It's been forever since I posted. I've been waiting for my tech support husband to change my photo banner. He designed it and made some magical way to change out the photo but only he knows how (for real--I'm not just saying that). I keep waiting for him to have the time. Well, clearly that is not going to happen soon, and honestly, if he does have the time to work on something like this, I'd rather he do something more interactive with the family. So I will post with my now passe, and therefore lame, repeat photo.
Someday I may actually, be worthy of a blog with beautiful photos and images ever changing, but for now, my lameness prevails.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Thursday, August 25, 2011
The Clampetts Have Arrived
We have recently moved. This fact has brought on many emotions lately--revisiting our past and decisions and consequences and all the introspective re-hashing that I tend to do. I can see God's provision and grace and kindness towards us. But aside from all that I can see the humor of us living in this new location.
Because of the economy and weird housing market we have been able to lease a very beautiful home for a very reasonable price. It didn't hurt either that my husband's aunt is the realtor's wife's god-mother and the owner grew up on her street etc. Anyway, this is by far the nicest house I have ever lived in. It comes with a beautiful, well-manicured neighborhood and a formidable HOA and it's all ours...for the next year. We've already been visited by the president of the HOA and given a copy of the CC&Rs, quilted by a nice orchid as a welcome gift. You never know what renters are going to do. As much as it irks me to admit, their fears may not be altogether unfounded. We seem to be acting like a bunch of red-necks. (Which is kind of ironic since we are from the city living in a little town surrounded by farming.)
The first week we had a crazy amount of activity. Some friends stopped by and their boys and our boys had WWIII in the back yard with nerf guns. This prompted a visit by the neighbor behind us bearing zucchini bread and the question "How many kids do you have,anyway?" This was made even funnier by the fact that my daughter's visiting friend from Arizona answered the door and said "Um, I think there's 5..." without the benefit of explaining that she wasn't actually one of the kids.
And then we tried out putting our little pool (complete with duct tape patch) on our 3rd story deck--thinking we could siphon out the water when it was time. That didn't work, so the kids ended up just dumping the water out of the pool over the edge of the THIRD story. There was lots of hooting. hollering and screaming in the process. My youngest daughter just happened to be on the second story deck when said dumping occurred.
Yesterday, I finally met my next-door neighbor. I was wonderfully clad in a Vote for Reagan t-shirt, ugly green shorts and pink and white running shoes. Yep.
Today, I told the kids they should set up the pool--on the grass this time. They found the pool in the garage and my oldest son told my youngest daughter to toss it off the deck(again--3rd story) at him because he wanted to catch it. Well, she tossed it before he was ready so he was mad and disappointed. I told him to go get the pool and I would toss it at him. So he did. And I did. And I hoped no body had been watching this silliness unfold. I hope we don't inspire a new clause in the CC&Rs about swimming pools and decks.
Because of the economy and weird housing market we have been able to lease a very beautiful home for a very reasonable price. It didn't hurt either that my husband's aunt is the realtor's wife's god-mother and the owner grew up on her street etc. Anyway, this is by far the nicest house I have ever lived in. It comes with a beautiful, well-manicured neighborhood and a formidable HOA and it's all ours...for the next year. We've already been visited by the president of the HOA and given a copy of the CC&Rs, quilted by a nice orchid as a welcome gift. You never know what renters are going to do. As much as it irks me to admit, their fears may not be altogether unfounded. We seem to be acting like a bunch of red-necks. (Which is kind of ironic since we are from the city living in a little town surrounded by farming.)
The first week we had a crazy amount of activity. Some friends stopped by and their boys and our boys had WWIII in the back yard with nerf guns. This prompted a visit by the neighbor behind us bearing zucchini bread and the question "How many kids do you have,anyway?" This was made even funnier by the fact that my daughter's visiting friend from Arizona answered the door and said "Um, I think there's 5..." without the benefit of explaining that she wasn't actually one of the kids.
And then we tried out putting our little pool (complete with duct tape patch) on our 3rd story deck--thinking we could siphon out the water when it was time. That didn't work, so the kids ended up just dumping the water out of the pool over the edge of the THIRD story. There was lots of hooting. hollering and screaming in the process. My youngest daughter just happened to be on the second story deck when said dumping occurred.
Yesterday, I finally met my next-door neighbor. I was wonderfully clad in a Vote for Reagan t-shirt, ugly green shorts and pink and white running shoes. Yep.
Today, I told the kids they should set up the pool--on the grass this time. They found the pool in the garage and my oldest son told my youngest daughter to toss it off the deck(again--3rd story) at him because he wanted to catch it. Well, she tossed it before he was ready so he was mad and disappointed. I told him to go get the pool and I would toss it at him. So he did. And I did. And I hoped no body had been watching this silliness unfold. I hope we don't inspire a new clause in the CC&Rs about swimming pools and decks.
Monday, August 1, 2011
A Look Back
I promised last year that I would fill you in on how God supplied renters for our home in Tigard so I am finally getting to it.
We had secured a house in Silverton on faith that God would bring a renter for our house in Tigard. We'd been through quite a few showings with nothing promising coming from them. In fact, it was down right disheartening. At the beginning, I had prayed that our renters might be Christians, but had long given that up when I started seeing the applicants. However, God is bigger than my faith.
Many of the people who were interested were not an option in our minds. It was almost funny. There were times when I wondered if there was a hidden camera involved and it was all a big joke. We had the 5 shifty women who toured the house with out hardly uttering a word--they were smokers and also truly seemed like they could be on the run or something worse. Then there was the gal with a restraining order who was trying to hide from an abusive husband. And then who could forget the people who had lost their million dollar home on Murray Hill and were desperately looking for a place to fit all there stuff? She spent the entire time telling me in a Jersey accent how great her house was(which she claimed was built by the Russian mafia) and how no house could measure up and she wouldn't be happy anywhere. Meanwhile her husband(whose scent of choice was BO and cigarette smoke) was captivating my husband's ear off with stories of patents and technology experiences. She finally gave up waiting on him to finish his stories and sat down in my living room to further insult the house and take calls from her son about other houses for rent. All this made the mormon family who could only give us a 4 month lease look awfully good. I think we scared them off by calling them and leaving messages offering all sorts of appliances and furniture if they would just sign. We were really getting down to the wire when we showed the house to the professional poker player and his wife. He had just won $50,000 in the poker world series and was hoping we wouldn't run a credit check. Oh, and they wanted to move half their extended family in with them. It was weird. He gave off a vibe that made us almost trust him--gold chains and all. Must be how he did so well at poker?
Anyway, it was the Friday morning before our Saturday move. I woke up and opened my Bible to Psalm 37. Verse 5 said: "Commit your way to the Lord; trust in Him, and He will act." I couldn't believe how pointedly it applied. I knew I had a million things to do to prepare for the moving truck the next day and was unable to devote any more thought or anxiety to how we'd make this work. If God was in this, He would provide."Okay, Lord", I prayed, "I need to pack so You are going to have to act." And then I got on with my day.
That evening, in the midst of the mess and craziness, I got a call. I could tell on the phone this person was different from the rest. He didn't want to impose but I told him he better just come on over. They showed up while we were loading the truck. There were 5 guys who wanted to share the house together. I could tell when I opened the door that these were the ones God had provided. It turned out that they went to a couple of good churches we knew about and seemed to know the Lord. They were excited about our move to help minister in our church in Mt Angel. They wanted to sign a rental agreement! They didn't smoke and they actually seemed honest and responsible. God had acted. Did I mention we were loading the truck? I think He wanted me to "get it". That all this doesn't depend on me. That not only do I not need to be anxious, but I shouldn't be. We had been praying. "Lord we think this is what you want, but it would sure be nice if you would confirm it." This eleventh hour answer did more to confirm it to me than if we had had it all lined up for weeks. Because of our crazy life, I needed this assurance that we were doing what God wanted. I've had to look back on this provision more than once to remind me of how God acted to get us here.
God blessed us with great renters this past year. But now, 4 of the 5 guys are getting married and will be moving out by mid-September. Once again, I find myself looking back to what God has done to remind myself of what He can do again. As we wrap up this 11th move in 16 years, I find myself sort of disoriented. My life isn't what I planned. But I am moment by moment reassured that God is weaving that tapestry. I can only focus on one thread at a time. I am slowly finding that I don't even want to see the whole thing anymore, because all I can handle is that one thread in front of me. All I can do is commit it to Him and trust that He is acting--fashioning it all into something beautiful.
We had secured a house in Silverton on faith that God would bring a renter for our house in Tigard. We'd been through quite a few showings with nothing promising coming from them. In fact, it was down right disheartening. At the beginning, I had prayed that our renters might be Christians, but had long given that up when I started seeing the applicants. However, God is bigger than my faith.
