In this heart ...

To be or not to be

2012-02-02T05:49:00.000-05:00

Sometimes people sell you out. Sometimes it's by the very people you love.

Writing today at 66 Books.

Pre-k

2012-01-31T13:49:00.004-05:00

Practicing tracing and identifying shapes. Tracing and copying shape words ... square ... rectangle.

Erin sits on my lap, her hair still fragrant from spring-like breezes and sunshine. We had lunch at the picnic table in a sunny spot, checkered cloth covering, sandwiches in bags, chips, apples and pudding. Kids ran and played and I soaked in sun. It was only just minutes ago, and her hair retains this promising scent of spring and childhood. Wishing I could bottle it, infuse this delight of time, this vapor.

"Trace and color the rectangles," I read the directions. She sits in my lap and complies.

"Trace and copy the word 'rectangle'," I continue.

"Ok, but don't look," she tells. She likes to surprise with the finished product.

"Ok," I say. I close my eyes and lean in to breathe her hair.

"And no sniffing," she says. My jaw drops in amusement.

"And no kissing," she sums up.

"No fair," I tell her and laugh.

Do not forget five.

Hardwood, slate and tile

2012-01-31T11:37:00.000-05:00

It was well over a month before my feet wouldn't ache and throb the second they hit the floor in the morning. Some mornings doing school with Lanie, feet in wool socks propped upon the table leg rest so they don't absorb the cold from a tile floor.

Yesterday, we three prepared to head out to a play date at a friend's house. I found myself secretly hoping they had carpet, so I could sink my feet into plush and padding.

"Mommy," Erin said. "I hope they have carpet."

I laughed at my mini-me.

Their home was wood floors and tile too. Luckily, I had wool socks on.

One thousand gifts and still counting (2592-2611)

2012-01-30T12:27:00.001-05:00

2592. an unclogged sink
2593. mild temperatures
2594. Strawberry Shortcake bandaids
2595. the richness of second coats of paint
2596. hot bread out of the oven
2597. a new play date for Erin
2598. coconut scented shampoo
2599. how easily one forgets
2600. a woodpecker in the backyard at breakfast
2601. hot oatmeal in a mug
2602. flavored coffee
2603. sunflowers
2604. Friday night open door
2605. a table for twelve
2606. her excitement over dance
2607. another's morning cuddles
2608. hearts in a bag for a Valentine path
2609. olive oil and fresh pepper on a plate
2610. not caring who hears my song
2611. splintery wood on the hearth

Hock locks and other accoutrements

2012-01-26T06:14:00.000-05:00

Winter is beef stew season. I finally wrote it into our weekly menu. Pulled out the crockpot and snagged the first recipe that showed up on Google. Dumped beef cubes, celery, carrots, onions, etc. into the pot, set in on high, and went about my day. Returned from errands to the most delightful scent, and happiness in my heart that I wouldn't be trying to squeeze in a dinner prep while scouting finds on Pinterest.

By 6:00 p.m., I was lifting the lid to add some cornstarch to thicken. A gentle stir revealed an unexpected ingredient: the absorbent pad that lines the meat pack.

I phoned a friend. I phoned the grocery store. I went online. Fortunately, I am not the first person this has happened to. The government even has a link about it. I tried to overlook the condescension of its opening: The absorbent pad is clearly not intended to be cooked ...

Clearly.

(For the record, I didn't see it go in the pot!)

While three out of four sources said to eat the food, we declined. Simmering plastic just didn't sound appetizing. Not even to the guy at the meat counter. We ate eggs instead.

Unmistakable

2012-01-26T05:57:00.000-05:00

How often do we want to write things off as coincidence? Sometimes God shows up in ways that are unmistakable. I think everyone's got a crazy fish story. What's yours? Leave it in comments over at 66 Books.

Writing today at my favorite place.

The before and after

2012-01-23T13:28:00.000-05:00

This house is looking so different from when we first moved in. The woods. The dining room. The hallway. The kitchen is halfway repainted, white. I never thought I'd choose to paint a room white. We spent the warmer months getting a handle on the gardens and yard. David was a huge help this fall and winter by overseeing the clearing of the jungle underbrush. It looks so very different from when we moved in.

At some point, I'll have before and after pictures to show. But we're still working towards after. One thought that sticks with me in the preparation to sell our other house was how we painted rooms we'd never painted in ten years living there. An office. A laundry room. The girls' bathroom. They had all been white. And after we finished, we really enjoyed the look. We asked ourselves why didn't we do it sooner, and promised we wouldn't put it off at the next place. I think that's why we've worked so hard. (And now can you see the amusement of white walls?)

Other plans in the near future: transforming the front garden, remodeling the school room, updating the laundry room (paint, cabinets, storage). But what feels really good is the sense of progress and the enjoyment of the finished product, now instead of later.

I remember lying in bed one morning the first week here, soaring pines outside my bedroom window. A woods- and bed-n-breakfast-like feel. I wondered to myself, "What are we doing here? Is this even us?!" We were open floor plans, neat and tidy yard, open field. I had an 8x8 raised garden bed, manicured hands, and a place for everything. It seemed like culture shock. As much as this place had been on heart and horizon, waking up here was unsettling, at first.

Now we are cozy rooms, older home, slate floors ... woods and jungle, poison ivy, wild turkeys, deer and snakes. Now I am tired hands, woodsmoke, snake-stomper boots, do-rag. I find myself repurposing things, hunting treasure finds, skimming Pinterest for creative ideas that don't come quite naturally to me.

When one of the writers came to breakfast the other week, she admired the sky-scraping trees, the variety in the terrain.

"Your kids must love it here," she commented. They do.

So different from the before. All of it. All of us.

A new friend commented, "This place is you."

I laughed.

He didn't know us before. Didn't know who we thought we were--open fields, manicured hands, tidy lawn. But he sees us now in the becoming. Oh, the difference here makes. Inside and out. When I had made joy a focal point for this year, after years of the sometime-struggle, I see God at work still, from the prompting on our hearts for change--of who we were, of where we were--to the video message at a women's Bible study of the book of James and the deeper look at greetings (joy to you!) ... finding it in and after the trial, in the before and in the after.

Ginger ale

2012-01-21T20:54:00.000-05:00

Tummy bug. Again. This time, me. Couch all day. I asked Shane for some ginger ale. Wait, wait, wait. I go into the kitchen with a sad face. He's plugged into a webinar. Looks at me with realization. I get a glass. Reach for soda. Pour a glass full. "Now you have me wanting some too," he says. I laughed.

One thousand gifts and still counting (2572-2591)

2012-01-19T08:08:00.000-05:00

Walking into a windy night, thoughts thick. Thankful.

2572. the breathtaking blanket of stars above the treetops
2573. an empty seat filled next to me at the Bible study
2574. a tissue passed down by sister hands
2575. a coffee delivery
2576. the luxurious heat pouring from the fireplace insert

2577. chocolate mousse moose peeps from Denise
2578. and chocolate Kisses "for my eyes only", frozen and shared
2579. a breakfast with url friends turned irl
2580. the little water pitcher on sale
2581. mismatched chairs around the table

2582. cupcake run with littles
2583. spring-like temps in January
2584. windchimes
2585. books in the mail
2586. the friendly honk hello by a neighbor

2587. strangers to talk to
2588. little ballet slippers
2589. the Beth Moore book of James study
2590. sassy pink leopard print slippers gifted
2591. a landscape changed by David, the mark of his love and friendship

Less than three equals love

2012-01-16T16:10:00.000-05:00

I hosted a breakfast Saturday morning for the local writers on 66 Books. It was so much fun. I can't tell you how excited I get about having people over for food and hanging out. (My friend Kellie and I had both read a book about the five love languages. Hers was spending time with others. Mine was too. When she shared hers with me, I giggled, because in many ways we are alike. I have to say, though, I think of food as a love language because I love to fix food for others or eat food with them.)

I went out Friday night, as I often do before having people over, looking for something special. This time it was white flowers. Stayed up late talking to Shane and then realized I had lots of prep to do and a few other things and it was already midnight. By the time I got to bed, I still couldn't sleep.

I told him afterwards how excited I had been Friday night that I couldn't sleep. He said he also had a hard time sleeping. He was still up when I came to bed around 1:30 a.m.

"Were you excited too?!" I joked.

French toast bake. Egg bake. Mini yogurt parfaits. Strawberry and blackberries in a bowl. Orange juice. Coffee, coffee, coffee. Donut holes.

Funny: one guy I'm writing with this year almost considered buying the house we are in when the owner first prepared to list it over two years ago. Several factors put him off.

"That's because it was meant for us," I said.

Funny because our girls are best friends, and I love his family, and he's writing on the blog--and I never imagined these little twists of fate. He thought it was funny too the very first time he turned onto our driveway.

The morning flew by. I loved every minute of it. Didn't snag nearly as many pictures as I would have liked.

Life is good in the sweet spot.

'Round here

2012-01-13T09:00:00.001-05:00

It's been quiet on this blog. Getting back to school with Lanie, stomach bug with Erin and Shane, prepping for a luncheon that got canceled because of stomach bug, laundry and disinfecting, prepping for a breakfast tomorrow (66 Books local writers! I'm so excited! I love this!), a weekly evening book study, girls enrolled in dance (Erin in ballet, Lanie in modern), and lots to read because that appetite has picked up again.

Keeping home fires burning, winter slipping in with bluster and bite, home project to-do's waiting for the go (dining room is finished, moving into the front hallway and upstairs hall for painting after Shane sands down some patches--white and a color called kangaroo. The kitchen follows.), and a sunny sky that calls me out despite the windchill--I want to go walking in the woods. Reading a book on woodland health has me looking at trees in a completely different way. I saw an enormous hawk swooping through the front garden. Just magnificent.

Now on Thursdays

2012-01-07T13:47:00.000-05:00

Looks can be deceiving. Sometimes the greener grass brings an unexpected neighbor, as Lot found out.

Writing Thursdays with a new reading plan and some new (and returning) writers over at 66 Books. Celebrating the start of a fourth year.

Two down, two to go?

2012-01-07T13:18:00.000-05:00

Erin complained of not feeling well the other day. Woke from her sleep around 10 p.m. vomiting. I was up with her all night as she puked every 45 minutes. Sad, sad, sad. Personally, I'm not a fan of vomiting, but when it's happening to such a little one, something changes. So what if I had three loads of laundry to do, or spent the night with one ear and eye open to listen and watch for stirring so I could be ready to catch it, or cuddle close to her the entire time that even when I took the hit, it was just part of love.


Erin crashed early.

