Conflicted in Conflict

I have to admit: In my life, I haven’t given much thought to the idea of Satan. I guess I always chalked him up to the equivalent of the Boogie Man, and I don’t give him much thought either.

But these days, I’m reevaluating the presence of the devil. Satan. The adversary, as some call him. (Cue the scary music.) I think he’s trying to wiggle his way into my heart.

I’m having issues with a Former Friend. We used to be close many many years ago, but something happened and that period of our lives ended. Now there are new issues cropping up. I won’t share the details because it’s a private matter and no one needs to air dirty laundry on a blog. Forgive me for being so cryptic. I’m sure you’re thinking, “If she’s not going to share the details, why even bring it up?” I’m bringing it up because it has me so conflicted inside.

Part of me wants to react to the situation with anger and seek retribution. Aha, that’s where the “devil is dancing,” as a woman from my small group put it. Oh, how I want to give this Former Friend a verbal dress down!

But for one of the first times in my life, I’m choosing a different path. I’m taking an active stance to follow Jesus and let Him show me how to handle this conflict. Jesus is whispering in my heart. He tells me, “Elizabeth, I’ve called you to a life that’s better than anger and retribution.” Then He reminds me that His love covers everyone. Everyone. Even me. And even her.

And as much as I want to take the low road on this one, as much as my human sinfulness wants to spew hurt back on the hurters, I know this time I have the choice to show the world (or at least my Former Friend) who holds my heart now. I am making the conscious effort to override the unconscious response of anger. And, dude! It is really really hard!

Retribution and anger can consume me. Thankfully, I’ve got a firewall that promises to protect me. At the end of the day, I want You to be proud of me, Jesus. I want You to shine through me. Amen!

Katie’s Charm Bracelet

When I was a little girl, one of the things I loved to do was go through Mom’s jewelry box and look at all her treasures. I always loved the silver charm bracelet she had hidden away. I never saw her wear it, and I don’t know much about where it came from or when it was purchased.

When I got older, I started collecting charms for my own charm bracelet. Mom bought me some, I bought myself some, and others were given as gifts from friends or Dan. When Mom died, I inherited her charm bracelet as well as some other jewelry. There were some pieces – including the charm bracelet – that I don’t know anything about. Since I feel that jewelry is a personal statement, I decided I didn’t want stories of my own jewelry to die with me. I decided to photograph each piece, then I made a scrapbook and described the jewelry in my own handwriting. I even included a photo of my original engagement ring (the one I lost!) and the story of how I lost it. I’m glad I documented my jewelry, and one day I hope it’s something my kids will appreciate owning.

When Katie turned one, I started a charm bracelet for her. I decided to buy her a charm each year for her birthday. She hasn’t even seen it yet. I know she’s not ready to wear a piece of" “real” jewelry, but I’ll keep collecting charms until I feel the time is right to give it to her.

There are seven charms on the bracelet. The first is the year “2004”, which signifies her first birthday and her first charm.

The second charm is a butterfly. The day before Mom died, she told Mary and I, “I know I’m not a butterfly, but I feel like I’m in a cocoon.” Mary and I started collecting butterflies as a way to remember Mom. I chose a butterfly for Katie’s second birthday because it reflected the loss of her grandmother (and grandfather) that year.

The third charm is a pickup truck. For Katie’s third birthday, we had a Dodge Ram party. She *loved* Dodge Rams at the time, so her party was all about trucks. The cupcakes had real Matchbox trucks on them, the kids made foam trucks/cars at the party, and we borrowed my friend Catrina’s Dodge Ram so the kids could take a ride in it up and down the street. It was only fitting that the charm that year was a truck!

The fourth charm is a black bead. It is a bead made by a woman named Lisa at Roses2Remember. She uses roses from special events (weddings, funerals, etc.) and makes jewelry from them. For Valentine’s Day 2007, Dan gave Katie her first bouquet of roses. I saved them and sent one to Lisa. She made a bead for Katie’s charm bracelet, so Katie will always have a reminder of how much her dad loved her before she even realized it! (Lisa has also made jewelry out of roses from Dad’s funeral and Grandmother’s funeral. I highly recommend asking her to help commemorate something special for you too.)

The fifth charm is a school bus. It signifies Katie’s entry into Kindergarten that year. The sixth charm is a ruler, which also commemorates school. This is a bit confusing. Katie’s birthday is in June, and school starts in July. So when she turned five, I gave her the bus charm because she would be going to school in a matter of weeks. (She also just had her first ride in a school bus for our district’s Saturday School preparation for Kindergarten.) Then for her sixth birthday, I wanted to commemorate the year that had just passed – her first year of school – so I did the ruler. I know, it wasn’t very original. But it is what it is!

