First Day of School

Somehow, despite how much we all love summer vacation, we find ourselves getting excited about getting back into the routine of school. We all love new school supplies. We all love the smell of new books. We love learning, some/most of the time, depending on the moment and the student. And, we all love the fact that there are only 179 days of school left before we can enjoy our next summer vacation.


Bethany starts the daily commute, driving to barbering school.

Obviously, the most excited student in my Gifted and Talented program was Rebekah. It was her first day of first grade. She was SO excited the night before, she didn't think she'd be able to sleep. She finally fell asleep and was up and ready to go early in the morning. A student I don't have to pull out of bed? Could it be?

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This is only her second outfit of the day. I think it was a record. Her main objection to public school? Having the wear the same outfit ALL day. The horrors of it all.

Jon is excited to be in Algebra, even though he is in the 8th grade. We did Pre-Algebra last year, skipping the 7th grade book. After three months, I discovered it was COLLEGE Pre-Algebra. I purchased it from a used book store and it was in the area with 8th grade textbooks. OOPS! But, he did really well, so we just kept going.

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Despite holding his pencil incorrectly, he works diligently on most of his homework, unless it requires cutting and pasting.

After doing school all day, Beka still didn't get enough. Wanting to utilize her new school desks, a $30 find on Craig's List yesterday, she invited Avery and Norah over to play school.

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Avery was a little confused about home-schooling. He had to clarify that during the day I taught Rebekah and she wasn't the teacher.

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Norah was a little confused and thought they were pretending they were desks.

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When it was time for recess, Beka had a little learning to do. It was her turn to be confused when Avery, an experienced pre-school student, told her that they had to walk in a line on the way outside.

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They dumped out the pattern blocks, the tangrams, screamed, giggled and chased each other around the house, then had another recess.

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Even pretend school went well.

After praying for me often during the day, my honey showed up with 9 red roses and 9 pink roses - two for each month that school is going to go well. He's walking in faith.

For our evening culinary adventure, Jon made homemade pizza. He compiled the shopping list, picked out the items he needed at the grocery store, then prepared the pizza, a salad, drinks and a chocolate chip coffee cake for desert. It was amazing! He didn't use my pizza recipe - mine is a phone number. He just created. It was amazing, or did I say that already?

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You're right, there's no picture of Grace. She did school in her room all day and I forgot all about her pic until the day was gone.

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Last week, I found another letter dated 8-8-95 from another older, wiser woman, Susan, and her encouragement was SO timely I wanted to include it for my first day of school blog.

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"Today's Choice Gleaning calendar really challenged my heart. Isaac Watts quotes:

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'I'll purge my family around,

and make the wicked flee;

So shall my house be ever found,

a dwelling fit for Thee.'

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David says in Psalm 101:2, "I will walk within my house with a perfect heart."

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How often in our homes we let our guards down, instead of controlling the environment and having it to be an atmosphere of love and quietness. As the world gets more and more wicked, praise God we still live in a country where we can shut out the hostility and be at peace in our homes. How I desire to enjoy my home and the responsibilities within the home that God has entrusted me with!

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As the school year approaches once again, I pray that we wouldn't clutter our lives with busyness, but rather be diligent to accomplish an uncluttered lifestyle - more of Christ, less of "fun and games" busyness. Balance summarizes it, I guess!"

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As we all face another school year with our children, may we apply Susan's advice to our hearts and homes: may we enjoy our homes and responsibilities and have MORE OF CHRIST.

The Rains Came

The rains came the night before last. We were sleeping deeply until the sound of millions of raindrops interrupted our sleep. The sliding door had been open to allow the warm summer night's fresh air to scent our dreams. After the fresh air lulled us to sleep, the rains came.



Like the returning footsteps of a loved one, the sound of rain was a welcome comfort. I didn't want to go back to sleep, I wanted to enjoy the sound, the smell and the moistness that gently tiptoed through the slightly bent screen door into our bedroom.



The sound of each drop could be heard in syncopation, they were large and lush, but fell in a casual flurry, as if they had waited too long to return. I could picture the brown, crinkling grass lapping up the moisture and regaining color as I listened. I knew my flailing flowers and vegetables would respond well, too, and mentally crossed off watering off my list of things to do.



