300 days of beauty, days 52-64 [kaleidoscope]

I know, I know, I disappeared. I've been known to do that from time to time. May vortex, time spent in hospitals, general life exhaustion, and I can even blame it on the rain (which has fallen in exorbitantly copious amounts...I don't know if I can use all of those words together, but anyway...).

So this evening as I prepare to travel once again, I am determined to display a fraction of the last several weeks. All from my phone (couldn't find the cord to download from my camera...sigh), all from my ordinary life. A kaleidoscope.

And as a side note, the half-marathon I had been training for has been downgraded to a 10k. I know that sounds much like hurricane terminology, but the prospect of running a half-marathon was starting to feel much like a category 5 storm. The training was worth it, but this was not the season. I would like to try again, but for this weekend, I will enjoy running a 10k with my brother, spending a weekend in Chicago, and seeing a much-beloved cousin.



Alright, now for the parade of randomness...

My son is training for a 10k and asked to go on a run with a stop at the store. Not his usual request, but I agreed. He ran to the store just to buy me a honeycrisp apple because it was National Teacher Appreciation Day. He came back, panting and sweaty and placed this on the table next to me. I nearly cried I was so very touched.

We studied geography by taste-testing single source chocolate from different countries around the world. We savored it and will continue this study over the next couple weeks. LOVE.

I never tire of these gorgeous blossoms. They survived far longer than I thought they would.

We read on the front porch ALL DAY. The weather has been cruddy, so we relished this day.

A GORGEOUS tranquil evening and a date with my husband. We walked and talked for miles through our city, along our trails.

I was sick, so so sick. My sweet friend dropped these supplies off for me. I'm rich in friends, no doubt.

Back to the front porch and sweet Belle looking through her picture Bible. She loves Moses and Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego.

We hadn't had the best day, this daughter and I, but in the evening, this is what I found written on her mug of tea. We don't have to be perfect, we can't be. We can give love and grace and mercy to one another even in the messy times.

Love my girl's window art, especially against the rain splattered backdrop and the newly unfurled spring leaves.

Again, the front porch...I sip coffee, eat breakfast, and read out there most every morning (weather permitting).

The zoo is always fun. Belle was on a mission to sketch flamingos on this zoo trip.

And tonight...my husband was helping with all sorts or "to-do" items. I'm exhausted after being gone most of the week and spending much time at the hospital and in a car. I'm chugging through one item after another and he writes this for me. A cup of warm tea and truth. What can be better for my very weary heart that desperately needs rest?

300 days of beauty, day 35 [snuggles]

I love this girl. SO. MUCH. She is happy, vibrant, energetic, joyful, curious, and incorrigible. She went from having a cough, to completely tanking. She said no to chicken, broccoli, and a bubble bath (three favorites!) and asked to go to bed with tears streaming down her face.

My husband snapped the pic--worth capturing.

We put on her pajamas and I asked if she'd like to cuddle for a few minutes. She told me she didn't want to get her germs all over my bed. I suggested the couch and she said she'd like that. Her daddy brought her a "vitamin drink" and we had a brand new Frozen themed Kleenex box just for her. (Usually she steals the toilet paper roll from the bathroom to use as Kleenex, so this is a bit preemptive....)

Belle is the best snuggler of all of the kids. If she wakes up first in the morning, she will crawl in our bed and rest between us. I have many memories of seeing her bright-eyed and bushy-tailed chocolate brown eyes inches away from my face saying "Can I snuggle with you?"

Yes. Every time. Yes.

We snuggled and she fell asleep almost immediately. How many more times will I hold one of my snuggling sick kids in my arms? Moments to cherish. Devastatingly beautiful moments.

Belle stirred awake and said, "Maybe it's time for me to go to bed now." Her daddy carried her to her room and tucked her in. I heard, "I love you too, mommy" as I closed the door.

My house is a mess, the kitchen stacked with dinner's dishes, projects and to-do lists abound, my daughter is sick, schedules will be rearranged, the day went just okay, but I feel happy. Not perfect or together, but happy. 

Snuggles will do that.