The seventh and last charm is a gymnast. The year between Katie’s sixth and seventh birthdays was the first year she took gymnastics lessons. She went from barely doing a somersault to being able to do cartwheels and handstands by herself. I was so proud of her and wanted to mark the growth and confidence she gained through gymnastics.

I have a while until Katie’s next birthday, but I’m already thinking of the ways she’ll grow this coming year, and how we’ll be able to mark the growth next June!

Dancing in the Rain

See my blog header? The one with the word “FAMILY” superimposed over my family’s faces? Have any of you stopped to read the quote below that? The one that says: “Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain.”

Didja get that? If not, go read it again.

There are storms, people. Big ones. My skies aren’t very dark right now, but I have close friends who have some enormous thunder clouds raining down on them. The ones who have new babies and keep asking, “Why?” The ones who have cancer and also ask, “Why?” The friends who have lost loved ones and feel so alone. Or those friends whose marriages are cold and unraveling.

Sometimes, I don’t know what to say to them. I’ve weathered storms, but my storms left their own special brand of devastation on my life. My friends are going through their own storms, and I don’t have a lot to say to them. But, then again, maybe they don’t want me to say anything to them.

But, oh! I hope they know I’m dancing with them. That they’re not alone. That my heart aches too. I hope that my presence beside them is a dance unto itself, even if the soundtrack is one of silence and anguish. The dancing? It might not be much more than surviving another day. Or holding that baby. Or maybe the dance is simply shedding tears.

There can be beauty in the storm, beauty in the dancing. Let me rephrase that – maybe not a beautiful storm, but beauty in surviving it.

Known and Loved

We saw a video at church this weekend which left a deep impression on me. My friend Tony preached a message about sharing your story – The Story. You know, the one about Jesus? The greatest Story ever told? That Story wasn’t meant to end with you or with me. It’s a Story that’s meant to be shared and passed from person to person, friend to friend, parent to child, generation to generation. Tony asked the question: where are you with The Story? Are you still sitting on the sidelines, listening to someone else narrate it? Or are you actually IN The Story?

Tony made the point that sometimes, you don’t even have to use words to tell The Story. St. Francis said it best: “Preach the gospel at all times; when necessary, use words.” Dear Lord, help me to be a better preacher!

"So take me as you find me, all my fears and failures. Fill my life again. I give my life to follow everything I believe in. Now I surrender." (Mighty to Save by Hillsong)

Here’s the video that stuck with me, and the transcript of it is below.

I am a woman. Of no distinction. Of little importance. I am a woman of no reputation, save that which is bad. You whisper as I pass by and cast judgmental glances though you don’t really take the time to look at me, or, even get to know me, for to be known is to be loved, and to be loved is to be known and, otherwise, what’s the point of doing either one of them in the first place? I want to be known. I want someone to look at my face and not just see two eyes, a nose, a mouth, and two ears but to see all that I am and could be. All my hopes, loves, and fears but that’s too much to hope for, to wish for, or pray for so I don’t. Not anymore. Now I keep to myself, and by that I mean the pain that keeps me in my own private jail. The pain that has brought me here, at midday, to this well.

To ask for a drink is no big request, but to ask it of me, a woman unclean, ashamed, used and abused, an outcast, a failure, a disappointment, a sinner. No drink passing from these hands to your lips could ever be refreshing, only condemning, as I’m sure you condemn me now, but you don’t.

You’re a man of no distinction, though of the utmost importance. A man with little reputation, at least so far. You whisper and tell me to my face what all those glances have been about, and you take the time to really look at me but don’t need to get to know me for to be known is to be loved, and to be loved is to be known, and you know me. You actually know me. All of me and everything about me. Every thought inside and hair on top of my head. Every hurt stored up, every hope, every dread from my past and my future, all I am and can be you tell me everything. You tell me about me.

And that which is spoken by another would bring hate and condemnation. Coming from you it brings love, grace, mercy, hope, and salvation. I’ve heard of one to come who would save a wretch like me, and here in my presence you say, “I am he.”

To be known is to be loved, and to be loved is to be known.

And I just met you, but I love you. I don’t know you, but I want to get to. Let me run back to town; this is way too much for just me. There are others–brothers, sisters, lovers, haters, the good and the bad, sinners and saints who should hear what you have told me, who should see what you have shown me, who should taste what you gave me, who should feel how you forgave me.

For to be known is to be loved, and to be loved is to be known.

And they all need this too. We all do. We need it for our own.

Thanks to MandiKaye at Free to Be Me for transcribing the text to this video.

