Larkspur Lane

My Testimony

2011-08-13T23:25:00.004-04:00

If there were such a thing as a "second conversion," this would sum up mine:

Too many Christians practice the disciplines of the Christian life with the intention of turning God's face toward them and inclining his heart to favor them. They forget that God has loved them with an eternal and infinite love. He turned his face from our sin when he placed that sin on his dying Son, but now he never looks away from us and his heart never ebbs in affection for us. Every act of providence is for our eternal good and flows from his infinite love. Communing with God in prayer, understanding his ways through his Word, and embracing his glory and goodness through Christian fellowship and worship are means by which enabling grace fills our lives. These disciplines of grace are nourishments of the faith that we need in order to act in accord with God's purposes. They do not force or leverage God's hand but enable us to see it, grasp it, and receive the blessings it provides. The Christian disciplines do not earn blessings but guide us into the paths where God's grace has planted his blessings.

In grace-based preaching, the rules do not change; the reasons do. We serve God because we love him, not in order to make him love us. . . .He releases us from the performance treadmill that (falsely) promises to provide holiness through human effort, but the effect on the heart is love that is more constrained to please him.

(Christ-Centered Worship<, by Bryan Chapell. pgs. 248, 242)

Oooh! I want!

2011-07-31T20:01:00.001-04:00

Doesn't this look fun? It's a Step2 choo choo train wagon!

Quote of the Day

2011-04-20T17:11:00.003-04:00

It's an NRO blog post, and I haven't even read the entire piece, but the metaphor is just funny by itself.

"Truly, these folks have the self-esteem of an abused pit bull."

Quote of the Day

2011-02-13T23:28:00.000-05:00

"Some places are characterized by get-to’s and some places are characterized by have-to’s."

Which place is yours?

Yes, I'm Bragging.

2011-02-13T22:23:00.002-05:00

It's not often I feel like a gourmet chef these days, for two reasons. 1) I have two children under three. and 2) I have two children under three.

But tonight's dinner was lovely, simple, AND used leftovers. Meet chicken and roasted vegetable crepes with goat cheese alongside spicy roasted chickpeas:

Dancing Metaphors

2011-02-13T22:17:00.002-05:00

Some challenges are insurmountable, however grand our intentions. Whoever said "Put your best foot forward" didn't have two left feet.

"For I know that nothing good dwell sin me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out." (Romans 7:18)

It is such a mercy to fall on the grace of Christ. It is sufficient.

I Like This Thought

2011-02-12T15:59:00.003-05:00

Doug Wilson has a post up about Lent--or, rather, about fasting in general, but in the context of the upcoming Lenten season. He helpfully defines a proper fast as "foregoing pleasure to make room for joy."

Some Days Just Hit You Like That

2011-02-04T21:14:00.009-05:00

This is what happens when you pick up the rice canister by the lid.

I wish I could tell you I had no idea that would happen. . .but I probably should have said that before the first time. . .after which I diligently picked up and washed the whole mess. It's cooked and still sitting in my freezer downstairs.

I carefully swept it up, and Carolyn helped by sweeping (Read: scattering) my neatly-swept pile to the ends of the earth. Or maybe just the kitchen--it was hard to tell. Then she told Daddy what a mess I made.

(In case you're wondering, I threw it away.)

We've started encountering some of the "big" conversations. Carolyn told me very somberly this week that she didn't want to die, or for Mommy, Daddy, or Adrienne to die. Answering these two-year-old concerns is such a challenge to my own faith. You don't really know your doctrine until you've simplified it into words a toddler understands.

Carolyn is growing and learning so quickly that I often feel as if I scarcely know her now. She isn't a baby any more and, though she is in many ways still a toddler, she is more a child every day.

There's something bittersweet about rocking your two-year-old to sleep on the night she first confronts the coming-of-age ritual that is sleep without a pacifier. I relished the sweet baby that still needs her mommy's arms, all the while singing softly and thinking how this night would foster her further independence. What a paradox parenthood is.

Adrienne

2011-01-16T21:53:00.000-05:00

One more from the weekend:

A Belated Birth Story

2011-01-15T19:10:00.000-05:00

*edited August 16, 2011, to include details and thoughts I want to remember.

It's been nearly 7 weeks now, but in case anyone is still interested in Adrienne's brief birth saga, I'll share.

This was not an easy pregnancy. And it was probably worse because my first was so easy. I certainly knew in my head that no two pregnancies are alike, but subconsciously I must have expected to glide through the second as smoothly as the first. When that was not the case, it was hard for me to adjust my expectations and summon the necessary coping skills. Now that I know--for at least two of the discomforts that made this one difficult are all but sure to return with subsequent conceptions--I am hopeful and prayerful that God will grant me courage and strength to endure with greater fortitude. Being mentally prepared, I think, is half the battle.

Our predicted due date was Friday, Nov. 26--the day after Thanksgiving. Carolyn was 8 days "late," so I suppose it's no surprise that I was still pregnant on Saturday the 27th. My parents and my brother had arrived on Thanksgiving Day, but we didn't get the new guest room finished in time. So Carolyn slept in the pack-n-play in our room, leaving the futon in her room to my parents and the living room couch to Brian.

I started having contractions that were actually painful sometime early Tuesday evening (November 30). But they were short and infrequent, so I helped cook and generally continued on as usual. (Roast turkey served alongside Gingered Pumpkin Soup w/ Molasses Whipped Cream makes a fabulous pre-labor meal, by the way.) In addition to my parents and brother, my aunt was here for dinner, and Kevin was working on the house with our good friend Jim. So, being me and having an inordinate love of privacy, I didn't tell anyone that labor had begun. . .even when the pain became fairly intense and the spacing was close enough to start watching the clock (except Kevin, of course. I did tell Kevin, because you shouldn't keep secrets from your husband. Especially secrets like "we're going to have a baby tonight."). I know this bothers people, this keeping things to myself. And I'm sorry. Really, I am. It's not something I can explain easily, so suffice to say that it helps me. The introvert in me copes best with pain and pressure without extra attention.

Anyway, Carolyn went to bed a little late. The men worked late. The house didn't start settling down for the night until about 11, by which time I was having a hard time masking the contractions and confessed that we wouldn't be needing our scheduled "past-due ultrasound" the next morning. We settled into the living room for a few short hours, Kevin timing the contractions and bringing me sustenance, Brian providing distractions. (He's the closest thing I've got to a sister, you know, and he's priceless. Truly priceless.) By 2 AM, I was beyond ready to call the midwife. We'd been waiting because the timing of my contractions was not what it "should" have been to indicate imminent birth, but my legs were starting to shake and I was feeling as if I was in transition. . .which, as it turned out, I certainly was. By 2:50, we met Nikki, the midwife on call, at the birth center. She did a quick exam, found me dilated to 8 cm, and stepped out to phone in the nurse. (Because it is a freestanding birth center, there is no need for 24-hour staffing unless someone is in labor.) By 3:15, I was yelling for her to come back, and by 3:27, about the time the nurse arrived, I was back in bed with a baby girl on my chest.

I think Nikki would have preferred another 15 minutes, so as to have an assistant present for birth. Oops.

Adrienne was a compound-presentation, emerging with head and hand together. I almost laughed when Nikki said she saw a hand. Of course she did! I'd been feeling a small appendage jabbing my pelvic bone for months. In fact, at every appointment I was worried that the baby had turned breech, because I knew that was not a head I was feeling so frequently. Now we know that she is a die-hard thumb sucker and, no doubt, has been since conception. She was eventually documented as weighing 9 lbs 4 oz and measuring 22" long. Kevin--who had worked all day, before coming home to work on the house, before staying up to help his wife have a baby--was exhausted and went to sleep pretty quickly after we were settled.

Full of the adrenaline that comes immediately post-partum, I dozed a little between visits from the nurse and midwife to check on Adrienne and me. There was some delay in stopping my bleeding, requiring some medication. (I believe that the undue haste with which Adrienne finally entered the world was not best for me.) Also, Adrienne's heart-rate and respiration were elevated every time they checked, but would calm back down immediately. She simply didn't like being bothered. They were eventually able to record normal numbers by gently pulling the covers back and timing her breath manually, counting the rise and fall of her torso and watching the clock. I am so grateful they made the extra effort instead of bundling us off for further observation at the hospital, where we would have had to stay for 24 hours. As it was, we were released before noon.

If you haven't seen them elsewhere, here are a few other pictures from the birth-day.

An Introduction

2010-12-01T20:54:00.002-05:00

Meet Adrienne

Still Waiting. . .

2010-11-27T08:31:00.001-05:00

so here's something on motherhood to read: Stretch Marks

Seriously.

2010-11-18T15:35:00.002-05:00

Sometimes, you just have to shake your head.

Twenty-eight weeks pregnant and happily so, but a little “financially strapped,” the young lady went to 44 Court Street looking for an organization that had assisted a friend of hers a few years earlier. She couldn’t remember the name of the organization, just the address. What she wanted was a car seat, since you’re not allowed to leave the hospital without one. Looking at the directory in the lobby, she saw Planned Parenthood and assumed that it must be the organization she was looking for. But when she went inside and explained her situation, she was told that they could not help her get a car seat, but that since she was financially strapped, she could sign documents indicating that she was under psychological stress and get a medical waiver for a late-term abortion. (Abortion is legal only up to the 24th week of pregnancy, even in New York, except to preserve the life or health of the mother).

This young lady was shocked and distressed by Planned Parenthood’s outside-the-box solution to her need for a car seat. She did not want an abortion; she wanted her baby — and a hospital-required car seat. She eventually found her way to EMC and received the help she actually needed and wanted.

Oh, and then there's this gem:

Did they honestly think that anyone would be confused about what an organization called Bridge to Life, the Sisters of Life, or Life Center does? Both officials averred that indeed, people would, since not everyone is well-versed in the vocabulary of the culture war. That is, Blank and Freedman believe that a reasonable person might assume that an organization called the Sisters of Life performs abortions.

The councilman then asked whether a person might also think an organization called Planned Parenthood focuses its efforts on assisting women who choose parenthood. No, said Blank and Freedman, a reasonable person would not assume that an organization called Planned Parenthood is primarily concerned with parenthood.

A (long) Excerpt and a Link

2010-09-21T13:13:00.003-04:00

I keep up with a half-dozen or so "real" bloggers. . .the kind that have readership outside of people they know in the flesh. Occasionally, there is a post I really want to share. This one is funny, but also thoughtful. And, just to make you click on the link. . .

