Gratitude for my Daddy

I've begun the Boundless Summer Challenge, and so far it has been more challenging than I expected.  More reading and writing and soul-searching, as opposed to just little tasks one could pull off in 10 minutes.  I've gone from excitement about it to a bit of resentful grumpiness at feeling like I "have" to meditate on truth and be changed by it in a day.  But I think as long as I remember it's a bit of a discipline, a means for grace and for God to change or teach me as He will, no matter my apparent success or not, then I shall enjoy it much more.

Part of today's assignment is for guys to try to show love to a woman in their life (wife, mother, sister, etc.) and for girls to demonstrate respect to a significant man (husband, dad, brother, etc).  I decided to make a list of things I respect about my Dad, which I will list as this week's blessings.  :-) 

 
It's odd - part of me feels like that's cheating... But no, it's actually a sort of integration and melding of things God's been nudging me towards lately - recording my blessings, and increased gratefulness for my family.  The life He calls us to is hard, but it's also much simpler than I usually make it. 

I know I missed last week - out of town.  And yes, I know today's not Monday, again  It's barely even Tuesday anymore! Ah well. ;-)
 

Why my Daddy is Amazing 

(an only-the-tip-of-the-iceberg list)

16.   Once, when I was away at college and had major car problems, my Daddy came and rescued me.  He took the car to a shop and got the problem fixed.  He also got me my first cell phone around then, so I wouldn't get stuck on some lonely road again without being able to call for help.  I knew when he said "Call me if you need anything" that he meant it, even if it meant driving a long way.  I felt so cherished. Thanks, Daddy.

17.  He drives all the way from Houston (8+ hours) just to visit us on random weekends.

18.  He used to play The Bug Game with us on the living room floor ages ago.  If you're wondering what The Bug Game is, good reader, I'm afraid it's rather beyond description.  Let's just say it involved wrestling, tickling, increasingly challenging levels, and at least four of us piled up on the "Bug" at some point.  We probably asked every night, to the point of extreme annoyance: "Daddy, are you tired?" (translation: not "Daddy, how was work? We care about you and hope you get some rest now" but actually "Do you have enough energy saved to be the Bug for our entertainment?")  It was always the highlight of the night when dear Daddy was not too tired to play.  Or, perhaps my grown-up eyes can see a bit better now... I'm sure you were actually still tired some of those times, Daddy, but you played with us anyways.    

19.  My Daddy is clever and great at fixing things.  He's an engineer, but not just of drilling rigs and computer programs.  He engineers things like homemade boats, and clamps, and who knows what else.  He's a very hard worker. 

20.  He was brave enough to have six kids, and helped my mom through the pain and sorrow of several miscarriages and losing little Elliot (who died several days after his birth).  I say it takes a brave man to keep on trusting God for whatever children He might want to give after that!  If he hadn't, if he had said, "Four is enough," then my two youngest brothers, Isaac and Whit, would not be here.

21.  He and my mom decided before any of us came along that they wanted to teach their kids at home... back before they even knew such a thing was called homeschooling.  I am ever so grateful they chose to be radical in that way, and I'm excited and hopefully to one day carry on that legacy of homeschooling and really knowing my kids.

22.  He and my mom did some deep theological study before us kids were born.  I know that's a huge reason why I grew up with such a biblical foundation, and probably partly why I find theology so interesting - it was talked about often at our house, outside, in the car, as we walked along the way...

23.  My Daddy taught himself Russian, y'all!  He went over there for work, and decided he'd rather make the effort to learn to speak to language, rather than go the boring way of always using interpreters.  He got so good, actually, that some Russians couldn't detect an American accent when he spoke! You know, once you're grown, it's supposedly far harder to learn a new language than it is for children.  Well, my Daddy laughed in the face of such odds, and learned one. Good example for me.  It's never too late to learn a language, or a new instrument, or any such thing.

24.  He has this awesome manly engineer handwriting.  :-) 

25.  He's got a great sense of humor.

26.  He likes a good cup of tea.

27.  Whenever he comes to see us, he usually brings us each a Breakfast-on-a-Bun in the morning.  Yum! :-)

28.  He's got the coolest blue-grey eyes.

29.  He reads my blog. :-)  Not just any dad would make that effort to know what his daughter's been doing, even amid all my rambling and non-informative posts.

30.  Even though he's not perfect (neither am I!), he's one of my heroes, striving for wisdom and faithfulness and goodness, doing what he can to take care of the people in his life.  I am so blessed to be your daughter. :-)  I am so blessed to call you Daddy.

Do I Value Life?

I've been thinking about children, family, and the old question of "How many kids do you want?" lately.   Reading lots of blogs, writing rambling thoughts...  Some of it reminded me of why I believe as strongly as I do.  Some of it pointed out various lies and traps of Satan I have fallen into, generally regarding reactions motivated through fear.  But also a bad habit of almost worshiping big families for their numbers alone.

I confess, I need often be reminded that, as much fun as I think a huge family would be, the number God has in mind will be perfect, whether it be ten, one, or none. It is my inward attitude toward the sovereign God and my neighbors that is the most vital, as I was reminded in these words from Stacy MacDonald:

You see, it’s not about numbers—an out of wedlock mother of eight who is paid by the government to stay unmarried and dependent on the state could easily out breed most of us, if given enough incentive.

