Just in case you were wondering

this is what I look like now; you don't even have to say it because I already know, it's a photoshop masterpiece. As I was thumbing through the most recent upload, I found px of Lolly's birthday, Kennedy and Micah's birthday party, and a whole slew of football game px. I thought about posting a hodge podge but decided when I came across this beauty, that it was a necessary post.

As I was primping for church this morning, it crossed my mind that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to apply a little mascara to those white eyelashes and then I grabbed my purse, thought about how much I'd like to have a cup of coffee, and shut off the lights on my way out the door. It wasn't a hurried morning, as is the Sunday morning custom, but these were just two luxury items on the list that didn't make the cut.

In the past four months, I can probably count on one hand the number of times that I've applied make-up. Dale doesn't really care whether I wear it or not, and no one here is used to seeing me with it on, and since I rarely catch a glimpse in the mirror, why bother? We live in California where people appreciate nature and being 'a naturale. That's what I tell myself anyway, and then I see something like this and seriously consider selling all my Grandma's china for a good make-over and wardrobe revamp.

But then again, let's get real, by 2:00, and it's 1:44 now, I'll have forgotten this image and the ridiculosity that it incurred in my mind, and the China will rest safely in moving boxes ready for the next leg of the journey.

Thanks a' Very Mas!

We all got up late Thanksmas morning, and Dale went straight to the kitchen to prepare a lovely brunch for us all! I was so thrilled! This year's new tradition is Thanksmas Mountain which is comprised of biscuits, fried potatoes, and scrambled eggs, smothered in gravy and hot sauce. Dale was the only partaker; I was so sick from the Halloween festivities that I had to stick with the safe road, but next year, I'll be all over Thanksmas Mountain!
We got our tree up, the same 6 foot tree that my mom purchased for us on our first Christmas, and followed the Thanksmas tradition of trying to *make that funky thing look normal.* Every year we grow more attached to that thing, even though it's crooked and falls down a few more times than it did the last year. The kids put up all the ornaments as beloved holiday tunes rang through the house, and then we headed to Wal-Mart to choose some new lawn decorations. In honor of the deceased goat that had faded and rusted after it's third year in commission, we purchased a standing buck and a feed doe. Dale hung lights on the fence, and then we bought way too much food, which we somehow managed to devour every bit of after football practice. The first Christmas movie of the year was Emmet Otter's Jugband Christmas.

I nearly cried several times during the day at the wonder of God's goodness. I'm so thankful that I have a husband that cherishes the simple pleasures as much as I do. I'm also thankful that my kids are on board with our quirky traditions and they still think they are so cool. I am thankful that this year I will carry the last Sutton of our chapter and then reclaim my body as mine alone, for life. I am thankful that even if we don't have anyone that we really want to invite to our parties within hundreds of miles, we have good and true friends that would really savor our celebration with us, if they could. And I'm thankful that in this life, in this fallen world, we have joy that is unspeakable and full of glory. Even with that, we have much, much more awaiting us in eternity if we only endure. Happy Thanksmas!!!

Name that Clone

Every year we wait until about a week past prime time to buy costumes and end up with the picked-over left-overs. I used to think I'd make the costumes every year, like my mom always did, but after I spent $70 on ET, it was just cheaper to shell out the cash. This year we continued the tradition, so as precious as they are, these weren't anyone's first choice. But they were thrilled to all be matching once it was decided. Besides, aren't they sweet??? Everyone in the neighborhood commented on my clone troopers when they rang our doorbell.

Leila tried to go down the street with them, but the scary haunted house at the end of the lane sent her home screaming. Inside the house, we opted for an endless It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown marathon and the treating of the Trick or Treaters.



We have never lived in an area that I trusted enough to send my kids out on their own to knock on doors because we live in a scary world peppered with spooky people. This year, however, because we know almost everyone in the entire reservation on a first name basis, I felt safe sending them out without me. By the time they started up to the last street, it was starting to get dark, but they teamed up with their favorite hang out parents down the street and finished the journey with adult accompaniment. It was the thrill of the year.

One of the local churches puts on a giant block party here every year that we went to after it got dark; it was incredible. There must have been 150 different booths and games set up across three parking lot, as well as cheap food and entertainment for the whole community. I love it that churches find this a worthwhile event each year.