I have a lot of experience being rescued from Kentucky mud, and I have to say, these cowboys are on the job. I’ve never had to wait long to scrounge up a rescue party, even the time I thought an advanced Kentucky ATV trail was really a road. Finding a man with chains is not that hard to do in the country. These guys are everywhere, kind of like the skinny guy in the Apple store with black square glasses that uses hair gel to make his blond hair messy and drinks Starbucks while listening to Jason Mraz in his earbuds. Pretty easy to find in Seattle.

[One of these guys if infinitely more useful than the other. But maybe I'm just saying that because my MacBook has never crashed--jinx, double jinx.]

. . .

I’m pretty sure that flat boredom inflected with occasional moments of crisis isn’t good for blood pressure. In my mind, I am cosmo—attending dinner parties in dresses with purple sequins and bare shoulders and then coming home to the unfortunate drama that the maid didn’t spritz my sheets AGAIN. Sigh.

The thing about that fantasy is that it is never all that. Underneath the glamour, you have to wear Spanx because you’ve born a half-dozen babies. In the real world, another woman, more beautiful than you (thanks to modern medicine), flirts with your husband at that party, and you stupidly bring a bottle of wine before you find out the hosts are really baptist.

Truthfully, we just walk through the mud together with the people we love in our lives, one foot after the other: divorces, addictions, crazies, and for some of us, one embarrassing segment on Jerry Springer. We’re all just broken people trying to do our best to hold it together, some of us just expending more effort to make it pretty.

Yes, I know that's a long excerpt. So now click on the link. You've already read half of it. . .might as well get the good parts I left there, too. Especially the last paragraph.

Quote of the Day

2010-09-18T15:05:00.002-04:00

"People must repeatedly be reminded that societies do not disintegrate; families do."

Gladys Hunt, "Honey for a Child's Heart"

On Books

2010-09-14T14:07:00.004-04:00

We had some wonderful fresh-raspberry scones this past weekend from my good friend Jen. We ate them for breakfast, and I laughingly admitted that I had fallen in love with scones before I ever knew what they were, let alone tried them. And Kevin instantly knew why. . .the Redwall books.

Though we didn't read them together, they (and so many others) are nonetheless part of our shared history.

As we are reading more and more with Carolyn, I'm continually amazed by how many connections she draws between daily life and some story we've read. Countless times in a day she perks up at the mention of some word, phrase, or name and races to find the book that contains some association to that idea. We're building our own shared history in books, even now.

I've been reading Honey for a Child's Heart, by Gladys Hunt, with its annotated book lists for children birth to 14 years and can scarcely wait to delve ever deeper into the literary world as Carolyn gets older. I rather liked this quote from chapter 3:

One day our high schooler was discussing the whirlwind of destruction left behind by a couple of children visiting us. He said, "I got to thinking about how I would teach my children not to pull up wild flowers by the roots and destroy things, and then I wondered how I had learned myself. I decided I learned from books to respect the world. In C.S. Lewis's books the animals and trees have personality; in pioneer stories Indians tried to walk through the forest without breaking a twig, and settlers respected the land; in Tolkien's books, the orcs are the bad guys who leave a path of careless destruction." He shrugged his shoulders as he concluded, "You put a whole childhood of reading together, and you don't have to take a conservation course."

Parenting Links

2010-08-31T15:52:00.004-04:00

I found these thoughtful and encouraging:

A Spirited Rider, on helping little girls get a grip on emotional stability

Faith, Dads, and Children, on raising faithful kids

Carolyn's Birthday Cake

2010-08-30T10:05:00.000-04:00

Musing

2010-07-16T12:48:00.002-04:00

Yesterday, Carolyn woke up on the wrong side of the crib and was quite the fussy, clingy, needy girl for a couple hours. She spent a good bit of time with her arms wrapped tightly about my neck, head on my shoulder.

Now, of course I don't want my daughter to be fussy or sad or sick or hurt or otherwise unhappy. But, when she is, I can't help finding the abundance of lingering hugs very sweet indeed.

And it made me think. . .

Of course God doesn't want his children to be tried and tempted in various unpleasant manners. But, perhaps, he sees the abundance of our prayers during those times the way I see Carolyn's attachment to me.

Six Years

2010-06-13T07:24:00.009-04:00

Six years ago today, Kevin and I woke up to realize that we had already missed our requested shuttle time to the airport. A quick call to the hotel desk and a scramble to get ready, and we arrived at the airport to hear our names being called for final boarding to our Hawaii honeymoon. We raced to our gate and, in front of the stares of the many on-time passengers, squeezed into the final two seats, several rows apart.

It was not, perhaps, the most auspicious start to Day 1 of our new life.

This weekend, we went camping. Kevin went in extra early on Friday so that he could come home early and we could get on the road a bit before rush hour. But I wasn't feeling great Friday morning, and I wasn't ready to leave by the afternoon. So we left at the peak of rush hour. We forgot the camera. And the child-carrier. Traffic was horrible. For only the third time in my life, I was car-sick and we had to pull over twice. . .once a little late. Half-way, after over an hour in what should have been a roughly one-hour drive, we realized we'd barely make it to our campground before dark and decided we should stop for dinner.

We arrived at dusk and found an empty site right in the middle of the row of 20 close-spaced tent sites. Carolyn was ecstatic to have (almost) free run of the surrounding area, and we set up camp without further incident. We didn't realize we'd left the camp pillows in the car until we were all settled in for the night, and Kevin didn't want to risk waking Carolyn (who slept like she was born for camping, thankfully) to get them. So Kevin didn't sleep well at all.

The next morning, Carolyn and I discovered the gnats were so plentiful that we took refuge in the car to eat our yogurt. We packed up camp amid swatting the nuisances away from our faces and picking them out of our eyes, not managing to leave the campground until after 10am.

There was an accident on a bridge as we neared our planned hiking destination, and traffic was at a standstill for quite some time. When we got there, we discovered they didn't allow picnic fires--and we were still carrying around the raw meat we had intended to grill the night before. So we drove back into the bridge traffic to a nearby campground to have lunch, only to be frustrated there as well. One more stop to get more ice for the cooler, and we returned to a cold lunch at Harper's Ferry.

Only, by the time we finished lunch, I was hot and exhausted. We opted to forego hiking altogether and mill about the tourist town for a bit. We left just as it started pouring rain. Not ready for setting up camp and cooking dinner in a downpour, we headed home, stopping at a state park to belatedly grill our camp dinner. We scrambled for the pavilion and started a fire just in time for a brief storm that damped--but didn't quench--our fire.

We grilled dinner in-between storms, while Carolyn covered herself in mud from head to toe. Another cold rain and strong wind kicked up before we could get her cleaned up, and we completed a half-hearted cleaning in the front seat of the car. Thankfully, the drive home was without further incident.

Life is sometimes like that, and it's good to have a traveling companion who helps you cope cheerfully. Among the many frustrations, there are always silver linings: Carolyn's joy at running free in the great outdoors, a beautiful country, time with my two favorite people, our first big mud puddle. I'd hate to be so wrapped up in misery that I miss those moments.

Someone asked recently if Kevin and I didn't bicker some over all the remodeling--or, rather, if I didn't get impatient wanting things done more quickly than he sometimes does them. In fact, we were warned at the beginning of this project that remodeling could take a toll on a marriage. I think I smiled before being enjoined to seriousness. As our friend said, Kevin is at work all day and comes home ready to unwind. It is easy for me, at home in the remodeling chaos, to welcome him home with a to-do list. But I have purposed to take the warning to heart and to remember, in all circumstances, that my husband is more important to me than any task or situation, be it a finished closet or an smoothly-orchestrated get-away.

If unexpected difficulties and delays are going to crop up (and, of course, they are), I am glad I get to face them at the side of this man. Kevin is the calm and steady anchor to my sometimes well-tossed raft, and I am so thankful for these six years of blessed marriage.

Linkage

2010-05-29T19:06:00.001-04:00

a good post for Christian women

Stairs!

2010-05-24T19:15:00.001-04:00

Progress 3

2010-05-20T21:25:00.004-04:00

In case you don't know, these are what the current stairs look like--steep, narrow, ugly, rising to a spot with no head room to walk, and wasting a whole end of attic space.

The expanded hole in the ceiling:

Stringers, waiting to be mounted. . .

and mounted.

In order to make the new stairs less treacherous than the current ones, the upper part will cross into our bedroom ceiling a bit. I think this is a fair trade-off for the greatly-reduced likelihood of me breaking my neck AND the gaining of attic space for an extra bedroom. In the end, of course, it will be covered in drywall and such.

Progress 2

2010-05-15T10:02:00.000-04:00

Progress

2010-05-12T20:09:00.003-04:00

The plastic hallway from the front door to our bedroom, used to contain the dust as debris is carried out.

The new "hallway" where our back-to-back closets once were and where the new attic stairs will soon be.

The gaping hole in the former closets' ceilings, where the stairs will ascend and break the plane of the attic floor. This is exciting.

Happy Mother's Day

2010-05-09T23:18:00.002-04:00

Now that the day is done, I thought I'd share pictures of the corsages I made for our moms this year. I think they are a clever and quite lovely alternative to real flowers.

If you're interested, here are the instructions.

Garden Update

2010-05-08T11:08:00.002-04:00

Sunny days and warm temperatures have done wonders for my plants. These pictures are from earlier in the week, so there is even more growth now!

Beans:

Morning Glories:

Strawberries:

First Harvest!

A Day in the Life

2010-05-05T12:49:00.002-04:00

. . .as currently dominated by my stomach.

I wake up. I'm hungry. Knowing that I will soon be sick if I do not eat, I have breakfast--hopefully in time to ward off hunger-nausea, depending on how much I have to do to get Kevin and Carolyn ready for the day. Except, eating only brings on just-eaten-nausea. Sometimes it subsides after a while. Sometimes it is only replaced by hunger-nausea around mid-morning.

A light snack will buy me a few minutes of comfort. Then I'm hungry for lunch, which I eat. . .bringing on more nausea. And so it continues. I'm either nauseous because I'm hungry or nauseous because I've eaten. Does that seem like a Catch-22 to you?

On the bright side, I'm sitting here listening to Carolyn sing sweetly to herself in her crib as she waits for sleep to overtake her. And each glorious minute is worth the entire day of this.

A Vast Improvement

2010-04-24T16:32:00.007-04:00

My in-laws have devoted both Saturdays of their visit (as well as a good bit of in-between time) to beautifying our front yard. I'm quite pleased with the result.

It's dark and hard to see, but this is how the front looked when we moved in. . .and how it continued to look until this week. The front beds are established grass and weeds, and the yard (which you can't see at all) is all grass.

