Mother's Day: The Giver, the Gift, the Grace.

Gifts come to us in different ways, -sometimes grand, sometimes simple, sometimes expected, sometimes unexpected. The thing is, we don't always truly recognize them when they come, nor do we necessarily give them when they are needed most.  The author of one of my favorite books, One Thousand Gifts, Ann Voskamp, says it this way...
"You have got to figure out a way to stay fully awake. Time is blurring by and everyone is slipping past. How do we wake to the moments?" 

One of those "blurring moments" occurred today. 

Today, on Mother's Day.

I could have totally missed it, too, if not for the Holy Spirit prompting me to hear Ann's words, to heed Ann's words. Thankfully, I chose to stay fully awake, and I dare say that that choice resulted in one of my life's most precious moments, a gift I will take with me into always.

We had attended Sunday church service as a family, and were making our way home. Brandon, my 7 year old,...my baby,...told his dad he wanted to get me a gift with his own money for Mother's Day. We stopped at a local thrift shop so he could make his selection. I was not allowed to see, of course, but it turns out he chose a glass bunny figurine with flowers around it.

He was so proud. 

"Momma, can I wrap it for you when we get home? I hope you like it. I picked it out myself." 

He loves bunnies, that one, -still sleeps with an over-sized stuffed bunny most nights.

But being 7 years old, he is also squirmy and wiggly and on the move, and as such, was carrying his bagged bunny a bit haphazardly. 
More specifically, he was swinging the bag back and forth, again and again. His dad requested to hold the bag until we left the store, which Brandon reluctantly agreed to. When we finally went to pay for a few other items, his dad returned his special bag to him, again reminding him to hold it carefully "so you don't drop it." 

A minute later, we heard the dreaded crash. My son stood there, partially in disbelief, mostly in agony, his chin quivering, tears filling his eyes. 

I'd like to say I'm a "perfect" mother and therefore handled it in the most tender of ways. The truth is, I was not certain as to what exactly we should do. Brandon had not heeded  his father's instruction. In spite of the caution to hold his glass bunny carefully, he had not. And now...

It was gone. 
Broken. 
And so was his little heart. 
And so was mine, for him. 
What to do? What to do? 

I began, sympathetic and careful...
"I know, honey, it broke. I can't fix it,..." (because he was looking at me with pleading eyes, as if expecting that, somehow, I could do just that). 

He looked inside his little bag, trying not to show how upset he was, and sadly asked, "What should I do with it?"

My word, it's hard to be a parent, -to know when to be firm and when to soften; when to let natural consequences teach, and when to search for the deeper lessons. 
Had I not searched deeper, today, I would have missed the greater gift. 
But the Holy Spirit prompted my heart and, thankfully, I did search deeper. 

"What to do? What to do?"

I took my son, my immature, "still-learning-about-cause-and-effect" 7 year old son, by the chin and looked directly into his eyes. I  gently said, "I know you wanted to do something so special for me today, and that you're disappointed that it's broken. I wish I could fix it, honey, but I can't." 
I hugged him tightly, kissed his tearful cheek and continued, "But the greater gift came from your heart, honey. You thought of me. You wanted to buy me a gift with your own money on Mother's Day, and I love you for that." 

I had also told his father in the check-out line, before I walked away from him, that at 7 years old, Brandon was too young and immature to "learn" that swinging the bag around in spite of being asked not to, had resulted in a broken gift and a broken heart. "He'll only remember us saying, "I told you so" if we handle this any other way but with grace. 

As I was hugging my son, his father walked up and handed me the car keys. 
"Take the kids and wait for us in the car. Brandon, come with me."

Off they went, back into the store, where his dad simply reminded him that he must listen when we're guiding him. Then, "Let's see if we can find another gift for mom."

I am delighted to say I received another, equally precious bunny figurine from my son, who has a current love for all things bunny. Indeed, time is blurring past, but today, we "figured out how to stay fully awake", as Ann so fervently reminds us.  

And in staying awake, my gift was a little bunny. 

My gift was a tenderhearted little boy, who stills waves to his mom from the Little League ball field without shame, who covets my presence at every game and every practice.

My gift was his precious thoughtfulness. 

My gift was the voice of the Holy Spirit, guiding me where I often struggle. 

My gift was in discovering that I could, in return, be the giver of gifts. 
I gave my husband the message of grace, which he so lovingly applied to a tender and fragile moment. 
And we gave our son grace itself, -the room to grow and make mistakes,  and the opportunity to be redeemed. 

I have failed so many times as a parent, sometimes blindly, sometimes sinfully. But at the end of all my shortcomings, Jesus still redeems me. 
He always does. 

My ultimate gift, this Mother's Day, was to gain a much deeper understanding of the grace and mercy of a Savior who loves me unconditionally, even when I am immature and impulsive, and perhaps especially when my attention is captured and I am broken.

Parents, may you receive grace, that you might pass it forward, and may you be fully awake (lest you miss your many gifts received) when you do.

Eph 4:7
But to each one of us grace was given according to the measure of Christ's gift.
Blessings,
Toni

IT'S OFFICIAL!

I'm happy to announce that I am officially blogging over at my new "home" in cyberspace, THE WISE WOMAN BUILDS HER HOUSE. It also means I am officially no longer blogging here In The Midst.

The new blog will have familiar "life as it happens" moments, as journaled here IN THE MIDST, but I hope that you'll also find the new blog to be practical and helpful to you in your day-to-day as well. Please head over and check out the right side of your screen, where you'll find a "What you can expect" note for further information.

I invite you become a follower so I can be aware of you and be praying for you (I already am), and thank you for taking the time to read here at In The Midst.
http://wisewomenlovejesus.blogspot.com/

Toni

There is a season....change.

CHANGE IS COMING!
(Click on the link above to learn more.)
I will likely make the move in September.
Hope you can join me in my new blogland home.

Toni

Snow Treasure

I am almost through reading SNOW TREASURE to my children. I read this book when I was in the 4th grade and it made a lasting impression on me. My 11, 9, and 8 year olds are a completely captive audience and plead with me to read more when I close the book after each reading. It is believed to be a true story (a Norwegian sailing vessel docked in the U.S. during WWII. The captain told a vague story of how the gold he was carrying, came to be transported out of Norway.) The historical setting, facts, danger, and adventure makes for a wonderful read aloud. Chapters are brief, so you would be able to pick this up and read it to your children wherever you could carve out ten minutes in your day.

I highly suggest SNOW TREASURE by Marie McSwigan.
Click on the link below for a brief but dramatic trailer.


Snow Treasure Book Trailer

Toni

Toni

Life in the Fast Lane

Sheesh, I need a seat belt and flying goggles for this time of year, as life seems to take off at a lightning-fast pace. Our new homeschool year officially begins next Thursday. I spent three hours this past Sunday, working on our family schedule. Oy vey, the rough draft is a little intimidating.

As it stands, I'll be up much earlier and we'll adhere to a structured schedule to meet the demands of each new day.
My two oldest need to get to swim practice 3 times per week.
My youngest dd has dance on Thursdays.
My 3 year old will go to preschool 2 days per week.
My husband and I have bible study every other Wednesday night.
We also work out together 3-4 times per week, in addition to taking 2 mile family walks together as often as possible.
And due to the swim schedule, our dinner time will now officially be 4:30pm every day (but we always eat between 4:30pm and 5:15pm anyway).
Yee gads, my head is spinning like a satellite, I tell you.