Following our adventure through the masses, we settled in to our cozy living room in our pajamas and blankets and shut out all the lights for the initiation of my personal favorite event of the year, The Scariest Noise Competition. The first year we held this event, Dale and I laughed till we cried from the obnoxious sounds that we both deemed as *scary noises*. This kids laughed along with us, but they had no idea why our noises were so weird when they were all being so scary. We have yet to top that one, but we all loved it this year just the same.

The whole question of whether or not it is morally correct to celebrate Halloween, I've heard it called *the Devil's Holiday*, we settled in our hearts a long time ago. This year Dale explained the true history to the kids after one of their friends told them that Jesus didn't like Trick or Treating. Like everything entailed in living in a fallen world, it is a matter of the heart. If your heart is to honor God in all you do, then where is the wrong in dressing up and collecting candy from your benevolent neighbors? There is so much bad in the world, we try to make the fun things as fun as they can possibly be for our family by starting and carrying on home-spun traditions with each passing year. It makes the sweetness of this life just a little sweeter.

On the Flip Side

I think *homesick* is a state of mind, or being, or something more than a way you feel. On a daily basis I mill through a long list of things I miss about the Midwest, usually it starts with dirt while I'm sweeping up sand one of the forty-seven times during the day.

I never wanted to be a homebody. As a kid I envied the new kids in school that would arrive in October and be gone by May first because "they moved around a lot". I was born in one house and five years later moved to another house less than a mile away, and that is where my parents will spend the rest of their lives. In high school I pined for a life on the road, seeking anyone that would let me tag along. It wasn't that I was discontent with my family or the life they gave me; it was just in my blood to get out and see the rest of what was out there.

So I spent weeks at my Grandma's house, worked summer camps as often as possible, found people that would take me out Emporia for the weekend, and then after I graduated I took off to work with a mission in the city in Chicago. From there I moved to Missouri to attend college and found my life's work and my soul mate who has taken me on an incredible journey from Mississippi to Nebraska to Missouri and now to sweet California. And I have loved the journey.

But what I have come to realize is that once you've done it, you've done it and frankly, we've done it and I'm ready to come home to Midwest, a place that I never dreamed I would want to be. I miss the seasons. I miss storms. And just one more thing, I miss being able to see my family whenever I can work it out, because no matter what I do, it takes a lot more than me just working it out for anyone to visit.

To counter this *state of mind* I remind myself of the curve around the mountain where you get first sight of the vineyards outside of Santa Ynez county. They spring out of nowhere, breathtaking and spectacular. And our neighborhood, the more people we meet, the more warm the whole area becomes. People have come out of the woodwork to shower us with God's blessings. Not to mention the mountains. Or the ocean. They speak for themselves as perks of the west coast; they are the reason this area was ever settled; it's such unspeakable beauty, a facet of God's creative nature in plain sight. It's never 90 degrees here, not where we live anyway. I love sweatshirt weather, and usually I put one on at some point everyday.

God is amazing the way He answers the dreams of our heart. And even more amazing the way He plants them long before we are able to even articulate them. He is good and rich and satisfying. Life is good and I am thankful.

Gimme just one reason

Outside of the vast foundational moral reasons that we homeschool, there are safety concerns that also haunt our public schools and with less and less parents parenting, the concerns are skyrocketting. Not only that, but the need for teachers is so great that passionate teachers with a love for our children are being teamed up next to predators with wicked intentions. I am always hesitant to express these grave concerns very often because they are scary and I had never recorded any real evidence, only using secondhand isolated stories that I'd heard on the news and from other parents, until today when I was perusing the headlines and found this: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20071020/ap_on_re_us/teacher_sex_abuse

I know some people will quickly scan the article so I want to share one quote with you from it, just to highlight the severity of the problem.

"From my own experience — this could get me in trouble — I think every single school district in the nation has at least one perpetrator. At least one," says Mary Jo McGrath, a California lawyer who has spent 30 years investigating abuse and misconduct in schools. "It doesn't matter if it's urban or rural or suburban."

It's gives me just one more reason I'd rather battle attitudes and monotony and a daily barrage of questions from 8AM to 8PM than to send these precious, innocent children out into the world at the mercy of *the luck of the draw*.