New and Improved:

The robins aren't complaining, as you can see. The small front beds are flowers, and my plan is to fill them with a succession of blooming perennials: daffodils, tiger lilies, Gerbera daisies, mums. For now I just have daisies, a few annuals for the summer, and some larkspur seed that I'm hoping will sprout. The back beds have strawberry plants and herbs, and I planted a row of green and wax beans along the back. Next year, I'm hoping to put up a trellis for beans to climb and long window boxes under the big windows for my herbs. Then the front of the beds can be (hopefully!) covered in strawberries!

And I'm back in the tomato game. . .hoping the pots will keep my awful soil fungi away!

Sleeping Bags

2010-04-22T11:00:00.003-04:00

We went to REI last night and looked for new sleeping bags for Kevin and I to backpack with. I was highly entertained by the looks on the employees' faces when I explained we needed the option to include Carolyn either in my sleeping bag or with both of us in a double sleeping bag. . .and that I needed room to grow. Looking at her chart, the first one said (I could say asked, but it was obviously rhetorical) "Car camping." When I said "No, backpacking," her face was truly priceless. The second lady that helped us gave us options and looked up in near-horror when someone commented that I might need a new sleeping bag anyway by the time I no longer needed one big enough for me (pregnant or not) and a young child. "I hope not! They should last 8 or 10 to 12 years!" Because it's unthinkable that anyone could be either pregnant or having a young child for that many years in a row! It was pretty funny.

I will be quick to add a disclaimer, though. I like REI. I have never, ever been in the store without super-helpful and very kind employees. They know their stuff, and they're always glad to help. Things are expensive, to be sure, but they're quality. High quality. And it's a co-op. If you're a member, you get a small dividend on every dollar you spend there. And, though I may have read some shock in their initial reactions last night, both ladies were very helpful and even eventually joked about the space I might need if we were fortunate enough to wind up with twins! We ended up with individual sleeping bags that can zip together to make a double, and I have an optional wedge with mine that can add several inches to its total girth. I'm very, very happy with the variety of options and looking forward to trying them out this summer!

An Easter Post. . .

2010-03-30T08:50:00.003-04:00

from someone else.

It's not as if I don't have thoughts to blog about here. It's just that I can't seem to find the time (or at least the synchronized time and motivation) to organize them coherently. I've started a half-dozen draft posts on various thoughts, but they just won't complete themselves. So, for now, some thoughts on Easter traditions.

Green M&Ms and Thanks-giving

2010-03-28T14:26:00.000-04:00

We are indeed expecting a new bundle of joy, and I am intensely thankful for it. My dad says it's the green M&Ms you have to watch out for, so beware! (Shouldn't they put a warning on those?)

Baby should come some time around Thanksgiving, which seems appropriate. I hope to never take the miracle of a baby for granted. As a friend said recently, I want to treat each pregnancy, each baby, as if it were going to be my one and only and appreciate it completely. When one day the realization comes that one really was the last one, I want to have no regrets.

My thoughts repeatedly turn to the women who cannot bear a child and to the children whose parents are absent, and my heart aches for them. It is strange to be so joyful and so aware of grief at the same time. We cannot fully know why God blesses us in different ways or why He allows us to suffer deeply, and the only way I know to respect grief in the midst of joy is to respond with a grateful heart for the blessings I have and to teach my children to do the same.

I cannot begin to understand the ways of God. His thoughts are beyond searching out. Yet this I know: God is good, and He gives good gifts for His glory and our good. Whatever our current blessings are, let's appreciate them to the fullest and give our Lord the glory.

A Lesson for Two in Obedience and Forgiveness

2010-02-16T10:50:00.007-05:00

Carolyn was not happy that I went downstairs to put a load of laundry in the washer, but I went anyway. Sometimes she fusses the whole time I'm downstairs, sometimes she and I call back and forth to each other playfully, sometimes she amuses herself. This time she must have been feeling a bit vindictive.

It happens occasionally. Kevin or I remind Carolyn that she is not allowed to do something she is about to do, and she responds by immediately going through a series of prohibited activities. But if no one is here to hinder the series, she really only needs one. And the trash can, in front of the basement door, presented itself all too readily.

Unfortunately, the "clean" trash in the top of the can was covered in mostly-dry coffee grounds. So when I returned from my trip below, I found a toddler, a floor, and sundry garbage articles covered in black dust.

Before her name had even completely escaped, I remembered. "If you allow unholy anger to muddy the correction process, you are wrong. You need to ask forgiveness. Your right to discipline your children is tied to what God has called you to do, not your own agenda."* In order to discipline, I could not be angry. I had to be calm. By grace, God caught me just in time. I dusted Carolyn off and calmly took her to her bedroom.

Our discipline procedure ends with prayer for forgiveness, and we hold hands for that. Today, although Carolyn signed "I'm sorry" to me readily, she refused to hold my hands. I could have forced her, of course, but it seems that forcing the prayer that is supposed to close the issue leaves an unrepentant attitude woefully unaddressed. She hugged me over and over, but refused to pray with me. So I kept her on my lap until she was ready. I told her about God's love, about Christ's sacrifice, about sin and repentance and forgiveness. Before long, she reached for both my hands and waited. I prayed, and she cheerfully got down.

I then went to clean up the mess. Carolyn followed me. She would have helped if I had let her, but I didn't want her messy again. So she stood watching and saying, "no, no" over and over. I agreed and reminded her the trashcan was off-limits, thinking that would be the end of it. But she just stood there, "no, no" again and again until I said, "You're right, we don't play in the trash. But you said you were sorry and we prayed and you're forgiven, so we can start over." She gave an emphatic "yeah" and ran off to play, leaving me sweeping coffee grounds.

You could argue that I make too much of these things. Carolyn isn't quite 18 months, after all. But I know she understands so much more than she can say right now. Her physical responses, her expressions, her tone of voice--they are all right for the situation. I know her comprehension is limited. So is mine. "For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known."** She may not comprehend the finer doctrinal points of her sin and guilt, but she is learning the necessary response. And I am enormously, unspeakably grateful for her baby steps. . .and mine.

*Shepherding a Child's Heart, by Tedd Tripp, chapter 4. He goes on later to quote James 1:19-20, "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." and comment "If you correct and discipline your children because God mandates it, then you need not clutter up the task with your anger. Correction is not your showing anger for their offenses; it is rather reminding them that their sinful behavior offends God. It is bringing His censure of sin to these subjects of His realm. He is the King. They must obey." and "If correction orbits around the parent who has been offended, then the focus will be venting anger or, perhaps, taking vengeance. The function is punitive. If, however, correction orbits around God as the one offended, then the focus is restoration. The function is remedial. It is designed to move a child who has disobeyed God back to the path of obedience. It is corrective."

**1 Corinthians 13:12

Foreshadowing

2010-02-15T09:35:00.001-05:00

I can't completely relate to this yet (she has 4 kids to my single), but I get the feeling, and it made me laugh.

The Icicle of Icicles

2010-02-13T22:23:00.002-05:00

It's hard to tell from a picture, but it looked as big around as I am, and those windows it's out-reaching are six feet long, not counting the space between the top of the window and the roof.

On Parental Authority

2010-02-13T09:04:00.002-05:00

I've been reading Shepherding a Child's Heart, by Tedd Tripp, and I thought I would share this quote.

As a parent, you have authority because God calls you to be an authority in your child's life. You have the authority to act on behalf of God. As a father or mother, you do not exercise rule over your jurisdiction, but over God's. You act at His command. You discharge a duty that He has given. You may not try to shape the lives of your children as pleases you, but as pleases Him.

Another Thing to Tuck Away

2010-02-12T12:40:00.002-05:00

A post for mothers here.

The most awfully beautiful part of homeschooling is that I miss nothing. Day in and day out, I miss nothing. Perhaps that makes it all the more bittersweet to send a beloved child off on an adventure of their own? I don't know. But for me, the closeness begets a sense of comfort and joy that I hold on to, knowing that it's season is all too soon coming to an end.

I have made no mention of any of this to Jo. I think that sometimes the worst sin we can commit as mothers is to clip the wings of joy as they sprout in our children by saddling them with a bit of our own longing. Instead of holding her closer and whispering, "Come back to me safely. Don't be gone long," I smile at her as we stand side by side at the kitchen sink and say, "What an amazing adventure God has planned for you! I can feel it!" Instead of biting my lip and telling her how very empty my days will feel without her smile in the sea of faces around me, I kiss her forehead and let her know how delighted her father is to have her as a traveling companion.

Snow Totals

2010-02-10T22:32:00.002-05:00

Now that the snow has almost ended, the reports are coming in. For us, it looks like roughly 20 inches in the past 30 hours--add that to our roughly 27 from the weekend, and we're looking at snow 4 feet deep!

Snow, Snow, Snow, Snow

2010-02-06T10:34:00.003-05:00

If you didn't sing that title in your head, I'm sorry.

24.5", still snowing, and supposed to continue until almost midnight!

Baking with Carrots

2010-02-02T20:23:00.004-05:00

By request, here are 2 of the recipes I used last weekend. I think that either of these could be made with half wheat flour (or with all wheat pastry flour), but I have not tried it yet. Also, for the buns, I think I would leave out the orange peel in the future. It's good for a BBQ sandwich, but might be a little strange in some things.

Carrot Muffins (from the King Arthur Flour company)

2 1/4 c flour
1/2 c sugar
1/4 c brown sugar
1 1/2 t baking powder
1/4 t baking soda
1 1/2 t cinnamon
3/4 t ginger
3/4 t salt
1/3 c golden raisins
1/3 c diced walnuts
2 lg. eggs
3/4 c water
1/3 c vegetable oil
1 c grated carrots, lightly packed

Whisk together all dry ingredients, including raisins and walnuts. Whisk together wet ingredients. Stir together. Fold in carrots. Bake in greased muffin cups for 20 minutes at 400. Cool in pan 5 min.

Cheese & Carrot Sandwich Buns (from Pillsbury)

1 c water
1 c milk
2 pkg active dry yeast (or 4 1/2 t.)
2 T sugar
1 1/2 t. salt
1 c finely shredded carrots
1/4 c Crisco
4 oz. shredded Cheddar (1 c)
1 t grated orange peel
1 egg
5 1/2-6 1/2 c flour

Heat water and milk to 100-110 degrees. In a large bowl, dissolve yeast and 1 t. of the sugar in warm liquid. Stir in remaining sugar, salt, carrots, shortening, cheese, orange peel, and egg; mix well. Add 3 c flour. Blend on low until moistened, then beat 3 minutes on medium. By hand, stir in 2 to 2 1/2 c flour until dough pulls cleanly away from sides of bowl. Knead in remaining flour until smooth and elastic, about 10 minutes (will be soft and slightly sticky). Place dough in greased bowl; cover loosely. Let rise in warm place until doubled, 45-60 min.

