Rewriting the Ending

I had a bad dream last night.

It was the scary type, the kind that leaves you gasping when you wake up as your mind struggles to grab hold of reality but your emotions are still so very tied up in the dream.  You know it wasn't real, but you feel it so strongly.  You know the kind?

The theme of the dream was a tornado; and in the rough and choppy manner of dreams, these are the scenes I remember:
~ looking out the windows to see if a tornado was approaching
~ all of us being in Shav's room (of all places!)...it is certainly NOT a safe place in the event of a tornado, but I think we gathered there because of the two windows in his room...we could look both north and west
~ seeing leaves swirling upward from a tree, and realizing that a tornado was indeed forming (and, I think, telling Jeff about it)
~ racing downstairs to our cellar while frantically grabbing blankets, etc. on the way
~ carrying a bundle or something...I think it must have been Shav wrapped up
~ looking out the kitchen window on the way downstairs and seeing the woodshed doors open...wishing they were shut but realizing that there was no time to go out and shut them (as if shutting them would be helpful against a tornado anyway!)
~ opening the door from the house to the garage, seeing the garage door wide open, pushing the button to close it (again, why would that be useful?)
~ ending up in the cellar where it suddenly dawned on us that we should NOT be in the cellar (our cellar has a little window of sorts so it's open to the outside air; and because of the home-canned jars on the shelves, a tornado would turn that room into a terribly dangerous swirl of glass shards)
~ going into the laundry room (which is our safest room)
~ everything being incredibly chaotic, despite my desire to be orderly and prepared in the face of such an emergency
~ realizing with a start that Rosalie, our neighbor's oldest daughter, was with us
~ realizing with an even bigger start--a horrifying one--that Josiah was not

In the dream, my mind raced.  Where was he???  Had he overheard my comment that I wish I had thought to grab a flashlight (despite the fact that all of this was happening in broad daylight, and the storm would be over long before darkness fell), and had he run back up to his room to get one for me?

In the dream, that seemed like something that my kind, responsible, helpful son would have done; but as I stood at the bottom of the downstairs steps, looking up into the empty gloom and hearing the incredible and terrible roar of the approaching tornado, I wanted Josiah to know that HE DIDN'T NEED TO GET THE FLASHLIGHT.  All he needed to do was COME!!!  Be with us!  Be safe!  "JOSIAH!!!!" I yelled with all my might as the most awful fear and grief took hold of me.

And then I woke up.

I lay there reeling, telling myself the truth that it was just a dream, that all of us were safe, that there was no tornado.  I mentally went through my list of sons:  "Josiah is safe in his bed," as I pictured him sprawled on his bunk.  "David is safe," and his image flashed through my mind.  "Tobin is safe," and I saw, with my mind's eye, him snuggled in his bed.  "Shav is safe," and another picture of peace came to me.

But I was still shaken, so I did the only two things I could think to do.  I did what Lamentations 2:19 instructs, "Rise during the night and cry out.  Pour out your hearts like water to the Lord.  Lift up your hands to him in prayer, pleading for your children."  I arose, walked to Josiah's room, raised my hands to the Lord, and poured out my heart in prayer for my firstborn.  That was a very good consequence from a very bad dream!

The second thing?  I rewrote the ending to the dream.

Do you ever do this?  When a dream you have ends abruptly at the worst possible moment or ends in an outcome that is tragic, do you ever replay the dream, so to speak, and change the ending?  I do, and you know what?  It actually helps.

For example, as I lay in my bed last night, in the state of semi-wakefulness and semi-sleep that occurs when sleep is interrupted so suddenly, I thought of how my dream could have ended differently; and this is what I came up with:  Josiah had seen Jason, the youngest child of our neighbors, outside in the yard as the tornado approached, so Josiah went out to get Jason.  As I looked up the steps, calling Josiah's name and feeling as if my heart would break from the loss of my son, I saw the most wondrous sight:  Josiah coming towards me, with Jason.  Both of them coming towards safety.  I wasn't going to lose my son after all, and even better, neither was my neighbor.

Ahhhhhhhhh!  BIG sigh of relief!  I like that ending much, MUCH better!  And because of that revision, in the wee hours of this morning, my heart gratefully smoothed itself into a peaceful pattern, and my mind relaxed and released its overwhelming burden of pain and worry, and my body let itself drift off into sweet slumber again.

It might sound silly, but who cares?  It works for me; and in this case, that's what matters.  :)

This Is the Summer in which...

