tried

 

I put a fancy dress on a silly girl.

 

I staged a little Christmas magic.

 

I tried...

 

 

And much (much, much, much) cajoling later...

 

She smiled!

timer

"I'm going to set the timer,"I said to Evie as I gathered up her artwork and crayon pieces from the couch, "and when the timer goes off we are going to get our shoes on."

"Okay," she responded, her arms laden with stuffed friends. She was in the middle of a project of epic proportions, packing up all of her dolls and toys and stuffing them into dozens of plastic shopping bags. Little floor was visible during the construction of this project. Where there weren't toys there were crumpled up bags waiting to be opened and filled. It made the art mess on the couch seem rather insignificant. 

She seemed quite focused on the task at hand and I wasn't sure that she had really heard me. I couldn't leave the scene without verifying that my words had indeed made it into the inner workings of her mind. 

"What are we going to do when the timer goes off?" I asked her while fishing tiny broken crayon bits out from between the cushions.

"Wash our hands?" she offered with a smile. 

So I repeated myself, making sure that she was fully aware of the plans. She soaked up my words, thought about them and then asked a few questions about the plans of the day. Success.

I put the crayons in a plastic bag and stacked the paper and stickers. I picked up the pile and went to the kitchen to put it away in the basket above the fridge. We keep all of the art supplies in that basket, in a place out of the reach of little hands to whom the whole world is a canvas. I won't mention the sharpie drawings on my couch pillows....

I set the timer on the stove. First for fifteen minutes then backed it down to fourteen. Don't ask me why. I think sometimes I need to live life a little outside the box. One minute outside the box, I guess. 

A pad of paper sat on the counter beside the stove and I picked it up, along with a pen that I had pulled from the drawer below. Sitting down at the kitchen table I started a list of things that needed my attention. There were many things to put on that list and as I jotted them down I felt the familiar rush of anxiety. Most of those things, though needed and important, might not even get done and it feels so defeating to even try to hope that I might. 

I lifted my eyes from the table and my gaze fell upon the blinking green numbers that counted down the minutes until shoe time. I began to dream a little, wishing that those numbers were counting down the time until Jesus returned. A brief thought of how selfish that was flitted through my mind for a second before I let my thoughts wander down the glorious path of how wonderful it would be. In the face of life as we've known it lately, my heart has longed for heaven.

Rising from the table, I packed up the things we would need for the afternoon, stopping often to glance at the clock. "What if?" I wondered knowing full well that it wouldn't, and yet with the tiniest inkling of wishing. 

Evie hummed away in the living room. I peeked around the corner and observed her packings. She filled the bags to overflowing and then those bags began to migrate into the kitchen, filling the space in front of the door.

I finished up a few things and then I grabbed some pink socks from Evie's drawer. She stopped just long enough for me to snake them on to her chilly feet. "Can I bring all these bags?" she asked. I explained that only one bag could come with us.

The kitchen timer beeped a one minute warning. 

Evie shifted into high gear and the pile of bags by the door began to rise like a bowl of bread dough on the back of the stove. I mentioned the one bag rule again. She stopped piling and began, with much difficulty, to try and pick just one bag. 

Beep Beep Beep Beep. Fourteen minutes was up and there we were. Two girls in an entryway full of bags and some pairs of shoes that needed putting on.

I turned the beeping timer off. We put our shoes on. I grabbed our belongings and we stepped out into the chilly afternoon. It was time to go.
 

yesterday

Some days, I get the distinct impression that God is working very specifically with me. He boils the water and drops me in the pot. He has purpose in how He orchestrates my day, although I don't seem to recognize it until the next day, after the rat on the wheel in my mind takes good long rest.

Yesterday was one of those days. It's no wonder then that God nudged my heart in the wee morning hours to set aside my daily Facebook habit until next week. No doubt my Facebook friends would have been given a play by play account of my discontent and overwhelmedness, robbing God of the glory He brings about in such things. Sanctification is the beautiful result of refinement.

