This past summer, our family had a discussion. I'm sure it had to do with helping the littles understand the different times of the year. Something along the lines of, "We do this in this month and that in that month."
I distinctly remember Paul saying, "October is clean up the basement month." Ha ha. Unfortunately, it's true. By the time I've canned and yard saled my way through summer, the basement is quite the mess as we head into Fall.
We always host a Reformation Party at the end of October. The games for that party always take place in, you guessed it, the basement. Since next weekend is the party, I'm cleaning the basement today. The bi-annual Great Clothes Switch Out, in which I trade all the kids' summer clothes for winter clothes also happened this week. Soooo, between a clothes explosion, a Costco box explosion (I'll never stand in the check out lane at Costco and say I want a box again) and a craft explosion (created by someone who shall remain nameless, but whose middle name is Dean), the basement is in quite a state.
Grace helped me for a bit this morning, but now she and Liz are off to a photo shoot. Matt, Paul, Joel and Jude went on a Boy Scout camp out. Which leaves me here with two itty bitties and someone whose middle name is Dean. So progress in the basement has now stalled.
I'd like to get to a Marie Kondo state of being in the basement (who am I kidding, in my whole house), but I know that's just a pipe dream. Ain't gonna happen with ten people living here. I think what I've learned in the Five Aspects of Woman definitely applies. Since the Fall in the Garden of Eden, our domains rebel against us. Try as we might, our places tend toward disorder and we have to work hard to bring back order, thus ruling our domains.
I guess I should get back at it. Ruling my domain that is. I'll get that basement clean knowing full well I'll be back down there next October doing the same thing all over again. Marie Kondo definitely does not live here.
Saturday, October 24, 2015
Saturday, October 17, 2015
Family Vacation 2015
We weren't sure we would be able to pull off a family vacation this year, but as it turned out, we did. The Lord worked out the details beautifully, even though the whole thing was rather last-minute and unplanned.
Picture taken from the top of White Bird Canyon
It all started when our Pastor preached a sermon some weeks ago about standing firm. He illustrated his point with a picture he had taken while on a hike in Idaho. It was picture of a rocky high point in White Bird Canyon. In the 1877 Battle of White Bird Canyon, one man, Sargent Michael M. McCarthy, stood his ground on a high rocky crag against the Nez Perce. The rest of the soldiers retreated and one third were killed by the Nez Perce. McCarthy survived and was given the Congressional Medal of Honor for his bravery. The sermon really impacted our family. Pastor reminded us that as Christians, we are strategically placed in this time and place and that we are to stand firm.
Matt decided we should visit the White Bird Canyon Battlefield and follow the Nez Perce trail (at least the parts in Idaho) for our family vacation. He found a century old cabin for us to rent--one that would sleep us all and allow us to bring the dog. He booked a reservation.
These two fell asleep within twenty minutes of leaving our house
Elizabeth and I busied ourselves with preparing and freezing our meals for the four days we would be gone. The days leading up to the trip were insanely busy for our family and I will admit that the day before the trip, when we still hadn't packed or finished food preparations, I began to panic. However, the kids really dug in and helped. We got ourselves out the door and on the road the following morning only thirty minutes past our desired departure time.
We enjoyed the beautiful drive, seeing parts of our great country that we'd never seen. We stopped and ate our picnic lunch at a park in a small town and then headed down the road once again, By late afternoon, we arrived at our first planned stop on the Nez Perce trail. The Nez Perce National Historic Park has a visitor center in Spalding, Idaho. While there, we watched a film on the Nez Perce. In it, current Nez Perce tribal members describe their side of the Nez Perce Indian War and its aftermath. It was very well done, though we didn't agree with some of theology that was presented.
After we saw the film and the artifacts in the museum, we wandered around the grounds. Some original buildings still stand, including a Presbyterian Church started by a missionary named Spalding in the late 1830's. A general store, though empty, is also still on the property.
Jude beside a big tree in the Nez Perce National Historical Park. That's a little bunch of mushrooms inside the tree. I tried to get Joseph to sit in the hole for a picture--no dice.
After the kids and the dog released some pent-up energy, we got back in the van to head to our rental cabin. No cell service meant Matt relied on map memory to get us there. It took us longer than we anticipated (Idaho roads are very curvy), but when arrived at the Tall Pines Cabin, the owner greeted us warmly. While the family unloaded the van, I put our dinner together.
We then settled in for the night. The kids were ecstatic to be able to sleep in bunk beds. I was dismayed to learn the only bathroom was all the way downstairs in the furthest location possible from the master bedroom. After eight kids, my bladder can't pull an all-nighter, but Matt outfitted me with a flashlight and I survived. Poor Rachel, however, did not fare as well. She followed me down the stairs one night in the pitch black, lost her footing and tumbled all the way to the bottom. She was afraid to go down the stairs for the rest of our time there. Rachel's other vacation mishap occurred when Paul took her for an early morning walk. She came back with hundreds of thistles stuck in her fur. We spent the better part of two hours removing all of them.
The next day, we got up, ate breakfast, cycled through showers (only one bathroom!) and packed our picnic lunch and snacks for a day trip. We stopped at a couple of different small towns, ate our lunch at a park in one of the towns and then headed to White Bird Canyon.