 ...we have two sons who are accomplished independent readers, and scenes like this are common in our home.

It's no surprise that Josiah has spent countless hours of his summer devouring books since he's been quite a bookworm for several years; but when I see David quietly curled up with a book, I remember how, just last summer, the books he read were done with me at his side, sitting on the couch with him, listening to his words, helping with the hard ones, correcting pronunciation, etc.  But now, he goes to the shelf, picks a book, plops down on the couch, reads it all by himself, then proudly jumps up to mark another one off his chart for the library summer reading program and to announce to me the latest book he's read.  He, by the way, is the first in our family to reach the goal of 25 books and fill up his chart; and he's excited about the fact that this year, the library will let readers start over, fill up another chart, and get more prizes!  :)

Some of David's favorites this summer are the Amelia Bedelia books, the Mr. Putter & Tabby ones, and the Henry & Mudge series.  He whips through them so fast that I'm left shaking my head and thinking, "We'd better get some longer books for him to read."  ;-)

Speaking of books...  On the morning of Independence Day, I asked Josiah if he could please read Happy Birthday, America to Tobin (and David, of course, came over to listen, too).

I figured that, rather than me trying to read it and having to stop because of getting all choked up, I'd just go ahead and let Josiah do the honors.  And you know what?  That boy didn't shed a single tear as he read.

How very stoic of him.  ;-)

Wordless Wednesday {Delicate}

Eve Is Avenged

It all started with a glance out the kitchen window and a thought in the back of my head, "Hmm, is there something in the grass?  Could it be a snake?"

With a sheepish grin, I now admit that the above scenario happens for me roughly every five minutes during the warm months when snakes might be around.  ;-)  I am forever thinking that I see a snake, and then it turns out to be a stick...or a part of a shingle that was blown off the roof...or a stalk of grass...or a shadow...or a nothing.  Just a figment of my imagination.  Someday, when I get inspired and have enough time, I'm going to write a blog post entitled, "We See What We Fear."  But not today...  :)

On that particular day, which happens to be this past Thursday, the date of which is June 30, 2011, just in case future historians need to know the date :), when I saw that "something" in the grass, I decided to take a closer look.  After all, I had some scraps that I needed to take out to the compost pile, so I carried them out, dumped them in, then walked behind the house to see what I could find.  "Why in the world would you do that?" you might wonder.  "Aren't you afraid of snakes?"  

Well, yes, I most certainly am.  But if there is a snake in my backyard, the worst thing is to NOT KNOW ABOUT IT.  So I had to investigate.

I walked slowly, however.  Gingerly.  Timidly.  Didn't get too close.  Close enough to see that there was a thing in the grass.  Thought it might be a stick.  Decided it didn't look quite like a stick.  Figured it probably was a snake.  Backed off quickly.  I was wearing open-toe sandals, after all.

As I came back into the house, my mind raced faster than the speed of light as I considered the possibilities.

1. Calling Jeff?  No, he was at work; and although he came home from work to deliver me in the goat-stuck-in-the-fence situation, I was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to make it home in time to deal with the snake.

2. Calling my Old Order Mennonite neighbor Wilma?  No.  Although she killed the first snake we found around here, I thought she might laugh (lovingly, of course) if I called her to deal with another one.

3. Calling my parents?  Tempting, but I decided it was time to grow up and be a big girl and face my fears and take the bull by the horns and hit the snake with a hoe!

Next question:  where were the boys, and were they safely occupied?  Yes.  Earlier, Shav had motioned to be put up in his highchair, and he was happily playing with little cars while he watched me work in the kitchen.  He would be fine while I went outside to deal with our most unwelcome intruder.  The older three boys were downstairs watching a movie, and I didn't call them to come up because I didn't want them to get frightened (ha! they would have been much braver than I, I'm sure!)...and probably also because I didn't want an audience while I faced my enemy.

While these thoughts zoomed through my head, I ran up to my room, grabbed my tallest pair of boots, traded my sandals for them, zipped up the boots, rushed back down, grabbed the hoe we keep on the porch "for such a time as this," and returned to the backyard for the showdown.  

I wasn't entirely sure the snake would still be there, but he was; and although I contemplated going up to the garden shed to grab a longer hoe (the one in my hands was feeling AWFULLY short, right about then!), I decided that I'd better act quickly before he slithered away.  I approached my opponent, aware that the next few minutes were incredibly significant ones that would become a part of my history.  In a nutshell, either I would die of a fright-induced heart attack, or the snake would pay with his life for the crime of trespassing where he clearly wasn't wanted.  (If you think I'm being a bit over-dramatic, you might be right.  Maybe.)  :)

I was terrified.  

