Thankful Thursdays

God has blessed me with a dish free sink at the end of my day for 3 days now. Waking up to a clear sink is so encouraging.

Learning contentment, in all things. Notice the learning part. I have not arrived.

Christmas movies. Ridiculous. I know. But . . . what can I say. I like sparkle with my cheese.

Snow. Beautiful clean, white snow, with the reminder that He gives me mercy, and washes me clean, every time I turn to Him.

Swiss Family Robinson, read by my husband, aloud to our crew, the unabridged version. Yep, that's how we roll. <wink>

What are you thankful for?

Ladies and Gentlemen Miss Jamie Grace

I just came to know the music of Jamie Grace.
Boy this girl can sing.
Even better is her testimony.
I truly love my hymns. They are the best.
But I also think it is so exciting to see people stepping out for God in whatever
way He has put it on their hearts.
Thought I would share two of my favorite Jamie YouTube clips. The first is a jam and the second makes me feel something deep in my soul.

 

 

Enjoy!

Why I Will Never Be Happy at the Weight I Am At

When will it be enough? The numbers dropping on the scale?
When will the perfect number appear?
When will I feel it is safe for me to be valued?
For me to be worthy of being attractive,
lovely, worthy of my husband.
When will the number on the scale be good enough.
I am 10 pounds lighter than when I was married.
Don't look like it.
but I am.
I should be rejoicing! I have born 5 children, had 3 miscarriages.
I should be thrilled.
But . . .
I still see the number to high, the roll too large, the face two swollen.
I still see junk.
Why do I do this?
Why do WE as women do this?
What heartbreak do we cause ourselves, our family, our God?
To think so lowly of ourselves, to think that if it ain't perfect it ain't worth anything.
And what is perfect anyways!!!!!
Would someone please tell me?
Which number will finally make me happy.
Or you happy?
Or the department store happy?
I should be thankful! Thankful for a body that still actually works!
Thankful for a pantry full of food.
Thankful for a store of conscientiously grown wheat.
Thankful for vitamins in the cupboard.
Thankful for clean water.
But truth be told, I struggle.
I struggle with I shouldn't eat this because the latest fad of eating tells me I shouldn't.
Struggle with the vitamins I have are good but if I just tried this one it might be the perfect fix.
I like water, but coffee, tea, and fresh squeezed juice
is soooo much better.
This is the ugly truth.
I am never satisfied.
My flesh is always striving.
And I do not think it pleases my God one stinking bit.
Am I alone?
I don't think I am.
I read the same blogs as you homeschooling mama's.
I see the same billboards, shop the same stores.
See the trashy magazines at the supermarket.
So how do we fight this?
When will get off the crazy-go-round?

How do we conquer the ungrateful, unsatisfied, unrealized fantasy?
I believe the only way is to live in reality.
To immerse ourselves in TRUTH.
And to really believe it when people compliment us.
Really believe when our husbands look into our eyes and say, "You are wonderful."
Really believe when he says, "I love you just the way you are."
Because it is a picture of His love for us.
Love for the imperfect and the blemished.
And ladies no matter what size we are, or what size that girl is,
we are all imperfect.
So today I pray, I plead, that God would help me take my thoughts captive.
And that I would live in Truth.

Thankful Thursdays

Posted yet again in a very tardy manner . . .

My friend B-girl . . . What wha-at?!!! (Yes, I am so cool I can say that. . . . hee hee hee.) Because she always calls me out and says sin is sin in my life. Does it get any better than a true friend?

Proverbs 27:6

King James Version (KJV)

⁶ Faithful are the wounds of a friend; but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful.

Birthday love from my family and friends.

Scrapbooking. Does it need anymore description?

And my husband. Because I often forget how much he sacrifices for us.

Thankful Thursdays

So I decided to do this series, and then ofcourse I didn't. However, I am back at it posting it a day late.

Pictures in the park . . .

 

Montana Skies . . .

 



Challah bread baked with my special girl . . .

 

And sharing it with special friends at a special church.

And there you have it folks . . .
It has been a very blessed week.

What are your blessings? What can you give thanks for?

He Would Have Been One

His due date was for today one year ago.
A day before my birthday.
I always wanted a baby for my birthday.
But he was to be early.
Early born, early developed, and early taken.
My dear sweet John.
Precious son.

I miss him.
Every. Single. Day.
But Peace is passing my understanding,
and I am accepting.
Accepting his short life,
accepting his embrace by the Father,
accepting of a life without him,
and an eternity with him.
Thinking of you my dear sweet boy . . .
John Jacob Ephraim.