By Friday, we thought the worst was over. She hadn't thrown up at all Thursday night or Friday. I disinfected the house from top to bottom. Oh, it smelled so lemony. But I awoke in the middle of the night, literally afraid, to horrid sounds. It was Shane. I laid in bed feeling bad for him, now both of us completely awake.

As he climbed back under covers, I said, at the risk of sounding completely selfish, "I'm just wondering when it's going to be my turn. Oh, I know it's coming."

He laughed. I had spent days holding the virus in my arms.

Canceled Sunday luncheon plans. Erin still not back to herself entirely, even after yesterday's promising energy. And I feel like I need to run out and complete all my errands today as I know there's a good possibility I'll be down for the count too.

She sat and cuddled in my arms on the couch this morning. Shane rested on the other one.

"How come no one cuddles me or gives me kisses?" he joked.

Unrelated: I lined the back of our glass cabinets with this paper. Changes things up a bit. We are preparing to paint the kitchen white. I never thought I would intentionally paint a room white.


Paper backing, test-driving the look.

S'mores

2012-01-03T09:45:00.002-05:00

From the good folks at Smorestix who included some variations on a classic:

The Traditional: roasted marshmallow, 2 grahams, 1 piece of milk chocolate

The Frosty: roasted marshmallow, 2 grahams, 1 junior Peppermint Patty

The Hawaiian: roasted marshmallow, 2 grahams, white chocolate, a slice of pineapple

The Peanut Butter Dream: roasted marshmallow, 2 grahams, 1 peanut butter cup

Said

2012-01-02T22:51:00.000-05:00

Overheard while I was on the search for s'mores sticks.

"Lanie, if you are ever in jail, you can call me." This from Erin.

***

While I was painting the front hall and foyer, Erin walks by. I said, "Say goodbye to the yellow!"

"I'm not saying goodbye to it. I didn't like it anyway," she replied.

Woodsmoke

2012-01-02T21:11:00.000-05:00

I remember last summer, moving our stuff in. Meeting with Cindy. I had a package of s'mores sticks. I remember showing it to her, and in that moment feeling silly that I purchased marshmallow roasting sticks when I was about to be living IN THE WOODS. I had a good laugh over that. But seeing how we came from a field, we never had dropped sticks to pick from to roast marshmallows, unless we wanted to cut healthy branches off our little trees.

I promised the kids we'd roast marshmallows in this house. Weeks turned to months. Mild temperatures lingered, but now entering a nice little cold snap it seemed a great day to start a fire. So we started two (one in the school room, one in the living room).

I pulled out the sticks.

Got the bag of marshmallows out and loaded them on.

Loved the feel of the heat. Loved sitting next to my kids who were THRILLED to be roasting a marshmallow. Loved that Shane jumped in on the action and roasted his own. And can I say, they were delicious! Nothing like a roasted marshmallow.

When I walked into the school room, it felt warm. But best of all, it smelled like woodsmoke. And I felt joy.

Days gone by

2011-12-31T22:04:00.002-05:00

So, I don't have a specific list of things to reflect on, necessarily. 2011 was more like this:

House on the market. House sold. We moved. The end.

Wasn't that enough in itself for the year?

But there was so much in the every day, so much in the posts, in the prayer, in the pictures ... checked out this reflection of a year--20 questions for asking yourself--and I was surprised, and not surprised, at some of my answers.

Some status writers on Facebook are eager to say goodbye to 2011. But one friend's response resonated with me--that even the bad was something to cherish and not wish away--especially if it provided opportunity to grow. I couldn't agree more. I find myself thankful.

I haven't stopped counting thanks, but they haven't appeared on Mondays like they used to. I give credit to that mystery woman at church a few weeks back. At the computer prepping the list of thanks for that week, I stopped short, remembering my conversation with her. My thanks paused here:

2571. thankful for my broken heart

I think sometimes when it's all good, it's good enough. But brokenness triggers a searching, a yearning, a grasp for hope. Brokenness spurs change, passion, determination, faith. Broken places heal stronger, make us stronger, and position us to be compassionate to others in a way that might not happen at all in the granted of the all good.

Worship was intensified in the brokenness. And in that trail of thanks, over 2,500 steps long, I know I wouldn't have been able to declare 2571 a moment earlier. Now the visuals and the every little thing that pixelates this life, they just flow unnumbered, but not uncounted. I might pick it back up in lists again. But sitting quietly with 2571 this evening. (Oh, and Shane too.)

I don't suppose God sees it as coincidence that the song that ignited a word for me nearly a year ago, would be the last song I sang tonight at church. Heh, or maybe he does. But I don't.

Looking forward to a new year. Looking forward to our continued progress of making this home ours. Looking forward to a fourth year on 66Books. And a focus for 2012: Joy.

Weeping may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning.

Ready for joy.

Happy new year!

More than infinity

2011-12-31T21:48:00.001-05:00

Cuddling with Erin. Hugs and kisses. Love looks between us.

"I love you more than you love me," she said.

"No, I love you more. Way more than you love me," I countered.

"No, I love you way, way, way more," she said.

"Well, I love you infinity," I said.

She looked at me, hesitated, said,

"I love you more."

A little like slow motion

2011-12-29T23:59:00.000-05:00

Like running for the long jump. Feet pounding, thump, thump, thump. And then the spring: legs stretching, arms reaching, face grimaced. That's what 2011 felt like to me. Parts of it. Viewed in hindsight, slow motion. And the cry out, kind of a growl, like tearing off a band-aid stuck on too tight. Ly. Tightly. Waiting for my feet to touch ground ...

... thinking of the chance meeting with a woman at church a couple of weeks ago. She told me things. My response to her like it was meant for my ears ... only God knows your heart. Thoughts lately of that ... quiets me.

... the ending of a year that started in one house and finishes in another. I'm sitting in our school room tap-tap-tapping on a keyboard looking around me. Hearing the hum of the heater. Woolly socks on my feet. Christmas wreaths still on doorways. I am frequently amazed we're here. Frequently amazed. We are here.

... thoughts on a word of the year. Reviewing posts of 2011, a playlist sounds. Worship. What a year. What a year.

... prepping a reading plan for 2012; a new team of writers and some returning. I'm on Thursdays starting next week. Entering a fourth year. And, for me, a new focus point:

Joy.

I sat and colored with the kids yesterday. And Denise. All of us doing our own thing. In big, bold, block letters I spelled out J O Y in red on orange paper so it filled the page. Outlined it several times. I looked up and noticed Denise and Lanie also writing out J O Y like a banner across their pages.

"I like that word," Denise said.

"Once you start to focus on it, you'll see it everywhere," I told her. Which we did throughout our errands that afternoon. (I made sure to point it out.) We shared smiles. And I felt grateful to count her as a friend.

Merry indeed

2011-12-27T17:31:00.000-05:00

When I was little, we'd stay in our rooms until we heard music playing on Christmas morning. Then we'd come down to open presents and have breakfast, usually cinnamon rolls. In our other house, I couldn't carry on that tradition because of the open floor plan. One step out of a bedroom gave full view to the family room below. But this house is different. And each room has a speaker.

Lanie and Erin were eagerly standing at our bedside Christmas morning with merry wishes on their lips and big smiles. "Go turn on the music!" Lanie said. So I went downstairs and plugged in the lights on the tree, turned on the coffee, preheated the oven and turned on the music. Our first Christmas here. And while Thanksgiving wasn't the warm-fuzzy experience I'd hoped it would be, Christmas was.

The coffee was good. The cinnamon rolls were hot. A sausage and egg breakfast bake followed with fresh berries. Lanie called it pajama day. And I said to Shane, "Part of me feels like having a fire in the fireplace."

"Which part of you would that be?" he joked.

"The cold part," I said.

Erin dressed up for church

Christmas Eve at bedtime

The after hours

Christmas blur

Bed heads

Giggles

"My house is warm, my friendship is free." Thank you, Anita, for making my walls and my life so beautiful.

Cinnamon rolls

Window clings

Mini mugs for hot chocolate

Cookies gifted and gratefully received

Thinking of loved ones lost ... or left ... or far away ... and missing them.

Christmastime

2011-12-18T20:38:00.000-05:00

Shane said it doesn't feel like Christmastime to him. But it does to me. Tree up, lights glowing. Advent lollipop trees, garland on the mantel, wreaths on doorways, candle tarts warmed, cinnamon pine cones, cookies and music.

Enjoying Christmastime by Michael W. Smith this year. By far, my now favorite is Carol of the Bells by Barlow Girl.

My dad's girlfriend told me when she was a girl, her relatives would spend Christmas together, getting a tree on Christmas Eve, propping it in a sand pail undecorated. She said when all the kids and cousins woke up Christmas morning, the tree was fully decorated and lit up, presents underneath and stockings full. She said it was magical. It sounded that way. I can only imagine the party it must have been for the grown-ups pulling an all-nighter (how fun!). I bet the coffee tasted good that morning.

My girls already requesting the color wrapping paper for their gifts. When Erin was much smaller, we color-coded packages so the kids could spot their gifts if they couldn't read their names. Funny this has stuck with them as being part of Christmas in our house. I was about to abandon the idea, since Erin can spell and read her name. But it looks like a tradition is born of anticipation.

Revisited a former tradition by bringing back the cookie swap. We skipped last year's since our house was on the market, but it felt good to be back in the kitchen baking, and sitting with friends for an afternoon. Shane was going to take the girls to the movies, but Erin decided to stay home in her tutu. I loved having her here, and we sang songs and prepped until the friends arrived.

The day went fast, the hellos and hugs too brief, a lot like the season. I sat down at the end of the day, covered in a baby blanket, drinking the last of the salted caramel hot chocolate. And whether it felt like Christmas or not, I was glad it felt like home.

Wonderland

2011-12-12T19:14:00.000-05:00

chocolate dipped marshmallow with Christmas sprinkles. Cute and easy.

cheese plate in shape of Christmas tree

pretty meringues (store bought)

craft activities

heart shaped cheese on snowflake Ritz crackers. E. Z.

the cake from a local bakery

birthday song

Erin with my dad

filling goodie bags (snowman Peeps!)

used first for musical chairs (snowflakes), reused for glitter craft

snowflake glitter ornaments, crafts, and winterscape color pages


peppermint kiss cookies and white fudge Oreos with snowflakes piped on

Fun day.

Lucked out with all the fabulous ideas others have scouted out on the internet and shared through Pinterest. Got the tree cheese tray, Oreo snowflake, peppermint cookie, the dipped marshmallows (and the Christmas ornament garland) all from there.When I thought I'd never actually do one of the hundred images/links I'd saved, I did five in two days.

