Yesterday I was tired.

Tired of not feeling well.
Tired of having my house undone.
Tired of seeing my Fall decorations and lack of Christmas one.

The solution? Just do it. I figured the first thing on the agenda was to clean. How in the world can one decorate with lovely Christmas decor if it looks like it's mixed with leftover Halloween cobwebs and goo?

I began in the kitchen. After tidying up, I couldn't help but notice the grime on my kitchen cabinets. Each door had a dark area where we grab to open. We do actually have knobs we could use to avoid this, but the original creator placed them at the middle of the door. They might as well be at the very top. Way too much effort to reach for them.

I wanted a quick & easy solution. Mr. Clean's Magic Eraser. It will rub that grime right off, the way a pencil eraser removes pencil marks. I set to work, scrubbing the corners, then wiping down the rest of the doors. This was working better than I expected. The dirt came off pretty fast. I was half-way finished when I looked back to inspect my work. I was a little shocked at what I saw. In the corners of each cabinet door was a very clean spot, with the finish rubbed completely off. Oh my word, this was much more noticeable than the film of dirt. Nice. Why did I start in the Kitchen anyway? It's not like that is where I do most of my decorating. I quickly left the task half finished and moved to a new area.

The entryway. Ah, a nice small I-can-clean-this-in-a-few-minutes place to start. This is where I hang our Advent Calendar and the first part of the house visitors see. Quickly, I vacuumed every place I could, including the roof where cobwebs had dangled. I noticed the light could stand to be cleaned. It is a lovely glass fixture, with glass panels that can be removed for cleaning. Rather than grabbing the windex, I figured I'd take them down and wash them in the sink. They'd be sparkling in no time. Standing on a kitchen chair, I removed them one-by-one. I tried to be very careful, not wanting to ruin another household item. I stepped down, somehow lost my footing, and fell to the floor. This could have been distrous, but I didn't even try to catch myself, I protected the glass with everything I had. They survived unscathed.

I limped around a bit more, but found my body just wasn't cooperating. I gave up and decided I'd better finish my dinner, since we had guests coming. Back in the kitchen, I remembered my earlier mishap. I chose to ignore it and concentrate on putting away the grocery items I'd bought earlier. I carried a case of water bottles downstairs. Once again, my feet gave way to a tumble. Believe it or not, each of the 48 bottles landed unharmed. I left them on the floor and hobbled back upstairs.

Tomorrow is December 1st. It isn't beginning to look like Christmas. I'm still tired, but I've decided:

I kind of like the Fall Colored Decorations.
I kind of like our very well lived in home, even if it is reminiscent of Disneyland's Haunted Mansion.
I appreciate this tired, weak body. It gives me an excuse to sit at the computer, drinking Starbucks, dipping into the bowl of leftover Halloween candy and reading blogs.

"Walkin' around, the Christmas tree,
have a happy holiday..."

Hilary, it isn't "walkin" it's "Rockin' around the Christmas tree."

No way. We always sang "Walkin' around the Christmas tree" while we walked around it.

We weren't walking, we were dancing. We were Rockin'!

That wasn't dancing. We were definitely walking. Are you sure it's Rockin' around? Walking sounds way better.

Thirty-Eight Degrees

Today it was 38 degrees outside. A lady was driving her car, a convertible, with the top down. I surmise that the mechanism must be stuck, poor soul. The wind whips her hair across her face, cold air bites at every turn. I make the same assumption when it's raining, or snowing and I see a driver with his window down. I feel badly that he must suffer the ills of a broken window, allowing the freezing wetness to blow into his vehicle. That is, until I see the glow from his cigarette as he flicks it out the open window. Nope, he has chosen to leave the window open for his own enjoyment. The lady in the convertible? Oh, that was me. As long as it isn't raining or snowing, I crank the top down and let the wind blow. I choose to have the wind toss my hair wildly.

