Escape

The girls have been digging a hole and giggling. For two or three days. It's a secret. I don't mind, it's cute to see them share something. The secret got into our yard tonight. My two darlings were conspiring with the dog who lives behind us, behind the eight foot wooden fence. The dog dug from one side, the girls from the other. Everyone was happy when the hole was complete. We had fun tonight, pretending we had a dog. Then I made all of us walk around the block and tell the dog's owner. I know I was the spoil-sport.

School days

Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad!

School starts in less than a week. Last week, I was excited, dreaming of the time alone I would have each week. Since Sunday, I am anxious. I keep repeating, " Train up a child in the way she should go and when she is older she will not depart from it." Emotionally, I am clinging to this verse, willing myself to stand on it in faith.

H will be in first grade this year. Not a huge jump since Kindergarten was all day last year. K will attend a public preschool nearby. Once again my control is slipping away. I won't know how much of their lunch they ate, won't approve each video or read-aloud book, can't counter the nasty remark of some child, can't correct the snotty behavior of my own. The world isn't a nice place and it is painful for me to send them into it. I could home school, the answer of choice for many. With all its flaws, we feel committed to public education for now. There are definitely good things to be learned and experienced in the public system. I can't predict where our future philosophies will end up.

To add to my anxiety, H has been chosen as a friend by the third grade girl on the other side of the block. H loves her new friend and all her fancy pretend games. The third grader is polite, thoughtful, not too bossy, and receives any of my rules with a great attitude. But whoa is me, she has married H to her second grade brother and always gives each girl in her games a boyfriend. I would like to keep pretending the world of the opposite sex is all about who is nice to whom and nothing more. Suddenly, the sleepless nights, the poopy diapers, the worries about if the baby is eating enough or gaining enough weight, all seem easy and straightforward compared to helping my little girls navigate the world. Oh I will miss summer and the long snuggles on the couch as we watch Curious George in the morning. I will miss the out-of-control silliness and the joy of watching the girls settle into peaceful play for the afternoon. I will miss all the impromptu field trips and game of Go Fish. I should go wake up the girls,we need to practice our school schedule!

Irrestible Revolution

My insides are buzzing like nervous butterflies only my bugs were fanned into action by that book Irresistible Revolution. Shane Claiborne, the author, articulates so many things that I believe God cares about: the poor, intimacy among his believers, true faith. It was a reminder. A call to action. It ignited the knowledge within me that there is more we are called to. The ideas are so big within me that I can't summarize. But I'm fired up enough right now that if we could find people to move with us now to the East Side and start trying to love a neighborhood and the people there we would take the loss on my house and go. Some quotes that struck me

• "The question is not whether you will be a doctor or a lawyer but what kind of doctor or lawyer you will be."



• "People do not get crucified for charity. People are crucified for living out a love that disrupts the social order, that calls forth a new world. People are not crucified for helping poor people. People are crucified for joining them."



• "When the church becomes a place of brokerage rather than an organic community, she ceases to be alive. She ceases to be something we are, the living bride of Christ. The church becomes a distribution center, a place where the poor come to get stuff and the rich come to dump stuff. Both go away satisfied, but no one leaves transformed."



• "'I have come to see that we Christians are not called to safety, but we are promised that God will be with us when we are in danger, and there is no better place to be than in the hands of God.'(Shane's mother is being quoted)Perhaps the most dangerous place for a Christian to be is in safety and comfort."

I do not want to live the American Dream. I don't want to spend my years trying to make my house prettier, more comfortable, saving for retirement and an old age of relaxation. I don't want to spend my time only caring for kids, protecting them, hoping that as we go through this materialistic world they won't catch the bug of buying that bites me too. I want to live a life of loving others, helping others, living in such a way that my girls learn intrinsically God's heart for the broken and downtrodden. I can't do this without Jesus. Even if there wasn't a heaven or a hell ( and there is) I want to follow Jesus. Not just worship him, but follow him, walk in his footsteps and I am convinced its in that place joy and adventure and meaning dwell. And have you noticed how he lived? Among the rejected, without a home, touching untouchables and loving the nobodies, traveling the unsafe roads, at parties with wine and dinner parties with sinners, interacting the prostitutes. His life was gloriously scandalous. I don't want to settle for helping others live this life. I want to live it. God has given me so many answered amazing answers to my prayers this years. What will He have for us next? I eagerly await. For now I will wait until the way is made clear. Lord I want to be part of what you do.

