Sabbath Holiday!

This morning we all woke to find a great surprise! The precipitation that could have either come in the form of rain or snow had chosen the latter, funner form, and it piled heavily on cars, hydrants, and tree branches like fluffy white pillows.
Looking out over our courtyard Abigail kept saying, "Let's go play in the snow, mama! I wanna make a snow man! And a snow angel!" Lucie didn't really know what to think. Afterall, she was only 7 months old when the last of the snow disappeared last spring. But she could feel the excitement!

I had decided the night before to make homemade cinnamon rolls for breakfast, and the apartment was soon filled with the smell of baked bread and coffee. Abigail sniffed the air as she ran to the oven. "Mama! Something smells delicious, delicious, delicious!"

Lucie apparently thought so, too! She was stalking the kitchen waiting for the rolls to cool down.

She then proceeded to scarf the equivalent of two complete rolls all on her own. As soon as her bowl was empty, she held it up and signed, "please? please?" How could I refuse? Especially since the first snow of the season is kind of like a holiday!


I started to pull out jeans and sweatshirts for the girls when Jon declared the day a pajama day. So we pulled out our winter gear instead. I felt like I had prepared well. You can never predict when the first snow will be, but you can predict how a 3-year-old will act as soon as she sees the snow! It's best to have the boots, the mittens, the coat, the hat, and the snowpants ready for that day. And indeed they were. But what a pile!!

And of course, what would the first snow day be without a child falling over from the amount of padding surrounding their limbs? At least it cushions the fall...

At long last, we ventured out into the wonderland...




Jon designed the snowman with Abi. I think she is duplicating the face they decided to make for the snowman. The little boy in the background is a new friend we made. He lives down the hall and continued to create a snow people village after we left. I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot more of him!
Abi refused to take part in this picture, but she couldn't completely escape...
After Lucie's little nose and eyebrows started to form icicles, we decided it was time to go home and defrost. We peeled off layers on layers of soggy coats and ice-crusted mittens to find our comfy pajamas still warm and dry underneath. I prepared some hot cocoa for us all (lukewarm cocoa for Lulu) and we watched Iron Will (because we just haven't had our snow fill for the day yet!) Lucie squealed and pointed every time she saw a doggie on the screen. And when there wasn't a doggie on the screen she would draw our attention to the doggie on the cover of the video with squeals and more pointing!! But eventually, everyone wore down and was tucked into their own beds.
Abigail and I went out again after naptime, and again I had to still the desire in my heart for a yard that I could just let her run in without her every move necessitating supervision. But "there is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven," ~Ecclesiastes 3:1. Again, I found contentment being in the middle of God's will and HIS timing.

Even though the girls were obviously exhausted, there were no fits, no whining episodes, and no fights all day long. (WELL, I'm not counting when Abi shut Lucie's thumb in the door; they were having fun before that happened) After a nice warm bath to wash away the cocoa mustaches, the girls sleepily dragged their respective loveys to their beds. A few blissful moments passed as I listened to them giggle in the dark. Then the sleepies won them over and all was quiet. Today was one of those days where I cry with gratitude knowing what amazing gifts God has given me. Today was one of the most peaceful and restful Sabbaths we've enjoyed in quite a while. Thank you, Father for meeting with us today.

Veteran's Day

It is the soldier, not the reporter,
Who has given us freedom of the press.

It is the soldier, not the poet,

Who has given us freedom of speech.
It is the soldier, not the campus organizer,
Who has given us the freedom to demonstrate.
It is the soldier,
Who salutes the flag,
Who serves beneath the flag,
And whose coffin is draped by the flag,
Who allows the protestor to burn the flag.

- Father Dennis Edward O'Brian, USMC

Thank you to all who have served and fight for our freedom.

Today I honor the two men who mean most to me in my life: my husband and my father.

