I found this poem in an old Ideals magazine, just like the one's my mom used to get. She may have even had this one. Don't remember. Explains exactly how I feel about words.
WORDS
by Alice B. Dorland
I like a noun,
A good substantial word . . .
It brings to mind the things I've seen
And those I've heard.
Like spring and deer,
The melody of thrush,
Tree toads in the marsh,
Partridge in the brush . . .
The song of rain,
The campfire's crackle,
Hawk, duck, and great blue heron
And the conversation of the purple grackle.
I like an adjective.
It's like an April day.
It gives a noun its color and its form
In quite a charming way.
Vivid, melodic, brilliant,
Passive, raucous, plain,
Fresh, honest, youthful,
Innocent or vain.
Delicious and delightful,
Colorful and blest,
Or gray and dull and sorrowful,
The worst, also the best.
But oh, the verbs, those virile words,
They bring the nouns to life!
They may be words of action or of being,
Of peace or strife.
Like sing and run,
Laugh and cry,
Like dive or swim,
Or cast a fly,
Or write or read or trust,
Travel or rest,
To honor or to love,
Or fight with zest.
And as the noun, the adjective, the verb,
Is each dependent on the other,
So we, though we may stand alone,
Are ever needful of each other.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Thankful
My mother-in-love is married to a wonderful man. He had colon cancer right before they got married almost 10 years ago. Just this past summer, we found out that the cancer had returned and spread to the liver. The first round of chemo seemed to be shrinking the tumors, but after the second round, it was discovered that they were growing. The week of Thanksgiving something happened and he began to lose his ability to speak properly (sort of like a stroke victim). Our family traveled home on Thanksgiving Day and were able to see him and visit. On Friday, he made the decision not to seek any more treatment for his cancer. He is in hospice care at his home. As of this morning (11/28/10) he was unable to get out of bed. He is dying and it's going more quickly than any of us expected.
He is not afraid to die. He knows he is going to be with Jesus when he breathes his last breath here on earth. However, I know he would love more time here on earth with his wife and family. They only had a few short years together. His grandson is getting married in May. All reasons for wanting to stay here.
As you can probably tell, I process by writing. As I was thinking about how quickly he is passing, the Lord gave me this poem yesterday. I shared it at church this morning at our Thanksgiving testimony service.
THANKFUL
Thankful for my "family"
At the corner of Engler and 41
Thankful for the bond we share
Through Jesus Christ, the Son
Thankful for your heartfelt prayers
For a couple you hardly know
Thankful for this body of Christ
That supports each other so
Thankful for the comfort that comes
From knowing that you prayed
Thankful Jesus rose again
Of death we needn't be afraid
Thankful that neither death nor life
Nor anything else in all the world
Is able to separate us from the love of God
That is in Jesus Christ our Lord
Thankful to boldly come to the Throne
And receive grace in our time of need
Thankful for the Spirit of God
Who comforts us in our grief
Thankful when Howard breathes his last
He'll finally be "safely home"
Thankful for God's promise that Mavis
Will never be alone
Thankful for the peace that comes
From knowing where he'll be
Thankful he'll be completely healed
Enjoying eternity
Thankful for we know that our
Goodbyes are not the end
Thankful for the hope we have
Of being together again
Thankful one day the trumpet will sound
Together we'll meet in the air
Thankful to be reunited at last
Forever to be with God there
He is not afraid to die. He knows he is going to be with Jesus when he breathes his last breath here on earth. However, I know he would love more time here on earth with his wife and family. They only had a few short years together. His grandson is getting married in May. All reasons for wanting to stay here.
As you can probably tell, I process by writing. As I was thinking about how quickly he is passing, the Lord gave me this poem yesterday. I shared it at church this morning at our Thanksgiving testimony service.
THANKFUL
Thankful for my "family"
At the corner of Engler and 41
Thankful for the bond we share
Through Jesus Christ, the Son
Thankful for your heartfelt prayers
For a couple you hardly know
Thankful for this body of Christ
That supports each other so
Thankful for the comfort that comes
From knowing that you prayed
Thankful Jesus rose again
Of death we needn't be afraid
Thankful that neither death nor life
Nor anything else in all the world
Is able to separate us from the love of God
That is in Jesus Christ our Lord
Thankful to boldly come to the Throne
And receive grace in our time of need
Thankful for the Spirit of God
Who comforts us in our grief
Thankful when Howard breathes his last
He'll finally be "safely home"
Thankful for God's promise that Mavis
Will never be alone
Thankful for the peace that comes
From knowing where he'll be
Thankful he'll be completely healed
Enjoying eternity
Thankful for we know that our
Goodbyes are not the end
Thankful for the hope we have
Of being together again
Thankful one day the trumpet will sound
Together we'll meet in the air
Thankful to be reunited at last
Forever to be with God there
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Overwhelmed by God's provision
The Man of the Place is a hunter. Has been since he was a young boy. Probably will be until he's too old to see well enough and too feeble to hold the gun steady enough. So, when the first weekend of November comes around, I become a "deer widow" for a few days. This year was no different. He normally hunts "back home," around the area where he grew up. His nephew is now old enough to hunt and the two of them made plans to hunt together.
The five beautiful princesses and I did not go home to Grandma's with him like we usually do. Grandpa has been really sick and I had to do the "put-away-the-summer-clothes-and-take-out-the-winter-ones" job. So, all day Saturday I waited for the phone to ring with the news that he'd gotten one. When we talked Saturday evening, no such luck.
Sunday afternoon I went on Facebook and his sister had posted only moments before that there had been success. Two deer had been shot, one by her son and one by The Man of the Place. I immediately dialed his cell phone and spoke to a very happy hunter. As we spoke, he told me that his neice had also gotten one. TOTAL DEER - 3
The Man of the Place does not hunt just for fun. He hunts to put food on the table. He does all the butchering himself and I grind the meat into venison hamburger and wrap the steaks and roasts that he cuts out. I also can cubed meat and boil the bones off to make venison broth which we can and use all year for soup and stew. When I add up all that we get off one deer after paying only $27 for the license, it's almost like eating for free.
This year was even better. The Man came home with his nice 8-point buck and the two doe from his neice and nephew. He had his work cut out for him for the next two days. Then, on Tuesday morning at 6:30, the Carver County Police called saying that they had a deer for us (killed in a car/deer accident) if we wanted it. The Man went to get it and came home with not one, but two. Another one had been hit as he was picking up the first one. TOTAL DEER - 5
As you can imagine, Tuesday was a busy day. At 7:00 that night, the phone rings and it's the police again saying, "We've got another one for you if you want it." Yes, we did. TOTAL DEER - 6.
God sometimes blows me away. Not only did He give us what we needed, but two extra which we were able to give to friends who needed meat. I remember saying to The Man at 1:00 a.m. on Wednesday morning, "I'm a little overwhelmed by God's provision." :-)
Why am I always amazed and surprised when God does things like this? Doesn't He promise to supply all of our needs out of His riches in glory? Doesn't He promise to do exceedingly, abundantly above all that we ask or think? Doesn't He delight in giving good things to His children? Why am I always surprised by it? It's just God being who He says He is and doing what He said He would do. How these experiences build my faith and make me trust Him more. He does own the "deer" on a thousand hills. I guess He's just managing His herd by blessing our family and my friend's family with so many.
The five beautiful princesses and I did not go home to Grandma's with him like we usually do. Grandpa has been really sick and I had to do the "put-away-the-summer-clothes-and-take-out-the-winter-ones" job. So, all day Saturday I waited for the phone to ring with the news that he'd gotten one. When we talked Saturday evening, no such luck.
Sunday afternoon I went on Facebook and his sister had posted only moments before that there had been success. Two deer had been shot, one by her son and one by The Man of the Place. I immediately dialed his cell phone and spoke to a very happy hunter. As we spoke, he told me that his neice had also gotten one. TOTAL DEER - 3
The Man of the Place does not hunt just for fun. He hunts to put food on the table. He does all the butchering himself and I grind the meat into venison hamburger and wrap the steaks and roasts that he cuts out. I also can cubed meat and boil the bones off to make venison broth which we can and use all year for soup and stew. When I add up all that we get off one deer after paying only $27 for the license, it's almost like eating for free.
