Tongue Tied

My mind is full, but my thoughts are still jumbled. I have said in the past that words can be a healing balm or full of bitter poison, and found that to be true once again this week. I do not feel the need to defend anything I have written as my words were not meant to hurt or offend. Each one sees the world from a slightly different perspective and last week I had the opportunity to see a little piece of it through the eyes of others, not just my husband and his sisters, but my father in law's family in California.

My husband was born on a US Air Force base in Japan. His family has, for most of their lives, been exposed to the culture and customs of the Asian people. They have enjoyed authentic Asian foods, seen faraway lands, and learned simple Japanese phrases. I have never had the honor of such privileges so everything about it is still new. Two days in the home of near to perfect strangers is hardly a chance to come to know and appreciate such things, especially when everyone involved is grieving.

My father in law had two distinct families who came to together last week to honor the man who ties them together. One family has had him for the past 40 years. They have come to know and love him well. Their hearts ache for the presence of the one they love. The other family, the one I know, aches for the father they never had a chance to know, the one whose presence they have missed for most of 40 years. We have tried for much of that time, in our own ways, to mend fences and break down barriers, but didn't always know quite how to bridge the gap.

Relationships have grown through the years. When Jimmy was born I wrote letters, "Dear Grandpa," "Love, Jimmy". After all, they had the same name. There were occasional phone calls, like the one that got me out of bed in the middle of one dark night. There were sporadic visits. I have met my father in law three times in the past 28 years, the first at a family wedding. There were pictures and emails. He once refferred to me as his "email buddy," but really getting to know him was a mountain we never overcame.

So, two families grieved together and yet alone, in the same place, at the same time, and for the same man, in different ways. I watched my husband hold his weeping stepmother in his arms and for a moment the families almost became one... who knows, maybe it will still come to be.

Crowns and Glory

Children's children are the crown of old men, And the glory of children is their father.
Proverbs 17:6

I find this verse taking on new meaning.

President's Day

It is President's Day and we celebrate with a week off school and a federal holiday for banks and other public buildings. At the Jelly Belly factory they honor past (and probably present) presidents with Jelly Belly jelly bean mosaics. I doubt George Washington ever imagined he would look so great in candy. I don't think Abraham Lincoln had ever heard of jelly beans, but I'm pretty sure seeing his portrait in beans might have made him smile. It made me smile. And everyone knows how much Ronald Reagan loved jelly beans. His Jelly Belly portrait has been done several times over. He is the president honored by the creation of blueberry jelly beans in order that there would be red, white, and blue jelly beans at the White House. "President Reagan's passion for jelly beans inspired Blueberry flavor, which was cooked up so he could serve red, white, and blue beans at his inaugural parties."- The Jelly Belly Company I think I might have been tempted to capture all the mosaics on my camera had we not been told taking photos on the tour was not allowed. (These were by the front door when we first came in.) You can check out the others here.

Thoughts to Ponder...

An emotional week has come to a close but thoughts and questions linger. I guess there is not much to say except that I found the funeral service to be heart breaking, but aren't they all? There are always the "what if's" and the "if only's" that we must learn from and then leave behind. I found that there are not always a multitude of fond memories to draw comfort from, and that once again, people grieve in different ways. We found a clash of cultures, languages, customs and religions. In a way it felt like we were on the outside looking in but strangely belonging on the inside, though we couldn't quite get there. Hard to explain...

We witnessed a Buddhist funeral and military honors followed by a Christian service. We met with a small group of family members with whom we shared tears and long hugs. It was a new experience, something I will carry with me for many days to come.

Happy Valentine's Day

Happy Valentine's Day to my best friend.

Thank you for being such a huge part of who I am, for sharing life's joys and sorrows with me and for allowing me to share in yours. You are much loved and appreciated.

Jelly Bellies

While in California we decided to take a field trip. It was sweet. Actually the idea came from my husband's mom who lives in Nova Scotia. She suggested checking out the "free" tour at the Jelly Belly factory in Fairfield. It was just around the corner, it was "free", and it sounded like fun, so we took her up on the idea. There were some sweet looking vehicles outside. Though I liked the RV's the VW Bug was my favorite.

