Our Growing Family

Sorry, everybody, for the very long pause! We had a nice Thanksgiving with Luke's family here at home. A couple of days after the holiday I started feeling pretty sick...thought maybe I had some bad turkey or something. Turns out, we will be welcoming a new little brother or sister to our family around the beginning of August. We were so surprised, I'm not kidding...I took five pregnancy tests. (is that denile?) Well, as we adjust to the idea and the changes it will bring to our family, I am trying to get through a really tough time of morning sickness (heightened by a wonderful round of the stomach flu running through our house last weekend). The reality of a new little person is still trying to work it's way into my world. I was very content and happy with our beautiful three. Now I am working on embracing (with grace, joy and thankfulness) the change of plans and the little blessing that God has dropped into our lives!

Anyway, the kids wanted me to announce the arrival of another new member of our family, Charlie Thomas. Charlie's a hamster and we adopted him in October. He has quickly wormed his way into all of our hearts as the sweetest, most gentle and best hamster in the whole world. I have never met a more congenial hamster. ( :

The Path to My Woods--my Xanga

In case you haven't checked it out, I have made following my blogging life a little more complicated for you ( : If you haven't walked on the path to my woods, you might enjoy following the posts over there too. Just click here:
http://www.xanga.com/thinkerbel

The Amazing Dish Machine

For my entire married life I have washed dishes by hand, taking, as I see it, valuable time at the sink that I could be spending with my family. (Besides, does anyone really enjoy this tedious task?) Many times I have used the dishes as a way of burning off steam and having some time to think through some frustrations or just bang around a few cups and bowls. But I am in no way attached to this sort of anger management therapy. So a few months ago, my husband bought me a cute little countertop dishwasher as a birthday present.

During the days we waited for our new servant to be delivered, I talked to the kids about how wonderful it would be to put the dishes in the machine and let it do the work so I would have more time to spend with them. My son came home from school on the day of the delivery and upon seeing the dishwasher exclaimed excitedly, with sparkling eyes, "Your dishwasher is here??!! Yay!, now you have more time to spend with us!"

But today I had to take a minute to jot down my older daughter's take on the wonderful new machine, after overhearing a conversation with a friend playing at our house:
Peach: "Sometimes I help my mom with work around the house."
Friend: "Yeah, sometimes I help my mom with the dishes."
Peach: "I don't because my mom doesn't do the work. She has an Amazing Dish Machine who does the work for her! So she has time to spend with us!"

What a refreshing thought. A little reminder not to take forgranted our Amazing Machines that do so much work for us! So, may we take joy in the few short minutes it takes to load the washing machine or empty the dishwasher or toss a few ingredients in the slow-cooker. (Now I just need an automatic sock folder!) ( :

Good Friends

If you have read much of what I post you know already that I am a bit sentimental. I have good reason to be, because I have been blessed time and again with the dearest of friends and a precious family.

I recieved an email yesterday from my college roommate, Kristi, announcing her recent engagement. It is amazing how a flood of warm feelings and smiles can overwhelm you from just a few written words and a picture of a good friend's smiling face. I just want to take a minute to say this young lady is one of the sweetest and most gentle souls I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. And I am thankful for the time we shared as roommates. I remember the night of my first date with Luke, the man who would eventually be my husband. I returned to our dorm room all filled up with a gush of excitement and feelings, plopped down on her bed and poured out my heart to her. Throughout those months she was a patient ear to my "gushing," in the whirlwind of falling
in love. I think that's one reason I enjoyed reading her email so much. Hmmmn. Life is so much sweeter with dear friends who can celebrate with us and cry with us and laugh with us. Today I'm celebrating! Congratulations, Kri!

Peach and Daisy

Just had to post these pictures of my gals! Several months ago, my oldest daughter began calling herself Peach and her little sister Daisy. It's always fun to hear them playing and seeing little sister responding to her new nickname almost as quickly as her given name.