I find it one of life's little pleasures. As I drove to a doctor appointment, I felt healthy & carefree. Driving to pick up yet another prescription, the sun felt warm, in spite of the arctic air. Besides, my car has a heating system. It is akin to sitting in the glow of a fireplace, with the snow outside. It isn't necessary, but it makes one feel warm and cozy.

Seeing Is Believing

Glasses for busy, little boys are hard to find. They are expensive too. Ask my daughter. Ethan's first pair of glasses didn't last long. Once or twice a day, the lenses would pop out. The eye glass shop said there was nothing he could do and suggested a specialist in children's eyewear.

Four hundred dollars later, Ethan had his second pair of glasses: a lovely blue, flexible frame with non-scratch lenses. The clerk assured us of the durability with the guarantee that they could not be broken. If the lenses were scratched or anything went wrong, they would gladly replace them within the year. Their confidence in the frame was a 2 year warranty. I'll admit, they did stand behind their promise. But by the ninth time replacing the glasses, the clerk didn't seem nearly as cheerful.

The difficult part about replacing the glasses is, it takes 7 days. Ethan has to look through huge scratches, or wear misshapen frames until then. This weekend, though, he rendered them unwearable. He spent a day without his glasses. The strain on his eyes caused them to stay crossed most of the day. We set out to find an inexpensive replacement to wear, while waiting for the new ones.

Christina explained the situation to the optician. He smiled and reached for a small pair of glasses. "These are indestructable, built out of titanium-made especially for boys who are tough on glasses. I assure you, if he can bend them, I can put them back to their original shape. Look, they are flexible and nearly impossible to destroy." Christina nearly laughed in his face. She restrained herself and asked, "do you have a replacement guarantee?"

"Oh absolutely! For an additional charge of $30, we guarantee the lenses for a year. But like I said, the frames are indestructable."

"So how many time will you replace them if they do become damaged?"

He stammered a bit. "Well, just once."

Nice.

Over the weekend, we listened to a lot of Christmas music. We laughed a lot, as we found out some members of the family enjoyed different lyrics to the same songs. I wonder how often this happens.

I remember singing, "by the donzer lelight," as the National Anthem was played. I had no idea what it meant-along with much of the rest of it. As a child, hymns sung in church were often imagination stimulators, as I'd try to figure out what in the world I was singing about. Even with the printed words in front of me, I was often clueless.

Just as curious, were the songs we sang in Sunday School.

"This little light of mine. I'm gonna let it shine...hide it under a bushel, no!" I knew all of the hand motions and loved to sing it, but I wondered what kind of a light was I not going to hide? I knew if you put a burning candle under a basket it might start a fire, so I wouldn't do that. But how was I going to keep satan from blowing it out?

Another one was:

"Give me oil in my lamp, keep it burning...keep it burning till the break of day." Then we'd sing Hosanna's. (Another elusive word, that I tried to imagine what hidden meaning there might be.)

"Are you washed, in the blood, in the soul-cleansing blood of the lamb?" I didn't get that one either.

Many of you reading, may have no idea what I'm talking about with regards to the songs-unless you too sang them. Contemporary churches of today don't sing many hymns. But do our children understand the songs of worship? For that matter, do adults?

When we speak about the things of God, do we speak with Christian lingo that leaves others with lots of words in their head, but no clear message? Are we reciting words ourselves, with no real understanding? We hope that those we speak to will "come to salvation, be sanctified & saved." But are we truly presenting a clear, gospel message? Do we even know what "gospel" means?

Just something to think about.
And no, they don't call him Rudolph.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Waiting For Changes

What was I doing baking cookies at 6:00a.m.? This is the time I usually pack lunches and make breakfast. Was it because I had frozen french toast and chocolate chip pancakes to pull out for breakfast, so thought I'd make a nice batch of homemade cookies for lunches? No. It was in response to the child who commented at 10:30 last night that she needed to bring 2 dozen cookies to school today. Another child remembered she was assigned to bring a bag of chips. (Reminder to self, buy another bag of chips for lunches.) Normally, I would have stayed up baking late into the night. But with 3 hours of sleep the night before, my brain fog might cause me to add a bag of prunes instead of chocolate chips. So, like any good mom who rushes to rescue her kid, I made cookies first thing this morning.