Picture taken at the bottom of White Bird Canyon
Once we arrived, we realized the hike was a little more than we had bargained for with littles and a dog, but since we drove all that way, we decided to go for it. It was 86 degrees that day, so we started sweating early on. Matt carried Joseph on his shoulders much of the way. The older kids and the dog took the lead. I brought up the back with Lydia, who was quite sure she wouldn't make it. I told her what my Grandpa Paul used to tell me, "It's the work you do after you're already tired that makes you stronger." "Besides," I said, "We don't want to go home and tell Pastor we couldn't do it." So we persevered, read each sign about the different parts of the battle as we reached them and made it to the top.
Matt set up his cell phone to take a time-delayed picture of all of us at the summit. We didn't get a very good one. I had a freaky mama moment when I saw how closely Joel was situated to the precipice of the rocky cliff. So I broke up the picture taking session early. I had a rough night falling to sleep that night as I recounted that part of the day in my mind. Shudder.
Anyway, the hike down was a lot easier. We rewarded the kids with huckleberry ice cream cones at the little tourist trap at the bottom of the canyon. Rachel drank her weight in water, as we had forgotten to take water for her on the hike. She sacked out on the cool concrete while the kids ate their cones.
We then started back to the cabin, taking an alternate route that Matt thought would save us some time. It was a lovely drive through lots of farm land. Then we passed a sign that read, "Pavement Ends." The road turned to gravel. Then we passed a sign that read, "Trucks must be in low gear." I got a little nervous, but not terribly so--until we started going down. Very steeply down. With lots of tight curves down. With sheer drop offs on the left side of the vehicle and no guard rails down. I gripped my arm rest and put my foot on the brake of my side of the car. Thirty minutes later, we reached the bottom and then a few minutes after that, we reached our cabin. Whew!
Overlooking the Dworshak Dam Reservoir
The next day, we visited the Dworshak Dam. I waited in the van with the dog and worked on my Bible study. The kids and Daddy went inside and got the star treatment, as they were the only visitors. One advantage of homeschooling is that we are able to visit places in the off-season and avoid the crowds. The docent at the dam gave the kids the grand tour, plus lots of goodies, including frisbees for each of them. Frisbees are a hot commodity around here because Rachel likes to chew on them, rendering them useless. Joel was so excited by the frisbee that he told the docent, "You're the nicest woman I've ever met!"
Rachel the Kangaroo waiting in the van at the dam--no doggies allowed. Despite it all, Rachel had really great time with us on our vacation. She was a very good girl, too.
After the dam, we visited all the stops along the Nez Perce trail that we had yet to see. Many of the stops on the trail are just signs with a brief paragraph our two explaining the spot and its significance in history. After all of our studying about Lewis and Clark, it was neat to finally see the Clearwater River as we drove on the road that runs beside it.
We stopped at The Heart of the Monster. Once you reach the rock, you can push a button and listen to the Nez Perce legend explaining the landmark. The kids enjoyed listening to the story, although they weren't sure of its veracity. We all got a good amount of exercise as we walked the park trails.
Along the trail, Joel asked me, "Who was right and who was wrong in the Nez Perce Indian War?" I told him that all men are sinners and both sides did very bad and wrong things.
On the way back to the cabin, we stopped at a small town grocery store. I did a much better job of packing the food for this trip than I did on our last big trip, but I needed to get a loaf of French bread and a head of lettuce to round out that night's dinner. I think I ran into Mountain Man more than once in that store.
Replica Log Canoe
When we got back to the cabin, Grace volunteered to get dinner cooking and to watch the babies (Rachel and Joseph) while the rest of us visited the little museum in town. It was a very well done museum. Before we headed back to the cabin, we decided to check out the canoe camp (and here) where Lewis and Clark worked with the Nez Perce Indians to make canoes to use for the remainder of their journey to the Pacific Ocean. When we got back to the cabin, Liz and I helped Grace finish up dinner and we all hit the hay early. Vacation can be really exhausting.
We woke up the next morning, Matt and I said, "Happy Anniversary!" to each other, then we all pitched in to get breakfast served and to get all of our stuff back into the van for the ride home. We stopped at a thrift store along the way. Grace decided she MUST HAVE the vintage suitcases for an upcoming photo shoot. I told her, "You get to tell Dad." I could tell that Daddy was not pleased when we got back to the van with the suitcases (since we had so much extra room), but he handled it well. Grace reconfigured the way the van was packed and got those buggars in there. I recused myself from the whole affair and buried my nose in my e-mail.
We then wandered around looking for a good picnic spot. That one has no bathrooms. That one has an entry fee. That one has no parking. Big suitcases + crabby kids + no place to eat lunch = stressed parents.
We finally found a suitable park, although it was full of goose poop, which Rachel tried to eat and the kids could not avoid stepping in. Happy Anniversary, Honey! Joseph LOVED the playground horsie there, though. He's really into horses right now. He refused to get off of the thing when it was time to leave. When I went to lift him off of the horse, his little hands gripped the handles with all their might. Tears ensued.
We made one more stop on the way home. We stopped at a small town museum that was closed the day we traveled through it. Once again, the kids got a personally guided tour by the docent there. She had a blast and so did they.