Funk Busters

I’ve been in a funk lately, and kind of for silly reasons. But I know that I can’t push those reasons away, so I wallowed in them for a few days. I did some soul-searching and questioning God about certain aspects of it. This carried on for a week, then I finally decided I needed to force myself out of the slump.

I started a list of things that really inspire me and make me feel alive, and decided to tackle a few of them in an effort to swing my funky pendulum back to feel-good.

Here’s the list of my personal Funk Busters:

1. Read a great book. Two days ago, I picked up my copy of The Shack and started reading again. This book changed my view of Jesus (and God and the Holy Spirit) from impersonal to one of companionship. In my funk, I need that reminder, so I chose this book to help me find that place again.

2. Get behind the lens of my camera and take some photos. Using my camera awakens my heart in ways that are indescribable to me. Looking through the lens helps me to figuratively and literally focus my brain and get into the Flow.

3. Help someone else. This is a no brainer, right? At least I hope you think so too! When I’m down, helping someone else makes me feel less alone. Even if it’s just paying for the person behind me in the drive through line, it still makes me feel connected to the world in a bigger way.

4. Go swimming at the gym. The rhythm of my arms pulling while my legs kick and my mouth breathes in while my nose breathes out helps clear the clutter from my mind. At the end of my swim workout, I always hook my legs on the side of the pool and let my body float in the water so the only thing poking out is my face (for breathing). I close my eyes and focus on the sound of air rushing into and out of my lungs, and I find my center again.

5. Craft something. On Tuesday, I got my stamps out and set about making covers for my fabric scrapbooks. I recently decided to stop scrapbooking. I feel like these fabric scrapbooks I’ve been making will suffice for my family and my lifestyle. I gathered them all in one spot and hung them on the wall, but they needed some extra oomph. I crafted some covers and love the end results. It’s amazing what a good craft project does for my outlook on life!

So, what do YOU do when you’re in a funk? How do you bust yourself out of the blues?

Playing Catch Up

Here are some things we’ve done or made or visited or played with lately.

My kids are getting in to Legos, but I only allow Lego play time while I’m showering in the mornings. It keeps the kids occupied so I can shower in peace, and keeps the tiny little pieces contained.

I’ve rediscovered Shrinky Dinks. I made a Wonder Woman bracelet to wear on those days when I feel less-than-wonderful.

I also used Shrinky Dinks to make some photo jewelry of my kids, a keychain, and a durable tag for Katie’s doll. The tag includes our phone number in case Katie is ever separated from Alexis.

I got a new [used] Bible, that I am thoroughly enjoying. It is an illustrated version by calligraphist Timothy R. Botts. Trust me, I paid the used price for it – not new! It is pretty big and heavy, so I made a special space at the top of my stairs where I have started spending the first 10 minutes of every day. I open the Bible, flip the pages until I find an illustration that captures my eye, then I sort of meditate over it for a few minutes. It has really helped me start my days with more intention and it has grounded me before the morning rush begins. I know ten minutes isn’t long, but it’s WAY more than I’m used to spending in dedicated time with my Bible. In the past, I’ve spent my quiet time in journaling and reading devotions. This new Bible has inspired me to dig deeper into God’s message.

My friend Susan brought her kids for a visit a few weekends ago. I am lucky to have friends like her who knew me years ago and – surprisingly sometimes! – still want to be my friend.

Color Me Katie gave me a great idea for snack time: marshmallow faces!

I found some test tube holders at Leftovers and I’m using them for vases.

Silly Bandz. Both of my kids love ‘em.

My friend Cindy found this scrappy little dude on her tire yesterday, in front of my house. I took this photo just before he pounced at my lens.

80 pounds of pork butt are sitting beside me in the kitchen at this very moment, rubbed with special spices and waiting to be smoked tonight on our Steeley Pit. Dan is helping feed 400+ people at church tomorrow, so we’ll be sitting on our driveway in the heat tonight, having some adult beverages and waiting for the meat to cook. The spices are wafting through my house right now, and it’s almost overwhelming!

I finally decided to let myself off the hook and postpone my plans to do a full marathon in October. I am going to do the half instead, because training for the full was going to require a lot more time than I am able to give. I think I’ll get around to the full one day, when my kids are a little older and I can leave them for longer chunks of time. I agonized over the decision a bit, but once I decided on just the half, I felt a lot of relief and peace over the decision.

After almost two years of fighting it, I agreed to let my doctor put me on some new medication for my Raynaud’s Syndrome. Side effects from the meds on the first two days freaked me out (an aggressive headache and some dizziness), but I stabilized and the R.S. hasn’t affected me as badly anymore. I can go to the gym and actually have circulation in my toes AND hands when I run on the treadmill! I still have a little neuropathy in some toes, but I am thrilled with the improvement.

