Snuggly Sleepers and Slippery Snow

Three days ago, it snowed here--a wonderful 12-inch (approximately...it was hard to measure accurately because of the drifting) snow that gave my boys HOURS of fun outside in it.  I was actually surprised by how long they wanted to stay out in it, because it basically kept snowing all day, and sometimes they don't enjoy it so much if the snow is blowing in their faces.  But the fact that our neighbors were out in it, too, made it fun enough that my boys were happily occupied for two loooong stretches of time--one in the morning and one in the afternoon/evening.

But before all of that, my oldest and my youngest, clad in snuggly sleepers, took a few moments to cuddle on the couch by the woodstove--a very cozy place to hang out.  :)

There is so much delight that fills the heart of a parent...

...when they see their children loving each other.  :)

My Josiah and my Moriah...

...are so very precious to me.

And to each other.  :)

One of Moriah's most-loved "games" at this stage is the Body Parts Game.

She'll pat her nose...we'll say "Moriah's nose"...she'll pat my nose...we'll say "Mommy's nose"...she'll pat/poke an eye...we'll identify it...and so on.

We do this every single day.  I usually don't mind, but when she was sick and vomiting yesterday, I wasn't too keen on her touching her tongue and waiting for us to say "Moriah's tongue," and then touching mine!!  I kept my lips firmly closed, much to her chagrin.  ;-)

Moriah wasn't the only one who got to cuddle with her biggest brother that morning...

...although Shav's snuggles with Josiah involved some wrestling, too.

Boys!!  ;-)

Towards the beginning of this post, I mentioned the drifting, and here's an example of it.  We were actually thrilled that the wind blew the snow off the bottom part of our sidewalk and piled it up beside it.

As far as we're concerned, the wind can do that every time it snows!  :)

In the afternoon, I took Moriah outside, all bundled up in the snowsuit that each of our children has worn when they're toddlers.  My parents got it long ago, shortly after we moved back from Israel; and I'm so glad they got a red one so that my boys AND my girl could wear it.  :)

This was Moriah's first real time playing in the snow, and I wasn't sure what she would think of it.  I vividly remember that some of my older children did NOT like the snow when they were about this age, probably because it was hard to walk in and was just so weird and cold!  :)

But Moriah seemed to enjoy it quite a bit, and we stayed out in it longer than I thought we would.

We watched Josiah sled down our neighbors' hill...

...and trudge back up again as Shav looked on.

 Tobin was there sledding, too.

Shav was mostly watching, trying to keep his footing, and eating the snow.  :)

Then we moved down the hill to where our neighbors had made a big pile of snow from using their tractor to clear their lane.

Their kids and ours had spent quite a long time making tunnels and carving out "rooms" in this quinzhee.

It reminded me of how much fun it was to do that myself, one winter long ago when I was a young girl, enjoying a big snowfall and the company of my siblings as we dug out the snow like this.  :)

They were proud of their work.  Rightly so.  :)

Meanwhile, Moriah was learning the delights of eating snow.

Our neighbor Wanita was teaching her.  :)

Simple joys.  :)

Finally, when Moriah's cheeks and nose were nearly as red as her snowsuit, I picked her up and slowly carried her home.

I think she would have rather stayed outside with her brothers though.  :)

The Other Half of My Two

In Our Town by Thornton Wilder, one of my favorite plays, are found these lines that spring into my mind on this Valentine's Day...

Stage Manager: You know how it is: you're twenty-one or twenty-two and you make some decisions; then whisssh! you're seventy: you've been a lawyer for fifty years, and that white-haired lady at your side has eaten over fifty thousand meals with you.  How do such things begin?

Mrs. Gibbs: People are meant to live two by two in this world...

Two by two.  It doesn't always work out that way, and I know that full well.  As I think of ones I love whose dream of "two by two" fell apart, my heart aches on this Love Day that can be so hard for those in that situation.

How humbled I am that God has given me the other half of my two.

How grateful.

How blessed that this man by my side in...what?...1998 or maybe 1999...

 ...was also by my side in 2000...

 ...and in 2001 when Josiah was just a little bean inside me...

 ...and in May of 2002 when Josiah was making his presence much more known...

 ...and in June of 2002, five days before Josiah's birth.