We made it home safe and sound, albeit a little rough around the edges. I wanted to call it a day, but Matt insisted he take me to a Mexican restaurant for dinner. I never could have guessed on our wedding day that twenty two years later we'd be celebrating our wedding anniversary on a road trip in a big van with eight kids and a dog. God is good and He is faithful.
Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen. Ephes. 3:20-21
It all started when our Pastor preached a sermon some weeks ago about standing firm. He illustrated his point with a picture he had taken while on a hike in Idaho. It was picture of a rocky high point in White Bird Canyon. In the 1877 Battle of White Bird Canyon, one man, Sargent Michael M. McCarthy, stood his ground on a high rocky crag against the Nez Perce. The rest of the soldiers retreated and one third were killed by the Nez Perce. McCarthy survived and was given the Congressional Medal of Honor for his bravery. The sermon really impacted our family. Pastor reminded us that as Christians, we are strategically placed in this time and place and that we are to stand firm.
Matt decided we should visit the White Bird Canyon Battlefield and follow the Nez Perce trail (at least the parts in Idaho) for our family vacation. He found a century old cabin for us to rent--one that would sleep us all and allow us to bring the dog. He booked a reservation.
These two fell asleep within twenty minutes of leaving our house
Elizabeth and I busied ourselves with preparing and freezing our meals for the four days we would be gone. The days leading up to the trip were insanely busy for our family and I will admit that the day before the trip, when we still hadn't packed or finished food preparations, I began to panic. However, the kids really dug in and helped. We got ourselves out the door and on the road the following morning only thirty minutes past our desired departure time.
We enjoyed the beautiful drive, seeing parts of our great country that we'd never seen. We stopped and ate our picnic lunch at a park in a small town and then headed down the road once again, By late afternoon, we arrived at our first planned stop on the Nez Perce trail. The Nez Perce National Historic Park has a visitor center in Spalding, Idaho. While there, we watched a film on the Nez Perce. In it, current Nez Perce tribal members describe their side of the Nez Perce Indian War and its aftermath. It was very well done, though we didn't agree with some of theology that was presented.
After we saw the film and the artifacts in the museum, we wandered around the grounds. Some original buildings still stand, including a Presbyterian Church started by a missionary named Spalding in the late 1830's. A general store, though empty, is also still on the property.
Jude beside a big tree in the Nez Perce National Historical Park. That's a little bunch of mushrooms inside the tree. I tried to get Joseph to sit in the hole for a picture--no dice.
After the kids and the dog released some pent-up energy, we got back in the van to head to our rental cabin. No cell service meant Matt relied on map memory to get us there. It took us longer than we anticipated (Idaho roads are very curvy), but when arrived at the Tall Pines Cabin, the owner greeted us warmly. While the family unloaded the van, I put our dinner together.
We then settled in for the night. The kids were ecstatic to be able to sleep in bunk beds. I was dismayed to learn the only bathroom was all the way downstairs in the furthest location possible from the master bedroom. After eight kids, my bladder can't pull an all-nighter, but Matt outfitted me with a flashlight and I survived. Poor Rachel, however, did not fare as well. She followed me down the stairs one night in the pitch black, lost her footing and tumbled all the way to the bottom. She was afraid to go down the stairs for the rest of our time there. Rachel's other vacation mishap occurred when Paul took her for an early morning walk. She came back with hundreds of thistles stuck in her fur. We spent the better part of two hours removing all of them.
The next day, we got up, ate breakfast, cycled through showers (only one bathroom!) and packed our picnic lunch and snacks for a day trip. We stopped at a couple of different small towns, ate our lunch at a park in one of the towns and then headed to White Bird Canyon.
Picture taken at the bottom of White Bird Canyon
Once we arrived, we realized the hike was a little more than we had bargained for with littles and a dog, but since we drove all that way, we decided to go for it. It was 86 degrees that day, so we started sweating early on. Matt carried Joseph on his shoulders much of the way. The older kids and the dog took the lead. I brought up the back with Lydia, who was quite sure she wouldn't make it. I told her what my Grandpa Paul used to tell me, "It's the work you do after you're already tired that makes you stronger." "Besides," I said, "We don't want to go home and tell Pastor we couldn't do it." So we persevered, read each sign about the different parts of the battle as we reached them and made it to the top.
Anyway, the hike down was a lot easier. We rewarded the kids with huckleberry ice cream cones at the little tourist trap at the bottom of the canyon. Rachel drank her weight in water, as we had forgotten to take water for her on the hike. She sacked out on the cool concrete while the kids ate their cones.
We then started back to the cabin, taking an alternate route that Matt thought would save us some time. It was a lovely drive through lots of farm land. Then we passed a sign that read, "Pavement Ends." The road turned to gravel. Then we passed a sign that read, "Trucks must be in low gear." I got a little nervous, but not terribly so--until we started going down. Very steeply down. With lots of tight curves down. With sheer drop offs on the left side of the vehicle and no guard rails down. I gripped my arm rest and put my foot on the brake of my side of the car. Thirty minutes later, we reached the bottom and then a few minutes after that, we reached our cabin. Whew!