300 days of beauty, day 5

I never tire of my kids' performances. When I was young, I loved to create plays and dances and skits and backyard swing-set and pool acrobatics. I have fond memories doing these with my brother and my cousin, Debi. When Debi and I would create our routines, my brother would become the "lighting and sound specialist" although I don't know that we used that term. I find it funny that my son has often performed with his sisters, but as of late, he's quite happy being the sound and light guy too.

Very soon, much sooner than I am ready, these unabashed, vibrant performances will cease. Bittersweet. Nothing lasts forever, that's just the reality. More joy and wonder on the way, the goodness is not only in these years, it continues, but looks different.

But, if your sweet child invites you to a performance, make the time. You're not too busy. These moments are so fleeting. I may have watched reenacted musical renditions of "Hard-Knock Life" from the new Annie more times than I can count, but I love it every time.

Looking toward beauty, looking back with thankfulness

New Year's Eve marks an important anniversary for me. For my heart it represents a line in the sand. I stepped forward into the year 2004 feeling the gift of time that had been given to me.  I've gathered two blog posts that I wrote on New Year's Eve 2008 and 2013, five and ten years past my New Year's Eve of 2003.

December 31, 2008
 
Five years ago I was 25 with a three-month-old son and I was told that the I mole I had removed was melanoma. It changed my life forever. Today, New Year's Eve, is the five year anniversary of when I had my surgery--a sentinel node biopsy plus removing the area around the mole to see if the melanoma had spread. Every year since then, I start each year with profound thankfulness. Five years feels even better. 

Medically speaking, two years and five years are milestones for cancer survivors. I am thankful to pass those markers, but I also know that God is the ultimate holder of my statistics, each of my days here on earth have been numbered long before I was born.

I often ponder how different my life is now because of my cancer experience. When I had my five-year check-up two weeks ago, the doctor left the room, and I just started crying. I left the building, got in my car, and started bawling. Tears of joy. The happiest tears I had cried in a very long time. So thankful to be given another day, another year.

What have I cried out to God the most in the last five years since God preserved my life? To be able to stay home and raise my kids. To raise kids who love the Lord. At that time I only had one son. My family talked about what he would be like next Christmas at one-year-old, and I smiled outwardly, but inwardly wondered if I would be around next Christmas. 

Now, we have three amazing children. After our son, we adopted two beautiful daughters--every day they amaze me. I have been given such a great privilege to stay home with them, teach them, play with them, love them, learn from them, and be amazed at what God is doing in our family.

God allowed me to see what really mattered--I think my contentment in being a stay-at-home mom is largely because I faced the possibility of not being around at all. My life is rich. This New Year's Eve, I'm home celebrating with a cheese fondue dinner, no-bake cookies, snuggling with our three-month-old, smiling daughter, chatting with my son, listening to giggles from our three-year-old daughter, and watching a movie with my wonderful husband. This is the only place I'd want to be.

There is so much I could say about this, but I'll end with the first verse I read after finding out that I had melanoma: "Don't be afraid," he said, "for you are deeply loved by God. Be at peace; take heart and be strong!" Daniel 10:19 NLT

December 31, 2013

When my son was a baby and I would take him to the grocery store with me, gray-haired patrons would OFTEN stop me to ooh and awe over him, and then (without fail) remind me to cherish these years because they end in a flash. So very true. I hope I have honored their sage advice spoken from their life experience.

On this day, 10 years ago, I was scared to death. Early in the morning, leaving my 3-month-old son with my parents, my husband and I headed to the hospital for my surgery. Several weeks before, I had been informed that a mole that had been removed was melanoma. Since I had been pregnant when it developed, they didn't know how fast it had spread. The surgeon was removing a large chunk of area around where the mole had been as well as removing lymph nodes to check if the cancer had spread from its original site. I've journaled, blogged, and reflected about this time in my life each New Year's Eve for the last 10 years. 

Many events change a life, but this one was a doozy. And really, I wouldn't change it. I saw God's hand and felt His presence through it. It has directed the course I have taken as a wife and mom probably more than any other factor. That's not to say that I didn't battle tremendously with the fear, hurt, and anger at facing this at 25 years of age, but I see how He's used it in my life. He was and is faithful.

