Heart Skippity Happy Color

Several years ago the children asked me to include more crafts into our lifestyle.  I'm a creative sort, but I don't find myself particularly drawn to this kind of project-crafts (in my tiny brain) require some planning, and to be shamefully honest, I don't like cleaning up the mess afterwards.

I know, I know- the creative process and the together time has far greater value than protecting my likes and dislikes, and it's worth the planning time.  So, having the tiniest little intellectual grasp of this, I committed to crafts at the very least at Christmas.

So, I try to plan a week of daily crafts that will appeal to both young and old, that use simple supplies, and that are affordable.  Hmmm-as I evaluate that sentence maybe that's what makes me stressy-somehow that seems like lots of self imposed expectations!

Nonetheless, we got started last night, and the above criteria were met (with one exception). And although this project is probably as old as time, it is fun and in the end I love me some bling!

You'll need this to get started:

• styrofoam balls -I got mine at the dollar store, and I chose a pretty small size b/c it can get tedious for the little ones after a bit, so I want them to be able to see and be motivated by their "progress".
• ribbon
• straight pins -you can't see the box of pins in this picture ... because we ran out.  I  underestimated the amount of pins we needed.  And this is the exception I mentioned above. I got it in my head that it would be oh so pretty to use pins with colored ends, and those are "budget busters" at $4.59 per box. Our little crafty bunch was unable to finish last night, so I'll be grabbing some more pins on my out 'n abouts today...however, they'll be plain straight pins since I'm shopping with funds from my change jar right now! (Oh, don't worry, that's just because I've completed all my grocery, giving, and gift plans from my Christmas Budget, and so this all falls under the umbrella of "extra")
• Mixed colors and sizes of sequins.  I got ours from Hobby Lobby, but they're widely available from lots of sources.

Now, the simple fun begins.  Make a ribbon loop.  Attach the ends with pins to your styrofoam ball and start pushing pins through the center hole of the sequins and into the ball.  You can see from the picture that the end result is just as lovely with white still showing through as well as a completely covered ball.

Yup, that's it.  Hang them on your tree, in a window, give as a gift...and remember the sweet memories you made while you worked and created together.

Of course there's many, many, many variations of styrofoam ball crafts.  This one worked just fine with our youngest (4yrs.) with the only problem being she bent some pins as she enthusiastically pushed them in.  A sweet Gramma joined in our fun, encouraging the young ones.

I'll do it again next year-the styrofoam ball thing.  Last year we did fuzzy pom poms,  This year sequins.  What are your suggestions for next year?

Swimming Lessons

A sweet friend of mind suggested today that my newly found compulsion to write is a reflection of the Holy Spirit's work in my heart. What welcome words those are. When I started this blog just two short months ago, I had very different plans for it's content. I hoped to share recipes, stories from family life, crafting and home decorating successes (and mishaps), improve my photography skills, and of course, include spiritual and heart lessons along the way.

I had no idea that in choosing to chronicle and capture life that I would so often find myself up against weighty life circumstances. And, as I'm about to write another reflective post, (yeah, I know, I'm still decorating one square inch at a time for the now revised “Merry and Selective Blog House Tour”) I am grateful to have seen my friend today. She tells me how my words have ministered to her heart. Others of you have said the same. I thank God for each of you and for now this unprecedented compulsion to write.

I am one of those stubborn ones who if told I “should” do something, I naturally resist. So, if there's a book sweeping a best seller list, and one of you says I should read it, I'm more likely to avoid it as a matter of (twisted) principle. The same applies to the life-long suggestion from multiple sources that I “should” write. In fact, my sweetest and perhaps most intimate friends in the world say things like, “I promise to make time to read your book(s).” Yeah, right, when pigs fly is my off hand response.

Even my dear parents, who have never wanted anything but good for me, have always encouraged me to write. Well, you can imagine how well I've responded to them. Not.

In true to myself form, I find it necessary to write lengthy prefaces to what I really want to say. It's as if I know all along what the point of all these words is, but I find that each stroke leads me closer and closer to how to say it.

I've always been a strong swimmer. Both physically and metaphorically. There's joy in the water in both the exertion and buoyant properties of water when one is swimming. I know all the strokes and can swim purposefully and pleasurably. This is often true of my emotional, thought, and spiritual life as well.

But lately, the red flag still flies. The waters have not calmed and the shore is still besieged by frothy waves and vicious undertow. So, if I flip from back to front, swim on the surface or under the water, my swimming ability fails to match the water's demands.