Overlooking the Dworshak Dam Reservoir
The next day, we visited the Dworshak Dam. I waited in the van with the dog and worked on my Bible study. The kids and Daddy went inside and got the star treatment, as they were the only visitors. One advantage of homeschooling is that we are able to visit places in the off-season and avoid the crowds. The docent at the dam gave the kids the grand tour, plus lots of goodies, including frisbees for each of them. Frisbees are a hot commodity around here because Rachel likes to chew on them, rendering them useless. Joel was so excited by the frisbee that he told the docent, "You're the nicest woman I've ever met!"
Rachel the Kangaroo waiting in the van at the dam--no doggies allowed. Despite it all, Rachel had really great time with us on our vacation. She was a very good girl, too.
After the dam, we visited all the stops along the Nez Perce trail that we had yet to see. Many of the stops on the trail are just signs with a brief paragraph our two explaining the spot and its significance in history. After all of our studying about Lewis and Clark, it was neat to finally see the Clearwater River as we drove on the road that runs beside it.
We stopped at The Heart of the Monster. Once you reach the rock, you can push a button and listen to the Nez Perce legend explaining the landmark. The kids enjoyed listening to the story, although they weren't sure of its veracity. We all got a good amount of exercise as we walked the park trails.
Along the trail, Joel asked me, "Who was right and who was wrong in the Nez Perce Indian War?" I told him that all men are sinners and both sides did very bad and wrong things.
On the way back to the cabin, we stopped at a small town grocery store. I did a much better job of packing the food for this trip than I did on our last big trip, but I needed to get a loaf of French bread and a head of lettuce to round out that night's dinner. I think I ran into Mountain Man more than once in that store.
When we got back to the cabin, Grace volunteered to get dinner cooking and to watch the babies (Rachel and Joseph) while the rest of us visited the little museum in town. It was a very well done museum. Before we headed back to the cabin, we decided to check out the canoe camp (and here) where Lewis and Clark worked with the Nez Perce Indians to make canoes to use for the remainder of their journey to the Pacific Ocean. When we got back to the cabin, Liz and I helped Grace finish up dinner and we all hit the hay early. Vacation can be really exhausting.
We woke up the next morning, Matt and I said, "Happy Anniversary!" to each other, then we all pitched in to get breakfast served and to get all of our stuff back into the van for the ride home. We stopped at a thrift store along the way. Grace decided she MUST HAVE the vintage suitcases for an upcoming photo shoot. I told her, "You get to tell Dad." I could tell that Daddy was not pleased when we got back to the van with the suitcases (since we had so much extra room), but he handled it well. Grace reconfigured the way the van was packed and got those buggars in there. I recused myself from the whole affair and buried my nose in my e-mail.
We then wandered around looking for a good picnic spot. That one has no bathrooms. That one has an entry fee. That one has no parking. Big suitcases + crabby kids + no place to eat lunch = stressed parents.
We finally found a suitable park, although it was full of goose poop, which Rachel tried to eat and the kids could not avoid stepping in. Happy Anniversary, Honey! Joseph LOVED the playground horsie there, though. He's really into horses right now. He refused to get off of the thing when it was time to leave. When I went to lift him off of the horse, his little hands gripped the handles with all their might. Tears ensued.
We made one more stop on the way home. We stopped at a small town museum that was closed the day we traveled through it. Once again, the kids got a personally guided tour by the docent there. She had a blast and so did they.
We made it home safe and sound, albeit a little rough around the edges. I wanted to call it a day, but Matt insisted he take me to a Mexican restaurant for dinner. I never could have guessed on our wedding day that twenty two years later we'd be celebrating our wedding anniversary on a road trip in a big van with eight kids and a dog. God is good and He is faithful.
Sunday, September 27, 2015
The Sandwich Generation
I've read plenty about it--the sandwich generation, but until now, I didn't understand it because I hadn't experienced it. It's been a steep learning curve. I'm constantly trying to find the balance between my parents' needs and my family's needs. I certainly have not done a perfect job of it. I find myself going before the Throne of Grace for both my parents and my children on a daily basis. It's a very weak and humbling position in which to be, but I know it's exactly where God wants me.
Friday was a sandwich day. I got a call about 6 a.m. informing me that my mom had been taken to the emergency room. I got out of bed, quickly got ready, packed a hospital bag and headed out. Here's a pro tip--never go to the hospital with a friend or relative without a bag packed with high protein snacks, a water bottle, Advil (you will get a headache while there) and plenty of reading material.
When I arrived at the hospital, Mom, true to form, thought all of the fuss was much ado about nothing. It wasn't exactly nothing, but it could have been much worse, so we were both thankful for that. I distracted her with stories about the kids while the doctor did his work. I was in disbelief when they released her just two hours later.
After meeting up with the staff at mom's house and giving them the doctor's instructions, I talked with Dad who had just gotten into town. Mom had been approved to go on a little shopping trip with Dad, so all was well.
It was nearly lunch time and I had a full day of work ahead of me at home, so I headed that direction. Grace called me on the way. She had been asked by the woman who does my hair if she wanted to work at her salon. First, Grace would need to pass a little test. She would have to do a foil hair color, a long, layered cut and a buzz cut.
"Mom, do you have time to get your hair colored today?"
"Well, how long will it take?"
"About 3 1/2 hours."
Gulp.