So today, I am thankful. I have been gifted TIME. Time to be a wife and a mom, time to be a sister, daughter, granddaughter, cousin, niece, aunt, and a friend. I don't feel like I always use my time the best, I feel unworthy and inadequate often, but always there is a thankfulness for being able to be here. The journey is not easy, but worth it. Ten years later I can say that I have continued to engage with the Lord. I may cry, question, yell, fear, doubt, and hurt at life sometimes, but I walk with Him. Not because I'm so great, but because He is. My heart's desire is to continue with Him--walking, running, leaping, limping, skipping, crawling, piggy-backing, or being cradled...whatever it takes.

The old hymn "In Christ Alone" has popped into my head. I love the whole song, but will highlight the beginning and the end...

"In Christ alone my hope is found
He is my light, my strength, my song
This Cornerstone, this solid ground
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm

What heights of love, what depths of peace
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease
My Comforter, my All in All
Here in the love of Christ I stand

...From life's first cry to final breath
Jesus commands my destiny

No power of hell, no scheme of man
Can ever pluck me from His hand
Til He returns or calls me home
Here in the power of Christ I'll stand"

wet, bedraggled, and laughing on the Grayson Highlands in Virginia

December 31, 2015

Today is a spectacularly normal day. Bright blue skies and frigid air and temps. I will have three to four cups of coffee. I will go for a run. I will probably clean my house, I will listen to my kids chatter and play and argue and sing (Belle is currently singing a Latin Christmas song while playing by the Christmas tree), I will soak it up because it is all so beautiful. We will spend time with friends tonight and then return home to ring in the New Year. My husband will not tell me to go to bed because it is the one night a year I am entitled to stay up as late as I want. Can you tell we disagree on this sometimes?? He loves me anyway. 

My theme for the year has seemed to center around the "beautiful mess" that is life. There is nothing pristine about the days I walk in, but I'll take them, every single one of them. 

I believe to the core of who I am that joy and beauty can be found wherever you find yourself this New Year's Eve. That does not mean life is perfect, that does not mean that hardship and tragedy can or should be glossed over in a fake sort of happiness that is neither genuine nor realistic. It's just that God is good, He is active and moving, He has purpose, gives beauty and joy, and radiates love and grace into this shambled world. He has never wasted anything that I've walked through, He has been faithful and patient and loving and present through more yuck than I can say. To journey through this life with my Lord is worth it and there is no other way to do it.

May you all have a, joy-filled, beauty-infused New Year's Eve and start to the New Year!

 ...and a few shots from our Isle of Palms beach weekend...it's always a good day on the beach

**********************************

My husband and two friends have an annual New Year's Eve snowshoeing expedition that they take each year. I call it the Arctic Expedition. They had a blast this year and as usual it was very cold and very windy. Nothing has quite compared to 2013, so I pulled the blog post from that expedition below, just for fun.

Arctic Expedition, December 31, 2013

Now onto the snowshoeing excursion which was more like an Antarctic expedition simulator. 

Here's the estimated data: 

• a hike to Lake of Glass which sits at timberline (between 11,000 and 12,000 feet above sea level)

• 8 miles round trip
• pelting snow

• 13 degrees with negative 8 windchill

• 50-100 mph gusts of wind

• some gusts being more constant than gusty

With these three guys that equals FUN. More or less anyway. Shaun said at one point he physically couldn't move his leg forward because of the wind's force. Mark lost a glove that was whipped off his person to unknown parts. With the wind at their back, they could practically fly :-). Jeff shot some video because the pictures couldn't quite capture the intensity. None of them had ever experienced such wind and they would be what you would call "outdoorsy" guys. Anyway, they had a blast, with much shared laughter and a growler of Coop's beer to drink at the top. It was epic (the wives will laugh at the stories, while shaking our heads in consternation).

After surviving Antarctica, the guys drove through the flood-ravaged valley and town of Glen Haven. The roads have been rebuilt, but many of these new roads are temporarily dirt. The dirt roads show where the floods completely demolished the previously paved highway. The devastation is unbelievable. 