But you know what? As Christians, we are cautioned about the trap of laziness. Proverbs 19:15, for example, reads, "Slothfulness casts into a deep sleep, and an idle person will suffer hunger."
For me, to hunger is to want. A procastinator by nature, I have had to fight hard to bring my family to a place of peaceful organization. As a recovering procrastinator, I must continually work at this, as I know from experience that not being organized and productive will leave me (and those I love) in want.
Wanting peace.
Wanting uncluttered.
Wanting to know, "What next?"
Wanting order.

There are many more verses that admonish laziness while validating hard work. And I have faith that as we begin our year, my Heavenly Father will be faithful to guide us, helping me to alter my course of action when necessary. This assurance He has also given me in His word (Proverbs 16:9 In his heart a man plans his course, but the LORD determines his steps.) Perhaps, once I've tweaked it, I'll post our working schedule for those who care to see. I'm no expert, but like me, perhaps there would be something in my schedule that you could glean from, for yours.

Let's shift gears, shall we?
So yesterday was our annual send off/kick off. That is, we send off the summer (how it breaks my heart to say that) and kick off our upcoming school year and family schedule. We head up to Indiana Beach, an amusement park built on an island in the middle of Lake Schaeffer (or Lake Freeman if you ask the new owners). You have to cross a long, wide foot bridge to enter the park (how totally cool is that?! Click on the image above and you'll see the bridge on the left.)
It's a small, very retro amusement park that hasn't really been updated since the early 1970's or so and we LOVE it that way. They play music from that era and we feel like we stepped back into our own childhoods. Oh my goodness, how fun!

Because it's small, we can easily walk the park without us or the children getting too exhausted. Three of the five rollercoasters surround Kiddieland, so it's super easy to let 3 year old Brandon ride his little heart out while our bigger kids leave with one parent to ride the rollercoasters. We can easily switch off and everyone is happy.

The kids anticipate this trip weeks in advance (months, really) and scream for me to come into the room if the Indiana Beach commercial airs on TV (How many times must I run in before they determine I've done it enough?) They get so fixated on "all things amusement parks" that they begin to confuse parks, or even ride names, which cracks me up. For example, they heard a commercial for Cedar Point (greatest amusement park in the entire world, hands down) and their park and ride confusion kicked in.
Reece: "Mom, how come we don't have a SHOOT THE RAFFIDS at Indiana Beach?"
Me: "I don't think anyone has a Shoot The RAFFIDS, honey, because that's not the name of the ride."
Reece:"Uh huh, it is."
Me: No, it's not Shoot the Raffids..."
Reece: (cutting me off and a bit frustrated with me too) "Yes it is, Mom."
Brandon: "No, Mommy's wite. It's NOT dat. It's Shoot The RABBITS!"

Uh hem, I assure you no rabbits were harmed in the settling of this debate.

Toni

Life as it comes.

Okay, so. I sliced my index finger open on a food can a few days ago. The thing is, I'd be more likely to lose a digit with a kitchen knife, seeing as I cook with fresh produce almost exclusively. But there I was, opening a can of Cream of Celery.

I can never do these things during the daytime, when I could head over to my doctor's office.
Oh, no. Not me.
Off to the ER at 11pm to have my cut glued together and splinted, along with a tetanus shot (with a little Diphtheria thrown in for good measure). And I looked so, uh hem, lovely in my green workout shirt, black shorts, and Cincinnati Bengals black and orange doo rag.
I have to say (and I have witnesses, mind you), I came out of that ER with an enormous finger that looked like it belonged on a Fraggle Rock character.
Swell.

Now that I've covered the finger, let's segway into the toes, shall we? (thanks, Miss Sniz and Big Doofus, for my new favorite word, segway).
So, Sunday morning, we arrive at church a bit early since my oldest was serving in the nursery first hour. As we pulled into the church lot, I noticed that my toes had very obvious chipped nail polish on them. I'm not overly fussy about such things, but this particular polish was a bold iridescent deep shade of purple.
What to do?
I realized I had the tiny bottle of polish in my purse so I did the only thing there was to be done. Propped my little piggies up on the dashboard and began a quick overcoat. I mean, it was early so who was going to see, right?

Right?

While I was feverishly polishing away, a car pulled in next to us.
"No big," I thought. Surely, no one would actually bother to take close notice of such a thing.

Right?

KNOCK! KNOCK!

Oh for crying out loud! Sure enough, a member of my church family found it funny enough ("funny" no doubt meaning odd, peculiar, TACKY!) that she actually knocked on the window and let me know that in fact, my piggy painting was cracking her up (and her expression told me that she was a bit taken back by my actions).
Alrighty then, busted!

Then, during communion, Reece put me through yet another "trip down the aisle" (because if you haven't read about our communion adventures with Reece, I assure you it's always a trip, so to speak). This time, the lovely Jones' were serving communion. The same Jones' who, just a week earlier, entrusted their dear little piggy to our care (sheesh, didn't plan on this being a piggy post). Their daughter is leaving for college and needed a new home for her sweet guinea pig, Edgar. So he now resides with us and will be our official "class pet" in homeschool this year.
Reece, seeing that Edgar's former family was handing out communion, began.

"Oh Mommy, LOOK! It's Edgar's old family."
(we're standing in line at this point)
"Shhh! I see. No talking in the line."
"Hahaha! That's funny, Mommy. She was just at our house and now she's gonna give me my bread. Isn't that funny, Mommy?"
"No, Reece. This is not the time to talk about funny. Now, shhhh!"

He quieted down (a feat for Reece) and I felt momentarily victorious.
That is, until he reached the front of the line.

"Thank you for giving us Edgar. He's a nice guinea pig!"

Sweet mother of all things inappropriate. We were in line to "Do this in memory of me," said Jesus.
And all my son can think about is thanking the server for a guinea pig.
Will I ever win the communion line battle with that child?
Stay tuned.

My Sunday would not have been complete without another incident involving our family pets. Why stop when we're on a roll, right? So, Olivia had just fed the dog and was doing a craft at the kitchen table. Next thing I knew, she shrieked so loudly that I nearly fell into the laundry basket I was sorting.

Me, still a bit off balance and slightly annoyed. "What? What are you screaming for,Olivia?"
"Ants! There are tiny red ants on my arm. Where did they come from?"
Where, indeed. I thought for a moment, when Hubs finally declared, "They must be in the dog food."
Let's all have a moment, shall we? EWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes. They were in the dog food for sure.
LOTS of them.
And it was a brand new bag.
And dog food is expensive.

I wasn't about to throw the whole bag away. So I immediately came up with a plan.
"We can't get the ants out of the bag," declared Hubs at my mere suggestion that the food would be salvaged.
"Oh. Yes. We. Can. Too." was my reply.
"But," (that scared look in his eyes whenever he thinks I'm about to launch one of my hairbrained schemes)...,"but," (as if it killed him to utter the next word),
"How?"

Next thing he knew, he found himself out on the driveway with me, an entire bag of dog food dumped on the blazing hot pavement.
"Spread it all out reeeeal good, honey. We'll wait a few minutes for some of the ants to begin to crawl away, then we'll collect the food again with dust pans."
There was the look again. The "She's clearly lost her mind and dragged me down with her" look. But it didn't stop me. I was NOT throwing out an entire bag of dog food. I was NOT letting the ants win.

