I learned several years ago when same dog unearthed a wild jackrabbit nest that it’s never recommended and nearly impossible to raise wild rabbits on your own, not to mention that it’s illegal to possess Oregon wildlife without the proper state and federal permits. The survival rate is miniscule. I had foolishly and greenhornedly gathered up two of the babies and brought them home, only to have them cry all night, and then I wanted to cry when I researched online and discovered that I was now party to the likely demise of the sweet bunnies. I got up before dawn the next morning and returned the babies to the very spot beneath the junipers where I found them, following the instructions I had read, and believing that, as stated, the momma would find them even though she had obviously moved her nest elsewhere by this time.

Having learned this lesson, I knew JJ couldn’t keep the baby jackrabbit that our dog was so pleased to deliver. I let her hold the baby, and little sister JoJo gave it some love too, as I reminded them of the literature that clearly counseled the return of the jackrabbit to its nest. The problem was, we had no way of knowing where in the midst of the hundred acre wood the nest could be.

These are the beautiful moments of our lives. There is something precious and priceless about loving a wild thing that must be let go, and making that decision on your own.

The children decided upon a location for the return, an area of junipers where the dog had been recently spotted. JJ and JoJo prepared a safehouse for the newly orphaned bunny who would hopefully soon have a reunion with a mother who would be calling her baby for a midnight feeding. A careful hole lined with soft grasses, some twigs meticulously set across the top of the child-made nest, and some tender goodbyes and goodlucks were the scene.

Goodbye, wild bunny who brought a thrill of delight and a living nature lesson to my children.

Technorati Tags: baby jackrabbit, Central Oregon, family life

Technorati Tags: newborn kittens

One fun discovery was skunk cabbage, which we found growing in swampy areas near Clear Lake, the “lake born of fire.” I don’t know if the volcanic rock sediment makes it grow so huge and odorous…there is a reason it’s called skunk cabbage. Don’t eat it. It won’t kill you, but you’ll be sorry.

To give you some proportion, here are the kids with their cabbage leaves. Can you believe I let them take these home with us IN THE VAN as we traveled for several hours? What a migraine.

The leaves are now shriveled up on the front porch, but it was fun while it lasted!

Technorati Tags: McKenzie River, Clear Lake, Cold Water Cove, Cascade Mountains

Here is a photo tour, and I hope to update this post with all the names of all these specimens, but for now, please enjoy the beauty. Over the next week, I’ll be working with the kids on creating a nature journal with the proper designations for each flower. I don’t have in hand a Central Oregon Wildflower book, but I’ll pick one up tomorrow.

First up, this pretty long-stemmed flower was discovered by my daughter growing amongst the sage.

This gorgeous lavender colored wildflower appeared in a few different locations, and has a short blooming season. I believe it’s called a “phacelia,” and it almost seems to glow.

Next, I almost stepped on this miniature deep purple-petaled beauty. It’s called a monkeyflower. It was all by itself, I believe the only one I saw. Barely a stem, it seemed to have sprouted straight from the grains of sand.

Another low-growing flower called Bitter-Root was discovered near some volcanic rock. This specimen was confined to a small area, and only grew next to the moss-covered stones. It’s the closest thing to a desert rose on my property. There were both white and pinkish varieties. Traditionally the roots were peeled, then cooked and eaten, or dried for future use by the natives.

This was an interesting white daisy, with only three distinct petals at this point. Isn’t it pretty? It might be a blackfoot daisy. I wish there were enough to pick a bouquet and place on my kitchen table, but as with all the wildflowers here in my desert, they show up as a rarity with a bountiful rain, so I leave them where I find them. We go out for hikes nearly every day, so I do get to enjoy them while they last!

I almost missed this next bunch of pink blooms with yellow centers, but luckily I had my children’s eyes. Lower to the ground - perhaps this is why they seem to uncover more than I do? These are Mohave Asters.

Ah, I loved this next one before I found out what it was, the first wildflower I saw this spring! The tall blades it grows within, the puffy oblong yellow cluster of blooms, reminds me of a tiny version of the yuccas I grew up with in Arizona. But it’s HIGHLY POISONOUS! Yes, it’s called Death Camas, and for good reason. Beautiful to behold, deadly to ingest.

The final bunch of wildflowers I discovered were the brightest yellow delicate tassels near the edge of the cliff. These are called “Oregon sunshine” and it’s a terrifically happy flower! Each petal was like a spike, each flower beginning with arms reaching straight to heaven, then slowly opening as the day unfolds.

I hope you enjoyed my Central Oregon wildflower tour. We are blessed with such beauty in our backyard.

“…Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow.” Mt. 6:28.

Technorati Tags: Central Oregon, high desert, wildflowers

This photo is from a few weeks ago when we stopped at my neighbor Pixie’s house and the kids enjoyed her chickens. We are loving that spring is hopefully here to stay. It IS May, after all. But spring in Central Oregon is 70 degrees one day, hailing one inch stones the next.

Here are some more harbingers of spring around our place:

The snakes are coming out from hiding, and my daughter is there to catch them.

The grass is getting green and the long shadows of the afternoon are pleasant.

How is spring turning in your part of the world?

Technorati Tags: catching snakes, chickens, spring

Now guess what they want?

Technorati Tags: family life, ranch, baby goat, new chick

One of these spring-loaded poles showed up at my school, and the children lined up for their turn to bounce their way to a new school record. My five year old son was hopping like Tigger with the rest of them, until Wednesday.

I was in the gym when I heard the scream, not unusual for Little L who is dramatic and feisty. But the blood that ensued and the look of fright in his eyes told me this was tragic, not trivial. By the time I got his mouth rinsed enough to see the damage, I discovered he bit clear through his tongue and his bottom lip, in a sort of double-whammy collision, and jarred several teeth out of place in the process. The laceration in his tongue was about an inch across, which is nearly the whole width of a child’s tongue. Seeing through someone’s tongue is very alarming.

The hurry to gather him and my other three children to race off to the doctor was a flurry of emotions, yet in those times of crisis, a mother is somehow able to hold it together. I had no thoughts other than keeping him from choking on the blood that kept coming, and trusted that he was in God’s hands.

Because when it rains it pours, of course my husband was out of town for this entire ordeal, and I also put the truck in a small ravine in my haste to get to the hospital in the neighboring city where surgery had been scheduled. Because I live in a rural area, the surgeon actually personally called to find out where I was. “I’ll be there as soon as I get out of the ditch,” I responded calmly.

As I was waiting for my neighbor to arrive with his John Deere to pull me out, I placed Little L on a nearby rock and comforted him with hugs and my coat wrapped about him to fight off the chilly spring wind. His jacket had, as might be expected, been left at school in the swirl of events.

In these times of calamity, however, as in most watershed moments, there are diamonds in the rough. The staff at St. Charles in Bend were amazing. The ENT surgeon was a father of four children, like me, and he and the nursing and anesthesiology folks just fell in love with Little L and made him feel so special that he said, despite his great pain, “I like it here.” In his new tongue-mangled lisp, he was so charming as he explained that he got hurt when he “wath pogo-ing.”

My dear friend Julia showed up to take my other three children to dinner and then home to tuck them into bed. Since Little L couldn’t eat or drink a drop as he waited for general anesthesia and surgery, I couldn’t very well eat or feed my kids in front of the ravenous little soul. She saved the day, and I must say, I had a few other friends call and offer to do the same. We are very blessed.

One of the most trying moments was an unexpected one, and the Lord sent me another friend to navigate this part. Have you ever witnessed a child coming out of anesthesia? Howling, bellowing, thrashing, wild-eyed — these descriptions barely do justice to the occasion. So, having Courtenay show up unexpectedly at the hospital was a Godsend. She brought me coffee, gathered popsicles and Children’s Motrin for Little L to aid in his recovery, and offered just the right conversation diversion I needed to not be overly consumed with worry over my baby boy.

All stitched up and wranglers back on, Little L was ready to go home. I had promised, however, to take him “somewhere special” and he was holding me to this pledge. Aaaah, it was nearly midnight and after a grueling day like this, I couldn’t, I just couldn’t do anything else. He wanted pancakes, his favorite comfort food.

He drifted off as we headed home, and finally, I was carrying him in the house in what seemed like a dream. I relieved Julia who had taken such good care of my other kids, and set about to get Little L ready for bed. I opened the refrigerator and discovered that God takes care of the most minute details. There were the leftovers of my older son’s dinner that Julia had treated them to. Pancakes. Hallelujah, Little L could have his comfort. Not that he could eat much with his tongue in such a shape, but a few tiny bits of soggy pancake were all he needed to feel satisfied.

The next morning was met with more moments of being cared for in crisis. The Country Wife took Little L for the day, my fellow teacher picked up the other three kids for school, classroom aides handled the morning classes, and I set about living “the day after.”

There is the pogo stick story and why they are toxic to the tongue. Truly, I still think pogo sticks are a classic toy, but we’ll be avoiding them for a long time. It’s been three days, and just so you know, Little L is out happily playing, though he talks really funny for now.

Technorati Tags: childhood memories, faith, pogo stick, tongue surgery

I barely caught it, but firmly caught the advice she gave me on how to make ginger tea. “Just grate some up in pan of water, heat and simmer it for a bit,” she suggested. She claimed it was great for arthritis, and I wondered if I possibly looked arthritic at the moment. Perhaps frenetic, as my four kids were scattered hither and there, grabbing goat cheese off the shelves and bumping into strangers’ carts. I do remember being told when I was pregnant and facing morning sickness that chewing on a bit of ginger would do a world of good for nausea.

I’ve drank plenty of ginger tea, usually a ginger-lemon or ginger-honey variety, but always brewed from a bag. I looked forward to this homemade brew from a rhizome that my little boy thought was a bag of doggie treats. Okay, I confess I was going to say ginger root, but upon further research, I discovered that only “common” people call it a ginger root, as it is botanically not so - it’s a rhizome because whole new ginger plants can self-generate from budded sections, whereas a root will die if split into sections.

I had a flashback to that time in my childhood when I went through a phase of wishing I had a different name - the name I had inexplicably chosen was Ginger, and my dear Mom humored me and called me Ginger until I grew tired of it.

At any rate, I promptly grated up a pile of ginger (way too much) and threw it in a pan of water and made some tea. With neither lemon or honey on hand, I added molasses to to my brew. Voila, Ginger Molasses Tea, the finest, spiciest, and most aromatic tea I’ve had in a long time! I prepared a cup for my mom, telling her how good it is for her, especially if she has arthritis. She looked at me askance, but with her memory, she doesn’t know if she has arthritis or not. What she does have, however, is apparently much benefited by ginger - poor circulation, migraines, chills, and more. After looking up the health benefits, I realized how grateful I am that my friend send ginger flying my way tonight.

Here are some of the benefits of ginger:

Ginger can block the effects of prostaglandin, a substance that causes inflammation of blood vessels in the brain that leads to migraines.

Ginger relieves nausea.

Ginger can help ease menstrual and stomach cramps.

Ginger has anti-inflammatory properties that reduces the pain of rheumatoid arthritis.

Ginger warms the upper respiratory tract, and is effective against colds and flu and even allergies.

Ginger stimulates digestion and relieves stomach gas.

Ginger has a positive effect on the circulatory system as it causes the platelets to be less sticky.

Ginger is a mood enhancer and stress reliever, due to its cineole content.

Ginger is a great mouth freshener.

Ginger has anti-fungal properties.

Cheers, have a cup of ginger tea!

Are you still covered with snow? Is the wind chilling you to the core? Take heart, it’s March! That means April and May are just around the corner. Are you thinking about what you’ll plant in your garden this year? I am, and I hope to add a few things to the mix this year. We started some vegetables last week, but here in Central Oregon, the rule of thumb on when to plant outdoors is “when the snow is gone from Black Butte,” which tends to be about June 1st!

Here is a lovely poem by Emily Dickinson, one of the greatest poets to ever write about nature, next to David. Enjoy these lines, and enjoy your March.

Dear March, Come in!
by Emily Dickinson (1830-86)

Dear March, Come in!

How glad I am!

I looked for you before.
Put down your hat —

You must have walked —

How out of breath you are!
Dear March, how are you?
And the rest?
Did you leave Nature well?
Oh, March, come right upstairs with me,
I have so much to tell!

I got your letter, and the bird’s;

The maples never knew
That you were coming, — I declare,

How red their faces grew!

But March, forgive me —

And all those hills
You left for me to hue;

There was no purple suitable,

You took it all with you.

Who knocks?
That April!

Lock the door!

I will not be pursued!

He stayed away a year, to call

When I am occupied.
But trifles look so trivial

As soon as you have come,
That blame is just as dear as praise

And praise as mere as blame.

Technorati Tags: nature, March, Emily Dickinson, outdoors, poetry

I am from dusty country roads,
From Vick’s Vapor Rub
And handmade clothes.
I am from the dirt floors of a house built from corrugated iron and boards,
With unshaded lightbulbs dangling from cords.
I am from the mint patch, Arizona honeysuckle, and big blue sky,
The black walnut grove, blooming yucca, and tumbleweeds piled high.

I am from clothes on the line and Kick the Can,
From Andy and Nelda,
The Appalachian and the artisan.
I am from Heather and Nancy and Becky,
From pride and poverty and poetry.
I’m from you’ll catch a cold and don’t hold open the refrigerator door,
Revival meetings, The Old Rugged Cross, and stories of the saints of yore.

I am from Tucson and Scots-Irish and English blood,
From clans and crests
And ‘Touch not the cat but a glove.’
I’m from fresh peaches and blackberries picked by my hand,
Fried okra and black coffee cooked in a pan.
I’m from Great Uncle Fran who could stand on his head,
And Great Granddad who carved the presidents now dead.
I’m from the hillbilly, Confederate, Merchant Marine,
The carpenter, the teacher, and ghosts that are seen.

I am from Mama’s stitched up album,
Careful labels on each photo
Tell where I’m from.
Old black and whites with yellowed corner tape
Reveal my photographer mother with an eye for landscape.
I am from the snapshot of a small girl by the mailbox and mesquite,
A lovely memory from a lonely street.
I am from books and words and walks,
From designs in the clouds and the circling of hawks.
Where are you from?

I wrote this poem in response to the meme over at Chrysalis. Tonight is the last night to enter her contest, but I hope you’ll write your own and share it with me. The template for this poem is here, and the original poem of this style by George Ella Lyon is here.

Technorati Tags: family life, I Am From, poetry

I did a load of dishes and a load of laundry, swept the kitchen and the mud room, and that’s all I can muster. It’s about 8:30 p.m. and I’m ready for bed. I’ll get up early. I talk myself into going to bed early with “Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.” I hope it works. It’s not usually my nature to get to bed early, but I am unusually tired.

I need to rise early to make a batch of sugar cookies for the kids at school. We’re celebrating Valentine’s Day tomorrow. I’m realizing at the moment that I have nothing with which to decorate the cookies, so they will be plain Jane. At least I have a heart-shaped cookie cutter. The cookies will be all the healthier, I’m telling myself. Will the kids buy it? Uh-oh, I also just realized I’m not supposed to take home-baked goodies to school. Store-bought only. Great, let’s deprive kids of healthier options, it’s the law. Bring on the artificial colors, flavors, preservatives, and plastic wrapping.

I’ve been having many days in a row of putting my foot in my mouth. I did it again today. What’s with me? Do you have weeks like this? Do you ever ask the good Lord WHY can’t I learn my lesson about [fill in the blank]? Why am I so dull-headed? Geez.

I digress, from nothing, so it’s okay.

I’m emptied of all my not-very-deep thoughts, so now I’ll head to bed. Tomorrow is a new day, which I’m grateful for. I have an evening coffee date with two amazing ladies, one a dear friend, and the other the friend of the dear friend. God bless my sweet husband for getting the kids to bed, all tucked in with a kiss and a prayer.

Technorati Tags: family life

I’m finally learning that there are consequences to this behavior! I’m nearly 40 - yikes, in July. After my last unexpected visit to the doctor, when I recently felt faint and dizzy at work for no reason at all (just sitting helping a student with math), I was roused from my blasé attitude that my body can handle anything. My doctor, who delivered my last baby and knows me fairly well, had looked at me with her eyes tearing over and said, “I need to write a note to your boss to tell him/her that you can’t work so much.” I laughed self-consciously and told her she’d be writing a note to myself, at which point she promptly scheduled me a counseling appointment to deal with my seeming inability to not work so much!

I didn’t go to the appointment, but the incident did serve as a needed wake-up call, and I’ve made some changes in my schedule. Which begins with, goodnight, I’m tired.

What a harsh word to use - holocaust. I think about my comfortable, wise viewpoint of 2010 as I look back upon the Holocaust of the 1930s - 1945 in Europe. HOW could the bystanders and the apathetic and the scared and the collaborators have EVER let it happen?

And then I thought about what evil forces are at work at this moment in history, a very different holocaust, the annihilation of well-spent time, and I believe that my descendants will have the same judgement: HOW could the bystanders and the apathetic and the scared and the collaborators have EVER let it happen?

Time is…what? Even the greatest physicists don’t understand the nature of time. Time is clearly more than a hand on a clock. It is motion, logic, and life. Time is perhaps a dimension, an eternal state. Whatever it is, in our daily life we understand that we are limited in our access to time, and if more time is consumed than we have accounted for, we are left motionless, logic-less, and lifeless.

Oh, how often people say “I don’t have enough time” or “I ran out of time.” Time is a commodity that is essential to life itself, and so I’m not surprised that the Enemy of our soul would like to destroy our time. Since there is nothing new under the sun, I suspect that the modern version of time-wasters have some kind of past counterpart.

I’d like to try to identify some of the biggest modern time-wasters, then discern what it is that makes us human, and next, distill some basics of life that must be done before all else. I think this progression of thought will be helpful in eliminating those elements that steal time, and hope that we can make some radical changes to avoid a time-crisis of holocaust proportions. Finally, I’ll look at the elements of a holocaust.

First, what are some of the biggest time wasters? Here’s a short list I came up with, and by the way these are all probably addictions:

TV. There is an overarching theme of voyeurism and vicarious living in how 21st century people watch TV. That there was an uproar over Lost being scheduled opposite the State of the Union is pathetic.

Internet. Clicking with the theme of too much information. Both China and South Korea have pronounced internet addiction their number one public health issue.

Gaming.There’s the 23 year old I know who flunked out of college and lost several jobs over this online computer games addiction.

Junk. There’s the news junkies, the junk reading (ie People Magazine and all the junk novels masquerading as literature), junk talking (gossip is a huge time-sucker), junk shopping, junk managing.

A friend recently sent me an email ending with this pronouncement that says it best: So when you want to talk in real time, using real voice and ears, please feel free to dial us up. E-mail is OK, but you won’t find us on Facebook, tweet, twitter, or twerp; nor on YouTube, the boobtube, or at Jiffylube.

Next, identify what makes you human. This is really important because if we don’t understand how we are created to truly be fulfilled, we’ll keep squandering our time on unprofitable things.

Relationships, not reality-TV. Why do we care more about what celebrity couple has tied the knot than we do about the ties that bind?

Connecting with God’s Creation, not a Wii or a PC. What ever happened to the very dirt beneath our feet, the growing things, the natural sun, the natural?

Connecting with God, through the simplicity of personally reading the Bible and prayer. How much time, relative to this, do we spend pursuing the latest spiritual fad or trendy Christian author instead?

Finally, recognize the basics of life that must be done before all else. See, because time is in fact limited by the nature of our finite lives, it would be wise to do the things that have to be done first, those things essential to being human, then, whatever time is left, tend to the non-essentials. You may discover there actually is no time for the non-essentials. Sadly, we’ve reversed this precept, and are left with the essentials hanging out to dry. So, earn a living, take care of your family and home, and get enough rest, good nutrition, and exercise. That’s about all you’ll really have time for.

If there is a holocaust of time, who or what is the perpetrator? In the midst of a holocaust, it seems there are four main groups of people: the strong minority perpetrators, the weak majority victims, the mass of unassisting spectators, and the few and brave of the resistance.