The Love of God

One of the scriptures I read in the study recently was * 1 John 4:7-8 Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. 8 The one who does not love does not know God, for God is love.* This is a startling realization that forces me into some serious self-examination. I love God, and as a rule, I love people, but sometimes I find myself with a permanent scowl on my face out in the community. I don't hate everyone around me, but it seems I've become so cynical, just waiting for someone to cross me, that I'm ready to attack at any given moment. What does that say about the love of Christ in me? I shudder at the thought... how am I any different than anyone in the world?

I have really pondered this question and last night while I was studying, the last thing in the workbook said to read Ephesians 3:14-19 and personalize it as a prayer. This little exercise brought such clarity to me and relinquished the pressure to become a perfect reflection of the love of God overnight in my own strength.

...that You would grant me the strength with power through Your Spirit in the inner man

so that Christ may dwell in my heart through faith;

and that I, being rooted and grounded in love, (send my roots down and ground me more firmly in love!)

may be able to comprehend with all the saints

what is the breadth and length and height and depth,

and to know, really know, the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge,

and fill me up to all the fullness of God.

What is so amazing to me is the fact that we have the Word of God, the full, comprehensive, in our language, Word of God at our disposal. And here in just a few short verses, I am satisfied. My thirst is quenched. My hope for true satisfaction is restored because this answered a pondering of my heart that I had no answer to. The love of God is so beyond comprehension that we have to be taught how to understand it. Amazing.

Back to Life

We are six days into the antibiotic regimen and I am thankful. Kennedy used to throw up with every dosage no matter what it was. I attribute that to the fact that when she was tiny she had to have her stomach emptied in the hospital with some awful remedy that she was given by mouth. They say it takes about fifteen minutes to take effect, but it only took a couple before she hurled and hurled and hurled. At *almost* 10 she still has to choke it down, but now it's a battle between mind and body. She's amazing, such a fighter. It used to be a nightmare when they all went on antibiotics because they follow her. So, if she panicked, they all did. Now she's coaxing herself into taking it slowly but surely, and also encouraging everyone else to be so brave and do the same thing. No one else has the trouble she does with it so her encouragement has instigated an excitement about taking medicine. In response, she wants to be a part of every one's dosage. She takes hers, so Micah gives himself his. She gives Leila and Jasmine theirs too. This morning Micah gave Tre his. This is, I assume, what people mean by it getting *easier the more you have.* Let me assure you, there isn't a lot about my life that's easy, but this is much, much easier than the days of yore.

I am finding myself again, despite the hormonal hurricane that threatens to take us all under at least twice a day. God has given me rest, desperately needed rest, and I am back on my feet. I think it's so cool that when I begged the principal for a week off, He responded generously with a break. It's awful to be sick when your kids are sick and your husband's working, but it's worse when they can't help themselves and you have to run around the whole time. We spent a lovely week on the couch watching Fraggle Rock and Looney Tunes and drank Sprite and slept. It wasn't a vacation, it was much better because we didn't spend any money and I didn't have to do as much laundry.

The new Bible study, while I hate to admit it, is shallow and exactly my speed right now. That's not quite right, it's not shallow, it's basic. Very basic and I have been so self-consumed that the basics are striking to me again. Things like *If you abide in MY WORD; then you are truly disciples of Mine and you shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free.* And *It was for freedom that Christ set us free; therefore keep standing firm and do not be subject again to a yoke of slavery. I AM THE WAY, THE TRUTH, AND THE LIFE; No one comes to the Father but through Me.*

Simple, elementary truths, the very foundations of daily life in Christ that I have neglected have freed me all over again! I was born into the Assemblies of God, my parents were both born-again believers and raised us, in every way, to be Christians. Slavery for me has never been to explicit sin, it comes and robs me in more subtle ways. I have never had a desire to use drugs, not even a little because they are such a blatant lie. I've seen the effects they have on people and the pleasure of the moment they offer can never outweigh the result of their consequences in my mind. Slavery sneaks up on me until I'm completely ensnared and feeling hopeless. I have everything. Everything. And I feel hopeless?

