Merry Christmas!

Christmas Party

Monday I awoke and decided to take a break from all the Christmas "to dos."  "Why not have a Christmas party?" I thought to myself.  Matt and Grace wouldn't be able to attend, so we'd have to do without them.  Nevertheless, I decided we should have a party.  I told the kids my plan.

"If you get a few chores done while I'm gone at Walmart, we'll have a Christmas party when I get home," I said.  Needless to say, several chores were completed before I was able to finish writing my grocery list and head out the door.

Before I left Walmart, I stopped by the in-store Subway to pick up a couple of salads for Liz and me. A few weeks ago, sister-in-law told me that Subway now makes salads.  Or maybe they've been doing that for awhile and Jessica and I are just slow to catch on, which is likely the case.  Anyway, Liz and I highly recommend the Spicy Italian chopped salad with oil and vinegar--extra pepperonis, please.

On the way home, I stopped at McDonald's to pick up lunch for the other kids.  We rarely eat at McDonald's, but our dear friend generously gifted each of the kids with gift cards this year, so cheeseburgers and fries for our Christmas party it was.

As I drove home, I mentally thought through the party agenda.  I knew the kids had used all of our the balloons in our party box, so that wasn't an option.  Confetti . . . umm . . .  negatory--too messy.  I didn't get much further in my thinking than that before I got home.  I decided to wing it.  It's all in the sell, right?

I walked through the door and yelled, "Christmas party!  Time for the Christmas party!  We need Christmas music!"  Paul put Bing Crosby's Christmas album in the CD player.  I handed out the food. The kids thoroughly enjoyed their lunches.  "Thank, you, Mom!" they kept saying.  After we ate, I broke out one of the cans of Dark Chocolate Peppermint Rocha that I'd gotten on Black Friday.  So far so good.  The kids thought the party was going great.

I then printed out nativity scenes by Joel.  I gave each of the kids a new box of colored pencils from my stash and they set to work.  I read Little House on the Prairie (this is now our third time through the series) while the kids colored.  The timing could not have been more perfect as we read the chapter entitled, "Mr. Edwards Meets Santa Claus." Isaac colored his entire nativity scene in his favorite color, green.  He was very proud of himself.

We then all settled down for a long winter's nap (well, maybe not the long part) so that we could wake up with renewed energy to tackle our Christmas "to do" list.  I'd deem our Christmas party a success and just what the doctor ordered.

Serving Up Cheer

We had a crummy time of it last week, so I woke up on Friday morning determined to bring a better mood to the house.  I whipped up a batch of America's Test Kitchen pancakes and put them on the griddle in the shape of snowmen.  For eyes and buttons, I used the blueberries that Matt so painstakingly picked in July.  The same blueberries that I so painstakingly picked through, washed and froze for winter use (there were a lotta weeds in those buggers).

The kids were tickled.  I got the "Mom of the Year Award."  Since I could only fit two snowmen on the griddle at one time, folks had to wait their turn to taste the culinary delights.  Jude claimed his snowman as it baked on the griddle.  He had one critique of his chosen creation, "Mom, his eye looks funny."  One blueberry was decidedly bigger than the other, giving the snowman a rather deranged appearance.  I swapped the snowman's eye for a button that was more proportionately pleasing and Jude was happy.

As I baked the snowman pancakes on one griddle, I had protein pancakes for Matt, the big girls and me going on our other griddle.  I scurried between the two griddles, ladling and flipping.  Joel said, "Wow Mom, you've got quite the operation going here."  Yep, the story of my life, son.  The story of my life.

Who's the weird One?

Isaac has always comforted himself by sucking his thumb and rubbing his ear.  His preference, though, is to rub someone else's ear.  Often times I glance over when we are in church and see him sitting on his Daddy's lap, sucking his thumb and rubbing Daddy's ear.

The fact is, most of Isaac's siblings won't stand for ear rubbing, but Joseph will, only because he isn't big enough to get away.  The other day I was sitting on the couch with the little boys.  It was getting close to quiet time.  I had Joseph on my lap.  Isaac was sitting right next to me.  He was sucking his thumb and rubbing Joseph's ear.

"Poor Joseph," I said, "He always has to have his ear rubbed."

Isaac took his thumb out of his mouth and said, "Yeah.  Weird!"

Reformation 2014

Our family did host our annual Reformation party this year on Oct. 31.  We didn't have as many people as usual, which made the whole thing more low key.  Less stress made for a more pleasant evening, at least for me anyway.

This year's theme was the Scottish Covenanters.  Grace did an awesome job of heading up game construction in her precious moments of free time.  Elizabeth, Paul, Lydia and even the little boys all worked very hard in the days leading up to the party to make the evening a success.

We had a lovely time of sharing food, fellowship, games and worship.  We even ended the evening with our own conventicle around a bonfire.

Unfortunately, Grandma Dianne was the only one to think to take any pictures.  The Scottish theme was a good excuse to break out the Macduff plaid.  (Matt wore a Macduff plaid tam, but his "kilt" was not Macduff plaid--it was an old flannel sheet.)

A New House Rule

This rule is not one I ever anticipated having to make, but here it is:   Don't pee on your brother's shoes. (Just because you're mad at your brother, does not mean you can pee on his cowboy boots.)