So when do kids think ahead about what needs to be done instead of waiting until the last minute? I thought back to when I was in 3rd grade. Yes, back in the dark ages. Back when we walked to school, and truthfully it was uphill both ways. (Sometime I'll get photos and prove it.) We also went home for lunch. The poor souls who had to eat lunch at school walked 1/2 of a mile down the road to the high school. That was the only cafeteria.

Each week it was one child's turn to present a science experiement. I recall when it was my turn. I remembered that morning at school. Upon arriving home for lunch, I mentioned to my mom that I needed a science experiment to take back for that afternoon. After eating a bologna & mustard sandwich, my amazing mom helped me put a project together. Not once, but twice that year. Afterwards, she drove me to back to school, since we'd used the extra 20 minutes it would have taken to walk.

So when do kids plan ahead instead of waiting until the last minute? I've had the privilege of seeing my older ones do just that. They grow up and don't need to be rescued. No more procrastination! So when does it happen? Oh wait, it doesn't happen for everyone. You see, I am one of those kids who still waits until the last minute.

The Next Time

The next time I'm sick:

I won't wait 6 days for the medicine to start working.

I won't wait 6 days for the second medicine to start working.

When the prescription label lists possible side effects as "insomnia," I can be assured of 3-4 hours of sleep a night.

I'll remember that having empty hampers doesn't equate to having clean clothes.

I'll remember that I have a laundry chute where clothes mate and reproduce into an overabundance of very ripe, dirty laundry.

I'll check my calendar for important upcoming events like Thanksgiving.

I won't be grumpy when Michael says I look beautiful, and instead, I'll respond in kind.

Lastly, I will be thankful for my overall good health, my loving husband who is so very encouraging, for the 5 best kids in all the world, the cutest grandson ever, and will focus on how very blessed I am.

Thanksgiving Memories II

I am not a planner by nature. I don't multitask well. (Does anyone?) I tend to deal with today's agenda and worry about tomorrow, well, when it arrives. This approach dictates mandatory last-minute shopping, creative ideas on how-to-quick-thaw a 16 lb. turkey, and wishes of having 3 ovens. For me, these are almost traditions that every year I try to change.

Thanksgiving Eve, after returning from church, I think, "it's time for me to make my pumpkin pies. The first thing I do? Call my mom.

"Hi Mom! What are you up to?"

"I'm baking, sewing, crafting, designing..." It could be just about anything. My mom is always busy.

"Hey, do you have that Pie Crust Delicious recipe? I know you gave it to me last year, and the year before, and maybe I wrote it down somewhere, but could you give it to me again?"

We chat while I gather the ingredients. I ask about her Thanksgiving preparations. It's been a long time since we spent Thanksgiving together. I feel connected, as if we are standing in the same kitchen working together. Giving thanks and gathering with family just go together.

Last year, in my desire to tame my resistant-to-planning nature, I purchased premade crusts. Although they were tasty, as good as home-made, I found them lacking. I missed my mom and her expert advice. My kitchen was much too quiet and empty without my baking partner. Planning ahead is overrated.

This year, I'm not making pies. But come Thanksgiving Eve, I'm calling Mom.

Thanksgiving Memories 2006

Wordless Wednesday

November 14th

Sometimes, I forget birthdays and important dates. But I don't think I will ever forget this one. This is the 6th anniversary of the day I found out I was going to be a grandmother. It was this day that I first began praying for Ethan. None of us knew at the time if he was a boy or girl. We didn't know that he would be a special child, with special needs. We had no idea the joys and heartaches that were waiting. But God did. He knew Ethan would need lots of prayer and planned for it.

Since I began blogging this date has come up before, so instead of coming up with something new, I'm going to share this story again from December of 2 years ago.