I can speculate on how it happens, it's been a pattern in my life for a long time; I start telling myself that I have needs that are going unmet. Generally this is a spiritual starvation that I fail to recognize and go on to try to meet my needs. Maybe I need more sleep. I'm pretty sure I need a milkshake, my body needs more calcium and I can just get it real quick. I need some alone time, I'll put the kids to be and just veg and watch a movie by myself. I need someone to talk to, I'll call my friend and talk for two hours about myself. I need a candy bar, my blood sugar feels a little low. I'm not saying the indulgence in any of these things is sin, necessarily, but sin is in the heart or the attitude. For me to start stacking all of these things into my life, I find myself at the bottom, unsatisfied, with too much sleep and too much sugar, having said way too much to someone on the phone, and too much time on my hands. That's when hopeless and cynical strap themselves on and squeeze the life out of me. That's when I get really ugly.

The Word is clear about my role to be busy at home. It must be difficult to imagine me not being busy, but everything in my life, if carefully manipulated can be neglected for quite a while before it catches up and I start having anxiety. It's a difficult balance, but I manage it on occasion. It's interesting that the very busyness that I avoid in this pit of despair, is what gives me my breath back.

I feel like I'm back. I can never escape this one truth. Jesus, the Word incarnate, LOGOS is life. Jesus is life. Jesus is life.

Strep and stuff

I can't believe it's been so long since I sat down here and spilled my guts! Dale came home and it took a little while to adjust to the homecoming and work schedule, and then our sweet, sweet friends came and rang our doorbell and sat at our dining room table and slept in our beds and made us feel like we were home again. I would post all the glorious pictures of our visit if I had taken any, but somehow we spent three days together and didn't snap a single shot!!! I cherish it none the less, because they were here in real life, in our house, laughing and staying up too late with us, and it was just what we needed.

And then we all got sick, sick, sick. Tre went down first. *I'm still praying that our company didn't pack it up and carry it across the miles home with them!* When Tre spiked 103, I called the nurse help line and they sent us to Urgent Care. We waited in the waiting room for two hours and then waited in our exam room for another hour. We should have gotten the results from the lab yesterday, but somehow we haven't gotten any results. Besides that, three different staff members entered and exited our room and no one wore gloves or washed their hands at any time during the visit. I don't like to assume that they never did; maybe the habit is to do it after they leave the room. It was unsettling regardless.

Kennedy, two days later, did the same thing and I loaded up the gang and dragged them all in. We tried a different clinic and found ourselves quite impressed with the friendliness, the accommodations to the children, and the speed at which we were given care despite the full waiting room. I was thoroughly impressed and have found a safe place for our health care needs.

I still don't quite understand Urgent Care. At first I thought it was a hospital setting, but the clinic is more like a doctors office. I think it means you can always come in without an appointment, but some people make appointments. And maybe it means you get a wild-card on which doctor or PA you see. All I know is that it's quite convenient for me and I like it.

Anyway, we are sleeping a lot, watching cartoons over and over again since we don't have cable, and having a lot of toast, cereal, and Sprite between doses of antibiotics. Pray that Dale can somehow stay well. We need someone to be normal around here and I just can't foot the bill. *I never really did play that role well...*

Forgive me if you've called and I haven't been able to talk. Leila is also trying to potty train and with the fevers and intestinal upheavals and running back and forth to the potty chair, all the while trying to sneak in a nap here and there, I've lost all sense of time and reality and the telephone rings in vain. But give us a week and we'll be back at it!

Sweet Homecoming

Yesterday at football practice Kennedy and I were going over the schedule for today, which I promised would be full of fun and excitement including the 99cents store, the McDonald's play land, and a half-day of school in honor of Dale's homecoming; a celebration before we pick him up since it would be late. As she turned to walk away I heard myself say, "Then we'll get Daddy, and I'll get my breath back..."

The last time we spent this long of a succession apart was right after I had Tre; he had a job in KC and I had a job in Burlington, we were both commuting from Emporia. He worked M-F and I left Friday night when he got home to go to work F-Su nights. It was agonizing. I don't recall how many weeks were lived like that, but we all cried every time he got back into the car to leave. Families just aren't designed to live together part-time. So you can imagine the strickening I felt in my chest when he got in the car three weeks ago and drove to the airport where he would be carried thousands of miles away from me.