So, I did what the Max Lucado-created character, Webster, the Scaredy Spider, always does when he's afraid.  I started chanting, "God is with me.  God is with me.  God is with me.  God is with me."  :)

As I approached the snake, I saw for the first time that it was clearly NOT a stick.  Neither was it a figment of my imagination.  I would HAVE to deal with it.  But I couldn't quite figure out how to do it:  I knew I should try to hit the snake behind the head, but that would require GETTING CLOSE TO THE HEAD.  I didn't like that option, so I crept up behind it and tried to assess how well I could kill it if I struck it in the middle or closer to the tail.  I raised the hoe (which was feeling shorter and shorter all the time) and paused.  My voice, which had started its "God is with me" chant fairly low, raised in a crescendo of panic.  Time passed, and I realized, "I'm going to have to do it.  I can't stand here forever.  I have to hit this beast.  I have to lower the hoe as hard as I can.  I don't know what's going to happen, but I just have to do it and, as Narnian dwellers would say, 'Take the adventure that awaits us'."  OK, I wasn't thinking quite so poetically, but that's what I was feeling.

So I did it.  Down came the hoe in my clenched hands, up raised my voice in frightful plea, around came the snake's head as he felt the blow on his back...and then, once again, I raised and lowered the hoe--quickly, this time.  I caught him right behind the head, right where I wanted the hoe to be.  Now time to push as hard as I could and cut that rotten head off.

Only, I couldn't do it.

Snakes, as I've discovered, are quite rubbery; and it was like taking a kitchen knife to the tire of Jeff's Jeep to try to get that ol' snake head off with that duller-than-I-realized hoe.  I pressed as hard as I could.  I tried to saw it back and forth.  I contemplated getting the hoe under the snake and taking it to the cistern so I could have a hard surface to press against; but although the cistern was only a few steps behind me, I figured the snake would find a way to flip and flop and get himself off the hoe before I got him onto the cistern...and then what would I do?

I stood there, wondering how long it would take the snake to die from the injuries I'd given it.  My right hand still clenched the hoe tightly (by the way, my hands ached for days afterwards from the intensity of my grip on that hoe!), holding down the neck of the snake (do snakes have necks?).  My throat still brought forth the words, "God is with me."  By this time, I was crying.  I had put my left hand up to the side of my face.  And then...

...Josiah found me.

The movie had finished, and he and David and Tobin were wandering up to the kitchen.  Apparently, the commotion I was making in the backyard attracted their attention.  :)  Josiah told me later that his first thought was that the tool I was holding was an ax, and I had tried to cut down the stump in the backyard but had gotten injured, so was holding my face because of that.  :)  When he realized it was a snake, Josiah came outside and David was off like a flash to my parents' house, barging straight in without knocking and blurting out the dilemma.  Was I ever glad to see Dad's face appear around the corner of our house by the lilac bush!!  :)

I don't remember exactly what I said to him, but apparently I conveyed my request that he go up to the shed and get the pruners to cut off the snake's head, because I wanted that snake IN TWO PIECES.  That was the only way I could be sure he was dead, in my adrenaline-riddled mind; and since I couldn't seem to accomplish it with the hoe, I thought the pruners were the way to go.  Dad quickly complied and got ready to "snip."  But again, that snake was tough, and his head didn't depart completely from his body.  But it was enough.  We knew he was dead...or dying...kind of hard to tell which when they wiggle and squirm and jerk around for ever so long, even after being killed, which is very eerie to watch.

Then it was time to breathe.  And smile.  And talk about what happened, with everyone wanting to tell their perspective, their piece of the story.  And laugh.  And go inside to get the camera to take pictures.  :)  If you're as much of a wimp as I am when it comes to snakes, you might want to click away right now.

Still here?  Don't say I didn't warn you.  :)

Obviously, this is a reenactment, but the funny part about this to me is that it shows--quite accurately--how I stood as far away from the snake as I possibly could while hitting it.  :)

At this point, I did carry it over to the cistern (using the hoe, obviously...you don't think I would touch it with my bare hands, do you???), and tried to stretch it out to measure it, but it was in the spasm stage and kept writhing.  I did not like this.

My face looks just a little too cheerful here.

