A Christmas activity with a Christmas message

I love doing Christmas crafts and I've finally figured out why after much thought (or at least a couple minutes of thinking).  At Christmas time we have a reason to give all the stuff away.  Crafting is wonderful fun, and it's such a great thing to do with the kids, but then we end up with all this stuff and it breaks each little heart not to keep all the stuff and I'm SO not a stuff-keeper. 

So this is my season!  We make lots of cute things and GIVE THEM AWAY so all the stuff is somebody else's to enjoy (and somebody else's to figure out where to put it).

This year a friend of mine sent me a picture of this awesome craft - only it was made out of large chunks of wood which I didn't have access too.  Her husband owns Prairie Barnwood http://prairiebarnwood.blogspot.com/  and perhaps we'll see this nativity scene made out of 4x4 inch chunks of rustic barnwood someday. 

But for Madison and I we did a mini version.

A wonderful friend's husband cut out all these "body" pieces, and we ordered all the little balls from Canadian Lumber.  We had around 75 full 3-piece sets in total, and first did the craft with the Gems & Knights club at church.  We had around 15 sets left, and Madison and I worked on the rest one morning...

I absolutely LOVE using a glue gun, and usually don't have much reason to pull one out.  This was my time to shine.  I love the complete lack of mess, and I love the instant results.  Quick and clean.   

After we had painted all the Mary's and Joseph's, I glued the bodies together while Madison carefully attached the heads.

I'm so glad my girl is who she is. She's basically up for anything I ask her to do with me... from trying our first fresh lobster on PEI ("we" screamed and had the lady come back and take it away until she'd taken off the legs... well, I screamed and Madison giggled, and then I gagged and Madison giggled.  See, we LOVED the meat, but the legs just look so... but I digress...) to road trips, musicals, crafting and movies, she always shrugs her shoulders and says, "Sure," to most anything I suggest.

Then we had this wire from Dollarama that we cut into 18" lengths and wrapped it around Mary, Joseph and Baby Jesus, with the back part swinging up over their heads.

We sanded Mary and Joseph so the painting didn't look quite so juvenile...  I call it rustic now...

And then we attached a cardstock star covered in glitter. 

Add a little raffia and...  

Voila!

And here's the best part - we have this beautiful reminder of the real meaning of Christmas.  So many kids' crafts are all about the tree or the snow or Santa or presents, and that's great too.  But I love it when I get a chance to go counter-cultural! 

Nativity scenes are my favorite Christmas decoration, and I now have 3.  A little 3-piece Bengali wooden set from Ten Thousand Villages, a ceramic scene from a local crafter, and  now this cute wooden craft. 

The nativity scene has been badly abused... light-up plastic figurines on the front yard?  plastic sets where the camel legs are bent and they keep falling over?  Please.  This little craft sends a much truer message.  Simple, beautiful, anyone can take part in this.  That's the message of Christmas.

I love fall best of all

I love fall best of all.  I love the colors, the smells and the weather.  I love the breezes and the sense of reaping or harvesting.  I love the start of new things like school and music lessons and drama and church clubs.  But fall seems the shortest season of all where we live. 

 I will always remember the gorgeous colors of the trees along the Saskatchewan river as I rattled over the Hawrelak Bridge on my way to university on the public transit for 4 years (fighting motion sickness and reciting Bible verses to calm myself at the speed our driver went around those corners). 

Somehow amidst the germs and the diesel smell of the bus, I would escape reality to focus on beauty for a little while.  The rich colors only lasted about 2 weeks, and that's part of what made it so special.

My kids' favorite part is carving pumpkins.  I hate that part of fall.  

 I sometimes catch myself thinking, "maybe the kids will forget to ask to carve pumpkins this year."
They never forget.

They beg every year to wield the razor-sharp Henckel knives and I hate the possible blood and trauma.  I insist on doing all the cutting myself.  Each one gets to draw / design their own little pumpkin character, and clean out his innards, but the knives stay in adult hands. 

I hate the goo and the slime and the way the raw pumpkins smell. 

But I love watching their faces as they create and design and scrape and shape this yearly work of art.

Once we get the seeds out we rinse and season them and bake a bunch for snacking and cracking.  That part I like.

My favorite piece of this whole yearly tradition is how much my kids love it.  What is it about turning a large orange vegetable into a face of sorts that makes the kids so excited?  I'm not sure, but the creators of VeggieTales sure knew what they were doing.  

  

And after each little pumpkin head is finished, and we are crunching away on pumpkin seeds and every little face is grinning at their pumpkin friend, I'm always glad I pretended to be excited right along with my little people.  I'm glad I stifled my gag reflex and stuck my hand down inside the stringy, semi-sticky guts of yet another pumpkin, and pulled out the slippery seeds and risked my digits to cut a pair of buck teeth into another pumpkin face. 

