Slice of Life this Monday Morning

Outside My Window

I picked up Mike at the airport in the dark and snuggled with him as the sun rose. Outside my window, it dawned a beautiful day.

I am Listening to

Silence. Very active weekend has left our children sound asleep this Monday morning. I'm grateful that I don't have to hustle them off to school.

I am Wearing

Jeans, floral poplin shirt, cotton cardigan and these shoes. The autumn uniform.

I am so Grateful for

God's lessons. Sometimes it's hard to learn the things He intends us to learn, but I'm always grateful for the lessons.

I'm Pondering

  "Let your religion be less of a theory and more of a love affair." -G.K. Chesterton 

I am Reading

Becoming More than a Good Bible Study Girl I want to tell you more about this book. Hopefully, I can do a proper book post soon.

I am Thinking

about how sad it is that the body of Christ is splintered. We have so much to offer one another and division only and always inflicts pain.

I am Creating

I'm told that a certain birthday girl wants a crown of her very own. Pink. Of course. She says she's going to be a "Birthday Princess" for Halloween and since that is, indeed, true, and she only gets to turn three on Halloween once in her lifetime, I suppose I'm going to bow to her ever-changing costume whims for as long as possible.

To live the liturgy:

The Holy Father's intention for this month: That the terminally ill may be supported by their faith in God and the love of their brothers and sisters. 

We have lived this well this month, up close and personal. And we continue to walk with the sorrowing.

Towards a Real Education

Katie and Karoline have a delightful new bedtime routine. Since Mary Beth is at dance until well past nine every night, I've been working on getting the three little girls settled all together, without Mary Beth's assistance. So, after the bath routine, Katie and Karoline choose ten picture books each. While I snuggle Sarah to sleep (and she might just nurse a little--don't judge), Katie reads to Karoline. If they're still awake once Sarah's asleep, I take over the reading. That's a whole bunch of reading!

Towards Rhythm and Beauty

{We hit a rhythm last week and I'm going to cling to it for all its worth. We are far more creative, productive, and happy once the rhythm has been worked out and life--however busy--is more predictable.}

I wrote that last Monday. Rachael's dad died Tuesday morning. Last week's rhythm was not "routine," but there still was rhythm. I think that's a sign of an underlying structure that's going to work over the long haul. At least, I hopes so.

I am Hoping and Praying

for Rachael, her father, and their family and friends. I was blessed to be present at the most amazing funeral ever last Friday. And we were sent forth with quite a mission for prayer. We also all left that church wanting to live for Christ and in Christ; I can't think of a greater tribute to Greg Davenport's life.

 I am learning

to make a little quilted playmat. When Sarah Annie was discharged from the NICU, we were invited to choose from a large collection of beautiful handmade blankets for her to bring home. I was so touched by the gesture that, as a family, we've resolved to donate a handmade blanket every year on Sarah's birthday. Nicky and I have a really good one going here, thanks to this tutorial.

Around the House

We've got some picking up to do before Bible Study this afternoon. Katie and Karoline got into the autumn decorating box and happily sprinkled seasonal cheer here and there. I am hoping to dip leaves this week. I think they might actually be dry enough at last.

From the Kitchen 

A big pot of chili today.

On my iPod:

Amy Grant older and newer. I've promised my kids Scotty McCreery, but I'm reserving it to use as a bribe motivation to clean.

One of My Favorite Things

new fabric and the promise of an old friend to help me make something of it.

On the Calendar for the Week

I'm just a little torn between insisting on a week of solid school days with no interruptions and the call of the beautiful days to go out and play. Skyline Drive, maybe? 

Worth a Thousand Words

 
 
{tickle party}

It's a little fuzzy but the memory still makes me giggle.

My heartfelt prayers for you all this week.

Five Minute Friday: Catch!

I know it's no longer Friday. Friday was given to hymns and scripture, prayers and flowers, the fellowship of the body of Christ and the comfort of the grieving. Now it's Saturday morning and I have but five minutes.

Perfect.

And so, on Saturday morning, as always happens after funerals, I find myself thinking about life and the big picture and the deep meanings for the time we have here. 

Lisa-Jo, writing on this week's Five Minute Friday prompt, "catch," says, "I write in this space because sometimes our stories are the best translation of the Bible we’ve got to offer someone else."

Hmmm. Why do I write in this space? Why do I do anything the way I do? There's a great question.

As a rule, Catholics are not encouraged to translate the Bible on their own for someone else;-). It just doesn't come to us as second nature to think in those terms.

Really, though, isn't that precisely the point?

Isn't life--each life individually--our own translation of the Bible? Aren't we supposed to speak His every word and let them become so tangled with our own words that no one knows where His words stop and ours begin?

Catch. Hold.

Breathe Him in and let Him exhale from every pore. Aren't we supposed to know Jesus so well that we know ourselves only in Him?

Paul writes, "For me, to live is Christ and death is gain." To. live. is. Christ. Four words. Nothing extra. The whole point of living right there. 

What is my translation of the Bible as it is lived out in my own home and at the ballet studio and on the soccer sidelines and here in my small corner of cyberspace? Is it Christ? Is that obvious? Can you catch it? Does the way I live toss Christ high into the air in a million sparkling pieces of grace so that they fall about me everywhere and on everyone to be caught, even sometimes unawares?