Lesson 2: Listen More, Talk Less

As a zealous, somewhat long-winded 19-year-old, I was given the unexpected opportunity to be camp counselor to a cabin full of teenage girls at a district church camp. Being my enthusiastic self, I was very excited to be well recieved and liked by the girls in my cabin and took every opportunity given to pour out my words of wisdom gained by my few years of life experience. Looking back, I'm guessing that I gained more from my orations than the girls. In fact, I'm willing to bet that I really did take away a greater life lesson than any one of those gals who sat figiting, counting ceiling tiles waiting for me to finish talking.
One young lady in my cabin stood out from among the rest and made a lasting impression on me as a person. One evening as I was out walking by myself she came up to me and asked if she could talk with me. Of course, I was expecting her to ask me advise or something like that. Well, I was surprised when she said to me in a very gentle way, " Ruth, I really like you, but you talk too much. You need to learn when you've said enough." Those may not be her exact words but they were her exact sentiments. Constructive critism is a tough pill to swallow. Having someone point out your faults really hurts. But this young lady, in her boldness and honesty, endeared herself to me forever because of her wisdom and gentleness. Her words opened up a whole new area of growth in me....learning to embrace a gentle and quiet spirit, learning to listen, to think and be wise about my words and to say more by saying less. Thanks, Jill. Your kindness has left an imprint on my life and I can never forget you!

"Our 24 Family Ways"

Yesterday my six -year-old son asked me, "Mom, do you think you could make me a list of my jobs so I could do them without having to be asked?" What more need I say? It is really a blessing to see such signs of maturity in our children.

For anyone interested in some great reading on the topic of parenting, may I suggest anything written by Sally and Clay Clarkson? I have been encouraged and equipped by their books. My children and I are particularly enjoying their Our 24 Family Ways color book right now. We are reading and discussing each "family way" and corresponding picture, working on memorizing each and applying them to our daily lives. I have seen some great results in all of us!

Lesson 1: Make Your Bed

After graduating from high school I attended a one-year Bible Institute before moving on to college. I have many great memories from that year: good friends, fun times and some heartbreakers too. But I have to admit that the one item of advice that left the deepest impression on me that year was given by an elderly lady named Eldine Shaw. Her words still come to mind nearly every morning when I rise and have taught me diligence in everyday menial tasks and to take pride in my home. She repeated the mantra to us insistently, printing it into our subconscious: "Make your bed everyday out of self-respect." I admit that occasionally a day goes by that I fail in this minute detail. The lesson, however, remains: diligence, self-discipline and self-respect begin with small things.

Invaluable Lessons for an Interesting Journey

Life is an interesting journey. Along the way many experiences and people leave indelible impressions on our character, challenging us to grow, changing us forever. I have been blessed in my time to have known a few people who, most unwittingly I think, made that sort of lasting mark on me. I mean those sort of individuals who come into your life, even for a very short time (usually so) and leave knowing little of the remarkable imprint they have left behind. It is amazing to me how a life is molded by these experiences, a kind word, a thoughtful act, a bit of wisdom, a little constructive criticism...yikes! I am thankful for the experiences and the people who have helped to shape my life. So the next few posts will be dedicated to reminising some highlights that I consider noteworthy.

Honor and Wisdom

A nice visit over a few hot cups of tea with good friends last night left me refreshed and encouraged: My thoughts turned towards noble ideals and the priviledge of leading our little ones along the path of wisdom and instilling in them a love for truth. There are three words that seem to define our persuit as a family: truth, wisdom and honor.
I am always speaking to my children of my desire to see them grow in wisdom. Our simple definition of wisdom: knowing what is right and doing what is right. Giving children the desire to grow in wisdom empowers them to make good and thoughtful choices.

"Who among you is wise and understanding?

Let him show by his good behavior his deeds

in the gentleness of wisdom...

The wisdom from above is first pure,

then peacable, gentle, reasonable,

full of mercy and good fruits, unwavering, without hypocrisy.

And the seed whose fruit is righteousness is sown in peace

by those who make peace."

James 3:13,17-18

As a mother, it is one of my highest priorities is to teach my children the virtue of honoring one another. The word honor encapsules the ideas of respecting, esteeming, cherishing, prizing one another. This is the critical foundation of family life. Children need to know that God has given them their parents to care for, protect and teach them and given them siblings to love, protect, play with, learn with, work with.

These are just a few thoughts that I've been dwelling on. Now I need to build a block fortress with my daughter who is diligently repeating, "It's taking you a long time. Please. Por favor. Please. Por favor." (thank you, Dora for the Spanish lessons.)

And her name is...

