Sneaking some crafty-ness into Christmas

I am not a crafty person.  In fact, in my years as a mom, I've come to hate crafts more each year.  I've never stopped to really analyze this, but I think it has something to do w/ the clutter factor.

I'm not great at STAYING organized.  But I love to be organized.  Hence, nothing new can come into my house.  Especially useless little cardboard things "decorated" with the puzzle pieces glued with back facing up.  (Yes, I had something like that hanging on my fridge for years.)

But, I digress.

Way back when I just had a couple of kids and actually hung out w/ a couple of girlfriends on occasion, we took some glasses and etched a few fun designs on them.  My kids loved them, and when 2 of them broke (funny how that works with kids) I rashly promised them that we would make some new ones.  I ordered glass etching cream, and promptly forgot about my promise.

Luckily, they did too.  For a few years.

This year was my Waterloo, however.  E-Day could be put off no longer.  Since whenever my husband goes off for a few days, I take leave of my senses, I decided to do this one evening while my husband was off on one of his not-uncommon business trips.  I started with a set of simple clear glasses from Ikea.  (And a yummy lunch of Ikea meatballs had me energized enough to think this was going to be no problem.)

I also gathered up a couple of exacto knives, the glass etching cream (I did an online search and bought it that way, but I've heard people who can survive craft stores without falling into an anxiety attack say that you can find it there, too.), along with some other basic supplies:

I realized quickly that the division of labor was going to be the key factor in ensuring all children survived the night.  So I assigned my artistic daughter the job of drawing the designs.  I did not have cheap contact paper this time - just the library-grade laminate I cover my books with - but cheap contact paper was much easier to work with when I did it w/ my girlfriends.  Back when I did this with my girlfriends, we used pre-cut stencils to trace designs onto the contact paper backing, which made the creative part of the this craft easier.  But, honestly, I couldn't be happier with the drawings my amazing daughter came up with!  Another favourite with my boys were the letters of their name.  (It *does* take care of that pesky problem of one child using 10 cups every day, but just beware: cutting out letters is not fun.)

I took each design she drew, and cut it out with the exacto knife.  Before I actually had the knife in my hand, I had thought we could take turns cutting out the designs, but after looking at that sharp little blade, I realized I've spent enough time in emergency rooms.  And my children will go through life much better with all of their fingers and tendons intact.

I handed the design cut out over to one of the waiting children, and they stuck it on the glass.  I gave a brief but terrifying lecture about the dangers of acid and mentioned people burning holes in their skin and eyes.  Then my responsible Mr. Monk-like child was allowed to spread the glass-etching paste over the cut-out.  He was extremely cautious.  (I was so proud.)  Thicker is definitely better:

The bottle says to wait 3-5 minutes before rinsing off.  I don't know if it's because my paste is several years old, but I found that waiting 10 minutes or more was best.  We rinsed it off, peeled off the contact paper, and VOILA!  Everybody lived.  I didn't hate the process or the result.  And I have some cute little presents for my nephews.

Ssshhhh.  It's a secret. :)

~Stephanie

Unclenching My Fist

I think there are 2 kinds of kids out there.  In my family.  Well, ok, more than 2.  But what I think about a lot, especially when I look at my kids, is how I can divide kids into 2 groups.  A child is either a Runner or a Stayer.  They are either desperate to get away from you and see all there is to see, or they are determined that you will never leave them alone, not even for a minute or two to pee.  One type is kicking out Morse Code in the womb "Meet me at the nearest playground in 2 years." just hoping his unseen buddies get the message while he (or she) saws away at the umbilical cord w/ his secret file.  (what, none of you have seen that on the ultrasound?)  The other type resents you forever for letting go of your end of the umbilical cord.  He does, although he will never admit it and might even go off and get married some day.  It's a ruse.  He'll be back before you know it, smushing in between you and your husband just when you thought it was safe to stop locking the bedroom door at night.  (what? Who me?! No! I never lock the bedroom door!)

As luck God would have it, my first two kiddos were Runners, so I thought it was cute but puzzling when my third turned out to be a Stayer.  *This* child actually held my hand whenever I wasn't carrying him, unlike a certain child who ran off while on the Cape May Ferry to go hang over the back edge where there was no guardrail.  *This* child's feet never voluntarily left the ground, unlike a certain child who climbed 30 feet into a pine tree at dusk and then got stuck but was so high up we didn't know where the little voice was coming from.  However, my Stayer is big for his age, so the hanging-on-me-constantly palled by the time he was 4 or 5.  Plus, my fourth kid has turned out to be that incredibly rare mixed-breed species, and I can't tell from one minute to the next whether he is a Runner or a Stayer.  Hooray, the worst of both worlds.

A few weeks ago, I was not thinking about the differences between my Runners and my Stayer when a little package arrived in the mail.  I opened it and discovered a gift from my husband's brother and his wife - a series of talks given by a former missionary to Irian Jaya.  As I listened to the first one, which was about giving up his "rights," giving up his expectations for possessions, I was inspired, but in a heart-untouched way.  After all, standing in front of your house as a fire rages over it catches your heart and shows you right there and then how important your possessions really shouldn't be, and kind of makes a recorded talk pale in comparison.  Not that I'm perfect in this area, but, well, I'm learning.  Then the speaker tangentially mentioned that he also had to learn to give his kids to God, and the Holy Spirit whispered in my mind's ear.  (This doesn't happen often, by the way, so I pay attention when it does.)  He asked me if I had given up my kids.

As it happens, I actually started my motherhood journey holding my children lightly.  My mom had died far too many years before, and I had seen first-hand from the other side that mothers do not always get to see their children grow up.  And, thanks to my husband's DNA, most of my kids were also born with breathing issues.  Our third - the little Stayer - was a whopping, full-term, 9 pounds at birth (which means that he was about as far from being at risk as is possible) and still spent several days in the hospital with RSV when he was a few weeks old.  He also had pnuemonia for an unknown number of weeks later that winter.  I sat up watching him breathe more than I slept.  Yet I had every confidence that God was holding his life in His hands.