This year was even better. The Man came home with his nice 8-point buck and the two doe from his neice and nephew. He had his work cut out for him for the next two days. Then, on Tuesday morning at 6:30, the Carver County Police called saying that they had a deer for us (killed in a car/deer accident) if we wanted it. The Man went to get it and came home with not one, but two. Another one had been hit as he was picking up the first one. TOTAL DEER - 5
As you can imagine, Tuesday was a busy day. At 7:00 that night, the phone rings and it's the police again saying, "We've got another one for you if you want it." Yes, we did. TOTAL DEER - 6.
God sometimes blows me away. Not only did He give us what we needed, but two extra which we were able to give to friends who needed meat. I remember saying to The Man at 1:00 a.m. on Wednesday morning, "I'm a little overwhelmed by God's provision." :-)
Why am I always amazed and surprised when God does things like this? Doesn't He promise to supply all of our needs out of His riches in glory? Doesn't He promise to do exceedingly, abundantly above all that we ask or think? Doesn't He delight in giving good things to His children? Why am I always surprised by it? It's just God being who He says He is and doing what He said He would do. How these experiences build my faith and make me trust Him more. He does own the "deer" on a thousand hills. I guess He's just managing His herd by blessing our family and my friend's family with so many.
Friday, October 8, 2010
October
October's Bright Blue Weather
Sun and skies and clouds of June,
And flowers of June together,
Ye cannot rival for one hour
October's bright blue weather;
When loud the bumblebee makes haste,
Belated, thriftless vagrant,
And goldenrod is dying fast,
And lanes with grapes are fragrant;
When gentians roll their fingers tight
To save them for the morning,
And chestnuts fall from satin burrs
Without a sound of warning;
When on the ground red apples lie
In piles like jewels shining,
And redder still on old stone walls
Are leaves of woodbine twining;
When all the lovely wayside things
Their white-winged seeds are sowing,
And in the fields, still green and fair,
Late aftermaths are growing;
When springs run low, and on the brooks,
In idle golden freighting,
Bright leaves sink noiseless in the hush
Of woods, for winter waiting;
When comrades seek sweet country haunts,
By twos and twos together,
And count like misers, hour by hour,
October's bright blue weather.
O sun and skies and flowers of June,
Count all your boasts together,
Love loveth best of all the year
October's bright blue weather.
Helen Hunt Jackson
Sun and skies and clouds of June,
And flowers of June together,
Ye cannot rival for one hour
October's bright blue weather;
When loud the bumblebee makes haste,
Belated, thriftless vagrant,
And goldenrod is dying fast,
And lanes with grapes are fragrant;
When gentians roll their fingers tight
To save them for the morning,
And chestnuts fall from satin burrs
Without a sound of warning;
When on the ground red apples lie
In piles like jewels shining,
And redder still on old stone walls
Are leaves of woodbine twining;
When all the lovely wayside things
Their white-winged seeds are sowing,
And in the fields, still green and fair,
Late aftermaths are growing;
When springs run low, and on the brooks,
In idle golden freighting,
Bright leaves sink noiseless in the hush
Of woods, for winter waiting;
When comrades seek sweet country haunts,
By twos and twos together,
And count like misers, hour by hour,
October's bright blue weather.
O sun and skies and flowers of June,
Count all your boasts together,
Love loveth best of all the year
October's bright blue weather.
Helen Hunt Jackson
Friday, October 1, 2010
A Prayer at Summer's End
As I was cleaning out my "teacher" files, I came across this poem. ENJOY!
A Prayer At Summer's End
(A Farm Wife's Litany)
By Ruby Jones
For fruit warm ripe in summer's sun,
For love and work and wholesome fun,
For raindrops on the windowpanes,
For walks down grassy country lanes,
For sunshine bright,
For moonlight's glow,
For cornstalks marching row on row,
For baby pigs, for laughter gay,
For fragrant smell fo new-mown hay,
For food and music, birdsongs sweet,
For restful, healing nighttime sleep,
For home with its familiar joys,
For carefree shouts of girls and boys,
For safe returns, for loving care,
For all the bliss of answered prayer,
For dancing stars, for firelight's glean,
Fulfillment of a cherished dream,
For books and friends, a faith that sings,
For happiness homecoming brings,
For hope renewed, for courage born,
For breathless hush of early morn,
For this--a blessed interlude--
Dear God, accept my gratitude.
A Prayer At Summer's End
(A Farm Wife's Litany)
By Ruby Jones
For fruit warm ripe in summer's sun,
For love and work and wholesome fun,
For raindrops on the windowpanes,
For walks down grassy country lanes,
For sunshine bright,
For moonlight's glow,
For cornstalks marching row on row,
For baby pigs, for laughter gay,
For fragrant smell fo new-mown hay,
For food and music, birdsongs sweet,
For restful, healing nighttime sleep,
For home with its familiar joys,
For carefree shouts of girls and boys,
For safe returns, for loving care,
For all the bliss of answered prayer,
For dancing stars, for firelight's glean,
Fulfillment of a cherished dream,
For books and friends, a faith that sings,
For happiness homecoming brings,
For hope renewed, for courage born,
For breathless hush of early morn,
For this--a blessed interlude--
Dear God, accept my gratitude.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
A Blow to My Confidence
I have been canning since I was about 12. At first it was applesauce, peaches and pears. Then we moved and Mom planted a big garden. Then it was beans, beets, corn, and tomatoes.
When The Man About the Place and I moved to our house, we planted a garden. That was 12 years ago. And every year we've canned. Just like I was taught, just like I've always done.
This past Friday, The Man pulled all the beets. Two five-gallon buckets and half of another one full of beautiful beets. Two were as big as softballs.
Saturday morning I began the process. Wash the beets, boil for about 15-25 minutes, plunge into cold water, slip off the skins, dice, fill clean quart jar, add 1 teaspoon salt, cover with water, put on lid and ring. When there are 7 full jars, place in pressure canner, and process for 35 minutes. Remove from canner (once the pressure has dropped) and wait for the "sound" (the lid sealing).
First canner full came out just fine. Second canner full - in three of the seven jars, the beets turned a disgusting shade of poop brown. Interesting, I thought. Last canner full - all seven of the jars turned a disgusting shade of poop brown.
At this point, I began to question my canning ability. This had never happened before. I did everything just like I've done for years. Why this, why now? This doesn't bode well for the rest of the canning season.
I looked on the internet, talked to my canning sister, emailed my brother in China and none of them had any ideas why this would happen. The only thing I could figure out was that there was some kind of reaction between the beets and "something." What that something is, I have no idea.
My brave Man of the Place opened a jar, tasted them and said that they tasted different, not bad, just different. He said the texture was different too.
Yesterday, he opened all the other jars and dumped them in the composter. I couldn't bring myself to save them. My stomach turned just looking at them. Half of my hard work, rotting in the garden.
My canning confidence has taken a blow. I hope the rest of the season is not like this or we'll be hungry this winter.
When The Man About the Place and I moved to our house, we planted a garden. That was 12 years ago. And every year we've canned. Just like I was taught, just like I've always done.
This past Friday, The Man pulled all the beets. Two five-gallon buckets and half of another one full of beautiful beets. Two were as big as softballs.
Saturday morning I began the process. Wash the beets, boil for about 15-25 minutes, plunge into cold water, slip off the skins, dice, fill clean quart jar, add 1 teaspoon salt, cover with water, put on lid and ring. When there are 7 full jars, place in pressure canner, and process for 35 minutes. Remove from canner (once the pressure has dropped) and wait for the "sound" (the lid sealing).
First canner full came out just fine. Second canner full - in three of the seven jars, the beets turned a disgusting shade of poop brown. Interesting, I thought. Last canner full - all seven of the jars turned a disgusting shade of poop brown.
At this point, I began to question my canning ability. This had never happened before. I did everything just like I've done for years. Why this, why now? This doesn't bode well for the rest of the canning season.
I looked on the internet, talked to my canning sister, emailed my brother in China and none of them had any ideas why this would happen. The only thing I could figure out was that there was some kind of reaction between the beets and "something." What that something is, I have no idea.
My brave Man of the Place opened a jar, tasted them and said that they tasted different, not bad, just different. He said the texture was different too.