How blessed I am that the same wonderful man was by my side this morning during a very romantic Valentine's morning date.  ;-)

OK, not really.  It wasn't romantic AT ALL.  We were at the health department for Moriah and Shav to get shots, and it was pretty much awful.  Poor Shav.  Poor, poor Shav.  He had to get four shots, and he was so little the last time he got any shots that he didn't remember it, and he was so nervous and sad about it, and he cried and cried.  And then Moriah, sympathetic soul that she is, cried and cried, too.  Every other time she's had shots, she's gotten over them very quickly, but not this time--not with her beloved brother carrying on at the top of his lungs.  Oh my!

But as I was saying, I was blessed--very, VERY blessed--to have Jeff with me.  His willingness to take some time off work to come and help me meant more to me than a dozen red roses.  Or tulips.  Which reminds me...

Here are some of the things Jeff has done this week that have communicated love to the deepest part of my heart:
1. On a night when I'd had a pretty awful day and was feeling as grumpy as a bear just awakened from hibernation, he talked with me gently and without judgment.  My own conscience was smiting me with all its might and I didn't need anyone else to tell me how terrible I was being.  His kindness was exactly what my weary heart needed.
2. He brought me red tulips, which I like better than red roses and which I look forward to planting in my tulip flowerbed after we finish enjoying every little bit of beauty they're providing indoors now.  Fresh flowers in the winter always seem like such a LUXURY to me, and I feel pleasantly spoiled by these.  :)

3. He bought 20 containers of coffee yogurt--my favorite!--for me.
4. He also bought chocolate raisins for me.
5. He carried in a bunch of wood so our porch would be well-stocked before the big snowstorm came.
6. He shoveled my parents' walk and ours, too.
7. In the evenings, he interacted with the kids to their great delight: playing Khet with the boys, wrestling, tickling, letting Moriah climb all over him, etc.  Not only does it bring joy to my heart to see and hear our kids having so much fun with their daddy, it also serves the practical purpose of giving me time to do kitchen tasks immediately after supper when I actually have enough energy to do them, rather than waiting until much later when all the kids are in bed and I have to really talk myself into tackling a messy kitchen because at that point, I would MUCH rather procrastinate on it!  ;-)
8. He started dreaming about--and sketching--a front porch for our house.  :)
9. Today he called me from work and said, "You shouldn't have to cook on Valentine's Day.  How about if I bring home pizza?"  Well, I couldn't say no to that.  :)
10. He wrote this on Facebook this morning, and it's been warming my heart ever since.
I have had 18 Valentine's Days to spend with you... the first, just as an onlooker, fellow student, observing a bright, happy, serving student at Jerusalem University College. You caught everyone's attention with your humble and cheerful spirit.... and that seemingly permanent smile on your face. Your sincerity was never questioned, your reputation flawless. I am still in awe that you are mine and I am yours. I certainly never felt deserving of your love or companionship. I still remember trusting my secret interest in you with two people: Jonathan Fickley and Prof. Lancaster. Fickley made famous the "carpe diem" phrase for me and encouraged me to seize the opportunity before you were gone. And Steve Lancaster's facial expression still strikes my memory, a bit of incredulity, as if to say "You with her!?" "Really?" And then to hear him talk about how special you were, repeating the things I had already observed in your character: your glowing smile, your readiness to serve without notice or reward, your humility, your sharpness, your beautiful spirit, and your tenderness. He said it without saying it, "If you catch her, you have "upgraded" and you better not hurt her!" Its been an amazing whirlwind of love, adventure, growth, and pain. We have done it together. We have done it in opposition and we have done it in favor. We have stood the trials in ease, and in effort, together, in love, faithful, steadfast, and with eager expectation of the future. I would not trade our journey for another; because of you, I have no regrets. I love you Davene Fisher!

I am humbled, I am grateful, I am BLESSED to be the other half of Jeff's two.  It has been a very happy Valentine's Day.   :)

Irreconcilable

The first time it happened, we were at Disneyland.  

