Dx: Fractured

Don't let Mr. Serious fool you. He's feeling fine. As fine as you can be with a broken arm. He says his arm doesn't hurt right now, and he using it to scroll around on some computer games as I type.

Interesting tidbit: attached to his broken arm is his beloved sucking thumb. With the right cast, we may have stumbled upon a thumb-sucking intervention program. (Is that mean?)

I do, really, feel bad that his arm has been broken for three days. But even the doctor was shocked at Seth's lack of pain...or his super-hero level of pain tolerance. Not sure which. He was laughing and smiling and teasing. I can't hang on to guilt too tightly.

What I Did Today: Play By Play

3:36 a.m. I awoke to a feverish nine-year old tunneling under our comforter from the foot of the bed to the pillow end. He used to do this--as stealthily as possible--as a toddler. I knew something was up, and my Sherlock senses were affirmed when he proceeded to unstealthily leap out of my bed to puke.

6:04 a.m. Gabe finally appeared to sleeping peacefully, this time on the couch with a puke bowl at his side, and I shuffled back to bed.

6:05 until 9:08 a.m. Assylum-worthy dreams reeled through their crickety film projector behind my eyes, one after another. I would have rested better not falling asleep.

9:10 a.m. I prayed a blessing on Rob for leaving me with some coffee, just enough to give me the clarity to brew another pot. Function level: minimum.

9:20 until 11:00 a.m. I turned off the cartoons that kept the kids occupied while I slept in (don't judge!) and got everybody breakfasted and dressed and started with school. Gabe still felt sick, but he listened to a couple of books on tape as he sprawled on the couch. I rebooted the laundry. Showered. Made the bed. Pulled leftover Mexican Turkey Soup out of the fridge for lunch, except that it is too spicy for anyone but Rob and me, so the kids would just have to have pb&j. Old faithful.

11:00 a.m. until about noon: Rob came home for lunch, at his usual time, and enjoyed his warmed up Mexican Turkey Soup, with fresh avocado and cilantro with me. It was fab. (There is a whole stockpot-ful to share; come on over. You'll have to BYOA, though, because we finished up the last avocado today.) Oh, and Rob, upon finishing his soup, took a look at Lily's 2nd loose tooth, and persuaded her to let me pull it out. Pop, out it came with barely a tug.

And before I forget...AGAIN...I'll be right back. I need to make sure the Tooth Angel (Lily says fairies aren't real and therefore it's the Tooth Angel that brings her a dollar) has come. Sit tight...

As it turns out, she just came. Whew, won't Lily be so excited that she wasn't among the last on the Tooth Angel's rounds this time. The Tooth Angel made it here before breakfast, before the very regretful and guilty looking momma finds Lily in her bed sadly holding her tooth instead of a new dollar. Before the momma must assure her that sometimes the Tooth Angel runs a little late and that she should check again after she eats her oatmeal.

Noon until, oh, I can't even remember: Read to Seth and Lily, American history: our freedoms and our country's symbols. And we practiced saying the Pledge of Allegiance. We don't say it every day here, and I realized that my little ones didn't know it. Well, we'll fix that. Then they went off to work on something fun in the back yard, and I decided to melt some old candles and fill up some jars and votives with the melted wax. Surprisingly, I had a stash of wicks for just this purpose. I've probably had these candle wicks for seven or eight years. I can't even remember where or when I got them. They came out of a box that I just recently happened upon. I've never used them before today. Most days, I have no idea why I've hung onto something...and I'm a big sucker for anything crafty that I might be able to craft into something else crafty...but today, I'm glad I didn't give away the wicks, because look what I made:

And what else? Oh, then I made dinner. (Lumpia rolls, fried potatoes and salad.) I worked off the lumpia with a two-mile jog in the dark, my first since the race; I felt pretty good. I showered--again--and then watched Chuck with the hubs. And now we circle back around to where I am, on the couch with my little netbook, updating my blog.

Hasn't my day been exciting? This is actually the only day this week that I don't have errands to run, and that reminds me, I need to either renew my library books online tonight or turn them in to the library in the morning before it opens to avoid a hefty fine.

Tomorrow will begin, hopefully not with puking, but indeed with a call to the doctor and here's why: Saturday, Seth fell down outside of the chapel and landed on his arm or wrist. He bawled, and he's tough kid. He has a very large bump on his bone, and though he doesn't complain of pain when he moves it throughout his day (and he seems to have full motion) he can't climb up his bunk bed ladder, and he can't hold anything, and he winces when the big bump is touched. The bump has not gotten any smaller since Saturday. We were hoping it was just a goose egg, but now doubts are creeping in. Time to call in the experts.. I will feel A.W.F.U.L. if it turns out to be broken.