Ella Rose....lovely.

Congratulations Seth and Olivia

Joel, Gracie, and Chloe!

She is beautiful!

New Tweet Baby!

My brother, Seth, and his wife, Olivia, are thrilled to welcome a new baby girl into their family, born last night at around 9:30 p.m. She doesn't have a name yet as they are deliberating over whether she looks more like a Ruby, Rosie, Lily, or Ellie. ( : Any of those names are adorable just like her sweet little self. This will number the Tweet grandchildren at a whopping 24! I know that Joel, Gracie and Chloe are excited to have a new little sister too! I will post again as soon as she has a name!

Six hours is a long time...

Six Hours....that's how long I have to wait to see my boy after walking him to school in the morning. Some days I feel it more than others. I do have to admit, however, that the house is a bit more quiet during the day with just the girls around. A few days before school started I asked the big guy how he felt about starting school and being gone all day and this is what he said: " I have two different feelings about it. "First, I think I'm going to have a lot of fun. And second, I feel like I'm going to really miss you while I'm at school so long, " his eyes sort of tearing up. I told him that I felt exactly the same way.
Today we stopped and talked to Mrs. Krantz, his kindergarten teacher. She asked him how first grade was going and then said that she has been hearing a lot of good things about him from his new teacher, Mrs. Mckeon. My big guys response, "Awww shucks." lol.

Now you know why I miss him so much.

Something Missing?

My children have been sick, I have been sick and my husband has been working a lot trying to get an entire school district's computer systems prepared for a new year of learning. My whole house is tired. I can see it sagging, drooping, ready for a nap. But first, the dishes, the laundry, the crying little one...oh, she's really hot. Where is the Motrin?

So, here I am at 11:59 p.m. sitting at the computer writing out a post just to say, I am really weak on my own. I admit it. I am weak. I need this: "grace." Though they are miserable, we all need times like this to remind us of our frailty and the strength of a God who knows we are weak. I don't know everything about God. In fact, to be honest, I have a lot of questions. But I do know this: I need to know my Creator. My spirit yearns for my Maker, the living God.

For The Love Of An Astrodroid

The past two nights before bed my youngest daughter (22 months) has been repeating a prayer that goes like this, "Ga, d-2, amen." Yes, the Speedbuggy is interceding for R2 D2. She is absolutely intrigued by the little Star Wars astrodroid. One day while strolling through Krogers she spotted a Pepsi display that was a life-size replica of good ol' R2 filled with bottles of the cold, refreshing beverage. She ran up to it with open arms crying out, " D2! D2!" Don't you just love it when your kid does something really cute in public? It sure beats the "We're almost through the check out line and I don't want to sit in the cart a minute longer wail and cling routine." Thanks R2, you're a real hero.

Summer Pictures!

Here's a few photos of our summer. We put this swingset together just before our vacation so the kids got to swing while I packed!

And a close up of the beautiful three:

A few of my favorites from the garden:


Every Kansas girl needs some sunflowers, even when she lives in Michigan! Ours have gotten huge. The tallest must be at least nine feet tall. It is really amazing to watch something that big grow in a season from a tiny seadling pushing up through the soil to a really awe-inspiring flower. My children call them trees.

One more...I can't resist adding this breath-taking sunset captured by a good friend on a recent vacation in Charlevoix, Michigan..It's too beautiful not to share.
(Thanks, Stephanie!)

Our Weekend Project

We had a lovely and exhausting visit in Kansas with my family. After visiting my brother in Missouri, we made our way to take a ride on Thomas the Tank Engine in Baldwin, Ks. Then we went on to visit family in my hometown. It was especially great staying with my twin sister and her family in their new house. They have been really blessed with a charming old house full of character and plenty of space for a growing family. It's a beautiful home. Our kids were particularly taken with the train table my brother-in-law built for their little ones. Our little Speedbuggy, 22 months, loves Thomas and has ignited her brother and sister's interest in trains as well. All we needed was inspiration! This weekend Luke and I built our own train table for the kids. It was a fun project. It has a sturdy white laminate board for the table top and we also have a dry erase board that fits the frame. I am really pleased with the way it turned out and especially excited about all the uses a table like this can have for years to come: trains, blocks, legos, puzzles, playdoh..etc. What a great investment!