Inside the factory we found some sweet mosaics (I'll share them another time) and lined up for the "free" tour. We were each given a cute little paper hat which we were required to wear during the tour. It was rule number one, I think. Number two, no picture taking on the tour. So sad, but you can find a virtual tour here instead. And rule number three, everyone gets their picture taken with the Jelly Belly guy.

It was a fun tour. James' sister, Kim, was with us and volunteered to taste one of the jelly beans for the group. Of course, this was no ordinary bean... It was a baby wipe flavored treat! At least it wasn't pencil shavings or, worse yet, the failed pepperoni pizza jelly bean that turned out tasting like barf. At the end of the tour we were set loose in the candy store. Those "free" tours are quite the marketing tool. I won't tell you how many pounds of beans made their way home with us, but let me do tell you that those bags of "Belly Flops" are hard to turn down, especially with the number of children we had waiting at home.

THANKS, MOM!

From Sea to Shining Sea

We're home again after flying from San Francisco to Newark, NJ yesterday, literally from coast to coast. We are tired, we are sad, we are pondering. I stood for a moment in my husband's shoes and will never be the same...

Last Respects

"Honor your father and mother," which is the first commandment with promise:
Ephesians 6:2

Last respects, a final chance for honor...

Tomorrow James and I are flying to San Francisco to say our last goodbyes. We'll be back at the end of the week. Please keep us in your prayers.

Rock Of Ages

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee;
Let the water and the blood,
From Thy wounded side which flowed,
Be of sin the double cure;
Save from wrath and make me pure.

Not the labor of my hands
Can fulfill Thy law’s demands;
Could my zeal no respite know,
Could my tears forever flow,
All for sin could not atone;
Thou must save, and Thou alone.

Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to the cross I cling;
Naked, come to Thee for dress;
Helpless look to Thee for grace;
Foul, I to the fountain fly;
Wash me, Savior, or I die.

While I draw this fleeting breath,
When mine eyes shall close in death,
When I soar to worlds unknown,
See Thee on Thy judgment throne,
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee.

There is a strange comfort in the singing of old hymns. With each passing year, with each dying loved one, the picture becomes clearer and the cross of Christ more blessed. This past week two men we knew passed on, one was James' father and the other a dear friend from church. We all knew Vince was sick and struggling, but we didn't know he would be called home on such short notice.

One, Two, Three

Three guys with one name. Once upon a time in a far away land, we had a baby. We named him James, like his father, and his grandfather. There was not too much name confusion as we called the little guy Jimmy, the middle sized guy James, and the grandfather, who lived far away, Grandpa Jim.

Late one night when Jimmy was very small the telephone rang. I woke from sleep, jumped out of bed, and ran downstairs to answer the call. "Hello, is Jim Teal there?" said the voice on the other end. "Can I ask who's calling?" I inquired. "Jim Teal" said the unfamiliar voice. My mind was sleepy. "Who is this?" I asked again. "Jim Teal," he replied. I was confused. "Who is this?" I repeated. "Jim Teal." I gave up and decided whoever it was wasn't going to tell me who he was. As I called up the stairs to my husband it suddenly dawned on me that the man on the other end of the phone had told me precisely who he wanted and who he was. I was just a little slow in having it sink in. I suppose my father in law got a good laugh out of it, but he never fooled me twice.

More Tears...

Saying good bye is never easy, I guess it isn't supposed to be. It could be tempting to wish for all the things that never were rather than be thankful for what one did have. I pray my family can find something to treasure in the life of the man they knew so little of and yet who was such a big part of their lives.

I am thankful for the man whose name lives on in my husband and my son. I am thankful for the opportunity to watch him years ago help my husband fix his tie before a family wedding, for the unexpected phone calls late at night, for cards exchanged, and emails sent and received. I am thankful for the few times I had the chance to meet him in person and the little ways I see him in my children; bushy eye brows, a cleft chin, Bethany's congenital cholesteatoma that gave her a special connection to her grandpa, and an avid love of cars in my boys.

Grandpa Jim was not a particularly religious kind of man, but we know that God sees the heart of each one and He does not make any mistakes. We are asked only to trust that He makes wise choices and so, though our hearts are hurting once again, we give another loved one into the hands of the God.

Wanna Bite?