I shall spare you the goriest of details, only to say that I've been caring for a sweet but sick 3 year old for an entire month. She is the sort of girl who usually portrays the picture of health, a lovely blessing that we all have enjoyed. But, a month ago, she fell prey to a respiratory bug that seems to have dug his feet in, a character flaw not out of place in this household. We have fought this battle with every homeopathic remedy and herb that we can find, yet with minimal success. Hand in hand with Mr. respiratory bug has been a stiff case of insomnia, a wretched beast that flares his head to battle when the weary are at their weariest. Suffice to say, I've not been at the peak of my game although the Lord has woven lovely graces into my character during these days. A miracle at its finest.

Yesterday. After another night of battle, I had determined in my mind to bring my little pipsqueak to the local minute clinic, desperate to know if something fiercer raged in her little body. A spot of breakfast, an episode of Dora and some laundry folding later, I packed up. The phone rang. My mother called to remind me to check the hours of operation for the minute clinic, a good lesson learned from a previous, now very entertaining to retell, experience. I picked up the laptop to check the hours and.....the screen of death appeared. A fatal hue of gray with the heart stopping words, "Imminent Failure of Hard Drive."

It was like a home stress test yet, without the monitors and cables to determine the extent of its capability, my heart pounded fiercely but maintained its strength. I stared at the screen before my eyes while thoughts of un-backed up data, lots of un-backed up data, raced through  my mind. My curly topped fairy, determined NOT to go the clinic in the first place and very exhausted from another nightly battle Mr respiratory bug and his buddy the giant insomnia monster , displayed the sin nature in its finest.

I can tell you that I did not respond with the great faith of those listed in Hebrews 11. I think the words "freaked out" might actually be a better description.  I can also tell you that heroes emerged through the smoke and rubble and came to my aid despite their own schedules and circumstances. I am ever so grateful for their selflessness on my behalf. And I can tell you that after 4 or so hours of work, most all my files, minus the few I accidentally lost in my haste, are all safely stored away.

To my husband, my mother, my sister and brother-in-law, my brothers and any others I may have forgotten to list, you have truly blessed me with your patience, your time, your generosity and your selflessness, thank you.

To the little pipsqueak who has stretched me and loved me and filled my heart with laughter and helped to make me a better mommy, thank you.

To the God who showers me with grace upon grace and loves me and ordains my days and my hours with His glorious purpose to make me more like Christ, thank you.

"For momentary light affliction is producing in us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison." 2 Corinthians 4:17

if not

If not for the gift of a friend's sweet words today I might still be sitting in the mire of doubt, afraid to try again.

If not for the goodness of my tender hearted husband I might not know God's love in such a tangible way.

If not for the sweetness and mischief loving-ness of my curly topped fairy, I would not know the joy of motherhood and the sanctifying work of my heart.

If not for the coolness of fall evenings, I might not appreciate the warm embrace of the sun.

If not for God's gift of His Son's life for my sinful heart I would not know life or peace or hope.

Thank you, God.

backseat ramblings

It was dark by the time we pulled out of the driveway and headed home. The car was quiet except for the sounds of my happy little companion in the backseat. She crunched on crackers and took long sips from her water cup. I drove along, watching for deer in the dark shadows, lost in my thoughts. From the quiet her voice rang out,"Here mom. I'm done with my snack." I reached back to take the plastic sandwich baggie from her hands and set it down on the seat beside me. Her empty mouth is never one for idleness so it wasn't long before her thought factory of a mind began production. She manufactures words faster than a used car salesman. For the rest of our drive she filled our car with stories and songs....

OH NO! (she gasped) I lost my twenty dollars. I can't find my money. Could you please share yours with me?

I realize, I need to have a business, but I don't know how to make free chocolates. I don't have the recipe. Maybe I could just get strawberries wet with a spray bottle, put them in the dryer than dip them in egg. I think that would be good. Do you think so? I need a business, I realize this. Maybe I could make chocolates in the wash machine and then put them in the dryer. I don't know.

Singings 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10 at the top of her voice. Over and over...

Look! There's Kohls and there's another Kohls. Oh and there's Costco. And there's Nards (menards). I really need a Nards card.

More songs..a mix of the alphabet and the ever familiar 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10

We sure have a lot of bathrooms in our house. WOW! (gasps)What should we do with ALL THOSE BATHROOMS! Oh wait. Auntie Sheri really has a lot of bathrooms. She has 3 upstairs. Victoria has a bathroom in her room. Oh WOW! (gasps) Oh WOW! She also has one downstairs. WOW (sigh) that's a lot of bathrooms. What should we do with all those bathrooms?? Wow! (long pause) Wow! So many bathrooms...