But somewhere along the line, things had changed.  My fingers were clenching down around my kids.  They were mine to raise and mine to educate.  Every time things went less than perfectly around here, *I* was the one who was being wronged, and I let my kids know how upset that made me.  It wasn't pretty.

My first reaction to the Holy Spirit that evening was "No!  I mean, Yes!"  But then, I thought about what it can mean to truly give up your kids.  Mothers do not always get to see their children grow up.  And I thought, "Well, I want to, Lord, but I don't know if I really completely can.  I'm not sure I can trust You."  (Yes, I figured that complete honesty was the only way to go - since I was dialoguing w/ God after all.)  The conversation seemed to end there.

It wasn't even a week later that the conversation continued about how my Father really can and does take better care of my kids than I can.  Since my husband does occasionally read this blog, I won't go into details about how it came about.  So.  I will stop right there.  And just say that there was a Grave Communication Breakdown.  And so it came to be, that at almost 8pm (after dark mind you!) I realized that my 4yo and my 7yo had been left at a playground at the township soccer fields.  Left alone with nobody in the world they knew except each other.  For at least 20 minutes.  My 7yo the Stayer.  The child whose greatest fear (for no good reason, I swear) (OK, until now) is that he will be left behind.  The only child who I have actually promised, out loud, that I will not leave behind.  Multiple times.  Like, on a monthly basis.  And my 4yo who, let's face it, will always be my baby, whether he's Running or Staying.

One of my sisters saved my sanity by praying with me as my husband drove the 20 minutes (give or take) to the playground.  I snapped out of hysterical worry to realize: I knew 2 people who might or might not be at the soccer fields, and if they weren't there, I was going to have to trust God.  Trust God.  Of course, you know that neither of the people I wanted to rely on were there.   But then I had two additional people praying while I waited.

Waited to learn anew how God cares for me.  Waited to learn anew how God cares for my children.

Waited to learn that I had been holding them too closely.  Calling them mine.  When they are not.  They are His.  Lent to me for a time.  And He can care for them much better than I can.

Waited to learn that they were safe.  Waited to hug and kiss them all over, and tuck them into bed (or watch them fall asleep on the sofa).

Later that night I overheard the 7yo ask the 10yo very quietly, "Have you ever been left behind?"  That little stinker thought very carefully - I am quite sure he was evaluating his parents' performance to date - and slowly answered, "Probably."  Then he shrugged and said "But I don't remember."  Why would he care?  He's a Runner.

So I took my sweet not-so-little Stayer in my arms again and promised him that God loves him and will take far better care of him than I can.  He says he knows that already (ouchy blow to my pride, although I could look at it as good teaching on my part, I guess).  I guess it's a good thing one of us knows, because I still have a lot of conversations with God ahead of me about this.



~Stephanie

She's HERE!!!

                                                 WELCOME TO THE WORLD!!!
                                           On October 9th, Mirabella Daisy arrived.
                                                   6lbs 15oz & 19 1/2 inches long.
                                     And perfect, miraculous, and amazing in every way.
                                          Congratulations to the Francisco Family!!!

“Mother, oh mother, come shake out your cloth!

Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,

Hang out the washing and butter the bread,

Sew on a button and make up a bed.

Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?

She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking!

Oh, I’ve grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue

(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

Dishes are waiting and bills are past due

(Pat- a- cake, darling and peek, peekaboo).

The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew

And out in the yard and there’s a hullabaloo

But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo.

Look! Aren’t her eyes the most wonderful hue?

(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

Oh, cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,

But children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.

So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.

I’m rocking my baby. Babies don’t keep.”

~Taken from “Song for a Fifth Child” by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

Some days you just have to eat candy pumpkins...

Some days are tear worthy.  These days require candy pumpkins.  

Not because my 10 year-old son found a hair in his lemonade.

Not because it's challenging when you're 38 weeks pregnant to get comfortable and sleep at night.

Not because after today's examination the midwife said that my cervix seems to feel as if I never had a baby before- even though this will be my fourth child, and I am "due" in a week and a half. 

Not because my ninja son refused to take a nap today. (Good thing he's cute. ;)  )

Not because you're teaching 5th grade, 8th grade, and preschool throughout the day and running your kids to and from all of their activities. 

Not because the book I'm reading makes me cry, so I don't want to read it. 

Not because there is still much to do before the baby arrives.  Business stuff, school stuff, house stuff, etc... 

Not because the presidential debate is on tonight and- well, I don't even want to get into that- but let's just say that both candidates upset me from time to time. One less than the other.  And, the media just makes me angry.  So, I really don't want to watch it.  It will make me upset and tears could follow.

Not because it's ridiculously humid for this time of year! 

Not because of the dreary, rainy week it's been.

Not because reading sweet picture books to my four-year-old makes me cry.

Not because being on hold on the phone while trying to accomplish necessary things makes you angry. And cry.

Not because I am so blessed beyond measure with an awesome family and Lord-willing another little girl to love in the near future, so I can't keep myself from crying. (because I am indeed blessed beyond measure!)

Sometimes you just cry, and there are no answers.  Except that your hormones are acting up.  

The logical part of you tries to tell the hormonal part of you that it is only the pregnancy.  The hormones will improve. Eventually... 

But, then you remember that the hormones won't improve for weeks to months after the baby has made her entrance, so you are ignoring the logical part of yourself for now!!

You end up avoiding phone calls, because you MIGHT cry for no reason at all.  And, you wouldn't want to upset someone on the other end.  Because there really is nothing wrong.  It really is just hormones. 

So you just end up eating candy pumpkins on these days, because there's nothing actually "wrong." (Truly, there isn't!)  You try to ignore the fact that your four-year-old ninja son is OBSESSED with these same candy pumpkins.  And, he MIGHT from time to time have a tantrum because he "needs" them.  And, you MIGHT now begin to understand and actually relate to his "need" and MIGHT throw your own tantrum for candy pumpkins. 

Even if it is 8 o'clock in the morning. 

Even though there REALLY is nothing wrong.  

