew, Faith!" I teased. "We're about to eat." "Well, girls DO toot TOO, you know." "Yes." I said. "But it's strictly a boy thing to actually be proud of it." Then Dalton spoke up. "I don't know, Mom, did you hear it? It was definitely one to be proud of!"

I am so glad they support each other.

Driving down the highway to run errands, my son spotted a mini semi truck sporting colorful photographs of pizzas enlarged to six feet tall on the sides of it. "Oh, cool, Mom look!" Is that truck carrying a bunch of pizzas?!" "I bet it is!" I said excitedly for him. "Oh, Mom, I think I finally know what I want to be when I grow up! How cool is that?! Getting to drive the pizza truck!" High standards, this guy. Just see what he aspired to in yesterday's post. We've got to sit him down and have a talk. Well, O.K., not yet. He's still good for a few more years of cheap entertainment. : )

Sweet Public Sundays

After much mental game-playing to try to delay such realizations, I have finally conceded that my life is entering a drastically different phase from the previous few years. And I am finally beginning to even embrace it. I am finally giving in to the idea that my home will never again be filled with a multitude of half-filled sippy cups. I will no longer hear the sounds of sing-songy cartoon themes like Dora The Explorer or Blues Clues blasting from a TV that no one is even watching. Now my kids would rather watch pre-teen sitcoms that require far more vigilance in screening beforehand. The toys that filled the living room floor and burdened a clean path to the kitchen are gone. The children are starting to prefer role play in their rooms instead. They like to open the window and pretend it's a fast food drive-through. And more and more, they are preferring to play these games with friends, peers their own ages, rather than just with Mom and Dad.

Dalton, especially, is getting to that age where a kiss on the cheek is a little too uncomfortable for the school drop-off line. Instead, he'll just lean his head down for me to ruffle his hair and tell him I love him in his ear, though it looks like I could just be reminding him there is lunch money in the small pocket of his backpack. The funny thing is, I thought when he ever got that way, I might be offended. But I'm not. Because he doesn't come across at all as if he is embarrassed of us now that he is growing up. It's more like HE needs to start believing that he is going to have what it takes to be on his own one day, because instinctively he is beginning to realize that will eventually be the case. And I instinctively want to encourage him that he will one day do well as his own man, even as I secretly pray that day would be a very long time in coming.

Thankfully, every night lately I have been noticing that as I sit on the sofa to help my daughter with her homework, Dalton comes to sit beside me and leans his head against my shoulder as he and I listen to her read. He's very subtle. Sometimes it even takes me a couple of minutes to realize he is there. I am so engulfed in helping her to sound out the more difficult words. Occasionally, he'll even slip his arm around my neck as he sits with me.

But on Sundays, this ritual makes it's only public appearance. After years of participation in Children's Church, this is Dalton's first year to come into regular services. No more brightly colored pictures of the most popular Bible stories. No more macaroni glued to form scenes on the back of a paper plate. My son is now expected to sit with the adults and hear the preaching of God's Holy Word. Sometimes the subject matter still seems a tad too tender for his innocent ears. I know it's inevitable he'll hear about topics such as war and church strife and sex SOMEWHERE, if not in church, but still........I'm longing for the days when learning to tie his shoes was his biggest worry in life.

So this morning, as the past few Sunday mornings, I couldn't help but smile with sweet satisfaction as Dalton leaned his head against my shoulder right there on the pew for all to see. He even grabbed my hand and held it in my lap as he listened to the pastor preach about end times and trusting God in times of persecution. He could have chosen to sit with his friends, but instead he leaned on me and made comments or asked questions only at purely appropriate moments. He's getting so grown up that way. And I just thanked God for His marvelous grace. That He saw fit to make it so that they leave us very slowly. And that when they do, they are far more prepared than they probably recognize. Hopefully, far more prepared than I feel like I will be. But for now, I just love that head breathing softly on my shoulder as I soak in God's reminders to us both. That though we don't see Him, He will always be with us. One day, when my son leaves my home and goes wherever it is that God's plan is leading him, my strongest hope is that he will remember that. And know that he has a mom back at "home" who feels the same way!

Sweet Music

My boys are not different from any other siblings in a relationship. Sometimes, they argue. Sometimes one irritates the other purposely and the other feels a need to retaliate because on a worldly level, it's the only way to make things "fair." Of course, sometimes they will defend one another against the flagrant rudeness of an outsider, too. Like the time my mild mannered older son shot a very hard intentional glare in the direction of a 12-year-old who was taunting his then 4-year-old brother and blocking him inside a plastic pod at McDonald's. Both Dalton and I were ready to take this kid to task, I can assure you.

But it's only been in the last year or so that the dynamic between my sons has included just hanging out. Enjoying one another's company. Being brothers. Discovering together what it means to be a boy. Before, Justice was just a toddler, unable to keep up with Dalton. He was just discovering the magic of Blue's Clues at the time when Dalton was needing to assert his growing maturity by proclaiming Blue's Clues was "too babyish." Justice would ride his tricycle around the small invisible space we (his parents) had proclaimed to be safe, while wistfully watching his older brother have free reign of the cul-de-sac on his big boy bike.

I have never been in any hurry to rush a particular stage of growth in my children. I've always wanted to heed the advice of mothers everywhere to "enjoy every moment." But I have dreamed about the day my boys would be true buddies. And I always just assumed when they bonded in this way, it would probably be over something strictly male. Playing football (which they do, for HOURS on end), building forts, or woodworking in their Dad's shop.

I would never have guessed that one of the sweetest moments I'd ever witness between these two would begin with a cheap toy bought yesterday at Dollar General.

Somewhere in a torn powder blue gift bag, I have 2 receipts kept as mementos for the first times my 10-year-old son and my 7-year-old daughter made purchases with their own money. This tradition is a big deal in our family. We'll give the kids opportunities to do chores around the house outside of their regular assigned tasks and pay them accordingly. Things that are not required, but merely opportunities for a "paycheck" if they want save for something special. We show significant pride in that receipt for a first purchase and hang it on the refrigerator for several days. I can still remember that my son bought a calculator and my daughter bought a doll. Both under $5 and legitimately earned.

Yesterday, it was Justice's turn. We were at the discount store so I could quickly grab some laundry soap when he came to me with worry in his voice. "Oh, I REALLY want to spend my money here on something, but I didn't know we were coming here so I don't have my wallet. And there's only one of them left!" Being the embodiment of JOCK, I was surprised when he told me the item he was panting after was a $1 yellow plastic recorder, a musical instrument similar to a flute.

Dalton received a recorder in music class before Christmas and has since been steadily improving at it, adding four or five songs to his repertoire. And Justice just knew that his patient older brother would be eager to teach him. He stood there and admired that little plastic toy like it held all the value of a vault of gold. I fronted him the $1. And I have made it back more than a million times over in watching my little boys practice together.

A while ago, Justice ran into my room where I lay sick and absolutely beamed from ear to ear! "Justice is here to give you a concert," Dalton proclaimed. I watched as my younger son proudly lifted that little plastic recorder toward his toothless, gapped grin and announced, "Listen, mama! I can do two notes - A and B. Except, of course, in recorder B comes first." Then he glanced knowingly at his brother seeking his respect for having remembered that musical fact. I choked back happy tears as I listened to the most beautiful rendition of two notes played over and over and over. The tender satisfaction in my heart was mirrored in Dalton's face as he watched his protege's performance. He was taking a bit of rightful ownership in the success of a new accomplishment for his not-so-baby brother. A teacher and his student. Loving siblings. My boys.