Homemade Toothpaste

In an effort to be healthier, (ahem, save money) we tried our hand at making toothpaste today.
This is not the first time we have done this. It is not the second time either. The first two times though the toothpaste was so disgusting we threw it out. BUT . . . I realized that we were constantly comparing it to store bought tubed toothpaste. New philosophy . . .

Make a powdered toothpaste thus no comparison.

So we found a recipe at Bulk Herb Store.
(No I am do not receive a kick back for this. <wink>)

I was excited and so were my children! We each had stations and set up to make our own baggies of toothpaste.

Everyone loved that they got to make their own.

 

 

 

Everyone was feeling pretty excited and hopeful. We mixed baking soda, bentonite clay, peppermint oil and stevia. Then we rushed to our brushes.

(PS You shouldn't use metal with bentonite clay but that was all I had and well there you have it.)

 

They started to brush. The faces were priceless. Can you tell the response?





 

 

 

Their Daddy felt much the same. Okay his was worse. No picture permitted. Lol!

 

However . . .

Norma had a small sore in her mouth when she used it. It was really bothering her. The next morning it was gone. Bentonite clay is a wonder! Isn't God good?!

 

Also, Daddy said we were going to use it! He said we have it. God has provided it and it is good for us.

 

We will see how long it lasts. <smile>

 

I for one love it. My teeth feel cleaner than when I go to the dentist!

I love that my 2 year old isn't swallowing fluoride. I love that I made it. Well worth the time, if only for the memories.

 

What have you made this week?

 

Home Blessings

It is crisp here. The air smells like snow but I know it is just frost freckles teasing us.
The sun has made its escape past the horizon but hasn't come into fullness yet.
Morning.

I am smiling for today I get to clean my house.
Who knew that Home Blessing day could be so exciting!
The floors will be scrubbed shiny, crumbs catered out of my carpet,
dust discovered and vanquished, and bathrooms, well you can imagine.
We have a home blessing day once a week and I look forward to it more and more.
We do it in anticipation for Daddy have two days off.
We prepare ourselves for his weekend, wanting to bless him with peace and order.
We scrub, and we sing, we pick up and we pray.
See, it is not enough to just clean our house,
we must invite God into it.
What a better time than when we are perfecting our home?
We can clean out a cobweb, and pray for that room,
that the Lord would bless all who enter it.
We can put dear daughters clothes away,
and pray for her future.
We can scrub our kitchen cupboards and thank Him for filling them.

 

 

Yes, we are truly blessed.

Every week I look forward to the time that I get to reflect on His goodness,
be reminded of His provision.
And see the love that surrounds me.

All while the vacuum hums vivaciously catching dust bunnies.

How do you celebrate cleaning your home?

I Am Waking Up

It happened recently.
The fear of having another baby,
the fear of not having another baby.
It boiled to a point that I couldn't purpose myself into living.
My eyes lived looking at fear.
And I was becoming paralyzed.
Have you ever felt like your feet were lead?
And that you were walking, talking, moving,
breathing intoxication?
See, I have learned that you don't have to drink,
use pharma, smoke or sneak to be intoxicated.
Fear can make you walk more crooked than 14 shots of Tequila.
Fear can cloud you , crowd you, and drown you in despair.
It impairs your mind, muscles, and motives.
And it has chased me fervently my whole life.
But . . .
God.
Just whisper His name.
God.
Jehovah.
The Great I AM.
Can you feel it?
Did you say it out loud?
Trust me.
Open your lips to love and say. His. name.
Freedom.
And the more I call out to Him, the less fear entangles.
The more I speak His Words,
the less I hear my own.
And my eyes show clear,
my heart beats steady,
I am waking up.

The Morning

I am sitting in bed,
pillows propped high,
my back arched over them and the wall,
I wake to clean kitchen waiting, Bible pages calling,
children sleeping, and friends waiting for key typed messages I should have sent days ago.
I feel the hum of the day as I type on the hum of my computer.
The screen is bright,
forceful while the sun still slumbers.
And just as I begin, I hear pitter patters,
pitter patters that become thuds as sweet child comes running.
She looks ragged and rosy, smiling pile of bed head,
as she crawls into my bed.
And I type one handed as the other cuddles my once was toddler.
and I smile my thankfulness that God made me a Mother.

Thankful Thursdays

There are so many little things that grab my heart. That make me giggle, tummy turned inside out, whilst bubbles seem to burst out of my ears and my cheeks flush excited.
Ok, so this could be a slight exaggeration but needless to say it is the little things that make me want to dance dizzy with delight. So, I think it's best to say thank you Lord for ALL the gifts that are given.

Thursdays seem to be a fine day for thankfulness. So, Lord willing I will be posting some of these sweet treasures each Thursday. Please do feel free to post yours in the comments section and let's all give thanks together!

