A surprising gift....

Sometimes the greatest gifts are the ones that come as a surprise.

When I went to Australia this past February, I expected much of what happened.  I was fully prepared to be ecstatic to see my brother, my own flesh and blood.  My dear bro, who has played a unique roll in shaping my life. It came as no surprise that our conversation flowed freely, and that time and distance had done nothing to diminish our friendship. I was not surprised that I fell in love with Bec just a little more - her softness, her openness, her generosity, her complete acceptance and celebration of who I am - though they are incredible gifts to me, and I receive them humbly - they did not completely shock me.  This is who I've come to know her to be.  And my beautiful niece and adorable nephews...well, I fully expected them to be gorgeous, and they did not disappoint (after all, they have great genetics - heehee).  In many all ways, my Australian family met and exceeded my expectations.  We were loved on from the moment we were greeted at the airport to the tearful goodbyes exchanged at the same airport.  I went to bed each night, satisfied and saying "that was a really good day".  And I meant it.

What I didn't expect was my sister-in-law.

I mean, she was my travel partner, so of course I expected her presence!!

However.

I was unprepared for the way I could laugh with her, the way she brought out my "silly", the way she could draw out the girl I was before my life was driven by responsibilities. I have a tonne of memories of immature fun things we did.....singing Oh Canada at the top of our lungs in a marble steam room (despite the group of people listening outside), looking very silly while sitting in water-filled wine barrels for over an hour at the most amazing hot spring/spa on planet earth, snickering while having our bags searched by security at the Sydney airport (and almost having one of our packages confiscated!), to name just a few. And man, did we giggle.  Like grade two schoolgirls. The laughter was like that first breath of fresh spring air in March. So refreshing.  So welcome. So intoxicating.

Though my time in Australia was highlighted by incredible fun, it was peppered liberally with daily eye-opening, challenging, humbling, growth-inspiring conversation.  And that is not overstating my experience. Perhaps it was the removal of all responsibility from my life for those two weeks, my ability to simply focus on myself, without the distraction of daily family living.  Perhaps it was being able to remove myself from my life, in order to see it more clearly.  Whatever it was, my time in Australia gave me opportunity to look closer at the parts of me I can easily ignore at home.  As I processed, my sister-in-law became my sounding board (she had no choice - we were together 24 hours a day).  She listened.  She encouraged me.  She bravely challenged my misconceptions.  She inspired me to be true to myself.  Late into the night, I poured out whatever was on my heart, and she received it with grace and compassion.

It sounds dramatic.  And it was.

Why am I saying this now, 10 months later?

This morning felt a bit like mini-Australia vacation.

She calls me at 8:45 this morning. 

"So, are you ready to go?" (she's referring to having breakfast at the teahouse, to celebrate that I am now unemployed, as the last of our pigs left the barn yesterday).

"I don't know,"  I say, insipidly.  "I'm still wearing PJ's"

"Me too. Let's go in our PJ's", comes the cheerful, undaunted reply.

After mild protest, I consent.

Five minutes later, I am sitting in her van, wearing pj's that were pulled out of the dryer minutes earlier. My teeth have been brushed. My hair was not so fortunate.

As we are seated at the table, I feel some of my layers peeling off. I stop caring who sees me in my pj's and start laughing. We begin talking and sharing our hearts. The atmosphere, the formula. It feels reminiscent of Australia.  Mix one part silly with two parts honesty.

I like it.  I feel content.  Relaxed.  Enjoying the gift that sits across the table from me.

I am not prepared for what comes next.

I hear her say something similar to the following....

"Next time, we should go to McDonald's in our wedding dresses".

Thanksgiving Gratitudes

Burned out fields near Pansy after the firestorm on 10/7/11

Some of the recent additions on my ever-growing list of gifts in my life......

• Blonde ringlets trailing down a back
• Possibilities
• A friend who really listens
• A young daughter's pride in "reading" her first book
• Hydro workers who respond quickly
• Protection of a home from strong winds
• Pumpkin muffins made with fresh garden pumpkin
• Firemen and RCMP who battle fierce fires while we sleep
• Three kids excited to have a "sleepover" in the living room
• Child's warm skin in the morning
• Homemade pizza that turns out perfectly
• Freshly bathed children
• French lentil soup and freshly-baked savoury biscuits
• Closed doors opening to new opportunities
• Little girl meticulously straightening out her mama-made quilt
• Hydro coming back on after a brief but stressful spell of no power in the barn
• The sun casting warm fingers of light mixed with shadows all over the yard
• First horse rides

Wishing you a beautiful Thanksgiving! May you recognize and appreciate all the good things in your life!