Josiah is like me and didn't want to have anything to do with the snake, but not David and Tobin.  When some time had passed and the snake was still, I was able to stretch it out and measure it; and they didn't hesitate to touch it.

They then smelled their hands and informed me that the snake stunk.  "It smells like poop!" they chortled.  Lovely.

The snake was clearly longer than a yardstick, and my best measurement of it was 43 inches.  That's the longest we've had.  I don't like this trend:  a snake every year, and they keep getting longer.  :(

However, being my usually optimistic self, I'll make the choice to look on the bright side and assume that, since we already had a snake encounter this year, the rest of 2011 will be snake-free.  Right?  Oh, please?  Say it will be so?  :)

On a more serious note (not that writing about killing a snake is exactly light and frivolous!), I was remembering what I wrote after last year's Snake Encounter about fear:  how irrational my fear of snakes is, and the spiritual overtones that it has.  I suppose that some people might be able to see a snake, identify it as a non-poisonous one, then shoo it away so it could go off and catch mice or something.  But even though I can so very easily do that with a bee or spider or other creepy-crawlie or mouse or other critters that some people fear, I simply cannot bring myself to do that with a snake.  In my mind, for whatever reason, the contest with a snake is still a battle between good and evil.  Why is that?

Regardless, this event was a HUGE victory for me.  Maybe it wasn't truly an epic battle between good and evil.  :)  But without a doubt, it was the victory of courage over fear, trust in a powerful God over reliance on my helpless self.  For me to be able to look in the eye of the thing I feared most in the world and conquer it...well, like I said, it was HUGE.  My hope and prayer is that the bravery God gave me in that situation will bleed over--in the most beautiful way--into all corners of my life...and that the lesson I learned that "with God, all things are possible" will strengthen me for other hurdles that may come my way.  Maybe even another snake, if I must face this fear again.  :)

Later that evening, a friend of ours, Rick, came over for a Bible study; and when the boys excitedly dragged him around to the back of the house to see the snake and hear about the afternoon's adventures, he looked at the snake and remarked casually, "Oh, yeah, that's just a black snake."  For the tiniest fraction of an instant, I felt a pang of remorse. I know in my head that black snakes are harmless.  I know in my head that some people like them.  I know in my head that some people actually appreciate the help of snakes in keeping down the rodent population.   But I also know that, in my head, a snake is a snake is a snake.  And until I can figure out how to speak Snake-ese and politely direct any intruding snakes to leave our property at once, I'll just have to deal with them another way.  

With a hoe in my hands...

...and someone with the pruners for back-up...

...and a refrain of "GOD IS WITH ME" on my lips!  :)

A Fun, Festive Food for the Fourth

What's red, white, and blue, easier-than-easy to make, and looks and tastes great?  Here's a hint:

I like to give credit where credit is due, but in this case, unfortunately I can't.  I saw the idea for these patriotic fruit and marshmallow kabobs...

...on someone's blog a while back, but I can't remember whose.  It wasn't a blog I normally visit; in fact, it was my first time there and I found it while blog-surfing.  I have no idea the trail I took to get there.  So, if anyone reading this thinks, "Oh, yeah, I saw this over at such and such a place," will you let me know so I can put up a link?  :)

And while we're on the subject of celebrating the Fourth, here are a few quick book recommendations, ones that the boys and I have enjoyed recently because of the mix of history and story:
~ Happy Birthday, America - Mary Pope Osborne (one of the reviews on the back cover of this book says "A surprisingly emotional story," and that's so true; although there's nothing terribly dramatic in it, I can't get through it without a big lump in my throat, at the very least...and at the very most, literal tears rolling down my face)
~ The Scarlet Stockings Spy - Trinka Hakes Noble (the main character's brother dies while fighting in General Washington's army...emotional? yes!...my tender-hearted Josiah, after reading it once, said in a choked voice, "I don't think I want to read it again because it's too sad")
~ Almost to Freedom - Vaunda Micheaux Nelson (about the Underground Railroad...told from the perspective of a doll...I didn't cry in this one!)  :)
~ New York's Bravest - Mary Pope Osborne (about New York firefighters...who can say "New York firefighters" and "September 11" in one sentence without getting a little catch in the voice?..well, don't answer that, because probably a lot of less-emotional people can...but this book, too, gets me a little bit, even though it's about a New York firefighter folk hero from way back when and not specifically about September 11)

A little eating, a little reading, a little crying...what else does a good Independence Day need?  Whatever that may be--parades, fireworks, picnics with people you love, and more--may you find that today!