Thank God for candy pumpkins.

~Michelle

Um...maybe it's just the year of "not feeling it".

Oooh surprise, surprise. Sue isn't feeling it. Sue is also referring to herself in the third person. Guess what ELSE. Sue just ate 4 Amoroso rolls, then took Excedrin Tension Headache with coffee. 

I don't feel like homeschooling anymore.

Kids all talking to me at once is making me feel insane.

I can't make it through a day - much less a week - eating healthy.

I haven't started running again OR doing workouts yet.

My house is trashed. Like hair balls, actual TRASH squished into couch seats, donuts ON THE FLOOR, boxes of crayons dumped down the heating vents, you need a HAZMAT suit to go to the bathroom type trashed.

Just (ok, not just, 3 & 1/2 DAYS AGO) got back from vacation, husband just went back to work today, haven't grocery shopped yet, only have weird stuff (hence the rolls), but i don't want to go because it's so overwhelming that i tear up.

Sports, Church stuff, life in general with 5 kids. It's just wow some days. Where all you can think is how you need to up and move. Because somehow that would help? Life would just find us in Georgia. But at least the cute accents might make it easier to handle.

Toddler got a pen. Do i need to say more? Maybe she can open a semi-permanent Tattoo parlor for toddlers and make some money.

I was so excited for Fall, but now it's like 800 degrees and humid.

Because i was sick the week before vacation, there was one day of school accomplished. Then, a week off for Disney. Then, husband had off. I think it is common knowledge that if Daddy is home, school is a bust. Haven't started yet. Don't know if i'm gonna. Is there even a POINT when you are going to get one good day in? Because it's after 1pm now, we have to go to Walmart, and i'm not doing it when we get home. That leaves tomorrow. I don't DO school on coop days. NO. 

Still haven't fully unpacked.

Mail wasn't delivered yet that was on hold, so i can't pay bills.

And we are out of checks.

Between families, we have FIVE BIRTHDAY PARTIES this weekend. I cannot even put into words the way i feel about this.
Well, i could, but it would cause problems. Because i have GREAT words for it.

I have SO much to be thankful for, i know that. I KNOW IT. But today, it's overwhelming. The responsibility of being a wife and mom is daunting, and i'm not handing it well. It will pass, and i'm not going crazy, and i swear if anyone just stops by to check on me, i will throw eggs at you. Scratch that, jelly beans. We have no eggs. 

This is a wretched post, but i figured what the heck...i'm overwhelmed, maybe someone else is overwhelmed and would like to know they are not alone. My goals for today are now to grocery shop and get out of pajamas. Or maybe not, because we ARE going to Walmart, after all. 
~Sue

Better Than a Jab in the Eye with a Sharp Stick

You know you've said it.  At the very least thought it.  You can't count the number of times you've had somebody tell you:

Children are a blessing from God.

However, even though yes, I do believe this, let's be real.  Some days it does seem like children are more of a suffering-because-it's-good-for-you blessing.

Here is a prime example.  This is not a random, kids-having-fun-and-playing mess.  This, right in the major traffic lane of my dining room, is a deliberate staging of what is supposed to be an I Spy picture.  All of those things were taken out of where they are supposed to be and put right where people walk ON PURPOSE.  Packets of jam that we HAD to bring home from a diner even though I make homemade jam that is a zillion times yummier and healthier than that stuff.  One, just ONE, flip flop.  The creative child even ripped off the lid of my box of cornstarch just for this project!  My heart rate increases with the stress of just remembering.  By the way, for those of you who are thinking "this isn't that bad, that's a clean day at my house", the above picture was one of the neater areas of the house.  The rest of the house was normal "kids have been playing here.  REALLY hard."

It was one of those days.  Those days where words to describe those days fail me.  A day where I discover a budding carpenter has happily entertained himself for a couple of hours by digging holes in the living room walls with a screwdriver.  A day where a budding scientist has decided to figure out how the vacuum cleaner works by removing all of the screws he can reach with a screwdriver.  A day where a budding artist coated an arm chair and a door with Vaseline.

There are times when my children grab my heart with both hands and bathe it in love.  My 4yo tells me that he loves me so much he wants to snuggle with me for always.  My 7yo tells me I am the best mama in the whole world when I impress him with some amazing culinary delight.  (Like allowing him to open a can of pineapple.)  My 10yo notices when I do my hair differently or dress up nicely and tells me how nice I look.  My daughter kisses me goodnight and tells me that she loves me.  I truly feel blessed beyond measure.  How could God trust *me* with these amazing gifts??

But this morning I did not even get my eyes open before I knew that today was going to be one of those days.  Dimly in my sleep I heard the sound of pounding feet and giggles.  Giggles that kept getting ssshhh-ed.  I thought maybe the water was running in the bathroom sink??  And then I heard one of my boys yell "Look at this water bomb!"  My eyes flew open then, but before I could get untangled from the covers, I heard my 4yo yell "Look how high I am!!! . . . Ummmm, somebody come help me . . . a little help here . . . I'm gonna fall, somebody come get me."  And then a supposedly-more-responsible-child calling back from a different room "Just a minute!  I'm busy."

Yes, wading through inches of water to pull a naked somebody down off the top of the bathroom closet door (????), I realized it.  Today was not going to be a day where being a parent made my heart overflow with love and gratitude.  Today was going to be one of those days where being a parent made me think of my college girlfriend quoting her Grandma:

It's better than a jab in the eye with a sharp stick.

It might not get cross-stitched onto any samplers.  But at least I have hope that tomorrow will be a little bit better.


~Stephanie

Nesting: Not Just for Pregnant Women Anymore

I think you all probably have guessed that cleaning is not something I excel at.  Most days I strive for the "busy-family look" and *that* is a standard I can definitely live up to.

So recently I was completely caught off-guard by my inability to stop cleaning my washing machine.

My washing machine!!!!

It's a front-loader, so it has that pesky little gasket around the door.  I happened to notice that there was some hair and what looked like MUD hanging out in there, and that was all it took.  The next thing I knew, I had a pack of Q-tips in one hand, baby diaper wipes in the other, and I could. not. stop. cleaning.

