For Dirtier, For Cleaner

When people found out our fourth child was joining the family only 18 months after our third, they said, if they were being encouraging, "They'll be such good friends as they grow up!"  If they weren't being encouraging, they said another set of comments entirely.  But I like to focus on the positive ones.  :)

So, good friends, eh?

Yeah, there's some truth to that.  ;-)

Whether they're "helping" me...

 ...weed a flowerbed...

 ...and getting unbelievably dirty...

 ...in the process...

...or cleaning up afterwards...

...in a morning bath...

 ...with our bubble-blowing jacuzzi machine...

 ...these two little guys are best buds.

I can't imagine Tobin without his Shav, or Shav without his Tobin.

The Reprieve of Thomas...and Other Celebratory Moments

"What day is it?" Josiah asked shortly before bedtime this evening.

"Monday," I replied.

"No, that's not what I meant.  What's the DATE?" he questioned further.

When I told him that it was April 25, he exclaimed, "It is??  It's already been a week and a day since David's birthday!"

And so it has.  I'd say it's about time to finish up this record of David's celebration and get it posted!  

As an aside, I would have done it sooner, but Blogger wasn't letting me upload videos, and I couldn't figure out why.  So I waited...and posted other things...and hoped that the video capability would somehow be back on the next day...but it wasn't...and so the cycle continued, until I finally wised up to the fact that I could switch my settings back to the old post editor and upload videos that way, then switch it back to the updated editor and continue with the post.  Too bad I didn't figure that out sooner!  

When I did finally get the videos to upload, I discovered that they were showing up at the bottom of the post, which was not where I wanted them (because of the chronology of the celebration).  But by that point, I was just grateful to have them at all, so I didn't go to the trouble of trying to move the videos up or move the pictures down.  It will just have to be the opposite of how things really occurred.  

These pictures were taken on Sunday the 17th, David's actual birthday. Of course, every time one of my sons has a birthday, I have to think back and remember how things transpired on the day of his birth, and April 17th was no exception.  It always brings a smile to my face to recall the wonderful birth story of my precious David.

Our larger celebration had occurred this year on the evening before David's birthday (videos of that in a moment), but on Sunday, we made our lunch a little extra special for David, using the Celebrate plate, singing to him, and--what he had been looking forward to so much--giving him gifts.  The trampoline was his big gift, but we found a few other little things to bring delight to his soul:

~ wooden magnets that he could paint

~ a JumpStart 1st grade workbook

~ two JumpStart computer programs

~ a Toy Story look & find book

~ this Peel & Stick Mosaic set (which he has really enjoyed, and I've loved how non-messy it is)  :)

~ two Lego sets that Josiah bought with his own money for David

~ and a Star Wars musical birthday card (because no birthday could be complete without a card that plays music!).

Have I forgotten any of the gifts?  My brain feels half-asleep already tonight, so I might not be remembering everything.  Oh well...  :)

Now, going back in time a day, we were fortunate enough to have dinner on the night before David's birthday with a group of four other families.  We meet together once a month for dinner and fellowship, and we'd like to come up with a name for our little group, but we haven't found one yet.  The first letters of our last names are S, L, B, D, and F--not very conducive to a great acronym!  But at any rate, David absolutely loves to get together with these families, and the kids have a blast together while the parents are having a blast, too.  Except our "blast" is quieter than the kids'.  ;-)

We were planning to get together this month here at our house, and we thought we'd tie good ol' Thomas up in a tree and give the kids a baseball bat to swing at him until he burst open and the candy spilled and the mad dash to grab it began.  However, the weather didn't cooperate; and with the high chance of rain that day, we were VERY grateful for the offer from one of the other families to have the festivities at their house.  Piñata-in-the-rain doesn't exactly spell merriment in my book.  ;-)

Because we were doing the piñata in our friends' garage, we decided to forego the usual baseball bat whacking of poor Thomas, and instead we used the ribbons that came attached to the bottom of the piñata.  If you're not familiar with how that works (I wasn't, since we always use a bat!), there are a number of ribbons that hang down, but only one opens the trapdoor to release the sweets, and no one knows which one is the right one to open it.  I wasn't sure how exciting it would be to do things that way, but it was actually a lot of fun--I'll show you in this series of very short videos.  (And by the way, can you even believe how clean this family's garage is???  Isn't it wonderful?!)