And don't forget to brush your teeth!

Meet Little Bear.........

Today, I went to Urban Barn, HomeSense and Costco, and came home with this.....

Welcome to our home, Little Bear! 

Standing on the Precipice

Taken from the geography site

Afternote:  Since writing this post,  I have received a few concerned emails and phone calls from dear souls who thought I'd gone off the deep end (pardon the pun).  No, I'm not suicidal, I am not injecting illegal drugs (or legal drugs, for that matter), and I'm still happily married.  Sometimes taking a step of faith in my life can feel a bit like cliff jumping.  The following simply describes, disturbingly accurately, perhaps, my inner struggle with this journey of faith.

The rock is cold and rough beneath my feet.  Mist from the churning water below settles on my skin.  One solitary breath.  Exhale slowly. Inch my toes closer to the edge.  One more deep breath.  This is harder than it appears.  Peer cautiously over the edge.  Down.  Down.  The water beckons, but does not give up its secrets. What lays beneath remains a mystery.  Heart stops, then pounds fast and furious. Breath is suspended.  Stomach tightens into a hundred knots.  Toes curl inward.  Inner voices battle viciously.  Toes now extend past the edge of the rock.  Fists clenched.  One more deep breath.  Oh, silence, you voice of reason! Heart threatens to burst from the chest. Legs bend slightly at the knee.

1...2...3.....

I jump.

In this moment, I am......

Laughing: still, at the t-shirt a man at the mall was wearing.  It said "To: Women.  From: God."  Such confidence.  Or something.

Endlessly grateful: to my dad (and mom) who brought two huuuuge truck loads of wood, all chopped and ready to keep us toasty warm in the coming months.  Can you say S-P-O-I-L-E-D?

Cherishing: the time I have to work slowly, methodically and interruption free while my kids are at school.  It's bittersweet having them all in school again (or for the first time!), with an emphasis on sweet.

Loving: the feeling of the garden being emptied, fertilized and tilled - ready for the winter.  Thanks for tilling, Dr. Feelgood.  Such a gift.

Chicking: things off the fall to do list.  Yes, that was a pun.  We emptied out our chicken coop for the winter and have 120 eggs in the fridge waiting for someone to turn them into a gourmet dish.

Planning: bonfires like there's no tomorrow.  Because, soon, tomorrow will be too cold.

Avoiding: the niggling thoughts that I'm receiving 600 pigs and shipping 400 tomorrow.  It's what I do, but some days, we all don't feel like doing what needs to be done, right?  Please?  Someone?

Listening: to the sounds of Taelyn in the bathtub, squirting water out of a fish.  It's her day at home today.

Smelling:  Nothing.  No smells indicating that anyone has started supper.  What to make.  This is becoming a bit of an epidemic. Whatever happened to regular meal planning?  I used to be so organized.

Cozying up: With the following books: One Thousand Gifts, The Omnivore's Dilemma, Made to Crave, The Rhythm of Family, and Crazy Love.  A bit of a smorgasborg, but I love it!   Fall and reading.....mmmmmm.

Looking forward to: a date with my oldest daughter at the teahouse on Wednesday evening. 

Wishing you: all a great week.  May you stop long enough to breathe in the gorgeous fresh air and admire the extravagant display of fall foliage.  Isn't it startling how death can look so beautiful?

Grace Lessons (aka learning what I already know)

The pigs press in hard against the feeder. 

It's time for their daily ration of manna.

I watch as they squeal, desperately nosing up to the river of grain tumbling into the stainless steel feeder. Twenty five of them push and shove with all the gusto their 40 pound bodies can muster, clamouring for more - always clamouring.  One climbs up on the back of another and staggers clear over the writhing pack and drops his body into the group of frenzied weanlings at the trough, all feverish and determined to keep their places .

Grace has no place here.