Now That's Good Soup

In response to recieving a warm bowl of chicken and rice soup for lunch today, my four-year-old daughter said, "It's a nice day today, a pleasant day indeed."

I don't want anything

This has been a very busy July. In the course of one week we had two back yard campouts celebrating July 4th, had the family over for more celebrating, made our weekly storytime outing, went to a really fun magic show, spent a day at the beach, made an evening outing to the local free concert series to hear some great folk music and let the kids dance their hearts out on the huge amphitheater lawn and made a yummy, messy icecream stop on the way home. Then a wedding and reception on Saturday rounded out our week. We've had a lot of fun and the kids have made many interesting comments about our various adventures. But one heartfelt declaration from our middle child made me stop and smile really big:

We have a princess at our house, she's four years old and like most four-year-old's she has a running list of things she wants. So we often talk about learning to be content, being thankful for what we have. I spent Saturday evening at a wedding reception watching our little princess in her favorite lilac-colored floor-length dress dancing blissfully, gracefully , ballerina-like to the music for over an hour with few breaks, and then only to come over to hear me say how beautifully she danced, then returning to the floor with a glowing , contented smile. Later that night, as I helped her get jammied and tucked into bed, she looked up at me and said in a dreamy sort of way,
"After all that dancing tonight, I don't feel like a want anything anymore."

We all know that things don't make us content. Things are just things. (I know, really profound, hey?") The Princess learned something Saturday night that I could not have taught her with words, because she felt it...the joy of just being. She has found inherent to who she is a love for music and dance, just as she has found that same joy in paint and play-dough. She is not My Little Pony or Disney Princesses, those things she wants. She is a created soul who finds joy in being the soul God created. It is my job to give her opportunities to experience that joy in the midst of cultural distractions that try to make us believe that things will make us happy.

True peace? True joy? True happiness?: Knowing the Creator and knowing what He created us for.

Thanks, Granny Meg

We have been outside for the past two weeks enjoying the sunshine and splashing in water, planting flowers and pulling weeds, sliding and swinging and eating ice-cream. We love Summer time and we love the library, especially in the summer. One day, as my children and I made ourselves at home in the children's section of our local public library, one older man noticed us and ask me, "Did you enjoy the library as a child?" I smiled and couldn't resist sharing a few library memories. I remember, as a child, going to summer storytime at the library around the corner from our house. Meg Stauffer, loved and known by all the children in my hometown as Granny Meg, was the storytime lady for decades.

Recently, I recall reading a notice in the paper that Granny Meg was celebrating her 90th birthday and as far as I know still reading books to little children. Granny Meg is one of those people who leaves a lasting impression on everyone she comes in contact with and has touched the lives of countless children who attended storytime at our little library. As a very young child, I remember a creaking old one-room school house that held our town library. We sat in the basement on little rugs and listened intently to Granny Meg's story-telling.

A few years later, the old library was moved to make way for a new library. My sister, brother, the boy next door and I spent many hours in a flooded soon-to-be parking lot, fishing out tadpoles. We walked home with a stack of books in one arm and a jar of pollywogs in the other. When we were too old for storytime, we spent one summer mastering our stilt-walking skills on a few pairs of rugged home-made stilts my dad had put together for us. I remember walking around on those two and three-foot-high stilts when the Ringling Brothers and Barnum-Bailey Circus made its yearly animal walk past our street to the Coliseum a few miles away. We were pretty proud of our skills. Granny Meg recognized our enthusiasm and asked us to demonstrate our stilt-walking for the little kids at storytime.

I started to take an interest in poetry in my early teenage years and spent many hours up a tree in front of our house pouring over library copies of Tennyson, Wordsworth, and Longfellow. It was the words that I loved. In 1993, when my twin sister and I were preparing to graduate from high school, two packages arrived for us. We opened them to find a simple, yet lovingly-made ceramic nativity in each box and a little note from Granny Meg. She remembered...She remembered us all. We weren't the only storytime children Granny Meg remembered. I have other storytime friends who proudly display a Granny Meg nativity every year at Christmas.... Just as I still do. Thank you, Granny Meg. My children love the library too.

Everything I Need to Know..... I learned while my son was in Kindergarten.