Hooray for the red, white, and blue!!!

Aren't You Missing the Point?

"Would you boys like to play in the sprinkler?" I ask.  

"Yeah!" comes the enthusiastic reply.  "Let's go get the umbrellas!"  Quick little feet patter down to the garage to retrieve umbrellas hanging on a nail.

 "Wait a minute, guys.  Doesn't it sort of defeat the purpose of playing in the sprinkler if you're going to use umbrellas to keep dry?"

 They're too busy to answer, but...

...apparently it doesn't.

And by the end of the evening, they were soaked anyway.  ;-)

What July's Header Means to Me

This is one of those nights when I hardly know what to write:  not because I don't have any ideas of possible topics, but because I have too many.  Should I write about:
~ my two new nephews (twin boys born this evening to Jeff's sister Kim and her husband Mike) and my subsequent longing to jump on a plane and fly over to California to welcome them in person?
~ yesterday's big adventure, involving something I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to do?
~ today's special dinner guests?
~ or a dozen other topics floating through my brain?

I wish I could do it all.  But once again, I lower my head (and my aspiration level) and admit that I'm only human and can't.  So, one topic only for tonight.  Since it's a new month and I just changed my blog header and layout, I'll jot down a few thoughts about that.

It's probably no secret that I thoroughly enjoy having a new look for my blog each month.  The creativity required to produce a new look actually energizes me, and I often have ideas for either a header or a background several months out.  For example, right now, there's a background that I have in mind to use for September; I just need to decide how I want to do a header photo for it.  But no rush:  there's plenty of time before September begins.  :)

My layouts are almost always light-hearted, fun, cheerful, sometimes silly, etc.  Nothing too serious or deep.  Just some way to uniquely portray something about myself and/or my family.

When I started thinking about the look I wanted for July, I was just going for a family portrait, so to speak, using our sandals--similar to the way I used jeans in the April 2010 header I had on my old blog, Life on Sylvan Drive (you can see a picture of that header in this review of 2010 post on that blog).  I had the idea to set up the sandals along the edge of a river or lake, so the last time we went to Riven Rock Park (which was back in May), I remembered to take along a pair of sandals belonging to each of us and I also grabbed an American flag to tie the photo into July's patriotic theme.  I almost didn't take this picture on that day because my hands were full with trying to make sure none of my boys was swept away by the much-higher-than-normal water!  :)  But once we were ready to leave and everyone was buckled up in the car, I paused a moment to snap a few pictures...and I'm happy that I did because the image I'm using for this header pleased me tremendously.

It wasn't, however, until I tried a number of backgrounds with the header photo and finally settled on the one I'm using that the weight of the photo settled on me.  To me, this July look is much more emotional than any other that I've done for a long time.  I'm not even sure I can put it into words.  But I'll try, because that's why I'm writing this post, after all!  :)

When I imagined the photo and then when I took it, I wasn't thinking at all about the iconic photos of fallen soldiers' boots that are prevalent today, a vivid reminder of those who have died defending our country.  But when I saw the image of our sandals on my computer screen, my thoughts flew to those somber pictures that help us remember the cost of freedom.  Sandals are such a carefree shoe.  Boots are not, particularly military boots.  We leap out of our sandals to leap and play in the water.  Soldiers wearily untie their boots at the end of the day...and sometimes, other people are the ones to untie and remove the boots of a soldier...when his own hands have been touched by death and will never again do that simple task.

Positioning our shoes along a river, coupled with thoughts of fallen soldiers, made my mind race ahead to when each of us--the six of us who God has put together as a family--will figuratively stand at the river Jordan and cross that river into eternity.  We'll step out of our earthly shoes and leave them behind us, not needing them where we'll be going.  God, have mercy on each of us and strengthen us for that crossing.  Bring us safely to Your shore.  May none of our number be left behind!

When I see the sayings along the sides of the header--"Let freedom ring" and "Land that I love"--I think of the double meaning those expressions have.  Certainly I give thanks for the privilege of being born and currently living in the grand old US of A.  I do love this land, and I am conscious of and grateful for the freedoms we presently possess (although I grow concerned when I think of how some of those freedoms seem to be slipping away).  But so much richer and deeper than my love for this country is my love for God's country, the place of true freedom:  freedom from every form of oppression and sin and pain and sickness and injustice and imperfection, freedom unlike any we've ever known.  That is the land I love.  That is the home for which I long.  That is the King to whom I pledge my loyalty.

And that is what I think when I see my July blog!