And now, even though we've had a beautiful and long-lasting fall, pumpkin season is over, and Christmas is around the corner...

Next... the store-bought gingerbread house with icing that tastes like glue...

My son hears God's voice...

Something I want more than anything is for my kids to recognize the voice of God.  I can't remember when I started praying this over them - or what prompted it, but "Teach him to know your voice," has been an almost nightly whisper over each little head on the pillow.

Probably because I struggle so much with this myself.  I don't want this frustration for my kids.  He tells us that His sheep know His voice - and I can recognize it when it's a matter of conscience, or something that I need to line up with the Word and then make my decision.
But how about whether to step out of my comfort zone?  How about whether to work or stay home with my kids?  How about when wanting to hear a response to "Search me and know me".  And right now my big battle is, "What do I let by the guards to my kids' hearts, and what do I stand firm and block even when every other parent thinks I'm weird?"

Adrian's friends at school - even the "church" ones are quite into the Harry Potter books right now. He came home and asked if he could read the books.  He'd already started the first one at school and found it quite interesting.
My response is always the same - let's look it up online and decide if this is something you want to feed your spirit. 
He discovered that Harry Potter is a boy who attends Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry.  Harry ends up with many powers - and practices a "good" or white magic, as opposed to "dark" or bad magic. 
I showed Adrian that God's Word tells us
“There shall not be found among you anyone who …practices witchcraft, or a soothsayer, or one who interprets omens, or a sorcerer, or one who conjures spells, or a medium, or a spiritist, or one who calls up the dead.”Deut. 18:10-12
Then I asked Adrian if he still wanted to take this into his heart.  He shocked me by saying, "Yeah - because it sounds really interesting." 

We dug further and found the adults are depicted as hateful and perhaps strict. Then noted how these wizards and other creatures are the good guys. This undermined the structure of family and authority in general.  The author is quoted as saying "The idea that we could have a child who escapes from the confines of the adult world and goes somewhere where he has power, both literally and metaphorically, really appealed to me."

Adrian and I discussed the danger of viewing us parents and other authority as hateful and wrong and without his best interests in mind.  He still thought he'd like to read the books. 
The distinction between good and bad can become blurred as both the "good" and "evil" characters participate in different types witchcraft and magic
John Buckeridge, editor of the British Christian magazine Youthwork,  foresees serious danger ahead. "The growing number of books and TV shows like Harry Potter and Sabrina the Teenage Witch encourage an interest in magic as harmless fun... However, for some young people it could fuel a fascination that leads to dangerous dabbling with occult powers. So what starts out as spooks and spells can lead to psychological and spiritual damage."

So I asked Adrian if he thought maybe this could lead him to places in his heart that he didn't want to go.  I asked if he trusted me and that I preferred him to make better choices of content to fill his mind and heart with.  Adrian told me he trusted me, but that he really wanted to read the book since his friends said they were so good.

Adrian has not always enjoyed reading.  This has been an uphill battle for us, and we are at a place now where he is looking for good books. 
But an analogy I read recently made me stop and think.  It goes like this:  My child needs medicine.  He doesn't want to take the medicine.  I put it into a sweet drink to make it more palatable, and I give it to him even though there are trace amounts of arsenic in it.  At least we are getting the medicine in, right?
Is that what we do to get our kids reading - say anything goes into the spirit, because at least we are getting them reading?

 I foolishly assumed that so long as I gave my kids all the information and they understood what it was they were getting into, that they would make a healthy decision regarding their spirits.  And I can guard that heart and spirit as a parent - but only for so long.  Adrian is 12 - he needs to be practicing making these decision for himself.  And how will I stop him from reading these books at school or at a friend's?  I can put my foot down to make myself feel better - but my son still needs a heart of submission for this to work.
I was going out with my sister for coffee, so I put my son to bed and asked him to spend 20 minutes talking to God.  "Just ask Him to speak to you," I suggested as I often do.
 
Then I went out with my sister and vented, "What should I do?  Should I home school?  How can I get him to make choices based on what is good content - not on what sounds fun or that friends are doing?  Am I stifling him?  Am I making a mountain out of a molehill?  What if this is just the beginning and he makes other choices that I would prefer he not make?  I'm losing control!  My kids are growing up!  I want Jesus to come back tonight!!"

The next morning at breakfast I looked at my sleepy - eyed son and asked, "So, did you ask God about Harry Potter last night?"
"Yeah."  (It really bugs me with boys that you have to ask for every detail - they won't just offer me information as I try to understand their ever changing brains.)
"So - what did God say?"  Oh God, please have said something!   Please let my boy know your voice!
A sheepish grin and a sound of resignation as Adrian tells me, "God told me 'Not right now and I'll explain later'."
And that was it. 
All my internet research and reasoning and explanations had failed to move my son's decision. 
But 7 words whispered by Father into his heart and he found the answer.

