Categories: Home Life
Technology
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I had to think about this week's theme, "Technology". We have a lot of gadgets around here that I could have taken pictures of, but I tend to dislike taking photos of gadgetry. I also kept trying to consider carefully what really brings joy to our home. The piece of technology that brings me the most joy would have to be our Yamaha DGX500 digital keyboard. I don't know how to play any musical instrument or even how to read music, but my girls have been taking lessons for years. This makes me very happy because they will have the gift of music to share with others throughout their lives. Moments like this make my day.
(Just between the two of us, though, the kitchen appliances and the washer and dryer all weighed heavily in my considerations.)
Hits & Misses
As we begin the New Year 2007, let's look at what were our Hits & Misses for 2006. This could include anything at in your life. Perhaps you tried a new curriculum, a different approach to discipline, a new cookbook, a better (or worse) way to organize your time. Maybe, you joined a new group, or tried a new class.The assignment for this week is make a List of "HITS" and a List of "MISSES"!
Extra Credit (from Training Hearts Mom): Take your favorite Homeschool item and write Raving Review! Be sure to share from the heart and be honest. In your review include the 5 W's and the H...Who, What, Where, Why and How!
As I was writing down a list of what I consider the "hits" and "misses" of my life this past year, I realized that for every hit there seemed to be a somewhat related miss. It suddenly just jumped out at me while I was looking at the list. While I don't think some of them are directly related; some of them definitely are. So here they are.
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1. Our new puppy Banjo 2. Dressing more modestly 3. Greenleaf Guide to Old Testament History 4. Headcovering 5. Our new bed 6. My new kitchen |
1. Spending time with my girls 2. Reading my Bible 3. Wise Up! Wisdom in Proverbs 4. Pleasing my husband (a.k.a. keeping up with the housework) 5. Getting on a good sleep schedule 6. Cooking better meals more often |
Now I shall explain.
Numbers One
On January 5th of 2006 our sweet little Boston Terrier was born and we were able to bring him home in early March. Banjo has turned out to be a wonderful addition to our family. He's been a breeze to housebreak and has such a good temperament. God has really blessed our family with this puppy. On the other hand, I have had a strong desire to spend more time with my girls and feel like I haven't done as well as I possibly could have this past year. This is not because I have given all of my attentions to Banjo, but it did seem superficially related when I was drawing up my list. It is a hard thing to explain to non-homeschooling moms how you can spend just about each and every hour of your waking day with your children and still feel like you haven't spent time with them. I miss the days when they were younger and schoolwork didn't seem as pressing. Now that Lily is in high school and I have to think about what her transcript will ultimately look like, I suddenly miss the days of tent-building in the middle of our living room and of paper dolls. I want to play games with my girls and read to them. I find myself resenting the shadow "college" has cast over our days.
Numbers Two
Now this year I have had a good deal of success and satisfaction in dressing modestly. I am far more comfortable in dresses and I feel like it has been a blessing in my life. On the other hand, I have felt like a failure at spending more time in God's word. When writing up this list, I realized that, as satisfying as it may be to be dressing modestly, it is a small thing compared to keeping nigh unto God. It almost makes me feel like a hypocrite. I feel like a beautiful vase that remains empty.
Numbers Three
This year I decided to pull out a Bible curriculum that I bought a couple of years ago for Lily, but decided wasn't really for her. I thought, for some bizarre reason, that I should give it a try with Clara. It is a very nice study of Proverbs, but it is a workbook. We don't like workbooks. We really, really don't like workbooks. So, after several attempts at using this curriculum, I dug out our Greenleaf Guide to Old Testament History and asked Clara if she would like to snuggle up and read the Bible with me. She agreed that this would be a great thing and we are all very glad.
Numbers Four
For several years now I have felt like I should wear a headcovering. Nobody in our congregation wears a headcovering, so whenever I questioned 1 Corinthians 11, everyone would say they thought that a woman's hair was the covering mentioned in those verses or that it no longer applies to modern day Christians. I kept having a nagging feeling that that wasn't enough. I read and reread this scripture and studied the Greek words that were being translated until I understood that God wanted me to wear a headcovering. I do not bind this on other women. This is between me and my God. I do not think that women who do not wear a headcovering will not have their prayers answered. I don't think it is a salvation issue. I just feel like it is an issue I needed to address in my life. I started wearing a headcovering in the spring of 2006 and have felt many blessings come from having chosen to do so. It has made me more aware of my place in God's plan for my marriage. I can see how it has changed my heart attitude in many ways. The other side of this though, the "miss", is that I know perfectly well what pleases my husband and I continue to neglect those things. I know that he is happiest when we have a tidy home and I am in the bad habit of letting things slide around here. I want to work on that this year.
Numbers Five
I have been having sleep problems for quite some time. I know that I need good rest and that I can let my sleep schedule get completely turned around in a matter of days because I tend to be a night owl. My beloved husband took me out shopping for a new bed this summer since we had been sleeping on the same one for twelve years. He felt that a new bed would help to alleviate some of my sleep problems. He had me lie down on several mattresses until I picked the perfect one. I felt like the princess in The Princess and the Pea. I have never slept on a mattress such as this. It is absolutely dreamy. It was a hit, for sure. Getting myself on a regular sleep schedule, however, has been a terrible miss. It is after one in the morning as I type this.