Jonathan
USMC Reserves
Military Police
Operation Iraqi Freedom/Operation Enduring Freedom
2003, 2005-2006
Navy Presidential Unit Citation

John
US Army
Infantry
Vietnam War
1968-1969
Bronze Star, Army Commendation Medal

Marine Corps Birthday

Happy Birthday Marines

Facebook Vacation

Jon and I are challenging ourselves to take a vacation from Facebook for a whole week so we can...do stuff. I find myself hovering around the computer before realizing that there's nothing to do there. I'm one day into my Facebook "fast" and all would be well, except for one downside: I used Facebook to glean mommy-pity, er, I mean support. Last night when Lucie woke 3 times screaming in pain from her glacier-slow molar carving into her inflamed gums, I tried not to think about the fact that I wouldn't be receiving all the Facebook pats on the back for a job well-martyred. Instead I did what all the moms did back in the pioneer days before Facebook: 1) I cried into my pillow
2) Gave my baby a frozen teething ring
3) Read my Bible and got filled up with words of Life
4) Called a friend for encouragement and support.

Oh if only.

Actually, I'm a little embarrassed to say that even though I know the order of things I should have done to pick myself up when I was down, this is what I did instead:

1) Cried into my pillow
2) Slept in (because my hubby let me)
3) Gave my baby a frozen teething ring
4) Put on a video
5) Tried 1000 different ways of comforting an exhausted and suffering toddler
6) Put the kids down for a nap
7) Blogged about my struggles and mis-steps as an attempt to gain sympathy

There you have it folks. Day One of my Facebook Vacation reveals to me that I look to internet pals for encouragement when the hard mommy days roll in. Well, enough of this. I've wasted enough of your time (and mine) so I'm going to close, and then sit in the quiet apartment with my Bible open in my lap and get some real refreshing. I invite you to do the same.

The Triple Crown

Since I began running full-speed ahead, no-holds barred, with-the-wind, in love with Jesus, I knew I might have to give up a few things in life, perhaps some things that many people assume come with being an American. After all, I didn't know what God had in store for me - I didn't want to be disappointed.

God gave me peace (several times...hehe) about being single. But God in His goodness gave me an AMAZING husband! I knew children would come in his time. One month after our first anniversary, our little Abigail was born, and Lucie came along later. But we'll never be able to afford a car that's not a junker. Lo and behold! We own a very nice Passat wagon that is under 100,000 miles and has heated leather seats! Wow, now we're talking God!

But I knew a house would have to wait. I knew Jon and I weren't ready to own a home. Unless God drops a house on us Wizard of Oz style, we'll be renting until further notice. Some items associated with home-ownership I am content to be without. Items such as lawnmowers, snow blowers, sump pumps, etc. (Who, by the way, coined the name "sump pump?" It's very name brings images of bubbling sewage to my mind. But I digress.) But then there are a few appliances that I think about fondly...with a sort of 1950's era gloss on them. I call them The Triple Crown. Yes, Brenda's Triple Crown of Cleaning Efficiency, the apex of the pyramid of household appliances. The Triple Crown gave the housewife victory over pruny hands, calloused knuckles, and bird poop on your knickers. Indeed, I mean the dishwasher, the washing machine, and the dryer.

I've never owned a dishwasher. Growing up, us kids each had a dish-washing night to look forward to every week. We made our own fun in small towns, we did. I found when I briefly lived in a house that used one, I didn't know how to load the dishes in it so that the little plastic lids didn't go flying all around. And I didn't know that you had to wash the dishes before you actually set the dishwasher to wash them (huh?). I didn't even know where to put the dishwasher soap, but at least I knew you had to use the special soap! (I had seen enough cartoons with bubbles spilling out of the machine to know that dishwashers require SPECIAL soap!) But I learned quickly, and then I had to leave the dishwasher behind when I got married. I'm thankful for my double sink, and I have a system down to ensure maximum efficiency in dish-washing prowess (plastics/glass first so they don't get that greasy film on them, then plates & bowls because they towel dry easily, then the silverware, then the pots and pans, then anything with...mold. Remember my number one un-favorite chore is cleaning out the fridge.) Even with my system in place, I look forward to the day when I have a dishwasher.