My son graduated from kindergarten yesterday. I learned a few things this year, too. My son's kindergarten teacher uses a lapel-microphone. Now that's a great idea. She never has to raise her voice and incredibly with a class full of 5 and 6 years olds maintains an even and pleasant tone. Mrs. Krantz is somewhat of a celebrity in our house. Since the girls and I walked Samuel around the corner to school in the mornings and walked back to pick him up at noon, my 4-year-old daughter was always excited to see Mrs. Krantz, who often greeted the girls by name. Sending my first-born off to school was really tough, but I know he had a good experience. Even so, I'm glad to have my son home with me all day for the Summer!

Wynken, Blynken and Nod

A few years ago, while browsing through records at a local resale shop, I came across an old LP that I remember spending many hours listening to as a child. I snatched it up in hopes that someday I would be able to share the story with my own kids. This weekend my precious in-laws gave us a stereo with a turn-table! So yesterday the kids and I must have listened to Wynken, Blynken and Nod at least three times through, among a few other oldies I brought out. It was so fun introducing them to the old vinyl records. My kids love hearing stories about when I was small and I love giving them little glimpses of my childhood. Hearing those nostalgic crackles in the background brought back sweet memories of sitting up on the huge old woodgrain stereo in our dining room listening to my favorite records. (Bullfrogs and Butterflies and Down By the Creek Bank were some others that got a lot of play time.) Our stereo was completely equipped with turn-table, eight-track and radio. Oh yea, those were the days. Our new stereo is about one-fourth the size of that old dinosaur and it offers CD, dual-tape deck, radio and turn-table....But you can't sit on it. They just don't make them like they used to.

Just a quick thought for today: I have found that sharing stories from my childhood always makes a connection with my kids. Try it! It's nice for them to know you were really a kid...and that you remember. (:

Something of Value

I rarely sit down to write something that I know will possibly be veiwed by other people without putting some thought into it. I have always insisted that I write for the sake of writing, because I love it. This is true in my own little spiral notebook, but that is not really my purpose here. Don't get me wrong, I love this whole blogging thing. But my thoughts honestly are in somewhat of a whirlwind today so I'll try to avoid what some would call "rambling."
The truth is, I am one of those creative spirits. In temperment I am, as Wordsworth wrote, a poet:

And it would content me to yield up

those lofty hopes awhile, for present gifts

of humbler industry. But, oh, dear Friend!

The Poet, gentle creature as he is,

Hath, like the Lover, his unruly times;

His fits when he is neither sick nor well,

Though no distress be near him but his own

Unmanagable thoughts: his mind, best pleased

While she as duteous as the mother dove

sits brooding, lives not always to that end,

But like the innocent bird, hath goadings on

That drive her as in trouble through the groves:

With me is now such passion, to be blamed

No otherwise than as it last too long.

Something very human, very basic to my nature, those "unruly times" of "unmanagable thoughts" sometimes overwhelm this feeling soul:

Humility and modest awe, themselves

betray me, serving often for a cloak

to a more subtle selfishness; that now

Locks every function up in blank reserve,

Now dupes me, trusting to an anxious eye

That with intrusive restlessness beats off

simplicity and self-presented truth.

Ah! better far than this, to stray about

Voluptuously through fields and rural walks,

And ask no record of the hours, resigned

To vacant musing, unreproved neglect

Of all things, and deliberate holiday.

far better never to have heard the name

Of zeal and just ambition, than to live

Baffled and plagued by a mind that every hour

Turns recreant to her task; takes heart again,

Then feels immediately some hollow thought

Hang like an interdict upon her hopes.

This is my lot: for either still I find

Some imperfection in the chosen theme,

Or see of absolute accomplishment

Much wanting, so much wanting, in myself,

That I recoil and droop, and seek repose

In listlessness from vain perplexity,

Unprofitably traveling toward the grave,

Like a false steward who hath much received

And renders nothing back.

~~

from

The Prelude

William Wordsworth

My own words seem really pale in comparison to this great poet but the sentiments are the same. Don't we all have our hang ups? And I feel very akin to William Wordsworth in this sense. Feeling overwhelmed and out of control, perplexed and without a doubt, self-absorbed...but helpless to pull oneself out of this mire... I know what that is all about.

