Thursday, September 29, 2011

Happy Fall


I love The Fall.

We did school outside today under the tall pines that hold up the tire swing.


THe Farmhouse smells of pumpkin spice latte and we've found a most delightful Fall snack that we just can't seem to get enough of...

All one might need for Tickle Your Tongue, Fall Apple Rings...
*Your favorite type of apples (Fuji is a favorite around here)
*Peanut or Almond butter (I totally prefer peanut... and not that healthy stuff, but the the sugar filled kind like Skippy or Jif)
*Granola
*Carmel

How to assemble...
Simply cut the core out of the apple.

Slice the apple into 1/2 inch-thick rings.

Spread a light layer of peanut butter on one side of each ring.

Sprinkle a generous handful of your favorite granola (my kiddos prefer the blueberry and flax granola from Sprouts Farmers Market :).

And top it all off with a light drizzle of carmel sauce

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

The One And Only Realistic Expectation

Somehow over the years I've latched onto to the idea that most things in marriage are a right.

I have a right to help with the kids the second the Cowboy walks in the door after work.
I have a right to hours of "me" time.
I have a right to a trial free relationship.
I have a right to good healthy communication without much hurt involved or effort on my part.

And what happens when I rest in these rights is that I find myself in a steady stream of disappointment because my expectations are rarely getting met.

And for all those amazing women who have come by this revelation way earlier in their journey than I have, I apologize for the simplicity of this confession... But it has recently occurred to me that all these things that I've deemed as rights, are really graces.

The fact that my husband helps at all... grace. The fact that he does it with joy... bonus!
The fact that the treasures go to sleep at a decent hour and give this Mama time at night to refresh, to be with the Cowboy, to soak up the Word... grace.
The fact that the Lord brings those days, seasons of trial so that I might grow in His likeness... grace... not punishment. In fact, could the trials actually be a tangible insight into His mercies?

The Cowboy and I, well, sometimes our words towards one another can be sharp. Sometimes we don't see eye to eye. Sometimes I just might die inside if anyone showed up on my door step and heard some of the words that fall out of my quiet little mouth under the safety of this farmhouse roof.

Sometimes, even though this heart of mine knows that Christ is my ONLY real circumstance, my mind believes something totally different and camps out in the place of bitterness and unrealistic expectations.

So how exactly does one take what they know to be true in their heart and convince their mind to follow suit? I'm not entirely sure, except to say... stick to the one and only realistic expectation... CHrist.

I can expect and expect things to be a certain way in my marriage, in my mothering.
But really there is only One who is steadfast.
Only One who will meet all of my needs.
Only One who can give me eyes to see when I'm feeling overwhelmed by the noise and the bickering.
Only One who can fill that void when the Cowboy is gone and I'm trying to muddle through the day with sick kiddos and laundry piling overhead and the smell of many small children with the spilled milk, the poop, the snot permeating my very being and tempting me to just walk out the front door and sit on the front porch until the Cowboy gets home so that I can just take a break and unload the weight of it all on him.

Can I stop thinking of my expectations as rights and instead turn them into graces?

Can I shift my expectations of my husband and of my children and look to the One who is so graciously in ALL of my circumstances?

Can I lean on Him in the breaking, so that when the Cowboy walks in the door, I can flood him with gratitude instead of the bitter silent treatment when he wraps his arms around and whispers "I missed you today" into my ear, and then wonders why such a kind act is paid back with a cold shoulder?

Maybe if I take it all to the cross and cling to the One from whom my help comes from while the Cowboy's gone, then when he comes home I can wrap my arms around him too, and look into him with a genuine smile, rather than pushing him away and muttering some sort of harsh words under my breath because he hasn't met the unrealistic expectations that quite frankly he probably didn't even know I had. The poor Cowboy... how often do I set him up for failure when I insist on waiting for him to fulfill the expectations that only Christ can fulfill?

The one and only realistic expectation is Christ.
That Christ will mold me into the daughter of His that He needs me to be for His glory.
That Christ will be my kind words when all I really wanna do is scream.
That Christ will allow me to accomplish what needs accomplishing and that everything else that didn't get accomplished must not have been as important as I made it out to be.
That Christ will fill all the achings of my heart, that He will love me moment by moment with an extravagant love.
That Christ will strengthen me in breaking moments.

