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.

Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Homeschooling Smarty Pants Mama

OK, so first, a confession: I have never actually read Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.  I'm just good at faking cultural/literary references.  For this very useful skill I would like to thank my mom and my dad for completely sheltering me as I grew up in rural Pennsylvania (which I like to call HEAVEN!!!! every chance I get) while at the same time letting me read pretty much anything that was in our house.  Which was a lot.  And of an odd variety.  However, I never got to Dr. Jekyll.  Probably because I was too busy trying to finish the unabridged version of War and Peace before I graduated from middle school.  Or maybe it was Anna Karenina.  Yep, I'm bragging.  Or sounding pathetic.  Whichever.

Anyway.  I took issue w/ my wonderful friend Michelle's recent lament and thought what could be more fun than stirring up some strife, smackdown, trash talk reasoned debate on the blog.  :)  It should be very clear to our blog readers that ONE of us here on the blog does not like summer.  I am frequently mocked and maligned for this point of view, but I will say it again: summer is hot, chaotic, busy, you sweat a lot, and you wear less clothing.  None of this is good by itself and put together it is just torture.  This does not mean that settling down and looking forward to fall is the mature thing to do, however!!  No!!!  It should also be very clear that I have no more claim to maturity than the other 2 crazy moms who are part of this . . . oh wait, that doesn't sound quite right . . . hmmmmm . .  . umm, never mind.

Let me get back to my point.  Yes, I have one. 

This seems to be the time of year when my homeschooling friends in particular are falling into two categories.  (Note that I am carefully not saying which is Dr. Jekyll and which is Mr. Hyde.)  There are the people who are pining after summer even before it's left.  They are saying things like "But I don't WANNA be a grown up and start up school w/ my kids!"  "Summer is so much fun, I just want to punch fall in the throat!"  And my favourite, "I need more ice cream and homemade hot fudge sauce!"  They are checking Target for stretchy pants and tossing their jeans into the back of the closet.  I'm not calling anybody out here.  If the stretchy pants fit, than you know who you are.

Then there is the opposite camp.  These people are cleaning and organizing and selling old curriculum and holding yard sales of outgrown clothing and homemade aprons their children have hand knitted while memorizing the book of Revelation and planning and planning and TALKING about planning their school year.  Every school planner/school curriculum/kid chore system on the market place is discussed and the many ways to use them.  They wonder aloud if they are doing enough or committing the cardinal sin of overscheduling.  Perhaps they dust off their copy of Confessions of an Organized Housewife and peruse it as a refresher.  Or perhaps they give it to a friend.  (Note that I am carefully not admitting to owning this book and am definitely not outing any possible friend who might or might not have been on the receiving end of my generousity.)  They are probably excusing this behaviour by calling themselves geeks.  Or smart.  Once again, not calling anybody out here!  Just, look down next to your computer and see if there is a homemade school planner there.  Then take step #1 and admit you have a problem.

I freely admit that I drank the Planning Potion.  For 3 weeks or more in August, I was determined to finally get my school planning done RIGHT.  I bought a homeschool planner, started studying the directions, and came to find out that I was supposed to spend a day praying about my homeschool year before I continued on w/ my school planning.  OK, great!, I can do that.  The day after I decided to do that I lost the planner.  (Well, actually my husband lost it, just to keep the debate around my house lively.)  Prayer did NOT help at that point.  So then I rushed around (most of the rushing looked like me sitting on the couch and staring into space w/ a concentrated frown on my face) and tried to make my own planner.  I couldn't even figure out how to get past Monday, 10AM.  I had 1) Devotional w/ kids, 2) Math with .  . .?  I mean, there are FOUR kids running around my house.  I'm not even sure if all of them eat breakfast every day.

Finally, enough was enough.  I mean, three weeks of this?  My sanity was at stake.  One of my sisters said I should stop waiting until I got my plan perfected (clearly she was not aware of how close I was), and just get started.  So, since I use a very easy, scripted (that means a book tells me what to say) writing program, I started doing that with at least 2 kids each day.  No, I wasn't Susan Wise Bauer yet, but I was on the road.  Back in the game.  Finding my groove.  Yee haw!

Then I stole a bright pink binder from my daughter (just in case my husband helped me organize again).  And I wrote down all of the subjects that each of my kids needed to do.  This sounds like a no-brainer, but I would always forget SOMETHING.  Until 11 that night, at which point I would say something like "Rats, I forgot to make the kids do math today!"  Although I would often choose to say that silently in my own head, since I don't like to "debate" with my husband all *that* frequently.  And then I would lie awake all night worrying about how I was failing my kids and myself and that Susan Wise Bauer would kick me off the Well-Trained Mind forum.  (wait, is this tmi?  and is it more or less pathetic than the Tolstoy brag?) 

