We hosted our first party here on Friday night. Dirk's workmates, staff and their families were our guests. It was so much fun to make everything pretty and really put this house (built to entertain) to the test. I think my favorite moment was sitting out at one of the little cafe tables in the late evening. We were out by the pool, me and a couple of really lovely ladies with whom I was just getting acquainted. Candles lit our table as the moon hung high above us. The kids took turns bounding off of the jumping rock as we chatted and sipped our autumn sangria. Pure delight. We had a great time and were all spent with exhaustion at the night's end. I suppose that's why Mr. Gastroenteritis figured it was an ideal time to viciously attack us from the depths of the earth (or wherever he lives).

We went down like so many dominoes, succumbing to his ruthless blows. Ainsley was the first culprit and got hit pretty hard. She was over the worst of it after one bad night. I was next and am not too proud to say that this bug kicked my rear all over big Texas. Of course that really means it was well worn path between our bed and our bathroom but it felt like a lot of space. Have mercy, Lord. After about twenty continuous hours of nauseated misery, He did. I never knew the stomach flu is really a misnomer. It's not the flu really. When your stomach feels like it's stuck on the spin cycle you have what is called viral gastroenteritis. Dr. Google told me that. The two of us got pretty close as I consulted him in the middle of the night to find out how much longer I had to live.

O is for October

This weekend brought with it a gift so rare it comes but a few times a year in this part of the world. Water fell straight from the sky! A real, full-fledged, welcome downpour of rain that lasted two full days. Yep - it was divine. It also rained out Dirk's Habitat for Humanity work day on Saturday. It will be rescheduled so we didn't have to say "Tough luck, homeless, but we're glad for a family day!" He'll be so glad to work with them again and we were so glad to have him home with us.

We made the most of the weekend together and headed out to the theatre to take in some amazing free cinematography Spy Kids movie. We actually had the biggest blast as it was playing for free at a local Drafthouse Theater where they serve food and drinks (even the grown-up kind) during the movie delivered by a waiter. The girls were amazed such a thing was possible. The movie might have been more enjoyable had I chosen to order an adult beverage after all - but we had great fun never the less.

Emie was invited to two separate birthday parties which both fell on the same day (Sunday). I still don't get the etiquette for kid parties. Do you stay or do you drop them? It's a bit of a question mark for me when the hostess isn't a friend of mine yet. My own little rule of thumb is that if it s a party hosted at a home then it's probably best to ask the mom if she thinks she can get through the afternoon sober without the help of another adult. Or something to this tactful effect. In my experience (limited though it is) the mom is always so glad you asked but happily shoos you home explaining that all manner of family have come in for the big event and she's well covered. This theory goes out the window if the kids are under five, of course, because who wants to be left alone (anywhere) with a pack of preschoolers? Anyway, if the party is held at one of those kiddie-Vegas type of deals with tokens and bouncers you are well free to hit the high road at drop off leaving your seven year old perfectly independent youngster in their care. A teen aged "hostess" has likely been assigned to the party and will be earning every thin dime of her minimum wage by keeping all of the sugared up hooligans out of trouble for two solid hours.

Now that I actually have some time to write again the Blog's taking on a style rather like reading a book from the last page forward (or backward) as the case may be. But things are coming to my mind from the summer and now that time permits - they're spilling onto the screen.

A few months back the girls and I were on our way out for the morning. Off to LifeTime where I could get in a workout and a shower alone (listen for the hallelujah chorus). Emie had happily buckled herself into her seat and Ainsley was not so willing. She exclaimed that she wasn't going and she opted to put her whole body into the argument. I was frustrated, warm, and exhausted from what seemed like a fight at every turn to get the little love to do anything I had asked of her that day. The more she resisted, the more I dug in my heels until I used my arms as well to shove tuck the little lamb safely into her buckled perch. I pushed hard. She cried. I nearly did.

The conviction was immediate. I never want anything but love to come from my hands to my children. I understand that some people use their hands for discipline (which is also hopefully done in love) but this was not that. This was my frustration fanned out on her little torso and in an instant I knew I'd gone too far. I wanted to take it all back, to try again with more restraint and tenderness but there she sat, her face awash in tears. In her eyes was the look you don't ever want to see in your child: heartbreak. A surprise had come (and not the good kind) where she encountered the unexpected - an angry mother whose temper was lost. It was as if (all in an instant) she was piecing it all together for herself, puzzled to understand how a usually peaceful and loving person could lose it in an instant and disappear. In her trusted mother's place she found a forceful shove.