Numbers Six
Now you are going to wonder how I ever came into such a blessing with my husband when I tell you this. After living in our home for ten years and having to cook in a kitchen that was fifty years old, my husband took me out to pick all new everything for my kitchen. New cupboards and cabinets to replace the cupboards with doors that were falling off of their hinges and drawers that were without fronts. A new counter top to replace the one with cracks running through it and awful black, bubbled burn marks on it. And, no, I didn't create these horrific burns. He even got a new stove with a convection oven and a microwave above the stove and a new refrigerator. And a new sink and a garbage disposal and...Okay, I will stop now. I got a brand new kitchen because my husband loves me like no other man could ever even come close to trying. And, for several months, I cooked like I had never cooked before. I discovered Allrecipes.com and never have to wonder how to cook another piece of meat again. At some point, though, I quit. I am not sure why. So the kitchen was a hit and my cooking turned into a miss.
So there you have it. My wonders and blunders of 2006. I suppose I could use the "misses" to create a nice little New Year's resolution list. I've never made a New Year's resolution list before. What do you think?
Presents vs. Presence
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- Burton Hillis
1. 8 large white bath towels
2. 8 white hand towels
3. 8 white washcloths
4. 4 white king-sized pillow cases
5. 1 warm throw blanket with matching "napping pillow" and "napping socks"
6. 1 leather-bound Thompson's Chain-Reference Bible (KJV)
7. 4 beautiful modest dresses
8. 1 set of Jane Austen novels, Sanditon by Jane Austen and "Another Lady", and Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
9. 1 good book on learning to crochet, 2 books on crochet stitches and 1 book on knitting techniques
10. 1 set of crochet hooks & dark blue and black yarn
11. The A&E Literary Classics - Romance Collection Megaset (DVDs) which includes Pride and Prejudice, Emma, Victoria & Albert, Tom Jones, Jane Eyre, Lorna Doone, Ivanhoe, and The Scarlet Pimpernel)
12. 1 happy family
13. 1 good nap
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Annoying
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I had a hard time finding something annoying for the photo theme this week. I finally found something that has been annoying me for quite a while. This dress. It is the first thing I have ever sewn and, early in July, I had it all finished except for the hemming. I started it and got this far in just a week thanks to the cheerful encouragement of my sister who was visiting at the time. Once she left, though, I never touched it again. I find this very annoying. I have enough material to make four more dresses. I just find it very upsetting that I got this far with a dress and I not only never finished it, but I would feel intimidated at the idea of trying to sew another one after all this time has passed. I really, really want to sew my own dresses. Anyone want to suggest how to make a nice even hem?
Isn't the material pretty?
Queen of Tarts
Blogger Friend School - Cookie Exchange Most people LOVE cookies and the holidays are just a perfect time of year to share our family favorite cookie recipes.The assignment this week is to post your recipe and any family history behind the recipe.
If you have time to take pictures, please share a visual :)
Better yet, make it a homeschool project, put on your aprons, and have a baking day. Language Arts can be reading the recipe and spelling the name of the cookie....Math can be measuring the ingredients and guessing how many cookies your recipe will "actually"...Science can be experimenting with different food colors, Art can be decorating the cookies, and History can be sharing with your children about your time growing up and baking cookies.
Our favorite part of baking day is Snack Time!...BUT don't forget to toss in a good Home Economics lesson and teach proper kitchen clean up. Have fun!
I suppose that some people would not consider this a "cookie" in the classic sense; but my mother made tarts every year for Christmas along with every other type of cookie you could imagine. These were always my favorites and, I might add, are only made the better by a pot of hot tea.
You will need to try and find some tart tins, if you don't already have a supply of them. True tart tins are exceptionally difficult to find in the United States. They are not mini-muffin tins. They are very shallow compared to a mini-muffin tin. Here is a picture of what a modern-day tart tin looks like:
The tart tins that I have seem to be a bit more shallow than this one appears, but they were handed down from my grandmother to my mother and then to me. Williams-Sonoma used to have nice tart tins, but I don't think they carry them any more. One could ask, though. Otherwise, I'm afraid you'll have to order them from England.
COCONUT JAM TARTS
(Makes about 40 tarts)
Pastry
3 cups flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 cup shortening (Crisco)
1/3 cup milk
Coconut
4 tablespoons butter
1 cup sugar
1 egg
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1 cup coconut
Line tart tin with pastry. Put about 1/2 teaspoon of raspberry jam in each. Top with about 1 teaspoon of coconut mixture. Bake at 400 degrees for 10-12 minutes.
Oh, Susannah!
Okay, I didn't come from Alabama and I didn't go to Louisiana, but I did cross several state lines and came back with a Banjo on my knee. Yes, our new puppy's name is officially Sebastian's Blue Banjo, but you can just call him Banjo.
While in the land of the Blue Banjo, we had the pleasure of not only visiting the breeder's kind family, but of visiting Thicket Dweller and her family. You can read her post about our visit here. We were very blessed by both visits.
The breeder's family is a lovely, homeschooling family of nine (going on ten). We went to see our puppy the first afternoon, but while all of the children played with Banjo, I found myself completely distracted by the sweet conversation I shared with their mother. The following day, when we went to pick up Banjo, I found myself wishing I could stay longer before driving home. Once home, I actually felt saddened that I did not live nearer to this kind lady and her family.