And if Gabe is still feeling miserable (his fever never fully broke all day and he ate very little) then we might as well make it a family trip to the doctor.

Add to that tomorrow: speech therapy, children's choir practice, adult choir practice, and Christmas program practice. (In addition to more laundry, more schooling, more meal prep.)

It's going to be a two-pot coffee day, I can tell!

All of this day, all of tomorrow, all of the next day, I'm giving to God. It's His. What a relief that it's not about me, because of me, for me or to me. In that, I can find shiny nuggets of joy and peace, because they are there, let me tell you.

Get your sifter out and shake away the sand and grit and find yours, too.

The 2010 Halloween Reveal

Dress-up

Dress-up is serious business at my house.

Christmas 2003, Caleb--4, Gabe--2 1/2

It started early on.

Dowagiac, MI, September 2004

Caleb, tenderly aged five, played the part of a little orphan boy our town's reenactment of the Orphan Train Riders, which made its first stop in Dowagiac, MI in 1854. Caleb had one line, "Do you think I could go, too, sir?" He was so dang cute, and even now, I'm haunted by his little voice squeaking that haunting line, and I hear the phantom voices of the thousands of children who needed families. Most of the children who rode the Orphan Train were never adopted.

Christmas Parade of Lights float, Dowagiac, MI 2004

(Please forgive the poor quality of this photo: poorest of lighting and crappy camera. I'm surprised it turned out as well as it did!)

Seth's first role in a play. His role at two months of age? Baby Jesus. Please disregard Mary's out-of-character black gloves. She wasn't prepared for how bitterly cold it is atop a flatbed trailer on a windy, Michigan evening. (BTW, our tiny church's simple float won the Chamber of Commerce award for best float. I sincerely believe it was because of the little red face sticking out of the swaddling clothes. Good job, Seth!)

March 2007, Gabriel's 6th birthday party (Couldn't you just drown in the chocolate pools of his eyes?)

Autumn 2006...maybe.

Lily turns three...so December 2006

And I know she is in a princess dress in this photo, but for the most part, she has always been happiest dressing up in bizarre layers of gloves and armbands and belts and headbands.

Michigan, 2006

These two cuties. Scrumptious, I tell you. How did they grow soooo fast? I thought those days were lasting forevah, and than zip. They were just gone.

And sometimes, it's still fun to play dress up.

Corpus Christi, TX, 2010

All dressed up for the Navy Ball.

And none of these photos are from Halloween. So you can imagine the excitement as we get ready for a time when they are not the only kids in the neighborhood dressed up. What are their disguises this year, you may ask? Well, you'll have to stay tuned until after this weekend!

Wisdom

"Give us wisdom."

Recently, as our family prayed around the dinner table, three of the kids made this request of God. My heart flooded with love for these precious gems of mine who felt prompted to pray for wisdom before digging into dinner. I don't think they prayed for wisdom because school was a little hard that day, or because they wanted to impress Mom and Dad with grown-up sounding prayers.

They prayed sweetly and earnestly. And God spoke to me through their prayers. At once He reminded me of this precious promise found in James 1:5:

"If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him."

I lack wisdom. I surely do. And I need to be like my kids, and remember to ask for it before the crisis hits, throughout the common parts of the day--like dinnertime.

Lord, I lack wisdom, and because I know that you are generous, I ask for You to bless me with wisdom. I also ask for godly wisdom for every precious soul reading this today. Give us the knowledge of God in Christ and protect us from depravity of mind. Amen.

The Back-to-School Post, And It's as Wordy as the School Day is Long

School's been going on strong from my four little scholars for the past three weeks.

This is the first year in six years of homeschooling that we "officially" started school before Labor Day. What was the difference this year? I don't know. Often the seat of my pants flies before me, and I just follow along.

Actually, the local public schools started on the 23rd, two of our close homeschooling family friends decided to start up, and it's just too bloomin' hot here right now to do much else.

I don't have any cute pictures of them climbing on the bus or dressed up with their oversized backpacks and squeaky new shoes.

But perhaps a few candids from inside our classroom might stir-up some nostalgic back-to-school feelings.