As they rounded a curve, the tires hit ice sending the car into a slow spin. The momentum of the spin seemed too great to even think they would stop before the front tire dropped over the edge, sending them rolling into the river below. In the moment they each were rapidly calculating how they were going to get out of the car once they rolled. But then the car stopped...less than a foot from hitting the edge. Like an angel stuck a wedge under the tire, no joke. 

Praise the Lord for His protection!

the definition of a beautiful day (and some school pics too...)

I have been avoiding writing. Even when I most felt the need to put my swirling thoughts to paper, I couldn't seem to muster up the mental fortitude to do it. But I needed to today, just a bit. To fight my mental and physical fatigue and jot my thoughts.

Today, I'm tired. School has been going really well these last couple of weeks. I like the flow and rhythm that I have set so far. But today was one of those days in which I couldn't quite speak with the patience required and deserved to my children. I felt myself talking and lecturing in circles, trying to instruct, trying to explain, trying to understand, but feeling like I need a course in "Navigating Your Child's Emotions 101." 

Even though today is quite "blah," I wouldn't consider it the norm. We have sparkling days, glimmering with smiles, laughter, goofiness, discussions, tea and crumpets, experiments, sidewalk chalk artistry, new feats, devoured literature, perseverance and a love of learning. Oh, and lots of character development...not just the kids, for me too. Sparkling still has its challenges and struggles or its nothing but a glittery veneer with Styrofoam underneath.

we did not kill the butterfly, FYI...

How my "today" looks is not my favorite look. I prefer the days where I put lots of check marks by school subjects, the house gets picked up, the kids don't argue (much), and I have motivation to move steadily through my whole day, in a perfect homemaker sort of way. I never have days that look perfectly like this, but I have days that feel in line with this and I like them. But every day brings its own look, its own battles, its own beauty, its own mess. And, His mercies are new every morning..." Praise the Lord.

So, here are my snapshots, my reminders of the beauty found in each day:

On this day where my window view shows gray skies with light breezy gusts rustling the trees outside, I'm thankful for the cooler temperatures. Fall is coming and it's my favorite.

D has spent the whole day helping an elderly neighbor with his yard. He loves doing it. He didn't expect to miss this day doing school, but because we homeschool, he can do this. And in my opinion, his work today is just as valuable if not more valuable than a day with his textbooks.

I have two sweet girls who graciously forgave me for my harsh words to them. It is hard to fail in front of my kids. It is good to fail in front of my kids (and ask forgiveness) because failing is a part of life, sinning is what we do. They need to know that I'm human, I need Jesus too. They have to learn to walk in this world. Confessing their sin to God and people, sharing their burdens, will be a protection for their souls. I want them to resist the facade of perfectionism and the Gospel-denying platform of shame. If how I deal with my failings and struggles points them to engage with God in everything, I will be well-pleased.

seriously, Arctic mermaids...

We're enjoying our last week of the pool. In spite of the gray skies, Cece and Belle will make the daily trek. They are die-hard and I love their happy pool smiles. I never tire of seeing their goggle-clad faces underwater. They literally smile and always wave at me when we're all underwater together. I can't quite find the right word to describe Belle's facial expression. Her eyes are bright, joyful, vibrant, wide-eyed, enthusiastic. I love it. Every image, I try and capture in my mind's eye. I meant to buy an underwater camera this year but didn't.

We've been working on some Spanish as a family and Belle has taken quite a liking to it. Unfortunately, the only phrase she can remember right now is ¡siéntate! which means "sit down!" She hears this phrase quite a bit, so it has stuck. The other night my husband and I took an evening walk and the girls scootered. All through the neighborhood, Belle was continually exclaiming, ¡siéntate! ¡siéntate! ¡siéntate! Usually she screams, "This is AWWWESOOOME!" So, I think this was her substitute. Hilarious.

What else? A neighbor randomly offered to bring us dinner tonight. What a gift. The girls and D are working together to make forts in the girls' room, but they have taken a break to happily watch some new episodes of Wild Kratts first. I love how much time they have to spend together. We'll walk to a farmer's market this evening (weather permitting!) and hopefully get in a couple chapters of Tuesdays at the Castle. Simple, lovely.