Many of the people who were interested were not an option in our minds. It was almost funny. There were times when I wondered if there was a hidden camera involved and it was all a big joke. We had the 5 shifty women who toured the house with out hardly uttering a word--they were smokers and also truly seemed like they could be on the run or something worse. Then there was the gal with a restraining order who was trying to hide from an abusive husband. And then who could forget the people who had lost their million dollar home on Murray Hill and were desperately looking for a place to fit all there stuff? She spent the entire time telling me in a Jersey accent how great her house was(which she claimed was built by the Russian mafia) and how no house could measure up and she wouldn't be happy anywhere. Meanwhile her husband(whose scent of choice was BO and cigarette smoke) was captivating my husband's ear off with stories of patents and technology experiences. She finally gave up waiting on him to finish his stories and sat down in my living room to further insult the house and take calls from her son about other houses for rent. All this made the mormon family who could only give us a 4 month lease look awfully good. I think we scared them off by calling them and leaving messages offering all sorts of appliances and furniture if they would just sign. We were really getting down to the wire when we showed the house to the professional poker player and his wife. He had just won $50,000 in the poker world series and was hoping we wouldn't run a credit check. Oh, and they wanted to move half their extended family in with them. It was weird. He gave off a vibe that made us almost trust him--gold chains and all. Must be how he did so well at poker?
Anyway, it was the Friday morning before our Saturday move. I woke up and opened my Bible to Psalm 37. Verse 5 said: "Commit your way to the Lord; trust in Him, and He will act." I couldn't believe how pointedly it applied. I knew I had a million things to do to prepare for the moving truck the next day and was unable to devote any more thought or anxiety to how we'd make this work. If God was in this, He would provide."Okay, Lord", I prayed, "I need to pack so You are going to have to act." And then I got on with my day.
That evening, in the midst of the mess and craziness, I got a call. I could tell on the phone this person was different from the rest. He didn't want to impose but I told him he better just come on over. They showed up while we were loading the truck. There were 5 guys who wanted to share the house together. I could tell when I opened the door that these were the ones God had provided. It turned out that they went to a couple of good churches we knew about and seemed to know the Lord. They were excited about our move to help minister in our church in Mt Angel. They wanted to sign a rental agreement! They didn't smoke and they actually seemed honest and responsible. God had acted. Did I mention we were loading the truck? I think He wanted me to "get it". That all this doesn't depend on me. That not only do I not need to be anxious, but I shouldn't be. We had been praying. "Lord we think this is what you want, but it would sure be nice if you would confirm it." This eleventh hour answer did more to confirm it to me than if we had had it all lined up for weeks. Because of our crazy life, I needed this assurance that we were doing what God wanted. I've had to look back on this provision more than once to remind me of how God acted to get us here.
God blessed us with great renters this past year. But now, 4 of the 5 guys are getting married and will be moving out by mid-September. Once again, I find myself looking back to what God has done to remind myself of what He can do again. As we wrap up this 11th move in 16 years, I find myself sort of disoriented. My life isn't what I planned. But I am moment by moment reassured that God is weaving that tapestry. I can only focus on one thread at a time. I am slowly finding that I don't even want to see the whole thing anymore, because all I can handle is that one thread in front of me. All I can do is commit it to Him and trust that He is acting--fashioning it all into something beautiful.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Today's Trouble
I had to record this crazy day. It started last night when we returned from vacation with backpacks, suitcases, rafts, coolers, bikes, laundry, still-wet-swimwear, and etc (the etc. is definitely the worst part) all needing to be sorted out and and put away. Based on a couple of mid-vacation calls from our landlord, I was expecting to have to show the house today or tomorrow and sure enough, it was today. Now when we left for this vacation the house was, enh, decent--if you didn't go upstairs. But when you add post-vacation droppings to an already "enh" house whose upstairs was basically ignored for a homeschooling season, you get a disaster to deal with. Our work was cut out for us to say the least.
I have "shown" more than my share of houses in my day and my standards are fairly high for that sort of thing. I especially feel the pressure this time because it is for someone else (landlord) and I want him to be happy with the results (new renter). I would hope our tenants would do the same for us, but I'm probably delusional since our tenants are 4 guys. Anyway, I set out to clear the clutter, put away the vacation stuff, vacuum, sweep, make the bathrooms decent, have the boys mow, make the laundry look normal, find the floor in the girls' room,etc, etc. The kids were very helpful and we divided up the jobs amongst ourselves and conquered...mostly.
Thrown into all the above was a trip to Mt Angel to drop off Savannah for a previously planned time with a friend, a trip to the bank with Jason to cash his check, and a trip to Safeway for milk where I had to play the "because-I-said-so card" and make my boys go in because I hadn't showered yet.
In the midst of all this, Ryan informed me that our Christianity Explored Bible study was indeed a "go" for the evening--in our living room.
In true chaotic fashion, Savannah is delivered home by her friend just as we are welcoming study participants.
And right as study was about to begin, we discovered that our downstairs bathroom ceiling was leaking. Water was dripping everywhere off the ceiling and trickling down the walls. Study begins. Phone rings. Landlord is coming at 7pm to show the house. It's like 6pm when we get the call. People in our living room hearing the gospel. Punctual landlord. Study that typically runs over time. I'm a basket case inside. I'm picturing all sorts of awkwardness approaching. Micah uses his Lightening MacQueen riding toy as a rolling stool,breaks into the muffin bowl (fingers right through the saran wrap) and enters study munching on a muffin. Micah drops crumbs all over floor. I will my backside to the couch--not to pick them up. The Gospel is more important than crumbs on the floor for a house showing! I don't want our study participants to feel like we are in a hurry, but I'm in a hurry.
A car alarm starts going off. It dawns on me that it is OUR car alarm. I run into the kitchen to find Micah at the window, keys pointed at the car, pushing the panic button. He shuts it off when he sees me. Then he turns it on again--get this-- moving to the beat of the horn honks!
We barely finish the study session as our landlord and company step on our porch. I breathe a sigh of relief that the imagined awkwardness was imagined. I say goodbye to our study guests and snatch the crumbs from the floor, soothing my OCD.
The showing proceeds and concludes at lightening speed. Our landlord hangs out to check out the water issues. I order pizza. Micah declares he wants to potty train. We take Micah upstairs to try and use the potty. On his way up, he turns to the siblings behind him and insists they "don't look". I laugh and shake my head, glad that this day is behind me. Thankful for the blessings despite my craziness. Thankful for the reinforcement of Matthew 6:34 in my life: "Therefore, do not be anxious for tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of it's own." Potty training will have to wait.
I have "shown" more than my share of houses in my day and my standards are fairly high for that sort of thing. I especially feel the pressure this time because it is for someone else (landlord) and I want him to be happy with the results (new renter). I would hope our tenants would do the same for us, but I'm probably delusional since our tenants are 4 guys. Anyway, I set out to clear the clutter, put away the vacation stuff, vacuum, sweep, make the bathrooms decent, have the boys mow, make the laundry look normal, find the floor in the girls' room,etc, etc. The kids were very helpful and we divided up the jobs amongst ourselves and conquered...mostly.
Thrown into all the above was a trip to Mt Angel to drop off Savannah for a previously planned time with a friend, a trip to the bank with Jason to cash his check, and a trip to Safeway for milk where I had to play the "because-I-said-so card" and make my boys go in because I hadn't showered yet.
In the midst of all this, Ryan informed me that our Christianity Explored Bible study was indeed a "go" for the evening--in our living room.
In true chaotic fashion, Savannah is delivered home by her friend just as we are welcoming study participants.
And right as study was about to begin, we discovered that our downstairs bathroom ceiling was leaking. Water was dripping everywhere off the ceiling and trickling down the walls. Study begins. Phone rings. Landlord is coming at 7pm to show the house. It's like 6pm when we get the call. People in our living room hearing the gospel. Punctual landlord. Study that typically runs over time. I'm a basket case inside. I'm picturing all sorts of awkwardness approaching. Micah uses his Lightening MacQueen riding toy as a rolling stool,breaks into the muffin bowl (fingers right through the saran wrap) and enters study munching on a muffin. Micah drops crumbs all over floor. I will my backside to the couch--not to pick them up. The Gospel is more important than crumbs on the floor for a house showing! I don't want our study participants to feel like we are in a hurry, but I'm in a hurry.
A car alarm starts going off. It dawns on me that it is OUR car alarm. I run into the kitchen to find Micah at the window, keys pointed at the car, pushing the panic button. He shuts it off when he sees me. Then he turns it on again--get this-- moving to the beat of the horn honks!
We barely finish the study session as our landlord and company step on our porch. I breathe a sigh of relief that the imagined awkwardness was imagined. I say goodbye to our study guests and snatch the crumbs from the floor, soothing my OCD.
