Hopers' Post-Its

These are the little notes Hopers left for me on my computer desk the other day.

 

 



With a little deciphering, they read:

I love God in many, many ways.  He loves us in many, many ways, too.  And He will always love us. No matter what we do, He will still love us. Like He still loves people who steal stuff. And He still loves us when we do something wrong.

And just to reassure me, this one came along with the others:

I love you mommy.  You are awesome.


So in case you weren't sure today, God loves you too, no matter what.......from the mouth of a seven-year-old!

Egg Hunters and Memory Loss

At our house on Easter Sunday, we like to enjoy a traditonal egg hunt. With all these kids, it's a must. Mom and I hid 135 eggs (yeah, yeah, overkill, blah blah blah) boiled and plastic, around my yard. The dads were working swiftly on the new treehouse during the hiding, so it was up to us ladies to remember where every single egg was.

 . . . .

What was I talking about?


Oh yeah.  Easter. And so,

Underneath these calm, smiling faces are wheels and fireworks waiting to burst into action!  How cruel of me to make them wait just one more moment.... Ready, set, GO!

In a blitz of energy, everyone sprints off to find the little hidden treasures.

Like father, like son.  Tate and Dad wore their matching work blues today.

Victoria's eggs were the coveted "golden" eggs of the day.  There were only two, but Tabi found one.  The prize was a grand feeling of victory and a pat on the back.

Tate.

Hopers found a few of the eggs we dyed with turmeric.

And Faith found the other Victoria egg.  Give yourself a pat on the back, honey, I'm holding a camera.

Teegan.

 

 

Faith and her Daddy, searching for more eggs. Somehow (yet not surprising because it happens every year) we didn't find all the eggs. I swear the missing eggs are the ones Mom hid.  She swears they're the ones I hid.  But at any rate, there are nine out there in my yard right now.... or in my dog's stomach.

 

Happy Easter!

Praisworthy Pumpkins

I don't know how it is for other families out there, but the minute the pumpkins show up in the grocery stores around here, my kids are begging me for one. Each, of course.

We're not exactly a Halloween kind of family either.  We don't do scary.  We avoid cutsie door decorations like witches and spider webs.  I tell my daughters this instead: Philippians 4:8 says, "Finally, daughters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things."

So to celebrate fall, and fun, and the arrival of pumpkins, I buy them one.  Each, of course.  And my girls love them.  I mean LOVE them.  They decorate them.  They name them.  They carry them around.  I find the pumpkins nestled next to my children in bed.  It borders on rediculous, but I can't help but smile. And love these times.


Bet you can't guess whose is whose...

Happy Fall!!

Paint

Today I would like to mark a monumental day in my life.  I painted the back of my house. Most of it. Okay, just part of it.  But geez, I'm on the road to finishing it now okay?  When we bought our house last year in the spring, it was blue.  A faded gray-blue.  I've never been a fan of blue houses.  Perhaps it reminds me of the 80's-- I'm not sure.  I'm trying to forget those unnattractive days.

Yes, there it is.

If your house is blue, I'm so sorry.  I don't mean to offend.  Perhaps yours looks awesome.  Surely there are awesome blue houses out there in the world. 

Mine is now white.  The front has been white for a while.  So has the back deck area.  But this part...

Is white! (I'm a teensy bit in love with white in my home.)

It's the back of my sunroom. You can't ever even see this part unless you're standing in the back yard, but it's the kind of thing that haunts me--a half-painted house...ayeeeeeeee!

I even painted the light fixtures.  They used to be brass-colored at one point, but had been partially sprayed over with blue whenever the last time the house painting had occurred.

Posting this, I now realize I put them on upside-down.

Sheesh.

Hopers asked me the other day, "Will you ever be finished working on the house?"

"No darling," I answered her, "that's the curse of humanity, the product of eating that fruit from the forbidden tree in the Garden.  Owning a house is a never-ending trail of stuff to do."

Now excuse me while I go flip around some light fixtures.