Yesterday, he opened all the other jars and dumped them in the composter. I couldn't bring myself to save them. My stomach turned just looking at them. Half of my hard work, rotting in the garden.
My canning confidence has taken a blow. I hope the rest of the season is not like this or we'll be hungry this winter.
Friday, May 14, 2010
The blessing of chaos
Tomorrow, in the morning, I will begin a task which I absolutely despise. I will be getting out the summer clothes and putting away all the winter clothes for my five darling princesses. I despise this job for a couple of reasons. First of all, before it can all be put away, it must be gotten out. The getting out involves carrying down many boxes and plastic bins full of clothes from the attic. The getting out creates major clutter and chaos. I can't think when there's clutter and chaos. It discourages me and I don't feel like doing anything to make it go away (until I just can't stand it anymore and then go on a rampage to clean it up). Secondly, I usually have to do this job by myself, along with everything else I normally have to do. It takes such a long time (more than a week sometimes) to have the princesses try things on, decide if it fits or not, decide if it needs to be gotten rid of, and sort all the winter clothes into sizes and put them in the appropriately marked bin or box. Thirdly, even though my house looks large (and it is), the bedroom where this event will take place is small. I tend to be a little claustrophobic, so small bedroom + piles of clothes everywhere = me feeling a little frenetic.
I have been feeling a little convicted about this "bad attitude" of mine concerning this job. Two things should help to change that attitude. One, my dear mother-in-love is coming to help me. She did this once before and it went so quickly. The major part of the task was finished in a day. The second is this: I didn't buy any of these clothes. I have dear friends in the neighborhood, friends at church, and family members who give me bags of clothes for my children. Most of these clothes have been worn by one, maybe two, kids so they're in great shape. I could not afford to buy clothes like these for my girls. I'm talking everything from winter boots, coats, dress shoes, sneakers, sandals, bathing suits, socks, shirts, pants, sweaters, shorts, dresses . . . the list could go on.
God has so abundantly blessed our family in this way that I sometimes wonder how I would dare to complain that I have to do this job. Seems like I need a major attitude adjustment, especially when there are so many others around the world who only have one set of clothing. So, this spring, as I pull out the summer clothes and fold and put winter ones away, I'm going to work on my attitude. I'm going to look at this task as an opportunity for worship. I'm going to thank God for His faithfulness in providing for all of our needs. I'm going to thank Him for the dear friends and family who bless me in this way. I'm going to ask Him to pour out blessings a hundred fold on those dear people for their generosity to me. I'm going to thank Him that my dear mother-in-love was willing to come help me. I'm going to thank Him for the five beautiful, healthy girls that wear these clothes. I'm going to have a great time visiting with my mother-in-love.
Could it be that tomorrow's dreaded task will turn into a joyful one? Probably will, but only if I choose to let it. I think tomorrow might just be a great day.
I have been feeling a little convicted about this "bad attitude" of mine concerning this job. Two things should help to change that attitude. One, my dear mother-in-love is coming to help me. She did this once before and it went so quickly. The major part of the task was finished in a day. The second is this: I didn't buy any of these clothes. I have dear friends in the neighborhood, friends at church, and family members who give me bags of clothes for my children. Most of these clothes have been worn by one, maybe two, kids so they're in great shape. I could not afford to buy clothes like these for my girls. I'm talking everything from winter boots, coats, dress shoes, sneakers, sandals, bathing suits, socks, shirts, pants, sweaters, shorts, dresses . . . the list could go on.
God has so abundantly blessed our family in this way that I sometimes wonder how I would dare to complain that I have to do this job. Seems like I need a major attitude adjustment, especially when there are so many others around the world who only have one set of clothing. So, this spring, as I pull out the summer clothes and fold and put winter ones away, I'm going to work on my attitude. I'm going to look at this task as an opportunity for worship. I'm going to thank God for His faithfulness in providing for all of our needs. I'm going to thank Him for the dear friends and family who bless me in this way. I'm going to ask Him to pour out blessings a hundred fold on those dear people for their generosity to me. I'm going to thank Him that my dear mother-in-love was willing to come help me. I'm going to thank Him for the five beautiful, healthy girls that wear these clothes. I'm going to have a great time visiting with my mother-in-love.
Could it be that tomorrow's dreaded task will turn into a joyful one? Probably will, but only if I choose to let it. I think tomorrow might just be a great day.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
An Ordinary Day
May 12, 2010
Woke up at 6:30 a.m. because that's when Caroline woke up. Discovered there was no hot cereal for breakfast, so on to plan B. Had two eggs, enough to make pancakes. Cleaned up the kitchen and started the kitchen rugs in the washer. Taught Laura the three ways to make the "e" sound and why it's not a good idea to use people's feet to measure things. Did reading with Emma and taught her that odd+odd=even, even+even=odd, and odd+even=odd. Taught Katharine and Rebecca more about the Pythagorean formula. Made sure everyone had showers before lunchtime. Made turkey and cheese sandwiches for lunch. Laid down with Caroline for a nap at 12:10 p.m. Fell asleep and napped until about 3:00 p.m. Got up and checked e-mail and other things on the computer. Did language arts lessons with Katharine and Rebecca. Ate spaghetti and green beans at 5:30 p.m. for dinner. Laura cleared the table, Emma and Rebecca washed dishes, Katharine put them away. Dumped a bunch of pennies in the dish pan as an unexpected reward for helping. Worked upstairs in the empty bedroom, sorting through clothes until 9:00 p.m. Nursed Caroline to sleep and then went to bed myself.
On a day like this, I tend to think that I didn't get anything done. After all, no big project was begun or finished. It's just an ordinary day, like so many of the days of my life. Dishes, lessons, meals, etc., etc., etc. What is so amazing and life-changing and special about what I do? This "being a Mom."
Last Friday evening I heard a woman sing a song called "Sacred" by the group Caedmon's Call. It puts all of my "ordinary days" into perspective.
This house is a good mess it's the proof of life
No way would I trade jobs but I don't pay overtime
I'll get to the laundry I don't know when
I'm saying a prayer tonight cause tomorrow it starts again
Could it be that everything is sacred
And all this time
Everything I've dreamed of has been right before my eyes
The children are sleeping but they're running through my mind
The sun makes them happy and the music makes them unwind
My cup runneth over, I worry about the stain
Teach me to run to you like they run to me for everything
Cause everything is sacred
And all this time
Everything I've dreamed of has been right before my eyes
When I forget to drink from you I can feel the banks harden
Lord make me like a stream to feed the garden
Wake up little sleeper
The Lord God Almighty
Made your mama keeper
So rise and shine, rise and shine, rise and shine
Cause everything is sacred
And all this time
Everything I've dreamed of has been right before my eyes.
It is in the little, mundane, everyday, ordinary things that I worship God. This taking care of my children, husband and house are my "spiritual act of worship." To God, my ordinary days are sacred.
Woke up at 6:30 a.m. because that's when Caroline woke up. Discovered there was no hot cereal for breakfast, so on to plan B. Had two eggs, enough to make pancakes. Cleaned up the kitchen and started the kitchen rugs in the washer. Taught Laura the three ways to make the "e" sound and why it's not a good idea to use people's feet to measure things. Did reading with Emma and taught her that odd+odd=even, even+even=odd, and odd+even=odd. Taught Katharine and Rebecca more about the Pythagorean formula. Made sure everyone had showers before lunchtime. Made turkey and cheese sandwiches for lunch. Laid down with Caroline for a nap at 12:10 p.m. Fell asleep and napped until about 3:00 p.m. Got up and checked e-mail and other things on the computer. Did language arts lessons with Katharine and Rebecca. Ate spaghetti and green beans at 5:30 p.m. for dinner. Laura cleared the table, Emma and Rebecca washed dishes, Katharine put them away. Dumped a bunch of pennies in the dish pan as an unexpected reward for helping. Worked upstairs in the empty bedroom, sorting through clothes until 9:00 p.m. Nursed Caroline to sleep and then went to bed myself.
On a day like this, I tend to think that I didn't get anything done. After all, no big project was begun or finished. It's just an ordinary day, like so many of the days of my life. Dishes, lessons, meals, etc., etc., etc. What is so amazing and life-changing and special about what I do? This "being a Mom."
Last Friday evening I heard a woman sing a song called "Sacred" by the group Caedmon's Call. It puts all of my "ordinary days" into perspective.