I'm learning to receive and give grace for the ebb and flow of each day. I don't have to be perfect. I can't be. It doesn't have to be my definition of a beautiful day to be truly beautiful.

5,000...reflections on 5,000 days of marriage

5,000 days. Last Sunday marked 5,000 days of marriage to one fantabulous guy. Lord willing, we'll hit 10,000...and I'll be near 50. Crazy.

I often think of the many roads my life could have taken. Every choice, moment, and circumstance diverting and diverging, changing my landscape, a masterpiece in the hand of the Lord.

I think back to the line from Robert Frost's poem:

Two roads diverged in a wood...

After 5,000 days of dating, we were across the country from each other. I was in New York City with our three kids, he had flown back home to return to work. 

Rewind 5,000 days (from our dating anniversary) and I was on the brink of major life choices. I didn't really think that he cared for me more than a friend. I needed to live my life and make my own choices. I wasn't going to sit around because I didn't know what God had for me, who He had for me. I was evaluating graduate school programs and was planning to enroll and accept a teaching position. And, larger than this, I was planning to move to Europe. Our church was planting a church in the Netherlands and my closest friends were going. I had dreamed such a dream often. I felt at peace that if anyone cared enough about me, they could come after me (how's that for romantic notions ;-)).

One conversation and a question changed my road.

It made all the difference. This man. This life.

I don't believe that the roads before me would have led down dark paths or destruction. They would have been different lives, different scenery, different mountains, and different valleys. Different is not bad, it's just different. And although I would describe myself as a hopeless romantic, I don't necessarily think I had to find the one person in the whole world who was meant for me. Now, don't start throwing things, I'm not trying to be scientific or emotionally detached. I felt God's leading as we started dating. I didn't doubt or question that this was where God brought me. And now, 5,000+ days later, I can see more clearly the difference it has made.

I appreciate my husband for so many reasons. He is easy-going, funny and light-hearted, humble, patient and listens well. He walks with integrity, I trust him implicitly. He is a great dad, active and involved, not afraid to be goofy, willing to teach, willing to grow, willing to admit when he is wrong, and kind. I could go deeper, be more specific, but this works for now.

We have had our ups and downs, peaks, ravines, and doldrums. Statistically, it is said that year seven is rough. For us it was year nine and it was...well, it was dark, and it was often excruciating. Now, beauty from ashes, all of it. Battle weary, wounded, redeemed. God was and is faithful. 

It is a gift to come to the end of yourself. For me to see how broken and sinful I am, to see how capable I am to destroy my own life, to know I am my own worst enemy. To see and feel God's love and grace and patience with me. I need HIM. I am dependent on my husband, but I am nothing without Jesus.

Through those dark times, I learned much.

A bit of background...I value harmony, I'm a natural peace-maker. I often bend myself to the people around me for the sake of unity and harmony. I pick my battles and many I don't feel are worth picking. I was the "good girl" who won the "sugar and spice and everything nice" award in seventh grade...well, you get the picture. In the last couple of years, God has given me new and bright insight into how He has made me. I'm not talking about new-age self-enlightenment, but learning about my personality, my temperament, how my circumstances and life experiences have shaped me, and how all of this interacts with my piece of the world. Now, I see who I am more clearly.

This is where I've seen how personal God's choice of a husband was for me. My sweet husband has given me freedom and grace to live life. I can't really describe it except to say that my husband has allowed me to shine, to live vibrantly, to not just be "nice" (a non-descriptive invisible sort of word if there ever was one), but to counteract lies I have believed and dream big. God-sized dreams.

Freedom. Grace.


A few snapshots:

He has let me travel. I have taken many trips on my own to visit family and friends. Boston, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Tuscon, Scottsdale, Virginia Beach, New York City, the Netherlands and Luxembourg. 20+ trips, freely given whole-heartededly. He cashed in vacation days and stayed with our kids (they were in heaven), he did school with them, they adventured, I didn't worry or have to think twice. This may seem superficial, but I feel it is a part of how I'm wired. I love to see and know the worlds of those I love. I never tire of cultures, learning new places, and the beauty found in every day moments. These trips encouraged my heart, rejuvenated my soul, all were gifts to me...every minute.