Although I grew up with a washing machine, there was a time (five months of time, actually) where I had to hand-wash all my clothes. When I was in the Peace Corps, we didn't even get a washboard. We rubbed the clothes against themselves to get them clean. Rub a little soap on the bottom of your sock, scrub it against itself or another sock, till the suds weren't black any more. Then rinse it out in the FREEZING tub of water. I developed callouses on the insides of my index fingers pretty fast. When you hung up the laundry to dry during the winter, it took days, because not even the insides of the houses are heated very well. And on the warm days, the birds would poop all over your meticulously washed blouse, so now you have to wash it all over again.

Nowadays I have access to machines who do the work for me, but they're not cheap. There are three tiny machines down the hall who charge me a dollar every time my daughter throws up in her bed. And then they make me keep the soiled sheets in my bathtub til morning when the laundry room opens. Or I could drive 18.24 miles to my in-laws' house where they have generously given us permission to wash and dry our laundry. And although this option is technically cheapest, it does mean an entire day is devoted to the washing and drying of laundry and nothing else. (This option also gives Nana playtime with her granddaughters, so this is definitely the better deal! It just means a day where I only check one item off my list of things to do.)

You may think this post is nothing but a gripe session, but really it's anticipation for the day (someday?) when I might finally own The Triple Crown. And oh, it is SO trivial in light of the Kingdom of God. But maybe it's not. Maybe it's a call to be mindful of the things I forget to be thankful for. Maybe I would have taken the dishwasher, the washing machine, and the dryer for granted had God given them to me after I said "I do." As it is, the day when I own all three of these appliances, I will throw a party where my guests can bring anything that needs to be washed, rinsed, spun, jet-dried or fluffed. It will be a wild time. And I'm pretty sure I'll be thankful every day of my life that follows.

Birthday Month: Complete

I will not be making a baby this November, or any November to come. This might seem a bit too much information, but when you make babies in November, they are sure to be born in August. I thought this would be a great idea: two kids in one month! I'll just smush their parties together and I'll only have to plan one party instead of two! While this will be my ingenious, conniving plan for the future, it doesn't work for those "first birthday" moments. This August, I had to plan TWO parties. Which ended up being five parties somehow. I'll spare you most of the details. Abigail turned 3, Lucie turned 1, and they are both still requesting cupcakes and presents every time they see a candle. Abi actually makes birthday cakes by layering objects. For example, she'll pile 3 tupperware containers on top of each other, then carry them out to you singing "Happy Birthday." She makes birthday cakes with books, blocks, plates, even shirts. Then you blow out the candles and "eat" the cake. At any rate, two birthdays is definitely my limit per month, so November is out of the conception pool.TOYS GALORE!

She understood what the cake was for!

Note to self: apply strawberries before serving. Not the night before.

As for my little gems, they are fast becoming pals despite their personality differences. Little Lucie is (and has been from the start) a little firecracker. There's a lot of spunk in that little bundle, and when she squawks, she means it! She charms everyone she meets. I'll tell you her flirting secrets: 1) She begins with a coy smile, looking up through her long eyelashes, and pushing her cheeks up into her eyes so you can only see a sliver of the energy that alights from her eyes. 2) After you return her smile, she will reward you with what I call the "Muppet Smile": a smile that takes up the whole lower half of her face, so big you can see her tonsils. Now you're hooked. 3) You laugh and might approach her because she has seemingly given you a pass to advance, but now she will play hard-to-get. She will bury her face into her shoulder or mine or her blanket while squealing. Then she will slowly peek just enough to see you with one, triumphant eye just to make sure you're still looking. You've been caught! 4) She will return to step one, give you her coy smile, and she may repeat the process as many times as you choose, or for however long you follow her in the grocery aisle.

