Trailblazin'!! (yeah. right.)

It was absolutely GORGEOUS outside today. Therefore, I made a spontaneous executive decision that we'd do all of our corporate reading under the big blue canopy of sky.

As I contemplated the trampoline as our destination, my brain kicked into high gear. Suddenly, we were going hiking, picnicing AND reading on a local National Forest Trail. I had a quaint little bridge crossing the creek, under the pines in mind for our luncheon engagement with nature. [Note this stunning shot I took, evidence of my happy little plan:]




Hmm. My happy, brilliant plan, while not foiled, certainly took us on an unexpected adventure! Since the hurricane, the trails have been under clean-up, and have therefore been cordoned off ~ and new ones opened. Our little bridge was off limits, so we chose a spot, dusted away the pine straw, and there enjoyed our sandwiches and readers.

Afterwards, in a burst of energy, we decided to follow an unknown fork for a bit, to see if our hunch that it would lead us back to the starting point was correct. A good half mile into the jaunt, we could hear the highway. This kept us moving forward.

Well, we found the highway allright . . .

Half a mile south of our vehicle, and right beside the main artery that runs the full length of the state! We were suddenly eye candy for every car, truck and semi that passed by at lightening fast speed. Israel decided it was time to document!

Can you imagine, seeing a woman, baby in sling, bag over her shoulder, traipsing down the road with two children?? Egads! What a sight! I hope the gawkers don't run off the road into us!

Aubrey was more than willing to present herself as roadkill. That, or hitch a ride on the back of the next '57 Chevy that passed by.

Fortunately for all, we were not run down by some speeding motorist. Aubrey's flip flops did not break under the strain of hillside walking. Keller was none the worse for wear , (okay,so he had NO idea anything at all was going on . . .he was napping!), and Israel chronicled the whole debacle for the benefit of the blogosphere. Or his latest cinemetography phase. Whichever you prefer.

:)

A Cryptic Message To Beth S (or) A Smother-Mother's Worst Fear

At which moment [smother moms] would you feel your most intense anxiety? Hmmmmmmm?

At lift off?


What about during the long jump?

Are the tree branches just a *wee bit* too close for comfort??

Allow me to ease your troubled mind. I grant a smidgen of perspective for you:

The safety net is properly in place . . .

And the stunt-boy skilled at his trade . . .

Not to mention all boy. Didja take a look at those FEET? Egads!

So how 'bout it? Can your son come over and play?!? Huh? Can he? Please??!?

Wordless Wednesday: Vertically Inclined

My New Favorite

Picture, that is!

Capturing Keeton smiling at his newfound skill of holding his head up for lengths of time melts my heart. He's too cute for words!

Leaving

teeth brushed.

hair coifed.

dressed.

gas tank filled.

cell phone charged.

hugged.
kissed.

loved.

Schoolie

She had completely caught me off guard, as the torrent of details and plans, ideas and visions for the future for the next year unfolded.

I stood in the kitchen, reeling from the impact, unable to say much of anything coherent.

She inquired as my eyes filled with tears once, twice, three and again, four times. Did I feel disappointment in her decisions?

No, I declared, simply awash with the emotional weight that a Momma might feel when she loves her children.

I was stunned, and the next hour was a blur of robotic movements that put supper on the table. I did not fully understand why all of this information seemed so deep, and sought to sadden me, when, just as suddenly as the torrent that began the decline began, she made the statement that put the scales in balance.

"How are classes going, Bethany?" the question was posed from around the table, a gaggle of folks keenly interested in this world traveller sought to know.

"Oh great. I have to read so much to keep up, it seems that all I do is read. But that's okay. I love to read!"

The words travelled in slow motion to my ears, and time stood still. This time, as my eyes filled with tears, the tears spilled over the rim in abandon.

I love to read!

In an instant, years and years of memories flooded my being. I watched as a little brunette girl left the first grade unable to read.

A third, fourth and fifth grade girl struggle with her education.

Testing, and more testing, seeking to find an answer as to why she grappled with her school work so brought no answers.

And then, in her sophomore year, all of her coping mechanisms came crashing down. No longer could she hide the failure to thrive in an academic setting.