What she saw was me, a mere mortal, trying to gracefully clear the rising hurdles that the job of parenting the young places before you day after day. She saw me miss that hurdle and trip up a good bit. But what I want to make sure that she also saw (and continues to see) is the opportunity (the necessity) for God's unmatched grace. We need Him every hour. I want her to know that when I trip over my own feet, the laces, the stinkingly high hurdles, it's okay. It's okay because I know the One who can pick me up in one instant and set me back on my feet again. The One to re-tie my laces, tell me it's okay, and give me the chance to do better next time.

So Fun to Be Writing Again...

Feeling fit here in the south. I'm no Gabby Douglas but I have survived my first summer as a Texas resident. In the spirit of the Summer Olympics I do feel that's got to be worth a little something. Maybe not silver or even bronze but that's okay - I was thinking a medal made of solid ice would be great. A big icy medal of bravery and honor for making it through the ridiculous heat without complaining at all too much. I know, I know that it's not really over yet. Summer starts here in about February and runs through early December as near as I can tell. But once it's Back to School season and people start pinning pumpkin pie spiced martini recipes on Pinterest - it's autumn everywhere in the free world as far as I'm concerned.

It is my favorite season - autumn, that is. Growing up in Illinois I've nothing but fond memories of the first days of sweatshirt weather and walks down the sidewalk purposely aiming for the noisy crunch of dried fallen leaves. When I lived in California (a long way from autumn) my mom would send me pictures of their tree-lined streets aglow in orange, red, and yellow. A little glimpse of home. It's been said that autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower. Maybe that's why I like it so much. It looks like a new beginning when really it's an ending all along. Always was one for the silver lining any old way.

Back to school is a machine in our little world. The marketing for supplies and clothes seems to start earlier and earlier every year. Kind of like how Christmas decor now comes out right after Labor Day. The rush back to the big yellow school bus seems to be upon us somewhere around mid-June. But ready or not - it is indeed here "for real life" (as my Emie would say) and the little lamb is indeed back to school.

Emie embraced another change of schools with great anticipation and joy. She loved both of her other schools for different reasons and I was afraid she'd be missing either of them or comparing them all one with another. Comparison is the thief of joy after all and she seems to have learned this truth earlier than I did. For all of my angst about putting the little love through yet another change and wondering just how the school would be for her - it's been a lovely beginning all the way around.

As the girls and I were driving home from LifeTime the other day I decided to seize a little captive moment in time to have a real conversation with my Emerson. I miss plenty of these moments but am so thankful when I think to capture them. I asked Emie what her favorite thing about God was. Admittedly, my aim was to peer deeper into her little youthful wanting heart. I thought I'd hear her speak of how God is always there to listen to us, how He never sleeps, how He answers our prayers. I thought I'd hear her say how much she loves what God does for us. I thought she'd be me. But instead her response came from a deeper place of maturity and understanding than I was expecting. "Worshipping Him," she said. "My favorite thing about God is being able to worship Him. I just love that."

The corners of my eyes filled with grateful tears. That's it. That's the whole deal right there. To understand God's love for us with such purity that our absolute favorite thing is to worship Him - well that's what we're on this green earth for in the first place. And my little seven year old knows it better than I do. Praise to the only King who deserves my worship and praise.

One of my prayers for my little lambs is that my spiritual ceiling would be their floor. Let it be.

“It is certainly true that hardly anything is missing from our churches these days – except the most important thing. We are missing genuine and sacred offering of ourselves and our worship to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.”
A.W. Tozer

Sweet Sweet Summertime

"Summer will end soon enough, and childhood as well.”
George R.R. Martin
'Tis why my little blog has been more than a little neglected of late. These days, this season is so fleeting. We sure have been enjoying summer and the moments with the little lovies.

By the time Summer rolls around In Texas you can sort of feel eager for fall. The warmth of the sun has already been with you for several months and thoughts of harvest festivals and apple picking come readily to mind. Pair this with the reality that the temperatures are akin to those you ordinarily preheat your oven to and well, deodorant is your new best friend.

Well, okay - it's toasty. But we're here and intend to make the best of it and put forth our best effort not to die. We did plan a long trip home to Minnesota and Illinois in the hopes we could escape some of the heat. Instead an unmatched heatwave covered the entire Midwest and we almost melted right out on the Illinois prairie. So the moral of the story is - extremes (temperatures and people) are just a part of life on this green earth. Try to avoid them and you might just wind up smack in the middle of them again. Instead one must learn to bloom where they are planted and stay hydrated so as not to wilt. Something like that.

Here I am out with some of my favorite Minnesota babes doing my best to stay hydrated on some adult beverages. Out at the fabulous Porter Creek for what turned out to be one of our best times together...and we've had a few! It occurs to me that I am wearing this shirt in just about every summer photo taken of me this year. Seriously people I need to go shopping...alone.

