And still counting ... (14,366-14,483)

both girls taking American history and Gov't together
a new booklet for menu planning
meal planning for my family
the really amazing pizza sauce with San Marzano tomatoes
the spongy squish of the risen dough under my oily hands

tomatoes from my garden
a spaghetti squash plumping
heirloom tomatoes--the anticipation!
Shane
a patch for Big Blue

fencing repaired

hydrangeas outside the school room window

classes lined up for fall for Lanie

recorder practice, it's really coming along

a misty rain run

good yoga sessions

Lanie on the mat too

Heather's prayers and inclusion to pray

Andrea in Florida

a rainy Friday

a first week of school (in July!)

heart stickers across the page as we move through subjects

chocolate frogs

a new student for Lanie

Jenne, who had time for me and my tears

a good marinade

a nine-year-old grill

the brown towels

life here, after

being discarded

celebrate! stamps

crazy growing cosmos

the spaghetti squash on the vine

little tomatoes from my garden

(14,400) oh, the pizza steel

being blocked and unblocked

community college classes

books in the mail

watching Harry Potter, all of us on the couches

that she picked biking for her reward

national chocolate chip cookie day

rain

mashed potatoes

bagged salads at Trader Joe's

dairy-free ice cream for Lanie

read alouds with Erin

heart stickers across the page--subjects completed

tuition and books paid

medicine refilled

apples in the fridge

a five-mile run

boho bandanas

black tank dresses

Goodr sunnies

back to school donuts

bentos

fine point pens

Xero shoes

nine years here

this wonderland

all the gatherings we've hosted

pool dates

holidays

play dates

classes

photoshoots

bonfires

bird song

frog song

cricket song

locust song

miles under my feet

snow hills in winter

fires burning in the chill

the smell of this home as I climb the stairs (my favorite, and exactly as I remember my childhood home)

storms from the safety of shelter

good neighbors

all the pets

the captain's bell

the gardens, and the weeds

a house that's held my tears and my laughter

this compound in the woods

a haven

a home

summer

sweet cantaloupe

strawberries in glass bowls

Sunday afternoon naps

yoga that leaves me achy the next day

butterflies on the cosmos and zinnias

the yard just after the grass is cut

a clean fridge

the little black book for menu planning

Perseids

the digital kitchen scale

August 10

homemade salsa and salty chips

French chants

college zoom sessions

rain runs

66 Books

red quinoa

marshmallows

her first day of school photo and shirt

a delivery from Ikea

a friend who wants to run a half marathon with me

Lanie's senior year

all these years homeschooling

Sarah R, who was our introduction into homeschooling

our current umbrella group

good storylines

new songs to play

a space for yin and gentle

that really big hill I walked with Erin

and the shaved minute off my next day's run

my man

our marriage

growing older together

Archives and accents

Last month Lanie and I got her signed up for college classes. This month, we got her books and college t-shirt by mail. She'll be taking classes online. But also this month, we are signed up for virtual workshops at colleges since people aren't meeting in person for campus tours and open houses. I felt such a fresh excitement for Lanie. I honestly think I'm more excited than she is, but she's catching up. 

Facebook hit me with another picture from the past--the kids and I picnicked in the field seven years ago. It was a summer of whirlwind where I overbooked our days in a constant parade of people and activities. I was burned out by summer's end and very truly sat in an empty room the day of orientation at co-op and cried. I laugh at it now, especially in a season of lockdown, laugh at how desperately I appreciate recharge space. But the point of my reflection on that memory is that is the only day of a crazy busy summer that I remember, and it was the only day that mattered--having a promised picnic with my kids under the walnut tree. We don't remember the rest of that summer, and I doubt our friends we'd had over do either, but each of us three remember that picnic. 

Signing up Lanie for college classes and getting her applications together sparked a lot of feelings inside of me. We are here. It's an emotional assault--I think of my own journey at her age; I think of our homeschool journey; I think of this conveyor belt of deadlines we keep moving towards, and I focus on the end. 

But I also think of the walnut tree. And that got me looking back a little more, clicking through archives. I am so glad for this blog. I am so glad that I wrote about these moments in our lives because truth be told--I forgot a lot of it. I forgot the end-of-the-world sleepover in 2012; Erin putting out her best dress to wear on her sixth birthday--her promise to David and Anita to have them over for all her parties. I forgot about silly songs I made up, or our races and laughter to tell each other iloveyoumorethanyouloveme. And that's just a small portion of a bigger story.