The showing proceeds and concludes at lightening speed. Our landlord hangs out to check out the water issues. I order pizza. Micah declares he wants to potty train. We take Micah upstairs to try and use the potty. On his way up, he turns to the siblings behind him and insists they "don't look". I laugh and shake my head, glad that this day is behind me. Thankful for the blessings despite my craziness. Thankful for the reinforcement of Matthew 6:34 in my life: "Therefore, do not be anxious for tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of it's own." Potty training will have to wait.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Dark Halls and At-Risk Husbands
We have this light fixture. It's in our stairway--or above it rather. This house is configured so that light fixture is also the main light for the upstairs hallway too. There is almost no natural light in that area so the hall/stair light stays on a lot. We've only lived here 11 months so myhusband has only had to change it once (after we clamored around in the dark for a week or two). This particular fixture could not be positioned in a more precarious spot in the center of the ceiling of the stairway. Read: no place to position a ladder. Hard,twisty wooden stairs. Sharp, wooden banisters. Cold, hard marble floor below.
When my husband finally changed the light bulbs last time, it involved 3 or 4 support personnel, a bendy ladder positioned and resting like no ladder was meant, death defying balancing and reaching, and definitely prayer and very little breathing. When the deed was done, he wiped the sweat from his handsome brow and said to me through gritted teeth, "I don't want to do that again."
There are a few reasons why this house was deemed temporary when we rented it, none of which were that fixture...at the time. But.... that fixture is fading again. And I am on the hunt...for a house...if nothing else but to spare my husband's life.
When my husband finally changed the light bulbs last time, it involved 3 or 4 support personnel, a bendy ladder positioned and resting like no ladder was meant, death defying balancing and reaching, and definitely prayer and very little breathing. When the deed was done, he wiped the sweat from his handsome brow and said to me through gritted teeth, "I don't want to do that again."
There are a few reasons why this house was deemed temporary when we rented it, none of which were that fixture...at the time. But.... that fixture is fading again. And I am on the hunt...for a house...if nothing else but to spare my husband's life.
Monday, June 20, 2011
The Not-So-Ordinary But Definitely Fabulous Ryan
We were married 16 years ago this month. It's a simultaneous feeling of "No way! How could it be that long?" and "Really?? Only 16??" I don't mean that in a bad way at all, it's just that we've had a lot of change in our lives in the past 16 years. More than I care to think about at times, but always so glad I get to share it with him.
Since it was just Father's Day, and since I missed blogging on our anniversary, I thought I'd dedicate this post to him. I've been having a hard time trying to figure out what route I wanted to go with this (after all, when you meet in 7th grade, there's a lot of material to work with) but I finally got an idea from a friend who is recording 1000 gifts of things she's thankful for. I think I will follow suit, but maybe pare it down a little for the sake of time and call it: The joys of being married to Ryan.
1. Laughter. Nobody can make me laugh as often or as hard--especially when the last thing I want to do is laugh.
2.Children. Five surprises--each in their own way.
3. Appreciation for technical audio/visual stuff. I now know that when you see something cool, someone very well stayed up all night (or many nights) to produce it.
4. Pronunciation. With him around, I know that I will not sound like an idiot for long.
5. Integrity. He models it in every area. If I were to pick one word to define him this would be it.
6. Closed doors. They always should be closed. It was probably a mistake that they even put hinges on them.
7. Delicious and creative food . The man can hold his own in the kitchen. (The pizza dough experiment phase was awesome--I've never lost that weight.)
8. Well-behaved children. He is a firm believer. Doesn't matter if you're a neighbor kid either.
9. Thoughtful gifts. Despite the fact that he isn't really a "gift" person.
10. Suspense. He likes to surprise. I didn't even know where we were going on our honeymoon until we got there.
11.Sky gazing. He still runs outside to look at the sound of a Fighter...or anything military sounding. We all follow because he's instilled in us a love for that, too.
12. Confidence. He is my rock. Where I waver, he is firm, assuring and constant.
13. Creative cakes. Our kids are blessed to have a dad who likes to and is good at making amazing birthday cakes for them. Where I would say "good enough with sprinkles" he says "I think I'll Google homemade fondant right after I sculpt a pirate's treasure chest out of chocolate pound cake".
14. Overcomes the technically impossible. Sometimes too well. I'll never forget when the authorities showed up at our apartment because they detected that the aircraft navigation interference was coming from our living room.
15. Camaraderie. He will not only watch a Jane Austen with me but enjoy it.
16. Friendship. There is no one else I'd rather spend time with.
17. Conversation. It's fun with him. (Don't tell anyone, but he thinks there COULD be aliens. I just about asked for an annulment when I first discovered this, but it's all good now.)
18. Adventure. Like starting a business with zero capital, or camping with 4 little ones, or moving 10 times in 16 years, or throwing cranberries in the recipe.
19. Understanding. When the house is a mess, or his shirt isn't ironed, or I'm feeling blue.
20. Faithfulness. To follow the Lord, to lead his family, to love his wife.
21. Anticipation. Dreams, plans, time together. Looking forward to the next 16!
I love you, Ryan!
Since it was just Father's Day, and since I missed blogging on our anniversary, I thought I'd dedicate this post to him. I've been having a hard time trying to figure out what route I wanted to go with this (after all, when you meet in 7th grade, there's a lot of material to work with) but I finally got an idea from a friend who is recording 1000 gifts of things she's thankful for. I think I will follow suit, but maybe pare it down a little for the sake of time and call it: The joys of being married to Ryan.
1. Laughter. Nobody can make me laugh as often or as hard--especially when the last thing I want to do is laugh.
2.Children. Five surprises--each in their own way.
3. Appreciation for technical audio/visual stuff. I now know that when you see something cool, someone very well stayed up all night (or many nights) to produce it.
4. Pronunciation. With him around, I know that I will not sound like an idiot for long.
5. Integrity. He models it in every area. If I were to pick one word to define him this would be it.
6. Closed doors. They always should be closed. It was probably a mistake that they even put hinges on them.
7. Delicious and creative food . The man can hold his own in the kitchen. (The pizza dough experiment phase was awesome--I've never lost that weight.)
8. Well-behaved children. He is a firm believer. Doesn't matter if you're a neighbor kid either.
9. Thoughtful gifts. Despite the fact that he isn't really a "gift" person.
10. Suspense. He likes to surprise. I didn't even know where we were going on our honeymoon until we got there.
11.Sky gazing. He still runs outside to look at the sound of a Fighter...or anything military sounding. We all follow because he's instilled in us a love for that, too.
12. Confidence. He is my rock. Where I waver, he is firm, assuring and constant.
13. Creative cakes. Our kids are blessed to have a dad who likes to and is good at making amazing birthday cakes for them. Where I would say "good enough with sprinkles" he says "I think I'll Google homemade fondant right after I sculpt a pirate's treasure chest out of chocolate pound cake".
14. Overcomes the technically impossible. Sometimes too well. I'll never forget when the authorities showed up at our apartment because they detected that the aircraft navigation interference was coming from our living room.
15. Camaraderie. He will not only watch a Jane Austen with me but enjoy it.
16. Friendship. There is no one else I'd rather spend time with.
17. Conversation. It's fun with him. (Don't tell anyone, but he thinks there COULD be aliens. I just about asked for an annulment when I first discovered this, but it's all good now.)
18. Adventure. Like starting a business with zero capital, or camping with 4 little ones, or moving 10 times in 16 years, or throwing cranberries in the recipe.
19. Understanding. When the house is a mess, or his shirt isn't ironed, or I'm feeling blue.
20. Faithfulness. To follow the Lord, to lead his family, to love his wife.
21. Anticipation. Dreams, plans, time together. Looking forward to the next 16!
I love you, Ryan!
Thursday, June 9, 2011
For Phil
Today, I am wishing my brother a Happy Birthday. This is the brother closest to me in age, though that is 10 and 1/2 years. But it never quite felt like 10 and 1/2 because...well, because.
It must not have been easy to give up his "youngest" spot in the birth order to a surprise child like me, but he did--fairly graciously. Here is how he made me feel like part of the family and not just an add-on. In no particular order:
1) Tried to teach me all about his baseball cards--even got me to attempt counting them.
2) Took me to see the Phillies play the Portland Beavers. Wasn't too mad when I made us late to watch Mike Schmidt in batting practice. I think I was busy riding my bike with my friends and didn't get back to leave in time.
3) Repeatedly cheated me out of M&M's. "One for me, one for me, one for you."(Seriously. This is a fond memory. Or at least that is what he tells me.)
4) Somehow got me to promise to make his bed for an entire summer. (I think this was a deal where I got to watch ONE episode of Little House on the Prairie instead of Monday Night Baseball.)
5) Somehow got me to wrap all of his Christmas gifts from him--including my own.
6) Gave me the nick-name "Jo-Ugly" but at the same time encouraged me that this was "only a stage".
