While I Am Unaware

          I watched Half-pint struggling with her emotions as friend after friend was unable to come to the Buddy Bash event at a martial arts school we joined two weeks back. I wanted to make something happen for her; but the more people we asked, the more we were turned down. People were out of town or were hosting other guests. Some already belonged to another dojo. Everyone had very good reasons,  but my little girl still took it pretty hard. I told her that maybe she'd make a buddy there. She insisted that there was no one even close to her age in her class that still had a white belt (the party was only for white belts). Having lots of siblings is usually a big plus because you can always count on them as a buddy. Normally Mary would've just been her buddy, but Mary had rehearsal that night for the upcoming community theatre that she's apart of.
        Earlier in the week, I had been feeling a similar frustration. Very honestly,  I told God that I felt like He'd forgotten all about me. My first new friend (remember my flourless chocolate cake flop) I'd made since coming here moved away a little over a week ago. Although I know it's not very mature, I pouted over it. I didn't want to say goodbye to her. I liked her too much. I told God I didn't think He was doing a very good job of answering my prayers. Right away, He brought another friend's name to my mind who has been a direct answer to specific prayer. However on our very first playdate, she shared that she anticipated moving in the next few months. My "answer to prayer" would be moving too. I brought this up to Him to point out that I still felt neglected by Him. As I sat down to journal, I specifically asked to feel His presence that day. I had just had so many days that I felt lost in the shuffle...like God was too busy with someone else to really "be there" for me. Later that day, Mary laughed and said, "Mom, you have a smiley face on your leg!" I have no idea what I leaned against; but sure enough,  there were two eyes and a mouth imprinted on my leg. That's just the sort of kooky sign that makes me know it was no coincidence. It made me and the girls laugh out loud. It also made me aware that God was there the whole time, waiting for me stop being so oblivious and trust Him.
          The next day, I found out my "answer to prayer" no longer had to move. I was shocked and extremely grateful...and I felt like a great big whiner (Is this where my kids get it?)! This all happened the day before Half-pint was agonizing over the lack of a "buddy". Guess what happened at the Buddy Bash? She made a new friend who's only a couple months younger than her...that happens to homeschool...and whose mom happens to have the exact same name as my friend that moved away. Seriously! What are the odds on that?? My hubby pointed out that this has been a really great week for me: a great friend is staying put, a new friend has just surfaced, and Charles spent his three day weekend patching and painting our kitchen/dining room and hallway (which is a serious labor of love if you saw all the holes and cracks in those walls and knew how much he despises drywall compound). Last night as I was cutting in the happy face shade of yellow (inspired by a friend's autumnal picture in a golden grove),  my heart was all smiles. Even getting my hair stuck in a fly strip couldn't spoil my day. Even realizing on our way to church that I still had fly trap goo in my hair didn't bother me. This morning, I couldn't help but sing along with Lincoln Brewster,

"You dance over me
While I am unaware
You sing all around
But I never hear the song

Lord I'm amazed by you...
And how you love me."

        Are you pre-happy face? Know that God is there. He hears you, even if He isn't answering every prayer the way you asked.  On the drive home from the bash, Half-pint remarked that she probably would've never made a new friend if her sister or friends were there. If God isn't answering "yes", it's because He has something better in mind. He's getting ready to give you a smile too.

