Best Half of the Year

Yesterday when I opened the refrigerator to retrieve the homegrown cucumbers and zucchini for refrigerator pickles and chocolate chip zucchini cake respectively, I was struck by the beauty of my fridge. Pitchers of iced tea on the top shelves, cucumber salad on the middle shelf and a veggie drawer full of cukes, zukes and yellow squash. This was my reminder that summer is coming to a wistful end and autumn is teasing us.

August to January is undoubtedly my favorite time of year though I hate saying goodbye to the heat and sending Adam back to school. I can still wear flip-flops and go sockless for several more weeks, my kitchen is cranking out wholesome goodness, the air is crisp and the world explodes in golden colors almost overnight. I love hearing the geese honk overhead and smelling bonfires in the air.

Toward the end of the best half of the year comes my most favorite holiday(s): Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Thanksgiving is more provincial since we moved to ND. We used to have huge celebrations of extended family, friends and orphaned acquantices of 40 people or more. The first Thanksgiving I ever hosted in my own home had 42 guests. Most years we'd all meet up in Hawai'i but in recent history it was just a fun-themed (think Mardi Gras in November) party. Now our T-days are more subdued. Though we've had visitors from CA a few times, as we will this year, mostly it's just the 8 of us. I've had to cut back on the number of desserts I make from 2 pumpkin pies, 2 pecan pies, 1 cheesecake, 1 chocolate something and 1 'show stopper' that usually conisided with our theme of the year to 1 pumpkin pie, 1 pecan pie and 1 something else. Pies don't hold much challenge, in my opinion, so I usually like to do something that stretches my baking abilities. No idea what it will be this year. I do miss all the hoopla but still love T-day.

Christmas has become an event unlike any other since we moved. We used to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas day going from one house to another, squeezing in our personal family time wherever we could. 5 separate celebrations along with traffic and family dynamics was just too much. Now we have a leisurely Christmas while still including all the family traditions we built over the years as individuals and as a family. It's two full days of good food, fun times, and reflecting on the true meaning of the holiday.

So I'm again happy to see the yellow-orange leaves waving at me in the breeze. It reminds me that we chose to live a slower life in a place where family reigns supreme.

What Is Wrong With This World?

In days gone by, the world was a nicer place to be. If someone held open a door, you said thank you. If someone gave you a gift or invited you to supper, you sent a thank you note. If you received a card or a letter, you wrote back.

Frankly that's how it still is in our house. The kids send thank-you notes (okay I write Gracey's but she colors on them) when they receive gifts. Sometimes they call the giver as well to say thank you. We say thank you to strangers who compliment us or help us somehow. Scott and I refuse to raise ungrateful people.

But the world around us is so ungrateful. Actually our culture has raised up an entire generation of young people who think they are entitled to life's perks. And parents everywhere are feeding this entitlement by buying every little thing their kid desires. It's sickening.

And this is more than just material entitlement and ungratefulness. Youth and young adults are expecting the rest of us to do more for them as if they are somehow worthy of slaves. And I can't believe the number of teenagers who don't even have jobs! What is going on in this world?

Adam told me the other day that he didn't want to have to do any work around the house like clearing the table after supper. I didn't get angry. I just said, "That's fine because I don't feel like cooking supper, making lunch, doing the laundry or keeping the house clean. I'll trade you." He got it. Every night since then he's thanked me for a delicious meal whether it was breakfast, lunch or dinner.

I'm sorry world but I don't like you. I don't like what you're doing to kids. Clean up your act and learn some manners!

I Get It! I Finally Get It!

Gracey will be two in less than a week. And just a day or two ago, I finally got it.

What did you get, you ask?

After Gracey was born, whenever I'd think of her and her exciting first four days of life, the song "Come Thou Fount" would come to mind. And whenever we'd sing that song in church, it would resonate deeply with me.

