On Eagles' wings

My mom told my kids about this incredible sight called Eagle Eye Cam. It's worth taking a look at. (Click on the black box; when you hear buzzing you're in. Wait for it and try back if you can't get it to load. The eggs should be hatching any day now! It's so cool that they can't manage all of the traffic concurrently.) Dale's love of this majestic bird has permeated all of our hearts, so watching this has just been amazing.

I couldn't help but be a little overwhelmed as I watched the live feed for the first time. When I was in college, my favorite professor preached chapel one morning and actually brought an eagle in to use for his illustration. I knew they were big, but I didn't realize how big. A mature, adult female has a wingspan of nearly eight feet and weighs between ten and fourteen pounds! In the midst of over a thousand students, just having the massive creature in the building was intimidating. It shook us all; the auditorium was completely silent. Keep in mind, it was chained by foot to it's keeper, but the possibility of it taking flight at any moment was not as preposterous as it sounds. There were a few times when it started to flap it's wings and the keeper struggled to get it under control. I remember feeling absolutely mesmerized by the beautiful bird.

I can't keep my thoughts away from the way God uses the imagery of an eagle to show how He will carry us. Do you not know? Have you not heard? The everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth does not become weary or tired; His understanding is inscrutible. He gives strength to the weary, and to him who lacks might, He increases power. Though the youths grow weary and tired, and vigorous young men stumble badly; yet those who wait for the Lord will gain new strength. They will mount up with wings like eagles; they will run and not get tired, they will walk and not become weary. (IS. 40:28-31) I get so tired sometimes, and I know it's only because I have been at His feet where there is rest. Real, intimate, soul-rest. I am stuck in vs 30 growing weary and tired and stumbling badly. The promises seem so lofty, but God is not able to extend empty promises. And so I will pursue Him, knowing He will give me rest. Soul-rest.

Look at this photograph... everytime I do it makes me laugh

I have the spaghetti sauce in the crock pot simmering away for the second hour now and the white cake from scratch with the yummy whipped frosting that doesn't have cream or powdered sugar in it is in progress- five minutes on the cake, thirteen minutes on the frosting. They should be done- cooling and all- just in time to come together. It's a going away dinner. It's a sad day for Snarcy's.

I would dare say the average friends talk about three hours a week. I don't know that for sure, I am guessing. If you go out to dinner once or twice a month and you see each other at church or work, or wherever you find your friends, and we're talking solid conversation here, three hours is probably a good, solid average. Bear in mind, some people do not conversate well and struggle to meet the average. They are playing a role here too. If my theory holds up, in the course of a year average friends talk to each other for a total of 156 hours a year. That's a lot of conversation and each year that goes by, every hour in the bank is another brick in the mortar. It solidifies their friendship.

Consider this. Tiara Fairy and I have been working together since the middle of October. We have known each other by name and vague familiarity for close to three years. Our friendship really began in October. It is now the end of April. That's six months. We should be just past vague familiarty and into acquaintance. But we're not. We are good friends. We will be friends forever because of the brick and mortar that has been laid over these past months. What has created such a close bond is our conversation. (And we are master conversationalists as a result of our impecible vocabularies.) It is because we work together for twelve hours, fifteen days, out of every thirty day month. I mentioned that we talk for about eight of those hours while we are working. 720 hours we've spent telling our stories, and laughing, and retelling our stories, and crying, and eating delictible, man-sized portions of flavor-sensational food. According to my calculations, we've been friends for six years. We're good friends, and she's moving away.