No; it’s about faithfulness. It’s about instilling in our children, our church, and our culture a passion for purity, children, family, and most of all, Jesus. It’s about raising up godly seed (Christian children) who aren’t focused on living for their own fleeting pleasures; but, are instead committed to glorifying God and enjoying Him forever—which involves loving one’s neighbor as one’s self.

"For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”" (Galatians 5:14, ESV)

But you see, before we can do that, we have to believe it. Really believe it. We have to believe it so much that we are living it out each day without even thinking. We must value each life as much as we value our own—way down deep…

Life. Its value, it seems, is measured only in what it offers us—or how it threatens to inconvenience us. The more I contemplate the value of children, the more I realize that my view of children is bound up in how I value life. Am I truly loving my neighbor, my own family, the lost, the poor? Am I looking for ways to bring more and more glory to my Lord?

…Here’s the thing. It’s not about whether or not you believe birth control is a sin. It’s really not about that at all, and in some ways it distracts us from the real point. The real issue is far, far more important. It’s about loving God, loving our neighbor, loving life, embracing His revealed will, and working hard to live out the Gospel honestly and faithfully before a watching...and desperate world. 

Read the rest of Stacy's gracious post

Honestly, I am selfish. Loving people, investing in their lives, is a challenge for me. Often I’d much rather go off and do my own thing – watch a movie, read a book, have time by myself with my own cup of tea. The mindset and life God calls us to is hard stuff! Do I have what it takes to love even one person for the rest of my life? Even for ten years? One year? A day?

No. Alone, I don’t. But with God, all things are possible.

A Surprising Sunday

Did y'all have a good Sunday? Mine was very different and quite wonderful because of three surprises.

"Yes, we'll come."

The first sounds more planned than surprising, but since plans aren't always fulfilled, I'd say it was a blessing that God granted for it to happen.

Yesterday, we made a glorious Cobb Salad (which my mother was inspired to make from Miss Jen's lovely post), involving such scrumptious ingredients as grilled chicken, bacon, pine nuts, chives, parsley, mint, tomatoes, avocados, and homemade dressing, all atop piles of glorious homegrown greens. So different and delicious!

Such an abundant and scrumptious feast, which we prepared yesterday afternoon, needed to be shared, so we invited a young married couple over for lunch after church. Thankfully they were able to come, and we had a great time fellowshiping and discussing the sermon, gardens, government, and summer plans.

Where did you come from?!?!?

The second surprise came when I entered the sanctuary a bit late for church. The singing had already begun. And there was Jonny, my 22-year-old brother, standing in our row, back home from college when we hadn't expected him to get into town until this evening! What a joy that he could join us in praising God! It was not hard to have a greatfull heart to the Lord during the worship songs after that surprise, let me tell you! :-)

Not Safe, but Good!

The third surprise was the sermon. Anyone who goes to our church knows that Mr. Beard, our preacher, is rather unconventional. In some ways the sermons are predictable. We do expositional teaching from the Bible, mostly verse-by-verse, and very rarely does Mr. Beard preach a topical sermon. Maybe twice a year. But his preaching style is such that he relies on the simplicity of God's Word (with a blunt and sometimes sarcastic sense of humor) to keep attention.

But today's sermon, which did come out of the text in Acts we've been studying, was more surprising than usual. After Communion and the last song, Mr. Beard came up to preach- dressed in a hockey helmet and pads, gloves, pool noodles duct-taped to his legs as pads, and a surgical mask. You can be sure his interesting protective gear grabbed everyone's attention! He took the stuff off after a while, but surprises continued.

It was all about safety and risk, and the ridiculous lengths we go to to try to avoid pain and danger, when we actually can't. O course swine flu came up. How could he not use such a silly example of hysteria?

Here are some of my notes:

The most deadly thing you can do is be alive - it will kill you.

Sometimes we act as though safety were equal to morality and goodness, but are they?

Government: "It's against the law to do dangerous things! Let us protect you by making more laws about what you can't do."

Swine flu hysteria and other paranoia are clearly silly, but as Christians we often live as though risk is sin.

But Peter and John kept preaching when it was against the law, when the risks were beatings, imprisonment, and death. Stephan's speech before the Sanhedrin was not safe - in fact it seems calculated to point out all the truths that would upset them the most, and his reward was being stoned to death.

Moses, in rescuing his fellow countryman, was heroic. But he got rejected for it.

We have somewhere wired into us the notion that risk is evil. That losing our house, our cars, our conveniences, our comforts, is bad and sinful. But we can't prove that from Scripture! In fact, examples in the Word abolish that notion.

Was Stephen in sin to be so bold and say such dangerous things? I don't think so.

Main point: We are to live, not try to stay alive. Chose life! Trust and obey! Walk with God every day, and don't fear.

Safety is from God.

Stressing out about safety is an exercise in futility, because we can't make ourselves completely safe!

Of course, don't be stupid or foolish. Don't do dangerous stuff for the wrong reasons. But don't be bound up about everything in your life because you think it's all about to go bad.