My mind screams, “Hollywood!” “Consumerism!” “Gluttony!” But who can I point a finger at, where is the evil Hitler who is the diabolical villain behind the extermination of quiet evenings at home reading to your children and the massacre of talking to your neighbors after work instead of garage door up, garage door down?

Is it just modernity? Declining morality? Certainly there is a particular greed surrounding the monetizing of time that can be found in Hollywood and the corporate gadgeteers. There’s money to be made off of people wasting their time on your latest fad, gadget, game, icon, celebrity, or cereal.

The weak majority of Americans who fall for these artifices are suffering intensely. We have anxiety over the stress we feel on our time, so we’re perhaps on some kind of medication, we fail at family life, maybe turn to drugs or alcohol. It takes time to be healthy mentally, spiritually, and physically!

What about that mass of spectators that is typically found in a holocaust? I would describe the unassisting spectators as those whose heads are buried in the sand and think nothing is wrong. They love their sitcoms and sit idly by while their kids play violent games on the X-Box and become entrenched in a depraved culture with little likelihood of finding their way out.

And the resistance. I’m a big fan of the heroes of the French Resistance, the Dutch Resistance, and others who bravely fought to defeat the Nazis. They worked underground, through stealth and reconnaissance, and turned the tide. True, they were also betrayed, tortured, and killed. So, to complete the holocaust analogy, this is where it happens.

It’s the Resistance who need to be courageous in this battle for our time. Resist the time-wasters and for heaven’s save, do not allow your children to succumb to them. Get rid of your TV if you have to. Unplug. Kids do not have to join organized sports at age three. They don’t need to check Facebook and text their friends twenty times a day, nor do you.

Blessings upon your time, my friends.

Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of. - Benjamin Franklin

Technorati Tags: faith, family life, God, time, time management

As for me, I’m keeping it real, attainable, and utterly basic, so as to actually realize a few goals. Gone are the “read 30 classic novels in one year,” “become fluent in French” and “learn to play Bach.”

Here’s my top ten New Year’s Resolutions for 2010, unsophisticated and no-frills:

1. Limit frozen pizza to just one dinner a week.

2. Change my sheets at least once a month, vacuum, ditto.

3. Never go to bed with dirty dishes in the sink…at least 5 out of 7 nights.

4. Never go to bed with my day clothes on; same for the kids - pajamas every night!

5. For goodness sake, always have toilet paper and milk stocked.

6. Stretch every morning with the goal of touching my toes (without bending my legs!) by mid-year.

7. Write at least one paper and pen and stamp letter each month to someone I love.

8. I will be a paper-attacker - no stacks of letters will accumulate on my kitchen counter.

9. I won’t waste time surfing the web, and especially won’t click on the latest scandalmongering from Hollywood.

10. Return every library book on time. And pay all the old fines.

How about you? What are your hopes for keeping it real in 2010?

Happy New Year!

Technorati Tags: New Year’s Resolutions, family life, 2010

The last of the Christmas cards went out yesterday; mine via email due to lack of time or resources - I do apologize if this is too tacky for your taste, I don’t particularly like it either; and my mother’s via post.

My mother. Four Christmas cards were prepared for Uncle Doug, three for Aunt Pat, and duplicates for several others. It’s her mind. I usually run interference and rescue the bonus cards (and their accompanying stamps), but this time, I sent them all. They need to know, right? Oh, a terrible thought, what if they think they’re the ones going crazy? :-)

Jane is coming for dinner tonight. I ran into her at the grocery store last week. She was in the baking aisle, putting along in her electric chair with oxygen tubes giving her breath. She wept tears of joy upon seeing us, me and JoJo who loves her like a Grandma. It’s not like it used to be when we lived half a block away from her sunshine yellow house and visited several times a week.

“Can I bake you some cookies?” she wanted to know. Of course I replied. I missed her 85th birthday and feel terrible about that. It’s a few days from Thanksgiving, and what a time to try to remember a birthday. Her mind is yet sharper than my mother’s, so I know she noticed. We’ll make it up to her. I’m just wondering how I’ll get her into my van and how I’ll keep my five year old from tripping over the miles of oxygen tubing.

My two girls are scrubbing toilets as I write, and the older sister, just eight, asked if this can now be her job. “Since we haven’t been composting as much (her other main job), can I be the toilet scrubber?” Who knew it was such fun. Note to self: meaningful jobs make kids feel a mile tall.

Well, Merry Christmas to all! Hold your dear ones tight, reach out to a soul in need, and love, as we have been loved by our Creator.

Technorati Tags: Christmas, elder care, seniors and aging

J: No, no, the angels are looking at nothing!

L: Well, let’s move the shepherd back here, he’s a lesser one anyway.

J: The Wise Man can’t be giving his gift to the cow, move him!

L: Oh, here’s the little lamb that broke last year. Oh well. It’s just one.

J: How cute, the camel is peering through the gate!

L: If only the angel could sit on top of the stable, there’d be more room and she’d be looking right down at Jesus. But she’d fall.

J: Everyone has to be looking at the baby Jesus!

(after many minutes of shuffling, conversing, and pondering the cramped quarters, the children reach an agreement)

L & J: It’s perfect!

Technorati Tags: Christmas, creche, manger scene

Actually, one of my kids found it in a box of my scant childhood mementos.

I wrote last December:

What was so magical about this double-paned case of shifting sand? For a little girl in a rather impoverished and remote desert region of the southwest, I could dream, carried away to nowhere in particular but someplace beautiful on every twist and flow of those magical grains. I longed to touch the sand that surely was silky smooth and would flow through my fingers like fairy dust.

Here it sits, right at home in my bedroom window, a magical melding of past and present. This was the first day of snow in Central Oregon, several weeks ago now.

Gazing out my windows at the crystalline air and bustling winterish activity, I had an epiphany. Something I can’t put into words, but a full circle was realized on this day.

My littlest made the first cheery snowball of the season.

His big brother followed suit in a grand way with his own ambitious snowball.

Who knew my little Magic Window circa 1975 would be a foreshadowing of such delightful affairs? I thought of a passage from Paul’s writings in the New Testament:

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. 1 Corinthians 13:12.

Here’s to a continued revealing and clarifying of the “magic window” of our lives. May unspoken dreams come true. May dark days get brighter. May we soon be face to face.

Technorati Tags: Central Oregon, childhood memories, Christmas, Magic Window

Remember Winston Churchill’s words to Harrow School on a visit in October of 1941:

Never give in. Never give in. Never, never, never, never–in nothing, great or small, large or petty–never give in, except to convictions of honor and good sense. Never yield to force. Never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy.

He could not have known fully what was to come. It was only 1941, and several years of terrible, unspeakable war were ahead. Churchill did also say in that same speech something that does, however, lead me to believe he had an inkling:

But we must learn to be equally good at what is short and sharp and what is long and tough. It is generally said that the British are often better at the last. They do not expect to move from crisis to crisis; they do not always expect that each day will bring up some noble chance of war; but when they very slowly make up their minds that the thing has to be done and the job put through and finished, then, even if it takes months - if it takes years - they do it.

Another lesson I think we may take, just throwing our minds back to our meeting here ten months ago and now, is that appearances are often very deceptive, and as Kipling well says, we must “…meet with Triumph and Disaster. And treat those two impostors just the same.”

You cannot tell from appearances how things will go. Sometimes imagination makes things out far worse than they are; yet without imagination not much can be done. Those people who are imaginative see many more dangers than perhaps exist; certainly many more than will happen; but then they must also pray to be given that extra courage to carry this far-reaching imagination.

I feel like giving up almost daily.

I stop and pray. Sometimes there is a breakthrough and the clouds powerfully part and the sun shines through. Sometimes there is no breakthrough, only new struggles. I was struck in Churchill’s speech by the quote from Kipling to treat Triumph and Disaster just the same (from the classic poem “If” by Rudyard Kipling). Which is with courage and humility. As the Bible says, give thanks in all things.

Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. 1 Thessalonians 5:18

Be strong today.

Technorati Tags: faith, “If” by Rudyard Kipling, don’t give up, Winston Churchill

I thought it was pretty cool, my husband thought it was pretty freaky. “Did you notice how he colored every shape the same color?” he asked incredulously. While father was proud of his son, he wondered at the sophisticated color patterns and the precision of his little strokes. Talk about fine motor skills.

Had I not observed him complete this entire masterpiece, I wouldn’t have believed it. I remembered being annoyed with him for stomping around the room in frustration because he couldn’t find yellow. Apparently, he had run out, and no other color would do. He found what he wanted, and continued.

So, could you do as well? Not me!

Technorati Tags: art, art for children, coloring, developmental milestones

Last week, I made the first pot of my very own mint tea. I boiled some water for my mother and me. I lingered over the stove, breathing in the tingly aroma as the minty vapors cleansed the air. Later, as we snuggled down into our chairs with cups of mint tea, I asked my mom if she remembered our mint patch. Vaguely, she said. I never thought I’d see the day when the bed of mint was a “vague” memory of hers. Still, it was a wonderful, savored moment.

I have friends who are also caretakers of an aging parent. The wife’s father is the live-in parent, and in my case, it’s my mother. A few weeks ago, my friend’s father had a stroke, and now he needs assistance with feeding, toileting, bathing, everything, and he no longer speaks intelligibly. The fact that I could sit with my mother and enjoy a cup of mint tea and simple conversation is a great joy.

One of my sisters grows mint. It turns out my grandmother from Michigan grew mint, which led to my mother’s love of mint. This sister took some of Grandma’s mint and transplanted it into her own garden, and has moved it from house to house, wherever she goes. She lives in Ohio now. I’m wondering if there’s a way for her to ship some of her mint to me in Oregon? My mother’s Arizona mint patch is long gone, and Grandma’s is too (she’s been in Heaven for almost 20 years now). Am I crazy? Good grief, mint is mint. Oh well, perhaps I’ll be checking on getting me some of that old family mint.

Technorati Tags: Central Oregon, elder care, family life, mint tea, gardening

Funny carrot shapes.

Edible toys (a pea pod turned helicopter).

A great job for a child.

The joy of finding the first fruit.

Best of all, food for the table.

You may also enjoy these past posts from Diary of 1:
Gardening With Children
Fun With Seeds and Seedlings

Technorati Tags: Central Oregon, gardening, gardening with children, nature study, outdoor activities

It’s been a month of classic “what not to do” trials as I have undertaken starting a new Christian school. I will not post any advice here except to say that you should begin with a rock-solid vision that you don’t compromise on. There are lots of great visions out there, but you have one unique to what it is that you want to accomplish, so stick with it.

It would also be a great benefit to have a mentor who has gone before you to help in navigating the known and unknown. How I wish I had had this person at the beginning of this venture. I have her now, and she has been incredibly valuable. A former administrator with a great deal of experience and expertise in education, she brings a lot to the table.

Imagine that the tablecloth had just been jerked out from under an apparently lovely meal, and food went flying and every dish was broken. This mentor came and swept up the mess, repaired the dishes as best she could, pointed out that the food wasn’t that great to begin with and not really food I even liked, and set about restoring order to the kitchen. I was handed a classic cookbook and began, with her practiced oversight, to prepare a simple meal of all my favorites. I learned, among other things, to not order caviar when what you can afford is rice and beans. Like I said, she brings a lot to the table.

Above all, God has been meeting me in this place. A dear friend sent me the following passages from 1st and 2nd Corinthians to encourage me in the midst of my trials:

1 Corinthians 4:11-14 (New American Standard Bible)

11To this present hour we are both hungry and thirsty, and are poorly clothed, and are roughly treated, and are homeless;

12and we toil, working with our own hands; when we are reviled, we bless; when we are persecuted, we endure;

13when we are slandered, we try to conciliate; we have become as the scum of the world, the dregs of all things, even until now.

2 Corinthians 4:7-12

7But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, so that the surpassing greatness of the power will be of God and not from ourselves;

8we are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not despairing;

9persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed;

10always carrying about in the body the dying of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our body.

11For we who live are constantly being delivered over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh.

12So death works in us, but life in you.

I am so grateful for my friends who have called and said, “For some reason, you’ve been on my mind and I’ve been praying for you,” and for those who have helped out in some other very tangible ways. I am walking in that perplexing truth that when we are weak, He is strong.

My favorite photo from last week is my 10 year old son putting together his “Snap Circuit Set.” He needs a more advanced electricity kit because he does this one by heart and so fast it would make Franklin and Faraday spin.

But he still loves it. What is it about boys and energy/power? Not that girls aren’t into this, I do have a daughter who loves to dabble with this electricity kit as well. But notice I said “dabble.” I certainly give my girls every opportunity I give my boys, and my 8 year old daughter rides a motorcycle right there with her big brother. But still.

Anyway, just look at his intensity and concentrated tongue as he eyes the invisible current; curious, so curious.

My blog theme this month was supposed to be something about mothers being present with their children. I haven’t written much, I’ve been busy. But a good sort of busy and doing what I can with the kiddos in the midst of busy-ness. I suppose I would just recommend to moms out there to include your children in whatever it is you are doing, and include yourself in whatever it is they are doing.

The jobs I give my children I do with them as much as I can. The girls are responsible for the kitchen. Since they can’t reach the cupboards, it means I have to be in there as the hand-to person, grabbing each plate and bowl as fast as they pass them up. As my boys tend the garden, watering and weeding, I will sit with my coffee and marvel with them at how tall the sunflowers have grown, and rejoice with them over the size of the squash.

I was careful to let my son know that I would love to take a picture of him as he constructed a current. This meant a lot to him. My daughter wanted to know that I took a picture of her, too, which I did. This wasn’t about them being proud of being in the spotlight, it was about Mom caring and noticing that they did something noteworthy.

ride a bike,

shoot an arrow,

frost a cake (and eat it, too),

make a wish and blow out the candles.

Happy Birthday, Little L!! You can do so many things when you are five!

Technorati Tags: Central Oregon, childhood memories, outdoor play, Happy Birthday

My husband and I watched the movie Faith Like Potatoes last night. Great movie for this season of our life especially. It’s the real-life story of South African farmer Angus Buchan who, in faith, plants potatoes in the dust in the midst of a severe drought. You can guess what happens.

Are you facing difficulty or impossibility? Then you are ripe for miracles, if you would just have “faith like potatoes,” or “like a mustard seed,” as we have more commonly heard from Scripture.

The photo I posted here was from our recent outing to Lake Billy Chinook. This log captured my attention and mesmerized me for quite some time. The old timber would float to and fro with the waves, smoothed to nearly silk from the endless action of the waves. It provided hours of glee for my son who would sit on it, and hours of contemplation for me as I thought about the ups and downs and yet constancies of life.

Technorati Tags: faith, Faith Like Potatoes, Lake Billy Chinook, God

We enjoyed the most wonderful morning at Smith Rock State Park a few days ago. There by 7:30 a.m. to avoid the scorching afternoon sun, we hiked, played, and splashed our way around to the backside of the mountain.

My children all had a fun time, especially the youngest. Big-eyed and four years old, Little L looked right out of Norman Rockwell’s sweet scenes of idyllic American childhood.

Balancing on a rock, he peers into the shimmering Crooked River, on the verge of discovering his own reflection. He eventually collected a shell, a feather, and a crawdad leg.

Will he remember this moment? Perhaps when he’s a young man passing a river he will have a sense of joy that can’t be explained, and when he’s an old man he will recall this experience in nature with clarity, unable to resist the urge to skip a stone across the water.

Technorati Tags: Central Oregon, nature study, Smith Rock

Sadly, she discovered this morning that her lizard was dead. She was curious. And maybe she could save the eggs. Frankly, I know nothing about lizard anatomy and may not know a lizard egg if I saw one. But I’m sure this girl would know. She has an instinctive nature when it comes to the study of living things. She loves animals, and her desire to cut open the lizard is inquisitive not cruel.

“That’s a-skusting!” cried the little brother. “Not while we’re making muffins!” asserted the little sister.

JJ brought me a paring knife. She’s a persistent girl, a trait that alternately drives us crazy and makes us proud. Am I ready for a dissection? Do I let her explore?

Technorati Tags: Central Oregon, children’s biology, creation, lizards, nature study

Hello Summer! We’re done being sick and we are ready to enjoy this beautiful world. I’m listening to Little L read a book to himself, I’m feeling anticipation about the days ahead, I’m smelling the fresh garden dirt, and I’m seeing a clear blue sky out the window.

Today, I need to accomplish: cleaning all the bathrooms, vacuuming the upstairs hall and guest room, washing about five loads of laundry, and supervising the kids’ chores. I have a visit from Elisabeth today, the gal who arranges the French Exchange Program. I’m also expecting a friend from out of town to stop by on her way through to Idaho.

What’s on your plate today? Many blessings to you as we head into a celebration of Independence this weekend!

On Friday afternoon, when I finally felt like I could ingest something, I really wanted Gingerale or 7-Up, but there was none around. I found a liter of Club Soda in the pantry and decided to experiment. First, I made a vanilla soda for myself, and my stomach was pleased. Here’s what I did:

Jen’s Vanilla Soda
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
3 teaspoons sugar
1 cup club soda

This morning, my stomach still not normal, I tried another recipe and liked this even better:

Jen’s Lemon Soda
1/3 cup concentrated lemon juice
3 Tablespoons sugar
2 cups club soda

There’s my stomach flu tonic for you–both of these calmed down my seething tummy and tasted fabulous, too. If you’re healthy and don’t need a flu tonic, just spoon a few scoops of ice-cream on top and have a delicious dessert drink.

Do you have any family recipes for easing the pain of the stomach flu? Please share, I have at least one more person to nurse through this.

TRAIN.
First, here’s one of my favorite pictures from my photofiles:

A little train depot we pass nearly every day had a surprise for us one fall afternoon last season. The regular train was on vacation, and this beautiful steam powered locomotive, called the Mount Emily Shay #1, was there to greet us. Built in 1923, she worked for 30 years on a logging railroad in southern Oregon, then spent some time in West Virginia running tourists on the Cass Scenic Railroad. The “lockie” has since been retired to the Oregon Historical Society, which leases #1 to the City of Prineville Railway to occasionally pull its Crooked River Dinner Train.

There’s the facts, and for you train lovers, you will appreciate the history. My kids appreciated the power and beauty up close.

GARDEN.
I spent yesterday in the garden with the kids at my side. It was a treasured time. After moving my plants in and out of the house for weeks, and waiting for the last frost to come and go, I decided the time was perfect for their new home. Turned out it was a day late. The night before, I left the plants in the garage. There was a mouse. It ate the tops off the cucumbers. The peas were munched. The pumpkins were stubs.

I transplanted what I could into the garden, and reseeded almost everything. I may not have enough days to make it to harvest before a fall frost, but I’m taking my chances. No matter the outcome, I love working with my kids in the garden.

My husband shared my pain over those lost seedling leaves. He found a Maine Coon Cat on Craigslist. Apparently this enormous (seriously, it’s like a dog) feline mouser is the thing to have, and there’s a free one in Springfield, Oregon. To further protect against critters, he’s out right now putting boards around the bottoms of the garden, and I’ll be joining him shortly to help place rocks around the garden base.

FRANCE.
I’m so excited to be hosting another French Exchange Student. Helen comes in July. Do you remember when we hosted Elise? My kids still talk about our time with her, and it’s an enriching experience that I highly recommend for every family. So, as we prepared for Elise, we are now preparing for Helen.

Getting her room cleared out is the number one priority. It currently holds several dozen boxes of …. stuff. I love having a pressing reason to get things cleaned up! I mean it.

After having Elise as our guest, I also realized that the French have a certain expectation about food. Like, it should be prepared at home, not acquired at the drive-up window or in a frozen cardboard box. So, I need to get my menu in order.

Finally, language lessons are always fun for me, so the kids and I will spend some more time with French lessons. But that’s not a huge concern, since I already figured out with Elise that these Europeans nearly always speak English better than we will ever speak their language.

As far as activities, we just plan on living our normal life. The expectation of this particular exchange group is to just have an immersion experience with an American family as they go about their day. I will certainly show her some highlights of Central Oregon, but I have no plans beyond that.