This house is a good mess it's the proof of life
No way would I trade jobs but I don't pay overtime
I'll get to the laundry I don't know when
I'm saying a prayer tonight cause tomorrow it starts again
Could it be that everything is sacred
And all this time
Everything I've dreamed of has been right before my eyes
The children are sleeping but they're running through my mind
The sun makes them happy and the music makes them unwind
My cup runneth over, I worry about the stain
Teach me to run to you like they run to me for everything
Cause everything is sacred
And all this time
Everything I've dreamed of has been right before my eyes
When I forget to drink from you I can feel the banks harden
Lord make me like a stream to feed the garden
Wake up little sleeper
The Lord God Almighty
Made your mama keeper
So rise and shine, rise and shine, rise and shine
Cause everything is sacred
And all this time
Everything I've dreamed of has been right before my eyes.
It is in the little, mundane, everyday, ordinary things that I worship God. This taking care of my children, husband and house are my "spiritual act of worship." To God, my ordinary days are sacred.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Mother's Day 2010
I went to a women's event with a friend on Friday night and, as I headed out the door, I told dear hubby (who from now on shall be referred to as The Man of the Place) that he had about 6 hours to sit down with our 5 princesses and figure out the menu for Mother's Day because I was NOT going to be cooking.
I got my breakfast in bed on Saturday morning because it's just too chaotic to do it on Sunday morning. What a breakfast it was! One fried egg, two slices of bacon, a piece of toast, a pumpkin chip muffin, a banana, a bowl of strawberries, a large glass of orange juice and a cup of tea. I was RAWTHER full. In fact, I couldn't eat all of it. But, it was delicious.
Sunday lunch was French bread (made in the bread machine while we were at church) and chicken noodle soup (which had been made on Saturday and was warmed in the crockpot while at church). After lunch, I laid on the couch and dozed on and off for about three hours. I had mentioned that I wanted to garden (i.e. weed), but didn't have the energy to pull it off. Dinner consisted of egg salad sandwiches, chocolate chip scones, cantaloupe, strawberries, tea and, the best part of all, homemade strawberry ice cream.
The princesses made homemade cards for me. Aurora's was so cute. "You're the best Mom I've had in a long time." Like she's had another and/or different one?
But Cinderella wrote a poem. As you'll see in a moment, it's wonderful, but the best part is that she has inherited my ability for writing poetry. And she's only 10!
MOTHERS
Mothers are special, they're caring and giving
They work extremely hard, but don't earn a living.
A living or not, they work every day.
They guide you and show you to walk in God's ways.
If you have a bad dream, she'll welcome you to bed,
But what she'd rather do is sleep instead.
Whenever she gets sick, she does what she always does.
She takes care of her house and her family like she never was.
So to make this Mother's Day special
A homemade card will do fine.
But the real reward is to look at you,
A Mother who's caring and kind.
Sniff. Sniff. Someone pass the Kleenex.
I went to a women's event with a friend on Friday night and, as I headed out the door, I told dear hubby (who from now on shall be referred to as The Man of the Place) that he had about 6 hours to sit down with our 5 princesses and figure out the menu for Mother's Day because I was NOT going to be cooking.
I got my breakfast in bed on Saturday morning because it's just too chaotic to do it on Sunday morning. What a breakfast it was! One fried egg, two slices of bacon, a piece of toast, a pumpkin chip muffin, a banana, a bowl of strawberries, a large glass of orange juice and a cup of tea. I was RAWTHER full. In fact, I couldn't eat all of it. But, it was delicious.
Sunday lunch was French bread (made in the bread machine while we were at church) and chicken noodle soup (which had been made on Saturday and was warmed in the crockpot while at church). After lunch, I laid on the couch and dozed on and off for about three hours. I had mentioned that I wanted to garden (i.e. weed), but didn't have the energy to pull it off. Dinner consisted of egg salad sandwiches, chocolate chip scones, cantaloupe, strawberries, tea and, the best part of all, homemade strawberry ice cream.
The princesses made homemade cards for me. Aurora's was so cute. "You're the best Mom I've had in a long time." Like she's had another and/or different one?
But Cinderella wrote a poem. As you'll see in a moment, it's wonderful, but the best part is that she has inherited my ability for writing poetry. And she's only 10!
MOTHERS
Mothers are special, they're caring and giving
They work extremely hard, but don't earn a living.
A living or not, they work every day.
They guide you and show you to walk in God's ways.
If you have a bad dream, she'll welcome you to bed,
But what she'd rather do is sleep instead.
Whenever she gets sick, she does what she always does.
She takes care of her house and her family like she never was.
So to make this Mother's Day special
A homemade card will do fine.
But the real reward is to look at you,
A Mother who's caring and kind.
Sniff. Sniff. Someone pass the Kleenex.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
What Makes Dinner So Special?
I thought you might enjoy a poem I wrote yesterday about what makes dinner so special at our house. I wrote this poem to enter a Mother's Day Contest that Focus on the Family is having. Let me know what makes dinner so special at your house.
What makes dinner special
For our family of seven?
Visit me in my kitchen
And an answer I'll be givin'.
Our meals are made from scratch
Mostly from food we've grown.
They're cooked on my white gas stove
In our century-old home.
Our fare is pretty basic
To call it gourmet, I would not.
But it's made with lots of love
And served up nice and hot.
Daddy joins us for dinner
And over our meal he prays.
Then we dig in with gusto
And talk about our day.
My girls say my food's a "keeper"
They usually clean their plates
My husband loves my cooking
And rarely has any complaints.
Some meals are eaten quickly,
At others, we linger long.
In summer, we dine al fresco
Serenaded by the bird's song.
Holidays are really special.
Everything looks pretty and nice
With the linens, china and candles
And food cooked with extra spice.
When someday my table is empty
'Cause my girls have their own homes
I hope they'll remember our dinners
Where bodies and hearts were grown.
So, what is it, really
That's so special about our dinners?
Nothing too fine or fancy
It's just that we're TOGETHER.
What makes dinner special
For our family of seven?
Visit me in my kitchen
And an answer I'll be givin'.
Our meals are made from scratch
Mostly from food we've grown.
They're cooked on my white gas stove
In our century-old home.
Our fare is pretty basic
To call it gourmet, I would not.
But it's made with lots of love
And served up nice and hot.
Daddy joins us for dinner
And over our meal he prays.
Then we dig in with gusto
And talk about our day.
My girls say my food's a "keeper"
They usually clean their plates
My husband loves my cooking
And rarely has any complaints.
Some meals are eaten quickly,
At others, we linger long.
In summer, we dine al fresco
Serenaded by the bird's song.
Holidays are really special.
Everything looks pretty and nice
With the linens, china and candles
And food cooked with extra spice.
When someday my table is empty
'Cause my girls have their own homes
I hope they'll remember our dinners
Where bodies and hearts were grown.
So, what is it, really
That's so special about our dinners?
Nothing too fine or fancy
It's just that we're TOGETHER.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Childhood Games
What games did you play as a child that required use of imagination? What did you play on a rainy Saturday afternoon? What household items did you use as props to aid you in your drama?
I am the oldest of 12 children. There are four girls and eight boys in my family. We grew up in a house without a television. We NEVER had a television, ever. That meant there was lots of "down time" for us to play and invent games using our imaginations.
I remember playing this game called "Sue and Joe." Myself and my brother, Timothy, who is 17 months younger than I, would pretend to be these two people called Sue and Joe. My sister, Katie, who is four years younger than I, would always be the dog. She was always a collie and her name was always Shep. I don't quite remember what Sue and Joe did, but we probably just played house or some game that mimicked what we saw adults doing.
There are pictures of Timothy and I, dressed in dress-up clothes, sitting on the arm of the couch. Piled on the couch behind us are all of our toys, covered in blankets. We were "going on vacation." The ever present baby doll was on my lap.
When there were more siblings and it was time to clean up our toys, we would play "Noah's Ark." We'd spread out a big blanket on the floor, pile all the toys in the middle of the blanket (even the ones that were already in their proper places), and then put them all away. It would take hours.
