Category: More Slices of Life

……….is that blog entries so often need to be, or tend to be, past-tense or obscure sounding things so that others won’t think you’re writing about them. It’s truly a balancing act to not offend, to not reveal, to not be too secretive or too open or too candid or so vague that too much is read into what’s posted. Another thing is that, so often, when someone’s telling a story, there’s this vulnerability or fear that others might be all too ready to critique it on whatever merits they happen to be personally concerned with. Say… a grammarian: always critiquing style and grammatical errors. Very few bloggers have editors. Well, some do (and I’m painfully aware this one needs one!).

A reader might be easily offended bcz their ideal is challenged or misrepresented or discredited. Still another might be critical of the topic, or even of the blog author, for having the temerity to say the things he/she says. Believe me… sometimes it just is easy to spill it all out on the blog-room floor and that’s probably bcz there’s still this quasi anonymity that allows for such boldness. But then… there’s this harness that most bloggers wear. It’s the harness of propriety, confidentiality – mixed with a measure of protection and/or self preservation. Face it… we can’t all say all the stuff we want to say, we can’t all say whatever’s on our minds and we can’t all talk about some of the really deep things we face each day… and yet we blog. I don’t know why we do… and millions would likely say the very same things I’m saying here: it’s like we all hold the same coin there’s some innate need or burning desire to tell our stories — that’s on the one side of the coin. On the other is the stark reality that we all also demand privacy, anonymity and/or protection from those who would disagree, verbally assault or attempt to tear apart the story of our lives. I don’t know how many times I’ve read, in the past few years, some blog entry that somewhere states that the writer hopes no one she knows will read her blog. Or, that no one she knows reads her blog. What? I don’t think that’s possible. Not really.

I remember one of the most valuable lessons I’ve ever learned in my life happened as a result of involvement on an email list. And… one line I will never ever forget was this: “… on the internet. People can get anything they want on the internet.” How did you find that? Where did you read that? How do you know that? Where did you see that? On the internet. And yet we think we’ve got privacy… anonymity. But at the same time, almost in contradiction, I think with all this candor, people think they know a lot more about us than they really know. Bcz as much as we bloggers want to tell our stories, many of us, at the same time, remain very, very private about our lives. I know I do, in part, bcz too many people would/might/do misinterpret things they read. That, or they read too much into what’s written.
And then you know what? There’s this whole other angle to blogging… it’s the angle that we want to share what’s going on, or we’re motivated to share what’s going on in our life, bcz we like reading about what’s going on with other people. We want to know and we want to be known. An example of this is, just this morning I was browsing through Facebook, reading some old notes that then took me to other blogs/websites.

There are a few blogs that absolutely and completely warm my heart and encourage me like few other things. I don’t even know them… and yet, I sort of feel like I do. I mean really know them. And yet I don’t. It’s a blog after all. It’s pictures after all. But it’s their life—their pics tell their story… and their stories make me ‘feel’ like I ‘know’ them. Whatever it is… there are homes on the web where I just love to spend time… I love how I feel when I’m there and so wish I could literally spend the afternoon over tea………………….

A month and a half ago we were oblivious to the intruder that would dominate our home. This weekend we have our final two victims chickenpockeybabies. I hadn’t any idea that I would be over and over again trying to recollect where we’d been, who we’d been with, how much contact there might have been, etc., etc. O, it’s not actually been such a difficult thing (easy for me to say, sans pocks), or such a hardship on anyone. Here. But what I wasn’t ready for was the constant mantra I’ve now been repeating:

To every visitor: “We have chicken pox, have you had chicken pox?”
To family and friends: “Do you need/want chicken pox in your home?”
To hosts and hostesses… “We were with you _______, and we just discovered that ________ has chicken pox. You’ll likely be thinking of us warmly in two weeks.”
“We can’t come over (or you might not want to come over) unless you want a gift that keeps on giving.”

And on and on the last several weeks have gone. I’m both heartened and disheartened that this is the last “round” of chicken pox I will experience as a mother of many children. Each time we face a “last” time of some experience, I feel a little melancholy and suddenly am awash with memories and mental images of days/children gone by. With each passing I’m more keenly aware of just how much water is or has been flowing under the bridge… season after season… the water flows. Though faster now.