Abigail maintains her "less is more" technique of wooing friends. It's a struggle to photograph anything but a blur of a face yelling in protest. I have a lot of pictures of her lovely blond curls. I can occasionally trick her by asking her to "make a face at the camera," which she gives rather willingly so far. With the advancement of Abigail's age, we decided to promote B the Goat to Lord and Protector of the Front Hallway. We even bought him a throne. When we leave the house, B sits (or lays if he is feeling lazy or sleepy) on his throne with a book or toy and wards off potential criminals from breaking into our home. We need a "Beware of Goat" sign for our door. Even so, the transition from taking B EVERYWHERE to taking him nowhere has been surprisingly painless due, I'm convinced, to the implementation of the Goat Throne. Speaking of thrones, potty training has finally gone to seed. We started last January, got it NAILED, as in she was trained in a week and was accident-free for a whole month, when she regressed. There was a lot of stress in the home at that time and I think her little heart just couldn't stand being all grown-up for a while. We let it go for a few months and tried again in July. This time it took off and despite a few set-backs (including one accident on my nanny-family's couch), we are now even past the rewards stage (although she does request a marshmallow for a #2 from time to time).

Lucie isn't walking quite yet, but she is signing "please" and "thank you" (which she gets the biggest thrill out of) and she can locate her belly button (or yours if you're within reach). She is all about speed, so I think she is unwilling to walk because it will not take her to Abi's cup/toy/book/open crayon box before her sister notices and yells, "BUT NO BUT NO BUT NOOOOOOOOO!" **SQUAWK!!** is usually Lucie's reply. She likes to stalk the bathroom; if you don't latch the door shut she will usually invite herself in and crawl in between your legs. If you do latch the door she'll either pound on it and squawk or just sit there nicely so you have a surprise baby waiting with big smiles for you after you flush! She throws a mean fast ball. She also has a lovey, the flannel blanket I used to swaddle her in (all the way til she was 9 1/2 months old...oops). So even as I've partially weaned Abi from her Goat, Lucie's blanket replaces the need to REMEMBER TO BRING THE LOVEY WHEREVER WE GO AND DON'T FORGET IT THERE. She's a real mama's girl, and I kind of like it that way since her sister followed the meaning of her name and basks in the delight of her daddy.

Abigail gets brighter every day, using words like exquisite and privacy. She started Preschool this fall and asks for it every day. She was so eager to learn how to write her name that I showed her how and now she can actually do it, which surprises the socks off of me. She's not a prodigy by any means, but she's a pretty sharp little tack. She wakes up at 7:30 on the nose and announces to the world that "The number 7 is on!" (I have her clock set a half hour back, hehehe, joke's on her!) She started a chore chart last week and has been faithfully making her bed, picking up her toys, getting dressed, and clearing her dishes without complaint, or at least with the promise of donuts at the completion of the chart. She draws faces with hair, big eyes, a nose, a mouth, ears, cheeks, and long legs and arms sticking out of the head. Some are happy, some are sad, she can't really control what emotion they'll be feeling. She also draws donuts now. She knows all her upper case letters, most of the lower case, counts to 20 (but leaves out 16, just like Alexender who keeps having a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day), "reads" books to Lucie/B/herself, rhymes, knows her colors & shapes, but couldn't carry a tune in a bucket :) All the same she loves to play that one note on the recorder when you don't cover any of the holes, and play her little snare drum like Christopher Robin. When either of those items are used as violent reminders for Lucie not to touch her matroshka doll, they get put up for the day, and she gets a time out. Favorite food: cake and mac n cheese. Favorite movie: Sweet Pea Beauty. Favorite song on the radio: In Christ Alone. Favorite Book: ...this is impossible to narrow down to even 25. Right now she is obsessed with Little Bear.

So my little girls are not so little any more. I keep seeing babies and thinking about #3, but we're going to hold off for now. At least through November!

Life in the Fast Lane

I think God has been sending me some major hints the past few months. When the lyrics in your life start fitting together to create a soundtrack, take heed. Ignore at your peril. I'm about to share with you all the soundtrack I've started hearing and if it strikes a chord with you, I urge you to take a good long moment to sort out the music from the noise.