7) Encouraged me that I should go to Southwest Christian School. "I think this would be a good school." he said. "No way." I replied, " I think it's liberal." (Yep, I'm weird. Complicated story.)
8) He taught me to ride a bike.
9) Confronted me in my shyness and told me it was a form of selfishness and being stuck up. Made me mad but I guess he was right.
10) Taught me to hit an inside pitch. Couldn't teach me to throw. Hopeless.
11) Gave me boy advice that my husband thanks him for: "Boys like hard to get, but not impossible to get."
12) Sang at my wedding against his own wishes in order to honor mine.
13) Endured me hanging out in his room while trying to listen to the game. (Well, mostly endured. I remember getting picked up and tossed out a time or two.)
14) Let me hang out with him and his lovely fiancée--now wife. It's still one of my favorite things to do.
15) Instructed me on respecting the office of the president. I repeated a phrase I had heard from him and was told "You can't say that Jimmy Carter stinks anymore, Jill. He's the president now."
16) Gives me a call now and then to find out "what's goin' on".
It's the kind of stuff that made me belong. A shy girl with mostly grown and absent siblings, I craved any sibling time and interaction. I was very blessed to have it with him as much as I did.
I loved that he felt close enough to tease, to steal M&M's, to bestow a nick-name. It was the type of experience that gave me courage to add a fifth to my own aging family. I knew that closeness was possible even with years working hard to divide. I'm thankful for the genuine brother experience and count it one of the best parts of my life. He lives across the country now with his own fun family. Finances unfortunately dictate the frequency of our visits. But, oh, how cherished they are when they do happen. Happy Birthday, Philip! Thanks for the memories! Love ya! (Can this count as a card?)
It must not have been easy to give up his "youngest" spot in the birth order to a surprise child like me, but he did--fairly graciously. Here is how he made me feel like part of the family and not just an add-on. In no particular order:
1) Tried to teach me all about his baseball cards--even got me to attempt counting them.
2) Took me to see the Phillies play the Portland Beavers. Wasn't too mad when I made us late to watch Mike Schmidt in batting practice. I think I was busy riding my bike with my friends and didn't get back to leave in time.
3) Repeatedly cheated me out of M&M's. "One for me, one for me, one for you."(Seriously. This is a fond memory. Or at least that is what he tells me.)
4) Somehow got me to promise to make his bed for an entire summer. (I think this was a deal where I got to watch ONE episode of Little House on the Prairie instead of Monday Night Baseball.)
5) Somehow got me to wrap all of his Christmas gifts from him--including my own.
6) Gave me the nick-name "Jo-Ugly" but at the same time encouraged me that this was "only a stage".
7) Encouraged me that I should go to Southwest Christian School. "I think this would be a good school." he said. "No way." I replied, " I think it's liberal." (Yep, I'm weird. Complicated story.)
8) He taught me to ride a bike.
9) Confronted me in my shyness and told me it was a form of selfishness and being stuck up. Made me mad but I guess he was right.
10) Taught me to hit an inside pitch. Couldn't teach me to throw. Hopeless.
11) Gave me boy advice that my husband thanks him for: "Boys like hard to get, but not impossible to get."
12) Sang at my wedding against his own wishes in order to honor mine.
13) Endured me hanging out in his room while trying to listen to the game. (Well, mostly endured. I remember getting picked up and tossed out a time or two.)
14) Let me hang out with him and his lovely fiancée--now wife. It's still one of my favorite things to do.
15) Instructed me on respecting the office of the president. I repeated a phrase I had heard from him and was told "You can't say that Jimmy Carter stinks anymore, Jill. He's the president now."
16) Gives me a call now and then to find out "what's goin' on".
It's the kind of stuff that made me belong. A shy girl with mostly grown and absent siblings, I craved any sibling time and interaction. I was very blessed to have it with him as much as I did.
I loved that he felt close enough to tease, to steal M&M's, to bestow a nick-name. It was the type of experience that gave me courage to add a fifth to my own aging family. I knew that closeness was possible even with years working hard to divide. I'm thankful for the genuine brother experience and count it one of the best parts of my life. He lives across the country now with his own fun family. Finances unfortunately dictate the frequency of our visits. But, oh, how cherished they are when they do happen. Happy Birthday, Philip! Thanks for the memories! Love ya! (Can this count as a card?)
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Missing Editor
Well, my husband is out of town on business so you know what that means. That's right! I have thousands of unused words for the day (although Laura and Jennifer did get a share of them earlier--thank you, ladies, for the fellowship). So here I am ready to unleash them all on you--my kind reader. Can I be random? Because I am typically random in my conversations. I have lots of thoughts and half thoughts going on. If you care to keep reading I will share some of them with you in lieu of my man ( I actually hate that term " my man".)
1) I am thrilled it's just about summer break, largely because I like to sleep past 7--it doesn't have to be much past, but "past" nonetheless. One more week...
2) My mom gave away her car this week. She hasn't driven in about 3 years, but giving up her car was hard for her. It was a gift from my dad.
3) I'm bummed because I'm not sure I'll get a garden planted this year.
4) My brother's birthday is tomorrow. Hmmm.. I may even write a real post on that.
5) I am pondering the message found in John 15:11 lately. Wondering how it applies to me and if I am even capable of "asking in His name". So deceptive is my heart.
6) I am wondering if I can lose 10 -15 pounds by the 4th of July. I've been meaning to all year but haven't quite built up the wherewithal. Same story every year. Hoping it has a different ending this time. But that is doubtful 'cause the plot would have to change.
7)........................................................................
8)........maybe I used more words than I thought today.
9) This is a really lame blog.
10) Nobody's here to stop me from posting it.
1) I am thrilled it's just about summer break, largely because I like to sleep past 7--it doesn't have to be much past, but "past" nonetheless. One more week...
2) My mom gave away her car this week. She hasn't driven in about 3 years, but giving up her car was hard for her. It was a gift from my dad.
3) I'm bummed because I'm not sure I'll get a garden planted this year.
4) My brother's birthday is tomorrow. Hmmm.. I may even write a real post on that.
5) I am pondering the message found in John 15:11 lately. Wondering how it applies to me and if I am even capable of "asking in His name". So deceptive is my heart.
6) I am wondering if I can lose 10 -15 pounds by the 4th of July. I've been meaning to all year but haven't quite built up the wherewithal. Same story every year. Hoping it has a different ending this time. But that is doubtful 'cause the plot would have to change.
7)........................................................................
8)........maybe I used more words than I thought today.
9) This is a really lame blog.
10) Nobody's here to stop me from posting it.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
This Fabulous Morning
This fabulous ordinary morning, the Oregon sun is peering in my window--maybe not so ordinary around here.
This morning, my husband woke up early to drive 20 some minutes into Salem (the big city) to get the oil changed on my car. After that, he will replace the tires. He knows how much I dread these tasks--especially the oil change. The oil change guys love to make me feel bad about my car. They are NOT fabulous.
This morning, I was greeted with the explosively loud door knob rattle, as only a 1901 door knob can rattle when a two year old grabs hold. My sweet, pajama clad boy made his entrance, climbing up to my bed and whispered his request: "Thomas". So now, we are snuggled in my sunny room watching "Thomas".
This morning: ordinary yet made fabulous by the gifts. The gift of sunshine. The gift of a husband. The gift of a child. Every good gift is from above...
(Sorry for the cheesiness and over-use of "this morning" and "fabulous" My husband wasn't here to dial down the cheese factor for me. He was out, busy being fabulous.)
This morning, my husband woke up early to drive 20 some minutes into Salem (the big city) to get the oil changed on my car. After that, he will replace the tires. He knows how much I dread these tasks--especially the oil change. The oil change guys love to make me feel bad about my car. They are NOT fabulous.
This morning, I was greeted with the explosively loud door knob rattle, as only a 1901 door knob can rattle when a two year old grabs hold. My sweet, pajama clad boy made his entrance, climbing up to my bed and whispered his request: "Thomas". So now, we are snuggled in my sunny room watching "Thomas".
This morning: ordinary yet made fabulous by the gifts. The gift of sunshine. The gift of a husband. The gift of a child. Every good gift is from above...
(Sorry for the cheesiness and over-use of "this morning" and "fabulous" My husband wasn't here to dial down the cheese factor for me. He was out, busy being fabulous.)
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Cemeteries, Sunshine and A Toy School Bus
For the past few years Memorial Day has meant a day of honoring my mother. You see, she is "old school" about it and likes to spend it in the cemetery (or cemeteries), honoring her loved ones. She grew up going on family picnics on Memorial Day to the cemetery, and the whole family would place flowers at the graves of loved ones and spend the time cleaning off the headstones, pulling weeds, etc. It was their way of showing respect and remembering loved ones.
