See you there.

Note:  I wrote this the weekend of Rebecca’s tenth birthday, which was October 24th.  I was suffering from double-digit shock, and didn’t get it finished.  Rebecca read my blog last weekend and asked where her birthday pictures were.  This is coming from the child who hates to have her picture taken, and never cooperates.  This weekend I threatened her (again) that when she gets older she will regret having no record of her childhood.  So, because Rebecca asked, here it is.  Even if I’m on “vacation.”

Oh, my, Rebecca.  You’re ten already.  (Shaking head in disbelief.)

Note to readers:  I know everyone is getting sick of me whining about how fast my kids are growing up.  And Rebecca is sick of me calling her the “baby.”

You confirmed little girlhood was only a memory when all you wanted for your birthday was a remote-controlled truck.

You are so amazingly creative.

You really don’t need too much of our input in this area.

You turn every job into an adventure.  (You were supposed to be raking, but you were burying Jake in leaves instead.)

Take, for instance, your job to build “Marble Universe.”  It is definitely a bona fide adventure in our living room.  Send marbles down one way, they head to Georgia.  Send them down an off ramp, and they’re off to South America.

You are truly an amazing medium girl.  No mere “little” girl could have come up with this wonder.

Love,

Your Mama

Someone offended me yesterday.  I suppose I could have laughed it off, as I did initially, but the underlying message was ugly.  Plain and simple.  My offended spirit grew throughout the day.  I imagined taking a baseball bat to my offender, and how satisfying it would be to whap him right in the knees.   I felt helpless.  How could I forgive this person?  Worse yet, I was going to see him soon, and would have to “be nice.”  I don’t like pretending to “be nice.”  My mind wandered to the idle chatter we might be having, and my throwing out the offensive remark in a group of people, sarcastically laughing as I gave my offender the evil eye.

I remember Pastor Stu asking us how we would like it if we had a little screen above our heads reflecting all our evil thoughts.  Now you’ve seen mine.  Ick.

My sovereign God had been prepping me for this all along.  Pastor T has been preaching about loving our enemies.  Of course, I was right in the midst of grieving about a broken relationship, and how I felt like just letting things remain in their current state of chaos.  Pastor T’s sermons encouraged me to not just let it be;  I need to pursue this person in love, no matter the reaction.  And not only pray for the person and his soul, but that I could faithfully love him and continue forgiving him, no matter what.

Then Pastor Keith filled in two weeks ago.  His sermon was titled “Let it Go.”  He said as Christians we need to go to the person who has offended us and try to resolve the conflict if it is a big deal.  Otherwise, we need to let it go.  I have seen how true this really is, as Christians get offended, get bitter, gossip about their conflict, and sometimes even leave their church instead of trying to resolve a problem.  We’re supposed to be a light.  Our conflict resolution ain’t cuttin’ the mustard.

By the way, if I’ve offended you, and you can’t let it go, this is your invitation to walk up to me and resolve it.  Be gentle.

Back to my original conflict.  I was in the shower yesterday afternoon (perhaps this is a home school mom phenomenon), getting madder and madder.  Then I started thinking about the name of my blog: “Burden of Glory.”  I thought about the few unbelievers that could be reading my blog, and how I would explain to them what “burden of glory” means.  Then my husband came in and asked me what I was doing.  I told him how I was really doing, then ended with explaining, in layman’s terms, what “burden of glory” means.

What God has prepared for us for eternity is so wonderful, so unfathomable, that we can only see glimpses.  It is like an eclipse.  You can’t look directly into the sun, for it will burn your retinas.  But once in a while, you can catch a glimpse of the sun around the moon during an eclipse.  This is awe-inspiring in itself;  the whole sun would just be too much.  Our glimpse of God and eternity is the same.  The weight, or burden of comprehending the whole thing would be too much for us.  Glimpses are all we can handle.

My glimpse made my anger dissipate.  Placing my offense next to the weight of glory made my offense unimportant.  I was able to smile at this person last night, and I actually forgot the transgression all evening.  I let it go.

I can’t say that pondering the burden of glory will dissolve every offense against us.  That is how God ministered to me in this moment.  But I know He is faithful, and He has all kinds of ways to heal our hurts.

Thank you, Lord.

Maddie drew up plans for an advanced communication system from the house to the fort.  She showed them to me.  I didn’t feel this was the responsibility of my department, so I sent her off to engineering.  After an hour or so, Maddie, Rebecca and Marcus came up with this:

The cousins came over, and they sent several notes back and forth.  Every 15 minutes they came back in to ask for more scratch paper.  They used this thing the whole time they were over, cranking it as fast as they could.  5 hours.  They may have to have corrective surgery when they’re 40.  Hope they don’t remember when they started having symptoms in their wrists, elbows and shoulders.

