Choosing to See.

Where is grace when cancer gnaws, and babies are sick, and people need healing, and when lonliness aches a hole in us raw?

Where is grace - and good - when loved ones die, when marriages implode, when aching arms stay empty when all they want to do is hold new life, and when faith once lived raw and real starts to fade slowly to the backstage wings in this story of life?

Where does the joy hide, and where is this God who is good, and how do we live fully when life is full of hurt?

Could it be, that like all beliefs - you simply live them? Even if you don't necessarily feel them? Could it be that living with losses, we can still say "yes" to what God freely gives - to His grace and to His joy?

And could it be that we can trust Him and His goodness enough, to hold open our hands freely to receive whatever God gives or allows?

I'm quite certain the answer is yes.

Because I am seeing loved ones and friends living this way right now.

Amidst deep uncertainty and heavy grief, I see them choosing to say yes to joy while they are at the same time embracing pain.
I see them trusting in the God who they know - while still completely uncertain of the unknown.
I see them accepting that there are things that we simply don't understand. But He does.
And I see them wearing smiles and peace amidst the sadness and their losses.

And maybe during these times of pain and sadness and uncertainty - it is the best of times to remember the little things - the multitudes of little goodnesses and little gifts that we are given all the time - every day, but that we would so easily forget unless we wrote them down.

Maybe when we find ourselves groping for answers, we can choose to see.
We can choose Him.
I know we can, because I see others who are grieving - living in this way.
Gretchen, Meghan, Jodi, Robyn, Shandy -- and so many others. I see you.
I see you choosing Him.

"I wonder too...if the rent in the canvas of our life backdrop, the losses that puncture our world, our own emptiness, might actually become places to see. To see through to God. That that which tears open our souls, those holes that splatter our sight, may actually become the thin, open places to see through the mess of this place to the heart-aching beauty beyond. To Him. To the God whom we endlessly crave...Maybe so." ~ Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts.

* * * * *
"Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies, those transcendent moments of awe that change forever how we experience life and the world." ~ Sarah Ban Breathnach

2676. Newborn babies - little warriors fighting for life.
2677. Friends who joy in other's joys - all the while they themselves sorrow.
2678. Friends who love - no matter what.
2679. Simple things, not taken for granted.
2680. Health - completely forgotten until it's gone.
2681. New Mamas living lives of faith for their babies while they sorrow in their own losses of their own parents.
2682. Three boys of my own - reading together. Gifts given on loan.
2683. My man and my marriage - love and security for my boys.
2684. This journey of life with all of its twisting and turning.
2685. A Savior we can trust - who knows the end of the story!

Life.

I have been completely out of commission for these past few days. Normally, I love to write, and this place is my little outlet for putting my thoughts to words and for recording our little bit of life over here. But, as for these past few weeks, I guess I've maybe hit a writer's block of sorts. My heart has been full, and heavy, and filled to overflowing with so many things in life as of late.

We have dear friends who are, at this moment, over in Ethiopia holding and visiting for the very first time their long awaited little boy who they will finally, prayfully, be able to bring home within the next few months. I have another friend who is pregnant with two little identical twin boys - and amazingly, she and both her babes are doing wonderfully. And we have dear friends who are aching to hold a baby of their very own, yet who still selflessly share in the joy of new life for others. And finally, I have a sweet, dear friend who just had a baby three whole months early, and he weighs in at just a little under two pounds. My heart both aches and marvels at this little miracle and at the very long journey still ahead of them.

Beautiful things.
Heavy things.
Miraculous things.
And things that cause deep, aching grief.
And such is the cycle of life.

How blesed we are to have friends to walk life's journey right alongside of us. How blessed I have been - many times over in my life - to have experienced friends who both share in my joy and who also have walked with me in my deepest sorrow. May I be those things to my friends who are walking various journeys right now - both the heavy and the joy-filled.

And how thankful I am to have a God who is HERE. Who is present. Who grieves when we grieve and who rejoices in our joy. "Blessed be the LORD who daily bears our burdens." ~ Psalm 68:19

These Past Few Days.

Oh my goodness, these past few days have been amazing!!! I haven't been anywhere near this computer, because it has just been way too nice to do anything inside!