The Christian radio station in town is broadcasting on a new frequency and the quality is so much better that I am listening almost nonstop. I am hearing lots of new music, and my iTunes wish list is bursting at the seams now with 40 songs I want to download.

I’m starting to percolate some ideas for Christmas this year. I’m taking part in the Advent Conspiracy again. Are you? If you have any great ideas that fit the four themes of A/C, let me know: Spend Less. Give More. Worship Fully. Love All.

Witness to a Miracle

One of my best friends, Beth, found out she was pregnant at the end of February. The story gets better: she found out she was having twins! The babies were due at Halloween, but Beth knew they would probably come earlier than that. Her two older boys came a little early, so she figured the twins would too.

Oh, was she ever right!

Beth has been limiting her activities since an amniocentesis in May. Last Monday, Beth’s water broke. She was 28 weeks pregnant. I know from past experiences with other friends that in utero babies are viable at 26 weeks. That doesn’t guarantee no complications, but it means that 26 weeks is a huge milestone.

Beth was rushed to the hospital, and doctors stopped her contractions. She and her family made plans for her to stay in the hospital for an extended time. Her mom and sisters would watch her older boys when her firefighter husband was at work pulling 48 hour shifts. Beth settled in for the long haul, but it lasted less than five days.

Early Friday morning, I got a call as I was preparing breakfast for my kids. Beth asked if I received a text that was sent to me. I said no and asked why. She told me she had the babies at 3:30 that morning. They just wouldn’t wait any longer! My heart leapt into my throat as I was afraid to ask how the twins were. She said they were doing very well and told me their stats. Owen was born first, weighing 1 pound 13 ounces. Finn was born second, weighing 3 pounds 7 ounces.

Later that afternoon, I got a babysitter for Jackson and went to the hospital to see Beth and her new sons.

This is Owen:

And this is Finn:

Do you have any idea what it’s like to look on a tiny baby like these, and know – without a doubt – that God’s love is infinite and complete? It is breathtaking. Stunning. Magical. There is no way that you can see these babies in person and then profess that God does not exist.

I have witnessed two miracles. Their names are Finn and Owen.

Which One’s the Lie?

This past week, I’ve enjoyed reading the comments y’all made on this post. I think it’s especially funny how so many of you can’t believe I killed two pets. And I love that I got so many comments and that some of you lurkers came out of hiding! (Now that you’re out, can you please STAY out and comment some more? Pretty please?!)

So, here’s the answer: #4 is the lie! My brother never handcuffed me in the attic. I’m pretty sure he handcuffed me at some point in our childhood, but it wasn’t for three hours and I wasn’t abandoned in the attic.

And THAT means the other six are all true. Egads! Before y’all go getting all PETA on me, let me explain each of them.

1. I really did believe I was a witch and had special powers when I was little. I believed inanimate objects were alive too, kind of like the talking chairs and clock in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. Yep, that’s me, overactive imagination and all!

2. I went through a short phase when I started rationing my words in case I was allowed only a certain amount before I died. I think this phase lasted about an hour, until I threw caution to the wind and decided I might as well die young because nothing was going to shut me up. I’m still on that talking streak, you know.

3. When I was in first grade and Jackson was in fifth grade, my dad started his own company in his business partner’s basement. Mom was the bookkeeper, and she would take my brother and I to the partner’s house. We’d get in all kinds of trouble, messing around in their house and backyard while Mom was trying to work. One day, we were being hooligans and playing in Mom’s Buick. It had a button in the glove compartment that you pushed to pop the trunk lid open. Jackson and I decided to take turns in the trunk, and one person would pop it to let the other person out. We did this for a while, then Jackson had the brilliant idea to get in the trunk together. I remember laying there beside him as he lowered the trunk lid on us. He said he wasn’t going to close it all the way; he just wanted to see what it was like in the dark. (I realize now how idiotic that was – as if the trunk looked any different with BOTH of us in it as opposed to just one of it inside.) Of course, the trunk came down too fast and latched. We were STUCK. We started yelling and kicking to get out, but we couldn’t. Now, mind you, this was in Georgia. And it was NOT winter time. I don’t recall it being the dog days of summer, but it was definitely warm out because I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. This could have turned disastrous! We kept kicking and yelling, hoping Mom could hear us inside. She didn’t. We were panicking, and Jackson told me to stop talking and breathe less, to conserve air. He also told me to take off my shirt – I think this was so I could ball it up over my mouth and breathe through it to conserve air. Then he got an umbrella that was in the trunk with us and tried to pry open the trunk with it. (Mom was NOT pleased later when she saw the bent trunk!) To this day, I can still remember being inside that trunk, crying because I thought I was going to die in there. I had the Journey song “Who’s Crying Now” playing in my head, and even at age six I knew that was ludicrous. After at least 30 minutes inside the trunk, someone finally heard us and got Mom. She came and opened the trunk, and we were so relieved to escape. Jackson and I were in big trouble, but at least we were alive.