Then he gave one of the best examples I have seen in a long time. Their family has adopted a little boy, A. J. who had been in foster care for nearly all his almost-two years of life. The Beards were his fifth family.

When they first had him, he was tormented by insecurity. Anytime Mrs. Beard took him grocery shopping and turned away from the cart (where A.J. was strapped) to get a box of Cheerios, he became unglued and cried hysterically.

The same thing happened when they strapped him in his carseat and shut the door - in the two seconds he was alone in the car, the little guy panicked and thought he was being left all alone,
trapped.

He didn't know what it meant to have a secure loving family who would never abandon him. He didn't know their heart and intentions for him were always good, that what felt like abandonment and pain was actually for his benefit.

Now he does.

Last year the adoption finally came through, and our whole church rejoiced. The little guy is 4 now. And towards the end of today's sermon, Mr. Beard said, "Come 'ere, A.J."

I'd bet there wasn't a person in the sanctuary who was not smiling as his chubby little legs ran up the aisle, all by himself, and he climbed the steps to stand with proudly with his daddy on the stage. Mr. Beard picked him up, and asked, "Are you scared, A.J.?" A bold head-shake was the little guy's answer. Then, Mr. Beard put him, standing, on the front edge of the podium.

Now, the stage is probably a good 3-4 steps up, and each wooden step is fairly tall and broad. So he was up pretty high. I'm sure all the moms, and plenty of other people, were cringing at putting such a small little kid in such a dangerous spot! But A.J. kept grinning. Mr. Beard said a few more things as he descended the steps to right below A.J. then turned to his little boy, held out his arms, and said, "Are you ready?"

The little guy jumped right off the edge of that podium. And such a leap as A.J. took, so clearly trusting the strong arms of his father, but so clearly shocking to those of us who like "safety," was the most moving illustration I've seen in a long time of how we can and ought to trust God.

