Unproductive Musings of a Assiduous Housewife

Last Blog Post

2009-04-16T08:52:00.008-04:00

I’m stepping away from the blog world for awhile. I want to share my stories in a book and share the many stories that have touched others close to me. Even if it takes years, I want to write them down in my own words, and I pray that God uses me to share a glimmers of Hope in a hurting heart. I also feel a strong pull to write about my daily struggles and joy as a wife and a mother. Not to say that I’ve had some grand epiphany for putting my thoughts into words, however, there is a spark of a thematic passion that is growing in my soul. I feel it grumbling and groaning and stirring. Plainly, I am terrified and excited!

God is pulling me into a deeper connection with him and steering me through strange territories of the heart. I can’t wait to share it with you once it all comes together.

For now, I will leave you with an un-ended story of that will be forever branded on my heart.

It has been 41 days since my Grandfather fell asleep into the arms of Jesus (I wrote this more than a month ago, but haven’t posted it.) Although I have tried many times, I have not mustered enough courage to put thoughts to pen and paper. I cry every time. As hard as it may be, I feel that this is a story to share - that it is not meant for me to just hold inside.

I don’t need to go into every detail of how amazing my grandpa was, because, he just was. Absolutely without a doubt, there were traces of all humanness in this man: he could be grumpy and questionable and cynical. But through his flesh, he had a heart that beat with the pulse of the life around him. He had the ability to see God in each and everything his senses could grasp. He felt the wind on his skin and knew it was God brushing by him. He smelled the lilacs in the spring and knew it was the sweet scent of heaven. As he held a newborn baby, he saw God’s face reflected on hers.

He lived a full, and for the most part, healthy life. I can’t sum up his life in a measly paragraph, but the outstanding things that carry on will be his deep love for his wife, my grandmother for so many, many years. He also took joy in his children’s accomplishments and success, and he expressed overflowing delight in his grandchildren and 7 great grand children.

However, with a life so full and wonderful, at the end he suffered. Of course, medicinal interventions were taken to ease his pain, but still, he suffered. He was a strong man made weak by a ravaging cancer. Sometimes, I could see the pain, frustration, and unrelenting anxiety sweep over his soft yet twisted face. That hurt deeper than anything I have ever experienced. The pain an suffering was truly unbearable. I understand that my grandpa and my family are not the only ones who have walked along this road of hurt. But death, at times, is so unspeakable; I was unprepared for what was to come. I didn’t understand the process of death and grief nor do I still.

My story doesn’t end with dying. It begins and ends with life, hope, and peace. In the last days of his life and through my grandpa’s final breath, I experienced God in a way that I never expected. Through the pain, sorrow, and sometimes anger, there was always immeasurable hope. And the hope was always there even when it wore a disguise.

In those last two weeks, my grandpa shared stories of the beauty in life. He mostly talked about Jesus. He talked about his love for his children, his grand children, and his great grandchildren. We sang our silly songs together, we drank Wendy’s Chocolate Frosties, and we shared probably 2 dozen York Peppermint Patties. He never once talked about himself (although, I tried to get him to!) He wanted to be sure we were all healthy, taken good care of, and “they all better be nice to you, or they’ll have to take it up with your Grandpa.”

As he became weaker, the moments became harder yet, so much sweeter. We could sit in the silence and just hold hands. His hands were so nice and warm. He would stop shaking when we held hands, and he would get tears in his eyes. So would I.

During these weeks, my entire family had there very own special time with my grandpa. My parents, my Aunt, my Cousins, my Brother, and so many other family and friends were able to say good-bye, express love and tenderness, grieve, and experience the hope that my Grandpa had in the life beyond this one.

On the Friday before he passed away, I went to visit with him and my grandma shortly after dinner time. My grandpa could no longer speak. Again, we held hands, and I talked, but then, just cried. I told him that I was was proud of the legacy he was leaving our family, and I told him how much he is loved. I apologized for crying, and he squeezed my hand tighter as if to tell me it was perfectly okay. I leaned over to kiss his warm check goodbye for the night, and he said to me “Stay.” That was the final word he spoke to me. And I stay I did, until he fell asleep.

The next evening, as I entered his room, I felt a strange peace. I knew he would be with Jesus soon, and I felt almost troubled that I was not sad at this moment. I sang hymns with my grandpa, and I knew he was singing with me in his heart. “Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound....I once was blind but now I see.” There’s a profound significance in that song that is too grand for such small words...hope.

On Sunday afternoon, February 1, 2009, his body was giving up to the fight between life and death. He soul was being called home, and not so ironically, on my Grandpa’s Sabbath. This was his day of rest. My Dad, my Mom, my Aunt and I were there with my Grandparents....we talked, waited, watched, and were most of the time without words. My Mom has gone through this before, and being very wise, she suggested that someone read aloud from the Psalms. He own father and her best friend found deep comfort in the words of the Lord. My Dad asked me if I would do it. Unbeknown how hard it would be to get the words out, I said yes. I held his warm, still hand in mine as I began reading at Psalm 18. “I will love thee, O LORD, my strength. The LORD is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my buckler, and the horn of my salvation, and my high tower. I will call upon the LORD, who is worthy to be praised: so shall I be saved from mine enemies. The sorrows of death compassed me, and the floods of ungodly men made me afraid. The sorrows of hell compassed me about: the snares of death prevented me. In my distress I called upon the LORD, and cried unto my God: he heard my voice out of his temple, and my cry came before him, even into his ears. ...”

I could feel the reverence and holiness in that room. God was there with us. With stories of grief, exasperation, desperation, humility, deliverance, the Power of God, the words were hard to read, but these were God’s very own. As I reached the 4th verse of the 23rd Psalm, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me,” my Grandpa’s hand let go of mine and he took his very last breath. As long as I live, I will never forget this moment. God was there, and He still is here even in our sorrow and pain. The hope he brings finds a home in our hearts at the strangest and most unbelievably needed moments.

Lamentations 3:1-66

1 [a]I am one who has seen affliction
by the rod of the LORD's wrath.

2 He has driven me away and made me walk
in darkness rather than light;

3 indeed, he has turned his hand against me
again and again, all day long.

4 He has made my skin and my flesh grow old
and has broken my bones.

5 He has besieged me and surrounded me
with bitterness and hardship.

6 He has made me dwell in darkness
like those long dead.

7 He has walled me in so I cannot escape;
he has weighed me down with chains.

8 Even when I call out or cry for help,
he shuts out my prayer.

9 He has barred my way with blocks of stone;
he has made my paths crooked.

10 Like a bear lying in wait,
like a lion in hiding,

11 he dragged me from the path and mangled me
and left me without help.

12 He drew his bow
and made me the target for his arrows.

13 He pierced my heart
with arrows from his quiver.

14 I became the laughingstock of all my people;
they mock me in song all day long.

15 He has filled me with bitter herbs
and sated me with gall.

16 He has broken my teeth with gravel;
he has trampled me in the dust.

17 I have been deprived of peace;
I have forgotten what prosperity is.

18 So I say, "My splendor is gone
and all that I had hoped from the LORD."

19 I remember my affliction and my wandering,
the bitterness and the gall.

20 I well remember them,
and my soul is downcast within me.

21 Yet this I call to mind
and therefore I have hope:

22 Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.