So guess what time it is??? That's right! It's beer-thirty, so get your deveilll horns out! Here's to you, shandalere, for always trashing your diet on the same day I do, and for sharing my addiction to Pepsi and Reese's Peanut butter cups, and for teaching me the basics to delicious food, and for listening to me ramble for hours about my life philosophies and internal tsunamis; but more than anything else, here's to you for knowing who you are, and being honest about who you are, and for being yourself, completely. You are the kind of friend everyone wishes they had. Love, b

Kennedy's Page: My Hamster

This is my hamster. He's really funny. He ALWAYS gets out of his cage. And he's the nicest hamster, and he's really sweet. His name is Hampy. One time, his back toe was kind of fat and it was looking funny. We had to take him to the animal doctor. * inserts laffy taffy* And when they listened to his heart he was so cute. *giggles* They were gonna put him to sleep and cut his toe off! Isn't that gross? But he got better on his own. AND that night when he got in a fight with my other hamster, Hampton, (he's dead) he had a spot on his back and he was bleeding! It was really sad. And my mom put some books on the cage and that's when my Hampton died. (B: books fell into cage, crushing poor innocent hamster while minding own business scavenging for nuts and wood chips in the bottom of his cage *exit Hampton, stage left, stiff as a board*) Oh! One time he got in the air conditioning vent! It was scary! I forgot to shut the lid to his cage.

My dog always finds our hamsters. And sometimes when he finds them, we give him some cheese. And we ALWAYS call him Hero. *heart beats for scoo*

My name is Ke*ne**, and I'm eight. *code for real name- must protect from STRANGER DANGER! If you know real name, you really know!* I REALLY love weather and dogs. I also LOVE *growl* Jim Cantore. (cover for true love) He's a meteorologist. My mommy is embarrassing me. *blushing* She's really making me blush. MOMMY! You are funny!

My little sister is naughty! When I get up in the morning, she screams her head off and it makes me scream! *mommy and daddy snoring, unknowingly* You know why I scream? Cuz no one will come and get her! *zzz*

My Aunt's dog, Sawyer, is VERY crazy. Jas**** is my sister. She is five. *code again* We play twins. We like to pretend we're twins. We have a lot of matching clothes. We like to be fashion girls. *enter: loud, angry mob of children, Ke*ne**ignoring*

Ok, Bye. Hello to whoever is reading this. I have to do DUMB reading time. Goodbye.

Infamy and me

WOW! I got tons of mail on this one! And so I've reach my goal. I'M FAMOUS!

I sent an e-mail to my family and a few friends last night to notify them that I had changed my URL. In the e-mail I mentioned that I wanted lots of comments because I wanted to be famous in the blog world. Haha. FAMOUS IN THE BLOG WORLD! I changed my url so that my name wouldn't be anywhere on this site. I laughed while I was writing it because I thought everyone that I sent the e-mail to knew me well enough to know that I was kidding. It was so ridiculous that I thought you'd all laugh and say, "That girl..." But some of you really think I want to be famous. So excuse me, could I get a boost up on that large box? I have something to say.

I had a long conversation with my friend Tiara Fairy just two nights ago. It was a repeat conversation. We have lots of repeat conversations, mind you, and we don't care. We generally talk for eight hours at a time when we are working. In the course of that conversation, I confessed to her, after much self-reflection amidst the long sleepless hours of night, that I was scared of the next chapter in our lives. Terrified, in fact. As ready as I've been all my life, I likened my situation to standing at the front of the line after waiting two hours to get on the new roller coaster at World's of Fun. The nerves that tell you to RUN AWAY are pounding in my guts. That's why I'm chasing tears away every other minute of every other day.

If you have known me for any length of time, you know that I'm a visionary. I always have been. I have HUGE expectations for our future because when God called me to ministry at nine years old, He planted a seed in my heart that has been nurtured and cultivated and now promises fruition.

The branches are starting to bud. I cannot tell you what that reality means exactly, but I do know this. When it all comes down, there will be no place to hide. I tremble at the thought.

I love my privacy. I love living in this tiny corner of the universe because when I go to Wal-Mart, no one knows my name. When I walk through the smoky crowd at the time clock, no one says anything to me. I occassionally get a courtesy nod, but nothing personal because the same people have watched me clock in and out for three years and don't know anything about me. It's because I'm private. I keep my business to myself because it's mine and it's sacred. I'm invisible.

