Crummy!

Trent got home from work late, and walked in while the twins were finishing up a bowl of tortilla chips.  Amidst cries of "Daddy's home!", he got clobbered by four little arms and two little boys who love their daddy fiercely and hug him tightly.  When he let them go, they returned to their chips.  Guiltily, they looked at the nearly- empty bowl and back at Trent.

After only a slight hesitation, they grabbed the last big chips in unison and offered the bowl of crumbs to their beloved father.  From their loving expressions, it was clear that the salty crumbs were the most delicious, but Freddie and Georgie were willing to part with them.

It was a tender moment with a side order of funny.  That's how we live in this family.

Turbulence

This week, we had some pretty hefty winds.  I saw a picture that someone had taken of the middle of the winds.  The current next to the ground was heading left, and the higher current is going right.  The clouds in the middle are being blown by both currents.

I am amazed at how beautiful this is.  The contrasting currents pull the clouds in opposite directions,  making graceful curves and swirls.  It couldn't be prettier if it had been sculpted.

Sometimes I feel like I am pulled in different directions.  10 different directions, to be exact.  Every child has needs.  The house has needs.  My husband has needs.  My church calling has needs.  My kitchen has needs.  Oh, and I need things too - how can I take care of everything?  And all at the same time?

I often feel stretched thin and buffeted about.  But maybe, from a different perspective, it makes lovely swirls and loops.  Maybe God is making beauty out of my chaos after all.

Date Night

We had a hot date.  At least, I was hoping it would be hot because I have been so cold.  It was his turn to plan, but it was late and I was tired and cold and didn't want to do anything but curl up on the couch with a big blanket.

So he bundled me up and took me to the bookstore.  We browsed a bit and then sat.  It was delightful to be out together.

How lucky am I to have this wonderful man in my life!

I Need a Nap

I am so tired.  So really, really tired.  That is a big reason why my writing has faltered over the past several months.  My health has been failing.  Failing.  I pause over that word.  It sounds so dreadful and dead-full.  I'm not dead, and I won't be for a long, long time.  I'm too stubborn to go ,I've too much work still to do, and God's not done with me yet.

But as I think of the word "failing," it works for me.  I often fail.  And I often get back up again.  Sometimes it takes me a while to get back on my feet, and sometimes I'm quicker.  But there should be no shame in failing - only in the refusal to try again. 

So yes, my health was failing.  My body was not functioning properly.  There is no shame in that.  I'm working on making better- and different - health choices, and am under the care of a few good health providers, so I'm getting better.  Slowly, but surely, I am healing.  But it all makes me so tired.

To my credit, nearly all the Christmas shopping is done.  I just have to pick up the gifts for my man and we're there.  I've started wrapping.  The tree is up and has lights on.  Maybe we'll even put some ornaments on one day.  Maybe.  The lights are up on the front of the house.  I successfully navigated two Holiday parties without falling apart.  We've gone to one Christmas concert (David's choir was absolutely angelic.  I don't usually expect that from a junior high chorus, but they sang straight to my heart this year.), and we'll hit another one tonight (Eddie's beginning band concert.  Should be fun.).  My kids are well fed and happy for the most part.  I finished the laundry.  My house is passably clean.  Everyone made it to school on time this morning.

And now, I shall go take a nap.

Mission Monday

We got our Christmas packages off a few weeks ago.  I'm afraid they aren't as interesting as they could have been.  I'm not a very good package-maker.  I can think of lots of fun things to put in a package AFTER I've sent it, but before...?  I draw a blank.  Besides, we don't have long until these boys come home, and I don't want to take up their luggage space with useless trinkets.

Not long until they come home?  Yes, it is true.  Only three months for the one, and six months for the other.  The one who comes home sooner, I think might like to come home even sooner.  Having a cute girl waiting anxiously for your return will do that to a guy.  Ironically enough, the missionary who comes home later is wanting to extend his mission and come home even later.  Why couldn't we have reversed these two, and the sooner would come home later and the later would come home sooner - and they would come home in the middle, at the same time!  Then I would jump on a plane and fly to Africa and pick them both up and have a lovely little vacation and time with my boys.

...dreaming...  but not reality.

Here's the real scoop on Madagascar.  And South Africa.  I'm just glad they are happy and doing well.  May the Lord continue to bless them and keep them safe!