Paul is 13, Part II

When Matt and I were deciding who to ask to Paul's thirteenth birthday party, we knew we wanted to invite men who have poured into Paul's life.  Those men were gracious enough to pick out Bible verses and write letters about manhood to Paul.  It's our hope that Paul will refer to these items in the years to come when he needs encouragement to stay on the narrow road and to fight the good fight.

One person we invited to write to Paul was Rob Bixby (aka Apostle P).  This is the man that Paul asked to sharpen his Dad's knife this past spring.  Paul is a huge fan of the Apostle P You Tube channel.  Mr. Bixby lives across the country, so we knew he couldn't attend Paul's party, but we asked him if he'd be able to write to Paul.  This was a big favor to ask of a stranger, but he did not disappoint.

The other day Matt and I received an email from Mr. Bixby,  He was holding a knife giveaway on his You Tube channel and he wanted to give one of the knives to Paul as a late birthday present.  He told us to watch the announcement of the winners video later that afternoon, in which he intended to announce Paul as a winner.  We were thrilled.

So Matt asked Paul if he knew that the Apostle P was doing a knife giveaway.  Dumb question.  Paul proceeded to name all the knives he was giving away.  Matt took a break from his work to set up our t.v. to stream You Tube.  Paul had no clue what was about to happen.  I walked into the family room and asked, "What are you guys watching?  Who is this guy?" to add to the ruse.

When the Apostle P announced that Paul was the winner of a small Northwoods fixed blade knife donated by Derrick Bohn of KnivesShipFree.com, his eyes bugged out and his jaw dropped.   Paul has wanted a fixed blade for a long time and this was completely unexpected. Needless to say, our son was elated.  Later, when Paul was talking to me more about the knife, he sighed.  It was the type of sigh I hope to one day hear from him when he tells me he has found the woman the Lord wants him to marry.  Until then, I'm happy that knives are the only thing that will elicit that type of sigh from my boy.

As for Paul's Mom and Dad, we were so encouraged by the Lord's provision of a knife for Paul.  Such a small gift in God's economy, but one only the Lord and his parents knew he wanted.  Our family has been going through a bit of a rough patch lately and it cheered us immensely to know that God has His eyes on us.  He hears.  He sees.  He knows.  He is aware of even the smallest details.  What an awesome God we serve!

"And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.  Phil. 4:19

(As I understand it, this knife is quite the knife.  It's heirloom quality.  We made sure Paul knows that.  Also, a knife is certainly not a "need," but it sure is cool that the Lord delights to give His children gifts.  Paul has not been begging for a fixed blade, but Matt and I both knew he really, really wanted one.)

Here's the video of the Apostle P making the announcement (it's at about 5 min. in and lasts about 2 min.):

Paul is 13, Part I

Paul hit a milestone at the end of September.  In our family, we make a pretty big deal of 13th birthdays.  As parents, we want our kids to know that there comes a time in one's life when the business of becoming an adult comes to the fore front.  Fun is certainly not to be eliminated from one's life, but this world is not a playground, it's a battle ground and the time of the teen years should be redeemed, not squandered.

 Each of Paul's two older sisters received cedar chests for their thirteenth birthdays, so Matt and I found ourselves in a bit of a quandary when it came to deciding what to give our firstborn son.  Matt put a lot of thought and prayer into what we should do for the birthday celebration.  After all, Matt knew a precedent would be set for Paul's four younger brothers when they each turn 13.

Matt finally settled on giving Paul an old Army trunk (correct term--footlocker) that was from Paul's great-grandfather, who served in the Korean war.  We ordered a few things to put in the trunk, including a couple of books.  The Pilgrim's Progress is a family favorite and The Wealth of Nations is a book Matt thought would be good reading for a boy who is on the road to manhood.

We had the birthday party at our church so that we could accommodate a larger crowd.  Our pastor, friends, Paul's grandmas and grandpas, godparents and a great aunt and uncle attended.  We started the evening with a dinner of Paul's favorites--ham, cheesy potatoes, his sister's homemade rolls, salad and green beans (which Paul didn't care about, but his mom did).  For dessert we had a traditional family celebration cake, Texas sheet cake.

We then had a time of blessing and worship.  We started with prayer and the singing of  "Holy, Holy, Holy."  Matt then gave a talk on 1 Corinthians 11:7--"For a man ought not to cover his head, since he is the image and glory of God, but woman is the glory of man."  and 1 Corinthians 16:13-14 " Be watchful, stand firm in the faith, act like men, be strong.  Let all that you do be done in love."

I gave a little talk on Hebrews 11:24-26--" By faith Moses, when he was grown up, refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter, choosing rather to be mistreated with the people of God than to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of sin. He considered the reproach of Christ greater wealth than the treasures of Egypt, for he was looking to the reward." 

Matt asked each of the guests to bring a Bible verse for Paul to the party.  These were read aloud and then the footlocker was presented to Paul.  Paul's Great Uncle Keith also added a piece of advice he received from his father (my Grandpa Paul):  "Don't marry a woman for her money, but don't hold it against her either."  Matt requested that every man who attended write a letter to Paul about manhood. These letters were gathered and put into the footlocker, along with the Bible verses.   

Paul's two older sisters then presented Paul with a brand new Bible with his name inscribed on the front cover.  Part of being a man, Matt said, is learning how to properly handle the Word of God.  So Matt had Paul read Psalm 19 to those in attendance.  We then ended the evening by singing one last hymn, "A Mighty Fortress is Our God."

