IN AN INSTANT

Our lives can change in the blink of an eye. It's happened in my family and I have no doubt it has happened at some time in yours.
Health declines.
Jobs are eliminated.
Adoptions fail.
Children become ill.
People die.
If you viewed the video embedded above, you've witnessed how life has again changed in an instant in my own family.

Norman Peretti was my first cousin. In fact, he is THE first grandchild born from my mother's sibling group of four.

And I am his mother's namesake.

Toni.

Norman's mother is my mom's oldest sibling, Toni. And tragically, my Aunt Toni died within days of giving birth to my cousin, Norman. My mom was only 13 at the time, yet sometimes the pain of that life changing instant is still as raw for her today as it was 50 years ago. Her parents lost their oldest child. An event that was supposed to be joyous and wonderful (the birth of their first grandchild) became a time of deepest loss and immense grief.

Cousin Norman's father has been gracious and caring in keeping connected with my mother's family over the years. My grandparents did see their first grandchild on occasion. And for my mother and her family, I am thankful. Norman's father, paternal grandmother and stepmother did a good job in raising him too. And he went on to have his own family, children who are now in early adulthood.

So very tragically, my cousin Norman died yesterday in a head-on collision. He was 49. He is a father, only son, beloved nephew and my Aunt Toni's most precious treasure.
Her "baby."
And as a believer in Jesus Christ, as one who stands firm on the promises of God, I am assured that while my own extended family grieves this deep loss today, 50 years after the loss of Norman's mother, there is beauty from ashes. My Aunt Toni is finally able to hold her precious baby again. How she surely has waited for this day.

Jesus called all believers to share the good news, which can be found in John 3:16-21. If you have never heard the good news (or if you are merely familiar with John 3:16 in a non-personal manner), I both encourage and challenge you to dig into the meaning of these verses.
As for myself, in the midst of a tragedy that has personally impacted my family, and for those who believe in and claim Jesus Christ as Savior, there is good news.
That same good news set the foundation for my grandparents' faith.
The same faith that carried them through incredible pain and hard times.
In fact, it is the same faith I cling to today, knowing (KNOWING!) that I can rest in the hope of the risen Christ. Knowing I can stand firm on God's promises. Promises like;
Deuteronomy 31:6
"Be strong and courageous, do not be afraid or tremble at them, for the LORD your God is the one who goes with you. He will not fail you or forsake you."

Matthew 28:20
Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. Amen.

To borrow the words of Christian recording group POINT OF GRACE,...





When it looks like you've lost it all
And you haven't got a prayer
Jesus will still be there

(collapsed church in Mianzhu, Sichuan province, Tuesday May 27, 2008)










And there is good news for you too. I'm taking this opportunity to say it. That for the record, you can have this assurance as well.

It's not a matter of readiness.

Only a matter of willingness.

Any Christian friend, family member or ministry worker can tell you more (myself included). All said, please hug your loved ones today.
Make the overdue call.
Send the encouraging note.
Treasure the now.
But most of all, be ready.
Because He is ready.
Ready to meet you right where you're at, just as you are.

(Also, please remember my Uncle Norman and his family in prayer today. He has now lived his own life between two events that defined it; the death of his wife early in their marriage and immediately following the birth of my cousin Norman, and now the loss of his only child. He is advanced in years and my heart breaks for him, his wife Valerie, and cousin Norman's children and extended friends and family.)

And Jesus came and spoke to them, saying, "All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth. Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all things that I have commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age." Amen. (Matthew 28:18-20)

Toni

Warmer weather meanderings

"Bug kickers" is the name Reece gives to those ultra high heeled, ultra pointy pumps. In his 6 year old little brain, a woman would wear such shoes for one thing and one thing only. Squashing bugs.

Well let me tell you, the warm weather seems to have brought with it a pair of similar shoes. Butt kickers, if you will. And it seems they're just my size (if you know what I mean).

Last week, for example, it was gorgeous so I worked in the yard all afternoon. Things were busy at work and Carl was getting home a bit later than scheduled, which meant the yard work was piling on. We have a new mower and I figured it would start up pretty easily for me. And really, how long could it take to mow a city lot with a self propelled mower anyway, right? RIGHT???