I too can jump joyfully if I really know God. Knowing His nature and character, I don't have to fear anything, neither poverty, nor pain, nor purpetual old-maidenhood. ;) I am safe in His arms. That's the sort of life I want to live. That's the sort of adventure He calls me to to have with Him.

~~~

Hope y'all have a glorious Monday, whatever you're doing!

Mysterious Characters

Surrounded by the aura of candlelight, two figures poured diligently over manuscripts of wisdom and adventure.


"He's one of them Rangers. Dangerous folk they are, wanderin' the Wild. What 'is right name is I've never 'eard, but around 'ere, 'es known as Strider... Or was it Bob?"


Greetings from Lady Rael and Sir Robert! Won't you join us in our literary journey? There's plenty of tea to refresh you before you must travel on!

Scribbled Thoughts by Light of the Tree

My older brother, Sam, is flying in tonight. Little-big brother and mother dear just left for the airport to pick him up. I would have liked to go, but I must stay here and be ready to be another brother's ride from work. But Sam will be here for somewhere around a glorious week, I think, and I'm looking forward to many quiet cups of tea, good conversations, and watching the new Pendragon film with him.

Our Christmas tree lights are LED, blue-white, and very bright. I like them. I also like our live tree, about 5-feet tall not counting it's potted roots.

Earl Grey and Panattoni bread go wonderfully with black-and-white Robin Hood episodes.

This is turning into a thankful post. Why ever not?

Our cat, Bella, was meowing very insistently to be petted, and proceeded to be quite lovey, without a bit of her usual propensity to lovingly bite.

Oh, and books! How could I forget?

There's Dickens, for starters. I just finished Great Expectations yesterday, and though I still liked Bleak House better, any Dickens novel is bound to be brimming with hilarious, lovable, ridiculous, and despicable characters, not to mention such writing and wisdom!

Though tempted to go straight into A Tale of Two Cities next (on Muglin's recommendation), upon studying my bookshelves my eye landed on Five Children and It. I read somewhere recently that Lewis or someone else I admire was fond of its authoress. I love a good children's book, so into its pages I fell. What a treasure! A bit of slight language is all I've seen wrong with it so far. The sparse, naratorial style of children's experiences reminds me much of Lewis, with plenty of common sense tucked into the tale of five siblings and their encounters with the sand fairy. Hilarious, charming!

And whilst my dear mother finished a project, I found it a perfect opportunity to read aloud to us both from Lorna Doone. Now there's a good book! A whole post, or series of posts, ought rightfully to be dedicated to this epitome of the manly virtues. It doesn't take us many pages to grow heartily attached to the refreshing, honest, young English farmer, and I for one want my boys (if I am so blessed with them) to grow up to be very much like John Ridd. But the merits of the story go far beyond even that of its main rough-but-humble character. Adventure, romance, and humor of some sort leaps from every page. We've been eating this one up.

Aside from devouring good stories, I have been so blessed to have brothers come home, and to be able to help cook for them, and fix their coffee (almost regularly) in the mornings, and to be able to drive to the duck pond with Little Big Brother in an attempt to catch "wee beasties" in a jar of water for his observation under the microscope. One a quiet day, I never imagined how much noise scores of lively ducks could make only by thapping the water with their feet!

About time now to get the Next-youngest Brother from work now. Littlest just called, and said the airport is crowded. I'm thankful the Lord of all Mercies is watching over all the travelers this

night.

(Added Later) Because I hate posting without a picture, and I'm woefully inept at keeping batteries in a camera and said camera handy along with necessary card reader and all such accouterments... here's another lovely old painting from my computer files. Isn't it pretty? To tie it into this post, I'll add my long hair to my thankful list. Mine may be just a hair shorter (ha ha, that was painfully lame) and sometimes wavier, but as often as I've been bemoaning it's sameness, I should just be nicer to it and thankful it can grow this long. :-)

What Am I Up To?

Isn't this a painting by John Everett Millais lovely? I personally love seeing autumn leaves on the ground. I don't get tired of them until, oh, maybe February or March.

For those of you who might be new to my blog (dare I hope I might be attracting new readers, with my pitiful irregularity of postings?), and just 'cause for others, I thought I'd do an update on what I'm doing with my life these days.

I consider my main job to be helping my wonderful mom, artist and homemaker, who is single and teaches Latin at a small Classical Christian school. She's done more than her share of housework raising and teaching me and my five brothers over the years. Now I'm glad to be able to help out with the endless dishes, laundry, cleaning, cooking, errands, and keeping house for her and my three brothers still at home. With two brothers still not driving, I also get to take them to school, work, and church and sports stuff. I have so many hats which I'm still learning to juggle, and sometimes it turns into a humerous mess! But what better practice for being a patient wife and mother of a big family someday! ;)

As to cleaning, I should mention I don't do this nearly as much as I should - mainly enough to keep things in somewhat decent order. So I'm not in too much danger of being like Mrs. Joe (see previous post) just yet, except in attitude, as when I just cleaned the bathroom mirror to find it covered with with water splatters! Tell me, reader, if you have ever cleaned a bathroom mirror or metallic faucet, do you not sigh just a little to see the shine covered with spots?

Once a week I help out with a Bible memorization program for kids at our church, called AWANA, and have enjoyed getting to know my group of third-grade girls this year. After the Christmas break, I'll be helping with a Good News Club, which involves sharing the gospel, Bible stories, missionary stories, and songs at a public school after classes once a week. I'm excited about that!

Aside from reading and writing, I've been doing all sorts of fun and crazy things, like learning how to make a kilt when my bagpiping brother needed one (those things are tricky to make, but so expensive to buy!), sewing tea cozies, making my family cheesecake just because, and helping my youngest brother compose a limerick about Spam for his teacher. :-)

I never know what I'll be called on to do next with such an artistic mother and creative, off-the-path brothers!

Happy Columbus Day! (and Happy Thanksgiving, in Canada)

"In fourteen hundred and ninty-two
Columbus sailed the ocean blue"

And in two thousand and eight I have been grinding wheat, making bread, cleaning kitchen, making toast (butter, cinnamon, and sugar, on half a flat bread...Unique, yes. Tasty, yes!) and listening to Doug Phillips speak on How to Think Like a Christian. Whit has been in the kitchen with me, working on math, since he didn't have to go to school (Hurrah!). Very communal. I have my hermitish tendencies, but I actually do like people. Brothers especially. :-)

Vision Forum's Behemoth has arrived! They have a few free downloads every day, which is where I aquired Doug Phillip's talk. I've also been eyeing several independent films...