23 They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.

24 I say to myself, "The LORD is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him."

25 The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him,
to the one who seeks him;

26 it is good to wait quietly
for the salvation of the LORD.

27 It is good for people to bear the yoke
while they are young.

28 Let them sit alone in silence,
for the LORD has laid it on them.

29 Let them bury their faces in the dust—
there may yet be hope.

30 Let them offer their cheeks to one who would strike them,
and let them be filled with disgrace.

31 For people are not cast off
by the Lord forever.

32 Though he brings grief, he will show compassion,
so great is his unfailing love.

33 For he does not willingly bring affliction
or grief to any human being.

34 To crush underfoot
all prisoners in the land,

35 to deny people their rights
before the Most High,

36 to deprive them of justice—
would not the Lord see such things?

37 Who can speak and have it happen
if the Lord has not decreed it?

38 Is it not from the mouth of the Most High
that both calamities and good things come?

39 Why should the living complain
when punished for their sins?

40 Let us examine our ways and test them,
and let us return to the LORD.

41 Let us lift up our hearts and our hands
to God in heaven, and say:

42 "We have sinned and rebelled
and you have not forgiven.

43 "You have covered yourself with anger and pursued us;
you have slain without pity.

44 You have covered yourself with a cloud
so that no prayer can get through.

45 You have made us scum and refuse
among the nations.

46 "All our enemies have opened their mouths
wide against us.

47 We have suffered terror and pitfalls,
ruin and destruction."

48 Streams of tears flow from my eyes
because my people are destroyed.

49 My eyes will flow unceasingly,
without relief,

50 until the LORD looks down
from heaven and sees.

51 What I see brings grief to my soul
because of all the women of my city.

52 Those who were my enemies without cause
hunted me like a bird.

53 They tried to end my life in a pit
and threw stones at me;

54 the waters closed over my head,
and I thought I was about to perish.

55 I called on your name, LORD,
from the depths of the pit.

56 You heard my plea: "Do not close your ears
to my cry for relief."

57 You came near when I called you,
and you said, "Do not fear."

58 You, Lord, took up my case;
you redeemed my life.

59 LORD, you have seen the wrong done to me.
Uphold my cause!

60 You have seen the depth of their vengeance,
all their plots against me.

61 LORD, you have heard their insults,
all their plots against me—

62 what my enemies whisper and mutter
against me all day long.

63 Look at them! Sitting or standing,
they mock me in their songs.

64 Pay them back what they deserve, LORD,
for what their hands have done.

65 Put a veil over their hearts,
and may your curse be on them!

66 Pursue them in anger and destroy them

from under the heavens of the LORD.

New Favorite Song

2009-03-15T00:30:00.000-04:00

At MHBC....

Grandpa Kenny

2009-02-07T10:57:00.003-05:00

It’s been hard for me to come up with that one defining moment with a specific memory of my Grandpa. The truth is that there are so many wonderful things that we shared in this life from long ago camping trips to recent walks to the park.

My Grandpa had a wonderfully unique way of indulging my imagination. One winter at the cabin in Irons, I woke up to a note from Big Foot. Really? Big Foot wrote me a note? My Grandpa had been telling me stories of the Sasquatch that lived in the woods around the Manistee River. Grandpa said he talked to him once, and that Big Foot told my grandpa that he was watching me grow up. He would always say “She’s a good little girl - That Jamison.”

I wasn’t completely convinced of the story yet, but the note was quite satisfying. However, the deal breaker is when Grandpa told me to look outside on the deck. There were footprints in the snow....Big Foots foot prints.

For years, I wholeheartedly believed that story. When I look back, I realize how silly and obvious the signs were...foot prints shaped like a pair of snowshoes, and the unmistakable Ken Winstrom handwriting. The day I realized it was Grandpa who wrote that note, and Grandpa who made the footprints in the snow, I knew exactly how much he loved me.

In this story, a legacy was born. My Grandpa taught me how to love imagining and love the image of my surroundings. He gave me senses to know the fury of the waves, the beauty of the sunsets, and the sweet smell of the sassafras tree. He would point out the most interracial parts of the tiniest flower. He would notice if it was beginning to bloom...He would notice is innocence and purity. In theses moments, he loved the Creator of this flower, the Creator of the waves, the Creator of the sunsets, and the Creator of the little girl who believed in Big Foot. And in these moments, He allowed me to feel and know God in a way that I will never forget.

In loving memory,
Jamison

Simple Post of Friends

2009-01-23T09:35:00.005-05:00

I have very good friends.

Friends who I know will always have my back. Regarding perpetual sickness in my house: “I want you to know that the second that sick bug leaves your house, I'm going to be parked outside, and i am going to covertly follow it until it's in a low traffic area and then i will strike! beating the crap out of it and leaving it for dead with cinder blocks tied to its feet and tossed in a river. it will never bother you again."

And friends who know exactly how to make me laugh.

Ellen DeGeneres ~ I Love Jesus But I Drink A Little (HQ)

Friends who buy out the stores salsa supply just for me.

Friends who encourage me by saying “Good job,” “Well done,” or “You can do it!”

Friends who return pans filled with sweet treats.

And friends who call to share the joy of good news of babies and vacations.

I have very good friends. I am very blessed, and today, I am very thankful.

Reading, Writing, and Arithmetic

2009-01-08T10:02:00.003-05:00

I’ve been really stuck on what to write about lately, but I realize that I need to write like I need to read and listen to music to survive. It makes me feel alive, and it allows me a moment of reflection or even escape. Forget about food, water, and shelter; my basic survival is music, books, writing, and okay, I guess some water. I could use the books to build a shelter, and I could dance to music to keep warm, and I could write enough words to fill soul (and I could always eat my books to fill my stomach. It would be good roughage.) Of course, my book house would have to be built on the Lake Superior shore somewhere between Marquette and Grand Marais.

Now that that’s out of the way....

Yesterday, I got a note home from Lydia’s amazing teacher (1st grade.) “After reading with Lydia today, I moved her up 4 reading levels.” Seriously?! I hugged her and kissed her, and I told her how very proud I was of her. She was very proud of herself for her huge accomplishment which made me gush even more. This little girl I have here, my little blonde spit-fire, is a learning sponge.

Adults need to hang out with first graders, they are some of the coolest people in the world. They’re inquisitive, energetic, perseverant, and caring. They don’t primarily notice what a fellow student is wearing or the color of skin. Half-way through the year, most have learned how to get along well with each other, and conflicts are easily resolved. They are empathetic when another student feels sad or hurt. They are mostly patient waiting their turn. When authority speaks, they listen, and sometimes they don’t agree. And they are free, innocent, and respectful enough to say so. They are excellent citizens.

Reading is so very important. It’s not cliche to say we learn from our past mistakes, because it is completely true. We learn history from reading it. We learn how to form spoken vocabulary and words from reading. We can learn to comprehend space, feeling, and time from reading. Entire new worlds are open to us as readers. We are free to fill in between the words with our own vision and picture. First graders, when taught well, can be really good readers. Their minds are open to new ideas, facts, and imagination.