We were all a bit timid about visiting Thicket Dweller's family because we had never met them and didn't have any other premise for being there except that we were fellow homeschooling bloggers who happened to be visiting their area. The big question of what would we talk about quickly became "what didn't we talk about?". Considering we only had a short visit, we all seemed to have had quite an enjoyable one. My youngest hit it off so well with Sweetheart, that neither could be found for the photo op. It turned out that they were busy feeding a neighbor's horse a carrot. While there, my girls also got to hold baby bunnies and visit with various other pets such as rats, turtles, dogs, chickens, at least one cat and a dwarf pot-bellied pig. Of course, my girls were very enthusiastic about a family that cared for so many animals. While we have our beloved eight-year-old cat, Sam, and were there to pick up our new puppy, my children only dream about living in such a pet utopia.
I must say that I absolutely loved Thicket Dweller's home. She has such a wonderfully spacious house and the most impressive view I have seen in a long time. Tall banks of windows line her walls allowing so much warmth and light into her home. It is no wonder all of her indoor photos come out so lovely. We had such an enjoyable conversation that I left wishing our visit didn't have to be so short. It was nice to visit with a fellow Ambleside Online homeschooling mom. As always, I went about sniffing out all of the books in the house. I have come to the realization that it is futile for me to resist this habit. My thanks to Thicket Dweller and her family for allowing us to visit with them. I hope to visit them again some day in the future.
And now you must indulge me as I introduce our newest family member.
The Kitchen
If you have noticed my absence in the past week, I am sorry for having left without leaving much of a hint as to where I was going or when I would return. If you had been keeping up with my photo journal, you would have seen that we were gradually moving all of our belongings into a storage 'POD' delivered to our driveway about two weeks ago. Once we got everything out of the house, we had to move in with some of our favoritest people for a week while our wood floors were being refinished. The floors turned out beautifully and we are now in the process of moving our belongings back in.
While I was away, The Headmistress over at The Common Room recently tagged me for a meme she started all by herself!
I recently picked up a 1974 edition of a 'Woman's Day Super Special,' a collection of '365 money saving menus.' In the back of the magazine qua cookbook there was a questionnaire which the original owner filled out, but never tore out and mailed in. I thought it would be fun to reproduce some of those questions here, add a couple of my own, and get to know each other (and our kitchens) better.
1. How many meals does most of your family eat at home each week? How many are in your family?
17 meals/4 people (My husband eats carryout lunch at work five days a week, but I wasn't sure how to factor that in.)
2. How many cookbooks do you own?
I just boxed them up when we moved all of our stuff into the 'POD' last week, so I know that I have one large box of cookbooks. They are not all moving back in, though.
3. How often do you refer to a cookbook each week?
When I start regularly preparing meals mightier than macaroni and cheese and fish sticks, I will let you know.
4. Do you collect recipes from other sources? If so, what are some of your favorite sources (relatives, friends, magazines, advertisements, packages, the Internet, etc.)
I occasionally collect recipes from the sides of containers of Breakstone's cottage cheese, boxes of Bisquick and cans of Campbell's soup.
5. How do you store those recipes?
Store them? I usually have my husband go back out to the grocery store, grab another container, box or can of the product and then have him collect the rest of the ingredients while he is there reading the label and muttering to himself. He is not afraid to ask strange women passing by if they can see any cans of Campbell's French onion soup. He is a good man.
6. When you cook, do you follow the recipe pretty closely, or do you use recipes primarily to give you ideas?
I learned early in life that one should always follow the directions. I think I learned it shortly after l learned to raise my hand before asking a question. I raise my hand a lot while I am cooking.
7. Is there a particular ethnic style or flavor that predominates in your cooking? If so, what is it?
Does anyone know Betty Crocker's heritage?
8. What's your favorite kitchen task related to meal planning and preparation? (eating the finished product does not count)
Are you kidding? All tasks related to meal planning and preparation are the equivalent of self-flagellation.
9. What's your least favorite part?
Cleaning a two-week-old, chili-encrusted, non-immersible crock pot.
10. Do you plan menus before you shop?
I have a general idea, but no grand plans.
11. What are your three favorite kitchen tools or appliances?
The dishwasher, the microwave and the telephone.
12. If you could buy one new thing for your kitchen, money was no object, and space not an issue, what would you most like to have?
A cook.
13. Since money and space probably are objects, what are you most likely to buy next?
Since we just had our wood flooring extended out into the kitchen, I am most interested in finding a suitable, round braided rug to protect the main traffic area.
14. Do you have a separate freezer for storage?
Yes. It is on our back porch.
15. Grocery shop alone or with others?
I hate shopping for anything. I usually use Peapod to deliver my groceries. For five dollars, it is worth it for someone else to gather and deliver my groceries.
16. How many meatless main dish meals do you fix in a week?
A main dish that either isn't meat or doesn't involve meat? What is that?
17. If you have a decorating theme in your kitchen, what is it? Favorite kitchen colors?
I just had my kitchen redone. We have maple cabinets and cupboards with a dark green "moss" stain on them, wood floors, and a beige stone-look countertop. The walls are "lambswool" and the appliances are all white. I like to hang old, framed prints of children playing out of doors throughout my house, so you will find some out in the kitchen, too. Our house in general has a lot of browns, greens and beiges with a "nature" theme.
18. What's the first thing you ever learned to cook, and how old were you?
I made tomato soup with hot dogs cut up in it for my three younger siblings when I was about ten and my mother was in bed with the flu and my father was out of town on business. Otherwise, I was not allowed in the kitchen except to do the dishes.
19. How did you learn to cook?
I had to call my mother to find out how to make hard-boiled eggs when I was twenty-two and married. Does this tell you anything? My husband told me the best way to learn how to cook was to just start by using a cookbook. He is a good cook and a patient man. Maybe one of my siblings let on about the hot dog and tomato soup.