Oh, now that I poured out, I do recommend this book. I am only half through it and mine is borrowed. So you'll have to find your own copy =).

I Heart Gardens

When I planted my first vegetable garden, I never suspected the little seedlings could supplant my love for flowers. I love my garden. It's little. It can't be made bigger. And I won't get enough of most vegetables to freeze or can. I made some mistakes like not properly preparing the soil and planting tomatoes on the south side. But I love it ( Have I mentioned this before?). If I could ignore housework and children, I would spend the hours sitting in the garden, carefully inspecting each new bud, pruning the crazy tomato plants who think leaves are more important than red fruit, plucking dead or ugly leaves, mulching, training vines to climb where I want them. I sit and stare at the garden enough that earlier this season the backyard neighbor yelled, "Do you think they will grow faster?" I feel nourished after gardening even if I haven't eaten any fruit. And now, now the fruit is coming. I love showing the girls the seeds and splitting open the soft pea pods and watching them smile and declare the tiny peas to be like candy. I love letting the neighbor kids pick food and eat it. My family has yet to enjoy green beans at the table, as someone(sometimes me) always swipes them off the plants. I don't mind. They are eating good food, just as God made it. It's probably true of the kids what Ms. Erna (neighbor to the south) said of the bunnies, "In this part of the city, the rabbits don't know they like gardens because they've never tried them." Yesterday I handed my girls and a few neighbor kids sprigs of rosemary and thyme. They carried them around for a while saying,"Mmmm." And I can't wait for the tomatoes, I can't wait to eat them everyday with salt or sugar or plain. And then to give the bounty away to my many neighbors who have no gardens. The ultimate triumph will be the day in about one week when I can make a complete salad all from my backyard: lettuce, spinach, cucumbers, carrots, and tomatoes. Drying the herbs will be next. I wish I had a kitchen with rafters so I could hang the bundles all over and let the smells permeate the air. And then clean-up in the late fall. Not my favorite part, but after that, oh joy, planning for next year! Maybe I "need" a compost pile now too...

Follow-up

If I get to write about it, I am willing to share most anything. So, blogging presents a new dilema for me. My parents read this blog, as do my in-laws, my grandma, my husband, our roommate and my friends. So obviously I can't pour out everything. But this blog wasn't meant as a diary anyway. Also, some of my aforementioned readers worry a lot. I don't want them to worry so I withhold information sometimes (anyone else do this?). This post is a follow-up to the Love That Guy post from July. Reread it if you don't remember the story. I hope enough time has passed that no one will worry anymore. (Did you see? I figured out how to turn words into a link, just click on the pinkish words and you go to post I mentioned. How cool!)

So T followed those kids. I was inspired. What I didn't know was that those kids had seen which house T had emerged from. The next night T and Cody went to hang out with a friend. I settled in for a quiet evening of reading. T called shortly before the girls went to bed and told me to make sure the doors were locked "just in case." We don't usually lock the doors if we are home until we go to bed. I wasn't too worried. A friend was next door, meeting with a potential landlord. I kept the front door open, locked the screen and hoped my friend would sense the invitation to come in when her meeting was over. Marcy's meeting lasted over an hour, and she was tired. Marcy likes being alone and isn't always social, but she felt like she should stop by to chat. We had a nice conversation, getting to know each other better. Suddenly, it sounded like someone was firing an airgun or something at the house. We weren't sure what the noise was but we were certain the noise was directed at my house. I checked on the girls, sound asleep and signs of trouble. I tried calling T and his friends, but they were at a movie and no one answered. I called a neighbor, but he wasn't at his house. I felt nervous and scared but thankful that I wasn't alone. We finally called 911, explained the situation, said it wasn't an emergency but we would like a cop to stop by and make sure everything was safe. Fifty minutes later a cop did come. He had carefully walked around the house and seen nothing. He did find a few holes in the siding of our house but because he saw a cobweb was rather certain they were old. To be brief, the cop was wrong and those holes were new. There are five holes in the vinyl siding ( two of them quite large) and we found the cement chunks they threw in the landscaping. The holes are on the side, bottom and top of the north dining room window. I am convinced that an angel of God must have been diverting those rocks, because I can't figure out how those kids missed the big window.