(sniffs the air) What's that smell? It smells like glue.

(driving through the neighborhood) Oh NO! Everyone took Christmas down. There's no frosty the snowman. Where did Christmas go?

(As we pull into our driveway) Oh NO! Who took our car...where is frosty (the sable)?  I tried to explain to her that we were riding in frosty the sable. She was too distressed to listen. Until we looked up to the house and saw daddy in the window. All thoughts of frosty disappeared.....

We gathered up our bags and headed inside, her little feet dancing in the dew-kissed grass, my mind repeating all of the sweet wordings she shared with me so I wouldn't forget. I hope I never forget.

and she danced to the sound of her dreams and the simple pleasures of life

blocks

I have writers block. It's not nearly as fun as lincoln logs, legos or those wooden shapes. In fact, it's not a toy at all.

In my attempt to try and make something bigger of my love of writing, I found some contests in which to enter my work. Bravado took hold and I envisioned lovingly cradling the works of my mind in my hands, before handing them off to be critiqued. No sooner had I confidently envisioned this than a masked bandit came by and swiped my brain. I watched helplessly as he stuffed my thoughts into a plastic sack then ran off into the night. For a time, I felt defeated. And now, much hand wringing later, I find myself ready to seek out this crafty pillager and take back what it is mine.

Help!

for the sufferer

I watch you suffer.

Oh, how it hurts.

I am angry. I want to fight back against the injustice you face. The battle. The journey. The weight of the load. The tears you've cried.

And while you trust God's sovereignty, you press on, press in, fighting tirelessly for hope.

Please know I pray for you.

Take heart.

"He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High

will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty."

Psalms 91:1



morning

From my padded deck chair I can see morning. Not the morning I usually see, the bars and gates of city living made alive by the bright faces of new blooms in my garden and sweet warbles of birds. I'm thankful for those birds, they escort my mind to a place far above the rumble of cars and mufflerless motorcycles, the growly engines of the occasional early mower, the incessant clamor of barking dogs. From my little city lot I  take what I can get, but I still dream of morning.

Today is different, special. Today I see morning in all its splendor. And I rejoice.

Morning.That glorious time when night and day make a mysterious exchange. When the covering of blackness give way and darkness is swallowed up in light. Slowly the sky melts. The world awakes, the little beings that inhabit the sheer beauty of God's creation rub the sleep from their eyes and go about the work of the day. They begin with song, praises echoing forth from their small throats in harmony with the others who share this space. A melodious chorus with an occasional solo. They usher in beauty with beauty.

Fresh faced beams hover behind the edge of view sending forth a canopy that illuminates the blue above. A row of pinetrees line the lake, framing the inland sea as if it were a mirror, the water as smooth as glass. The tips of the pinetrees glow, as if lit by fire, the branches below still dark. Dew drops have bathed all within reach, as if to clean yesterday from the surface of the world in preparation for today. A chipmunk runs past, stopping to observe the stranger in his midst. The call of the loons echo hauntingly.

I open my Bible and read Psalms, resonating with the prose of David's heart. Surrounded by God's handiwork, I experience the words more deeply. His majesty echoes from the words in my lap and the world I see at the same wondrous time.

From my chair on the porch I watch the day unfold. Hours pass and I'm unsure of whether I should keep my eyes open or close them and simply listen to the world awaken. I am captured by this beauty and simplicity in amazement of the grand design and execution. The Artist paints a masterpiece.

Unable to wait a moment longer light breaks forth, the sun lifts its head above the treeline and fills the world with gold. The ground, the air are colored in a honeyed hue. The sunkissed landscape shimmers And I catch my breath, the beauty of the past hours a prelude to this glory.

In the suns presence, the fragrance of the morning changes. The thick, damp air dries in the sun like laundry on the line. In its place, the pure aroma of light.

The chill of night packs its bags and heads home as the warmth of the sun fills the day. I center my face in its glow and feel its kiss, my feet still chilly in the shade of the porch post. The day will be warm, I can feel it.