"Grace, I'm making a turkey dinner for your brother's birthday today. . . alright, I'll do it."
Grace was relieved. The person she had lined up for the color couldn't make it at the last minute. Mom to the rescue.
I got home, ate a quick lunch, prepped the turkey, stuck it in the fridge and gave clear instructions on how to get it cooked (America's Test Kitchen style--breast side down at 425 degrees for 1 hour, then flip the turkey, 325 until done). Grace grabbed all of her tools and I grabbed my hospital bag. I was in it for the long haul. Once my hair was done (and beautiful, I might add), Grace asked me to text my friend to see if her daughter would like a free haircut. The only caveat--she needed to come to the salon right now. She was game. Yay!
Next up--the buzz cut requirement. Before I could deal with that, however, I needed to make sure dinner was on track. I scurried home, gave some orders to peel potatoes and made sure the rest of the menu was coming along. It wasn't, but at least the turkey was in the oven.
Matt, Paul and I then headed out again. Paul was to be the recipient of the buzz cut. We dropped him at the salon and then went to go pick up Matt's car at the mechanic's before he closed. All three of our car were in the shop last week, but that's a whole 'nother story.
By the time I got back home, my Mom and Dad had arrived. Mom had been given clearance to join us for the evening. My sister and brother-in-law would be over an hour in coming, but that was o.k. because I needed every bit of that time to finish making the dinner. A big shout-out goes to Elizabeth, who was a long-suffering servant all that day. She even taught Lydia how to make the famous family Texas sheet cake recipe.
My Dad picked up Grace and Paul at the salon right before dinner. It had been a marathon for Grace, but we think she passed the test. The cosmetologists at the salon were impressed with her work. We'll see how God works out the details. Paul loved his dinner (that guy can eat!) and Joseph cried when he missed his chance to blow out the birthday cake candles.
I won't lie. I wanted to have a good cry several times on Friday, but I didn't have time. So instead, I threw up some arrow prayers and by the grace of God, He got me through it. And then I had a good cry and good prayer time in the middle of the night.
"And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus." Phil. 4:19
Friday was a sandwich day. I got a call about 6 a.m. informing me that my mom had been taken to the emergency room. I got out of bed, quickly got ready, packed a hospital bag and headed out. Here's a pro tip--never go to the hospital with a friend or relative without a bag packed with high protein snacks, a water bottle, Advil (you will get a headache while there) and plenty of reading material.
When I arrived at the hospital, Mom, true to form, thought all of the fuss was much ado about nothing. It wasn't exactly nothing, but it could have been much worse, so we were both thankful for that. I distracted her with stories about the kids while the doctor did his work. I was in disbelief when they released her just two hours later.
After meeting up with the staff at mom's house and giving them the doctor's instructions, I talked with Dad who had just gotten into town. Mom had been approved to go on a little shopping trip with Dad, so all was well.
It was nearly lunch time and I had a full day of work ahead of me at home, so I headed that direction. Grace called me on the way. She had been asked by the woman who does my hair if she wanted to work at her salon. First, Grace would need to pass a little test. She would have to do a foil hair color, a long, layered cut and a buzz cut.
"Mom, do you have time to get your hair colored today?"
"Well, how long will it take?"
"About 3 1/2 hours."
Gulp.
"Grace, I'm making a turkey dinner for your brother's birthday today. . . alright, I'll do it."
Grace was relieved. The person she had lined up for the color couldn't make it at the last minute. Mom to the rescue.
I got home, ate a quick lunch, prepped the turkey, stuck it in the fridge and gave clear instructions on how to get it cooked (America's Test Kitchen style--breast side down at 425 degrees for 1 hour, then flip the turkey, 325 until done). Grace grabbed all of her tools and I grabbed my hospital bag. I was in it for the long haul. Once my hair was done (and beautiful, I might add), Grace asked me to text my friend to see if her daughter would like a free haircut. The only caveat--she needed to come to the salon right now. She was game. Yay!
Next up--the buzz cut requirement. Before I could deal with that, however, I needed to make sure dinner was on track. I scurried home, gave some orders to peel potatoes and made sure the rest of the menu was coming along. It wasn't, but at least the turkey was in the oven.
Matt, Paul and I then headed out again. Paul was to be the recipient of the buzz cut. We dropped him at the salon and then went to go pick up Matt's car at the mechanic's before he closed. All three of our car were in the shop last week, but that's a whole 'nother story.
By the time I got back home, my Mom and Dad had arrived. Mom had been given clearance to join us for the evening. My sister and brother-in-law would be over an hour in coming, but that was o.k. because I needed every bit of that time to finish making the dinner. A big shout-out goes to Elizabeth, who was a long-suffering servant all that day. She even taught Lydia how to make the famous family Texas sheet cake recipe.
My Dad picked up Grace and Paul at the salon right before dinner. It had been a marathon for Grace, but we think she passed the test. The cosmetologists at the salon were impressed with her work. We'll see how God works out the details. Paul loved his dinner (that guy can eat!) and Joseph cried when he missed his chance to blow out the birthday cake candles.
I won't lie. I wanted to have a good cry several times on Friday, but I didn't have time. So instead, I threw up some arrow prayers and by the grace of God, He got me through it. And then I had a good cry and good prayer time in the middle of the night.