It was never reasonable of me to expect the Cowboy to meet expectations in my life that only Christ could meet.

And now that I know, I pray that the Lord would be gracious enough to show me how to turn the things in my head that I once thought as rights, into graces, and ultimately... into gratitude for all the gifts that He never had to give, but He did anyways.


Monday, September 26, 2011

Evicting Fear



"Dirty Girls"...
It's an odd title in my opinion...
One you might not wanna Google... {weak smile}

But despite names, I pay the fee, and spend a few months gathering up some courage.
I'm not like some girls. I don't run half marathons in the free hours... I'd rather read a book and eat a brownie.

But the past few years of this life of mine I've let a sense of fear rent a room in my soul and it's made me a wee bit weary...

To be honest it's kinda crushed any thoughts of being brave... brave in the big and in the small.

And the only way to overcome such silliness is to just go for it.




So With eyes wide open, and fear ruthlessly evicted, I do just that, and I believe that I really am able to do all things through Christ who gives me strength. I mean really... I am able.

So I signed up for that race with that not so great name, and a bunch of girls from the place where we do church inspire, join in and cheer on this anxious girl.

I'm the last to arrive at the check in line. The Cowboy so graciously accompanies me and the kids are at their favorite place away from home with our treasure friends that live across the farm... Thanks T! :)







There's gals there in crazy attire and I've borrowed the cowboy's spandex shorts (yes, the Cowboy owns a pair of spandex shorts {big smile :}) and I'm grateful that the team decided to wear the one color that comforts me... black.

When I catch up with the group, this overwhelming flood of gratitude washes over me. Gratitude for so many of the women standing there in their pink headbands and smiles. Women who have done life with me since I moved to this small town not to long ago. Women who have come around me in so many ways.





And here I am again, attempting to face something that just wants to paralyze me. And here they are again, living love towards me. One promises to stick with me no matter the pace... And she does... the whole way. (Thank you A__) They all know how much I dislike feeling dirty and they laugh.

So I go for it, and you know what I find? I find that there is nothing to be afraid of. I find that the very thing that I'm afraid of is actually a doorway into much joy. I just needed the Lord to help me muster up the courage to actually open the door and take those first few steps through.

In the middle of the course we come upon the first "muddy" obstacle and all the girls covered in mud decide that it would be a splendid idea to surround me in a giant MUDDY hug. Kindness at it's peek. :)








We did the whole course in just about an hour.
It was easy and fun.

But above all else, it was one more baby step for this sometimes timid farm girl, in Leaving Comfort for Courage.

**************

#652-662
Driving home in his beat up, 20-year-old truck... dirt roads and country music the whole way...
Friends who know the deep fears and walk close beside...
The dancing girl's thoughts on Papa's grilled vegetables...
Anticipating a precious friend's first little treasure...
Talking with the Cowboy in the kitchen, us both pretending like we couldn't hear the ruckus going on in the next room, a pile of kids simply being kids....
Accountability, prayer, friendship late into a Monday night...
Grace for the messy days...
Eating Fall fun with the treasures on a blanket, with a new favorite book...
My Dad on the other end of the line, confirming dates for a visit to the Farm...
Courage, bravery...
A God with love so great, He casts out all fears...

Friday, September 23, 2011

Remember...



There's a whole lot of my heart packaged up in a cardboard box in my basement. Pieces of paper splattered in color holding together moments; mostly ones that I want to remember.

I wanna remember the good stuff. Those Friday nights back in high school when we sat together in that same broken, corner booth in that run down Robertos on the out-skirt of town; we'd talk for hours... or maybe it was me that did all the talking. Those school nights when we'd stay up till midnight playing just-one-more game of UNO and laughing until our bellies hurt.

Yesterday marked ten years. Ten years since I heard her say I love you. Ten years since I laid my head on her chest in that hospital room and memorized the sound of her breathing. Ten years since we gathered round her bed and together sang praise, knowing full well what He was asking of us all...

The letting go...

Honestly, how do you say goodbye to the one who made all the pain of the world better with her tender Mama kiss.?

