Small Town Diner

Before my daughter went away this summer to be a counselor at a beautiful wilderness camp (I'm so proud of you, honey) I took her out for breakfast. We went to this small town diner a little over 10 miles away. There is a big diner right in town, but we know so many people in town and we wanted to spend some time praying and just being anonymous. So, we're at this little diner, where we don't know anyone, in a booth away from everyone, just the way we wanted it. We bowed our heads, closed our eyes, held hands and prayed. We prayed for her summer experience to be all God wanted it to be for her. We prayed for the camp and the grounds, the other counselors, the campers, the staff; we prayed for the weather, we prayed for the wildlife, we prayed for blessings to rain down from Heaven and we prayed for God's light to shine in and around my daughter. When we were done, we unclasped hands, lifted our heads and opened our eyes. To our surprise, a lady from the booth across from us was leaning in toward our table and she said, "I could hardly hear you." My daughter and I exchanged a confused look thinking, "Ah, yeah, that's kinda' the point." The woman says, "I could hardly hear what you were saying because the music is too loud, but honey, I was praying right along with you." She smiled at my daughter and said, "God bless you on your summer job, sweetie, and I'll continue to pray for you, okay? " My daughter smiled back at her and said, "Okay." I thought, only in a small town. . .

Time

This interesting rock was found while my family and I were "rock hounding" in Oregon a few years back. After some Internet searches and a visit to a planetarium, we're pretty sure this is a meteorite. Over the years we have found some pretty cool stuff. We've found arrow heads, fossils, jade, sea glass, petrified wood, lava rocks and a bunch of ordinary cool stuff, like bee hives, robin eggs, salamanders, shells, cray fish, feathers and animal skeletons. My youngest two even had a "secret science box" (as they called it) full of things parents should never know was kept in a bedroom closet. What I find so alluring about finding these things is not the items we've found, but the time that was spent with my family to do so. It has literally taken us hundreds of hours to find this stuff. Hundreds of hours in each other's company. Hundreds of hours not watching TV or playing videos or texting or some other anti-social activity. Hundreds of hours together. How cool is that?

Happy Father's Day

Father's have it tough. They must be patient, not just when his children are little and it takes 4 tries to complete a 3 word sentence, but also when his children are grown and he must read 10 page essays and check physics and trigonometry homework. He must be kind, not just when his children are little and dress themselves for the first time and ask, "How do I look Daddy?", but when they are grown and going to a dance and ask anxiously, "Do I look okay Dad?" He must be calm, not just when they are little and spill milk, but when they are grown and learning how to drive. He must be wise, not only when they are little and ask why they must use manners, but when they are grown and ask where they should go to college. He must be an example of love and respect, not only when they are little and openly watch everything he does and says, but when they are grown and watch him from a distance. He must love his wife so that his children love their mother. He must love his parents so that his children will love him. He must not curse, lest he want his children to curse. He must not steal or cheat, lest he want his children to steal and cheat. He must fear the Lord and walk in His ways, love Him and serve the Lord with all his heart and all his soul, and observe the Lords commands, lest his children should become prideful and selfish. He must do these things from the day he becomes a father until the day he is called home. Father's have it tough.

That is who my husband is and who my father was. Thank you for taking the tough road, the road less travel, all ways, always. Happy Father's day.

Oratim

I had a very nice lunch yesterday with a very nice friend. We sat on her very nice deck, overlooking a very nice mountain. It was lovely. We talked the afternoon away, mostly about the kids, of course. My friend asked me if my darling children ever accused me of lecturing them and if so, what my response was. I chuckled, because my kids are always telling me I'm lecturing them. And this is the response they get sometimes. "Congratulations, you have just succeeded," I say to them, "in extending this lecture for another few minutes. Now, I must address your rudeness and then, I will start all over again so I can finish what I have to say without interruption." Hmpt! My kids are really far from perfect, little monsters really. My blogs are very generous to them and have a very Pollyanna approach to things. But for the most part, I really do enjoy mothering (lecturing) them and I don't care much if they enjoy it. I have a job to do, unpleasant as it may be sometimes, but a job nevertheless. My charge is to raise them up in the way they should go and if that means lecturing (mothering) them, then that's what I'll do. If kids listened the first time, TV advertisers wouldn't have to spend millions of dollars airing the same commercial 2 dozen times in one night. If kids listened the first time, mothers wouldn't have to say "no" 2 dozen times in one night. I'd much prefer it if I didn't have to lecture, but then, what would I do with all my words?