Had a happy celebration with Erin, who chose to wear her little black dress to her party. Easy theme, easy prep, made it easy to relax and be hands-on with the party instead of working behind the scenes. Of course, it helps having a room full of awesome friends and relatives who jumped in to slice up, dish out, photograph, etc.

Decking the halls

2011-12-10T23:01:00.001-05:00

Shane gave me such a great compliment once. That he could walk into the kitchen of total chaos ten minutes before guests would arrive, then turn his back and it was magically transformed and ready for company. He said it always surprised him I could pull it together so fast.

Until this year. Big fail at Thankgiving. Family showing up 40 minutes ahead of schedule, me still in pajamas, the kitchen all chaos and I hadn't even started the mashed potatoes. Not my best moment. Or the ones that followed.

With Erin's birthday party tomorrow, I got a head start on it yesterday. We've always done a casual playdate party, but this year, I thought I'd spruce it up for her. I even decorated.

Whether or not I can pull it off and be out of pajamas before her friends arrive remains to be seen. But I'm hopeful.

Do'in it Friday

2011-12-09T10:23:00.001-05:00

By the second cup of coffee, I was reviewing my things to do. Mental list of this and that. Thought to myself, "I'll do it Friday."

Then I realized ... it is Friday.

Getting ready for a winter wonderland tea party for Erin, who turns five on Sunday.

Chocolate frosted with Christmas sprinkles

2011-12-07T17:51:00.001-05:00

Rainy day. Drive downtown. Rushing kids out the door. Sandwiches in bags in hands out the door. Navigating streets of memory. Slightly stressed. Parking garage. Erin doesn't want to walk down the steps. Rainy streets. To the symphony hall. Get tickets at will-call. Find seats. Up one. Up two. To the third (after one relocation). The very.last.row.

Oh.

Frowny girls. Grumpy voices. Squirmers till show starts.

Erin sits on my lap the whole time. I didn't mind. Half way through whispers, "I'm tired. Can we go yet?"

"We're almost there," I said.

Lanie needs a potty break.

"But we just had one. It's almost done. A few minutes?"

She coughs. And coughs. And coughs. Lights rise. We're out. Potty break. To the rainy streets. Up the garage stairwell. Out into afternoon traffic. Through the city. On the highway. On the expressway. One falls asleep. I had promised a treat. Dunkin' Donuts ahead. Two kids out of the car. In the rain. In line.

"One red icing with sprinkles," I said. "And one chocolate frosted with the Christmas sprinkles, please."

Pay. Out the door. In the car.

"Who might let Mommy have a tiny bite of their donut," I asked.

"You take big bites!" Erin protested.

"You can take a bite of mine, Mommy," Lanie offered.

Donuts handed out, and I stopped.

There was an extra chocolate covered donut with Christmas sprinkles. I smiled. Thankful.

Brighter days

2011-12-07T16:38:00.001-05:00

It was a weekend in July. Shane brought home the box truck the real estate agent let us use, so we could load up the kids' play set and take it to our next house. Amazingly, it fit.

Shane got the truck situated so all I had to do was put it in drive and go.

"I set the radio to your favorite station," he said. Because that's the kind of guy he is.

It's been awhile since I heard the song "Move" by Mercy Me. It played today while the girls and I were on a rainy commute to a holiday symphony performance downtown. I remembered the heat of July and the heartache of all that, how that song had played as I started up the truck and pulled out of the neighborhood, the opening of a new chapter. I remembered being thankful that day for a hope-full song and a catchy beat. I sang and I laughed at the sometimes-soundtrack life offers up. So fitting on many levels.

I’m not about to give up
Because I’ve heard You say
There's gonna be brighter days
There's gonna be brighter days
I won’t stop I’ll keep my head up
No I’m not here to stay
There’s gonna be brighter days
There's gonna be brighter days

I just might bend but I won’t break
As long as I can see Your face

When life won’t play along
And right keeps going wrong
And I can’t seem to find my way
I know where I am found
So I won’t let it drag me down
Oh I’ll keep dancing anyway
Gonna move move
Gonna move move

I’ve got to hold it steady
Keep my head in the game
Everything is about to change
Everything is about to change
This hurt is getting heavy
But I’m not about to cave
Everything is about to change
There’s gonna be brighter days

I just might bend but I won’t break
As long as I can see Your face

When life won’t play along
And right keeps going wrong
And I can’t seem to find my way
I know where I am found
So I won’t let it drag me down
Oh I’ll keep dancing anyway
Gonna move

No matter what may come
Gonna move to a different drum
No matter what life brings
Gotta move to a different beat

One thousand gifts and still counting (2562-2570)

2011-12-05T06:41:00.000-05:00

writers at 66 Books who've contributed through years
new writers up for the possibility of 2012
a new reading plan selected for next year, if it's a go
the change in me since I've been a part of it

the difference here makes, I can't say it enough.
opportunities to connect with others
new friendships made
seeing family friends so frequently because we're "just around the corner"
how she joins us on Fridays for dinner, and we are closer for it

Make no mistake--when I count these gifts and give thanks, it's only to God. Because while I'm thankful for the Big Gifts (salvation, forgiveness, hope), I am thankful for the endless little gifts. Abundant life ... I wonder if it's in the awareness of and abiding in his presence--that I can be thankful for coffee deliveries before a holiday weekend, for kids who embrace and love me, for picture-window sunset views to replace the sunrises, a captain's bell under vine, the company of friends around a table, the silky sweetness of chocolate. It's no generic thing--my thanks is intended for a father who gives good gifts. I'm eternally grateful.

Gold

2011-12-04T21:14:00.001-05:00

The whole house has been under infection of some sort. I think I started the ball rolling with the fever/sinus infection combo, followed by Erin with skyrocketing fever. Then Shane to cough and losing his voice. Lanie boasted immunity and then fell victim to fever and cough. Erin's been the longest though, with a cough that won't let go and taunts her at night. For the past three nights, we've let her sleep in our bed.

Coughing fit tonight called me to comfort her as she fell asleep. I lied next to her and held her close, savoring these last days of four. She turns to face me.

"You're my Christmas present," she said. That love. I know it. How she tries to explain it so I'll understand.

"While you were out today, I found a rock," she told me. This important news before she fell asleep. "It looked like gold!" We smiled.

Four years old, my rock hunter, still. Excitement of golden rocks. And joy at love like an anticipated gift on Christmas morning.

I write this down so I won't forget.

Eye of the beholder

2011-12-02T06:48:00.001-05:00

David's been over the past few days supervising brush clearing in the jungle. We walked around looking at trees and he made comments about them--some being ugly, haunting, not graceful. To my interest, I had never considered the trees that way--I rather liked some for their imperfection and quirks (and the haunting, spooky ones were my personal favorites). I suppose that's the melancholic in me.

In today's reading, the heart and the beholder.

When an enemy would flame with words, criticism, condemnation–the Lord corrects in love, stands with me in my retching admission, forgives.

Writing today at 66 Books.

One thousand gifts and still counting (2541-2561)

2011-11-28T07:30:00.000-05:00

a big box of coffee delivered the day before Thanksgiving
a painted dining room
turkey plates, little cups and saucers, unpacked
happy faces at the table
icing on cupcakes, swirled high

the less-than-perfect, and learning to find peace in it
handmade potholders from my dad
that he was here to see his lights twinkling at night in the garden
dirty dishes on the counter for morning
an impromptu visit from David and Anita

her still-warm pumpkin bread, gifted
our first Thanksgiving here
mild weather with sunshine
the winding down of a third year on 66 Books
belly laughs from the best kids ever

the looking forward to holiday traditions
a glowing tree
raked leaves
photo cards in the mail
catching my husband eating pie from the dish the day after

and sunsets.

Christmas ornaments

2011-11-27T18:31:00.001-05:00

This year's tree; a pre-lit tree because Shane is done hanging lights. And my JOY reminder front and center, quite likely to be my 2012 focus word, if I do that kind of thing again.

Every year our family heads to a nearby nursery that is decked out with Christmas trees and ornaments. There, we select a new ornament each. I try to pick an ornament that is symbolic of something of the year. Like the first year of being a mom, I got a snowmama holding a snowbaby. Another year, per the (then) annual cookie swap, I selected a gingerbread man dressed in cook's clothing. Last year, the girls and I saw a lovely performance of The Nutcracker, so I chose an ornament of Clara holding a nutcracker.

The kids tend to get whatever is pretty or sparkly or catches their eye. This year, Lanie picked out a stained-glass cross. Erin got a Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer, second year running.

I got a sock monkey. Which has nothing to do with anything, yet is somehow fitting.

We passed by a woodland section of ornaments and Shane and I shared a good laugh over spiders, squirrels, foxes, groundhogs, mice, and snakes.

"You have to get a mouse or a snake," I encouraged. He didn't pick one out, being our resident humbug. I'm half tempted to go back soon and get one for him.

The girls decorating the tree.

His and hers

2011-11-25T08:30:00.001-05:00

Black Friday morning. Hum of heater. Warm covers. Sunlight streaming. Shane and I head downstairs for coffee--revving up for the day ... our annual trek to pick out an ornament for the tree and lunch at Wegmans. I peek into Lanie's room: bed made, everything tidy and ordered. Pillows centered, covers smoothed. I point into her room and Shane looks. He smiles.

"That's my girl," he says, and I know.

We look into Erin's room: pink lump under pink covers, tousled hair, toys strewn haphazardly across table, dresser and floor. We laugh. She's all mine.

Not into the hands of men

2011-11-25T08:21:00.001-05:00

1 Chronicles 21 opens with Satan inciting, and he does it still today. He does it in communities, in homes, at holidays. He incites God-lovers to sin, and men to grudges, cruelty, hatred.

Writing today at 66 Books.

A room with a view

2011-11-23T05:33:00.001-05:00

Before, the early mornings I'd get up and catch the sunrises. On Fridays, they were a colorful perk of a quiet start.

The woman who moved into that house saw them too. Me, here, in the after, acutely aware that I had no sunrise view. Her, there, telling me how beautiful the morning starts are.

I loved the sunrises too, I told her.

Me, here, getting used to where I put things, which light switches control which lights, season giving way to season. I soaked in fall's color palette. Luxuriated in the senses. Captivated by leaves falling, falling, falling ... their silent drift like snow, slow motion.

One evening, I sat in the dining room. Summer's lush and weeks of rain had hidden the view, now revealed. I looked out into the garden and the woods, tree silhouettes, all bare. I caught my breath. A frame of bay window aflame in spectacular--a sunset view that made me gasp and marvel, a cry of gratitude for beauty.

A room, with a view.