I must confess - both schooling and housework have gone completely out the window with this onset of balmy weather. But with the rumors of a Nor-easter possibly coming next weekend, this Mama has not had one single regret about it.

We have spent our days living and breathing the great outdoors - listening to life return and watching as Spring tries to peek her little head through our neck of the woods. The first butterfly has been caught, the first caterpillar has been found, and since we started hearing peepers in the pond next door just two nights ago, Kaden has begun his quest for frogs and frog eggs.

It begins.
At least until next weekend's blizzard.

Even the girls are happy. See how happy they are?

And they are super excited about their nine new friends that will be coming in a couple of months. They told me so. We are getting three more layers and we are also going to try our hand at six little meat birds this year. And just maaaaybe a wee baby goat if there is one still left at the hardware store when I go to pick up my chicks. Just kidding. Kind of. I really want one. PLUS, they love to eat poison ivy - which loves to attack me and my loves - but Kevy pointed out that they also love to eat everything else in the world, as well. To which I replied, "Minor detail." So, we are still "discussing." And I am losing....

But I still have time...

So, anyway, these past few days wellies have been replaced by flip-flops.

Ski pants have been exchanged for shorts and tanks - and a late night rummage through all of the trunks in the basement the night before the heat wave to see what in the world I have that even fits these kids for the summer.

And our standard soup and bread for lunch has been replaced by smoothies.
Every day. For as long as this weather lasts.
Which we know here in Maine, we could very well likely get that predicted snowstorm next weekend!

So, yes, we have taken full advantage of the heat wave.

Oh yes we did do this. In March!

Two days in a row - swim trunks, slip 'n' sliding, and sunscreen.
It has been lov-o-ly.

Right along with putting their ski pants and winter boots right back down into our basement. Let come what may - having had a taste of summer, I am DONE with winter.

(And I know what bins I stored said winter clothing in should I absolutely HAVE to get it all back out. And if I must do so, it will be with great angst and loathing).

This week has been wonderful.

And the icing on the cake was an early morning breakfast on the deck with a sweet friend while the little boys ran around in shorts and sandals. Sweet lovliness.

Much much happiness afoot with this early tease of summer.

* * * * *
2641. Sunkissed skin.
2642. Chickies pecking at bugs.
2643. Swimtrunks and slip n slides.
2644. Many MANY swing rides!
2645. Caterpillars and butterflies.
2646. Smoothies for lunch - a summer tradition enjoyed in Spring.
2647. No bugs. Yet.
2648. Three little boys who love to be outside.
2649. Simple summer fun.
2650. Our sweet little backyard.
2651. Early morning breakfast with friends.
2652. Friends for my boys, as well.
2653. Pancake breakfasts.
2654. Laundry drying on my clothesline outside.
2655. Sweaty, sleepy boys.
2656. Windows wide open.
2657. Peepers in the night.
2658. New life pushing through the ground.
2659. A break from technology.
2670. Bike rides and walks.
2671. Revisiting our summer pleasures.
2672. A little taste before another storm.
2673. Outside fires, and outside meals.
2674. A flexible schedule.
2675. Learning to let go and go with the flow.

My Roots.

Every couple of months, I need to get me and my boys up HOME to some wide open spaces, some fresh air, some quiet, and some good old fashioned red neck fun. This past weekend was one of those occasions.

HOME is:

:: Wide, wide, wide open spaces. This is the view from my parent's driveway. It's quiet and the air smells fresh and clean. Seriously. It smells different up there. I love it.

:: Neighbors and family members who stop over for dooryard visits. Or, in this case my Uncle Keith who drove for two hours to come to breakfast. And shoot the breeze in the driveway while Dad cooked bacon on his grill. Good times.

:: HOME is also playing Cribbage with Dad and Kev....

:: ...and soundly tromping them - despite Dad's best cheating efforts. How's that little rhyme go? Cheat cheat never beat. That's right. I was the red pegs, if anyone is wondering...

:: HOME is my sweet little country church where I grew up and where practically everyone is related. And home is sitting there and remembering all of the antics that we pulled while we were little and wanting to pull them all over again just because we're all sitting next to each other.

:: HOME is also shooting varmints out the window from the living room - right before church, because that's what we do up there sometimes. It just feels right.