It was then that I took her to Sylvan Learning Center, where finally, answers came. The 'whole language' method that had been put on trial in the public schools the year Bethany entered had scarred her deeply. As a 16 year old sophomore, she could only read at third grade level. Third grade. And she hated to read.

So began the remediation.

Hours of Sylvan at an accelerated pace, plus a new academic plan gave her the opportunity to graduate with her head held high . . .and reading at grade level.

Yet I had never heard her utter the words, "I love to read.", let alone return to a place of continued education. And here she was.

My baby girl, all grown up, succeeding, reading, and loving every moment of it.

My Momma's heart simply could not take any more that night.

Through the tears of joy, we all rejoiced, knowing we were in the presence of a completed journey ~ a journey of heartache, challenges, and faith.

I post her journey here for you, because, obviously, you, too, love to read.

Pass it on.

When Silence Is Golden

Yet another moment of unusual note.

I'm an extrovert.

I become energized by hanging out with people, laughing, chatting, you name it. I've been surrounded by people for days.

Today, however, I am thrilled to be all. by. myself.

In the silence of my own thinking.
In the presence of my littlest boy, who does not talk back, nor demand unreasonable demands upon me.
Comfortable in my own skin, and wildly willing to do nothing.
Except bask.
And renew.

[Jesus] saith unto the disciples, Sit ye here, while I go and pray yonder. Matthew 26:36

Unusually Thankful

I'm not one to whine or complain, really.

Especially on holidays. (I've had some doozies.)

I'm rarely wrapped around the axle about the content and presentation of the day.

This year, however, I am weary. Anticipation, displaced by an unusual docket of familial issues, saps my emotional energy.

The day, drawing to a close, quietly receeds, leaving me contemplative. Prayerful.

I find it unusual.

But I'm no less thankful.

And in like manner the Spirit also helpeth our infirmity: for we know not how to pray as we ought; but the Spirit himself 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. Romans 8:26-27

Wordless Wednesday: Discovery

When Your Son Owns A Camera . . .

you never know what you might find. :)

What was THIS all about?? Yikes!
Ummm . . .do I detect a PICTURE PUSHER??? Hhmmmm?
And, uh . . . I don't know what to say:
Egads! WHAT is THIS one all about??? Did Dell just say something? DO something?
And, of course, it is VITALLY important to capture, forever on film, the Transformer-slash-Military Transport Vehicle:
Ah. Perspective on life through the yes of a thirteen year old boy.

"Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little
children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven."

Matthew 18:3

The Do-It-Yourself-Double-Self-Portrait Problem

There is an uncanny phenomena which occurs when one is doing self-portraiture with another. Gone unnoticed by most, it is my observation that said such activity results in one photographee reveling in the spotlight to the detriment of the partner. I define this activity as picture pushing. Please note a visual of this phenomena below:

Case in point. Girlfriend is enjoying the spotlight a wee bit too much. However, not one to be of a shy disposition, she demands more:

Yep. There it was. The picture push. In my studies of the subject, I've found that the picture push usually follows the first failed attempt to obtain a priceless and foolproof photo from the camera. When attempt number one [two, three, and four, while producing peals of laughter and occassional (ahem) wet pants] goes down the drain, the dominant photographee pushes his or her way into the spotlight even more aggressively!

Need proof? Here's more:

A pleasantly quaint Double Self-Portrait, which might have been a keeper, had Photographee #1 not flattened Photographee #2's hair against her head.

A retake was in order.

In this picture, note the sudden agressiveness of Photographee #1 to take the spotlight:

There! There it was! The picture push! I'm telling you, it's an epidemic!

Further into my research, I found that the education of Picture Pushers begins at an early age. Note my clandestine capture of the brainwashing of one such minature individual:

The earlier the Picture Pushers prosthelytize, the better. . . Once in awhile, however, a bona-fide Picture Pusher will find herself in the company of one who hasn't been trained in the art.

Again, my clandestine picture taking manuevers were at work. Here, I captured the indoctrination of an elder:

"Are you ready, Grandpa? This is tricky. You'll have to pay close attention!"

"MMmmm, almost . . . but you've still got to master a bit of technique yet. Your form will improve as you practice. By the way . . .that's a great hug!"

"Ah, what the heck . . .I don't mind sharing the spotlight with you . . ."