Punch down dough several times. Divide into 18 pieces. Shape into balls, then flatten slightly on greased cookie sheets. Cover and let rise until doubled, about 30 minutes.

Bake 13-18 minutes at 375, until golden brown. Remove from cookie sheets immediately.

Faucets and Fish

2010-01-27T20:28:00.002-05:00

Our kitchen faucet sprang a spray-leak in the neck quite some time ago. As there are quite a few things to be done around here and it was not a priority, we (of course) duct-taped it. When my sprayer quit working reliably, however, I drew the line. Not certain what we wanted in the way of a new kitchen faucet for our years-down-the-road remodeled cooking area, we decided just to get an inexpensive, decent faucet. We selected a nice Delta chrome thing--nothing fancy, but quite serviceable. Imagine my glee when, walking past the Clearance Endcap (where I've dutifully checked for a lovable faucet for months), I found The Faucet! For the same price as the Delta chrome thing! And also from a trustworthy brand!

Kevin and Jim kindly installed it yesterday, and I'm in dish-washing bliss. Or at least as near to that as exists.

In other exciting news, Carolyn received an aquarium from her grandparents for Christmas, and we bought fish for it. Little did we know our gold Balloon Molly (who declined to be photographed) was a soon-to-be mommy.

Currently, we have 8 living--painstakingly rescued in our make-shift nursery until we make it back to the pet store. The all-knowing Internet says mollies give birth in numbers ranging from 12 to 100. I've seen a half-dozen dead already, so hopefully we're done. We really can't keep all these fish, anyway. Anybody want a molly?

The pictures aren't stellar, but. . .well, it's difficult to capture tiny moving fish through glass and water.

The Great Lunch Stand-Off

2010-01-21T16:53:00.005-05:00

Carolyn and I are having the occasional mini-skirmish now. Today's lasted longer than any yet. It all started--and ended--with lunch.

My daughter generally communicates quite clearly what she does and does not want. Today, as usual around noon, I asked, "Do you want lunch?" A "yes" and a nod later, we were off to the kitchen. I got out frozen chicken-carrots-and-rice, confirmed that she was indeed ready to eat, and heated it for her. I knew we were in trouble when she started whimpering as I spooned it into her bowl.

Three and a half hours later, she ate it. Cold. Hungrily. Happily. With many interruptions for affectionate hugs. This is how it all went down.

With her hot food in hand, I sat Carolyn in her chair, strapping and bibbing her amid protests and whines. She never took a bite, though I offered and encouraged in several ways. She continued whimpering, refusing her drink as well, and ultimately signing that she wanted to get up. I explained that she either needed to eat lunch or go ahead and take a nap. She still wanted up. So, she took a nap. I laid her in her crib, patted her back briefly, and left the room, expecting screams to erupt. But she went to sleep without a sound.

Too hastily assuming we'd leaped the hurdle, I ate my own lunch and waited for her to wake up. She did, an hour later, and asked to nurse. Since she normally nurses before her nap--and since she said "no" to lunch--I nursed her. A little while later, I asked, and she said "yes," she wanted lunch. We went to the kitchen, affirmed that she wanted lunch, that she wanted what was in her bowl, that she wanted it in the microwave.

So when she started whimpering again upon taking it out of the microwave, I wasn't feeling sympathetic. We repeated this once more later on, with a good deal of interim playing, fussing, and asking vainly to nurse. I lost count of how many times I gently explained that she could choose to eat lunch, to play happily, or to fuss by herself in her room.

When she finally said "yes" to lunch again, I quickly started feeding her, not waiting to warm it up and have her change her mind again. And she devoured all but 3 bites. . .which she came back to ask for later. And hugged me again and again and again, so sweetly. She seemed to really know that she'd been wrong and needed to seek forgiveness, as we practice when she is disciplined.

That would be a win in itself. But it's even better, because, by God's grace, I didn't get angry. I was frustrated, absolutely. I doubted whether I was making the right call. I even called Kevin at work. But I kept it all inside, calmly and cheerfully and sympathetically giving Carolyn her options again and again and again.

It may seem a small victory. It may even be a small victory. But I am not perfect, and small frustrations do get to me. I am constantly, painfully aware that how I respond now--and how I allow Carolyn to respond now--sets the stage for our interaction next year. . .and in two years, three years, five years, ten and fifteen years. If I can't respond lovingly and biblically when my toddler doesn't want to eat lunch, how will I ever respond well to the challenges of childhood and adolescence? And so, small step though it is, it bears hope--hope that I may guide my daughter well, hope that my teachable 16-month-old will one day be a still-teachable 16-year-old.

I hear the detractors even now: we haven't even hit the "terrible twos" yet. Teenage strife is inevitable. I'm young and naive.

And I close my ears. I don't believe in terrible twos or inevitable teenage angst. I know two-year-olds who obey their parents, and I know teenagers who act like the young men and women they should be, rather than the overgrown children our culture expects. And, best of all, I know the grace of an Almighty God that encourages my heart in these first little parenting trials.

For, though I may laugh at The Great Lunch Stand-Off of 2010 now that it's over, my little girl's pitiful "no-o-o, no-o-o" whimpers and pleading signs for milk, "p-eeease" were hard to refuse. And I was more than happy to fix her favorite meal for dinner tonight.

Christmas

2009-12-26T09:55:00.011-05:00

After presents, stockings, and a fabulous fridge-to-oven breakfast of Cinnamon Twists (Thanks, Kristen!) and a breakfast casserole, we settled into an easy day. Since Kevin and I didn't make it to bed until about 3:30am Christmas Eve (Christmas Day?), we all took a 2-hour nap in the afternoon. Thus, we had to make do without homemade rolls and gingerbread at dinner. Nonetheless, we enjoyed dinner by candlelight: spiced-cider-glazed pork tenderloin, sweet potato casserole (southern style, loaded with butter and sugar!), cheddar-broccoli-rice casserole, bakery rolls (purchased just-in-case). Carolyn devoured 3 helpings of sweet potato casserole (sans nut topping, of course), which I mixed with a bit of shredded pork tenderloin after the first serving disappeared so quickly.

We opened our gifts after dinner. Kevin built me a beautiful storage bench/stool for the kitchen that I am so proud of. And he's sending me to a knife-skills class that promises to be fun and enlightening, so I can be a better ~~ninja~~--ummm. . .chef. And our annual family self-portrait turned out a bit fuzzy, as I was too busy keeping a sleepy girl happy to stay still for the lens to focus correctly. Maybe we'll try again today.

After Carolyn went to bed, we enjoyed Spiced-Cider Sorbet and watched "White Christmas," even as the rain and the clock melted ours away.

It was a beautiful Christmas.

The Stockings are Hung

2009-12-21T19:41:00.002-05:00

I finished the last 2 stockings today and hung them all carefully from the curtain rod. Here's the final product:

And, because I'm a little too pleased with myself, here's a close-up of each one:

Thanksgiving Report

2009-11-27T09:45:00.006-05:00

With the return of a quiet and empty (except for the Christmas music playing and the Carolyn singing from her crib) house, I'm back to report on the Thanksgiving Day results.

We stuck to the schedule pretty closely and sat down to eat only 30 minutes later than I anticipated. I call that good. The old recipes were characteristically fabulous and the new recipes were (somewhat surprisingly) all hits with most of us.

This is my refrigerator Wednesday night: arranged, rearranged, and crammed to the brim to accomodate my large water-bath canner with brining turkey inside.

The Food List and Preparation Schedule:

Pie Preparations (gotta work on the cook time and temperature for a deep dish fresh pumpkin pie).

New roll recipe, Sweet Potato Twists. These were beautiful and delicious. Many thanks to my mother-in-law for making them, as my hands were too dry and cracked to knead dough in a sanitary fashion.

The Table (My aunt sets a beautiful table, does she not? I need her around to help me use my china to its full potential.)

The Turkey, pre-carving. A new recipe this year produced by far the best result yet, and there wasn't anything wrong with the previous years. But THIS. . .well it was the best turkey I've ever had, I think. We'll be saving this recipe for next year. . .if I wait that long.

The Buffet. From left to right: Green Bean Casserole, Vegetable Casserole, Dressing, Sweet Potato-Cranberry Galette, Cranberry-Strawberry Jello Salad, Turkey, Butternut Squash and Cheese Pannade, Mashed Potatoes. Not pictured: Deviled Eggs, Crudites, Gravy, Rolls, Pumpkin Pie, Tennessee Whiskey Cake, Whipped Cream

All in all, I was tremendously pleased with the outcome. I'm ever so thankful that I wasn't on my own--3 pairs of hands made lots of work much less work and much more pleasant. I actually feel like I didn't really do much more than spin in circles and delegate tasks. And, of course, I couldn't have done it without my lovely Thanksgiving Schedule Spreadsheet. ;-)

Thanksgiving with One Oven

2009-11-24T15:18:00.004-05:00

Everyone is a little insane. I am well aware that my particular breed of insanity goes into overdrive in the holiday kitchen.

Growing up, we had holiday dinners at my grandparents' house--a half-mile from my house and a block from my cousins'. The nearness of our homes meant that we had 3 ovens (and any number of helping hands) at the feasting preparations' disposal. Thus, I am accustomed to a wide array of delectable dishes piled high, wide, and deep on the holiday table. And buffet. And extra table.

Now, when it's just the two of us for a holiday meal, I can control these habits and limit my preparations. But when additions come to table, my insanity kicks in and the food multiplies exponentially.

There are new recipes to try! There are old recipes that must not be forgotten! Everyone has to have his favorite thing! Or things! And we can't forget aesthetic appeal! Dishes of every color! And! And!

Hence, my Thanksgiving Schedule Spreadsheet, where oven time is meticulously mapped out, beginning at T-minus-6 hours with the turkey and proceeding through dressings and casseroles and rolls and pies (that mustn't be baked ahead, lest they cool), carefully arranged so that time-sensitive dishes will be fresh out of the oven, hardy faithfuls will be kept piping hot on the back burner (Thank goodness for an energy-inefficient vintage range that exudes heat from every orifice, and some places that aren't!), and desserts will tempt us with their still-baking aroma as we eat dinner.

I'm a little crazy. And it doesn't end there. Beneath the oven time columns, stove-top dishes are penciled in at their appropriate cooking times and, beneath that, preparation tasks are listed where they best fit. The way it's mapped out, one person could conceivably handle the whole grand banquet. Fortunately for me (and for Carolyn, whose needs aren't inked in), I won't be cooking alone.