You may know that I write and am in pursuit of being published. But you need to know that I write under a nom de plume. I have no interest in publicity. I have an obligation to contribute financially to this masterpiece of a family. It breaks my heart to hear my kids sigh when I tell them I have to go to work. Every day one of them says, "I hate it when you go to work." I am not exaggerating. Someone says it everyday. If I can sit here and write my contribution, I should. And I intend to.

I despise celebrity. I hate having to explain to the kids that if Gwen Stefani came to our house for dinner, I'd make fried chicken for her because that's what I like to make for company. But I wouldn't be nervous, because she's just a girl, just like us.

So now you know; love me or leave me. I am what I am. I still want your comments, but you can e-mail them to me or post them. I don't care. I mostly just want to know if you've read my life updates so I don't repeat everything I wrote the next time you call me. That's always so awkward.


Here's my funny boy. I tried to catch him before he took his blue swimsuit, with white hot flames up the legs, off. Isn't he a trip? So much like his Daddy.

He looks like a pirate in real life, but in this shot he looks like he's a mousketeer. What are the words to that good ol' tune anyway? Come along and sing the song and join the jamboree...

I kid you not

If you could hear the audio on this one Micah would be saying, "I think Jasmine clogged the toilet. Her turd was this big, Mom!" *feet running in the kitchen* Jasmine's voice follows, "It was this long!" I would not trade these days for the rights to the entire Reese's industry. They are PRICELESS!!! **Note to friend or stranger: if you see me having a nervous breakdown, open mouth, insert peanut butter cup. It's ok. I have a prescription.

So the big Military Ball was this weekend and it was a BLAST. Lots of marching, and uniforms... and little sandwiches too. Oh yeah, they had a really cool fountain that the punch streamed out of. It was awesome! You put the cup under and it fills it up with- punch! And then there was cake, nice yummy cake. Lots of cleavage and bare backs and parading... I'm telling you, I can't WAIT to go next year!

Hold on to your hats girls, keep your daughters' eyes covered because this guy will ROB you of your senses. This was the highlight of my night, my little night in shining armor, all dressed up.



And check out Micah, too. Is your heart melting? I know. So's mine. Like father, like son. See ya next tooth...

Nuts! Nuts, I tell ya!

If you asked me how we do it, I'd tell you I go a little crazy sometimes. It's real. I am no fan of "supermom" or the connotations that it implies. I am just a real girl with real insanity looming on the brink of every moment. It's getting worse with each day. I mean, this is what we *do*. I have five children under the age of eight. We teach school at home. I work full-time. Nights. In an Alzheimer's unit. Dale is in school working on his masters. He has two jobs. One of them is like a residency and he has to write papers and do research for it. Twice a month he is on call and stays over in the city and then goes to class at the end of the second day. When I'm working he gets up with the baby at night. I'm not kidding; it's nuts.

The fabric of steel that I was apparently intended to wear for the duration of my existence is narily a shelter in desperate moments. It's like the armor you see in battle, only there is a huge gap in the front and I'm responsible to duck and cover and turn and flip to protect myself. No shield. No breastplate. I think God did it on purpose, in fact I know He did. Because I have to run to Him, I get too tired with all the stunts and no double. He knew I would and then He shows me some incredible move that I never thought about doing and back at it I go. (It's Sunday... bear with my ramblings... I sleep fo' 'owa...) But the moves, they're unconventional. When someone is beating me at work for trying to make them comfortable or cleaning them from something really disgusting- you can imagine- I want to re-ACT. It's natural. And He stops me in my tracks and I say, "Did you have a bad dream, Momma?" and she cries. She stops in her tracks. It's a new move.

This life. It's blows my hair back. I have to go back to work. I should be donning fresh scrubs right now. But there is a storm rolling in. I can feel it in my guts. I know because it's starting to sprinkle. Tears threaten to break another piece of my armor off. And quite frankly, writing calms me. So come along for the ride; it's gettin' bumpy.