The rain was so heavy for a few minutes, that I experienced that panicked feeling when you are trying to remember what valuable things were left outside and determine if they are valuable enough to retrieve. I chose to enjoy the presence of the rain snuggling under the covers, instead of being soaked in it while retrieving something that my kids shouldn't have left outside anyway.



Since the rains have come, I am wearing my jeans with the bottoms folded up in a huge cuff, to keep the moisture from creeping up the length of the legs. We now grab our moisture-wicking jackets as we pass through the front doors.



I have been reminded the hue of the world is different in the rains. The rain brilliances the color of the trees and flowers and makes them glisten with reflective crystals. When the sun is anxiously radiating behind loosely fluffed clouds, the glow can create the perfect back lighting, the perfect glow, the perfect brightness to visualize the presence of the rain.



I am thankful for these reactions. I just realized I had befriended the rain, that I had missed its presence in my world, that I have learned to let the rain brighten my life. I am thankful because when the rains come,
they do stay
and stay
and stay
and stay.
Like any friend, the rain can wear out its welcome.



But, for now, I am enjoying the newness of my world,

because,

the other night,

the rains came.

oPpOsItE dAy

Young children love to declare a day as an oPpOsItE dAy.



On that day "yes" means "no" and "no" means 'yes." Then they ask you questions they KNOW you'll say NO to, but claim you really meant yes, because it was oPpOsItE dAy.

"Mom, can I eat candy for lunch?"
"NO!"
"Ha! Ha! Today is oPpOsItE dAy!

No means YES! Yea, we get to eat candy for lunch! We get to eat candy for lunch!"

They go to great lengths to do the opposite, wear their clothes backwards, walk backwards, and perform whatever antics they can create that would be opposite of normal and acceptable behavior.

But, why would they think they had to designate an entire day to that when in reality, with a child, every day is oPpOsItE dAY?

What mother doesn't know the frustration of finding an empty gallon of milk in the fridge, with barely enough milk to trickle out when you hold it upside down over your bowl of very dry cereal. And what mother hasn't known the further frustration of finding, the very next day, the new gallon milk left out on the table? You usually don't find it until it is blueishly lukewarm and the chunks must be poured down the drain.

How about the laundry? Doesn't it just go without saying that the clean clothes will be thrown onto the floor, tossed and kicked around for a week or so, then returned to the dirty clothes hamper, sometimes still folded as neatly as they were when you first placed them in their rooms? And, doncha' know, the dirty clothes will be carefully shoved back in the dresser drawer, under the bed or in the closet, just in case they can be worn one more time.

But, the oPpOsItE rUlE applies to other areas of daily life, as well. As a child I despised eating my crusts. We lived on day-old 10 /$1 bread that had been in the freezer for months (or years?), being mish-mashed under a pound of freezer-burned hamburger or a two-year old venison roast. I struggled through years of eating those dry particles and mastered the art of applying the peanut butter and jelly carefully up to the edges, trying to soften the dryness of the stale crusts. Naturally, when I became a mother, I declared to my children that they wouldn't have to eat their crusts. I always made their sandwiches, cut the crusts off, sometimes cutting the bread into fun shapes with cookie cutters, and presented this love offering for lunch.

As the kids grew older and began making their own sandwiches, I noticed they all left the crusts on and ate them without problems, and were only cutting the crusts off for the sandwiches they made for me.


One day, I finished my lunch and was ready to toss the pile of crusts into the garbage can when my then five year old- Rebekah, rushed after me. "Wait, Mom, I LOVE to eat the crusts," then proceeded to grab the crusts as they were sliding off my plate into the garbage and to shove them into her mouth.

When we went to the zoo this squirrel obligingly ate my crusts for me. Rebekah was full.

I was flabbergasted! Because I was told I HAD to eat my crusts, I didn't want to eat them, and because my kids were told they DIDN'T have to, they wanted to eat them. It then dawned upon me. This might be a new strategy in parenting!