I stand there, shaking my head.  I know something they don't.

While they are bellowing and fighting for each crumble of grace-sustenance, not knowing when it will stop, I do know. Eight tonne.  That's how much feed there is available to them.  Enough to fill their feeder a hundred times over.  Much more than enough to satisfy.

And yet they fight. And screech. And holler. And walk on others, scratching their way to the front, all bellowing in ear-piercing protest.  Manners have no place here, either.

Really, what can you expect, right?  They're pigs.  They didn't get their reputation for being "pigs" for nothing.

I watch them, vaguely amused, stopped in my tracks by what I've seen a hundred times, and yet today seeing it as for the first. 

One barrow, particularly passionate in his effort to get to the feeder, catches my attention. I see his body, tense and frenzied, thrashing about in his struggle. I whisper it, aloud, though who's listening - "Hey, honey, relax - there's enough for all of you."

There's enough for all of you.

I stop, hold my breath, strangely aware that the words whispered were maybe meant for me.  Could it be?

Could it be that there is enough goodness, blessing, in this world for all of us, enough to fill all our outstretched hands, food aplenty for each and every hungry heart?

Could it be that if good fortune finds a neighbour, that I could rejoice with them, knowing that they haven't stolen anything from me?  Could it be that gifts, blessings, good fortune are not merely poured out at random over humanity, leaving us to claw our way to acquire as much as we can, but that we are each given our own cup, carefully measured with what we need by One who knows best? Could I have the courage to smile bravely when someone else wins and it feels like my loss?  Could I rest, smile knowingly, because I haven't been forgotten? Could I give today's ration away, believing that when my need arises, my cupped hands will be filled?  Can I be wholely satisfied with the measure in my cup?

The feeder is full.  I switch off the feedline and turn off the lights. I close the door to the barn, thoughts and soul churning.

A David Psalm (The Message translation)

 ^1-3 God, my shepherd! I don't need a thing.
   You have bedded me down in lush meadows,
      you find me quiet pools to drink from.
   True to your word,
      you let me catch my breath
      and send me in the right direction.

 ⁴ Even when the way goes through
      Death Valley,
   I'm not afraid
      when you walk at my side.
   Your trusty shepherd's crook
      makes me feel secure.

 ⁵ You serve me a six-course dinner
      right in front of my enemies.
   You revive my drooping head;
      my cup brims with blessing.

 ⁶ Your beauty and love chase after me
      every day of my life.
   I'm back home in the house of God
      for the rest of my life.

A Tale of Western Society

Love this story that I read over at Centsational Girl.

The Tourist and the Mexican Fisherman

author unknown

A boat docked in a tiny Mexican village.  An American tourist got out and complimented the local Mexican fisherman on the quality of his fish, then asked how long it took him to catch them.

“Not very long,” answered the Mexican.
“But then, why didn’t you stay out longer and catch more?” asked the American.

The fisherman explained that his small catch was sufficient to meet his needs and those of his family.

The American tourist asked,

“But what do you do with the rest of your time?”

The fisherman replied,

“I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take a siesta with my wife, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos. I have a full and busy life, señor.”

The American interrupted,

“I have an MBA from Harvard and I can help you! You should spend more time fishing, and with the proceeds you buy a bigger boat. With the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats, eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats.”
“Instead of selling your fish to a middleman, you can negotiate directly with the processing plants and maybe even open your own plant. You can then leave this little village and move to Mexico City, Los Angeles, or even New York City! From there you can direct your huge enterprise.”

          “How long would that take?” asked the Mexican.
         
          “15, perhaps 20, years,” replied the American.

          “But what then, señor?”

“Afterwards? That’s when it gets really interesting,” answered the American, laughing. “When your business gets really big, you can start selling stocks and make millions!”

          “Millions, señor?  Then what?”

The American said slowly,

“Then, you would retire!  Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take a siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos.”

I got all that from an egg.....

This spring, my son presented me with a robin egg he found, abandoned, in the grass.  As I was admiring its beauty, I was struck with the sudden thought "you will only experience your potential through brokenness".  This egg, which was smooth and beautiful and stained the most brilliant of shades, actually represented death, unfulfilled dreams. A wasted life.  How sad, really.  Only when the egg is broken, shattered and stained, does it result in the life it was intended for.