5. (I skipped #4, since it’s the lie.) Yes, I killed my brother’s mouse. BY ACCIDENT, people. Truly! (Although you might think it was for revenge after reading #3, huh?) In middle school, Jackson had a science experiment that used a mouse. No, it wasn’t animal testing or anything like that! Anyway, he had this mouse in a glass fish aquarium, with the cedar chips inside and all that. He had a wooden birdhouse inside the tank for the mouse to climb in. The birdhouse opened with a lid that pivoted on a dowel. When the lid was open, it created a space behind it. One day I was peeking into the aquarium (I had been told NOT TO, so I didn’t mess up the experiment), and the mouse crawled into that space behind the lid. I closed the lid without knowing he was there, and must have snapped his spine. The good news is he died without pain, since I am pretty sure the death was instantaneous. The bad news is I was so horrified by what I did and so afraid I’d get caught doing it and be in trouble, that I just walked away and left the mouse corpse and didn’t tell anyone what happened. Jackson’s science experiment was ruined (I wonder what grade he got on it?), and the secret was mine for about 10 years. I finally confessed to Jackson and Mom years later, much to their shock.

6. Yes, I also killed my sister’s cat. Again, BY ACCIDENT. I swear! I will attempt to explain, but check back later to see if my sister leaves a comment on this post to clarify the awful details. No doubt she will blame me and call me ruthless, but I swear I wasn’t. I was only about five years old and just didn’t know better! Noel was my sister’s kitten. She was brand new to our house (the kitten, not Mary), and I think all of this happened on the very first day Noel arrived. We already had a BIG dog named Digger. He was a bull mastiff, the last of the ones my parents used to breed. Digger was sequestered to Jackson’s room when Noel arrived because my parents knew Digger would NOT get along with a little kitten. I think I played with Noel all day, then decided to take her to Jackson’s room to meet Digger. I remember cradling Noel in my arms and cracking the bedroom door open. Digger’s head whipped around and saw me through the crack, and saw Noel in my arms. Noel saw him, too! She flipped out and pounced, but the dumb cat pounced INTO the room, not OUT. The rest of the story still resides in slow motion in my memory: Digger mauled Noel. Dead. And I will forever shoulder the blame because I just wanted them to be friends. Ugh!

7. Lastly, it’s true: my neighbor’s dog, Duncan, bit my right wrist when I was in 7th grade. He was laying on the floor with his belly exposed, so I went over to pet him. Mind you, this is a dog that I was around pretty regularly. I reached to pet his belly, and he turned and attacked my wrist. Oh, man! It hurt like all get out! (I can’t write the words I really want to use there.) I still have the scars where his four teeth punctured my arm. I had to get stitches and a tetanus shot and wear bandages to school. Duncan still lived with my neighbors for a while, although I avoided him ever after. I believe he still lived there until he bit the family’s own son, then Duncan was retired to farm living.

This was a fun little game for me to play. I enjoyed quizzing my husband and seeing if he would get the answer right. I was pretty sure he wouldn’t, since some of these stories were buried deep in my memory. But he guessed correctly and helped me edit my lie so it was a little more believable. Originally, I also wrote that I threw up on myself when I was handcuffed. Dan said too many details made it an obvious lie.

I’m also floored that only one of you picked the lie! (Way to go, Robin!) My sister called this week and asked, “Did our brother have a mouse?” Ha! I even fooled my sister!

Six Truths and One Lie

Summer got the best of me and I’m a bit behind on my To Do List. One of the things that’s been on my list for a month is to thank my bloggy (and IRL) friend Gina for a nice little award she gave me back in June. It’s the “Creative Writer” Blogger Award. In addition to thanking the person who gave it to you (thanks, Gina!) and posting the award on my blog, I have to either a) tell you six outrageous lies and one outrageous truth or b) I can tell you six outrageous truths and one outrageous lie, then I have to pass it on to seven other creative bloggers (and let them know they've won).

I chose six truths and one lie. And, dude, this is hard, ‘cause there isn’t much y’all don’t know about me. Here goes!

1. When I was little, I used to think I was a witch because I could see things I thought were invisible to others, like the heat rising off the pavement and floaters in my vision.
2. When I was little, I was convinced you only got a certain number of words in your lifetime. When you use up those words, you die.
3. When I was in first grade, my brother and I got locked in the trunk of our mom’s Buick.
4. In fifth grade, my brother used toy handcuffs and locked me in the attic for three hours until Mom found me.
5. I killed my brother’s pet mouse.
6. I killed my sister’s pet cat.
7. My neighbor’s labrador retriever bit my arm, which explains my hesitance (not a true fear, just a strong caution) around large dogs.