Since my dad passed away 6 years ago, we have joined with her and my sister in making the 2 hour trek to a tiny cemetery in the hills above our little "home town", bringing flowers to my dad's grave and those of several other family members. It's usually a cold, grey experience--it is Oregon after all. We usually take a picnic and sometimes meet up with my brother & sister-in-law. The kids are so sweet and take an exceptional interest in the experience. As solemn a task as it can be, they have great attitudes. The thing is, it is not exactly my husband's favorite thing to do. He uses a rare day off of work to drive 4 hours round trip for a 20 minute experience of placing flowers at the grave of someone who--quite frankly--couldn't care less about the flowers on his grave. (I feel horrible saying this--please don't misunderstand. We love my dad, but he is in heaven now and I don't think this is a huge deal for him.) My husband doesn't complain, but I know what he's thinking. He is very supportive of the ordeal because he cares about my mom too. We do it not only to remember my dad, but to honor my mom.
But this year we did something different. We had the opportunity to go to the beach today. But with how heavy our schedule has been, we didn't feel we could do the beach today, church tomorrow and the 5-6 hour cemetery trip on Monday. A choice would have to be made and I automatically threw out the beach trip because Monday seemed non-negotiable.
But you know, it hit me. Maybe this year, I could bless my husband. Maybe it was time to celebrate life. I emailed my sister and told her we'd love to do the beach if mom would go too, but that would mean we'd skip the cemetery this year. Amazingly, my mom understood. She agreed to come along to the beach, and so it was settled.
We played in the sand--in the sun. It was gorgeously warm. Our family got to be together in a joyous setting with laughter and play. I would not trade this day for a thousand roses at my dad's grave. The funny thing is, I found a little toy school bus at a gift shop and I purchased it for my two year old. My dad was a school bus driver as a bi-vocational pastor. He adored that job because of the kids. He always had a million stories to tell about his experiences. I think that he would have been pleased that this little grandson, whom he hasn't yet met, went to the beach today with grandma and came away with a toy school bus. I think that this year, that bus is my bouquet for my dad; given instead to my son. I'm certain my dad would approve.
Since my dad passed away 6 years ago, we have joined with her and my sister in making the 2 hour trek to a tiny cemetery in the hills above our little "home town", bringing flowers to my dad's grave and those of several other family members. It's usually a cold, grey experience--it is Oregon after all. We usually take a picnic and sometimes meet up with my brother & sister-in-law. The kids are so sweet and take an exceptional interest in the experience. As solemn a task as it can be, they have great attitudes. The thing is, it is not exactly my husband's favorite thing to do. He uses a rare day off of work to drive 4 hours round trip for a 20 minute experience of placing flowers at the grave of someone who--quite frankly--couldn't care less about the flowers on his grave. (I feel horrible saying this--please don't misunderstand. We love my dad, but he is in heaven now and I don't think this is a huge deal for him.) My husband doesn't complain, but I know what he's thinking. He is very supportive of the ordeal because he cares about my mom too. We do it not only to remember my dad, but to honor my mom.
But this year we did something different. We had the opportunity to go to the beach today. But with how heavy our schedule has been, we didn't feel we could do the beach today, church tomorrow and the 5-6 hour cemetery trip on Monday. A choice would have to be made and I automatically threw out the beach trip because Monday seemed non-negotiable.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
I'm At It Again
"So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."
I'm thinking too far down the road again. When I do that, I get myself into trouble. It's not necessarily trouble that any of you could detect. It's more of an anxiousness that eats at me. I can easily get myself into a tizzy at how things are versus what I think they should be. I've caught it building and building the last couple of days, and soon I won't be able to handle the tension I've created for myself so I will have to let it out with trying to fix things on my own.
It's not like it's that far down the road either. Really. Kind of. I mean. Next school year isn't so far away (as much as I'd like to think it is), so I should have a plan for my kids. And then there is: who will rent our house come August? Oh, and isn't it time to start work on a second adoption before our littlest grows up and I'm in dentures? And that will mean we need a car that seats eight. (We literally just paid off the one we have.) And: Wow, our oldest daughter turns 16 next year---sure would be nice to have a house that could accommodate a "friend party" if we wanted. And what about a bathtub? The little guy is about to outgrow the kitchen sink..... Yep, It's all up there. In my head. Right now. Making me anxious and crabby and just a little wacky. Struggling to give it to the One who can do anything about any of this.
As many of you know, our church just had it's very first ladies' retreat. And having the budget that we do, I was asked to do the first session. The subject of the retreat was on prayer. And as many of you gathered from my facebook posts, it was a challenge for me to compile my thoughts into an outline and verbally share them. God was faithful and helped it to come together, and by His grace, I think my session went OK. But what is funny is that my friend and pastor's wife, Laura, warned me. She warned me that when you teach on something, to be careful, because quite often God chooses to challenge you in that area. Well, Laura, you are so right!
I am so caught up right now in MY timeline and MY dreams, that I am starting to look anxiously about me. I want to jump in and get everything on track for MY plans to work out. But I know this isn't how it should be. God says that He wants me to cast my cares on Him. He wants to bear my burdens. HE has plans for me and I need to rest in them and wait on Him. "Preach it to yourself, Girl!" I'm telling myself. And so I will:
Isaiah 41:10 "Do not fear for I am with you; Do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you. Surely, I will uphold you with My righteous right hand."
I'm thinking too far down the road again. When I do that, I get myself into trouble. It's not necessarily trouble that any of you could detect. It's more of an anxiousness that eats at me. I can easily get myself into a tizzy at how things are versus what I think they should be. I've caught it building and building the last couple of days, and soon I won't be able to handle the tension I've created for myself so I will have to let it out with trying to fix things on my own.
It's not like it's that far down the road either. Really. Kind of. I mean. Next school year isn't so far away (as much as I'd like to think it is), so I should have a plan for my kids. And then there is: who will rent our house come August? Oh, and isn't it time to start work on a second adoption before our littlest grows up and I'm in dentures? And that will mean we need a car that seats eight. (We literally just paid off the one we have.) And: Wow, our oldest daughter turns 16 next year---sure would be nice to have a house that could accommodate a "friend party" if we wanted. And what about a bathtub? The little guy is about to outgrow the kitchen sink..... Yep, It's all up there. In my head. Right now. Making me anxious and crabby and just a little wacky. Struggling to give it to the One who can do anything about any of this.
As many of you know, our church just had it's very first ladies' retreat. And having the budget that we do, I was asked to do the first session. The subject of the retreat was on prayer. And as many of you gathered from my facebook posts, it was a challenge for me to compile my thoughts into an outline and verbally share them. God was faithful and helped it to come together, and by His grace, I think my session went OK. But what is funny is that my friend and pastor's wife, Laura, warned me. She warned me that when you teach on something, to be careful, because quite often God chooses to challenge you in that area. Well, Laura, you are so right!
I am so caught up right now in MY timeline and MY dreams, that I am starting to look anxiously about me. I want to jump in and get everything on track for MY plans to work out. But I know this isn't how it should be. God says that He wants me to cast my cares on Him. He wants to bear my burdens. HE has plans for me and I need to rest in them and wait on Him. "Preach it to yourself, Girl!" I'm telling myself. And so I will:
Isaiah 41:10 "Do not fear for I am with you; Do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you. Surely, I will uphold you with My righteous right hand."
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
The Hall of Sin
We have a back hallway that runs from the kitchen to our pantry and back bathroom and around to our living room. It has seen episodes of sneakiness before, but today it was the scene of two crimes--in a row. My youngest somehow managed to pull a pitcher of Crystal Lite off the counter without spilling it and carried it into the back hall--you know, where the carpet is? He raided the dishwasher for a cup and poured most of the contents onto the carpet, before being discovered. I finished cleaning up that mess and moved on to my laundry. For some reason I made another lap through that back hallway in time to find my little wonder boy into a bottle of cornflower blue food coloring. A lot of it! Despite the fact that BOTH he and I have blue hands now, at least the carpet was mostly spared. Let's just say that "cornflower blue" on skin translates into "hideous-bruise-what-happened-to-you?"looking blue. Wonder Boy is now in bed. And I am left wondering how to get this off us both before we are due at Parent Night at the school in 2 hours.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Gettin' Myself in Trouble Probably
Well, I have enjoyed writing and sharing with you this past week--maybe a little too much. You see I really should be studying hard to teach a session at our Ladies' Retreat which is coming up *gulp* next week. I'm not a teacher. I'm not a speaker. I'm more of a mom and a pretend writer and a people watcher. But when our lovely pastor's wife asked me if I'd be willing to do one session because she was in need (desperate need, I think) of someone to teach ONE of the sessions, I said that I would if she needed me. That was before. Before it started to be a reality. Before I realized that I'd actually have to open my mouth and speak for real. And definitely before I heard that the other speakers answered with "I'll have to pray about it" before they agreed. OOPS! Sign #1 that I'm maybe not the speaker who should be teaching a session on prayer. Needless to say, I'm prayin' now!!