Yeah, well. I fired that baby up and she shot off like a bat out of Hell. Nearly twisted my ankle and I was barely out of the gate. Add to that the many fumes inhaled from the weed wacker (which took 3 rounds of priming and pull starting before she kicked over) and a follow up with the leaf blower (not to mention bagging 3½ mega bags of grass clippings), and let. me. tell. you. I it was not a pretty sight.

"How not pretty?" you ask.

Well, let's just say that Carl stared at me strangely during our workout that evening. At first I had no idea why. Then I realized my upper lip was (I kid you not) curled up like a German Shepherd poised to attack. See, my potassium level at that point had to be, what, NIL? Yes, nil would be accurate. So my nerves were shot, my lip was curled, and I was hurting like nobody's business. Attractive, I know.

On a lighter note, we recently ran into Cierah's "best friend", Clara, from A.W.A.N.A.. Now, we'd heard about dear Clara all year and there were only a few weeks left (before AWANA ended for the summer) on the day we bumped into her. So I was telling Clara we heard she's a good friend to Cierah when Clara's grandmother called her to go.

"Claire!"

Claire? Who the heck is Claire?
Um,...is it Clara or Claire?

Claire.

It's Claire and Cierah has been calling her Clara all year. Swell. So anyway, Claire obediently ran off to grandma, but not before saying goodbye to her best friend from AWANA.

"Bye, Sarah."

Sarah???
Did she just say Sarah???
It's Cierah, not Sarah.

And so it was.
"Clara" and "Sarah".
Best friends for a whole year, each clueless that together they were the duo of Claire and Cierah, not Clara and Sarah.
Ba hahahahahaha!

Toni

AMERICAN IDOL (cause for a 12 step program)

I thought now would be a good time to resurrect an old post. Wand in hand. Tap, tap, POOF!!!

Thirteen Things I have better to do than worry about who won American Idol Get a spray tan, bikini wax and a tattoo (have never done any of these things, but prefer them to worshiping Idols watching Idol). Schedule a root canal just for spits and giggles (and the only thing that could make it seem more torturous would be if American Idol came on as the drilling commenced.) Memorize the periodic table for chemistry (I'm not in a chemistry course at the moment, though I'm proud to say I set the curve for it when I did take it.) Watch old Star Search reruns (that's all American Idol is anyway; a glorified Star Search, only without other categories to give it a little life.) Spend a beautiful, sunny, balmy afternoon at the Department of Motor Vehicles (and it could only feel worse if I hallucinated and thought the workers were Simon, Paula and Randy.) Watch a Judge Judy-thon (now there's some judging to match Simon's.) Call my senator (about something, anything that would prevent me from using up precious cell phone minutes to vote on American Idol). Track down a single mosquito in my bedroom. In the middle of the night. During a power outage. With a migraine. And type O blood (which makes me all the more appealing.) Get stuck in traffic. With AM jams only. And my gas tank on "E." And four hungry kids in the car (and if talk of American Idol started on the one radio station that didn't fuzz out, I would be required to break out in a fit of road rage.) Schedule a field trip to a pig farm in the middle of July. On a high humidity day. Without proper ventilation (because after all, "some things" just stink.) Read Rosie O'Donell's blog (and that's the bottom of the barrel for me.) Ride all the twirly rides at Cedar Point. Without Dramamine. On a full stomach. Of reaaaaally greasy food. (and don't dare play any Idol songs or or another contest is gonna begin; one called the cookie toss). Getting stuck on a deserted island with Clay Aiken (so I can play my favorite game of all time, SURVIVOR, while I single handedly eliminate my competition.) Oh no she dih-int. Oh yes I did! And now don't all you Idol fans up and disown me. I mean, I still love you, even if you do need a 12 step program. So I say, cry if you must, but while you're doing that, I'm going to be busy trying to pitch Susan Powter as the spokesperson for recovering Idol-holics, what with her profound and appropriate message.

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Toni

"I'm not Jewish, but I want to be a Rabbi."

You're probably wondering about that title, eh? I realize it doesn't make sense, but it seemed fitting to lead into this post concerning an interesting young man I met at Melinda Lou's today.

So there I was, ordering my chicken wrap and Mandarin oranges. The cashier, who appeared to be pushing 40 years old, complimented me on what a "lovely family" I have. As she processed my order, the conversation lent itself to sharing that we are an adoptive family. She was touched by that and said that she too would like to adopt. She had two grown daughters, ages 23 and 22, and "six grandbabies."
Six???
And you're what, 40?
Wow! This is one very young, blessed grandmother I was talking with.