One day this weekend our family took a drive to a neighboring city for the evening. Except for occasions such as this, when we are out driving in the open by farms and fields, I just don't see the horizon much anymore. On our way, we were greeted by a rainbow in the broad fluffy-clouded sky. My breath was stolen away. A promise. Driving home later, the sunset was brilliant. At that moment, I couldn't help but think God was trying to say something, trying to break through my "vain perplexity," my "subtle selfishness" that focuses on "some imperfection..." and finding, "much wanting, so much wanting, in myself." It's that faint whisper of a shout, that gentle yet persistent yank at the heart. For me it's always been colors in the sky that carried the voice of the Creater to this little creature: "I love you." And that is just what I need to know. Value because of One who finds me valuable.

I have much more to say on this topic but that is enough for now. Good night!

A Minor Bird

What true lover of words and language and poetry and life can read the works of Robert Frost and not be moved? How does a man using such common words and simple language create such music of speech and thought? I love nature poetry and Frost was a master. Reading his poetry is like walking into the woods...and I love woods. A recent reading of the following poem especially struck a personal chord with me. I can certainly relate:

A Minor Bird

I have wished a bird would fly away,

And not sing by my house all day;

Have clapped my hands at him from the door

When it seemed as if I could bear no more.

The fault must partly have been in me.

The bird was not to blame for his key.

And of course there must be something wrong

in wanting to silence any song.

~~

Robert Frost

West-Running Brook

~1928~

How often in our homes does our own dampness of spirit seek to silence those little songs that could bring such delight if only we could rise above our own moods? Yes, I am guilty. Indulging in sullen moods when sweetness surrounds us not only robs ourselves but our loved ones of their beautiful and unique songs.

A non-writing writer

Okay, the reason I started this blog was mostly as an outlet for my writing and thoughts (hmm...not an uncommon reason for someone to start a blog, I'm guessing.) Well, it's not that I haven't been thinking a lot, I just haven't written much lately. Occasionally in life (actually, quite often here in the Wittum home) we come to a pool of deep waters and just need time to reflect and prioritize. In fact, I have to admit that this seems to be a fairly consistent state for me. I am intrigued (maybe obsessed would be a better word) with the idea of being a growing person. Maturing, growing, learning...what a great persuit to aspire to, especially when you can look back and be really thankful that you are maturing, growing, learning. At the same time, being somewhat of a perfectionist can also pose a threat to just being plain happy! So part of my journey of growth is simply learning to be a bit more content and (oh boy-sie) joyful even with a floor piled with laundry and a sink loaded with dishes. So, though the old notebook is rarely neglected for long, something's gotta give. One thing I have learned over the years (through many an unpleasant lesson) is that fewer words are better than many and some things are really worth sharing while others simply are not. The wise person knows the difference. Something to think about.

All Grown Up?

Do you ever feel strangly aware that you are an adult? Okay, maybe it's just me, but occasionally I stop and think..."Whoa, I'm all grown-up." Is that possible? I've celebrated 6 Mother's Days with my own children. I'm the mom: the one who kisses noses, peels apples, bandages knees, raises her eyebrows, and says the last goodnight. I have experienced nothing in life so humbling nor so rewarding...and nothing that has challenged me so greatly to keep growing. All grown-up...really? Never. There is always more growing to do.

Something Great

Words of learned wisdom from a 6-year-old, "God can put the good things and the bad things together and make something great."

Children understand much more than we give them credit for. We adults, all of us born philosophers searching for truth, trying to understand the "why's" of life, would be wise to stop and listen to the simplicity of a child's faith.

Pardon my pause...

...to ponder, to reflect, to watch, to play, to find hope and strength and peace renewed.

Pause Movie

My children have a somewhat odd practice of pausing whatever imaginary story they are playing or book they might be reading whenever they need to turn their attention elsewhere for the moment (like a quick trip to the bathroom.) It's really quite simple. I hear my daughter (who recently added ballerina to her when-I-grow-up list) say abruptly, "pause movie!" and run frantically to complete whatever task has interrupted her play. Then she returns and I hear, "unpause!" My son has this ability as well, only, being six, he is much more methodical, carefully saving to his memory base the last two words read in his book before turning it open face down on the couch and saying, "pause book" before making his way to the bathroom or for a refreshing glass of water. I'm serious, this is something that really occurs in our house many times a day. It's absolutely fascinating to me that my children can do this. Of course, I know how to use the dvd remote control as well as the best of them, but put a pause on everyday life...now that's impressive...most impressive.

