Happy Thanksgiving!

Oh, give thanks to the LORD, for He is good!
For His mercy endures forever.


Let the redeemed of the LORD say so,
Whom He has redeemed from the hand of the enemy


Oh, that men would give thanks to the LORD for His goodness,



And for His wonderful works to the children of men!


For He satisfies the longing soul,
And fills the hungry soul with goodness.


He sent His word and healed them,
And delivered them from their destructions.

Oh, that men would give thanks to the LORD for His goodness,
And for His wonderful works to the children of men!


Let them sacrifice the sacrifices of thanksgiving,



And declare His works with rejoicing.

Then they cry out to the LORD in their trouble,
And He brings them out of their distresses.
He calms the storm,


So that its waves are still.


He turns a wilderness into pools of water,
And dry land into watersprings.


Oh, that men would give thanks to the LORD for His goodness,


And for His wonderful works to the children of men!


Let them exalt Him also in the assembly of the people,
And praise Him in the company of the elders.

Whoever is wise will observe these things,
And they will understand the lovingkindness of the LORD.

Pumpkin Pie

(I posted this on my recipe page, but am repeating it here, since it wasn't a true recipe.)

I decided to practice my gluten free pumpkin pies before Thanksgiving. I wanted to do one crustless and one with crust. Last year I made one gfcf, thanks to coconut milk. I couldn't remember what I did for the crust. I found some lovely, albeit expensive, gluten free crusts. I grabbed a can of Libby's Pumpkin and set to work. I followed the recipe on the back label-as I did back in my gluten days.

As I measured the sugar, it didn't seem quite right. I peered at the label more closely. One quarter of a cup. I poured half the contents into the prepared shell, and the other half into a prepared pie tin. They smelled wonderful while baking.

Elisabeth sent me a text message. She was having a lousy evening at work. I asked her if pumpkin pie would make it any better. She answered, "absolutely!" I felt like such a good mom.

She sampled this first slice.


"Hmmm...it isn't very sweet." Oh no. My suspicions were right. I knew one quarter of a cup didn't sound right. I retrieved the can from the trash.

"Elisabeth, how much sugar does this recipe say to use?"

"Three-fourths of a cup."

Sigh. It's obvious. I need reading glasses.

Click here to read a pumpkin pie story from the past.

A Week Of Thanks 2

Have you ever taken your vehicle in for a simple oil change and the mechanic hands you a list of things that are wrong or required maintenance tuneups that cost you additional money? You wonder if these are really necessary. The car runs fine. You've had it for 3 years and it never needed additional work; with the exception of manufacturing defects. Those were covered under the original warranty and didn't cost anything. Now you have to decide if these are optional or necessary expenses. If you plan to get 200,000 miles out of your car, (as my husband does) do you go ahead and have the work done when it doesn't seem that important?

Recently I've noticed that the vehicle I was given to drive through life requires greater maintenance. Over time, it doesn't run as smoothly as it used to. It isn't as fast or sleek either. I figured the more fuel I put in it, the more it would burn. I was wrong. Sort of like the time I put premium gas into the Suburban. I nearly killed it. Why did I think more expensive, rich, higher octane gasoline would make it happier and run better? It didn't. The Suburban was made to run on regular. My Honda is different. It requires the finer things in life. I have never once put regular into my S2000. It would choke and sputter. Nothing but premium will do. Am I more like a Chevy Suburban or a Honda S2000?

I begin making a list of the required maintenance projects and vehicle inspections I've been told are necessary. I question whether I should mention to my mechanic the pinging sound I've heard. Should I bother to take her to a body shop and point out the new dings and dents or ride those out? In spite of my attempts at cramming in the usual adjustments before the end of the year, things start breaking. Indicator lights flash at me. Instead of getting shorter, the fault list is growing longer. I wonder if I'm as healthy as I think I am. The list makes me feel rather pathetic. I feel old and worn out. I'm only at 75, 000 miles, it shouldn't be this bad.

"That's it?"

"What?" I don't hear as well as I used to either. Could you repeat that? I hear the faint whisper again, "where is the other list?"

"What list?" I ask. "I have to make another list? I don't think I can take it."

The Holy Spirit whispers again. "Where is the other list?"

"One isn't enough? Oh no, don't tell me I have a whole list of maintenance on my soul and spirit too."

"Where is the list of the parts that are working perfectly? The cells, joints, and marrow. The muscles, tissue, and organs. Vessels, villi, veins. Hair, heart, hands..."

Wow! That would take the rest of my life to list every little thing in my body that operates well every single day.