Marshmallow Musings

          I am polishing off a bag of half-eaten marshmallows while reflecting back on this day (yes, unbeknownst to most people I cannot leave marshmallows sit in their bag...they call to me to rescue them). I am so full of gratitude. Moving from our last home was challenging. I was totally open to moving, but I was still suprised that we actually did move. It was like I was somehow waiting for God to step in and to stop us. It all felt rather surreal; and when we did move and close on our old house on that end and close on our new house on this end, I was a little perplexed.
            Today was my birthday; and although I have often had my mom around for it (since she only lived an hour and a half away from me), I cannot remember the last time I had my brother's family over as well. My brother's oldest daughter has a birthday on the same day. When my brother asked if I wanted to get together on our birthday,  my hubby came up with the idea of a having a bonfire up here and even putting hay in the cart our lawn tractor pulls for "hayrides". It was pretty awesome for me (plus my sister-in-law left half a bag of marshmallows to inspire my musings and temporarily bloat me...thanks, Sis!).
           I miss my old friends and old town, but I love being able to be apart of my extended family's life. This past week I was able to spend a couple of days with my neices and nephew while my brother and sister-in-law got to remember why they really like each other on a trip in Mexico. I loved hanging out with them and being an aunt again. I always felt like I barely got to see them when they visited.  I was too busy making meals or taking care of the baby to really get to know them. I've already seen my neice play in a couple of softball games and watched my nephew score two touchdowns in football. Today, when my youngest neice spent all of her money on a present for me, I felt overwhelmed with gratitude to get to know her sweetness firsthand. 
           This would've never been possible without my hubby's decision to move for this job or to move to this house (that he picked for us). Had we stayed in our old town, I would've never experienced a birthday like this. Had our septic system been ok and our original buyer bought our house, we would've moved to the first house we had our bid accepted on  (which would've been an hour away from my brother)...so my birthday still probably wouldn't have been this way. It's funny how God always makes my hubby's choices benefit me. God knew just how much He would be giving me when we moved.
          My mom wrote this verse from the Message translation on my birthday card today, and it seems so fitting: "God's angel sets up a circle of protection around us while we pray." (Psalm 34:7) I can't remember a day I haven't talked to God about this whole situation for the past few months. I can feel His protection and His provision.  I can feel the smile on His face as I am beginning to realize what a gift this is for me. I can't help but say thank you to Him for blessing me with a hubby to take me just where I need to be.

In the Morning

          In the morning,  there is a lot of activity in our house. The baby is babbling in his crib, waking up his siblings.  The dog is begging to be let out, usually only waking up me (the two older ones are able to sleep through it). If I go outside,  there are ducks quacking in their box, waiting to splash and play in their water. The hens are clucking,  waiting to taste the delicious fresh dew on the grass (always on the other side of the fence). The sounds and activity of the morning are soothing to me. It's like slipping on a soft, fur-lined, leather glove in the crisp autumn air...it's comfy. A friend told me that the top three stressful life events are 1) death of a loved one, 2) divorce, and 3) moving. This time around, I would have to agree. Our move last year didn't stress me out in the least bit. Our move this year has been a much different story. Of these three "stressors", I have personal experience with two. Watching another good friend deal with some custody issues, definitely helps me appreciate that moving is not nearly as stressful. There is the obvious thing they have in common: major change. However, they are all, in my mind, mournable as well. This past Friday, we closed on our house in Illinois.  Charles, my hubby, asked if I was relieved; and I am to an extent...but I wasn't thinking about that in that sense this past Friday.  I was in mourning.  I was sad about the loss of a house that had just started to feel like home. I had other dreams that were never realized there.
           In the mourning, I have slammed my hand down in anger, breaking my mascara wand (poor wand...what did it ever do to deserve such treatment). I hollered several times last week that I missed our old house, and I just about lost it when I still couldn't find our toilet plunger after two days of searching and finding a plugged stink bomb in the basement. Charles has been a safe place to confide my frustration,  and I'm really glad for that.  Crying and expressing my sadness really helps me process things and move on. We have both been frustrated with how challenging this has been to close on this house. We are still renting,  but a new bank is now promising to finance it (one that is cool with crazy people wanting a cozy house with lots of land). The relocation package offered by Charlle's work was sweet, but it still doesn't quite cover all this unforseen drama. Sometimes it feels a little like money poured down the drain. Last Friday (when I was tempted to dress in black and sit in the closet with a "do not disturb" sign posted), I read Mark 14 (I'm in the NT in the Amplified Version). It relates the story of the woman who "wastes" a years salary on pouring perfume on Jesus' feet. Jesus didn't see it as a waste, but as a beautiful offering. It struck me that nothing is wasted on God. I'm not Catholic,  but I really enjoyed a series of talks given on "suffering" last summer by a priest. He repeated over and over the thought of "offering up" our suffering so that it is not wasted. Last Friday,  I struggled,  but I gave up my disappointments and frustrations. I told God I didn't understand,  but that I chose to trust Him. I asked Him to accept this as an offering to Him.
              It's been a week. It's morning again; and instead of feeling waves of sorrow,  I'm feeling some waves of gratitude roll over me. It's been awesome to be around my brother and sister-in-law.  They've made me feel so welcome and already had the kids over for a couple of overnighters. They've helped us plug into an Awana club for the kids to go to and a church (we'll be getting out at least bi-weekly). Also, the people here have been very friendly and kind (except the sherrif department),  and I'm getting used to driving 30 minutes to just about everything.  I found Target this past week, and I was so grateful to find the store where I buy phthalate-free, paraben-free mascara in the same strip mall. The friendly clerk/consultant even introduced me to even better mascara for only a dollar more (it's free of mineral oil, triclosan, sodium lauryl sulfate and synthetic fragrances with a cute little bunny sign on it to denote it is also cruelty free...plus it's made in the USA).
      My mom gave me part of my name based on this verse she read on the day I was born, "...weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning." (Ps. 30:5) I think it's becoming a bit of a reoccurring theme verse for me.
       I don't know if you are suffering or stressed,  but know that nothing is wasted on God. Mourning is tough, but morning is coming.

