TEAM

I have been thinking a lot lately about the teams I am on. I've always considered myself a team player; there is something so very rewarding to me about participating with others toward a goal for common good. While I wouldn't characterize myself as competitive, I find it thrilling to be part of a team. (This is probably why track and field was stressful to me but I still love volleyball.) It's a privilege to be on a team, and I am grateful for the experiences I am allowed even now, to grow with others. Namely, I am part of a team with my husband, a homeschooling co-op team, my JuicePlus+ team, a team of Believers, a team called Family.

A friend recently sent me this quote, which I think is great:

"If you are facing a challenge in your life, don't try to go it alone. Surround yourself with people who love the Lord; then ask them to work with you to accomplish His will. You will find you are stronger in your efforts, and when it comes time to give thanks for what God has done, there will be a pervasive sense of joy for everyone involved."

This is what team is. It's sharing the work, shouldering the burden, encouraging others, putting forth effort for the common goal. . . and then celebrating together.

Thou Art Making Me

But Thou art making me, I thank Thee, sire.
What Thou hast done and doest Thou knows't well.
And I will help Thee; gently in Thy fire
I will lie burning; on Thy potter's wheel
I will whirl patient, though my brain should reel.
Thy grace shall be enough the grief to quell,
And growing strength perfect through weakness dire.
--George MacDonald
--Diary Of an Old Soul

A Little Quiz

1) Who ate all the tomatoes (even the green ones!) off the cherry tomato plant?
2) Who was so hungry for another piece of bread that they ate Tate's crust off the floor?
3) Who was using the diaper cream in my bedroom (leaving little white pasty marks everywhere)?
4) Who left blood stains on Livia's bedroom chair?
5) Who broke the drinking glass?
6) Who left peanut shells all over the floor of the van?
7) Who eats the peanuts- AND their shells?
8) Who filled the plastic Easter eggs and hid them in our trees?
9) Who said it was "wonderful that Grandma has such a big bum, so she can hold open doors with it"?
10) Who has read three classic novels this week?


Answers:
1) Tate! 2) Livia 3) I still don't know 4) Rhyle, I think 5) me- oops 6) Livia 7) Rhyle 8) Owen; I'm still finding them 9) Rhyle, of course 10) Owen

The Gift of Hearing

I wanted to post an update on Rhyle's hearing. I took the kids to the audiologist last week to have Rhyle's hearing rechecked and to meet with the doctor. Rhyle was scheduled to have tubes put in his ears (for the second time) and an appendectomy earlier this year. The surgery was only weeks away when we had insurance changes that caused us to cancel the procedure. At the time, I was honestly relieved, because I wasn't completely comfortable with the idea, nor convinced that surgery was the best option. Not knowing what else to do kept me from canceling earlier. Braden and I agreed that we wanted our little (4) boy to hear. At the time, his hearing tests were coming back extremely poor and there was essentially no movement of the eardrum. (I have read articles that friends have sent me linking ear infections and excess fluid in the ears to consumption of dairy. Even though I wanted to see if cutting out dairy could positively affect Rhyle's hearing, it was practically challenging. We eat cheese regularly around here.) I sensed that the Lord was divinely rescheduling for us.

Fast forward to the end of summer. Braden and I mutually agreed that if his hearing was still subpar, we needed to do something about it. At times we could tell that he wasn't hearing us as well as he ought. It seemed time to visit the doctor again and pursue treatment. I had meanwhile switched the family to rice milk and other milks (replacing cow milk), and consciously tried to alter our consumption to less processed dairy.

I am not making any claims. I'm not sure what changed over the summer. When the doctor met with us on Friday he was surprised that Rhyle's hearing was all within normal ranges, and while he still didn't have normal movement of the eardrum, he had SOME (quite an improvement!). Should I have been surprised?

Praise God! We are so thankful that Rhyle does not need surgery at this time. We are SO thankful that he can hear normally. We are so thankful that God intervened in the timing and worked the situation to His glory. He works all things to His glory, but I am glad that we were able to see Him in this and praise His faithful work.

Blue Love

Rhyle (4) loves to ride bicycles. He moved from the smallest bike we have (a blue bike with training wheels that Owen received as a third birthday gift) to the smallest bike sans training wheels. He rode that for awhile and then attempted the size up.

I should interject a disclaimer here. Our family has more bicycles than we do people. Seriously. We have been given bikes as gifts, inherited hand-me-down bikes, and salvaged bikes from the side of the road. Hence, many bicycle choices. (And also, many imperfections: a chain that won't stay on, a wobbly tire, brakes that don't work, etc.) Our shed is full of things with wheels. And I suspect that a boy has very strong feelings toward his bicycle. Something akin to a boy and his dog.