And yet, like Dory in the movie “Finding Nemo” I find that I “just keep swimming”. Really, there's no option to just walk out onto a pleasant beach, towel off, and bask in the sun. These are hard days filled with doubt and suffering, mostly for others, but at least in some ways me too. We do hurt when those we love suffer, even if the pain doesn't directly affect us.

The news for my Dad is not good right now. The first round of chemo was not effective. He must endure a second marathon of drugs being fed into his body 24/7 and the resultant side effects. And, although many people experience remission, we understand that there are those that don't. Only God has the answer to “will this work?”

I still feel a little tender seeing pictures of baby Maria Grace, stillborn two days ago at the very moment I pressed “publish” on my post earlier this week. I also see her mother, head bent low towards her sweet still child, and although her face is serene and she too has the comfort of the Holy Spirit, I know her hurt.

It's no coincidence that our sermon last Sunday morning was taken from the text found in Job one and two. It brought memory crashing back that upon the news that our firstborn daughter would be born still, I decided to meditate on words from Job 13:15, “Though he slay me, yet I will trust him.”

That word, “slay”, that's powerful. It threatens death. And don't we naturally guard against death? Perhaps we even go so far as to avoid all life threatening events in as much a we know.

Back to swimming lessons. I learned to swim in the Atlantic Ocean-frigid, dark, salty water. Every morning my teacher would tell me to step in over my head, and learn how to breathe. Learn how to float. Learn how to stroke. And then do all those things together. It was a decision to trust her, to step into the murky unknown, the very thing that is natural to distrust. And, there was reason enough to dislike it, the discipline required to endure the temperatures in the low fifties and the fearsome crabs I knew were on the bottom. But, somehow, I walked in, went under, and learned to swim. I trusted and obeyed.

Isn't that what I'm doing now? God has purposed for me and several people near and dear to me to enter into swimming lessons of a sort. The water is dark and swirly, but He who formed it is the one who invites me to become a better swimmer.

And, somehow that's like writing. It's as if I don't have a choice right now. I'm okay with that, finally. After all, people have been telling me my whole life I should. And that's just like me who turned a deaf ear to my child's uncertain cry when first introduced to the deep end. I taught him to swim. Because in swimming I knew his life may someday be preserved, and along the way he'd know the pleasure of the water.

Through words the Lord is preserving my life, both in memory and a maturing process. Writing is my “new” skill by which I stay firm and do not seek land. I'm in over my head and I think I'll be here awhile.

In the Negative space I see

Sometimes in absence I see more clearly.  Certainly today, as I am out of my routine, and hoping to bless another by being present in her home, I remember more clearly. 

The children that once grew in my womb, having been taken up to heaven well before I was ready, are absent from this world.  I remember the agony of it.  I remember the beauty of their tiny and perfectly formed bodies.  I remember the loss of all the plans, hopes, desires, and opportunity to mother yet again.  I remember the empty crib, the useless stack of blankets, and the still rocking chair that wouldn't be needed.  I remember the absence of oxygen-the writhing tears that robbed me of breath.

What I didn't know then is that for Christ followers, if we yield to His plan, the work of the Holy Spirit, and by mental and emotional discipline taking every thought captive for His cause, that into the absence comes growth.  The empty space can be filled with joy.  Not the joy that comes from a sweet newborn's fingers curled around mine, but from the understanding that my holy God works for my good and His glory.

In the absence of late night feedings came appointments with God when he ministered to the very depths of me with Psalms, hymns, and the quiet presence of His Spirit.  In the absence of busy that surrounds the arrival of a child was the opportunity to wrestle with and come to a sweet understanding of a sovreign and providential Creator God who has seen fit to save me and preserve my life for His eternal purpose.

Don't get me wrong-I'm quite sure the Lord teaches these truths with drooly chins, pudgy legs, milestones, and the gift of children too.  And, frankly, I would have preferred that growth pattern if given the opportunity to choose.  But I don't see what He sees. 

And in not seeing-in absence- He is always present.

His plans are not (always) my plans.  His ways are not (always) my ways.  I only see dimly.  He sees clearly.  And in these spaces- the places my vision clouds-He is fully, abundantly, constantly, faithfully present.

Even when I don't feel Him or believe it to be true.  His character allows for nothing less.  He is always completely who He is.

So, for my dear friend, who today suffers the unthinkable, I thank you for allowing me to share your journey.  You do not walk alone.

For those of you who do not know me well, I thank you for your grace as you read words poured out from a raw heart-one reintroduced to her own grief, and walking alongside one who is laboring even now to fulfill God's purpose for her daughter.