I'm sure there were more, but I'd have to ask my siblings what else we did. What prompted this memory was Saturday afternoon. I was upstairs painting on Saturday and heard my girls playing downstairs. As I listened, I realized they were pretending to be "poor Russian Jewish immigrants on a boat on their way to America." I peeked over the bannister to get a glimpse of their costumes which had come from the overflowing dress-up box. They each had on a long skirt and a scarf tied around their head. The living room floor had been transferred into a ship room with beds (made from the couch cushions) and a small table (the piano bench) with a single candle, cups of water and dry crackers for their food. I heard Belle (who I think was the mom) tell the children that if they didn't go to sleep, she was going to call the Prime Minister.
I was going to listen to a CD or the radio while I was painting, but after listening to their conversation, I decided that their little drama was much more entertaining. Three of their friends came over for an hour and joined right in the game. When it was time for their friends to go home, I called the dad and told him the "poor Russian Jewish immigrants" had disembarked and were on the way to their new home. His response was classic. "Then I'll go and lift my lamp beside the golden door." :-)
I absolutely LOVE to listen to my girls when they use their imaginations to play. We have a television, but I'm so glad that they're capable and willing to leave it turned off and play creatively with each other and their friends. During the summer they play pioneers, Indians, and we've even had a hobo jungle. I think if I and other parents all over the country could secretly capture children "playing and pretending," it would make a most entertaining and quality TV show. It'd certainly be better than most of wha's out there.
So, what "pretend" games did you play as a child?
I am the oldest of 12 children. There are four girls and eight boys in my family. We grew up in a house without a television. We NEVER had a television, ever. That meant there was lots of "down time" for us to play and invent games using our imaginations.
I remember playing this game called "Sue and Joe." Myself and my brother, Timothy, who is 17 months younger than I, would pretend to be these two people called Sue and Joe. My sister, Katie, who is four years younger than I, would always be the dog. She was always a collie and her name was always Shep. I don't quite remember what Sue and Joe did, but we probably just played house or some game that mimicked what we saw adults doing.
There are pictures of Timothy and I, dressed in dress-up clothes, sitting on the arm of the couch. Piled on the couch behind us are all of our toys, covered in blankets. We were "going on vacation." The ever present baby doll was on my lap.
When there were more siblings and it was time to clean up our toys, we would play "Noah's Ark." We'd spread out a big blanket on the floor, pile all the toys in the middle of the blanket (even the ones that were already in their proper places), and then put them all away. It would take hours.
I'm sure there were more, but I'd have to ask my siblings what else we did. What prompted this memory was Saturday afternoon. I was upstairs painting on Saturday and heard my girls playing downstairs. As I listened, I realized they were pretending to be "poor Russian Jewish immigrants on a boat on their way to America." I peeked over the bannister to get a glimpse of their costumes which had come from the overflowing dress-up box. They each had on a long skirt and a scarf tied around their head. The living room floor had been transferred into a ship room with beds (made from the couch cushions) and a small table (the piano bench) with a single candle, cups of water and dry crackers for their food. I heard Belle (who I think was the mom) tell the children that if they didn't go to sleep, she was going to call the Prime Minister.
I was going to listen to a CD or the radio while I was painting, but after listening to their conversation, I decided that their little drama was much more entertaining. Three of their friends came over for an hour and joined right in the game. When it was time for their friends to go home, I called the dad and told him the "poor Russian Jewish immigrants" had disembarked and were on the way to their new home. His response was classic. "Then I'll go and lift my lamp beside the golden door." :-)
I absolutely LOVE to listen to my girls when they use their imaginations to play. We have a television, but I'm so glad that they're capable and willing to leave it turned off and play creatively with each other and their friends. During the summer they play pioneers, Indians, and we've even had a hobo jungle. I think if I and other parents all over the country could secretly capture children "playing and pretending," it would make a most entertaining and quality TV show. It'd certainly be better than most of wha's out there.
So, what "pretend" games did you play as a child?
Monday, March 1, 2010
Rainbows and Promises
Lest you be fooled by the words "Rainbow Manor" in my blog title and think that I live in a house as large, gracious and expansive as the name "Manor" would indicate, I am here to set the record straight. I do not. But, I do live in a house that was built in 1905 and has all the charm and character that a house from that period would be expected to have.
The main floor of the house consists of a kitchen (with a little room off to the south that I guess you could call a butler's pantry), laundry room (that was formerly the bathroom), very large bathroom with two huge windows (used to be a downstairs bedroom), dining room/living room that is one large room, and a hallway leading to upstairs.
Upstairs are three small bedrooms with three small closets.
The house has a porch that extends all the way across the front (which faces east) but has been enclosed. We currently use it for storage. We have grand plans to turn 2/3 of it into a library and open the other 1/3 so we can use the actual front door to the house and I can have room for a porch swing.
There was a second-story porch on the house which was also enclosed. It measures about 3-1/2 feet wide and 10 feet long. This will be my husband's office and room to store his hunting and fishing equipment. He wanted one space in the house that was his and his alone. It's not very big, but he's not claustrophobic.
Over the main part of the house is a HUGE walk-up attic. As attics usually are, it's filled with Christmas decorations, boxes of out-of-season clothes for the girls, coolers, suitcases, books that have no shelf to decorate, and many things that need to be donated or sold. This space will eventually be a master bedroom suite for hubby and me with a bathroom all our very own.
Over the kitchen, there is a smaller attic. To enter this attic, you must go into the south bedroom, into the closet and open the left wall of the closet which is actually a door into the attic. This space is currently filled with blankets, camping equipment, a mattress, a chair and lamp, and out-of-season clothes that belong to hubby and me. This space will eventually be a playroom for the girls.
Under the house is a cellar. It cannot be called a basement. It's probably very much like the cellar at your grandparent's house. It houses all the canning equipment, canned food, freezer, hubby's tools, furnace, oil tank and various other things. There are no future plans for this space. It can only be a cellar.
The first floor of the house has 9-10 foot ceilings, 6-inch oak woodwork around all the windows, solid oak doors and 10-inch oak baseboard. The floors are beautiful hardwood and the staircase is all wood. The ceilings are lower in the bedrooms but the hardwood floors and woodwork are the same except that the woodwork is painted inside the bedrooms.
One of the reasons I named my house Rainbow Manor is because rainbows have seven colors and there are seven people in our family. Each is unique and beautiful in its own way. Each of us has a different favorite color. Belle and I like red, Aurora's is yellow, Snow White's is green, Ella's is blue and hubby's is purple. There's only one color left -orange. The four older princesses are convinced that littlest princess can't have any other favorite color than orange. We'll see!
There are three leaded glass windows in my house. One in the dining room, one in the living room and one in the front hallway. The glass is the living room window is beveled. As the seasons change from winter to spring and fall to winter, the sun shines through the east-facing living room window and paints rainbows all over my walls.
The five princesses love the rainbows as do I. They run around putting their hands on the walls and feet on the floors so that the rainbows will decorate their skin. The rainbows make us smile. But, best of all, they remind me of my Heavenly Father. When I see a rainbow, either in my house or in the summer sky, it reminds me that God is thinking about me and being faithful in keeping all His promises. Thus, the name for my house and my blog.
The main floor of the house consists of a kitchen (with a little room off to the south that I guess you could call a butler's pantry), laundry room (that was formerly the bathroom), very large bathroom with two huge windows (used to be a downstairs bedroom), dining room/living room that is one large room, and a hallway leading to upstairs.
Upstairs are three small bedrooms with three small closets.
The house has a porch that extends all the way across the front (which faces east) but has been enclosed. We currently use it for storage. We have grand plans to turn 2/3 of it into a library and open the other 1/3 so we can use the actual front door to the house and I can have room for a porch swing.
There was a second-story porch on the house which was also enclosed. It measures about 3-1/2 feet wide and 10 feet long. This will be my husband's office and room to store his hunting and fishing equipment. He wanted one space in the house that was his and his alone. It's not very big, but he's not claustrophobic.
Over the main part of the house is a HUGE walk-up attic. As attics usually are, it's filled with Christmas decorations, boxes of out-of-season clothes for the girls, coolers, suitcases, books that have no shelf to decorate, and many things that need to be donated or sold. This space will eventually be a master bedroom suite for hubby and me with a bathroom all our very own.