Now that Rhyle has been riding "2 wheels" successfully for quite some time, he thinks he ought to be able to ride any bike he wants. He will lower the seat and ride Owen's three speed, or choose from the other two bikes that are his size (appropriately named the lightning bike and the old bike.) We never know which bike he will take out of the shed when he says he is going to get "HIS" bike.

Today he asked Braden to help him get the original little blue bike out of the shed. It was in the far back of the queue. Braden hesitated, reminding him that it is really too small for him now and the chain doesn't stay on.

Rhyle said, "That's okay!"

Braden hemmed a bit more and Rhyle exclaimed, "But I love this bike! And I'm not going to take my love away from it."

I Can't Believe They Ask Questions Like This

There is a rather large. . . um, amount of feces in the bathtub when Owen and Rhyle enter the bathroom. I am washing my hands at the sink (as well as some bath toys) and Tate, who is naked and wet, is sitting on the bath mat.

"Who had doo-doos in the tub?" Owen asks.

"Me." I deadpan, just to see what they will say next. Come on- is there really any question?!

"Really?" they ask. "Why?"

And about this time I realize that in their minds it must be plausible that I would decide to use a tub full of water instead of the toilet, and that I would then go on as if nothing was out of the ordinary. That is just as believable as Tate going in the bathtub. (To their credit they thought the mess was too big to come from Tate- gasp!)

Not For Everyone- Or Is It?

A wise friend once used words that I have endeavored to use graciously, as well. She said (of home birth), "It was great for us, but it isn't for everyone."

These words are wise and full of acceptance and freedom. I'm finding more and more that people I am around tend to define themselves in one of two camps. Home birth or hospital. Homeschooling or not. Vaccinate or not. Vegetarian or not. Liberal or Conservative. Large families or small. Green or not. Homemade bread or not. Classical education or not.

I want there to be a right way to do things. I don't think that there are always options and I do think there are moral absolutes. But I must confess that one reason I want there to be a right way is that I just want to be right (or be approved because I am doing the right things).

The horror of my heart is that I try to give myself some kind of righteousness apart from Christ. I want to think I am GOOD because I am making the BEST choice. I research and read and pray and seek advice... and want to think that what I'm deciding to do is best. It is just a lie- for their isn't necessarily a BEST in many things. Even if there were, it is ludicrous for me to think that I am making all the best decisions. And any righteousness apart from Christ is not righteousness at all, and that is the biggest lie. So, I am driven to my knees, begging for forgiveness and mercy, to be clothed with Christ's righteousness and nothing of my own making. There are so many decisions to make and more information out there than I could ever even get a sip of. Mercy has become the theme of my song. I will echo King Jehoshaphat: "I do not know what to do, but my eyes are on You."

The Ram Speaks His Mind

In this case, I am referring to the Ram in Charlotte's Web. He speaks Braden's mind. . . about our children. Can't you hear them saying dryly, "What luck- an early riser. And he has things to say."

Our children generally wake early (before 7 a.m.). It's early, I suppose, because most of my friends' children do not get up that early in the morning. I don't give it much thought, since I am up then, too, and have always loved being up in the early morning. (I distinctly remember going downstairs early on Saturday mornings to watch cartoons only to wait for HOURS for the colored bars on the screen to be replaced with the actual programming. Did anyone else experience that?)

Around here, the activity starts early. I have noticed many times how peaceful our street seems at 7 in the morning as I am out for a walk; until I turn up our sidewalk and I can hear the noise from a distance. It's a bit of a joke that everyone wants to talk at once. After Braden says "Amen" at each meal, I wonder who will jump in with the first, "Dad?" It happens before he has even raised his head. Everyone around here has a lot to say. And apparently, it's never too early.

Photos of Summer

Lest I Complain. . .

This has been a challenging week. I think I can say that, right? My fleshly pride finds it distasteful to admit when I am struggling. And the truth is that I really have nothing to be "struggling" with. (Struggling is just another word for an angry or sinful heart!) I have four young children. There is more to do in a day than I can possibly do. I grow weary.

Just today, I cleaned both bathroom floors on my hands and knees. I wasn't planning on this; it wasn't on my schedule for today. But there was a puddle of urine in the downstairs bathroom. (As I cleaned I recognized a familiar smell from my childhood- my grandparents' outhouse. I do NOT think my bathroom should smell like an outhouse; it's not a good sign of my housekeeping!) There was feces on the upstairs bathroom tile (and in the tub, and on Tate's feet, but that's another story). Things happen with four children, right?