When it came time to have Gracey dedicated, I even tried looking up the scripture that inspired the composer to write those lyrics. I couldn't find any such scripture, and Scott had a verse he really liked for her, so we went with that.

Yet, the song has meant a great deal to me.

Thursday night, I was driving into town to make a last minute run to the grocery for forgotten ingredients and "Come Thou Fount" was playing on the radio.

As I sang "Here's my heart Lord, take and seal it. Seal it for they courts above," I realized why the song had meant so much.

Gracey was admitted to the NICU when she was a day old because she'd had an episode in which her lips turned blue indicating her oxygenation levels were off. Sure enough they were. They did a bunch of tests including EEGs, etc. The doctor suspected she had Patent Ductus Arteriosis which basically means a valve in an infants heart didn't close/seal like it should. It normally closes by or at the time of birth (aided by contractions, etc) but in c-section babies often doesn't close as it should. In most cases it closes on its own in a few days but in some cases, it requires surgery. When Gracey was released, our doctor didn't confirm the PDA but did prescribe meds for gastric reflux.

At her wellness check months later, the doctor told me she'd had PDA but it had self-corrected. I had been such a basket case and it was under control -- not requiring surgery or any other type of intervention -- that he'd kept it to himself. I know some people probably think that was wrong of him to do. But I don't. I'm grateful he did. I was so traumatized by her NICU stay and I was terrified to bring her home because I thought she was 'broken.' The best thing he could have done was let that simple fact go unsaid for a few months.

So as the song says, Gracey's little heart was physically sealed by our Almighty Father two years ago.

What A Difference A Year Makes

As the first month of summer vacation comes to a close, I've found myself basking in joy. Literally. This summer is so much better than last. Allow me to explain.

Last Summer:
-Working full-time as temporary District Sales Manager while the 'real DSM' was recovering from surgery. I was up at 6:30 working till 11 at night every day.
-Engine blew in our Blazer on business road-trip
-My Pacifica needed $2500 worth of repairs
-Back-to-back visits from in-laws
-Overbooked social calendar
-Lousy weather
-Bored son
-Feeling of impending doom (i.e. Adam was going to start kindergarten)
-Social pressure which really made me hate myself, my kids and my husband
-Felt like I was running out of time
-Nearly nightly panic attacks

This Summer:
-Working part-time as assistant DSM for 3 districts. I keep myself on a strict work schedule. I don't allow it to interfere with my home life.
-Hardly any social commitments
-Gorgeous weather
-Pacifica running very well. Woody is our "funky but useful" replacement to the blown Blazer.
-Happy son (okay he hates the homework I make him do)
-Great things happening at church
-Enjoying every minute I spend with my kids and my husband

Job 1:21 in The Message translation puts it perfectly: "God gives, God takes. God's name be ever blessed."

So many times people cite this verse in an effort to comfort someone. As in God gave a loved one life and God has taken it away. But I also interpret it to mean that God allowed turmoil and now God has removed it. Praise God!

You can tell me anything so long as it's the truth. We don't have a lot of rules in our house, but one that is sure and steady is telling the truth. Adam knows he can tell us anything but we expect the truth. Truth-telling was something both of our parents instilled in us and we hope to instill it in our children as well. And it's something we expect from friends, coworkers and family. If I ask you a question, I want to hear the truth. I don't want your version of the truth, I don't want what you think I'll believe to be the truth. I want the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. And if I ask you the same question more than once it might just be because I already know the truth but your answer didn't have any in it. I don't like confrontation any more than the next person, but when we forego the truth in an effort to save face or avoid a confrontation, we're driving a wedge between us and the other person. I prefer to deal with a difficult truthful situation than an easy dishonest one. Likewise, I don't care much for secrecy. This is something else we've taught Adam. Keeping secrets (other than presents and surprise parties) is dangerous. I lump 'sneaking around' into secrecy.