On a lighter note, I am so excited to announce BIG NEWS. Dale was asked to be one of two student preachers at Midwestern. It's a huge deal- only two a year. Pray for him. He carries a huge responsibility in addressing the up and coming generation of Messengers of Truth to the church. Thank You God for such an honor and entrusting him with the torch. Isn't he adorable?


So many days, so little time...
So now I told you, you tell me. I want to know. How's your heart???

The End of and Era

If I could take one picture to sum up the past three years of our lives, it would be this one right here. Well- if you can imagine me sleeping on the picnic table behind Dale. It's been quite a ride.

God called us out of conventional ministry for Dale to go back to school to work on his masters in 2002. With four children at the time, and no money saved, the only option was for him to go full time and for me to go to work. It was quite a transition. I opted to work nights and have a part time sitter which made for the most time home together. This picture was taken last fall on our annual trip to the pumpkin patch. I am constantly amazed at how things just work out when you are in God's will.

We left Nebraska without a plan except to move home and just wait. After Dale got laid off from his job, he started looking at schooling options. God shut every door except the right one. We moved again before a full year had passed and have been here ever since. I have never felt more content than I have these years. It's unnerving to think that this chapter is coming to an end, it's been so amazing to watch it all unfold. But all reason and faith points to the fact that He brought us this far. No way would He just abandon us here.

Graduation is four weeks away. All that's left for me to do is wait... oh the waiting... It's forever!!! Bring it.

Here's Missy Big Stuff. She's like a sweet, sticky, squishy marshmellow!

Here comes Peter Cottontail...

Morning came SO fast... Lulu fussed at 6 and I rolled over and pretended that I couldn't hear her. Isn't that funny? Sweet irony chokes hypocrisy.

Easter came and our house is full to the rim with candy. We went to one of the local churches for their annual Easter egg hunt Saturday. This kids piled into one room and to listen to Bible stories and wait for a huge drawing to begin; little did they know that every kid would get a prize. Parents lined the room and spilled into the hallways. It's so funny how excited people get about stuff. I'm telling you, mothers were falling all over themselves to get their kid to the front for his prize. Now, I gotta be honest. I was pretty curious to see what was in those bags. There must've been a huge push in the congregation for months ahead becuase the bags were stuffed full of cool stuff- all different. It was as if every Grandma in the place shopped for their favorite kids and donated all the findings to the church.

Dale was not amused at being in a room full of sweaty kids for an hour waiting for the big hunt... finals are coming, every minute counts. But shortly after all four names were called, the hunt began and was over in minutes. MINUTES! I was glad for the anticipation. It's what makes memories so monumental.


These baskets came from Mawmaw and Pawpaw. Nana sent origami dollars and Easter cards. Aunt April hosted the Sunday egg hunt after a delictible ham and pot luck and Dana's. Gotta love those, but the points... the points! Can't indulge like that more than a couple of times a year.

It was a really nice weekend. I love holidays for what they are- an excuse to not work, set out a huge spread of food, and be with family. Thank You Jesus for giving us such a precious gift. His ways are so much higher than ours.

This is the first picture we took inside- it's rough, but the kids looked so sharp and put together. When we got outside the wind blew us all to smithereens! So I had to put this one in. Aren't Dale and Leila precious? I just adore him... I adore them all! How could I not???

So much to do, so little time... garage sale is coming and I have loads of stuff I'd like to torch in the front lawn, but my Sista insisted that I make twenty bucks off my crap. She needs to sell some furniture before the big move to Chicago. So I should get a nice big pile together. That's what I intend to do today after I mop and dust. And finish thirteen loads of laundry and make a nice fresh tossed salad and cut up the strawberries, the cantaloupe and the pineapple. Hopefully Lulu will sleep right through most of that list.

Duty calls

It's 1:02 AM. I have been hesitant to commit here. A few attempted entries, but nothing to write home about. B's is so cool and I have dragged my feet because I just don't have time to make my much of my space... but it occurred to me as I held my precious baby in my arms that this is the perfect platform for me to write what I can when I can, regardless of how pretty the wallpaper is. To be quite honest, the wallpaper in my house isn't a reflection of me either... so welcome to my world.