It nudged me to thinking about the thin veneer, or eggshell, in the lives of us humans.  We all have an eggshell to a degree, don't we?  We project ourselves according to other's expectations, we resist vulnerablity, we're interested in talking about our successes, but not our failures, we avoid painful subjects and the people who trigger them, we struggle to seek forgiveness, we question God when painful things come into our life, we say all is fine thank you very much, because we secretly believe our darkness, our ugliness, will be repulsive to those around us. And so we hide inside our beautifully crafted shell.  We wax it, shine it up, fix up any cracks that threaten to cause our vulnerable, weak, fragile selves to be exposed to the world.  We think we would be whole and happy if only we could avoid pain and brokenness.

And we don't realize that brokenness is the only path to life. 

Even Jesus Christ was only able to fulfill his ultimate purpose through brokenness.... "this is my body, broken for you."

So I attempt to choose the path of vulnerability and humility more often.  I beg my child for forgiveness because I have hurt them with my words. I humbly lean my head against my husband's chest and whisper "I was wrong". I confess the darkness in my heart to those around me, hanging on to the words of James, "confess your sins to each other....so that you may be healed" (5:16).  It feels hard.  I don't like the feeling of being broken, but it is the only way. To life, that is.

And I attempt to accept adversity in my life, humbly seeking to learn from it, grow from it, challenge my perceptions. I choose not to shake my fist at God, who allows the painful situation, and has the power to remove it from my life. I humbly acknowledge that I do not always know what is best for me.  Lately, I've particularly enjoyed reading Job 38-41.  It is God's response to Job's painful situation.  And his situation is hard, isn't it?  He's lost his kids, his servants, all his wealth, and his health.. Everything, it seems.  And so I expect God's response to his cries should be laced with deep sadness and maybe even regret, right? But his response is startling - to me, at least. I can almost hear the gentle sarcasm (is that what it is?!) in His voice "Brace yourself like a man; I will question you and you shall answer me. Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation?  Tell me if you understand.  Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know!" (Job 38:3-5).  "Have you entered the storehouses of snow? (22) Does the rain have a father? (28)Who gives birth to the frost from the heavens? (29) Can you lead out the bear with its cubs (32)Who can tip over the water jars of the heavens? (37)  "Surely you know, for you were already born!  You have lived so many years!" (v 21).  And God goes on, asking question after question, basically reading out a small part of His daily "to do" list....and Job's response in 40:4-5 is becoming mine - "I am unworthy - how can I reply to you? I put my hand over my mouth, I spoke once, but I have no answer - twice, but I will say no more."    

And so I strive to accept the pain in my life, hanging on to the belief that God has my best interest at heart, and this pain, this brokenness, will produce the life I was intended to live.  That it is a necessary part of His plan for my life.

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perserverance.  Perserverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." James 1: 2-4.

Brokenness.  Not a popular word in today's society. But then, God's path is usually countercultural.

Cell Phone Cozy

Since getting my new cell phone, I have been very careful to not drop it, step on it, sit on it, scratch it, throw it in a lake, or otherwise destroy it.  However, I'm quickly realizing that I'll need some help.  The kind of help that a cell phone case could provide.  After deciding against buying a case (I didn't find anything fun online, and what's a phone without a happy case???!), I decided to sew one.  A quick online search resulted in a tonne of tutorials.  I decided to generally follow the guidelines set in this one at sew mama sew, although I changed it up a bit to accommodate the size of my phone.  I found two scrap pieces of fabric and some natural cotton batting (to provide a bit of extra protection).  It's been awhile since I've sewn anything, but I enjoyed the feeling of creating something with my hands, despite all the imperfections that I see (and it gave me very fond memories of my dear Aussie sister-in-law, who is a domestic, crafty goddess, and was the person who inspired me to begin sewing to start with).  I haven't decided how I'm going to close the case (either velcro or a snap of sorts), but here's what I've whipped up so far.

And here she is, all tucked in for sleeping......

Worth celebrating

Today marks my mom and dad's 43rd wedding anniversary. Incredible, isn't it? In a society ravaged by the devastating effects of divorce, this is something worth celebrating.  It is a beacon of light and hope to young people who have long lost their belief in lifelong love.  It assures couples in the middle of a conflict that there is a way through to the other side.  It inspires me to be a mate worth sticking with for the long haul.  Happy anniversary, mom and dad!