A couple of weeks ago when Joseph was “itching like crazy,” we decided to try the oatmeal bath we’d read would bring some relief. So… after running a bit of water, we dumped in a bunch of oatmeal – left the room and Joey soaked in the tub. He loved it! I don’t know if he loved it bcz of the fun of soaking in the deep, old claw-foot tub or bcz he was using up oatmeal instead of eating it, or if he was the only one getting to do something sooo bizarre! Whatever the case, he did enjoy it, and, in the process, he was relieved a bit! Later, we skimmed out the oatmeal put it in a kettle, heated it up and served it for breakfast and just threw it away.

Okay, but here’s why I told you about the oatmeal bath. When I was describing the process to a friend, she assumed that I rightly knew what to do. Wrong assumption. Often! So when she continued on and confirmed that I had put the oatmeal in a sock and let the bath water run through it… and that oatmeal has something in it that sooths itchy skin and brings comfort… I was nodding… and sort of glazed over. And she smiled when I said, no, I just put it right in! She gulped, she smiled — I’m sure she was wondering how in the world our family has survived my mothering of them all.

Okay… so… you put the oatmeal *in* the sock; tie off the sock; let bathwater run *over* the sock with the oatmeal in it. Okay. Okay. Got it. I’m still laughing and my friend probably marvels that Washington State issued me a driver’s license, too.

And another “last” experience? Dolly’s got a loose tooth.

Gout was once call the “rich man’s disease” or “the disease of kings” as it was attributed to the consumption of rare delicacies and rich foods. Well… it may still be… for, after all, I am a queen and am very, very rich. And, I do eat meals fit for a queen when Kathryn cooks dinner for me! So, gout. What?!?! Isn’t that an old person’s disease?

Another chapter is beginning to be written in my book: “walking through the autumn leaves” today. Kathryn wondered who would drive me to the doctor? (I’d planned on driving) and who would help me? (I’d planned on just getting there) and wait for me? (I never considered) when I went to the doctor. So she did help me. And as I came out of the office, she got up to walk with me. When she took my purse and then took my arm as we walked toward the elevator, I saw the first words being written on the page of the “walking through autumn leaves” book. When she asked, “What did the doctor say?” I realized that we were well into the third paragraph of that chapter.

My doctor had asked what unusual event or food consumption precipitated the inflammation. Well… let’s see… we did go out for dinner last week and had a very rich, saucy, “to die from for” meal. And I did have spinach salad for three meals in a row a couple of days ago… hmmm… other than that? Nothing out of the ordinary. So, I need to go back in the morning for a blood-draw to determine the level of uric-acid in my blood and I’m told I need to adjust my diet a bit in order to prevent future “attacks.” I also need to drink more water. Surprisingly, some of the things I need to reduce or eat in moderation are things I’ve attempted to add to or increase in our diet. She told me *no* low-carbing… no drastic measures to lose weight. No abrupt changes. And don’t drink any beer. Okay— *no* problem there!!! Ah-me… such is life in the autumn leaves. I’m counting on my personal herbalist to advise me here… in the meantime, I’ve taken a look at this cool interactive website my doctor recommended for more information.

You don’t have to step out your door very far to see from your porch situations, but for the grace of God, you’d be facing today — and may well face tomorrow. Well, such was the case today… though we were far from our own porch… we had the privilege of spending time with many friends at a special gathering to honour a home-schooled young lady who’s just completed high-school — and her baby brother who just completed treatment for Leukemia. The Pomerantz family was so gracious to have the gathering in honour of those two children in their family.

I couldn’t help but note that it really was the whole family who was to be honoured and celebrated for both those marvelous feats, for I always believe whatever goes on with a member of the family, the whole family really has an integral part. Often, it’s the ones receiving less attention make some of the greatest contributions to the well being of the family.

As that family has walked through this trial they’ve met many others on the path — for much of their time’s been spent at Children’s in Seattle and that’s afforded them great opportunity to not only meet, but to get intimately acquainted with families undergoing similar trials. I met a couple of the moms Ruth befriended in this trial and heard their stories, too. I was deeply touched by their recounting parts of their journey and was moved by their resolve to press on in faith and to trust the LORD. I marveled and thought: how does anyone handle such paths of life without the LORD? How does anyone walk those paths in darkness?

One of the beautiful mamas held a precious daughter whose little body is filled with cancer. The only sign of illness was the tube inserted in her little nose… and the tears in her mama’s eyes as she recounted the doctor’s report of the previous week. Gripping.

Then I had the privilege of meeting another of Ruth’s friends, this time a mama whose little boy drowned and was revived. What a difficult and yet blessed road she’s traveling. I say blessed bcz of the numerous blessings she related and the daughters that were with her were also so radiant and gracious. She shared many things that give great hope and encouragement and shared that there is a website chronology of their journey. I smiled at the name: Hows Luke?