It's been weeks and nothing else has happened. Someone asked me if I now wanted to move or change my philosophy. It would be a lie to say I wasn't jumpy and anxious for a few days or to say that I just shrugged the incident off and kept going. If anything, it has reminded me of the cost of living the way we think Jesus would and deepened our determination to keep trying. And after my first post, it seemed like you deserved to hear the end of the story.

In-laws

My in-laws just left. They've been here since Sunday evening. Don't feel sorry for me, or think of typical in-law jokes--Pam and Chris don't fit that mold. They are easy to be around, genuinely helpful, and never offer unwanted advice. And they bring two dogs. I don't like dogs, but theirs are well-behaved, calm and the objects of much love and affection by my girls. And upon arrival, T and Chris erected a chicken wire fence to protect my beloved garden. We had lots of fun: visiting the zoo, going on an 8-mile bike ride (H and T rode their bikes, I rode mine and towed K on the trail-a-bike*, and Pam and Chris rode the tandem), camping at Tawas with Cody and Laura, shopping for school clothes, watching the Olympics, and just being together. Tom and Chris dug trenches in the backyard so now the tree house will have electricity (whenever it gets built)**. And FYI, you can't really see his hair in this picture, but Chris is the only known source of the red hair that my girls have.

*Our neighbor just gave this to us last Saturday. It's a bike for kids that attaches to an adult bike. The adult does the balancing, and the kid pedals with you, or rests. K adores this way of riding...no training wheels! And we get lots of smiles from observers.

**So we've been planning to build a tree house since spring. Our neighbor said he was going to tear down his garage and that we could have the wood. That made a nice tree house affordable. But dear neighbor keeps saying he will tear down his garage and never does. Meanwhile, we have windows and siding and roofing for the tree house, not to mention posts cemented into the ground, just waiting.

Picture the kisses

During our nightly snuggle, H and I had a wonderful image we talked about. I wish I was an artist to capture it. What if, I told H, we could see every kiss I had ever given her. If each kiss was a colored heart, her whole face would be covered with colored hearts. In her six years I suspect I have kissed every square each inch of her face at least once. Some have been carefully placed nose kisses and others have been teasingly placed kisses as she tried to slip away from me, and don't forget the little toe kisses to her adorable baby feet. H loved the idea of seeing all those kisses so she couldn't forget how much I loved her. She was sure she would look beautiful.

K graduated from kiddie kamp today. She came home with this construction paper hat and a little diploma (do we have to graduate from everything? I am not going to be saving this diploma, in fact it's already in the recycling bin, but this gets into a whole different issue that isn't the subject of this post). Kiddie kamp was an eight-day, two-hour a morning "kamp" (I know the "k" is cute, but why confuse kids?) designed to help kids get ready for preschool--a great idea for kids like K who have never been in day care. I am not sure she actually learned much, but she did have fun and apparently talked to other kids which is huge for her. And as for H and I? We had a great time. We haven't had much one-on-one time since K quit napping. H is so sweet when she doesn't have to share with anyone (I am sweet under such circumstances too). We ran errands, did school shopping, chatted over milk steamers at the coffee shop (so fun!), cooked together, did laundry together, enjoyed each other, and said so many I love yous that I lost count.