I look back at my list. What I thought was a pathetically long arduous task, suddenly became a tiny speck-hardly worth mentioning.

Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things.
Philippians 4:7-9

A Week Of Thanks

What a weird day. I didn't get up until 12:40 p.m. I missed church.

Saturday night, I was headed to bed, but wasn't feeling great. I wasn't sure if the congestion was the usual or because I hadn't slept well the night before. I took Benadryl around 1:30, and climbed into bed. At 1:55, the phone rang.

When the voice from your daughter's college tells you she has been taken by ambulance to the hospital, the adrenaline rush supersedes everything else. Michael and I jumped in the car, eerily similar to the day before, after receiving the call regarding Ethan.

Dense fog made the drive a little longer than usual, but we made it by 3:15 a.m. Thankfully, by the time we arrived, she was fine . We bundled her up and headed for home.

Once again, we encountered thick fog, that caused us to slow the pace. I was glad Michael was at the wheel. It makes for a tense, white knuckle drive, when the visibility is poor. You merely follow the tail lights in front of you to know which way the road turns, hoping he too has tail lights to follow.

Instead of tension, I feel full effects of the Bendadryl. Despite the flurry of thoughts running through my head, I could not keep my eyes from closing. I may have dozed off for a moment. I awoke to a loud rumbling sound, followed by thumping and bumping, which pumped up adrenaline again.

A tire had blown. It was more like it exploded.



I am thankful that we'd passed through the fog before the tire blew & for the full moon that made it not-so-dark, while stopped alongside the highway. I'm thankful that Michael was able to change the tire and get us back on the road 43 minutes later. Michael was thankful that Christopher had a flash light in his glove box.

I was especially thankful to have a warm bed to crawl into at 5:55 this morning.

Blessed be the Lord,
Who daily loads us with benefits,
The God of our salvation!
(Ps. 68:19)

Seizures Suck

Sorry for the crude title for this post. I wanted a short explanation of how I was feeling. This will have to do.

Ethan had a grand mal seizure at school yesterday. I wish I could have been there for him when it happened. I got there as soon as I could-an hour and 15 minutes after the call. Two hours after he had the seizure.



He's home now, but will have to go for more testing. He really wanted to come home with me. He grabbed his backpack and his ipad, blew his mom kisses, and tried to walk with me out the door. He cried when he couldn't go with me. I cried too.

What Inspires You?

Beth's "You Capture Photo Assignment" this week is: What Inspires You?


I have to say, the simple things in life-the beauty God has given.


I wanted to capture the end of our warm fall weather.


These ones actually survived our first snow.



My other inspiration is on my Food Blog.

No News

Well, no news is good news, right? My phone didn't ring at 2:00a.m. again. I hope that means Hilary is feeling better. Otherwise, I'm going to drive up there and drag her home.

Wouldn't you think, as a doctor that only works with college students, and a student at the college recently died of a bacterial infection, that you'd be more cautious when a kid comes in sick? She comes to the clinic, has had a cold for over a week, is now running a fever, vomiting, having a hard time breathing, cough with a lot of chest pain. Would these symptoms warrant a chest ex-ray to check for pneumonia? Even if said child has had pneumonia before, would you throw a bottle of cough syrup with codeine at her and send her on her way so she can sleep? Really?

The next day she returns to explain that after taking the codeine her heart began racing, her throat itching, severe fatigue, yet inability to fall asleep, breathing becomes more and more difficult...and you tell her it surely wasn't the codeine that caused any of those symptoms. She says her chest and her back now hurt so bad she can hardly cough. Without even seeing her you give her a script for yet another cough medicine? It's a blizzard outside and you want her to walk to the clinic for that?

Hilary said, "mom, I don't think she paid attention to anything I said."

Grrr....no news is good news, right?

You Just Never Know

Christina called me this afternoon. She had just picked Ethan up from school. He was running a fever. She had to leave class early and now has to make up that time. I have no idea how she has the energy for classes, clinicals, being a mom to Ethan and everything else. She sounded exasperated.

Ethan seemed fine when she picked him up. She said he wasn't acting like he was sick. But while we talked, she noticed he did seem to not be feeling so great. She told me the story of how the school figured out he was sick.

For some reason, he had passed by one of the office staff. He didn't smile. This was out of character for him. They checked his temperature. Sure enough. He was running a fever. I'd say that is a good school that they know him well enough to recognize when he is not himself.

This makes me smile. Well, except that Ethan is sick. And Hilary is sick. Sigh. But let's look at the bright side.

Ever Changing

I'm not sure I'm ready for this. This January I'll have another child living abroad. Christopher & Lauren are still in Korea.