Three chefs + one oven = A fabulous Thanksgiving spread. . .I hope!

The Big Blue Beast

2009-11-22T11:28:00.003-05:00

As Thanksgiving is fast approaching, it was time to cook the Big Blue Beast. I did, while Carolyn looked on. This was my first time with a Blue Hubbard. It was interesting.

Can you tell? It bleeds yellow.

I did finally get it cut open, but it was rough--much rougher than the "normal" pumpkins I've done in years past or than the lighter-orange one (of a variety I can't remember) that I did earlier this year. The skin was tougher, and so was the flesh.

Scraping it out was still easy, though.

"Here, Mom. Let me bag that for you."

It was so big, I had to cut it further to fit it in the pan. I need to remember to pay attention to that when I pick my pumpkins--I switched to baking from steaming, because there's a lot less (hard) cutting to make the pumpkin fit in a baking pan than to make it fit in a pot on the stove. But if I still have to hack it smaller than halves. . .well, I prefer not. There's a fine line, when you're not paying per pound. I want the biggest pumpkin in a given price range, so I get the most for my money. But I should remember to get one sized and shaped such that half of it will fit in a pan I have.

After baking (400 degrees, 1 hour), it was decidedly green. Kevin says it looks like an alien slug.

After scraping the flesh out and pureeing it in the blender, I put it in strainers lined with cheesecloth. This is the first year I've done this; I don't know why it didn't occur to me before. Actually, though, this pumpkin had far less water in it than any I've used previously (note the blackened pan in the middle of the last picture). Usually, the pan is half-full of pumpkin juice after baking, but this one I added water to and it STILL dried up. Anyway, some liquid still drained out, which makes it more the consistency of canned pumpkin and easier to bake pies with.

I don't think I'll buy a Big Blue Beast again. It looks great on the porch, but I buy my pumpkins to cook, and it wasn't as convenient for that end. Hopefully I'll see the same varieties next year that I saw this year and can figure out which the pale orange one was--I loved how easy it was to cut and how vibrantly orange the baked flesh was.

Why do I care?

2009-11-19T14:48:00.003-05:00

Because where England goes, we may follow.

An Object Lesson

2009-11-13T21:43:00.003-05:00

Carolyn gives me a thousand little lessons a day. Today, I was watching her stack blocks. She's just learning how to stack them, and they immediately topple more often than not. They topple because she doesn't just set a block gently atop another. She places it dead-on center, but then she pushes down just as hard as she can. . .to make it stay, I presume. Usually, the release of all her little force is enough to make the tower wobble and fall down.

We do this. When we want something so bad, we often apply all our force to making it happen. . .only to push too hard and knock away all the underpinnings as well. If we could just trust God, who has built up the tower thus far, to gently lay the top block in place, our overbearing shove would not be necessary.

Quote of the Day

2009-11-11T11:05:00.002-05:00

The world wants good mothers. It can do without clever money-makers. . .

and

Ruskin says: 'The best women are indeed the most difficult to know. They are recognized chiefly in the happiness of their husbands and the nobleness of their children; they are only to be divined, not discerned by the stranger, and sometimes seem almost helpless except in their homes.'

Is that a compliment???

2009-11-10T22:34:00.003-05:00

In shoving her controversy-plagued healthcare reform bill to victory by a paper-thin margin, she (Pelosi) conclusively demonstrated that a woman can be just as gritty, ruthless and arm-twisting in pursuing her agenda as anyone in the long line of fabled male speakers before her.

The more I read Camille Paglia, the more I like her.

Which statement should not, in any way, shape, or form, be so construed as to imply that I agree with all--or even most--that she writes.

On to the previous post, which is far more interesting and far less likely to elicit controversy.

Slightly Crazy

2009-11-10T08:29:00.005-05:00

Yesterday, I did two mildly irrational things (Just two? I know, I know--an unusually calm day for us.). Only one of the two became decidedly more than I had anticipated.

Carolyn has recently decided that I should not do anything--and I do mean anything--in the kitchen unless she can see what's happening. So, if I wash my hands, chop vegetables, wash dishes, or do anything else that requires me to have 2 free hands, she stands screaming at my knees. This is not a way to live.

And let's not even mention that my neck and shoulders are suffering from measuring, mixing, and generally cooking one-handed while supporting a 20-pound-plus baby on one hip.

Enter the "Learning Tower."

I drove an hour in D.C. Beltway traffic Sunday evening to pick this up from a Craigslister, as we were unwilling to fork over the $200 the company charges for a new one. Monday morning, (Carolyn and) I cleaned it top to bottom. Then I decided to let her stand with me while I washed dishes. It took longer than normal, but Carolyn enjoyed herself. True to prediction, by the time I finished a drainer-full, the floor had to be mopped up and Carolyn's soaked clothes needed to be changed. (Today went much more smoothly--the only thing she got her hands on during dinner prep was the bread knife. . .)

My second adventure, more than I wanted:
I decided to run to the store to pick up just a few things. It was a beautiful, happy seventy degrees. And the nearest store is a mere mile and a half. So I decided to run to the store. Well, walk, really. But I did some jogging on the way back. . .with 10 pounds of flour on my back. Seriously. I did think about this in advance: I'd put the small cold stuff (some chicken, yogurt, cheese) in the backpack (a backpacking daypack--it's really comfortable) and the heavy stuff in the stroller. It has a 50 pound weight limit, and Carolyn is nowhere near that, so it should have been fine. . .except I forgot (until after I'd purchased my 10 pounds of flour) that the basket on the stroller has a 5 pound limit. You'd think it wouldn't matter that much, but it's an all-fabric basket, so I was afraid to risk it (I also think it would have dragged the ground with that much weight). I could, obviously, have simply gone to customer service and returned the offending weight. But, if you know me, you know I'm entirely too. . .determined for such a defeatist decision. So I slogged the whole way home, including jogging (most of) the stretch on the shoulder of the busy road, with a generous 5 extra pounds in the stroller basket and 10 pounds of flour in my daypack. *sigh* I don't think I'll be repeating that trip.

Quote of the Day

2009-11-05T12:35:00.001-05:00

When you have to explain to yourself over and over why you were really right, chances are very good that you were really wrong.

Ouch.

A New Temptation

2009-10-29T16:26:00.002-04:00

. . .or, rather, an old one, revisited.

I made a dangerous discovery this morning.

Lately, Kevin has been making a small pot of coffee in the mornings, just enough to fill a travel thermos-cup. Or so I thought.

I mean, of course I knew there's a little extra. I pour it out every day. But I thought it was just a little extra. Today, I thought a half-cup or less of coffee would be just perfect, so I poured it into a mug instead of down the drain. You know how the liquid at the bottom of a coffee pot always looks like a good deal less than it is?

There was a perfect scant-mug, just room enough for sugar and cream with no danger of spillage.

Now I have a dilemma. It didn't bother me in the least to pour out a splash of coffee daily. But it seems wasteful to daily dump a whole mug of perfectly good gourmet coffee. We're not talking Folger's here, people. Variety and brand name may vary somewhat, but it's always good coffee.

And, currently, I also have a fair quantity of flavored creamer in the refrigerator that really should be consumed before it has to be thrown out. I bought it when my mom was here last week, but now I'm the only one here who will drink it.

On the other hand, I have purposely avoided the daily coffee habit on principle. I don't want to become a daily coffee drinker. Well. . .I could easily want to. But I don't think I should, for a number of reasons. Some of you--probably those who already have a daily (hourly?) coffee habit--will be quick to point out that drinking coffee is not among the worst of personal vices. (Some of you will no doubt even say it is no vice at all.) That may very well be, but it is not a personal vice (or lack thereof) in which I wish to indulge more than once or twice a week.

Kevin can't make less coffee, because he already makes the minimum recommended amount for our 12-cup drip machine. We could make it in the vacuum-action contraption, but that's a lot of work and cleaning on a daily basis. We could get a smaller drip coffeemaker or a French press, but I really don't have room for more kitchen appliances--particularly coffee-related ones, of which we already have five, all different in purpose and result. Now that I think about it. . .perhaps Kevin should just get his individual-sized-for-work coffee gadget out of the "office" box, since he's not using it at work at the moment. Or maybe I should just get Kevin a larger travel mug. At least then I won't know if he pours half of it in the sink!

Relativity

2009-10-16T13:05:00.002-04:00

There is also a strong resistance to the vaccine from the general public. A new Harvard University poll shows that only four in 10 adults intend to take the vaccine themselves, and only six in 10 plan to give it to their children.

I'm amused that (roughly) 50% constitutes "strong resistance" to a voluntary preventative medical treatment. And, while on the subject of subjective verbal interpretation of statistics, this article on the relative wisdom of the "safe sex" campaign is interesting--and completely secular.

More Complicated than a Fruit Fly

2009-10-16T11:28:00.003-04:00

My self-esteem just shot into the clouds. Many thanks for this compliment!

". . .we may have a more complex way of assessing other individuals and classifying them and determining how we're going to relate to them than a fly does."

Observations on the Day

2009-10-14T14:40:00.008-04:00

1) I forgot how much fun it is to have a house full of exuberant kids playing together!

2) It is amazing how quickly 3 extra running, squealing, little bodies' heat warms up a house!

3) When we remodel the kitchen, I need to remember chopping space that faces the doorway, lest I chop my fingers off while looking over my shoulder to check on the kids!

4) It's a great idea to start making a hot lunch 2 or 3 hours before you want it when there are 4 interrupters underfoot. (I did; it was actually ready more or less on-time; amazing!)

5) Dishwashers are wonderful things. I'll be glad when I have one again!

6) Whereas 4 disrespectful, disobedient children could ruin a morning, 4 well-taught and easy-to-correct children are delightful, even when said children are toddlers with the requisite caveats for "obedience."

7) Discipline is so much easier when the "Garden" only has one "tree" that is off-limits. (aka, Hooray for a mostly kid-friendly home!)

8) One fabulous feature of our house that I did not at first recognize: the 10-yard-long clear path from front door to kitchen back wall--a perfect sprint course!

9) Older children are fabulous teachers--Carolyn now knows she can climb into her play table and onto the bottom of the coffee table. Oops! :-)

Erupting Cinnamon Volcanorolls

2009-09-27T13:35:00.002-04:00

Yesterday was a baking day at our house and included my first stab at cinnamon rolls.

SUGARRRRRRRRRRRR

2009-09-23T20:27:00.001-04:00

What a totally fun, insane, bold and daring, great, and did I mention insane? idea!

