Yada yada yada.....

For the whole drive, we listen to her chatter endlessly and state her opinions on everything from grace to how to run my schedule. I quietly comment to my husband, marvelling at her ability to talk so much and "know" something about everything.  She quips from the backseat, "Except biology.  I don't know much about biology."

Questions 5-year olds ask

Today, Taelyn asked me "mom, if you don't pray for someone to stay safe, do they still stay safe?" 

I still haven't answered her.  Got any suggestions?

For those who need this today.....

A tribute to Uncle Harvey or {a thread in the tapestry}



A photo I took of Uncle Harvey in July 2010. 
Doesn't it make you shake your head and smile?


As I considered how I could pay tribute to Uncle Harvey, thoughts of inadequacy entered my mind.  Who am I to speak of him?  Who am I to tell the world who he was? There are so many others who knew his heart better than I, many who had walked with him for decades, many who knew him intimately. Many whose words carry much more weight than my own feeble attempts.

But, as I thought about it, the idea of Uncle Harvey's memory being likened to a richly woven, multicoloured tapestry came to mind.  Each of our stories and memories of him weave a small thread through the thick fabric.  For some, their intimate knowledge of Uncle Harvey gives them the ability to weave their colour of thread frequently and create large, bold splashes of colour across the tapestry. Others, like myself, use a pale thread and weave with small, delicate stitches, in a corner of the fabric. However, each of our stories help to bring clarity and sharpness to our memory of who Uncle Harvey was. Each of our memories add to the depth and richness of who we all remember him to be.  Today, I write this as a humble offering, a small contribution to the vast pool of memories that help us all to remember and celebrate the man we loved.

Uncle Harvey will be remembered for his humour and sharp wit.  By talking with others over the past few days, and reading comments on Facebook, it is clear to see that he was a man who joked around with everyone and loved telling stories.  I don't think there has been a gathering in the last 30 years that I have escaped his teasing in some way. Whether his was trying to cut in front of me in the food line, or delivering a constant stream of one-liners to anyone within earshot, his wit never went unnoticed.  Humour was his constant companion.

But behind that smile, I saw a glimpse of a man driven by something other than the next good laugh.  In the summer of 2009, we had the privilege of building a house for Ash and Jerica.  Being interested in the project, Uncle Harvey made regular appearances at the house during construction.  We had some great conversations sitting on the front porch, especially Jeff and Uncle Harvey. In addition to exchanging jokes, we began to exchange stories from our lives.  I saw a man who was honest and brave in the face of health challenges, a husband who was deeply committed to his wife, a father who burst with pride when speaking of his son, a father who was eager to support his son and his beautiful bride as they started a new life together.  He was a man who kept his word.  He was a man who communicated his love through actions.  He phoned grandma and grandpa, or visited them, daily.  His priorities were reflected by his actions.

As we grieve over his death, we acknowledge our loss, but are strengthened as we focus on all that he has gained....legs that are strong, a body whole and youthful, the company of angels, and a whole new audience for his stories.

Goodbye, Uncle Harvey.  You will be missed.

Thought for the day

"There’s only one address anyone lives at and it’s always a duplex: Joy and pain always co-habit every season of life. Accept them both and keep company with the joy while the pain does its necessary renovations."  Ann Voskamp

Pine smells like Pine!

"It still smells like pine", he murmurs quietly to himself.

The "he" is my husband. The "it" is our dining room table. He is sanding its' worn, bruised surface, methodically moving the sander back and forth along its' grain, stripping away the years of abuse our family has inflicted upon it.   Dents, scratches, paint from children's art projects, nail polish, and waxy, peeling varnish, are all gently sanded away to reveal the clear, fresh, natural pine beneath.

He straightens, looks at me.  "Smell it - it still smells like pine", he repeats.  I bend closer until the sharp, fragrant scent of pine fills my senses. So good.

In that moment, I am given a picture of hope for myself.

"You're a genius" I say to the hubs, "Do you know what you just said?"

He doesn't, but the implication burns in my mind, sparking hope. On it goes, into the night.  The next day. And the next.

I am like that table. 

I have scratches and bruises, dents and scars.   Added layers to conceal who I really am.

- I have been told hurtful things that I have allowed to shape how I see myself.  Conversely, I have experienced inflated, distorted views of myself by allowing a compliment to quickly take root in the prideful soil of my heart. 

I LOVE what I read recently in "The life you've always wanted" by John Ortbeg.  The author says the following:

"It is not another person's compliment or approval that makes us feel good; rather, it is our belief that there is validity to the compliment.  In  between other people's opinions of us and our pleasure in them is our assessment of the validity of their approval.  We are not the passive victim of others' opinions.  Their opinions are powerless untill we validate them.  No one's approval will affect us unless we grant it credibility and status.  The same holds true for disapproval."

I am the queen of deciding which voices in my life I will validate.

- I have missed opportunities.

- Guilt is my too-constant companion.

- I am sometimes afraid to voice my dreams. I bury them in responsibilities until I don't know what they are.  Which is easy to do in our culture.  There are a million voices calling us to distraction from self examination.

- I fear failure, and so I don't step out. I lack courage.

- I sometimes live to appease other people's expectations.  A simple compliment can cause me to feel pressure to consistently be what I've just been told I am.

All of these things act as layers that safely, or dangerously, coccoon who I really am.

Jeepers.  Sometimes, I am a mess. 

Please tell me you are, too!

But there is hope for me.  And you, too, if you're a disaster.

As I saw the sander revealing raw, unscathed pine on our table, I knew, in that instant, that the essence of who I am is still there.  Just like pine, when sanded down, gives off the aroma of what it truly is. 

I am inside me.  You are inside you.  Shocking, isn't it?

The person God envisioned me to be a bajillion years ago is who I am.  I am not who I think I am.  Which is good news, because I am sometimes very critical of myself (know anyone like that?)

I can dust off the dreams; re-ignite passions.

I can discover the truth about who I am.  In doing so,  the deep-rooted lies are dispelled and the freedom that comes from truth can be experienced. 

So, with my right hand raised,  my resolution is this:  I will resolve to smell like myself!

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.