20. Tag two other people to play.
(Okay, so I am tagging three other people.)
Luna Moth
Palm Tree Pundit
Thicket Dweller
Name The Puppy
I told you I would keep you updated on how things are going with our new Boston Terrier puppy, so here's the latest picture. *sigh* I am in grave danger of losing entire days gazing at his photo.
Four Weeks Old
According to the breeder, he weighs about a pound now and is being introduced to solid food. His mother still nurses her babies frequently, though, of course. While he was in a whelping box with his litter mates and his mother in the laundry room up until now, he and his siblings have been moved into the house and are being loved on at any given moment by one of the seven children living there. The puppies are actually in the family's school room and the children are allowed to hold the puppies while they work on their lessons.
We will be travelling to pick up our puppy in about five weeks, but we have still not settled on a name. We have a good idea for a name, but we thought we would see what names our dear readers might have. If you already know what name we are leaning towards, please refrain from announcing it. We really want to hear what other names our readers might come up with. We still wouldn't mind some input from those who know which name we are thinking of. Just don't give it away. We look forward to hearing from you!
Sweetness
One Week Old
As some of you may remember, we had a dog named Maggie who was very old and tired. We adopted her from a local shelter after being told that she was about two years old and was just overweight. Unfortunately, Maggie turned out to be closer to twelve years old and very, very sick. If you would like to read more about her and see her picture, you can go to this previous post. We had to have Maggie put to sleep last summer and I had a very difficult time wanting to talk about it. That is partly why I didn't blog much last August.
Last summer, though, we decided that we wanted to get a Boston Terrier puppy "next spring". Will had a Boston Terrier when he was growing up and felt it would be a good breed for our family. I was leaning more towards a Cairn Terrier because I am rather smitten with terriers in general. The more I read, though, the more convinced I became that Will was right. I even started looking at Bostons as being cute in a funny sort of way.
In October, we found a breeder we liked and began to develop a relationship with her. The family is a Christian, homeschooling family with seven young children. Well, I am sure the thirteen-year-old, much like my own, might resent being called young, but you all know what I mean.
Ever since they contacted me to let me know that the puppies had been born, I have been just too excited for words. The puppies were born on January 5th and are adorable. Of course, all babies are adorable. God made them that way for a reason. We wanted a male puppy and the one that we most admire is being held for us. The family is going to keep an eye on how the puppies develop, though, as far as their dispositions. We would rather not have the alpha male of the litter, but we don't want a shrinking violet, either.
So this is my most exciting news. News to get me through the winter blues. I'll keep you updated.
Tea Time
A Proper Tea is much nicer than a Very Nearly Tea, which is one you forget about afterwards. ~A.A. Milne
As some of you may already know, I grew up with a very English, maternal grandmother and, therefore, a mother who was quite enamored with her heritage. Whenever I became ill, I was cautiously nursed along to full health with tea and toast. Tea was something everyone could drink. Even a small child could properly drink tea. While coffee was considered an adult drink that my father secretly would allow me to sip when my mother wasn't looking, tea was almost as common as water. So common, I am afraid I quite took it for granted as a child. Of course, summers with my grandmother were spent playing croquet, going for long, brisk walks and having tea and scones. The scones were not something my mother regularly made, so tea was made somewhat special because of them. That and the fact that my grandmother collected odd tea cups and saucers so that choosing a cup for tea was always a pleasure in and of itself.
My grandmother came over from England with her family when she was a child. She and her family boarded the Lusitania in the autumn of 1909 and made the crossing from Liverpool to New York. Six years later, the Lusitania would be torpedoed by a German U-boat with a loss of 1,195 persons. My grandmother's family was from Keighley, Yorkshire, England. Her mother's side of the family was native to the Yorkshire area, but her father's side, being McKniffs, was from Ireland. My grandmother was just shy of ninety-four when she passed from this earth and she still had fond memories of England and of seeing the Statue of Liberty as the Lusitania drew near New York's harbor.
I grew up in New Hampshire and was quite delighted when a New Hampshire tea company offered to send me a large tin of the tea of my choice for my drinking pleasure and, perhaps, a pleasant nod to other bloggers in their direction. Through several e-mails to and from Marshall Malone, Portsmouth Tea Company's president, I learned that he and his wife were actually "southern transplants" living in New Hampshire. Of course, this caused me to be somewhat dubious. I was uprooted from New England to the Carolinas as a teenager and had never even seen a southerner drink hot tea. On one of my first restaurant outings with friends I was served iced tea in an exceedingly large Mason jar and wasn't sure quite what to do with it until my friends noticed my bewildered look and informed me that I was supposed to actually drink from the Mason jar. I thought perhaps it was a quaint pitcher and that my glass would come along shortly. I smile now when I think back to those early days when I still thought a hush puppy was only a brand of shoe.
Before I knew it, though, the UPS man was at my door with my package of Irish Breakfast tea. Preferring my tea strong and able to withstand a more than generous amount of milk, I had debated over choosing the Irish Breakfast or the Milk tea. Mr. Malone assured me that he was quite fond of the Irish Breakfast tea himself and so sent it along to me. My girls and I were quite anxious to try our newly acquired tea and, unwilling to take the time to make scones, we took out a bag of Pepperidge Farm Chessmen and set about making a pot of tea. I have to say that we were quite delighted with our tea that day. And the next day. And the next. I'm afraid we will be ordering more tea from the Portsmouth Tea Company before we know it. A cup of it sits to the right of me at this very moment.