So this is what it looked like in front of my chair for the three weeks prior to school:

Every year our school changes flavor a little bit to match our family. Or because something we did last year didn't quite work, or because one kid has this weakness, or because another kid as that strength. Or because our family has this schedule. Homeschool brings new, glorious meaning to the Individualized Education that public school routinely fails to deliver. It's hard enough in my class with one teacher and four kids, absolutely impossible with one teacher and 30 kids. This is not to say that every family should homeschool their kids. This is what God has asked us to do at this time, and we humbly and prayerfully accept the monumental task of laying a rock solid spiritual and academic foundation for our precious kids so that they can be the best at who God created them to be. I am NOT critical of those families who choose to the public education system for their families. My husband and I are both products of the public school system, and we're okay...sometimes!

This is the first year that all four kids are doing school together at the same time, Seth in Kindergarten, Lily in first grade, Gabe in fourth and Caleb in fifth. In case you're wondering, we use the classical approach, with a large smattering of Charlotte Mason thrown in for fun. (Well, I think it's fun anyway.)

And back to the tour. Here's our main classroom, with students:

I would LOVE to have a school room, but for now, the dining room table is it. I do love seeing all four kids hard at work, together. Our dining room has ditched the normal dining-roomness, and has become the backdrop for this:

and this:

and this:

and this:

(which is our verictal timeline of the Medieval Age using the AMAZING resources found on the yahoo group Hannah's Homeschool Helps . Love her stuff, which correlates perfectly with the history component we are using.)

And in our classroom, you will see a whole lotta this:

Who knew our dining room could hold so much stuff? There is a downside to this arrangement. Do I have any volunteers to be my classroom aid who cleans up the dining room each afternoon so that we can use it for dinner? Anyone? Anyone?

Seth's very first day of Kindergarten:

What a cute little student he is! And I couldn't resist one picture of his busy feet, momentarily stilled in study:

Let the awwwwwww's commence.

And because our week is filled with appointments for speech therapy and doctor's visits...mostly for Lily, we're gettin' pretty good at schoolin' on the go.

In the car:

and various waiting rooms:

This is only a sampling of our school, and a small one, though if you've made it this far in today's post, you may be shaking your head in disagreement.

But really, my favorite classroom exists outside these four walls.

Take the ocean. We are blessed to be live ten minutes from the Gulf of Mexico. You can read stories and poems and articles about the ocean. You can watch documentaries about it on the Discovery Channel. But a week of reading and watching will not give you nearly as many clear lessons as standing on the sandy shore and feeling the cool water lap your ankles and the waves steal away the sand right from beneath your feet. And in what book can you taste the salt from the water and hear the rhythm of the waves as they stir up wonder and awe along with sand and hermit crabs. Can you imagine Jesus walking right on top of those waves? And then commanding them to be still...and they obeyed? God is...BIG. And He cares for you and me. And he has orchestrated the details of history and created order and beauty. That's worth spending a lifetime studying.

And I hope to plant those seeds of wonder and love of learning in my kids hearts that they can take with them far into childhood and adulthood so that they will never stop learning and loving the God who created it all.

So that's our school. For now. Time to prepare lessons for tomorrow...

Waving 'Bye to Summer

I took a bit of a bloggy break, but I'm back. I think. I'm sure all three of my readers (I'm counting my mom twice) will appreciate that.

Well, Labor Day has come. Labor Day has gone. Gabe woke up yesterday morning and chirped, "Happy Labor Day, Mom! And I'm the only one who remembered." Meaning, no one else in the family burst forth with the greeting. I'm sure he hoped there would be some kind of gift exchange, but he contented himself with enjoying a day without formal schooling. (In a house of learning, I hesitate to say we had no school, because I firmly believe that much meaningful learning happens way outside the confines of curricula and lesson plans. But that is another blog for another day.)

The kids have been memorizing a Bible verse each week, a verse to correspond with each of our 26 alphabet bits. Maybe the ABC mnemonic will help us to keep those precious jewels from God's Word hidden in our hearts for good.

This week, C is for: "Come to me, you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Matthew 11:28." What a perfect, wonderful promise for the week of Labor Day.

So Happy Labor Day! And God's promise of rest is His Labor Day gift to you.

Onto our summer farewell.

We've summered til we just can't summer no mo'.

Except that summer just won't go away here in South Texas.

At least not when I think I need it to.

Don't get me wrong.

We summered good.

And hard.

But all good summering...

...must come to an end.

Bon voyage, Texas Summertime. You were a hottie. I've said my good-byes. I'm going to ignore you now and pretend you're not still here overstaying your welcome.