One thousand gifts and still counting (2519-2540)

2011-11-21T16:44:00.001-05:00

the smell of freshly painted walls
wood stacked

fancy Christmas dresses, one red and one purple with glitter
turquoise tulle for a winter wonderland themed tea party
baby blankets on a couch
a good homeschool review with the county
a turkey defrosting in the fridge

tears that come quickly
a Friday night sermon on the drive home
the miracle of here, God provides
antibiotics for a sinus infection
Girl Scout cookies hand delivered with a lunch--catching up with a bestie

bursting love and thankfulness I felt today: hot coffee in hand, breakfasting with my girls at Panera, a honey glow of pendant lighting against a drizzle gray sky, a hint of fog, my heart singing

an opening for a feverish four year old at the pediatrician's
how she slept in my arms in the waiting room
lollipops that bring smiles
a leaf banner across our mantel
silver glitter

Get well soon, love Pottery Barn

2011-11-16T09:10:00.001-05:00

So I'm on the fifth day of fever, aches, coughing, nausea. Oh, and the chills. Daily wearing several shirts, sometimes a jacket inside the house, socks on my feet. Bundled on the couch in the evening in baby blankets because I'm not sure where our throws are.

Pottery Barn sends me this.

It's like they knew I couldn't find our throws, and that I'm bundled in baby blankets and multiple shirts and sometimes a jacket just to ward off chills.

It's like they knew I've been eyeballing and mentally wish-listing the blue smoke cable throw that reminds me of Cindy's curtains I've been taking down in the living room. The throw with the fleecy looking other-side. The throw made to cover a grown-up. Who is sick. With chills.

Oh, they knew.

Well, I'm sure they knew because they often send me reminders of stuff I've looked at and walked away from. Like, "Hey, Courtney, you were just here. You forgot to buy this." Oh, their clever marketing. This time, they put it on sale. How they toy ...

(Am I the only one who sticks items in the online shopping cart and then waits on buying them because I don't really need the stuff but I want the stuff, and the need and want sides have to battle it out? Usually neither side wins ... because I wait so long that something is eventually no longer available.)

Alas, thank you Pottery Barn for your concern. But I hope my only purchases today are at the grocery store (we are almost out of bread and milk) and the library to pay the 5-day overdue fine on the Mayflower book.

One thousand gifts and still counting (2504-2518)

2011-11-14T05:30:00.000-05:00

for a husband who still hugs me when I feel achy and chilly
and who doesn't mind being seen with me in public when I wear white socks with jeans and loafers

a child's kisses and hugs
horsey rides across a hardwood floor
a playdate for Erin
a quick hello with a friend that turned into an hour's chat
a cord of wood to be delivered

home warranties
a word for the year: worship
that he doesn't complain about three weeks of leaves on the ground
a dining room table for eight (or more!)
brave fronts

vinegar
Tylenol
a visit from my sister-in-law

Snooze

2011-11-11T08:16:00.001-05:00

Stayed under covers too long. Later start to everything.

Erin breakfasting on frozen bread (and Nutella) because I forgot to take it out to thaw last night. Lanie across the table from me while I get a post ready.

"Today's 11/11/11," I tell her. She works on her math pages and looks up to smile ... things amusing to a nine year old and a forty-something mother.

None of this has anything to do with 66 Books.

Boots, shovel, book on snakes

2011-11-08T08:42:00.001-05:00

Here's how it went down.

"Mommy! Mommy! There's a snake outside! There's a snake outside!" Lanie yells.

I go outside. And yes, there's a snake sunning itself on the sidewalk. I look at it closely, but still from a distance. If it was a black snake, I would have walked away. But this one was brown with markings, and I've been told copperheads are out here.

I call Joel and explain the situation. He asks lots of questions about the snake and its markings. He tells me what to do.

"I'll stay on the phone," he adds.

I can only imagine how much he heard and what he thought.

Slam! of shovel against concrete.

"Ahhh! Ahhh!" (that's me screaming)

Slam! Slam! Slam!

I get back on the phone.

"It didn't work," I said. "I just pissed him off." And, yes, that's the terminology that falls out of your face when you combine caffeine, a shovel and a snake.

For the record, snakes don't squish like a worm when you stun them with a shovel. They get really mad, coil up and hiss at you. I don't know why I thought they would squish ...

And as a follow-up on the snake, he slithered off with a bad attitude.

Lots to learn out here. When I thought our woodland wish list would consist of books on leaf identification, bird watching, shade gardens ... now I'm adding snakes to the list.

And a pair of boots.

And a better shovel.

"Mommy! Mommy!" Lanie comes running in this morning. "Did you see in the woods?! There are big deer out there with antlers!" Fingers splayed and hands up by her head for dramatic effect.

This is life in the woods.

One thousand gifts and still counting (2487-2503)

2011-11-07T07:19:00.000-05:00

chocolate glazed donut coffee in the morning
curtains off the big bay window
light streaming in
a woodland view

Snicker bars in the freezer
how the leaves sound like waves crashing when I rake the big piles
black crows
getting caught grouchy
apology note

sighting Joel
candle tarts in a bag
a cuddlebug back in the bed
playdate with a former neighbor
thick, green grass

Sunday morning paint run
color swatch on the wall, "Weimeraner"
green that goes white on the doors

In a well-ventilated area

2011-11-06T08:18:00.001-05:00

Pandora. Key word: The Cars.

"You're listening to The Cars?" he asked. "I hate The Cars."

The 80s were so much more than Madonna and Toni Basil.

Steve Winwood, Eddie Money, The Cars to name a few. Thank you, Pandora.

I crank up the volume and pull out the primer to paint over the doors leading into the dining room. Lots of home projects inside and out. The process of transformation, literally and figuratively.

"If we were on DIY, would we be Marriage Under Construction or DIY Nightmares?" I still have hopes of running into a Crasher at the hardware store. No such luck.

Dear, dear grace

2011-11-04T09:36:00.000-04:00

Life feels fractured in a before and after of sorts. Life one way, then another. Before kids, after kids. Before the move, after the move. Before Jesus, after Jesus.

Writing today at 66 Books.

Dink

2011-11-02T17:45:00.001-04:00

A thump at the door and a dink of a ring as her finger presses the backdoor bell. Through the storm door she calls out loudly, "I LOVE YOU, MOMMY!"

I answer back, "I LOVE YOU TOO, BEAN!"

And I wonder how anyone could limit themselves to only one thanks per day in November.

Firsts

2011-11-01T10:33:00.000-04:00

The other firsts were woven together, a tight weave of life fabric. First home, first child, first Christmas. Years built upon them to the beat of the chugging time train. First steps, first teeth, first trick-or-treat. With card-flipping fast speed, my mind remembers. First pumpkin patch, first wagon rides, first friends. And many, many more firsts of that first real home.

And life feels splintered between them ... the former firsts, the new firsts. Things seem familiar, and different. Putting up balloons for Lanie's birthday, I remembered the years I celebrated her before--but this one stands out against the melded memory of others: our first one here.

My hand to paint brush, it had been so many years between Dr. Seuss (a first room for my first child) and Pink Singe (a first for my last).

Erin's first room. Her first night in her first bed of her very first space. She calls the bed rails "fences" and sometimes calls the bed her "cage."

New firsts.

First night. First swim. First friends over.

First boo boos. First autumn. First birthday celebration.

First dinner party. First trick-or-treat. First snow.

These new firsts stand in arrest against time. Because any other year, it would have been another party, another Halloween, another snow. But because we are here, and here makes all the difference, they stand out as firsts.

"Life feels fractured," I said to Shane. "I thought it might move seamlessly from one chapter to the next."

"It wasn't seamless," he said.

"No," I agreed.

The kids got suited up to play outside. Pure joy on their faces. I looked up at the tallest treetops and watched the snow fall.

One thousand gifts and still counting (2465-2486)

2011-10-31T05:00:00.000-04:00

"If you have not suffered, you have not lived, for to persist on this earth is to endure the brokenness of things, perhaps chiefly the brokenness of ourselves. But still a sweetness blows from heaven, grace in the small things." Tony Woodlief, Somewhere More Holy.

2465. Seconds of warm apple pie
2466. Mustard hearts in a turkey sandwich
2467. Muffins hung on a doorknob
2468. These girls swirling and twirling to catch leaves raining down on them
2469. Free big rocks

2470. Friends to lift and haul
2471. Seeing Jewel out in the world
2472. Stickers to make pumpkin faces on Happy Meal buckets
2473. Holding her when she cries and I can't understand a word she says
2474. New neighbors, big smiles, coffee lovers
2475. Lunch with Reggie
2476. Candles on the mantle
2477. Classical music she selects for her dancing
2478. Drive-by memories on the way to pumpkin patch
2479. Round, orange pumpkins

2480. Cheesy rolls and honey garlic butter
2481. The difference here makes
2482. Beatrix Potter book reads in an oversized chair
2483. A mouse catching cat
2484. Spackle
2485. A fall ride through the country
2486. New firsts

Field trip

2011-10-28T20:01:00.000-04:00

We went to the pumpkin patch today.

The end.

One thousand gifts and still counting (2426-2464)

2011-10-24T05:30:00.000-04:00

reusable shopping bags
Lysol cleaner
candle tarts
wind chimes
the tattooed guy at Hair Cuttery

pool closed for the season
a firewood stand
oh, those wool socks
clean sheets
hot shower

a friend's tears on the phone
honesty
hard talks with a 9 year old
Tuesday play dates
sugar cookies with sprinkles

broccoli with Ranch
chamomile tea
a clean home to welcome him
kids at the door with cheerful greetings
the fullness of marriage

manners reminders with littles
things to anticipate
rough starts turned smooth
the understanding that it's not always going to feel good, but be for my good
God's faithfulness

bug spray
piano music
kids in the leaf pile
Explode the Code in the mail
tickles at bedtime in her cookie pajamas

my little girl in a fluffy comforter
weekend yard work
Lanie's helpful hands
southbound flying geese in V formation
the cat gazing out the window

glitter spray
friends around the kitchen table
talks with grown-ups
making new friends

Words like music

2011-10-21T06:10:00.000-04:00

Where now is the Lord?
He is in the pages of 2 Kings 2 commanding chariots of fire.
He is in the lion’s den, closing jaws.
He is in the majestic song of psalms–stooping down, lifting up.
He is the splendor and the mighty breath that overcomes.
Where now is the Lord? And I train my eyes daily to find him … in the good as well as the trials.

Writing today at 66 Books.

Fall day 2011

2011-10-17T18:02:00.000-04:00

Beautiful fall day. Cloudless sky. Leaves ablaze. And we got to enjoy it all together.