As a parent, there are times I sure wish I could just hit the pause button...just for a few minutes, so I don't miss a thing. Who decided to push the FFWD on my children? Where was I when that happened? What's wrong with that crazy RWD button?! What, it doesn't work on kids...not even mine? Guess I better take a potty break and get a drink before the show starts...I don't want to miss a thing.

I Love You, Stinky Face

My children and I have found a gem. I Love You, Stinky Face ,written by Lisa McCourt and illustrated by Cyd Moore , has won our hearts. If you want a great snuggle-up-on-the-couch-with-the-kiddos picture book, try this one. It's full of laughs and charm. We love Stinky Face!

I met the greatest guy...

I have to spend a few minutes today on the subject of the most important person in my life. His name is Luke and I am so grateful and amazed to be loved by him.

A few things I really love about my husband:

He has a great red-ish beard.

He is tenacious about the important things in life.

He paces when he's thinking really hard.

He like's altoids.

He patiently listens to my ramblings and to all the little treasures I find in my readings of Frost, Wordsworth, etc.,etc., and may be the only person who keeps up with my blog.

Now, my husband is not exactly excited by poetry, so this is a labor of love: You know what's really great? Seeing him smile at me like he enjoys hearing me read to him just because it makes me happy. Now, that is love.

Something Worth Keeping

I have to admit it, I am a nortorious stasher. I come from a family of hopeless stashers. For years I prided myself in my ability to throw things out, but truth be told, hiding in every spare drawer and crevice of my house and scattered throughout the basement and closets are the products of my attempt to chronicle our lives: My stash of memorabilia goes as far back as I can remember, but has grown steadily with marriage and children. I suppose in some ways this space is another drawer to store my little tid-bits of things I want to save and remember from everyday life...only without the spare rubber-bands, paperclips, near-dry ball-point pens and half-melted birthday candles vying for room among other treasures.

So here's something I don't want to forget, a word that has won an honored spot in our house: top of the dry-erase board:

Magnanimous: [from: magnus (great) + animus (spirit)] 1: showing or suggesting a lofty and courageous spirit. 2: showing or suggesting nobility of feeling and generosity of mind.
Magnanimity: 1: the quality of being magnanimous: loftiness of spirit enabling one to bear trouble calmly, to disdain meanness and pettiness, and to display a noble generosity 2: a magnanimous act

Speedbuggy and the Princess

I have a 20-month-old daughter who is a little speedbuggy...she is very busy. She is also starting to put some pretty interesting sentences together. Her big sister, who aspires to be a princess, a candy-maker, a farmer, an artist and a grand-duke when she grows up, is 4 in May. They enjoy playing "Candy-maker," in which the Little Princess plays a character named "Hiya" (whom I'm sure you will learn more about later) and Baby Speedbuggy is always made to play "Hunca Munca," a Beatrix Potter character whom we have all been quite taken with. Last night, shortly before bed, the two girls busied themselves as I typed my post. I heard Baby Speedbuggy struggling to pull out the second row of diapers from the tightly packed bag to add to the growing pile the girls had transferred to the back hallway. She finally came to me with a flustered look and exclaimed (in her not-yet-two dialect), "Maaa! I nee hep!" Of course, I didn't help her pull the rest of the diapers from the bag, but I was instantly overcome by the blossoming communication skills of my baby.

This is not Beatrix Potter's Peter Rabbit

I have three children: 20-months, 4 and 6. My older two, a girl and a boy, are good pals and extremely imaginative. I am amazed at the stories they create together. Our house is full of the many characters created by my 4-year-old daughter. It is the background noise of my day and occasionally I jump into their world for a while.

The kids and I played with clay today.

This is Peter Rabbit in Mr. McGregor's garden:


This is Luke Skywalker with his padawan learner, Cottontail:


I took my leave before the story reached this point, but couldn't resist coming back with the camera when I learned that Luke Skywalker had taken Cottontail Rabbit, Peter's sister, as his Padawan learner.

This is not Beatrix Potter's Peter Rabbit.