This reminds me, I've read numerous parenting books that emphasize teaching your kids household duties...teach them to crack an egg, to fold laundry, etc. You know, include them in what you are doing. I love this idea. But in practice it is hard. With H, it is mostly easy. With both of them, it's torture. Fighting over who gets to put which ingredients, too many hands, too many grabs, my constant fear of all the ingredients being flung out of the bowl. Maybe I should cook for fun so it doesn't matter what happens, but I don't like to cook or bake so the aforementioned idea "cooking for fun" is an oxymoron to me. Cleaning isn't much better. Fighting over who gets to clean the dryer vent or watching chores deteriorate into a goofiness which requires disciplining makes me tired and most of the time I try to avoid such situations because I am lazy. I am sure some of the problem is poor management on my part. After all, women with five kids manage to involve their children in the daily chores (or so I am told, Kara, is it true?). But trying to teach life skills is definitely better accomplished at my house one on one. Today H learned to crack pepper, to cut onions with a sharp knife and to fold shirts properly. Well, maybe she didn't learn this last one as the sillies took over. I showed her how to fold, and then in her most snotty, know-it-all voice she said, "No mom, I have my own way." She proceeded to make small, origami-like folds and rolls and then handed me the shirt, which immediately unfolded. Still in teaching mode, and not realizing the lessons of the day had transformed into a game, I tried to explain the purpose of folding (to keep the clothes from getting wrinkled, to keep them organized, so they take up less space in the drawer....). H took the shirt and did a different kind of origami, with a grin. I showed her two other acceptable ways to fold the shirt and told her to choose one. The game was on and I lost. We went upstairs with the origami on top of the laundry pile and H laughing hard.

Baking Goodness

Today, I am pretending to be a fancy food blogger. I tried to make this muffin look yummy and inspiring. K has never had a blueberry muffin and this special muffin was the result of a long search for a recipe that fit her needs. And yes it is gluten-, egg-,dairy-, and soy-free. And it was yummy. I poured the batter in the muffin tins and guess what it did while it baked? It rose! I know, big deal to most bakers, but seriously when you take the gluten and the eggs out of baking, getting things to raise is impressive, and if they don't flop, even more amazing. And did I mention these muffins were delicious? Soft and not too dense, also impressive for gluten-free baking. I was so pleased. Everyone liked the muffins, except K who picked the day I baked these to not like blueberries! My response? "That's not a choice today. Eat your muffin." She did, though she didn't it very much. Too used to the typical dense gluten-free bread I guess. Poor girl. For my friends who share a some of our food issues (or just curious bakers), here is the link for this recipe. Note:I used sorghum flour instead of buckwheat flour simply because that's what I had and sorghum almost always works in gf baking.

http://glutenfreegoddess.blogspot.com/2007/08/brown-sugar-blueberry-muffins.html


And friends, this lady has great gf recipes, many of them allergen-free, even one for dairy-free peach ice cream! I will be reading Karina's recipes regularly.

To continue the blueberry theme, all five us (and Cody makes five) went to The Berry Patch today. I was hoping to pick more berries since it only took us about a week to get through the 7.25 lbs the girls and I picked the first time. I hoped that taking the men with us would yield sufficient quantities to freeze enough to get us through to next season, as we love blueberry pancakes and blueberries on our cereal. I was not disappointed. We picked 23.25lbs!Woo-hoo! We are in the process of freezing them (if you freeze them on cookie sheets first, then when you put them in a container to store they don't stick together). I never thought this was possible, but I am sick of blueberries, though they do make for a pretty picture on the top of my blog.

Tidbits

I haven't posted any pictures in a while. The top ones are from blueberry picking about a week and a half ago. I didn't want to post the picture with me but it does show how hot and sweaty we got. We picked 7#s but will be going back tomorrow with Tom to pick more for freezing. The girls took a while to get into picking since this grey kitten was following us around. Heaven for H: blueberries and tame kittens! The picture of K and the hand dryer is at Aldi, I just happened to think of taking a picture. This is a typical Kassy activity: putting her whole body under the dryer and giggling. The last picture is from the picnic we had on the river with my parents while we were in Rockford. Thanks mom. Love the matching hats mom and dad!

