in solitude, little girls

Malin quickly picks up on what makes the people in her life happy. Last night, all 4 of our children went with Roger in the church van  when he left early to go pick up kids. Before Malin climbed in, she hollered up the hill at me like she was giving me a gift, “Mom, now you get to be all alone!”

And now, once again, here I sit alone at home, happily printing title pictures onto promotional DVDs while my husband is off on a date.

I helped his little date get ready for her time with him. I exchanged her shirt for a cute one that wasn’t smeared with brownie batter, and braided her hair with most of her curls hanging long and free at the ends. And they’re off to run errands and eat at McDonald’s. (Unless he persuades her that she really wants something else.)

About two weeks ago, Roger took Avery into town with him so I could finish up some baking with no interruptions. When we first asked if she wanted to go, she wanted to stay with her mommy. Then when I changed my wording and asked if she wanted to go on a date with daddy, her outlook changed completely and she couldn’t wait to go. She had a nice time with him and they even stopped at “the place with decorations” (her words) – a farm down the road that gets all dressed up for autumn and gives tours and hayrides and sells fall produce.

Then last Tuesday, Roger took me out for my birthday. A day or two later, Avery was lounging on my bed, chatting with me while I put away laundry. She asked me, “What did you and Daddy do on your date?” I started off, “We went out to eat…” but didn’t get any further. Her smile completely faded, she dropped her little head down and started to cry. “Mine wasn’t like a date! We didn’t go out to eat!!” (This wasn’t a spoiled brat cry; it was a tired and extremely disappointed little girl who had been duped into running errands with her daddy under the guise of it being a “date.”) It almost broke my heart.

I carried her off to bed, promising her that sometime after we got back from Oklahoma, her daddy would  have some errands to run in Jackson and this time, she could go along with him and he could take her out to lunch for a real date.

This morning, I asked her if this was the day she was going on a date with her daddy. I said, “Do you want to go in the study and ask him?” She just shook her head, then said with a smile and a 4-year-old’s confidence, “He’ll tell me.”

So they’re off enjoying french fries and the play place, and I’m making my way through a slab of cold meatloaf and telling myself that it probably is time to go to that website and pick out my microwave so Roger can call up Jackson Electric and order it. The only thing is….. was it whirlpool? Or am I going to waste my time browsing through the wrong website? One of the most frustrating things in my life is wasting time on the internet. (You don’t understand this feeling if you only use high-speed.)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Just as an inconsequential point of interest…. did you know that Presbyterians is an anagram of Britney Spears? Rearrange the letters yourself – it’s true. I know because I learned it from David Crowder.

windblown

Whenever we drive out west to Oklahoma, I realize just how still the air is in the protected hollers of our Kentucky home. There’s just no room around here for the wind to pick up speed and really blow. So when it does start whistling around the corners of the house and whipping tree branches all over the place, (like yesterday afternoon) we know we’re in for a storm.

I can’t even remember the last time the wind blew so hard here. Roger was in the church van taking kids home from Bible School when the storm started, and he said there were some pretty scared kids with him. I guess the van was blowing around and must have felt pretty unstable.

But we got a good (much-needed) rain out of it, and the worst that happened here at camp was a tree that blew over our bridge and which had to be cut up quickly.

This morning as I was putting a load of clothes into the dryer, I kept out a favorite t-shirt that I always air-dry. I put it on a hanger and carried it out to the little clothesline on our balcony…. where I noticed the absence of another of my favorite shirts that I had hung out yesterday morning.

It didn’t take long to put two and two together and to realize that, in this particular instance, 4 would equal the fact that my (green) shirt was now lying disconsolately somewhere among our green hills of Kentucky. (It must have been disconsolate at our separation – I know I was.) I walked down to the road and scanned the hillside below our house…. no green shirt. I looked up into the trees, half hoping to see the shirt stuck in a branch (it would make a great story) and half hoping not to (it could be hard to recover.)

I only had about an hour before I had to leave for lunch with my friends. I couldn’t go traipsing through wet leaves, so I took the second-best option (or maybe the better one) and told my kids that whoever found the shirt could choose a prize from the treasure chest.

Avery came out on the balcony while Wesley, Malin and I were on the road looking down toward the creek. (I was imagining my poor shirt rotting at the bottom in the mud.) When Avery found out what was going on, she ran inside to get dressed so she could help too. By the time she came back out, we were walking up the steps to our back yard. She ran around the side of the house, then in front of the balcony on her way to help us. Then the crazy girl stopped in front of the balcony (right where I had walked earlier) looked down at the ground and said casually, “Here’s a shirt.”