If the truth be told, I thought it would be a good break, a breather, a nice reminder of what we have together. Little did I know how much more than that it would be. As much as I need him here to help juggle the details of our lives, I need him much, much more as a constant presence in my world. Everyday I watch the clock in anticipation of his homecoming on a normal workday. For three weeks I've been watching the clock, counting down the hours to his return. This is something that women in the world scoff at on the surface, this needy dependence on a man. But I think it links back to the curse where God made Eve's desire for her husband and him to rule over her. I have not studied this passage in depth, but I always thought that my intense desire is linked to that passage. It boggles my mind, as I have always been overtly independent, but eleven years in, I do not fare well without this man.

So today, the sweet face of God is shining on us because the countdown, while it's been agonizing, is almost over and I can almost get a full breath.

Succeed at this one thing

I don't know if you know this about me, you probably don't. But I have a new plan. Every so often I re-evaluate my life and configure a plan to set my feet straight and the wheels in motion for success in whatever it is that I'm failing at. Those things have been the same for the last, oh I don't know, all of my life: weight loss, organization, time management, devotions, kindness, anger management... you know, your run of the mill disappointments in a person.

The thing about this pregnancy is that I've never felt like I couldn't do it before. I would look at the test and laugh about the irony of the situation, always landing on the least opportune time in my life, and think, "Alright. Here we go!" This time I'm-- I'm in denial, I think. I stared at that little window on my bathroom cabinet waiting for the *not* to appear before the *pregnant* at any minute. And what's worse, I was putting clothes away the other day and decided I should double check the test, just to make sure I hadn't missed it, you know, the *not*, so I went back into the bathroom and peered into the little silver trash can. The trash can that I empty almost every day. The trash can that held the answer to my fate three weeks ago. To my surprise, it no longer offered me an opportunity to doubt. It was at that point that I realized things weren't quite right upstairs.

With the emotional trauma of the first weeks of school as a temporarily single parent, my world was spinning. On top of that, you know how high doses of surging hormones have a way of flipping you inside out at random intervals throughout the day. Every night I crawled into bed completely exhausted only to find my thoughts scattered and frantic. Every night I waded through them sobbing and then quiet and then reasonable and then trickles down my cheeks, trying hopelessly to sort it all out. It was tragic.

One night I tossed and turned for two hours before I finally cried out in desperation to God for help. I couldn't for the life of me imagine how He could help; He couldn't teach or make sandwiches or do dishes, but there had to be a way, right? So I begged, "God if there's any way you can help me out here, I really need it!" That's when I got out of bed and decided to order the few things I could do in the middle of the night. I made menus, wrote out a schedule, and prayed more, and this was my revelation. *Succeed at this one thing.* So simple; so doable.

The thing that steals my breath and stuffs me full of anxiety is not the laundry that spills out of the closet when I open the door, or the dishes piled up on the counter, or teaching twenty lessons a day. It's the fear of failure in these things. I should have done the dishes. I should have thrown the laundry in. I shouldn't have been come unglued when he dumped ketchup all over the refrigerator. I should have looked at her room after she cleaned it up all by herself. And the what ifs: What if they don't learn helping verbs? What if she stays mad this time instead of forgiving my meanness? What if someone shows up at the door when the house is a wreck? What if I really am just a bunch of smoke and mirrors? I shouldn't care, but I do. I want to be real, and I also want to be able to accomplish superhuman accomplishments because I CAN do all those things, if I really, really try.

What I've come to realize is: I can't. I just can't. There's only so much I can pile onto my plate before stuff starts falling off. So this new thing, my new plan, was revolutionary for me, more than freezing the milk and baking the bread. *Succeed at this one thing* My lifeline is Christ. As long as I fix my eyes on Him, I cannot fail. None of the things on that list matter as long as I am living and breathing and functioning in Christ, the author and finisher of my faith. Nothing. It settles every question about me and this life.

So, next time I call you and I am reeling from some hyper-emotional labor and drama, please, don't weaken me with pity. Point me to Christ, the only solid ground.

Thou madest us for Thyself, and our heart is restless until it repose in Thee.
-Augustine