So, here I am writing a final post until I get my thoughts in order and my outline complete. (No, it's not done yet, Laura--but no worries. *nervous laughter*) But now let me get to the purpose of this post. (Some of you may be surprised that it actually took me a whole week to broach this subject, because it is one that is important to me. And I will probably cover it again at some point.) It is this: Smaller churches need well-taught believers to be a part of them. I am NOT a retreat speaker AT ALL. But some of you out there are or could be. Some of you struggle with a lack of ministry because you go to a church saturated with "ministers". Have you ever asked yourself why? Your choice in a church home is made with many factors in mind--the foremost being the Word of God and how it is viewed and treated, hopefully. And I'm not saying that it is wrong to go to a large or even a MEGA-large church, but I DO think we should all consider this: Am I ministering effectively there? As believers we are all called to serve the body somehow. Are we doing it? Or are we going to the services, signing up for the cool programs offered, having our coffee and then heading home to a week of ??? For what are we being fed anyway? Are we teaching our kids that when THEY head out into the world they only look for what a church can offer THEM? I know, that I am probably stepping in it here. Please keep in mind that I am a PK from small, struggling churches who would have been completely blessed by another family coming along side and encouraging our little fellowship. I know I will probably actually get some comments on THIS post and they won't all be favorable, so let me say: I am NOT saying everyone should leave their big church and go find a little one to serve. I'm just saying every believer should at least consider it.
So, here I am writing a final post until I get my thoughts in order and my outline complete. (No, it's not done yet, Laura--but no worries. *nervous laughter*) But now let me get to the purpose of this post. (Some of you may be surprised that it actually took me a whole week to broach this subject, because it is one that is important to me. And I will probably cover it again at some point.) It is this: Smaller churches need well-taught believers to be a part of them. I am NOT a retreat speaker AT ALL. But some of you out there are or could be. Some of you struggle with a lack of ministry because you go to a church saturated with "ministers". Have you ever asked yourself why? Your choice in a church home is made with many factors in mind--the foremost being the Word of God and how it is viewed and treated, hopefully. And I'm not saying that it is wrong to go to a large or even a MEGA-large church, but I DO think we should all consider this: Am I ministering effectively there? As believers we are all called to serve the body somehow. Are we doing it? Or are we going to the services, signing up for the cool programs offered, having our coffee and then heading home to a week of ??? For what are we being fed anyway? Are we teaching our kids that when THEY head out into the world they only look for what a church can offer THEM? I know, that I am probably stepping in it here. Please keep in mind that I am a PK from small, struggling churches who would have been completely blessed by another family coming along side and encouraging our little fellowship. I know I will probably actually get some comments on THIS post and they won't all be favorable, so let me say: I am NOT saying everyone should leave their big church and go find a little one to serve. I'm just saying every believer should at least consider it.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Last Year's Mother's Day Post--A Classic for Us & I'm Too Lazy To Post For This Year
Mother's Day 2010: You can kind of see my children's personalities by how they have handled Mother's Day this year.
My oldest daughter, very kind and sweet, gave me a card with a water color of a beautiful flower she had painted herself. It was still wet--she is very last minute like me but has twice the talent--thankfully for her. She just had a very busy social-life-type weekend is all. Also, she sacrificed a bag of her own chocolates to give me, which I recognize as one of the higher manifestations of true love. It was dark chocolate.
My oldest son came stumbling into the kitchen this morning with hair all sticky-up and thrust a 5 dollar bill at me and said: "Happy Mother's Day!" Then later he found a wrinkled up Penney's ad in the car and upped it to $30 if I wanted to pick something off the jewelry page in that price range. That must come from me too--though something in my memory says maybe his Dad has done that before...
My youngest daughter had a Hallmark card all signed and sealed -- with a pretty bow even. She had purchased it well ahead of time with her own money. She even added a very formal " May God bless you" in it-- which nearly makes me weep at the sweetness of it.
My 10-year-old boy was in the shower while all of this was going on. I guess it was a "Mother's Day" shower---good enough! I will count my blessings!
The little one was holding a pretty orange flower and cooing and smiling all over it. Upon coaxing he managed to hand it over to me for about 2 seconds. He liked the flower. It was very sad when its head popped off and he wasn't allowed to eat it.
They all are so unique and wonderful and I'm still puzzling why God would entrust them all to me. Doesn't He realize I don't have a clue? Anyway..their unique and ever so sweet ways of making me feel special today have blessed me beyond measure. I'm thankful I get to spend my days with them. Lord, equip me to guide them to You!
My oldest daughter, very kind and sweet, gave me a card with a water color of a beautiful flower she had painted herself. It was still wet--she is very last minute like me but has twice the talent--thankfully for her. She just had a very busy social-life-type weekend is all. Also, she sacrificed a bag of her own chocolates to give me, which I recognize as one of the higher manifestations of true love. It was dark chocolate.
My oldest son came stumbling into the kitchen this morning with hair all sticky-up and thrust a 5 dollar bill at me and said: "Happy Mother's Day!" Then later he found a wrinkled up Penney's ad in the car and upped it to $30 if I wanted to pick something off the jewelry page in that price range. That must come from me too--though something in my memory says maybe his Dad has done that before...
My youngest daughter had a Hallmark card all signed and sealed -- with a pretty bow even. She had purchased it well ahead of time with her own money. She even added a very formal " May God bless you" in it-- which nearly makes me weep at the sweetness of it.
My 10-year-old boy was in the shower while all of this was going on. I guess it was a "Mother's Day" shower---good enough! I will count my blessings!
The little one was holding a pretty orange flower and cooing and smiling all over it. Upon coaxing he managed to hand it over to me for about 2 seconds. He liked the flower. It was very sad when its head popped off and he wasn't allowed to eat it.
They all are so unique and wonderful and I'm still puzzling why God would entrust them all to me. Doesn't He realize I don't have a clue? Anyway..their unique and ever so sweet ways of making me feel special today have blessed me beyond measure. I'm thankful I get to spend my days with them. Lord, equip me to guide them to You!
Friday, May 6, 2011
My Mom
She married my dad in the summer of 1955. She made a lovely June bride and he was very proud of her. My parents didn't really have a honeymoon as there wasn't a lot of time or money for such things, but in an effort to enjoy the comforts of the time and mark their beginning together as special, my dad purchased air plane tickets to make the journey from Portland to their new home in North Idaho (probably Spokane airport). My dad's overture backfired and my mom was miserably air sick the whole way. He took her swimming in Lake Couer d Alene when they arrived and she got Pneumonia. Poor Dad. But this isn't about my dad. My mom was happy to be with my dad and eager to please her new husband. She was willing to follow where he led no matter the outcome. And this less-than-ideal beginning was a pretty good gauge of how things would generally go.
My parents loved serving the Lord together and were committed to going where He led and doing whatever needed doing in order to minister. My dad chose well his wife of fifty years. I'm not sure too many women would have been willing to do what she did. There was very little money and sometimes almost none. They church planted a couple of times--from scratch--no big mega church to sweep in with support and bands and cool brochures. The other ministries were in rural areas--tiny churches. My dad often had to be bi-vocational to pay the bills. My mom was committed to be at home with her children and readily available to help Dad in whatever way needed. She canned hundreds of jars of..everything, every summer. She had a garden, she sewed clothes, she taught Sunday School, led VBS, had youth group meetings in her home, led Bible studies, counseled women, practiced hospitality to strangers, held my dad's head (yes, you read that right. He would pass out with stomach troubles and nearly have a seizure.) made jam and reared 4 children who love the Lord.
My mom lived in houses not of her choosing. There were cramped church parsonages or houses that the church might secure that would "work just fine". There was a little house on a muddy dairy farm and the house on the river, there was even a time when she had to live IN the church and then the house I arrived at--across from the church. She put up with people showing up at all hours wherever she lived, often endured unfair criticism, and graciously and gratefully accepted all manner of food gifts (she was given fish bones on more than one occasion--can you imagine??)
Despite the lack of resources, my mom always managed to put a beautiful meal on the table. She was a yummy cook and practically famous for her fried chicken, chicken and dumplings, potato salad, and homemade rolls. Give her a few potatoes, some onion, and some bacon grease and she'd make the tastiest dish on the planet. I have often thought that a true cook is not someone who uses all the beautiful and rare ingredients to make a particular dish, but rather one who can find the few things in her cupboard or garden and make something delicious with what is available. This was my mom.