While I’m not a fully sold fan of the “No Child Left Behind” act, I do believe in the following goal.

— The No Child Left Behind Act implements President Bush's unequivocal commitment to ensuring that every child can read by the third grade. To accomplish this goal, the new Reading First initiative will significantly increase the Federal investment in scientifically based reading instruction programs in the early grades. One major benefit of this approach will be reduced identification of children for special education services due to a lack of appropriate reading instruction in their early years. (No Child Left Behind Fact Sheet.)

As much as I agree with this, I would, however, like to take the burden off of the teachers and place it on the parents.

Those may be fighting words. Part two to follow next week. :)

Merry Christmas!

2008-12-24T12:53:00.003-05:00

Dr. Horrible's Sing-along blog.

A Conversation Regarding a Chicken Named Amy

2008-12-04T16:26:00.003-05:00

Photo courtesy of Katie.

My three year old helped me put two very whole and very big and naked chickens in the freezer today.

Hannah: Mom, what are those?
Me: Chickens, honey. They're from Kate and Curt.
Hannah: They look ba-ucky! Why do we have them?
Me: We're going to eat them for dinner sometime. Isn't it nice to know where our food comes from? We know they lived on a very nice farm, they were taken care of well, and they will be nice and healthy for us to eat.

Hannah walks over to touch the bags with the clearly visible chickens inside. She crunches her nose up at me and gags a little to the point of almost throwing up.

Me: What's the matter Hannah?
Hannah: (mortified) IS THAT AMY?!? Are we going to eat AMY?!?

People, never EVER name your food. It is a really bad idea. I remember eating Nibbles and Ellie...ohh, the pain.

And, No. We will not be eating Amy. He (yes, he) is back at the farm with the ladies. Right, Kate?

TWILIGHT

2008-11-21T07:44:00.009-05:00

Last night I partied like it's 1999. Well, not really, but I did go see the movie premier of Twilight at 12:10 am. I am too old to go to bed at 3:30 am and wake up by 7 am; my body hates me right now. Katie and I sat amongst a sea of cackling swooning girls and woman with a few men sprinkled in the mix. It's a strange thing being in a theater full of estrogen. Actually, it's absurdly annoying being trapped at the mercy of inappropriate laughter and the buzz of the loud whisper of the female voice. However, it didn't ruin my Twilight experience. I am not ashamed to admit that I am a compulsory steadfast fan.

While I'm not a movie critic expert, I'd like to express my obsessive thoughts on the film before I attempt to force it out of my mind completely (give me a week -- I am going to see the movie again!) First, I must say that Kristen Stewart rocked my world; she made the most perfect Bella Swan. I was skeptical at first after watching the trailers (I might add, over and over again.) The editing made her sound monotone and unemotional, but in the movie, she was perfect. You could get a really good sense of her deniable fear toward Edward that was overwhelmed by a sense of desire. She was awkward and clumsy, innocent yet not completely naive.

Stephanie Meyer purposely steered away from much physical description of Bella Swan which gave the readers, and ultimately the viewers, an easier way to step into and accept her character. We do know that Bella had dark brown hair and eyes and she was thin and pale. She was "normal" and unremarkable by any sense of the imagination except by Edward. In the book, the readers had an inkling that she must be more beautiful and amazing than her meek description, after all, Edward Cullen was in unequivocally in love with her. Kristen Stewart was a naturally beautiful Bella Swan just as I imagined.

I know the unrelentless controversy surrounding the character of Edward Cullen. Who could define for each Twilight fan the most impossibly beautiful man alive (or dead)? Bella describes him with perfectly angular features, bronze hair in casual disarray, and a dazzling crooked smile. For me, yes, Robert Pattinson was the flawless match. He has a unique look that is seductive and makes a girl want to look again, and the second look is to see if he's truly handsome or perhaps not so. It is part of a good recipe for curiosity which in turn makes a ideal Edward Cullen. He's a vampire. Bella shouldn't want him, but she does. It's almost onomatopoeic.

My only negative critique of Pattinson's portrayal is at the beginning of the movie when Bella walks into class and finds the only empty seat next to the mysterious Edward Cullen. Pattinson's reactions were too strong and almost comical. The entire theater laughed, and in the book, this wasn't a funny situation. After reading excerpts from Edward's version of the story in Midnight Sun, we know that Edward's inner turmoil was very serious. To be fair, perhaps it was just the nervous laughter and excitement in the theater. Perhaps, Pattinson was adding a bit of comic relief to the deathly and powerful feelings swimming in his head. I am anxious to see this scene again when the buzz dies down.

I was slightly disappointed with the cinematography of the film; it was very obvious that it was created on a low budget. The dazzle of Edward's skin in the sunlight was a particularly lame, as were the "special power" scenes of flying, running, jumping...etc. Unfortunately, the continuity director/editor missed many obvious mistakes. There were are few scenes where actors would be talking and lips weren't moving, or the committed classic blunder of misplaced of moved objects from scene to scene. Next time in New Moon, please throw in another mil and make things happen the right way.

With the picky letdowns, I am still a Twilight addict. Overall, despite the mistakes, this was irrevocably one of the best stories that I have seen on film. With that, I would like to share my four favorite scenes.

The first favorite, of course, is the highly anticipated kiss.

It was innocent and passionate. With Bella's longing and Edward's thirst, it was a perfectly executed moment between the two actors.

My second was the "meeting-the-family-for-the-first-time" scene. I won't go too much into it, because I don't want to ruin the fun for anyone. I will say that it was intense, nevertheless, it appropriately made the viewer almost uneasily comfortable with the Cullen family.
My third favorite scene was when Bella was in the hospital after her "fall" down the stairs and out a window. Between us, Edward, and the rest of the Cullens, we know she just had been pounded by the vampire, James. When Edward told her that she should get away from him, the hurt desperation in Bella's actions and tone were gut-wrenching.
In the second to the last scene, my final favorite, we find Edward and Bella at the prom dancing alone. Again I won't ruin it, but Robert Pattinson's expressions stabbed me right through the heart with a wooden stake. (We know in Twilight vampires can't really be killed that way!) I don't remember the exact quote but it was something like "Isn't it good enough for you to spend a lifetime with me?" Uggh, stab.

Obviously, I have a momentary obsession, and I could write more, and more, and more. Before I close, I do have one final thought.

Edward Cullen, bring on the shackles, I am your prisoner.

My Form of Calvinism

2008-11-12T07:59:00.004-05:00

I have this comic that I've held onto for years....since November of 1995 to be exact.

It's my life's mantra.

In the first frame Calvin is shouting, “I'm in a very crabby mood, so everybody just leave me alone! I hate everybody.”

In the next two frames, Calvin stomps off; then he stops and looks around.

Finally in a small voice he says, “Nobody recognizes my hints to smother me with affection.”

For some reason, my hints still aren't recognized. Go figure.

I'm curious to know - Do you have certain words that seem to come up as a recurrent theme in your life? What are they?