Camping in Tropical Storm Debby: A Memoir

The trip was supposed to be a quick, fun, summer get-a-way.  Mom had just purchase a new camper and was itching to try it out.  The kids were thrilled to go to the beach and couldn't wait to have one big slumber party in the bigger and improved sleeping quarters.


Mom's new camper is much bigger than the old one.

We gathered our chicks and drove the two hours down to stay at the Carrabelle Beach RVC Outdoor Destination.  (Note:  I think this is a really weird name. Marketing Department, you dropped the ball on "catchiness" and easy to remember names.)

I must say, this is a really nice RV park as RV parks go.  I can't call it a campground because it has no place for "real" campers to set up a tent, only miles of concrete and manicured landscaping.  (*smirk*)  But, it's super nice for what it is.

Friday night was our first night there.  It was overcast.  Setting up the new camper was frought with hair-pulling issues like:

• A window cracked during travel.  What happened?  I dunno.  Find the duct tape.
• Handfuls of strange poles, a fabric awning, and no instructions make an interesting set-up.  A nice old guy with nothing to do hung around for hours with us, trying to figure out the "puzzle".
• Kids, go play!.....Not right there!!
• Why is all this water pouring down the side of the camper?  The air conditioner?  That's weird.... Hope the canvas is waterproof!  (Little did we know....)



I am really proud of myself for taking on grilling.  Never done it.  Never.  Woohoo! The chicken legs were awesome!!

The place has a really nice pool, which we ended up spending allllllll our time in because:

1. It was raining and it's not very fun to sit in a camper all weekend.
2. The beach was disgusting.  It was completely covered in seaweed, in the water and on the beach.  We didn't really know why until Saturday night.  (more on that in a minute)

Tater-Tot

Tabi

Teegan

Tobi

Noodle

Hopers

Joey, Elaine, and Jeremy came down for the day to meet us at the beach.  They even brought Seth with them.  However, for the reasons mentioned previously, we had no beach fun.  We had a pool though!  Yay!  We swam and ate lunch.  At times, we ducked under floats to keep the rain from beating us in the face while swimming, while staying in the water because it was warm.

Eventually, though, that fun came to an end because SOMEONE, who shall remain nameless on my blog for all eternity because I'm a nice person....pooped in the pool. 

Yes.  You heard me right.  We're talking little-nuggets-all-over-the-place-everyone-get-out-of-the-pool-we-have-to-call-the-proper-authorities-someone-pooped-in-the-pool!

End fun.

Well, almost.  We did take the kids out to eat seafood Saturday night in Carrabelle at a great little place called The Fisherman's Wife.  Really good.  Yum.  I want shrimp just thinking about it.

Okay.  Now End Fun.

Unbeknownst to us, a tropical storm had been silently slipping toward the gulf coast, making little news until it decided to unleash it's full fury on our vacation.  The old guy who had been helping us came by and mentioned we should bring down the awning because "a storm" was coming.  That's about all we knew as we went to bed to a partly cloudy, breezy evening.

I awoke in the middle of the night to what felt like horrible airplane turbulance.  The wind was hammering against the canvas sides of our pop-up camper, shaking everything with a vengence.  I tried to continue sleeping but fears of being snatched into the ocean by a giant Poseidon-like hand kept me awake.

When morning dawned, things just seemed to be getting worse.  Tropical Storm Debby was now making headlines and floods everywhere.  We fed the kids pop tarts and tried to keep them calm with a dvd while Mom and I discussed what to do.  The wind was driving the rain sideways.  We cringed at the thought of trying to take down camp in it.  Another option was to stay another day and hope the storm moved off quickly without destroying the little matchbox we were sitting in.  We also briefly discussed abandoning everything and hopping in the cars to go home.  Finally, we came to the conclusion that seemed most right, yet least fun.  Take down the camper in a tropical storm. Ugh.

Step One:  Put on plastic ponchos and stuff  kids into vans.

Step Two:  Put everything possible into trash bags and run back and forth between camper and van in the driving wind and rain.

Step Three: Remove shreds of poncho from body and give up on the thought of being dry for the next several hours.

Step Four: Watch the camper fill with water as you lower the roof and tuck in sides.  Ick.

Step Five:  Drive for two hours in a crazy storm, but make it home safely.