That is the prayer of my life. 

[Disclaimer after the five minutes are up: When I went back and re-read this piece after the first few comments here and on Facebook, I worried that it sounds like I'm fishing for compliments and affirmations. I'm not. My point was to share with you what's inside my head, the things I'm thinking and asking myself. Usually, I let things rumble around in my head, then I put them in draft and think some more, then I tinker. I genuinely did this in five minutes and I guess there's a bit of danger in that;-) I beg your pardon if it sounds other than I intended. Have a beautiful weekend, friends! I'm off to --ahem--encourage a brood of children to pull more than their weight in weeds.]

Who Knew?

I noticed a few days ago that Christian's hair is looking especially good. His curls are nicely tamed, but not crunchy and not spiky. I didn't ask about it because he tends to grow bright red when complimented. Today, he asked, quite nonchalantly, if we had any more homemade healing salve stashed away somewhere. 

"Oh, I'm sure we do," I replied brightly. "I made lots of it. Why? What hurts.?"

"Nothing; " came the quick reply "it makes awesome hair gel."

I thought about that a moment. Olive oil and a touch of beeswax. Nourishing herbs. Certainly good for his hair. Why not?

It's about time to make some more, so I dug up this post to remind myself of what to do. I figured it's been awhile, so I'll re-run it for you, too. Maybe you need some hair gel?

 Today is the day to assemble gift bags for the dance teachers. In each bag, Mary Beth will place a bar of saintly soap, a sachet of garden lavender buds, and a tin of homemade healing salve. It's a bag in keeping with the handmade pledge. The soaps are not handmade in our home, but they are handmade. I think the teachers will be very happy at this improvement over last year's soaps, which were made in our home:-). Trish's soaps are truly amazing and I think it still counts as homemade. I can only imagine how wonderful her Canadian home must smell. [Alas, this link is not live right now. Trish is taking a break. But maybe in time for Christmas?]
The salve is becoming legendary. Recipients of last year are begging for more. I'm told it heals anything from diaper rash to windburn to hemmorhoids. I'm also told that some northern ladies were coveting some southern ladies' healing salve and I've been encouraged to skip sending teas this year and just send large vats of salve. Alrighty then!
We have a small crockpot that came with my large slow cooker. I think it's intended purpose was to keep dips warm.We've never used it for that. Truthfully, we'd never used it at all until last year when we discovered it to be perfect for making salve.
I put a handful each of dried plaintain, comfrey, calendula, and St. John's Wort in the crock and then fill it all the way with olive oil. I leave the herbs to simmer all day.
    At the end of the day, I drain the oil through cheesecloth, squeezing as much of it as possible out of the herbs. I toss the herbs into the garden. Then, I measure the oil and put it back into the crockpot. When it is warmed, I add one ounce of pure beeswax for every 8 ounces of oil. This seems to give it the right consistency when it cools. While it is still warm, I add a few drops of lavender essential oil, a few drops of tea tree oil, and I squeeze out the contents of two or three Vitamin E capsules. Don't skip the Vitamin E--that's the preservative. Stir it all until the beeswax is melted and it's all blended. Pour into containers of choice. Mountain Rose Herbs sells the dried herbs and a variety of containers. I think these little herbals sets would make nice hostess gifts, too. 

Or, perhaps this year, they are the teenage gift of choice. Everyone needs hair gel.

Thinking Big Thoughts with Young People

I started a post yesterday morning. I wrote rapidly and with passion, all about text messages and mean girls and life and death and the drama we create versus the reality God intends for us to live. After days of sitting with Rachael, waiting while her father was dying, Mary Beth was at home at our dining room table, trying to wrap her brain around a math lesson. Her cell phone, her iPod, and her computer were fully awake beside her. Normally, we don't allow electronics during school hours, except for academic uses. But Rachael had been texting pretty much all of the previous 24 hours and I was keeping a careful watch as girls rallied around her, some of them in person, some from miles away via social media. Suddenly, there was silence. In the silence of those morning hours, we all knew that Rachael's dad was drawing his last breath.

I tried to upload my post to Typepad. Typepad would have none of it. It disappeared into cyberspace. I quickly figured that was probably for the best and moved on to the next thing. I gathered my little girls on the couch and read Little Red Riding Hood. Just as the woodsman released the grandmother and little girl from their canine tomb, Mary Beth came toward me, laptop in hand. Rachael's brother had updated his Facebook status with a tribute to his father. There was his birthdate and his death date.

In a few moments, Mary Beth was at Rachael's house.

The rest of the day is a bit of a blur. I had seen the very best of social media and electronic communication. And then I saw human touch, unafraid, in hard places, loving with wholehearted generosity. I couldn't be prouder of my daughter and the girls with whom she dances. They were courageous examples of grace and compassion and their witness humbles me.

At home, while Mary Beth stayed with Rachael, we found ourselves on a bit of a rabbit trail. This post had us researching child slavery in Africa. Nicky, already raw from the past few days of watching and waiting with Rachael, was pushed to brink of emotional meltdown. This was just too much! Too much suffering. 