A full hour later - a precious hour that could have been filled with 2 kids' spelling lessons while I ran 5 miles on my elliptical - I finally sat back and said "good enough - for now."  And I took a photo to show the result of my hard work:

No, not the nice clean washing machine!  The gross dirty gunk I pulled out of it, of course!  I mean, who doesn't need to take a bunch of Q-tips to their washer every now and then?  This is completely normal, right?

This strange cleaning obsession did not stop with my washing machine.  No, the very next day I found myself scrubbing the grout in the bathroom, althought there was CONSIDERABLY less satisfaction and nothing photo-worthy to report from that day of work.

And a couple of days after that there was the small matter of the coat closet in my front entryway.  We installed shelving from Ikea when we moved back into our house <cough> close to 2 years ago.  Unfortunately, the people who removed the shelving when our house was being restored and cleaned after our house fire 3 years ago were not very careful about the screws that were an essential part of that shelving.  So I got frustrated, plus distracted by all of the other unpacking and organizing that needed to be done, and never got the shelving properly re-installed.  Which meant that my foyer has had piles of snow pants and jackets just sitting around and getting moved from one corner to another.  For almost 2 years.  Until I decorated for autumn.  I took the pictures of my nice fall decorations.  But I was pretty careful not to show the other side of the foyer.  Until now:

Yes, this bit of organization is photo worthy!!!  You can barely even see the snow pants now!  I can't believe this took me so long!  (No wait, I can.  I just remembered how hard it was to decorate for Autumn.)

Anyway, at this point I realized what is happening.  This is nesting!!  No, I'm not pregnant.  It's just a wonderful way to deal w/ the chaos that is in other parts of my life.  Homeschooling.  Fall sports.  Did I mention homeschooling?  (And I *will* finish unpacking sooner or later.  Probably this will only take me another year.)  Nesting used to be a word I avoided at all costs.  When I was pregnant I would bristle if somebody used that word in front of me.  I thought it sounded patronizing.  Condescending.  But now I am starting to see that it is not really a bad word.  And it's not just for pregnant mamas.

So when my husband and I had yet another "discussion" over our boys' crazy Lego accumulation, I didn't hesitate to take drastic action.  I had already made several trips to the Container Store and started the process of organizing those little daggers for unwary feet.  However, somehow this turned into less of a nice organized play system and more of a painful obstacle course across the floor of the only room in my house that nobody can avoid walking through at least a millions times a day because it is the central hub that all of the other rooms connect off of.  Spousal "discussions" of what to do with the Legos became more, ummm, energetic.

Finally, on Thursday I took an entire day off of school for the sole purpose of nesting.  This is a legitimate homeschooling subject and my kids all earned an A.  (Except for the 4yo, who was slated to get a big fat F until he went off and fell asleep on the floor of another room in the middle of the afternoon while we were all working hard, at which point I magnaminously decided to give him a C-.)  First everybody under the age of 13 was forced down to the basement w/ brooms and mops to make sure there were no horrible mutant jumping spider-crickets that make me look like a shrieking blathering idiot.  Nobody needs to see their mother like that.  Plus there were a few <ahem> boxes that were still waiting to be unpacked.  Those had to get stacked neatly in a corner.  I gathered up all of the volunteers for the job of carpet selection and we popped into the minivan to go find something cheap.  There was some rather interesting, sexist banter w/ the older "gentleman" who worked in the store (he seems to be under the conviction that all women are in a hurry to complete projects and that we drive our husbands crazy with our impatience), however I got a few jabs at men in general and husbands specifically AND I got $15 knocked off the price, and we were back home before my daughter could finish her science lesson.  I am happy.  My boys are happy and playing w/ Legos every time I turn my back.

And more importantly, they appear to be very clear on the concept that any Legos that leave this carpet will almost definitely end up in the vacuum cleaner.

I feel like I've gotten some major stuff worked out of my system.  Yes, there is a pile of outgrown baby clothes in a spare bedroom.  My desk has yet to be tackled.  And I did see a promising looking recipe for homemade grout cleaner on facebook the other day.  But, for now, I'm ready to sit back and enjoy the fruits of my nesting.


~Stephanie

Simple Fancy Autumn

I grew up with a very simple lifestyle.  My grandparents on both sides were farmers, even though my mom's parents had moved off their farm before I was born.  Simple country people.  My parents were simple country people too, even though they weren't farmers.  We didn't decorate our house - except at Christmas; we put a lot of energy into our large garden - because we didn't have a lot of money to spend at the grocery store; we moved into our house that my parents and extended family built themselves before it was finished, and were pretty excited each time we could afford to put carpet into the room that was getting "finished."  We didn't go out to eat often, and most of our socializing was done w/ our family members.   Since my mom was 1 of seven and my dad was 1 of five, we were certainly never bored.  One or two of my aunts had a lot of knicknacks sitting out, but it seemed to me like it was quietly understood that it was in part because they liked to do a lot of dusting.  I felt vaguely sorry for them; they were certainly NOT the norm.

Then, when I was in my early twenties, I had a rude awakening.  I overheard someone whose mom had just married into our family describing *her* in-laws (not my family) to someone in my family.  It went something like "They're really simple people . . . you know, the kind of people who have plain white walls." 

!!!!!! 

I about fell over.  That was the very first time it occurred to me that there is a "type" of person who has plain white walls and that apparently they are simple.  Well!  This was a new, unwelcome thought.  Yes, there were some walls in my house growing up that were white.  They weren't ALL white.  There was that brown wood paneling in the basement, you know.  But I'm pretty sure we were that "kind of people" who my new relative was looking down her nose at.

Oh wait.  In the interests of complete honesty, I'd better admit that I have nary a white wall in my house.  Except for a bit of white tile in one bathroom.  But, at heart, I am a simple person who is okay with white walls and with people who have them.  And no knicknacks anywhere.