I basically accused her of lying. I said, “No it’s not,” and went over to look. Sure enough… as luck and a short person would have it, Avery stumbled over my favorite t-shirt and won a prize without even trying.

What kind of idiot walks right over top of her favorite shirt while searching desperately for it? I’m sure there’s an analogy here somewhere. But, in lieu of that, a quote:

…windblown trashbag does a roadside ghost dance…  -David Wilcox

poetic leads and dead ends

My little brother tells me this is not poetry:

i went for a drive today
i took a car
a car, i took someone else’s car
i liked it
it was therapeutic

He says it sounds like an autistic thief. He thought this was a better alternative, (but he never claimed that it was poetic – actually he never said he thought it was better either, but he did say it. actually, he didn’t even say it. he typed it in the chat window):

46, 46, 46, 46
46 matches
46 matches

I don’t know. I say poetry is where you find it. And if he was writing a poem tonight, I believe it would be entitled something like “backyard edamame love.” Look for it in the comments section.

surprises are grand… when they come packaged in a box by a loved one.

This afternoon we walked into Shaun & Wendy’s house, and there was a little box on their coffee table – addressed to me – from the 10th Planet, the company who designs our t-shirts. I remembered getting a small box just like that several months ago. I wondered what they could be sending me this time…

And then Wendy said it was from Marcus. And I was really confused.  But I struggled heroically through the tape, and found that my brother had reused a box I had sent him something in. Oh, that must have been the gummy “fried eggs” – it just hit me.

He bought me a bag of black licorice bears! They look like gummy bears, but they taste like black jelly beans. Yum – a new favorite…

And later, when we stopped at the mailbox on the way home from meeting the school bus, Judah’s eyes lit up as he pulled a big brown box out of our decrepit mailbox. (That’s a story in itself – the heavy, homemade flag has broken off, and we have to carefully prop it up and hope it stays for the mail lady to get our outgoing mail. If she doesn’t see the flag… she doesn’t take the mail.)

That was a package for our Voth family from the Oklahoma Voth family. We saved it until after supper when the whole family was still together around the table. I personally was glad we opened it before making our root beer floats, since it contained plenty of sugar for all of us for the night. Fun sugar for the kids, and rich, yummy sugar for Roger and me. Also this great and entertaining note from my nephew Noah to Malin. Grace had a sweet note to Judah and Wesley, but Noah’s letter had me laughing, has me laughing still….

Beside a wonderful 5-year-old’s drawing of a round happy blue person standing beside his brown dog, whose head is lowered, patiently waiting to be patted by the blue fingers just above it,  I read these words:

“Dear Malin -   Do you wish you had a very happy dog? It’s gonna be great if you have a good dog. And someday I guess I’m gonna come… someday. I had my birthday one day. Now I’m 5. And are you still 5 too? And I miss you. Bye-bye. Noah”

The next time I’m stuck with writer’s block, I’ll just go ask Noah. He could give me some good ideas.

The irony of this little letter is that our dog is not very happy right now. He’s old, and generally just isn’t doing well. But as I was reading the letter, Roger was headed out the door to give him some lamb bones from our supper – which was amazing. Smoked lamb ribs. Mmmmm. So maybe, just maybe…. he is a happy dog tonight.

happy mother’s day

This morning at church, the preacher spoke on the text that was probably used at hundreds of churches around the country – Proverbs 31 – The Wife of Noble Character.

My husband is gracious enough to tell our children that those 21 verses describe me well. That’s very sweet of him, and probably proof that love is blind – although I do “select wool and flax and work with eager hands” (haha – knitting, anyone?) and I “bring my food from afar” (my weekly grocery run with Wendy…) and in the winter I get up while it’s still dark out, but not to prepare breakfast for my family. Cold cereal is my finest offering.

As I was reading over the chapter, verse 28 caught my eye: “Her children rise up and call her blessed…”

I had a little rising-up moment a few evenings ago. The six of us were watching “The Incredibles” together. It came to the part where the mom (otherwise known as Elasti-girl) is flying a plane with two of her children in it – to a remote island to rescue her husband. The plane is bombed and falls apart, and she and her kids fall together into the ocean. Being a superhero mom, (and an elastic one at that) she reaches out, snatches her children to her as they fall, and then turns herself into a parachute to carry them gently down to the water. After they figure out which way to go, she stretches herself into a life-raft and carries them to the island. What an amazing mom.