In this moment, I am.........

At this moment, I am...

wondering: if anyone is still checking my blog for recent posts.  To those who have emailed and gently said "wass'uuuuuup?", thank you.  It's nice to know there are people who actually read my rants. 

amazed:  at the tiny green shoots I see peeking out of the soil in our garden .  Each year, I am humbled and surprised that a seed I can hardly find in my hand becomes something so much more.  New to our garden this year are stevia, eggplant, and a variety of pumpkin that is known to produce a pumpkin up to 200 lbs!

feeling lonesome: for my hubby.  This week, he's been living in Australian time.  He's been leaving for work around 2:00pm, and been coming home anywhere between 3:00 and 5:00 am.  The kids have really missed him.  The photo above showing two kids sitting on top of him was a rare moment of interaction this week.  I'm grateful that today should be the last day of the craziness.

secretly enjoying: the evenings by myself after the kids are in bed.  It feels so indulgent to be able to do whatever I want - so I spend my time doing super crazy, unheard of things - like folding laundry and tidying up.

surprising myself: by faithfully watching the Stanley Cup Playoffs - even though Jeff hasn't been here to watch with me.  Can't wait to see Vancouver win!!   Am I the same girl who rolls her eyes when her husband wants to "watch the game?"

smiling to myself: at how excited our kids get to have "sleepovers" with each other.  The three of them are presently all curled up on the floor in one of the bedrooms.  They've been reading stories and talking while eating classic sleepover party food - roasted almonds and raisins (will they be in therapy one day because of the way their mamma fed them?)

curious: as to why the inside of the hose of our central vac stinks.  Does anyone else have a internally smelly central vac hose?  Or, perhaps more realistically, does no one ever think to smell the inside of their central vac hose?

preparing myself: for my baby girl going to kindergarten in the fall.  She rode on the bus for the first time yesterday, and has recently begun to resist me calling her my baby.  Oh, my bleeding heart!  How will I manage to start my day without a long, warm cuddle and Dr. Suess?

adjusting: to the idea of daily pig chores again.   It's been just over a year since I have managed the day-to-day operations of our farm (as it's been empty), and, at one week into this new adventure, Taelyn and I are still settling into our new morning rhythm.

laughing and rolling my eyes:  At Taelyn's insistence that we check for eggs seven times a day.  We recently got our summer chickens, and Taelyn could not be more excited.  I really needed to wear a long skirt one day this week, and put braids in my hair and call myself Ma from Little House on the Prairie...my morning routine consisted of chicken chores, pig chores, and planting a garden....Now doesn't that sound like it comes straight out of a historical novel??

grateful: for a husband who expresses his appreciation for my contribution to our home. I'm also thankful for all he does.   Flying solo for just over a week has shown me that I really value his presence in our home.....

picking lilacs: almost daily.  I love waking up in the morning to the fresh scent of the lilacs sitting on my nightstand. 

thinking about: simple pleasures, and inspired by how my kids embrace them...dunking fresh rhubarb in sugar, eating al fresco, licking stirring spoons after baking something sweet, watching stars, early morning bonfires while eating toast with homemade jam, bird watching in our backyard, reading a good book.

laughing: at my son's proclamation at supper tonight that he wanted to be a stick whittler or a pizza taste tester when he grows up. To which his older sister suggested that he should probably go to college instead.

looking forward: to a weekend filled with sunshine, working at The Perk, and soaking up the rays with my family - maybe some biking, a picnic, a camper sleepover, a bonfire, smores, going to bed at 8:00pm......

Wishing you all a relaxing, peaceful weekend!

Exercise in Letting Go......

Today, my baby girl decided to get all growed up and do this for the first time......

What an achingly sad and beautiful picture of a parents' journey as we watch our kids grow up....as parents, we let go, painfully aware that letting them go means allowing our kids to fail and experience pain.  Letting go means we lose more control of their lives.  We simultaneously experience the joy that comes from knowing our children are moving towards capability and independence in this world and the gnawing voice that whispers to us that we're not needed anymore.