Every now and then, however, I get the urge to be Fancy.  Often this strikes when I spend a lot of time with talented-in-the-decorating-department people.  Or when my friends start talking about candles and garlands and paint.  I DO have a creative side.  I do!  I have cross-stitched, crocheted, sewed and quilted galore.  One of my friends is Mennonite, and she has admired my work, so I feel like I even have some street cred in that department.  I walk in a fabric store and get a little teensy bit annoyed with my four children for taking up so much of my time and with God for calling me to homeschool which takes up even more of my time, so I try to avoid fabric stores for the most part.  But generally, when the urge to decorate overcomes me, I know that this will not go well.

This year, for the first time, I gave in to the urge to decorate for Autumn.  (Even though that word is a pain to type, I feel that Autumn is worthy of decorating for, whereas Fall is not.)  I have a daughter who has a very German talent for taking a few bunch of weeds and turning them into a delightful table display.  With her on my team, how could I fail, right?  So I took her shopping, and we had a fun mama-daughter afternoon planning our decorating-for-autumn splurge.  Then we got home.  And I started trying to make my house look like my vision.

First, we had to take down the Christmas garland.

No judging, people!!  Rest assured I'm not just sitting around all day, eating chocolate.  Plus it made the house look pretty even when it's not Christmas.  :)  Then, my daughter (plus her littlest brother) got to work on the bannister - technically it's hers, since her room is the only one upstairs - while I moved the laundry out of the way so I could take some pictures.

Again, no judging!  This decorating stuff is hard work for us simple people.  I was sweating by this point, FYI.   Finally, I moved on to the only other thing I aspired to decorate - the window next to my front door.  I'm not a fan of a great big window right next to a front door, but I love everything else about this house, so I'm not actually complaining about this.  Just mentioning it.

Those little gel thingies were quite a pain in the patootie to put up, by the way.  I was shocked.  I battled hard while struggling with them because some un-Christian type words that I had allowed to be planted in my head when I was in my late teens and early twenties were perilously near the tip of my tongue.  But nary a one escaped from my mouth.  :)  I got a little leaf-pumpkin basket to put on a stand that I have.  I would not really say this is "my style" but I hate to have useless things sitting around my house, so I'm using this.  Plus it helps block that great big window that I'm not so fond of.  I'm starting to get tired of finding practical things to do with it, though, so it might be gone before long.  And I definitely need to clean up my front porch, apparently.  But hey, my mission for the day was Decorate, not Clean Up.

Can you smell pumpkin spice candles when you look at this picture?  Nah, I'm not going that far.  But Autumn is here.  Outside, in the real thing, it's beautiful.  And simple, not fancy.  Goodbye Summer!


~Stephanie

Remembering Rachel - My Speech from her Funeral.

When Rachel asked if I would speak at her funeral a few months ago, she was almost apologetic about it! She didn’t want anyone to feel pressured into it. I told her I would feel honored to do it, even though I hoped and prayed I would never have to. Then the panic set in…I don’t have the best track record with talking to people one on one, much less speaking in front of a congregation full! But then I realized that Rachel knew all these things about me, and asked me anyway. So after a lot of thought, I decided to go with what I know best about Rachel and share it with you – our friendship.

Rachel and I became friends so long ago, I can’t even remember NOT having her in my life. She had the bathtub pictures to prove it, thankfully they are not making an appearance. I’m pretty sure she was my first sleepover, the first of so many. We watched Hitchcock movies, had many deep, spiritual conversations about which boy in NKOTB was the cutest, we tried on all her Mom’s dresses, shoes, and jewelry while dreaming of being grown ups. We made endless banners on her Dad’s printer, and would climb in the rafters over the workshop which, in hindsight, was not so smart.

For always being so beautiful and put together, she never hesitated to get dirty – I think every time we got together, we had to build some kind of amazing fort in her woods, or dig a fort in the sandy area at my house. One of our favorite things to do was work on our Secret Garden together at my house. We spent hours getting the paths just right, using vines as swings, making up stories and making it the perfect place to hide from our brothers and sisters.

We also loved making special snacks for our sisters, Betty and Bonnie. You would never believe that my sweet friend Rachel would come up with interesting recipes for them to try, the one I clearly remember was a dessert…apples and cinnamon…but ON these apples was about 1/2c of vinegar, and the cinnamon was actually cayenne pepper. We’d watch them eat it and laugh so hard! And they always graciously forgave us….and would trust us again. I can’t decide if we were really mean, or they just weren’t very smart.

At some point we had lost touch, and my brother Tim ran into her at his job and gave her my number. The day after this, my phone rang and it was Rachel. We picked up right where we left off, and had such a great time catching up on each other’s lives. My husband and I were about to move, and Rachel who was 6 months pregnant with Dane at the time, didn’t hesitate to help and borrowed her Dad’s big truck to help us move! We had talked ONE time, and she happily went above and beyond to help us.

We moved to Erial, a stone’s throw from her home in Pine Hill.  She helped me with everything! From shampooing carpets, taking down wallpaper, painting, stenciling – we did so much together. She was actually the first person I told when I found out I was pregnant! She even helped me come up with the idea of how to tell Mike the next day. She was so excited for us to be having our children so close. We also had our second children together! When I told her I was expecting again, about 10 days later she tore into my driveway, banging on the door with 3 pregnancy tests in her hand and Dane on her arm saying, “can YOU see 2 lines?!”. Ethan and Harry were born 12 days apart. She did not, however, care to join me with my third, fourth, then fifth pregnancies.

We both had decided early on we were going to homeschool our kids, and at some point she managed to talk me into joining her homeschool coop. I did NOT want to! I like to be home, keep to myself, and be with my kids – I remember her telling me she made herself do it for her boys, because she would rather be home as well. I don’t know if I actually believed that though! I think she felt it was her cross to bear, trying to force me to be social and do fun things! She always told me that she felt so nervous inside doing so many things, which anyone who knew her would find hard to believe. She was the ULTIMATE outgoing woman, sister, daughter, wife, mother and friend. She may have felt nervous inside, but Rachel had a way of making everyone feel – in a sincere way – that they were her oldest, closest, and best friend. She made others feel important and loved.

