Memories

I've noticed recent celebrations of Blog Anniversaries on several blogs. So I wondered to myself how long I've been at this. I checked and was pleasantly surprised. Apparently, today is my 1st Blogging Anniversary. Happy Anniversary to me.

I have kept journals for years. This isn't really a journal, but it is similar. I enjoy going back and re-reading journals to see what life was about at that particular juncture in life, what I was feeling/thinking, and to see if I've grown since then. It is also interesting to be reminded of things that would have been forgotten.

My very first post was regarding my 1st attempt at the Zone Diet. I failed miserably. I would not have guessed that both Michael and I would start it together 9 months later and be successful. (I have lost 25 lbs since that first post.)

I noticed my second post included pictures of a trip to the mountains. I did not remember that Sarabeth had requested that trip for her birthday as well as the one taken last weekend. And although I mentioned that we love going to the moutains for cookouts, I realized that was probably the last time we'd gone.

It just goes to show that our memories are not always accurate of the way things really are. Many will say this and a few will admit this, but what about our perspective? Most of us think our own perspective is the right one. Even as I re-read about struggles in my journal, I'm merely reading my own perspective on life. I'd much rather peer into it with God's eyes to see how He sees it. That would give me a much more truthful interpretation of how I am doing.

And writing this post, I learned that even writing things down doesn't necessarily prove accurate. As I went back to find the links to my first posts, I realized I was wrong. I went back to June and viewed the top post, but the first post was at the bottom of the page. So today isn't my anniversary at all. It was June 25th-Sarabeth's birthday. (Sarabeth, we share a special day!) And those were not my 1st two posts. Oh well, it is still good to look back.

Happy 17th Birthday Sarabeth!

Sarabeth is my 4th child. When she was little I received more unwanted advice from well-intentioned people than with any of my other children. It is a good thing I was not insecure about my parenting. Each child is different and the Lord is always there to guide and help me meet the needs of each individual.

In general, I parent my children the same. How hard is it with a baby? I love them and meet their needs through my sleep-deprived, bleary-eyed body with a mother's heart. I spend hours praying for wisdom and guidance as to what will help my child become all that He intends them to be. It seemed rather simple with the 1st 3.

But Sarabeth was different. She became affectionately known as the Velcro Baby. Nobody but I could hold her, not even her daddy. I could hardly run to the bathroom without her having a meltdown. On a rare occasion when she was napping I would plead with her father to let me run to the grocery store without taking her along. You see, she was such a cutie people were always stopping to talk to her as I'd push her in the grocery cart. Her immediate response to uninvited attention was shrieks. The strangers would then try to soothe her by touching her and talking to her further. At this point she would be clutching at my shirt as if her very life depended on it. It was sheer terror. Once-in-awhile her father would give in to my pleading as long as I promised to be back in record time. It didn't matter how long I was gone. I always returned to a red-faced man pushing a matching red-faced, teary-eyed baby at me as I walked through the door.

"You just need to leave her more often."
"How long can she cry?"
"Leave her with me and she'll get over this pretty quick."

I've never met so many baby experts in all my life. The advice continued well into toddlerhood and elementary school. I learned to just smile at the so-called experts as they'd throw out their solutions to my clingy child, all the while thanking God for His grace not to say something nasty back. Friends and family began to shake their heads at me, believing my child would never be normal.

To everyone's surprise, Sarabeth began to blossom into a very independant, well-adjusted young lady. Her quick-witted sense of humor evokes laughter from everyone. In 6th grade she left for a week to Outdoor Lab. Unlike some of my other children, she didn't ask me to come along. There were no tears as she said good-bye. The years of building security into her by letting her know I was there for her had paid off. It hadn't been my job to force her to stand on her own and be strong. By keeping her close and strengthing our relationship she developed the courage to do more than anyone thought possible. And isn't this what our heavenly Father desires for us?

Next Saturday Sarabeth will leave once again. This time for a month-long nanny stint in another state. I am so proud of how she has grown up. Happy Birthday Sarabeth!