Now, let’s see how well y’all know me! Which of those seven is the big lie? Leave a comment with your guess.

I am passing this award on to:
1. Jill at FiskFamilyMama
2. Emily at The Boys
3. Kitten Muffin at Filth Wizardry
4. Jen at Diagnosis Urine
5. Carrie at Scenes from the Blue Chair
6. Michelle at Michelle Sidles
7. Holly at stitch/craft

The Puzzle Gene

It was bound to happen – genetics made it 99.99% a sure thing. My little boy is a puzzle lover. Dan’s mom has the gene. Dan inherited the gene from her. My mom had the gene, too. (I, however, do not.)

Jackson recently discovered seven cardboard puzzles in the basement, handed down years ago by neighbors who moved away to Nebraska. These are the kind of puzzles that have a cardboard frame for a kid to work within. Jackson adores them. When he is protesting bedtime at night, he has started asking to do just one puzzle before bedtime. In the morning, he wakes and asks me first thing: “Can you do a puzzle wif me, Mommy?”

Dan has taught Jackson some puzzling techniques: find the corner pieces first and put them in place. Then find the edge pieces and work with them. Then look at the patterns and the shapes of the pieces. In this photo from this morning, he is working a puzzle while singing to himself.

Jackson is surprisingly good at these puzzles. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised, what with his genetic inheritance?

Trying to Stop the Forces of Nature: A Parenting Metaphor

You probably can’t pick us out in this photo, but Jackson and I are in it. This photo needs to be blown up and hung in a prominent space in my house. It is a rare moment in time when, for just a flickering second, I had my child all figured out.

It was the week of Camp Grandma and we were at Water Country, which is a water park in Virginia. It had been a long day in the sun, and Katie had just melted down because her ice cream cone was dripping down her arm. I took Jackson to the big wave pool when the water was still calm and the wave session hadn’t started yet.

The time came for the wave machine to turn on and the waves started rolling in the pool. Jackson was taken aback by the movement of the first and second waves. And then, his shock wore off and he went from defense to offense; he started fighting back. As the waves kept coming, he raised his little hands in the air and literally hit them in an attempt to make them stop. But no matter how hard he hit them (and then, subsequently, punched AND kicked them), he couldn’t make them stop.

I got the biggest kick out of watching this little squirt trying to stop the forces of nature. In his little mind, he truly thinks he is big enough to change the world. He used all his might and effort, but the waves just kept rolling into him.

After about three minutes of this, the waves stopped while the lifeguards chastised some kid for some infraction. Then the waves started up again. This time, Jackson kicked at them once or twice and was lifted off his feet a little bit. All of a sudden, it clicked for him: this could be FUN! He went from attacking the waves to riding them with joy on his face. He started jumping into them as they neared him, and let the waves carry him for a few inches. A smile broke out on his face, and although he started sputtering as the waves crested over his head, he was thrilled and happy when moments before he was hostile and unmovable.

I realized, in that moment, my job as a parent is to be the wave. My little warrior son is going to put up many a ferocious fight, but I will keep rolling on with determination of my own: Determination to teach him manners and how to become a gentleman. Determination to educate him and harness the power within him. Determination to help him become a great leader and also a loving follower of the God whose love is bigger than any ocean.

One day, he will stop fighting it and start enjoying it. The three-year-old tantrums will subside and he will jump into life feet first, with absolute abandonment. Please, Lord, help me keep being the wave!

Flags Across America

If you look on the right side of my blog, there is a live traffic feed that tells me where my blog is being accessed around the world. Just now, I saw there are readers in Brazil, London, North Carolina, Tennessee, Illinois, Kansas, and Alaska.

How cool is that?

I digress… anyway, I was wondering if y’all could help me with a little project. There’s a woman named Pam who lives in North Carolina. Her husband knew my brother Jackson, and they even named their son after my brother. Pam’s husband is a soldier, and she supports him and his coworkers with lots of morale boosters. She has a blog where she shows photos of the American flag in different places – even in Iraq! On our recent epic adventure, I took some flag photos for her to use on her blog.

Can you take some too?

I’d love for you to send some photos to Pam (or me, if you don’t feel comfortable sending them to her) and she could post them on her Flags Across America blog. Yes, I know some of my blog visitors are from foreign countries, so this might not pertain to you.
If you see an American flag, could you take a photo of it so Pam can honor it on her blog? Thanks!