Do you want to host a French exchange student? If you live in Central Oregon, get ahold of me right away, because there are still a few students needing to be placed here immediately.

Technorati Tags: family, France, gardening, ranch, seedlings, French exchange student, steam engines, trains

1. Continental Airlines still serves meals.
2. I saw my great-great grandpa’s wood carvings of all the presidents (through Hoover) and they belong in a museum.
3. The St. Clair River is still brilliant blue.
4. I collected seashells and rocks along Lake Huron.
6. I remembered why I love the Great Lakes–just a feeling I get at the shore.
5. Six of us cousins stayed up talking ’til 3 a.m. one night. Who knew they were all terrified of my mom’s painting of a ragdoll, so much so that one cousin once slept in the bathtub at Grandma’s to avoid walking back up the stairs and passing the horrid thing.
7. Listening to my cousins speak at my Aunt Beth’s memorial was incredible.
8. My cousin Amy playing the bagpipes at the memorial was a tender moment.
9. My Uncle Marshall’s ham radio–an 83 year old trying to call Australia, but unable to remember how to make the connection; it was a mixture of hilarity and sadness.
10. Meeting the captain/builder of the Earth Voyager, the fastest sailboat on the Great Lakes, was a spontaneous moment. He’s getting the rig ready for the Port Huron to Mackinaw Island sailboat race.
11. I felt instantly at home when I was driving down I-94 out of Detroit and saw the giant tire.
12. I slept in a room full of ten thousand books–all murder mysteries. How I slept so soundly is the mystery. My Aunt Pat is a collector. She wants to add another room on their house just for her books.
13. Lunch at the River Crab in St. Clair was a treat, eating Atlantic Salmon while watching the freighters and sailboats pass by our window.
14. I wished a hundred times that my kids were with me so they could have met all their cousins.

That’s all I have time for–blessings on your weekend!

Memorial Day weekend has been wonderful. Family came to visit from the valley, and my kids enjoyed some precious times with their cousins and grandma and uncle. Lots of dirt and many baths later, we said our goodbyes.

Today, I took the kids for a bike ride down the gravel drive and onto an old BLM road. We stopped to pick cattails and JJ found a 1966 quarter half-hidden on the dusty trail. Further down, we came upon an old campsite of some former cowboys or pioneers - actually, that is the children’s hope, because it was likely just a place where many decades ago, people dumped their trash.

Here are a few photos I’d like to share:

Our dog, Riley, is turning out to be an extraordinary guard. He finally found the job he needed, being a cattle dog with no cattle to herd. The jackrabbits and the deer keep him busy. And the four children. Except for his dangerous habits of chasing cars, biting tires, and jumping on people, he’s mellowing out nicely and we look forward to many years with him at the ranch.

This view out the kitchen to the east is lovely, especially with the late afternoon long shadows. You can see Riley on the move here, enjoying some playtime.

I mentioned my husband building a garden structure a few weeks ago. I found this photo of him and Big L working together to string the wire around the juniper trunks he used for posts. We are getting a vision for this place and look forward to a good harvest. I spent much of yesterday preparing my garden beds for the vegetable starts that are still in my mud room. According to the OSU gardening calendar, I can plant outdoors this week or next. Finally!

Like all my children, JoJo and Little L love to explore. This rock down the cliff at the end of our property provides a scenic lookout. I remember climbing in the mountains near my own home as a child, and those are probably my fondest childhood memories. There were legends abounding about the grave of Chief Cochise being somewhere in these Apache mountains where I grew up, and that just added to the excitement of every childhood hike and mountain climbing excursion.

Cochise died after a long illness on June 8, 1874. Tom Jeffords was at his side near the end, and witnessed his interment in a crevice in the rocks of the Dragoon Mountains, near Cochise Stronghold, Arizona. Only his band and Tom Jeffords knew the site. They took this knowledge to their own graves, telling no one of the place where Cochise had been buried. (from findagrave.com)

I think my children will have their own fanciful notions about this land where we now live, and I hope they share these impressions with me as they grow up.

Technorati Tags: Central Oregon, childhood memories, Cochise Stronghold, gardening

God spoke to me about my position with Him. How gracious and merciful of the Lord to keep inviting us back into His “game” and His calling and kingdom work, even though we throw gutter balls now and again.

[He adopted us] to the praise of the glory of His grace, which He freely bestowed on us in the Beloved. Ephesians 1:6

It’s by His grace. Not by any merit of our own that we receive God’s favor. I am not invited to partner with the Lord because I have a perfect game–whether I bowl a 300 or a 30, I have still been “chosen in Him, before the foundation of the world” and I am loved no more or no less for the game (Eph. 1:4). This is truly glorious, as many versions put it, “glorious grace.”

I love Ephesians chapter 1. It’s a passage that I read to my firstborn nearly every night while he was still in the womb–it’s a passage you would truly want someone to speak over you, believe me. If you or someone you care about struggles with feeling a condition on the love granted to him/her, Ephesians 1 is a great place to begin correcting that. These are such soul affirming words, and my bowling lesson the other day reminded me of this.

I don’t want you to have to look too far for these life-giving, power-filled, blessing-bestowing words, so here is Ephesians Chapter One in its entirety:

Ephesians 1

1Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God,
To the saints in Ephesus, the faithful in Christ Jesus:

2Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

Spiritual Blessings in Christ

3Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. 4For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love 5he predestined us to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will— 6to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves. 7In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace 8that he lavished on us with all wisdom and understanding. 9And he made known to us the mystery of his will according to his good pleasure, which he purposed in Christ, 10to be put into effect when the times will have reached their fulfillment—to bring all things in heaven and on earth together under one head, even Christ.
11In him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will, 12in order that we, who were the first to hope in Christ, might be for the praise of his glory. 13And you also were included in Christ when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation. Having believed, you were marked in him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit, 14who is a deposit guaranteeing our inheritance until the redemption of those who are God’s possession—to the praise of his glory.

Thanksgiving and Prayer

15For this reason, ever since I heard about your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love for all the saints, 16I have not stopped giving thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers. 17I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better. 18I pray also that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, 19and his incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is like the working of his mighty strength, 20which he exerted in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms, 21far above all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every title that can be given, not only in the present age but also in the one to come. 22And God placed all things under his feet and appointed him to be head over everything for the church, 23which is his body, the fullness of him who fills everything in every way.

Technorati Tags: Bible, bowling, devotions, Ephesians 1

I even called my husband to tell him the news. “Honey, I picked up a stainless steel silverware tray at Goodwill for two dollars, and some pantry shelves at the neighbor’s garage sale.” He shared in the joy, and if you’ve lived with disheveled drawers yourself, you’ll know the thrill. The whole kitchen makeover took all of an hour, but it felt like a million bucks. I never realized I had five can openers.

So, if you need a wave of inspiration in your day, you know what to do.

All of these cups of seed and soil are sitting in our sunny mud room, busily sprouting in preparation for the big move to the outdoor garden after the last frost. Whether we will time the transition correctly, have the proper soil amendments, possess a well fortified fence to keep out the ever encroaching deer and jackrabbits, and be left with sufficient growing time for full maturation of the vegetables, all remains to be seen. Central Oregon is not a gardening paradise and there are odds to overcome, but it’s not impossible (even though my neighbor says it is). This is our beginning.

My husband recently built me a garden area. Can you make it out in this picture? I came home from a weekend away, and he and the kids made me close my eyes and led me out the back door to this sight that thrilled me. He had limbed up enough Juniper trees that were laying around the property, set them in post holes with cement left over from our building project, and only had to buy the wire fencing.

He still needs to build the gate, secure the bottom with boards, and string some baling wire at the top to deter the deer which can easily jump a 6 foot fence. We also have to bring in a ton of compost and nutrient rich soil, but I can see the finished product, and it’s beautiful. I’m sure you are getting the picture that gardening can be a lot of hard work, but it’s best to know the challenges before you begin. For a no-nonsense look at this from someone who has years more experience than I, read The Joys and Trials of Caring for your Seedlings.

Here are some tips on gardening in Central Oregon from the Oregon State Extension Service:

Although it may not be a gardening paradise, central and eastern Oregon is more than a wide expanse of high desert. Successful vegetable and fruit gardening is possible east of the Cascades if you take into account the area’s special and widely varying climate and soil characteristics.

The growing season may be as short as 80 to 90 days in central Oregon at elevations above 3,500 feet. In some of the lower elevations and river valleys, growing seasons may exceed 130 days.

Also, large fluctuations in daytime and nighttime temperatures, often as much as 40-45°F, affect vegetable and fruit production. Cool nights reduce the chances of successfully growing vegetables that like warm nights, such as lima beans and eggplants. (See story on growing warm-season crops in cool-season area.)

Soil types

Soil types in central and eastern Oregon vary widely. Light-textured soils, low in organic matter, nutrient content, and water-holding capacity, are found in parts of central Oregon and the eastern Columbia Basin area. These soils may require frequent applications of fertilizer and water. At the other extreme are the heavy soils high in soluble salts (which can create an alkalinity problem) found in many eastern Oregon areas.

Added organic matter such as manure or compost generally is beneficial for most central and eastern Oregon soils. (See story on improving soil.) Specific information for each area is available from county offices of the OSU Extension Service or from local garden centers.

Choosing crops

Concentrate on those vegetables adapted to your particular area. Avoid planting vegetables that require special, intense, or improved growing conditions. Root crops (e.g., potatoes, carrots, and beets) and cold-tolerant crops (e.g., cabbage, chard, leaf lettuce, and kohlrabi) do well in high-elevation gardens.

Short-season vegetable varieties offer the best chance of success. For example, cool nights during the growing season may cause a 65-day tomato to require 75 to 80 days or more to mature.

Planting dates

Planting dates for high-elevation, short-season areas generally lag behind those in other parts of the state. In high areas, gardens usually are planted from mid-May, for cold-tolerant plants, to mid-June. Later plantings often fail to mature before fall frosts. See the story on planting guidelines for suggested planting dates.

Use plant protection devices, such as row covers, hotcaps, and Walls-o-Water, to extend the growing season for vegetables requiring longer periods to mature.

Now, on to some fun seed activities to do with children. These three ideas are from The Family Game Book (1967, Doubleday-out of print). I think these are appropriate projects for all elementary grades. I just planted vegetable starters with my sixth graders (as well as my own children), and from ages 4 through 12, they all were totally engaged. One of my sixth grade students called me at home a few nights ago just to tell me how beautiful her new plants were!

1. See how seeds actually grow.

When a seed is buried in the ground, you can’t see exactly what is happening to it. Here is a simple experiment you can perform to watch the seed develop into a little plant.

Get a sheet of clean blotting paper or a small sponge. Put the paper or sponge in a drinking glass so that it is pressing against one side of the glass. Fill the other side of the glass with gravel or sand. This should press the blotting paper or sponge tightly against the glass.

Now get some fast-growing seeds like lima beans. Force them between the blotting paper and the glass. They should be pressing tightly against the glass so that you can see them through the glass. If the seeds don’t stay in place, you do not have enough sand or gravel in your glass, as its purpose is to keep the seeds in place.

Keep the blotting paper or sponge moist. In a few days you will see the seeds sprout roots. These are called root hairs. They help absorb food for the plant. After the roots become longer, carefully transfer your seeds to a dirt-filled flowerpot or even the garden–if it is warm enough. You will have a little bean plant. Just think how much you will know about this particular little plant!

2. How strong are seeds?

A rock is broken in two, and a healthy tree is growing in the split. Have you ever seen such a sight–a tree growing in a rock?

Perhaps you have seen a sidewalk with a crack in it, and a plant growing through it. Chances are that the seed of the plant split the sidewalk. It’s hard to believe, but here’s an experiment to prove that seeds can really exert great force.

Get a small flat bottle. An empty medicine bottle will do. Pack the bottle right up to the very top with dried beans, for beans are really seeds. Get a piece of cloth and tie it over the top of the bottle in place of the cap. Stand the bottle upside down in a glass partly filled with water.

Watch your bean bottle from time to time, and in a day or so you will discover that the bottle has burst. The beans soak up all the water and become swollen. As they swell they push against the walls of the bottle, and when they push hard enough the bottle bursts.

That is what happened to the rock and the sidewalk. Do you believe it now?

3. How important are the plant’s first leaves?

By now you have had some experience with plants. Have you noticed that all the different kinds of seeds you planted (flower and vegetable) start growing with the same kind of leaves? They all have what look like two thick leaves that dry up and fall off when the seedling develops other leaves. Have you ever wondered what these first leaves do?

A little experiment will answer this question. Plant three quick-growing seeds, such as bean or cucumber seeds, in a flowerpot. Water them and one day you will notice you have three little plants, all with the same two first leaves, which are called cotyledons.

Now, leave one seedling exactly as it is. From the second seedling, cut off one leaf. From the third, cut off both leaves. Continue to take care of your plants and you will discover something interesting. The seedling from which you cut off both leaves will be very small. The seedling with one leaf cut off will be a little larger. The seedling you did not touch will be the largest and healthiest.

From this experiment you can gather that the cotyledons are storehouses for the young plant and should fall off only when the plant is strong enough to get nourishment by itself. Losing first leaves too soon hampers a plant’s growth.

I hope you enjoy your seeds and seedlings this spring! Do your homework on best growing practices for your region, and don’t forget to have fun with the kids along the way. There are so many life lessons and spiritual truths to be learned from planting a garden.

Related post: Gardening With Children

Technorati Tags: Central Oregon, education, family, gardening, outdoor activities, planting, plants, plant experiments, seedlings, vegetable garden, science

My little boy’s babysitter quit today because he’s too difficult. But God is the shepherd of our hearts and His Spirit brings correction.

I’m overwhelmed with caring for my family while my husband is away working. But God is my husband and strong tower.

I have financial concerns pressing in. But He owns the cattle on a thousand hills, and my inheritance is rich as a child of the King.

I was invited to the Democratic Republic of Congo for a missions outreach and the very thought scares me. But He is Lord of the Nations.

I feel unorganized, unproductive, and unable. But He set the order of the universe and made something out of nothing.

I am tired and discouraged and ready to fall. But He gives rest to the weary and hope to the hopeless; He holds my foot so it doesn’t slip.

I am not smart enough, brave enough, or bold enough to do the tasks before me. But He is all-wise, and the wind and waves obey His commands as He valiantly walks on water.

I am weak. But He is strong.

Technorati Tags: Christianity, faith, God, God’s provision, devotions

This enchanting, pastoral scene led to an all day baking session with a friend to stock up on meals and fill our freezers for those days when company is coming or time is scarce. We even wore cute aprons. I became delusional that I was born for baking and meal planning and living, well, sort of like the Amish. Simple, slow, homemaking and picking daisies.

(Excuse me while I go pull a frozen pizza out of the oven.) However, at this moment, I’m finding that I have no inner Amish and it would be all but deceitful to write such a post. I’ve had a rough few days and maybe rougher ones ahead. My house is a disaster with clothes, toys, and random items strewn helter-skelter like a really bad hair day. I feel far from the peaceful Amish that I picture in my mind’s eye.

I passionately miss my husband, who’s working out of town, my live-in mother is convinced the house will burn down just because a bad battery sent every alarm screaming through the night, and the dog has worms (the cat is suspect as well). I have parent-teacher conferences in two and a half days and a performance evaluation in one. And I can’t even come up with three more friends to give the next batches of Amish friendship bread starters to.

If you find my inner Amish, you can send it packing to Pennsylvania, because it would not be at home here.

I’m so glad that next week I get to celebrate the Resurrection, and, as you can see in my sidebar excerpt, I’m hoping for the power of the living Christ to be at work in me. I NEED it to be, and I hope (I know) that the resurrected Christ is more meaningful than my Amish fantasy.

Technorati Tags: Amish friendship bread, simplicity

Central Oregon, April 5, 4:00 p.m., 66 degrees. I’m wearing a sweater. But blue sky, bright sun, and no wind all make for swimming in April, at least for these country kids.
It innocently began with chasing jackrabbits, then some water-play, soon followed by a child streaking in to ask for a cork to plug the pool and fill it. Being busy with paperwork, and seeing no harm, I acquiesced. I figured they’d be far too cold once the water started flowing and it would come to an abrupt end, but no, the splashing and shrieks of delight went on for at least an hour.

I love my daring young girls and boys!

Technorati Tags: Central Oregon, childhood memories, family, swimming, outdoor activities

If you came expecting to see my new April theme, and could hardly stand the anticipation, I apologize for the let-down! I probably won’t write much until it’s fixed, for the same reason I don’t invite people over when the house is a disaster; it’s hard to see past the dirty dishes and appreciate the good conversation. Unless you’re a really good friend.   

Enjoy a lovely April! I plan on learning how to plant a vegetable garden that will succeed in Central Oregon, cleaning out my guest room, writing letters to my cousins, catching up on some French, and celebrating the risen Lord. What about you?

It was for freedom that Christ set us free; therefore keep standing firm and do not be subject again to a yoke of slavery. Galations 5:1

This is a verse that came my way today from two different sources. I don’t know what it means to you, but I wanted to share it with you. Part of it for me means being FREE and available for all God has for me. No eye has seen or mind can comprehend what God has prepared for those who love Him. And none of it is fully available when we are not free. So, I’ll be meditating on what this means for me and how I can obtain further freedom…from fear, exhaustion, unbelief, and anything else that I struggle with.

That’s my little JoJo in the photo exercising her freedom! Without a care and full of the joy of living, she pedals into the wind like a newly released balloon reaching for the skies.

Technorati Tags: Central Oregon, Christianity, God, freedom in Christ, Galations, Bible

A little boy must have a shovel or two to be truly happy, I think! What is it about digging that brings such satisfaction and sense of adventure?

Will I find a buried treasure? A forgotten city?
I must dig and dig, and when I’m done at the very least I’ll have a hideaway.

Have you noticed a fascination with upturning the earth in your own children? When you were a child, did you love to dig? Is it a child’s version of going out west or shooting to the moon, or any other unknown horizon to be explored?

Technorati Tags: Central Oregon, childhood memories, family, children’s shovels

Here she is making her way down our driveway with a few of the kids this week, who love to go for walks with Grandma. Or be walked, as you can see a blue leash dangling by LIttle L’s legs, which he had attached to his belt loop for Grandma to “walk him.” She now limits herself to the long driveway for fear of getting lost in the forest. I must say, I do feel quite proud that our sometimes scraggly junipers qualify as a forest.

This poem she wrote over 50 years ago fits this scene and the future in heaven she looks forward to:

AN OLD FAMILIAR STREET

Will I suddenly find myself walking
Down an old familiar street,
That once had something lacking
But now is quite complete?

Will heaven be the earth again,
But me a different man–
With eyes to see things hidden now,
With wings to carry out a plan?

Will flowers be even sweeter then?
The wind at my command?
Will secrets fill me full of glee
That now I could not stand?

Will that day surely come
With its enchanting feat
When I’ll walk with distant friends
Down an old familiar street?

I don’t have any profound thoughts to write this morning in honor of my mother’s 80th birthday, just a few random memories from childhood:

She read to us often, and not the usual children’s stories, just whatever she happened to be reading. She loved books about the saints, Christian missionaries, animal stories, the Bible, biographies…

She planted a mint patch and would send us kids to pick mint for her tea. We’d eat some leaves along the way.

The Arbor was a special place to be. She built, along with my dad, a little arbor with a table and benches inside. Crawling up every side of the arbor were climbing vines of her favorite kind, of which I cannot remember the names but were special to her.

I remember discovering a nest of baby birds in the arbor - they loved it there, too.

For a year or two, my mom hosted a small poetry club in the arbor for my sister and me and our neighbor friends (mostly 6-10 year olds), and called it the Little Rhymers. I still have the poetry book she made for our club with its hand-stitched cover, filled with the endearing poetry of our little hands.

Her Boston Baked Bread was one of my favorites, as well as her homemade ice cream.

She was a most creative soul and I never realized the blessing of this until much later in life.

Happy Birthday, Mom!