Sarabeth is headed to London.

Part of me wants to pack my bag and go with her, another part of me wants to tell her she's staying home and never going away. Then there's that last part. Sigh. It says she's going to a big city, in a foreign country. She needs to go. It will be a life changing adventure.

Years ago, my dad told me one of the reason teenagers are obnoxious, challenging your intelligence because they know everything, is so that when it comes time for them to move out, you are ready for them to go. I must be doing something wrong. If only they were still in their teen years.

When Sarabeth heads off to the UK, only 1 of our 5 kids will be living at home. Oh my goodness! One of these days NONE of them will be here. I cannot let that happen. What am I...oh wait, maybe I'm wrong. Elisabeth will still be here forever. I'm sure of it.

When Elisabeth was in 6th grade, she told me I was her best friend. I thanked her, and told her I wished that would always be, but in time she'd feel different. She vowed that she would never grow up and move away. I smiled, knowing otherwise. She promised that nothing could ever change her mind. I laughed, assuring her that one day she really would WANT to live somewhere else. With tears in her eyes she said, "not in a million years." I told her okay. Maybe she really meant it.

How cute is her new haircut? Sarabeth might have to get a matching one. We were told the water pressure in London is weak, and hot water runs out quickly. Sarabeth had hoped it was an isolated incident she experienced the first time she went to England. We were told yesterday this is common. I told her we have more than enough hot water here. She can keep her hair long if she stays home.

Happy 18th Birthday Hilary!

Some of you will find it strange that I am wishing Hilary a Happy Birthday. Her 18th birthday was in March. Recently I received a text message that questioned why I didn't have a blog post on March 18, 2010. It was from Hilary. She noted that on every one of her siblings birthdates, I had mentioned or noted them in some fashion.

I protested that I never promised I would acknowledge birthdays on my blog. With our large family, do you have any idea how many days would be spent recognizing these events? I argued that I did not write about all of her siblings. I browsed through my archives. She was right. In one way or another, I HAD mentioned each of my children's special days. I searched through my unpublished posts and I found her birthday tribute. Unfinished. March had been a busy month. We had out-of-town guests the week prior to her birthday. My birthday. Spring break. Plenty of excuses... So here I am to finish that post.

Dear Hilary,
Before you were born, God planned for you. Before you were conceived, God gave me a personal promise. His promise was that he would bring a special joy into my life. This wasn't merely joy that produces a serene, contented smile. We're talking about such glee that it elicits squeals of delight, break-out with song & dance, jump up & down in celebration, shouting kind of joy that cannot be contained. I wasn't sure what this promise would be, but looked forward to receiving it. The sheer anticipation filled my heart with abundant, overflowing happiness. I named this blessing "Hilary Rose."



Bringing happiness, fun, and laughter to our family isn't your only gift.


God has invested many treasure in you. As I did with your siblings, I sought the Lord on how to specifically "Train up a child in the way she should go, And when she is old she will not depart from it." God had already given me an Esther, David, Ruth, & a Virtuous Woman to raise. Now I had a Deborah.

If you've never read or studied Deborah, she can be found in the book of Judges. Deborah was a prophetess and a judge. What she is better known for is leading an army into a victorious battle & receiving recognition for it. She was an unexpected leader. Women did not go to battle, nor did they lead men on the battlefield. This job belonged to Barak; a man. But he refused to follow God's will for his life, unless Deborah accompanied him. So she was the one honored for her leadership, instead of him.

Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity. ( God gave me this verse to pray over you when you were a toddler. It's found in 1 Timothy 4:12)

You are 18, and off to college. It is interesting that you chose engineering as your major, a predominantly male profession. Women comprise only nine percent in this field of study. Wherever God leads you, I believe that like Deborah, you have what it takes to be successful. It doesn't matter if you are the youngest, or that you are female, or anything else that some might perceive as an obstacle to being a great leader. When you follow God with all your heart, soul, mind, & strength, nothing is impossible.


"Therefore I remind you to stir up the gift of God which is in you through the laying on of my hands. For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." (2 Timothy 1:6-7)

We love you Hilary! You are a blessing to not only our family, but to the world. Walk wisely.

Happy Anniversary Mom & Dad

Here's to

Many More Years...

And


Many More Adventures.

Happy 52nd Anniversary, I love you!

Oh For Pete's Sake....

I sure hope our government can tone down it's desire to control every aspect of our lives, now that the election is over. Seriously, did San Francisco's recent law infuriate anyone else? I am thankful I don't live in San Francisco with young children who can eat food with gluten.