I'm very happy to say my little plan worked well.
We collected the food and placed it in a plastic tub with a lid.
It is ant-free and I am the official rescuer of dog morsels.
And I saved us from an unncessary replacement purchase.
Even if it cost me my dignity.
Even if a few watchful neighbors mumbled it under their breath,...you know,....."Clampetts!"

Now if I could just figure out how to remove the huge dogfood-induced grease stain on the driveway, my efforts will reeeeally have been a complete success.
Uh hem!

Toni

Can we get serious for a moment?

Ah! Sunday, glorious Sunday.
We headed off to church in the family van, all cleaned up and ready to worship with our very special church family (seriously, they are very special!)

I have to say, however, I'm not one who believes that you must look "churched up" in order to come to church.
On the contrary.
I'm not sure what you believe to be true about coming to church, but the fact is, God receives us just as we are.
Right where we're at in our lives.
Dressed up or messed up, ready or not.

It's a fact indeed. The bible says, in Romans 5:6-8, "You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. 7Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. 8But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us."

If you look at that passage carefully and thoughtfully, you may well discover why I don't think outward appearance or inward readiness is necessary to come to church or to come to Christ. 1Samuel 16:7 reads, "For the LORD sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, (B) but the LORD looks on the heart."
If you've felt God's call on your heart but have also felt that you are not "ready", not "churched up" enough in fine clothes, not worthy due to shame or sins that "couldn't possibly be forgiven", then consider the words of the Bible above.
They are not man's perspective.
They are God's perspective.

And while we're at it, "What's with the red letters?" you ask. It's more like what's IN the red letters. DCTalk recorded a beautiful song about the most important red letters of all, but the short answer is...LOVE!
There is incredible love in the red letters. Try this. Reread the scripture passage above and simply insert YOUR name in place of the words in red, and you will catch a glimpse of the love God has for you.


And so it is on my heart today to share this...
Come as you are!
He is ready to meet you just as you are, right where you're at.
I've said this in the past and it's so worth repeating. If there are 100 steps that stand between you and the God who loves you and desires your heart, He will descend 99 of those steps to meet you, if you will simply turn to face Him, taking only just one step toward Him.

Incredible change, hope, peace, forgiveness, grace, security and love await you.

Toni

Enriching childhood!

Ah, that we could enrich their childhoods so that, in effect, they take wonderful memories with them into adulthood, to be recalled and treasured for a lifetime.

I've been at it this summer, trying to do more with my kids, to be in the moment more with them. I've scoured the internet in search of games and activities. And I've found a few gems too. Check out FunMom, for example. Leslie's site is filled with wonderful ideas. We've implemented a few this summer. I'll share a bit more about those in a future post.

One of my the big hits has been backyard games. Now, back in the day, these would of course be Kick-the-Can, Hide and seek, Red Rover, S.P.U.D., and such. Just you try and find enough children playing outside in the neighborhood these days to put those games in motion (Don't even get me started; it's one of those "change happens" things that breaks my heart, seriously!)

But just because I can't round up a big enough team for Red Rover doesn't mean my kids can't play backyard games like we did as kids.
I just have to reinvent the experience for them.
And I believe I have.
And they LOVE it.
So, what do we play? Lessee...

• Front or Back?
  There are 6 people in our family, but it could be played with as few as 4. We gather two beach towels, one for each team (boys vs. girls in our case). The other team turns away as I hold up the beach towel and one of the girls crouches down behind it, choosing to place either her front or back toward the towel. We call, "Ready!", whereby the boys turn to face us from across the yard and make a group guess. Front or back? We drop the towel to reveal our teammate's position. If it matches their guess, point. First team to 5 points wins.
  
• Blind Ball.
  Again, we are in two teams, boys vs. girls. One member of each team is "it." We flip a coin to see who goes for the ball first. Both "it" members are then taken to opposite corners of the yard and blindfolded. The team who is NOT going after the ball, throws it somewhere in the yard, then calls, "Go!" The team going after the ball has to call out the directions to their blindfolded member, guiding him in the direction of the ball. Meanwhile, the other team is calling out directions to their team member, guiding them to the blindfolded ball seeker from the opposing team. If the ball seeker finds the ball first, he gets 3 points for his team. If the opposing team member finds and touches the blindfolded ball seeker first, they score 1 point for their team. A round is over when a score occurs. New team members are blindfolded, and the other team is now the ball seeking team. First team to 7 points or more, wins.
  
• Whose Shoes?
  Oh, how they love this simple and silly game. The kids take off their shoes and sit down in a circle in the middle of the yard. Staying in a legs crossed seated position, they must then lay forward, heads together, eyes covered, as mom and dad take one of each participant's shoes (so for each person, mom has one of their shoes, dad has the other). We quickly run around the yard, hiding each shoe (up in the swingset fort, under the squash plant in the garden, under a frisbee in the yard, etc.) When all shoes are hidden, we count to three and the kids spring up and yell, "Whose shoes?" and away they go. If they find someone else's shoe, they do not tell them. The goal is to find one's own shoes, put them on, and be the first back to the circle. We don't stop when the winner returns, though. We let them vie for 2nd, 3rd, and 4th place too.
  

Another thing I've done, though something I have regularly done with my kids for a very long time, is to read to them. There are so many terrific read alouds to be considered. We've done many of the classics already. Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. Little House on the Prairie. Anne of Green Gables. A Christmas Carol. Little Women. We've read incredible stories too, of missionaries and noble heroes. Currently, I'm reading Snow Treasure by Marie McSwigan. Set in WWII, it's believed to be the true story of children in a small Norwegian town who must sneak the town's wealth of gold bullion past the German occupation by hiding it under their bellies as they sled past the Germans. My children can't get enough of this story, which I myself read as a 4th grade student. Truly, there is something so very special about gathering the children around for a good book.

Speaking of enrichment, we took our children to see The Music Man today, performed by our county's civic theater. I absolutely love live theater, having gotten hooked after seeing my one and only Broadway performance (on Broadway, that is), A Chorus Line. We want our children to learn to appreciate the theater as well, but taking them into the city to see a live show is very taxing on our single income budget. If you find this to be true of your family as well, don't despair. Local highschools usually give live performances twice a year (late fall and again in the spring). You might need to scrutinize the content to determine how appropriate it will be for little ones, but we've always been able to find a show or two that is acceptable. And the price of a highschool stage performance can't be beat.

If you're lucky, you might also have summer theater or civic theater in your town our county as well, as we do. These performances are also quite affordable, and they provide opportunity to expose your children to live theater where this might not otherwise be reasonably possible. Several members of our church family were performing in The Music Man, so we were excited to see them on stage. They all did such a fabulous job. As we sat there, enjoying one of the acts, I thought, "Isn't this wonderful? Our bunch is engaged and enjoying a live theater performance. Oh, how I want them to learn to appreciate and enjoy the arts in this manner." I was basking in the lovliness of the moment, when suddenly, my 8 year old broke out in a loud and silly giggle. Wanting to know what had tickled him so, I inquired.
Apparently, it was related to the lyrics being sung up on the stage. Never mind classic numbers like Seventy-Six Trombones. No, nothing meaty there (roll eyes for full effect). No, which lyrics grabbed my son's attention and milked it to the point of all out laughter?
Why, Shi-poo-pi, of course.
"Bahahaha! Poop. He said she pooOOped!"
"SHHH! No, he did not say she POOPED."