Hmm. It would appear that picture pushing has just met its' match. :)

YooHOO! Oh Gil!

You're Just What I Needed! I needed someone to feed . . .

Let's Hear It For: SOOOP-er Gram!!!

"Ladies and Gentlemen:

It is with great excitement that we bring you this very special
news announcement: Gram has been OFFICIALLY initiated and indoctrinated to the world of taking care of TWO [count 'em] TWO babies at once!! Passing the exam with flying colors, we now go to our on site news reporter for a close up look at this AMAZING accomplishment:"

Here she is with Baby #1 (the hefty 3 month old, 14 pound Keeton, aka Moose) in the sling, which began as an attempt to keep him settled whilst she prepared his [off site because Momma's not around] meal. In the middle of this activity, however, Baby #2 (the petite 6 week old, 9 pound Keller, aka Mouse) decided it was a wonderful time to relocate his most recent meal to the baby bouncer. Therefore, a bath was decidely (and most trickily) in order:

(Crowd goes wild in the stands, as Baby #2 lands IN the bath water)

Nonetheworseforwear, nor unscathed, SuperGram exits said such bath debacle with nary a scratch! As a matter of fact, those Babes in GramLand are looking quite happy and content!

{camera pans back to original announcer . . .}

"Yes, folks . . .it is indeed an historic day in GramLand. Please
leave your accolades in comment form. Gram needs all the kudos she can get. Until next time . . . ."

Wordless Wednesday: Driving, now.

To Have Or To Know?

And all thy children shall be taught of the LORD;

and great shall be the peace of thy children.

Isaiah 54:13

Mary Grace made observation the other day about an educational system that only acknowledges textbook learning and rigorous academic schedules. There is need for more. She was speaking of that intrinsic learning that comes from experiential knowledge; the act and state of 'being' and doing.

I responded in kind, I agree. As I penned that note, Aubrey was engaged in a noble endeavor that was not penciled into the schedule: childcare for a special needs girl whose Momma had just passed away. The family, mere aquaintances, are members of our local community. It seemed most right and fitting that she take up this task and team with our Family Life Plan: to be Distribution Center for the Kingdom of God.

It was equally simple yesterday as well, when, halfway through our classtime, the phone rang. This time, a close friend in need. Was Aubrey available for the afternoon? Her request also childcare. Her newborn son, in ICU for 2.5 months so far was undergoing a new round of testing, and the Momma wished to be present.

While Aubrey was sent on these errands of sorts, Israel took up her family duties here at the house. When I exited the bedroom post shower, the entire house was tidied-up to the end of sparkling.

By the time evening fell, I had driven an hour to pick up Aubrey, to relieve the ICU-burdened family of further drive time after a grueling day; taken several phone calls that built up and edified the caller; and cooked supper while Gil was on the phone praying with a friend.

The demonstration and action of moral character and acts of service to others ~ is it not educational? Where in today's [current] society will such values be taught, if they are not taught in the home? How can these traits be groomed if one is only shown textbooks and rigored pursuits?

I am in full agreement that education includes persistent study, logical perusal of subjects beyond one's sphere of influence. But what brings about a sense of direction? A compassed path of peace?

A well-rounded experience that considers others is a critical, and basic ingredient.

After all, it is much better to give than to receive . . .

Oh, And One More Thing . . .

I've done it.

Created a prosthlyte.

A disciple. A follower. A groupie. A junkie.

Jodi is hooked.

Yep.

She's been branded by the Pioneer Woman.

Sunshyne sowed the seed into me months ago. The harvest has come. Now, I'm simply carrying on the indulgence.

Ree, if you're reading, I've completed my task. Accomplished the mission.

Can I pre-read the next installment as a reward??? Puh-leaassseee???

Tsk. Tsk. I've Been Remiss . . .

To mention any word of how the DellDog is currently coping with any of this new baby business.

As you will recall, Dell had quite the emotional upheaval when Keller arrived, and he stuck like glue to Gramma Val's side.

I'm happy to report that his gloom and Dell-spair seems to have subsided, and he is now living large in the big house, happy as a clam to be enjoying these new-found freedoms:

• Regular overnight stays in Israel's room, sans the crate.
• Frequent trips out-of-doors to enjoy a playful romp sans leash.
• Several evenings of gourmet fixin's: i.e. canned [read moist!] dog food (of course it was laced with his six month wormer, but shhhh! don't tell!)
• An overall renewed sense of belonging and placement in his pack . . .er, I mean family!