He eats anything I cook. Really, anything. My love for cooking has constantly evolved over the last fourteen years. Ingredients in my fridge are like art supplies. I love to create. Some meals become tested favorites and some meals are like Jackson Pollock paintings...creations that will never be replicated, mish-mash masterpieces (drives my son crazy that I don't write down my recipes...I've tried to get better at this). Some meals are average and a few have been fails (my family LOVES to remind me of these..."remember the lemon rice and the turnip soup?"). I love food, I love cooking for people and I love enjoying food with people. Most of this stems from having the space and flexibility to create and try everything.

(Just to illustrate that he'll eat anything: He walks in from work every day, greets us all, and then scavenges for food, often grabbing the first item he finds on the counter. There was the day he commented that the dried apricots were rancid (yeah, he was munching on orange wax from a candle). Then there was the time he mentioned the juice was good (nectar for the hummingbird feeder). Oh, and lastly, there were the chips he dipped in the first red liquid he saw (marinara sauce). But I digress.)

More? I love to give gifts. Although we have some different views on money and the ways we spend money, we don't butt heads on this. His love language is not gifts, but he supports and encourages my heart to give and do what God puts on my heart, whether it be taking coffee to a friend or a larger scale gift. I'm so very thankful for this.

He has celebrated my friendships. If I make plans with a friend, he's cool with it...not threatened, but supportive, knowing that my encouragement level rises after sweet times with friends. Happy wife, happy wife, or something like that.

I've had freedom to decorate our home (even when he came home to a kitchen that had significantly more coffee paraphernalia and decor than when he had left for work that morning). He has shown grace with my project clutter. He's given me freedom to pursue interests and passions (I earned my black belt in karate several years ago...karate lessons were given as a Christmas gift:-)). And, he patiently showers grace on those times when I disappear into a book(s) or need nothing more than to calm my racing brain with a movie. I use the term "stress-paralyzed" a lot.

Freedom and grace. I'll say them again because they reverberate. With this man, my heart and soul have blossomed. I have fit and molded myself to expectations around me my whole life. It's not to say that my husband expected nothing, but because he didn't have his own personal mold for who I was to be as his wife, I could become the woman, wife, mother, daughter, everything that God made me to be. I have far to go. God has not finished me yet, but as I look at my many roads and paths traversed, I can say that my life, joined with this man has been God's grace gifting to me...

And that has made all the difference. 

I would be a farmer's wife like Sarah

I've never run under the assumption that I would be a good farmer's wife. I realize that my blog title carries the name "country." For me, the term more connotes images of simplicity, tradition, cozy evenings, old-fashioned and simple pleasures. 
 
I like gardens, but not the process of gardening. I like meadows and rolling plains, but I like close neighbors and coffee shops. I'm terrified of snakes. But maybe the number one reason I could not be a good farmer's wife, is that I could never send my animals to the butcher. They would become pets. They would have names. I'm not a vegetarian, so call me a hypocrite, but if I own the animals, they become family.

As a child, I couldn't leave a pet store without being in tears because of all the dogs in cages. When we were looking for a new dog when I was ten, my mom took us to the Humane Society to see if we could find one. This did not go well. In my memory, we stayed only about five minutes. I was melting down seeing all those lost and abandoned dogs and horrified at the thought of them being put down.

There was also that time when my grandma's neighbor was telling me that they had "dressed" the rabbits that day. The rabbits that I snuggled and chased and played with who lived in the large pen/yard behind their house. I thought, "How cute, they put outfits on them!" Still makes me sad....

And in another episode of super-sensitivity, my mom rented a video (VHS) for a weekend movie night and it happened to be about horses who worked in coal mines. Let it just be said that any movie that involves coal mines will be tragic. Explosions, collapses, black lung disease...tragic, tragic, tragic.