(Then, floating in from the background of our conversation, from up on stage, a melodic "Shi-poo-pi.")

"BAHAHAHAHA!
Did you hear it, Mommy?
They said it again. She-poopy.
BAHAHAHAHA!"

Whaaat? He had a point. ;)

Toni

A tropical heat wave

I do believe it's the hottest summer I've ever experienced in my life. It's somewhat of a source of amusement, though, as my kids gripe and whine, "We're so hhh-ooOoo-ttt! It's soooo hot out today."

Okay, yes.
Yes, it is so "hhh-ooOoo-ttt!" (oh, the drama)
Deal with it.
"Why, when I was your age, I had to walk three miles through blinding snow up to my chest...."
Wait.
Wrong story. That's the one my parents told me.

Let's try this again.

"Why, when I was your age, we didn't have any air conditioning. It was hotter inside the house than outside. The spot directly in front of the fan was most coveted, and we sat in front of it any chance we got, even against our moms' warnings that we were going to get Bell's Palsy."
Now, my kids have actually asked me before if I lived in horse and buggy days, so you know this little "fans instead of air conditioning" story lands my fanny back in Walnut Grove from their point of view. But hey, if it stops the whining...

Thankfully, we discovered a wonderful treasure to assist us in our efforts to beat the heat here in central Indiana. Now, I should preface this by saying I grew up just 25 minutes from one of the great lakes. If you've never seen any of them, just picture the ocean, only calm.
When I lived in San Francisco, I even had friends ask, "Can you see the other side from the shore?" (giggle, giggle)

No.
No, you cannot see to the other side while standing on shore. That said, you can see to Canada on a very clear day from the top of some of the roller coasters at Cedar Point (the greatest amusement park in the nation, hands down!) It's just a distant hint of shoreline, but yes, you can see it.

So, back to my point. I grew up near Lake Erie and also lived near the Pacific ocean. But a job related move to central Indiana? Um, okay...uh,..but,...where will we swim?
And logically, you'd tell me, "In a pool."
Well, yeah. And they do have wonderful park systems and pools here. But,...
We're land locked. Not so happy a thought for this girl who A) prefers country living and wide open spaces and B) grew up next to Lake Erie and the islands.
In other words, being land locked makes me feel quite claustrophobic at times.

So a few weeks ago, I felt a bit desperate to find some type of beach here (I should tell you we've been here 4½ years already, so I wasn't overly confident that a beach was going to suddenly appear.) There is a large reservoir just to the north of us, but its "beach" is nasty (sure, you can technically swim in the reservoir but there is no beach to speak of, only some icky concrete steps down into the equally icky "beach" water.) Imagine my surprise when I discovered that a state park about 45 minutes from here has, yes, a b-e-a-c-h!

Glory be!

Ironically, we've driven by it many times while on our way to some of our favorite hiking trails.
No indications of a beach noted.
No visuals. No signage. Nothing.
And I've mentioned to several people here that it's hard for us to feel land locked.
No one mentioned this beach.
Perhaps they felt it couldn't compare with a great lake and thus wasn't worth mentioning?
Or perhaps it's not well known.
I don't know.

But it's there and the drive is a scenic one (through the wide open country spaces that my soul literally craves.) And the beach is nestled into a scenic cove.
And it's FUN!


Raccoon Lake, our new favorite beach!
(You needn't remind me it's our only beach. I assure you, I am well aware.)


We spent the entire afternoon there this past Monday, a late continued birthday celebration for Olivia, who turned (gulp!) 11 on July 5th. I made her the coolest birthday cake this year. I wanted something to reflect her new phase of childhood, that of a tween-ager (she's sooo into the "title", lol). So I made her a monogrammed purse cake. Is it the cutest or what? She loved it.


What else is happening in the H home? Well, I am knee deep into homeschool planning. Sheesh, we're headed into our SEVENTH year of homeschooling. I'm reeeeally excited to implement more Charlotte Mason elements into our days. The primary curriculum I use (and love, and endorse) is My Father's World. It takes a classical/Charlotte Mason/Unit studies approach, three elements I'm fond of.

However, I want my children to become more intimately connected with our subject matter. For us, that means more Charlotte Mason. And definitely more creativity on my part. And I'm excited and challenged to inject that into our learning. Oh my, I could plan for months and months more, but alas, I only have about 3½ weeks left before our year officially begins (we do light math and continued reading all summer long.)

One of the "just for fun" things my husband and I wanted to add this year is a class pet. We had talked about a rabbit, a bird, or possibly even a reptile. Since nature study will be a big part of our regular schooling this year, we felt a little friend in the classroom would fit well with our love of nature and living things. As God would have it, one of our church family members needs someone to take over the care of her guinea pig as she heads off to college. So we are adopting Edgar, a brown and white guinea pig who will join our family in the next week. We've already been on the internet, pouring over the "do's" and "don'ts" of cavy care. And we went to You Tube and listened the the various cries and sounds a guinea pig might make and what they indicate.

My kids are coming at me with endless questions, prompted by endless excitement over Edgar's pending arrival.
"Where will we put him?"
"Why did she name him Edgar?"
"What does he eat?"
"Can we hold him?"
"Is he allowed on the furniture?"
"Does he like trains?" (Brandon, age 3, lol)

A summer storm has picked up and my speakers are fritzing, so I'll take that as a warning I better get off this transistorized tormentor.
Please remember to enjoy the rest of your summer days eyes wide open, glass half full. Because they truly are.

Toni

Swinging full circle

I bought Carl a new recliner for our 20th anniversary. After all, nothing could possibly say, "I love you," to a guy like permission to fall fast asleep while watching his favorite sports team.
He's not the jewelry wearing kind, can take a vacation whenever he wants (works for a major airline), and isn't one to want for "stuff." So short of being able to buy him a classic Ford Thunderbird, the recliner was the next best gift. And he truly loves it.
Now that it's here, that is.

We had the option of a $50 delivery charge or picking it up ourselves.
Since we have a pick-up and had tested the weight of the chair before purchasing, we were very confident we could do the lifting(we've done three self-moves with virtually zero help so we're quite the duo movers together.)
The wait for the chair's arrival seemed to drag on and on, however.
"Two weeks. It should be ready in two weeks. We'll call you."
No call.
Kind of hard for them to do that, seeing as they had our number written down incorrectly. Sigh.
So, okay, 5 weeks. Better late than never.

In preparation for bringing the new recliner in, we hauled two of our old recliners out to the curb and posted them free on Craigslist.
No takers. Naturally.
"Load 'em up, honey. They're off to Goodwill before the next round of monsoon rain passes through."
It's been quite the heavy rain and humid summer here.
(And naturally, I got an inquiry about the curb chairs today, two days after they were hauled away.)

Now, kids being kids, we knew they'd love the enormous box the new chair came in, so we dragged it inside (literally; it had to be squeezed through the front door.)
Goodness, that hunk of cardboard has kept them occupied for days now. Three year old Brandon requested to sleep in it. Olivia asked to decorate it. Chance (our dog) has taken the liberty to run in and out of it. It's a boat. A fort. A place to hide. Do NOT throw away your big boxes before letting the kids exhaust their imaginiations with it. Our box has not outlived its usefulness yet.