As you can see, membership has its' priviledges.

The moral of this post? Don't be fooled by the longing look of sadness in those eyes.

It's a ruse.

The DellDog is dell-iriously happy with his lot in life.

Keller Smiles

My newest son would appear to have not obtained any of my physical characteristics. He is his Daddy's boy.

Yet I could not help being humored this morning, as I saw that Gil had uploaded Keller's first smile on YouTube. He entitled the video "Keller Smiles". I don't think Gil was thinking much about the inherent detail imbedded in such a post.

Indeed, Gil named his Flickr account GilSilvers. A quick, decisive move on his part one day that is both a noun and a sentence. Acompletely uncalculated, yet undeniably true statement of his distinguished look, accentuated by his grey hair that increases as he ages.

I was so enamored of his quick verbal prowess, that I responded in kind: AngiSmiles. This time, a sentence denoting a distinguishing character trait of mine.

Ah. So, there it is.

Finally, my likeness in Keller's being.

Keller Smiles.

Smile away, son.

You look like your Momma.

:)

Monkeyin' Around

Keeton has this crazy monkey that laughs wildly when you squeeze its' foot. When Tiffany arrived last night, Keet was anything but humored. As a matter of fact, I've never seen him so upset that the capillaries around his eyes turn red, so as to create a mask; nor to hear him sobbing, like a girl in a Lifetime drama. Sheesh! Gram has The Touch, tho, and soon he was taking in his surroundings, and, albeit sheepishly, interacting with the rest of us on a Saturday night.

So, we played Babies.


I held Keeton, Tiffany held Keller, Aubrey and Israel buzzed about. There was a cacophony of sound that reverberated in our home ~ every once in awhile accentuated by the sound of this crazy monkey cackling in the mix of it all . . .

It was the type of evening wherein the events might be forgotten, but the sense of belonging and security run deep into your being, never to be erased.

For all the monkey business going on, this gang's for real.

Tea-sing The Tastebuds

My earliest memories consist of cold winter mornings, peanut butter toast and hot tea. Mom never failed to make sure the warm, delicious beverage was made available after a romp in the snow, or if my sister and I were under the weather. Hot Tea was the staple 'feel good' drink. It ministered to more than just the body ~ it spoke cheer and love to our soul.

Tea is vital to our well-being even today. I've passed the tradition on to my children; not many evenings go by without the tea kettle being fired up, and several cups brewed.

We're fascinated with the variety and flavors that each blend brings. Orange Pekoe and Black teas; Greens and Whites; Flavored and Decaf . . . Yes, our pantry looks like a Who's Who list among the Tea Elite. Yet in a day wherein the medical community is touting this benefit and that ~ they fail to see what we already know. The homefires burn brighter with a cup of tea and a loved one to share it.

The benefit of heart that cannot be erased.

Thanks, Mom. :)

The Photo Shoot, Part 2: Feline Fetish

Aubrey and Israel did not stick to one subject matter whilst they had the camera. Nope. I'm fairly certain Aubrey coerced Israel to take pictures of her favorite subject: her cats! Mr. Blue Eyes, known around here as Glider, is all about the fame and fortune. Just like the Breck Girl. Notice how he's edged his way to the FRONT of the picture space! :)

Of course, every gal must get her beauty sleep, and be assured of a sunny glow! Skittles is no exeption. She's caught here taking in a few rays, in her fave tanning bed. However, we really must speak to her about her waistline. Seems she is taking in a few extra calories between photography sessions:

See her lickin' her chops? I wonder if it was the champagne or the caviar she found so delicious??

The Photo Shoot

It was quite apparent when I downloaded pictures from my camera that the kids had absconded with the device of thier own accord.

Evidently they were in cahoots to produce photos worthy of capturing the eye of some producer of something, somewhere, and thereby create an income stream for themselves.

For instance, this photo of the ruggedly handsome son of mine, Israel, could easily parlay him into stardom with a tagline such as: "Tough. Ford Tough." The only problem is, that's a Chevy truck behind him. I think a better idea would be to toss an orange vest over his sweatshirt, and photograph him as a son, deer hunting with his father. (Not that his father does that sort of thing, mind you.)
