Slowly emerging from its hiding place, morning has thrown open the shutters and welcomed the day. Day has come and with it the sound of feet padding down the hall, a chainsaw in the distance, the coffeemaker steaming out a rich, dark brew, sleepy eyed conversations. The chorus of nature bursts forth, as if the music it performs gave a crescendo. Wind whispers through the pines. Acorns pop and snap as they fall from the trees and land on the ground below.

Day. The performance has ended, yet just begun.

"Lord, you have been our Dwelling place in all generations.

 Before the mountains were born, 

or You gave birth to the earth and the world,

even from everlasting to everlasting,

You are God."

Psalm 90:1-2

smart guy

Evie wasn't so sure she wanted to visit Paul Bunyan-land.

"Paul Bunyan is a really big man who knows your name," Daddy explained,"should we go there?"
"No," she said.
"It will be so fun," Daddy said, "Why don't you want to go?"
"Because he's a really smart guy," she said.

So we told her all about the rides and tractors and animals and she, despite still feeling timid about Paul, the smart guy, decided she might like to try it out. So, we did.

"Hello EEEvie," said Paul.

She froze, her eyes wide with terror. 

Remember these?

I got excited over a trash can.

I took a picture.

My traveling companions laughed at me.

I'm a bit quite sentimental and I'm okay with that.

Paul and his lady friend.

Prehended by a Peli-can

Do you ever wonder how the dinosaurs became extinct?

Paul Bunyan took care of them.

Thanks, Paul.

Pretty girl in the schoolhouse mirror.

Remember these slides?

Shiny metal. Tall. No sides. Dangerous.

Heh.

Our motley crew.

(Complete with 3 year-old who has a new

love of creative expressions)

View from the top

The rollercoaster to beat all.

Literally.

So painful.

two-step tuesday

It rained. What a glorious sight!



The gentle pitter of little drops quenched the sighs of a thirsting world 

and gathered in a little puddle beside the garage.

It called her name. 

She danced with the raindrops. A jumping, stomping, splashing sort of dance.

Raindrops make good playmates.

She sat in the pool then tipped her head forward to soak up the muddy swirls with her golden locks. We bid our little pool goodbye, stopping to pour back what had gathered in the toes of the rain boots.

One dry skirt later and off we went, the pitiful song of our barren cupboards ringing in our ears. "To the grocery store!" we sang, our list in hand.

It was productive, pleasant, really, and bag fulls of God's bounty filled our trunk.

We pulled in the drive, my phone rang and I cheered with the sound of my mother's voice. 

Distracted, I emptied the car and closed the trunk, leaving my mind and my keys inside.

 I rang my knight-in-shining-armor.

He answered and sounded very happy to come rescue us.

So we danced in the raindrops, our groceries dry beneath the eave.

We waited.

What a welcome sight!

Evie begged him stay and he melted, his heart torn by the duty that called and those brown eyes. We savored those moments. Laughing at the misfortune that brought us togetherness in the middle of the day and dancing to the tune of big band swing. "Dance with me, daddy," she pleaded.

So he did.

He drove away.

We settled back into the routine of the day, a two-step Tuesday.

laugh-a-doodle

Is it even legal to post on a blog twice in the same day?

Probably not.

I've already driven above the posted speed limit. Eaten whipping cream over raspberries three times. Visited Target two separate times. I'm breaking all the rules today.Why stop now...

***

The curly topped fairy made me laugh so much today, more than is probably good for a person. In case you haven't reached your funny limit for the day I thought I might help...

The floor beneath our dining room table is dangerous. Dangerously crummy. And I threatened to vacuum it. "No!" she cried,"If you vacuum it I will run away! (long thoughtful pause) Could you please use a silent vacuum?"

Evie and Daddy are working together to memorize Psalm 103. "Bless the Lord...," she says," Who forgives all your iniquilies."

Ready for a trip to Wasau, she assured me that she would pack all she needed. And this is what fills her bag...
1 pair fleecy jammies
1 sunhat
2 tank tops
1 pair of socks
1 bag of hair bows
"I'm all packed!" she declared.