There was no way to plan whose ribbon pulled open the door; but even if we could have planned it, we couldn't have arranged it better than it worked out:  David pulled the first one, then each child present who wanted to participate got to pull one, but the candy still didn't spill.  Then finally, it was David's turn again to pull another one; and sure enough, that was the right one.  What an extra-special blessing for it to work out that way for him!  :)

It was also an extra-special blessing for us that we ended up using the ribbons, because we were able to save dear Thomas, and we'll duct tape the hole in the bottom and then use him when it's Josiah's birthday.  And even though this time Thomas was granted a reprieve, I don't think he'll escape unbashed after the next birthday party!!  :)

After the piñata, we congregated in the house again to sing happy birthday to David and eat sailboat hedgehog fish cupcakes.  ;-)

And that is how David turned six!

The Week in Words #1

I have long admired a meme I've seen bekahcubed participate regularly in: The Week in Words, hosted by Barbara H (who must be a lovely lady if her name is Barbara H. - just like my mother!). ;-) Despite my intentions every week to take a few moments to jot down some of the things I've read that have impacted me, I've never made it happen. Until now...

While reading the weekly email newsletter from HEAV, my state's homeschooling association, I discovered this gem from Amy Carmichael who lived from 1867-1951 and was a missionary to India for 56 years without a furlough.  Her words are especially meaningful to me because that is, in essence, what my blog is all about!  She said,

If a sudden jar can cause me to speak an impatient, unloving word, then I know nothing of Calvary love. For a cup brimful of sweet water cannot spill even one drop of bitter water, however suddenly jolted.

I am convicted.  I know that all too often, the words that spill from me are impatient and unloving.  It's obvious that I need to be filled more fully with sweet water from His well.

Here is one more quote that caught my eye this week--this one from John Piper on Facebook.

Since the curtain is torn from top to bottom, don't dawdle in the courtyard of the temple, run for the altar.

Having celebrated Jesus' resurrection in a special way yesterday, I'm intensely grateful for that torn curtain and the privilege of running straight to the altar!

********

For more gathered words, visit Barbara H.'s Stray Thoughts.

It's Easter, and My Words Are Few

This year, the profound nature of this holiday we're celebrating awes me--awes me to silence, in fact.  So many people have said so many things about Easter, and they've said them so much better than I could.  So I remember Ecclesiastes 5:1-2, and I seek to still my tongue in my head and my fingers on the keyboard.  Only three short things to share, and then I'm done.

First, my lunchtime conversation with David and Tobin on Friday was an interesting look at the supposed misnomer that "Good" Friday is.  I realized again that only through knowing the end of the story is it possible to call that day good.  With David and Tobin's stage of development being more immediate and realistic in terms of how they view the world, they decided that it should really be called Sad Friday, and they urged me to write the word "Sad" on the calendar above the word "Friday."  I did as they wished, letting my own thoughts linger on the way the disciples and Jesus' mother and others who knew Him must have felt on that night so long ago.  Having seen their Beloved be so brutally killed, what despair must have engulfed them.  Can we feel a piece of that, even though we have the advantage of so quickly skipping over to Sunday's joy?

Second, this picture of the Bleeding Heart that grows so easily in our back flowerbed reminds me of His bleeding heart...

...and so, like a child who buys a gift for his daddy using money that his daddy has given him, I give this picture back to Him, thanking Him for the beauty He's so abundantly given to us and promising to remember Him when I see these flowers.

Third, the song that has touched my heart the most during this Easter season is "Christ Is Risen" by Matt Maher.

Beauty.  Triumph.  Power.  Grace.

I, unworthy but grateful, bow my head.  My words are over.  I have nothing left to say.