When she would come to my house, she would go straight to the kitchen and get the biggest mug I had, fill it with either coffee or tea with honey, and just sigh while sinking into a chair. We would eat scones and talk about everything going on in our lives from homeschool to husbands. Everyone knows how health conscious she was, and how irritating that can be to someone who does not have that self control, so every Fall I would buy candy corn…I hate it. I think it might very well be made of plastic, but Rachel LOVED it. She would get a frown and say, “oh no”…and take handful after handful, finally yelling at me, “SUE GET THIS AWAY FROM ME!”. Her favorite of the cookies I would make at Christmas were the butterscotch haystacks, and I would always have to make a dozen extra because it was the one thing she would give in and eat lots of, usually while we talked about what to get our husbands for Christmas. I remember one year the crazy lengths she went to for a gift, involving out-running a woman to get the latest game system for her husband. We were on the phone and all I heard was, “oh no you’re NOT!” and heard pounding feet! Needless to say, she got it. How far she would go for her family and friends was amazing.

A month or so after I had started running, she said she wanted to give it a try. I half heartedly told her when my next 5k was. I say half heartedly, because with how Rachel was, I knew she would not only do this well, but totally kick my butt and look amazing doing it. So we met at the race, and her very first 5k was under 29 minutes. I will tell you now, that was my fastest 5k because I was desperately trying to keep up with her while pretending I was NOT out of breath. We ended up doing a bunch of races together, and she did many with her cousins and sister. And I learned to just run at my turtle pace, accept that I am not fast, and not try to keep up with Rachel. It was best for my health. She said running became her release, her time for herself and she was so passionate about it. Even reconnecting with an old college friend to do a Half Marathon – her second of the year, around this time last year.

I think an amazing quality she had was being able to be friends with so many people in so many different walks of life. And every friendship was unique and so special and important to her! I often wondered how or why someone so outgoing, friendly, beautiful, and interesting would want to be friends with ME! Especially after meeting so many of you, I can understand why she would be friends with you! Something everyone here can hold onto is the fact that Rachel loved you all, and held you in a special place in her heart. Every single different friend was a huge priority and very dear to her.

When Rachel found out she had cancer, she told me she was scared but that she believed in God’s plan for her. She trusted God. Through treatments and hospitalization, we had so many phone calls, texts, emails and conversations. Late nights or early morning, my phone would buzz and I always knew it was Rachel, She would ask if I was awake, and then we would talk for hours. Though at times my own faith was rattled by why God was allowing this, she would always confidently say she trusted Him. We had so many personal, wonderful, sad, happy, hard, and hopeful talks during this long fight with cancer, and I always felt so honored that she was in my life and saw me as her friend…someone she knew she could confide in or call on at any time.

Quite a few times when she had just gotten bad news, I would come to her house and we would just sit together. Sometimes there are no words, and just sitting quietly is all you can do…showing someone as much as possible, that they are not alone. About a month ago, Rachel’s friend Michelle and I were visiting with Rae, and it was one of the GREAT of the good days that she had towards the end. She was talking about how so many people were reaching out to her, telling her that she, through her constant faith in this grim situation, had encouraged them to start or renew a relationship with God. In what I can only say was surprise or shock, she told us how she didn’t understand how God was using her to minister to others, when so many people were ministering to her. She had an extremely humble spirit. I’m not saying she was perfect, because none of us are, but through this awful disease attacking everything, through every set back, through dealing with every worst case side effect of every medication or surgery, she was constantly giving it to God - wanting to use this pain to glorify God. To win someone to God with her story. And all this while not understanding how God could use, and was using her!

One of the last things she said to me was that she wished we could have a sleepover, me and her. And it was so sweet that even in a medicated hallucination, that was something happy she remembered, and was dreaming about. In closing, I would just like to share this thought. That we are all still here, because God is not finished His work in us yet, but she is gone, NOT because a disease took her, but because He did finish His work in her. She had become, after 35 years, and at 5:30 on Wednesday, who God had always planned for her to be, so she closed her eyes. She closed her eyes to pain, and opened them to joy. She closed her eyes to this world of death, and opened them to Eternal Life. She closed her eyes here to her precious family, and opened them to her Savior. 

I am so thankful for that promise! Knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that because she served Jesus Christ, that we will see her again. I am so happy that she is now healed. I will miss her so much, but I’m happy she isn’t in pain anymore. I will always remember my old and possibly first friend. I am blessed that God planned for us to be friends, and I look forward to seeing her again someday.
~Sue

Running the Race

A year ago yesterday my friend Rachel died.  She was a runner and total health FREAK, so it seems fitting to say that she finished her race here on earth and raced on ahead of us to heaven.  She was a beautiful woman, a beautiful friend, a beautiful spirit, and a beautiful servant of God.  Last year at this time, I was wondering how in the world I could sum up what she had been to me, or even talk about just SOME of what I saw in her.  She wanted us to celebrate her LIFE at her memorial service, not mourn her death.  There is no perfect way to remember her, or to honor her, or even to explain who she was with those of you who didn't know her.  So, this isn't good enough, but this was all I could come up with a year ago:

10 years ago, I met a mom at my church.  Her little boy was in the toddler nursery w/ my daughter, and he was SO ADORABLE.  When I was working in the nursery, I noticed that she would sneak down to the nursery door in the middle of the service to watch her little boy and sometimes she and her husband would even stand off to the side where the kids couldn’t see and kind of whisper to each other about him.  Yes, really, “that” mom, who has to come look at her baby every half hour!   I'm kind of a low-fuss mama myself, so I was pretty sure we weren’t going to be good friends.

About 9 – ½ years ago, I had just had a little baby boy named Ethan, and that same mom stopped me to admire my baby and told me that she was pregnant w/ a little boy SHE was going to name Ethan.  When she got married (and it turned out to be the exact same date my husband and I gotten married!), she had decided that she and her husband would have two boys, one named Dane and one named Ethan.  She was “that” mom!!  The one who plans everything out years ahead of time and even has names picked out before she gets married.  I was winging my life on a day-to-day basis.  Plus she told her toddler to kiss my baby.  Now I was really pretty sure we weren’t going to be good friends.