UNEXPECTED

Two days ago, I ran into Barnes & Noble for a last minute gift. I was sending out a Christmas package to my parents and it needed to go out that day in order to make it in time for Christmas. But I can't go into a bookstore without stopping in the children's section, or browsing through the clearance books. This day was no different.

I picked up a copy of Billy Crystal's "I Already Know I Love You." I read a page or two, then flipped a few more. Without warning, my eyes began to fill with tears. I blinked to hold them back and felt a stinging sensation. The author described the anticipation of waiting for his grandbaby. He was looking forward to playing peek-a-boo, & taking him to his first ballgame. I turned to the last page.

"I'm going to be your grandpa, and I can hardly wait."



I was not prepared for the intense emotion that swelled inside. I turned the book over. The sticker read $16.95. I can't pay that much for a book right now. But I tucked it under my arm and walked to the counter to pay.

I busied myself with watching shoppers wait in the checkout line. I chuckled to myself when I saw an employee at the front of the line holding a basket. She was offering chocolate candy for all who'd been standing, waiting to pay for their books. (They apparently agree with me, that chocolate should be admistered for stress relief.) As I passed, I accepted her bit of chocolate.

The day was a bit chilly, so I hurried to the car. During my brisk walk, I mentally tried to figure out what else I needed to do after my trip to the post office. I was frustrated. Why did I always and consistently leave things to the last minute? I quickly jumped in the car. While I was pulling out of the parking lot, tears unexpectedly began blurring my vision. I swiped at my eyes with my leather glove. Not very absorbent.

What is wrong with me? I wondered. I do not cry easily. I've never been an overly emotional person. But here I was, crying on the way home after picking up a children's book. I normally analyze things like this. I like to know what exactly triggers such a strong emotion. When I am very busy, or under stress, I can't say that I am always in tune with my feelings. I like to tuck them neatly away, until I have time to sort through and process. I can deal with it and move on. Right then, I didn't have time.

I pulled off my gloves, grabbed a tissue, and dried my eyes. I tried to focus on all of the things I needed to do, but I couldn't distract myself. And what was I going to do with this book anyway? I was going to give it to my husband to give to our grandson for Christmas. The image of the two of them on Michael's riding lawn mower settled into my thoughts. I cried harder.



When our daughter announced her pregnancy, it wasn't at the best of times. She had made a stand of purity and chose not to date in high school. Here she was, at 20, unmarried, telling us the news.

She had friends who told her it wouldn't be convenient to have a child and that she didn't have to. But like me, she values life. She was going to be a mom. Michael and & I were going to be grandparents.

When I arrived home, I picked up my bag of books and went inside. I tried to put the book aside while I packed up the box I needed to ship. I found it hard to function with tears just under the surface, stinging my eyes. I got the book out to present to Michael. I went to him, but found I couldn't speak. I just stood there, holding this book. I opened my mouth, but the only thing that came was tears. I waited. This was too hard. I finally blurted out, "I got this book for you to give to Ethan for Christmas. I know it was dumb, but I did." Hurriedly, I retreated to my room to finish the package.

Why am I such a wreck? I thought back to when my daughter was pregnant. I remembered that although we hadn't anticpated being grandparents yet, I dreamed about spending time with this new little one. I imagined things like baking cookies together, the laughter we'd share. I bought lots of books to read to him. I thought of the times I'd answer his questions of why, and tell him about God who created him. But I never imagined that Ethan might not understand these things, nor that there would be so many unknowns. I didn't think that at age 3 I'd still be waiting to hear him say, "gramma."

Michael came in the room. He wrapped his arms around me and I cried into his shoulder. I told him I didn't know what I was thinking when I picked up the book and that I would take it back to the store. He said no. We sat in silence. Once again I dried my tears. "Do you think I should just give it to him, or what?" He asked. "Aren't you afraid he will ruin the book?" I told him it would be ok. He could sit and read the book to Ethan. It didn't matter that Ethan didn't understand a word of it. The words were still true. We DID wait with much anticipation for his arrival. We did and still do look forward to spending time with him, teaching him new things, sharing and experiencing moments together. It is just different than what we'd imagined.