Our kids' swingset also arrived yesterday. My emotions were high, which may seem silly (it's just a swingset, right?). But you have to know the emotional significance to me. Here's the deal. We built our own home in the country on 3½ acres back in Ohio. It was an absolute dream come true for me. I joined 4-H as a young city girl (the only city girl in my club). I worked at a riding stable (even though I wasn't raised around horses). Being in the country brings a calm over me like nothing else except God's word. Wide open spaces bring such peace and rest to me. Living in the country, I was home.

I could sit on my full front porch for hours, rocking in my Amish made rocking chair (the nearest Amish settlement was 15 minutes away), watching the farmers work the land across the road from me for hours on end. I enjoyed walking my kids in their red wagon to visit the neighbor's horses and cows. I loved riding our lawn tractor. I liked heading to our mailbox at the end of our 200 foot driveway, to gather the day's mail. And the black of night was not at all scary to us, but rather granted the stars their due brilliance, a cosmic experience never noted to that extent in the city.
Not then.
Not now.

And my kids had it good in the country as well.
Caterpillars and butterflies.
Rabbits and o'possum.
An enormous backyard they could safely explore, far away from the potential dangers of our country road.
Rasberries to pick and eat right off the bushes.
Baby birds to hold (I know, I know. But Kideer don't abandon their young for being held. I can assure you.)

And best of all, my kids had the most wonderful Amish built swingset to play on. They ate their lunches in the tower. Learned to "pump and sit, pump and sit" in order to swing high and long. They would put their lego wagon up in the tower, climb in, and ride down the wave slide, screaming with delight, as I watched contentedly from our country kitchen window, or from my place on our big back deck (which faced west, so you can imagine the sunsets for yourselves).

It was a beautiful way of life. Until we had to move away, that is. Dh's job displaced him and we had to sell our dream house in the country. I could barely breathe in the reality of it.
Barely!
Especially when I learned that any of the locations we might have to move to, were beyond our budget for country living. I had lived my dream for 7 wonderful years (for which I'll always be grateful), but it was coming to an end. And to add insult to injury, we couldn't take our kids' swingset with us. We were moving out of state, to an apartment for starters. There was limited room on our moving van, and even more limited space in our storage garage.
It would have to stay behind.

That was 4½ years ago. We finally saved the funds to buy the kids a new set, and it arrived yesterday. The custom builder put it together in the rain. Our kids' noses were literally pressed against the glass windows of our family room as they waited and watched with great anticipation.
7 year old Cierah, apparently inheriting some of the Bunker from her older sister, danced with glee as she announced, "I can't even believe it. It's a nightmare."
Huh???
"Cierah, honey, a nightmare is a very bad dream. What did you mean to say?"
"Oh," (lightbulb finally on), "I meant it feels like a dream."
Her older sister couldn't stop from laughing (takes a Bunker to know one, I guess.)

When the swingset was completed and the man left, literal squeals of delight were heard, among the best I've ever heard from them.
They were absolutely ecstatic.
And so was I.
In fact, I nearly cried (I'm very nostalgic, after all.)

Three year old Brandon asked me today, "Mommy, after breakfast can I go play in my park?"
Oh, sweet boy.
The only swingsets he's ever known in his short life have been in local parks.
He thinks he has one right in his own backyard.

And Reece (gotta love Reece) passed his Dad and I the following comment today.
"Oh mommy, thank you and daddy sooooo much for our new swingset. I love it. It looks hideous because it isn't painted yet, but it'll look better when you put the paint stuff on it."
Yeah, I know. I just chose to receive the thank you in the spirit in which he intended it. ;)

Toni

PAUSE FOR REFLECTION

We interrupt this blog to bring you a message from the youngest contributing member of the H family, as presented to me yesterday afternoon.

Brandon sacheyed into the room, his face contorted in a way that told me his little brain had been in deep thought over some issue of great importance, at least to a curious three year old.

He began.

"Mommy, why do we have two holes in our nose?"

Me, doing my very mom best to stifle the rising giggle from within, "Well, hmmm. I'm not exactly sure, baby. I suppose God decided that's how we could breathe the best?"

Brandon, not buying my attempt to satisfy his curiosity, "No, maybe so we can just pluck dem outa dere, I fink."

Now I could suggest that the plucking of "dem outa dere" would be a refence to boogers, but who am I to judge?
Because perhaps he was referring to loogers or golden nuggets, or even nasal crusties for that matter (just what is the scientific name for boogers anyway?)
I'll leave you to your own devices on this one.

Ah, the joys of!

Now, carry on.

Jeremiah 1:5a
"Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you. Before you were born, I set you apart for my holy purpose..."

Toni

"SURPRISE!"

Goodness, I should have known. When the "snack mom" failed to show up at Brandon's baseball practice this morning (leaving six very hot and sqirmy 3 year olds without their just rewards), I should have known.
The day was going to be filled with surprises.
Not the whole gang popping up from behind the couch and merrily yelling "Surprise!" kind of surprises either.
No, more like the, "Oops, I didn't mean to wash those red towels with your white work shirts," kind of surprise (I didn't really do that by the way.)

Okay, so. The first surprise of the day came just before we left to spend the afternoon at the lake. The kids had gathered up the requisite sunscreen, beach towels, sand buckets and shovels. Hubs had packed a cooler full of ice, cold drinks, some shelled peanuts and some juice boxes for the kids. I let the dog outside, planning to kennel him just before we headed out the door. We were almost there when...

HONK! HONK! HONK!

"What's that?" asked hubs.

HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK!

"It's a duck. No, a goose. It's definitely a goose. Hear it?"

Oh, I heard it alright. The last time I heard it was about 13 years ago. It was coming from the basement then, and you'd have thought we kept a goose prisoner in some dark basement corner.

Only, it wasn't a goose back then and it wasn't a goose today either.
No, the honk, honk, honking was actually (and unfortunately) the dreaded sound of Bordetella. If that word, Bordetella, sounds like the plague, you'd be close enough to correct. In fact, it was our dog who was making the hideous honking noise.
Our dog, who spent 5 days boarded at the vet while we visited family in Ohio.
Our dog, who came home from the vet on Thursday.
Our dog, who has come down with an active case of kennel cough (a.k.a. Bordetella).

It's not pretty, folks.
It's downright honkity.
He honks until he spits up (a little or a lot, depending on when his last meal or drink was.)
It can last 2 weeks.
I'm counting on 2 days.
Now I just need one of those bumper stickers. You know, "Honk if you're..."
Hey, I know. How 'bout, "Honk if you're TIRED OF CLEANING HONKED UP DOG SPIT!"
Yeah, that'll work.

Moving right along.
Surprise #2.
So we were coming home from Dennys this evening (yeah, that Denny's for those who have been around long enough to remember the great Denny's incident of 2008). The kids were singing in the back seats of our van. Now, you have to know that singing in the van is not some lovely Partridge family experience for us. Oh no, that would be dreamy but no, definitely not our reality. Instead, our kids like to make a nasty little competition out of singing.
Who can sing the most repetitively just to annoy the others?
Who can sing the loudest just to annoy the others?
Who can sing the fastest (you get it by now) just to annoy the others?
(Darling, I know.)

And tonight was no different.
The big annoying sing-off was in under way.
Our little maestros were trying to control one another lead the band for all they were worth.
Their "drive it into the ground" song of choice?
Ultra Man, the theme song (Anyone?)
Sakes alive, that song is annoying!

So they were singing their competitive hearts out, vying for loudest, fastest, most repetitive, when I couldn't take it anymore (the song nor the unkind spirit in which they were "performing").