When we grilled hotdogs, Rebecca put them in the coffee can, and sent them on out to the fort.  Try that with your cell phone.  We warned her to NEVER put a person in the coffee can.  You would think this is something you wouldn’t have to tell a kid, but it is not.

We have heard that every cousin has begged his or her father to replicate our technological wonder, and the fathers have done their best.  We should have patented it.  We just didn’t know.

Feel free to send messages to the fort whenever you stop in.  You’ll just have to sign a few papers limiting our liability for cranking injuries.

For those of you who think I’m saying “goodbye” to blogging until December, think again.  I’m on a blogging vacation, but I just happen to feel like blogging again today.

No, I’m saying “goodbye” to my wacky world of no routine, where no cooking by me has occured since…hmmm….Thursday.  We had delicious chili made by Mrs. J. Friday night, along with Le Quartier bread and chipotle-cranberry cheese.  Oh, mercy.  So it isn’t like we’re not eating.

Marcus called this morning.  I expected him to tell me he was out in the field blasting birds, but no – he had just finished cooking biscuits and gravy for the hunters, including Pastor T. (not to be confused with Mr. T), and needed to do the dishes.  Ha hee ha hee.  That is just about too much for me.  I may have a silly grin plastered on my face all day.  Hopefully Rebecca’s volleyball coach doesn’t think I’m nuts tonight.  Or somethin’.

When the master comes home, routine must reign.  Regular meals, big meals, to feed a big, hungry man on his feet all day.  And could I still eat gouda, BBQ chicken, and apples, you ask?  No!   If I got to choose what I got to eat, then everyone would get to choose.  Rebecca would alternately eat grilled cheese and pizza for every meal, even breakfast.  Maddie wouldn’t eat anything with beans or nuts.  And I’m not sure about Kate- she isn’t home near as much anymore and is just thankful for food when she passes through.

Ashley will also be back from fall break tomorrow, and back to work 3 mornings a week.  I’m not really sure what she eats besides the 3 lunches  she shares with us.  So I really like to send her off with a full belly.  She likes food, but doesn’t like to buy it.  She has only went shopping for groceries twice since she moved out, and I’m a bit bewildered about how she is functioning.  But I try to encourage without DINGING HER INCESSANTLY, which could be my way, if unchecked.

As I was savoring my last gouda/BBQ chicken/apple lunch, Rebecca was reveling in the biscuits and gravy she hid in the back of the refrigerator from yesterday.  The biscuits she and Kate had made.  She was afraid the older girls would take it this morning.  Her contentment rivaled my own as she heated up her meal and did a little dance.  Part of her delight was sleeping with Mom for TWO nights, and reading Homer Price last night before bed.  For some reason, the picture of the Super Duper getting shot by a cannon made Rebecca cackle until she cracked a rib.  Maybe.  She laughed so hard I laughed, too.  We were still shaking our heads about it this morning.  “Oh, that Super Duper.”

Farewell.

P.S.  Contrary to the impression you may have gotten, I really don’t mind cooking, I actually like feeding people, and I really miss my husband.

Ever since I decided not to blog until December, I’ve thought of all sorts of clever things (in my own mind) to say.  Like telling you what I am doing tonight, even though it offers no spiritual insight, or any other kind of insight.  Unless my eating habits interest you.

Marcus left for South Dakota this morning, which makes me feel like I have free time.  I’m not sure why it feels this way, as he usually doesn’t require much of my time.  But there are things I do when he is here that I tend to dismiss when he isn’t around.  Like cook.

The kids think this is a free-for-all.  Kate and Becca made a frozen pizza, one of their favorite meals (why do I cook again?).  Then they promptly filled a bowl with Prego, their favorite spaghetti sauce (why do I can spaghetti sauce?).  Finally, they slyly took their gourmet meal to the basement to watch a movie and eat pizza, their favorite activity/meal combo.   They were sly because they know Mom the Enforcer doesn’t really approve of eating in the basement on the “new” carpet.  New is relative, as I think it is 4 or 5 years old already.  I forget.  The point is that since they were so sly, they didn’t turn on the light in the stairway.  I heard a crash, then heard Prego sauce and pizza hit the wall and carpet.  I’m sure if I could have seen it, it would have been in cool slow-motion like The Matrix. Kate told me not to worry.  She would take care of it.  Okay, said I.  No use crying over spilt milk, or pizza and spaghetti sauce, I say.