All I wanted was fuzzy bedroom slippers and a bowl of soup when I got home, but Debby had other plans for me.  She followed me. This happened moments later:

One of my beautiful pecan trees lost a major limb to the wind, falling across the yard on to a white crape myrtle. I mourn the loss, but am soooo grateful for God's protection of everything. I mean, EVERYTHING!  We didn't get crushed like bugs or tossed into the sea.  We made it safely home.  The tree could have fallen on my house or my deck or my vegetable garden--but it didn't.

Thanks God.  You're awesome.

I did learn some things through this trip, though. (I'm really into making lists today, apparently, too.)

1.  Camping in Florida in the summer stinks.  (Didn't I learn that last time?)
2. Always check the weather before going somewhere in a pop-up.
3. That brown thing in the bottom of the pool is not dog food.

The Big Dead Tree

So there's this tree...



You can't miss it. It's the Grandfather of All Pine Trees. It looms hundreds of feet in the air, at least. It's only a few feet away from my house.

And it's dead.

I'm not exactly sure why it's dead, but it is.  It once was alive, and then suddenly, several weeks ago, it died.

So, considering it's height and....er, deadness....we concluded that the tree must be cut down.  This is a much easier concluded kind of thing than actually doing kind of thing.  We heard estimates of hundreds and possibly thousands of dollars to be charged for having a tree service come do it.  We, being rich compared to the starving millions around the world, still find ourselves too poor for a gigantic tree to die in our yard. 

Plan B:  Enlist my Dad.  Do it ourselves.  (And by "ourselves," I mean Seth. I will stand by and cheer and cook dinner and keep kids out of the way and pick up sticks afterward.)

On Saturday, they built a scaffold against the tree.

They bolted it to the tree and at the base through its large roots.

At this point, we (the peanut gallery) had no idea what the plan was, but sat watching the action.  Apparently, the plan was actually this:  Get as high into the tree as possible.  Then, Seth would use climbing gear to reach the branches.  Then, cut the major limbs off with the chainsaw.  Then, figure out what to do next.

Several hours into the process, the action was pretty disappointing.

Okay, to their credit, they did a really good job getting things super secure and prepared for cutting the tree down.  And, let's not forget, this tree is huge.  Massive.  Daunting.  But we did not let it conquer us.  No sir-eee. Just as the sun was setting on the first day, one limb was cut.

Day two dawns.  We go to church.  Mom and Dad meet with their case worker for adpotion stuff.  We all reconvene at the tree by afternoon. 

This day, they add a ladder to the top of the scaffold.

Don't worry, it's strapped to the tree also.  And so is Seth.  The chainsaw is raised and lowered (while running) by rope.

And then Seth climbed up, up up....

...and cut, cut, cut.

At a certain point, it's getting late, there's no safe place left for Seth to climb to and cut limbs, and the tree is still stubbornly just as tall as it was at the beginning of the day.  Seth and Dad decide to top the tree by making a mid-way, partial cut, and then break it by pulling with cables and wench-thing-a-ma-jigs.

It got late.  The tree won for the day.  We had to sleep that night wondering if the thing would come crashing down in the middle of the night.  I prayed.  A lot.  This process was really getting to me.  I asked God to protect everything.  My husband.  My Dad.  My house.  All my other trees and plants.

Yes, I was really worried about my landscaping.  I had just planted four crape myrtles and six camellias along the driveway two days before.

 I just knew they would get crushed to smithereens, and so I actually dug them back up.  It took me all of five minutes, wearing a sundress to boot, so it wasn't that crazy.  Don't judge me.

Monday afternoon rolled around and everyone was really tired of this tree.  If trees could return to earth as something else in another life, this one would be a boulder.  Seth and Dad continued to crank the cables, which were attached to distant trees, tighter.  I listened to CRAck, crick, CRACK, all day long.  I prayed continuously. Mark came over to help.  They made another cut, lower down, deeper.  The tree leaned more and more.

While eating dinner with the peanut gallery inside, I heard the final crack.  It resonated somewhere deep inside me and I knew it was the final one.  I ran to the window.  The tree fell!!