There are always sweet serendipities along the journey… one was being able to spend time with sisters in the LORD, to spend more time with family and then to see some we rarely see… sweet.

Makes me long all the more for heaven.

and these are just some more sweet

I have a number of significant stones in my garden—stones that represent milestones, significant dates, achievements, answers to prayer, the names and birthdates of each of our children and grandchildren. There are stones that reflect ways the LORD has worked a special situation and there are a few larger stones—rocks, really, that represent some of the more difficult times or seasons. So, in addition to all the roses and some smaller flowering plants and bulbs, the garden is a collection of faith markers… stones that we’ve passed over.

The stones tell stories—or at least they represent stories, for each event, each milestone, each child, each blessing is a story in itself. I don’t want to forget any of them and I don’t want our children to forget them. I think that’s one of the significant things I notice about Deuteronomy 6.7-9

And thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up. And thou shalt bind them for a sign upon thine hand, and they shall be as frontlets between thine eyes. And thou shalt write them upon the posts of thy house, and on thy gates.

I want the children to ask me about things and then I want the stones to be a reminder to them of what God has done—and when they see their own name on a stone, I want them to see that they, too, are significant and that their life has tremendous meaning and value: it’s a gift and blessing in my life and is of great worth to me and, more importantly, to the LORD.  They are the most significant stones in the garden of my life.

The stone in our gardens allow me to tell the stories and they also bring to light the stories we read in the Word. It adds depth to passages we read to them concerning the telling of what God has done.

Further in Deuteronomy 6, we read:

And when thy son asketh thee in time to come, saying, What mean the testimonies, and the statutes, and the judgments, which the LORD our God hath commanded you? Then thou shalt say unto thy son, We were Pharaoh’s bondmen in Egypt; and the LORD brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand: And the LORD shewed signs and wonders, great and sore, upon Egypt, upon Pharaoh, and upon all his household, before our eyes: And he brought us out from thence, that he might bring us in, to give us the land which he sware unto our fathers. And the LORD commanded us to do all these statutes, to fear the LORD our God, for our good always, that he might preserve us alive, as it is at this day. And it shall be our righteousness, if we observe to do all these commandments before the LORD our God, as he hath commanded us. (6.20-25)

Some may wonder how I got started writing on all these stones and I’m not so sure when or how it all began, but I simply began writing names with acrylic paint and then paint pens and sort of kept going through the years. Many of the stones need to be rewritten or touched up and I notice from time to time that a stone has walked away from my garden… when the little children here or the grandchildren learn that those particular stones need to stay in the garden, they stop carrying them around the yard.  I notice that some stones have become buried over the years… and I hadn’t even noticed that they were missing or lost… and it’s in pulling weeds that I find them. 

And… pulling weeds? O, that’s a story for tomorrow.

and we are so grateful to the LORD for His wonderful provision, protection and care for her over the last several months she’s been gone working at an orphanage in Jinja, Uganda.

I had intended to write about this last week when she first arrived home, but time didn’t permit much computer use and I was actually so wonderfully overwhelmed with her being home that I didn’t take the time to write about it.  I can now look at her homecoming a bit more objectively and probably say more than the words: praise, praise, praise the LORD she’s home!

She had a wonderful time – an experience of a lifetime, really.  It was one of those rare opportunities in life to fully and utterly and completely trust in, lean on and submit to the LORD in a way such as never before experienced.  If you’ve read her letters, you will have a glimpse of what she did there and about life in Jinja, Uganda from the eyes of a mzungo.
Perhaps in a day or so she will post a final letter to family and friends and I will post that one as well.  She blessed us so much with her letters, and now so much more as she tells us things she couldn’t explain from that distance.  Trials she couldn’t explain, things she faced were tremendously used of the LORD for her good and His glory.  We couldn’t see all that at the time — not really. And, in reality, we will likely never know how she actually lived day by day there.  In the comfort of this American home, there is little or no way to comprehend caring for babies with little hope for the future, some with AIDS or some with TB or malaria, women who live in mud huts and work at the orphanage for the equivalent of $30. (usd) per month.  I could see from her stories that in Jinja, there’s a strange mix of beauty and abject poverty — a strange mix of modern efficiency, convenience and elegance contrasted by crudely primitive living.  We cannot fathom —not really,  living days without water or parts of each day without electricity or propane for cooking.  We cannot fathom not drinking water from faucets or most all the other “comforts” —luxuries, really, that we take for granted and assume are our given rights every single day.