My kids have their own assigned chores. Lanie is great at sweeping and dinner dishes. Erin needs encouragement to follow through on folding clothes and doing a better job wiping down counters each night. Yesterday during lunch, I looked at the stovetop to see it murky streaked from her effort the night before.

"Erin. You have to do a better job on this. You can't just take a soaky sponge and wipe it over surfaces to leave it to dry like this. It looks dirty," I started. We had just finished reading a bit in Mockingjay--the edition I got was printed in UK, which is funny to me, and the spellings and word usage are slightly different. My favorite moment this week was page 196 when Haymitch asks Katniss, "Got anything like that?" And I said it with a British accent. I started reading some of the chapters with the British accent to get a laugh out of my middler, and it worked.

"What happened to the fun mom who was just reading to me in a British accent?" she wondered at the end of my tirade and sponging tutorial.

I smiled.

"You take a sponge and wipe it across the surface like this," I said in a British accent. "Then, you get a towel to follow up and dry it off."

Both Lanie and Erin were smiling at this. And we decided lectures and reprimands would be a lot more fun for all of us if I did it with an accent. Then we jumped on YouTube for tutorials on how to speak like a Brit, and it was fun.

I never want to forget it. I never want to forget any of it. If I could go back in time I would hug and kiss my kids a million times.

Hey, girl

We recently ran out of shows to watch on cable, so we got Netflix. We are working through a list of recommendations, starting with Dead to Me. There's a storyline of a woman who interacts with her fiance's coworkers, the exchange mostly this, "Hey, girl!"

It seems hip and endearing. It seems close, youthful. Hey, girl. 

Later, though, this phrase is used with a new woman, and it's evident--it's shallow. Women are disposable. Friendship is transient. It wasn't endearment, it was facade. And Judy seems surprised at the turn. I think any woman who's been on the jilted end of a relationship would feel for her. 

Is anything real? Does anything last? 

I'm making Huevos Rancheros for dinner tonight from a favorite book Build-a-Bowl by Nicki Sizemore. She includes a recipe for homemade salsa, but I remembered I already have one. 

Salsa

2 (28oz) cans diced tomatoes
2 jalapeno peppers minced (remove seeds for a milder salsa)
1 sm onion diced
1 tb ground cumin
2 cloves garlic minced
¾ of a bunch of cilantro chopped
Juice of 1 lime
Salt and Pepper to taste 

I had all the salsa ingredients, and I just put it all together in the food processor. Ohmygosh.

I love a good bowl. I love a good cookbook. I love a good friend, too. 

I scooped some salsa on my chip to taste for tweaking. If there wasn't a pandemic around, I would package up some to share with a neighbor (I'd share with all of them! Except I know one wouldn't like it because she doesn't like cilantro or cumin.). But really, food sharing seems weird right now. And seriously, this is so good that I can't stop sampling it.

In my mind, I gather women past and present to sit around a table together eating chips and salsa and drinking summery drinks. In my mind, we can laugh and be real, because we should know that no one is disposable and should never be treated as such. And while friendship is transient, shouldn't we cherish it in its brevity all the more? Maybe grace would flow as easy as laughter, and judgments could be tempered with a covenantal respect, and unity would trump competition, and our voices would be used to encourage face to face, and not tear down behind a back. 

 

I never found another Renee like the one my sister knew. It's kind of like looking for Godot, waiting, except this Renee prototype never said she'd come. And would I have recognized her if she passed me by? I'd like to think I would.

Day story

 August 2020

Outside my window, still glorious summer. I cut the grass this weekend, and I love the look of the lawn after the grass is cut. When I sit outside, the breeze through the trees is full. I quiet myself to listen to the wind. To a neighbor's children squealing into the summer evening. To birdsong, and I look to find the birds. This year, some fun little yellows speeding through the backyard. I rehung the wind chimes.

Giving thanks for so much. For unexpected blessing. For tasks accomplished--Lanie is signed up for fall classes, and it stirs up so much in me. We celebrated nine years here. And I celebrate today: two years now. Two years since that meeting at the table, when every hunch was confirmed and I knew the truth. It was the day I died and was left for dead. It was the day I was born to truly, finally live.

In the school room, Erin wanted to start school early, and we are three weeks now into our year. I am happy for her motivation, glad to see her rising earlier and rising to the challenge. She counts the tokens she earns and saves them for fun experiences. My high schoolers loved to earn tickets toward extra credit. My middler wants to experience things. She's doing such a great job. 