Little House on the Prarie

           Have you ever walked into a house and felt instantly at home? That was exactly how I felt when I saw our new house for the very first time this past Sunday. It isn't grandiose or majestic...bucolic and rustic come to mind instead. When I was first married, one of my hubby's friends described me as "simple", and it offended me at first. Now that I'm a little older, it doesn't bother me like it did. I now know it meant "uncomplicated", not "boring".  This house suits me perfectly.  It's even yellow, which I've always loved. Plus...wait for it...there is no tile in the showers! Hallelujah!!
           I described our last house as "The Promised Land", and it really had everything we could've ever hoped for.  I remember asking God why in the world He allowed us to simplify and get rid of so much stuff if we were going to move to a huge house. We never really did fill up our old house. Now, it all makes sense. Don't get me wrong,  I loved living there, but I believe I will love living here as well. Our old house feels more to me like one of those awesome vacation houses that you rent to make special memories in since we only lived there a year. We had lots of special things happen there (like the birth of our first son or polor bear event, where my hubby and the girls rolled on the icy pond after going in the sauna), but I never left my mark there. I never even had a chance to paint any walls a beautiful (some may say "obnoxious") shade of green.
          You should see the land that goes with this property.  It is beautiful and rolling with tall grasses and a seasonal stream and pond. Parts of the grass have been cut and huge rolls of hay dot our backyard. There is an enormous screened in porch off the back of the house with large knarled silver maple trees shading it. It is just lovely.
          I used to love the show "Little House on the Prarie", and my mom recently bought the entire set. The girls and I have enjoyed watching it with her when we see her. When she came down to celebrate her birthday, we commented about how our new home would be just like that. I guess that would make me Caroline and my hubby Charles. I'm curious to see if there are any nagging, superficial Mrs. Olsens around here. One of my mom's friends hit the nail on the head saying that we enjoy Mrs. Olsen so much because "we all have a little of her in us".
            We started reading the "Little House" books for school this year; and while debating whether or not to buy them, I saw that the author's daughter has some books about her called "The Rose Years". The author, Laura Ingalls Wilder moved to Missouri with her hubby. It seemed a little more than coincidental when I saw that. It was like God had us  introduce our girls to the "Little House" books and shows right before we moved out.
          Do you know when we first found this house? It was listed for the first time on our 16th anniversary. Sitting on the back porch listening to the cicadas humm and the chickens cluck, I can tell you that this definitely feels like a present.

A Series Of Fortunate (and Unfortunate) Events

           What seemed rather simple in theory has turned out to be rather complicated. Every time we turn around there is a new challenge to navigate.
           Unfortunately,  our driveway proved to be too steep for the semi-truck to drive without scraping the bottom of the trailer. Fortunately,  our neighbor has a road bordering ours that they parked on. Fortunately,  they could also rent a u-haul to shuttle boxes back and forth.
            Unfortunately,  the paperwork wasn't finished for us to close on our house before driving to our new house. Fortunately,  a good friend was willing to watch over our house while the packers finish late last night (since the shuttling made the process take longer than anticipated).
             Unfortunately,  due to some assessment issues the bank still wasn't ready to close when we arrived last evening. Fortunately,  a friend of mine allowed us to keep our chickens and ducks at her place.
            Unfortunately,  the buyer wasn't willing to let us take possession by leasing the property till Monday. Fortunately,  my hubby already had a two bedroom furnished apartment that allow dogs and cats. We have somewhere to stay.
             A lot has been challenging; but fortunately,  we are all here together and (other than allergies) are healthy. None of the animals even got sick.