Olympics fan

I am not athletic. I played tennis in high school but had no real talent at it. My senior year I even played varsity doubles, but only because all those talented players graduated. A natural athlete could beat us with just a little practice. But it was fun. I am glad I played a sport.

T loves sports, almost anything but basketball. Mostly he loves to play them, but he enjoys the camaraderie of men when they watch sports. I am always glad when football season ends as I just can't get into watching sports.

The Olympics would be the exception. I love them. If there weren't household tasks beckoning, I would indulge my appetite and watch them all day. Beach volleyball is on right now. I love that playing volleyball in the sand is an Olympic sport. I love that ping pong is an Olympic sport and this year BMX racing makes its debut. I love the obscure sports like synchronized swimming and I love the popular sports like swimming, gymnastics, and soccer (it's the most popular sport in the world, and even popular at my home). I love introducing my kids to competition and to new sports they have never seen. I loved watching the beautiful opening ceremonies with the girls and listening to them ooh and ahh at the beautiful costumes, at the fancy lights, and helping them admire the precision of movement of thousands of people--something only the Chinese could accomplish. I even loved the parade of nations though I felt sad so many of those nations won't receive one medal and don't expect to. I know its not because of lack of talent. I like rooting for the underdog, the upsets. I like believing in the purity of the love of a sport, honest competition, and determination. It's refreshing and I wither when athletes like Marion Jones tarnish those ideals.

I love the tears, the smiles, the human-interest stories, the China spotlight stories. I love the pre-Olympic politics and following the choosing of the next Olympic city (go Chicago in 2016 - did you know this great city has never hosted the Olympics? It was chosen in 1904, but gave it up to St. Louis because it was hosting the World's Fair the same year! If Chicago wins, I will be there!). I love getting angry at the human rights violations in China and discovering the crazy cover-ups and massive resources poured into this Olympics (like diverting water from the rice farmers for the normally arid Beijing). While such discoveries frustrate me, I am fascinated by the Chinese and how they think and am happy they have some time in the spotlight. I hold dear my time in China and will forever remember the joyful tears those Chinese teenagers shed when Beijing won the Olympic bid in 2001. Their love of country and sense of belonging parallels nothing that exists here. I love the Olympics. Yea that it is here!

Treasure from H

A treasure, from H. This happened last week in the car.

H: Mom, you are really good at saying "No."

Me: What do you mean?

H: Like when I really wanted that pink basket and kept asking and you kept saying no.

Me: And you think this is a good thing?

H: Otherwise we would have way too much junk.

Note to self: She is listening, even if her actions don't reflect it and that stuff you read about how kids really want boundaries, it's true.

Cockatoo Love

Animals seem to be therapeutic. We take them to nursing homes to warm the hearts of the elderly. Some of the best rehabilitation for troubled children and adults happens on farms out in the country. I know people who dream of moving to the country so their children can be surrounded by animals. And many of us have treasured memories of the first animal that we loved.

When I was born, we had a Siamese cat. He hated me. He would walk by my room and hiss. When I was about four, we discovered I had a cat allergy ( and animal fur in general). And though it was painful for my dad, the cat had to go.

For years I begged, pleaded, connived with my parents for a puppy. But what argument can be made against allergies? I tried goldfish and several chameleons. But neither pet was ever excited to see me. I remember sitting next to the goldfish bowl trying to cox him to jump through the bracelet I held. And I can still see the piece of the chameleon tail wiggling all alone and changing from green to brown. No one had told me not to pick up the lizard by the tail. I remember diligently changing flies around the house and learning to only maim the little bugs so my pet could have live pry. Still, the chameleon didn't return my affection and in fact escaped. I found him months later. Playing house, I opened up a blanket to wrap my doll in, and out rolled a dead chameleon. I was terrified of that play space for days.

Around fifth or sixth grade, I got my wish. Not a puppy. But a pet that loved me back. My parents bought me a cockatiel that I named Bing. This will sound like a puppy story but I promise you Bing was a little bird. We did everything together. We ate and shared snacks, she sat on my shoulder while I did homework ( and chewed tiny holes in it), we even showered together. We watched TV together. She would come swooping through the house and land on my head if I whistled for her. I gave her head scratches and she let me nestle my nose into her feathers. To be a good owner, I read Bird Talk magazine from cover to cover every month. She was first animal love. She died young, at only four or five from a urinary tract infection. The grief was very potent and very real.