Then, there is Aubrey. I'm not quite sure which company she had in mind when Israel took this shot, but I suppose we *could* ressurect the Breck Girl.

Hmmm. Maybe a more realistic offer could come from the makers of duck blinds. Er, no, I mean deer stands. Hunters everywhere would flock to retailers, just to catch a glimpse of the DeerStandGirl.

Thier creativity did not end there, I'm here to tell ya. No sooner did I scroll through portrait after portrait, than I found a very interesting photo. One which has it's own intrinsic draw and value:


Ah. Herein we see the artist aplomb to his canvas. The poet imbedded in his muse.
The . . .well, you get the point.

Some folks will do anything for a buck.

:)

My Favorite Sister.

Well, Ok. She's my ONLY sister . . .and I love her.

She arrived on the scene when I turned 7 or thereabouts. I still remember hanging over the back seat of the car, peering into the little bundle of joy in Mom's lap as Dad drove us home from the hospital.

She never fails to amaze me. A perfect blend of Mom and Dad (with an ecclectic mix of Ryan and life experiences tossed in for good measure) create the warm compote of dry wit and quiet innuendos that compose her personna.

See her smiling? She's a pretty happy sort. Especially when it's her birthday. Which it is today.

Even thirty-five years later, I'd gladly hang over the edge of the back seat, for the opportunity to hang with you and celebrate! Happy Birthday, Val!

Sleep

overrated.

understated.

highly anticipated.

Must. get. some.

:)

The Phone Rang,

and it was Bethany. She was far from home, persuing her Spirit-led initiative to become a schoolie. Quite possibly for the first time in her life.

I listened to the cadence of her speech; the delicate candor of her varied emotions.

I felt torn. I wanted to escape to a deep, heartfelt conversation with her, yet I found myself distracted by a fussing baby, and teens bantering in the background. A quiet interlude was nowhere to be found. Hanging up the line, less than satisfied, I hungered to spend time with her.

Hours later, in the stillness of the evening hours, I sat reading in the corner, a cup of tea by my side. Unprepared, I turned yet another page, to read another snippit, a window into the life of a woman who utilizes words like a skillful artist brushes a canvas with oils.

The hot tears stung as the final words echoed off the page:

I've been so remiss about calling and dropping by that when I hugged my mother the other day, I burst into tears. With her arms around me, she said, "Not a day goes by that I don't think of you. I love you. And whether you call or don't call doesnt' change that love one bit." She didn't even get choked up saying it.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a flood of memories crossed the threshold of that fact. How many times have I been remiss about calling home? Forgetting to say I love you? How ingrained have the habits become, that I would allow time to slip by unnoticed, not acknowledged . . .a love felt but not expressed ~

How Old Are You?

So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom. Psalm 90:12

The concept of time can be so mindblowing.

Last night, Gil and I were delighting in our newest addition, Keller. Where has the month gone? Indeed, our little boy is one month old.

In the quiet pondering of that reality, Gil suddenly began spouting mathmatical factoids. (A common ocurrence, one I usually field with a grain of salt and a whole lot of patience.) But this particular equation resounded within me, in a way that math rarely has the power and ability to do.

You see, little Keller is one month old, a milestone in his development. Yet Gil is an astounding 568 months old.

A whole new spin on the concept of turning 47.

Why does the thought of age suddenly sound fleeting when put in context of months, rather than years? Life truly is a vapor, a window of time that pales in comparision to the reality of eternity.

What developmental milestones come with crossing the waymarkers of age? Twelve months, 24 months, 100 months, 345 months, and so on. Have I truly generated the proper growth to match my age? Am I walking about in the fullness of all I could be; am capable of at my age? Without the wisdom of the Lord, one remains developmentally challenged; crippled even.

Yes, Lord. Teach us to number our days. Cause us to seek after You. Your wisdom is peaceable, gentle, easy to be entreated. In Wisdoms' right hand is length of days. May our days be spent in recognizing and understanding that You are the Giver of Life; that all we have and are belong to You.

Contemplative,

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven . . . Ecclesiastes 3:1