If I don't want them to do something
I tell them to do it,
if they are supposed to do it,

I tell them they can't.

I tried out this new strategy while taking pics of my adorably- impish 3 year- old nephew, Stephen. When I asked him to smile, he drew the corners of his mouth down in an 1800's-era grimace, then raised his little reddish eyebrows inward and down, expressing his displeasure in being asked to perform. I wasn't quick enough with my trigger finger to capture his first grimace, but you can still see his lack of enthusiasm. Not wanting this effect, I changed my ask. "Stephen, I decided I don't want you to smile after all. I think it would look better if you didn't smile for this picture."






Immediately, I was rewarded with one of those grins that displayed every perfect toddler tooth, down to those adorable little toddler molars. (Too bad I didn't notice his eyes weren't open. Doncha' just wanna pick up this little guy and give him a big ol' squeeze?)

I'm thinking of rewriting the chore list. I will inform the kids they are not to wash the dishes, not to take out the trash, not to clean the bathrooms and for sure, not to make their beds, because we are just wasting time doing the same things over and over again.

I think it might change the effectiveness around the house, because,
ya' know,
with children every day is
oPpOsItE dAy.

Cancer's Journey of Faith

Like a toddler learning to walk, our journey of faith can be one of forward motion, even though our steps are wobbly and unsure. When that journey of faith includes suffering, each step can also need surrender. As Christians, we rarely "give" ourselves to the Lord completely. Little by little, we surrender a meager grasp. We sing the songs, we pray the hip phrases, we gush that we want to be conformed, but we can resist the Refiner's fire.

Since this spring, I have been on a journey of surrender-stepping that is propelling me onto the path of perfection. Being made perfect through suffering.

The first wobbling step was taken to accept that my cancer was back. I toddled onto surgery.

After a months of recovery, I walked the path of acceptance, realizing there were going to be residual problems. I may have pain the rest of my life. Not intense pain, not "I can't bear it" but just "it will never go away" kinda' pain. The scar tissue in my ear and neck area constantly aches and pulls each time I turn my head. It is a constant reminder that I have cancer.

It was a "take heed lest you stumble" time. After saying that I didn't cry very much over my original cancer diagnosis, I have had some times of weeping. I have had to come to grips that unless the Lord works a miracle, I will never be cured and I will never be in remission. Like a stumbling toddler banging her head on the coffee table, I have had to turn back to my Father's arms, then stand again and keep walking, by faith and with joy.

This summer in Helena, I visited the oncologist for St. Peter's Hospital, Dr. W. I actually met him years ago while attending a check-up with a dear friend, Kari, who was dying from a brain tumor. I just needed some advice on my doctor situation. I am having a hard time trusting my doctors. He was empathetic and understanding and gave me great advice, including his recommendations for treatment. He was surprised that my surgeon didn't remove the original lumps that we had been following for four years. He was concerned enough to say, "If you were MY wife, I would have those lumps removed." He repeated it a second time. He also encouraged me to not wait with my radioactive iodine treatment.

I am now going to search for a new endocrinologist. My third one, but who's counting? If this cancer is going to be with me for a lifetime, I want a doc who is worth sharing my life with.


Criteria:

1. Nice
2. Nice nurse (My current endo's nurse SCARES me. I had several phone calls this summer that turned into confrontations. I HATE calling because she is either angry or rude to me. I am NOT her enemy, I am a patient.)
3. Not so busy (Surgery in April, couldn't get into follow-up until August)
4. Female. Male doctors generally don't care or understand hormonal things, so why am I going to a male doctor for a hormonal cancer during a very hormonal stage of my life?
5. Able to remember me. I would love to be remembered. By name, not only by chart.

I actually don't even care if my doc graduated at the bottom of her class if she meets the above criteria. I don't think I am asking too much.

So, I am starting over again.

Just when I was struggling a little with my attitude, I read a blog "Coffee and Chemo" from a woman in Jerusalem.

Her perspective on cancer gave me a new perspective on mine.

Diagnosis: Cancer is a "chronic illness."

You can live with it.

Translation: I hope to be on chemotherapy for a LONG time!

She is thankful for chemo - it means she is alive.