In case you haven't read it, San Francisco has made it illegal to give away free toys with children's meals unless they have less than 600 calories, contain fruits and vegetables, and include beverages without excessive fat or sugar. (I wonder if 2% milk has excessive fat?)

News Flash: Some people actually go to McDonald's because we LIKE the food, not just because our kid wants a toy.

When my children were young, we went to McDonald's as a treat. I liked their food, as well as my children. They never had soda at home, so I always allowed them one when we ate out. They drank milk or water at home. When we traveled, we always stopped for lunch at McDonald's because they had clean restrooms, a place for the children to stretch their legs or play, and every single member of our family liked the food. The toy was just an added bonus. None of my children were overweight.

When my grandson came along, he was underweight. We tried everything we could to get him to gain. We took him to McDonald's a lot. But he remained thin and underweight. He can no longer eat McDonald's food due to food restrictions. Guess what? He has gained a lot more weight without eating "unhealthy, high fat" food.

On occasion, McDonald's ran out of a toy, or forgot to put one in a Happy Meal Box. I felt cheated. I can only imagine how children in San Francisco feel, knowing every other child across America who buys a Happy Meal gets a toy, but they don't. I hope the prices are cheaper since they get cheated, the kids disappointed. And sure, one time they offered a special toy I knew my grandson would like and I bought myself a happy meal every single day for a week just to get him the toys. I'm just that kind of a grandma.

If it weren't for Celiac, and the fact we are no longer able to dine at McDonald's Restaurant, I'd take my family there for dinner to show my support of having the freedom to choose where to eat, in spite of whether or not someone in government deems it healthy or not. And I'd buy a Happy Meal just because I like their cheeseburgers and fries. And I'd have fun with whatever toy they were giving out. If only I could.

Please, people, for the love of....can we just be allowed to make our own decisions, whether they are wise or not? Afterall, God allows us this freedom. Why can't our government?

Where Do They Get These Things?

This sticky note was on my husband's computer this morning.


I had no idea why. One of the kids mentioned something about Facebook.


This was the picture referenced.
The comments that followed:

Chris: Crying? Laughing? Yawning? Insert invisible cheeseburger?
Elisabeth: nom, nom, nom

Guess Elisabeth didn't want him to miss it, so made the cheeseburger visible.

What Time Is It?

Where did October go?

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:
a time to be born and

a time to die
a time to plant and
a time to pull out what was planted,

There was frost on the pumpkins this week, so I harvested my vegetables and herbs. The kids carved these pumpkins:





a time to kill

Remember the little mouse who scared me?  I had the unfortunate experience, of sitting in silence, after Michael had gone to bed.  SNAP!  Then I heard the mouse trap rock back and forth a couple of times before silence again.  Let me tell you, Michael was awakened almost immediately.

and a time to heal,
Well yes, the dermatologist did a pretty decent job of killing those skin cells, but I am mending nicely.

a time to tear down and a time to build,
Wondering if we should just tear out the old faucet or try to rebuild it.  It wasn't fun finding the area under my kitchen sink flooded.

a time to weep
Elisabeth didn't say whether she cried when her friend backed into her car, crinkling the hood.

and a time to laugh,Skyping with Ethan always makes me laugh.

a time to mourn and a time to dance,
Sarabeth & I did dance when we went out on Thursday

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,

a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
I purchased storage bins, and now I have closets to clean, purge, and stuff to store.

a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
Tuesday is the day for us to speak out-by VOTING.

a time to love
I loved the special email I got from Lauren this morning with great news!

and a time to hate,I've hated the incessant political phone calls and non-stop ads in the mail.

a time for war and a time for peace.
Ahh...looking for peace and quiet, Tuesday or Wednesday.  No phone calls or messages telling me how evil this person or that is.

And I'm hoping it will be a season of change.

Change

Sometimes change is good, desired, necessary, welcomed.  Sometimes change is dreaded, resisted-at-all-costs, fought against, or absolutely not what I want.  Regardless of how I feel, change happens continually.  Does anything truly stay the same? 

Hebrews 13:8  Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever.

I am thankful that God can be trusted, someone I can always count on to be there, a safe place I can go anytime, anywhere.

 

Appointments

What have I been up to? 
Appointments. 
Went with Elisabeth to see an Infectious Disease Specialist-that was interesting.
Visited the Chiropractor, twice.
Came home teary-eyed from the gynecologist, because of his kindness.
Came home teary-eyed from the eye doctor because he raised his voice to me.  He thinks I'm a difficult patient.
Had my nails done, redone, and redone a 3rd time.  The tech said next time I come in, she hopes I'm smiling.  I think she really hopes I don't return. She's tired of fixing her mistakes.
I should have gone with Elisabeth to her MRI.
And with the other Elizabeth to get her blood work.
But I didn't.
Instead I went to the dentist.  He says I need a root canal.  But I'm one of the 3% that doesn't get relief from them.  He recommended I pull the tooth.  And another one too.  I told him I'd think about it.
It's highly unlikely.
Maybe after my dermatologist appointment, I'll schedule that surgery I've canceled twice.