I stopped in the pet store yesterday to get some grit for the birds, to aid their digestion. While there, the kids reminded me of one of their pressing concerns. We have a boy and girl parakeet, and the kids keep wondering if they will have babies.

My son begged for a nest to place in the bird cage, just in case. My daughter’s mind was filled with the wonder of baby keets.

The store clerk discouraged all of this. She and I had just finished a discussion about how to work with our birds to turn them into friendly, tame, sit-on-your-finger kind of birds. She pointed out that once parakeets have babies, they will not be tame pets. They will be extremely protective of their brood and you can forget about a sweet housebroken budgie.

I was fuzzy on some issues. What if they mate without all the nice trappings of a brooding box and comfy nest, and the girl lays her eggs on the bottom of the cage? Just throw them out, said the clerk. Take the eggs away, she’ll forget all about them, and she won’t lay any more eggs after a while. Do not encourage breeding, she said, by not putting a nesting area in the cage. Then you’ll get to keep the birds as pets to pamper and cuddle and train.

I couldn’t help thinking about how to dispose of those eggs without the children having a meltdown. Would I flush them down the toilet? Would I toss them out the window? Offer them to someone with a pet snake? Ah, well, they are just parakeet eggs, and the snakes need to eat.

Okay, so the only way for the parakeets to care enough about human companionship instead of protecting their clutch is to prevent them from breeding, and take away their eggs when they do happen to lay them.

For some reason, my mind made a leap this morning, a shocking leap to connect with a great moral issue that I think of often. Abortion. Here is the connection I made.

I wondered if the taking away of a human mother’s baby-in-utero, abortion, has the same effect (the “taming” of humans), and if there is perhaps an underlying societal motivation (from the left) for wanting women and couples to not “breed.” A motivation similar to the parakeet issue: are women and families more easily manipulated and pliable when they don’t have the “mother bear” syndrome, the innate and fierce drive a mother has to look out for the best interest of her baby?

A new mother, of course, will be less interested in say, political issues of whether murderous criminals should be spared the death penalty or whether women should have the “right to choose,” than she will be in the immediate care of her newborn, how to feed and nurture him, and don’t you dare harm my baby.

Does it seems plausible that childless people will be more loyal to the state than to the family? I’m making a leap here, but there is some shifting of interests that occurs when your eggs are stolen away and you’re encouraged to forget about them, be you parakeet or person.

Technorati Tags: abortion, parakeet breeding

Everyone told me, no, don’t come now, wait ’til spring, it’s what she wanted. I had to set aside this immediacy I felt and go with reason. She wanted us to gather in the cemetery in late spring, with green grass and lovely blooms. As I thought about Aunt Beth, it made such sense. She was the essence of spring. I don’t know why exactly I feel that way, but maybe it was her smile, her warmth, her innocence, her youthful spirit.

Aunt Beth was my mom’s oldest sister, and at age 84, it seems a natural time to die. She held onto life until the 23rd Psalm was read to her, then she passed into glory. My cousin who gave me the details of the moment said to make sure my mom knew that Beth was not in pain and was surrounded by loved ones. And she said, “Jenny, be danged sure that when that time comes for your mom, you have her favorite scripture on hand!”

Tonight I made my mom her favorite meal - bean burritos - and stopped at the library for some good books for her. I had been so worried about how she would handle this. She’s surprised me. Very calm, taking everything in stride. I asked her last night to tell me about a fond memory she had of her sister Beth.

She spoke of the joy of riding her bike, with her brother Doug, over to Beth’s house. Aunt Beth was five years older than my mom, and married young, maybe 18 or 19 years old. My mom would have been 13 or 14 at the time, and I thought how sweet of her big sister, with a new home and new husband, to be welcoming to her young siblings, so much so that her little sister still remembers that bit of hospitality about 67 years later.

At the library tonight, I picked out a book for myself as well. I chose A Year in Provence, a chronicle of an English couple that escape the rat race of life and head to the south of France. I guess it’s no surprise that I was drawn to this story just now. I was reading this last year, and only got as far as August (each chapter is a month of the year), and have been wanting to finish it. As I said, death leaves one introspective, and I’m thinking about life and love and meaning. I suppose Provence symbolizes those things for me. Plus I remembered that this book made me laugh until I cried more than once.

Until spring and until Provence…

Technorati Tags: death, family, France, A Year in Provence

A Poet’s Cat, sedate and grave
As poet well could wish to have,
Was much addicted to inquire
For nooks to which she might retire,
And where, secure as mouse in chink,
She might repose, or sit and think.
- - - William Cowper

Our cat, Tawny is fond of napping, as most cats are. He’s dozing in what I like to call the townhouse - his place on top, the dog in the bottom apartment. My husband and son built this cozy accommodation just before winter, and it was uncanny how each animal instinctively knew where his place was.

I tried to shoo Riley into his house so I could have the perfect picture, but he would have none of it. It’s usually the cat who won’t cooperate with the camera, but today Tawny was quite obliging.

By the way, that is bits of a foam pad in the back of the dog house, not “doo doo” as my 5 year old said when she saw this picture. Riley tears out anything of comfort we try to place on the floor, whether it’s a blanket, a heated pad, or foam.

Where do your animals like to sleep or sit?

Technorati Tags: cat quotes, cat house, William Cowper

Here’s a little poem I wrote for him:

The Black Feather
Today I went out to explore
I found a feather on the forest floor
I had the urge to search for more
Creation has unlocked a door. 

Enjoy your day exploring and investigating your world! We’re off for another hike…

Technorati Tags: Central Oregon, childhood memories, family, bird feather, nature, outdoors

Big L found a favorite perch. From here, he had a bird’s eye view of the valley and the horizon beyond. Upon his rocky seat, with his hand steadied by the old weathered fence post, my son felt like king of the hill.

I wondered what tales the worn, lichen and moss covered fence could tell. Who owned the cattle it once held in? What hands pounded the stakes? Why did these people move on? Where did they go from here?

Do you have a favorite place to retreat to when you need to clear your mind or when you long for solitude?

For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made, so that they are without excuse. (Romans 1:20)

What element of God’s creation speaks to you today?

Technorati Tags: family, creation, landscape

I advised the little one to get Daddy, as I was still scrambling to pack one more lunch and grab my coffee. And scoop the pan of hot oatmeal into bowls for the kids to eat in the van, clearly a decision of a raving mad mother. Imagine four children eating full bowls of hot oatmeal on a bumpy road with lots of curves.

Ah, the problem the little one spoke of. I found my husband outside in the morning frost, attempting his manly best in his bedroom slippers to reattach the van sliding door which had come unhinged. It appeared to be hanging by a thread, but with some skillful maneuvering, he worked some magic and jockeyed the door back into proper position. 7:10 a.m., I gulped back the anxiety of being late yet again, trying to give due thanks that I don’t have to drive ten miles with no door.

Back to the oatmeal. Three of the children are adept enough to handle their bowls, but LIttle L, at age four, just can’t manage. I placed his bowl as I did before on the dash (how humiliating to admit I’ve done this before) to eat once I drop him off with the babysitter. The three older ones gobbled down their breakfast, miraculously without so much as an oat overboard, and I made it within three blocks of Little L’s stopping place.

I rounded the corner and my eye was on my coffee, which I was also guarding in the cup-holder, as it was not a sturdy lidded mug (another unfortunate decision), but a lovely tall ceramic mug. So far so good. Some left over oomph from the turn caught up with the bowl, however, and I watched helplessly as it slid forward into the windshield, splashing milk and oats which dribbled down into the vents.

Drats, I say (really I said something worse) clenching my teeth, but I had to straighten wheel from my turn, and I must have inadvertently hit the gas, because now the bowl came flying back toward me. Before I could blink, the bowl hurtled over the dash like it was in the Indy 500 and crashed in about five pieces on the floor between the driver and passenger seats. Oats, milk, and Dansk Concerto Allegro Blue dinnerware were in a shocking muddle.

“Mommy!” cried Big L, who is extremely sentimental for a nine year old, “your wedding bowl!”

“Mommy!” cried Little L, who was extremely hungry, “my oatmeal!”

“My mug!” I cried, as I noticed that as the bowl went down it took out the handle of the charming ceramic mug. My dear friend had given me this mug just a few weeks earlier, and I loved the sweet saying on the side of it:

Cherish yesterday, live today, dream tomorrow.

Well, I got the mess sort of cleaned up as best I could, promised Little L that the babysitter would feed him, and assured Big L that I could always buy another bowl.

When I finally arrived at work (7:30 a.m. and missed my morning meeting), I saw my friend who had gifted me with the treasured mug. I told her the hapless tale of my morning, and she said, “Jennifer, this story should be written!” because she is a nostalgic, romantic type who sees the tenderness of it all and is wise enough to know that simple events like these, in all their comedy of errors, can become priceless family memories.

So, Julia, this is for you, and that handle-less mug sits on my kitchen windowsill tonight reminding me that I did, indeed, live today.

New Year’s Day was slow and steady, doing nothing much of anything, which is an unnerving feeling when there is so much to be done. Today, I’ll have to call my doctor and get started on some antibiotics. The last sinus infection brought me to a feverish, near collapsing state because I held off on the medicine, but I think I learned my lesson. I’m open to advice on comforting this dull head.

May the New Year find sinus infections far from you, my friends.

But in the mess of the thaw, the cat prepares to pounce as he hasn’t since the thick blanket of snow gave him nothing to leap for, and the dog perks his ears and sniffs the wind as fresh scents are unearthed. And my own heart and senses are renewed after the thaw. What hope!

This I recall to my mind,
Therefore I have hope.
Through the LORD’s mercies we are not consumed,
Because His compassions fail not.
They are new every morning;
Great is Your faithfulness.
“The LORD is my portion,” says my soul,
“Therefore I hope in Him!”
The LORD is good to those who wait for Him,
To the soul who seeks Him.
It is good that one should hope and wait quietly
For the salvation of the LORD.
Lamentations 3:21-26

This newest plaything came with a book, Cole Family Christmas, which I read to the children a few nights ago. As the fire crackled before us and little ones snuggled in my lap, this heart-warming story of an Appalachian family struggling in a 1920s coal mining town became an instant family classic.

Cole Family Christmas is based on the true story of the Cole Family - Mama and Papa and their nine children, set in the small company town of Benham, Kentucky. Co-written by the youngest and only surviving Cole child, 88-year-old Hazel Cole Kendle, along with her granddaughter-in-law, Jennifer Liu Bryan, this is the tale of one special Christmas in the heart of the Appalachian coalfields.

Of course, there is a special personality in this mountain memoir called Hilda the goat. Despite the wonderful character development and authentic dialogue of every member of the cast, my children latched onto Hilda. They loved it when little Ruble was awakened one morning with a rough push from Hilda, sending her tumbling out of bed. All of Hilda’s minor appearances were relished.

The rest of the afternoon was occupied with the children’s play, which they performed for their delighted parents. Ruble’s goat provided much comic relief by alternately trying to eat parts of the Christmas tree and Mary and Joseph’s robes. “Another reason not to have goats in the house,” Mama said in a mock stage whisper.

The deep significance of the story goes beyond the antics of a goat, however, and is found in the beauty and simplicity of these family memories, which culminate in the Christmas morning giving of gifts that speaks a tender message about sacrificial giving and cheerful receiving.

Illustrations in Cole Family Christmas are done by Jenniffer Julich, who skillfully depicts Appalachian life with just the right mix of family love and tough times. The pages are bordered with six different vintage Christmas-themed fabric designs, based on Mama Cole’s quilt. Great care was taken by Julich to accurately portray the essence of family life in Benham, including visits to the Kentucky Coal Mining Museum and with residents of Benham, Kentucky.

As a read-aloud book, Cole Family Christmas is a hit. Its 74 pages were a bit lengthy for one sitting for my youngest, so I split it into two sessions. The book includes a nice mix of activity including both boys and girls, so it appealed to my family of two boys and two girls. The girls were absorbed in Ruble’s yellow ribbons and Mama’s glass bowls; the boys were intent on Dock’s work at the railroad, collecting iron scraps and fallen lumps of coal.

If you have an Appalachian heritage, this book is a must for your collection. This is my dad’s heritage, so Cole Family Christmas belongs in my library. If Appalachia is not a part of your personal history, I would still suggest discovering this rich culture that has a special place in the fabric of American life.

The publisher, Next Chapter Press, is contributing a percentage of the net proceeds of sales of Cole Family Christmas to the Berea College Appalachian Fund.

The Berea College Appalachian Fund supports organizations working to improve the health, education and general welfare of people living in the Appalachian Mountains and surrounding areas.

By the way, Hilda is the official spokesgoat for ReadAloud.org, an organization supporting family literacy and urging families to read aloud to their children every day.

Do you have a favorite Christmas story, either old or new? My encouragement to you today: record your family Christmas memories–you just may have a story someday!

Technorati Tags: Appalachia, book review, Christmas story, children’s books, Cole Family Christmas, Hilda the goat

Big L out front today, with the dog joining in the fun.

At this moment, there is nothing quite so lovely as living trees flocked with fresh snow, a child building a snow fort among them, and a blue sky above to offer winter cheer to the scene below.

I was immediately transported back to a long-ago Christmas, the Christmas of the Magic Window. It’s one of just a few childhood gifts I remember. This simple, hard plastic paned oval window encased blue and white sands that would swirl in amazing designs with just a turn of the hand, the colors never mixing, an ever-changing landscape of ocean waves, sand dunes, mountains, clouds.

The Magic Window is now considered a “vintage 70s toy” and I pondered how the simplicity of this object kept me mesmerized for hours in childhood wonder, and how the Magic Window earned such an esteemed place in my memory.

What was so magical about this double-paned case of shifting sand? For a little girl in a rather impoverished and remote desert region of the southwest, I could dream, carried away to nowhere in particular but someplace beautiful on every twist and flow of those magical grains. I longed to touch the sand that surely was silky smooth and would flow through my fingers like fairy dust.

Thirty years later, as I drove home enshrouded in the real-life Magic Window that was the road before me, I realized I was in someplace beautiful, the ever-changing landscape of my life cresting in new loveliness upon loveliness. Here a drop, there a rise, but always an intelligent design.

I wonder, do you hold a special Christmas gift or childhood toy in your memory?

Technorati Tags: Magic Window, childhood memories, Christmas gift, Christmas

Mommy, you are beautiful! Your hair is beautiful, your skin is beautiful, your “these” (pointing to my eyebrows) are beautiful, your arms are beautiful, your fingers are beautiful, this thing on your finger (my ring) is beautiful.

He went on. And on. We all need to hear that sometimes!! It was a long and exhausting day and I sat rather crumpled in a chair, and when he came to climb in my lap, I wasn’t so sure I had the energy for this. But I was wrong. I always have the energy to listen to how beautiful I am. :-)

Our Father in Heaven thinks we are all beautiful, and I believe He chose to tell me that last night through my precious little boy.

About the Annie Moses Band:

First, this is a family outfit, whose members include parents Bill (composer/arranger/pianist) and Robin (lyricist/vocalist) Wolaver and their children: Annie, Alex, Benjamin, Gretchen, Camille, and Jeremiah, in ages ranging from twenty-four down to ten.

Second, their background is in classical music. The older siblings trained in the Pre-College Program at the renowned Juilliard School of Music; the youngest are well on their way to similar distinction. All have studied with renowned instructors; most have earned performance awards that testify to the depth of their artistry.

Together, as the Annie Moses Band, they combine all their attributes: love for one another, prodigious talent, as well as a creative curiosity that goes beyond the classics, beyond even music, and into the great questions of life.

Their music is fused with jazz, bluegrass, classical, celtic, country, and pop sounds, and is hard to define, but overall, there is a message of hope and love through Jesus Christ. Their latest Christmas album, This Glorious Christmas, was just released in October, and includes God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen and other classics, as well as another of my new favorites, the soulful Bethlehem House of Bread.

The lead singer, Annie Wolaver, is named after her great-grandmother, Annie Moses. Annie shared about her namesake:

Annie Moses was the eldest of 10 children. She married young and worked the whole course of her life as a hired field hand picking cotton. Despite the difficulties of an impoverished life, she was a tenacious and faithful woman who invested all she had in her daughter, Jane - who would grow up to be my grandmother. Jane was very musically gifted and she passed her passion for music on to my mother, who passed it on to me. Unfortunately Annie Moses died in her mid-40s of cancer, so I never knew her. But we wanted to remember and honour the legacy Annie Moses passed down to us.

What an inspiring story! I am addicted to their sound, stirred by their spirit. The Annie Moses Band cares deeply about the next generation, and hosts a Fine Arts Summer Academy where students can play with the band and other teachers and mentors.

The Annie Moses Band is dedicated to the spiritual and artistic development of young people. We have made it our goal to ignite a passion for excellence in the arena of the arts and to inspire obedience to the scriptural mandate to “Make His Praise Glorious” and to “Play Skillfully.”

The Fine Arts Summer Academy is our flagship showcase for this calling. Students are beckoned to come play along with the Annie Moses Band members and other FASA teachers and mentors, all ages and skill levels uniting in a marathon of outlandish music-making and skill-revving, culminating in three performances of a broadway-style musical extravaganza.

The Fine Arts Summer Academy counters current cultural trends of low expectations and inferior accomplishment by offering students an opportunity to hone their craft. It is an artistic workout that leaves even the most inexperienced participant with a life-changing revelation of their own potential.

If you’re in the Nashville, Tennessee area, and would like some fun, challenging music training for your young one, ages 4 through college-age, don’t miss this! Mark your calendars for July 10-25, 2009.

I’m on the other side of the country in Oregon, and this isn’t an option for me. However, I have friends here in Central Oregon who attend a similar, smaller-scale, music camp with another amazingly talented local family, so check out the Booher Family Music Camp held in Sisters, Oregon.

So, tell me, what music is awakening your soul this Christmas season? Had you ever heard of the Annie Moses Band before?

Technorati Tags: Booher Family Music Camp, Bethehem House of Bread, God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, Christmas music, music, music education, Annie Moses Band

For Today...Monday, November 24, 2008

Outside my window…the dark of early morning, but day will break within the hour. I see the bold outline of Juniper trees against the rising sky which now displays several horizontal streaks of the palest pink clouds, changing every second, it seems.

I am thinking…why can’t I get more done? I really, really need to prioritize my time and focus.

From the learning rooms…Big L wants to be a candle-maker. Ever since Friday, when the kids made candles at school, he goes around in the evening turning off lights and walking around with his small lit candle.

I am thankful for…very naturally, my children and husband and home and land. A new friend, good coffee, a surprise thank-you letter and chocolate from my students at school.

From the kitchen…my husband making coffee and getting breakfast for the kids.

I am wearing…a long sleeved white shirt, brown vest, jeans, socks.

I am reading…The book of Mark. The Call of the Wild and The Egypt Game with my students.

I am hoping…for a safe and pleasant trip on Thanksgiving as we visit family.

I am creating…(trying my best to create) a peaceful and happy home full of the joy of the Lord.

I am hearing…JoJo singing to herself/talking to herself as she sits at my feet in her fuzzy robe, flipping through a coloring book.

Around the house…the one room full of boxes from our move–I must tackle this!! I need to return a movie to a friend and can’t find it! It’s in there somewhere.

One of my favorite things…Sunday mornings talking about the Lord with my family. Teaching our children. Walking about our property searching for any interesting thing–bones, feathers, rocks, nests.

A few plans for the rest of the week…getting caught up with our business and ordering the product we need for Christmas sales.

Here is a picture thought I am sharing with you…(me at the ranch…my daughter took the picture, she’s still learning…)

Hosted by the Simple Woman.

Technorati Tags: family life

A parent of one of my students was recently telling me about her 12 year old son receiving “interesting” text messages from a female classmate; another friend related how her 7th grader regularly receives dozens of texts a day up to 11 p.m. from classmates and friends of both sexes.

Is texting just akin to the talking on the phone that we parents engaged in as young adolescents? Some things to consider:

Texting gives your child a privacy in conversation that he or she may not be ready for, and may be inappropriate.

Texting allows for an immediacy in written conversation that opens the door to impulsive, potentially hurtful words.