Contented

2009-09-19T22:47:00.004-04:00

It would be odd if the thought of a new baby had not crossed my mind lately. Carolyn has just passed her first birthday, and with its passing people began to ask when she might have siblings. Also, several friends are deep in the throes of parenting joy, either having given birth in the past month, expecting to do so in the coming weeks, or traveling to get their newly-adopted kiddos. It's beautiful to see.

Listening to two new-made mothers-of-two delight in their doubled progeny, I keep searching for something I'm not feeling. When I finally put my finger on it, I realize that I'm not wistful. There's no anxious anticipation to be in their shoes, no impatience to "catch up," no envy. Funny, I think. It's not what I would have predicted. Certainly, we'd like another baby and pray that God holds that in store for us; it's not that we want no more. Certainly, we would be unequivocally thrilled if another baby were on the way now; it's not a concern with timing. Why not wistful for that peculiar happiness that comes with the anticipation and arrival of a new child?

I've been musing about this unexpected calm here and there, turning it about in my mind. The only answer I find is a simple contentment. There is so much bliss is watching our one little girl, so many moments of enjoyment with her budding personality--how can I be discontent? Just as my friends would be wrong to waste time bemoaning their now-divided attention, I would be wrong to waste this season bemoaning the singularity of my child. It is good to be grateful for the gifts of God in whatever season we find ourselves. And, though we must often purpose ourselves to be content, I am enormously grateful for the very station of being content. It is no less a grace and a blessing of God for being a state we may choose.

Lest you wonder, this is no rebuttal or response to anyone, merely observations of my musings. Just as I am gladdened by my friends' elation with their circumstances, I know they rejoice in my cheerful satisfaction with my own. May it be an encouragement to you in your own season! Praise God for the beauty and uniqueness of our lives!

Quote of the Day

2009-09-15T22:04:00.001-04:00

A right by definition requires nothing of anyone else except that they do nothing to infringe upon that right.

from this response to the "everyone deserves health care" platitudes

New Features

2009-09-11T12:50:00.000-04:00

I've added both an RSS Feed and an E-mail Subscription option in the sidebar, if you prefer not to visit the blog directly.

A Good Democrat

2009-09-10T13:31:00.002-04:00

It's rare that I cite a liberal article, for the simple and obvious reason that I generally disagree with them. However, this Camille Paglia editorial making the blog rounds is an excellent piece. I take issue with the idea that regulating (or, better, outlawing) abortion is any more an example of government overreach than outlawing murder, but that is my sole major complaint (which is not to say that I would necessarily sign my name to every other statement, of course).

My favorite quote?

It was as if Democrats live in a utopian dream world, divorced from the daily demands and realities of organization and management.

. . .except that I think I might replace "Democrats" with "politicians in general."

Oh, The Drama!

2009-09-07T22:20:00.001-04:00

I think this is a great summation of a responsible conservative (and Christian) attitude toward President Obama's speech tomorrow.

Change of Venue

2009-09-06T20:29:00.004-04:00

We've decided to make a change. Henceforth, all family updates--which means all pictures of Carolyn--will be posted at a new blog. I've already transferred my entire blog archive there, and all posts deemed private will soon be deleted from this blog. Larkspur Lane will survive as the primary blog for my ramblings and as my blog face to the blogging world . . .albeit with far less traffic, no doubt! This way, family pictures and personal information will be more restricted and I need not worry about how wide an audience visits here, linking from my comments on other blogs, etc. Though we are not currently limiting viewership of the family blog to approved readers, please do not pass on the new blog address to strangers without checking with us first. I will be sending out a mass e-mail with the new blog address. If you do not receive it, please let me know!

Recommended Review

2009-09-04T08:11:00.002-04:00

I can't actually recommend the book, since I haven't read it, but the review of this book about a less segregated (age, not race, People) way of doing youth ministry sounds interesting.

The Day's Reading

2009-08-18T10:37:00.002-04:00

. . .a worthwhile read at Doug Wilson's blog, with many snippets of wisdom punctuated by the occasional comic comment. I highly recommend it.

Be Careful What You Wish For

2009-08-17T16:07:00.002-04:00

A week or two ago, I was thinking rather wistfully that Carolyn really didn't like to be rocked. She's never really been a "rock me to sleep" baby. When she was really little, you could sometimes rock her to sleep, but it's never been the norm.

Well, last week, she was really fussy one night. She kept crying like she didn't feel good, and nothing was calming her down. Kevin finally sat in the rocking chair with her, and eventually rocked her to sleep. She was adorable, sprawled out across his chest, one leg sticking out across his legs and one tucked up next to his stomach. It was a precious moment.

One of many.

For now, Carolyn has apparently decided that the only way she wants to go to sleep is in the rocking chair. Most naps and nights, unless she falls asleep nursing, we're rocking her for a while, though not always until she goes to sleep.

It would be easy to be somewhat frustrated with this new turn of events, but I know that it is a season that will pass all too quickly. So I've purposed to treasure these days, however many there are, when my little girl wants to snuggle into my shoulder and drift off to sleep in the rocking chair. Sometimes, you get what you wish for. Enjoy it.

Scents

2009-08-17T10:04:00.003-04:00

Horatio, Michael, Tony, Grissom--they're all fond of saying that scent is the sense most closely tied to memory. (I actually learned this in school, but I thought the TV drama reference would give it more credibility.) Last year, I wrote here about the hands of a housewife, thoughts inspired by the food smells that cling to my skin after cooking. Though it seems--and is--commonplace, I intended the references as true compliments. There is more beauty and worthiness in the hard-working hands of our mothers than in the lily-white (or, now, sun-kissed bronze) paws of all the actresses and models Hollywood can procure.

Lately (at least, if you don't count this weekend), it seems that I've been cooking more often and cooking more consistently. It's not like I've ever only cooked occasionally, so I'm not sure why I think this. . .maybe because I've been cooking breakfast several times a week, or because we've eaten out slightly less often of late. At any rate, it seems that my kitchen is constantly in use. Consequently, my house always smells like food. When I come in the front door--or, more frequently, when I come up from the basement--the scent of breakfast waiting to be eaten, lunch heating, last night's dinner, or freshly baked bread for the coming month greets me cheerfully. It always reminds me of my grandmothers' houses. I'm not sure why this is. My mom cooked, too, so it's not like I only associate home-cooked meals with my grandparents. Perhaps it's the age of our house--the smells of fresh food are intermingled with that peculiar staying quality of the air in a house that's been around for almost a hundred years. Actually, I think this house is a good bit older than either of my grandparents' homes. Perhaps it's just that my kitchen looks like it stepped out of a magazine from my grandmas' early-married years. Or perhaps it's the dichotomy of scents--the switch from our unfinished, dusty basement to the brightly lit, warm kitchen. Both my grandmothers have laundry rooms more or less off the kitchen that are concrete-floored areas just before you go outside (our basement has a walk-out exit, also), while my mother has an indoor, tiled utility room. In any case, I relish the likeness that rushes to mind every time I come up from the washer.

Small Miracles

2009-08-13T19:12:00.002-04:00

Today, Carolyn discovered that her nesting cups nest. It's the first time I've seen her put one inside another, study it, take it out, and put it back. It's amazing to watch someone grasp those simple concepts we take for granted.

Oh, the Great, Great Love of Jesus

2009-08-13T09:52:00.000-04:00

Do you believe God loves you?

Do you truly believe God loves you?

Does God put up with you, tolerate your whining, sigh at your continued sinfulness, while he regards you with the fondness one might have for a rowdy puppy?

Or does He love you?

On that day they will say to Jerusalem,
"Do not fear, O Zion;
do not let your hands hang limp.

The LORD your God is with you,
he is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you,
he will quiet you with his love,
he will rejoice over you with singing."
Zephaniah 3:16-17

It's easy to have an image of God as generally looking down in disapproval for our many misdeeds--disapproval we surely merit. Yet that is not a Biblical image of God. He looks down on those under Christ's blood as righteous and rejoices over us. I think of how I enthuse over Carolyn, for no reason at all but that she is and I love her. Some days I am giddy with joy, just because she is here. That is love. And God loves you.

A Link

2009-08-13T09:44:00.001-04:00

good thoughts on the wisdom of marrying young

One Step at a Time

2009-07-22T19:55:00.001-04:00

Last night, Carolyn took one teensy little hands-free step. The first move to independence! Just now, Carolyn kept hold of my hand long enough to totter a couple steps away to something she wanted, then she grabbed another handhold and moved on. It seemed symbolic. We have these babies in our homes for some years, carrying them and their needs. Then, gradually, if we do our job right, they learn to walk, then run, on their own. They race off into life, not needing our hand-holding to keep them upright.

A couple parents with older children than I, in the context of other conversations, have intimated that I cannot now comprehend the difficulty and sense of loss that will accompany Carolyn leaving the nest. I know they are right. My relationship with my daughter is young; in the years to come, it will acquire many layers and facets that I can only imagine now.

Nevertheless, another part of me insists, "But this is the job." It is what we do, this pouring everything into another for 20 years so that they may leave us. While many enter a career for life, or for a specified time until they move up or out of their own accord, the job description of motherhood is this. Mothers--like missionaries, so it is said--work themselves out of a job.

There is a sense, of course, in which children always hold their parents' hands. Currently, when Carolyn is entranced with interests of her own, I'm still supposed to stay in the room. When I disappear, she is jerked from her play to the all-consuming question of "Where is Mommy?" Security is a necessary prerequisite for constructive risk-taking; my proximity allows her the freedom to pursue her own devices. Likewise, as she grows up, I want my steadfastness to be the anchor that allows her to explore. Because I am always the safe haven she can return to if things go badly, she need not worry about sticking her neck out a bit. And, by God's grace, it will be because of the compass and charts we give her that she finally leaves the harbor and sails straight on her own path.

It is right and good that Carolyn one day leave our home, whatever mourning that brings with it. Until then, I'll enjoy the time we have and her sweet dependence on us. Because last night, when she took that tiny first independent step? It was straight toward her daddy's waiting arms.

Quote of the Day

2009-07-22T19:42:00.002-04:00

I liked this quote I found at Femina:

Weak faith will as surely land the Christian in heaven as strong faith; but the weak, doubting Christian is not like to have so pleasant a voyage thither as another with strong faith. Though all in the ship come safe to shore, yet he that is all the way seasick hath not so comfortable a voyage as he that is strong and healthful.