Anyway, as it happened, an explosion rocked the mine. Shocker. Many horses escaped. One horse, named Lightening, was a blind pony. He knew by feel how to get to and from his stall (inside the mines) and where he was to go to work. Instead of escaping, he galloped back to his stall and died in the collapse. I'm seriously tearing up right now. It was horrible. I remember sitting in my living room, curled up in the brown velvet-ish rocking recliner and sobbing. My mom totally wished that the internet existed so she could have previewed said movie for animal violence for her ultra- sensitive daughter. We proceeded to stay up until midnight because I had to watch a happy movie (I still have to do this). B.R.A.T. Patrol, being our favorite, was quickly popped into the VCR.

Then there was the trout. And my own personal National Geographic parenting fail (I have two girls about as sensitive as I am). But those I'll save for another time.

Sufficed to say, farm life would have been quite traumatic.

We watched the Hallmark movie Sarah, Plain and Tall as a family. Sarah, Plain and Tall by Patricia MacLachlan is one of Cece's favorites and watching the movie was a reward for reading the whole book out loud to me. This was a BIG DEAL and accomplishment for our sweet girl. 

While we watched she would tell us the similarities and differences between the book and the movie. She rested her head on my shoulder and as it ended, she zeroed her eyes on me and stated, "You're crying."

Of course I am. I always cry...for the happy and sad. I can't make it through the ending of Homeward Bound when the dogs appear over the ridge without losing it and I've seen in dozens of times, but I digress. SENSITIVE to the core.

I don't know that I read Sarah, Plain and Tall growing up. Probably, a vague memory exists. As an adult, I appreciated Sarah's honesty. She wasn't afraid to be who she was, to feel what she felt.

When she arrives, me brings a cat named "Seal." Anna, the young narrator tells of the exchange between her papa and Sarah:

"'The cat will be good in the barn,' said Papa. 'For mice.'

Sarah smiled. 'She will be good in the house, too.'"

And Seal lived in the house. I laughed at this. 

The cat wrangler...

When a lamb is found dead, she shakes her fists at the sky, not accepting it as just a normal part of farm life. Something was broken. It shouldn't be like that.

Sarah is given chickens by their neighbor explaining that they are for eating. Anna quickly deduces that the chickens "would not be for eating." I love her. In the movie, she names the chickens. Some souls (darkened ones) can eat an animal they named, but not me, and not Sarah.

I like her for other reasons also.

She acknowledges that there are always things to miss no matter where you are.

Life is bittersweet. And bittersweet is not bad, it's the real stuff of life.

Sarah found joy in her new life. Maybe not at first. She missed her family, she missed the sea. But she opened her heart. She allowed herself to be changed, to see new possibilities. She missed her old life, but in the end, she knew she'd miss her new life more.

She found beauty. She was real with what she missed, but grasped the life around her. I love this about Sarah. I want to live this way.

And, she turned farm animals into pets. I know this would be me...

I would like to be a farmer's wife like Sarah.


p.s. All pictures were taken at our dear friends' farm in Missouri. Check out Harvest Table Farm here or follow on Instagram. Our kids had the best time. We loved it.

a mug, a piece of chalk, and a word

my girl happily building a snowman in the front yard

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, or so the trite saying goes. I'm rarely without a mug in hand or nearby, filled with a choice hot beverage. I may be more attached to having a mug in hand than my phone nearby. I'm not really joking. I have this chalkboard mug, an impulse buy from World Market or as my son calls it "World Trap." A tempting place for those who are drawn to the aesthetically beautiful and the new and interesting and unique, but I digress. I write a word or phrase or verse when I pull this one out of the cupboard. In the last many months, Cece has been steadily increasing her tea and chai habit. I can only blame/congratulate myself. My husband shakes his head in consternation and has not quite recovered from the shock of our two-year-old (also Cece) asking to go to Starbucks, but not knowing the name McDonalds.

Over Christmas while clearing dishes, I saw my chalkboard mug amidst the latest tea party/art project table clutter. It made me smile, it warmed my heart. I so often only see my failings, the bad that I'm passing on, the sin that they see daily. I cannot decide what they take and what they leave from their childhood as they grow up. I cannot control everything. I cannot control them. More than anything, I can entrust them to the Lord, trust His hand in their lives, trust that He can use everything. I can trust that He sees and knows the heart of a sweet 9-year-old, who grabbed a piece of chalk, imitated her mama and felt compelled to write one word that we can all use more of...JOY.