:: HOME is cousins who are also best friends who make the time to come and see me everytime I'm up and who love on my boys and wind them right up tight. Home is playing Mafia with them and laughing our heads off over truly foolish conversations. And eating and eating and eating...

:: HOME is hotdog roasts in the driveway with all the fixin's on the back of Dad's tailgate. Again, it just feels right.

:: And HOME is always four-wheeling because it makes us happy. No matter the weather - as long as the wheeler and the wagon behind can get where we need to go...well, we get there. And HOME is looking as redneck and as Beverly Hillbilly-ish as possible...just because it's fun.

::...Well, Little Red Riding Hood - I mean, Aunty Sharon - didn't have so much fun because she sat in the muddy spot of the wagon and was less than impressed with the mud bath that she received. She was a pretty good sport, though, and rallied after her initial frustration!

:: And HOME is Dad always finding some sort of craft or project for the boys to work on. This weekend it was a signpost that they routered (routed?) and sanded.

:: Um....hmmmm...not sure about my middle child's creative expression, but he was proud of it. Especially when we told him what it "said." He assured us that it's exactly what he wanted to say. More power to him...

:: And HOME is Dad making my most favorite thing in the whole wide world, the only thing that I really crave and can't get enough of - his homemade brown sugar fudge.

:: I seriously might have a problem. I was so excited to eat the stuff that when he declared it to be done, I pulled the candy thermometer out of the bubbling frothy-ness and went to lick it off, and promptly blistered my upper lip. Kev thinks I have issues. "He's crazy," said the wife who, along with her father, hid about ten pieces up in the cupboard for no-one to find but us....

Yes. My roots.
It's good to go back. It's good for my boys to live it as well.

And it's so good to be with family - the wild and the crazy, the silly and the serious.
It's what makes us -- "us."
And I LOVE that.

Viva La Difference!

Did you know that a nurse's health study from Harvard Medical School found that the more friends women have, the less likely they are to develop physical impairments as they age, and the more likely they are to be leading joyful lives?

The results were so significant that the researchers concluded that not having close friends or confidants was as detrimental to your health as smoking or carrying extra weight. (Boy-sterous Living, by Jean Blackmer)

Crazy, right?

In my humble, not-nearly-so-scientific opinion, I would also add (or argue) that it might not be merely the quantity of friends a woman has so much as the quality and depth of those relationships in her life.

And I wonder how often we fail to go deep and we fail to touch the heart of matters and choose instead to focus on the trivial and the petty - and the insignificant as opposed to the deeper, weighty heart issues of life?

How often do we feel threatened, so instead of being vulnerable we put up a shield?

How often do we get competative, so instead of rejoicing in others' successes, we would rather search for other flaws?

How often do we worry about what others think so much that we fake perfection instead of sharing struggles and insecurities?

How often do we compare instead of just loving and accepting the differences for what they are - just that. Only differences.

And how often do we only hang out with those of completely like-mindedness, because - Heaven forbid we might find out that our way is not the only way to do something...

Or is it just me who plays that game?

I think that it's good - healthy even - to surround myself with other women who might not think just like I do --- godly women who might have differing ideas and opinions on child-rearing, church, schooling, and politics! Because, if I intentionally only choose to be around people who think exactly like I do, well then I just might stay forever happy in my own little delusions of how I think life ought to operate itself. And even more important than that maybe, is the fact that I never ever want to alienate a friend for thinking a little differently about something than I do. I never want to be threatened by a simple difference of opinion on a matter where there is such a wealth of depth and intimacy that could be had otherwise.

Because the truth is - most issues of life and love and family and whathaveyou ARE deeply personal issues that husbands and wives and families discuss and determine amongst themselves. But if we are going to go anywhere or have any sort of depth whatsoever with a kindred spirit outside of our own four walls, well that's going to involve a little bit of vulnerability. And unconditional love. And acceptance. No matter what. I will never see completely eye to eye with any one of my friends. Heck - I don't see eye to eye with my own husband on some matters. But, I love him unconditionally and I accept every bit of him.

And that's the kind of friend that I want to be to the women that God has placed in my life. And goodness knows, I want to be loved and accepted for the woman that I am and for the opinions that I have. It's the least that I can do to extend that same courtesy.