She isn't ALL sugar and spice though. You wouldn't DARE back talk her. If so, you'd end up regretting it--usually with the flavor of soap residue lingering in your mouth. She has been known to tell an armed stranger to put his gun away. And then there was the time she confronted a male in the women's restroom of the campground. (You don't mess with my mom.) She was never shy about using paint paddles or wooden spoons or an old belt to instruct either. (Not even on me, despite what my brothers or sister may tell you.) She prayed over JW's--even blocked the door so she could finish the prayer. She was my dad's biggest fan and also his toughest critic. Check-writing/bill paying day wasn't exactly the most pleasant day of the month either--so she was very human. And oh goodness, if one of my siblings decides to show her this post....
And with all her facets of life, the first thing you would notice in her home in the morning, was the smell of coffee and her curled in her chair with her Bible opened in front of her. She tried to please the Lord in all respects and instructed us that this was the most important thing. Her life verse was Romans 12:1 "I appeal to you therefore, brothers,by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship."
While her life has not been story book perfect and maybe less than ideal, she made it happy and secure for us. And she was faithful--to my dad and to the Lord. She is still there as an encourager, supporter and gift-giver to her family. While much of what once defined her daily life is beyond her capabilities now, her work endures. She showed us that the rewards are not of this world. That God provides. That her family was special. That marriage was sacred. That Scripture was powerful. That prayers are answered. That books should be read. That music is necessary. That to be friendly is better than to be popular. That underwear really is a Christmas gift. That jello is a food group. That sharing is joyful. That soap tastes bad. That furniture doesn't have to be the latest thing (she had the same couch for 30 years). That beauty is in relationships. That you eat what is put before you. That you really don't need a full meal on Sunday nights. That you dust where you think no one will look. That sacrifice can be in the very practical details. That your home is where your family is. That God is good. That He doesn't forget your labor of love and work of service.
And neither will I. Happy 80th Birthday to my Mom on a life well-lived.
My parents loved serving the Lord together and were committed to going where He led and doing whatever needed doing in order to minister. My dad chose well his wife of fifty years. I'm not sure too many women would have been willing to do what she did. There was very little money and sometimes almost none. They church planted a couple of times--from scratch--no big mega church to sweep in with support and bands and cool brochures. The other ministries were in rural areas--tiny churches. My dad often had to be bi-vocational to pay the bills. My mom was committed to be at home with her children and readily available to help Dad in whatever way needed. She canned hundreds of jars of..everything, every summer. She had a garden, she sewed clothes, she taught Sunday School, led VBS, had youth group meetings in her home, led Bible studies, counseled women, practiced hospitality to strangers, held my dad's head (yes, you read that right. He would pass out with stomach troubles and nearly have a seizure.) made jam and reared 4 children who love the Lord.
My mom lived in houses not of her choosing. There were cramped church parsonages or houses that the church might secure that would "work just fine". There was a little house on a muddy dairy farm and the house on the river, there was even a time when she had to live IN the church and then the house I arrived at--across from the church. She put up with people showing up at all hours wherever she lived, often endured unfair criticism, and graciously and gratefully accepted all manner of food gifts (she was given fish bones on more than one occasion--can you imagine??)
Despite the lack of resources, my mom always managed to put a beautiful meal on the table. She was a yummy cook and practically famous for her fried chicken, chicken and dumplings, potato salad, and homemade rolls. Give her a few potatoes, some onion, and some bacon grease and she'd make the tastiest dish on the planet. I have often thought that a true cook is not someone who uses all the beautiful and rare ingredients to make a particular dish, but rather one who can find the few things in her cupboard or garden and make something delicious with what is available. This was my mom.
She isn't ALL sugar and spice though. You wouldn't DARE back talk her. If so, you'd end up regretting it--usually with the flavor of soap residue lingering in your mouth. She has been known to tell an armed stranger to put his gun away. And then there was the time she confronted a male in the women's restroom of the campground. (You don't mess with my mom.) She was never shy about using paint paddles or wooden spoons or an old belt to instruct either. (Not even on me, despite what my brothers or sister may tell you.) She prayed over JW's--even blocked the door so she could finish the prayer. She was my dad's biggest fan and also his toughest critic. Check-writing/bill paying day wasn't exactly the most pleasant day of the month either--so she was very human. And oh goodness, if one of my siblings decides to show her this post....
And with all her facets of life, the first thing you would notice in her home in the morning, was the smell of coffee and her curled in her chair with her Bible opened in front of her. She tried to please the Lord in all respects and instructed us that this was the most important thing. Her life verse was Romans 12:1 "I appeal to you therefore, brothers,by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship."
While her life has not been story book perfect and maybe less than ideal, she made it happy and secure for us. And she was faithful--to my dad and to the Lord. She is still there as an encourager, supporter and gift-giver to her family. While much of what once defined her daily life is beyond her capabilities now, her work endures. She showed us that the rewards are not of this world. That God provides. That her family was special. That marriage was sacred. That Scripture was powerful. That prayers are answered. That books should be read. That music is necessary. That to be friendly is better than to be popular. That underwear really is a Christmas gift. That jello is a food group. That sharing is joyful. That soap tastes bad. That furniture doesn't have to be the latest thing (she had the same couch for 30 years). That beauty is in relationships. That you eat what is put before you. That you really don't need a full meal on Sunday nights. That you dust where you think no one will look. That sacrifice can be in the very practical details. That your home is where your family is. That God is good. That He doesn't forget your labor of love and work of service.
And neither will I. Happy 80th Birthday to my Mom on a life well-lived.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Across the Black Top
I learned to ride my bike in a church parking lot. We lived next door to the church. My dad was the pastor and we lived in the "parsonage". My entire world was that couple of acres on Elm Street. It included a creek with a fort and a swamp, 2 old chicken coops and an old barn that was used by my oldest brother for breeding hamsters. The yard held several fir trees that could probably have been classified as "old growth" and strung between them was a hammock--made by the hand of my ever-crafty grandmother who wove it out of bread bags. (She didn't make it through the Depression just to throw out bread bags.)
The two church buildings were in plain view of our home and separated from it by beautiful, smooth black-top. ( I remember when it was poured.) Almost whenever I fancied, I could skip across it to pay a visit to my dad and his sweet, elderly secretary Frieda. When I went through my fear-of being-abducted stage ( I had made the mistake of reading a Reader's Digest "Drama in Real Life"), I would make my mom watch me from the kitchen window until I reached the other side and safely ascended the church stairs. Whenever there was something going on at church, it seemed like the parking lot was full of kids running crazily around afterwards. We might even venture back to our yard and terrorize each other on the hammock. It was an amazing experience to have the entire church property as your playground. I still remember my brother holding on to my blue bike with awesome banana seat and running behind while I wobbled and peddled and screamed for him to not let go. He was pretty patient for a high school kid with better stuff to do.
On the days with events I wasn't a part of, I would sit in a chair at the window and stare across the parking lot and watch the comings and goings. Of particular interest to me were weddings. I loved to watch the bride and groom come sweeping down the stairs, being showered with rice or bird seed (remember bird seed?) and run to their decorated car. Lines of cars would chase the newlyweds, honking all the way. And then, there was the time I had strep throat and missed out on my brother & sister-in-law's Oregon wedding reception. I was left at home to sit in that chair and watch my friends run and play in my yard while the mature guests ate cake in the fellowship hall and missed out on seeing me in my flower-girl finery. It was almost more than I could take!
Various other moments come to mind where the parking lot was as far as I was allowed to see. The dieter's support group's arrival, teenagers arriving and loading up on retreat bound buses. Scroungy looking people pulling in for a hand-out or free counseling. This was my view as a young child growing up. It offered all the possibilities for adventure and diversity that I could hope for. If I were lucky, the cars pulling up would have a passel of kids they'd let out and I'd run out to play. If not, there was always the bike to ride.
The two church buildings were in plain view of our home and separated from it by beautiful, smooth black-top. ( I remember when it was poured.) Almost whenever I fancied, I could skip across it to pay a visit to my dad and his sweet, elderly secretary Frieda. When I went through my fear-of being-abducted stage ( I had made the mistake of reading a Reader's Digest "Drama in Real Life"), I would make my mom watch me from the kitchen window until I reached the other side and safely ascended the church stairs. Whenever there was something going on at church, it seemed like the parking lot was full of kids running crazily around afterwards. We might even venture back to our yard and terrorize each other on the hammock. It was an amazing experience to have the entire church property as your playground. I still remember my brother holding on to my blue bike with awesome banana seat and running behind while I wobbled and peddled and screamed for him to not let go. He was pretty patient for a high school kid with better stuff to do.
On the days with events I wasn't a part of, I would sit in a chair at the window and stare across the parking lot and watch the comings and goings. Of particular interest to me were weddings. I loved to watch the bride and groom come sweeping down the stairs, being showered with rice or bird seed (remember bird seed?) and run to their decorated car. Lines of cars would chase the newlyweds, honking all the way. And then, there was the time I had strep throat and missed out on my brother & sister-in-law's Oregon wedding reception. I was left at home to sit in that chair and watch my friends run and play in my yard while the mature guests ate cake in the fellowship hall and missed out on seeing me in my flower-girl finery. It was almost more than I could take!