 Although the evening was a bit overwhelming for Paul, I know he enjoyed it.  He was especially touched that his Grandma Jane, despite being in extreme pain from a broken back, made the long trek down to be at his party (and to Grandpa Tom, who got her there).  Both Matt and I were touched at the outpouring of support for Paul and the time and effort folks put into picking their Bible verses and writing their letters.  I was especially thankful to our friend, Peggy, who helped set up for the dinner and for my mother-in-law, who helped clean up after the party (and for my father-in-law, who made the beans that Paul didn't want).

Suppose I'd Better Get Used to It

Life has changed for me in the past year.  I keep trying to pin down what it is that keeps my head spinning as I struggle to keep all the necessary balls in the air, but I can't seem to do the pinning.  Big kids getting bigger, little kids staying little, homeschooling, canning, mothering, wife-ing, daughter-ing.  I don't know.  I do know I miss having time to write.

To that end, Matt bought me a desk at a thrift store this past weekend. You know how changing one piece of furniture in your house can set off a chain reaction?  That's what happened.  In order to make room for the desk, we had to shift a couple of kids to different rooms (and all of their furniture/stuff).  Then we got rid of the love seat in our bedroom (my sister-in-law took it) and put a recliner from the family room (which traded places with a chair from our bedroom) and the new desk in the love seat's place.  Ta dah!  A new writing space for Melissa.

So far, I've had about fifteen free minutes to utilize it.  This is it.  Right here, right now.

It's been my mission this week to get the four huge boxes of apples that have been sitting in the basement for a month turned into applesauce.  Three boxes down, one to go.

The apples were leftover from apple strudel making.  The apple strudel is prepared every year by the folks of my aunt and uncle's church for their small town's German festival.  Grace, Liz and Lydia helped with the strudel making for a few days at the beginning of September.  A large number of Golden Delicious apples were left over after the 550 strudel for this year's Fest were made. Grace called me and asked if I wanted any.  I groaned.  I literally was elbow deep in canning peaches at the time.  "They're selling them for a great price," she said.  And of course, Golden Delicious apples are my favorite for making apple sauce since they need so little sugar.

"Yes,"  I said.  "I'll take four boxes."  In my mind I was thinking four fruit boxes, but  Grace came home with the equivalent of six or seven fruit boxes.  Turns out my money was no good with the buyer of the apples--a gift which couldn't have come at a better time.

Since I let the apples sit for so long, they've become nice and yellow.  I haven't needed to add any sugar to the sauce, so I'm very pleased.  I'm also pleased because when things around me seem to be spinning out of control, I can make a huge mess of the kitchen, drop some jars in the canner and produce something that my family needs.   Isaac keeps pointing to the jars on the table and asking, "Mom, are these for the winter?"  Yes, son, they are.

As an added bonus, I've been using my very own Kitchen Aid apple sieve this year instead of borrowing my mother-in-law's.  She and Dad have been scouring Ebay for several years for the Kitchen Aid mixer attachment that is no longer made.  They found success this year and purchased a sieve for me.  I think this little gadget is the best thing I've ever seen for making applesauce because it's a hands free device.  While the mixer is doing the work, I can be getting other things done around the kitchen (and so can my little helpers).

So I suppose I'd better get used to this new season of life.  At least we'll have applesauce to enjoy with it.

Monday

I meant to get this post written on Monday, but alas it did not happen.  I guess it shows what kind of week I've had that I'm just now getting to it on Friday.

We were still dragged out from a long weekend when we woke up on Monday morning.  My little guys got up with runny noses and coughs.  Yes, that means that within the next few weeks, I can anticipate all of us getting sick.  Our first winter cold--in September.

My first order of business for the day was to pack lunches for Matt and Grace.  I was sending Matt off to what I knew would be a tough day at work, so things were already a bit tense.  Then Matt accidentally burned Joseph as he was dishing him some eggs.  As he pushed the eggs from the skillet onto the high chair tray, Joseph moved his arm and scraped it against the hot skillet.  He started howling immediately.  I quickly grabbed the baby, ran cold water over the small area that was burned and settled him down.  The burn blistered a bit.  I applied coconut oil to it throughout the day, mostly to make myself feel better.

After Matt and Grace left, I got showered and sat down to work on Bible study with the kids.  It didn't take me long to determine that the younger kids would not make it to BSF that evening.  I didn't want them to spread their cold germs.

Then I scurried around doing I can't remember what until 2:30 p.m.  All I know is that I distinctly remember it was one half hour into quiet time by the time I got into my bed to rest my weary bones and brain for a bit.  Ten minutes later, Paul came into my room.

He had a tourniquet around his hand.  He asked me if I could help him put on a band aid.  When I saw that the color was drained from his face, I told him that he'd better sit down at the kitchen table. Let me just interject here.  I don't do well with blood.  Blood and barf.  I can handle any other grossness that motherhood throws at me, but I can't handle blood and barf.  So I steeled myself before I removed the tourniquet.  It took me one quick look to realize that a band aid would not be sufficient.

I put the handkerchief back on Paul's hand and told him to get into the van.  I gave Elizabeth instructions for child care and dinner prep and then Paul and I headed to the urgent care clinic.  I hate that place.  I swear if you don't die of whatever ailment brought you there, you'll expire from the long wait. On the way there, Paul explained what had happened.  He'd been splitting kindling and the hatchet had slipped.