Finally, a bit of writerly excitement. My current book, Melod's Song, has been moving along! Last week I finally wrote several scary scenes (frightening to me, because they needed to do so much and were so crucial to the story), and now am mainly filling in the gaps. Then it will be down to re-working the middle bits and editing and polishing, then, out into the wide wide world, to see if it can find a home with a publisher!

Shouldn't be any harder than sailing over an ocean to unknown lands, should it?


That is all I have to say,
So have a Thankful Columbus day!

(EDIT: Thanks to my Daddy, who noticed I at first had Columbus discovering the New World way back in the 1300s! Oops. That is now corrected. At least I got the nintey-two bit right...)

After a Summer's Silence

My dear friends, and whoever else might chance upon my blog:

The summer has come and gone, without seeing one new thing posted here. So, to summarize high points of our crazy wonderful lives,

• finished painting, yard-saleing, and moving!
  
• learned to park the suburban in the back, between the car and fence, without fear of wrecking (Hurrah!)
• led a journaling workshop for girls
  
• visited family in Colorado, old friends in New Mexico, and were visited by family in Texas.
• mother taught two weeks of art camp for kids at a museum, and I got to help!
  
• drove across parts of east Texas several times. Every other hill or so, my mother would say it was her favorite part of Texas. She said the same thing while we drove across New Mexico and Colorado, too... ;)
  
• watched the 7-and-1/2-hour-long Bleak House mini-series (*cough* twice *cough*) and plunged into the even-better book. Astonished and falling quite in love with Dickens' writing. Such characters he paints, and with such paint!
• wrote a good bit of my novel
  
• drank lots of coffee
  
• read lots of books
  
• watched too many movies while drinking tea with fellow conspirators, my mom and youngest brother
  
• made lunches
• cleaned (now and then)
  
• organized
  
• listened to audio dramas and books on tape/CD/MP3
• ate oranges
  
• discovered the most scrumptious chocolate coffee cake recipe
  
• sewed cloaks
  
• journaled
  
• played in rain
  
• laughed
  
• cried
• pondered
  
• puzzled
  
• and even went roller skating, with much fun and bruises

It was busy, varied, and I hope God-honoring. I'll try to come around more often. The fall writing bug has bitten me bad lately. And it's been rainy and cool, perfect writing weather! So beware! The main danger to my writing is finding too much good stuff to read. ;)

Remembering His Benefits

Bless the Lord, O my soul;
And all that is within me, bless His holy name.
Bless the Lord, O my soul,
And forget none of His benefits;
~Psalm 103:1,2~

Way back when I was a smallish child of six, I wrote my first journal entry.

Translation: “One day, me, Sam, and Mama went to a wedding.”

It was my first wedding to attend, and I was duly impressed (both with the ceremony and, of course, the cake and punch afterwards!) so I apparently thought it an event deserving of record. This morning I got out that first old journal to read, laugh over, and remember. I might share some especially funny entries later, if anyone would like to see them. :-)

I’ve been thinking – for all my years of journaling (my spelling and handwriting have improved just a little, and perhaps I'm more wordy now), how often have I deliberately written careful letters and thoughts for future generations? Am I actively seeking to record God’s providences in my life? Am I keeping a record of my life story to pass on to my children so they can see that God’s faithfulness? And am I seeking to always remember, myself?

I can look at that first journal entry now and be grateful for so much. Attending that wedding was one of many opportunities my mother took to teach me that marriage is wonderful and serious, a promise before God meant to last a lifetime. I’m sure I wore a dress, and I can be thankful that I was always provided with only modest clothes, no matter how young I was. I was six, and that made me remember that I’d already learned to read and started to write (some might look at my scribbling and phonetically-correct spelling and disagree!), and the “One day” beginning showed my early love of stories.

I’ve been reminded again just how surely thankfulness cures misery, boredom, and plain old grumpiness. Not saying a vague and hurried, “Thanks, God, for everything… now, make everything better, please.” Um, nope. Not that I would know that doesn’t work from experience. *cough*

Of course we can be brief in our prayers, and of course when we don’t know specifics of something, God does. But I think He likes us to be specific when we can. And it’s so good for us! I find this in the (to often procrastinated) joy of writing thank-you notes. To write them, to speak of specific things people have done for me, is to remember my blessings and how special people are to me.

And thanking the Lord, especially recording those blessings, is a great way to glorify and delight in Him.

Here, the shepherd-poet David remembers God’s benefits to him:

Who pardons all your iniquities;
Who heals all your diseases;
Who redeems your life from the pit;
Who crowns you with lovingkindess and compassion;
Who satisfies your years with good things,
So that your youth is renewed like the eagle.
~Psalm 103:3-5~

A truly thankful heart is a delight, because it focuses on what we’ve already been given, on remembering, on pondering God’s faithfulness. Even if it’s only through the clumsy scribbles of a child, our Father is glorified. And though we’re only on earth for part the Great Story, even our frail hands can help in the telling.

(Image: Frodo writing in the Red Book, from The Return of the King)

Breaks, Boxes, and Biddies

As I claimed I actually do more with my life than read and order books, it is high time I gave a bit of an account of my doings. Think ye 'tis so? I agree.

The Break
This past week I finally made it back to Abilene to visit my college family, the Istres. That visit itself would be material for a dozen posts if I were being as regular a poster as I still hope to be. For now I'll just say I hung out with rabbits, chickens, cows, kitties, and mice, got caught up on the continuing saga of the Lox and Thingamamjigs (which the kids are writing and illustrating in spiral notebooks), eagerly studied Chelsa's homemaking notebook and showed her mine, and did so many fun things with the dear family it is hard to remember them all. Perhaps the quiet, unremarkable times just being with them were the most precious.

(From top left, going clockwise) Here Sierra, Steel, Samantha, and Sterling work on one of many Lox and Thingamajig books.

One of my favorite days, though, was Thursday, after the main chores and school had been done. We all went down to the (not so) Clear fork of the Brazos River, which runs along the back of their land. Sometimes the kids' daily exercise is a walk down the road, but this was much more exciting for me. I didn't plan on getting in, yet before I knew it, I was almost up to my knees helping them move a log to make a bridge. The log turned out too short, but once I was in I realized it had been far too long since I'd waded in a river. The day was perfect and sunny, the rushing water cold around my toes in their blue foam shoes, and I felt like a kid on an adventure. After going upriver a ways, most of us sat on the grassy bank to dry, while I began to read aloud from The Hobbit. Such a delightful morning. Not even spots of murky water (and thoughts of leeches) or a wet skirt could dampen it. ;)

The Boxes
As I said, last week's visit could fill many more blog posts. So for now I'll move on to what else has been happening in my family since my return. We have been doing precisely that: moving!