William Gurnall, The Christian in Complete Armour

*An Addendum

2009-07-22T19:01:00.008-04:00

to this post

Speaking of missionaries, some of those who knew me before college have to wonder if I fell off that wagon. Beginning somewhere around age 5, I spent 15 years dogmatically (and vocally) sure I would one day enter the foreign mission field. Some thought the plan a waste of my gifts. (I doubt they consider homemaker an improvement.) But I longed for the mission field with the certainty of divine calling--a certainty that waned in college as my understanding of faith, missions, and callings changed. My father once wisely counseled that my future plans could change and it would be okay to let them. Though it cost me some doubt and a good amount of pride (After all, in evangelical circles a call to missions is generally revered as the highest calling one can have.), I finally pursued this new calling to with all the passion of the old one. (My transitional goal, teaching, was always tied up in my larger goal--first an opportunity for mission work abroad, then a mission at home, and finally a purposeful means of income until I could be a homemaker.) Seven years down that road, five into its fulfillment, I have no regrets.

It's funny, really. I am determinedly ambitious. Having excelled in an academic setting in high school and college, it seemed natural for me to continue that through at least a Master's degree. But why spend all the time and money with no intention of using it? Mothers don't get a higher salary or more promotions because they have extra letters after their name. Education, certainly, is an admirable goal regardless of profession. . .but degrees and education are not inextricably linked. It was difficult at first to give up the idea of academic accolades. But ambition should not be limited to academia any more than to professional careers. I still pursue higher education--without the unwanted required courses, papers, and exams. I am still determinedly ambitious, yet my ambitions now revolve around hearth and home, and they are every bit as daunting as any academic ambition I ever conceived. As G.K. Chesterton wrote of huswifery and motherhood, "How can it be a large career to tell other people's children about the Rule of Three, and a small career to tell one's own children about the universe? How can it be broad to be the same thing to everyone, and narrow to be everything to someone? No; a woman's function is laborious, but because it is gigantic, not because it is minute. I will pity Mrs. Jones for the hugeness of her task; I will never pity her for its smallness." To love and give and teach and labor in order to help that which is dear to you need you no longer--"hugeness of her task" indeed.

There are moments when I am impatient for more of that "hugeness" to trickle down--for the days when I can teach Carolyn to read and write and bake and sew. After all, ambition and patience are not natural companions. Then I remember that those exciting days will bring new difficulties of their own--parenting decisions more difficult than whether or not to let the baby cry in her crib for a few minutes. And then I am doubly thankful for the simple joys and simple problems of babyhood.

Because It's Funny

2009-07-14T19:33:00.001-04:00

This, off the Pop-Tart box:

If you can't read the caption, it says, "It's hard to learn when you've got cinnamon for brains."

New Favorite Salespitch

2009-06-22T09:52:00.001-04:00

"But ma'am, you will save money and help stimulate the economy."

ha ha ha

Seeing the Future

2009-06-18T13:50:00.003-04:00

Remember when I kidded that I should get paid for staying at home with Carolyn? Ha. Maybe I'm just prescient.

Misunderstanding

2009-06-18T13:09:00.002-04:00

Carolyn and I seem to have miscommunicated today. She seems sure that I said today's agenda including climbing, and I'm quite certain I said no such thing.

I checked with Kevin. He's on my side.

To Consider

2009-06-17T10:01:00.001-04:00

as clear an explanation of human rights--and so-called human rights--as I've seen

Worth the Read

2009-06-03T10:16:00.001-04:00

This article, I think, offers a wise perspective on one of the major causes (and, thus, potential remedies) for our country's current economic state.

God hates homeschooling

2009-06-01T23:16:00.002-04:00

A great post

Possible Dairy Shortage

2009-05-31T14:26:00.002-04:00

Last night, I had. . .(drumroll, please) ice cream. Let me tell you that you have never fully appreciated ice cream until you've had a very small scoop after a 7-month drought.

So far, Carolyn has shown no ill effects. I am cautiously optimistic that our dairy troubles may be over. God is good. (Even if I'm mistakenly optimistic, God is good.)

So, if dairy prices around the nation suddenly skyrocket, you'll know it's just little me (though perhaps not little for long!) up in Maryland, eating ice cream to make up for lost time.

All Rolled Into One

2009-05-28T10:44:00.021-04:00

My apologies for the dearth of posting these past 2 weeks. Things have been rather busy here, and most days I feel like I'm chasing my own tail (or, as my mother would say, running around like a chicken with its head chopped off. I assume you have to have seen that to truly appreciate it.). At any rate, to the detriment of my categorical links, I'm going to post one grand update of everything, starting with the house.

All the Trimmings

Our bedroom now has trim! It's been stripped of its lead paint, sanded smooth and smoother, then stained a lovely color similar to that of our floors. I can't even begin to tell you how beautiful, warm, and rich our room feels now. Hopefully, by this time next week, we'll have a ceiling fan in there, too. I'm going to love this house when we get finished!

Ensconced

The living room now has light! Our friend and house-guru Jim (who also helped with the trim and. . .well, pretty much everything that's been done at all) came over one night last week, and he and Kevin installed light fixtures in the living room. The sconces match our dining room piece, and I'm really pleased with the resulting light. It's bright enough to be adequate for reading or handwork, but muted enough to be warm and comfortable. I suspect we will now go through light bulbs not quite so quickly, since we won't need to use the 5-light dining room fixture for all of our evening light!

Carolyn's Menu

Now almost 9 months old, Carolyn's menu options have expanded. You might be surprised at some of the things she likes.

rice
oatmeal w/applesauce
sweet potatoes
avocado
carrot
lemons
limes
raw celery sticks
dill pickle
peaches
pears
bananas

I may have forgotten a couple things. She also likes to chomp on SnapPeas, a baked snack from Trader Joe's. If you've seen the veggie sticks that masquerade as a potato chip substitute, these are similar. Or, think puffy cheetos, but green and tastes like peas. Oddly enough, Carolyn has no affinity for real pureed peas. . .just the crunchy, baked ones. Perhaps it's the shells that never really puree that trip her up.

Crawling!

We have a bona fide creeper on our hands now. Yesterday, she had great fun exploring every corner of the living room. . .and finding lots of cords she wasn't allowed to chew on. Over the past couple weeks, she's been into a lot of things:

Tupperware (okay, so I gave her the Tupperware to play with. It's one of the great things about it!)

Straps--ALWAYS straps!

Magazines

A Little History

This dress was made for me--a few years ago, of course. The fabric for the skirt came from the dress my grandma wore to my aunt and uncle's wedding. See? (I think I told some of you it was from the dress she wore to my parents' wedding. But I wasn't there, you know? I was misinformed!)

At the Park

We made our first trip to the park with friends a couple weeks ago (well, first that Carolyn cares about, anyway). She was not too thrilled with the swings--she's not quite big enough to feel secure in it, I think. The slide, though, got lots of smiles. At first, she wasn't sure. But soon, I set her at the top and waited half way down while she rocked herself forward enough to slide down, with a big grin! We certainly tired her out--it's the first time she's been sleepy enough to fall asleep in the stroller. Usually, she's too interested in what is around us.

Memorial Day Camping

We braved the church retreat this past weekend at the pastor's cabin in New York. It was fun, and Carolyn did really well--except for when we tried to sleep in the tent. She loved the tent, of course. Especially when the thunder storm came up. She was all giggles and squeals of excitement. But the sleeping didn't go so well. Either the noises of the mats on tent canvas, the unfamiliarity, or the general mugginess made for a miserable and fitful few hours of pseudo-sleep before we decided to move back inside. Oh well. . .we'll try again, perhaps when a thunderstorm doesn't necessitate using the fly and trapping in all that muggy moisture.

That's A Wrap!

And that about catches you up. In between all of that, Kevin's parents came for a visit, we bought a crib and matching dresser for Carolyn, I sold the bassinet and furniture we previously bought for Carolyn on craigslist, Aunt Rebecca has been in and out, the weather has been cold, cool, warm, hot, rainy, and all of those again, and I've been generally trying to keep up. We have some videos, too. . .but, really, I think this post is about long enough.

*Edited 9/10/09

Because you should know. . .

2009-05-02T21:38:00.002-04:00

how much money they're really talking about.

Belated News

2009-05-01T15:08:00.003-04:00

Sorry for the delay--I have videos and pictures to share, but our other computer is on the fritz (again), so they'll have to wait. I suppose I could do the photos from this one, actually. . .I'll think on that.

At any rate, we're all back home after our travels. Carolyn has her first tooth and it has a little buddy just waiting in the wings for a grand entrance. She scoots and rolls with the best, getting up and down on all fours (sometimes hands and knees, sometimes hands and feet). One night in Florida, I went to sleep with Carolyn at a 90-degree angle to me, head by my side. I woke up a few hours later with her kicking me in the ribs. She desperately wants to crawl, but mostly belly flops or pushes herself backward--both of which make her somewhat angry. I tell her she has to keep practicing, but she says she prefers to grab my hands and practice standing up and walking.

We've expanded our foods to include rice cereal, oatmeal, carrots, and avocados. And water. She likes water, particularly if she can have it from my glass, though she does pretty well with her soft-spouted sippy cup (Have you seen those? They're a quite nice intermediate step.)

Mirrors are a favorite entertainment. She loves to chatter and squeal at that cute baby that always seems to be there. Actually, she loves to chatter and squeal in general.

I'll work on those pictures. . . .

Ding! Dong! The Witch is Dead!

2009-04-15T20:15:00.002-04:00

. . .or, at least, I dare to hope so. I haven't taken any pain meds in over 24 hours now and haven't had any pain either. It's been a long 10 days.

Thanks Be To God: a Miscellany

2009-04-09T03:52:00.003-04:00

These past few days of near-constant pain and discomfort have brought some things to mind. Here are some things I'm thankful for:

It's me, not my husband or daughter, in pain.
Except for that first day, the pain has not been debilitating.
This is not chronic. It will end.
The doctors and nurses, without exception, have been supportive and creative in finding coping options that allow me to continue breastfeeding without serious risk.
Aunt Rebecca came to clean my house in preparation for our guests.
Brian & Anna have been here and have been a huge help.
Brian is an excellent cook. And he cleans.
Carolyn is such an easy-going, happy-go-lucky baby in whatever circumstance.
Sleep has still been possible.
The offers of help from various friends here have been abundant.
Far from last or least, Kevin is such a patient and considerate husband.

I was commenting to a friend last week that we never face the trials we think we could handle well. I know I've observed others' difficulties on occasion and thought that I could handle that problem so much better than the one I actually have. Chronic pain is not one of those. I can handle large amounts of temporary pain well. But chronic pain, however large or small--even "temporary chronic" pain such as I have now--nearly undoes me. I know a few people who live in chronic pain, in varying degrees of severity. Their grace and faith under such constant physical pressure amazes and humbles me.

