A sight.

There’s a sight I never did want to see.

Ruby’s math papers, tea-drenched. She’s heartbroken to have to wait to finish her math until the papers dry, to be sure.

Happy Friday. I hope yours is going better than mine!

Charlotte Serenity

Charlotte Serenity turned three years old today. A new pair of slipper boots from Grandpa and Grandma (because soft fuzzy things are her favorite – proven when she wore them to bed tonight) and a new dress because Momma can’t seem to let a girl birthday go by without a sewing project were a few of her favorite things.

A new doll that looks remarkably like Charlie herself – who also got a new dress to mark the occasion,

and three candles in a German Chocolate cupcake marked the grander celebrations of the day. She had a fabulous day, and was more excited about the fact that she was three than the cupcakes or the gifts. Being three, she tells me, is a really big deal. She wanted to know if she’d still spill and need a bib when she’s three. With her… the answer is yes. Spills are still gonna happen. Sorry.

Happy birthday, Baby Big Girl.

Flexible? Or crazy?

I read recently that that which is not flexible can become brittle, and that which is brittle often breaks.

That statement has me thinking this non-scheduled drop-everything-and-go life I lead with these six little people has been on purpose. Sure, I did this on purpose. I’m busy raising flexible children with this well-refined technique.

In all seriousness, it has worked for us. On Sundays, when church doesn’t get out until 2pm and we don’t usually eat lunch until 3:30pm, all six of my children just go with it. No one even complains. I carry pretzels in the van and often have takers when we’re on our way home, but no one says a word. Skipping naps is no big deal, five stores in one afternoon is common and accepted, and bedtime is 8pm. Usually. Sometimes it’s 9:30, especially in the summertime. They rarely melt, they don’t fuss, they just know that this is life and roll with it.

When we took our last trip with our minivan, there were seven of us in a seven passenger vehicle. Plus luggage for seven. Plus a small dog. On the way home, we were packed to the gills. No one could get out without climbing over seats and preferably out the front doors. On the way home, we got a flat tire. We had to unload the back of the van to get to the spare. The spare that was rusted on tight. The spare that wasn’t sufficient to drive the four hours home. Four hours later, we were headed out again, four hours from home. No. One. Complained.

That was the moment when I wondered if I’d ruined them with all the flexibility required to maintain sanity around here. That moment when I was exhausted, wanted to cry, and my kids saw the two hours of wandering Walmart while they put a new tire on my van as an adventure. We’ve never before spent half an hour smelling every candle in the aisle, after all. We’d never walked the toy section talking about what looked fun, what looked crazy, and what we would choose if we had the funds and space to each pick something fun. We rarely get the chance to sit in a restaurant and eat, and leave our supper mess in some other space.

That fact was commented upon by both of my older daughters. Being able to walk away from the dirty table was the highlight of the night by my dear kitchen helpers. Not long after that trip, we were given our 12 passenger van. Space was amazing, as is the ability to pack in places other than the foot space of my children.

But still. I’m still unsure about the flexibility that happens around here. It’s so completely different than the way I grew up. Is this a necessity of a larger family? Is it merely a byproduct of my personality? Do share, what works for you?

Our week in review.

The rooster lives. He’s moved to our pasture next to our house, but regularly takes to the front yard. He’s joined the group of six children, one dog, and two kittens that runs for Blaine’s van when he gets home from work. It’s comical.

In a discussion of naming the rooster, Charlotte announced, “We should name him “Some other guy’s rooster”. I made that name up.” We’re still laughing.

Blaine and I celebrated our 11th anniversary on Saturday. What was planned to be a relaxing day was changed with a phone call at 9am. Blaine headed out to cut up a tree that landed across a driveway and I made a birthday dress for Charlotte. I’m attempting to scale down the dress to fit an 8 inch doll so she and the doll can match. So far, I’m on try #2 and it’s a tad ugly. Fun times.

Pierce came into our bedroom in the night on Friday night and Blaine told him to come to that side of the bed. Pierce cried for Momma and Blaine told him to leave Momma alone and come to Daddy instead. Pierce turned tail and marched back to his bed, screaming all the while. Hello, stubborn child.

We went to friends’ from church last night for supper. They don’t have children. They were nothing but gracious, but there’s nothing like the glaring realization of exactly how crazy your life is as seeing it through someone else’s eyes. I believe there were three glasses of water spilled, one dear child wanted seconds on dessert, and all the kids were dancing in their larger-than-ours living room like there was no tomorrow. Sterling commented on their TV screen saver, saying “All they’ve taught us about are leaves and sticks” and I corrected one child or another every 35 seconds for the duration of the night. Oh my.

The kids cleaned their room to perfection Saturday morning. By Sunday night, you couldn’t see the floor anymore. When you multiply belongings times six, it doesn’t take more than a few items per kid to make a room look like a tornado hit it. Frustrating.

I’m 15.5 weeks along now. I quit getting sick at 13.5 weeks. So thankful.