The Irish Breakfast tea is strong, although, instead of the suggested steep time of three minutes, I couldn't keep myself from steeping the leaves for a full five minutes. Having said this, the tea was not bitter in the least. It was full of flavor and stood up well to milk. For those considering converting over from coffee to tea, I think you will find this tea worthy of consideration. To Mr. Malone, I thank you heartily for sending along this wonderful tea. It will complement my great-grandmother's recipe for scones quite well. Here is her recipe:
Scones
2 cups flour
3 Tbl. sugar
2 tsp. baking powder
pinch of salt
6 Tbl. shortening
1/2 cup milk
raisins
Sift dry ingredients together. Cut in shortening. Stir in milk. Add raisins.
Roll into circle about 1/2 inch thick. Cut into pie wedges. Brush tops with a
beaten egg. Place on ungreased cookie sheet and bake at 400* for 8-10 minutes
until golden brown.
On a side note, I believe that the Malones are a homeschooling family. I can't think of a more delightful business for a homeschooling family to undertake. Unless, of course, they opened an antiquarian book shop that also served their delicious tea.
Guilty Housewife
I feel somewhat awkward talking about this since I know there are those of you out there who would be happy to have a fifty-year-old kitchen without drawers. I was very happy to have my kitchen and I am struggling with the usual feelings I have about not deserving so much in a world where many have so little. I grew up in a home where we seemingly never could afford anything. So, when I would receive something I had dearly wanted for my birthday or Christmas, I always felt guilty. I struggle all the time with feelings of guilt when it comes to spending money.
Last year, when we were able to put new windows on our home, I didn't feel quite so bad as I do now because it was a home improvement that also would help lower our power bill. It was something that was a blessing for all of us. This kitchen just doesn't feel the same. I am the mother and wife. The kitchen is supposed to be my domain. Especially since it is where our washer and dryer are kept. Unfortunately, though, I heartily dislike cooking and I am not the neatest housewife. Why should I get a new kitchen with all new appliances if I haven't even proved myself worthy of the old kitchen? This is all very grim.
When my husband expects me to be overjoyed and brimming with love and affection for him and our family, I am sitting here depressed. Do I dare let myself be happy? I am not sure I even know how to be happy about this. So, once again, I feel guilty.
I believe I need to spend a little time in prayer. Maybe then I will be able to tell you more of my kitchen story.
A Time To Launder
I must be delusional. And July is the month that really proves it. This year, as in previous years, we end up driving one of our dear daughters to camp for a week and then going back the following weekend to pick up the one and drop off the other dear daughter. Then we must go back to fetch the second dear daughter and turn around and head twelve hours away to a house on the beach of a beautiful island that my husband's family goes to each year.
These are blessings, but they also find me spending an entire month doing nothing but laundry, it seems. Well, more laundry than I typically do. I wonder why I can only find three pairs of socks for my youngest to take to camp and when my oldest decided to take a size nine-and-a-half in women's shoes. I wonder how every stitch of clothing I sent to camp with each of them manages to come back wet. I wonder how much sand will come back with us from the beach and if it will have a detrimental effect on our new washer and dryer. I hope that no one decides to bring home another half-dead starfish in a suitcase. Or brings home another palmetto bug squashed for twelve hours in his shoe. My only comfort is in the fact that we often have fewer clothes as the summer wears on. If that could be considered a comfort.
Just when I think it is all over, it is all over. Suddenly it is September and we are back to our lessons. I think, perhaps, it is time I quit dreaming and just start enjoying whatever it is that's set in front of me.
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
What profit hath he that worketh in that wherein he laboureth?
I have seen the travail, which God hath given to the sons of men to be exercised in it.
He hath made every thing beautiful in his time: also he hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end.
I know that there is no good in them, but for a man to rejoice, and to do good in his life.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-12
Sorrow & Thanksgiving
I have two beautiful girls. While crouching around in the cramped, hot attic today trying to find the boxes of summer clothes for my girls, I stumbled upon a great cache of little girl clothes. I have been handing down my girls' outgrown clothes for years, but I knew there were a couple of boxes still up there that I could never seem to locate. Today I found about five boxes of clothes. Big boxes. They were right there like they were mocking me for not having seen them before. Boxes full of baby and toddler clothes. Sweet little church dresses, colorful play dresses, little bubble outfits with snaps for easy diaper changing. Oshkosh overalls with little flowers embroidered into the material. And matching shirts. Onesies and thick, cotton training pants. My little girls' clothes.
How did these manage to escape the grand parade of handed down clothes that is still marching out our door and into other homes? I know. I know all too well and therein lies my heartache. These were clothes for my next baby. For the one to come. For that sweet little child that would smell of something not quite of this earth. Something like the smell of warm sugar cookies and that heavenly smell that you aren't sure whether it begins with you and ends with the baby or begins with the baby and ends with you. Or if it has a beginning or an end at all.
When I first found the boxes and brought them down from the attic, I was so happy for my friend. She just had her sixth child and I knew that the hand-me-downs were starting to get tattered in that family since the last five babies were all girls. I kept telling my friend that I thought I had some stuff up in the attic. And, of course, I did. I said it casually since I have been handing down clothes for years without too much thought. I have seen God bless me in so many ways that it wasn't difficult to know that he would always provide for me and my family. Everything I have is God's and I often consider the fact that he might redistribute things at any time, but I don't worry about it. Why would God quit taking care of me now? This doesn't have anything to do with my faith that God will provide for me in any situation. If I were to tell you of all the ways God has blessed me and carried me through the storms, I wouldn't be able to finish this post. Perhaps I should think of posting about such things in the future. It certainly would keep my blog more frequently updated.