"And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus." Phil. 4:19
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
Kraut, Strudel, Pfeffernusse & More
We spent a few days in farm country over the weekend. Uncle Keith and Aunt Leanna hosted our family and several other family members for their town's annual German festival.
Joel, wearing his Great Grandpa's German hat
We arrived Thursday evening right around bed time. I wanted to hit the yard sales bright and early Friday morning. Many folks in town host yard sales over the festival weekend and I usually get some really good deals. This year was no exception. I nabbed a hardly used gas grill, an antique desk (a graduation present for Grace) and a Carhartt coat. Paul was so excited that I found that coat for him. So was I. A winter coat for Paul was on my list.
I had hoped to go to the yard sales by myself, as I usually find some good Christmas gifts for the kids amongst the treasures, but I only made it to one sale before the kids found me. The town is small and the kids know their way around. Once they spotted me, Lydia said, "Yay! Now we can ride in the van!" So I took them all to the next sale. That sale was in a tiny garage, but we managed to cram in there. It was an estate sale and there was a lot of stuff at great prices. I was using all of mental capacities to decide what thing would work for what child as a gift, stocking stuffer, etc. Matt would hate to be in my mind when I'm mulling decisions such as these. TOO MANY WORDS.
Anyway, the kids kept coming to me and asking, "Mommy! Mommy! Can I get this [stupid, useless piece of junk] ?" They were interrupting my train of thought. Exasperated, I finally asked, "How did I end up with eight kids!?" I corrected myself, "I mean, I know how I got eight kids, but why are they all HERE right now?"
I bought each of them a small item. They were satisfied and then headed back to the home place to leave me and the rest of the yard sales in peace.
Of course, we ate our of fill of German food over the weekend. Sausage, kraut, kartoffel und kloss, kuchen, apple strudel, pfeffernusse, cabbage rolls and kraut ranzas. We also enjoyed the parade, seeing the sheep (3,000!) that are eating down my Uncle's fields out at the farm and witnessing some gorgeous sunsets.
The highlight of the weekend for me, though, was getting more information about my Volga German heritage. A man from Concordia University was in town giving presentations about the Volga Germans. I attended a couple of his talks and after the last one, I asked if he could tell me how to get started finding out how to trace my family's roots back to Germany. He asked me my Uncle's name and then proceeded to show me a 124 page document following my family back twenty generations to the 1400s. Alrighty then. That saved me a lot of work. I haven't had time to thoroughly comb through the information yet, but I was excited to put some of the bits and pieces I remember my Grandpa telling me about his parents into some sort of context.
I'd like to spend some time talking with some of the townspeople that remember my grandparents before they all pass away. I wish that when I was younger I had cared about such things. I have all sorts of questions for which I wish I had answers. Anyway, I made a very good start. What neat surprise God had in store for me this past weekend!
We arrived Thursday evening right around bed time. I wanted to hit the yard sales bright and early Friday morning. Many folks in town host yard sales over the festival weekend and I usually get some really good deals. This year was no exception. I nabbed a hardly used gas grill, an antique desk (a graduation present for Grace) and a Carhartt coat. Paul was so excited that I found that coat for him. So was I. A winter coat for Paul was on my list.
I had hoped to go to the yard sales by myself, as I usually find some good Christmas gifts for the kids amongst the treasures, but I only made it to one sale before the kids found me. The town is small and the kids know their way around. Once they spotted me, Lydia said, "Yay! Now we can ride in the van!" So I took them all to the next sale. That sale was in a tiny garage, but we managed to cram in there. It was an estate sale and there was a lot of stuff at great prices. I was using all of mental capacities to decide what thing would work for what child as a gift, stocking stuffer, etc. Matt would hate to be in my mind when I'm mulling decisions such as these. TOO MANY WORDS.
Anyway, the kids kept coming to me and asking, "Mommy! Mommy! Can I get this [stupid, useless piece of junk] ?" They were interrupting my train of thought. Exasperated, I finally asked, "How did I end up with eight kids!?" I corrected myself, "I mean, I know how I got eight kids, but why are they all HERE right now?"
Of course, we ate our of fill of German food over the weekend. Sausage, kraut, kartoffel und kloss, kuchen, apple strudel, pfeffernusse, cabbage rolls and kraut ranzas. We also enjoyed the parade, seeing the sheep (3,000!) that are eating down my Uncle's fields out at the farm and witnessing some gorgeous sunsets.
I'd like to spend some time talking with some of the townspeople that remember my grandparents before they all pass away. I wish that when I was younger I had cared about such things. I have all sorts of questions for which I wish I had answers. Anyway, I made a very good start. What neat surprise God had in store for me this past weekend!
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
Jude is 7
Jude's birthday was near the end of August. We celebrated by going to the county fair. Jude's big day happened to fall on the fair's "Kid's Day," so it worked out perfectly.
Jude's biggest concerns were getting to ride a couple of rides and seeing the rodeo. We fulfilled both of those wishes. We also saw Grace's photography entries and Elizabeth's dress. Grace accidentally entered Liz in the adult class, but Liz's dress still received a blue ribbon. The whole family was so excited for her.
We also dropped by the bee booth to see Lydia. She spent a few hours that day answering people's questions about bees and giving them honey samples. She was in her element.