So much more to say and share yet summer's pull is a force to be reckoned with. So much to love about the lazy days. The fact that nobody's waiting for us. No need to rush. I love that little Ainsley love the other day asked what it meant to "Hurry." Now she's a bright little bird, she knows the meaning of "fast" and "quick" but I am ever grateful that "hurry" just isn't something that's a standard in her sweet world. We'd taken it so gently and easily for these four years. I can't say that it's always felt restful but indeed a current of peace runs through our home.

At first it felt like it took more effort to be at ease with my schedule than to jump into the bustle along with all of the other moms of littles. Even after just meeting someone the questions are peppered about my girls: "Are they in gymnastics?", "Have you tried the soccer league here?" "Are they in any sport?" And almost before I have a chance to answer they're telling me just what they think I should (or must do). "You have to get them in ballet." "They need to play an instrument." "Now's the time for them to learn a second language." It doesn't take long to realize you're a weirdo if you have any open space in your family calendar. It's just against the norm to be in a rush all of the time.

I'm just so grateful that I don't have to say (in exasperation) what I so often hear: "It's a crazy week," as if someone else besides us is filling in the days. We do get to decide whether or not we want our littles to know what "hurry" means or not. And I have decided to let them know what peace means, what quiet is, what rest feels like.

"The Lord gives strength to His people; the Lord blesses his people with peace." Psalm 29:11

Highlights and Bloopers

The last few weeks have come and gone so very quickly. But then this is the new normal. Emie's kindergarten year is in the rear view mirror. After the most circuitous route taken to get us to this point-- I feel that we both should take a victory lap. A child's first year in school brings with it enough quickened pulses and sweaty palms before you add in a cross-country move mid-year and a teacher gone on maternity leave. She managed it all so very well even amidst some legitimate misses of some true friends and her lifelong buddies. She'll have to make yet another school change due to new boundary divisions. Whoever said change is the one thing you can count on must have lived in our house.

Before school wrapped up, Ainsley and I met her at school for lunch. Emie had asked if we would come and she could "be a tray". Being a tray in Emie-speak means you get to purchase a meal from the lunch lady. A novelty since I make the cutie's lunch each day. Emie has had the option to purchase another choice all year. An account had been all tidied up on her behalf but she had yet to purchase one meal. We talked about it one day - why no trip up to the cafeteria line. She couldn't really articulate it although it was clear there was some trepidation involved. Well, after one little visit there myself I got the idea. Soup Nazi does come to mind. The poor lady who doles out the vittles really ought to retire (God bless her soul). When a boy in front of us asked for a salad (without the required pre-order) she really seemed to want to climb right over the aluminum counter and give him what for. I get it. She had probably calculated just how many little salads to make that morning and had done exactly that - he was throwing things off. And Cafeteria Nazi no likey change. Poor dear. In any case --this type of personality and Miss Fairy Wings Emerson Hope are not a good match. Emie wanted her mama there to ensure she got the pinnacle entree of the month: Nachos.

Carry Higher

Ainsley, whenever she wants to be held inquires if she can "Have a carry." Ever a softie for her dear phrasing she's in my arms within seconds of her request. It's becoming increasingly challenging to acquiesce to these appeals as the lovely girl is just shy of three months from celebrating her fourth birthday. Sigh. In the midst of the sometimes seemingly endless days the years fly by without any courtesy to slow down for us to enjoy the view. Boom - they're not babies anymore. Just.like.that.

Lately when I've been carrying the love she's been slipping down a bit on my hips. I'd love to think it was for lack of ample space to perch but that ain't it. Is it okay to say ain't? Well it just seems to fit in this context. Any old way, she often says, as she's slipping southward, "Carry higher". And it just kind of slays me every time. Isn't it so like us with the Father? Carry higher. To the mountaintop if you please. Enough with the day to day stuff -- carry higher already. It's not enough that we're being carried through this life - we want to be even higher up so that we might have more than a glimpse of the wonderful view from up there.

Life isn't lived on the mountaintop. At least mine isn't. And mine's a really blessed life. I mean ridiculously blessed. And yet the reality is amidst the beauty that surrounds me so does a world filled with pain. I'm not trying to go Debbie Downer or be an ingrate or a cynic - but the hard truth is that life is often really, really hard. The older I get, the more I realize this. I'm an optimist. I will find silver in the grayest of gray clouds. I love the bright side - live for it actually. But I realize that even in a life set on a solid foundation focused on eternal glory some days are really painful for a lot of people. One of my dear friends is wonderful at keeping what we together refer to as "an eternal perspective." She's like me and probably some of you in that she still struggles with the daily stuff in this life and feels seeds of discontentment creep in when she least expects them to crop up. Yet she's the first one to remind herself (and others willing to hear) that this green earth just isn't our home. When we remember that our hearts will ever yearn for something this world will never be able to provide we are at rest. Peaceful - done with striving. It's a rare thing to walk this out but she has ever done it beautifully and on my best days I try to do a bit of the same.