"You kids stop singing that song this very instance."

Their dad chimed right in as he approached the stop sign.

"I'm with mom. Enough already with the Ultra Man song. If you can't all sing something together without trying to be in control of the others, then don't sing at all."

We rolled on (which became key to the moments that followed).

In the next moment, I found us slowing down on the side of the road, directly next to the "blueberries and rasberries, $2" sign.
Hubs had failed to stop at the Amish farm market earlier today that I had wanted to check out on the way home from the lake.
"Isn't this sweet? He's going to make it up to me by stopping to pick up some locally grown fresh berries. Awwww!"

Amazing how quickly an adoring, "Awwww!" can morph into an, "Aw, shoot!" because I believe that's what happened when I suddenly realized the only blue and red I was going to see right then was from the flashing lights behind us.
Yup, we got ourselves pulled over by the sheriff.

SURPRISE!

Apparently, that "roll on" that we so casually made is illegal in all 50 states.

As in, hubs rolled on, right through the stop sign while yelling at the kids to stop singing.
And thereby broke the law.

It seems the dog wasn't the only one "honking" in the H household today.
I, for one, was honking mad that we got pulled over for something so ridiculous as the Ultra Man theme song distracting us.
No time for 'tudes though.
"You catch more flies with honey," my mom always says.
Time to be very nice to the officer.

Hubs: "If you say I rolled through that stop sign, officer, I'm sure I did. I do apologize."
Me: "We were distracted by our kids' singing, sir. They were getting too loud and I'm sure he must have rolled through as we asked them to settle down."

Sheesh, that was a dorky (but genuine) excuse.

"Licence and registration, please."
"Why yes, sir. That's what I'm looking for right here. Is this it? No, that's a napkin from Taco Bell (duh). Here it is,...wait...no, that's just a receipt from Big O Tires. I don't suppose you want to see that. Goodness, what color am I looking for....oh, never mind, found it. Here you go."

He smiled so politely, then walked away.
I sighed.
Hubs quietly fielded questions from our four kids, who found the whole experience invigorating.
Nothing like watching Daddy about to bite a $100 fine and a few points on the ol' record, eh?
"See, kids, this is exactly why you have to obey. It starts at home and it follows you right into adulthood."
Reece, suddenly laughing: Daddy, what will happen if you just drive away reeeal fast while he's in his car?"
(Honestly kid, you're missing the whole point of the "obey" speech your father just made.)
Me: "He'd go to jail. Now, shhhhhh!"
(Isn't the lack of quiet what got us in this mess in the first place?)

Well, gotta love Officer Love (yes, his last name was actually Love.)
Because the dear man let us go without a ticket.
Just a warning.
Do you know how relieved we were to not be hit with our just punishment? I assure you, we were very grateful.

So the day started with poor Brandon and his teammates not getting their just rewards.
And it ended with us not getting our just punishment.
The officer was very kind to let us off with only a warning.
I'm truly thankful for his extension of grace to us in that moment.

I couldn't help but be reminded of the grace that God the Father extends to us when we place our trust in Jesus as our Savior.
The realization that there is nothing I can do to make God love me more.
(can't earn it through my own merit.)
But there is also nothing I can do to make Him love me less.
(can't destroy it in my human failings.)
Because when Jesus went to the cross to pay the price for all our sins (yours and mine) for all time, God loved me at His very, very best.
Here's hoping you've consciously experienced the grace of God in your life recently. If you haven't, it is my sincere prayer for you, that you will.

Ephesians 2:8
For by such grace you have been saved through faith. This does not come from you; it is the gift of God

Romans 6:23
For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Toni

SUMMER ROADTRIP 2010

We traveled to Ohio to visit family this past weekend, returning here very late on Wednesday night. Oh, how I dislike the long drive (fallout of growing up as an airline brat, I suppose, and having a husband who still works in the industry to this day). I believe I'd take an airplane to Kroger if I could.

It takes nearly 6 hours if attempted non-stop (Yahoo and Google clock it in at 5 hours and 42 minutes), but with the stops we have to make (food, bathroom, playground, bathroom, gas, bathroom, snacks, bathroom, etc.), it's always a minimum of 7 hours for us.


Of course, my family will tell you it only takes "five hours and fifteen minutes" to make the drive between us.
O-n-l-y!
This apparently coming from a long lost relative of Jimmie Johnson, who clearly takes the trip at 80mph on the low side.
Uh hem.

Okay, so. We knew that a tradition was on the line as we made our way to Ohio. That is, Rochester township was having its annual fireworks Saturday night after dusk. Rochester township is nestled in the country not far from our own country home where we lived in Ohio. They hold an annual 4th of July festival, complete with fireworks that few know about (thus the crowd is small). It was an annual tradition for us when we lived there, and we try to make it there every summer if possible.

If we ate in the car on the way and didn't hit any significant traffic, we just might make it in time to spread out a blanket next to the cornfields, under the stars, to enjoy our absolute favorite fireworks display. I'm happy to say it worked. We arrived with enough time for the kids to play the ring toss game and win a candy prize, for Brandon and Reece to ride the cheesy pony ride (think playground merry-go-round), and for the kids to play on the playground while a bad country music band performed live in the background, before settling down on our blanket to see the show. I remember sitting in that same spot in 2004, expressing my sadness to hubs over that being our "last time" at Rochester fireworks.
Little did I know we'd be back again and again.
Such small blessings make me very, very happy.

It was fun to visit Reece's sister, Kimberly, and her family as well. They live in a town by the exact same name as the town we now live in here in Indiana. Cool, eh?
Kimberly and Reece look sooo much alike.
You know how some siblings barely resemble one another, while siblings from another family seem poured from the very same mold? Kimberly and Reece.
They are very obviously siblings.
And I'm getting more and more stirred with emotion as time marches on, seeing the joy on their faces when they are together.
It's PRICELESS.
I'm so glad for them that they are connected in spite of growing up in different adoptive families.

The rest of our time was spent hanging out on my parents' large screened in back porch beating the heat (though the heat was definitely winning), staying up waaay too late to play Canasta with my parents, eating waaay to much, celebrating Olivia's 11th birthday with family, and making time to take the kids to watch my brother fly his R/C airplane and to visit the hummingbird nest that he and my sis-in-law discovered at Sandy Ridge wetlands. I really love spending time with them when we're home.

Our trips home only happen twice a year, and only for a few days. This makes it difficult for us to visit our dear friends whom we miss greatly. However, something neat happened this visit. Hubs and I were taking our daily power walk around town (yes, in the 95 degree blazing heat and humidity) when we heard our name called from a car on the road. We looked up to see our long time friend, Karen, who spotted us walking and took the time to turn her car around to say hello.
How sweet was that of her?

Karen and I met when we worked together at Burger King. We might have been 16 or 17 years old at the time. She is one of the most genuine and kind people I've known. She's also totally funny and I wish I saw her more often because she always makes me laugh.

Since our Burger King polyester days of the 80's, I've run into Karen in so many places. The mall. TJ Maxx. Another small town festival. The Ringling Brothers circus when it came to Cleveland. And now on the street as we walked around the town of our childhoods (melted and sweaty as we were, and with me sporting my Roseanna Roseanna Danna hair to boot). I'm wondering where I'll next see her (she assures me it won't be in Indiana, but I'm not so sure it won't happen, lol.)