We ran into the yard and cheered. 

Actually, I think my first question was, "Is everyone okay?"

Then I cheered.

The amazing part (okay, not so amazing because God is always faithful) is:

No one was hurt.

My house was spared.

The tree fell exactly where it was supposed to, in the only empty spot in the yard. 

The only plant that didn't make it was a tiny little sunflower in my neighbor's garden (I promised to buy her a new one).  If I hadn't dug up those crape myrtles and camellias, they would be flat, underneath a big dead tree right now.

Now I currently have a totem pole and a big mess.  Pardon me while I go erase that part about promising to  pick up sticks.

Jesus and Knitting

I love Christmas.  I love thinking about the birth of Jesus and how humble it was.  There were animals and dirt and crusty stone feeding troughs.  Can you imagine?  Birthing a child in all those germs?  )My mysophobe friends may now shudder.)  Yet, God chose that.  For himself.  For Mary.  For the visitors.  It's so wonderous. I love it.

It comforts me, also.  When I start to feel a bit annoyed that I don't have money to buy the gifts I want to buy or the decorations I want to put up, I think of those crusty places that Jesus laid his head.  It makes me feel comforted.  And spoiled.

In honor of those humble thoughts and not having money, I like to make things at Christmas time.  Also, I just like to make things.


One of my favorite new creations this year is this wreath.  We have a gargantuan pine tree in our front yard that has probably been alive since Jesus was born.  It throws pine cones down like nobody's business.  I used some foam we had to cut out a ring, hot glued 5,000 pine cones to it, and added grapevine twigs to fill the spaces (also from the yard).  Then I dusted it with a fine scatter of white glitter to give it a hint of sparkle.  Its simplicity makes me happy.



As you may have read before, my latest obsession is knitting.  You know I had to knit some Christmas stuff.  Knitting goes with Christmas like grits on a breakfast plate.  I knitted three scarves, two hats, and these...



I had always wanted to make my own stockings.  Knitted stockings.  Yeah baby.

And then there's my ornament tradition.  Have I told you about my ornament tradition?  Every year, since my first child was born, I've made my children each an ornament for Christmas.  Sometimes I paint it, sometimes I glue things or pin things or fill a glass ball, every year is different.  Last year I had learned to sew, so I made these little stuffed candy canes out of an old pink, red and white striped shirt the girls had both worn and grown out of.  This year, I'll give you one guess what my chosen craft was.

I'm too predictable.

I knitted these little bird ornaments from a pattern that is available free to download here.  Forget the wreath.  These are my favorite creations from this year.  How.  Stinkin.  Cute.  I stitched the girls' initials and the year on the underside. 

I wonder if Mary knitted anything.  Surely she made some things in anticipation of the birth.  A blanket? Maybe a sheep and cow mobile? God knitted: "You clothed me with skin and flesh, and knit me together with bones and sinews." Job 10:11

Oh look, the dirt on the door also reminds me of Jesus' birth!  How convenient we have so much of that around here too.

Merry Christmas!

Tate and the Red Thread

I've been a total slacker about keeping you up to date with Tate news. The latest photos are in (not so hot off the presses) of my newest little sibling who is waiting to be brought home from China.  These pictures were taken in celebration of Tate's birthday, which was more than a month ago....ahem.

There are services available, such as Red Thread China, that prospective adoptive families can pay to send gifts, letters, birthday cakes, and other items to their waiting Chinese children.

A representative from Red Thread brought Tate a birthday cake, treats, clothes, and a toy.  Then, she took a few photos of the time at the orphanage and sent them back to us!

 



I wonder if Tate has ever seen a cake before? I've never seen one like this one. Chinese cakes can be very different from American cakes. Remember my mom's Tomato, Melon and Parsley Cake?



I guess the cake was good after all!





Mmmmmm.....watermelon.....Chinese watermelons are just as tasty as ours!



Praise God, He has provided for me to join my mom on the trip to adopt Tate! By all our estimations, we are thinking we will be able to travel in September.


















It can't seem to come quickly enough. We'll be there soon, Tatertot!