When I asked the woman behind the front desk how long the wait would be and told her my son had cut his hand, she asked, "Is his hand bleeding?"  I answered, "Oh yes, it's bleeding."  She said, "Oh. Well, we'll take you right back then."  Score!

Once the nurse saw Paul and she determined we would not have to go to the ER, the doctor came in to take a look.  She asked Paul how he'd done it.  After telling her, she said, "Well at least you did it doing some manly thing instead of playing Xbox or something."

She numbed the finger with an injection of Lidocaine (the worst part of the whole procedure) and then she sewed up the cut with six stitches.  In and out in a hour and a half.  That's my tip.  Go into the urgent care actively bleeding to avoid a long wait.

The rest of the week has gone by in a blur.  Tomorrow, our first born son, Paul, will turn 13.  I sure hope he'll get wiser as he gets older.  He already seems to be heading in the right direction.  He's fashioned himself a kindling holder so that his hand will be well clear of the hatchet as it comes down on the wood.

Rosh Hashana

We celebrated the Jewish new year tonight (in a Messianic way).  I surprised the whole family with the celebration.  I had Elizabeth set a nice table with one of her stellar flower arrangements.  Joel, Jude and Isaac also picked and arranged flowers.  Lydia meticulously cut Asian pears into neat slices to add to our meal.  I prepared the spiral shaped challah loaves.  We had Christian country music playing on Pandora while we worked.

Grace came home from school, looked at the table and wondered what all of the fuss was about.  Liz said, "It's Rosh Hashana!"  Grace immediately asked, "But what about the bread?"  I surprised the resident bread maker by motioning to the oven. The first loaf was already turning a deep golden brown.

Matt was equally taken aback when he came home.  His job has been difficult as of late.  After 21+  years at his place of employment, Matt is now looking for other work.  We have yet to know whether God has plans for us to remain here or move us somewhere else.

So with all that going on, it was nice to celebrate a new year--a time of new beginnings.  It was good to be reminded that we are just sojourners here on this Earth.  Jesus will come again to take us to our true Home.

"Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed." 1 Cor. 15:51-52

(Matt played this shofar blast for us at the beginning of our meal.)

Half a Day in the Life (Cause a Whole Day Would be Too Much to Handle)

I was just getting motivated to climb out of bed yesterday at 7 a.m. when Lydia poked her head in my bedroom.  "Could I make soap out of bacon fat today?"  That would be a "no."

Once out of bed, I suffered through several plank exercises.  For the past five days Matt has had the whole family on a cross fit regimen.  It's killer.  Supposedly it's some sort of beginner level thing.  I need the remedial version.

I headed downstairs to walk on the treadmill.  When I came back up, I packed both Matt's and Grace's lunches (Grace started cosmetology school a few days ago.)  Joel was in tears because he couldn't find a coat.  I told him where to look for it (laundry, dresser, van).

I ate my breakfast, yelled for the kitchen helper to get going on the dishes, got Grace and Matt out the door and realized I would have to help the still despondent Joel find his coat.  I looked through the dirty and clean laundry.  I looked through all of his dresser drawers.  No coat.  I went downstairs and grabbed the size 8 box and dug through that.  No coat.  I again asked Joel, "Isn't that black hoodie still in the van?"  "Yeah.  It is.  It's under Jude's seat."

I showered, answered and wrote a couple of emails and then went to dry my hair.  Lydia came into my bathroom looking guilty.  I just kept drying my hair.  She fessed up.  "I broke a glass jar outside."  "Well, go clean it up," I said.

I finished drying my hair, walked out to the kitchen, completed the morning kitchen helper's unfinished work, sorted the laundry, picked up the piles of mittens and hats by the front door (cause it's in the 60s--mighty cold) and then Paul walked in.  He informed me that he rappelled out of the second story window of the play house and it hadn't gone so well.  I told him that he was teaching his younger brothers to do the same and he said that he didn't think they'd want to copy what he just did.

I walked back into the kitchen, where Lydia was filling a jar with water.  The jar had black soot in it from the back yard fire pit.  She saw me coming and began explaining.  I didn't need an explanation. I know all too well how that child's mind works.  "That's not how you make ink!" I said.

Then I saw Paul with a homemade tourniquet around his arm.  His shirt was bloody.  "Take off your shirt," I said.  I proceeded to take off the tourniquet and get a proper bandage on his arm.

Next, the door bell rang.  It was my friend.  She stopped by to pick something up and we stood at the door and chatted for a bit (alright, maybe a long bit).  After she left, Lydia announced that Paul's back was all scratched up.

I found Paul in his bedroom.  He was changing his shirt for the second time.  I asked, "Did you do that again?!" Brother.  It's wasn't even lunch time yet.

And this morning, after my walk, I came up the stairs to find the kitchen abandoned except for the baby, who was standing on the tray of his high chair.  We don't know how to start days off in a quiet manner around here.

It's Not About Me

This summer has been nuts.  Crazy.  Here it is September and I feel like I never really got a summer.  Change is afoot.  The big kids are busying themselves with more adult endeavors.  I'm suddenly the mom of all littles again.  It was quite unexpected.  I told Matt that I wished someone had said to me, "Melissa, your life is about to change drastically."  He was silent for a minute.  Then he said, "Melissa, your life is about to change drastically."