In Search of a Good Marker

I love to write.  I have love to write - composing words - most of my life.  I'm not that great at it, but it doesn't matter.  I'm probably like that one kid at the dance who is blissfully unaware of how truly bad he is at dancing, but just closes his eyes and flails about to his version of the music and loves every moment.  

I'm trying to get back into writing, but I'm out of the habit so I just don't think about it most days.  Need to find ways to make it a new habit.

 

Even more happy for me than writing, though, is WRITING, making shapes with a pen.  I love to make a message beautiful.  Being the daughter of a printer, I was into fonts before fonts were a thing, and I begged my dad to give me his old font books.  I would pore over them for hours, like a Christmas catalog, highlighting my favorite ones.  Then I would spend all my junior high spare moments in writing the name of my latest crush.  Not with my name, mind you.  Just his name, over and over in every typeface imaginable.  

 

I haven't written much in the past few years, partly because I've been raising humans, and partly because the current fascination with fonts means that my handwritten scripts, once unique, are now just a messy, secondhand version of an easily accessible online font.  If it's not as good, I might as well do it more formally on a computer.

 

As a family, we have been studying a scripture every week or so.  I like to type out the scripture of the week and post it on the wall so we can read it and learn it.  Unfortunately, our printer is not playing nicely with the computer.  In fact, they are not on speaking terms at all.  So I had to pull out a marker and scribble a sign. It's been more fun than I thought it would be.  It's feeling good to get back into creating.  

Now I need to find a good marker that will work every time, not just some of the time.  And don't let the marker talk to the printer or neither of them will work.

Just Like Riding a Bike

I've been feeling like I needed to start writing again.  It's been a while, and I feel so rusty - like I've forgotten how.  Folks say it's like riding a bike...

I haven't ridden a bike for a while, either.  I used to bike often.  We would take our little family on a biking outing - me and Jay and three little boys on three little bikes.  Then we bought a bike trailer for the baby and Jay pulled it behind his bike.  He would go in the front and I would take the rear, making sure we didn't lose anyone.  At the time, we lived in a very small town, so the roads were safe.  When we moved to the Seattle area, the biking continued because there were so many beautiful bicyle trails.  Our favorite went along the banks of the Sammammish River and had frequent parks.  Jay would come home from dinner, announce that he wanted to go biking, and start rounding up the kids.  I'd take whatever I was making for dinner, attempt to fashion it into something we could take on a picnic (casserole portions wrapped in a tortilla sound good?), and off we'd go.

I like to bike with my kids.  I rode with them to school every morning, all the way through my pregnancy with Angel.  I loved the ability to get somewhere faster than my lumbering belly usually let me.  We got some pretty funny looks, my bike, my belly, and me.

Since then however, the cover on my bike seat rotted off.  My tires went flat.  I wasn't strong enough to haul three little kidlets in the trailer.  We didn't ride any more.

A couple of months ago, I thought I'd ride anyway.  It had been a while, but hey, it's just like riding a bike, right?  Running late to school helped me make my decision.  Angel was alread zipping up the street on her pink bicycle and the twins hopped on their little red bikes, and I didn't want to run alongside them again, so I pulled out David's bicycle.  The seat was good - the tires were pumped.  I threw my leg over the center bar and we were off.  The children were delighted that Mom - Mom of all people! - was riding a bike with them.  They don't know that I used to ride lots.  To them, it was novel and fun.  And we made it to school on time.

I rode home again, enjoying the... wind in my hair!  Say that like it was a shampoo commercial.

When I got home, I rode the bike up the neighbor's driveway close to the gate going into our backyard.  I swung my foot over the seat - and missed.  The front tire caught the edge of the grass, my foot caught on the seat, and bike and I went down in a most ungraceful slow-motion disaster.

I untangled my foot, rubbed my scraped palms together, and realized that if I tried to stand I would immediately be back on the ground.  So I sat there on the neighbor's driveway and gave thanks.  I was thankful that I didn't appear to be seriously hurt.  I was grateful that my knee was numb enough that it didn't hurt yet.  I was grateful that no one watched me fall.  I was grateful that my own front door was less than 50 painfully hobbling steps away.  I was grateful that I didn't wreck my son's bike because I'd never hear the end of that one!

After a few painful minutes, I slowly got up, put the bike in out bike rack, limped to the house and crawled back in bed.  I spent a week shuffling around the house and a month not doing anything which required kneeling.  I still have a tender lump at the base of my knee, but I'm all functional.

I'm so thankful for bodies that heal.  And hopefully, getting back into writing will be better than "just like riding a bike."