Our trip back to Indiana was hot, hot and hotter still. Hubs added frion before we left for Ohio so we did have air conditioning. But we prefer not to use it on long hauls, opting to ride with the windows down instead. Oh my stars, we melted. It was so hot, in fact, that I checked with Nellie the Scab (our G.P.S. who replaced me in my role as trip navigator) for a place to swim. Saw a big lake "kind of on the way" so we headed there to let the kids swim before finishing the trip home. Indian Lake turned out to be just what they needed. It was Brandon's first official time on a beach and he loved it. The kids splashed and swam for a good 45 minutes before we had to round them up and press on toward the end of our journey.
We'll be sure to hit Indian Lake again on future trips de la sweltering blazes.

Hope your 4th was filled with family, fun, and a deep, deep appreciation for your freedoms and privileges as an American. I'm so very proud to call this country my home and I am realizing more with each passing year that freedom is not FREE.
Some paid all. May we never lose sight of that.

Toni

You had a bad day (haven't we all).

Shhhh!
Hear him?
Listen more closely...

You had a bad day
You're taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around

Why, thank you, Daniel Powter.
Because okay, yes. Yes, some of us have had a bad day.
Just little stuff, ya know? Nothing to set the pants aflame. Just those little moments that bring an element of challenge to any one of us as we go about the details of our day.

Take hubs, for example. Yesterday we were busy taking care of small errands and details that need to be completed in the next few days. The tone in our home was light. Everyone was having a pretty darn good day. Then, heard from the upstairs hallway, "Uh Tone, we have a problem."

You know how you just know? I knew. Water. Some sort of water problem. Because upstairs' have toilets, sinks, tubs, air condensor thingies, and kids. Need Isay more? Yeah, swell.

Well, it was the air condensor thingy. We called our thingy serviceman (it was about 10pm at night) and he assured us that we were in no immediate danger of flooding (never mind the full drip pan of water, and the water that continued to pour out of the air condensor thingy). He also said he couldn't send a guy out that night so "just hit the pvc pipe and that usually unclogs the line."
Swell.
Jis' whack'er reaaal good.
Now there's a prevention plan to avoid thousands of dollars in water damage. I am thankful to say that we have not yet flooded (because apparently, banging on pvc pipe is a viable action to take when one's condensor thingy is leaking). The guy will be here tomorrow. Thank goodness.

Then there was my little faux pas discovered today. It involves a trip to the grocery store Sunday night and an overlooked bag discovered in the van today. We don't buy meat, but we do buy Smart Ground, a soy based crumble that can be used in place of meat in recipes. It's a bit pricey. And naturally, it has to be refrigerated.
So much for that purchase.
Bye bye, Smart Ground.
(Sing it, Daniel Powter).

Reece's bad "day" has actually been a string of days lately. He has a loose front tooth that has been dangling for quite some time now. He looks like Nanny McFee's grandson, yet won't let his dad touch the tooth. No hurry though, I suppose, since that dang fairy has forgotten twice in the past few days to deliver the requisite coins to Cierah for completing her rendition of Nanny Mc-C McFee as well. We smoothed that one over for Cierah though, explaining the difficult job the fairy has, what with being grounded in heavy storms and all (of which we've had several recently.)

And Brandon has definitely had a recent bad day. Or two. Yesterday, I heard him crying from the upstairs (our playroom is located there). I went to see what had happened. Apparently during his workout, he was physically injured. I know I've been injured a time or two while working out so I was completely sympathetic.

What?

Yes, that's correct. Brandon is only three years old. But according to him, he and Reece were "working out" and Brandon got "huwt." No more P90X commercials as substitutes for phys ed. around here.

That wasn't Brandon's only bad day either. He started 3 year old teeball last Saturday. They were only 10 minutes into practice when a screaming match could be heard on the field.
"I'm fwee years old."
NO! I'm fwee years old."
Yes, Brandon and another little sweetie were attempting to own three.
I did my best to assure him there was, is, and always will be enough of three to go around.
I'm not so sure he bought it.
("Yes, I know, but I'm still only just fwee.")
I thought I heard him humming Daniel Powter's song just about then.

And Cierah, she had a recent bad day too. We tried a Mongolian stir-fry restaurant on the north side of town (I looooooove Mongolian stir-fry for the record). If you've never done Mongolian stir-fry, you select all your ingredients in the raw state, pile them in you bowl, then add your favorite asian sauces and marinades. The khans then cook your dish on a hot grill and away you go to savor the goodness.

So, Cierah had eaten her first plate of food and decided to go back for just a salad.
After gathering her favorite toppings and dressing, she returned to our table and began to eat. I was chatting with her about something when all of a sudden her eyes widened and she exlaimed with a bit of panic, "Uh oh! I forgot to have him cook it first."

I sooo wanted to giggle out loud, but my dear daughter seriously didn't get it. So, calmly I said, "Honey, you're only eating salad. It doesn't need cooking first." You 70's and 80's tv viewers like myself, think Chrissie Snow on Three's Company. Cierah let out a giggle as she realized the hilarity of the moment. That would have been one wilted salad had she stir fried it.

It seems Olivia's the only one whose week has gone fairly status quo. I'm thinking we all need to hum Daniel Powter's song while she belts out the lyrics for us. But then, if the windows are open, I fear the neighbors might feel compelled to board the "had a bad day" bandwagon (let's just say my family is a tad bit weak in the area of musical giftedness, uh hem.)

Hope your week is going a little better. In all seriousness, I see the humor in those moments and grately appreciate that I do. I recieve the ability to see humor in ordinary moments as a gift. And I fully stand on the promises of God and deeply appreciate the perspective that scripture brings to my daily life. So we had a bad day. It'll get better. They usually do.

Matthew 11:28-30
"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

Toni

"FORE!"

Ahhhh, the "lazy days of summer."
Presumably, a time of rest, relaxation, juicy slices of watermelon and cold glasses of freshly squeezed lemonade. But it's proving to be less lazy and more busy around here lately (courtesy of an overzealous mom who maybe,...might...could have registered her kids a bit on the hairy side of a summer schedule, kwim?)

For starters, we've been dealing with a good month of torrential rains (the local dam broke two days ago, for example). Oh, and blazing hot days of mega humidity too. So very humid, in fact, that I might as well have been living in Miami, FL. We've done our best to keep up our family walks in the stagnant humid air, but it hasn't been without consequence.

The other night, for example, Carl asked if my hands felt swollen as we trudged along the walking path. I confirmed that indeed they did feel uncomfortable. Carl lifted his hands chest high then rotated them to reveal his palms, which amazed and shocked us both. They looked more like a lion's paws. I quickly checked mine and discovered the same. Carl immediately laughed at our disfigurement and declared that we had "Mickey Mouse hands." Indeed, we did.


The thing is, I really do prefer the heat. It's just that I'm not used to the dog days of summer arriving in June, instead of August like they did back home in northern Ohio. Fortunately for the kids' sake, they had swimming lessons every day this past week and will continue next week too. I know they're enjoying the chance to cool off, even if it is an indoor pool.

But we've also had to face the outdoor heat daily this past week, as Reece had golf camp each evening for 90 minutes. As Jack Nicklaus used to say, "It was hotter than a cast iron commode in middle of the Sahara." (Actually, I'm not 100% sure it was he who said it, but if he didn't, he should have, if only for the kiddie golfers' sakes.)