Back in May of 2009, we took the kids and flew to California to visit Jeff's family and our friends there--the last family trip we've taken to California, as a matter of fact.  (We're eager to go again, but finances. *sigh*)  While we were there, Jeff's sister Kim blessed us immensely by giving us free tickets to Disneyland, and Jeff's mom blessed us immensely by keeping 16-month-old Tobin so we could take only Josiah and David (well, Shav got to go along, too...in my womb) ;-) and have a little more freedom to do things with them.  It was a spectacular day, filled with laughter and fun.

Except for one part of it.  Towards the end of the day, Jeff took the boys on a more thrilling ride, the name of which escapes me at the moment; and since I was pregnant, I decided to sit that one out.  While waiting for them, I fished a book out of my backpack and opened it, eager to snatch a few moments to read.  The book was A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini.  If you haven't read it, you should.  Also, if you haven't read it, I'll simply say that it's about Afghanistan, specifically the unbelievable challenges that women there face.  If you haven't read it, this next part might not make sense; but bear with me.

As I continued to read, I COULD NOT RECONCILE the horrible things I was reading about with the happy, carefree life I was living.  The contrast COULD NOT HAVE BEEN GREATER between beautiful, sunny Disneyland, with its throngs of happy-go-lucky families and its appearance of prosperity and freedom and the unspeakably difficult conditions in which the women in the book lived: no freedom, much pain, no wealth, much abuse, no hope.  And I think that last one is the worst of all, because without hope, what does one have?

I sat there on the bench at Disneyland, sunglasses hiding my eyes, my hands holding the book, my ears hearing the cheerful voices around me, but as if from a great distance.  Because of the intensity and the power of what I was reading, I felt myself removed from the reality that was swirling around me in southern California and suspended somewhere between there and Afghanistan.  

I was wrecked.

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It happened again tonight.

No, I wasn't at Disneyland (too bad, right?).  :)  And no, I wasn't reading A Thousand Splendid Suns again.  But I was reading a book that gripped me so tightly I felt myself transported away from real life here in snowy, peaceful Virginia and set down in a concentration camp in Germany in 1945.  

The book is called Rose Under Fire by Elizabeth Wein and was recommended recently by Rebekah, so I reserved it at the library and eagerly started reading it.  Tonight I COULD NOT PUT IT DOWN until I had finished the last page.  That's not totally unheard of for me, because I do find it easy to become engrossed in a book and not want to stop reading--especially when I *should* be doing something else, like dishes or laundry.  ;-)  But it was different this evening.  I was so swept up in the story that I would literally look up from my book, glance around the living room, and find it strange to see our furnishings that ordinarily look quite normal to me!  I would look up, see the boys' coats and hats and gloves and boots from their time spent playing outside in the snow today, and feel so puzzled by that.  I'd look down, read some more, then let my eyes wander from the book...until they found something like the colored pencils Moriah had scattered all over the floor earlier this evening...and then it just wouldn't make sense.  Like the Disneyland experience, I COULD NOT RECONCILE what I was reading with what life was really like for me tonight.  I literally had to tell myself, "It's OK.  I'm in Virginia.  It snowed today.  The kids had fun in it.  Tomorrow is Valentine's Day.  I need to remember to get the gifts for the boys out of the minivan tonight.  We have plenty of wood for the woodstove.  We will be warm enough.  We have food.  We aren't starving."  Well, you get the idea. 

The contrast between the safe, happy time that this little sweetheart had today...

...and the conditions of utter horror that existed in the Nazi concentration camps was so huge that it almost defied belief.

It wrecked me.

I know I'll wake up tomorrow morning and be back in touch with the reality of my amazing, secure, abundant life; and I'm grateful for that.  But tonight, I feel as if the veil has been lifted, and I've glimpsed anew what life is and has been like for so many people born into circumstances so much more difficult than mine.  That chasm is so wide that I can't even mentally reconcile it, but I can--and I will, every single day--say thank you for this life I've been given.

Of Caves, and Gifts Too Precious to Use

I've been in a cave for a few days.

Oh, not a literal one, of course, but a mental and emotional one.  I wasn't even sure I wanted to tiptoe out of this cave and post anything online tonight, but here I am, reluctantly.  I haven't figured out exactly why I feel so hermit-ish.  Well, not much use pondering that for too long, I suppose.