Over the kitchen, there is a smaller attic. To enter this attic, you must go into the south bedroom, into the closet and open the left wall of the closet which is actually a door into the attic. This space is currently filled with blankets, camping equipment, a mattress, a chair and lamp, and out-of-season clothes that belong to hubby and me. This space will eventually be a playroom for the girls.
Under the house is a cellar. It cannot be called a basement. It's probably very much like the cellar at your grandparent's house. It houses all the canning equipment, canned food, freezer, hubby's tools, furnace, oil tank and various other things. There are no future plans for this space. It can only be a cellar.
The first floor of the house has 9-10 foot ceilings, 6-inch oak woodwork around all the windows, solid oak doors and 10-inch oak baseboard. The floors are beautiful hardwood and the staircase is all wood. The ceilings are lower in the bedrooms but the hardwood floors and woodwork are the same except that the woodwork is painted inside the bedrooms.
One of the reasons I named my house Rainbow Manor is because rainbows have seven colors and there are seven people in our family. Each is unique and beautiful in its own way. Each of us has a different favorite color. Belle and I like red, Aurora's is yellow, Snow White's is green, Ella's is blue and hubby's is purple. There's only one color left -orange. The four older princesses are convinced that littlest princess can't have any other favorite color than orange. We'll see!
There are three leaded glass windows in my house. One in the dining room, one in the living room and one in the front hallway. The glass is the living room window is beveled. As the seasons change from winter to spring and fall to winter, the sun shines through the east-facing living room window and paints rainbows all over my walls.
The five princesses love the rainbows as do I. They run around putting their hands on the walls and feet on the floors so that the rainbows will decorate their skin. The rainbows make us smile. But, best of all, they remind me of my Heavenly Father. When I see a rainbow, either in my house or in the summer sky, it reminds me that God is thinking about me and being faithful in keeping all His promises. Thus, the name for my house and my blog.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
My Love Affair with Tea
Anyone who knows me even for just a short time will discover that I have a passion for tea and all things related to that venerable liquid. I love tea! I enjoy the smell and taste of tea. I enjoy the delicate tea sandwiches, scones and sweets that are served at tea parties. I enjoy the relationships that are strengthened while sipping a cup of tea.
How did I come to acquire this love for tea? I think it must have come from my father's side of the family. Story is that my paternal grandmother's ancestors were from England and the earliest one, John Shell, came to America and settled in Virginia. The British are, of course, famous for tea and the ceremony of tea. I prefer to think that tea runs in my veins.
In my research on the subject of tea, I uncovered this little known fact. The Dutch were actually the first European country to bring tea west from China and points east. The British, however, made it into quite the occasion. Scones are the most common accompaniment for tea. Most people think scones are another creation of the British. Actually, the Dutch can take credit for this delicious treat. The word "scone" means "beautiful bread" in Dutch.
I have fond memories while growing up of having tea on Sunday evenings. These parties were not grand, but simple fare - apples, cheese and crackers, some sort of sweet. The favorite tea of my father was Bigelow's Constant Comment. One whiff of that tea transports me back to my childhood.
When Handsome Prince and I began to have children, I wanted to continue the tradition of Sunday evening tea with our family. It's been easy! I have five girls and a husband who enjoy tea as much as I do. Most Sunday evenings find us gathered around the table, eating "Poetical Egg Salad Sandwiches," scones, and some kind of sweet or apples and cheese and crackers. Flavors of tea drunk from china tea cups in my collection include Earl Grey, English Breakfast, Ceylon, Assam, and Irish Breakfast. We all drink our tea strong with milk and sugar, the proper British way.
My girls began at a very early age drinking tea from a china cup and saucer. They know a lot about tea and all have their favorite. After our first cat died, they wanted a gray male cat to adopt just so they could name it "Earl Grey." We do have a gray cat with the name Earl Grey, only she's female.
I wouldn't be surprised if my girls carry on the tradition of Sunday evening tea when they begin to have their own children. I think it runs in their veins like it does in mine. Only they have a double dose. Mom's ancestry is British and Dad is 100% Dutch.
How did I come to acquire this love for tea? I think it must have come from my father's side of the family. Story is that my paternal grandmother's ancestors were from England and the earliest one, John Shell, came to America and settled in Virginia. The British are, of course, famous for tea and the ceremony of tea. I prefer to think that tea runs in my veins.
In my research on the subject of tea, I uncovered this little known fact. The Dutch were actually the first European country to bring tea west from China and points east. The British, however, made it into quite the occasion. Scones are the most common accompaniment for tea. Most people think scones are another creation of the British. Actually, the Dutch can take credit for this delicious treat. The word "scone" means "beautiful bread" in Dutch.
I have fond memories while growing up of having tea on Sunday evenings. These parties were not grand, but simple fare - apples, cheese and crackers, some sort of sweet. The favorite tea of my father was Bigelow's Constant Comment. One whiff of that tea transports me back to my childhood.
When Handsome Prince and I began to have children, I wanted to continue the tradition of Sunday evening tea with our family. It's been easy! I have five girls and a husband who enjoy tea as much as I do. Most Sunday evenings find us gathered around the table, eating "Poetical Egg Salad Sandwiches," scones, and some kind of sweet or apples and cheese and crackers. Flavors of tea drunk from china tea cups in my collection include Earl Grey, English Breakfast, Ceylon, Assam, and Irish Breakfast. We all drink our tea strong with milk and sugar, the proper British way.
My girls began at a very early age drinking tea from a china cup and saucer. They know a lot about tea and all have their favorite. After our first cat died, they wanted a gray male cat to adopt just so they could name it "Earl Grey." We do have a gray cat with the name Earl Grey, only she's female.
I wouldn't be surprised if my girls carry on the tradition of Sunday evening tea when they begin to have their own children. I think it runs in their veins like it does in mine. Only they have a double dose. Mom's ancestry is British and Dad is 100% Dutch.
Monday, February 15, 2010
My children, all 5 of them, had the chicken pox last week. Lest you wonder how all 5 came down with them at the same time, I must confess . . . it was done on purpose. Yes, you read correctly. I purposely infected my children with chicken pox. As per my doctor's advice ("I'd rather your kids get the chicken pox then get the vaccine"), I found someone who had the chicken pox and called and asked, "Will you share your germs with us?" She was only too happy to oblige, so a few weeks ago, we went to her house, her son tasted lollipops for each of the girls and then the girls ate the lollipops. On Super Bowl Sunday, I noticed tiny red spots. Sure enough, there they were. Belle had the worst case, especially on her face. Ella, Snow White, and Aurora had plenty. Princess Pudge got off the easiest, but still had enough. The girls spent last week laying around, watching movies, eating Jello, instant pudding, Popsicles, ice cream and drinking ginger ale. By Friday, they were feeling better and by Saturday they were squabbling again so I knew that they were better. Right now they're in the scabby stage. In about two more weeks, you'll never know they had them.
So how did I fare last week? The entire week was spent giving all my attention to the patients, helping to ease the itching and uncomfortableness. The house was completely neglected and that was OK. However, now I am playing serious catch-up. I will say this: I'll take 5 children with chicken pox over 5 children with whooping cough (which we had last summer) any day. I can now rest easy knowing that they're immune for life from the chicken pox.
When my kids don't squabble, I know they're not feeling well. This morning I asked my Handsome Prince if there was some disease we could infect them with so that they'd be sick again and not fight. Said in jest, of course, but the quiet last week was wonderful.
We started school again today. I decided that since they were well enough to do school and well enough to fight, they were strong enough to work. If they're quarreling, they must be bored with nothing better to do, so I put all that pent up energy to good use. Belle deep-cleaned the hallway bookshelf that houses games and puzzles. Snow White and Aurora cleaned the baker's rack in the kitchen for me. I need to pull out my spring cleaning list and see what other jobs I can get them to do for me. It'll keep them occupied and maybe the sibling discord will disappear for a while without them having to be sick again. One can only hope.
So how did I fare last week? The entire week was spent giving all my attention to the patients, helping to ease the itching and uncomfortableness. The house was completely neglected and that was OK. However, now I am playing serious catch-up. I will say this: I'll take 5 children with chicken pox over 5 children with whooping cough (which we had last summer) any day. I can now rest easy knowing that they're immune for life from the chicken pox.
When my kids don't squabble, I know they're not feeling well. This morning I asked my Handsome Prince if there was some disease we could infect them with so that they'd be sick again and not fight. Said in jest, of course, but the quiet last week was wonderful.