I divided the subjects for my 2 oldest with a fancy slanted line because my goal is to do skill subjects like math and language arts in the morning and content subjects like history and science in the afternoon.  (Sounds intellectual, doesn't it? I copied it from somebody else.  Yes, she's on the Well-Trained Mind forum.)  I put this fancy paper with my super crafty color-coded writing into the front of my binder, along with a pocket for my color-coded pens.  If you look carefully, you will see that I had to list things for my 4yo like puzzles and games because when faced w/ a little-person-demand to watch tv I would say something brilliant like "ummmmmm, uhhhhh, No. You can, ummmmm . . ." and then I would forget that I was in the middle of a conversation and wander off in a fog and he would take a screwdriver and conduct an experiment to validate his hypothesis on the structure and stress analysis of drywall and then I would wander back in to find him standing next to some new holes in my living room wall and I would get all mad and scold and threaten and then be all "YES you can go watch Little Einsteins.  Just be quiet!!  And no more holes in the drywall!!!"

Not impressed by my homeschooling genius yet?  Well, I use Sonlight Curriculum for my history and literature, and my next breakaway from my planning paralysis was when I discovered they have simple blank schedule pages in the back of their Instructor's Guide for me to copy.  So I copied a bunch and put them in my binder, along with a yellow sticky note that reminds me of the extra books I want to read with my kids while they bicker eat lunch.  I'm a bit of a book-a-holic, and I was forgetting to read all of these great books I have sitting on my shelf just waiting for lunchtime! 

So now, each week I fill out what I have to accomplish.  Not necessarily page numbers or specific books to read, but just the general, make sure you do math every day kind of stuff.  Although I have started making little notes to myself about page numbers where we stopped, or the book we just finished.

Simple.  Not super-planned.  But I love it.

I'm getting school done.  Spending time with 4 of my favourite people in the world and seeing them once again as People and not Subjects Who Will Not Fit Into My Plan(ner).  I'm not any more mature or organized than I was when it was still technically summer.  But I feel like I've found the happy medium between Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Homeschooling Smarty Pants Mama.  I need to think of a different literary reference.

I know!! I've become Anna Karenin.  Can I break free from the torment of loving my homeschooling, clutter-filled life?  Can I reconcile with the strict expectations of an organized home?  Will I throw myself in front of the train or not?

It might look like it is just a very cluttered desk.  But it's a train.  Trust me.  Stay tuned.

~Stephanie



Spoiled, rotten, monstrous, brat...

I can't stand the word, "brat."  Really.

It makes my skin crawl.  When my oldest child was born, there was someone in my life who thought that it was a "cute, pet name" to call our sweet daughter:  

"Brat."   

OR... my OTHER "favorite" from the same person:"Little Monster." 

This makes me crazy to say the least.  And, especially if you know my daughter, she is far from a brat.  Really.  Trust me.  

I have been in kind of a funk lately.  It's the kind of funk that is disgusting and frustrating to me.  It's not what I've been saying on the outside either.  It's the stuff running through my head and unfortunately my heart as well.  

It is an ungrateful funk. <gulp>

It is like I have ripped apart a field of daisies, and instead of whimsically rotating the words, "He loves me, He loves me not," I have been rotating words like these plucking off the precious petals set before me: 

"Have. Have not. Have not. Have. Have not..."  

NOT a pretty picture, I know. 

It is shameful really, because I actually HAVE. SO. MUCH.  I really do!!  Instead of focusing on the "haves," I have just chosen in my head and in my heart to focus on the "have nots."  And, then, it occurs to me that I am a 

Spoiled,

rotten,

monstrous

brat. 

I am. Because I have so much, and I have been ungrateful. 

Then, I remember one of my life verses that I have always held dear to my heart in my walk with the Lord.

"I’ve learned by now to be quite content whatever my circumstances. I’m just as happy with little as with much, with much as with little. I’ve found the recipe for being happy whether full or hungry, hands full or hands empty. Whatever I have, wherever I am, I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am." Philippians 4:11 (The Message version)

This makes me...

Convicted. 

Repentant. 

Grateful for what I have, and there is MUCH for me to be grateful for...

Grateful that God can forgive my 

Spoiled,

rotten,

monstrous,

bratty

heart.

I am looking at the field of flowers set before me with the hopes that I will just take in the sights.  I pray that I will be grateful again rather than tearing it apart because of any spaces that I may think I lack.  

Because I lack for nothing. I am blessed beyond measure. 

~Michelle