In spite of the blazing sun and waterlogged heat, I knew the kids were in for some major fun the moment Reece checked in for his first day of camp. It was run by three young coaches from Skyhawk camps, and their enthusiasm and organization immediately impressed me.

But then came the names.
"My name is Coach Fergie. Can we all say, 'Hi, Coach Fergie'?"
("Hi, Coach Fergie.)
"And my name is Coach Hollywood. Can we all say, 'Hi, Coach Hollywood'?"
("Coach Hollywood?"...giggle, giggle...."Is that your real name?")
"And my name is Coach Juicebox. Can we all say, 'Hi, Coach Juicbox'?"

Apparently not.

At least not until the fits of giggles and laughter subsided in the 20 junior campers that ranged in age from 4 to 9 years.
Seriously, could you have said, "Hi, Coach Juicbox," without a giggle?
Me either.

Reece was soooo excited about this camp. He had been asking me to sign him up for golf for several years and I couldn't find anything suitable for him. He has some developmental challenges that impact his concentration and coordination. So I wasn't sure golf would be a good idea. But it has turned out to be a great idea, at least where this particular camp was concerned. The kids played with oversized training clubs, and balls that were basically tennis balls. But instruction was not compromised by the training equipment. In fact, it enhanced it as they worked on chipping, driving, and putting.

And he had a blast. When he wasn't Ferdinand, that is.

Take today, for instance. He was just about to drive when he suddenly dropped his club and wandered away in a most care-free manner, a lighthearted expression of content on his sweet face, as he gently exclaimed , "Awwww, dragonfly."
Sigh. My little Ferdinand.

Of course, there were the moments that weren't so magical. Like yesterday when the kids were taking a water break. They had been instructed earlier in the week to leave the equipment alone when it wasn't their turn to practice a skill with their instructor (Coach Juicebox in our case.) I was resting in my lawnchair in the shade, devouring my copy of A Charlotte Mason Companion , when I heard Reece's voice sounding much more devious, like Scut Farkus in A Christmas Story.
He was issuing a self-challenge for his captivated peewee audience of three.
His words? "This ball," (dramatic pause) "in that hole."
After which he immediately hurled his tennis ball oversized golf ball toward the basketball hoop.
My Ferdinand. Officially on the coach's list (yes, that list, uh hem).

I believe Reece scored discolored marks on her "list" too when he took a swing at his ball time and time again, only to miss and immediately exclaim, "That didn't count."
Oh sure, she was gracious and let him take a mulligan and a do-over.
But after the 36th time (or so, I lost count), I think it might have wore on her a bit, what with her declaring, "I'll let you take this last do-over but after that, every swing counts, kapeesh?"

In spite of the little aforementioned quirks that set his golf camp experience slightly askew, Reece was definitely 100% thrilled to be there. In fact, he insisted on wearing his white sports glove every single day. The only kid who wore one. He forgot it in the van this evening and vehemently insisted I retrieve it for him. As I looked at him sporting that glove, I couldn't help but picture Ted Knight in Caddyshack. Nor get the Kenny Loggins song, "I'm Alright," out of my head.


Reece might never become a Jack Nicklaus. Heck, he might not even become a local caddy. But he has now lived one of his childhood dreams of going to golf camp. His dad and I sat there evening after evening and encouraged his efforts, cheering him on and rejoicing with him when he beamed with pride. Don't you think there's great truth in the saying, "The road of life twists and turns and no two directions are ever the same. Yet our lessons come from the journey, not the destination.”
(Don Williams, Jr.,American Novelist and Poet, b.1968)
What a blessing it has been to see Reece enjoying this small "twist and turn" on his life's journey.
Life is filled with so many such blessings.
Glass half full.
Eyes wide open so you don't miss them, ya hear? ;)

John 1:16 From the fullness of his grace we have all received one blessing after another.

Toni

Change is in the Midst

In the midst of this season. My blog is based on it. My thoughts dwell on it. My spirit has learned to rejoice in it. To live and BE in the midst of this season. The very season God has placed me in like at no other time in my life. But being a very (VERY!) nostalgic person, I'm prone to wandering into the past, to places of comfort and places of simplicity. And in many ways, I find great blessing in my ability to "time travel" to those wonderful places of the past so easily.

But because I'm so nostalgic, it takes me greater effort to simply be in the midst of this season. I purpose to work at it and God rewards that effort by revealing the many blessings found in the present, even in the midst of great challenge or change.

And things are changing again. It's coming in like the anticipated (but always surprising) first crisp night that subtly sneaks in while summer is still dancing its care-free waltz of lazy days and swimming pools. That crisp night wraps its chill around bare summer arms and you have no other choice but to embrace the reality that change is on the horizon.

And so it comes. It comes in having recently taken down the crib. The crib that welcomed home the baby we weren't sure we'd ever bring home. The crib that welcomed five babies in fact, four whom God chose to permanently graft onto our family tree, one whom we loved and released because we had no choice (and yet there, in the midst of that season, God sent peace to our hearts and assured us that He can always go where we sometimes cannot.)

Change comes too as our oldest heads toward her 11th birthday this year. To put it in contemporary language, our first tween-ager. Didn't see that coming, even though we've had almost eleven years to prepare our hearts for it. But like the crisp breeze that rides in on the end of a summer night, it came just the same.

And change now comes as our youngest,who literally blew in on a breeze when we weren't expecting change at all, is now 3 years old and no longer wanting to ride in the stroller when we take our 2 mile walks in the park. I don't know how his little muscles handle it without becoming tender and sore, but he pedals for all he's worth, TWO MILES mind you, on his Big Wheel.

Last night, as we took a later than usual walk at the park, and as we were nearing the half way point, dh looked up in the sky and said, "Oh no!" The path had been winding through the woods along a river and several ponds, so we had limited view of the sky along the way. As we reached the clearing, dh caught an unobstructed view of the sky, which had grown threatening and very dark (speaking of change!)

We picked up the pace and Brandon pedalled faster. The kids rode their scooters with greater intent. And I told dh it was likely he'd soon be carrying a Big Wheel through driving rain while I carried a scared and crying Brandon (he's not a big fan of storms.) The wind suddenly shifted and intensified as a cold front pressed in, immediately dropping the temperature by what felt like a good 10 degrees. Lightning began in the distance. Thunder too. And debri and dust rose in circles around us, stinging our eyes and causing us to squint intermittently as we continued on.

I walked and waited, walked and waited, knowing that at any time Brandon was going to become frightened and need me to carry him, to comfort him. But (sigh) change is coming once again. Because he never did cry. Never once. In fact, he pedalled happily along, enjoying the coolness of the wind and giggling at having to ride through the woods again in near darkness. And it occurred to me that the cool breeze that brought on the pending storm was in fact a proverbial breeze ushering in change once again.

And so, it comes. I have to wonder how long it will take me to arrive at a full awareness of a new season, like when you finally have to resign to the fact that summer is truly gone. Because until you've done that, you're not ready to embrace the fall and all its unique blessings. Admittedly, I'm not ready for the next season. Or perhaps just not ready to leave this one behind. But as it always does, change comes. And it's up to me to put it in perspective, glass half full, so I don't miss the blessings God wishes to pour out on me in the midst of it. Wish me well. ;)

“But forget all that—it is nothing compared to what I am going to do.
For I am about to do something new.
See, I have already begun! Do you not see it?
I will make a pathway through the wilderness.
I will create rivers in the dry wasteland."
Isaiah 43:18-19 (NLT)

Toni