Hannah's slide show. Grab some popcorn!
And don't miss the cookie fun in the post down below.

Birthday Fun

What better way to celebrate a February birthday than with heart shaped cookies? Last night I rolled, cut and baked cookies. After preschool this afternoon I spread pink frosting over them and two little girls helped decorate hearts with colored sprinkles. Eight heart shaped cookies for Emma; eight heart shaped cookies for Bella.

I whipped up a fancy little birthday card and Hannah had two little girls write their names inside. Only one mommy had a birthday today but two little girls each took home a plate full of pretty Valentine cookies. I tried to resist tasting, but I couldn't help myself. Mmm, good!

Whirlwind Bathroom Remodel

We have a new laundry/powder room! James put the appliances in yesterday afternoon and I finished my mountain of laundry today. Only a week's worth, not too bad! I think my new room was finished in record time. This is what comes of having a husband whose past job has been demolishing and building stores in the mall. Having a slow work schedule also helps as this project could have been weeks in the making. Sometimes I am amazed at how much time goes into remodeling jobs, especially when drywall, ceilings, and floors need to be replaced. Anyway, I love it! It's fresh, it's clean, it's new.








You'll never guess what happened to my upstairs bathroom today...







Stay tuned to see what happens upstairs. (Are you watching, Grandmanita? Kathy, are you out there?)

Prayer

Please pray for my father in law who lives out in California. He is in the hospital and not doing well. His wife is very discouraged.

Monday's Children

But Jesus called them to Him and said, "Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of God." Luke 18:16

Mondays are never dull, in fact they are full of activity. I don't have to drag little girls out into the snow or leave them at preschool, instead they play here in my living room. This morning I sat here at my computer and listened to them play. "Look, Martha," one of them called, "I'm having a baby!" Some sort of doll or stuffed animal made a bulge under her shirt. "Look, Martha, I'm having a..." said the second as she hesitated and took a peek down the front of her shirt through the neckhole. I laughed. I remembered days long past when my little friends and I would play the same game.

Toys are strewn across the living room; Fisher Price, Beanie Babies, stuffed animals, toy boats and little plastic cups. They have called each other "Darling" and "Sweetie", driven the car to the store, cooked up something to eat, and "burned" their fingers. They have laughed hysterically, been best of friends, and threatened each other with "I'm not going to play". They have taken socks on and off, traded shoes, and pretended Hannah was their Mommy.

I shudder to think how often when my own children were small, I looked around at the toys scattered across my floor and thought of them as nothing more than a mess. To see them as jewels and treasures puts things in a whole different perspective. Though there comes a time when I want the toys picked up and put in their places, I can actually look at the "mess" and smile. What would I do without these little ones to brighten up my days?

Arctic Air

The last few days have been exceptionally cold. Though it is my preference to stay inside my nice cozy den when the temperatures are in the single digits, I put on my warm mittens and went out to face the world today. We were in dire need of a few essentials, like milk and toilet paper... The roads were clear and once the van warmed up the ride was quite pleasant.

I have not been taking many pictures lately so this evening I give you a couple of paintings done by my great Aunt Margaret, one of my father's artist aunts. They seemed fitting on such a cold and wintry day. Aunt Margaret is now about 96 years old. She has outlived all 10 of her brothers and sisters. I wish she was still able to converse and tell us about the days of her childhood, but age has taken its toll and her mind is no longer clear.

Time is a funny thing. When we are young it seems as though the world will continue to go on just as it is, that our friends and family will always be available, that the places we know and love will always remain. By the time we come to grips with reality, we have often lost our best opportunity to learn from those in whose steps we follow and to take in the beauty that surrounds us even if it is cold and wintry.

Paint and Pie, More Pie

I am making progress on my freezer and James is moving right along on our house projects. Today he sanded drywall, put in the sub-floor, and did some painting. He is doing a great job.

Outside the wind is relentless, the temperatures bitter and brutal. I decided to warm up the kitchen by making another pie, this time elderberry. Not quite so perfect as my last one, this one leaked, but still looking pretty good. On my way home from Ben's appointment this morning I picked up two half gallons (Yes! they really are half gallons!!!) of ice cream at the supermarket. I am not near out of berries but spring is still a long ways off. If I run out of fruit before summer, there's always lemon meringue.