Oh, yes.  While the girls were heating up, sneaking, spilling, and cleaning up pizza, I was creating a spreadsheet for the teachers’ payroll at our homeschool cooperative.  Nifty.  I haven’t made a real spreadsheet, with formulas and everything,  since I used to work and get paid.  It was kind of fun once I called my mom to figure out why my formulas didn’t work.  I’m glad I have access to a professional who doesn’t charge me consulting fees.  At least she didn’t before she read this.  Right, Mom?

By 8:00, I was finished and decided to wander into the kitchen.  I wasn’t really hungry, but decided to look in the refrigerator.  What I saw made my heart go pitter-patter.

Gouda cheese, shaved BBQ chicken from Sam’s, and fresh Gala apples.  Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.  If I didn’t have to cook bigger meals to sustain Marcus’ frame, I would eat this A LOT.  My gouda cheese slices are sliced quite thick, and look like apples, but if you look really close, it is yummy, perfect gouda.  I don’t usually keep gouda around, as it is a bit pricey.  But I love a BBQ chicken pizza recipe in the new Zion cookbook, which calls for gouda cheese.  Ashley really loves it, too.  So maybe I thought I could entice Ashley for supper if she knew I was making this spectacular gouda/BBQ chicken pizza.  Most of her dinner dates seem to be filled, however, so I must eat the gouda alone.

After my scrumptious dinner, I found the hidden oreos I had put in the back of the pantry after my snack this afternoon.  I’m a dipper, and must make them soggy with milk before consumption.  Don’t worry.  The orange is only their festive Halloween color, and doesn’t affect the taste.  The creme still tastes like Crisco and powdered sugar.  I determined this by eating many, many middles when I made cheesecake.  The crust for my Chocolate Truffle Cheesecake calls for Oreo crumbs, but no middles.  I must eat them all.

Ooops.  Looks like my snack this afternoon was a bit excessive.  Or maybe someone else found my hiding place.  I’m not telling.

For lack of inspiration, I’ve decided to take some time off from here.  Life is full, and I find myself writing on scraps of paper again, but for different audiences.  Hopefully, I can develop some of my paper scraps into legitimate paragraphs to publish for y’all.

The December Photo Project is coming quicker than we think.  I’ll be back then.

Here are some pictures to tide you over.

I remember how very precious you were when you were born.  You were only 6 pounds, and orange as a pumpkin.

I also remember the first time Dad brought Ashley to the hospital to see you.  She tried to hold you many times after this, and it always made us nervous.

I remember admiring you in a sunny window, hoping it would help your orange tint.

Do you remember thinking Ashley was the best thing since sliced bread?

You would follow her to the ends of the earth.  Or yard.  Whichever came first.

Do you remember becoming a big sister?  Do you remember when Daddy barely looked old enough to shave?

Do you remember the tepee Daddy helped you design?  It looked bona fide.

Do you remember Dad dressing up like Goliath for the Reformation Party at church?  I still remember trying to get the duct tape off his legs.

Do you remember your 5th birthday?  We had a 3-legged race, and we all played sardines.  Suffering codfish.  What a party.

Do you remember the wigs we found in the antique store in Minnesota?

But I really don’t remember when this happened.

Happy 16th birthday, Kattie.  I love ya’ awful.

I must admit I don’t get out to the park often.  We had talked about having a picnic at Pioneers Park on Labor Day.  But when it was 5:00 p.m., and I still hadn’t prepared a picnic, I wasn’t really in the mood anymore.  Marcus’ brother-in-law called and said they were going.  Marcus gave me the “question” look.  I told him we’d do whatever he wanted, and winced while I waited to hear his reply.

He said we would be there, and we would pick up fried chicken.  Botta-bing.  My lack of preparation finally paid off.

I can’t decide in which picture Kat looks more captivating.

My nephew, Hudson, has great grayish-blue eyes.

I found it hard to believe this was in Lincoln, Nebraska, and not Devonshire.

Hudson put the geese to bed before we left.

Now I want to go to the park more often, and that incredibly greasy fried chicken wasn’t bad, either.

Last Saturday I had a big day planned.  It is easy just to jump into a day like that, but I wanted to take a moment to stroll down our road a bit and reflect.  And loosen up my lower back.  I ended up going back for my camera, admiring what the rain had brought to my attention.

A bridge, perhaps?

Definitely a crown.

I am now a fan of dandelions.

And I’ve always been a fan of obedient plants.  But I never noticed that each individual flower resembles a snapdragon.