Texting removes the inhibitions of face-to-face or even over the phone conversations, and may result in inappropriate messages.

Text messaging is a simple idea, but despite its extreme brevity is really a complex form of communication, simply for the lack of context (i.e., emotion, expression, descriptive words) it provides for any texting conversation.

Some suggestions for adolescents regarding text-messaging:

1. Consider the worst possible interpretation your words could have, or the worst possible situation that could result from them. Know that text messages, especially abbreviations, can be unclear or ambiguous, and not read how you intended.  

2. Don’t have extended conversations via text messaging. This opens the door for every sort of problem, like miscommunication, misunderstanding, and hurt feelings.

3. Don’t be impulsive. Be mindful of your words. (This is a great rule of thumb for any kind of communication.) Text-messaging has a great potential to be a cyber-bullying tool. Or gossip tool. Or flirtation device. Or (fill in the blank).

4. Use texts to communicate information or facts, not feelings. If it’s getting too personal or intimate, stop. Personalize it with a phone call or in person, and if that thought makes you uncomfortable, you shouldn’t be texting this message.

Parents, consider putting strict time/place/person limitations on your child’s text-messaging, such as “no texting after 7 p.m,” “no texting in your bedroom,” or “no texting with members of the opposite sex.” Or simply, “no texting.”

Dear reader, what do you think of text-messaging among young adolescents? Are you a parent with experience in this area? Do you feel helpless at the hands of modern social media? What rules have you instituted in your household?

Technorati Tags: cell phone, youth culture, cyber bullying, social media, text messaging

Part I of the story of Jane is here, and now I’ll give you a bit of Part II.

This lovely sun-drenched November morning found Jane and Little L in their jammies at the breakfast table. “Gram- I mean, Jane,” began Little L, in the usual way of my children, who, as many young children, mistake any dear older person in their life for a grandparent, “do you want to play a game?”

It’s been over four years since we met Jane, and as I told you in Part I, she was the neighbor whom I sought out as a friend for my mom. It turns out that Jane is a friend to our whole family, and especially to me. I began writing Part I when Jane was beginning chemotherapy for her breast cancer. I had no sense of whether she’d make it or not, and wanted some kind of record of her place in our lives.

Over the course of the year of her cancer, I drove Jane to countless doctor visits and treatment sessions. Thankfully, she had a cheerful-spirited oncologist who didn’t mind my four young children in tow, and a time or two he even proudly held my baby (Little L). It was a year of vacuuming her floor, bringing her groceries, and hopefully modeling for my children how (and why) to care for our elders.

At many points, I was sure Jane would die, and dreaded having to call her only son in Canada. What would I say to him? The chemotherapy made her so sick she was unable to even walk. Jane is a feisty old lady, however, and quit her chemotherapy treatments halfway through, refused radiation, and took her chances. Her doctor was baffled and a bit angry with her - someone with cancer in her lymph nodes shouldn’t take chances.

By the grace of the Almighty God, Jane survived, and as we enjoyed our coffee this morning, I pondered how she has developed a relationship with all the generations in my household - from my children, to my husband and me, to my mother. We moved to the country and don’t get to see her as much as we did when she was a few houses away, but I believe we’ve managed to cement a lifelong connection.

Jane will be 84 in a few weeks, and we were having an early celebration. What an amazing, divine appointment for us to have met, to help her on this journey. And the blessing on my children I consider to be immense. How many four, five, or nine year-olds cherish an “old lady” the way they do? I know I didn’t when I was young. The kids suckered Jane into games of Sorry, Hi-Ho Cheerio, and Monopoly by the time she left.

And Jane is still my mom’s only friend here. I tenderly watched them chatting on the couch last night. “When I was in Niagara Falls,” Jane began, relating a story from her childhood. “My dad was from Buffalo,” my mom interjected, “I don’t think that’s too far from there.” “Thirty-five miles,” Jane replied.

It was a slumber party that didn’t include staying up late or pillow fights. Our twice-widowed guest needed help walking up the stairs and a gentle reminder of where the bathroom was. But I will tell you that a sleep-over with an 84 year old is a marvelous thing, a mix of fading memory and wisdom woven into meaningless details.

Technorati Tags: Alzheimer’s, cancer, breast cancer, elder care

The kids want to take the mice to school for show-n-tell, and I also need them in my classroom for my students’ science experiments (nothing harmful, I promise). Oh boy. My room seems to be the favorite hangout for all the kids - not because I’m so cool, but I have birds in my room, and now I’ll have mice. I’ll need to hide them!

Oh, I just realized the kids aren’t even out of bed yet. See ya!

Which is why he didn’t watch my face with apprehension as he broke the news, but burst into a sheepish, roll-your-eyes kind of laugh, knowing I would join him in making fun of ourselves — what! we’re not even 50! At least we remembered in the same month. For all the special people whose birthdays we forget, you can see that we are no respecter of persons (um, that doesn’t mean we don’t respect people…it’s a phrase that means we don’t discriminate!).

Again. My husband added that word to his announcement because, yes, indeed, we’ve done this before. Most memorably, it was our 7th anniversary. We were about to sell our first house. It was a small 1970s home with low popcorn ceilings and dreary, dark cabinets–at least that’s what it looked like before my husband went on a remodel craze. He completely updated the place, tackling everything from that horrible ceiling texture to the trim to the windows, and even added on another bedroom, bathroom, and family room.

At the very last minute, I, who had offered nothing to the entire project (except birthing babies and changing diapers, which, as all mothers know, is essential to any long-term home enterprise), decided that the 1970s brick fireplace MUST go. I recommended retiling it with slate. Fine, except we had the house on the market and a couple traveling from another state to look at the residence in two days.

Women can be impulsive like that. Especially nursing mothers whose hormones are still totally out of whack. Miraculously, my extremely fussy artistic (and surely sick of remodeling) husband agreed and even trusted me to pick out the slate myself at Home Depot. People, I can’t even hang my own pictures in the house! But it was clear that this last remaining vestige of the 1970s was an eyesore amongst the otherwise upgraded design.

This is how we found ourselves on that August night five years ago, him mixing mortar and laying stone, me cutting (yes, running a motorized, acutely sharp object in my hormonal state!) squares of slate as he marked them. We worked at a frantic pace, with me occasionally having to stop to nurse the baby and check on the toddlers. I pondered our sanity. Our buyers would arrive the next day.

Sometime about 4 a.m., as I joined him at the fireplace in laying slate over dated brick, desperately wondering if we’d make it, he looked at me with bleary eyes and mortar-smeared hands and face. With a bit of a startle he announced, “Honey, it’s our anniversary!” We were utterly exhausted and filthy dirty, but working side by side and enjoying our combined efforts–not a bad place to be. We laughed and wished each other a most sincere “Happy Anniversary.”

I’m just glad it was him that remembered first.

We’ve promised each other that next year we’ll remember. We have the best of intentions, but it’s safer for us to treat each day as a special one, cherishing every moment of our crazy life, not saving our best attention for one certain day.

First, there are the logs:

The axe…

And the beautiful pile, a nice beginning, stacked by my nine-year-old son…

Here are the wonderful entries for this week:
From the Sojourner, My Kids thought I was crazy…a dog food bag made into a tote bag. How fun and cool…but will all the neighborhood dogs be following her around?

Fowl Visions brings us Backyard Plans for Wild Bird Feeding and Bird Watching…welcome to some great bird watching in Clay County, Florida!

Hobby Lawn Care tells us Why Is Proper Lawn Clipping Height So Important? Hint - it’s not “as short as possible.”

Make it From Scratch prepares Pumpkin Pie - my absolute favorite! It’s the homemade crust that makes it extra special.

Stop the Ride has some Soil Surprises…thankfully, this post has nothing to do with diapers or laundry.

Little House in the Suburbs teaches us about Clipping Chicken Wings…for chicks who escape.

From the lighter side, we have German Fresh Apple Bread - mmmm, apple bread from any country is delicious.

A Pondering Heart says I Nominate…it’s time for the homeschool blog awards.

It’s a Learning Experience asks What’s On the Menu? This is for a family of eleven, for a whole week…wow.

From Vermont’s Northland Journal, I found this lovely little story about the warmth of a woodstove. Here is an excerpt I enjoyed:

Townsfolk and neighbors not only judged a man by the color of his chimney smoke, the shape and size of his woodpile were also scrutinized. A woodpile, besides being straight and sturdy, needed to be piled so the wood would cure and keep, while at the same time look like a picture. There was an art to putting up a good woodpile.

Next week’s Carnival of Homesteading will be hosted by Oak Hill Homestead. You can submit your homesteading blog posts here by next Sunday, 9 p.m. EST.

A few weeks ago, I found Tawny high up in a tree, meowing rather pleadingly. After spending an hour finding a ladder tall enough to reach the cat, coaxing him with soothing kitty calls and finally food, I rescued the feline. The cat could starve or freeze to death, trapped up here indefinitely, I had thought.

Later that evening, when my husband returned from errands with the kids and I related to them the cat story, my 9-year-old son laughed, “Mom, Tawny always climbs up there and gets back down by himself!” Oh.

*****

Recent blog carnivals:
Carnival of Education
Carnival of Family Life
Christian Carnival
Carnival of Homesteading

Up next: Carnival of Homesteading, here at Diary of 1, on Monday, Oct. 20. Submit HERE by Sunday, 9 p.m. EST.

Can anybody make this out? No further pictures available, as the elder daughter poked it with a stick, immediately followed by the dog having it for snack.

JJ discovered a new juniper, we think. You need to look closely, as the earthy colors blend into the ground. Seeing that the sapling is right next to a mature juniper, and seeing that junipers are the only naturally occurring tree on the entire property, it’s safe to say the kids made a good assessment.

An interesting tidbit on juniper berries:

Juniper berries have long been used as medicine by many cultures. Juniper berries act as a strong urinary tract disinfectant if consumed and were used by American Indians as a herbal remedy for urinary tract infections. Western tribes combined the berries of juniperus communis with Berberis root bark in a herbal tea to treat diabetes. Clinical studies have verified the effectiveness of this treatment in insulin-dependent diabetes. Compounds in these plants when combined and ingested have been shown to trigger insulin production in the body’s fat cells, as well as stabilize blood sugar levels. Native Americans also used juniper berries as a female contraceptive.

I love this lone juniper tree inclining over the cliff at the east end of our property. It seems to grow straight out of the rocks, showing the strength and hardiness of this ancient evergreen.

Just beside this last juniper, I discovered a moss covered rock, its variegated colors indicating countless seasons of moss-growing, which I hadn’t observed before–not that unusual being that there’s thousands of rocks on this land. But I never noticed the handy little hole, and the smaller rock sitting in there, just ideal for pounding corn or something. We know the Northern Paiute Indians inhabited this land before us, and I I can’t help but wonder, has this been there since then?

Tawny was out for his first explore to the edge of the cliff, and left the children screeching in terror and delight with his kittenish antics of racing up trees and scampering down rock crevices. Just when they were certain he was down to eight lives and lost over the precipice, he would meow his way calmly back to the family.

A fresh rain left this exhilarating scent in the air, and the cat and dog both seemed to understand that this was the perfect October day. Other than an occasional stray onto a neighboring property, the animals were fabulous scouting companions.

These three explorers likewise recognized an ideal day, and with Mom armed with bags for the hunt, we gathered moss, owl pellets, bones, feathers, and chips of obsidian (more Paiute relics) unearthed by the recent downpour. Analyzing the artifacts later will add to the experience. Little L would squeal with glee whenever he found a complete little rodent skull–”Look, Mama, it’s got teeth!” And a particularly large chunk of obsidian found by JJ was met with “it looks just like a canoe!”

One of my young adventurers sums up our October Exploring perfectly:

Pure fun. What do you or your children enjoy doing this time of year? And tell me, what do you think of that hole in the boulder and the small rock sitting in there?

What does one do when her life feels like she’s looking right into the exhaust pipe, ingesting toxic fumes? When I took this cute picture of our cat a few days ago, these reflections were far from my mind. I just thought, “isn’t that a sweet little photograph - Tawny has his special spot under the van.”

The metaphor hit me later, as I struggled to wade my way through a myriad of chores, overwhelming undertakings, serious concerns. I wanted to curl up like my cat and lie down (but not under a tire!). I know without a doubt there are many brothers and sisters facing life in front of the exhaust pipe of toxic trials, because I’ve talked to several of them this past week - it’s a grim diagnosis, a financial predicament, family chaos.

As Christians, we can flounder about trying to find God in the midst of these stresses and strains and stretchings. We can sink into depression, question our faith, fail to see His bigger plan, and even ditch Him altogether.

BBC2 last month began airing God on Trial, a film written by Frank Cottrell Boyce. In it, a group of Auschwitz prisoners decide to put God on trial. They summoned a rabbinical court, put God himself on trial - and declared him guilty. (God on Trial will be shown in the United States on PBS stations on November 9, 2008, on the new anthology series Masterpiece Contemporary).

In The Guardian (UK), Cottrell Boyce wrote a very interesting article, and I particularly found this bit revealing:

It’s a fact that, although many people lost their faith in the camps, just as many had it renewed. As French philosopher La Rochefoucauld says: “A great storm puts out a little fire, but it feeds a strong one.” Reading the Bible in the light of the Holocaust was a bit of a storm for me. It came close to putting out my fire, but in the end it blew stronger.

I didn’t tell you the end of the story. After they find God guilty, one of the rabbis says: “So what do we do now?” The reply is: “Let us pray.” Is this a wry story about Jewish stoicism? Is it about a failure of moral courage? Or what? For me, it’s about faith.

When I was 21 years old, a fresh college graduate enjoying life and a new job in Washington, D.C., I felt compelled to memorize James Chapter 1. I worked on it each day as I walked from the Metro station in Silver Spring, Maryland, to my cousin’s house, where I was living for the year. The beginning of the chapter basically extols the benefits of tribulation, and though I had no outstanding troubles during this period of my life, it was God-ordained that I have this stored in my memory for the future.

I was especially good at verses 2-4, coming at the start of the chapter:

2Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials,

3knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance.

4And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.

By the time verse 27 came around, I was a bit fuzzy, but still, after 17 years, I basically have James Chapter 1 memorized. Good thing, because when I have those days when I feel like I’m under the van sucking exhaust or about to get run over by a tire, or when I want to put God on trial, it’s critical that I remember there is a purpose to our hardships. That purpose being a faith-producing experience, an endurance-strengthening exercise, and the goal of becoming more and more perfected in Christ Jesus.

I wonder, have you been looking up the exhaust pipe lately? What has helped you the most through these times?

“There is no place more delightful than one’s own fireplace.”
Marcus Tullius Cicero, Ancient Roman Writer and Statesman, 106 BC - 43 BC.

I’m totally delighting in this lovely fire my husband built tonight. The woodbox is full and the house is warm! We are halfway moved into our new house, and hope to have the move completed within a few weeks.

It’s been a long time since I sat in front of a wood fire in my own home. The rented house we’ve been living in for the past two years didn’t have a fireplace; the house we owned for the two years before that had a “fake” natural gas fireplace; our home for the five years prior to that possessed a wood fireplace with a nasty habit of filling the house with smoke every time we dared use it.

Downed juniper trees scatter the property, the victims of our building project. Don’t cry for them, they’re keeping my hearth warm. I love the smell of juniper; we just can’t invite Chuck and Connie over when we’re burning juniper, he’ll turn beet red and break out in hives or something. He’ll have to bring his own pine logs. The rest of you, come in and sit a spell and let us tell you a tale of God’s goodness and merciful provision.

We are not finished, quite. Almost, but not quite. We are trusting God for the working out of some final important pieces, and wouldn’t you know, dear Christian, when that last lap of the marathon is about to kill you, that famous second wind can sustain you, the powerful wind of the comforting, helping Holy Spirit. Someday I’ll get to tell you the story of a little girl who grew up in a dirt-floored shack and now sits before the warm hearth of a mansion, the gift of her Father who loves her. Until then, keep the home fires burning. Blessings.

Don’t Get Mad!

Take Preventive Steps to Avoid Getting Angry(material gathered from Doug Britton, author of Victory Over Grumpiness, Irritation and Anger; permission granted to print for personal use)

Man’s anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires (James 1:20).

There is such a thing as “righteous anger,” but most of our anger is not righteous. In fact, our anger usually is destructive.

My greatest obstacle to overcoming anger is _________________________________________ .

Compare your answer to:

“Not recognizing I am sinning when I am angry.” It is rare that our anger is righteous anger. As James wrote: Man’s anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires (James 1:20).

I won’t have as much trouble getting angry if I am ___________________________________________. 

Compare your answer to:
• Loving. David had every right to be angry with his son Absalom. After all, Absalom wanted to kill David, yet David loved Absalom passionately, and grieved deeply when he learned of his death.
• The king was shaken. He went up to the room over the gateway and wept. As he went, he said: “O my son Absalom! My son, my son Absalom! If only I had died instead of you—O Absalom, my son, my son” (2 Samuel18:33).

• Patient. Look at God’s example in 2 Peter 3:9 and then read Proverbs 15:18.
• The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance (2 Peter 3:9).
• A hot-tempered man stirs up dissension, but a patient man calms a quarrel (Proverbs 15:18).

• Eternally-minded. Look at Paul’s example in 2 Corinthians 4:16-18.
• Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal (2 Corinthians 4:16-18).

• Forbearing. Read Ephesians 4:2 and Colossians 3:13.
• Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love (Ephesians 4:2).
• Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you (Colossians 3:13).

• Understanding of other people. Read about God’s understanding in Hebrews 4:15.
• For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet was without sin (Hebrews 4:15).

• Aware of anger’s destructiveness. Read about the results of anger in Psalm 37:8 and Proverbs 15:1.
• Refrain from anger and turn from wrath; do not fret–it leads only to evil (Psalm 37:8).
• A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger (Proverbs 15:1).

• Secure in who I am in God. Read about Jesus’ silence before Pilate in Matthew 27:12-14. Note that Jesus didn’t “need” to defend himself.
• When he was accused by the chief priests and the elders, he gave no answer. Then Pilate asked him, “Don’t you hear the testimony they are bringing against you?” But Jesus made no reply, not even to a single charge—to the great amazement of the governor (Matthew 27:12-14).

Personal application

I will pray to become more: ___________________________________________________.

One practical step I will take to make this change is: ________________________________________________________________________________________.

Key Bible verses on anger management: 
    

A quick-tempered man does foolish things, and a crafty man is hated (Proverbs 14:17).     

Better a patient man than a warrior, a man who controls his temper than one who takes a city (Proverbs 16:32).     

It is to a man’s honor to avoid strife, but every fool is quick to quarrel (Proverbs 20:3).     

A fool gives full vent to his anger, but a wise man keeps himself under control (Proverbs 29:11).     

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs (1 Corinthians 13:4-5).     

“In your anger do not sin”: Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold (Ephesians 4:26-7).     

Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you (Ephesians 4:31-32).     

But now you must rid yourselves of all such things as these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language from your lips (Colossians 3:8).     

My dear brothers, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, for man’s anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires (James 1:19-20).

Blessings to you, my friend, as you work toward victory over anger! I’m right there with you, and I’ll share some more later about how this process is going with my students and my family. Remember, HE IS ABLE, and our God has already won for us every victory, and I plan on not turning down my blue ribbon. :-)

I don’t always like “strategies” or “techniques,” and prefer to rely on God’s wisdom and the Holy Spirit’s guidance to help me discern what is best for each individual. However, didn’t God gift this person with insight to help little ol’ me?! Thank you, Patient Parent, for the following:

Below are three primary temperaments of children (remember that children can cross over into more than one, so get to know them all), their characteristics, and how to work with each on patience skills…You can begin to incorporate these ideas around age 3.