"We are hard pressed on every side, yet not crushed, we are persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down but not destroyed..." 2 Corinthians 4:8-9

Appetite for Destruction

         Last week, I surprised my mom by showing up with the kids to a birthday party thrown by her co-worker celebrating her 70th birthday.  It was awesome to meet some of the people that she has impacted in the last 18 years of work at a support group for people who have had a loved one die.  It was also a wonderful break from the ordinary, but it was just long enough to forget about the partially burned peanut butter jar that Harley found at the top of the hill on our neighbor's burn pile. Harley, our dog, didn't forget. Food is always on his brain, especially when it's peanut butter. He must have somehow snuck up there after coming home on Tuesday afternoon. Wednesday,  I found out about his secret binge when his body began purging the blackened plastic all over our floral carpeting at the top of our stairs. He looked so pathetic as he continued to empty the charred contents of his stomach throughout the next 24 hours. He stared accusingly at me when I withheld his regular meals, so I lectured him all day about making good food choices,making it easier to resist his huge puppy dog eyes.  Eating garbage prevented him from eating his regular nourishing food, but it also caused him to be isolated from us. I love him, but when it comes to puking dogs, they are confined to tile areas with washable items only. I have too many children to spend hours on my hand and knees cleaning dog puke out of the carpet. I had enough fun the last time around to last a lifetime. (If you missed that post, here you go.) I also informed Harley that he chose this isolation by indulging his appetite. The vet mentioned that I needed to be sure he continued his bowel movements. His appetite could literally destroy him (or at least his internal organs). Why would he choose to eat trash?
          I have begun to say goodbye to the familiar.  Sunday was my last service in our home church, where they celebrated a finished balcony by holding a free Mandisa concert. What a treat! She is fabulous!! My daughter celebrated her final birthday with her best buddies yesterday,  and it is just a matter of days till we say goodbye to the town that has been our home for the past twelve years. As I began thinking about all the people we are leaving behind, I began to feel very weepy.
           If I wanted to, I could've thought about all the negative things; but it wouldn't really be any different than choosing to eat a burnt jar of peanut butter. It would make me feel sick and cause me to draw inward, isolating me from those I love.  I chose instead to take my sadness to God. He reminded me that we aren't guaranteed any length to our life. For all I know, I could be exiting earth tomorrow. Even if I never see all my good buddies again in this life, I will have all eternity to spend together with those that have trusted in Christ. (Although I am planning on returning for an occasional visit). I felt a smidge better after those thoughts, but I still told God how special they all are to me. It brought tears to my eyes to think about each friend and the important role they have played in my journey.  He told me that my friends here are wonderful, but I have no idea all the amazing people that He is going to introduce me to in Missouri. God is no stranger to sorrow,  and He knows how hard this is for all of us. I know He can handle my tears, but He can also lift my spirits with the truth of wholesome thoughts. This is what I'm choosing to dwell on, instead of eating the garbage.
          This is why I'm singing with all my heart the song that Mandisa led us in during her concert. It says, "At all times, I will bless the Lord." Thank you, Mandisa for that song; thank you, hubby, for surprising me with the CD; and most of all, thank you, God, for the feast of good thoughts!
     