One thousand gifts and still counting (2395-2425)

2011-10-17T06:00:00.000-04:00

Facebook chats and emails with Cindy
wool socks gifted for these feet
oranges, reds and yellows in the trees
cookies in the freezer
Christmas presents delivered by UPS

pictures framed and on the wall
a pink bedroom
a soft mattress
roots touched up
leaf piles

Denise over for dinner
late night chatting
missing her as soon as she left
Lanie's phone call to tell me she's nine
pink napkins and paper plates

Marshall and Reagan's galloping jumps to hug me
a panda shirt on a little girl
good friends for lunch
a gorgeous day
kids in the driveway

home projects getting done
glass doorknobs
an awesome shopping morning with Erin
her little orange hoodie dress
picking out gifts for her big sister

the way the wind sounds in the trees
crows cawing
the woodpecker flying through the woods
full-ish moons
the writers on 66 Books

9

2011-10-15T06:44:00.000-04:00

She likes "fluffy buns" in the morning on this day ... a little tradition we started when she was four? Oh gosh, my memory. But every year, she requests and I make them. The little things she looks forward to and will become a fond memory ... something special.

"You were born at 5:59 p.m.," I told her one day. "Cuddle me one last time before you turn nine?"

She said she'd sit in my arms when the clock rolled over, as long as Erin didn't push her out first.

And these days ... the fancy of imagination: cake picking, gift wishing, the planning of it all, and the daily countdown.

"Mom, I'm going to be nine in twelve days ..."

"Mom, I'm going to be nine in eight days ..."

"Mom, I'm going to be nine tomorrow."

I still see her baby face if I look closely enough.

It goes so fast.

Happy birthday, Lanie.

The Tinkerbell house

2011-10-14T21:04:00.000-04:00

I remember the day I first stepped through the door of this house. I was smitten the moment my feet touched the slate floors. Ok, maybe a little bit before that ... but the love was cinched for me then.

We explored the rooms and walked the halls. The girls scurried up the stairs, and as Erin turned the corner she found the Tinkerbell room.

"This is my room," she said firmly.

The months that followed, this house had been known as the Tinkerbell house.

Our place wasn't even on the market. And while we stayed noncommittal and kept our eyes open for other opportunities, we somehow kept coming back to this place time and again--as much as we didn't want to invest our hearts until a contract was in hand.

Last Sunday, I took down the Tinkerbell wall decals and relocated them in preparation of the pink paint job this weekend. Furniture moved to the center of the room, covered in old sheets. Curtains off the windows. Shane stood next to me as I rattled off my plans for placing furniture and picture frames.

"This is where Erin is going to grow up," he said into the quiet. It stills me. "This is where she's going to be a teenager. She'll probably have posters on the wall of bands she likes."

It sinks in. And the thought of time, fleeting, grips me. These Tinkerbell decals, her fascination with them, her instant claim to this space ... her room.

Today I primed the walls.

"Tinkerbell flew off the walls, into my closet!" she joked. She sat outside the bedroom door and chatted me, played with toys.

I was grateful not to lose the moment, that sweetness of her, as we settle into this house--the Tinkerbell house.

Snapshots

2011-10-12T20:44:00.000-04:00

Photo overload. Couldn't remember where I put the memory card reader, but found it today. Otherwise, I would have tucked these in corresponding thanks from the gratitude list.

I put this picture on my desktop, and it makes me smile.

Here are the others that bring a smile to this heart.

pumpkins in the kitchen window

little girl wearing mama's garden hat

praying mantis on rust-colored mums

apples from Joel

rainbow pants

beginning rider

little hands

button heart

big smiles

that face

sparkly shoes

happiness

a sunny day for installing sconces

sun peeking through

Tinkerbell decals

picture gifts

fall craft

found decorations for a white bay window

fat, old cat

fall wreath

the garden

Since the sun was out for a few days, we took advantage of outdoor tasks and play. But on this rainy day, it was perfect for library book reads, the "farmers market" scented candle burning in the kitchen, homemade cookies still warm from baking and a cold glass of milk, and baked potato soup.

One thousand gifts and still counting (2351-2394)

2011-10-10T04:08:00.000-04:00

a friend to help take down wallpaper
a found scraper tool in a garage
a big leaf-rake net for the pool
dinner "yes"-es
a festive season

sunny skies
Pandora music stations
apple pie
a girl who talks in exclamation (who sometimes reminds me of myself when I think in ALL-CAPS)
Erin's exuberant kiss throwing

friendly faces at the library
pink paint for a little girl's room
big trash bags
the guy at the pool shop who is studying hospitality
M&Ms out of their reach

a lizard
the big preying mantis on the rusty-colored mums
adding new plants to a garden
a one-on-one playdate with a friend
hot cider

new yard gloves
heated back wraps
an early homecoming
more glimpses of his smile
Erin's first bike with training wheels

good covers on the bed
a pillow
a bedroom set for Erin
primed picture frames for a new room
good weather days for yard work

the sound of raking leaves
their crunch under my feet
how they smell on a sunny day
the long (old) work gloves that reach my forearm so the wolf spider wouldn't!
plants transplanted

sesame bread
friends around the table
Friday night open door
new outdoor sconces
a cranberry wreath

Christmas net lights to decorate our yard
little girls who remembered the promise
a free pastry from Panera
Oobi episodes online for a tired little girl

One more thing

2011-10-08T22:09:00.000-04:00

Tucked Erin in tonight and snuggled with her for a good chunk of time since bedtime brings about all sorts of ailments: tummy aches, hurt knees, feeling sick. She then proceeded to ask tons of questions in the shadows. Things like: how can the eyebrows move on the puppets on Sesame Street? Do the people who do the voices get tired of making their voices sound that way? How come the puppets are furry? And more ... how does Sporticus's house stay up in the air? How can he and Stephanie dance so fast and her wig doesn't come off? Why doesn't Robbie Rotten brush his teeth? Do the puppets really eat candy? Is the candy real?

On and on. I love how her mind works, impressed she gives it so much thought and at the same time convicted she might be watching too much TV ...

"It's time to be quiet now," I told her.

"Ok, Mommy," she said. "But just one more thing?"

"Ok."

"I love you ... and why is Big Bird so big?"

Hand me down

2011-10-07T08:12:00.000-04:00

Erin got Lanie's old bike yesterday, outfitted with training wheels. I was in a garden preparing to plant mums when I heard the assembly sounds, air pumping into tires, and the happy shrieks.

"Mom! Erin has training wheels!"

Shane rounded the corner and explained Erin didn't want to get on the bike. Didn't want anyone to watch her. We waited.

"Mom! Erin's riding the bike!"

Lanie helped her little sister on the bike and kept a steady hand on her back to comfort. Erin peddled. Smiling. Beaming.

She cuddled in my arms this morning, decked out in brown cookie pajamas. She was grinning in daydream. Then said, "Mama, after breakfast, I want to ride my bike!"

Kissing bandit

2011-10-06T11:04:00.001-04:00

Lanie at work on chapter nine of the spelling/vocabulary book. I grab a quick shower while she is occupied.

I hear the thumpety-thump of little feet prancing across my bedroom floor and into the bathroom. I cannot see through frosty glass doors. But I hear the victory cry of the kissing bandit as she cries out exuberantly,

"MUAH!"

I giggle.

"Muah!" I call back.

And she is gone.

One thousand gifts and still counting (2326-2350)

2011-10-03T07:17:00.000-04:00

the view of leaves falling from the dining room window
blue painter's tape
music from Pandora and songs from great days
a window primed and painted
socks on my feet

coffee pods and candle gifted in passing in a church parking lot
worship with a friend
communion
a hug from an old neighbor
Joel on my doorstep with a bag of apples in hand

his wife's recipe for apple pie
her Facebook chats
how I'm falling in love again with this place
a bag of chocolate chip cookies left behind
friends over to play on my birthday

baked potato soup
guests at the dinner table
a basket gifted full
open doors
mums for my garden

the birthday song
a Sunday drop-by from Dad and Linda
hot chocolate and tea around the table
picture frames for the living room
the feeling of home

Forty-something

2011-09-30T06:18:00.000-04:00

Shane asked me what I wanted for my birthday. And if you know me even the slightest, you know that BABY was at the top of the list.

In order of preference: A baby, a dehumidifier, a necklace from Etsy that reminds me of peace, a book, or one of two cookbooks.

Erin said, "Mommy, you might not get a baby."

Thankful to wake to sunshine, hugs and cuddles from my people. An afternoon playdate with friends. Leeks and garlic simmering on the stove for birthday soup (baked potato soup). When my "love language" is time spent together, it's no wonder I feel full thanks to good friends, their hugs and smiles.

Fortune

2011-09-27T18:47:00.000-04:00

We stopped by a Bed, Bath & Beyond to get a box of pumpkin spice coffee pods and I impulse purchased little wax tarts for the candle warmer ... fall scents, of course. The girls wanted to smell them, so I handed them over.

"Mmm, these smell good!" Erin said.

"Erin, when you were a baby, you thought they smelled so good that you ate them!" I told them the story of her toddler time sneaking into a gift bag I had set aside to take to Lanie's teacher one year.

Paint purchasing this afternoon with a quick slip into the area bounce place for some jumping. I snagged a picture of the girls.

While the kids were bouncing, I got a mad craving for Chinese food. Thankful for a smart phone, I located an area restaurant and placed the order.

Lanie was a champ and ate everything on her plate, with seconds ... her first time ever having Chinese food. Erin refused to eat. She sat on the steps and cried.

"Do you think kids in China cry when their families eat American food?" I wondered to Shane.

I got Erin and comforted her.

Lanie was eager to get a fortune cookie. She broke into it, read the fortune to herself and started eating the cookie.

"What did yours say?" Shane asked Lanie.

She giggled.

"You and your wife will be happy in your life together."

One thousand gifts and still counting (2293-2325)

2011-09-26T01:40:00.000-04:00

his tired eyes
and graying hair
that he continues without complaining, despite the pain

Biofreeze
his answer on the phone to my tears
for a broken heart
a deeper yearning
a lost voice

pilgrims
Hershey kisses
cuddle read-alouds on the couch
a cold Coke
Lanie's arm around my shoulders

daily dozen piano practice
the piano tuned
unexpected sunshine
trimmed tree branches
many hands that make light work

Off bug repellent wipes
double-hung windows
a vase of fall colored flowers
a crusty artisan bread
with Brie

found kids' music and girls dancing
the Hokey Pokey with a Santana background
clean window sills
a local library
these slate floors

a glass of Vouvray
with my dad
his blue eyes
my kids' warm welcome for him
rust-colored mums, gifted and gratefully received

Falling down

2011-09-25T10:03:00.000-04:00

Scootering in the driveway, Erin takes a tumble. Scraped knee. Big tears dropping. Mouth-wide wailing. I hold her close.