Jude took the whole family to Dairy Queen for dinner with a gift card he had received for his birthday from Grandpa Tom and Grandma Jane. After dinner, we headed back to the fair to partake of elephant ears and the rodeo.
Joseph is really into horses right now, so he loved every minute of the show. Daddy and I tried to convince Jude that we should head home at about 8:30 p.m. No dice--he wanted to stay to the very end, so that's what we did. Thankfully, Auntie Em and Uncle Wade watched Rachel for us during our time at the fair (almost 8 hours).
The next day, the whole family enjoyed another party for Jude at his godparent's house. We got to go swimming and grill hamburgers (Jude never gets tired of those) and birthday cake--chocolate, with cowboys on top.
Jude took the whole family to Dairy Queen for dinner with a gift card he had received for his birthday from Grandpa Tom and Grandma Jane. After dinner, we headed back to the fair to partake of elephant ears and the rodeo.
Tuesday, August 25, 2015
As You Like It (or not)
I took the two big girls to see Shakespeare's As You Like It Sunday afternoon. I debated about taking them. I knew that the timing was bad (canning, birthday parties, etc.) and the tickets were pricey. However, I finally pulled the trigger and asked Matt if he'd order us some tickets.
Let me just interject here. My first experience with seeing a Shakespeare play performed live was in Ashland, OR. at the outdoor Elizabethan Theater. I went with my high school English teacher and a few other students. We saw Macbeth (who knew that within a few years I would marry my very own Macduff?!) and A Mid-Summer Night's Dream. I don't think we could have seen a better combination of plays. The performances, the costumes, the atmosphere--everything was outstanding. So basically, every experience I've had with Shakespeare since has been disappointing.
I wish I could say Sunday's performance was different. The play was set in modern times, which I didn't realize until after we'd purchased tickets. I saw Measure for Measure in college at ritzy little theater in the big city. It also was set in modern times. It didn't thrill me. Nevertheless, I tried to keep an open mind. On the drive to the play on Sunday, I told the girls that at the very least, we would get a bit of culture that day. Or something like that.
When we arrived, we realized that Matt had procured tickets for us in the front and center of the theater. We could have spat on the stage from where we sat. I've never had any poker face abilities, so I'm sure my distaste during parts of the play were evident to the actors, who probably thought I had a very closed mind. So be it.
While the performances were very well done (they brought in a Shakespeare troupe from the big city), the play was what I would consider PG 13. Shakespeare's comedies do lend themselves to bawdiness, but this was over the top. Enough said. For me, the highlight of the play was Jaques' "All the world's a stage" which is a passage I had to memorize in high school. The actress (yes, three of the traditionally male characters were played by women) did an outstanding job with that.
During the intermission, the girls and I headed out to the parking lot to eat a snack in the car. We laughed hysterically over Elizabeth's take on the situation. "That guy who is playing Orlando should have a size bigger pants" ('twas true), "I couldn't look at the priest in the forest," (who was sporting plumber's crack--on purpose) and "When we go back in, I'm switching seats because the old guy next to me is a creep. He's laughing like crazy. It's not that funny. Maybe a smile would be o.k., but not laughing out loud."
When the play was over (what a relief), we decided to do some thrifting. This particular town has a great Goodwill. The girls made a nice haul. I talked them into heading home instead of eating out. We reached the home place around 7 p.m. I cooked myself some of our own chicken eggs topped with Tillamook cheese, sliced myself some homegrown tomatoes and toasted a piece of Dave's Killer Sprouted Bread. Fleur de Sel and freshly ground pepper finished the dish nicely. A nice ending to long day, except that while we were gone, Matt decided to switch the boys' rooms around and was only midway through the project when we got home. Oh well. All's Well That Ends Well.
Let me just interject here. My first experience with seeing a Shakespeare play performed live was in Ashland, OR. at the outdoor Elizabethan Theater. I went with my high school English teacher and a few other students. We saw Macbeth (who knew that within a few years I would marry my very own Macduff?!) and A Mid-Summer Night's Dream. I don't think we could have seen a better combination of plays. The performances, the costumes, the atmosphere--everything was outstanding. So basically, every experience I've had with Shakespeare since has been disappointing.
I wish I could say Sunday's performance was different. The play was set in modern times, which I didn't realize until after we'd purchased tickets. I saw Measure for Measure in college at ritzy little theater in the big city. It also was set in modern times. It didn't thrill me. Nevertheless, I tried to keep an open mind. On the drive to the play on Sunday, I told the girls that at the very least, we would get a bit of culture that day. Or something like that.
When we arrived, we realized that Matt had procured tickets for us in the front and center of the theater. We could have spat on the stage from where we sat. I've never had any poker face abilities, so I'm sure my distaste during parts of the play were evident to the actors, who probably thought I had a very closed mind. So be it.
While the performances were very well done (they brought in a Shakespeare troupe from the big city), the play was what I would consider PG 13. Shakespeare's comedies do lend themselves to bawdiness, but this was over the top. Enough said. For me, the highlight of the play was Jaques' "All the world's a stage" which is a passage I had to memorize in high school. The actress (yes, three of the traditionally male characters were played by women) did an outstanding job with that.