So now… home means: showers, yogurt, chicken, strawberries, a comfortable bed, no mosquito nets or spray, drinks of water at the kitchen sink, way too many choices at the grocery store, no washing off the red clay dirt on her feet each night, and no $bx.  O, and driving.  The price of gas went up $ignificantly in the time she’s been gone.  But… we don’t begrudge her at all for just wanting to drive around at odd times… just to drive.  And think.

We smile with her, we listen to her stories, we cry with her, we cry for her; happy she’s home.
But home also means… no orphan babies who hold a piece of her heart.  Home means good bye for now to friends who were so dear and true there in Jinja.  Home means decadence and plenty while there is so much need and so many needs to be met.  Home means someone else holds the babies she can only now hold in her heart.  Home means she can only visit in pictures the different ones who work day after day to care for the babies there.  Home means she must wrestle with what she’s seen and lived and what she sees and lives.
It was hard for us to conceive of the living conditions when we heard about the disparities each time we talked to Kathryn over the months she was gone there.  Only now, in pictures and through her accounts of the days there, are we able to gain a bit of perspective of the poverty and all that goes with that.  And only now are we really able to see how much that meant to her and how deeply it affected her life.  Even though she’s eager to step back “into life” here and even though she’s obviously very happy to be home… pieces of her heart are missing… we see that each day.

God is good.

All the time.

Yesterday the new seat belt regulations went into effect for Washington State.  The laws for use of Blackberry and other handheld’s takes effect in 6 months and cellphone use restrictions, in 1 year.  I share all this bcz I’m sort of generally a generation or two behind in understanding/acknowledging/complying with state laws.  Well, or so it seems.  Yesterday I had the children bring me the scale… (No! not for *me!*) bcz I wasn’t exactly sure who was in compliance and who wasn’t – in regards to the seatbelt *law.*

Yesterday, the revised law went into effect… as I was thinking on this yesterday afternoon, one of the local school buses passed by the end of the lane.  The school bus, filled with little children… and no safety belts.

I looked at Andrew… measured and weighed: 4’5″ and 71#.  Then ‘melia: 3’10.5″ 49#.  Soon everyone (except me) was weighing… thrilled at their progress in height and weight gain!  Mama, mama… do you have to weigh, too?  Uh, no.  They don’t need my weight.  Then I think back on that ideal weight that appears on my driver’s license. Ah, but that’s another story.
So, I need to go shopping.  and I’m contemplating… should I take the children for a ride in the van with one older carseat for ‘melia and without a booster seat for Andrew? It does have shoulder-belts and lap-belts and at eight years old, Andrew is technically not required by the law to be in a booster seat any longer.   So I consider the ramifications of all the new laws going into effect.  I have to stop and read them bcz I perhaps didn’t read the previous law that the current laws replace.

washington’s seatbelt laws

• Children under 13 years old be transported in the back seat where it is practical to do so.
• Children up to their 8th birthday, unless they are 4’9″ tall (which ever comes first), must ride in a child restraint. (For example a child car seat, booster seat, vest, or other restraint that is federally approved for use in the car.)
• The restraint system must be used correctly according to the car seat AND vehicle manufacturer’s instructions.
• Vehicles equipped with lap-only seat belts are exempt from the requirement to use a booster seat.
• Children 8-years of age or at least 4’9″ who wear a seat belt MUST use it correctly (never under the arm or behind the back) or continue to use a booster.

See, I am behind the times.  And then I think again… Wow… are there really no seat belts in a school bus?  I looked it up… sure enough, no belts.  But the rationale is that the seats are specially designed… (this, from this site).
“…have built-in safety protection for their young riders. Seats are designed and padded to create a protective envelope to protect school-age kids. These strong, closely-spaced seats and flexible, energy-absorbing seat backs protect passengers without requiring the passengers to do anything but sit in the seats.”

I think on another article I read yesterday about “socialization” and public vs. home education.  I wonder if the children in Snohomish who spend an hour and a half (or more) on the bus each day will remember to put on their seat belt when they go for a ride in the family car?  I imagine they might wonder why they leave home to be educated and are educated otherwise and return home to be reminded of the law (that they don’t follow to and from school). This isn’t intended to be a slam against government schools or government transport; I’m just mulling.  Just mulling, that’s all.