I'm a Mama now. She's never met my treasures. I know she'd laugh each time she'd see our spunky girl make that same pouty face that her daughter made when she was a little girl.

And on a Friday afternoon with my not so little anymore, little ones, we pull out moments from the cardboard box in the basement and we spread them all over the old farm floors. Old photos that come with negatives... remember the days when you couldn't automatically see your photos on the backs of cameras?

The little girl finds a spot under the old table. She reads a letter (up-side-down) from her Mama's junior high days.

The dancing girl wonders how I personally know the "princesses" in the photo she's scrounged out of the box that a still dear to my heart friend made for me nearly twenty years past. How do you explain high school and dancing to a curious five year old? She wants to know why Papa's not in the picture and I tell her it's simply because her Mama's dreams had not yet come true. :)
My Siah. My ever so encouraging Siah points to a college photo of his Papa and I, with my Mama, and says, "Mom, you look exactly the same.... But who's that guy you're with?"
Thanks lovely son! You know how to make your Mama smile! :)
A Friday afternoon, a Mama telling her kids about her own Mama, and it feels so good just to remember. To tell them what she was like. To hear the oldest son getting to know the grandma he never had the privilege of meeting. "She looks so nice Mom," he says it with that charming smile of his lighting up his face.

And she was.
(After ten moves in ten years, the glass is now broken on the photo of my mother and I at my college graduation. She knew on that day that she was sick. But in her selflessness, she didn't tell me. Isn't that what Mama's do... show their kids with their lives, rarely their words, how to think about others above themselves? If there is ever a day when I'm putting others above myself, it just might be because my mother showed me how. :)

We were a mother and daughter growing up together.
He used her to grow me and me to grow her.
There was pain to be sure. But the best of relationships trust through the pain and choose to reside in what was good.

And today...
Today I remember my mother.
I remember the day she taught me to french braid my own hair. I remember the card she gave me the day I graduated high school, remember how it warned that she might not always be there in the ways that I needed, but Christ would meet my every need. (I still carry that card in my Bible).

This afternoon I pulled out the handmade paper that tied together my wedding invitation from the box in the basement. As I ran my fingers over it, I remembered the gratitude that I felt for the hours my Mama gave to me as she hand folded and tied up each invitation.
Memories of my Mother....

It's the little things isn't it? The little things that our treasures might recall about us one day when they're moments are sprawled out on their own farmhouse floors and they're telling their kids about their Mama. Maybe they'll remember some heart bruising days, it's inevitable I'm sure. But hopefully they'll remember the Friday afternoon that one Fall day when they sprawled out on their tummy's and laughed happy with their Mama about moments with the people we all love most.


Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Just For Smiles

Just for smiles...

The spunky girl did her own hair this morning... :)



And Jeddy, well I could watch him dance All... day... Long! :)
But he gets mad sometimes and just doesn't wanna dance anymore.

Happy smiles all around on this lovely Wednesday morning. :)

Sunday, September 18, 2011

In The Messy Seasons



The glorious days of summer are slowly fading and Fall is taking over the Farm. The air is cooler and I've been spending the past week and a half talking my California girls, the ones who insist that spaghetti straps and flip flops are year-round attire, through the importance of wearing pants when it's 40 degrees outside.
And me, well, I've been lying in bed in the mornings watching the clock continuing on without me, thinking about the mess.



Do you ever just stop for those brief moments in your days as a Mama and think to yourself, "Am I just making a mess out this whole thing? My children are a mess. I'm a mess. What in the world Lord?"

Last week, us at the dentist, it turns out that the dancing girl's back two teeth have giant holes in them. She needs crowns. The big brother has three cavities that need filling.

For the past month the littlest one wants to be in my arms 24/7. Maybe he's getting teeth? Maybe he's sick? Maybe he's perfectly fine and just likes his Mama? He doesn't eat a whole lot, at least not like the other ones do. He doesn't drink as much as I would like him to. I worry about him sometimes. Aren't Mama's supposed to know these kinds of things?...
Well apparently I don't. :)



My Siah went to his first sleepover last night. I woke up this morning thinking, "Hooray! He must have done just fine!"