My sorrow comes from the fact that, as I sort through these clothes, I see my babies nursing, cooing, smiling, crying, rolling over, sitting up... Looking back at me with their sweet blue eyes and chubby cheeks. My sorrow comes from the fact that ten years ago I had my last baby and I didn't even know it. She was born on Fathers' Day. There was no sorrow that day. I woke up a little after nine that Sunday morning and four hours later, I had a ten pound three ounce baby girl. Chubby little Clara. A little sister for Lily.
I wish I could be as happy today as I go through these clothes. Some of them still smell vaguely of the soap I used back then. That's just not fair. But it is what it is. I am washing them for my friend. Washing out the smell of my babies. Some things you just can't get back.
Sam
I thought that, since Pipsqueak so kindly shared a picture of her beautiful Smudge, I would share a picture of our beloved Sam. And, yes, his eyes came that way. We really don't know exactly what he looked like when he was born because we adopted him from a shelter when he was two months old. Somebody apparently dumped Sam and his sister in a bag and dropped them both off in a dumpster behind a mall. I don't understand some people.
Books that Sit and Books that Prick
One of the reasons I am bringing this up is because I have just updated my "literature" links. There are a couple of other books that I've been reading that may interest some of you.
I have been reading Home-Making and it has really been both pleasurable and painful at the same time. I suppose one might call it convicting. I find that the author is telling me exactly what I know to be true about creating a home and, although I have longed for this affirmation of what I believe to be true, it stings a little to see in print many of the ways in which I have fallen short. I don't say this to discourage you from reading this book, though. It was written by a nineteenth century man by the name of J.R. Miller whose eloquence and obvious love takes most of the sting from what he has to say. But not all. And that is as it should be. This book would be worth very little if it just affirmed what we already knew to be true without pricking our hearts into further action. This book is also not just meant for wives and mothers. It is meant to be read by the entire family. Miller is very careful to let the burdens of keeping a Christian home fall where they should. He has words for both husband and wife as well as for the children. We plan on reading this book as a family as soon as I am done with it. I think it will be a very humbling experience for me, but a necessary one.
Raising Maidens of Virtue has been a good read so far. I am pre-reading it before I read it with my girls. I bought it to read with them since they have been coming to me with concerns about modesty, male friendships and what it really means to be a Christian young woman. My girls are still young, but not too young to be talking about such things. I wasn't sure what to expect from this book, but I have found it to be rather good at covering all of the areas that I feel my girls are desiring instruction in. We are one of only a few homeschooling families in our congregation and we were the first ones to start homeschooling. Thus, my oldest is the oldest homeschooled child in our congregation. We are having to make decisions on an almost daily basis that both put our faith to the test and set precedent for those who follow in our footsteps. I find it comforting that my daughters are coming to me with concerns that most girls wouldn't even think twice about in our culture. Part of me, though, was concerned that the answers that they were craving wouldn't fall easily from my lips to their ears. I think that this book will be of great service to us in this area.
Which leads me to a whole series of thoughts that I want to share, but they must wait until some other time. I have a dress that must be ironed before tomorrow morning and it is getting late in the day.
Lost and Found
One of the nice things about being alone is that I get to listen to "mommy's music". Right now, I am listening to the Guster album Keep It Together. I'm eating a banana and drinking orange juice. Is life really supposed to be exciting? I surely hope not because I don't know if I could handle it. I take comfort in the peace. In the familiar.
Now I am wondering where that mentally retarded man went to. The one who used to ride his bike to the curb across the street from our house and merrily ring his little bicycle bell. He had a nice smile. I haven't seen him in quite awhile.
Things are always changing around me without my consent. Sometimes without my knowledge. I suppose this is for the best. Maybe God just likes to step in and remove some of the clutter for me while I am otherwise occupied. I do this to my children's rooms every so often. They don't really need to form a bond with their Happy Meal toys. Sometimes they remember something, though. Something that wasn't a cheap piece of plastic, but I cleaned it out anyway knowing that there was another child out there who needed it more. I wonder if that is where that man went. To another one of God's children.
I suppose that is part of this life. Time keeps moving me forward and I lose things without even noticing. Some people spend their lives striving for something they can't quite put their finger on. I know what I am striving for. I just keep misplacing little things along the way. Funny how I assume they were really mine to begin with.
Part Four: Time and Eternity
XXXVI
I LOST a world the other day.
Has anybody found?
You'll know it by the row of stars
Around its forehead bound.
A rich man might not notice it;
Yet to my frugal eye
Of more esteem than ducats.
Oh, find it, sir, for me!
Emily Dickinson
Real Life
When I first started this blog, I wanted it to be an outlet for the side of me that I felt I had been neglecting for too many years. In my younger years, I had dreams of becoming a writer and a photographer. I preferred writing poetry to prose and I loved toting my Pentax K1000 around with me wherever I went. I have a few poems and many photographs that are near and dear to my heart from those years. As the years flowed forward, though, I quit taking the time to write down the little word songs in my head. I always thought that I would remember them later, but with two small children running around my thoughts were nearly always replaced with more necessary mental and physical activity. Fortunately, the camera was never so displaced during those years. I have beautiful shots of my children as they experienced the world for the first time. I am thankful for these.