Bloom for Jesus

Bloom for Jesus the colorful letters say on the preschool wall at Martin Luther. Bloom for Jesus. Oh that can mean so many things. But for me, it was a poignant message sent from my Father who wants me to get going on this writing project. When I read it yesterday, I said quietly, "Okay God, I get it. I'm supposed to start writing."

I've been 'researching' the Transplant/Bloom project for almost four years. Some days the only work that gets done is thinking. Other days, I read chapters and chapters of the Bible taking copious notes to support my theories. But a few months ago, God told me I needed to do more with this, take it to the next level.

You see, I was flipping through my Stampin' Up catalog and saw an adorable stamp set called "Bella's Blooms." One of the stamps says "It's Time to Bloom." I bought the set because I knew it was a message from my Father. Then I used to set to create the invitations for the college girls' Bible study I started at our church.

Two weeks later, I got another nudge. One of the girls in my study gave me a hug and said, "Oh my you smell so good." I thanked her and said it was my favorite perfume.

"What's it called?" she asked.

"In Bloom by-" I started.

"Oh my goodness. Bloom! That really is your theme!" She interjected.

Yes, dear Lord, Bloom is my theme.

So, here I am trying to get started on my blooming. Today I will work on this project. It is metamorphisizing before my very eyes and I'm so excited. I know my Father has big plans for me and my project. Now I just have to get to work.

End of Kindergarten, Already?

With the 2009-2010 school year coming to a close, I've found myself thinking a lot about Adam's first year of elementary school.

I was not even the slightest bit excited about Adam starting kindergarten last summer. I had panic attacks about running out of time with him over the summer, but the first day of school was my all time low.

That morning I found myself standing in my kitchen, holding a dirty dish towel to my face while I sobbed. I kept saying"I can't do this today; I can't do this today." After getting dressed with more crying (from me, not him), we headed off for the school, just about a mile from our house.

I watched him on the playground before school started and when the bell rang, we lined up with the other kindergartners and parents. I was a bawling mess. As we unpacked his backpack into his cubby in the hall, the second bell rang. We both jumped, startled out of our wits. Then it was time to let him go into the classroom. I cried all the way out to the car and the whole way to Cracker Barrel where I was meeting other moms for breakfast.

When I arrived at Cracker Barrel, I was surprised and overwhelmed. I'd been told a few of us would have breakfast. But there were no less than 25 moms there. I sat with a few friends from MOPS who successfuly derailed the tears. I downed diet coke after diet coke to soothe myself.

That afternoon, my dad and I picked Adam up from school in the mule. I was so excited to have my boy back after a long day without him. But, something wasn't right. I whispered my concern to my dad. He reassured me Adam was just tired and probably a little overwhelmed. Oh I how hoped he was right.

But our mornings -- including the one when I got a speeding ticket in front of the school -- followed the same pattern. I didn't cry, but Adam begged me to stay with him on the playground until the bell rang. I couldn't leave him and I just knew something was wrong. This wasn't how my Adam behaved. Our afternoons also followed suit. Adam would be quiet, and when I'd ask about school he'd get belligerant. Things went from bad to worse and over Labor Day week-end, Adam had a total breakdown. He was crying and yelling about school. Poor kid was so unhappy.

In the second week of school, I decided to talk to some other kindergarten moms at other schools. And then I visited Martin Luther Christian School. What do you know? I cried again when I saw their kindergarten classroom. I knew this was the school experience I wanted for my kids. So I took Adam to see the classroom and meet the teacher. On the way home he told me that he thought it would be good to switch schools because he wasn't learning anything. More stories have come out as the year has gone by and I know we made the right choice.

So now here I am, only a few weeks left in Adam's kindergarten year and I'm again having panic attacks that I'm running out of time and again find myself in tears over the silliest things he says and does. Oh my, no one told me that motherhood would be so emotional!

In my heart I know everything is going to be okay and I still have lots and lots of time left to enjoy my boy. But some days, it's hard to convince my head of this.