I knew we were moving to another house fairly soon, perhaps around May or so, but I came home to a very frumpled house that was fairly on its way to being dismantled already!

Oh.

The Lord has shown me that I'm not quite so selfless and composed and patient as I like to believe. Why can't we do things this way, or put this here, or do it in this order? This house doesn't even have __________ (fill in anything not normally in a smallish, oldish, oddish sort of house). What a horrible color on the inside of those cabinets! Not to mention all the other things I'd rather be (and/or feel I ought to be) doing.

But what a grand opportunity to practice patience, thankfulness, and cheerfulness in following the Lord where He takes us! May it not be wasted.

Above: So, I didn't get a photo, but this afternoon I was over at the new(to us) house cleaning. It was actually pretty fun, though it would have been more fun if I'd worn an apron. ;)

The Biddies
Finally, my most exciting news. I have new pets, wonderful creatures I brought home from the Istre farm. Four beautiful, chirpy young chickens. Don't laugh... well, alright, I give you permission if you must. Nevertheless, I am serious about raising these quirky birds. Do I know what I'm getting myself into? Not entirely. But I'm fairly certain these pets will be more exciting and productive than any old cat, dog, or hamster.

Left: Whit working on the chicken coop, while the friendly Rhode Island Red and the shyer Barred Rock check out his progress

If anyone has ideas for good chicken names, I'd welcome them. They're all hens. I'm thinking something classic and respectable for the lovely young ladies, yet not too frilly for everyday use. Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy is the closest I've come, but that doesn't quite fit, somehow... ;)

Thoughts on Coming Home

As I mentioned before in teeny tiny letters, I have officially graduated from college with a B.A. in English. Yay! :-)

How does it feel? Well, I'm thrilled! Ecstatic. Thankfully relieved. And terribly nervous, in a mostly good sort of way.

Ever since I was little I have wanted to follow in my dear mother's footsteps and be a homemaker. Over the years this desire has grown. Many of the decisions I have made, and hopefully many more to follow, have been practical ways of preparing for my future calling. Choosing English as a major, which is a useful area of study for anyone, any time or position in life, and not simply a degree only justified by a following career. Attending a university only 2 and 1/2 hours away from home, so I could visit frequently. Living with a close-knit, God-centered homeschooling family for my last three semesters who gave me unending encouragement, ideas, delight, and vision. Only taking small part-time summer jobs to leave room for time with family, at home or abroad. And finally, despite many confident assertions from professors that I was "graduate school material," returning home to live with and serve my mother and brothers.

I think it will be the best way to prepare for what I'll likely be doing the rest of my life once I get married (being a helpmeet and mother), but even if that never happens, I believe it will be the most sensible and fulfilling and God-honoring place for me to be.

It's going to be an adventure quite unlike my last big quest for a college diploma. Actually, it might be very similar to my old days of homeschooling! Here are some similarities:

1. I'll be home a lot, working on self-motivation for lifelong learning.
   
2. I'll have lots of chances to waste time, or redeem it amazingly.
   
3. I'll be able to spend more time with my family and friends, to more freely serve the Church and the needy.

A big difference between now and my "official" homeschool days: I am done with Saxon Math! Um, that is until I have my own kids... hopefully they can get assistance from their father or a math-minded uncle. ;)

Another difference will be the new responsibilities I want to take on seriously (cooking), new habits to form (regular hours of writing each day*), and the challenge of sticking to my own schedule while still being flexible to allow for the bending wind-breath of the Still Small Voice. . .

Tomorrow will be the first day my family goes back to school, and my first official day of not being in school or working. Oh, wait, I shall be working! My job will begin around 5:15, because three days a week, Whit has basketball practice at 6:30 A.M.! I shall try to feed him, but he knows it won't be wise to eat much before a tough workout. Then I have the rest of my day divided up... I might post tomorrow on what my plan's specifics, and how things turn out. :-)

If anyone has advice, thoughts, or words of wisdom, I would more than welcome it!

*Because of course I still intend to write books. Long ones, and many, muhahahah! ;-)

Thanksgiving and such

Here's a picture of a few members of two clans having breakfast at our house on Thursday. :-)

We have had a blessed Thanksgiving (and surrounding days)! Every good and perfect gift is indeed from God, and He has been gracious to me and my family in many ways this year. We had our dear friends from New Mexico come down to spend a few nights, and ((except for Sam, who we missed very much but spent time with good friends in Iowa) it was the first time in years that all us kids were together! Emmy, the 7-month-old newest addition, who they are in the process of adopting, was often the life of the party! Huge black eyes, and forever finding string, crumbs, and unidentified objects to put in her mouth.

As always there was tons of food, both the formal meal type from "the meal" and the fun snacking sort. Coffee was quaffed by the potfulls, tea and hot chocolate coming in close behind. We've had an almost constant fire in the hearth, which old fat Bella enjoys as much as the people do. What all did we do with our dear friends besides eat? Well, we talked, played board games, played parlor games, played instruments (see above) and sang, did homework (a few of us desperate ones did it together, and it was actually a bit sociable and productive both!), read quietly, read aloud from our collected novels (finished and un) , watched too many silly videos on YouTube, did dishes, watched The Muppet Show, played in snow, made snow ice cream, watched Amazing Grace, wondered what to do next, and of course spoke in accents. Altogether, it was a regular get-together for our families, if a bit more crowded than usual. But no less quirky and edifying! :-)

The "Winter Weather Advisory" grey on the left, spreading conveniently right where I would drive, is why I shall not return to school until tomorrow, after the storm has moved on and the temperature, sun, and traffic help melt any ice. I've hardly missed any classes this semester, so I shan't feel very guilty about skipping a day.

Meanwhile, I'm quite content to plug away here at homework, which at the moment consists of reading Little Women for American Literature. :-) Quite different from my normal depressing school fare! I also need to read King Lear, though shall refuse to let it spoil my cheeriness.

Only two more weeks of school, then Finals week, and then in less than a month I shall be a graduated English major, ready to get down to the serious business of writing, homemaking, serving, and seeking the Lord in a new season of life!

Summer-y: Pipes

My little- rather, my youngest brother (seeing as he’s taller than me now), Whit, got a bagpipe practice chanter for Christmas, and during the school year he’s taken lessons from a teacher at his school. For free. This summer he’s gone a few times to her bagpipe practice group that meets in a church building, and each time the pipers have been eager to work with him and basically give him more free lessons in between their own practice. Perhaps they’re afraid the art is dying out, and they love it too much to ask for money before passing it on.