Two weeks ago I learned that her healthy, youthful brother, while driving down the street going about his day, was hit by an oncoming car and killed instantly. His life was over. Just.like.that. My heart is crushed for my friend who lost her brother, for his wife who lost her husband and the father of their children and most especially for her parents who would bury a child. No matter the age - parents just aren't supposed to outlive their children. But they do sometimes. We weren't meant to stay here forever.

And so it is with new resolve that I embrace the words of my dear Ainsley love. I will ask my Father to carry higher. Take me to the place where I can see what's of eternal value. Remind that in this world we will have trouble but He has overcome it. Through him we can do all things. And one day we will be in His presence forever and ever amen.

The Stone was Rolled Away...

Easter was celebrated here with much fanfare and fun just one week ago. I prepped the girls' baskets early as we had the great pleasure of hosting our former Lakeville neighbors for a wee short visit here a few days earlier. There was a chance they might be popping in again the night before Easter so I didn't want any time that could have been spent with them spent stuffing eggs instead. So these were ready to roll good and early.

Early prep is not always my specialty on holidays. I like to be organized and tend to plan ahead with shopping but it seems no matter how early the collection of treats began I'm always up until the wee hours of the morning the night before putting them all together. Dirk did his share of fanfare as well in hiding dozens of eggs outside for the girls to hunt in the morning. They were thrilled to find this sweet surprise here in Texas. In Minnesota we had another set of dear neighbors who always hid a number of eggs for the girls in our yard much to the girls' delight. Here are the jammie-clad lovelies checking for more goodies in both the front and back yard.

And the Ainsley love complete with her Disney princess crown atop her head which she indeed slept in the night before. We had, incidentally attended the Tangled on Ice performance the day before at the Alamodome. Dirk had purchased these crazy great seats while on a lengthy guilt trip for "making the family move again" so we all benefited from being on the very front row on the floor. We could feel the ice shavings as they whizzed by. And, for the record, he did not "make us move" we are all in this together and are following the same leader Who knows the beginning from the end. But that's a post for another day.

I started this post weeks and weeks ago and it never made it out of the draft folder for your viewing pleasure. Thought I'd best get it out there so I could write what's really been on my mind lately. I actually left town A L L A L O N E or at least without my family peeps so of course that means I used my brain in a whole new way and have new things to share. Prepare to be amazed. (smile)

So now in re-reading this post it all this time later it sure does seem tinged with cynicism over school functions. Posting any old way because anyone who knows me knows that I am the eternal optimist and ever find (or at least look really really hard) for the best in everyone. Anyway - don't hate - these events range from inane musings (our dinner menu) to the perils of Fairy Tales (which okay, is also an inane musing) so there really isn't any range at all. But it's what I have for today and I want to get something out there so I can be cleared to keep this puppy semi-current and share some more another day. So much to be thankful for. So here's what's been happening lately...

Oh my Gracious~

So behind here that a highlight reel may be in order. The days have been so full.

Over the past many few weeks I:

Attended the Fairy Tale Ball at Emie's school.

This event was solely for the Kinder students and each was asked to dress as a fairy tale character. Neighborhood moms of boys explained to me why this was a rather big hoop to jump for their little loves. For us, not so much. Fairytale costumes we have. Each student's name was called over the PA in the cafeteria as they walked across the stage. After the last name was read they were fed sugary juice pouches and muffins and all mayhem ensued. It was the end of the day which is also known as Martini time for we moms. Just keeping it real here. After they've been going strong since 6:30 that morning there just isn't much left to give by 2:00 pm. But alas, this is the very hour when the "Let's get this Party Started" tunes started cranking out at ridunkulous decibel levels for all to enjoy endure. Nowhere to be heard were the lyrics: "A dream is a wish your heart makes." Instead kids were whipping each other around the room until one boy was catapulted into the linoleum - head first. Screams, tears, and louder music followed. At least it seemed louder everywhere at that point. Soon many of the little fairy princesses joined in the sob-fest because they were not part of the whiplash inducing conga line or circle dances forming exclusively throughout the room. One of those fairy princesses may or may not have been my very own first born. Yes, let's let them learn what being a wallflower feels like at the age of six. We left as early as I could manage and walked through the pouring rain (umbrella-less) to our car parked on the other side of the world. I do love may babies and yes, that picture was taken before she imbibed the sucrose and heard the music pound. Weeee....