* * * * *
2636. Iron sharpening iron in my own life.
2637. Friends from all walks of life.
2638. Taking risks - being vulnerable.
2639. Walking life together - sharing the journey.
2640. Celebrating differences.

A Wee Ditty for my Hoolies.

These boys, they make me crazy.
They're rowdy, loud, and wild.
I think I've "lost more marbles"
With every passing child.

It's like I have three puppies.
One loud and stinky mess.
Our middle one, we call "the twins" -
It's whirling dervish Jess.

Our oldest one's the schemer.
The "brains" behind their plans.
He has his younger brothers -
Follow thru on his demands.

My youngest with the dimple...
He quickly follows suit.
He's small, but he is fiesty -
And he has a "will" - to boot!

They plot, they plan - they're schemers!
A motley looking crew.
I have no chance against all three.
I'm sure they know it, too.

They eat up all my groceries,
They filthy up their clothes.
They muddy up my fresh swept floors -
Their socks have holey toes.

Their nicknames "Hoolies" - suit them!
They are one wiley bunch.
But these days will end too soon...
Of this, I have a hunch.

These moments, they are fleeting.
The years are passing by.
This all will be a memory -
A twinkle in my eye.

The messy and the muddy...
The chaos and the stress -
This is the life I will embrace,
MY wild and crazy mess.

I see these boys for what they are -
On loan, gifts from above.
So, I'll slow and see the sacred.
These gifts from God, I love.


....Dedicated to my three small hoolies, all for whom I am head over heels.
And for these fleeting days of childhood -
Frazzled Mamas, mess, and all!

* * * * *
2614. welly boots, muddy jeans, and our stream out front.
2615. new nets.
2616. big trucks, 6 cords of wood, and free entertainment.
2617. little tempers, and cribs for time outs!
2618. big brothers - gentle leaders.
2619. homemade maple syrup - delicious pancake feeds.
2620. Cribbage with the littles. Kaden's 1st win today. Yikes.
2621. 5 of us with colds - an unplanned night at home.
2622. An extra hour of daylight.
2623. 3 boys - still outside at bedtime.
2624. chickies venturing out of their coop.
2625. Smudgie "fixed" - and no more marking his territory.
2626. stolen time alone with my oldest - other littles napping.
2627. customers, tips, and conversations.
2628. garden planning with Lew.
2629. seed supply slowing growing.
2630. new chickies on their way.
2631. grampy & grammy stopping for tea.
2632. weekend at grammy's - soon!
2633. cozy winddown to our day.
2634. tea and muffins with my boys.
2635. laundry machine working overtime.

Trying Our Hand...

...at maple syrup making, that is!

I grew up with my Dad and brothers boiling down maple sap in our garage every spring, and ever since we moved into this house, I have always wanted to try my hand at doing it myself. On our drive home from Camden the other day, I saw someone's property covered with buckets and milk jugs, hose line and spials from about ten different trees lining their driveway, and I declared: "I WANT TO DO THAT!!!"

So, my husband - being the rockin' man that he is - shrugged his shoulder and said, "Okay." And on our way home we stopped at our local hardware store for supplies, and there you have it. Now we're tree tappers. Kev's cool like that. That's kind of how I got my chickens and my garden, too. Although, he's still not budging on my cow and my goat idea. Maybe I need to stamp my foot a little harder...

Anyway, we have a few scraggly maple trees here and there - the best one lies in a bed of poison ivy, joy to the world - and we have ourselves a little book of instructions, and my good old neighbor Lew, and the world wide web of the intra-net to learn ourselves some knowledge...right along with my gloriously fabulous memory of how my Dad and bros did it long long ago (that last one was a large joke. My memory rots a big one). But, the point is, we figured we could learn as we go, so let's just give it a whirl!

Lew gets quite a charge out of all of our ideas, so he came over just to make sure we didn't tap ourselves a Poplar tree or anything like that, and he loaned us his big old camp stove for boiling our sap outside. We've got milk jugs in some trees and five gallon buckets with hoses in the trees that run a little better, and the whole family is getting in on figuring out just what in the world we are doing.