Now, at the same time a young guy was standing at the counter next to me, chiming in here and there so I knew he was related to the cashier somehow. I assumed he was her son-in-law. Eventually, he said "my grandkids" and I thought, "Whaa??? But you're only about 25 years old. How the heck would you have any grandkids?" That's when the cashier told me he was her husband.

Bug-eyed, "What???" (prayin' hard that I didn't say it out loud). So he came into his Grandpa role by way of marriage. Ah,light bulb on.

So, Young Grandma and Cradle Robbed Grandpa were a couple.
Married.
Hitched.
Sheesh! (I know, I know. It's a free country and all that jazz.) But folks it was a bit surprising as I took it in and we've only just begun.

Grandpa Cradle, being as chatty as a bunch of ladies at a sewing circle, wanted to know more about our experiences with foster parenting. He shared that he was a child of "the system" himself and was in fact adopted from it. He hoped that he and his wife might someday be foster parents too. As I'm always up for encouraging others to consider foster care and foster-to-adopt, I thought his dream was wonderful. Well, at least until he told me about the day he walked home to Indy from Cincinnati because he didn't have "a ride home from prison." You know, I'm not a social worker and I can't say with 100% certainty (what with lacking professional credentials and all) but I'm thinking a stint in the big house might be a barrier to foster licensing. I'm not certain, you understand. I'm just sayin'.


So anyway, he spoke positively of being adopted as a child, stating, "My adoptive parents are in the ministry and my Dad's a pastor." I'm thinking, "Gosh, that's really cool."

Then he goes, "And I'm thinking of becoming a pastor myself," and I thought, "Wow, very cool," as I shared out loud that maybe God would someday use his personal experiences (prison, foster care, adoption) to minister to others. But uh, that's when he he shared, "Yeah, but I'm not saved."
(I'll pause here for a moment to let that sink in. This would be a good time to consider my post title too, to see why I went with it.)

RECAP: "I'm thinking of becoming a pastor myself, but I'm not saved."
Speechless.
Grandpa Cradle left me dumbfounded and speechless.
I mean,...whadda you say to that?
"SoOoo,...what direction do you want your cult to take?"
"Excuse me, but did you say 'Pastor' or 'pasture'?"
"You do know that salvation is a highly preferred prerequisite for seminary, right?"

Needless to say, I nearly burst out laughing. I mean, it really struck my warped funny bone. And then, as I stood there fighting the urge to explode with a giggle, he had to go and do it. He whipped up his shirt sleeve and showed me an enormous tattooed cross, stating, "Every time I look at this, I know there's something I need to do." (do NOT laugh, Toni. BITE! YOUR! TONGUE! But do NOT laugh).
What could I say? I wholeheartedly agreed and told him God isn't waiting for him to be perfect, more ready, or anything else. That God is ready to meet him right where he's at, just as he is. I trust that either a seed was planted in that moment or perhaps a little water was sprinkled on an already planted seed.

So that's it. My strangely odd, yet somehow endearing encounter with Grandpa Cradle. Folks, you just never know where and/or how God is going to use you.
But one thing is certain. He will put people in your path whom He desires to draw near to Him. Ready! Be ready.

"How shall they believe in Him who they have not heard?" Rom. 10:14.

Toni

Strumpf!

And overheard at the lunch table today:

8yo Olivia: "Share some oatmeal pie with Brandon."
5yo Cierah: "No, he's too small."
Olivia: "He's not too small and we have to share with him."
Cierah: "But then my piece will be too small."
Olivia: "God gave the Israelites manna. Just enough for each day. You won't starve, now share!"
Me: Sigh.

Yep, God sure does provide just enough for each day. Strumpf! Give me just enough strumpf for today!

Toni

Whaa?

Heard from the other side of the bathroom door this morning.

(Reece) "Give 'im some soup and put 'im to bed."

(Me, perplexed) "What?"

(Reece, again) "Give 'im some cold soup,..." (pausing to let me "get it" this time, then with a slightly frustrated tone)"...and put 'im to bed."

(Me) "Where did you hear that?"

(Reece) "Mr. Quack told me."

(Me, ???) "Mr. Quack? Who is Mr. Quack?"