 Uncertainty looms on the horizon on several fronts and frankly, I don't like it.  I've never had an adventurous spirit.  I prefer a quiet, predictable life.  But the Lord doesn't guarantee such things.  He only promises to be with us whatever befalls us.

He broke through my bleakness a few mornings ago and I realized once again, it's not about me.  It's about Him. So I wrote a note and taped it to my mirror to remind me of this truth.  I needn't worry about the future, sufficient to the day is the evil thereof.

                                        Soli Deo Gloria means, "Glory to God alone."

Overheard

Isaac, running after his older brother and vehemently exclaiming, "Jude!  You're not da Wone Wanger!  You don't have a mask!"

Happy 1st Birthday, Joseph!

Summer School

Our family has hopes to visit the Columbia Gorge Discovery Center and Fort Clatsop this summer.  We have visited these sites before, but that was a number of years ago.  The older kids, especially Paul, already know a lot about Lewis and Clark.  Grace was required to read Undaunted Courage by Stephen Ambrose this year as part of her history course. However, the little kids need their own introduction to the expedition. So in preparation for our trip, I've been taking the kids through a study of Lewis and Clark and the Corps of Discovery.

We started with the CD and companion book, Lewis and Clark:  Songs of the Journey by Kindra Ankney. We bought this CD/book set a number of years ago.  Unfortunately, it seems to be out of print now. Mrs. Ankney, a homeschool mom, wrote the songs on the CD.  She also wrote and illustrated the book that goes with it.  Our family had the pleasure of seeing Mrs. Ankney and her children perform about eight years ago. She signed our book for us. The CD has long been a family favorite.  The kids have all of the songs memorized.  We loved this volume the first time through and are loving it all over again.

I also reserved a pile of books on Lewis and Clark from the library.  Our library system recently built a new library on our end of town and I'm enjoying it immensely.  It's much cleaner than the old library, there are no transients there, there are no computers with "educational" games on them and the twaddle has its own seperate section, so it's easily ignored.  Another huge plus is that I can browse for books online, have them sent to my local branch (which contacts me via email when my books have arrived) and then I can pick them up at the library's drive through window.  Fantastic!

So I picked up my stack of Lewis and Clark books and the kids and I have been working our way through them.  The kids especially liked the book Seaman's Journal.  It's the story of the expedition through the eyes of Lewis' Newfoundland dog, Seaman.  It's beautifully illustrated with watercolors.  It was a captivating read--for all of us.

The other book we've really enjoyed is Lewis and Clark for Kids:  Their Journey of Discovery with 21 Activities.  To be honest, when I first glanced at the book, the word "activities" turned me off.  However, I've discovered the activities are very doable and don't require a lot of extra materials or effort.  For example, one of the activities was on latitude and longitude.  We got out the globe and answered the questions in the book.  Not difficult.  One of the activities shows how to make a tipi.  We already have a tipi, so we didn't do that one, but the kids did set up our tipi so they could play in it.

Our old VHS version of the Ken Burns movie on Lewis and Clark has been pulled out of the drawer and viewed by the kids.  I also found a single ViewMaster reel on the Lewis and Clark trail at Goodwill recently. It highlights the some of the sites we will be visiting near the end of the trail.  Yes, I know--how providential.

In between reading times, the boys have been dressing up in their Lewis and Clark garb, acting out what they're learning.  Yay for real books and hands on learning!  We can't wait to experience the "real" thing later this summer.

Gracie's Graduation

Matt and I can officially say we've graduated our first student from our homeschool.  A couple of weeks before Grace's graduation, I commented to a friend (a veteran homeschooler who has graduated several of her children) that I regretted never having had a "perfect homeschooling" year in all of the years we've home educated.  She just looked at me and giggled, nodding her head up and down.  Then it dawned on me what a silly thing it was I had just uttered.  Praise Jesus, that He works through our weaknesses and brings glory to Himself despite the fact that "perfect" homeschool years don't exist.

On June 20, 2014, we had a small celebration to honor God and our Gracie. We invited Grace's grandparents, her godmother (Auntie Em) and a few other family members to our house for a Korean feast. Grace remembered a time way back in the day when I made Bulgogi for one of Matt's birthdays.  She wanted that dish for her graduation meal.  We also made Bibimbap, Asian cucumber salad and sesame noodles. I bought kimchi from the local Korean restaurant.  For dessert, we had a traditional family favorite of Texas Sheet Cake and Grandma Dianne brought her famous Scottish shortbread.

After dinner, we retired to the living room for a simple graduation ceremony.  Both Matt and I expressed to Grace how proud we are of her, not because of anything she has done, or anything we as parents have done, but because of what God has done in her life.  From the time she was a very little girl, the Lord has nurtured in her a true and real faith in Himself.  Nothing--absolutely nothing--could be more important to us as parents as that one fact.

Grace, as always, has more plans for her life than what she has time for.  (She may or may not get that tendency from her mother.)  Right now, she's working on my Uncle Keith and Aunt Leanna's farm.  She's also getting a little photography business going and is busy learning all she can about gardening, sewing and marketing.  Her long time dream of attending cosmetology school looks like it will be fulfilled beginning this Fall.

(Photos by Essence Photography)

The little girl whose drawing project in the first grade started our family on an epic adventure is now a grown woman.  Her Daddy and I are amazed at all that God has done.