I am the cheese

I am the cheese. Not the "big cheese" as in the big enchilada, but the cheese as in The Farmer in the Dell. You know, "the cheese stands alone, the cheese stands alone, hi-ho-the-derry'o, the cheese stands alone." It's how I feel sometimes. I remember seeing the kids play that silly little game where they all stand in a circle and the farmer picks a wife, the wife picks a child, the child picks a maid, the maid picks a cow, the cow picks a dog, the dog picks a cat, the cat picks a rat, the rat picks the cheese and the cheese stands alone, hi-ho-the-derry'o, the cheese stands alone. I always wanted to run up to the cheese and say, "You're not alone honey, I'm here, I'll stand with you!" But fear of being arrested for snatching up the cheese, I mean the child, kept me from doing so. Can you picture it . . . "Lady, step away from the cheese! This is your final warning!" Wasn't anyone else concerned for the mental well-being of the cheese??!! I know just how that cheese feels . . . standing alone . . . everyone else huddled in a circle . . . standing alone (did I mention that already?). It just may be where God wants us, though. Standing alone, saying what we must, in the name of truth, no matter how unpopular it is. But, I guess I am never really standing alone because Jesus stands with me, in the name of truth. And when my time comes to meet my King, Jesus will stand with me then, too, hi-ho-the-derry'o, I stand with Jesus. . .

Isn't Life Grand

I had a delightful exchange with my daughter while driving her to voice lessons yesterday. She referred to one of my opinions as being very "middle aged." I asked her what she would call someone who is beyond middle age and she replied, simply, "Old." So, I told her that since I would be 50 this year and that I didn't think I'd live to be 100, that I was I beyond middle age. Then I gave her permission to call me old. She said, "Oh, no, Mom, you'll live to be 100 and probably older. I can just picture you now. You'll be like, 'I'm so happy to be alive. I love my life. Isn't life grand' (in a mockingly sweet old lady voice)." Then she went on to say, "And if I live to be 100 I'll be like, 'Why, oh, why must I still be alive? Wasn't 100 years on this Earth long enough? The pain and the torture to be alive. Lord, take me home!'" She's so dramatic and I laughed and delighted in her imitation of me and her as old women. She promised she'd take care of me if I promised to behave. So, if I do, indeed, live to be 100, that means I am not even a middle aged woman right now (well, not until August anyway). So, don't be calling me old (or middle aged) before my time. And, by the way, I am so happy to be alive and I do love my life and I do believe life is grand . . .

Strawberry Number 2

I have the most polite strawberries ever! Apparently they have decided it would be polite to allow each and every strawberry to have the Sun and the rain all to themselves until they are fully grown before another strawberry grows. Meet strawberry number 2. Now that she has fully grown and has been picked, maybe strawberry number 3 can grow. Seriously unselfish strawberries. That's what planted in my garden. I know there is a lesson here somewhere, but I'll be darned if I can figure it out. By the way, it may have been a bit hoggish of me, but that first strawberry - I ate it, all by myself, the whole thing, I never did cut it up into five slices for the family to share. It was sweet and juicy and perfect. Who knew my family actually read my blog and saw it and expected their portion at dinner that night? Oh well . . . I'll be sure to share this one (maybe). . .

For Today

I was wondering why I haven't had much to say lately and realized that it's because our life has been so far from ordinary. My kids think there is much to write about because life has been so fast-paced, but I realize that it's not in the extraordinary things that I get my inspiration from, but in the ordinary, the mundane, the routine and the natural flow of our lives. I could write you a storm of words about how rotten certain situations have been lately but what fun would that be? It's in the simple things that I find peace and inspiration. Not that there hasn't been some simple and joyful times - like the cupcakes (see picture on previous post). Have you ever seen three teenagers make cupcakes? It's a hoot! They made enough icing to cover a tennis court, they used six dishtowels to clean up one kitchen and the dog has been licking the cabinets and floors all day for traces of batter and icing. But every time I open the refrigerator and see all that left-over icing, I smile. When I look at those beautiful cupcakes, I smile. When I wash and fold those dishtowels, I'll smile. A few ordinary hours, watching the kids make a few creative cupcakes = inspiration. Sometimes I think we are so concerned about tomorrow and what we will do then that we forget to enjoy today. Sometimes I think we let tomorrow's worries consume our thoughts so that we forget to engage with the here and now. God is present, He is here. Where are you?

Martha Stewart, Eat Your Heart Out