August....

....is a month of abundance.  Hot days, warm nights.  Summer rain.  Sunshine.  Sunshine.  Sunshine.  All these things bring about abundance in a garden. 

 Eggplants.

 The "wealthy" apples, just like my grandma grew, from the tree we thought was dead.

 Pears growing in their perfect roundness.

 The sweetness of nectar sustaining such beauty.

Yet....these same things....sunshine, and heat, and even rain....the things that are essential for growth....they also stress the plants.  Too much of any of these causes the plants to be stunted and weak. And as I'm out in the garden, (like Eve?) I wonder how one balances all this.  How do we, creatures that need growth to live, how do we ever control the "circumstances" enough to avoid stress and thrive?

 The summer goodness also brings weeds.  The garden was full of them when we got home!  I didn't mind too much, because nerd that I am, I actually like weeding.  It sorts my insides out without me knowing it.

And in case you haven't seen this crazy picture yet....the summer goodness also brought this to my potato patch....

 And no, I didn't chase them away even though the Mr. McGregor in me thought about it.  I waited a few days until their eyes opened and then I did! 

 They sure were sweet to watch though.  The boys loved, loved, loved them.  And when we released them (ahem...chased them out with a stick) the little hollow left behind did feel a bit sad and empty.  And I sat and weeded around their old home after they were gone (yes I left the weeds while they were here so they'd have something to eat) I kept thinking, thinking about how the same goodness grows both the good and the "bad".  Doesn't it?

And what about me?  How do I handle the sun shining down on me?  What do I do when it's too hot too many days in a row and I just can't breath?  What about when the rains come washing down so hard that I can't see in front of me at all and I don't know which way to turn?  How do I handle all of it?  I went to bed that night feeling like I didn't know anything at all.  Only that somehow I still knew that God is good, but how do I make sense of it all?

The next morning I woke to this....

 The cardinal flowers that I had waited all summer for, finally blooming, showing their brightness in the morning sunshine!

 A yellow finch husking sunflower seeds like an old man does peanuts....

(His eye on the sparrow?)

 And boys.  Boys making pancakes.  (note the storm trooper "flipper")  Boys that greet each day with a freshness that is contagious.  (Morning by morning new mercies I see...)

 And then later in the week....the boy who all last summer and this season too...just couldn't find the courage to join in at soccer, yet desperately wanted to go each time.  Such a struggle, maybe more for the mama than the boy.  And finally, as if I was the most forgetful of all children, finally after many many times of struggling with this...I mumble this weak prayer to the one who fixes hearts...(please help him, Lord) and then the very next time...this!  Out there the whole game!  Smile on his little brown face!

Perhaps we manage all of this crazy goodness by just accepting the Grace?  With open hands.  And we keep going.  Trusting that our ship will come to no harm that He doesn't have providence over.  That no struggle will be too big for Him to guide us through.  That even though we don't always understand, we can trust that He is good.  He is love.  We are loved.

The Toothpick

A few days ago something happened. To my toe. Involving a sharp, sturdy toothpick. Yeah. And while I don't believe in making friends endure frequent stories about mishaps with toes, I wanted to share with you something rather incredible about the story. So here goes.

It all started with a normal afternoon. Lunch was relaxing. Hen was upstairs in his cozy little bed trying to catch a nap. I had just let the boys outside in the side yard (where I can watch their playing through the windows) to catch some sunshine. I was taking some clean laundry upstairs to put it away when Hen started screaming. So I quickened my pace up the steps to see what was wrong. And on my way down the hallway I stepped on it. The toothpick. Not just one toothpick actually, but two tied together with a rubberband to make a cross shape. I live in a house with little boys, so don't be surprised that this creation existed okay?

Now you must understand that although I live in a house with legos and therefore am used to looking out where I step, the baby was screaming! And I admit I wasn't looking where my feet were, I just was looking toward the boy. And I stepped on it. Or perhaps kicked it? I don't know exactly. But it went into the side of my big toe, right through my thick sock. I didn't even feel it at first. That's how deep it was. And the baby was still screaming so of course I went and took care of him first before I looked down to see what happened to my foot.

Then I saw it. The toothpick, sticking out through my wool sock. And I admit I freaked out a bit on the inside. Um, wow. Through my sock. And ouch! It was starting to hurt. And shoot! The baby was still screaming. I decided to hobble over to the bathroom to grab a rag. Then I hobbled over to the phone just in case. The upstairs phone was not working, the battery was too low.

I hobbled down the steps. (Baby still screaming in his bed upstairs) Checked on the boys out the window. (still fine) Grabbed the phone and sat down. Phew. Now what? I didn't know what to do. It seemed too deep to pull out, but I couldn't tell for sure because of the sock. But I couldn't get the sock off because of the toothpick. I tried to pull it a bit, but it hurt and it was definitely in there. It wasn't bleeding at all, which actually freaked me out. I kept thinking that when I pulled it out it was going to gush. I decide to call J at work.

Now, I'm not sure what I was thinking but J works twenty minutes away. And he is awesome, but not the kind of person who is going to talk you through pulling a toothpick out of your foot over the phone. (I should've called Audrey) He heard me say "impaled with a toothpick" and laugh with a nervous, crazy laugh. He said, "I'm coming" and hung up the phone. Shoot! Now what? I tried calling him back, but there was no answer. So now, I either had to wait twenty minutes or find someone else to pull this thing out. I couldn't do it myself. I just couldn't.