1. My hubby bought me a label maker. Seriously is there anything more fun than an organized house?! When someone asks "Where is . . ." (insert item of the moment) and you can give specific instructions vs. "well it is over in the kitchen in the bottom or middle cupboard, actually why don't you just let me go get it . . ." Please tell me I am not the only one who does this!


2. A Bible reading husband. Yes, this should have been number one. The label maker got me carried away but truly seeing my husband read the Word is divine.

3. A Bowl of Apples. Now there is so much more to this than delicious Montana grown, crisp fall apples. These were bags left by someone at church for families to take and enjoy. And enjoy them we have. Crunch crunch crunch.

 

What is thrilling you into thankfulness?

I Haven't Wanted to Write Lately

I haven't wanted to tell the truth that I hit a crashing wall of tiredness after moving to KY, moving back home in 2 weeks, having house guests, getting sick, my Grandpa dying.
I hit a wall. And I didn't want to do anything.
Nothing.
Nada.
And I was angry.
Because I have four children that need me.
And I didn't want to do anything.
Have you noticed all the I's and Me's here?
I am awfully important to myself.
Oh sure it looks like I give give give.
Mopping floors, wiping tears, and bottoms, teaching math,
creating games, making lunches, laundry . . .

Does my list look a lot like yours?

And I can be doing a lot for others, doing keeps you busy and it LOOKS really lovely,
but when inside your grumbling, mad at the responsibilities and your thinking constantly about how I can get to ME, well, the stench of sin slips out eventually.
A snide comment here, lazy job done there,
impatient glances, answers and appetites will be realized.
By the ones that you love
by the ones that love you,
by yourself.
And when I came face to face with my deceitful heart, and saw the corroding of love and grace,
I fell flat faceward toward the Word.

For He never gave ungratefully, He never spent himself selfishly, never took His eye of off others,
never wished to be free but freely bled. I will never be poured out like Him, but in these moments, I see how far I really am. And how great He really is. How my faith can be so small and self-centered and how far He will reach till I turn my hands out to grab His.
Oh, and I am reaching today.
To touch the palms nailed open,
to feel the washing away of my sin,
to behold the loveliness of my Creator.
Won't you run to Him too?

I'm A Little Bit Country and a Little Bit Rock and Roll

I love music. I love music that praises the Father.
I love hymns.
And I love to shout praises to my Jesus.
I love to be solemn, broken, on my face in reverent praise.
I love to jump praises, arms raised high, face turned up to Him.
I love to worship Him because He alone is worthy.
Amen.
Let it be so.

Grandpa Joe

Mary is named after him.
Our Mary Josephine.
He was my confidant, comrade, and a constant source of joy.
All who met him loved him because he welcomed people in.
He expected little until he expected much.
He listened more than he offered wisdom,
but when wisdom was offered it was profound.
He housed me for a time in my teens,
and lied when he said he liked my macaroni and cheese.
He took me on dates and encouraged me.
He knew all my secrets,
and he basked in the joy of each child that would be his great.
I loved him.
I love him still.
Good bye sweet Grandpa.
You will be missed.

All Seriousness Aside . . .

So our dear friends from WA were here.
Good times. Good times.
Now you might not think it to look at him, but my hubby loves him some babies, and when he thinks no one is paying attention, he is apt to tell me to fork over innocent babe and give him a quick hug. He loves to talk to babies, and speaks to them as if they are adults, after all they will be adults someday. <wink>
As I was holding sweet baby boy for my dear friend, who was out of the room, my hubby saw his opportunity to have his first heart to heart with this sweet babe. 

He cuddled him, with a mushy gooshy look in his eyes. Then a wave of seriousness washed over him and he sat this budding man on his knee.
His voice became low and serious.
Sternness spread in the crinkles of his brow.
"Now, just remember," he said, "that we are those that pisseth against the wall."
I looked at him sideways and started laughing hysterically.
Why should I have thought anything different would come out of my King James Bible reading hubby.
Luckily, our friends have a great sense of humor and laughed heartily at my hubbies antics.
God wants us to have joy and laughter.
No shortage of laughter here . . .

1 Samuel 25:22

So and more also do God unto the enemies of David, if I leave of all that pertain to him by the morning light any that pisseth against the wall.

I Keep Missing Him

I held sweet baby boy, 4 months big, beautiful, healthy, whole.

He smiled sugar kisses at me, and I was smitten.
He was my friends sweetness.
And I missed John.
I keep thinking that the missing will float away,
but it lingers.
And I hope for him, but he is with Eternity.
Sweet sugar kisses smiling,
I long to see his.
I wait, and I miss, and I hope.
And I am certain of what I hope for,

I am certain of Eternity.