Halloween

2008-10-31T10:29:00.007-04:00

In my house, we don’t do Halloween.

Before you get your panties all in a bunch, hear me out. If I had been writing this 10 years ago, I probably would have gone all hell, fire, and brimstone on you, but over the years, I’ve learned about a thing called “grace.” I''ll be gentle and gracious with you, so please be gracious with me.

It doesn’t bother me if you decide to eat kosher, or vegetarian, or meatatarian. It doesn’t matter to me if you decide to cover your head when you pray, or cover yourself in jewelry. I'm not affected by decisions to celebrate Hanukkah instead of Christmas, or if you choose to celebrate Passover or Easter - even if you love Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. I could care less if you love to decorate your house with brilliant orange and carve Jack-o-lanterns. That is absolutely fine with me, seriously. And that’s what I love about you...all our differences, all the things that are the same, and all the things we work through, on all different levels, because we’re all a part of humanity.

My intentions are just to fill you in on portions of my and my families life. This is what we do (or don’t); these are the decisions that we have made personally for us as a family unit. Simply, I’m just putting myself out there. I’m giving you a glimpse into my sometimes crazy and always joy-filled life.

So anyway, straight to the punch line.
____________________________________________________________________

My 6 year old, the sweet bundle of blonde fire that she is, came home from piano lessons yesterday and announced to me the following, “Mom, Mrs. B said ‘Happy Halloween’ to me, and I told her that we don’t celebrate Halloween because it worships Satan and hell.”

I.was.mortified. Great. Now we sound all crazymatic...excuse me a minute while I go shout in tongues and spin wildly slain in the spirit. (If you really do that, by all means, no judgment on you either! :) ) Is that all she really got out of our talk yesterday? REALLY?! Am I raising little hell, fire, and brimstone dogmatics?

I think she got caught up in the small part of our talk about hell. We’ve never talked about that before which actually kind of surprised me. We talked about the angel, Lucifer, who fell from grace. I told her the story of the “Morning Star,” the brightness, the perfect beauty, who was created to guard the throne of God, however, he was created with free will. He could choose his own path. He was good and blameless until bad things were found in him.

What are those bad things?

I read her a passage in Isaiah chapter 14. "I will ascend to heaven; I will raise my throne above the stars of God; I will sit on the mount of assembly on the heights of Zaphon; I will ascend to the tops of the clouds, I will make myself like the Most High." Lucifer thought he was better than God. He didn’t want to be a servant to God, and he didn’t want to do what he was created to do. He chose the wrong path. I continued telling her that Satan wants us to serve and follow him, and that he tell us lies to get us to do bad things.

She was completely fascinated with the story. I saw a light go on inside her. In a childlike way, she is beginning to understand the real fight between principalities of darkness and light.

So where does Halloween come in?

I did not tell her that it worships Satan. I told her other stories in the Bible and gave her examples of where God was honored and worshiped. (We got into a big discussion about what it means to worship too. She even asked the question if we can be worshiped or if angels are worshiped. But that’s a whole other story!)
We talked about other holidays that we celebrate: about remembering the birthdays of Jesus and family and friends, celebrating love and the resurrection of Christ, giving Thanks and giving gifts. I realize that there are a multitude of twists within our list. Was Jesus really born on December 25? Was Santa Claus a real person? Why do we give gifts? Did Jesus resurrect on a Saturday night or a Sunday morning? Did the Pilgrims really invite the Indians to the feast? So on and so forth. Those things aren’t important. The importance lies in the redemptive nature of the celebration.

I explained that Halloween, as the way we as a family believe, has nothing good to offer. There is no “redemptive nature” in this holiday. What does that mean? Certain things in this life can be made good or restored to new. All those things we celebrate were in there beginnings or what they stand for now are good and can be used to honor God. Halloween simply does not do that no matter how we twist it. It’s origins are scary, and it’s still scary today. God doesn’t want us to be scared. Sure, there is absolutely nothing wrong with dressing up and eating candy, but we can’t control what it’s really all about. We just don’t do it.

This is were the discussion took it’s turn. “What makes Halloween something that doesn’t honor God?” This is were we talked about Satan and hell. Satan tells us lies; he tells us that it’s okay to let just a little “harmless” things in our lives. But sometimes, even the little things can grow into monsters in the dark. For us, to protect ourselves, and honestly to have a time to talk about the goodness of God, it’s better just to stay completely away from something like Halloween.

She came up with Halloween worshiping Satan and hell all on her own. I have a very smart girl there. Now to teach her more about grace. :)

Best In Show

2008-10-27T16:38:00.003-04:00

Another question I've been asked: So what ARE YOU doing at a dog show?!? Have you become one of those crazy dog show people?

Did you ever see the movie "Best in Show?" Um, yeah - the dog show world is REALLY just like that. I'm not sure that "our kind" of people is represented in that movie (I'm not talking about ANY of the GERMAN SHEPHERD people. *wink, wink*), but many other lovely folks are! I would have added a few characters to the movie....(All fictitious of COURSE!)

Jenny Monroe - A single frizzy haired lady in her mid 50's who continuously wears over sized shirts with embroidery of her particular breed. She is usually kind, and even tempered, however you might find her secretly poisoning the competitions water bowl.
Marsha Hoberstalt - A 20 something professional handler who wears polyester suits with nylons on her spindly legs that are two shades darker than her pale skin. You'll find her with her dog's comb resting safely in her own greasy ponytail. Only if someone could give her a make-over...she might be beautiful.
John Finklebard - A classy (in his own right) well respected gentleman in his early 60's. He always matches his outfits precisely; he wears a different color blazer and shoes each day of the week. A little bit quirky (he'd have to be to dress like that!), but knows absolutely everything about dogs.
Michael Dugan - A handsome gay man who'd you hope to have as your eternal shopping buddy. Not only does he have a great sense of fashion and perfect hair, he also knows a lot about dogs too. Now why is he gay? So sorry ladies.

There, now that would make the movie complete.
AND THAT'S why we fell in love with the world of showing dogs. It's quirky, it's fun...it's so out-of-the-ordinary - it's so NOT ME or US, but we are in love.

In all seriousness, we have met some wonderful people! These folks are real, not ashamed of who they are, and very passionate about what they do. Sure, they might stab you in the back at some point of the game, but it's all okay, because they'll pick you up and dust you off later. They are the only people in the world who really understand our crazy dog dreams; they are supportive and have become like family. A crazy, silly, and sometime off-the-rocker-nuts and I-wish-I-could-shoot-you family....but a family at that. We love them for who they are, and we are grateful that they have accepted us as we are.

*just so you're not confused; yes, this post was on my other blog which I have now deleted...amending it slightly. Simplifying....it's so much nicer. :)

Impressions: Part II

2008-10-18T19:27:00.005-04:00

I have one hour. One hour to breath normally. One hour to sit alone. One hour to write interrupted.
A friend of mine recently wrote a post that I really didn’t think resounded with me personally. I commend his bravery for giving a voice to his personal journey. Who am I, and what do I want to do with my life? I vaguely remember feeling like he did...I know I must have at one point in my life.