I choose to be thankful for my pain and for upcoming treatment - I am alive and healing day by day.

I am also thankful that the cancer keeps me focused on eternity.

Romans 8:18 "For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which will be revealed in us."

Someday, I will be healed. I will have a glorified body in Heaven.

Until then, I am praying for a new doc. A nice, female doctor who has a nice nurse and can remember my name. She doesn't even has to spell it right.

Balloons

Joseph and Jacques Montgolfier created a hot air balloon 226 years ago, and mankind has been enthralled with them ever since.

When we spotted balloons being filled alongside the road, I knew we were in for an adventure. My husband has always been very impromptu and loves to experience the world around him.

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Occasionally on a Saturday, we get ready, jump in the car and drive. Once, we ended up watching a Native American make an intricate ring out of silver and turquoise. Another time, we watched a semi unload a shipment of new cars. (Haven't you always wondered how that works?) We have watched sidewalks being poured, a roof being lifted onto a house with a crane, sunsets, sunrises, eclipses, para-sailing, and wind-surfing.

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Sometimes, we find an adventure just where we are. This time we couldn't drive by. We had to experience.

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While he's watching the balloons, I am watching him. I am remembering how I always kept the diaper bag fully stocked when the kids were little. I never knew when he would pop up and say, "Let's go!" Despite having a lot of little ones, I wanted to support that sense of adventure.

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I knew it would make all of our lives fuller and more exciting, even though at times I had to contend with forgetting something or missing a naptime.

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Now, the kids are older and my camera bag has replaced the diaper bag. I keep my batteries charged and keep personal care items in my camera bag, never knowing where I am going to end up or what I am going to see.

You can go up for about $200. You can watch for free. Really, though, it isn't the money. I am a little scared of heights.

Didja' know they have to have a commercial pilot's license to fly/steer/raise one of these beauties? From the website above, "They must have at least 35 hours of flight instruction, attend ground school for basic aviation training, pass a written test for hot-air balloons and have a flight check from a Federal Aviation Administration official."

It just seems so daring, adventurous, romantic and scary all at the same time. At least in a boat, you have a life preserver. I was wondering what was going through the minds of those people in the little, tiny basket hanging under the brilliant balloon. Was this a dream come true, an adventure to cross off their list of "Things To Do Before I Die"?

My mind is wondering what my next adventure will be with this man. He fills our life with love, excitement and enthusiasm. Where ever the road leads, I am ready.

So is my camera.

MommaMindy's Zoo Goes to the Zoo

It seems kinda' ironic. I live in a zoo, yet I love going to the zoo. Animal behavior is so much like children's behavior, I felt right at home. We braved the adventure with Kelly-Across-the-Street and her tykes, Norah and Avery. Since she had the toddlers, I was in charge of the camera.

I'm wondering if she'll regret her decision after she sees my pics?


Avery, Rebekah, Brianna (Beth's friend), Grace and Bethany crossing the Delaware. Could you tell by their solemn poses?

Bethany and Norah, also called Norah Bug. She's adorable. Everyone wants to cuddle her so much, I am amazed she ever learned to walk.



Despite the amount of food and branches available, they weren't sharing very well. They were eating the same branch.

All the animals were doing this for my camera. But, I thought a little too many bodily function pictures would be rude. I coudln't resist one, though. After all, I poddy-trained six of my own animals.

OK, maybe two pics. Moms just can't get away from icky bodily functions and fluids.

I love the monkeys. I always have. In first grade I made the mistake of telling my first grade teacher, Mrs. Forgy, that I wanted a pet monkey. She gave me a huge lecture in front of all the class, on how they were hard to keep warm, hard to feed and were terrible pets. Hey, I was only six and she asked me what pet I wanted. So, instead of a monkey, I had kids. Same thing, only different. Monkeys are quieter.

Friendly monkey grooming, everyone's favorite zoo activity. Yes, they do eat the bugs after they pick them off. They both seem to be enjoying this moment. One area where having children is superior to owning a monkey. I am not expected to eat anything from their bodies. I don't even eat off their plates. EEWWWWW!