Holding my hand walking up the stairs at church, footing lost. She falls. Knee hurt. Mournful wailing. I carry her all the way to the car. My arm burns. She doesn't let go.

A call to the kitchen for ice cream--incredible peanut butter fudge made by a friend. She gallops full speed and stumbles into the kitchen. Hard fall. She cries and I scoop her up.

"I want to go back to our old house," she says. Because in memories, and not so realistically based, no one ever got hurt.

I hold her close and whisper into her ear, "I will give you an extra squirt of whipped cream."

Wailing stops. Teary eyes look into mine, and she smiles.

Ninety percent chance of rain

2011-09-23T07:43:00.000-04:00

Today's weather forecast: 90% chance of heavy rain and thunderstorms. Pouring cereal into a bowl for Erin, we hear drumming slaps slamming against the slate. We head to the door and watch the rain fall.

This has absolutely nothing to do with 66 Books.

One thousand gifts and still counting (2278-2292)

2011-09-19T05:30:00.000-04:00

cooler temperatures
jeans
a red hoodie jacket

cheesy rolls with honey garlic butter
the smell of onion grass
a friend's fortieth birthday
her husband's prayer
cake and ice cream

a Veggietale hat that Erin wore everywhere
kids in a hot bath
weeding in the rain
half and half in my coffee
a good book

losing myself in the shuffle
quieter times

These days

2011-09-17T15:45:00.000-04:00

the orange fungi Lanie found down the hill

poison ivy, as identified by Reggie

Erin

in her Veggietale hat. Thanks, K!

yellow mums

Spanish lessons

front garden

playing with math shapes, by Erin. Looks like a snail.

These days, I find myself in a quieter place. And sometimes, silence is golden. Pictures of the goings-on until my voice returns.

Four point five

2011-09-15T16:37:00.000-04:00

Sometimes, the moments are so rich I don't want to forget. On a day when clouds are shades of gray and hang thick and low, leaves arched to welcome rain, wind blowing through trees into open windows ... a moment bursts open wide.

As I help her, she says, "Mommy, I love you."

She looks at me seriously and speaks hushed, sacred love, "I'm so glad you're my mommy, because if you weren't ..." she looks low and hesitates, but it spills out, "I wouldn't have fun ... and I wouldn't be loved so much."

We hug and I never want to let her go.

Believing ... the sequel

2011-09-14T10:10:00.000-04:00

A few months back, Shane tried to convince me that he didn't have allergies because he believed he didn't.

Over the holiday weekend, he was doing some demolition in the backyard. It was hard work with sledgehammer, loading, hauling, unloading. He had truck loads of things to take out. And then the heavy rains last week flooded his office building as he and others worked to prevent further damage. It was then he hurt his back. Days and days, a hurt back--workouts skipped, meals abbreviated because he couldn't sit upright for very long. It's been a week.

"When I was younger, I would have been over this in a day," he said. "I told you I'm old."

"You would heal a lot faster if you would believe you're younger," I offered. "You aren't healing because you've convinced yourself you're too old."

And then, "We should have another baby. That'll keep you young."

I never miss an opportunity. He smiled as his logic came back to haunt him.

One thousand gifts and still counting (2226-2277)

2011-09-12T15:57:00.000-04:00

honey bear bottles at the store
chunky Ticonderoga pencils
stars in the night sky
looking at creation to know more about the Creator
sisters laughing into darkness

peaches in a crumble pie
music in the rooms
patches of blue in the sky
a cat who lived up to her potential
two dead mice

chocolates in the freezer
oh, peppermint patties
a smooth end to a first full week
Mary, Queen of Scots
dance moves to a song, choreographed by an 8 year old

a husband resting on the couch
clean floors
two long-legs hanging out all day on the window screen
color swatches taped to walls
the loud night frog

books organized
a pool skimmer
butterscotch chips in scones
appetizer plates
a new piano teacher minutes away (and near the library!)

flash cards
"Take Me Out to the Ballgame" over and over
long-sleeve shirts
socks on my feet
their second wind at night

a week of rain
and my kids playing outside in it
Hello Kitty boots
Quietly Chamomile tea
the way a quick couch nap feels with a book on my chest

someone to fill in for me on 66 Books last week
a friend who noticed my absence on the blog
five, six, pick up sticks--all along the front yard
a do-rag
how she hugs me goodnight and says it's her favorite part of the day

sunshine after rain
seven yard bags full
swept patios and walkways
friends over to play
a rake

school back in session
how she misses Becca
cold bottled water
the smell of fresh cut grass
a row of marigolds

the big girl who secretly listens in on read-alouds to a little sister
computer time at the library

Please stand by

2011-09-10T21:23:00.001-04:00

No Internet connection going on our fourth day with a restore date of next Thursday unless a super hero picks up our rush request. But I have to say, the days have been good. Things you can do when you don't have Internet:

Eat chocolate
Start school earlier
Read more books with kids
Make scones
Eat scones
Text friends
Pull weeds
Drink coffee
Daydream
Cuddle
Clean floors
Write thank you notes
Read a grown-up book
Talk to people

Hoping to beg wifi off local friends because I do miss reading my online community. Be back soon. Hugs,CourtneyThis post brought to you by iPhone and a pokey finger.

One thousand gifts and still counting (2201-2225)

2011-09-05T04:18:00.000-04:00

pumpkins in a box for sale at the grocery store
the whiff of cinnamon as I walk through the door
chocolate covered strawberries, gifted, delightfully received
star stickers
sunny days

happiness in deep down places
kids that act their ages
table time giggles
bug repellent
blue and red pencil and notebook boxes

a hair cut
how she interrupts to say, "I love you"
sidewalk chalk
picture tiles hung on a kitchen wall
power through the storm

God's hand in all the details
flip-flops and jeans
a friendship bracelet to a mom (me!)
cookbooks on a shelf
hard questions

that Shane can sleep late, three days in a row
earrings and perfume
a grill
burgers
another homeschool year

Special agent

2011-09-03T19:48:00.000-04:00

One of the ways I tried to keep the kids occupied at the hair salon was to ask Lanie to be a special agent, and see if she could spy on Erin and catch her doing three nice things. Lanie loves spy stuff.

Today I decided to keep the game going and created a 10-task mission for Lanie. She's all in. On the first mission card the front read: Task One--Help Me!

Starting tomorrow she is to find seven ways to help people in our house whether they ask for it or not. At the table tonight she announced to Erin, "Tomorrow I'm making your breakfast."

Erin looked skeptical. Then she replied, "All I want is a frozen yogurt tube. The end."

It's just life

2011-09-01T21:01:00.000-04:00

So random.

I went to the grocery store last night without any kids with me. It's a completely different vibe at night. I bought more than I might have because I actually browsed aisles. And I impulse purchased steel cut oatmeal. Shane told me I'm getting old if oatmeal is an impulse buy.

Discussing "a soft answer turns away wrath" over nighttime bed stories with Erin. And she told me, "It doesn't work." I scratched my head.

Bought a do-rag off etsy.com. I figured it's a good way to keep my hair out of my face and ticks off my head while I'm gardening. The do-rag is white with pretty black roses. I figured this was more my style than flames and skulls. The girls want one now and were modeling mine.

Drove three hours round-trip to get my hair cut today and realized the insanity of the task. Talked to my friend Pete, who suggested seeing someone closer. What can I say ... I'm brand loyal. Pete says guys go by the wallet. Fortunately the girls were great. I told the hair stylist I wouldn't see him again till November sometime, when the weekend yard stuff would be winding down and I could get by leaving the kids at home with Shane.

I realized I also moved with the kids, settled with the kids (twice), handled post office lines with the kids, did the MVA with the kids, and generally life at large with them. So, it's not insane really--it's just life.

A good thing

2011-08-31T17:56:00.001-04:00

We were going to start school next week with a worked out plan, a project table, a completed school room and pencils sharpened. However, we couldn't wait. We started today. After play date friends left this morning, we pulled out books and pencils and camped on the floor for the fall's first lessons. Grateful for routines restored.

It wasn't a full load (yet), just enough to satisfy our craving.

Facebook is full of photos of children getting on buses. Our first day looks a little different.

Lanie starts third grade. Erin begins preschool.

We are not in a co-op this school year. I am taking on the load myself and looking forward to it. A homeschool mom writes encouragement about ART on her blog and I take it to heart.

Easing into first days, full load beginning next week (hopefully at a project table versus a picnic blanket!).

I love September.

One thousand gifts and still counting (2171-2200)

2011-08-29T02:43:00.000-04:00

2171. sitting with stuff instead of reacting
2172. a friend down the street for Lanie
2173. gifted mums
2174. cookies with sprinkles
2175. David asleep on a summer afternoon in my backyard

2176. Anita's smiles
2177. whimsical tiles
2178. pictures unpacked and waiting to be hung
2179. Linda over for dinner on a Friday night
2180. the night lights in the garden

2181. the broadening of a new circle: finding new stores and points of interest in a new town
2182. a chainsaw
2183. His steady hand on Shane when the earthquake hit
2184. a sunny day before the storm
2185. coffee in the house

2186. light rain on the walk to the church building
2187. worship
2188. familiar faces
2189. popcorn on a Saturday, a fun tradition resumed in a new location
2190. a solid house

2191. wind that sounded far off
2192. no serious damage after the storm
2193. phone calls checking on us from people I love
2194. bookshelves assembled in the school room
2195. leftover chocolate and peanut butter mousse bars in the fridge

2196. cupcake wine and DIY shows
2197. cool temps for raking up leaves from the storm
2198. the pull in my upper back--like years melting away
2199. dry mail
2200. their hugs goodnight

Special delivery

2011-08-26T07:33:00.002-04:00

Rising above the tease of a sibling vs being overwhelmed by a spirit from God seem two ends of a spectrum, but regardless of the purpose (which we may never know) or the source (be it from our own interpretation of events or divine intervention) of a trial--aren't we still responsible for us? Isn't God still interested in our response whether we are under blessing or affliction?

Writing today at 66 Books.