We started school again today. I decided that since they were well enough to do school and well enough to fight, they were strong enough to work. If they're quarreling, they must be bored with nothing better to do, so I put all that pent up energy to good use. Belle deep-cleaned the hallway bookshelf that houses games and puzzles. Snow White and Aurora cleaned the baker's rack in the kitchen for me. I need to pull out my spring cleaning list and see what other jobs I can get them to do for me. It'll keep them occupied and maybe the sibling discord will disappear for a while without them having to be sick again. One can only hope.
Friday, February 5, 2010
The Fashion Shoot
I rarely buy clothes for my five girls. I have been blessed so abundantly with friends who will give me the things their daughters have outgrown. I don't consider it charity or a hand-out. It is God's way of providing for our family. Most of the clothes are nicer that what I could ever afford to buy anyway. And the excitement and energy that a bag or box of clothes can generate in our house is enough to power it for a day.
On Wednesday evening, a lady from my church gave me several bins of clothes for my girls. She told me that the clothes had belonged to her older daughter, who models. When I heard that I knew there had to be some great stuff in the bins.
Oh, was there ever!
On Thursday morning I took a break from school and we went through the clothes. There were several pairs of high-heeled boots, purses, three pairs of large sunglasses, shirts, jackets, pants, high-heeled shoes, and . . . A WEDDING DRESS, GOLD FORMAL EVENING GOWN and AQUA DRESS loaded with sequins. Now, mind you, I wouldn't let them be caught alive out in public in these dresses when they are teenagers and young adults, but I see no harm in them playing together and being princesses for an afternoon.
Take four girls, three gorgeous dresses, high-heeled shoes, mix them all together and what do you get? A fashion shoot! The girls played together all afternoon with those clothes, taking turns wearing them, posing for pictures, doing their hair and makeup. My oldest, Belle, was the photographer. Ella did hair, makeup and posed everyone. I now have 53 pictures on the computer of their afternoon of fun. And, I've heard talk that there'll be another fashion shoot tomorrow.
I had such a blast watching them yesterday. The conversations, looks, poses, and compliments they kept giving each other had me chuckling and smiling all afternoon. I'm convinced little girls are born hard-wired with a love of frilly, sparkly, glittery things. They love to dress-up and be told they look pretty and beautiful. It makes them feel special and confident. I remember having them look in the mirror after their baths when they were 2, 3, and 4 and asking them, "Are you beautiful?"
"YES!" they would answer.
"And why are you beautiful?"
"Because God made me!"
I long for them to carry that belief and conviction with them throughout their lives. I want them to like how they look and think of themselves as beautiful. But, more than that, I want them to know how to be beautiful on the inside. Right now, it is my responsibility to build into their lives character qualities that God tells us makes a person lovely and beautiful: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. If they can dress themselves on the inside with those "clothes," it won't matter how they look on the outside. Those qualities will radiate from inside and they will be beautiful to others and in the eyes of God.
How I pray for the wisdom to raise beautiful, godly young women who can confidently go out into the world and make an impact for God's kingdom. To watch them as they play with these clothes, maybe it will be in the fashion industry.
On Wednesday evening, a lady from my church gave me several bins of clothes for my girls. She told me that the clothes had belonged to her older daughter, who models. When I heard that I knew there had to be some great stuff in the bins.
Oh, was there ever!
On Thursday morning I took a break from school and we went through the clothes. There were several pairs of high-heeled boots, purses, three pairs of large sunglasses, shirts, jackets, pants, high-heeled shoes, and . . . A WEDDING DRESS, GOLD FORMAL EVENING GOWN and AQUA DRESS loaded with sequins. Now, mind you, I wouldn't let them be caught alive out in public in these dresses when they are teenagers and young adults, but I see no harm in them playing together and being princesses for an afternoon.
Take four girls, three gorgeous dresses, high-heeled shoes, mix them all together and what do you get? A fashion shoot! The girls played together all afternoon with those clothes, taking turns wearing them, posing for pictures, doing their hair and makeup. My oldest, Belle, was the photographer. Ella did hair, makeup and posed everyone. I now have 53 pictures on the computer of their afternoon of fun. And, I've heard talk that there'll be another fashion shoot tomorrow.
I had such a blast watching them yesterday. The conversations, looks, poses, and compliments they kept giving each other had me chuckling and smiling all afternoon. I'm convinced little girls are born hard-wired with a love of frilly, sparkly, glittery things. They love to dress-up and be told they look pretty and beautiful. It makes them feel special and confident. I remember having them look in the mirror after their baths when they were 2, 3, and 4 and asking them, "Are you beautiful?"
"YES!" they would answer.
"And why are you beautiful?"
"Because God made me!"
I long for them to carry that belief and conviction with them throughout their lives. I want them to like how they look and think of themselves as beautiful. But, more than that, I want them to know how to be beautiful on the inside. Right now, it is my responsibility to build into their lives character qualities that God tells us makes a person lovely and beautiful: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. If they can dress themselves on the inside with those "clothes," it won't matter how they look on the outside. Those qualities will radiate from inside and they will be beautiful to others and in the eyes of God.
How I pray for the wisdom to raise beautiful, godly young women who can confidently go out into the world and make an impact for God's kingdom. To watch them as they play with these clothes, maybe it will be in the fashion industry.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
My Wedding Vows
When Vic and I got married, I wanted us to write our own wedding vows to each other so I composed a poem. I thought you might enjoy reading it.
Victor Dale, I love you,
So much more than you can know.
Our wedding day is finally here;
God planned this long ago.
God, in His own great wisdom,
Looked down from heaven above;
He knew that I would need you
To teach me how to love.
And so one August evening,
He had you make a call
To my apartment here at Keswick,
And that began it all.
Through hours of conversation,
I came to know your mind;
I found your heart was honest,
Loving, generous and kind.
God's Spirit moved within us;
To each other, we grew dear.
We sensed His gentle guidance;
In His time, He made it clear.
Love shared as wife and husband
Is His plan for you and me.
His plan brings hope and a future,
Will protect us, bring prosperity.
So here I stand before you,
Friends and family gathered 'round;
I make this solemn promise;
Then, to you, for life I'm bound.
I take you as my husband;
All others I leave behind.
A truer friend and lover
Than you, I could never find.
I'll have you and I'll hold you,
In sickness and in health,
Through good times and through bad times,
Through povety or wealth.
Ask me not to ever leave you -
I'll not turn and walk away.
I'll live with you all my life
And by your side, I'll stay.
Your family will be my family
And mine will be yours too.
God gave us to each other;
To Him, we will be true.
I know we'll be together
Even when this life is through.
May God deal with me severely
If naught but death parts me from you.
When others view our marriage,
I pray that they will see
That we love one another
And, in Christ, have unity.
For then, we will accomplish
God's plan for you and me;
Letting others know God loves them
And has died to set them free.
May we know His greatest happiness
As we lead souls to Christ.
May God use us for His glory
As we walk as one through life.
As few years after we were married, I sent the poem and one of our wedding invitations to an artist and she created a piece of art for me. I gave it to Vic on one of our early anniversaries. Which I could remember which one.
Victor Dale, I love you,
So much more than you can know.
Our wedding day is finally here;
God planned this long ago.
God, in His own great wisdom,
Looked down from heaven above;
He knew that I would need you
To teach me how to love.
And so one August evening,
He had you make a call
To my apartment here at Keswick,
And that began it all.
Through hours of conversation,
I came to know your mind;
I found your heart was honest,
Loving, generous and kind.
God's Spirit moved within us;
To each other, we grew dear.
We sensed His gentle guidance;
In His time, He made it clear.
Love shared as wife and husband
Is His plan for you and me.
His plan brings hope and a future,
Will protect us, bring prosperity.
So here I stand before you,
Friends and family gathered 'round;
I make this solemn promise;
Then, to you, for life I'm bound.
I take you as my husband;
All others I leave behind.
A truer friend and lover
Than you, I could never find.
I'll have you and I'll hold you,
In sickness and in health,
Through good times and through bad times,
Through povety or wealth.
Ask me not to ever leave you -
I'll not turn and walk away.
I'll live with you all my life
And by your side, I'll stay.