Supper was finished, she was off to play while we chatted at the table for a few more minutes. We were interrupted by a cry of utter delight. "I went poopy in my potty chair!" We ran to celebrate the happy moment. But something was not right. In the corner of the room was the removed diaper, with evidence of it's previous cargo. In the potty chair was the refuse, flattened. I asked of these details, and she admitted the truth. The evidence had been planted. What the girl won't do for a little celebration...

Tantrum-splosion. Everything offended and then....a small doll in the corner caught her eye. The tears and wailing stopped. "That's for my dollhouse," she said happily, standing up from her flattened tantrum position,"I will go play with that!"

I found her blanket on the couch, the corner soaked. I asked her what happened. "A man came in and did it. And this is how it is," she said sadly.

And then she laughed herself to sleep....

color my world

It was an ordinary day with a splash of color

A quiet morning. The stillness broken by a little voice, a demanding little voice, "Mama, I need you!" "And I need you too," I whispered in her ear as she snuggled in my arms, her curly mop tickling my nose.

A hot day. The sort of hot that makes me wonder what life felt like before air conditioning. I love these hot summer days. I wait for them all winter long. But our castle on the hill has a direct view of the sun, its blazing heat merciless. We escape the fate of our hapless grass and retreat to our chilly villa.

A restless child. Held fast in the grip of the same four walls, her mind schemes of new opportunities for fun. Toys, even new ones, no longer hold the magic they once did.

A creative mama. Held fast in the grip of the same four walls, her mind works in defense against the plans of a restless and mischief loving 3 year old while trying to accomplish the tasks of the day.

Many messes later....

A box of paint. A plastic tablecloth. A stack of paper. A hand full of paintbrushes. A creative little mind. A whole jar of paint dumped in her lap. A creative mama trying to direct a paint covered child into the bathroom for cleaning up. A plethora of painted handprints on the walls from the dining room into the bathroom. A good laugh about it all.

And she colors my world.

She brings me "presents" from the gardens.

"Here, mama," she says, her smile as bright as the stems

 she clutches with muddy fingers,"I picked these just for you."

And my heart melts.

.

at last

It was a sweet little town, humble folk, a dot on the map surrounded by acres of rolling Wisconsin farmland. But, everything was about to change, for the Pope and his princess Poopsie would be rolling in with their little brood. A Vatican had been purchased and they were moving in. As they drove through town, the neighbors lined the streets and cheered, their simple lives made a little more sparkly by a glimpse at royalty, almost as sparkly as the rhinestone studded tiara hanging from princess Poopsie's rear view mirror. Weaving their way through the crowds the Pope and his family arrived at their new home. At last....

A few days later the Minnesota contingent saddled up their donkeys and headed east, stopping in a little town called Weston, Wisconsin. At last...

The sun was warm, the people kind, the Vatican comfortable. A weekend full of boxes and paper, cow barn smell, hugs and laughs and stories and the busyness of two little girls who fell into life with each other as if they had never been separated. We made memories. At last...we were together again.

a warm walk in Weston

Hugs and Kisses

Dairyland bound

More hugs!

And kisses!

(after successfully making it through a fascinating

and highly perfumed trip to VanDerGest Dairy)

And they discovered a dead butterfly

So they stared it at for a bit.

"Evie," said Hannah softly,"I think that butterfly has been hurt."

Little Grown up Victoria

Snuggling my sleepy little girls

Grandpa and V

Carems

Beautiful Day...Beautiful Ladies

Andy and his mad paper flattening skills

He used these skills to flatten an entire forest load of paper.

Clearly, he is amazing.

I married well.

Washing off the cow barn smell once and for all.

And we all rejoiced!

"Mommy," Evie said,"I want to stay here forever."

More sweet hugs!

And then they fell over and Hannah

hit her mouth on Evie's hard head

and there was much sorrowing.

At last...

It was time to pack up our mules and head home.

And as she sat quietly in the back seat we visited.

And then we realized that she had been sitting quietly for far too long.

So we turned around and discovered a girl who's legs,

arms and nose were as colorful as a summer garden.

"See!" she said with great delight,"I'm decorating myself!"

Snacks, Siestas and Sillys

The three S's of traveling with a small curly topped girl

Why not drive with a diaper on your head?

We all wore diapers on our heads

and I hope we succeded in bringing a little silly

to the world around us.

At last...

we were home.