It all started at the beginning of the summer. You remember how Jesus told stories in parables in the Bible? He spoke this way so that his disciples would understand radical principles because he had likened them to earthly concepts that they could relate to. Jesus told me a parable while I was driving my daughters back from a park. It was a gorgeous sunny summer day, and we were driving down a scenic, winding road, nice and slow. The windows were down and the radio was playing; it was even a song Abi knew and we were singing together. Soon enough we met up with the highway. I accelerated onto the on-ramp, and as we got up to speed, the noise of the traffic drowned out the song on the radio. We tried to keep singing along, but I realized after a few lines that we were not keeping up with the song. I don't claim to always be listening for God's voice in my life (for reasons to be explained), but I must have been listening this day. Suddenly the seemingly meaningless events that had just taken place fit together in a personal parable for my life.

I could see my life as a drive down a scenic, winding road. The "radio" I sing along with is actually God - His voice in my heart, the Holy Spirit's urges, the moments that speak life. Some songs I know really well. Maybe they're truths I learned as a child or scripture I memorized. Some songs I don't know at all; they're new truths or words that God reveals to me day by day. Then life speeds up. I get caught up with all the events around me; I pack too much into my day. I race among the other cars, all with a purpose, a drive, a destination that seems so very important. And the radio fades into the cacophony of this rat race. God's voice becomes harder to discern, and I can really only hear it if I hear "familiar chords" of a song I already know. My first inclination is to merely turn up the volume of the radio! But I know it doesn't work like that. God's voice is often in the gentle whisper; He doesn't scream to get our attention. He waits for us to listen to Him.

I was astounded by this parallel and told a lot of people this story. Everyone agreed that this is SO RIGHT - our lives are too fast, and we can't hear God's gentle whisper through the roar of life. Wow, right on! Don't you love it when God speaks?!

And life went on as usual. I started a study on grace with some friends of mine in July. I was realizing that I couldn't handle all the irons in my fire, all the balls in my airspace, all the stuff on my plate. I was realizing I needed to understand and ask for more of God's grace in my life. And wouldn't you know it, a sermon on grace popped up at that moment. Wow, what an amazing coincidence. Since I don't believe in amazing coincidences, I immediately recognized God's timing. God wants me to heed this - let the message of grace take root. Wow, right on! Don't you love it when God speaks?!

And life went on as usual. August has been (and will be) a mad rush of birthdays and weddings and parties and play dates and lakes and vacations, vacations, vacations. I've heard myself praying, "God I need more of your grace today!" over and over again. This last weekend, my amazing mother-in-law asked if there was anything I needed prayer for. I said I am looking for a better understanding of grace in my life. She prayed for me, but then she gave some advice straight from heaven to me. She said, "God is pleased with you. God wants to fill you up, and you don't have to do anything for it - just come to His throne and sit. Don't say anything, just sit and be quiet before Him. He will give you everything you need." I have to admit, at this point I started seeing a persisting theme through my summer. I am doing too much, it's making my life too crazy, it's making me spiritually deaf. Thanks, Cynthia. Wow, right on. Don't you love it when God speaks?!

And...life went on as usual. Well at least as usual as 2 days can be. Then today happened. A normal day with a list a mile long of chores I wanted done. But I'm a woman, I multi-task! So while I washed the dishes, I fired up the laptop to listen to Focus on the Family. I found a program that looked interesting and added it to my playlist and started listening. As the program began, I looked up from the sink, puzzled. This didn't sound like the program I had selected. I went over to look at the playlist, and although the program I had selected was highlighted on top, it was not the one that was playing. Instead it was a program on clergy burnout. Well, this is an irrelevant topic! I'm not a clergyman in danger of burnout! And I was just about to delete it when a few lines popped up about "hectic schedules" and "being too busy" and "having no time to rest." I almost dropped the dish I was holding, because (I'll admit) I was a little creeped out at this point. Humbly I returned to the sink to listen to what I concluded was a lecture hand-picked by my loving Father. It tied every rhythm and rhyme together into a beautiful rhapsody. Come to Me all who are weary and burdened. And I will give you rest. I make you lie down in green pastures, I lead you beside quiet waters. I restore your soul. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your soul. My summer opus: Slow Down.