I Asked My Mother for Help

Here's why:  long, long ago (I think it was last summer), I started reading On the Banks of Plum Creek to my boys; and yesterday evening I wanted to finish it.  Why did it take me such a horrendously long time to read that book to them?  Because, quite simply, I cried through the whole book.  Is that ridiculous or what?  But wow, at this stage of life, I can't read the Little House books and not identify with Ma in the hardships she faced.  It moves me to tears every time I read about, for example, Pa needing to walk hundreds of miles away to find work so the family wouldn't starve when the grasshoppers devoured all their crops and Ma and the girls don't hear from him for ever so long and finally the letter comes and Ma starts to read it and...by this point, I'm crying so much that I can't even keep reading.  I feel silly for admitting my weakness in this area, but at least I'm not the only one.  My blogging friend Patti is the same way, so that makes two of us.  ;-)

So, after seeing the book on the we're-reading-this-now shelf for too many months and knowing that it would be nice to finish it before this school year ends (which is next week for us, by the way), yesterday I convinced myself to summon all my courage and exert my highest degree of self-control and read more in that book.  I managed fine for a little while.  True, Pa had gone to town (all because he wanted tobacco, for shame!), and a blizzard came, and they didn't know where he was, and Ma sat up all night in the rocking chair with the lantern in the window, and Laura woke up in the night and peeked through the hole in the floor from her second-story bedroom, and the snow blew through the cracks around the doors and windows and put a fine layer of snow on the floors and beds.  But I was doing fine.  No tears.  Even when I read about Carrie's tears because she was missing her daddy.

However, when the FOURTH day of the blizzard rolled around and I knew that surely Pa would be coming home in the next chapter and I knew just as surely that my restraint wouldn't be able to handle that homecoming without showing my emotions, I conveniently discovered that it was time for lunch and I needed to stop reading right away.  "Maybe we'll finish it later this evening!" I told the boys as they begged for another chapter.  But already I was plotting how I could get away with NOT reading it to them.

At the supper table, I made an announcement after the boys had finished eating and had left the table, "I need someone to finish reading On the Banks of Plum Creek tonight.  Can either of you (looking at Jeff and then at my mother) do it?"  My dear mother eagerly volunteered for the job, since reading to her grandchildren is something she enjoys very much.  Before too long, she was settled on the couch, with little bodies snuggled around her, impatient to hear the end of the story.

 Would you believe, she was able to read the rest of the book without crying!  I thought I got my emotional nature, my ability to cry at any little thing, from her!  How did she do it?!  :)

Meanwhile, I was in the kitchen doing the nightly clean-up and, even though I had secretly read ahead to know how it all ended, I was still getting a huge lump in my throat and watery eyes as I listened to her reading to them.  Not only is there the moment when Pa, looking like a bear in his buffalo coat, first comes into the house, but also there's the time when he's telling them what happened and he says that he ate the oysters crackers to keep alive and then, even worse, he ate the Christmas candy and Mary and Laura say it's OK, knowing that they won't have any presents at all for Christmas but not wanting any because THEY HAVE THEIR PA HOME WITH THEM...  Oh, dear me.  I just can't stay unemotional at moments like these.

But one thing I can do:  be especially grateful that I have my mother around to help me out when I need her!!!  :)

Now that we've finally finished On the Banks of Plum Creek, I have a new dilemma.  Should I even attempt to start the next book in the series?  I guess I'll have to skim through it and see how many near-tragedies there are.  Any wildfires?  Attacks from Indians?  Anybody get lost in a blizzard?  Any sickness that almost kills them?  Any sad goodbyes?  Any chance at all that I could read the whole book and not shed a single tear?  :)

How Kind of the Daffodils...

...to coordinate so nicely with my new tablecloth.

I love a springtime table!  

Quiet Tests of Courage

Courage is not limited to the battlefield or the Indianapolis 500 or bravely catching a thief in your house.  The real tests of courage are much quieter.  They are the inner tests, like remaining faithful when nobody's looking, like enduring pain when the room is empty, like standing alone when you're misunderstood.

~ Charles Swindoll ~

Just pondering this today...