"I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth." 
3 John 1:4





Photos by Essence Photography

http://www.essenceapc.com/

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Summer

I'm not sure how half the summer has disappeared already, but it has.  I had it in my mind that our family would have a slower paced, relaxing summer.  A high expectation to be sure, but nonetheless, I was sure it would happen.  Now I'm dealing with the realization that our summer is not what I had envisioned.  As usual, I've had a hard time adjusting to dashed expectations.

We have accomplished much as a family so far this summer.  We pulled together a successful graduation party for Grace (more on that in a separate post), I finished up a 23 week long marathon of Bible study, five of the kids took three weeks of swimming lessons, Matt traveled to Alaska for a week on business and also to Denver (2 trips down, 1 to go!), we celebrated the Fourth of July (Matt and Paul were in the local parade) and we took a trip to my uncle's farm for a few days.

Matt in Alaska

We left Grace and Paul on the farm to work for the summer.  That was hard.  How is it my kids are old enough to leave home to work for the summer?  The years are short.  This will be good for the kids though, all the way around.  Come Fall, Grace's schedule will take her away from the house every day and it's good practice for all of us to get used to not having her here all of the time.

In the meantime, I'm reviving the lost skill of cleaning bathrooms and folding laundry (formerly Grace's jobs), Lydia is learning to vacuum carpets (only a temporary gig for her until Paul returns) and Elizabeth has been promoted to sous chef position, a job which she will likely hold for quite some time.  In other words, things around here are changing and as everyone knows, I'm not a fan of change.  I'm pretty sure the kids aren't enjoying it either.  However, it must be done.

I'm trying to cool my jets on my long "To Do" list as everything else in life seems to be taking twice as long (or more) than it used to.  The visions of decluttering projects, room redos and gourmet jam canning sessions are fast becoming forgotten dreams, along with all of the books I planned to read this summer.

We have managed to squeeze some fun into summer in little pockets here and there though.  The kids have gotten extra swimming time at Miss Peggy's and Aunt Julie's pools as well as the small town pool where my aunt and uncle live.  Isaac, who took swimming lessons for the first time this year and was a very reluctant learner, has now taken to the water as the proverbial duck to water.  With his life jacket on, he paddles every where the big kids go.

Last week I took the kids to 7-11 for free Slurpies and $1 hot dogs.  I used the promise of the treats to motivate the kids to clean up the house.  It sorta backfired on me, though.  The kids had never heard of Slurpies and weren't so sure they were worth the effort of a power cleaning session.  In the end, the house got picked up (sort of) and the kids found out that they really do like Slurpies.

Treats from 7-11 (take note of Jude's great fashion sense)

One night a couple of weeks ago after a very long day of single momming it while Matt was out of town, my friend texted me to say that her goat had birthed four babies that day.  She wanted us to come over and see them.  We loaded up and went on over.  The goats were adorable.  Joseph was especially delighted with them.  He's starting to grow out of the baby stage (he'll be one year this month--sniff).

I found a couch at a yard sale last Saturday.  I've been looking to replace the couch we bought off of Craigslist when we first moved here.  For the last couple of years, my searches on Craigslist and yard sales have turned up nothing.  This couch is a leather beauty with reclining ends, perfect for the family room.  The man who was selling it had just lost his wife and was downsizing.  His son even delivered it to our house. The couch had a couple of minor scratches on it.  I just covered them with brown Sharpie marker.  A thousand dollars in savings is worth a couple of scratches to me.  One week later, I'm still training Lydia to keep her sewing scissors OFF of the couch.  As others in the house know, Mama doesn't like cuts in her couches.  Knives are no longer tested for sharpness on furniture at our house.  (That would fall under the category of "Rules I Never Thought I'd Have to Make.")

This morning the kids were particularly stir crazy.  It's been really hot here for a week and we've been kind of holed up inside to stay cool.  Despite the heat, I told the kids to get on some water friendly shoes and get loaded into the van.  We headed to the water.  We saw Seagulls, Canadian Geese, a couple of pelicans and a pair of coots and everyone got their feet wet.

Speaking of birds, a few weeks ago I was on the back porch enjoying my mid afternoon iced tea when all of a sudden a Bald Eagle flew over the yard.  It was so close I could hear its wings swooshing and I could see the water dripping off of the sparkling fish that it had in its mouth.  Wow!  God's creation never ceases to amaze me.

Well, I'm off to inspect the kitchen clean up that Joel is supposed to be doing.  Then I'll read to the kids before quiet time.  Maybe we'll try to swim a bit in Miss Peggy's pool after dinner tonight.  I guess my "To Do" list will wait another day.  After all, these little ones are growing up way too fast.

Chicken Delivery

After reading about our chicken debacle, my cousin Amy was kind enough to offer us some replacement chicks.  She and her kids incubated some chicken eggs and ended up with an unusual 100 percent hatch rate.  Since she had more chicks than she could keep, Amy kindly delivered half a dozen chicks right to our doorstep.

This little guy (gal?) may not last too long.  Seems when it comes time to head to the coop for the night, this chick has better things to do.  One of these mornings I wouldn't be surprised if we can't find him (or her).

The chicks are juveniles, but they aren't sexed, so we have yet to see what they'll turn out to be.  I told Amy we know what to do with roosters around here.  Because the chicks are older, we were able to put them directly into the chicken coop.  They've adjusted to the flock very well.  I've seen them do a stellar job of getting their fair share of the kitchen scraps we give them.  They figured out very quickly where the outside chicken waterer is located, so Paul was able to take the small waterer, which has a tendency to get messy fast,  out of the chicken coop.  Thanks, Amy!