From the kitchen, the pizza peel and pizza steel. This has been such a game changer. I have been on the hunt for a good gluten-free pizza. There are some that are fine, but when I checked out a book from the library dedicated to gluten-free pizza, I became enchanted instantly, smitten with a New York-style pizza. I even made my own sauce--and I will never buy a sauce again. But the pizza steel--letting the temperature set in at 550 degrees and throwing a crust on it. It crisps on the bottom and blackens spots on the top. It is unlike anything I've ever had, and now a weekly staple to the menu. I made a dairy-free pizza for Lanie yesterday--I'm not sure she was entirely enamored the way I was. But that's ok. 

I am stronger. I am better, and I am better off. I am healthier. I am happier. I am focused. Thank you, God, for ends that birth new beginnings, for truth that truly sets free, and for being there to catch me in the fall, to lift me back up. I am telling a new story.

I don't want to forget my focus, my purpose. It's so easy to get distracted by actions of others, losing time and losing life. I read a really great book about walking away from toxic situations, when I have often felt a Christian guilt of not being a perpetual doormat of cheek turning and shirt giving.

I am reading Holes by Louis Sachar (which I'm actually enjoying this time around; the first time I read it when Lanie was heading into eighth, I did not enjoy it.); Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins; Not Forsaken by Louie Giglio; Revelation: Worthy is the Lamb by She Reads Truth; It's Great to Suck at Something by Karen Rinaldi; and Let Your Mind Run by Deena Kastor. 

Around the house, I am learning to rest and to slow. I enjoyed a Sunday afternoon nap, early dinner, binge watching shows with my guy, to be present here.

I am hearing Lanie practice piano up in her room. She spends hours a day practicing. She's on break for August from her instructor, but she doesn't let up. She will be ready when September comes. 

A view of my favorite things:

Not this girl, not anymore

Chocolate frogs, all things Potter

Still my sweet song

We check off tasks with hearts

Yeah, baby! Peace.

 

Hufflepuff

crows in the dead tree

new story

100 days plank challenge

All set

At the table, all the meals, the plans, the dreams, the discoveries, even the hard truths. Everything does happen at the table. God, thank you for best days out of worst days. Forever grateful.

Stepping stones

Dear Future Owner of My House,

This is the before picture of our patio--before it was redone, before you ever lived here. The brick knee wall once had a little wooden gate that we took off when we removed some fencing. It was only on the demolition day of the patio that I learned how very special the wall was to my kids. They used to walk along the top of it, and one daughter told me about a friend made her brave enough to jump the splits (she filmed herself jumping the split the morning the wrecking crew came--and after hearing that story and seeing the video, I felt the weight of change.).

part of the fencing along the top before we removed it

when my youngest was little

the threshold stone

summer fun

summer friends

pup on the patio

The weekend before demolition, Shane and I removed some of the pavers to the front garden for stepping stones to intersect the main walkway. I was a little surprised he went for the idea, but he removed nearly twenty pavers, and there was still a lot left! I wished I had been able to convince him to remove more so that we could create a more formal firepit area, but alas, no. Of the pieces he took, one was the threshold paver onto the patio. So many friends crossed that threshold over our years here. So many kids balanced along the brick wall, friends sat alongside eating popsicles in the summer or just hanging out.

after removing pavers

view from our room

taking down the wall

breaking up pavers

jumping across one last time

new paths

We decided against a brick wall around the perimeter of the patio when we replaced it. I always felt held by that wall, even though the rest of our activities were clearly visible to anyone who cared to look upon us, it gave me a security, a false sense of privacy. But now, most of the patio is open, and there is a new flow and I don't feel so confined.

Shane built the patio at our last house in the few weeks leading up to Lanie's first birthday party. I tried to convince him we could do it here too, the two of us, but he declined. This patio was built in the summer of 2020, as pandemic restrictions began lifting. I immediately enjoyed iced tea and gentle backyard breezes upon its completion.

I'm glad for the new foundation, as it is symbolic to me multi-fold. I hope that the Lord blesses the rest of our time here as we finish out these last years of our kids' childhood, and that he uses this patio as the stage for hospitality and friendship. I pray that your lives are equally blessed and that this new-to-you space is a foundation for your family as well.

Courtney

Neuf

When we prepared our last house for sale, I purchased bath towels to hang in our bathroom. The ones we regularly used were a wedding gift and were bleach stained and worn ten years later. We used the new towels. They were luxurious, soft, thick.