1. FEISTY
High Activity Level
Irregular
Slow to Adapt/Transition at times
Approaches New Things with Vigor
Intense, Sometimes Physical Reactions (Positive and Negative)
Low Persistence
Low Focus

Teaching Patience to Feisty Kids:

•Need Opportunity and Challenge
•Leadership Options (”little helpers/little mommies or daddies”
•Faster-Paced Activities & Games
•Work on Cooperative Play (pass the blocks; roll the ball; clean up time)
•Work on Etiquette (please and thank you)
•Burn off the Energy!
•Coping Strategies - breathing, touchstones like a smooth rock or soft toy, anger dance (silly physical dance to calm down), counting, self talk (”He didn’t mean to bump into me.”)

THREE ELEMENTS OF PATIENCE

Empathy –
•Cooperative games (It’s okay to lose.)
•Discussing feelings (After given some space to calm down)
•Problem solving (giving three options and allowing them to choose)
•Work on social cues…facial expressions, body language, hands to self, quiet voice, personal space
•Recognize that they need to burn off energy for focus

Mindfulness
•They’re going to want to argue about what happened and why they are right. Instead…
•Rather than focusing on the past, ask what can be done now to solve it.
•Offer mindful coping for frustrations like breathing, counting, bringing them back into their bodies; touchstones; anger dance (shake it off physically and in a silly way; get them to lighten up)

Self-Leadership
•Getting control of selves will be very important (allow time for that)
•Give space to cool off (so they don’t hurt themselves or anyone else)
•Make lists to build a routine during play to reduce frustration with others (everyone gets to choose an activity to add)
•Helping skills
•Put them in charge of something each day (feeding pets, watering plants, bussing dishes, snack helper)
•Talk about language of a leader, please and thank you, calm voices

2. FEARFUL
Slow to adapt in new situations
Physically sensitive
Withdrawal
Distracted by other children; noise
Crave routine
Intense reactions if stressed or pushed

Teaching Patience to Fearful Kids:

•Need Time and Practice
•Build in Time for Decisions/Transitions
•Be Their Safe Harbor
•Work on Repetitive Activities
•Maintain Daily Routines; Prepare them if things are going to change.
•Provide Coping Strategies/Touchpoints
•Encourage Talking Out Problems

Empathy
•I feel…
•Taking turns, respecting their personal space; practicing affection to gain a comfort level with others (shaking hands, high fives, holding hands to start)
•Respect fears; take them seriously to teach them to trust themselves; talk through fears; explain differences between fantasy and reality; dreams and awake time

Mindfulness
Tend to think of what ifs…help them to focus on now and what’s happening now; are they safe now?

Self-Leadership
•Being in control of their emotional responses
•Self-Talk
•Relaxation exercises to calm anxieties (close eyes and think of a beautiful place or their favorite activity)
•Practice helping others; can take away focus on self
•Work with them on projects if they feel overwhelmed

3. FLEXIBLE
Sunny Disposition
Regular Feeding, Napping
Fairly Persistent
Low Intensity/Low Sensitivity
Highly Adaptable

Teaching Patience to Flexible Kids:

•Need Acknowledgement
•Show Interest in Their Ideas/Play
•Promote Natural Cooperativeness
•Share Your Lap
•Praise Skills Specifically

Empathy
•Naturally empathetic but can lose this if needs aren’t met
•They tend to be popular, so praise them for including others in play
•Watch for times when they hide emotions or use as attention devices; use as opportunity to talk through feelings and acknowledge them; explain why you have disciplined them

Mindfulness
•If they are being silly or acting out, ask how they’re feeling right in that moment…happy, sad, angry, alone, excited?
•Working together; what can we do to make things better right now?
•Give choices to work out feelings

Self-Leadership
•Encourage helpfulness and cooperation…tend to get along well with others; provide opportunities for group play as well as solo play
•Like lots of people, so talk about the importance of including others who may feel left out
•Ask for help in solving problems; they will enjoy being included
•Work with them on projects to give them one-on-one time
•Keep it fun; allow practice before criticizing

I trust this was helpful to some of you! Blessings to you all as you raise your children, in your parenting and your teaching.

Just wanted to share this wall hanging sign my mother-in-law gave me for my birthday last month. I love it.

Do you ever feel this way? After my first hectic week of teaching, I’m needing my children! I’ve been mostly away from them for seven hours a day, and what a joy to come home and be anchored again. I do see them throughout the day for bits here and there, since I teach at the same school they attend. For that I’m grateful.

Many of you have asked me how that first week has been. In many respects, it was wonderful. God has given me a deep love for all my students and I want the best for them. We’re off to a good start and getting into a comfortable routine, and most of the kids are working very diligently. In other ways, it was very difficult, as I’m learning how to handle a few of the very challenging students in my class.

This little saying on the sign, “Children are the anchor that holds a mother to Life” - it’s a sweet way of acknowledging that as a mother, my responsibility in caring for and raising my children, however rigorous it may be at times, actually offers me a lot of security! If I’ve had an exhausting, grueling day in the classroom, and a student says he hates school or maybe has a violent outburst in class, it’s nice to know that I’m still a mother with four lovely little children who adore their mommy and can’t wait for me to be home.

Can you think of some ways that your children keep you anchored to life?

For Today…

Outside my Window…is a pale blue September sky, a hint of chill in the air. The day is warming up after a *freeze* last night!

I am thinking…about God, His plans for our future, how He will provide our needs, how we can be a blessing to others.

From the learning rooms…The two older kids are playing Monopoly, a game continued from yesterday, which was continued from the previous day. The youngest arranges his blocks and works on a puzzle book.

I am thankful for…my amazing husband, my healthy children, our home, the many opportunities before us. Thank you, Jesus.

From the kitchen…dishes that need washing, bread that needs baking.

I am wearing…a long sleeved blue t-shirt, gray exercise pants, socks.

I am reading…The Hoosier School-Master by Edward Eggleston. An old, old book first published in 1871. An amazing piece of American regional writing and a stunning showcase of old Hoosier dialect - this is backwoods Indiana, the story of a young schoolteacher on the Indiana “frontier” before the Civil War. I love old books. The novel begins:

Want to be a schoolmaster, do you? You? Well, what would you do in Flat Crick deestrick, I’d like to know? Why, the boys have driv off the last two, and licked the one afore them like blazes. You might teach a summer school, when nothin’ but children come. But I ‘low it takes a right smart man to be schoolmaster in Flat Crick in the winter. They’d pitch you out of doors, sonny, neck and heels, afore Christmas.

I am hoping…to be ready to face my first day of school tomorrow (shaking in my boots a bit). I’m hoping for lessons to be planned, room organized, lunches packed, kids scrubbed and fresh.

I am creating…grading charts, lesson plans, discipline procedures, and ideas are swirling in my head.

I am hearing…Big L and JJ moving Monopoly pieces, adding numbers, “What do I owe you?” “$20!!”

Around the house…clean laundry to put away, clothes to be sorted. Do the kids even have clothes to wear to school?? One of the greatest setbacks of moving from homeschool to private school is that now we can’t go around in rags all day! We have to actually dress nice every day. My budget is taking a big hit. A huge thank you to Grandma T. who bought each child a few outfits to start us out.

One of my favorite things…is hunting for obsidian chips around the property, and once in a while even finding a near complete arrowhead. I love that my kids all delight in this activity as much as I do, and can spend patient hours in this simple pursuit.

A Few Plans For The Rest Of The Week… get all the orders packed up for TeamMASCOT ahead of time; run to Lowe’s with hubby to get some last minute items for the house (electrical cords, bits of pipe, etc.); stop at my school and have the room totally ready; buy lunch boxes and ice packs for the kids; figure out my teaching plan for the adopted Social Studies/History text the school uses, and align it chronologically and with the correct timeline. Thankfully, I have Susan Wise Bauer’s The Story of the World to help me with this.

Here is a picture thought I am sharing with you…

Little L at the Crook County Fair.

Technorati Tags: children, education, faith, God, s Daybook

You can hold the Homeschool Blog Awards, I won’t be qualified. I’m headed back to the classroom and all my kids are going with me. I’ll be teaching at a private school somewhere in Oregon, and that’s all I’ll say because I’m a security freak. So if you know me personally, please keep your comments general!

I labored a great deal about having to write this post, and the main reason I am is because I noticed that I’m on a lot of bloggers’ dedicated “homeschool blog rolls” and I can’t just be sneaky about it! And I suppose with this transition in our family life, I’m sure to want to write about teaching and school life occasionally.

I love homeschooling and it’s been a great blessing in our family life. I will continue to support my homeschool friends and write about the homeschool issues I care so much about, like the situation in Germany and other freedom of education topics.

Part of my hesitation to write about this change is very personal. I have friends who believe that homeschooling is THE only way to educate a child, so of course I have concerns about certain people feeling like I’ve betrayed the movement. On the other hand, certain folks are rejoicing that I’m no longer homeschooling because they’re of the opinion that it’s a bad choice for all children (you know, the socialization contention). When it comes down to it, my husband and I make our family decisions based on God’s call on our life, not anyone else’s opinion.

I will have some questions to throw out for you as I’m attempting to integrate my educational philosophy with a more traditional school system. I’m not dealing with a public school, so at least I won’t have many of the obstacles I would otherwise face. I have the freedom (and responsibility) to teach a biblical worldview in this school–a duty I approach earnestly and prayerfully.

But how do I maintain the individual child’s sense of unique identity and liberty in a classroom of 20+ kids? How do I avoid treating information/knowledge as a commodity to be dispensed by me, the teacher? School has the potential to be a huge waste of someone’s childhood if the teacher is not engaging her students in meaningful, purposeful and effective learning-related pursuits. How do I maintain a child’s sense of being in control of and responsible for his own learning?

I have so many more questions. I’ve been a classroom teacher in the past, before I homeschooled, and I never truly dealt with these questions. Mostly because I hadn’t yet homeschooled nor had I fully developed my own personal philosophy of education. I was trained in public institutions and taught in public institutions–it was all I knew.

So, why, you may ask, if I have so many questions and doubts, am I teaching in a classroom and sending my kids there as well? I may discuss that another time, but I do feel called by God to this place for this time. I hope to honor God, my administration, my students, my students’ parents, and my own educational ideals all at the same time.

I would really love to hear your thoughts on this big transition in our family life, and would appreciate your prayers for both me and my family.

Technorati Tags: Christian education, education, family life, homeschool, teaching

The Greenhouse
I needed to buy some houseplants that would survive in very low light, so an outing to the greenhouse turned into a field trip. The owner happened to be there, and was gracious enough to lead my four children through the aisles of hanging ivy and water fountains, all the while instructing us on the names of the various plants and the best methods of transplanting and when to do so. Annuals, perennials, vegetable plants, hanging baskets, herbs…he noted everything as we passed. The kids caught maybe half of what he breezed through, but what they surely caught was his love of plants!

Many greenhouses offer organized field trips for school groups, and this one was no exception. While my group (my family) just walked in as customers to make a purchase, they were still very accessible and education-minded. It’s important to note that this was a small, locally owned nursery, and these are the best ones, in my opinion, to approach for an educational tour.

If, like me, you’re not looking to schedule a full-blown field trip, just try asking questions, and you’ll probably discover that the employees are fairly eager to pass on some knowledge, especially when you have children asking their own questions as well. You may want to take a few minutes before entering the greenhouse to prep your kids for the experience, and “plant” some questions in their heads to get them thinking, and encourage them to be inquisitive (but polite).

The Ranch
We happen to have some friends who raise Clydesdale horses, and this is where I would insert my recommendation to take advantage of friends like this! Not in a negative way, mind you, but if you have friends or family members who have a unique or unusual business, you don’t want to pass up that opportunity for your children to learn a thing or two.

So, our friend Alisha invited my family and a few others out for a “horse lesson,” as my daughter said. This daughter is my equine lover and longs for her own trusty steed. My girl was counting down the days until this trip, dutifully marking her calendar. I only wish the cowboy boots from Grandma had arrived before this trip–but it’s okay, the boots have seen plenty of action since. Alisha did a fantastic job of walking the kids through her stables and introducing the children to the various horsey things that seem to enchant young ones.

Before the kids left, they had all helped to groom several horses, feed them, pick their hooves, ride around the corral, and choose their own horseshoe to take home.

I think this was the favorite field trip of the year. All the families involved were so thrilled to have this visit to the ranch. I know this isn’t a feasible option for many of you who don’t live in the country or know ranchers/farmers. But I’ll bet if you sat down and really thought hard, you’d come up with someone you know in an interesting field of work who just might welcome a few kids into their daily routine, and maybe even enjoy it as much as the kids.

The State Park
We live near a gorgeous state park, and it costs just $3.00 to park and hike for the day. This is a great option for a field trip that incorporates natural science, geology, and even art.

If you go to this particular state park in the summer (Smith Rock in Terrebonne, Oregon), plan an early start to avoid heat stroke, and pack a picnic lunch and a sketch pad/pencil.

There is a perfect covered overlook with several large picnic tables which looks down on this breathtaking view you see here. I love this spot for the chance to have the kids sit and sketch the scenery and really notice the amazing rock formations and the gentle curves of the river.

Sometimes, I’ll have the kids stop and gather some leaves to look at later, but mostly it’s just a tremendous location that we never tire of.

The kids will of course discover caves and rabbit trails and rocks to climb. There are several large boulders they routinely climb up, nearly giving me a heart attack, but I forget what I was like as a child. The older I get, the more cautious I become and the more afraid of heights I get!

One nice feature about most state parks are the plaques of geologic or historic information planted along the way. Don’t rush past these if you want to get the most out of your field trip. I usually have a different opinion about some of the geologic timelines given in the typical state park plaque, but what a great learning opportunity to discuss these issues.

My kids often ask as we drive by Smith Rock, “Mommy, how did that get there?” and I can remind them of the plaque we read, with the illustrations of the volcanic explosion, and it all comes back. My older son now stops to read the plaque aloud to the other children and plays tour guide.

Oh my, there are so many other wonderful little trips we make around town. I may have to do another post to tell you about the museums, the free concerts, the goat farms, and even how to turn a trip to the grocery store into a field trip. I spend very little money on these outings, and I mostly stay local, but I’m discovering that what makes a valuable experience for one’s family is an eager attitude about learning. The ability to spot a teachable moment paired with an inquisitive spirit will bring many frugal field trips to your front door.

What frugal field trips does your town offer?

Technorati Tags: Central Oregon, education, family life, Clydesdale horses, nursery, greenhouse, outdoors, field trips, frugal, plants, ranch, Smith Rock

JJ and her teeny-tiny garden:

Here in Central Oregon, the August night heavens have been proclaiming His majesty:

It’s hot! I have to go water some plants now before they die. Blessings to you, and I hope to be back soon.

Technorati Tags: Central Oregon, child’s garden, sunsets, night sky

Welcome to Word-Filled Wednesday - a place for sharing a photo and a Bible verse. Here are two of my children getting refreshed on a hot day last week. This is peace, two siblings drinking out of the same hose and not spraying each other up the nose!

For this is what the Lord says: “I will extend peace to her like a river, and the wealth of nations like a flooding stream; you will nurse and be carried on her arm and dandled on her knees. As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you; and you will be comforted over Jerusalem.” Isaiah 66:12-13

Technorati Tags: children, family life, outdoors, peace, Word Filled Wednesday

In our case, sleeping on the wood floor in the almost-done house, not yet hooked up to plumbing and just one or two electrical outlets functional, it was still quite an adventure. It helped the effect tremendously that this house is set among a twenty-acre juniper forest with regular visits from deer, jackrabbits, owls, and the howls of coyotes, kept at bay by our dog. We had to use the outhouse, eat over a fire, and brush our teeth out by the teeth-brushing-tree. We all felt like we were honest-to-goodness-camping.

We reminisced around the campfire about the summer we lived on this property, just two years ago, in our travel trailer, parked right there by the teeth-brushing-tree. Back then, we were off the grid and had to haul in water, use the propane tank for heat and electricity, and make regular trips to dump the sewage. So, of course, we performed as many bodily necessities out-of-doors as we could, so as to cut down on the trips to the sewage dump place. Thus, the teeth-brushing-tree.

“See there, kids, remember when there was no house here?” Dad asks the children. They have a hard time remembering.

“Yes, there was just a pile of concrete,” JJ responds.

“No,” Dad has to jog her memory. “It was just dirt and trees.”

Good thing we have pictures to prove it.

We did a lot of stargazing in the camp trailer days, and the kids talked about how they hope once we move into this house, we’ll still have campfires every night and look at the stars.

“Mommy, did you know the Big Dipper isn’t actually a constellation?” JJ inquires, eager to display her knowledge of the night sky.

“Well, tell me about it, honey!” I urge her on.

“It’s really just a piece of the constellation called the Big Bear,” she proudly informs us. “And the handle of the dipper is the bear’s tail.”

Big L can’t let a seven-year-old control the information, so he adds, “The Little Dipper is also not a constellation, it’s part of the Little Bear.”

I need to teach them to say “Ursa Major” and “Ursa Minor” and maybe we can impress some friends.

So, the sky darkened to black with just our fire and the stars to brighten the night, helped out by the moon now 3/4 full, and the children grew tired and all wanted to climb into Daddy’s lap. I had mopped the wood floor of the living room earlier, the one patch of the house not covered with a fine film of dust, the residue of new construction. I snuck into the house to lay out the sleeping bags as Little L cried, “Mommy, where’s the tent?”

I had explained to the kids that we’d truly sleep in the tent soon, just not tonight.

“But aren’t you so excited to be having a campfire and sleeping in our new house for the first time?” I chattered happily, hoping to draw attention away from the absent tent.

“Yes!” the children all chorused.

“Whew.” I breathed sigh of relief, meltdowns averted. My husband had already broken the news to me that indeed he would not reset the sprinklers which would have soaked us all in the wee hours of the morning, nor would he be breaking down a tent when he needed to be off to pick up his construction laborer early the next morning, not to mention he was dog-tired. This was the perfect opportunity to set aside my well-formed plans and realize the particular season we’re in, which I call the mad-dash-to-the-finish-line-please-don’t-give-up-now season. There will be plenty of other occasions to pitch a tent.

In my incredible foresight, I had packed the laptop computer, and busily settled the children into their bedding to fall asleep to the original 101 Dalmations. I felt a small twinge of guilt as I recalled my idyllic vision of camping out in the tent, totally into nature. Jolted back to reality by the fact that now I could steal a quiet moment with my husband, I could avoid sibling rib-poking and other silliness, and for crying out loud, the kids spent the whole day outside already, I smiled a contented smile.

Displaying even more incredible foresight, I had packed our coffee maker and some excellent fresh grounds. This first morning in our new home, I awoke to the opening rays of the sun, children still in dreamland, and using one of those available outlets, brewed a steaming pot of coffee for my husband and myself. We took simple pleasure in how the gurgle of the coffeepot echoed across the room, and basked in the morning sun, amazed at how the sunlight lit up the kitchen and living room, and how its beams played on the mountains in the most delightful way.

My first thought was, “I’m so glad we didn’t sleep in the tent!” Even though my back was stiff from the hard floor, and it certainly wasn’t the best night’s sleep I’ve had, experiencing what it will be like to have morning in our new house was worth it. My husband and I chatted over coffee, walked the house and talked about the future. We watched a family of deer come to munch on the lawn, and a shy jackrabbit made his way forward as well. Just as I was about to snap a picture of three adorable young fawns in the side yard, the dog started them up.

It did our hearts good to see the dog finally have a job. He’s a cattle dog with an undeniable instinct to herd and chase. His tongue hanging out and a spring in his step, he bounded back to the dining room door, checking to see that we were watching his prowess. The deer were not that intimidated, and returned in a short while. It was a lovely show.

Somewhere in there, the kids awoke. They immediately asked if we could have a sleep-out again the next night. As I pulled a half-gallon of milk from the cooler I brought, stashed in the empty space soon to be occupied by the refrigerator, I said, “maybe.”

I think it worked. I think they actually felt like they were camping. Once the new-house-feel wears off, we’ll get the tent out.

It’s a landmark day. Today marks the opening of the 2008 Olympic Games in Beijing, China. Unlike any opening ceremony in Olympic history, China has outdone itself, and the sleeping giant awakens.