Laundry is never done. That is not even a dream of mine. When the baskets are reasonably low and I've done a load or two for the day, I feel pretty accomplished. Then, there are days like today. Livia had three pair of wet underwear (which is strange and excessive, if you ask me). Tate had messy cloth diapers. I changed Tate's dirty undershirt. Five minutes later he crawled to me with brown chocolate shake stains all over his shirt; Rhyle had shared his popsicle. The basket began to look full again.

And, lest I complain, I will remind you, Dear Reader, and myself, that I have four young children. I am blessed beyond what I deserve. (I don't "deserve" any children at all!) I have wonderful, thoughtful, energetic, vibrant children. My husband is wonderful and he is a great dad. There is much, much sweetness in my life. For all the moments of cleaning and washing and cooking and disciplining. . . .there are moments of open mouthed kisses from Tate, giggles with Livia, practical jokes played by Rhyle, serious discussions with Owen. I am privileged to have children climb in my lap to hear stories and clamber up beside me on the kitchen stool to help. Braden flashes me some pictures of our family off of his computer (which is our album!) and I can see, in color, the precious glimpses of my life that give me pause to say, "Thank you, Lord."

So, my heart moves from overwhelmed and angry to thankful and at rest.

And then Rhyle finishes his shower after his haircut. . . and Braden and I decide that he has chicken pox. (All day I have watched his "bug bites" multiply.) So quickly I remember, I am a mother of four small children. . . who will probably all have chicken pox. Thankfully, I smile.

We'll be learning a lot about chicken pox now. Did you know that 90% of our population has had chicken pox by the time they are young adults?! I have found this very helpful link; thank you Cheese-heads. For anyone who is wondering about chicken pox (or has been exposed to my children recently!): http://dhs.wisconsin.gov/communicable/factsheets/Chickenpox_42035_0504.htm

Where Is Everybody?

Due to the lack of comments lately, I must ask. . . Are you all too busy on Facebook to read (and comment on) blogs anymore?!

Party Pavlovas

We had a little celebration last weekend with friends. It was a thank you to those who graciously helped us out last summer when our home was uninhabitable and a time of rejoicing that the Lord has continued His faithfulness to us. Much has happened in the last year, and we are especially thankful for Tate's life.

I made Pavlovas for dessert. I first had pavlovas when I spent a semester in Australia. There, a meringue base was filled with vanilla pudding (or something very similar) and topped with fruit salad. It was very good, and I tucked away the memory. I found a similar recipe in a Cooking Light cookbook, but adapted it and came up with this:

Party Pavlovas

Meringue Base:
6 Egg whites
1/4 tsp. cream of tartar
1/2 tsp. almond extract
1 and 1/3 cups of sugar
Optional: toasted coconut, pinch of salt

Beat the eggs and cream of tartar at high speed until foamy. Then add the extract, and the sugar a little at a time. Beat until stiff peaks form. Cover baking sheets with parchment paper. Form meringue into little nests or cups (you could do them however you prefer). Bake in a 250 degree oven for 1 hour. Turn off heat and leave in oven with door closed for at least 4 hours (or overnight).

Custardy Filling:
1 8 oz container light cream cheese, softened
1 cup sugar
2 cups whipping cream
1 cup vanilla (or plain) yogurt
1 tsp. vanilla extract

Beat ingredients in mixer until well blended. Add whipping cream a bit at a time until mixture is thick and creamy. Refrigerate until ready to use.

Topping:
6-8 cups of cut up fruit (I used peaches, strawberries, raspberries, blueberries)
Lemon or lime juice (to keep fruit looking nice)
(Optional: sugar to juice up the fruit if you like it extra juicy; dried cherries would be delicious; Mint would be wonderful)

When you are ready to celebrate, you simply fill your meringue nest with the custardy filling and then top with fruit mixture. This is so yummy and really not very hard at all.

Slavery at Home

I read some great thoughts by Elisabeth Elliot this morning. She takes my mean, rough thinking and states it elegantly and clearly. I have been doing the humble work lately: washing dishes, changing wet sheets, nursing, scrubbing the floor, etc. When I do these chores as acts of service (slavery) because of my love for the Lord, somehow they are transformed (or I am!). E.E.'s whole thought on this was meaningful, but here is the crux, her prayer and mine:

"Lord, break the chains that hold me to myself; free me to be your happy slave--that is, to be the happy foot-washer of anyone today who needs his feet washed, his supper cooked, his faults overlooked, his work commended, his failure forgiven, his griefs consoled, or his button sewed on. Let me not imagine that my love for You is very great if I am unwilling to do for a human being something very small."