I thought I had it figured out, but I need to admit, sometimes I don’t.

I often get the question, “So, Jami, what do you do with your time? What do you DO?” I shrink back a little when I heard those words. Do you really want to know what I do? What rings through my head is my answer, “I’m [just] a mother. That’s it. That’s all I am.” I get disappointed in myself and slightly embarrassed when I hear stories from family (hello, husband) and friends....stories about amazing careers, traveling the world, serving people out of this little midwest corner....living big and large, what seems to me: life to the fullest. And, I - am just a mom.

Another question that eats me up is “How’s school going?” It’s not. I’m taking a break. “When are you going back?” I don’t know. Would you think of me as a failure if I never went back? I still don’t know what I want to do when I grow up - Maybe I would want to teach, and possibly I would want to write. In actuality, my life would go on happily if I never set foot into another classroom again; I would be okay with being what I am right now. Then the voices creep back in my head, “just a mother.” I am stuck and small.

When asked these questions, I want to so badly give a running commentary to justify my self worth. I want them to know that I spend hours a week doing other things than being just a mother. I would like to believe that they might even be amazed if I told them everything I do. And they would think I keep things together so well. But it doesn’t matter - not really, because underneath I am sometimes falling apart, and sometimes I am wishing I could just give up.

I know, I KNOW, that I am not just a mom - not really. I will not be average; average is not good enough. I want to be extraordinary. I want to put my whole heart into whatever it is that I do. I want to be the best wife I can be to my husband and the best mother to my children. I want to be reliable and stable. I want to be inspired and persevering. And I will hold it together.

So, what do I do? I AM a wife, and I AM a mother. I am very proud to be. Sometimes, I feel lonely and insignificant. Sometimes I feel embarrassed and unworthy. And often, I feel secretly overwhelmed. But then somehow, I am reminded...I am reminded of what an important job I have. I think God breaks my heart at just the right moments before I feel like I want to give up. He gently reminds me that I have the most amazing and important responsibility in the entire world. This is the impression that I want to give: I AM a mother, and by God's grace, I pray, an extraordinary one.

Blog Hibernation

2008-10-08T11:57:00.000-04:00

Just for a while....I'll be back soon.

Impressions: Part I

2008-09-15T09:37:00.004-04:00

Are you ever bothered when you believe that someone gets the completely wrong impression of you regardless if they’ve “known” you for days or even years?

I am NOT a dramatic person. I do not wear my emotions on my sleeve. I do not cry about life’s zingers. But I do, unfortunately, allow things to eat me alive internally.

I allow things to fester, stew, and swirl inside my heart and head until it becomes an entity entirely on it’s own. It becomes so alive and separate that it could walk out the door on it’s own two feet. It’s a pretty rotten and sinful feeling.

Writing this alone, makes me realize how much I really do take things to heart and let them pound against it’s walls back and forth until it hurts or elates to explosion. So often, it has no where to go. It just blows up and resettles comfortably (or uncomfortably) in silence.

Although, for some odd reason, my internalized junk does reluctantly come spewing out to a few particular people. Some of these people I am well known to. They understand my sometime irrationalities, or over-thought nuances, or possible legitimate hurts. They are kind enough to walk me through it and still love me. They know that this is not WHO I am. However, Some people that I verbally or emotionally vomit on don’t know me well at all. They are still kind and loving, even very supportive, but they don’t realize that this is not me in my entirety.

Why would you do that to someone who doesn’t really know you?

Damn-it, it just comes up.

Hence, the terribly wrong impression. Which in turn results in more stewing, and then I spew all over again. How could I let such vulnerability escape without complete confidence and trust? I want to be free from that worry and guilt. I want them to desperately realize that this is not everything that is inside me.

What on earth am I talking about?

I let you know when I have it figured out.

Let Your Kingdom Come

2008-09-04T08:52:00.012-04:00

(First of all, I must tell you that I burned myself again on my right hand. I've been non-stop cooking for the last two days - storing up for the winter months and the "I don't feel like cooking tonight" days. My stove doesn't like me for some reason. Can someone buy me one of those Ove Gloves for Christmas? Or maybe five?)

Michigan's Upper Peninsula - Vacation: On Earth, as it is in Heaven.

"Sometimes, I am embarrassed driving along the Lake Superior shoreline. There are stretches of Highway 28 where the water is so blue, the inlets are so beautiful, I begin to cry." -Matt Frizzell

I completely agree with my cousin's sentiments.

Have you ever had the feeling in your gut that tells you that the place you're in, is exactly the place you belong? You feel the intense swimming in your stomach and the rapid thump your heart. It's an exhilarating feeling.

As I stand at the shore of the Lake, my eyes silently swell over with tears. I am overwhelmed by the natural untouched beauty of this place. I see the majestic waves roll over the sand, and I am in complete awe of God and His creation. For this moment, I am at home in my heart.

The sweet smells of the woods - the pine, the wild flowers, the damp mosses - the air here is clean and pure. The feel of the dirt trail under my feet makes me feel like I want to run, faster and faster, deeper and deeper into the woods. The sounds of the breeze rusting through the leaves and the quiet creek flowing through it's rocky path are so soothing. There is a romance about this place.

At night, the stars are beyond brilliant away from city lights. I can see each summer constellation visible in the Northern sky clearly, although now, the sky is slightly shifting towards fall. My breath is taken away.

I feel outside myself or beyond myself. Not in a weird new-age way, but a one with God and a one with nature way. I feel tiny, I feel insignificant, and yet at the same time, I feel very, very loved.

Let Your Kingdom Come, on Earth as it is in Heaven Here -for me- in this very place. Peaceful, beautiful, pure, romantic, breathtaking.

God, I thank you for the reminder that my salvation through Jesus Christ isn't about being heaven bound upon my final breath, it's about Your Kingdom here. It's about bring Your Kingdom, Your peace, Your Beauty, Your Justice, and Your Love to the World here and now.

Fought the Eggplant Battle and Lost

2008-08-26T17:04:00.006-04:00

So for a little gross out before you eat dinner tonight....

Friday night, I was frying up some yummo eggplant. In between flips, the sweltering oil spattered all over my hand and my arm. Ni-ce.
I have a few little spots on my arm that are just wee little 1st degreers, but the biggest burns on my thumb and in between my fingers are the 2nd's with a few spots of deeper burns. This photo doesn't do the black around the bottom of my finger nails justice.
My hand is swollen, and it hurts like a mother-fo. Thank-you husband for buying me chocolate peanut butter ice-cream...that makes everything all better.

Yes, I am accident prone. And quite frankly, it sucks.

Stay tuned for a much better post about our vacation....give me a little while to heal, so I don't have to hunt and peck on my keyboard.

Because Chris Wants Me to Write Something...

2008-08-18T19:18:00.006-04:00

And it's his birthday! Happy Birthday Friend!

I was going to write tomorrow, but today it shall be. This gives me another bad excuse not to wash the mountain of laundry that is beckoning my name.