Put It Back

She pushed her cart to the checkout and put her items up to be scanned. Her son was chattering away as he clutched a toy. It was obvious by his movements that something wasn't right. His speech was unintelligible. But he made happy sounds as he played with the toy.

"We have to pay for it now," the young mother told him. As she placed it on the counter, he began to grab for it and express his displeasure. "You can have it in just a minute." She kissed his forehead.

The clerk rang up the few items. The mother inserted her credit card into the machine.

"Do you have another card? This one has been denied." The clerk turned to the mother and boy.

"No, I don't." You could see the red in her cheeks as she blushed in humiliation. All the while, the boy was reaching for his new toy.

"I'm sorry, honey. We can't get it today." It was obvious that the boy did not comprehend what his mom was telling him. He did not understand why he couldn't have his toy back. His mother quickly swiped at her face with her hand to keep the tear from falling. She was a single mom and did not have any other money. "I'm sorry, let's go."

The boy began to cry and the mother couldn't soothe him. He just did not understand why the lady at the counter took his toy and he couldn't have it. His mom took him to the car.

Now, imagine that this was your child and your granchild.

Fun

We are NOT campers. In spite of this, one of our favorite things to do in the summer is having a cook-out in the mountains. Sarabeth's birthday is Sunday so she requested an early birthday dinner. And what do the girls do for fun?

Mountains

More pics from our cook-out:

Gosh, maybe we should actually try camping. This is Elisabeth and Hilary pretending to camp.

Hearts

What's In Your Heart?

What's in your heart? I know the "right" answer is Jesus. I was thrilled each time my kids could truthfully give the right answer. But this phrase has taken on a new meaning.

When Michael returned from New Jersey, he said he had something for me. He presented me with a lovely little black box with this inside:



It is a "What's In Your Heart" pendant. You purchase it empty, then fill with charms of your choice (according to how much you want to spend.) This is probably one of the single most romantic things Michael has ever done. He added our initials to it, chose a heart with my birthstones, a ruby for my son and grandson, and a diamond for my girls. How sweet is that? I was totally suprised and amazed.

Naturally, my girls each wanted one, so I went online to find information. Apparently these are just becoming popular. What made them popular was an actress from Desperate Housewives who wore one on a talk show. I've never seen the show, nor do I care to. But I am ever so happy with what's in my heart-both the pendant and my own.

Happy Dad's Day

Dad, remember when you took me and Greg fishing while my sisters stayed at home? I felt so important being able to go along with the guys.

Remember when you used to sneak up the stairs to catch us fooling around when we were supposed to be sleeping? I always heard you when your foot stepped on the one creaking stair. I'd immediately pretend to be sleeping while Carolyn would chatter away. She'd usually get in trouble and I'd listen while she vehemently tried to tell you I was really awake. You always believed the best about me.

Remember when you showed me how to play your steel guitar? My love of music developed because of the years spent listening to the whine and twang of that guitar. Hearing you play brought a soothing sense of security to my life. Music still does that for me.

Remember the Fridays we'd climb into the car and head off into the dark night? We'd make that 7 hour long drive to visit Grandad in California. It was often just the two of us and we'd drive back home Sunday afternoon. When I got my learners permit, you'd let me drive-even when you would be nodding off in the seat beside me. I knew you trusted me, even though I wasn't that good of a driver yet. I learned the joy and accomplishment of taking responsibility seriously.

Remember the times Grandad would call to see if you were driving up for the weekend? A few times you had to say no. Grandad would say he was going to die and hang up on you. When you tried to phone him back, he wouldn't answer your calls. I learned by watching you what it meant to love, honor, and respect your parents. After these calls, you'd turn to me and ask if I wanted to make the trip when nobody else wanted to. I'd say yes, and even though you were dead tired, we'd go. When Grandad said no, he didn't want to sell his house, even though we all knew he would never go home to live, you honored his request. When Grandad stubbornly refused to come live with us, you respected his wishes. It would have made your life so much easier if you'd just sold his house and forced him to move, but you didn't. Neither you nor I were big conversationalists, so the two of us would often sit or stand silently by Grandad's bed for hours at a time. I knew how much you loved us both.