Years later, whenever we would tell people how we became friends, Rachel liked to tell people that *I* was too busy to be her friend, and that I finally agreed to meet her for a couple of playdates.  She would probably want me to tell you her side of the story, so I am mentioning it.  But I also have to tell you the truth, which is that *she* was the one who was too busy when I tried to get together w/ her, and *she* finally agreed to meet me for a couple of playdates.  At one point after that, I remember chatting w/ my 2 sisters and telling them that I might be starting up this new friendship, but I just wasn't sure that it was going to be a real friendship, and I confessed to them that, well . . . that it was because this new potential friend was Barbie brought to life.  You see, Rachel’s hair was always perfect, she wore MAKEUP AND JEWELRY to every play date, she was always dressed just so.  Even when she was a mom of TODDLERS!  Oh yes, this person was Barbie.  And I - I am not Barbie.  I have no desire to be Barbie.  And not much desire to be Barbie's friend either.

But after a month or so of getting to know my new Barbie friend, I realized that yes, this was going to be a real friendship.  We sat outside and watched our kids run around and we talked: about parenting, respecting our husbands even when we were pretty sure that they . . . ummm, . . . even when it was a challenge, homeschooling our kids, educating ourselves for that calling, and above all, following God’s call in our lives, because we both knew God was calling us to homeschool our kids, and believe me, it was – and still is! - a daunting task.

I finally confessed to Rachel, by the way, that I had been hesitant about striking up a friendship w/ a Barbie, and that’s when I learned how humble she was, because she could not stop laughing.  She loved that I thought that about her at first, but she loved that I stopped thinking that too.  And she loved that I told her what I thought.

We spent many hours raising our kids together.   There was a long stretch of playdates at Chick-Fil-A and I was seriously impressed when I learned that she was carrying a paddle in her carefully coordinated purse everywhere she went, because her mom told her (in love!) that one of her children needed more consistent discipline.  Even those of us who want to hear the truth do not always want to hear the truth about our darling children.  But Rachel accepted that from her mom and followed through.  So there was also a long stretch of spankings in the Chick-Fil-A restroom.  She was committed to God’s call on her life, and the biggest part of that was raising her kids to know God.  

She was also committed to living frugally and eating healthily.  When she found out I knew how to make jam and jelly and how to home can things like peaches and pears and tomato sauce, she determined that she was going to do it w/ me.  We started strawberry picking with our kids together every year.  We also spent hours blueberry picking, cherry picking, and raspberry picking.   There might have been a few unfortunate incidents. We *might* have been asked to leave one or two places.   But I am QUITE sure it was a coincidence that the U-pick blueberry place that had been in business for 30 years or more closed to public picking 2 years after we started going there.  OK, our kids might have spent more time running up and down the rows of bushes than picking berries, and yes, there was one little incident where we were standing a couple of rows apart, loudly discussing all of the various places we were sweating, not realizing that a much older gentleman was picking nearby - until he popped out of the bushes and hurried off.  But, just for the record, *I* was not the one talking about her thong underwear.   Of course Rachel was also the one that made sweating and getting dirty look good.

I want to speak the truth here, so I do want to also say that Rachel was not an easy friend to have.  First of all, there was the cleaning.  Every Monday she needed time alone so that she could wash all of her windows and her walls – yes, her walls got washed down w/ soap and water every week.  Nothing could be scheduled to conflict w/ Monday cleaning.  All of that berry and fruit picking?  Rachel always had to be the fastest at it.  She always had to finish before me!  And she was always trying to come up w/ ways to make jam faster and can peaches and pears faster.  It was . . . errrr . . . interesting at times.  And we learned there are just some shortcuts you can’t make.  There was also her habit of speaking her mind.  After I had my third baby, our friend Sue was pregnant w/ her fourth, and Rachel had decided she was done at two.  She picked up my sweet little newborn and said, “You’re done, aren’t you?  I can’t have more than one friend w/ 4 babies!”  I am really glad she hung in there w/ me even though I did go on to have a fourth.  And Sue took a very big gamble by having a fifth - but then, Rachel was also very forgiving.

We were each other’s homeschool support group at the beginning.  We discussed pros and cons of curriculum, the benefits of reading to your kids even when they are older, and how much time you really have to spend on handwriting.  But I never called Rachel up to cry on her shoulder about how I couldn’t get all of the lessons taught in my homeschool that week without knowing that she would then tell me about how she had gotten all 4 days done, and maybe even hearing that she had gotten a couple of extra lessons squeezed in.  Yes, not always an easy friend to have.

One thing I never understood about Rachel, though, was how nervous she got when she was in large groups.  One of the first times we were hanging out with a bunch of other homeschool moms, I thought I was helping her and giving her something to talk about, and announced that she had been homeschooled.  If you’re not a homeschool mom, you have to realize that almost all of us spend quite a bit of time wondering if we are doing a good job, and so, for those women, I had just given them somebody standing right in front of them who had obviously survived being homeschooled and looked none the worse from it.  In fact, she looked amazing.  It was like offering up a yummy doggie treat to a starving dog, so of course they all started swarming about Rachel and asking her questions.  She gave me a Look, and that is when I remembered that Rachel was actually a little embarrassed about having been homeschooled, and so I just stood back and laughed.  She survived, looking beautiful and poised as usual.  So I made sure I did that a couple more times.  :)

I think all of the women whose lives Rachel touched at the homeschool co-op where we taught together will tell you that she had a special way of making them feel included.  We used to talk about how special our co-op was for being so easy to fit into, but now I think that it was – at least in part - that Rachel that made it easy to be included.  And she was always reaching out to others, wanting them to be a part of things, and kind of putting people together.  She thought she had to make Sue be social and do fun things.  She knew I was worried about finding girlfriends for my daughter and arranged playdates with moms of other girls.  Even during her last weeks, she would tell her mom to remember to turn to specific people for comfort and support after she was gone.  She was always looking out for her friends and family and always willing to help them.  I used to marvel at how many friends she had, and how very special they were to her in so many different ways, and yet how humble she was about it.  She always said, over and over, that God brought her the friends that He knew she would need.  She never thought it had anything to do w/ her.