Out of the Mouth of Babes

I was frustrated. No one moved fast and much was to be done.
"Hurry up!" I barked.
Two year olds cried, 4 year olds tantrumed,
and olders waited for instruction.
I kept barking.
At least that's what I call the nonsense that comes out of my mouth when I am frustrated.
Bark bark and then the look on their faces of how can I please you . . .
and I soften, humbled.
Pulled round my table I look at them, eyes wide, tears dried,
I ask, "What do you think the problem is?"
And James, my wise beyond his years old soul child, says,
"Mom, the problem is you . . . and us."
I laughed, because he is right. The problem is always myself and others.
We are fallen, sinful, imperfect beings, struggling to be better,
and struggling with selfishness.
A conundrum at best, this soul fights hard to live righteously.
But I know, that I cannot ever be righteous,
it is only His righteousness that lives in me,
by grace.
And oh how I need His grace.
So, I quiet my bark, speak soft and smile,
and love the problems.

When Lust is Laughing At You (A Book Review)

I know a man, a brave man, one who loves the Lord, desires to do whatever he possibly can to glorify Him, and is willing to put it all on the line to do so.
It is not easy to admit a failing, a fault. It is not easy to share the dark corners. But, oh, how sweet it is when light is shed, sin exposed, and redemption occurs.
Pornography is prevalent everywhere. Even in the Church.
It is a sin that so many struggle with and it affects every nook and cranny of their lives and the lives of those around them.
It takes someone brave, someone in love with the Lord, to overcome this addiction and then pursue helping others to overcome it as well.
This book is an account of just that. Healing. It has his personal experience and the tools to use to pursue a path of wholeness and purity.
So if you or someone you love is struggling with this overwhelming addiction, I highly recommend you heading over to Amazon and buying, Porn, Purity and Pickles.

A Morning Of Thanksgiving

I woke to my two year old smiling kisses at me,
a husband who rushed to go to his favorite golf course after a sweet morning chat,
coffee steaming creamy in my cup,
sun rising over the pasture fields seen through my bay window,
thoughts of the friend who is dropping her two beloveds to my house this morning,
school books piled precious, waiting for their first days duties,
a shirt that clung now hangs loose,
laundry cleaned, folded and waiting,
the Lord whispering goodness.
my heart beating joy.

The Permeating Aroma of Death

I have an unhealthy reaction whenever an accident happens,
I am afraid that my children are going to die.
A wound that is of little consequence, a mere Band-Aid and Tylenol, can fix,
sometimes becomes the beginning of an end in my mind.
Sometimes this fear is so burdensome that I have to call a friend to ask if my child is going to die from this. I know the answer is no, logically, of course no, but my spirit is sickened and poisoned by this fear that faces me. I cannot imagine the burden of facing another goodbye to the small hands and feet I cherish so much.
I have just recently started to reach out to a dear friend, and confide this grip. And it grips me darkly.
I wonder how long grief and it's consequences will plague my heart. I pray for His mercy and His mind often.
I do not know if anyone else faces this phobia, or if it is just ridiculous for me to even bring it up. But, I do know that Satan loves to keep us in silence, in bondage. If we don't step out from his grasp, give voice to our pain and declare His truth, we will never have freedom. So, tonight I make this step of voicing some of the dark, and I wonder if maybe, just maybe, I will be released. I also pray, that if someone else struggles with this that they would know they are not alone, and that the ugly, the wild, the warped, does not have to overcome.

Romans Chapter 8 Verses 35-39 KJV

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?

As it is written, For thy sake we are killed all the day long; we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter.

Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us. For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

 

 

Satan, wants more than anything, to use John's death as a stumbling block to my faith, to destroy the faith of my family, and to poison the unbelieving minds of those close to us. He will try and trick me any way he can. But! I know that the Word is a weapon, and that it brings truth.

 

Hebrew Chapter 4 Verse 12

For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any twoedged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.

 

And I know that when I am too weak, too broken to speak out His Words, His Power, His Glory, that He intercedes on my behalf.

 

Romans Chapter 8 Verses 26-27

Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered. And he that searcheth the hearts knoweth what is the mind of the Spirit, because he maketh intercession for the saints according to the will of God.

 

 

This is a mighty God I serve,

and I will walk the path He has prepared.

To Him be all the glory.

Kentucky Chronicles (The Journey Home Part 2)

We were so happy to be on the road and heading home, we couldn't restrain our excitement. God had set such a peace in our hearts that we were to live here in Montana. We were told we would get to go home on Saturday, which turned into Wednesday, but hey, we couldn't be more thankful!
We got tired of traveling in South Dakota and pulled off in some little town that I still don't know the name of but they had the best playground ever. Old school and still dangerous . . . <wink>

And the danger didn't stop there. James had a great idea . . .