Off to Work

My children are growing up. This week Ben got a job washing dishes in that "little diner" up in town, the one where his sister hangs out occasionally. Today he had the dreaded physical and we picked up a work permit at the high school afterward. All those years of washing dishes at home have paid off. Nothing like having a little experience (and a sister who is friends with the boss).

Hannah has been helping me out with the girls, Josh or Lucas if and when they come over, and little Vinnie who comes one afternoon a week. I agreed to pay her a little something for her efforts. Today she stayed here with Emma (and James) and played "Little People" and Playdough while I was gone with Ben. I hope she doesn't get too lonely without him around.

A Little of This and a Little of That

I have been "cleaning" my freezer lately. Each day I take a little something out and cook it up into something yummy. I call this "cleaning" because it is food that has been hiding out in the basement, all but forgotten. I have made venison sausage chili, a stuffed and roasted turkey, and several pies. Last night I made another blueberry pie; very yummy in the middle of winter, especially with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.
My Darling has been busy working on a long avoided project, our downstairs laundry/powder room. We have long known it needed help. When our toilet tank cracked this fall we knew a remodel was not far off. On Tuesday James removed the fixtures and appliances and started gutting the little room, right down to the two by fours. Messy job. Down came the wallpaper, out came the drywall, into the trash went the yucky old insulation. Or what was left of it. We have decided that this little room with the low ceiling probably once served as the family woodshed. It even has a door which has been sided over on the outside. Now we pile the firewood on the back porch instead which works fairly well if one doesn't mind having it covered with snow.
Since work has been slow James has been able to dedicate most of his daytime hours this week to getting this little room not only taken apart, but put back together again. He is much better at getting projects finished than I am. Yesterday he worked on plumbing, this morning he started putting up the drywall and mudded it. Tomorrow he hopes to start painting. I will have a new laundry/powder room in no time! Pretty cool, huh? We have actually thought lately about moving, downsizing our house, paying off some bills, and having less to keep up with, but we're not really sure yet if that is our best option. Time will tell.

Feeding the Monkeys

Lunchtime for little girls can prove to be a challenge. It seems there is always someone who doesn't like something. I have given up asking them what they would like and have instead taken to looking in the cupboard and putting together something that looks fun and at least remotely healthy. This week the mommies both brought a bag of groceries which makes the job just a little bit easier.

Today the girls ate pear flavored applesauce, macaroni and cheese, "Crunchies", and milk. Somehow I managed to color coordinate everything today; jungle monkey plates, green cups, and green applesauce. Yeah, most days I really do think this job is kind of fun. Maybe tomorrow I'll let them eat off the ladybug plates. :)

Clothing Makes the Man

He's wearing a guitar!



Actually, that is not all he is wearing, it just appears that is all.

Peanut Butter Cookie Makers

I decided that I should put forth the effort to do something with Emma and Bella today rather than just let them go and play on their own. I thought they might enjoy helping me make some peanut butter cookies. I mixed the butter and peanut butter before they knew what I was up to, measured the sugars and set them aside, cracked an egg into a measuring cup, and measured the flour into a bowl.

The girls dumped and stirred. When their arms got tired, I stirred. I rolled little balls of dough, put them on the cookie sheets, and gave each girl a fork to criss-cross the cookies. Both girls were very happy with the results and each took home a plateful of cookies this afternoon. What do you bet they ask to make cookies again tomorrow?

If I Were A One-legged Pirate

Dressed in our jammies, snuggled up on the couch on a cold winter night, Dad read us The Golden Book of Poetry. This was one of my favorite selections.

I Were A One Legged Pirate
by Mildred Plew Meigs

If I were a one-legged pirate
Ga-lumping around on a peg,
I'd flourish my pistol and fire it;
Then, sure as my right wooden leg,
I'd buy me a three-decker galleon
With cannon to port and to lee,
And wearing the king's medallion,
I'd head for a tropical sea!
Roaring a rough Ha-ha! Ha-ho!
Roving the routes of old,
Over the billows we would go
Sweeping the seas for gold!
Plying the lane
Of the Spanish Main
For Gold! Gold! Gold!