"Why did we wait so long for this simple pleasure?!" I wondered. There are many small ways to add luxury to a life. Bath towels, who knew? I vowed then not to wait so long to replace our towels. And here we are, now ten years later (and nine here) with the same brown towels. Perhaps I will restock. (We tend to hold onto things until they are fully used well and threadbare. You should see Shane's yard shoes.)

We are nine years here. Nine years ago. That crazy hot summer. I thought I would die packing up our playset into the box truck. The first time (and last) I drove a box truck, and Shane set the radio on a favorite station for me. MercyMe's Move was playing, and it was an instant score (and a desperate hope for brighter days) to the season. We were able to move our furniture into the house two weeks before we settled. It was such a stressful time. Life felt fractured. We left the house we built, and left behind hopes and expectations of what life should be. But this house, it is a healing place. It is beauty. It is peaceful.

Reggie helped me identify weeds and pull them. She saw the wonderland. "Use this place for God's glory," she said. We have hosted countless playdates, dinners, parties, swim dates, coffees and teas here. Poetry readings, bonfires, music performances. How many moms have cried at my table as they laid down burdens? I schooled my kids and took on students here too. I mused, "I wonder if the first family ever imagined that outside nook for poetry teas?"

We made a lot of changes early on. And this year, the very unsexy and very necessary replacing of the water tank. Pipes replaced. Gutters. Patio. Tractor repair. I am slowly, in fits and spurts, getting the weeds under control. Fits and spurts.

I love this home. I love the trees. I love the fragrance of the field. I love the shade in summer, and the crunchy maple leaves in the fall. I love the pines in winter, snow covered and burdened. I love the fireplaces. I love the smell of woodsmoke. I love the school room, and this year, I love the quiet of the sitting room off our bedroom where I have taken to my sewing machine to make scarves, alter dresses, make masks, and stitch banners. It is also a place of repose for yoga.

Nine years here. Lanie was starting third grade, and this year she's a senior in high school. Erin was a preschooler and now she's a full middler entering eighth. Rudy was our resident cat. And since her, we've added Nella, Comet, Halley, and Ruth.

Over nine years we've replaced a fridge, a dishwasher, an oven/stovetop, a washer, the water heater and a wood stove insert. We went gluten free and redesigned a pantry. Erin's room went from mint green Tinkerbell to juicy pink with Sofia the First (she still keeps the decal, and I remember rushing home after teaching kindergarten at co-op to put the decal on her wall. I remember the sweet surprise when she discovered it. And a part of me loves the sentiment in her heart that keeps it up, treasured.). Lanie's room is almost exactly the same as the day we moved her in, minus a Spiderman decal on the wall. Her furniture is in the exact same spot, only we've added a keyboard and other instruments to the mix. I just got a desk to assemble for her.

I am so grateful for this house. This home. I'm grateful for the guests we've had at our table. I'm grateful for the memories we've made on holidays and everydays. This place held me and my broken heart when we moved in. It held me these last years as new breaks healed. It has been a stable refuge.

I think of how empty this space will feel in these next ten years as my kids move on. Will we stay here? (Sometimes I wonder how I could ever leave--Joel's reflection on painting over the growth marks of his kids on the walls, a history wiped away. He's in his 70s now. His wife is in her 60s. My last house a distant, other world, other life, hazy memory.) Or will this be the hub of future family gatherings, grandkids for sleepovers and holidays? Sometimes I wonder if the girls will have their weddings here. (A new neighbor shared that this was where they had their rehearsal dinner--this house is so full.)

Yesterday, Erin and I walked by the hospitality house as my friend's grandkids spilled out of the car and hustled into her home. I have looked longingly at her example for years, and now that I know her, I smile to think of how her life invites others.

Thank you, God, for nine years here. Thank you for sticking this property under Shane's nose and sealing it in my heart. It is everything and more than I ever hoped it could be. Surely there isn't a day that goes by that I don't marvel at this place. I think back to the heartbreak that preceded this joy. A friend told me in The Wait that perhaps God had something better for me--and the cynic and doubter in me wondered what could have been better than that house we built? What if we moved and nothing was better? What if it was worse? Stepping out in faith sometimes means leaving all security behind--oh that we can tolerate the toxic because it is what we know, and what we know sometimes feels safer than what we don't know. But she was right. I never would have imagined that my sweet 70s house in the woods would hold such blessing. Thank you, God, for moving us physically, spiritually, emotionally. Thank you for this wonderland we get to call home.

Celebrating nine. Celebrating every year.