Just trying to get what I can, while I still have a choice in health & personal care.

Would You, Could You, In A House

It's been confirmed.  Michael saw it with his own two eyes.  It's not a strange creature.   There's a mouse in my house.  Did I really say I'd get a cat?  Or a kitten?

It's Friday! It's Friday.

I used to get so excited when Friday came.  I was gleeful!!!  That was then.  This is now.  Friday seems like just about every other day of the week.  I get up, have my coffee.  Browse the internet.  Shower.  Get dressed for the day.  Nothing.

Really, this is sort of how it goes.  But today was different.  I bounced out of bed.  Guzzled my coffee as quickly as I could.  Jumped in the shower in record time.  Only dried my hair half-way.  Rush, rush, rush.  All of this, just so I could make it to a doctor appointment with Elisabeth at 11:00 a.m.  Pathetic.

It was all worth it.  When I got home, Ethan was here.  I know now, why we go through menopause.  At some point, you are just too old to keep up with your children.  That is when you have grandchildren.  You are absolutely exhausted at the end of the day.  And you say good-bye to them-tearfully, but joyfully.

Sleep Tight, Don't Let The Bedbugs Bite

Long, long ago, back when I tucked my children in bed each night, I'd lie down with them.  This was after baths and reading books.  The light was turned off and I'd tell them a story.  At times, I simply recounted an event from earlier in the day, or embellished a tale from when they were younger.  When I was feeling creative, I'd make up an adventure or fantasy, most often about a little boy named Christopher & his big sister Christina.

One story, which varied each time it was told, involved the children going into a closet to play and shutting the door.  When the door was opened, they would find themselves transported elsewhere for an exciting excursion. I would make the story up as we laid there, in hopes their little eyes would close before I finished.  My goal was to get them to fall asleep. Sometimes it had the opposite effect, and the anticipation would build to the point that they were too excited to sleep. If I was in a hurry to get them to bed, or simply could not think where to take the story, I'd leave them with a cliff hanger and the hope they'd go to bed early the next night.  I'd leave the room with a smile, knowing their imaginations were stirred.  After a few moments standing outside their door, I'd hear whispers of their inspired imagery.

Occasionally (or should I say often,) when I was very tired, too tired to imagine, too sleepy to recall an anecdote, too exhausted to be creative, I'd sing a silly song or recite a fairy tale.  "Sing a song of sixpence" and "Goldilocks & The Three Bears" were my usual  go-to's.  For fun, I'd change up the words to see how awake they were or just to hear them giggle and exclaim, "no, no, no, it's 'a pocketful full of rye' not pie."

Last Saturday, Ethan spent the night.  Hilary & Elisabeth tried to get him to go to bed.  They laid down with him, and let him call his mom on the phone to say, "BYE."  The usual things he does at home.  (Only at home, he calls his grandpa & grandma to say good-night.)  But Ethan would not stay in bed.  When he is in his own bed, after saying good-night to his grandpa and me, his mom & I will take time to catch up.  Often, as he listens to us chatter, he falls asleep easily. I hoped by telling him a bedtime story in the dark it might have the same effect. I chose the story of  "The Three Bears", not knowing how meaningful it would be, but hoping for peaceful dreams.

O began, "Once upon a time..." and all of the sudden, I could not remember how the story goes.  Had it been that long since I'd told this tale?  Oh my!  Who can forget a simple fairy tale that she has repeated a thousand times or more?

I made the best attempt I could.  By the second retelling, I think I remembered most of it.  Ethan giggled as I did my best impersonation of Papa Bear in his great, gruff voice and Baby Bear's high squeaky voice.  And guess what?  He finally fell asleep.

I smiled as I remembered how often I used this tale to help Christopher remember to speak in a voice more like Mama Bear when he'd get excited, rather than his Baby Bear squeal.  I always wondered if he made the connection that the mama bear voice was a natural voice (for me, anyway) instead of an exaggerated gruff or shrieking one.  Quite possibly he was scarred for life believing he had to sound like a Mama Bear instead of the Baby Bear.  At least he didn't suffer from gender confusion.  Oh wait....never mind.

(Sorry Christopher.)