Sure hoping the hotel didn't see this crazy horse play.
We always know how to have fun . . .

Don't worry, we did stop this horseplay after I videoed it! Lol!

In the Times of Loss

My heart aches for this woman, this woman of faith, who has lost her third child.
Please, please pray for her.

I still grieve so for my little John, whom I still subconsciously look for when I am loading my children in the van to leave. I am always missing someone. There is always an empty seat and as I count my four and realize we are all here, there is a twinge of pain that catches my breath cold.

So I ask you as a grieving mother, please read her story and pray God's peace, His strength, His might, for her family.

Kentucky Chronicles (The Journey Home Part One)

On our way home we had the privilege of visiting the Creation Museum in Kentucky. Our good friends said we HAD to go. Not only did we HAVE to go but they HAD to treat us. (Yes, they were that forceful!) We are so blessed to have great friends that love us during our crazy wayward ways.
So on our first day out, we stopped with our moving truck, and got ready to be amazed.
And boy were we . . .

 

 

The wax figures were so lifelike that we often didn't know if they were people or not. The science behind the Creation was absolutely astounding, especially in the very first section of the walk through. We loved it.

 

We also saw Josh and Anna Duggar, in which I then made a total fool out of myself saying hi, like they really needed to meet me. <ahem> But I made my biggest girl very happy that she got to say hello.

 

We loved watching a concert which had the coolest song about Woodpeckers. Don't ask, but it rocked.

 

And my 8 year old did the zip line. I don't really know what a zip line has to do with Creation but we loved it just the same!

 

 

 

I apologize for my filming skills, especially when my 8 year old son is flying through the air with nothing holding him but a flimsy wire . . . .

 

He did awesome and the crew was amazing that helped him.

 

I guess what I am trying to say is if you have a chance, you need to head over here and play for the day!

 

 

I was not asked to review this museum. I just had fun and wanted to talk about it!



 



 

Kentucky Chronicles (The Return)

Well, looks like we made it.
Back in Helena and the view is grand.

We are still in a hotel however. Man, that's spendy.

Our renters want to leave our house. They keep trying. The houses they are trying to go through keep falling through. We wait. We wait because we think that is God's will for us.

So, we sleep in a hotel. Again. <sigh>

I am so grateful. To be here. To be home.

I am tired. I am a bit cranky. Not going to lie to you. <wink>

But most of all, I am grateful. Grateful He brought me home.

Safely. Humbly.

My vision is clear. My heart is full.

I can't wait to write about all the details, to chronicle our Kentucky happenings,
however . . . I need some sleep.

good night . . .

Kentucky Chronicles (We've Done Gone Lost Our Minds)

We got here. Safely. Uneventfully. Excitedly.
We had high hopes.
The city is beautiful. And HUGE.
We come from Helena.
5 o'clock traffic equals an extra 5 minutes. We know pretty much everybody through somebody in the city.
We had researched the area, talked to people, but we weren't prepared.
To get to the properties we had thought we would like took an hour and a half minimum. They were only 40 miles away.
No farm.
We thought let's make the best of it and started to look in town. Rent was so expensive and we didn't like the neighborhoods.
Panic started to set in. Where are we going to live?
And if we have to live in the burbs do we even want to be here?
If I have to be a suburb girl I like MT thank you very much.
Now don't get me wrong, KY is probably one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen! It also has the friendliest people I have ever met! If we could afford the country I don't think we would ever want to leave, but . . .
we can't.
The "Cheers" theme song started wringing through my mind, "go where everyone knows your name, and their always glad you came."
We explored on more option of where we could live, and were quickly told you don't want to live there. That's where the drugs are.
Oiy.
After searching our hearts, and searching God, my husband called his old wherehouse. "Can I go back?" he asked.
"Is it Christmas?" was the reply.
Praise God.
So we pack up our Budget truck again and head for home.
Except we have no home as there are renters in it. (Lol!)
But we are trusting God. He has been so faithful.
We have learned that we have been living for the future instead of being present in what is given us. We have been caught up in an ideal that may have become a bit of an idol, instead of pouring our hearts into Him and to His people.
And we have learned that contentment is great gain.
God is good.
Just wish we didn't have to learn the hard way. This has been one expensive lesson.
We start for MT tomorrow.
Tomorrow I get to start making my way home.
Home to the things I used to complain about. They now seem like hopeful rainbows.
Home to things I used to love. They now seem like gold.
Home to a big sky and familiar faces.

Kentucky Chronicles (Today is the Day)

(I scheduled this to post but I must have done something wrong soooo . . . in reality we are actually here in Lexington! Wow! It is a big city!)