WE are back. It’s a bittersweet thing being back in the Z-land after two weeks of the stillness and quiet of the woods. On one hand, it’s wonderful to be home...all the things I missed. My niece took her first steps, my garden somehow produced dozens of juicy red tomatoes, my neighbor announced a pregnancy....all good things. Also, due to neglect, our lawn turned to beautiful shade of brown, and my flowers shriveled up on their wilted stems. I like to be home, and I am needed at home. But it was so very good to be away.

I wish my simple words could describe to you the beauty and nostalgia of that place. It would have been better to write down my feelings each day so I wouldn’t have so easily forgotten. For a few moments, I felt like a child again. We revisited my youthful memories with touchable experiences. Parts of it were sad to me; so many things have changed. Other parts were exactly the same as my wonderful memories. We swam in the icy water of a secret waterfall, we played in the park where I first learned how to ice-skate, we fished on the rivers where my dad disappeared every spring, we drove down the road where my beloved labrador was greeted by an angry bear and by the boy’s house who watched our TV from outside our window...so many great memories that easily play over in my mind and heart.

Then there are the things that are very different. My old house is different. It’s now covered in a brownish vinyl siding instead of homey white and green paint. To the right of the back door, stepping stones had marked a neat path to the driveway. They seem to be lost in the unruly yard. My perfect white clubhouse is gone. I used to play dolls and bake cookies in my pretend perfect stove, but it’s gone. The boy across the street, the one who watch my TV and walked with me through the woods, doesn’t live there anymore. He must have grown up. The rivers are so, so low. The falls used to be so much bigger and more breathtaking. The beach is gone in my favorite park. In it’s place are weeds and dirt. Instead of being caressed with the flowing water, the rocks are bear to the weathering sunshine. My memories feel insignificant to the change; this makes me cry. I must have grown up too.

Aside from the old flooding memories, I made new and wonderful ones. I was in beautiful country with the most lovely of family and friends. We swam, we ate, we laughed, we cried, we hiked, we rested, and we simply enjoyed our God-intended surroundings. It was perfect.

And I'll write more about that later. :)

Love you all lots, and I am glad to be home.

2008-07-31T13:06:00.002-04:00

No posts until August 18...

Rest, solitude, hiking, stars, swimming, reading, day-dreaming, good food, and good company. Vacation.

See you later peeps!

Dear Days of Wonder,

2008-07-22T11:27:00.010-04:00

* This isn't my picture...I have to give credit to the good folks at google for exemplifying redneck in picture format.

I am pleased to announce that Jeff sold his car in 11 minutes flat after the for sale sign was stuck on the windshield. Someone from BANGOR, MI bought that mess of a 1991 Honda Accord.

First, let me tell you that folks bred and raised in the Bangor/ Covert area are nothing like the rest of West Michigan or South West Michigan. (I do know of one great family and a few other individuals that are fairly normal...so some good stock comes out of that hole.) The famous pick-up line there is "Hey, nice tooth!" Seriously.

So anyway, Jeff and I are outside unloading our van from a camping trip and up pulls this old pick-up with two men and a boy....and out steps this very scary looking, walleyed, donning a wife-beater shirt, bald (I have nothing against bald...just description here), missing all his front teeth man.

Ma'am, how much you ask'n for that there car? (He clearly must have not seen my husband.)

Um, just a minute....Jeff?!

Oh, Hi! Can I help you?

Yeah, tell about that car, and how much you ask'n?

Jeff delivers his spiel...telling him the mileage, good things, bad thing, and everything in between about his bucket of junk. Jeff tells him $500.

Oh, well I have $300 on me right now. Will ya take that? Looks like a nice car. It just need a little bondo in a few places.

(A little bondo?!)

Long story short, Jeff ends up taking $350 cash for his piece of skeet car.

It's finally gone...now WE don't look like rednecks over here...no more oil stains on the driveway, and no more jumper cables at the ready. Whew.

Until...

I pulled into my driveway off of my bicycle last night....two men in a car with a Wal-mart employee badge hanging on the rear-view mirror....sitting in my driveway.

The very scary looking, walleyed, wife-beater shirted, bald, no teethed man gets out of his car....with his Wal-Mart kid or friend(?) Oooh, I'm scared. (Maya, Zomer...are you hungry?)

Wal-Mart kid speaks. Ma'am, Sam here left his wallet. Do you have it?

Um, No, no I don't. If I find it I'll be sure to get a-hold of you. Said shaking while looking in in the grass of our front yard.

Are you sure? 'Cause Sam here doesn't even have his drivers license now to drive that car.

No. I do not. Good-bye.

For real? Was he accusing me of taking his wallet and hiding it?

(My neighbor noticed something a little strange happening in my driveway...not quite normal for these parts....he stood quietly with a watchful eye....thanks Rick, you are my hero.)

And thanks Jeff for selling your car to someone in Bangor.

Dear Day of Thinking Blank,

2008-07-02T10:39:00.003-04:00

I'm doing this survey because I was pressured into it, and because I've got nothing brewing around in my brain at this particular moment. Absolutely nothing at all. Do you ever just think "blank?" I try to think blank a lot. Love that blank thinkin'.

Stay-tuned for something better (Goodness gracious, I sure hope so.)

Until then....(are you happy, Melissa? :) )

Oh, and Chris, I'm obviously just posting here instead of e-mail...I've gotten this survey from about 4 different people lists in the last week...so here it is the easy way.

1. What time did you get up this morning? I'd like to say 7 or 8, but unfortunately it was about 9. I am a lazy arse in the summer.

2. Diamonds or pearls? I don't much care...how 'bout silver.

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? Juno.

4. What is your favorite TV show? LOST, of course.

5. What do you usually have for breakfast? Cereal....Oh, oh she is live'n in a cereal world, and I am a cereal girl. Captain Crunch with Crunch Berries is what makes the world go round.

6. What is your middle name? Lee

7. What food do you dislike? ASS-peragus.

8. What is your favorite CD at moment? Love'n The New Frontiers.

9. What kind of car do you drive? 1999 Honda Odyssey, and a 1999 GMC Savanah nicknamed "The D.O.G."

10. Favorite sandwich? Subway's Spicy Italian with lettuce, onion, banana peppers, pickles, green peppers...one line of mayo and mustard (because two "lines" are just too much!) and lots of vinegar. Yum-o.

11. What characteristic do you despise? Ignorance.

12. Favorite item of clothing? Any clothes that still fit.

13. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go? New Zeeland....Hobbits.

14. Favorite brand of clothing? Gap and Silver jeans.

15. Where would you retire to? Somewhere on the Little Manistee River.

16. What was your most recent memorable birthday? Birthday? I turned another year older, and that's about it. Birthdays suck toilets.

17. Favorite sport to watch? Football....College Football.

18. Furthest place you are sending this? All over the intro-net.

19. Person you expect to send it back first? No-one.

20. When is your birthday? The day the Berlin Wall came down.

21. Are you a morning person or a night person? Night.

22. What is your shoe size? 8 1/2

23. Pets? One chicken killin' German Shepherd named Maya, and one metro-sexual German Shepherd named Zomer.

24. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with us? Naw.