Veteran's Day

Just wanted to say thank-you to all Veteran's & current military persons. Because of your dedication, hard work, & commitment to serving this nation, I enjoy great personal freedom and liberties I often take for granted. There aren't enough words to adequately express my appreciation. So I will just say thank-you!





(These photos were from 18 months ago, & I believe I posted them before. But I thought they were appropriate to post again. ) It is never too early to teach children about the history of our nation and what our flag represents. We live in "the land of the free and the home of the brave," thanks to the generosity of our Veterans.

And Happy 58th Anniversary to my inlaws, Edwin & Elizabeth!!! (Who, because of his military duties, chose to be married on Veteran's Day.)

It's been a tough week. I hate weeks like this. I feel like I am going through the motions, surviving. It isn't really like living at all. So what is my problem? I have a sinus infection, which makes me very tired and cranky. It causes a fever, which keeps me from sleeping well. Anyone who knows me, knows I need sleep. Without it, well, let's just say I used to be a nice person.

I also cry a lot when I don't get enough sleep. I'm telling you, sleep cures just about anything. (Right Christopher?) I watched this story the other night on our local news.

http://www.9news.com/news/article.aspx?storyid=80451



One of the high schools has a cheerleader on their squad who has Down's Syndrome. She is a cutie for sure. I was impressed. We are in the midst of Cheer competitions. For those not familiar with the sport of cheerleading, they don't just support the football team. They compete with other squads and are judged on how well they execute their routines. The girl's mother didn't expect for her duaghter to perform during these competitions. She knew that if her daughter was off at all, the team would lose points. But her team insisted that she participate with them.



I was at one of those competitions this week. You should have seen the cheers from the crowd when they hoisted their flyer in the air. I couldn't blame the tears on being sick.

Took child to the doctor.

Drove said child to school.

Made soup for same child & 15 girls.

Delivered soup for their enjoyment.

Took self to doctor.

Got prescription for self.

Sat. Too tired to cook dinner.

Waiting to attend child's competition.

Friend phones. Have I made dinner?

She made roast chicken w/peppers, french bread, salad.]

Would I like it?

Friend brings dinner.

And some people don't believe in God.
(Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.Matthew 11:28)

Forty-nine. How did you get that old? That is a lot of years behind you. This is surely a rare age, you know. Don't believe me? It's true. Many make it to 3 or 5 or 20. Others want to know your secret. Happiness? Is that what brings longevity? Love? What is the magic of staying alive this long? Hard work? I'll give you that one.



But I believe the real answer lies in one word. Commitment. Happy 49th anniversary Mom & Dad. Your love, joy, laughter, fun, work ethic, giving, and so much more, have given us kids wonderful lives. Thank-you for never even considering the possibility of tossing in the towel. You have set an amazing example for not only your kids, but grandkids, great-grandkids (you're at 2, in case you'd forgotten,) and for generations to come. You have both given so selflessly to each other and us. I can't wait to celebrate your 50th next year. Let's do it up big! I love you.

I heard the familiar fumbling, rattling of the doorknob, bumps and clunks. The door swung open, banging the wall behind it. Ethan, Christina, and large puppy Dazy had arrived.

I was sitting on the couch. As usual, I waited. After a few moments, I see the little boy face peek around the corner. I probably shouldn't, but I began wildly waving, "Hi Ethan! Come see Gramma!" And as he typically does, he ducked back around the corner. I can hear his little feet pounding down the hall to the bedroom. He isn't really shy, but this is his routine.

I wait. He doesn't come out. Uh, oh...I forgot my part. I knew it was coming, and yet I hadn't remembered. I have a closet in my bedroom, where for years I hid Christmas presents. While out shopping, I almost always come across a little something I know Ethan can't live without. A spiderman shirt, power ranger action figure, or a book about cars. At first I was saving them for an occasion, but Ethan wandered in there one day. Ever since, the first place he goes when he gets here is the closet-looking for a treat.