The Flag Goes By (Henry Holcomb Bennett)
Hats off! Along the street there comes
A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums,
A flag color beneath the sky: Hats off!
The flag is passing by!
Blue and crimson and white shines,
Over the steel-tipped, ordered lines.
Hats off! The colors before us fly;
But more than a flag is passing by.
Sea-fights and land-fights, grim and great,
Fought to make and to save the State:
Weary marches and sinking ships;
Cheers of victory on dying lips;
Days of plenty and years of peace;
March of a strong land’s swift increase;
Equal justice, right, and law,
Stately honor and reverend awe;
Sign of a nation, great and strong
Toward her people from foreign wrong:
Pride and glory and honor, – all
Live in the colors to stand or fall.
Hats off! Along the street there comes
A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums;
And loyal hearts are beating high:
Hats off! The flag is passing by!

Back to School

The school year starts early for us, since our school district is year-round. Katie is now a second grader! The sendoff to school was nice and routine, and the return home was great too. We had the usual after-school treat with the neighbors, then a bunch of them went off to the pool together. Welcome back, school year! For the last six weeks, I have MISSED the routine and peace you provide!

We Have Returned from Our Epic Trip

Oh, it’s been a long eleven days. How I love being home!

Dan and I took the kids on a long road trip to visit my relatives back East. We left home on July 2 and drove 12.5 hours to West Virginia to visit my Uncle Bob and Aunt Florence (Bob is my mom’s brother).

Let me stop the story right there. Do you have ANY idea how fantastical that statement was? I am a mother who has NEVER driven longer than three hours with Jackson. It just didn’t happen. But I surprised myself and quite a few relatives by agreeing to drive to West Virginia. And it turned out to be halfway pleasant! Dan drove, I hooked the kids into their own portable DVD players (thank you, God, for technology!), and I read THREE books in the car. Woo!

I forgot to mention: Katie lost her first front tooth before we even left our driveway. Her second one fell out about 24 hours later.

So we arrived in West Virginia, in this little town called Great CaCapon – which is on the CaCapon River. We stayed in a hotel the first night, then went to Uncle Bob and Aunt Florence’s cabin (they call it the CaCabin on the CaCapon). We floated down the CaCapon River, then hung out on the front lawn of the CaCabin with relatives I haven’t seen in more than 15 years. I think there was a total of 41 people staying at the CaCabin.

Of course, there wasn’t room inside so we all camped on the front lawn.

Stop the story again… did you hear that? I camped with my kid? Katie has done it, but it was another first for Jackson. (And a LAST one too. He cried a bit that first night and kept a few people awake, so I took him back to the hotel for the second night.)

We went to the Great CaCapon July 4th parade that evening, after a fried chicken dinner by the volunteer firefighters’ auxiliary. Small town America is such fun!

The night ended with fireworks.

On Monday (July 5), we loaded up the car and added an additional kid (my niece, Peyton) and drove to Washington, DC. We stopped at the White House for just a few minutes so we could show Katie.

Jackson was NOT pleased to be there.

Dan caught a flight home to Missouri, and I picked up one more passenger – my cousin’s daughter, Hope. We drove one of the most harrowing roads I have ever been on (Interstate 95) and made it to Camp Grandma with my nerves frazzled after four hours in awful traffic.

Camp Grandma is at my Uncle John and Aunt Lucy’s house, near Williamsburg Virginia. (Uncle John is my dad’s brother.) Mama Lucy invites her grandkids to her house for a week of no rules, junk food, and fun day trips. It’s like a week-long slumber party on crack. Last year, Lucy invited my kids (and my sister’s kids), since there are no grandparents on our side of the family.

This year, there were six girls (three almost-12-year-olds, one 10-year-old, one 7-year-old, and one almost-6-year-old) plus my one 3-year-old boy. Oh, it was a mess. Jackson surprised me with how well he fit in with the girls. They liked him and thought he was so cute. And when he got annoying, they just sent him to play with another set of girls.

We spent the week staying up late, skipping naps, and eating junk. Our first day was a trip to the water park.

Our second day was a trip to Target for a grandma-funded mini shopping spree. That night, the kids decorated their own Camp Grandma shirts.

I also broke out the henna and decorated the kids. They wanted their bellies decorated, so I obliged.

Our third day was a trip to Busch Gardens Williamsburg. We were there for ELEVEN hours. Straight.

Friday was a quieter day at home, when other relatives came to visit and join the fun for dinner.

The kids made their own birthday cakes so they could celebrate with Mama Lucy, since she can’t be with everyone on their birthdays. The cakes ended up smashed on the girls’ faces. Yuck.

Saturday was a trip to the local public beach, which was cut short by rain.