Fred is Dead

Fred the fish died on Sunday.  He was a good goldfish.  He lived a good long fish life.  Lydia purchased Fred two and a half years ago at Walmart.  He was 23 cents.  We already owned the fish bowl, so all we needed to purchase was a bottle of goldfish food, which ended up outlasting Fred.

Every time we left town for a few days, the kids would cart the fish bowl over to the neighbor's house.  Mr. P was kind enough to fish sit for us on numerous occasions.  Mr. P's grandkids loved Fred, too.

                                     Jude--hamming it up for the camera--he's over Fred now

We got home from church Sunday afternoon and found Fred on the kitchen counter.  I guess he took a risk and decided to jump out of the bowl and see what life on "the outside" was like.  It was a risk that didn't pay off.  Jude was especially sad.  "That was my favorite pet!" he said.  Fred was our only pet and now he's dead.

Memorial Day Plans Gone Awry

We had big plans to take a road trip on Memorial Day weekend.  We were going to go see my Uncle Keith and Aunt Leanna and catch a much needed change of pace on the farm.

When Matt woke up on Thursday morning complaining of a stomach ache, I didn't think much of it.  Tummy troubles are not too extraordinary for him.  When Paul's energy lagged all morning and he barely made it through his math lesson, I didn't think much of it.  When most of our family arrived at horse camp to see Elizabeth ride and Lydia began complaining about her stomach, I didn't think much of it.  "Go sit down for awhile," I said.  "It'll go away in a little bit."  When Joel complained on the way home that he felt like he was going to throw up, I didn't think much of it.  "He got too hot at horse camp," I thought.

It wasn't until evening, when I emerged from the work of putting my lesson plan together for that night's Bible study and found every single person in my family sprawled out on the furniture and the floor of the family room that I realized I had an epidemic on my hands.  THE STOMACH FLU.  The bane of every large family.

I went to Bible study without Grace, praying that I would not succumb to sickness before I got through the next few hours.  The Lord answered my prayers.  When I got home at 9 p.m., a very sick Matt had the carpet spot cleaner going to clean up Jude's mess.  Paul informed me that he didn't think we'd be going to the farm the next day.  I knew the kid was sick when I heard that.

I immediately went into prevent-any-more-puke-on-carpet  mode.  Years of mothering has taught me a few things.  I pulled old comforters to cover the couches, placed beach towels on the floor in front of all the couches and on the floor beside the beds.  Knowing they'd most likely need help in the night, littles were arranged in the master bedroom.  I pulled out just about every Tupperware bowl I had to give to each family member.  I steeled myself for a long night.  It was, indeed, one long night.

I got up the next morning to monitor breakfast and make sure no one thought his stomach was up to bacon and eggs.  Instead, I passed out Gatorade and matzoh crackers (good thing I found that awesome clearance deal right after Passover!).  I felt a bit run down, but thought I'd make the best of our change in plans to tackle some of my neglected to do list.  Wrong.  By 11 a.m. I was in bed.

For two days our family subsisted on little bites of bland food.  Jude finally gave up on the Gatorade because he kept throwing it up.  By Saturday night, Elizabeth was desperate for some real food.  I suggested she make the Pioneer Woman's Chicken Spaghetti.  She did.  Paul went full bore into the first meal he'd seen in several days.  Right after dinner, he regretted that decision.  After seeing Paul's demise, Elizabeth said, "I don't care if I do throw up.  It'll be worth it.  I finally got to eat real food."

So that was how we spent our Memorial Day weekend.  Every. single. last. one. of us (that's ten, in case you forgot) got the stomach flu.  And we survived to tell the tale.  I believe this might go down in the family archives as an incident that rivaled The Great Sickness of Deep Lake (at least in my mind it will).

P.S.--I'm sure glad I have a sanitize cycle on my washing machine.  It got a good workout this past week.  Also, I'm getting a little crunchy in my old age and I'm not really keen on the ingredients in Gatorade any more, so I did make up  Jessica's homemade version, which my family liked, but were ever so happy when they no longer had to drink it.

 P.P.S--Yes, both Matt and I had the pleasure of giving lectures on the importance of proper handwashing after we were all better.  Maybe Mom's not so crazy after all.  That's right, soap has to actually come in contact with one's hands in order for it to qualify as a proper handwashing.

Boys

I bought some interlocking bunny toys at a yard sale a couple of years ago.  The boys have recently rediscovered how fun they are.  Who knew one could make guns out of bunnies?

Best Meal in Town

Matt and Elizabeth prepared a lovely Mother's Day dinner for me (Grace was attending the symphony with her Grandpa Tom).  Matt grilled wild Alaskan salmon (caught by my dad) and fresh local asparagus. Elizabeth prepared quinoa pilaf and these brownies for dessert.  I'm loved and blessed.

Carnage & Encouragement

Our family attended the homeschool conference this past weekend.  While we were away, ten of Paul's chickens were killed by some sort of animal.  An eleventh chicken died of her injuries several days later.  One day it's chickens, the next it's feathers.  The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.  The egg production has been cut in half.  Matt will be looking to replace the lost chickens with new chicks, but they'll take six months to reach maturity and start laying.  If it's not one thing, it's another.