As my children have grown a bit older, though, I have found myself wondering and longing for the dreams of my youth. Of course, they seem so much more enchanting than climbing mountains of laundry, collecting tumbleweeds of dog and cat hair, disrupting the natural cycle of dust in my home and other such futile tasks. I wanted to create a place where I could separate myself from these things. A place where I could be "me". And, so, here I am.
The problem is, I am not only more than a mountaineering, tumbleweed-collecting, dust displacer. I am the mountaineering, tumbleweed-collecting, dust displacer. I have been cutting myself into parts that are never equal to the whole. The simplified and idealized version of myself doesn't acknowledge the parts of me that are just as valuable and create a clearer picture of who I really am.
Why did I ever want to create an outlet for only a part of me? I know that there is that part of me that has been neglected for a long time, but it has been by necessity. It does not mean that it is dead or that I have to separate it from the whole for it to survive. How on earth, could it survive without the whole?
So, today, I am here to tell you that I am a homeschooling mom of two beautiful girls. That I am a wife. That I engage in seemingly futile work like laundry, vacuuming and dusting. That my house is never clean and I am more often teaching math lessons than taking photographs. That I am more likely to write a grocery list than a poem. That you will find me more often at our church building than at a photo gallery or a poetry reading. That this is not just a photo blog or a poetry blog or homeschooling blog or a mommy blog. That this is about my life and, from now on, it is as real and complete as it can be.
Having said that, here is a picture I took yesterday:
Shrank, Shrunk, Shrunken, Shrinking, Shrinks...
My friend is moving to another home in the area (as yet unchosen) and mentioned that she wanted to get rid of her shrunk. Her husband is in the military and they acquired this shrunk while stationed in Germany. It is huge. I am uncertain why they call this monstrosity a shrunk when it clearly could not have ever been any bigger. It is twelve feet long, seven feet high and two feet wide. Unfortunately, I love it. Will is preparing to make arrangements to acquire the shrunk for me this weekend. It is Mother's Day this Sunday, you know.
In the meantime, I found out that this shrunk-pushing friend of mine and another friend of mine are having a yard sale and invited me to join in the fun. So I am supposed to load up the station wagon and have Will make trips to my friend's garage to deposit the stuff that is clogging our home in preparation for this yard sale in June.
I can't begin to tell you how liberating all of this is. We just put our old dining room table out by the side of the road this evening thinking that maybe someone would want it for free. It is a nice mahogany table, but we have a nicer table now. Sure enough, some neighbors walked up from the cul de sac and claimed it. I know I could have made some money selling it at the yard sale, but I am not sure how much garage space my friend is willing to share with my clutter.
Our homeschooling group is also having a used curriculum/book sale in a couple of weeks. I have loads of stuff to sell there. I am starting to feel like there is hope for us to continue living in this house. It was beginning to feel like we would have to start sleeping in our tent out back.
I am trying to rethink everything around here and it is actually quite fun. Like moving, but not. The only problem is that the house looks worse than its former appearance with all this clutter flying. I have to keep my eyes on the goal or I will be sucked into this horrible black hole. Whenever I start to feel overwhelmed, I tell myself to just keep doing and not to look around.
I don't think that Will believes there is a method to my madness, but the fact that I am moving is encouraging to him. He has yet to see the shrunk, though. Worst case scenario, I will just set it by the side of the road and meet some more neighbors.
Twelve + Thirteen
Lily will be twelve this summer. While going through the pictures in this plastic tub, I came across a picture taken when I was thirteen. My best friend, Dee Dee Fortin, took it and it is dated May 1979. I looked long at this picture. It was familiar, but suddenly I was seeing it through a different lens. My mother had redecorated this room and moved my sister into a different bedroom so that I could have a bedroom all my own. I remember her bringing wallpaper books home to peruse as she redecorated the entire house. We lived in an old Victorian house on the nicest street in town. A street lined with huge elm trees and wonderfully different, but equally nice houses from the same era.
I vaguely remember how it all came to be, but I really have no recollection at all of choosing wallpaper with columns of what appear to be blue cabbages up and down them. Neither do I remember choosing a glaringly blue carpet or a powder blue bed ensemble with more ruffles than any dress a Southern belle might wear. What I do remember is coming home from school one day, when I was twelve, and my mother opening the door to what was now my bedroom. I remember the feeling of freedom it evoked. No little sister muss and fuss. Just me and my Donny and Marie eight-tracks playing as loud as the player could manage. (Mind you, these were given to me by a friend who was a Donny and Marie fanatic and, at the time, I was under the impression that one must play what one has available. I actually much preferred Rod Stewart.) I felt like I was in some heavenly realm and I never wanted to go back to sharing a room with anyone. Of course, when I went off to college it became a necessity. I then married Will and now only occasionally dream of having my own room.
I decided to set this picture aside to show Lily what I looked like when I was about her age; hoping to give her some insight into the fact that I was not always a thirty-eight-year-old mother. When the girls came home from their piano lessons, I brought out the picture to show them. There I was, posed on the window sill of my bedroom. Thirteen. Skinny. Wearing my favorite shirt and framed by columns of blue cabbages. I was wondering what Lily's response would be, but unprepared for it. Lily was speechless. I looked at Clara and Clara spoke what Lily was unable to.
"Mommy, you had boobage!"
Now I think I remember why that was my favorite shirt.