25. What did you want to be when you were little? A wife and a mommy and a fisherwoman.

26. How are you today? Slightly bored.

27. What is your favorite candy? York Peppermint Patties

28. What is your favorite flower? Lilacs to smell, and Painted Trilliums to look at.

29. What is a day on the calendar you are looking forward to? August 3...sitting in the woods.

30. What is your full name? I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you.

31. What are you listening to right now? Abbi yelling at Lydia "Shut the curtain!" (She's taking a shower.)

32. What was the last thing you ate? Some little green bugs that crawled out of my salad. Seriously. I guess I needed a little more protein in my diet.

33. Do you wish on stars? No, but they keep falling off the ceiling of Hannah's bedroom....and I vacuum over them.

34. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Tickle Me Pink

35. How is the weather right now? A tad bit hot.

36. The first person you spoke to on the phone today? Jeff-fur-rey

37. Favorite soft drink? Mountain Dew

38. Favorite restaurant? Chipotle or Tres Lobos (any good Mexican food!)

39. Real hair color? Dark brown...I just hi-lite the heck out of it.

40. What was your favorite toy as a child? GI-Joe's with Barbie hair glued to their heads and other places.

41. Summer or winter? Fall....football games.

42. Hugs or kisses? Hugs and Beard free kisses (hint, HINT.)

43. Chocolate or Vanilla? Chocolate

44. Coffee or tea? Coffee tastes like puke, just like beer tastes like sweat. AND Tea is scrumptious.

45. Do you want your friends to email you back? Sure?

46. When was the last time you cried? This morning thinking about Emily.

47. What is under your bed? nothing

48. What did you do last night? Went to Grand Haven to see Geoff Moore who was AMAZING as always, and the Musical Fountain. (THAT was way cooler when I was a kid.)

49. What are you afraid of? An alien invasion.

50. Salty or sweet? Can we say Kettle Corn?!

51. How many keys on your key ring? 4

52. How many years at your current job? Mom for almost twelve years.

53. Favorite day of the week? Saturdays

54. How many towns have you lived in? Um, I think about 7 or so?

55. Do you make friends easily? It depends.

56. How many people will you send this to? As I said before, now it's all over the intro-net.

57. How many will respond? Who the hockey sticks knows?!

Dear Thirty Something,

2008-07-01T22:36:00.004-04:00

Experience II--So, what's the point with hanging out in a parking lot?!

Is it fun? Is it cool? Do boys feel macho in a grocery store parking lot? Do they really have nothing better to do or a better place to go?

I was driving through the Family Fare parking lot in the booming metropolis of Zeeland, when I saw four large pick-ups (I'd tell you what kind they were, but I am not a truck kind of gal...didn't look, don't care), 6 teenage girls, and 8 teenage boys all milling around in a mob. The trucks weren't parked in the neat little parking spaces; they were just pulled in however teenage driving happens. The girls were giggling, and the boys were leaning...leaning with their white wife-beater shirts on their dirty trucks.

It was quite the interesting site to behold. Watching the girls flip their blond Zeeland hair behind their shoulder as the boys looked at tires, under hoods, and yes, leaned.

What is the appeal of hanging out in a parking lot? I seriously do not get it.

I do however see a few good points to this all:

1. With all the clean parking lot cement, it's a good place to get off all the Turkey poop ingrained in the tires.
2. As long as you have some money in your pocket, you won't go hungry.
3. You can't get into a whole lot of trouble in a parking lot in Zeeland. Or can you?

These native Zeelanders are a different breed of folk - I love this town and all it's quirks.
BUT when I was a kid, I NEVER hung out in a grocery store parking lot.

(You'd find me in the theater eating cereal....Now, that was a hang out for cool kids. Um, hum sure. ;) )

Kids these days.

Where was your high-school hang out?

I'm off to the grocery store to park and shop.

Dear Thirty Something,

2008-06-16T23:32:00.011-04:00

I am feeling old.
Experience One --- Could you please be quite, I'm trying to sleep, and who the heck is that band?

I would l.o.v.e love to go to Cornerstone Music Fest this year. Some of my favorite "old time" bands will be there...Charlie Peacock, Degarmo and Key, The 77's, Lost Dogs, and Sixpence....and also my absolute favorite worship leader will be there - David Crowder. What an experience that would be.

The great speakers, the unforgettable music, the people their instant sense of community - Cornerstone is an awesome thing to be a part of. When I'm there, I experience joy at the deepest level. Passionate music and art created to glorify the Creator fuels my soul. I have always come away with a deeper love for Jesus and for the people around me.

Then reading down the list, there are those bands that I have never heard of; the ones with the really strange names. Who is Brother Red Squirrel? Or how 'bout Gasoline Heart? Or my favorite Our Corpse Destroyed. Do people really listen to these bands? Are they well known in their genre? Or am I just too stinkn' old to recognize musical genius when it's right in front of my face?

I'm remembering now....The hot July sun baking your skin to a scaly crisp, crabby people who are ready to kill for shade by the second day, camping on top of each other in the middle of a corn field, the sweet smell of mary jane coming from the next tent over (what?! Isn't this a Christian festival?), drinking ripe milk in your morning cereal because somebody forgot to get ice, cold showers that suddenly turn scalding hot, the stench of overfilled porta-potties, getting tipped over in an overfilled porta-potty, falling for snipe hunting every. single. year. (I'm half kidding), bands playing into the early morning hours while you're trying to get any amount of sound sleep, and dirt, dirt everywhere dirt...not your camping in the woods "clean" dirt, but dirty, people dirt dirty dirt....GA-ROSS (that would be a ga and a "r" with a long o sound followed by the "s"), and the worst, smelly boy armpits in the mosh pits that somehow you get stuck in even if you tried your darnest not to, and the "lake" that leaves you growing an extra toe or may cause you to glow in the dark... sounds like a little slice of heaven, huh?

With daily trips to the local Walmart to sit on a flush toilet and to pretend shop in the air conditioning, the heat is tolerable. And on the way back, a Dairy Queen flurry makes everything better. However, I do have one word of caution regarding an outside the grounds field trip. DO NOT eat at the Pizza Hut and furiously stuff your face with the world's greasiest pizza right before you return to the festival grounds. Let digestion take it's complete course while in the comforts of those automatic porcelain bowls. It really, really sucks (that's the understatement of the universe) sitting in a 105 degree jon for a half an hour. You begin to feel like you're going to faint right off the seat, and then visions of someone finding you dead with your pants down around your ankles face down in the urinal begin to fill your head. The stench begins to infiltrate every sacred space in your nostrils and lungs...you are going to die in there. However, there is one thing keeping you alive....good life-saving literature written in sharpie or etched right into the plastic wall. There's the "Jenny loves Doug" and "for a hot date call 555-555-5555" and my absolute favorite porta-potty graffiti "I was here, but now I'm gone...those who loved me loved me well..." you know the rest. God bless graffiti.

A recent conversation with a fellow Cornerstone veteran went something like this:

Hey Jami, we're going to Cornerstone this year! Did you see who is going to be there?! It's the 25th year of the fest so a lot of great bands will be there! (*ehem, I was there for that very first summer in Graylake at the Lake County Fairgrounds.)