On another note, I was greatly encouraged by the talks given by Kelly Crawford at the homeschool conference.  She wrote a summary of one of the talks she gave at the conference on her blog, Generation Cedar.  If you're a momma, check it out here.

Mr. Paul, Knifeman

Last Monday Paul came to me with a request.  He wanted to send his Dad's knife away to get it sharpened.  It was the day before our annual Seder and fielding knife sharpening queries was not on my "to do" list.  However, I took the time to hear Paul out.  He wanted to send Matt's old Gerber to Indiana to be sharpened by an expert knife guy.  I asked Paul how he knew about the man.  "From You Tube," he replied.

"Aren't there any people here in town that could sharpen a knife, Paul?"  No, he was quite sure there were not, at least not at this particular man's level of expertise.  The man would even give Matt's knife the "spa" treatment to get it nice and clean.

Paul then handed me a pricing list and the man's phone number.  I said, "You call him.  Confirm his prices.  Ask him how we should package the knife for shipping, etc., etc."

So Paul called the guy.  He picked up right away.  The two had about a five minute conversation.  After Paul hung up, I asked him what the man said.  "He said he could do it."  That was all.  No further detail was provided to this curious Mama.  Typical man.

Anyway, Paul got the knife all packaged and we drove to the Post Office.  I jotted a quick note to the man which I stuffed into the box before we mailed it.  This morning, Paul found this video on You Tube:

(Edited to add--I had a super busy day yesterday and threw this post up without having watched the video in its entirety.  Last night I watched it.  Let me just say that both Matt and I are humbled by Mr. Bixby's remarks.  The truth is, we're just a couple of messed up sinners saved by grace who screw up this parenting thing each and every day.  But somehow, in spite of us, the Lord keeps working in our children and we're just flat out amazed by it.)

Joel's First Tooth

Joel finally lost his bottom front tooth.  The tooth had been very loose for a number of weeks.  I encouraged him to keep wiggling it back and forth to get it out.  He didn't want to do it.  The new tooth grew in while the baby tooth was still in place.

 So Lydia decided to take things into her own hands.  She marched into my bathroom one day with a stool and needle nose pliers in hand.  Joel was right behind her.  Lydia had convinced Joel that her plan would work, that he would indeed finally be free of his first baby tooth.  I said, "No way," before she commenced with her amateur dentistry.  If that girls isn't a Dean.

Anyhow, Joel eventually got that tooth out on his own about a week later.  He was pretty proud of himself.

Baby John

In the Midst of Death, Life

A new little cousin was born into our family this morning.  John Daniel's arrival has been much anticipated by his ten brothers and sisters and all of the rest of his family.  God is good.  All of the time.

(As an aside, I was teasing Jessica last week after her failed attempt to have the baby resulted in her being sent home from the hospital.  I texted her:

"Just went into the thrift store and saw a book--'Your Pregnancy After 30' " Hah!  [both Jessica and I have had pregnancies after 40]

She shot back, "Hah.  If you see the book 'How to Deliver Before You're 50,' let me know. . ."

Congratulations, Jessica, you did it--without the book even.

Lent

I've been reading through Bonhoeffer's God is On the Cross: Reflections on Lent and Easter this Lenten season.  He wrote, "This is my second Passiontide here.  When people suggest in their letters. . . that I'm 'suffering' here, I reject the thought.  It seems to me a profanation.  These things mustn't be dramatized.  I doubt very much whether I'm 'suffering' any more than you, or most people, are suffering today.  Of course, a great deal here is horrible, but where isn't it? . . . No, suffering must be something quite different, and have a quite different dimension, from what I've so far experienced." (from a letter to Eberhard Bethage from Tigel Prison, Mar. 9, 1944).

This Lent has been punctuated for us by the death of a family friend.  She passed away from cancer a couple of weeks ago. She was a very godly woman, a Five Aspects woman if I ever knew one.   Her joy is now full.  She is with her Jesus.  Yet she left family behind. We love them deeply and we grieve with them.

The lessons we've done so far in our Five Aspects of Woman Bible study have concentrated on the first few chapters of Genesis.  After the death of our friend, I was reminded once again of how utterly awful the process of death really is.  Back in the Garden of Eden, after Adam and Eve ate of the fruit, they must have been instantly horrified by what they had done.  When the second Adam, Jesus, wept at Lazarus' tomb, I believe He not only wept for Lazarus, but for the absolute depth of sorrow that death brings. Blackness. Brokeness. Aloneness.  Forever.

A few weeks ago, our family attended our church's Ash Wednesday service.  After the ashes where applied to our foreheads in the sign of the cross, the elder said these words, "From dust you came, to dust you shall return."  Lydia and I sat back down in our chairs and she whispered to to me, "Momma, this makes it so I can't wait for Easter. . . and it's not because of the candy."

"Now if Christ is proclaimed as raised from the dead, how can some of you say that there is no resurrection of the dead? But if there is no resurrection of the dead, then not even Christ has been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is in vain and your faith is in vain. We are even found to be misrepresenting God, because we testified about God that he raised Christ, whom he did not raise if it is true that the dead are not raised. For if the dead are not raised, not even Christ has been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins. Then those also who have fallen asleep in Christ have perished. If in Christ we have hope in this life only, we are of all people most to be pitied.

But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. For as by a man came death, by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive."  1 Cor. 15:12-22