Well, the other evening I went with Whit to practice to watch and listen and let my Scottish blood tingle. I was quickly interrogated as to whether I played too (no), whether I wanted to (perhaps some day), and at that I was handed a chanter and guided by one big burly man (with a reddish-blond beard), while Whit was interrogated on his practice or lack thereof and worked with through a new song. Our mom had left for a quilter’s meeting across the street, so when we came out I informed her that I now had a borrowed practice chanter and the ability to play the scale! More like honk and puff and screech out the scale, but at least I know where the notes are and how (after a bit of blowing) to make something a bit like a note emerge.

The moral of the story: If you’re around a bagpiper and have some slight wish to play the instrument someday, beware! ;)

Summery-y: Brothers, Tea, Movies, Silliness…

What have I done with brothers? Hmm. Dishes, making fruit salad and zucchini bread, laundry, listening to Adventures in Odyssey, library trips… Whit and I have been having a nice pot of tea every night and watching an episode of The Waltons. We just ran out of Earl Grey, though, to which I am a recent convert thanks to my friend Catie. ;) I’m also trying to finish sewing a lovely grey skirt that should help my wardrobe a lot. Yesterday Isaac and Whit’s friend Daniel came to spend the night, and we watched the first three Star Wars episodes. We were going to watch the last three today, but I think the boys are having more fun on the computers.

Patience, Rael needs to learn. Been wanting to have a Lord of the Rings marathon too, she has. But marathon watching all the time not good it would be! Getting worse are her sentences, so stop now she must. To write later she will try.

Summer-y: Art Camp

For the last two weeks, my mom taught art classes for kids at a nearby museum, and I got to be her paid assistant! That was a blast. The first week we made books, and the second it was imaginary things/creatures (the most fun). It’s heart-wrenching, meeting kids from broken homes, bashing heads with a few difficult-yet-lovable ones, wanting to take home the sweetest little shy ones, and then saying goodbye, hoping to see them next year.

Some of those kids acted like they’d never played with paper and glue before. Some liked to copy the examples, while others went off in wild directions with painful enthusiasm. We had to go from saying, “Don’t use all the pipe cleaners; someone else might need some!” to “I can’t tell you exactly how to do it. Be creative, and use more paint!”

Among other things, they made a multitude of pipe-cleaner princesses, robots made from tin cans, a mermaid playing basketball, a UFO invading a castle while the people were out shopping (one of my favorites), and a wardrobe door that opened into a forest of popsicle-stick trees and a sky of white button-stars on a felt background. And it was a delight to see tables and floor covered with so many feathers, beads, buttons, sequins, googly eyes, pieces of cardstock and tissue paper, pencils, scissors, and web-like strings from the glue gun (operated by myself, with peeling fingers and huge popularity as reward), that one could tell at a glance fun was had by all. Then there was cleaning up on Friday. But t’was more than worth it! In a few weeks I’ll be helping some other teachers with two more weeks of it, but I don’t think it could be quite as enjoyable as doing it with my own dear creative mum. :-)

A hunter, a weaver, and the great outdoors

As I walked back along the road this Monday, Dusty’s soft horsy nose and whiskers tickled my hand. We plodded in the quiet spring afternoon, tiredly content from the ride. The weather was warm, but breezy and pleasant. Wide grassland stretched out on either side, the once-flaxen waves of grass turning wonderfully green in earnest. I sigh, and breath in the air, filling my lungs as one can only outside.

Suddenly I was arrested by a soft, commanding scent nestling into my nose and head, echoing in shadowy corners of memory. It hinted of flowers, of earth warmed in sun, of the green things breathing and shooting up after the past week’s rain whispered “Spring!” But it’s more. Something about the smell made me think of a certain little house on a rutted back road, on the edge of a small thicket surrounded by fields. It was the place of walks with grandparents now gone, of their deep laughs and solemn prayers. The smell calls me back…

In cowboy hat, boots, and gentle blue eyes, Granddaddy would sit on the porch with a coffee mug every morning hours before the sun peeped up. I don’t think he usually brought a book. He just sat there. When I was little I thought that would be so boring. I was an early riser too, but it only meant more time for my current Black Stallion book or historical fiction adventure!

Now I can admire that stillness.

What went through his mind? Did he reflect on years of farming, hunting, growing girls, growing algebra students, Sunday school and choir practice? Was it his special time to talk the Creator as he watched His world come alive? Granddaddy was normally stiller than any wild creature who might wander across the yard. Bird, fox, deer, coon, he knew them all. Even the hunter in him was loving, tender with all wild and growing things, never killing recklessly or wastefully.

I learned early on that Disney and I could never agree on the inherent badness of hunters and guns.

Grandmother, too, loved the outdoors. She went on walks every day, until soon before she died. Oatmeal was cooked every morning without fail. When we grandkids visited, she fed us well. But sweets or ice cream were only the rare treat Granddaddy brought out. They were hearty, healthy, going on hunting and hiking trips in the mountains with their Jeep Cherokee even in their mid-sixties. It was a surprise when they left within about a year of each other. Her raven-black hair was only beginning to gray, and his mind has been sharp and active only months before.

Grandmother may have been wrinkled, but she could shoot the shuttle across the warp of the loom like a marksman. Which she was. She helped Granddaddy with whatever he was building at the moment, and always amazed me when her thin arms lifted what I thought heavy.

When my family came to visit, some time was spent inside, watching Granddaddy’s beloved collection of Gene Autry, Roy Rogers, John Wayne, and other classics. Or we would lie on beds, on the couch, and read. The hardwood floor was fun, especially slippery in socks.

But outdoors was the place of adventures. There were the huge tangled pines to climb, our clothes and hair getting all sticky with sap and scratched with the rough bark that called us to go just a bit higher. There were the wandering paths, weaving between mesquites and brush and around prickly pear patches, not long, but enough to make us brave explorers.

My heritage has grown in odd twists. Rather like the mesquite trees around here. It’s no coincidence, no mere chance that I've grown up with delight in windblown hair and dusty clothes, seeing reflections of my Creator God’s genius and imagination in every spider’s web or wildflower. Even in smells, and a horse's breathy soft nose.

A few of my Favorite Things

(Addendum to last post: I finished the book a few days ago. Don't read Beyond the Summerlands if you hate surprise endings. This one is rather upsetting, though once you know to look, you can almost see it coming. I still want to know what happens, and if the writing improves, but I don't think I will now, or for a while. I'd rather spend my gift cards on classics, Lewis, Peter Kreeft, or John Piper. As long as I decide before I use it all on coffee in the Cafe.)