And, because I must-in desire and need- the numbering of gifts continues:

A sweet friend giving me the only thing I asked for this Christmas.  How you bless my heart and encourage my faith.

A chance to serve, love one another, in time of need -showing practical boots on the ground love and living the gospel in the body of Christ.

Making space in my freezer to take delivery on beef soon-a beautiful reminder of summer's bounty.

Perhaps the most meaningful Christmas service I've been privileged to be a part of concluded last evening.  I think the angels sang among us as we raised our voices.

Church potlucks-yum!

The internet that keeps me connected to my father, although he is experiencing difficult side effects of chemo, we can still "talk"

Heat and a thermostat wired in weekend farmer's office so he can have profitable and quiet work days at his "real" job.

A ton of feed in the barn. 

Quiet afternoons to remember, This is the day the Lord has made.  I will rejoice and be glad in it.

Linking up here today-don't know yet how to get the button- Techie friends....Help!!??!!

Mmmm-the house smells savory!

When I first met her, in an online sense that is, I cooked and laughed until the laughing could no longer keep up with the increased caloric intake.  I took a break long enough to make it to my local bookseller and purchase her  photo filled cookbook, which has since become splattered, and thanks to the broken spine, lays flat on my counter. Some of the recipes are part of our corporate memory now, and thank you very much, some of the younger kids think her best stuff is something I thought of.  Do you think I should 'fess up?

(have you noticed she takes lots of pictures of cows....hmmm?)

Until I went slack jawed and drooly in the wee hours of the morning reading her site, I thought recipes just were flat lists on flat pages, and something to be checked off on my grocery list and assembled with little engagement.  That is until I encountered her regular guests, the "Cast of Characters", photographed up close and personal-who knew ordinary things like Crisco could have such highly saturated colors and sharp mouth watering images on it's packaging?

All this extra wordiness is the prelude to a series of food photos below.  I am venturing into uncharted territory in the kitchen- I am the novice chef in charge of cuts of beef I've never seen and thereby prepared before.

Tonight's menu includes red skin potatoes with butter and cracked pepper, roasted asparagus, and the star of the meal-Braised Beef Cheeks.

Thank goodness for Google, (well, most of the time...sometimes I don't feel so fondly). I surfed around and chose to prepare this recipe, found on Epicurious.com.

For now I've just got the preparation photos...I'll edit later tonight and add a picture of the finished dish, hopefully bubbling and looking appetizing in my braising pan. And, since I'm hoping you'll come back to see, I simply want to offer my opinion that this recipe is already a winner in my book since it called for generous amounts of red and wine and – wait for it-

Chocolate!

For my real life friend Sarah (who is much more accomplished in the kitchen)- I attempted, (with my typical ADD success), a Mise en place approach, and gathered as many items together as I could remember between reading the recipe and 12 nano seconds later standing in front of my cupboard, wondering why I was there...? I think I just wanted to think in french while I messed up my counters and tell Sarah that she's the one who should take knife handling classes and I'll stick to the farm life.

Since some of you will surely ask, "Yes", that cheek came from this:

But, I digress- with yet another cow picture.

I browned the cheeks in olive oil, removed them from the pan, and added this.

About 10 minutes later, they were soft, and I added chocolate.  And, I'm just saying, somehow these savory veggies look even better now that they're drenched in oil AND chocolate!

The final step before placing the ingredients together in the same pan and placing in the center rack of my oven-let's pause here-

Lord,

You've been good to me and given me so many luxuries.

Will you please keep my oven door from falling off today?

And is it too much to ask that the temperature would actually be calibrated to 300 degrees?

I'm not gonna complain, no way.  I've got an abundant life, and even if the oven doesn't work and dinner is a flop, the house sure does smell great.

Amen.

I'm not being disrespectful, really.  Given the condition of my oven I really do pray before and during use.  I thought a few more people praying along might be a good idea.

Where am I...? Oh yes, the final step.  Lovely tomatoes and a smidge of garlic poured over the top and the braising pan placed on the center rack of my oven.

Since you know I'm new to being able to see, ( remember the new glasses?), I'd like to suggest that you'll notice a difference when you selectively use canned tomatoes from the San Marzano region of Italy.  But, if you can actually see the label, check to make sure that you notice added ingredients like basil.  It's possible that your new recipe won't call for it.