(Reece) "The Webkinz doctor. He told me to give Dot some soup and put 'im to bed."

Dot being Reece's prized Webkinz cow (who, I assure you, is now tucked snuggly into bed with a cow cold or bovine flu or whatever.)
Just goes to show you me, I can learn something new every day.

And on another "Whaa?" note, that's probably what Big Doofus would have thought, had dh text messaged him back yesterday (Big Doofus is Miss Sniz' dh, for those who don't already know this.)

See, both guys are fans of the Big Red Machine (more of a little red engine these days, but you didn't hear that from me). Anyway, the Reds were on. Big Doofus text'd dh to see if he was watching the game. Why no, he wasn't. That's because Doofai has some fancy spancy dish deal goin' on. Meanwhile back at La Casa de Pobreza (pobre: poorhouse, squeezin' nickels 'till they birth if you will), no Reds to be found.
Note: I'm totally joking about the poorhouse, btw ('cept for that little stint with mini meatballs last week, that is).

So, dh attempted to text Doofai back. Only,...what's this? The message would only appear in Espanol (which I suppose could have come in handy if he wanted Doofai to know that La Casa de Pobreza no es la-seeing de Rojo's.) So, being the techie-less kind of people we are, dh tried to get rid of the Espanol. And he did. And all other visible screen print as well. Hmmm, should be a fun fix for "somebody" (not mentioning any names,...Toni).

Okay then, since this post ended on a Spanish note, I give you this little treasure. It's appropriately called,...ONE SEMESTER OF SPANISH Spanish lovesong. But first, be sure to move to the bottom of this page and turn off the play list if it's on at this time. Enjoy!!! ;)

Toni

A slice of Sunday

First, let me say Happy Mother's Day to all those women who, in some way, invest their precious time and hearts in the life of a child. Whether you are a teacher, child care provider, Sunday school worker, Auntie, or nurturing neighbor, (oh yeah, and/or a mother), this is for you. HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY and thank you for making a difference in the life of a child in your own motherly and meaningful way.

Next, dh got baptized in church today. He was not raised in a Christian home, and since baptisms were always held on Sundays in our large church in Ohio (and he worked every single Sunday back then), he never had the chance to do this. Until today. It was sooo special to see him publicly claim Christ in front of our children, and to be baptized by none other than Miss Sniz' father, our pastor. I was talking with Pastor after the services, telling him I had encouraged dh to do a cannonball into the water (Oh! Yes! I! Did! Too!, among other suggestions such as swimming with a fish face to the front of the tank, and sputtering water, "fountain style", after being dunked.)

Now, STOP!
S-T-O-P already.
My pastor has a definite sense of humor and he knew I wasn't serious (though I'm not sure dh knew I was kidding, lol.) Anyway, Pastor told me the cannonball thing had actually happened before (wow!), so I tracked it down on You Tube.

A few videos for you.






And finally, Miss Sniz encouraged me to give doodling a try on my scrapbook layouts, as she has had success in adding it to her own pages. I took her up on it. Actually, I also took a shot at paper piecing (see large flowers on layout) as well as freehanding the title (with a little tool called the Fiskars Ultra Shap Xpress).

The doodling can be noted in the flourishes, the outline of the flowers, the swirls over the dots at the center of each flower and the "in"lining of the title letters. I like how it came out (thanks, Sniz).



Enjoy your Sunday, folks.

Toni

Baby scooter aspirations

This boy is determined, I tell you. I was laughing soooo hard while trying to get the video. My 16 month old dare devil is NOT about to let any grass grow under his feet as he hustles to keep up with his older siblings. Gotta love him!

Glimpses of everyday life!

Sanford and Son are alive and well and living in Indy.


Heard just seconds before this photo was taken, "Weeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!" (Reece, who has yet to master riding his training wheel equipped bike). The swelling went down over several days.


It's tough being a 16 month old dare devil!


Our hostess with the mostest. She wanted to have a tea party, so,...why not?! We all played dress up (and I mean "all") and joined in the fun.


Notice my dress is over my regular clothing. ;)


Has there ever been a cuter Englishman? He was sooo proud of sportin' Daddy's tie.
But again, the words of Buzz Lightyear come to mind;
One minute you’re defending the whole galaxy; the next thing you know, you’re sucking down darjeeling with Marie Antionette and her little sister.