If I were a one-legged pirate
Ga-lumping around after loot,
I'd flourish my pistol and fire it;
Then, sure as my red leather boot,
I'd buy me a three decker galleon
With cannon to thunder a mile,
And bucking the sea like a stallion,
I'd head for a tropical Isle!
Roaring a rough Ha-ha! Ha-ho!
Chanting a chantey bold,
Over the billows we would blow,
Sweeping the seas for gold!
Plying the lane
Of the Spanish Main
For Gold! Gold! Gold!

But since I was not born a pirate
Ga-lumping around on a stick;
And since my toy gun when I fire it
Gives out but a little toy click;
Pretending my boat is a galleon,
My pond is a tropical sea,
I'll play I'm an old rapscallion,
But really I won't hurt a flea.
Roaring my small Ha-ha! Ha-ho!
Saying I'm someone bold,
Over the duck pond I will go
Roving the routes of old;
Plying the pond
And the stream beyond
For Gold! Gold! Gold!

Bear Hugs

I can almost smell the sweet scent of baby. I can almost hear his tiny sighs, and feel his warm little body in my arms all curled up in baby sleep. There is something about a brand new baby; soft, fragile, tender and sweet. Little eyes that struggle to see, tiny fingers clasping bigger ones, skinny little legs kicking involuntarily as he cries.

I recall being a brand new mommy and feeling suddenly very vulnerable, wondering how I would ever protect my tiny bundle from the wiles of the world. It's been over twenty-eight years since I first looked into the sweet, innocent face of my first newborn, but those feeling rush back all over again whenever I see a brand new baby.

This is my great nephew, Ethan. I may never get to hold him while he's tiny, in fact I have no guarantees that I will ever see him at all, but I can still love him. I can still pray for him. And, I can still think he's beautiful!

The Babysitter Test 2

One of my "little darlings" brought two princess dresses today so that she and her friend could play dress-up. It had already been a rather loud kind of morning as these two small girls have only one volume to their voices. "You're too loud," I would say. They would look at me and continue on with their game, voices as loud and shrill as only the moment before.

Not long before lunch they decided to transform themselves into princesses. Bella wore the pink dress and Emma the blue. They twirled around, each exclaiming how beautiful they were, and spoke of who was going to marry who. (They don't quite understand that in order for a princess to marry, she must have a prince. They, in their little girl way, are not very fond of boys who only mean trouble for little girls...)

The princesses dined on grilled cheese and applesauce for lunch and afterward were busy picking up toys when one suddenly needed to go potty. I pulled her gorgeous gown up over head and sent her to the bathroom. No sooner had she closed the door than hideous screams emanated from the other side. I couldn't imagine what had happened but it sounded like she was in agony. I investigated. I found a crying child standing atop the step stool, pants around her knees, and a puddle on the floor. She was devastated.

While I knew her wet clothing needed to be removed, I knew not what to put on the child. I have no extra clothes for little girls and the extra pj's that once waited in my closet had been given to Josh for Christmas. She could not run about the house naked, nor could she sit in the bathroom until her clothes were clean and dry. I ran downstairs, threw her clothes into the washer along with whatever was left in my laundry tub and racked my brain for what to put on the child. The Princess dress. It was all that I had, it belonged to her and it would keep her covered while we read our stories and she took a nap.

Her mommy should be here soon and by then her clothes will be clean and dry. Another "Babysitter Test" passed! Phew!

"Little Deaths"

Life requires countless "little deaths"- occasions when we are given the chance to say no to self and yes to God. -Elisabeth Elliot

Something worth thinking about as God continues to pry my fingers from about that which holds me. What is it He is asking me to die to?

Passion And Purity

My husband and kids helped a friend pack her things the other day. She has, for many years, been an avid book collector and is dramatically thinning her collection in preparation for moving to a smaller home. She was kind enough to give James a few of her treasured books when he headed home. Last night I decided to read this one, "Passion and Purity" by Elisabeth Elliot. I have long known the story of her husband, Jim Elliot and the other missionaries to the Auca tribe in South America, but I have never read any of Elisabeth's books.

I must confess that years ago I would turn the radio off when Elisabeth came on. Her "black and white" way of thinking and talking turned me off. She had many good things to say, and much of it I very likely needed to hear, but my heart was hard and I didn't care to listen. I'm sure I could have been spared much agony and aggravation had I just taken the time to measure the words of one much older and wiser than myself, but I was not that smart. Hopefully it is not too late to learn.