Various other moments come to mind where the parking lot was as far as I was allowed to see. The dieter's support group's arrival, teenagers arriving and loading up on retreat bound buses. Scroungy looking people pulling in for a hand-out or free counseling. This was my view as a young child growing up. It offered all the possibilities for adventure and diversity that I could hope for. If I were lucky, the cars pulling up would have a passel of kids they'd let out and I'd run out to play. If not, there was always the bike to ride.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Yep. That's right.
I am sitting here wondering why I have a blog. I don't have much amazing to share. I'm about as unaccomplished a gal as you'll find. Heaven knows this won't be about my amazing knowledge of....anything. And it certainly won't be about crafts. I'm not a "couponer" ( is that what you call them?), so you can forget about saving money. I WISH it were about decorating, but history has shown that if my house is looking put together--there must be a "For Sale" sign in the yard. While I am a homeschool mom, I am the first to say that I am not a "homeschool mom". You may find an occasional lesson God is trying very hard to teach me, but I am no devotional writer or theologian. Recipes are nice, but nope, I'll leave that to the professionals. And if you are hoping for tips on organizing, well I can provide lots of "before shots". So why AM I doing this? Honestly, I am doing this for fun. For me. For Ryan. ( Because for some reason he wants me to.) There is something satisfying to me by sorting through my life with written words--of finding humor where I can and acknowledging God's sovereign hand in the twists and turns. It is delightful to recount the joys of motherhood and the spice of marriage. While I am acquainted with the ordinary, the unspectacular, I am surprised by the fulfillment and the beauty, the laughter that has accompanied it. So.....I'm gonna blog.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
I Remember
I remember holding a newborn daughter and shuddering at what evil this world held. I remember looking at two precious boys and wondering what their future would require of them. I remember a little 5 year old girl who suggested to her mommy that we put up his picture on telephone poles in our neighborhood, as her sweet, practical way of doing what she could. I remember the horror, the fear. Tonight, I rejoice that the instigator is caught to face the Righteous Judge. But I WILL not dance. I will not be as they were when unimaginable evil befell our land--though that was unprovoked and this is just deserts. I will remember that we are "under God". We are Americans. We ought to be better than that.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
A Pretty Mt Angel Farm and God's plan vs. Mine
Last night as we were headed up to a friend's house in Beaverton, we drove the road as we so often do between Mt Angel and Gervais. This road takes us past another friend's farm. The gray skies had parted just a bit and the golden sun was casting a beautiful glow on their neatly planted Philbert trees and pretty red buildings. As I took in the view, I was reminded of a conversation my husband and I had about 5 years ago while temporarily living in Keizer. He had just returned from this farm and first meeting with our friends about starting a Bible Study in their home. My husband told me how beautiful it was out there on their Mt Angel farm and said, "It's so nice out there, Jill. It makes me want to move out there. Are you sure you want to move back to Beaverton?" If you have ever seen Sense and Sensibility and the scene where Elinor's half-brother suggests inviting Elinor to come stay with him and Fanny for a while and then Fanny's brother looks at John with a gaping, dorky, speechless stare, then that is how I think I reacted. My brain was NOT ready to consider that. We had a plan in place and that suggestion was on an entirely different road. I was not a very open-minded wife, shall we say. Anyway, as I looked at that farm last night and realized that we pretty much lived out here now, I was able to smile and even chuckle at how feeble MY plans are. "How'd we get HERE?" I asked him. But I was able (at least last night) to say it with a peacefulness and thankfulness and joy that I am not running my life like I think I am. And you know? It IS beautiful out here.
Friday, February 11, 2011
I Think We Need To Step Up
Well, so as many of you know, I was NOT happy about my jury summons. I have 5 children. One of these children is under the age of 2 (for another month) and constantly testing gravity, toilets, doorknobs, and the patience of cats, etc. Three of them I homeschool and we are already behind a good 2 weeks. And ALL of them had recently been left out of a most lovely, week long vacation. I was NOT happy about leaving them again so soon. To further complicate matters, my husband had 3 days of important meetings and would not be available at all to offer help in any way. ( I tried telling him that HE at least wouldn't be in contempt of court if he missed.) I also despise being all by myself in new "people situations". This would include (but not be limited to): finding parking in an unfamiliar area, locating an elusive jury entrance and going through security, finding a place to sit in a room with NO extra chairs for personal space/comfort, sitting in uncomfortable silence with complete strangers, waiting for my fate to be announced,and ESPECIALLY speaking up and trying to make a clear point in front of strangers.
But I told myself that I WAS a big girl after all and that I COULD act like one and that God would take care of the kids and "so what" if we didn't finish school by June 1st-ish. I had no legitimate excuse in that I was not over the age of 70, had no illness or condition, and no pressing duties ( my kids would be home alone, but I knew they were capable and God would take care of them.) So, I sucked it up and went.
I had a sinking feeling the entire time I was in the big jury room. I was between two guys with colds. I prayed for my kids to be safe. I felt guilty for asking for the $10 instead of donating it to "enhancing the comfort of future jurors". I tried to remember that God was is control and things don't happen by accident.
Then, they announced that one of the 3 trials had been postponed and they were going to let 50 of us go. I was surprised to find that I was not that devastated when my name was not called. We were then shown an orientation video to tell us what to expect, etc and to try and stir our patriotic feelings. It began to sink in that we have this right to a trial by jury. That is no small deal. That somebody's future would rest in complete stranger's hands. You get the picture. I'm kind of an idealist. I see things fairly black and white. I'm easily stirred. I felt like a dork for being so easily stirred by a county video and I felt guilty for feeling like a dork. But even as they let another 50 people go because somebody pled guilty, I knew that God was in control. If I was supposed to be on that jury, I was willing. If not, I'd soon be driving home-- good for another 2 years.
I tell you my thoughts because I think I'm normal. (I think.) Most of us don't like to be told we HAVE to do anything. It's part of our American independence and partly, human nature. A lot of us don't have a lot of time to give up.** Some have important appointments. Most moms I know don't find it easy to leave behind their children and their duties (some truly can't). Most career people I know do have meetings and deadlines and responsibilities. But I think if we are completely honest, most of us can postpone those things, find childcare, show up for a day--be "Big girls" so to speak.
It is a sacrifice--for some harder than others, but I think we need to do it. If all the common sense people who are taking great care of their children, who's company depends on them, if they all defer or are excused, we are doing those families and companies a dis-service. We end up with verdicts that leave us watching the evening news and shaking our heads. We pray that people of wisdom WILL step up if, heaven forbid, WE end up a Plaintiff, Deffendant or Victim.
But I told myself that I WAS a big girl after all and that I COULD act like one and that God would take care of the kids and "so what" if we didn't finish school by June 1st-ish. I had no legitimate excuse in that I was not over the age of 70, had no illness or condition, and no pressing duties ( my kids would be home alone, but I knew they were capable and God would take care of them.) So, I sucked it up and went.
I had a sinking feeling the entire time I was in the big jury room. I was between two guys with colds. I prayed for my kids to be safe. I felt guilty for asking for the $10 instead of donating it to "enhancing the comfort of future jurors". I tried to remember that God was is control and things don't happen by accident.
Then, they announced that one of the 3 trials had been postponed and they were going to let 50 of us go. I was surprised to find that I was not that devastated when my name was not called. We were then shown an orientation video to tell us what to expect, etc and to try and stir our patriotic feelings. It began to sink in that we have this right to a trial by jury. That is no small deal. That somebody's future would rest in complete stranger's hands. You get the picture. I'm kind of an idealist. I see things fairly black and white. I'm easily stirred. I felt like a dork for being so easily stirred by a county video and I felt guilty for feeling like a dork. But even as they let another 50 people go because somebody pled guilty, I knew that God was in control. If I was supposed to be on that jury, I was willing. If not, I'd soon be driving home-- good for another 2 years.
I tell you my thoughts because I think I'm normal. (I think.) Most of us don't like to be told we HAVE to do anything. It's part of our American independence and partly, human nature. A lot of us don't have a lot of time to give up.** Some have important appointments. Most moms I know don't find it easy to leave behind their children and their duties (some truly can't). Most career people I know do have meetings and deadlines and responsibilities. But I think if we are completely honest, most of us can postpone those things, find childcare, show up for a day--be "Big girls" so to speak.
It is a sacrifice--for some harder than others, but I think we need to do it. If all the common sense people who are taking great care of their children, who's company depends on them, if they all defer or are excused, we are doing those families and companies a dis-service. We end up with verdicts that leave us watching the evening news and shaking our heads. We pray that people of wisdom WILL step up if, heaven forbid, WE end up a Plaintiff, Deffendant or Victim.
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