And now the fun begins. Mom and I always loved to go out and sneak teacups full of the sap before it got too super sweet and syrupy. We said that we were drinking maple tea! It is so delicious at every stage of the game, really. Right from the tree it tastes like sugar water, and the longer it boils, the sweeter it becomes.

See? Right from the tree - delish.
We are also a highly sanitary operation over in these here parts...


To say that we are a "small operation" would be putting things EVER so generously. It takes about 30 gallons of sap to make just one gallon of syrup, so we are very very "wee" in our operations over here. Our first batch yielded about 2 ounces of the liquid gold.

(There it is! Just two baby ounces. This batch we cooked just a tad too long. It was really thick and syrupy the way we like it, but it began crystallizing after a couple of days).

Batch number two yielded about half of a pint. We are tiny. But, it's fun, and we're getting enough for a gloriously delicious pancake feed every couple of days and just a bit to share on the side, as well.

(This is batch number two. We filtered it better, and we didn't cook it quite as long. Runnier than I prefer, so next time we might cook it just a tad longer.

Methinks a candy thermometer would be helpful in this whole process, but we are just doing it the old fashioned "eye ball" and "taste test" way. So says my book - should one want to try this for themselves in a more "correct" way, shall I say - when the syrup is 6 degrees above the boiling point of water, it is ready for finishing. Take your evaporator pan off the fire, filter it into another pan to bring inside and finish on the stove. Once it reaches at least 180 degrees, pour directly into hot mason jars, seal immediately, and let them cool slowly. The heat will cause the jars to seal themselves, or you can store syrup in your fridge for several months.

Or, if you are like us...you can eat it up posthaste.

Or - one can also take the hot syrup and pour it directly onto snow like the Old Timers used to do for an old fashioned candy called "Jack Wax." It becomes kind of like a chewy taffy of sorts.

Good good times.
Lessons learning, and delicious ones at that!

If It Ain't Broke...

This fine family day, we found ourselves sitting around the breakfast table asking each other: Since last week was so lovely down in Camden, and since we had ourselves such a gloriously fine time, and since it's so nice and sunny today whereas it was a bit foggy and dreary last week-end, why not have a repeat performance of our most favorite coffee shop and exploration around Mt. Battie today?

And since we could come up with nary an excuse as to why ever not go -- we done had ourselves that there repeat performance. And along the way we enjoyed various depths of conversations and games such as: "Let's see how long Jesse can go without talking." (The answer: .000012987 of a second) And heavy questions like: "Is a Booker booger bigger than a bigger booger"? (I'm not sure if I ever found out the answer to that one)...

But anyway, you get the idea. Our conversations were deep today....

This is the view of the sweet little town of Camden from on top of Mt. Battie.
Take a left at the church with the big ole steeple, go down the hill, and the coffee shop is on the right.

Get the Thai peanut chicken with soba noodles. It's delish.

This is Mr. Grumpy Pants exploring in the woods on top of Mt. Battie. Sir Hoodlum wanted to do everything himself today, but got ginormously frustrated whenever a branch or root tripped him. He was in rare form.

This is me letting Mr. Creation of Joy get his feet soaking wet.
I'm sure it will do wonders for his cold.
I'm such a conscientious Mama.
And I'm pretty sure I just misspelled that word, but I'm MUCH too lazy to spell check.

This is the tower on top of Mt. Battie.
Very pretty and old and super fun to explore.

These are my three hoolies running wild and free. They love it up there. I love to watch them run wild and free.

This is the love of my life who I would follow to the ends of the Earth and who also not only beat me in a game of Cribbage this afternoon, but he sufficiently skunked the snot out of me. So, I had to make supper, and then he asked me if I was going to post his skunking on Facebook since I so gloatingly posted my creaming of him the other day.

I told him that I was busy uploading pictures for this super importantly spiritually encouraging blogpost.

And this is a "pine-corn" that Ransom likes to collect.

I love all of his made-up words and his super delicious lisp. I love when he says: "Thee the thtars?" (See the stars?) And "Yethththth!!!" when I ask him if he wants a treat. I do not love when he is grumpy. Holy hannah that child has a temper.

And this is a poem carved into a rock on top of Mt. Battie.

And now I have to go finish making supper because I got skunked at Cribbage this afternoon. The End.