There have been other birds since then ( I know most of you have such stories about dogs) but Bing was my first love (sorry Elliott and Duncan for not giving you your own paragraph). We have been petless since we left Iowa more than three years ago. And now we have a little Beta fish that clearly knows when we approach the bowl(how sweet??). Really, I record all this because animal love bit me again. But I must languish in unrequited love. While at my parents we went to this great little pet shop. It had an interactive area with about ten open cages full of bunnies, hamsters, birds, and ferrets. The employees walked around teaching safe handling. My girls loved it. But I loved it more. I found my dream pet. A white Goffin Cockatoo (think big white parrot with mohawk). She clearly loved me and loved my head scratches. She didn't want back on her cage. I was smitten. Memories of my first love returned. But that little Goffin (little for a Cockatoo) cost $1400 plus another $400 or more for a cage. She has a life span of over 40 years so should not be purchased on a whim. So she is still at the pet store.

How about you? Who was your first animal love?

What a Week

I am not sure what makes me think I have a right to get frustrated with God. But I do. During some life seasons, I get really frustrated. Why I do think I can be frustrated with creator of the universe, the creator of me, the creator of you, an omnipotent God? Do I think I know something He doesn't? I guess sometimes it isn't so much that I doubt He is making the best choices but like my dear daughters, when things don't go according to my desires I get irked.

And so this last week, I was irked. I didn't want to leave T home sick. I didn't want to sit in traffic for an hour and half when I was almost to my parents. I didn't want to hear via telephone about the prayer meeting at our house, and how T seemed to be healed after it was over. And even though I frequently ask God why I don't see the healing and miracles like in the new testament, I still was irritated that when a healing came my way, I was 380+ miles away. Maybe that's what Satan wants, he wants us to focus on life details and get irked instead of rejoicing when the mighty God of the universe is answering our prayers.

And yes, T is healed. His test results came back Monday, he did have viral hepatitis. It normally has a two to three month recovery time. The doctor said something like, I guess you got over it really really fast. And we are all home together again. So there you have it. My first personal healing story where the only answer could be God. Praise God. Forgive me for being irked. Amen. Thanks for your prayers friends.

Driving in Chicago

On our trip home Thursday, we had to go through or around Chicago, it's what makes the trip so unpredictable and usually so annoying. We left Ignored at 3:30 pm and took an extra 40 minutes for dinner at Taco Bell (chant ten times loudly "Taco Bell!" and you get the idea of how much my girls love tacos). We even filled up at the Michigan border for $3.69 a gallon! With the time change, it was after eight when we got to Chicago so I took a risk and took I90 all the way. If there wasn't traffic, I would always take 90 as I love the view of the Chicago skyline, the air exudes excitement. I counted myself as blessed to get all the way to OHare ( the east end of the suburbs) with only one 15 minute traffic delay. It was dark now, K was asleep, H was watching the Sound of Music ("Mom, the girl in this movie just kissed a boy on the lips and they aren't even married. It was disgusting." My response, "Oooh, that is disgusting.") Twelve miles to our exit and the traffic slowed, then stopped completely. It took me an hour and a half to go those twelve miles. I was so happy to finally drive more than 10 mph, in fact after so long, 30 felt like speeding. At one point, when I had shut my car off to save gas. I got out of my car, knocked on some one's window and asked to use her cell phone, just so my parents wouldn't worry. And yes, we still live in the stone ages of no cell phone.

We are having a restful time here (I don't have to get up everyday with my girls who never sleep past 7:15, regardless of time zone changes or staying up late). Yesterday, my parents took the girls to lunch and to Kitt Kittridge while I stayed here and did whatever I wanted! Tom is resting at home, feeling much better, waiting for test results. We miss him so much but I know he is getting better rest with a silent house.