My niece, Karen, recently returned from China with her school band. The Catalina Foothills High School Marching Band (Tucson, Arizona) was chosen to perform in the 2008 pre-Olympic festivities in Beijing, and she was the most excited 16-year-old girl you could imagine. She plays clarinet and oboe, and did the U.S. proud.
You can read about the adventures of the Catalina Foothills High School band on their blog, and see if you can spot my niece. Here she is in this photo from a Peking Duck dinner, on the far right.

The band played atop the Great Wall of China, at the Juyong Pass, as well as a Forbidden City performance, along with tours of Tiananmen Square, the Summer Palace, the Peking Opera, the Temple of Heaven, the Beijing Zoo, and much more. I loved this photo of the driving hazards enroute to Beijing.

All in all, still not sure why the Olympics are being held in a country that practices infanticide, extreme censorship, communism, and very limited religious, political, or social freedom.

Part II

Moving across the continent to Eastern Europe, the news is anything but festive. Russia has invaded Georgia.

Reuters reports that Kakha Lamaia, a member of Georgia’s National Security Council, says that the two countries are “very close to war.” World powers around the globe are calling for an end to the violence, which is fierce and is escalating.

“If it’s not war, then we are very close to it,” Lamaia said. “The Russians have invaded Georgia and we are under attack.”

Immediately after President Bush and Russian Prime Minister Vladimir Putin enjoyed the opening ceremonies of the Beijing Olympics, mentioned above, these two world leaders met to discuss the situation between Russia and Georgia–more specifically, a separatist territory of Georgia known as South Ossetia. Most South Ossetians hold Russian citizenship and have close ties to Russia. Russia is claiming there is ethnic cleansing going on in South Ossetia, and thus they need to come in and save the day.

My take is that Russia wants to take back part of its territory, once held for most of the two hundred years prior to the breakup of the Soviet Union. And they see an excuse to move in, with the unrest in South Ossetia. Russia is mad that Georgia has sought NATO membership–why should they care unless they feel that this move is in defiance of their rulership, and of course a threat to their security?

Still not sure why President Bush is convening with a dictator-on-the-rise like Vladimir Putin.

Part III

Proceeding along to the North American continent, the biggest news comes right out of my cozy home. I was served breakfast in bed, for no apparent reason, by my seven-year-old daughter.

I rolled over to a fried egg and a little voice that said, “Mommy, I made breakfast for you!” She served it up with a cup of coffee and a piece of toast, all to my utter surprise about where this flight of fancy originated. Never mind that the egg was over-easy and let me stress the “easy,” and the coffee was cold, its origins uncertain, the only option being the left-over coffee still in the pot from yesterday, which would explain the temperature. But the toast was excellent!

Not to settle for anything minimal, my daughter continued her morning homemaking. “Mommy, put on your best dress and come downstairs,” she called through the door. Curious as the mother hen that I am, I quickly complied, and entered the kitchen-converted-to-a-ballroom.

JJ had picked out some music, one of my old Amy Grant albums, and had created a festive atmosphere everywhere I turned. Surely this rivaled Beijing. Streamers were hanging from the ceiling, the table set with this unique combination of childhood and womanhood–fine wine glasses accompanied by paper plates and plastic silverware wrapped in crepe paper. I twirled and danced with my girls, and even my boys.

Apparently, the egg and toast were not enough, so she proceeded to make French Toast for the whole family (minus Dad, who was already gone to work).

I wrote out the instructions for her, and left to give her some space. I was called down in what seemed record time, and enjoyed a slightly soggy French Toast breakfast-after-breakfast. I silently noted the plastic bread bag melted to the side of the griddle, but she did turn it off when she was done. “Mommy,” she confidently declared, “I’m going to be a great cook when I grow up.” Yes, indeed, my dear.

Still not sure why I got so lucky as to have breakfast in bed for no reason at all.

photo credits: CFHS blog, FoxNews

Technorati Tags: children, children cooking, Olympics, China, Georgia, family life, Russia, Vladimir Putin, Catalina Foothills High School

Frank, could you have known when you came over the Oregon Trail from Kansas in 1896, at the awkward age of 14, your family creaking along in a covered wagon and you riding alongside on a pony the whole way to Sweet Home, Oregon - a trip that makes a man out of a boy…could you have known your legacy?

Here are Frank and Hilda with their first daughter, Mina, in 1917. Mina would be the first of 10 daughters. The couple had just two boys, one of whom died in 1991. Mina is 92 years old now and in a wheel chair, widowed for 11 years.

Frank and Hilda owned a grocery/feed store in the 1930s, and Mina still reminisces about working there, packaging up 50 pound containers of lard and sugar for customers.

I found the perfect summer dessert salad that Mina handed down to her family, a sure hit with the kids. Don’t worry, there’s no lard. Here is Mina’s Orange Jello Salad, submitted to the cookbook by her granddaughter Holly:

Orange Jello Salad

3 cups boiling water
1 small package orange jello
1 small package vanilla pudding (cook kind)
1 small package tapioca pudding pudding (cook kind)
2 cans mandarin oranges
8 oz. Cool Whip

Mix dry pudding and jello together, add to boiling water and boil 2 minutes. Put in a bowl and cool completely. Drain oranges and add oranges and Cool Whip to pudding mixture.

Frank lived to be almost 93, but his beautiful bride Hilda, who was just 17 when they married, died at the age of 46 from a cerebral hemorrhage, her last child only a tender five year old. But Hilda clearly taught her children well, because they expertly took over the household after her death, the older girls caring for the younger ones.

Here is one of Hilda’s simple recipes, passed down to her daughters and submitted to the cookbook by one of her youngest girls, Marian.

Mom’s Coleslaw

1/2 head cabbage chopped thin, very thin
1 tsp salt
1/4 tsp pepper
1/2 cup sugar
1 cup whipping cream
1/4 cup vinegar

In small, deep mixing bowl, add sugar and vinegar, whip, then start ading cream slowly, whipping all the time. Will thicken slightly. Pour over cabage, salt and pepper.

If you have a garden full of tomatoes, then this next recipe will make a great summer dinner. It was submitted by Carla, the daughter of Norma, who was the second of Hilda’s children. Like her mother, Norma was blessed with an abundance of girls, having six daughters and just one son. Norma recalls needing money for college and occasionally receiving from father Frank a $100 bill rolled up in a walnut shell.

Capellini with Burst Cherry Tomato Sauce

1 lb very thin spaghetti or capellini
1/4 cup olive oil
3 pints cherry tomatoes
2 cloves garlic
1 tsp oregano
1/2 cup sliced calamata olives
1/2 cup grated parmesan cheese

Boil pasta when sauce is in final stage. Heat olive oil in large skillet til very hot. Add tomatoes, cover with lid and cook 10-12 minutes. Shake or stir occasionally. Cherry tomatoes will burst, if they do not, press gently. Add garlic, oregano, olives and salt to taste. Lower heat and simmer another 7-10 minutes. Top pasta with sauce and cheese.

If you have a summer pie-baking tradition, you need a good crust. My Grandma-in-law, Frank and Hilda’s sixth child as I showed you up there with my husband, has a Never Fail Pie Crust. I would have married into this family just for Donna’s pies. She brings them to every family holiday gathering–berry pies, apple pies, pecan pies, you name it–they are mouthwatering delights held together by this magical flaky crust. Here’s the recipe, but I doubt you can even come close to Donna Alice’s pies:

Never Fail Pie Crust

3 cups flour
1/2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
1 1/4 cups shortening
5 Tbls water
1 Tbls vinegar
1 egg

Mix egg, vinegar and water, add to dry ingredients and shortening (mixed). Take enough for one shell at a time and roll out. Makes 4 or 5 crusts.

Donna’s great-grandkids love her pies, too.

I suppose you need a pie to go in that pie crust! Donna’s Strawberry Pie made it into the family cookbook, submitted by her niece Lyn. Apparently this pie gets rave reviews at parties and potlucks.

Donna’s Strawberry Pie

Mix together:
3 oz. Philadelphia cream cheese
1/2 cup powdered sugar

Fold in:
1/2 cup whipped cream
1/2 tsp. vanilla
Put in cooked pie shell and chill.

Cook: (until thick and clear)
1 pint strawberries with juice
1/2 cup sugar
2 Tbls cornstarch

Cool. Spread over cheese layer in pie shell. Chill. Garnish with whipped cream.

In the beverage section of the family cookbook, I noticed Joe’s Home Brew. Joe would be Frank and Hilda’s grandson, and his mother Bonnie was girl number eight. Bonnie must share Frank’s spirit of the Oregon Trail, because she’s had some crazy adventures in her lifetime, including rafting down the Grand Canyon and working in remote Alaska.

Joe’s recipe is for homemade root beer, and I’ll include his description and directions –it gets a bit lengthy but this is well worth it.

Joe’s Home Brew

When we were growing up, we made home made root beer in glass bottles with caps. It was so much fun, and tasted so good, that Laina and I have continued to make it the past 30 years! It’s a staple at our house! Great with popcorn or by itself on a hot summer day or add a scoop of vanilla ice cream for a fab float!!

1 bottle of root beer extract (sorry he didn’t say what size bottle!)
5 pounds of sugar
1/2 tsp active yeast
5 gallons lukewarm tap water
Need 10 2-liter plastic pop bottles and caps

Mix the water, sugar and extract in a 5 gallon plastic pail, stir thoroughly. Add yeast (best to dissolve this first in a cup of lukewarm water) and stir thoroughly. Pour root beer into pop bottles, leave about 1/2 inch air from the neck of the bottle. Screw caps on tightly. Store bottles on their sides for one week at room temperature. Then store them upright in a cool place. You can drink the brew after a week. The longer it sits, the fizzier and less sweet it gets. The plastic bottles get very hard as the yeast “eats” the sugar and produces carbonation. Refrigerate before opening! Warm brew may be explosive!! Enjoy!

Have you had a family reunion this summer? Do you have a favorite family recipe? Enjoy these last days of summer with some good food and family fun!

p.s. Don’t you think my daughter JJ looks just like her great-great-grandma Hilda?

Technorati Tags: children cooking, family tree, family life, food, Oregon Trail, homemade root beer, recipes, pie crust recipe

I told Becky how badly I needed them, because I couldn’t find a single oven mitt in the house, and I was in danger of burning off my sweet fingers. I need my fingers. These arrived the day after my birthday - I love surprise birthday gifts! And the day after that, I found the one oven mitt I did own - in my 7 year old daughter’s underwear drawer.

I had to explain the craziness to Becky, who may have wondered about my daughter’s stability - why was she stashing away an oven mitt with her underclothes?! An unknown fact was revealed: my mother, with Alzheimer’s or some mysterious mind-confusing disease that can afflict almost-80-year-olds, lives with my family. She loves to help put laundry away. You may find my t-shirts in my son’s dresser, dirty clothes mistakenly folded neatly into drawers, or oven mitts filed away with underwear. We work with it.

Another blog perk came my way when Sheila at Meditations and Confessions of a Homemaker sent me this pack of handmade cards. Each card has an inspiring scripture, wise saying, or encouraging word for women. Sheila is truly gifted (in many ways), and you can find more of her cards for sale at her Etsy shop. She has a great big heart for hurting and broken people, she blogs for the persecuted church (don’t miss her post on China), and is simply refreshing.

Sheila has also given me a few blog awards recently, which I’ll pass on soon. They are the Arte y Pico (best art) Award, and the Brillante Weblog Award. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! Coming up (or whenever I get around to it!) will be my awards reception in which I present these to some other excellent bloggers.

Have you enjoyed any blog perks lately?

Technorati Tags: Alzheimer’s, blog contest, blog awards, humor, oven mitts, persecuted church

Little L neglected to wear his shoes while racing around on the wooden porch, and got a big sliver in his foot. I had to pull it out, and as a last minute thought, I grabbed a lemon off the counter. Honey, squeeze this lemon as hard as you can, I advised. It will help take the pain away.

The sliver was deep and long, and I knew it hurt, but that distracted little boy squeezed his lemon so hard I could smell the citrus scent. What fun he had. I think I heard just one small peep about the sliver as I was drawing the last of it out. I made a mental note to always have lemons on hand.

If you know kids, they didn’t want to stop there. All the lemons were cut and squeezed by several tiny hands. “I popped out a seed!” was heard several times. “I squeezed more than you!” of course was on the table as well. At this point, the kids realized they were thirsty from all this squeezing. The sliver that started it all was forgotten.

The fresh squeezed lemon juice was poured with a sense of wonder. “We need water! We need sugar!” came the cries of industrious children. I tasted their creation, and it was good.

The flurry of activity didn’t end there. Before I knew it, my daughter had prepared a “lemonade for sale” sign, which was changed to “free lemonade, tips okay.” (”I usually get more money that way,” confided my seven-year-old entrepreneur.) About $7.00 later, I had a passel of sticky, lemony, sliver-free children, and felt like I had witnessed the life cycle of a lemon.

And it all started with a stubborn slice of wood stuck in my son’s foot. Truly, I don’t think I’ll forget this scenario the next time I hear the lemon cliché!

*****

Don’t forget that the Christian Carnival is here tomorrow at Diary of 1. You can still submit posts until midnight Eastern Time tonight, using this submission form.

Technorati Tags: children, Christian Carnival, lemons, making lemonade, getting out slivers

Now, I understand the point of the quote to mean that….well, hmmm, I guess I have no clue what it could mean. Does it mean that if you’ve offended or wronged someone, the best thing to do is just let it pass and ignore it? Sounds like a recipe for disaster in a marriage or any other close relationship.

Does it mean that you don’t have to say you’re sorry because you’re so perfect and never offend the one you love? I haven’t seen the movie. Perhaps the quote of “never having to say you’re sorry” was meant to apply to the comatose, the dead, the unborn, the Holy Mother, or Christ himself! Those are the ones who never wrong others. The rest of us, well, I say open your mouth and start talking.

From a biblical perspective, we are commanded to repent from our sin, and we all sin, we all hurt others in some way, shape, or form, intentional or unintentional. The essence of a true, heartfelt statement of “I’m sorry” is repentance, hopefully leading to a change in the behavior at issue - a critical factor in our life of faith. “I’m sorry, will you forgive me?” followed by a return of “Yes, I forgive you” — this makes more sense.

Can I come up with my own version of this famous love quote?

Love means saying you’re sorry as often as you possibly can!

Well, as often as needed. This would be a good piece of advice to anyone approaching marriage or anyone who has a human relationship - um, all of us. Now go love on someone.
*****

Visit Marriage Monday for more blog posts on marriage and relationships.

Dad says, “Ouch, my body is heavier than it used to be.”

For more Wordless Wednesday, visit the main page or 5 Minutes for Mom.

What are YOU doing outside today?

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In the blogosphere, we have the current Carnival of Family Life, Carnival of Homeschooling, Christian Carnival, Marriage Monday. It’s summertime and I can’t keep up with all of these like I want to!

I will be the host of next week’s Christian Carnival, and you can submit your post HERE by Tuesday, July 15, before midnight ET, and publishing at Diary of 1 Wednesday, July 16. More information on the Christian Carnival guidelines can be found at Parableman.

Technorati Tags: Central Oregon, gymnastics, outdoor play, wordless Wednesday

Today’s photohunt theme is pointed. The pointed spade smoothes on the mortar for the pointed rocks. This section of wall is part of the outer front facade of our home. The rock work may be done by the end of the weekend - one step closer to moving in!

The Lord gives and the Lord takes away, blessed be the name of the Lord. Job 1:21

We are grateful to God for the blessing of this home, for however long or short He chooses for us to make this our dwelling place.

Technorati Tags: Central Oregon, construction, photo hunt, ranch, mortar, rock, masonry

We enjoyed our hometown Independence Day parade this morning, and the girls got their fill of horses…and candy. I call them “professional parade goers” since they never forget to bring their candy bags, and beg to go to any parade within a hundred mile radius. At first, I thought they just loved parades. I’m a slow learner.

Dear children! I had had to say more than once. This holiday is about FREEDOM not candy! I don’t recall this inundation with treats at my childhood 4th of July parades. It’s all in good fun, but for kids the age of mine, it can be…distracting!

We talked about the first 4th of July and will be listening to this story today about George Washington. If you have young children, I highly recommend subscribing to You Need a Story, an outstanding weekly production from Robert Green that will show up in your inbox every Tuesday or so, always an exhilarating audio adventure, maybe a classic, maybe an unknown literary gem.

Here is a photo of my kids’ favorite parade entry this year:

They adore the miniature horses, and we pass the farm where they live nearly every day, so they said a friendly hello!

And of course, our dear friends from Lone Pine Clydesdales were back at this parade, all rested from last week’s parade.

We stopped at our property on the way back to our rental house, and Big L took a moment to make a wish. “What did you wish for?” inquired JJ. “I can’t tell you!” he says.

“Was it for a great and awesome destiny?” JJ prodded. “Or a miracle?”

I loved her guesses! What a thoughtful and creative mind. I certainly have those wishes for our great nation!!

Do you have a wish for America? And any parade pictures posted? Let me know, and enjoy a lovely Independence Day, my fellow Americans.

Technorati Tags: Fourth of July, You Need a Story, American flag, Independence Day

Ho, ho, ho!! Merry Christmas in July from my little soap-beard-Santa.

For more Wordless Wednesday, visit the main page.

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Blog carnivals:
Carnival of Family Life
Carnival of Homeschooling
Christian Carnival
The Homesteading Carnival

Technorati Tags: children, Christmas in July, wordless Wednesday

Yesterday morning, at a local parade, celebrating that old west pastime called Rodeo, I was thrilled to see my friends’ Clydesdales in all their hugeness. This was GOOD.

And where else but Prineville could I find the Amazing Trash Can Marching Band? They dispose of garbage in step and in style. These guys were GOOD!

On to the BAD…look at the interesting mound I discovered on our property a few days ago.

Kids, do NOT jump in the pretty pile, because…take a closer look:

Ooowwww. These are some aggressive ants, and I’ve been scrambling to find out what they are. Most notably, they have a red head and body and a shiny black behind. At first glance, they look and act just like the Allegheny Mound Ants. Build enormous piles. Have red head/thorax and black abdomen. But those mostly live in the upper Midwest to the New England states and south to Georgia.

So, another possibility is the Red Imported Fire Ant (RIFA). They also build mounds. Also have red forebody and black abdomen. But they live mostly in the southeast, however a few California counties have been infested, and there’s been suspected infestations in Oregon. I’m supposed to immediately contact the Oregon Department of Agriculture if I think I have these RIFAs, because they are considered an invasive species, and a serious health risk to pets and children, not to mention the damage that can be done to crops and other native plant life.

A final suspect, perhaps the most likely, is the harvester ant. This is a common desert ant, which fits my habitat. Another aggressive mound-building ant. Someone wrote a whole thesis on the harvester ant and how it’s helpful in locating small artifacts in archaeological surveys. I think I’ll start digging for Paiute relics in this very spot.

The only issue I’m trying to resolve with the harvester ants is whether it’s likely for them to have a red head/thorax and a black rear. This is the only photograph from the Oregon high desert (or anywhere) I can find that fits what I see here on my property; the rest are all red or all black. Anyone?

I can’t live with these creatures. It’s summertime and they are seriously swarming. They inflict especially painful stings and bites. Enter the brave husband. With the poison. We are not poison-happy people, but there are limits to my consciousness.

Don’t worry, my pretties, there’s enough here for everyone. Take this to your egg laying machine MOMMY!! But here’s a small problem. I went back to the mound yesterday, expecting it to be very quiet. But no. More activity and seemingly more ants than ever. I re-poisoned the area, and I’ll check again later.

Go to the ant, O sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise. Without having any chief, officer or ruler, she prepares her food in summer and gathers her sustenance in harvest. How long will you lie there, O sluggard? Proverbs.

Enough of the BAD! But, remember, this is the United States, and I actually own this land of the mother-of-all-anthills (and have many ant poison options), God bless America!

Would you like to see the UGLY from small town America?

America is soooo great, that even our “ugly” isn’t that bad. Okay, that is not true, there are truly horrific things going on in America, just as there are around the world. We all need Jesus! But, with our great nation’s birthday upon us, I’d rather find a bit of humor, a bit of appreciation for our free country.