On with the day. School, co-op homework, house clean up, laundry, mowing the lawn, and finishing a sewing project await me. I’m exhausted already!

Dear Son, you drive me crazy sometimes.

I’ve had an empty container hanging on my wall for three months, waiting for me to be inspired and figure out how to use it in my attempts at decorating. I finally found something looking like this:

at the local craft store. It was $10. It’s a bunch of sticks! We have five acres, surely my dear exploring son has an in as to where he can find me some similar sticks for free. Surely.

Yesterday, with the admonishment that they must be as long as his arm and no fatter than his thumb, he set out. He came back, minutes later, with this:

I’m not even quite sure what to say. It’s not quite what I was going for. When I asked about thinner, longer sticks, he informed me there weren’t any. Five acres, much wooded, hundreds of trees, and no sticks. Wow.

Turns out, my $10 bunch of sticks at the store is on 50% off this week. I may be paying for sticks, my friends, because empty was better than this.

In doing so, I may break my dear son’s heart. He thinks they’re beautiful. If you come over and see the sticks on the wall… now you know why. I’m not sure I have the heart to tell him it’s not what I had in mind.

It’s sounding like a barnyard around here.

A rooster has declared our yard home.

Exactly. Huh what?! This is the second time a chicken – first a hen, now a rooster – has wandered onto our property and taken up residence. I’m not quite sure what the draw is, other than the dog leaves it alone, to make them want to move in and make themselves comfortable.

The kids asked if we could eat him.

I know. Not “Can we keep him?!” but “Can we eat him?” They saw a rooster and declared him one yummy supper.

At 4am when he began his wakeup call, making him supper sounded like a fabulous idea.

(Yes, it’s raining. No, I did not step out into the rain… in my pj’s… to photograph the rooster. I stood on the porch. There’s only so much I’m willing to do for a chicken.)

I’ll keep you posted on the saga of the rooster. The last time, the hen lasted three days before she disappeared in the night. What fate she met, no one knows.

TOS Review: Seed Sowers

As part of the Old Schoolhouse Magazine’s Review Crew, I’ve been privileged to receive for my review a paperback copy of Seed Sowers: Gospel-Planting Adventures by Gwen Toliver. Seed Sowers is available here for $12.50. Published by Westbow Press, Seed Sowers is a collection of stories written from interviews of many missionaries. They detail God’s grace and tender mercies for the people He’s chosen to call into foreign lands to further the spread of Scripture translation into every tribe and nation.

I read the book myself, and then a few stories to my children. As they age, my kids will most definitely have this as required reading, but for now, I chose a few that were less harrowing. Some of these stories are nothing but incredible, and some include death… but that’s never the end of the story. Scriptures are published, spread, and people are coming to Christ as a result.

I loved this book. As a little girl, I attended Wycliffe banquets and dreamed of the day I’d get to go off into the wilds of some foreign land and tell others about Jesus. As I got older, the reality of being unable to do this on my own, and the uncertainty if this was what I wanted or what God wanted, changed my perspective and I haven’t thought about it much in recent years. These six children are my mission field, at least for now. But reading these stories of the perseverance of God’s people to pursue living in less than ideal conditions, learning foreign languages, and determining the cause of Christ is worth the risk – it’s incredible. Inspiring. And humbling.

Seed Sowers contains 165 pages in 21 chapters. Each chapter contains one or several stories from one missionary couple or team, One chapter details the story of Nate Saint, Jim Elliot, Pete Fleming, Ed McCully, and Roger Youderian, killed on a mission in the Ecuadorian jungle by the Auca Indians. It doesn’t end with death and the question why God allows the destruction of His people, though. It doesn’t ask why. It tells of God’s plan for His people, and how, despite man’s best efforts to squash the spread of the Gospel, seeds were planted, and fruit was brought forth. Fifty years after the five men were killed, a church service was held at the scene of the incident, and men who had been involved in the murders stood and worshipped the one true God. It’s enough to give you goose bumps.

When I began the book, it started to look like it would be only happy stories. Knowing that’s not exactly the way it goes, I was a bit frustrated. That was soon remedied, however, and truth was told, in all of it’s ugliness. It’s not at all gory in it’s detailing, but I did appreciate the author’s honesty in telling how bad things happen. It’s part of living in a sinful world, and there’s no getting around it in this life.

Wycliffe Associates is mentioned often, no great wonder when I realized Mrs. Toliver has been serving with Wycliffe Associates since 2010. She serves with her husband John and their eight children in Dallas, Texas at the Linguistics Center there.

I highly recommend reading a copy of this book. It’ll open your eyes to the needs that are out there, make you far more sensitive to the call you’ve been given – whether it’s to go yourself or support someone who has. A quote from Nate Saint, recorded just a few weeks before his death, struck me. In part, he said, “…Rather it is the simple intimation of the prophetic Word that there shall be some from every tribe in His presence in the last day…”

To read what other members of the Review Crew thought of Seed Sowers, visit the Review Crew Blog.