Anyway, this post is not about a weepy mom, but her determined and happy 4-year-old.  She asked me to help her get on her bike, and once she was on, she started pedalling, drove straight off the driveway and onto the road with her mom, dad and brother running after her, laughing and hollering "Way to go, Taelyn!", and "Get off the road", and "Woohoo!" and "Watch out for that tree!". Big excitement.

Note the determined little lip.....

And cheering her on was her very encouraging, excited big brother!

Replay Replay Replay

So, it's not much of a music video, but I like the rhythm and feel of this song.

My Version of a Dozen Roses

This is what my hubby surprised me with recently.  Two DECKS of Benjamin Moore Paint Chip cards!!!  Isn't that so very exciting??

Yeah, that's the reaction I get from most people.  My man knows me well! 

They're so beautiful.  And I don't have to water them.

Perspective is Everything

I heard this first when I was in Australia....I think it's worth a listen.

The Minimalist Part I

Is this only funny to me??

Church Talk

This weekend, I was asked the question "What's the biggest, most impactful thing you have learned since attending Southland?"

"Hmph.....er.....ummmmm....."

That's what I said.  Clever, huh? And then I said "I'll get back to you".  

This is my attempt to do just that.

We have attended Southland Community Church for nearly 8 years... we began shortly after the birth of our son (although friends tease us that it's the source of arguments between Jeff and I because we never agree on the exact time we started - Just so you know - I'm right!!).   Looking back, it's really difficult for me to seperate what I've learned through Southland with how I've grown as a person through my various life experiences during our time at Southland.  What influences what?  Do Southland messages affect the way I see my life experiences, or do my life experiences provide a filter through which I process Southland teaching?  I think it's both.  Anyway, moving along.

One of the biggest blessings that has come out of my time at Southland has been the deep friendships I have formed with some incredible women.  We met in a cell, and though that cell has not met for several years, they are still the girls I can pour my heart out to.  I trust them, and they have stood with me through personal challenges.  I can say, without hesitation, that their influence in my life has made me a better mother, wife, and God-seeker.  Jeff has told me as much.  They have taught me what it means to love unconditionally, as I have experienced their love in my life.  They have challenged me in my faith, inspired me through their vulnerability, and have enabled me to experience great freedom and joy in my life through the honesty we share.  Early on in my parenting years, I prayed for a friend, and God answered my prayer in multiples!  I don't mean to gush....well, yes, I think I do....they really are all such gifts!  I love them dearly. 

As I look back over the past few years, one of my biggest challenges has been watching our farm go from alive and active to, well, dead and inactive.  It's been both humbling and difficult seeing Jeff rise to the challenge of switching careers in a heroic effort to provide for us.  We have come through (and at times are still coming through) a season of great disappointment and dashed hopes.  I think it's called a storm of life. That said, we can also see how our characters and paradigms have been shaped by our experience.  I feel like my eyes have been opened up to all the pain and sorrow of those around me, and my heart aches for those who are facing challenges.  I feel we have learned to trust God in new ways.  Our priorities in life have come into sharper focus.  Our marriage has experienced greater oneness.  I have come to deeply respect and appreciate Jeff for the sacrifices he makes for our family.  We have been forced to be a team in ways we never would have chosen (example:  when I was "managing" the barns, I would phone Jeff on the cell, and he would tell me how to diagnose a fan/controller/feed system problem I was having. Or how to pull a pit. Or how to raise and lower frozen ramps in winter. Or what to do if the pressure washer isn't working and one and a half rooms needed to be washed that day. Or how to "fix" the lawn tractor.  More than once, there were tears on my end of the phone, and patient instruction on his end - I'm sure with a few rolled eyes thrown in.  As they say, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger!).  We have asked God a lot of questions, and, though I couldn't write a book on "everything I know for sure about life and God", we have come to experience God's presence and involvement in our life, and that has been very exciting and reassuring.   All I can say is - it beats head knowledge.

So, what does all this have to do with what we've learned at Southland?  I can't say, specifically, but, through the years, I have listened to countless testimonies of how God has worked in the lives of others.  I feel I am in a place where I can add my small story to the stories of countless others who are experiencing God in personal ways.  Just last weekend, when I sang in the mass choir, between the services (there were 5!!), I heard several stories of how God had met invididuals in real ways through concepts they've discovered while attending Southland.  I value being part of a group of people who, as a whole, are growing in their passion and love for God. 