The strong, silent type.

After listening to the Zoo employee talk about Bob the Great Horned Owl for about ten seconds, Avery interrupted with his own lecture.

"Did you know that owls could eat all these people?" He gestured to all that were innocently listening to the owl lecture. She smiled oddly and continued. I thought Avery was WAY more entertaining, so I listened to him.

"We don't have owls in our neighborhood."

After asserting that owls sleep at night, he asked, "Why are these owls awake in the morning?"

I thought it was a great question. I hadn't even thought of that one.

"Hey, do they (owls) live with you guys?"

They should hire my little neighbor. I KNOW he could hold a crowd's attention.

Just chewing off a little piece of dried skin off the heel. How come the zoo doesn't provide them with pumice stones?

Still intent on the do-it-yourself pedicure. I wonder what would happen if you left a bottle of bright red nail polish in their living space?

Beautiful flamingos. I can't show you all the pics. It was mating season. The little kids thought they were doing tricks. We didn't explain. A trip to the zoo can be a little embarrassing at times.

A quote by Evan Esar, "Zoo: An excellent place to study the habits of human beings."

Since that's the case, maybe I'll just stay at home next time and watch my kids. It would be cheaper.

Open My Mouth With Wisdom

Yesterday, I was challenged by momstheword to "make my house sing." Her instructions:
"It can be an attitude or an action. Motivation, our attitude, baking, encouraging our husband or children (if we have either one), organization, cleaning, saving money....the opportunities are endless."

After reading her blog, I couldn't rise to the challenge. I couldn’t begin to think of what I could do. I knew I needed to let the Lord speak to me first.

I have read a Proverb of the Day for over 20 years. There are 31 chapters in Proverbs and 31, or less, days in a month, so you read the proverb that matches the day. It has been a huge blessing to my life.

The 31st is always eagerly anticipated, because I read one of my favorite portions of Scripture, commonly titled "A Virtuous Woman." The Lord was so good to dedicate an entire chapter to detail the qualities of a godly woman. It's also a beautiful spiritual picture of believers as the bride of Christ, but I read it as a woman.

The verse that spoke to me was 26. "She opens her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness."

Ouch.

I open my mouth a lot, but it isn't always with wisdom.

This word opens in the original Hebrew has two meanings, to open or to carve or engrave.

Double ouch. What a powerful description of the work of our words, especially those spoken to our God-given little ones who's precious faces we look upon all day.

She carves with her mouth. Immediately, I pictured hurtful pain inflicted on someone. Then, I pictured a man carving something out of a stick. He first just gouges out the big pieces that he needs to remove for the desired change in his work of art. Then, when it is shaped into the likeness he wants, he uses smaller tools to finish.

He begins engraving intricate details to make his artwork come alive, to show his personal craftsmanship and to inspire the viewer with awe towards the creator.

We need to carve out those sinful things in our children's lives and we engrave the likeness of the Savior into their hearts and minds.

We always think of wisdom as smartness. But, we all know someone who scored very highly on their ACT's or SAT's, yet cannot function in the real world. They can't pay their bills, keep a job, keep a relationship. What good has their book knowledge done for them? Wisdom is more than acquiring knowledge.

True Biblical wisdom in the book of James is showing what you KNOW by what you DO. Your wisdom should just flow out of your life.


Psalm 111:10, "The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom." My favorite preacher, my husband, defines fear of the Lord as this: "It matters to me, what God thinks, about what I am doing."

Tongue means language and law means direction and instruction.

The word study that delighted me was the word kindness, a compound word also translated mercy, kindness, lovingkindness, goodness and kindly.

The first word means to show thyself merciful.

The second word is actually Bethesda, which means house of mercy or flowing water. This is the name of a pool of healing waters near the sheep-gate at Jerusalem. Combined, that is a lot of mercy.

So, this is how I am trying to make my house sing.

"She opens her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness."

Mindy translation, "I am carving and engraving in a way that shows it matters to me what God thinks about what I am doing, the direction and instruction of my language will show a river of mercy."

My house, by the grace and strength from the Lord, will be a house singing from the flowing waters of mercy.