We went to see Toy Story 3 that night instead, and that wrapped up our week at Camp Grandma.

On Sunday, I loaded the kids in the car and drove 11 hours to Kentucky. Yes… by myself. And, yes, we survived. (Just barely.) Along the way, we stopped and saw my stepmother, Maureen.

We also stopped to visit the graves of my dad, my brother, my grandmother and my grandfathers. It was the closest my son has ever been to his namesake, Uncle Jackson. (And that brought on quite a few tears for me.)

We ended the night in Kentucky at my sister-in-law’s house. Bonnie is my brother’s widow. Her son Jude is about to turn two, and he was so darn adorable. The kids played together in Jude’s inflatable pool, then we went inside for bath and bedtime.

We got up yesterday and drove the last five hours home.

It was an epic trip. In all, my kids met 58 living relatives from my side of the family – plus five dead ones, if you count the stop in the cemetery. Now we are home. My body is weary, my patience is almost non-existent, and I am beyond thrilled to have naptime to myself so I can blog (Katie is plugged into the desktop computer – can you blame me?). I NEED time to myself as badly as I need air to breathe.

So what’s the bottom line from our trip? Besides the educational aspect of visiting nine states with my kids (Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Virginia, Kentucky), I learned: I am capable of traveling with my kids, even by myself. I really miss mountains and tall trees. Jackson can survive without a nap (although he isn’t at peak performance level, of course). I am blessed to have extended family who include me and my kids in their traditions. I thrive on routine. So do my kids. I miss my parents with a deep ache. My tires need a good rotation and balance. Junk food makes me feel gross. I take uninterrupted sleep for granted. Life is lonely without Dan by my side.

And there truly IS no place like home.

Random Thoughts

I haven’t posted much for the last week because we’ve had a lot going on in our house. So I’m going to just throw out some random thoughts that I want to capture before I forget them. I should be balancing my checkbook right now, but you already know how that goes. I’m going to procrastinate and blog instead.

I am really happy with the Father’s Day gift we gave Dan. I got the idea here at Someday Crafts, and here’s how ours turned out. We also gave Dan a Shutterfly photo book showing the construction of our tree house, plus a frame Jackson made at Mothers’ Day Out. I ordered another gift for him, which STILL hasn’t arrived in the mail. Humph!

Katie tied her shoes for the first time!

Thanks to this post from the Muffin Tin Mom, I made these alphabet match-up games with clothespins from Leftovers and templates printed from my computer. Jackson loves them already, so I hid them away and plan to pull them out on our upcoming cross-country road trip. FYI – I glued the cardstock to some cardboard to make it sturdier as Jackson learns how to open and close clothespins.

Katie has three loose teeth. They’re driving me nuts and I want them OUT of her mouth. Loose teeth creep me out. I even tried tying a string to the loosest one today, but the string didn’t fully remove it. The tooth came partly out of its socket (gag!), but no jackpot yet.

Katie is seven. Does she look as old to you as she does to me? I love the outfit that matches her doll’s. (Thanks, Beth!)

I buzzed Jackson’s hair today. I started with a #4 guard on the clippers, but didn’t feel like it was short enough so I moved down to a 3. I should have stuck with the 4. Hopefully I’ll remember that next time. He looks so blonde now! But the good news is I tried a new trick and it was successful: I gave Jackson my iTouch and let him play Tozzle to distract him from the haircut. It worked like a charm! My iTouch is a bit hairy now, but it’s a good tradeoff.

Corn. Every time we drive by the corn field leading up to church, I hear these lyrics in my head from a song in South Pacific: “I’m as corny as Kansas in August…” Katie insisted she was taller than the corn, so I had her get out of the car and prove it.

I made fluffy flip flops today for Katie, using this tutorial from Sisters’ Stuff. Since it was our first try, I used some of Katie’s flip flops that have seen better days, in case it didn’t work out. I found the tulle at Leftovers and cut it into strips then tied them on. It was so simple and turned out pretty cute. I am thinking these would make great birthday gifts for Katie’s friends.

My bloggy-friend-turned-IRL- friend Gina brought her son Logan over to play. Since Gina is a self-described tree hugger, they wanted to check out our new tree house. They also met Katie for the first time, and Logan had a stunned look on his face when he saw my badly-behaved kids pick at each other quite often. I think Logan enjoyed himself, though! And that Gina’s baby bump sure is cute!

Baptism at our church. 370 people got baptized. I was honored to be one of the photographers for the event and the photos I took are outstanding – all 438 of them! Not because of the photographer, of course, but because of the grace and surrender and joy that was on everyone’s faces. I can’t stop looking at these photos, so I’ll leave you with these images that have inspired my week.