That was of course until I found my phone on silent in my purse!! A phone that had three missed calls and two texts from the Mama who was up at midnight cleaning up my kid's throw up!!! Of course he's fine now. But just the thought of it... the thought that I wasn't there for My Siah when he was away from home for the first time with friends. The thought of knowing how much I long for my own Mama when I'm sick and the knowing that she's not there, and there's nothing I can do about it except to try to be brave even when everything in me just wants to cry. The thought of my dear friend up in the wee hours of the morning cleaning up nasty stuff. :(

The Mess...

It's one thing after another that just makes you doubt whether or not you were cut out for this job.

And it's strange to me, because I can lift up and encourage another mom with truth that restores and brings life but then when it comes to my own mothering, if I'm real, and I vulnerably lay it all out on the table... I doubt. I preach, but do I myself believe?

I believe in God... whole-heartedly.

But do I believe Him when he says that "He tends his flock like a shepherd: (that) He gathers the lambs in His arms and carries them close to His heart; (that) He gently leads those who have young?" (Isaiah 40:11)

Do I believe that He has given me everything I need within the pages of His Word, for life and for parenting these many small children? (2 Timothy 3:17)

In the day-to-day, in the moments of bad teeth, and throw up, and feeling at a total loss as to the needs of a particular child, I wonder.

I wonder Lord, if I was really cut out for this high-calling?

I know I'm not a bad mom. But how is it that I can brush my little girls teeth every single day of the week an not notice that she has TWO gaping holes in the back of her mouth? Why is it that I let the whining and the bickering that seems sometimes constant, wear me down, when I know that all day long I simply have the opportunity to be that soft, guiding, teaching voice, to my treasures, that same voice that the Lord Himself is to me?

And here I am lying in bed, wondering how it is that I am to do it all over again today? How am I going to try again today to somehow not see it all as mess?




I'm here hashing it out with the Lord. And this thought crosses my mind.,

What's so wrong with the mess?
It's okay to be a mess.
It's okay that you have messy days.
It's okay that your littlest treasure has been covered in nail polish for the past three days because you can't figure out how to get it off without dousing him in nail polish remover, which you don't wanna do.
It's okay that the spunky girl has two different shoes on because you can't keep track of everyones shoes for the life of you.
It's okay that the kids have have eaten cereal for dinner for three days straight now because you haven't had time to go to the grocery store with the Cowboy out of town and the treasures taking turns with the silver, throw-up bowl.

When did Christ ever say that to be a godly, loving Mama I had to have it all together? All he said was, shower them with words that are helpful for building them up. Make it right with them when you've wronged them. Do your best for the glory of God (not man) with the moments that He's picked out for you. Love God and love them with all your heart, mind and soul. And that's about it!

Love and learn, laugh and cry, mess up and forgive them and yourself.

Siah and I sat in church together today. He must have reminded me three times that I didn't answer my phone last night when he was throwing up and wanted to come home. And each time he told me, I pulled him close and whispered sorry into his ear and asked his forgiveness. I hurt his heart and I will gladly apologize over and over again until I know, that he knows, that my heart was never to hurt his, but that Mama's simply make mistakes, just like kids do.

That, my son, is why we all need Jesus. Simply because He gives us hope in our mistakes.

He doesn't take the messy us away. He just somehow uses the messy us to make us more like Him and help us to learn to somehow love each other better.

Photos of the little boy who doesn't wanna leave his Mama's side... in full blown joy, by his Mama's side. :)

#'s 631-647
The Messy days,
That it's okay.
A restoring conversation in the early morning hours with the cowboy before the the sun or the treasures are up.
That He uses me anyways.
Littlest boy dancing to Foster the People.
Another Monday morning,
another day for grace.
The life giving Word,
a lovely beginning.
A long melting hug from My Siah,
just because.
How the dancing girl glows on Mondays,
today is ballet... :)
A trip to Sprouts over the weekend,
fresh healthy treats for the treasures.
A kind Word from a friend,
one who hugs me and prays over me and somehow still likes me in my mess...
T__ been extra thankful for you lately.
A phone conversation with a kindred from back "home".
Covered in prayer by kind friends from all over.

************
comments are open today... just in case you're a Mama who might have had a messy day or two. Can we pray for each other today? :)