One thousand gifts and still counting (2128-2170)

2011-08-22T02:33:00.000-04:00

butterflies
marigolds
poison ivy on the other side of the fence

bookcases
GPS
juicy plums
cookies in the freezer
getting back to church

friends visiting
lunch at Wegmans
cranberry juice
ice cream on a Saturday night
new shoes

Reggie's help in the front garden
a baby boy to cuddle
resting him in Erin's arms
her precious gaze into his face
fixed cable issues

banana chocolate chip bread
a new piano teacher for Lanie
a blue sky
shelter under the trees
a pool date with my sister-in-law

laundry caught up
a new bar of soap
a grocery store that's close to home
the deer running through the back yard
Joel's kind face

the DIY channel
music through cable
pretty yellow light from the chandelier over the kitchen table
a good man
flip-flop wine with the twisty cap

a princess dress and the little princess who pranced through town in it
a new library
a new library card
the difference "here" makes
a good night's sleep

clean floors
more boxes unpacked
two apple trees
walnut trees
life, rearranged

Time in a bottle

2011-08-19T08:09:00.001-04:00

Holding Erin this morning.

"I wish no one had to die," she says. "I wish Rudy wouldn't die. I wish you wouldn't die. I wish everyone could be their age forever."

"I hope I live a long life," I said.

"Well, you're not. You're going to be a grandma soon."

I smile. She's four. Lanie is eight. "Why do you say that?"

"Because your hair is turning white."

"No it's not," I say, pointing to the roots. "I just touched up a few days ago."

Today, she is prancing around in a princess gown.

Tick and mosquito repellent

2011-08-17T22:06:00.001-04:00

Good to know. Sent to me by a friend. I haven't tried it yet, but wanted to write it down someplace to make in the future. I can't say there's any evidence this works, and I'm not a doctor. Just a former French major who homeschools and bakes really awesome chocolate chunk/white chip cookies. I make a pretty mean tapenade too. All this to say: try at your own risk.

2 teaspoons Sulphur
1 teaspoon Cream of Tartar
Mix with 1 pint of honey

Eat 1 teaspoonful per day.

I rather like this one of taking a tablespoon of organic apple cider vinegar. And that site has stuff about essential oils if you're into that kind of thing.

Beauty and the beast

2011-08-17T20:23:00.000-04:00

Like I mentioned, the former owners liked to garden. We have a big front garden, one alongside the house, one in the back against the patio, and one along a retaining wall. I was too caught up in interior details to really notice the yard stuff. And last fall when we walked in the yard, I was in love with fall and crunchy leaves and jackets and jeans.

Our agent asked me, "Do you like to garden?"

"I don't know," I replied. I had lived a spoiled life with an 8x8 raised bed. I pulled maybe five weeds a summer. I had healthy harvests with little effort. That was all about to change.

Shortly before settlement, I came by the property and visited a bit with the owner. She was weed pulling in one of the beds and I grabbed a broom to sweep alongside.

"How long would you say it takes you to maintain these gardens?" I asked naively.

"Years," she said.

Fear set in. At the end of our first week, Shane comes in and announces he wants to return the front bed to grass and my heart sank.

"We've only been here a week and I haven't even touched that garden yet. Give me a chance!" I pleaded. And on Sunday, after the morning rains, I set out.

And Monday. And today. Hours. The kids biked and scootered and I worked bent over or squatting, my eyes focused on a 2x2 area in front of me at a time. Luckily, Reggie popped by Monday to give me a hand and plenty of encouragement, "This place is magical. You can't turn it to grass. Let me know when you're working out in the garden."

That would be pretty much every day I can.

I look at the heart-shaped leaves of clover, now pulled by the hundreds in just a few days, laughing at how pretty and novel looking I thought they were back in field life. But the ache in my backside and legs feels good, the pull in my shoulders and arms. It's good work and I look forward to it again and again. Going to bed at night feeling spent--it's good.

I am determined to get this beast under control and make it beautiful again.

One thousand gifts and still counting (2106-2127)

2011-08-15T05:58:00.002-04:00

piles of pulled weeds
Dad and Linda over on a Sunday afternoon
more boxes unpacked
the ring of the captain's bell
fruit salad

internet, returned
cable music feed
a happy phone greeting
the light fixtures in the hallway
muffins with white chips and craisins

a friend's new son
how good a week feels
deep sink and interesting faucets
slate floors, however temporary
the garden weeding bench on wheels

ice cream in the freezer
a handmade blanket to wrap on shoulders
lights along a twisty, stone path
my dad's compliment
a week of friends, daily

dinner gifted, gratefully received
school books, ordered

One week

2011-08-14T19:37:00.000-04:00

We moved into the new place over just over a week ago. The kitchen and bedrooms are unpacked. The basement is set up, the pantry full. Christmas and fall decorations on storage shelves. The dining room and school room still to do.

While the kids scootered and biked and swept walkways, I spent an afternoon gardening for three hours. The former owners loved gardens and they are all over the place. Grateful that she left behind brooms, dust pans, wheelbarrows, and the little bench on wheels.

So many discoveries and details that make me smile deep down: the pencil sharpener affixed to the laundry room doorway, the antique hobnail lights in the upstairs hall, working fireplaces, how the Black-eyed Susans cheerily greet from the vase on the counter top (cookbook open in the stand, but instead of for show, for pleasure).

I had mentioned to her that I'd been looking at captain's bells online.

"We have one," she said. She pulled away the clematis to reveal the bell. And joy bubbled inside at all the little details that awaited us. Thank you, God.

A week at home and we have internet and cable and phone. And the house smells cozy (except for what Erin dubs "ugly" in the basement), and the wood floor tones are warming, and I catch myself saying frequently to Shane, "Can you believe we're here?"

One week in, and the captain's bell chimes in the back yard. Piano music fills the inside spaces. Little feet thump and scamper. And Lanie discards life jacket and water wings, slides fearlessly down the slide and goes under water in the pool. Confident.

There are loud night sounds, and cawing crows, and daddy long-legs everywhere. Deer hooves sounding in gallop as one leaps over our fence. Locust shells, spiders, and odd bugs we'd never seen in field life. Woods living is very different.

We've watched this house for over a year, and the story ends and begins anew with us here.

Blessings

2011-08-12T04:08:00.001-04:00

Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears?
What if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You’re near?

And what if trials of this life
Are Your mercies in disguise

Mix tapes. Laura Story. Blessings. Writing at 66 Books.

One thousand gifts and still counting (2091-2105)

2011-08-11T22:00:00.001-04:00

a place to call home
places to put things
clean toilets
Vouvray
black-eyed susans

a long driveway
a black squirrel
a captain's bell
a shower
our cat back home

Erin's new room
Lanie reading in the outside nook
a barrel full of weeds
friends visiting
and a friend who let me borrow her computer and wifi because my computer wouldn't connect at the grocery store

Refrain

2011-08-05T06:49:00.000-04:00

When people spoke of a personal relationship with Christ, I wondered how I missed it. God seemed far, abstract, impersonal. I felt like an imposter Christian, a wannabe.

Writing today at 66 Books.

One thousand gifts and still counting (2063-2090)

2011-08-01T07:39:00.002-04:00

pillows from home
a trip to the beach
late night at the amusement park

seeing beauty through a four-year-old
movies from the library
snacks in a cooler
hot sand under my feet
salty waves

sprinkles on ice cream
hot water for a shower
enough to eat, more than enough
friends at a birthday party
water slides

little hands to hold
cuddles in my lap
her squeezes as much as she loves
the in-between
a place for my cat

Barbies gifted
a comfy spot to read
a "quiet place" on a bench in the garden
first guests
clean clothes

snacks and pizza delivered
juicy, sweet plums
a lap blanket
endings and beginnings
sunny days

The wind in my hair

2011-07-30T10:27:00.000-04:00

I only remember the first couple of words to this song. If anyone wants to fill in the artist, title ... feel free:

"The wind in my hair, the sand in my shoes, I'm hitting the highway forgetting my blues ..."

At the beach with my man and little people. Afternoon of waves and sand. Ice cream for dinner. Too late at the amusement park: lights, rides, giggles and shrieks.

Erin bolted for the little train to ride around the park, first thing. We rode together. She looked around the park grounds and commented on the ponds, "It's so beautiful."

She couldn't wait to get Shane and Lanie to show them. I love looking at life with a four year old.

Lanie loved the slides and climbing mazes. It was going on 11 p.m. when we left. I don't think we've ever kept them up that late. I slept hard, the best night's sleep in over a week.

Today: hoping to get a healthy lunch, and spending the afternoon at the water park. Grateful for a husband who got me a large coffee and lots of cream and sugar to start off the day.

This is life in the in-between.

The in-between

2011-07-29T06:17:00.001-04:00

We moved our things out last Monday. We are staying with Shane's brother until our settlement on the next house, next week. All throughout, I have been humbled by, amazed at God's provision and plan:

the urging on our hearts a year ago
opened doors and his encouragement
for friends who comfort, bolster, pray, and bring juice boxes and snacks
for sellers who let us move our things in early and place them in rooms, that she's pulling weeds in the garden, her thoughtful cleaning and explanation of caring for appliances
for in-laws who graciously, generously host and care for us
free use of a box truck
movers who cheerfully placed, assembled and repaired
play invitations from friends during the in-between
a glimpse into his majesty and a bigger plan

Writing today at 66 Books.