Speaking of caves...  Sunday a week ago, Jeff gave Josiah and David the assignment of looking up the Biblical account of David, who hid in the cave of Adullam and longed for a drink of water from his hometown of Bethlehem, and then, when some of his men got one for him at the risk of their lives, poured it out on the ground.  Jeff wanted them to not only find the story and familiarize themselves with it, but also think about some of the deeper meaning behind it.  They eagerly embraced the challenge, and it was fun to watch their enthusiasm for their assignment.  After they found it in the Bible (in 2 Samuel 23) and read it, we talked about it together; and then Jeff gave them and Tobin and Shav the task of acting it out, which they did with great fanfare.  It was a sweet, spiritual time together as a family.  

It also brought to my mind a time when someone did something similar for me.  Not that anyone crept through enemy lines to bring me back water from Bethlehem's well!  But when we lived in San Diego, a kind friend named Adriana made a cake for me, and I felt so honored and humbled by her gift that I could hardly eat it.  If my memory is correct, it was a heart-shaped cake...and, more significantly, it was the first time she had ever made a cake.  And she made it for me.

When I was younger, I read the story of David's men bringing him the water, expecting him to feel very grateful, I'm sure, and to drink it--obviously!  I always thought that if I were them, I would have thought, "Good grief, David!  We just risked our LIVES for that water, and you're using it to water the grass?  WHY IN THE WORLD would you do THAT?"  I didn't get it at all.

Now I understand that sometimes a gift is so precious that you can hardly bring yourself to use or consume it.  Adriana's cake was that way.  (Although I do remember that we did eat it, so the comparison between that cake and the water that David's men brought him only goes so far.)  ;-)

All of that makes me think of grape jelly.  Why?  Because, until recently, on one of the shelves in my cellar sat a jar of grape jelly, made by my mother and labeled with her handwriting.

It's the last jar of grape jelly left from the years when she used to fill the cellar with home-canned goodness.

I've looked at that jar of grape jelly for a long time, not wanting to open it, not wanting to admit the finality of the thing: that this will be the last jar of grape jelly from my mother.

It is, like David's water, almost too precious to use.

However, I have enough of my mother's sensible nature in me that, unlike David, I am not going to pour it out on the ground.  ;-)  Instead, we've been enjoying it on rolls and on peanut butter & jelly sandwiches; and as I spread it on the bread, I'm reminded of the many sacrifices of time and energy my mother made to provide good food for her family and the countless ways she loved and served us.  And I am grateful.

Water from Bethlehem.
A cake made by an inexperienced cook.
Grape jelly, the last of its kind.
All expressions of love that were poured out, either literally or figuratively, before the Lord, the One who sees us and who is with us.

Even when we're in a cave.

In the Big Ol' Net, Vol. 3

You know how you can tell when I've run out of time late at night to finish a "real" blog post but really want to post something quick anyway?  Because I post one of these internet round-up things.  :)

(Vol. 1 is here.  Vol. 2 is here.)

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I found it fascinating to read Isaac Asimov's predictions back in 1964 about what life would be like 50 years in the future.  Now that we're here, have we achieved what he thought we would?  :)

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I looked at this with Josiah and David, and these camouflaged animals blew our minds.  The Creator of all of these is AMAZING!  (And #16 was incredibly difficult to find!)

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I'm always interested to hear how others "do school," and this particular article about Finland's school system was particularly encouraging to me because the way we personally homeschool is more similar to it than to the public school system here in America.

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It goes without saying that the transfer of faith from Jeff and I to our children is one of the absolute highest priorities of our lives.  With that in mind, I read with special interest this article about why children are leaving the faith.

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This video of forgiveness after tragedy is kind of long (9 minutes and 42 seconds), but it's a wonderful story of redemption.  The part that hit me the most, however, occurs at 3:55 when Erik speaks of our lives as being a 3x5 snapshot that we're trying to make look right, but we have no idea that God "paints on a canvas the size of the universe."  In the recent challenges to get my heart soft enough to accept the changes that are coming as a result of my mom's Alzheimer's, this spoke deeply to me.  This word picture of God painting on a canvas the size of the universe while I hold a 3x5 picture in my hand makes me feel small; but even as it humbles me, it lifts me up to great heights--and fills me with hope that God is making something beautiful out of this pain.

Wordless Wednesday {Wednesdays Are for Violin Lessons}