Earlier in the week, I'd gone to see him and bought him two games. That threw me, & I hadn't purchased anything else. I jumped up from the couch to see what he was doing. If he doesn't find a treat, he makes up his own. A new roll of wrapping paper becomes his sword.

I hear giggling and laughing. I find him on the floor, flipping through the toyrus catalog. I'd pulled it out of the Sunday paper, thinking he might like looking at it. He was enchanted.

"Come show Grandpa what you found." He continued his silly laughter, pointing to various toys. It was a great game. I tried to coax him from the room, but he couldn't be bothered. I went back to the living room to wait, calling to him occasionally. Finally, I hear muffled movement from the hall. I look over to see Ethan crawling on his knees. His hands held the pages open, as he pushed the magazine along the floor, squealing with delight. He must have tried to carry it, but couldn't hold it open and walk too.

We sat together as he pointed out his favorites. What joy it was to see him so contented. You'd think the pictures had come to life watching him touch each one. This was the best present yet, and it was free. His favorite page? It had both spiderman and transformers and with it the cheeriest chuckle I've ever heard.

Just For Fun

Thought I'd post some pictures from Elisabeth's Cheer practice. Yes, this is the girl, who because of her injured back, is supposed to take it easy.



Here's a 4 second video:

Shannon at Rocks In My Dryer had a delightful post about her husband asking for her hand in marriage. Her father's question to his possible son-in-law was amazing. It caused me to ponder once again our role as parents and the heritage we pass to them.

Once-a-year or so, our ethnic heritage comes up for discussion. One kid or another is curious as to their ancestry. Growing up I'd heard about my relatives many times. My mom is 100% English with relatives who remain in Great Britain. My dad's grandparents were immigrants from elsewhere; Germany, Italy, Ireland, & Holland. I am 1/2 English and 1/8 each of the rest.

When my kids ask, I share my mixed half, but Michael's answer for the other half is always "I don't know." When Christopher was in junior high school, we found out Michael's aunt was researching their genealogy, I suggested he email his grandfather and ask about it. The next day we received a very concerned phone call from said grandparent.

I couldn't figure out the nature of his questions, something about our son being confused, and that at his age, shouldn't he know these things. I was a little surprised, since his own son was clueless about his ethnic heritage. Finally he shared the email Christopher had sent and I understood. It was one simple question:

"What gender am I?"

(Poor Christopher, he'll never live this one down.)

"They preached the good news in that city and won a large number of disciples. Then they returned...strengthening the disciples and encouraging them to remain true to the faith." (Acts 14:21-22)


I received a comment from Mylinda the other day, directing me to her blog. I was a little surprised that she'd awarded me the Mathetes award.


"Mathetes" is the Greek word for disciple. The Mathetes Award originated at Management By God and is given to those who exemplify the life of a disciple of Christ by having a heart to share God's Word and further His kingdom by carrying His message to the ends of the earth.





Mylinda is definitely worthy of this award. Check out her blog if you haven't already. And now I must nominate 5 others for this award. I have been reading some newer blogs (or at least new to me,) that I'd like to share.

Kristin at Yankee Mom
Ann at Small Town Life
Julie at Pearls In A Nutshell
truevyne at The True Vine
Pam at Pinnacle, Pitfalls, and Potty chairs
Annie at My Life as Annie & Pray for Izzy

Dan King prayed this prayer over his nominees. I pray the same for mine and for the rest of my fellow bloggers who exemplify the life of a disciple of Christ.

I pray a blessing over the bloggers that receive this award, and ask that the Holy Spirit use them mightily as they share the Word of God with the world around them. May all of their efforts be fruitful, and their words carry the anointing of the Holy Spirit. In Jesus' name, Amen!

Time To Get Serious

Okay, I was hoping to not have to do this. But my boys, the Rockies are down 3 games. They need a little extra encouragment. Bring on the Spartan Cheerleaders!!!