Isn’t it great that a local fruit stand can sell delicious, sweet oranges, ugly and all? Great value, free from government imposed pricing, grown on fruitful land in a country where one can actually be a land-owner, we are so fortunate. If you really want ugly, you can read this supposed celebrate-America-Fourth-of-July-but-really-just-leftist-propaganda editorial, for which this newspaper should be ashamed.

How about these berries? I feel some baking coming on. One aisle over from the ugly oranges, and as beautiful as they come.

In closing, I hope you enjoy this lovely song, one of my very favorites, from that incredible musician, Rich Mullins. Here in America.

Some of my favorite lyrics from this song:

“…Once I went to Appalachia, for my father he was born there, and I saw the mountains waking with the innocence of children…and the Holy King of Israel loves me here, in America!”

Do you have anything (good, bad, or ugly) to share from your slice of America?

God Bless the U.S.A.

Technorati Tags: fruit stand, ants, July 4th Parade, Crooked River Roundup, Fourth of July, Clydesdales, Rich Mullins, Here in America

I smiled, completely warmed by his sweetness. “You know,” he continued, “they would think you are really intelligent.” More warming, and even little pitter-patters in my heart. What a kind-hearted, encouraging boy, he thinks Mom is smart!

“You really think so?” I say, hoping for more of these lovely compliments. Having been his teacher for the past few years, it’s good to know that he values my brilliance, my astute nature, my…

“Of course, Mom!” he states matter-of-factly. “It’s the glasses. They make you really smart.”

Oh. The glasses. That’s what he so knowingly pointed to, not my clever brain at all. Ahem. Adjusting my glasses here. So, would you like to know where I purchased my super-powered glasses? Because I’m sure you all want a pair now.

Big L saved up his money and bought a small, gray mouse yesterday, along with some mouse accessories, including a running wheel. Cute as a button and not much bigger, but goodness, he does run and squeak. I had no idea that an eight-week-old mouse had such stamina. I’m mouse-sitting right now while the kids are at Vacation Bible School. His name is Nampff, named so because his master likes the letters ‘N’ and ‘F.’

Note to self: buy some DW-40 today, so I don’t have to lock the mouse cage in the bathroom again to block out the everlasting squeaking of the wheel. I just need to get a decent night’s sleep.

Note to pet store owners: don’t sell squeaky wheels.

Tipper, … I wrote a short paragraph today about being “fatherless.” You know, I had a father, and when I was 12 or 13 years old, my parents separated, I moved to a different state with my mom, and I never lived with my dad again. I only saw him a handful of times after that before he died of lung cancer.

But the childhood I had with him until that age, it was difficult. He was an alcoholic and a distant, often angry father with many of his own troubles. However, I’m learning, the older I get, that it’s wise to still search for the good things, and even pray for God to reveal some sweet forgotten moments. There’s a lot of healing in setting your mind to this, so here are three things about my dad:

1. He was so very proud to be Appalachian.

2. He loved to plant things, and most of his energy went into his black walnut grove.

3. He was a carpenter by trade, and my memories are of him *always* wearing his white carpenter’s overalls, with hammer always hanging on his pants and nails in his pockets, ready to build.

p.s. Julie has a blog tag about an “a-ha!” moment you’ve had this week, so this will count as mine! Go check it out and see if you can come up with something, and if you’re reading this and would like to play along, consider yourself “tagged.” And if you also have some things to share about your dad, visit Tipper.

Technorati Tags: family life, Father’s Day, Appalachia, fatherless, childhood memories, God, relationships

It’s an amazing truth, though, and taking hold of God as Abba Father, especially for the earthly fatherless, is powerful and redemptive. Redemptive to the same degree you accept Him as Abba, and lay down your pain, anger, disappointment, and mistrust.

Greg Laurie has some great thoughts on this today; you may be blessed to read this.

JoJo made the big find of the day, with this great deer antler. We stumble upon at least one every spring, as the deer run our property year round, and bed down and poop all over the place make themselves at home here. I remember my children’s amazement when they discovered that deer shed their antlers and grow a new set every year. Note to the deranged individual who continually posts comments here (I love my delete button) about how my husband, the deer hunter, is a “worthless, inhumane piece of sh*t for killing poor innocent deer” - JoJo did not kill this deer nor rip the antler from its head, the Hunter had nothing to do with this, and we love deer as creatures as well as deer for meat.

Big L was distraught that he was not the one to find the great antler, but some bird saved the day. His spirits returned as he soon raced over to me with his find: an enormous eggshell. We pondered what feathered friend could have hatched out of this. An owl? A hawk? An eagle? It’s anyone’s guess, but his treasure. Incidentally, he did find a spike antler later that day, which he immediately turned into a weapon.

There’s nothing so lovely as watching children play in nature, discovering the wonder of God’s creation. Even when said deer horn is used by one child to impale the head of another child, it’s all worth it. It was an accident, people (and oddly enough, only involved the girls). Something to do with a made-up game called “Deer Fighters.” Stitches not even required, but today’s hike cancelled.

I realize there are people who are “professional deer shed hunters.” They make money off these. Just in case anyone is tempted to come gather these, or any other objects, from our property, we have several signs posted just for you, all some variation of this one:

Have a sunny day!

Technorati Tags: Central Oregon, children, country, family life, homesteading, outdoor play, ranch, spring, wildlife, eggshells, deer sheds

I looked through old wedding photos today. I fed him a piece of wedding cake, and I’m still feeding him today. It was not the smoothest of weddings, with 100 degree heat and babies crying through the entire thing, and our life since has not always been the smoothest thing. But we go on, we trust in God to give us the strength and courage to unceasingly love and serve one another. We plan, and dream, and laugh and hope together.

Last week, we had another dance, in the old Lone Pine Elementary School, from about the same era as the grange. My wedding dress tucked away, perhaps for one of my girls, this was a day of continuing. Who knows what the future holds, we are just looking forward to our ranch, sun, … and dirt. Always looking forward, keeping hope, until the next dance.

[posted for the Marriage Monday wedding post]

Technorati Tags: marriage, Marriage Monday, wedding dance

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. James 1:17

Giving thanks today. Iris at Sting My Heart hosts the Thankful Thursday meme, and I thought I’d participate. I actually desperately need to participate today. Forgetting to give thanks to God for His many blessings is a paved road to bitterness, depression, anger, hopelessness, and despair. I’d rather not go there.

So, today, I thank the Lord for….

……the breadmaker my mother-in-law gave me almost 12 years ago, so I could make a fresh loaf this morning, as we are out of bread (dough only cycle is a lifesaver)….

….the left-over beans and hotdogs from Connie’s BBQ, which she kindly sent home with us, so we could have a nice dinner last night, as we are out of everything….

….the bag of coffee from Jane, from Christmas, stuffed in the back of the cupboard, discovered in the nick of time this morning, so I could have a nice cuppa joe to start my day, as we are also out of coffee….

….an email this morning from my sister, Julia, asking me about a creation science children’s show, encouraging because I need to know I’m not alone in this journey….

….an email this morning from my friend, Julie, inviting our family and a few others on a hike to the Camp Sherman fish hatchery, encouraging because I need fellowship with other believers….

….the New Hope Church (in Hawaii) website, which has the daily Life Journal reading, so I can keep to a good schedule of Bible reading, as I will die a slow death otherwise….

….a new family I just met on the side of the road (who randomly stopped to watch Chuck’s cannon shoot), who also homeschool and are also Christians, and live out our way in the country, encouraging because even though I haven’t called the wife yet, just knowing they are there, 5 or 10 minutes away, brings hope….

What are you thankful for today?

Technorati Tags: Christianity, relationships, Thankful Thursday

In the high desert of Central Oregon lies one small valley, so green and fertile that one forgets for a moment which side of the Cascades this is. The fields are grassy, the elk wander down from the hills to graze with the cattle, and the verdant hills rise up to meet the juniper and sage which overlay the bluffs, the only visible reminders that this is, indeed, the desert. It’s here in the heart of the Lone Pine Valley that I caught up with Connie Hegele, who, with her husband and sons, owns the Walking H Ranch.

Connie has three grown children and one daughter-in-law, and in a rare situation by today’s standards, has her entire family working, in some capacity, in the family business. Businesses, I should say. The Hegeles also own American Sprinklers, in operation since 1975, and Lone Pine Clydesdales, now the second largest breeder in Oregon. One of her sons, Travis, runs SAR, an environmental consulting corporation.The Hegeles also own commercial property in Portland as well as Central Oregon.

Connie and her husband, Chuck, are both native Oregonians, and I would be hard pressed to find another family that so well represents the pioneer spirit for which Oregon is famous. Had they lived in the 1840s, I’m sure they would have been blazing the Oregon Trail. Here in the Lone Pine Valley, the Walking H Ranch sits on 277 beautiful acres, and they farm 106 irrigated acres. Connie’s boys are in full charge of the farm, and I see this as the mark of a wise woman, that her children continue her work and are themselves productive citizens.

Growing up on a farm with milk cows, horses, and goats, Connie is no stranger to farm life. She spent her childhood summers at her granddad’s 100,000 acre ranch in Burns, rounding up cattle and cutting hay to load on the wagons still pulled by draft horses. Connie always loved those draft horses, and for her birthday about a dozen years ago, Chuck gave her a little black Clydesdale, and the rest is history. For their 36th anniversary four years ago, he gave her (they actually gave each other) a pair of buffalo, so we’ll see where that goes!

Connie is a woman who seems to be everywhere at once, and it was hard for me to pull this post together. Her work is often behind-the-scenes, and all the details that seem to magically come together are because of her untiring efforts. Let me just give you a snapshot of one of her days this weekend.

The Hegeles planned a Memorial Day party/cannon shoot/BBQ at the old Lone Pine Elementary School, which was sold by the county years ago, and purchased and renovated by the Hegele family, beginning in 1998. So, I found Connie up bright and early Saturday morning, setting the tables, arranging food and decorations, making last minute phone calls. In their usual generous way, they had invited us to join in the festivities.

If you had happened to be driving by, you would have been invited, too. Later that evening, at my table sat four strangers - a man who had been motoring by on his Harley the week before and noticed Chuck’s cannon (he builds cannons and I’ll need an entire post just to fill you in on Chuck). Chuck showed the man his shop and gave him the full tour, along with an invitation to the Memorial Day weekend party. Here he was, and he’d brought his wife and son and daughter-in-law. I heard him comment, “These are the friendliest bunch of people I’ve ever met.” At the next table over, I noticed one of the Hegeles’ farm workers and his family. Behind them sat an old couple that Connie’s son, Rocky, had sold cattle to years ago. And Connie feeds them all. “Growing up on Granddad’s ranch, they always did that,” she said.

There are the nuts and bolts of what Connie does for the family business: she does the books, the bulk of the paperwork, running supplies, bidding projects, handling phone calls, showing their real estate in Portland and here. Then there are the intangibles, the truly significant features that can’t be defined in a job description: she has raised children who love and respect her and stick around to work in the family businesses, she has taken in other kids who’ve temporarily lost their way or are in need, she labors side by side with her husband, supporting him in all things, she is back and forth to Portland caring for her ailing mother, she is generous and hospitable even to the undeserving.

I presented a few questions for Connie to answer for my readers, and her responses are short - because as you know, the farm wife barely has a moment to sit - but sensible.

Jen: The culture of the family farm is dying, and your family is one of the only ones I personally know that is making it work. In the truest sense of a “family farm,” the family and the farm are inseparable - what does this look like in your family?

Connie: The family farm, to be successful, needs to have some of the same goals and be open to new ideas.

And I should add here that I see this with the Hegele family - whether the project is renovating an old schoolhouse or raising horses, I see this unity - whether it’s Connie’s daughter, Candy, picking out the new paint for the school or her daughter-in-law Alisha helping a mare give birth, they are all working toward the same goals.

Jen: One of the unfortunate casualties of modern agriculture is that a family can hardly make a living on the farm anymore. How does your family overcome this economic reality?

Connie: Our family farm is considered extra income. The income is put toward an investment, usually a piece of equipment.

This would explain all those other businesses - it’s extremely difficult these days for individual families to make a living solely on a farm income.

Jen: We talked a bit about a husband and wife working together in the family business, as you and I both do. And we’ve both heard the comments about “I could never do that.” What makes this partnership work for you and Chuck?

Connie: Respect for each other and working together toward new goals. Life always needs to be open to new interests and ideas.

Jen: I’m impressed with the fact that your grown children are so involved in what you do, especially in a modern culture where families are, more often than not, scattered or estranged from one another. What advice would you give to a young family regarding ways to build community and a culture of “togetherness” within the family unit?

Connie: Take time to listen to each other about what you want out of life. Be able to look outside of the box.

Great advice, thanks Connie! I hope you’ve enjoyed this visit to the country; stop in and say hello.

Technorati Tags: Clydesdales, American Sprinklers, Central Oregon, country, Lone Pine Valley, farming in Oregon, family business, family life

This was Pixie Gullickson, and she’s just as cute and sprightly as her name sounds. I think she’s such a fine artist at least in part because of her full engagement in life and her many interests. She must have a third lens through which she views the world, picking up on the intricacies of nature and the handiwork of the Creator, and before this ever hits the canvas, it comes forth from her heart, gathering expression and spirit as it goes.

I love how Pixie painted this Indian woman in a canoe, which painting hangs regally above her bed, as if on watch through the night. It’s an enormous painting with bold and confident color, and I didn’t even fit it all in here. Her father was half Choctaw, and Pixie’s Native American heritage is evident in much of her work. Scattered throughout her home are many Indian artifacts, arrowhead displays, beads, feathers, leather work. These two paintings I found in her studio, one of a warrior and one of her father:

Pixie’s artistry can be found throughout the Central Oregon community, from window paintings to large murals like the ones she painted on Redmond High School and inside the Tower Theater in Bend, and even on a miniscule canvas the size of say, a fingernail…actually, literally a fingernail, as Pixie did amazing nail art for years in a salon she owned in Redmond. And perchance, her artwork will be on my son’s bedroom walls, as he is dreaming of dinosaurs roaming his room. Pixie is available for commissioned work, and hopes to have a website up soon - leave me a comment here if you’d like to get in touch with her.

I was able to get Pixie to sit still long enough to answer a few questions for you (a difficult task, I can assure you, as this woman never seems to stop), and I’m sure you’ll enjoy this interview.

Jen: What are your earliest memories of art? Was this a childhood interest? Was it a hobby, an artistic outlet, a therapeutic thing?

Pixie: I have loved art and remember it from the very earliest age. I remember sitting alone for hours drawing picture after picture, it was so very satisfying to me. It was not a hobby for me, more a constant desire. It was fun and addicting to me because I knew I was good at it. Whatever it was.

Jen: Are you self-taught, or have you had any art training?

Pixie: I am self-taught. I have always been able to sell my work, and have never been out of work or money because of it. I have thought of an education in art, but was always too busy to pursue it.

Jen: What advice would you give to other budding artists regarding how to further their skills?

Pixie: Try everything! NEVER STOP!! You are bringing alive a beautiful relationship with trust, humility, and expression with your heart. If something isn’t quite the way you want it, put it away for a while, and when you find it later, you can tell another story about it. And start window painting, it’s good money and you will be learning as you go.

Jen: I know you work in several mediums, but what is your favorite artistic expression?

Pixie: Oils of course, although I use a lot of Acrylic, because it dries faster and cleaner.

Jen: You are very giving and generous; however, you have earned money from your art. How did you begin to establish art as a career, and what advice would you give to a starving artist trying to make his/her way?

Pixie: Find what your niche is. What I mean by that is find the thing that people love, and that you love to create, and find a way of marketing yourself. Be your own sales person. Nobody will know you do art if you don’t tell them, or show them. Believe in yourself, don’t try to sell something you wouldn’t buy. Get opinions. Never give up!

Jen: Art can be a powerful tool for ministry. Can you share a testimony about some way that your art has been used to touch someone’s place of need with the love of God?

Pixie: Many times. GOD is the original creator. So, to be inspired in the way of creating, I am walking in the image of my heavenly father. I don’t think I know one person who doesn’t admire, or wonder, or have thoughts about art work. It’s a mystery like music, because it is so full of God.

It’s a way of telling a story if you knew no language. But, back to your question, I have painted many things for people, and have had incredible opportunities to brighten many days with nail art. I had a salon and was very well known throughout our area for my nail art. It was so GOD inspired. When God is in it, it works. That is the most important thing about my art, it is a gift from GOD, and if you use it, He will continue to bless it.

Thank you, Pixie!

Technorati Tags: art ministry, art, nail art, murals, art education, murals, Central Oregon

Anyway, HAPPY BIRTHDAY to the Hunter, the Pinewood Derby Dad, the Swimmer, the Father, the Teacher, the Husband, and everything else you are to us.

Technorati Tags: birthday, children, family life

When we’re done checking out our books at the library, JoJo loves to read with “statue girl” who appears to be permanently attached to this child-sized bench in the foyer. I might catch a snatch of conversation, and JoJo sits real close and just enjoys the company of her bronzed friend.

My Aloha Friday question for this lovely May day is this:

Did you have an imaginary friend as a child? (If you have one now, I’d rather not hear about it!)

I faintly remember having imaginary conversations with little friends, but the friends were usually people I actually knew. Then again, I think I had some imaginary friendships with characters I loved from my favorite books. I distinctly remember my dear stuffed animals, who I set around my bed every night as I told them to be on watch while I slept. Have you seen the Jimmy Stewart movie Harvey (1950)? He plays Elwood P. Dowd, a lovable guy with an imaginary pal who happens to be a six-foot-three rabbit. Can you top that?

Technorati Tags: aloha friday, imaginary friend, childhood memories, children

Inside, we’ve been busy, busy. Drywall and texture is now complete, and tomorrow we begin painting. We spent the morning finalizing our interior colors (mostly earthy tones, some yellows, browns). We’re doing it ourselves, and the rest of today will find me and the kids pulling up paper from the floor and sweeping/vacuuming all the dust, in preparation for tomorrow. Here is my husband’s grand office last week (since been textured and primed):

It’s not all work and no play. The kids run around and find so many interesting things to do for a break. Like climbing trees:

….catching lizards….

….digging tunnels….

We hope to be moved in to our new place in a few months. It’s been about three years since we first embarked on this project, so you can imagine how ready we are to be done, how excited we are to be “home,” how exhausted we are. :-)
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Blog Carnival links:

Learning in the Great Outdoors
Carnival of Family Life
Carnival of Homeschooling
Make It From Scratch
Carnival of the Insanities

Technorati Tags: blog carnival, Central Oregon, country, family life, building a house, outdoor play, outdoors

My husband captured this sweet moment with my littlest a few weeks ago. For Mother’s Day, I’d like to repost a tiny piece I wrote over a year ago, and in fact it was only the second post on this blog. Since I had about one reader at the time, you probably didn’t notice this:

“Are you awake, Charlotte?” he said softly.
“Yes,” came the answer.
“What is that nifty little thing? Did you make it?”
“I did indeed,” replied Charlotte in a weak voice.
“Is it a plaything?”
“Plaything? I should say not. It is my egg sac, my magnum opus.”
“I don’t know what a magnum opus is,” said Wilbur.
“That’s Latin,” explained Charlotte. “It means ‘great work.’ This egg sac is my great work — the finest thing I have ever made.”
“What’s inside it?” asked Wilbur. “Eggs?”
“Five hundred and fourteen of them,” she replied.
from Charlotte’s Web by E.B. White.


These are some of the greatest lines of literature I’ve read on the subject of motherhood and parenting. Now, I just have four, not 514, but those four are absolutely the finest things I have ever made. I couldn’t state my calling any better than Charlotte, and her words are more inspiring than any parenting book I’ve read.

Technorati Tags: Mother’s Day, Charlotte’s Web, magnum opus, motherhood

It’s that time of year; I’ll have syrup and sunshine on my pancakes, please.

Wordless Wednesday.

Technorati Tags: breakfast al fresco, outdoors, children