Lulu woke up at 12:30, just after we went to bed. She has been sleeping through the night off and on since about four months. She's seven months now. I don't mind. I enjoy the quiet moments I have with her when I'm not working. I was thinking about how much we all compare our successes to our babies and their performance. I heard a guy ask a woman if her baby was sleeping through the night on tv last week. The baby was four weeks old. She shyly answered, "Not quite yet..." as if she was not up to par because the infant couldn't be sustained through the night on the nourishment she had offered before bedtime.

I used to be a freak about that myself. I read and studied and searched the references until I found a program that promised I'd have a sleeping baby by 6 weeks old. It was true. It worked. Let the baby cry. And then at 3 months- through about 2 years- my tiny precious wonders would wake and cry in the night. I had suffered through so many nights of crying that I couldn't bear to go through the process all over again, so I did what I had to, to settle them. But when they were old enough to walk, they'd wander into my room and make a bed on the floor. I fully believe now that it was because of being abandoned as infants to cry in the dark until total exhaustion forced them to sleep. It made night time terrifying. That stuff sticks with you. (my insides wrench just thinking about it... the guilt...)

Last year I got pregnant with surprise number five. My husband was trying to finish his masters, and with me working nights, he was left with the crying baby. At his insistence, I tried to let her "cry it out". It ripped my guts out to hear her cry! I could last 30 minutes, but then I'd just break down. During the crying, both parties, I would scour the internet for answers. Turns out EVERY ARTICLE I READ by legitimate pediatric experts- medical and psychiatric- said that crying was instinctive and required a response- a baby younger than seven months could not be spoiled. If the baby was crying, the baby was in need. I couldn't fight my instincts any more. I had to change the paradigm I'd been clinging to for so long.

Kids are all different. They all need to be introduced to life in a way that they can digest. It's just not fair to toss them all in the apple barrel, then wash, peel, and core them alike. Some of them are pears; some of them are oranges. It's why life is so exciting. Sometimes, when you least expect it, you come across a mango and WOW! Mangos are fantastic!

I have determined that my next literary endeavor- I'm working on a novel right now- will be a non-fic on what I've learned about babies. The simplicity is astounding! I want to FIGHT the powers that are selling lies to young mothers in order to convenience them. Love your babies, as big as they may be. Kiss them and squeeze them and tell them how amazing they are because what you believe about them and what you say to them leaves a mark on their lives that will stick!

Back to the real world...

After a wild weekend, we are two days into our *normal* lives. The trip could not have gone more smoothly. We left early, early on Friday morning and got to Emporia at 11:45, just minutes before Nanna arrived for her lunch break with hot pizzas in hand. I spent the afternoon napping and the kids and Sarah went to Sonic. Dale arrived about 3:00 just before I rolled out of bed. Papa was home from retrieving the church's new lawn mower, by 4:00, the kids were home and Nana came in close behind.

The big surprise was a party we had been planning for Sarah for weeks. Originally Shanda, my work buddy, and I had intended to do a luau to celebrate her birth on Friday night here in town. But when Mel called and said that she was having a baby shower, we chucked the plans for the party and promised a rain check. Well, Sarah had no idea we were planning and sneaking around with the intention of only moving the party to Emporia... gotta switch the laundry.

We managed to get her to the party without her having any idea there was a huge surprise waiting for her around the bend. For being 250 miles away, that's quite a task. When we pulled up to the house, she saw my van parked in a nearby lot and said, "What is your van doing here? WAIT! Let me put on some mascara!" It was a perfectly thought out scheme that shocked her to bits! I loved it!! Thank you Shanda and Nicole and Mom for working so hard to pull it off. It was so worth it.

TR and Mel showed up later, which was another surprise. We all hung out at Mom's and laughed until the wee hours of morning, then got up early and headed to Hutch for the baby shower. It was a really refreshing and exhausting weekend at the same time. What would I do without my family? I only wish everyone had what I have in this life. It just doesn't get better than this. Family is what it's all about.