But I do like that you rub shoulders with winter on your way out of town and tame his blustery heart with your Texan warmth and charm. You can keep on doing that.

Cloudy Day

I'm not usually one to dwell on challenges and depressions, especially ones that are spiritual or personal. I don't like to air dirty laundry. Writing that sentence on this spring day in South Texas does make me desperately miss my clothesline in Michigan and the fragrance of freshly laundered and country-air-dried sheets. Ahh.

Oh, back to what I was talking about. Dirty laundry. Physical evidence of the day's/week's/month's toil. Oh, look, she had pasta again, I can see the marinara spot on her white shirt. Hasn't she had enough pasta? I mean, does she know how many carbs are in a plate of penne? This is all figurative of course. (And I did make a YUMMY whole wheat baked penne this week, with chicken, zucchini, red pepper, onions and garlic, but that's clearly an aside.) Oh, she's been grumpy with her kids? Feels distant from her husband? Lacking in her prayer life? Trouble sticking to her Lent fast? The chaplain's wife?! Dirty laundry indeed.

I don't like to only write about lollipop and cotton-candy kind of days. It may seem that way, because, when the days are hard and my heart is heavier than usual, I tend to slip away into an introspective grey cloud and try to figure out how to get that spot of marinara out by myself.

I don't often call friends when I'm having a rough day. I don't usually want to talk about it. I withdraw. I hope it doesn't come off as snobbery and snootery. I just want to wait until the sun comes back out and I'm feeling better, and then maybe I'll talk about it in past tense. "Oh, man, last week was rough. But I'm doing great now!" It's a character flaw, perhaps, that I close up and slip away into my own cloudy corner during the stormy times. Oh, if you've got a problem or need something, I'm there, baby. I'm really good at avoiding the conversation about me.

And I don't know how to change that. There's the dirty laundry for today.

I'm sure there'll be more tomorrow, but maybe I'll secretly tuck it into the hamper.

So today I'm waiting for the wind to blow away these clouds. God has lessons for me in the series of disappointments and mini-rejections that have piled up and made a nuisance of themselves.

I'm reminded of God's constant love and acceptance and pursuit of me. I'm so glad He knows I need those things from Him. And He never fails to deliver. He doesn't wait for me to come through the cloud, though; He won't let me slip into aloneness for even one minute.

Today, we celebrate Palm Sunday, the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem, the "city of peace." In Sunday School, the kids and I read aloud Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem from each of the Gospel accounts. Luke's account in chapter 19 included a few details left out of the other three. When the people began shouting, "Hosanna! Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!" the grumpy ol' Pharisees commanded Jesus to rebuke them. Jesus said, "I tell you the truth, if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out." He is the true King, and he WILL be praised. I remember one song from church camp...I think I learned it as a counselor, not a camper:

"Ain't no rock

Gonna sing in my place.

As long I'm alive

I'll glorify

His holy name. "

That song is running on repeat through my head now.

Another detail that Luke captures for us:

As he approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it and said, "If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace--but now it is hidden from your eyes. The days will come upon you when your enemies will build an embankment against you and encircle you and hem you in on every side. They will dash you to the ground, you and the children within your walls. They will not leave one stone on another, because you did not recognize the time of the God's coming to you."

I don't know about you, but I want to know now what will bring me peace. I don't want to know later, after the time for finding peace has already passed, ya know? This prophecy from Jesus was fulfilled in A.D 70 when Rome besieged Jerusalem, using the layout of the land against it, but I also know that for us TODAY is the day of Salvation.

This isn't the first time Jesus was heart-broken over the lost city of Jerusalem. A few chapters earlier in 13:

O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing!"

So tender and beautiful is Jesus love for this people who would shortly after torture and kill him and refuse to accept His gift of salvation.

So tender and beautiful now is his love for you and for me.

That alone is enough to make these peevish clouds small and manageable.

Hosanna in the highest!

Beauty

"Beauty is visual but also exists in sounds, scents, tastes and touch." (Etched on a wooden sign at the South Texas Botanical Gardens.)

We journeyed in search of beauty,

vibrant color,

signs of spring

and new life.

We found it, God's gentle breath of life in the wonder of His creation

as we gazed and marveled at colors found only in flowers and dreams

and touched baby soft petals

and inhaled crisp air dampened by rain and made rich by earthy spring.

If this is only a shadow of the beauty found in Heaven, what glorious treasures await us there!