Two years ago in July, Rachel and her doctors were starting to realize something was seriously wrong w/ her health, and my house caught on fire.  My husband called her, and she was out trying not to worry and celebrating her birthday w/a bunch of girlfriends.  At first she showed a remarkable determination to believe that somebody was impersonating my husband and making up a story about a house fire.  But she got over that and came right to my house.  She stood there w/ us and watched the firemen finish chopping holes in my roof, and she went inside to get clothes for me when I couldn’t face it, and took us home to her house.  Whenever we had problems w/ our car that went through that fire, she was quick to lend us her SUV.  One time I even called her up about 10 minutes away.  Without even a hesitation she made it clear that it was NO problem whatsoever, and I shouldn’t even feel bad for asking.  She loved helping people in tangible ways.

I am so privileged to have been able to walk alongside Rachel in her final journey.  I treasure the memories I have of the talks we had during the months of her chemotherapy and radiation – times of having real conversations, asking hard questions about God and of God, and yet always coming back to our trust in His plan and His love for us.  This was a path she didn’t want, even if God healed her miraculously.  Even more than the cancer and the sickness, she hated being that special person “with a story.”  She wanted above all to be a person in the background, serving God quietly, being the person behind the special person.  But she gave that all to God too.  She gave to God her fears for her children.  She gave to God her fears for her husband.   She gave to God all of the things that she wanted for herself and her family and accepted what He gave her and asked only that it glorify Him and be used for His kingdom.  She did all this, only being able to see Him as through a glass, darkly, and knowing Him only partly.  And even though I miss her terribly, I rejoice in knowing that she has now opened her eyes to joy in His presence, seeing Him face to face and knowing Him fully.  She has finished her race, and she ran it well.

~Stephanie

Sometimes, when you start being responsible, it scares your husband.

Today, my big brother showed up at my house. That's all fine and dandy, i WELCOME people stopping by with open arms. Stop laughing. Ok, no, i don't. It strikes fear into my SOUL. It does. Usually because my house is trashed and i'm in pajamas with no bra. It's the homeschool Mom uniform of choice. Anyway, my brother came running into the house...then, saw i was fine, i got an awesome big-brother hug, and he was on his way.

Why?

Well, kids, i had left my phone upstairs in my bedroom. See, we started school this week. It's not full fledged yet, it's baby steps. We have vacation coming up in 9ish days, so, because i am totally responsible, i don't want to get into anything crazy where they are learning something new and brilliant, then we are at Disney, and Rock and Roller Coaster SPINS all the smarts outta them. So relaxed workbook stuff it is, a few pages here and there. Just getting back into the swing of things.

You are getting that useless info, because on Monday i realized i will totally ignore my kids if my phone is around. I just will. I can't NOT text. I neeeed to. My friend needs to know RIGHT AWAY if i like Starbucks over Dunkin. That stuff can't wait for hours. It's super important. So, as i'm snapping at a 6yr old who wants to know what carrying means in math (i am absolutely making this part up, it's just an idea of how lame i am), i'm like, "I DON'T KNOW AND I DON'T CARE!". Because of the phone. I can't have it near me. It needs to be entire floors away.

I started this yesterday, and Mike was at training or something, but something where he couldn't text me either, so it didn't make a difference.

Today, it did.

My brother runs in. Sees i am alive, and that there is school crap everywhere, and then is on his merry way after telling me Mike was looking for me. So i go up and check my phone. Missed calls, texts, basic spazzing and pandemonium have occurred. All because for the first day in a loooong time, i didn't send about 500 stupid, silly, whiny, whatever texts to my husband! My wonderful husband, with HIS crazy job, and what HE does, is worried about me. It's laughable (but VERY sweet!) to say the least. I called him up, explained what was going on, and it was so cute. It just was. He was very worried. To the point where he felt sick over it, texted and called family and just panicked in general. All because his delightful, normally irresponsible, school hating wife wasn't texting.

Short story long, he was proud of me trying to be a grown up. Confused, but proud. So contrary to popular belief, i am alive and well, 4 kids have gotten school in every day this week (holy crap it's only Wednesday?? ARE YOU SERIOUS??), and now that school is done for the day, i can become a 15 year old with my phone yet again.

THE END.

~Sue

Chock full o'memories

  

This week out of the year is always a busy time for us in our family.  It is our daughter's birthday.  School is in full swing. We have other family members' birthdays.  Plus, there are loved ones we have lost- both family and friends.  

So, it is bittersweet.  

9/11... Another sad memory.  We all remember where we were of course.  I am no exception: A young mom with a two-year-old and in the first trimester with my second child.  Still new at the whole "mom thing."  Couldn't reach my husband since all the cell phone lines were busy.  Ended up going to a friend's house to pray.  It was all we could do, and in retrospect, it was the best thing we could do.  

I remember the NYC skyline well, as I could see it from my room in college.  I took them for granted really.  Just part of the scenery.  But, I remember the first time I saw the towers up close- just years before everything came crashing down.  

And, I always loved, after my years of college, that I could see the skyline on one of my favorite brands of coffee.  But, the towers aren't even on the coffee canister anymore like they used to be.  They are gone along with so many people from our world: 

brave, heroic, frightened, young, old, friends, family... 

Some knew where they were headed for all eternity. 

Others didn't have a clue.  

This is the one thing that reminds me how important it is to continue to share my faith in God with others.  

We never know what tomorrow may bring.

  "Keep your eyes on Jesus, who both began and finished this race we’re in. Study how he did it. Because he never lost sight of where he was headed—that exhilarating finish in and with God—he could put up with anything along the way: Cross, shame, whatever." Hebrews 12:2, The Message Version.