Remember when you and Mom went to Germany for 2 years? I was a young mom with 2 children. You and I would write long letters back and forth. I am so thankful for that time. Our relationship grew. You related to me adult-to-adult. I was no longer a kid. You allowed me to grow up.

There is so much more, Dad, but I will pause here and say thanks. Happy Father's Day!

Seven Things I Say

A Meme

The Laundry Lady over at Under the Laundry Pile tagged me for this Meme. Since I've not been keeping up with my blog, I thought it'd be a good way to get going again. So here they are:

1. "Who wants to go to the store with me?...I'm taking "my" car."

2. "No, you can't go. I'm taking my car."

3. "Dear" (this has to be said dragged out, as in "deeeeeeear.") My kids told me once that I called their dad "dear." After vehemently denying it, I was caught red-handed later that same day. The reason I didn't think I said it was I suppose it isn't said very en'dear'ingly. I use dear when I am slightly irritated and yet trying to be nice. Otherwise, he is honey or sweetie-not dear.

4. "Dinner's ready."

5. "Who left the hair straightener on?"

6. "Did the mute button quit working?" Or "Can you turn that thing down?"

7. "I need a Starbucks."

I tag Supermom, Melanie, and Char.

Happenings

My baby is going to Washington D.C. tomorrow for 5 days. Yes, I realize she turned 14 recently. But something begins taking place in a mother's heart as she starts seeing big milestones in her youngest child. Two years ago she was in 6th grade. At the end of field day as I was trudging along after a hot, sweaty day, I realized that this was my very last field day. Is that possible? I'd been attending field day every single May for the past 18 years. I thought about the times of juggling multiple kids doing field day at once, running back and forth trying to catch important events of each child. Most of the time I missed the photos of the win and only got ones of them holding up a brightly colored ribbon.

Ok, if I was honest, I was a bit gleeful at the thought of no more field days. But there was still a twinge in my heart that they were over. I know that instead of field day, bigger adventures were coming up. So now here is Hilary getting ready to fly across the country for an entire week. I don't get to go and cheer her on, or take her picture as she is enjoying the sites. I will be at home thinking about her, praying for her, and hoping she grows from this opportunity and has fun.

So I'm off to help her pack for her trip and make sure she has everything she needs. Here are a couple of pics of hubby's flying experience.

Summer

Today is the first day of summer break. I just returned from the airport. My dear Michael will be gone for 10 days while I keep things on the homefront. I feel like this is the beginning of a new life. (No, not the 10 days without him, silly.)

Michael is renewing his pilot's license. When we first met (I should write about that sometime,) I was working at a small airport coffee shop, he had a plane. He'd wanted to join the AirForce to be a pilot, but his vision prevented it. So he went to work at a computer firm and learned to fly on his own. We married and began having children. When I became pregnant with our 3rd, we took the kids on a long flight in his 4 seater plane. It was after this, that Michael decided it was time to put flying aside for awhile. We'd outgrown the 4 passenger plane and could no longer afford this expensive hobby.

During this same time period, it was my desire to go on the mission field. I had a hard time envisioning Michael and I ministering together. But the one thing I could imagine was a Michael as a bush pilot. Our church financially supported a bush pilot who lived in Alaska. I loved hearing his stories and treasured them in my heart, all the while continuing to pray that this would be our lives one day. But as our family continued to grow, it seemed we moved further and further away from this dream. After several years, I quit asking God to send us.

This past year Michael watched several documentaries about pilots on humanitarian missions. His interest was sparked. One day it hit me. The desire to be a missionary came flooding back. I remembered the years of praying. Could we be nearing a time that Michael and I could go out in ministry? God hears each one of our prayers and always answers. Maybe this prayer was like that of Abraham and Sarah who didn't see their prayers for a son until many years past not only the time they asked, but past what was even probable. Sometimes our dreams are laid aside and forgotten. But they can be resurrected in a moment. I don't know if this desire will ever come to pass, but I am so very encouraged and excited to be reminded that God never forgets.

Michael's motto in life is "Keep the Blue Side Up." So that is what I expect him to do for the next 10 days. Keep the blue side up Michael!