One thousand gifts and still counting (1957-2062)

2011-07-25T05:48:00.182-04:00

What soaking-in looks like. A tumbling list of thanks from deep-down places ... my longest list, and still it was hard to stop. Thanks, thanks, right through endings and into beginnings.

purple flowers growing wild along the roadside
ice cold water in a bottle
a play set disassembled
colored Sharpies

cupcake calling cards
multicolor envelopes: two purples, two greens
a fabulous week of VBS before we leave
three hours a day to sit with thoughts
Reggie's open door

ten months of waiting
six weeks of discovering
baggage unclaimed and left behind
faith walks
moments of peace in uncertainty

for all the things I didn't know, He did--in advance
His good in all things
and still, the acute awareness of time ... to number days
times that are in His hands
reminders of the fooling facade of control

bathrooms
bedrooms and thick white blinds
a kitchen I loved
a patio Shane built by himself
a swingset where my kids were rocked to sleep on summer afternoons

a modest vegetable and herb garden, neat and tidy
front garden beds and rounded bushes for a man who likes things orderly
purple coneflower in bloom
nights in front of a big desk, tapping away on a keyboard
walls with inscriptions buried

Dr. Seuss on a school room wall
pink and purple for a little girl
closet forts
a soaking tub for hiding
a kitchen pantry

and the years: Halloween nights and light-up shoes scampering ...doorstep "boo" surprises ... shoveling driveway snow alongside neighbors ... horses at a farmhouse ... pictures of pictures

green and yellow stripes in a closet
a red powder room
sidewalk chalk on the driveway
sprinklers
summer breeze

clover
playing tag in the yard
a line of trees we planted as sticks, growing ... growing
kite flying on windy days
hot air balloons in the sky

to be different
softened, tender heart
the way the willow branches sway fluid in the wind
these weeks of remembering, healing, hoping
a tree branch that holds her, and her long arms that reach

Chrisi
her kids' calls to ours from across the street
open invitations to play
coffee breaks between moms
friendships that come naturally and easily

white tufty blossoms on a crepe myrtle
pavers for a future garden
the fruity hue of summer strawberry jams
the VFD carnival
cotton candy in pink and blue

twisty cones
a Ferris wheel with farmland views
a brave ride rider holding tight on turns
movie night with a friend
Anita's arms embracing David, longtime love

lunch at Wegman's
99-cent spaghetti sauce
leaf spines hunched for summer storms
a box truck
a friend to water plants

Erin's mommy-love songs
Anita's free and generous offers to help
rainbow magnets for the fridge
a place to put things
someone to take us in

enough toilet paper and paper towels to get us through last days
finishing off the fridge
wine in a juice glass
sisters styling hair
burgers on an old grill

Lanie and Kaelyn holding hands--very good friends
Erin and Becca--head-to-head chats
VBS movie updates while she bounces on a hoppity ball
old, country back roads, new to me
for slow, easy seasons that nourish now in the crunch

air conditioning
last library runs
a cat in the sunshine, tail tapping
a green light--go!
12 rolls of packing tape

last boxes, packed, sealed, moved
walls bare
the lock box off the door
a key in my hand for just a few more days
the ache in goodbye

coffee cake and card, hand-delivered from Becky
a box of munchkins for my kids from Chrisi
a full truck (and the playset fit!)
color fading, the stripping out of things that made it home
a swim invitation

friends I'll miss
and that they'll miss me back

Note to self: another use for mason jars

2011-07-20T22:56:00.000-04:00

A substantial part of my kitchen is packed up, the mason jars boxed yesterday with the canning tools. I might not get around to making all the jams I wanted to make this summer. Considering pineapple, peach or plum at this point.

Luckily, I found this link again. Pies in mason jars. So if I don't get around to making jam, I will make pie.

Did you know Pottery Barn makes a mason jar drink dispenser? Now you do.

One thousand gifts and still counting (1930-1956)

2011-07-18T06:42:00.025-04:00

"How do I wake up to joy and grace and beauty and all that is the fullest life when I must stay numb to losses and crushed dreams and all that empties me out?" Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts.

1930. the last full moon view from the windows of this house before we move.
1931. neighbors on a scavenger hunt
1932. their buckets of rocks
1933. cooler temps
1934. a breeze on the back steps
1935. rosemary transplanted
1936. last swings
1937. last slides
1938. cookies in the freezer
1939. resilience in Him
1940. that tears are caught
1941. her breath like orange gummy butterflies
1942. a little blue shirt that matches the sky
1943. the sound of wind through leaves
1944. a hug to a stranger
1945. her story pouring out, my ears catching
1946. swimming at David and Anita's
1947. his great granddaughter Tessa
1948. instant best-friendship between Tessa and Lanie
1949. so many books, packed
1950. a box of coffee pods in the mail
1951. a library book run and full tote
1952. fireworks at night
1953. a frog on the patio
1954. a redbone coonhound named Casey
1955. picking wild red raspberries in the woods
1956. the soaking-in of last days at a place called home

Slideshow

2011-07-16T09:34:00.000-04:00

Lanie brought down her DS to show me some pictures she had taken. She opens the albums and the DS plays a sweet little background tune. I see the world through an eight-year-old's eyes. Pictures of her, self-portraits with silly smiles, or serious face, or fancy hair styles. Pictures of sisters. Pictures with friends huddled into a camera's focus, a moment captured, a glimpse of what's important.

She continues to go through photos, showing me what matters. We get to her room.

"I took some pictures of my room," she said. I sense her working through the transition. "It's so pretty."

I feel time's hands slip around my neck, squeezing. I inhale sharply.

She's snapped picture after picture of pink and purple: the princess lamp on her nightstand, a room name plaque spelling Elaine, a spotted chair, the wire letters across a wall with staggering L A N I E, the little fort she made in her closet, dolls in a row.

The music plays whimsy and I feel a weight smothering. The weight of goodbye. The weight of time fleeing. The weight of hopes and dreams stunted and moved, or packed away.

I'm really no good at good-bye.

I breathe and smile and rub her back. And there it is: the picture of her new room--dark blue and Spiderman until we redecorate. And there it is, the brick fireplace in the new schoolroom. She's moving on too, snapping pictures of the next place when we were there last week during inspections.

The music plays on. The weight starts to lift.

While drinking a mug of chocolate macaroon coffee

2011-07-15T07:24:00.000-04:00

Reggie explained the walking wounded and how we find one another. That as we see the vulnerabilities, the need and wounds in ourselves, we can see them in others too. We recognize each other by the scars. Sometimes, we avoid each other by the scars.
Writing today at 66 Books.

Circa 1990

2011-07-12T17:03:00.000-04:00

Emailed a friend of the vicious purge going on here. Packing up clothes for donations: army fatigues used during my 30th birthday paintball party, jeans from my college days that I am only kidding myself about that I'll get back into.

My friend LOL'd in response. I believe her exact words were:

"Girl, you made me laugh out loud. I know for a FACT that any jeans from my college days would be totally NOT in fashion right now, so I don't even want to KNOW what style yours were that you were hanging onto!"

So I know she'll appreciate this photo of me. Note the very Julia Roberts hair style, the head band, and the over-sized wire rim glasses. Back then, I was rockin' it.

Several bags later, I'm wondering why I didn't downsize years ago. However, I did keep one pair of jeans.

The farmer's friend

2011-07-12T15:33:00.000-04:00

This neighborhood is built on farmland. I remember meeting the farmer and his wife, whose farmhouse was two streets away. It was a novelty to walk with Lanie down the road and feed the horses (Mona and Fritz). I don't recognize the horses there now.

Many years ago, Mr. H., the farmer, died. I talked to his wife at the funeral home. She told me how they had hoped that families who lived in the community would be happy here. That's what they wanted. A sweet woman. And I remembered how her husband would drive around in a golf cart and offer to take me out to shoot at the raccoons in the trees. I never did. I remembered he had a friend who'd come through the neighborhood, how those two used to go out together all the time. They seemed like brothers.

When Mr. H died, his friend came through the neighborhood regularly to check on the wife. And one day Mrs. H died. The farmer's friend still came into the neighborhood to check on the horses and the house. Once I was at the street when he drove by. He rolled down the window to say hello to me. I touched his hand and expressed sympathy over his close losses.

Years have passed, and his white truck is a familiar sight. Even on these country roads, I recognize him and we exchange a wave in passing, or a hello if it's in the neighborhood. On Saturday, he pulled into my driveway with his wife while I was having a yard sale.

"Come to say goodbye?" I asked. We move in two weeks.

"Why are you leaving? Where are you going?" he said.

We talked and I told him how we're moving to the woods, looking for a change. I looked into his friendly face and felt the tears well in my eyes. We hugged and talked.

"All the pretty ones are leaving," he said. I smiled.

He wished us well and hugged me tight before he left. And I realized afterward, I didn't know his name.

One thousand gifts and still counting (1903-1929)

2011-07-11T05:53:00.000-04:00

country roads
tootie girls in the back seat giggling
farm field smells grossing them out

no hurry
a busy yard sale
an old man's hug goodbye
tears that come quickly
emptied rooms

Denise
sunny skies
a fifteen-minute nap
Hello Kitty boots, gifted to Erin
chocolate in the freezer

shady drives and dappled light
a box of brownie mix
and a reason to bake them
good septic fields
familiar faces at the library

a good last sip in the coffee mug when I thought it was empty
baby bunnies on the patio
found Leapster cartridges
downsizing closets
a dining room set: sold

Linda's hug and "love you"
my dad
blue sundress with polka dots and how her eyes glow
forgiveness

The pink notebook

2011-07-08T07:09:00.000-04:00

She handed me a pink notebook with the photocopies on healing pastwounds. I looked forward to reading it. I thought surely with time andhindsight, these exercises would be easy. They weren’t. It was easy towrite down the offenses committed against me. But then I was to recordmy sinful response. I didn’t understand. Was being hurt sinful? Wasgetting mad sinful? It didn’t make any sense. I closed the notebook andput it away for years.

Writing today at 66 Books.

That kind of love

2011-07-05T10:04:00.000-04:00

She comes up behind me, grabs tight to the middle and sinks her fingers in deep. A kiss on the hip and a grunt in the squeeze.

I hug her back and kiss the top of her head.

"I love you a hundred-million-thousand-zero times," she tells me.

I squat down to her eye level and she reaches out to me, little hands gently moving hair out of my face.

"I love you too," I tell her.

"Whenever I see you, I want to squeeze you and kiss you because I love you," she says.

"I know that kind of love," I tell her. Our eyes meet and hold. "I feel it too."

One thousand gifts and still counting (1878-1902)

2011-07-04T20:30:00.000-04:00

blue skies
piano music
a hug between friends: the picture of Lanie and Ben dated 2006

clover
quick breads
a place that feels like home
the acute awareness of time
memories that break me

thoughts that consume a child's mind
hugs
first things to do when we move
kids on the playset
opportunities for hospitality

friends over one last time
a fireworks display
an evening breeze
baby bunnies in my garden, my girls intently watching them
Riesling

chocolate chip/white chip cookies
honesty
lasts: the last Father's day, Fourth of July, dinner parties, play dates in this home
little kicky feet treading water in the pool
her tired slump just minutes after getting buckled for home

a solar powered light my dad made for me
Shane's thoughts that put so much in perspective, so grateful for him

Medium

2011-07-04T20:01:00.000-04:00

My very good friend David is an artist. I've known him for nearly twenty years. We spent the afternoon at this house today. His basement is a lovely studio where he displays his artwork: sculpture, painting, sketching. Lanie and I talked about his work when we got home.

"He's so good. I'm not that good," she said.

"Well, I've known David a really long time ... almost twenty years ... and for as long as I've known him, he keeps working at art," I said.

"Yes, but he does sculpture and I don't have that special clay," she said. "I only use snow and Play-doh."

I love her.

Step in and stop

2011-07-01T06:25:00.000-04:00

A harvest season and overflowing banks. God tells them to step in andstop. I try to imagine what it all looked like: the people, the water,the priests preparing to step out ahead, the air of anticipation andexpectation, the presence of God making a way.

Writing today at 66 Books.