And now-for the update.
It was AWWWWSOME!  My husband has quietly suffered for years as there's hardly nothing he likes better than a beef roast after church.  But, his roast impaired wife is more likely to produce a savory piece of shoe leather than a succulent slice of meat.  Tonight he declared it was the "best you've ever prepared!".  So, the combination of the home grown meat, my new braising pan (which I bought several weeks ago-before I planned to make this recipe), a good recipe, and answered prayer about my oven produced a delish dish.


My photo pales in comparison, but I said I'd do show and tell...

Wish you'd been here-it was a great family mealtime!

A Fortunate Daughter

At first I wanted to speak with him every day.  When the water began to rise, and waves bearing words like leukemia, bone marrow biopsy, chemotherapy first crashed ashore, there was so much to talk about.  Most of it was difficult and or threatening, and although our family is a bunch of pretty good swimmers, we'd never seen surf like this before.

Soon enough this has become familiar shoreline and I stand at the edge as if I'm gazing out to sea-there's my dad-marooned on his own island, far away in a hospital in Boston. 

That imagery is too strong. Our family and my father quickly found out how loved, appreciated, and highly regarded he is.  Visitors have come who, drawn by his reputation alone, met him for the first time in the hospital.  Family, friends, professional associates and clients have graced him with their love and it is not unnoticed that none of them live in Boston.

Highly relational, dad has easily made positive connections with the hospital staff and although what they're doing to him, (chemo 24/7), is serious business, they seem to have entered into an easy understanding of their roles and my dad's desire to connect with them.  One of his nurses is Laura.  I'm a little envious that she gets to be with him in this time.

Lest you think I've lost my place, I'm a little bothered that I haven't called him for several days.  I warned both of us that on this end of things, I was quite scheduled for the weekend and therfore unlikely to call.  And although this brief separation is planned, I miss his voice.  I want him to hear mine.

I am one of the fortunate daughters.  Not only do I have a father who I love and who loves me back, my father was the first to tell me about Christ, and while young and secure on his lap, dad witnessed my sinful heart flutter and then beat fully alive with salvation, sins washed away.

And my flesh and blood father pointed to Christ for as long as I can remember, and by word, example, and the fruits of the spirit has helped make it easy for me to understand, know, and love my heavenly father.

Flashes of gray in my dark hair, references to events in the 80's and before, and my ability to sing lyrics to musak in stores gives my age away.  The years pass so quickly, and before another day goes by I want to stroke by stroke put words to the blessing of being a daughter.  The medical community continues to tell us that dad's leukemia is "very treatable", but only by God's hand do any of us take another breath.  So while we have this moment I'm giving thanks for my father, and offering humble gratitude to The Father who is the giver of all gifts.

Lots of fun pictures this week:

• A father and daughter, hand in hand,- legacy.

• We are rookie pleased that our cows weighed quite a bit and were noticably healthy when processed. For first timers we are fortunate that it was a good grass year, we didn't struggle with disease or pests, and none of us appear to be too "grieved" by choosing to butcher them on our property. Maybe we'll do ok at this farmer thing...?

• Our first snow fills us with joyful exuberance, even though it got quite cold, cold, cold!

• Beauty and creativity filled the historic auditorium and I watched my older daughters drink in the wonder of "The Nutcracker".
• A friend and I met for coffee, and although I hoped to encourage her, the blessing was all mine as we reconnected after several months of seperation.
• I am well! Medicine, rest, water, and my body fearfully and wonderfully made brought comfort and restoration.
• The plant that appeared to be "doing nothing" has burst forth and we watch and marvel at the miracle of life as green cells divide and multiply.

• Sun! That is never taken for granted during winter in West Michigan-

• New glasses-I've never worn them before and what a relief it is to see clearly!

• Savings enough to buy two Christmas Trees-one for us and another for a military family.  How grateful we are for our freedom and the thousaands of men and women who have made it so.
• Dreaming and scheming with my oldest daugher at the fabric store.
• 24 hours-a respite for mother and daugher, away from the farm, chores, routines-falling asleep in the wee hours, still talking.
• Ever resourceful,and never taking ourselves too seriously, we add another layer to the tradition of going to get a Christmas tree-a generator and a sawzall to make the cutting easier, and after all, everything is better when a power tool is involved!

• Good care for my dad, and so far, no side effects from the chemo.
• Answered prayer for family waiting for news of a house to call home.

• And this, right here.  A place I said I'd never be since I "hate" to write (bad attitude-I know), that's giving me new eyes to see and a heart that beats with the steady rhythym of joyful contentment.