The headlines from the past week have seemed grim and grimmer to me. From my perspective, recent decisions and events bode ill for the security and welfare of our nation and the world. In this light, I am ever more grateful that
My hope is built on nothing less
than Jesus' blood and righteousness.

No Free Market Left Unturned

2009-03-26T08:55:00.002-04:00

I am so very glad that our illustrious Congressmen have realized the significance of this matter and are giving it their attention.

When the government easily sees its way clear to intervene in the frivolous pastimes and pursuits of its people, tell me the word "totalitarian" doesn't hover on the edge.

Launching Paper Boats

2009-03-25T22:07:00.000-04:00

I shudder to remember where my vivid childhood imagination would sometimes take me at bedtime, and this article by Nate Wilson, the title of which (The Amazing Tale of the Butterfly-Unicorn-Ballerina-Princess and the Giant, Creeping Land Squid) compels further investigation, almost made me cry.

If you have little ones, go read it.

Red on White

2009-03-15T21:51:00.001-04:00

We had a beautiful snowstorm a couple weeks ago, and the brilliant cardinal (and his lovely wife) graced our yard:

Naked No More

2009-03-15T21:46:00.002-04:00

Our living room and dining room windows are finally dressed!

It's hard to tell, but these have a fine navy, periwinkle, gold, brown stripe pattern.

AND, the powder room finally has a lovely antique mirror:

For the Praise of His Glory

2009-03-09T08:27:00.003-04:00

We missed Worship yesterday, but our pastor e-mailed his sermon notes out. The text is Ephesians 1:11-12. This statement stood out to me this morning:

"We can trust his plan and purpose and the means by which he gets it done."

Just Call Me "Chef"

2009-02-24T19:07:00.007-05:00

We all have those days when nothing--and I mean nothing--goes well in the kitchen. Things are burned. Over-salted. Under-cooked. Bland. Just plain bad.

You know what I'm talking about.

I've had more of those than I care to remember, including (but sadly not limited to) some particularly bad ones while I was pregnant and shortly after Carolyn was born.

Today was not one of those days. In fact, in spite of me, today was a very good food day. Let me tell you about it. . .

This morning I decided to try a new bran muffin recipe. I really like bran muffins, and they're generally healthy, so it's a win-win. Between Carolyn needing attention and me forgetting to adjust the time for a dark metal muffin pan and a super-efficient gas oven, I let them get a little too brown. But they didn't taste it. They were, if I may say so, quite good, as I was thinking when I realized that--in addition to mistakenly adding a couple tablespoons of extra liquid, a mistake I recognized at the time but thought insignificant--I had only put half of the flour and bran they should have had! And they were still good. I can't wait to try them with my head on straight.

For lunch, I made another fried rice venture. I've tried to make fried rice several times with varying degrees of success. None of them have been inedible, but I haven't quite found the way to make it the way I like it best. Today I tried a recipe online and, while it still wasn't quite my definition of perfect, it was by far the best attempt yet. I was thoroughly satisfied. (Preparing a fresh, hot meal just for myself has a tendency to thoroughly satisfy me anyway, as if I've gone out on a limb and done something really special.)

This afternoon, I made bread. I'm still searching for that elusive perfect whole wheat bread recipe. . .and now I need one that doesn't have to be kneaded, because my wrist (and my daughter) will not always cooperate. So I tried one today I have tried before with little success, and it turned out perfect. I mean airy and soft and golden and melt-in-your-mouth-but-fill-your-stomach perfect. It even passed the Kevin examination.

Then we had dinner. I had this Italian sausage left over from another night, and it occurred to me that maybe I could make soup with it. I haven't found an Italian sausage soup recipe that we like, and I didn't feel like looking, so I made one up. And it PASSED! Hooray!

Now I think we'll have popcorn, Grandad-style (except now I use coconut oil), for a nighttime snack. A perfect ending to a perfect food day.

We're well. And you?

2009-02-23T21:32:00.003-05:00

Why the sudden glut of posting? Just making up for the long dry spell. . .

Carolyn is now almost 6 months old. She's getting better and better at sitting by herself for ever-lengthening periods of time. Tummy time involves spectacular push ups and that special swim style known as the Airstroke. She likes to lay on her stomach for quite a while, chewing on a toy or tossing the rattle around. Often we lay her with her chest on the boppy pillow for a while to give her a little more leverage, but she usually ends up kicking herself over it into an anger-inducing carpet face-plant. The exer-saucer continues to be the place of choice, but Carolyn is enjoying the swing again after a few week hiatus and is starting to play happily in the Johnny Jump-Up for a few minutes at a time. We get good giggles out of her when she's bounced--on the bed, in our arms, on the floor. And apparently it's hilarious when Daddy coughs.

We recently started giving her a pacifier at naptime, because Little Miss decided she couldn't go to sleep ever again without me laying next to her so she could nurse at will. With the paci, however, she's content to sleep on her own and usually takes 3 naps in the course of a day--2 short ones and 1 longer stretch. Then she's ready for bed by 7 and sleeps 12-14 hours, eating once or twice.

Rice cereal is still on the least-favorite list, as is tonight's trial carrot puree. The third night of rice feeding, she touched the spoon with her tongue 2 or 3 times, then shuddered and refused any further contact. She's intensely interested in our food, but apparently she's not as ready for it as she thinks she is. My water glass, however, sends her into spasms of ecstatic anticipation (and I do mean spasms--hold on tight if she's in your arms!), and she's pretty good at taking a sip in-between working the outside of the glass with her tongue and lower jaw.

The rest of us? We're well. Kevin's been working hard on the house, and I've been scouring the planet for new recipes to distract me from all the recipes in my box that use cheese (or some other dairy, but principally cheese). We've found quite a few really good ones, and I'm enjoying fixing some new foods.

This has been an irregularly scheduled installment of "Life With Us." More next time.

Sharing Grace

2009-02-23T20:47:00.002-05:00

The world of Reformed theology is still relatively new to me, and I am still awed by the idea (not new, but newly emphasized) of the enormity of God's grace toward me. In the September/October 2003 issue of Modern Reformation magazine (I rescued a number of old issues our pastor was cleaning out, for my edification), John Piper writes about the significance of the doctrine of justification by faith. Though in this quote he specifically references the marriage relationship, the idea applies anywhere:

But what if one or both partners becomes overwhlemed iwth the truth of justification by faith alone--and especially with the truth that in Christ Jesus God credits me, for Christ's sake, as fulfilling all of his expectations? What happens if this doctrine so masters our souls that we begin to bend it from the vertical to the horizontal and apply it to our marriages? . . .It is possible, for Christ's sake, simply to say, "I will no longer think merely in terms of whether my expectations are met in practice. I will, for Christ's sake, regard you the way God regards me--complete and accepted in Christ--and thus to be helped and blessed and nurtured and cherished, even if, in practice, you fail."

On Mature Children

2009-02-23T20:28:00.002-05:00

I've been slowly reading Hold On to Your Kids, by Drs. Gordon Neufeld and Gabor Mate (PhD and MD, respectively). Basically, the premise is that peer attachment has largely replaced parental attachment in our culture, and this is bad (go figure). The authors are making a case for encouraging the natural attachment young children have to their parents, so that it continues into adolescence and results in teenagers who are secure and desirous of doing what is right for the sake of pleasing those most important to them (ie, their parents--not their peers). It's an interesting read and has numerous points of intersection with good Christian parenting, though the authors arguments are purely secular.

It is not a book urging homeschooling, but I thought the following quote applied in that arena:

Immature people tend to trample on any individuality that dares show itself. In a child's world it is not immaturity but rather the maturing processes that are suspect and a source of shame. The emergent child--the child who is self-motivated and not driven by needs for peer contact--seems like an anomaly, irregular, a little off the beaten track. The words that peer-oriented kids use for such a child are highly critical, words like weird, stupid, retarded, freak, and geek. Immature children do not understand why these emergent, maturing others are trying so hard to get along, why they seek solitude sometimes instead of company, why they can be curious and interested about things that don't involve others, why they ask questions in class. There must be something wrong with these kids and for that they deserve to be shamed. The stronger a child's peer orientation, the more intensely she well resent and assault another kid's individuality.

Return to Fiction

2009-02-04T22:46:00.006-05:00

Some time ago, I mentioned that The Thirteenth Tale, by Diane Setterfield, looked interesting.

It is.

Glimpsing a reflection of yourself in the mirror of a book is always a bit eerie, like someone has access to the recesses of your soul without your knowledge or consent. (There, see? Less than halfway into a Romantic novel, and I'm already mimicking its tone. Be glad I don't read Gothic fiction more often.) At any rate, here are the quotes that captivated me.

"There is something about words. In expert hands, manipulated deftly, they take you prisoner. Wind themselves around your limbs like spider silk, and when you are so enthralled you cannot move, they pierce your skin, enter your blood, numb your thoughts."

"I read old novels. The reason is simple: I prefer proper endings. Marriages and deaths, noble sacrifices and miraculous restorations, tragic separations and unhoped-for reunions, great falls and dreams fulfilled; these, in my view, constitute an ending worth the wait. They should come after adventures, perils, dangers and dilemmas, and wind everything up nice and neatly. Endings like this are to be found more commonly in old novels than new ones, so I read old novels."

"I have always been a reader; I have read at every stage of my life, and there has never been a time when reading was not my greatest joy. And yet I cannot pretend that the reading I have done in my adult years matches in its impact on my soul the reading I did as a child. I still believe in stories. I still forget myself when I am in the middle of a good book. Yet it is not the same. Books are, for me, it must be said, the most important thing; what I cannot forget is that there was a time when they were at once more banal and more essential than that. When I was a child, books were everything. And so there is in me, always, a nostalgic yearning for the lost pleasure of books. It is not a yearning that one ever expects to be fulfilled."

In case you're worried, Carolyn has been changed, fed, and otherwise cared for in spite of my having a new novel to read. If you weren't worried, you might not know me as well as you think. Read that first quote again.

Site of the Day

2009-02-02T10:23:00.002-05:00

I'm going to have to agree with the blogger here: this grading of flags is one of the funniest things I've seen.

Check it out. Be amused.

A Wager

2009-01-29T16:05:00.002-05:00

Give us one year of a true flat tax that doesn't involve the paperwork and hoop-jumping of our current income tax system and I'll bet people are so enamored with the ease of it that we never go back. . .except for all the CPAs, of course.

Guess what I've been glancing at this afternoon.