During the intermission, the girls and I headed out to the parking lot to eat a snack in the car. We laughed hysterically over Elizabeth's take on the situation. "That guy who is playing Orlando should have a size bigger pants" ('twas true), "I couldn't look at the priest in the forest," (who was sporting plumber's crack--on purpose) and "When we go back in, I'm switching seats because the old guy next to me is a creep. He's laughing like crazy. It's not that funny. Maybe a smile would be o.k., but not laughing out loud."
When the play was over (what a relief), we decided to do some thrifting. This particular town has a great Goodwill. The girls made a nice haul. I talked them into heading home instead of eating out. We reached the home place around 7 p.m. I cooked myself some of our own chicken eggs topped with Tillamook cheese, sliced myself some homegrown tomatoes and toasted a piece of Dave's Killer Sprouted Bread. Fleur de Sel and freshly ground pepper finished the dish nicely. A nice ending to long day, except that while we were gone, Matt decided to switch the boys' rooms around and was only midway through the project when we got home. Oh well. All's Well That Ends Well.
Thursday, August 20, 2015
A Needle in the Haystack. . .
. . . or in this case, Paul's heel. Yes, Paul did it again. He stepped on a sharp object which deeply embedded itself into his flesh.
Liz is feverishly sewing a dress which she hopes to complete and enter into the county fair this weekend. Thus the needle on the family room floor--the needle that found its way into Paul's foot Tuesday night about 9.
After unsuccessfully attempting minor surgery ourselves (Matt with his reading glasses, me without--thank you very much), we realized it was time to consult the professionals. The urgent care clinics in our area were closed for the night, so I gave Paul some Advil and told him to go to bed.
Yesterday morning, I left nearly 200 lbs of peaches waiting to be canned at home and took Paul to the urgent care. Even though we arrived within a few minutes of opening time, there were already two laceration cases ahead of us. When the doctor came in to see Paul, he explained that foreign bodies in flesh are notoriously difficult to retrieve, but he would give it a go. I liked the doctor right from the start. He was an older man with a pin on his white coat that said, "I treat. Jesus heals."
First, the doctor numbed Paul's foot. This was definitely the most painful part of the procedure, but Paul took it like a man. As the doctor consulted the X ray he had taken to see the needle's placement, he cut an incision. The needle had gone almost straight in. The doctor made a valiant attempt, but ended up referring us to a podiatrist. He warned us that surgery was a strong possibility. Before we left his office, the doctor offered to pray with us and we gladly accepted.
The podiatrist was a cool guy, at least in Paul's book. An avid hunter, his office was decorated with lots of game bird prints and not a few taxidermied birds. He had a great sense of humor and put Paul at ease. He told us that surgery might be the only answer, but that he would make an attempt to get the needle out then and there. After more X rays, another injection and a deeper incision, the doctor managed to retrieve the needle, which he said was pure dumb luck, but I had been praying during the whole procedure :)
Paul now has stitches in his foot and orders to not shower for a few days. Medical conditions do have their perks. Not to mention the fact that his mom felt very sorry for him and treated him to lunch at Carl's Jr. Paul also had orders to stay off of his foot for the remainder of the day, so his dad and younger brothers took over his hand line moving job last night
. And Liz has been told to keep pins and needles off of the floor. We shall see.
Liz is feverishly sewing a dress which she hopes to complete and enter into the county fair this weekend. Thus the needle on the family room floor--the needle that found its way into Paul's foot Tuesday night about 9.
After unsuccessfully attempting minor surgery ourselves (Matt with his reading glasses, me without--thank you very much), we realized it was time to consult the professionals. The urgent care clinics in our area were closed for the night, so I gave Paul some Advil and told him to go to bed.
Yesterday morning, I left nearly 200 lbs of peaches waiting to be canned at home and took Paul to the urgent care. Even though we arrived within a few minutes of opening time, there were already two laceration cases ahead of us. When the doctor came in to see Paul, he explained that foreign bodies in flesh are notoriously difficult to retrieve, but he would give it a go. I liked the doctor right from the start. He was an older man with a pin on his white coat that said, "I treat. Jesus heals."
First, the doctor numbed Paul's foot. This was definitely the most painful part of the procedure, but Paul took it like a man. As the doctor consulted the X ray he had taken to see the needle's placement, he cut an incision. The needle had gone almost straight in. The doctor made a valiant attempt, but ended up referring us to a podiatrist. He warned us that surgery was a strong possibility. Before we left his office, the doctor offered to pray with us and we gladly accepted.
The podiatrist was a cool guy, at least in Paul's book. An avid hunter, his office was decorated with lots of game bird prints and not a few taxidermied birds. He had a great sense of humor and put Paul at ease. He told us that surgery might be the only answer, but that he would make an attempt to get the needle out then and there. After more X rays, another injection and a deeper incision, the doctor managed to retrieve the needle, which he said was pure dumb luck, but I had been praying during the whole procedure :)
Paul now has stitches in his foot and orders to not shower for a few days. Medical conditions do have their perks. Not to mention the fact that his mom felt very sorry for him and treated him to lunch at Carl's Jr. Paul also had orders to stay off of his foot for the remainder of the day, so his dad and younger brothers took over his hand line moving job last night
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)