Jesus Loves Me

Through My Father's Eyes

The past few weeks have brought some unfamiliar challenges. I am quite certain, once again, that brain work takes much more energy than physical exertion. It always leaves me tired. Too bad it doesn't burn calories in the same way...

This morning I came to the realization that I have forgotten to put back into the Father's hands what I am not meant to carry on my own. He can handle anything that comes my way. He has a plan. He will work ALL things for good to those who love Him. I don't need to worry and I don't need to try and figure it all out, I only need to trust Him.

When my dad was diagnosed with cancer, one of his main concerns was his four weekly nursing home services. Who would be willing to go into these places each week? Who would bring the love of Jesus and a little bit of cheer to these all but forgotten people? Dad had no choice but to leave it in his Father's hands. Since mid-September my dear husband has gathered a small band of people and gone into one of "Dad's" nursing homes. Nathan doesn't play the guitar quite like his grandpa, and James doesn't share the message in quite the same way, but they do manage to bring a little bit of sunshine and a ray of hope into the lives of some beautiful people, and those people look forward to the visit.

It has been four months and each Monday evening I have stayed here in the quiet of my own home, leaving the job of encouragement to my husband and others. I listened to James encourage Hannah to go along this evening. She was reluctant. I thought of my own father who would have been so blessed to know I was going along, but as yet I hadn't. I decided to ignore my own selfish heart and go along. It made my husband smile.

The nursing home residents were gathered in the living room, mostly women, with expectant looks in their eyes. I watched my daughter, Bethany, go around the room looking into smiling eyes, reaching for wrinkled hands, giving hugs and kisses to old ladies who wouldn't recall her name the following week. I had to smile myself and reach for a hand or two, to kiss a forehead, and think of my mom who so enjoyed this little task but was to frail to come out tonight. We sang a few songs, "Onward Christian Soldiers," "The Old Rugged Cross," but when we began to sing "I'll Fly Away" I found myself getting choked up. It so reminded me of my dad and how he had stood up there so many times singing this song to the people week after week. I found my foot tapping just like his. After James shared a few scriptures, we sang one more song and it was time for more hugs, handshakes, and words of encouragement. I went away blessed and wished I had taken my camera to get a picture of Bethany tucked into that couch with three old and smiling ladies. I couldn't help but feel I was seeing these people through my father's eyes.

Waiting

We are awaiting the next snowstorm. In the meantime, temperatures have been "balmy" and our thick layer of "ground cover" is quickly disappearing. Snowmen are sprouting up in yards. I have only seen photos, since I have been home sleeping today, but whenever the snow turns packy, snowpeople appear so I am sure they are out there smiling their stony smiles and pointing carrot noses at onlookers.

Did I mention that I have been sleepy? More like "can't keep my eyes open!" Only half of my face is congested but my whole body is tired. I slept late (10 am), took an afternoon nap (1:15- 2:45 pm), and found myself laying down again around 5 pm. It's almost 10 pm now and I think I am ready to find my pj's and some warm covers. Maybe tomorrow I will have a little more energy. I sure hope so.

A Down Day

Yesterday I was tired. I couldn't even muster up the energy to keep my eyes open and once I returned home from dropping children off at preschool, I went to sleep in my chair by the fire. A while later the couch seemed a better place to sleep and I did so until it was time to retrieve the girls and bring them home for lunch. I was quite certain sleep would be out of the question for the afternoon, but I found myself once again curled up in a ball with my eyes closed. By evening my muscles were feeling achy in addition to the sneezing and congestion that had been sneaking in. Ibuprofen is my friend today and though I am still sleepy and congested, at least I am not achy.

My mom went to visit her doctor this afternoon. She has been coughing and can't quite shake whatever has been ailing her. Rachel tells me she has bronchitis. Bronchitis and lung issues do not go well together, but the doctor gave her some medicine and hopefully she will be feeling like herself again in a few days. For now I am keeping my distance as I do not wish to bring a new illness into the mix.

The house has been quiet this evening. James is gone out with the kids and I am here alone, aside from my dogs who at times are quite obnoxiously loud.