Well folks, today we pull out of the driveway,
today we lock the doors and hand over a key,
today we start the moving truck,
load up the van,
and head out to Kentucky!!!!!!!

Please pray for safe travels . . .


(God is good. We are here safely and uneventfully. Praises to Him.)

Gotta Love a Man who Can Strum

My man James after 3 Ukulele lessons . . .

I Blog For Me

There are few times we homeschool mothers say I do this for me.
Just for me.
It is selfish.
But,
I blog for me.
I don't have a professional blog.
I don't make any money for this.
I don't do this to be an example to others or my children.
I blog for me.
This is my outlet. My way to be creative.
My thoughts, uninterrupted.
It is selfish time.
But . . .
this selfish time, oh my,
it has helped me grieve,
in a privately open way.
It has helped me come alive out of the stupor which held me helpless.
And that has allowed me to give.
Give of the me that is awake.
Wide-eyes, realizing I am not alone,
that there are others grieving for theirs lost.
There have been some who have come along side my grief.
Yes, this selfishness has been super.
And I am grateful that God has given me permission
and an avenue for this season to use it.

Kentucky Chronicles (A Boy and a Cow)

My dear husband did not grow up easy.
A Mom who was an addict, an abusive addicted Step Dad, a real Dad who was neglectful at best, he was left to himself by seven years old. Left to find food, safety, comfort.

He slept with a bat under his bed. It wasn't because he liked baseball.

But with all this darkness surrounding him there was a glimmer of light. A rare treat. A visit to Grandpa's farm.

Grandpa is a hard worker. Even in his 80's he ran his tractor and rounded the cattle.

When Darrel went as a child to visit, he would help with the cows.
It was a rare and peaceful time.

It is also the passion of his that has stayed true since I have had the privilege to know him.

When we were dating, (didn't know about courting back then), we would be driving and he would actually stop the car to look at baby cows. Didn't matter where we were, he would stop. "Oooooh, look at the baby cow! Mooo!" he would smilingly  say.

Yes, he has always wanted his very own cow. Oh, and yes, he does like to eat them too. <wink>

My husband has a great respect and love for animals, but he also has a dominion mindset when it comes to them. He would make a great farmer.

When we got caught up in this cattle drive not too far from our home, he was brimming with delight. I could see him alive, all senses surging.

It was this moment that I knew we had to go for this crazy dream we had. Had to try to live off the land. Had to push through passive and pursue the difficult simple life.

He reached out the window, he touched the hide, and I could see his heart swell, alive and fresh, beating the sounds of passion.

Yes, even if it is just a simple homestead, providing milk and honey for his household . . .

Or if it is a full income returning property providing pure food for our neighbors . . .

We have to try.

To follow in his Grandpa's footsteps,
to return to the place of peace,
to see a boy with his cow.

Am I Surviving or am I Thriving

As the days pass and we get ready to head out in a big ol' moving truck to Lexington,
I realize that it is has been a long time of surviving.
I got pregnant with the twins, lost the first, got sicker and sicker, hospital, death of John, more surgery, grief, recovery.
I had over a year of a surviving culture.
My children did too.
In a surviving culture it is hard to have growth. Or so I thought. But growth happens anyway. My children are another year older and whether I helped it or not, they have changed. My eldest daughter has turned from little girl into budding young woman. My son has gone from tiny to testosterone, my toddler has become a helper, and my baby has become a toddler. Yes, growth has happened, whether I was fully present or not.

I thought we were heading into a simpler time as my focus and health returned.
And now we are moving. The slow down has hurried up, and the structure has been put away in scotch taped boxes. We have started to survive again.
But I wonder, is it possible to thrive in a survive style culture?
Is it possible to live on purpose where we are and when we are sent? Is it possible that the boxes are not barriers but opportunitites?
When we go, we will be staying in an extended stay hotel for awhile. I will not have to clean. For AWHILE. I do not have things to put away except for clothes and simple dishes. My eyeballs can be attatched to my children. Have you ever thought about this? How little we actually look at our children during the day? There is laundry, dishes, cooking, teaching, training, planning, (oh and the ocassional blog post or rabbit trail of internet research, <ahem>) but what about looking and really being able to see? This is an opportunity for me to thrive.
While we wait to go, there is convenience meals as we pack and goodbye playdates with friends and summer walks with my husband while we dream about what might be. Is this not thriving?
When we get there, we have a chance to find the property that we have always wanted, to set up a home that will be condusive to the structure we unpack, to find community that will encourage us and which we can encourage. Is this not a call to thrive?
Maybe that is the point. We will always be called to a surviving culture, because life is rarely smooth. And we can thrive in that surviving culture if we are present in the moment instead of waiting for the future.
So today, I look at the blessings, not the burdens of moving. Today I see the growth in the in between.
How are you thriving today?