Awww, really?! I would love to go again! The memories of C-Stone are held near and dear to my heart.
After searching the website, I asked my friend, Do you even recognize half of these bands?

Nope. But do you realize how old we actually are? We're not kids anymore.

I sat for a moment in pouty denial. Pooh. Rubbish. I am still a kid. Aren't I?

And then, with a deep knowing sigh, I gave in. I remember now why I don't go to Cornerstone anymore. I am too darn old and way too friggen crabby. I will not bake in a porta-potty, and I will NOT share MY shade with anybody. And I WILL sleep in the quite, and I will stay clean. Thank-you very much.

Cornerstone, have fun going on without me. I'll miss you....well, not really so much.

Amendment--to be fair--Some of my favorite C-stone memories in no particular order:

1. Curling my hair with a butane fueled curling iron.
2. Watching Jeff eat cold spaghetti-o's straight from the can.
3. Making the Canadian's say "Mickey Mouse" over and over again.
4. Having a life changing moment at the Violet Burning concert.
5. Listening to Rich Mullins sing his heart out.
6. Filming for Jacob's Ladder Christian Music Store.
7. Meeting the Fullman family.
8. Sitting back stage for Rez....it's all who you know. ;)
9. Loving the choir "Grace and Glory."
10. Crying on the way home.
11. Wishing life would be like that forever.
12. Learning that life isn't perfect, but very, very beautiful.

And, yes Jeff....we will bring our kids there someday. We will be the cool parents, because we are already. ;)

Dear Abbigail Elizabeth,

2008-06-10T10:12:00.005-04:00

Abbi at 5 years old - Crystal Lake, IL

Child, you take my breath away.

I watched you dance on Saturday night, and I wept for the entire first performance. I was so moved by all of the dancers - especially by you. What a way to glorify your Creator! With music and dance, my heart is filled.

Ever since you were small, we knew You were special because YOU really wanted to dance. It wasn't just a crazy mini-van mommy putting her child in every recreation activity possible. You wanted to be there - you didn't twirl your hair around you fingers in complete boredom and talk endlessly to the child beside you. You always listened eagerly and hung on every movement of the teacher and music.

I remember your first performance when you were five years old. You were lovely even then. You danced to the song "A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes." Wearing a romantic blue tutu and your hair done up with a tiara, you were absolutely precious. We also changed the words to that song, but we won't talk about that. *wink, wink. Do you remember how we would have you do your "small arch back" over and over again?

Now you are an almost 11 year old; a young woman. You do much more than "small arch backs." You plie' and releve'...you degage' and pirouette....and countless other moves. I am amazed at all the things you know how to do.

Saturday night, you did a pas with a very nice young man. You both practiced over and over again until you got it exactly right. Your drive and determination is admired (now, let's talk about cleaning your room!) My heart stopped for a second when he lifted you onto his shoulder...but I knew that he wouldn't drop you. For two young people, the performance demonstrated astounding strength, ease, beauty, and grace. From knowing you, I knew you danced from your heart, and you danced for your Maker. Others could see it on your face and through the fluidity of your moves. I was left believing every word to that song, "Oh Draw Me Lord, and I'll run after You."

Sweet Abbigail, more than dancing, you are one awesome kid. (as an aside...I always hated that word until I really looked closer at the meaning. It reminds me of the silly t-shirts I wore in the early 80's that read "God is AWESOME." Written in hot pink and green.....geesh. Anyway, the word means "inspiring awe" not the Bill and Ted version of "Totally Awesome!" But inspiring...complete, pure, and overwhelming awe.)

You are always (well, not quite always) kind and caring toward your brother and sisters. Your school teachers tell me each year what a kind and good friend you are to others. They also tell me that you are a leader. You do you your very best in school work...I think your lowest grade this year was a 92%...(oh, my goodness you are grounded for the entire summer!) You are very helpful around the house, and you love to cook. I can set you loose in the kitchen, and I know that we'll have yummy brownies or a fantastic dinner. You love to make things...anything. You create. You knit, crochet, sew, doodle, mold, paint, fold....anything with substance can be made into something else. Sometimes your creations are quite interesting and messy, and many times you make things that are perfectly beautiful. You also sing, and you play the viola and the piano. You picked up the piano all by yourself.

I hope we can keep up with you and nurture everything that your heart desires!

I wanted to take a moment and write this letter to and tell you exactly how much I love you.

Next week, you leave for camp for your first time. You will be away for us for 6 entire days. That's longer than I have ever been away from you. I'm sure I'll cry a few times, and I'm equally sure that you won't. Stay safe and don't do anything crazy...be a good friend as always...and learn more about Jesus and who he created you to be.

You have my heart always and forever.

~Mom

Housekeeping

2008-06-09T10:31:00.001-04:00

I have moved all things dogs over to a new blog....

Winstrom German Shepherds

Dear Day of Peace,

2008-05-08T10:33:00.005-04:00

Because people have asked how we are....

Jeff and I were very concerned when we first found out about Seth's "thing" in his brain. Actually, we had a lot of tears! But after a few days, I began to really step outside myself...outside of the poor Seth, poor us, and poor me...it's then that I realized that this was something that was beyond my control. We knew it was going to be alright no matter what the outcome may be. I truly gave my son over to God - at that moment knowing that this precious little boy wasn't really mine...he was His. God loves my son even more than I could ever imagine. That's when I had a deep sense of peace - a peace of the deepest kind - come over me and my family.

And then we waited....we waited for his results for 2 weeks. Finally, the neurologist told us that his cyst is too small at the moment to affect any part of brain function. Seth will need MRI's, until he stops growing, once a year. With the first one's being 6 months apart. We just need to watch him for any neurological symptoms which is a bit unnerving, but okay. We're not alone in this.

Life is a crazy ride sometimes--a lot of the time, and your precious little child is no exception to the rule. Doesn't it break your heart when you love someone so much and you watch them suffer? Or when they're too small to realize what's going on...and you do the suffering on their behalf? The hurt is unbelievable. You sweet little baby was given to you to nurture, love, and protect....always do that to the very best of your ability. God loves him or her more than you could ever imagine.

My best friend's daughter (who is subsequently my oldest daughters best friend) has cancer. She's 11 years old, and she has thyroid cancer that has spread to her lungs. It was a crazy mess. God is continuing to heal her body....which is an absolute miracle. Emily is a miracle. But at the birth of this story, it made us want to scream and yell at God...which we all did. It sucked the life-giving air out of our lungs...that's exactly same feeling I had when we first heard the words...brain cyst or tumor. Why my little boy, why her little girl...why? We've all learned through this, that is life. Beautiful, painful, crazy, wonderful life. The point is that we're doing it together. God created us that way...we are not meant to walk alone. And we must throw the whys out the door. They don't matter. Don't get me wrong...questions are good and right...God is fine with us asking questions; we are human after all. But if we kept asking why?...the questions would be painstaking and never end.

What matters is that we have one another to journey on. On this wild, crazy, joyful, heartbreaking thing we call life. Beautiful, wonderful, God-given life. It's a pleasure to walk through life with you, and thank-you for walking with me.