Your family will be my family
And mine will be yours too.
God gave us to each other;
To Him, we will be true.
I know we'll be together
Even when this life is through.
May God deal with me severely
If naught but death parts me from you.
When others view our marriage,
I pray that they will see
That we love one another
And, in Christ, have unity.
For then, we will accomplish
God's plan for you and me;
Letting others know God loves them
And has died to set them free.
May we know His greatest happiness
As we lead souls to Christ.
May God use us for His glory
As we walk as one through life.
As few years after we were married, I sent the poem and one of our wedding invitations to an artist and she created a piece of art for me. I gave it to Vic on one of our early anniversaries. Which I could remember which one.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
And now you know "the rest of the story"
So how did I end up in Minnesota?
Remember America's Keswick, the Christian conference center I worked at in New Jersey? One of the summers I worked there, I met a very nice family - husband, wife and four sons. They had come to Keswick to work on staff. The husband had grown up in a family of 14 children on a dairy farm in southwest Minnesota. We connected right away because I'm the oldest of 12 (that's a post for another day). His four sons were the same age of some of my younger brothers. I became great friends with his family. I would babysit his boys sometimes. My homemade pizza was their favorite. He would keep my car running and tell wonderful stories about Minnesota. I even met his parents when they came to visit.
Once while we were talking, he told me about a nephew of his who was single and in the Navy. He also had been telling this nephew about me. He kept encouraging me to write or call him. I felt really uncomfortable doing that and figured that if God meant it to be, this sailor would make the first move and get in touch with me.
Well . . . he did. One night in August 1995, my telephone rang and it was "the nephew." We talked for a hour and a half that first night. We spoke on the telephone a few times in September, October and November. After Thanksgiving, we began to talk every night for an hour or more.
We had not exchanged pictures at this point, so I will never forget this gentleman telling me that he loved me. How could he? He didn't know what I looked like!
We sent each other pictures at Christmas that year. I remember coming home from work and seeing a box on my porch that I knew contained his picture and other gifts. My stomach went all funny as I opened it. I wondered, "What if I don't like what he looks like? What then?"
What I noticed first about him were his hands. They reminded me of my dad's hands. All in all, I thought he was pretty handsome. I asked him what he thought of my picture and he said his first thought was, "So this is what my wife is going to look like."
In January 1996 I flew to Minnesota to meet this handsome man and his family. His mother, after having known me for only an hour, said, "You are the woman I have prayed for for my son."
Vic flew to Virginia in February to meet my family and we saw each other a few other times that year. By this time, I knew Vic wanted me to marry him (he already had a ring), but I wasn't sure. I decided to move to Minnesota and did so in August 1996.
Vic proposed to me in September at a picnic under a big oak tree in the pasture of the farm he grew up on. We were married at Keswick on June 7, 1997.
Remember the uncle? At a farewell party thrown for me before I moved, he told me that when his parents had met me, they began praying that Vic and I would meet and get married. I had not know that and it was such a confirmation that God's hand was in our relationship.
As I once wrote in a poem about Grandpa and Grandma, it was through their prayers to heaven that I became Vic's wife. I often tell him that he is the perfect husband. He disagrees. Then I say, "Yes, you are. Only God could have brought us together and that makes you the perfect husband for me."
Remember America's Keswick, the Christian conference center I worked at in New Jersey? One of the summers I worked there, I met a very nice family - husband, wife and four sons. They had come to Keswick to work on staff. The husband had grown up in a family of 14 children on a dairy farm in southwest Minnesota. We connected right away because I'm the oldest of 12 (that's a post for another day). His four sons were the same age of some of my younger brothers. I became great friends with his family. I would babysit his boys sometimes. My homemade pizza was their favorite. He would keep my car running and tell wonderful stories about Minnesota. I even met his parents when they came to visit.
Once while we were talking, he told me about a nephew of his who was single and in the Navy. He also had been telling this nephew about me. He kept encouraging me to write or call him. I felt really uncomfortable doing that and figured that if God meant it to be, this sailor would make the first move and get in touch with me.
Well . . . he did. One night in August 1995, my telephone rang and it was "the nephew." We talked for a hour and a half that first night. We spoke on the telephone a few times in September, October and November. After Thanksgiving, we began to talk every night for an hour or more.
We had not exchanged pictures at this point, so I will never forget this gentleman telling me that he loved me. How could he? He didn't know what I looked like!
We sent each other pictures at Christmas that year. I remember coming home from work and seeing a box on my porch that I knew contained his picture and other gifts. My stomach went all funny as I opened it. I wondered, "What if I don't like what he looks like? What then?"
What I noticed first about him were his hands. They reminded me of my dad's hands. All in all, I thought he was pretty handsome. I asked him what he thought of my picture and he said his first thought was, "So this is what my wife is going to look like."
In January 1996 I flew to Minnesota to meet this handsome man and his family. His mother, after having known me for only an hour, said, "You are the woman I have prayed for for my son."
Vic flew to Virginia in February to meet my family and we saw each other a few other times that year. By this time, I knew Vic wanted me to marry him (he already had a ring), but I wasn't sure. I decided to move to Minnesota and did so in August 1996.
Vic proposed to me in September at a picnic under a big oak tree in the pasture of the farm he grew up on. We were married at Keswick on June 7, 1997.
Remember the uncle? At a farewell party thrown for me before I moved, he told me that when his parents had met me, they began praying that Vic and I would meet and get married. I had not know that and it was such a confirmation that God's hand was in our relationship.
As I once wrote in a poem about Grandpa and Grandma, it was through their prayers to heaven that I became Vic's wife. I often tell him that he is the perfect husband. He disagrees. Then I say, "Yes, you are. Only God could have brought us together and that makes you the perfect husband for me."
Monday, February 1, 2010
OK. So, I just did it. I started a blog. Not that I don't have enough to do in all my spare time. But, like Julie Powell says in the movie, Julie & Julia (which I highly recommend, especially if you're a foodie), "I could write a blog. I have thoughts."
Now, I don't know how faithful I'll be at writing on my blog, but lots of times I go to post things on Facebook and I run out of room. Thus, the need for a blog. I also have friends asking for recipes, titles of books for their children, etc. If I post to my blog, then it's out there for everyone to find if they want it and need it. Saves me a lot of time.
I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Mary Lou Menning and I live in a small town in Minnesota, about an hour west of Minneapolis/St. Paul. I'm not originally from around here. I was born in Philadelphia, PA. Only lived there 6 months until my parents moved to Wilmington, Delaware, where I lived until we moved during Christmas break of my 6th grade year. We moved to Frederick, Maryland. That's where I graduated from high school, attended three years of community college, worked for my dad as his secretary, and attended many Baltimore Orioles games at Memorial Stadium watching the great one, Cal Ripken.
After community college, I attended Philadelphia College of Bible in Langhorne, PA, where I graduated with a B.S. in Elementary Education. I moved to New Jersey to work at America's Keswick in Whiting, NJ. After working there for a few years, I went to teach 2nd grade at Lighthouse Christian Academy in Manahawkin, NJ.
So, how did I end up in Minnesota? Ah, there's the subject for the next post.
Now, I don't know how faithful I'll be at writing on my blog, but lots of times I go to post things on Facebook and I run out of room. Thus, the need for a blog. I also have friends asking for recipes, titles of books for their children, etc. If I post to my blog, then it's out there for everyone to find if they want it and need it. Saves me a lot of time.
I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Mary Lou Menning and I live in a small town in Minnesota, about an hour west of Minneapolis/St. Paul. I'm not originally from around here. I was born in Philadelphia, PA. Only lived there 6 months until my parents moved to Wilmington, Delaware, where I lived until we moved during Christmas break of my 6th grade year. We moved to Frederick, Maryland. That's where I graduated from high school, attended three years of community college, worked for my dad as his secretary, and attended many Baltimore Orioles games at Memorial Stadium watching the great one, Cal Ripken.
After community college, I attended Philadelphia College of Bible in Langhorne, PA, where I graduated with a B.S. in Elementary Education. I moved to New Jersey to work at America's Keswick in Whiting, NJ. After working there for a few years, I went to teach 2nd grade at Lighthouse Christian Academy in Manahawkin, NJ.
So, how did I end up in Minnesota? Ah, there's the subject for the next post.
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