And even Dad dressed up (okay, threw on a tie) for the big event.


And yes, even the littlest H enjoyed a spot-o-tea. After all, a person's a person, no matter how small (great lead-in for the next shot).


Is this flower gorgeous or what? Reminds me of Horton Hears a Who. Got to take it in at our local conservatory recently.


I'll give ya one guess what my favorite zoo animal is (from our trip to the zoo the other day, where we ran into not one family but two that we know).


The girls at our homeschool field trip to the Mounted Police facility today.


One thing I noticed about Indiana is that we're more creative here. Seriously, who says everything's bigger in Texas? 'Cause really? That's one big hood ornament, y'all.

Toni

Heard over Coffee (sort of)

Miss Sniz and I met at Starbucks the other night to chat over a fresh brewed cup of java light.

Extra light.

Hold the cream and sugar. Heck, hold the java and cup for that matter.

Ever play the air guitar? K! So there we were, grande cups of air java, chatting away. Now, it wasn't that we didn't have the money for a grande, let alone a tall.
Rather, Miss Sniz had coffeed up earlier in the day, while I was just glad to see her and spend some much needed time together that, as the minutes turned into an hour or more, I decided I would just enjoy an evening cup at home with Narcoleptic Dad.
Narcoleptic Dad; my dear husband, who has the dominant male sleep gene prevalent in so many males all around the world. He falls asleep nearly every night in his generic Lazy Boy, and has in fact fallen asleep on me a few times while I was talking. Hmmmf! I told him I'm going to get his blog up and running one of these days. NARCOLEPTIC DAD! Living Life's Greatest Moments One Fragment at a Time. Oh, what a fun read that would be.

Anyway, back to air java. So there we were, Sniz and I, deep in conversation about all kinds of important matters of the day. Things like the challenges of raising children or the status of the airline industry and the impact of rising fuel costs.
There were light topics too, like our love of scrapbooking and the repainting projects we're both taking on soon (Sniz has awesome creativity and great taste, so it was fun to hear about what she plans to do). And finally, there was the "heavy stuff" such as the disproportionate number of people I know ( that is, "know") who are either in prison or on death row. No, I didn't do a stint in the big house myself. But 5 inmates (2 death rowers included) and a missing childhood friend is a lot. And these aren't your run of the mill cases either. One was covered by 48 hours, another by Dateline NBC, and the missing friend by America's Most Wanted.
NOTE: Sniz and I discussed this, but since most of you have never met me, nor do you know where I grew up, it wasn't in a high crime area and I didn't keep company with local gangstas. It's purely coincidental that I can tally up so many inmates in my personal "I know so-n-so" file. And with the exception of one who was a co-worker, these are definitely not people I hung out with.

Sigh, time for lighter conversation. So, I inquired of Miss Sniz.

"Have you ever underfed your family?"

We burst out laughing. Laughing because the question sounded so hoakie and yet I was dead serious. See, groceries were nearing Mother Hubbard status in my house and so that evening I had made mini meatloaves. Cutest little buggers you ever did see. There were 12 of them all nestled down in the muffin tins as I popped them into the oven. I calculated that a) Reece and Cierah would make "contains cyanide" faces while simultaneously struggling to gag them down and b)12 would be enough to feed everyone and still have 2 left over for Carl's lunch the next day. But nooOOoo!

"Mmmmm, this is soooo good."
"I love this, momma."
"When I'm done, I'm having more."

I assure you, this is NOT the typical response I get over unidentified meat objects (UMO's). To my complete surprise, everyone loved the mini meatloaves. Sadly, there just wasn't enough. Because you see, while they were baked in muffin tins, they were almost small enough to be baked in mini muffin tins. Mini MINI meatloaves, if you will. In fact, Reece requested more "mini meatballs". Folks, that's one mini meatloaf, I tell ya.

It's all good though.
I bulked it up with helpings of green beans (rationed, of course) and plenty of butter crackers (just waiting for those carbs to kick in so stomachs didn't feel deprived).

Yep, it was an all-around banner day of good eatin'. Mini meatballs meatloaves followed by air java. And since we still haven't found our way to the grocery store at this reading of In The Midst, I thought I'd give you a glimpse of last night's dinner. A nice pairing, don'tcha think?

Toni