Candy Apple Red

She's been standing tall and lending her fragrance to the barn for 10 long months.  Sometime last December, I got a wild hair to save this beauty and carved out a safe space for her in one of the unused horse stalls. Silent and still she kept her needles and lovely shape.

I waffled around with silver, red, maybe some glitter...? But in the end, Candy Apple Red drew me in and held me fast.

I'm slowly but steadily adding layer upon layer of Christmas Cheer to our home.  My particular challenge each year is to use what I already have in new ways.  Of course, if you've never been here, it'll be brand new to you since I've never blogged about my home before-not to mention how brand new this blog is!

I've not forgotten that I teased you with  a Merry Blog House Tour...both you and I must be patient.  After all, life is what happens when I'm making other plans, and there's been lots of living going on.

I hope she brings a smile to your face as she does mine.  She glitters and twinkles at night and makes a bold statement during the day.  I'm already wondering what color I'll use for next year...

Hushed

All alone and quiet. How unusual. And welcome. On a “normal” Sunday I would be singing with a worship team, celebrating our liberty to sit under biblical teaching, and enjoying the sweet fellowship of saints. But, after a long week of heartbreak, work, life, and then illness weekend farmer husband took one look at me this morning and said, “You're staying home, right?”

About an hour into quiet and alone I find it a welcome and pleasant place. I flit around for awhile before I land here, and then, like a magnet, I am drawn to it's center and I attach.

I can hear the animals, (the house pets), breathe, chirp, and click along the floors. The clocks keep steady time as their arms sweep across minutes. Music of Advent streams and lifts through the house. My cup is steamy and the candles and twinkle lights warm the farmhouse.

Settled I find myself looking forward to tomorrow, (by the time you read this, today), when I've purposed to make a practice of publicly chronicling gifts from the Giver. And I am moved with wonder that this simple but profound thing of writing, marking, sharing, and chronicling has once again quieted and blessed my heart.

I've not forgotten the blows of the week preceding. Waterlogged and weepy the waves still pound. Today will bring news, decisions, tooth clenching, gut wrenching, life testing results. Human wisdom will fall short and in humility I can know that my tank will empty much sooner than it “should”.

But I need not yield to the absence, because in giving thanks I mark the presence of what is Good. And, at the beginning of time He declared ALL THINGS good. Since He has not changed, His declarations remain, and I can find evidence of what He said.

So the list follows. Often it seems the events and images are unconnected, but in reflection and intention the pieces fit in the frame, and although the edges are recently jagged, the picture falls into place.

Another birthday celebration- 8 sweet years with so many milestones to humble us and make us shout with glee!  What better way to start the day than mommy saying "yes" to , "Please may we have frosted donuts from the store?"

It wouldn't be December if we didn't enter into a race with snow and hard frost- trenching yards and yards of ground between house and outbuildings to upgrade electrical service and equip these spaces for weekend farmer husband's weekday office.

Sons, all three, working together to run underground housings, back fill, and then pull hundreds of feet of wires between buildings.

Willingness to learn new skills, work together, and take risks-we've never done anything of this scope before.  For those of you that know us, that's no surprise.  I'm always breathless with thanksgiving at how God blesses our family's industry.

We're trenching, tunneling, digging, drilling, and pulling wires under sills, through walls, and even the basement rock foundation. Thankful for tools and safety.

What a week be without a picture of the cows?  This was perfect winter light-almost too bright to get a good photo?

Only 4 more days until they fulfill their purpose.  Don't they look "full"?  We enjoyed a local art exhibit last evening and viewed an original painting of them in our pastures.  It's satisfying that others can see what we see when these beauties grow and graze on our pastures.

And more...

• Long phone calls with siblings, parents, and just my mom and dad separately.  Minds still spinning with a diagnosis of leukemia and the severity of how ill my dad is, but thankful for one another, good care, and the rising up of community to love and pray for us.
• Antibiotics, urgent care medical facilities, and relief from pain.
• Siblings turning their lives upside down to serve my parents.
• Raucous games of Rook, sides splitting with laughter
• Advent-our family birthdays are done for the year.  Now we wait, prepare, and then conclude our year with the celebration of God with us.
• Quiet mornings
• Christmas movies, snuggled on the couch with the little girls.
• Weekend Farmer Husband has agreed to purchase the painting of the cows :-)
• A friend offering hay at a very affordable price, and we help move it, growing the gift of community
• Every stitch a prayer, rocking, crocheting, and staying at the foot of the cross in prayerful petition.
• And this, the capturing bits of all that is Good.  My cup stays full.