And yet. And yet he woke this morning wanting to know more about poverty in Africa. More about what Jesus calls us to do. More about the children. So, I showed him this article, about living for Jesus among the poor, about being young and acting with wisdom and grace and compassion and wholehearted generosity. And that, of course, led to Kisses from Katie (do watch the video on the Amazon page). 

Nicholas read the free Kindle sample to me this morning while I knit my Katie's sweater. (Yay! we made it to the sleeves!). Then, we downloaded the rest to read to each other a bit at a time. (I add a caveat here: I don't know if this book is inappropriate for children. I've sent a quick note to a friend who read an advance copy and I'm not going any further with Nicholas until I hear from her. I'll update here if there is inappropriate content.)

{the expression on his face as he reads about a sick, dirty, starving little girl the same age as his littlest sister...}

So that's about it here today. It's raining. Everyone who can read is off in a corner somewhere reading. Karoline and Sarah have overtaken the sunroom and turned it into a pancake restaurant of some sort. I'm getting ready to go get Rachael so she can hang out here for awhile before dance. 

And we're thinking. About big things. About suffering and loss and God's generous grace. About what it is to truly be Christ to one another.

{For more knitting and reading, visit Ginny today.}

Daybook: Give the Best

Outside My Window

A bright beautiful day. We're soaking in the sunshine while we can. There is a prediction for an incho or more of rain on Wednesday.

I am Listening to

waffle making in the kitchen. Nick's in charge. It's his narration of this version of The Three Little Pigs.

I am Wearing

pajamas. And it's nearly noon. Go me.

I am so Grateful for

a peaceful weekend; beautiful girls from our dance studio who are ministering to one another in a time of sorrow with admirable tenderness and grace.

I'm Pondering

Give the best you have received from the past

to the  best that you may come to know in the future.

Accept life daily not as a cup to be drained

but as a chalice to be filled

with whatsoever things are honest, pure, lovely and of good report.

Making a living is best undertaken as a part

of the more important business of making a life.

Every now and again take a good look at something not made with hands --

a mountain, a star, the turn of a stream.

There will come to you wisdom and patience and solace and, above all,

the assurance that you are not alone in the world.

~Sidney Lovett~

I am Reading

Becoming More than a Good Bible Study Girl

I am Thinking

about what a gift good health is.

I am Creating

I ordered everything I need for a quilt top. Just waiting for it get here.

To live the liturgy:

The Holy Father's intention for this month: That the terminally ill may be supported by their faith in God and the love of their brothers and sisters. We are living this day by day, hour by hour, as we wait for one of the "dance dads" to go home to Jesus.

Towards a Real Education

It's a public school holiday today. It's not an "our school" holiday. 'Nuff said.

Towards Rhythm and Beauty

We hit a rhythm last week and I'm going to cling to it for all its worth. We are far more creative, productive, and happy once the rhythm has been worked out and life--however busy--is more predictable.

I am Hoping and Praying

for Rachael, her father, and their family and friends. 

 I am learning

well...I was about ready to embark on a furniture painting project, but Mike thinks that the chairs in question aren't well-built enough to merit the investment of new fabric and paint. So, we'll just have to see where that all shakes out. In the meantime, I've been reading  furniture painting tutorials. 

Around the House

It's clean. Really clean. And "the help" didn't clean it. We asked a young woman to come help us clean one day a couple weeks ago. It took her an hour and a half to fold four loads of laundry. Then, she went up to my room. Six hours later, it was time for her to go. My bathroom was mostly clean (except the trashcan wasn't emptied). My bedroom was sort of clean (except for the dust bunnies under the bed and the sheets that weren't changed). Six hours??? It wasn't that dirty; trust me. I randomly asked children who went up there during the day what she had been doing when they saw her. To a man, they all answered texting. It was suggested that perhaps I didn't supervise closely enough.

Here's the thing about that: If I have to supervise the help to keep her on task and make sure she's not texting, I have plenty of that help under my roof. And I don't have to pay them. So much for help.

I cleaned like crazy last week. It's clean.

From the Kitchen 

An autmn menu. I'm thinking about sharing the whole week of recipes, a day at a time, here on the blog. Is that a good idea?

On my iPod:

Mindy Gledhill.

One of My Favorite Things

planting pansies. Tomorrow, I think.

On the Calendar for the Week

Some serious yardwork tomorrow. Weeds are out of control. This rain has really been a boon to overgrowth. And then, bulbs and pansies in the ground.

A local meeting with faraway friends who are here to visit on Wednesday. We'd hoped for breakfast at Bull Run. But rain is predicted.

I have a sense there will be a funeral to attend late in the week.

Fabric on the way. I'm hoping to make curtains for the sewing room and begin that quilt this weekend.

Worth a Thousand Words

 

A totally uncropped, unedited Blackberry picture of Stephen with his trophy after winning a tournament in Philadelphia last weekend. They were outside a kind of cruddy, sort of greasy, utterly delicious Philly Cheesesteak place. Not the best photo ever, but it's all I've got and I'm so out of time!

My heartfelt prayers for you all this week.