Significant to me are the milestones in my life that were either turning points or celebrations or decisions. Some of the turning points were simply changes in a direction of thought or action—simple things like: from this day forward, I will________. I have marked many of the “I will’s” in my Bible and/or on stones in my garden outside or in journals I’ve kept over the years. Sometimes I didn’t realize that specific decisions would have such strong or lasting implications—nor, did I realize that God would use decisions as springboards for others. But I do now. Only looking back do I see how some of the actions or decisions were used; decisions that were really insignificant at the time were used as the basis for some great changes or great work.

I recall the day I decided to always—everyday—without fail: make my bed the very first thing in the morning. Insignificant, maybe, but the LORD used a woman (when our first two babies were very small) to help me through a difficult time. It was that help that would lead to countless other personal disciplines and/or decisions. I felt overwhelmed. Yes ! only two children at the time! Phew! But in my state at that time, I was overwhelmed and under-inspired. I had no real “keeper at home” training. There were very few “hands-on” helpers / encouragers in my life at that time bcz of where we lived and bcz of my mindset, I suppose. But then the LORD began to show me that there *were* helpers, there *were* encouragers, and He was walking with me—I just needed to open my eyes to those facts and I needed take what was being offered to me — whether it be advice, actual physical help or simply to watch what they were doing and *emulate* it in my own life. It was a tremendous period of time—it was a turning point in my life.

Another turning point was when I realized that God had a marvelous plan for my life and that He was and had already been working everything together for good (Romans 8.28) and that no matter what things looked like or how they seemed, He was in control and all those things mattered to Him and would be for my good. I couldn’t always see it. I didn’t have faith to believe it—but then I began to pray for faith—faith to believe what I couldn’t see and faith to trust what I couldn’t understand. It was in those days that God would begin to show me a glimpse of His purpose for my life as a wife and mother. I knew at that time that He was truly LORD of my life, LORD of my marriage, LORD of my home and LORD of my womb. Even if I wavered in faith, God never changed—He was and has been utterly faithful. (Romans 3.3 “For what if some did not believe? shall their unbelief make the faith of God without effect?”)

Then, another stone was set in place… the stone of faith. There was another turning point time when I knew that the LORD has His hand on me—on my life—on our family. I don’t mean that in a particular sense of a mark or a calling or whatever. I simply mean that it was a definite time: a demonstration of His “ownership,” if you will, of all that we were or would ever be. He called us to faith.

It became apparent that He would continue to work in many similar ways through the years. He would bring about circumstances that would both challenge and inspire our faith—circumstances that would set us in awe of His magnificent glory as He demonstrated His “watch-care” or provision in our lives. “Last-minute” provisions became or are so “normal” or frequent, that I feel like I practically stand at the window watching for His provision. I know my help/our help only is of His Hand. All the weights of the bag are His work—He only is the balance. He is utterly faithful and the pile of stones marking His faithfulness is becoming as a mountain at the gate of my heart.

He taught us to walk and work in a manner as to totally yield our hearts to Him—trusting for every day, every provision, every child, every need, every dollar, every sunrise, every sunset. In our marriage, He’s brought to our remembrance our commitment of trust—trust in God and trust in each other. The stones in my rings are as stones of a monument of trust—no matter how things look, seem or feel at the time. God has worked and reworked our hearts to be to each other what God has designed. It is in faith that we demonstrate this toward one another—love followed, emotion followed, romance followed and faith is strengthened by years. Reading through the Word and coming to the book of the Song of Solomon, I was reminded over and over again that married love is timeless; the wonder of it being old is that it can yet feel fresh and new as Spring and yet as solid and secure as an old oak. The diamond in my ring reminds me of the strength of God and the gold: His refining power.

I also wear a “mother’s ring” and it contains the stones that represent the birth months of each of our children. It was a gift from my husband – a gift I so treasure. I see the stones and marvel at the blessing of the LORD -His provision through the years, His protection and care for each precious child, their particular place and unique contribution to our lives and our family. I will never be able to thank the LORD enough nor adequately convey my gratitude for each one of these gifts which the eleven stones in my ring represent.

I have large stones or rocks in different gardens around our home. Now, rarely does a child come to me and say: what mean ye by these stones, mama? But every once in awhile one of the children asks the significance of a particular quote or the meaning of a few words printed on stones or rocks in the garden. The children love seeing their names and birthdates on stones. They love seeing dates on stones—anniversaries of significant dates and events. I do this so that they won’t forget. I do this so *I* won’t forget.

More later on the significance of stones.