Kentucky Chronicles (It's Getting Closer!)

Each day we are getting closer to a huge life change.
The boxes are stacking higher.
Play dates are getting to be fewer.
We are wrapping up the details, and the dishes.
I still don't believe it is actually happening.
But, it is! We leave August 11th! We set off into the great unknown.
Kentucky feels like Somalia.
Strange because I have lived in Saudi Arabia, England, California, Washington and Beautiful Montana. I have traveled even more extensively.
We are just talking a few states away people.
Yet, today, it feels like I am conquering the wilderness.
Maybe I am just going to miss the best girl friends I have ever had.
Maybe I am just a Mom now and worry more.

Well, that's neither here nor there. What difference does it make!
We are heading out in our covered wagon, (ok Town and Country van), taking our cast iron skillets, (and king size bed), putting on our bonnets, (and ball caps) and gearing up in our big adventure to find "THE FARM".

Lord willing, we will.

Movie Review (Time Changer)

Have y'all seen the movie Time Changer?
(I am not an affiliate but I wanted to let you know how to get this movie!)
We have watched this movie many times at our house. It is a cheesy b-flick. Acting is good for the most part. Silly special effects. But . . .
It addresses the changing of our society from one that is moralistic because Jesus commands it to one who has taken His name out of society and morals have depreciated dramatically.
We love this movie.
Every time we watch it we want to get rid of our TV!
In fact we have. Many. Many. Many. Times.
Only to get tired and give in to get one again.
But, we get disgusted after awhile with the TV.
It is a viscous cycle.
Will the TV come with to KY?
I really don't know! It is a big question at the moment.
However, if you have a TV I highly suggest you watch this fun for the whole family movie!

Kentucky Chronicles (Yikes!)

Reality hits . . .
we are moving.
Wow. I. Mean. WOW.
Sometimes you get caught up in the doing . . .
the planning,
the dreaming,
and the wanting,
that when it all is boxed up around you,
save your tooth brush and your summer garb,
and your painting over the tree that houses the heights of your children for 7 years,

and strangers are walking through your house preparing it for renting,
and your scared that humidity will halt happiness,
and ticks will constantly dig in,
and friends will be scarce,
and  . . .
and . . .
and . . .
You hesitate.
What are we doing?
Is this too high a climb?

But then the lawn chairs come out,
and the mason jars are filled with ice cold water,
and I look in my husbands eyes,
and he stares back.
Is the Lord trying to get our attention to slow?
Or is this just plain fear.

Fear can be bars holding back joy.

And when we sit back, and step out of a home that is dismantling to a mere house,
we know, in our hearts, in our souls, fear has taken root.
We can always come back,
we may not ever get another chance to go.
And so we take a breath,
smile out the frustrations,
and put one foot in front of the other.

Until You say no, we go.

Letters From Heaven

Kim's letter came today.

Kim sat with me as I held John,
for an hour after his last breathe left.
Kim, watched him as he crashed,
and the emergency crew did resuscitation on a 9.3 oz. babe.
Kim helped him as the blood flow stopped to his leg and talk of amputation mounted.
Kim spoke to him, loved him, cared for him, and prayed for him.

Kim was his main nurse.

We love her.

She wrote to me.
She wrote to us.
And she remembered.
And she grieved.

For the little boy whose sister made socks for him out of felt.
For the Mom and Dad who left the hospital without a baby,
Who held a box instead.
For a little life, that didn't last,
Here.

But she also spoke, through ink and pulp,
about the impact,
the power,
the joy,
that a 9.3 oz boy made.

And how they haven't forgotten.
Him.
Or us.

Oh yes, these short little lives do matter.
They are meant.
And once again I am left grateful,
for 9.3 oz.

And a nurse named Kim.

Kentucky Chronicles

Well, my hubby and I have loved Montana. We have learned so much and have been so grateful to be able to move here from WA almost 8 years ago.
MT is beautiful, peaceful, remote, and if you have ever seen the local news, well, let's just say the people are pretty good to each other here. (When we first moved we thought the news was a spoof.)
But . . . since coming we have changed. Our desires changed.
The Lord started by putting on our hearts the desire to homeschool, then to have me home from work, then to have more than two children, and somewhere in there to actually read our Bible, (yep, I know . . . it's quite a concept.) In the midst of all these changes, we also started to desire to live more simply, agrarian I guess you could say. One problem . . . we bought a house in the burbs. Neighbors don't really like earthen ovens in the burbs. <wink>