I decide to call the boys inside because I don't know what else to do. They come in get one look at the toothpick and start asking a million questions. *sigh* I decide to call my neighbor. His business is next door and he's a practical kind of guy. And I taught him voice lessons so we know each other fairly well. His secretary answers the phone. I ask if he's with a client. Yes. I rattle off something about the toothpick and how I just need someone to pull it out. Could he stop by after his client. The secretary freaks out a bit, and then suddenly my neighbor is at the front door.

He walks over to me, sitting with the rag and the phone and the toothpick, on the kitchen floor. The boys all around me. He leans over and says, "What? That thing?" and pulls the toothpick out without warning in one, strong tug. I didn't even have a chance to cringe. It was over. The hole where it had been immediately swelled shut and it only bled a little. The end.

Now here is the crazy part. I was traumatized about the toothpick for more than a day. My foot really hurt every time I took a step. I kept imagining the toothpick stuck through my sock and it freaked me out. I kept talking about it to J. He was patient with me, but eventually said. "Honey, you are really traumatized. How come?" I didn't know the answer to this.

That night we were preparing for Badger's birthday party and I was up rather late. My foot was hurting so much. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself by this point and I decided to pray about my foot. It was something like this..."Father, my foot hurts" * a few sorry, tears falling at this point* "Why do things like this always happen? Why do I have to stay up so late getting ready for this party when my foot hurts?"

He didn't answer at first. He let me go through that night, working on all the preparations, struggling with my emotions and toe. But later the next day I heard Him. He said something like this. "Why did it take you so long to ask me for help dear one? Why did it take you so long to turn to me?" And I realized that during the "incident" I never once prayed. I never asked Him to guide me or heal me. I never asked him for strength to pull the toothpick out. I could have asked Him. He cares about everything that happens to me. (and to you, friend) He wants us to believe Him. Believe that He cares. That He is with us, helping us and guiding us in this life. And yet, I often times am so short sighted that I just hobble along on my own strength. Even when I'm not doing very well. Even when I have a toothpick sticking out through my sock.

It's not that I think God would've miraculously fixed my toe. What would the purpose in that be? But, rather that in moments of my day, I can either choose to acknowledge my dependence on Him as my Father and Lord, or I can choose to struggle through on my own. And one thing I know, that when I choose in the little things (and big things too) to trust, to abide in Him, to acknowledge that I believe He is with me in a real way....then and only then do I have peace that circumstances can not upturn.

I'm working on living this out today as the boys are sick.... and wheezing and asthma is proving to be more than I can bear on my own. So I leave you with my story, as I go to practice relying on Him. Perhaps you can learn through my toothpick experience...so you don't have to have your own. :)

Harvest

This past weekend we harvested more things growing on this beautiful land we've been given.

Black-eyed Susans growing near the house....

We picked pears. So many pears this year! Hurray! These few bags were barely a third of what was on the tree! I'm hoping to can them sliced, and also make pear sauce and pear butter. Pear butter on fresh biscuits. Yum!

We brought the onions in now that they are finished curing and the boys helped clean them up for storage.
I was reminded while watching them about a valuable lesson an older lady friend of mine once taught me. She told me that we are like onions. We have lots of layers. And that we should never compare ourselves and our struggles and daily learnings to others and what they are going through, because it is very likely we are not on the same layer. We are not all at the same layer in our learning and growing. But take heart, the Lord is gentle and good and he peels us away only as we are willing and most importantly He sustains us through it! I am glad to be in His gentle hand and I pray that I am always willing to go to the next layer so that I can love and serve others in a deeper more useful way. That is my prayer for you too, friends. :)

off to spend some time with my J....

g'night.

-r

Cozy times and Colds

The boys came down with a bugger of a cold right before Christmas. (sorry we got you sick Grandma J)  It is the kind of sickness where you are still able to function for the most part except for the snotty nose and foggy head. Ick.  Even poor Hen is sick and J came home from work last night and crawled right in bed. *sigh* 

The good news is that I was glad to have an excuse to not let the kids gorge themselves on sugary treats over Christmas and also that sickness often leads to quieter times.  We've been curled up on the couches with tea and books and even some Harry Potter movies. (j's xmas gift from my mom)  And even in this tougher circumstance I am glad for the comfort of our warm home and for the comfort of being with each other.  There have been some really lovely play times with the boys that I have been privileged to share in.

Playing with the new SCUBA playmobil sets in the sink.  Finished up today with some playing in the tub.  They were delighted to find that the submersible actually sinks, thanks to the metal floats, and the guy inside stayed dry! 

There were also some pancake men for supper to cheer us up yesterday after our long day of mama not having too much time for anyone other than Hen. (snot and teething do not make for a happy baby) The boys have been wanting to make these ever since reading about them in Little House in the Big Woods.  We also made homemade doughnuts from the Little House Cookbook, which is the recipe that Almanzo's mother would have made when he was young.  (no not for the same meal...i think it was this past weekend?) Sorry no pics of those, they were gone before I could grab the camera! 

Despite these cozy times, I struggled a bit these past two days as I often do when circumstances seem to get the better of me.  I admit that a fussy (think biting) baby and snotty noses and a messy house and a rambunctious puppy had me utterly worn out yesterday by 6pm, and when J called to say he was going to be late and that he was feeling really ill, I was such a grump in my spirit! (ok maybe on the outside too?)  I am learning to get through it though with less disastrous results for those around me.  I don't have any magical answer for you all as I don't have it all figured out yet.  But I do know that it has to do with prayer and patience and a willingness to be humble enough to change.  (and that phone call from you dear A, helped so much too! )

I think I'll pray about this some more as I catch up on my chores.  God....I'll meet you in the laundry room.