I couldn't talk about what I have learned at Southland without addressing the teaching it offers, week after week.  I am an incurable note-taker - I eat up information.  And I feel like I get a lot of stuff to chew on each week.  Many messages have spurred me towards personal study of the subject later on. I think about it, study it, and when I run into a snag in my thinking, I talk to others about it (I try to avoid third period in the finals, though).  As a wise woman recently told me (and you know who you are!), "If a message causes us to think and delve deeper, it's done its job".  As I go through my week, I think about what was said on the weekend, and I'd be amiss to say that it doesn't influence my thinking.  Southland's influence and message could be likened to a soundtrack in my life.  Sometimes the music is louder (ie.  a message hits me between the eyes and I make immediate change in my life or it provides a different perspective on something that's going on in my personal life) and other times, it's quieter.  Sometimes its convicting, sometimes reassuring.  Sometimes it brings me to tears, sometimes it raises questions and even causes me to raise my eyebrows. But always, its pervasive presence reminds me, in all circumstances, to press deeper into God.

The Icecream on the Cake

When Makenna turned four, I offered to make her a special birthday cake.  We went online (dial-up at the time - I nearly pulled my hair out!!) in search of the perfect birthday cake image (images take even longer to load!!).  We signed out birthday cake books from the local public library.  We discussed her ideas at length.  She finally decided on a Raggedy Ann cake.  I read up on cake decorating, learned all about different kinds of icings, bought special ingredients (spent far too much!), borrowed special sized and shaped pans, stressed about the decorating aspect of the cake (I can't even make decent icing, much less arrange it properly), worried that it wouldn't turn out, and on.  When I was done, I resolved, through tears and sweat pouring down my face, that I would never do that again.  Kind of like how I resolved never to have another baby the day Mason was born (yeah, that didn't work out so well, either).

All my resolve melted at Makenna's birthday party, when the cake was revealed to her and she loved it so much. All my blood, sweat, and tears were forgotten.  Any moms out there who can relate to that?

Since then, it has become a tradition that I make whatever birthday cake the kids want.  Anything goes.  You want a castle?  No problem!  A pirate ship?  I'd love to!  A candyland boardgame?  Comin' right up!  Butterflies?  Farmyards?  Carebears?  Mommy is AT YOUR SERVICE, and AIMING TO PLEASE!

But, truth be told, I'm really not very good at cake decorating.  It doesn't come naturally to me, and two years ago, a sweet friend came over to help me mix buttercream icing.  That's how far I've come in all these years.

So you can imagine my (inner) delight when my nearly decade-old daughter asked me to make an icecream cake for her birthday, and then showed me a picture of the simplest icecream cake on the planet.  The recipe claims it takes less than 15 minutes to make.  Now, to those of you who stop by the bakery and pick up a cake may think 15 minutes is a lot of time, but to someone who potentially spends multiple days crafting a cake, this feels like a "get out of jail" card.

Enough rambling.  Here's a really easy cake to make for any occasion calling for icecream cake..... 

WARNING:  This is super unhealthy and full of all kinds of stuff that a mommy does not want her kids eating.

Ingredients
1 box of 24 icecream sandwiches (you'll have some left over)
1 bottle chocolate sauce (you'll have some of that left over, too, unless you REALLY like it)
1 tub frozen dessert whip
1 or two chocolate bars (whatever kind you want)

 Cover the bottom of a 9" x 13" pan with icecream sandwiches.

Squirt a bunch of chocolate sauce over the icecream sandwich layer.  Spread whipped cream evenly over that.  Repeat with another layer of icecream sandwiches, chocolate sauce and whipped cream.

Crush chocolate bar (s).  I do it with an end of my rolling pin, leaving the bar in its package.  No dishes that way. :)

Sprinkle over cake. I also added a bit more chocolate sauce, because I'm from the school of thought that one can never have too much chocolate. 

Tada!  Simple.  And I had to wash one spoon and one knife when I was done. 



I dug up an old picture of the very first cake I made on that fateful fourth birthday. Don't you wanna just put that eyelash back where it belongs?