Becoming a Masterpiece

I love art. I love looking at it, I love thinking about it, I even love learning the history behind great works of art. Do I believe that Claude Monet took great pleasure in creating unique and beautiful images of waterlilies and gardens and bridges? I do. I can only believe he was empassioned by his painting, as many of the timeless masters of the past were. A painting by Monet is unmistakable in his style and content, it bares his mark. It is uniquely Monet. Did he not sign his name in brushstrokes for all to see and know: "This is my work." Did Monet seek only the joy of creating? Or did he take even greater joy in seeing a completed masterpeice with the mark of his craftmanship? Did he take pride in hearing someone praise his work?

Becoming a masterpeice...knowing the Master created you, took care and pride in your creation. If your heart is prone to praise Him, bring an offering of your life as a masterpeice. It is true what Augustine wrote, "You have made us for yourself, O Lord..." We were made to bring God praise--not just words easily poured from our lips-- but a life surrendered to the artist's brushstroke.

If you've traveled a lonely path...

Let me reveal a small glimpse of our family's journey in the last few years:

Unsettled, confused, shaken
this is the overgrown road we've taken.
No clear path is set before
just a thick carpet of forest floor.
And this has been my only rest--
knowing that Your way is best.

One of my love-affairs with the written word...poetry. One of poetry's most intriguing aspects is how well it is lent to vagueness. Can you not read some poems and feel that you have been there in your own path? Though really you have little idea what experience has birthed these sentiments in the author, you know what has birthed at times the same in you. That is the power of poetry. That is the power of the common plight of each beating heart...a search for calm, and a place of peace. Never alone...

Choosing the Better (part two)

A few nights ago after getting the kids to bed, I walked downstairs and past the den where on the floor still lay a pile of clean clothes waiting to be folded and put away. I lamented , "Ohh, I still have to do the laundry." And my dear husband said, "If someone wrote a comic book about you, your arch-enemy would be the laundry and the dishes." I just laughed and said, "You're right," and curled up next to him on the couch. The laundry was still on the floor in the morning, but it is not there today.

I will not let what is undone steal my joy for the moment.

Choosing the Better (part one)

This is poetry that leaked out onto my page in a quiet moment last week:

The earth is still when a baby sleeps
and mother rests
but the chattering of little children
and the laughter of tiny voices
do not cease.

This, of course was written with the sound of little voices in the background playing quietly while mom took a little rest.

And then....as thoughts progressed:

I do not have the energy to clean
I used to clean because I felt I must
keep home and hearth perfectly spotless.
I used to clean because I thought
a perfect home reflected a peaceful heart--not so.

Now I am older and I long for the younger
Me.

A peaceful self who sat and pondered, sang and wrote
A peaceful self who walked and soaked-in life-surrounding,
then longing more for grace and truth.

My children have not met her.
My husband has not seen her for a very
long
time.

This Morning

This is our backyard this morning:

Spring Snow

Something that fell out of my notebook the other day...I wrote this probably last Spring (my deck-painting season) :

Thunder is rocking the morning sky threatening to break loose a billion tiny drops pelting my freshly painted decks. My first rose is in bloom--gloriously yellow with faint specs of pink crowning the edge of each petal. The rain comes. I know very few things I love better than a smoldering morning thunderstorm. Everything seems to come back alive on mornings like this--even the hushed rhythm of pattering droplets have life. And the thunder sounds sometimes like drums, sometimes like rockets, sometimes just like a friend knocking at the door...waiting for someone to open him shelter from the storm. Writing can be like that--sheltering. A refuge, a place of safety for your own thoughts. Writing can be like a good friend, an old friend. If you write freely and honestly, you can very possibly find the real you and connect with life...begin to notice and enjoy the steady of the rain from the eaves on one leaf of a potted plant. Even a plant--rooted--can dance in the rain.

For interests sake, the forecast here in late April for this weekend is SNOW...2-3" Saturday and 1-2" Sunday. Need I say more?

Find your rest

Today a series of various events have made me mindful of the heartfelt words of one who knew:

"You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless till they find their rest in you"
--Augustine

Come to a quiet place

I hope to make this blog a little like a cool, still stream...a place refreshing and peaceful, yet transparent enough that somewhere along the way each one who walks in these quiet woods will see a familiar reflection in the waters and take a good long thoughtful look. Thanks for reading!