Learning Endurance

          I have great news! We now have a house that we are planning to buy. It is a lovely three bedroom ranch situated on more than 25 acres. I haven't seen it in person; but thanks to Google's "Hangouts", the girls and I were able to see it via my hubby's smartphone. We begin inspections this week; and as long as nothing major pops up, we will be moving in just a few weeks.
          The people who put their house on the market in order to buy our house sold their home last week. We begin home inspections on this end this Thursday,  so we can close on September 20th.
            The other notable news from this week is that our duck Splashes has begun laying her clutch of eggs. We are up to  six eggs. Malards typically lay one egg a day. After they lay 12-18 eggs, they begin sitting on them. If she lays 12, we should have baby ducks around September 22. (18 eggs would put us around September 28.) I'm not sure how the ducks will handle our move, but I think two ducks will be easier to move than a dozen...looks like we will just be moving eggs.
         Yesterday when I was getting all befuddled about how this is going to work out, God brought my mind back to our hike in the woods Saturday. We all went as a family for a trip through the wooded part of our property.  This was my first time hiking in our woods, and I was amazed by how beautiful and serene it was. Everyone walked except for the baby, who got to ride on my hubby's back. In the beginning, it was almost impossible to get our three year old to hold my hand, even on the steep ascent into the woods. I stood behind her ready to catch her at a moment's notice. It wasn't until we came to a couple of large logs across our path that she showed any signs of hesitation.  What was knee high for me was almost waist high for her. She began asking me to pick her up.  Most of the time, I smiled at her and offered my hand to guide her instead of carrying her. Her requests increased in frequency the longer we went on. She was getting tired.  Occasionally I did pick her up when the obstacles were too much for her to do alone. However, I wanted her to continue to walk as much as possible to help her develop endurance.
          That's what I think God is doing for me right now. He is with me every step of the way holding my hand, but He only carries me when the way is really difficult. He knows I'm tired, but He also has the perspective of being so much bigger than my obstacles.  He can see where the path gets easy again, just like I could with my daughter.  2 Cor. 5:7 tells us to walk by faith not by sight.  Continuing to trust God enough not to worry over every detail of our move builds my own faith-filled endurance. I know He is right there to catch me if I fall, and that is enough to keep me pressing on.
   

Where Is Home?

          We've gone through negotiations for a house many times now, and just when it seems like it's only a matter of days, something else gets thrown into the mix. Most recently we waited for a redo of a home disclosure only to have the seller add several items they were unwilling to leave instead of changing an answer to more correctly reflect the house's condition (a condition that my hubby caught while walking through the house showing). Nothing has felt like it has gone smoothly other than the initial sale contract on our house that fell through a month and a half later.
            Along with all the challenges of relocation, our animals have presented fun challenges this week too. Our female mallard duck had a growth on her third membrane in her eye. It basically looked like a small pencil eraser was coming out of the corner of her eye. One avian vet visit later (and eyedrops administered twice daily), and it is starting to look better. When they started saying that we only had a 50/50 chance of it going away, our family started praying really hard. We love Splashes, but she is not having a $400 surgery to remove the growth. Yesterday,  we also had the fun of waiting for Charlotte to stop laying on her egg and one of the other hen's eggs before we left to go to the library. Heaven help the person who tries to move a hen who is sitting on her eggs. You might just lose an eye. She snuck out of her pen in the yard to get back in our hen house that was supposed to be vacated for cleaning...apparently she missed our out of order sign. We couldn't just leave the house or the pen open while we were gone without leaving all the hens defenseless against the neighbor dog. I can't really complain though. The pancakes we had this morning thanks to her work were quite tasty.
          Every year my kids get excited when Cheerios puts out their boxes with books in them. We each pick out a book. This year one of them is entitled,  "Where Is Home, Little Pip?" The penguin gets lost and asks every animal for help, but they only describe their own home. Each animal includes their family as part of the description in their home. At the end of the story Pip's parents find her; but when they go to settle down for the night,  Pip questions why they aren't going to their original home. The parents then reveal that home is where they all are, no matter the location. We opened the box of Cheerios that held this book on the day we signed our contract for selling our home back at the end of May. It seemed fitting to be reminded what really constitutes a home. I had all kinds of emotions that day and in the days that have followed; but today as we look to where we will all be together again, it's a good reminder too of what we look forward to. There is a restlessness growing within all of us to have a reuniting of our family. None of us like being apart. This house doesn't feel like a home without my hubby here. I know he feels more at peace when he is here with us too.
          Last week our baby turned six months old, and I decided to walk around the house with our camcorder to document all the rooms and their importance especially for the baby,  who'll be too young to remember it. I showed him where he was born, and where he took his first bath (actually since it was a water birth maybe it's technically the same) along with where he swang while I'd run my thirty minutes.  Someday, I think he'll appreciate it. Every morning he looks over his crib railing, gibbering and waiting for me to arrive. I am greeted with the biggest grin ever because all he really wants is me. Home is where we are together.  He knows it now. Hopefully,  he'll never forget it.