~~~

Today, for lack of premeditated profundity, I'm writing about some things I'm thankful for.

My dear Daddy
The other night he took me out to eat, but better than the delicious coconut shrimp dipped in raspberry sauce was spending time with my daddy. We talked about lots of things, like changes in life, work, writing, the oddities of English classes, the oddities of people's hair, and the mysterious tiny forks (one was brought out on my plate, caught in the very act of impaling a hapless lemon slice). It was a good time. Girls, if I can be a bossy sister for a minute, I implore you to spend time with your dad. Be his little girl, and let him know it, and seek his advice. Not only is it right and beautiful to God when we honor our parents so, but it's also great practice for when we get married. You know they tell girls to watch how guys treat their mothers? I think the converse advice is also telling. I know I'm not the perfect daughter, Daddy, but I'm working on it. You are so dear to me.

Handwork
I'm finishing a skirt I started a while ago, and it's turning out nicely. Since I'm not an experienced seamstress, it's usually a toss-up if clothes I sew will fit or not. Most often they bulge, gape, or constrict someplace, and some have done all three. But this is a simple skirt, with a nice busy pattern to distract from minor flaws ;), and all I have left is the hem and some hand-stitching. Since I finished a scarf earlier, around Christmas, I haven't done much besides read, write, and do dishes. Which all needed doing, and had varying levels of worth attacked. But there's something about handwork that gives more satisfaction than staring at a page or screen. Washing dishes may be a distant relative, since that's doing something with your hands, and bringing order to chaos. But making dishes would be more fun. I know, in our busy culture it's not many who have time (or would want) to make all their own clothes, build their own house, and grow their own food. But I hope we don't forget the value of working with our hands to make useful and/or beautiful things. And by value I mean a sort one can't find at Wal-Mart. So I'm thankful God gave me hands, and work to do with them.

Classics
I've started Jane Eyre, and so far it's quite good. Rather dreary, as it's a Romantic novel, and perhaps even Gothic. So far, poor Jane has had a miserable childhood, living with a mean aunt and cruel cousins, and now she's just arrived at a charity school for orphans. I've only heard a bit about it, and don't know much of the story at all. Last semester I was given a horrified look when a 19th century British Lit classmate heard my confession of not having read it yet. I may have to finish it amid many other books, though, as the re-advent of homework is only days away. I also need to finish North and South by Elisabeth Gaskell, which I had to abandon during last semester, alas. But it's so comforting to know many good classics await me, patiently. They don't get flustered and fall to dust when flighty folks overlook them and snatch instead new thrillers and popular-for-a-month paperbacks. They know none of those will keep in bondage people hungry for good meat. Maybe it's the difference between whole wheat bread and the white bread fluff. One might go down easier, without as much chewing, but for those who want more nutrition, fiber, and lasting goodness, the sort that needs chewing is chewed with pleasure.

*Note: The above picture is called "Northwest Passage," by John Everett Millais, a Pre-Raphaelite painter