Somewhere in that scenario, I said half-jokingly to my kids, “I’m sorry I’m not as great of a mom as she is.” I expected to be ignored or at best, laughed at. Instead… Judah and Wesley both looked at me like I’d lost my mind and said, “Yes, you are!”

Imagine that. I’m on par with a woman who can pilot a plane and stretch herself in superhuman ways to save her children’s lives – plus a myriad of other skills that go along with the gift of elasticity.

But don’t you believe a word of it.

 

Little caregiver.

After lunch today, I started a pot of coffee and Roger went out on the little green porch to enjoy the beautiful weather while he waited for a cup. Malin loves to fix her daddy a cup of coffee. (Which is ironic, because that’s something that I love to do for him too. But I guess there’s no one I’d rather share the pleasure with than my daughter.) She was outside chattering to him, and then she came in and asked me secretively, “Mom, is there anything I can comfort him with while he waits for his coffee?”

I don’t know if “comfort” was really the word she was wanting or not, but it was sweet. And that’s Malin for you. She loves to take care of people. When Shaun & Wendy were here Monday morning for our weekly meeting, she wanted to fix a cup of coffee for Shaun and carry it to him instead of him having to get it himself. Several times this week I’ve seen her get a drink for Lily and then hold the cup for her as she drinks.

Our ladies group spent a couple of months studying Spiritual Gifts, and ever since, I’ve been more aware of specific strengths that I see in myself and in other people. I know it’s early, but I’m going to go ahead and say that I think Malin has been given the gifts of service and hospitality.

I handed her Roger’s favorite bar of 85% chocolate and she looked very pleased when she came back in with the rest of it after he’d broken off his square. I never did go out there and sit with him. I think that’s what he was really waiting for, but there were just too many dishes…

similarities

Yesterday… Wendy and I went to super Wal-Mart to get groceries for the work group that is here this weekend. By the time we got in the van to come home, it was quite warm outside. I was amused by the fact that we each pulled off a brown sweater and we each rode homewearing a green and blue short sleeved shirt.

Today… it’s going to get warm again, but it was just a little chilly this morning, so I dressed in layers again. My blue “gifted” camp shirt from last summer, with a brown sweater zipped halfway up over top. About two hours later, I was working across the kitchen bar from Wendy. She looked at what I’m wearing, gave me an amused smile, and lifted up the hem of her brown long-sleeved shirt to show me her matching “gifted” shirt underneath.

Monday… Wendy and I walked into the library together. A random guy using a computer looked up at us and asked loudly, “Are you twins?!” (Which is kind of a random question, because if we were, would it really be something for a stranger to get excited about?) When we told him we were cousins, he said, “Are you sure?!” 

ten4ruthie

Ai-yi-yi! So Roger went to Bible study alone this evening. He looked so free and easy, walking to church alone at 6:30 – in short sleeves – with no responsibilities. No church bus to drive… He wasn’t in charge of the lesson…

Since Bible study lasts about an hour, I figured it was safe to lay down for a nap at 7:30. The kids were all watching Wallace and Gromit, and I figured that if I slept hard, he would be home about the time the movie was done, and he could start them to bed or wake me up or whatever.

I woke up at 9:40 – with all the kids wide awake and having hot chocolate and snacks – about 5 minutes before Roger walked merrily in the front door. (He brought me a cup of ice from the new ice machine. I woke up “dying” of thirst and a headache. The ice was a welcome gift – and nicer and smaller than the old ice machine.)

Did I mention that their bedtime is 8:30? And that Avery is sick today and should probably have gone to bed even earlier?

Babysitting Lily

Don’t ever knock a mother of a single toddler for not having a clean house at a moment’s notice. Do you have any idea how much stuff a sweet, peaceful 1-year-old can strew through a house during an hour or two? I’d forgotten the feel of crackers crunching under my feet. I’d forgotten the momentary attention span attached to each new object which is quickly dropped in favor of the next interesting thing. (I’ve forgotten how to write a simple sentence – that was two or three wrapped up into one.)

I’d also forgotten how easily manipulated a 1-year-old is. She wants to play with the Legos? Just pick her up and carry her away. It won’t hurt her feelings. Give her a kid’s tamborine when she wants to play with the grown-up guitar. She’ll give you a great big smile. Or maybe that’s just Lily.

Everything is interesting when you’re one. Clip-on earrings, 3-year-old girls, toy puppies, crayons, TV, laundry… It was a fun time. My favorite parts were the times when she would randomly walk to me with her arms up, wanting me to pick her up. So sweet. You take those things for granted, even get tired of them, when it’s your own kid. But when it’s someone elses’s child (who doesn’t have to love you) it’s an honor.