These are a few

of my favorite things.

A Formal Farewell

There's bittersweet air about us as we say our final farewell to football. Today is the superbowl and we lost our tickets to our loss last weekend. Today is the party where all the kids will get trophies and run around together just for fun, probably for the first time since the season started. When I found out we'd have practice everyday for the first five week and then games all over the state every weekend, I went a little cuckoo. But once we got the groove, I looked forward to being out in the cool of the day with the sun shining because I could just sit and watch while the kids ran and played and screamed and wrestled with the other siblings. It was a little intimidating at first too, to have to load the troops at 5:30 in the cold to drive long distances to watch our peewees play games, but that too just became part of the routine. Now that it's all said and done, I'm a little sad that I won't have all the same kids to cheer for next time, or the same parents to labor with through the season. But I'm also relieved that we will have a few Saturdays to rest before basketball takes off. I don't know if I'd have ever done it if I hadn't watched my good friend, full-time business woman, single mom to five do it for years, running all five in different directions like it was as natural as breathing. She gives me hope and joy in this season of life; the running season. And it's a good thing because we're looking forward to about fifteen years of it.
So long football; thanks for the memories.

Hope

Therefore having been justified by faith
we have peace with God
through our Lord Jesus Christ
through whom also we have obtained
our introduction by faith
into this grace in which we stand;
and we

exult in hope

of the glory of God.
And not only this, but we also

exult in our trubulations

knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance;
and perseverance, proven character;
and proven character, hope.

And hope does not disappoint,

because the love of God has been
poured out within our hearts
through the Holy Spirit
who was given to us.

And hope does not disappoint.
Love never fails.
We have fixed our hope on the living God.
This hope we have as an ANCHOR of the soul.

Kindness

It's God's kindness that leads to repentance.

The virtuous woman was known for teaching kindness.

Let your kindness be evident to all.

And the fruit of the spirit is... kindness.

How can my life be so saturated by these words that are ever present in my life, and yet my heart be full of dark words of wrath that spill out every time I get bumped? Anger, sarcasm, frustration, fits of rage, condescension... forgive me God. I am weak and foolish.

Make me a vessel of Your kindness. Not politeness and courtesy that I am so accustomed to extending to virtual strangers in my world, but the true kindness of the Spirit that leads people to repentance.

School Updates

Today is the last day of the quarter for our school calendar and we are scrambling to tie up loose ends before tomorrow, my face-to-face parent-teacher meeting. This is where we turn in a work sample from each subject and she tests the kids on their progress. I've been a nervous wreck for two weeks trying to come up with all the necessary samples and testing myself in case we don't come out ahead. I have felt really confident about this program and my abilities to complete for quite a while now. After we got the hang of the schedule and the groove of the curriculum, I felt like we were smooth sailing. Now that it's time to test the progress, we'll see if we meet the mark. I guess the worst thing that could happen is that I'll have to redo some lessons and I won't get a gold star for perfection.

This leads me to my next point. Every day that goes by, at some point in the day I wonder if this is what they do. You know, do they keep a tidy house all the time? Do they have a good, substantial dinner every night? Do they have trouble stretching from paycheck to paycheck? Do they ever loose it and scream at their kids? Am I keeping up with the rest of the moms in the world that are achieving perfection every day? And then I ask myself this ever present question... WHY DO I CARE WHAT THEY DO???

I grew up in a stable, normal household, by my own standards. Not normal like Americans, normal like the Cleavers. There were problems, sometimes my parents fought, sometimes we didn't like each other, and sometimes I was a real drag to live with. *this may be an understatement*. But we had a tidy house, even with seven of us in that huge place. My mom made breakfast, lunch, and dinner everyday; so much so that I thought I was eating out when I got to eat a hot lunch at school. I know they were tight with money, but they were responsible with it, and I don't ever remember seeing my mom cry about it. The bar is set pretty high for me. I'm living now, knowing that it's possible to live that life. And I do strive for it. But normalcy is relative and when you're a kid, or an outsider, you just don't see everything.
What I have, is rich and good, even if I'm not meeting the bar.

I really came to say today that just because I don't test well and I get really nervous under scrutiny, we've come a long way from the first weeks of school. At this point, I have no doubt we'll finish the school year and be just fine. The only reason though, is that my friends have prayed for me. My family has prayed me. So I wanted to say thank you again for your support of our mission. God has heard and answered.

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*.