So we started looking at land. Yikes! We can't afford that! And then we started to grow a garden. Uhh, yah right, novices with a 60-90 day growing season at best. We spent so much money doing our garden it wasn't worth it. (Yes, we know how to get free compost. Problem is so does everybody else here and there isn't much to go around. Lol!)
Tried to sell our house. Market hasn't been super.
Also, we longed for some down home country living. Oh sure we are total wannabes. (My friend from Mississippi calls me a valley girl from time to time.) But why not risk it all for some good old fashioned country hospitality and hopefully Christian fellowship for us and our children? (There are lovely Christians that we have met here mind you, just different interests than us. We love you all our sweet Montana Brothers and Sisters!)
So we started praying to move. SIX YEARS AGO. Tried quite a few times. God said not so much. Then we had John.
And we were glad we had stayed.
And we thought we would just keep staying . . .
till,
Lexington, KY.
Store opening, application filled out, green light,
all systems check.

Walk through the open door.

So here we are pulling pictures off the wall, praying our house rents out easily, praying we will find a place to live. (Oh, did I mention we are pulling up with a U-Haul and no place to go. Yep, we are those people too.)
Life is about adventures. Nothing is stagnant. At the end, I would rather say, well, I tried that and it didn't work out, rather than, I wonder if . . .

Thank you God for open doors.
Thank you God for closed ones.
Thank you God for life!

What's New?!

Well, big things are happening here . . .
no, no baby in the belly . . .
but something new is underway . . .
we are moving to Kentucky!!!!!!!!!!!!

Pursuing our dream!
Homesteading is on our heart,
and the Lord has begun to open doors.

Step one . . . we need to move . . .

More to come to a blog near you!

Ashes to Ashes

"Mom," seven year old boy starts,
"I wish we could give John a birthday present."
Pause in the family, as all look to our dear living boy.
"I know," I replied.

"Wait! We could get balloons and let them go and they can get to John in heaven!"

So before we put the body of our little man to rest,
we bought balloons.

Each had their own choice, and gripped tight.
Mine was a birthday cake balloon.

"Don't worry Mama," four year old says, "If you cry I will hug you."

My husband spoke words of kindness and truth,
reflections of sweet babe,
and precious life.
He spoke of the future.
Of heaven and of grace.

My four year old cried.
"This is very hard for me."

But later, we smiled,
sending balloons high,
our voices loud,
Happy Birthday John!
We watched as they blew away.
Far far far . . .
too far to see.
Then the invisible.
The memory.
We smile because he was here.
We smile because we will meet again.

We smile because we were given the gift of life.

In Memory of My Little Man

Here is a video of us at the hospital. I just recently watched it for the first time. I was very drugged, pained and in shock, but I wanted to post it as it shows he was really here. These small babies are really alive. And how dare we as a society think we could choose to take their lives.

I Can See Him

My three oldest play on the floor at my feet.
Cars and blocks transform into houses and families, armies and wars.
Somehow, they all find a way to play together.
My two year old still sleeps.
Sun streams slightly through the cracked curtains,
and my pajamas are on inside out,
due to a hot night of changing in and out
to get comfortable in the dark.
This year has had so many times of trying to get comfortable in the dark.
But right now, I can look at the sun and see clearly,
and I can picture him.
I picture him healthy, born on time, 8 month old, crawling,
standing, smiling, blond haired, blue eyed boy.
I see him trying to keep up with his sisters,
and longing to be like his brother.
And I mourn.
It is the picture of my desires.
My desires though are false,
because His desires reign supreme.
And through my tears,
I can see him,
perfect and praising the King.
I know he is the fortunate one.
And I rejoice,
Knowing this is not the end.

Happy Birthday baby John.

An Honor

Reading words on a page,
a window, a door, that only unlocks when a child is ready.
I can't force it, pry it, or break it open.
Our son, beautiful boy of 7 years old,
has tried and tried, small words,
moments of clarity, as a sentence will come alive on paper.
It has been harder for him.
Until . . .
click.
"James," Daddy said,
"Why don't you try reading Proverbs to us tonight."
It is an honor to read Proverbs at our family table.
The person who reads must pause periodically for the
guests to finish the stanza.
It is rousing and raucous.
It is playful and powerful.
Every night we learn from the Book about
how we live our lives.
My heart beat wild as my son took the Word.
Would he feel tongue tied and twisted inside,
as he conveyed the Lords wisdom?
He started to read, slow and steady,
then a smile spread and inflection and power filled his
voice.
He conquered,
pausing to try and stump the waiting with what comes next.
He read the whole Proverb. He did it with passion.
And He felt alive inside the land of the literary.
He is a reader. He has his place of honor at our table.

This Mama couldn't be more excited.
Nor more proud.

Thank you Jesus.