Tom
That was my Saturday. I didn't mention falling asleep on the loveseat after I had vacuumed behind it, did I? Well, a nap should have been on that list of things needed to be done. I would have assured myself greater success by listing at least one nap.
My Sunday was much different than my Saturday aside from the nap I took on the loveseat after church. I stayed up much too late on Saturday night and did not want to get out of bed Sunday morning. My thinking gets muddled when I have only gotten a couple hours of sleep and I groan pathetically whenever anyone says anything above a whisper. Will would have none of it, though, and told me to push myself. I did as requested. We all got to church in time for Sunday school classes. Will has a separate class that he has been attending that is about leadership. I have been attending the main class in the auditorium. We are starting a new class this term. I was very sleepy, but the lesson revolved around whether the modern-day Jew is still waiting for the Messiah. The gentleman teaching the class used some information he found on the web at Judaism 101. It was fairly interesting because I had always assumed that Jews were still waiting for their Messiah. It suddenly seemed odd to me that I have known many Jewish people and have never attempted to ask them about their beliefs on that particular topic. I used to work as a nanny when Will and I were first married. I worked for two different Jewish families and never once did I broach the subject. I am usually more inquisitive than that. I suppose I didn't want to jeopardize my position by having them think I might have strong Christian beliefs. One family included me in some of their holiday observances and I really appreciated that. This was also the same family that would openly speak with distaste about Christians. I am glad that I am not a person that things like that stick to. I often find it interesting how much I can remember about my life without it having any actual weight to it. I love people and I love their idiosyncrasies. God did make us wonderfully interesting.
The thing that happened this weekend and left a most heavy imprint on me, though, happened as we were singing the invitational hymn. The hymn that is supposed to encourage those who need to be baptized to come forward. Will and I were sitting by ourselves up front on the far left. We always sit there. Lily had decided to sit with the youth group and Clara sat nearby with her friend's family. We all stood and sang I Surrender All. The nice thing about the church of Christ is that we sing a cappella. Sitting up front, like we do, we have the advantage of hearing all those behind us and it is quite beautiful and uplifting. As I was in the middle of singing, something behind me caught my attention. The man that was in the pew behind us had suddenly passed out. I turned around to find him lying limply in the pew at rather an odd angle. His face was unnaturally red and his hands were quite blue. His breathing was shallow. I didn't know this man. We have an attendance of about four hundred, but it is rare for me to not know at least a person's face. Someone yelled out for Dr. Brady and within seconds there was Dr. Brady with Gina. Gina is a nurse and works at Dr. Brady's office now, but she used to work as a paramedic. I suddenly realized that this man had a little girl standing over him in tears and that she was getting in Dr. Brady's way. I took her hand and had her come sit with me where she could still see her father, but not be in the way. I talked to her and told her that everything was going to be all right. I hated the feeling that I might be lying to her, but I didn't think I was important enough in her life for her to lose complete faith in human beings, if things went awry. This is harder to do with one's own children. Or, at least, it should be.
I found out, through talking with this girl, that her name was Alex and that she was eight. I also found that she had a brother named Beau standing with rather large eyes on the other end of their pew. I brought him around with his sister. Apparently, they had only just started visiting our congregation. They told me that sometimes this happens to their father and that their mother wasn't there because they were divorced. She lived nearby, though, and Alex had her cell phone number memorized. When the paramedics got there, the congregation was in the middle of singing the closing hymn and it struck me as both odd and beautiful. I took both of the children by the hand and led them to the office to call their mother. They didn't want to go, but they limply followed me when I took them each by the hand. I didn't think they needed to be there for all of the paramedic action. I called their mother and told her what was happening and she seemed oddly detached saying something about this wasn't the first time this had happened. I told her that I would wait for her at the church and she could decide what to do when she got there. I had assumed that she would want to find someone to watch the children while she went to the hospital. Am I so naive? I let the children talk to their mother for a minute and then we went back in to check on their father. He was standing up white-knuckling the back of a pew. The lead paramedic told me that they were encouraging him to let them take him to the hospital. They even had the gurney popped open and ready to go, but the man was refusing. The paramedic talked pleasantly with the children for a minute and then looked back to me and said that they couldn't force him to go because the man was lucid. The paramedics packed up and left the man to Dr. Brady. When the mother arrived, most of the congregation had departed. She took the children by the hand and told them to hug their father goodbye. She was going to take them with her to a friend's baby shower. There was some discussion about getting the children's things out of their father's car and, then, they were gone.
By this time, we were out in the foyer and I was sitting on the floor in front of the man that I finally had a name for, Tom. Tom was sitting on a bench looking quite beaten. We talked for a while and it seemed that Tom has been quite depressed and under a lot of stress during this divorce. He had actually spent three days at a nearby hospital that is considered as having one of our country's best cardiothoracic units. They didn't know what was wrong with him. He couldn't sleep anymore and he wasn't eating anymore. All this he was telling me and I could sense that the only reason he was sharing this with me was because he was still very shaken. You could see that he was at a point in his life where he felt completely beaten down. I found a couple who were willing to drive him home while one of them followed in their own car.
As he left, I gave him a phone directory and pointed to the page with our picture and phone number and told him to call us if he needed anything. I could no longer resist the urge to hug him and so I did. Then he was gone.
On the way home, I sat in the car feeling horrible. Divorce is a terrible thing. It is too foreign to me. I can't imagine not caring about William. I can't imagine seeing him in so much despair and just walking away from him.