This learning to trust Father with my kids takes on new shades and textures all the time.  I'm so aware right now, that I am not in control.  I don't like not being in control.  Another reminder - God does a better job of guiding my children than I do...

Irreplaceable You

Recently I had someone tell me who I was.  She gave several details - including the fact that I didn't have the ability to articulate things well, and that's why she noticed I just stayed out of certain arguments.  Wow.

I told Dean about this conversation, and we got a good laugh.  So many of the things she'd described about me were so NOT me!  It gave us the giggles to remember her with her hand on my shoulder, looking into my eyes and saying she understood I just wasn't the type to be silly with the kids.  She was trying to hard to be understanding and empathetic, all the while giving me a list of her own attributes and talents.

I also got serious and asked, "Is she right?"  "What part of the whole spiel she threw my way was correct?"  So, even though this particular individual doesn't know me well, she did get me thinking about what is important to me and how I see myself. 

We are all different people in different circumstances and in different relationships.  I think it's worthwhile to realize that that's one reason God gives us relationships.  Certain people bring out aspects of our personality that no one else can:

Sara... my word can we laugh!  No matter how many years span our friendship we connect on this deep foundation of joy.  This is our special gift from God that is different from every other gift of joy I've experienced.  But laughter isn't the only thing that I share with Sara.  The years when I moved from place to place, and never got to put down roots - she was an unshakable support.  One night surrounded by church people, work, and kids, and a vibrant relationship with Jesus, I called Sara up in complete despair.  "Why do I feel SO alone?"  I wailed to her?  That deep place inside that longs to connect with someone was so cold and neglected. 
She could have lectured me on what God was doing in my life - teaching me that He is my everything, and I'm never truly alone.  He was doing that, you know.   But Sara, with all her prophetic giftings, also knew when to leave something alone.  She left that alone.  Instead she quietly said few words: 
"You're deep," she said.  "And you long for depth." 
Her words broke me and I knew that the depth I was longing for would truly only be found as I embraced further intimacy with Jesus. 
With Sara I feel I can laugh uncontrollably and weep in true grief...

Cyndi... she challenges me spiritually and encourages me to go further and higher and deeper, just by watching her pursuit of the holy. 
Some of Cyndi's recent words:
" It will stir within you because deep calls to deep; the Spirit searches all things; even the deep things of God, and He will lead you into all truth and tell you things to come! His promises are so much more literal and less ethereal than we've been taught. "
"You are surrendered when you get active rather than passive- passivity is not trust... "
"exercise your spirit!,and trust; not either or, does that make sense? And don't LET FEAR HAVE ANY SAY OR INFLUENCE- fear adds a what if? Faith adds im certain! "
" the bible is a strategic manual on war! And every saint is at very least a soldier who is to take territory! The gates of hell will not withstand you as you go to war for your children! Including the one you are calling into the kingdom of light out of babylon. Be militant my friend- we are in a war-life and death are in the power of our tongue with our new creation spirit!"
The relationship I have with Cyndi - how she knows me and I know her is so different than any other.  This is an iron-sharpens-iron type friendship.

Joan... always a step ahead of me in this journey of marriage and children.  The things I have learned from Joan! - she's allowed me to make foolish statements and try things, she's tolerated my immaturity and has no idea how I've watched her wrestle to understand her position in Father's eyes, and how to go at spiritual battles through prayer.  We have seen each other two or three times in the past 11 years, and have never been at a loss for conversation.  Somehow we connected deeply in a very short period of time, and then parted ways.  Our lives are so very different - she with two almost-adults, and me with my house still full and getting fuller.  She's been generous to allow me a glimpse into raw family and marriage moments - and it's freed me to share deeply with her.  I know it's all going straight to the cross - not fodder for somebody's gossip inbox.

These are only 3 relationships - and each knows me differently.  I'm sure I only know a limited aspect of all God's created them to be as well. 

My sisters and my mom and the friends from where I live now - they know me differently as well.  
They know I'm absolutely in love with anything Jane Austen
I can't get enough of LMM - especially since my trip to PEI
I felt SO cared about when my husband brought me my 3 top chocolate choices for our anniversary. 
I don't really need cut flowers
I want to know and be known by Father more intimately every day.
I sometimes laugh at other people's pain (like when Dean ran into a tree flying a kite)
I'm crazy about love songs - "All You Can Do is Wait" is my favorite du jour!
When I get to heaven I'll know how to dance in every style
I have chased my kids around the dining room table with salad tongs more times than I can count (we were ALL laughing!)
I do NOT find Napoleon Dynamite-type movies funny.  Just stupid.
I would rather be perceived as a prude & judgemental than risk letting my kids watch/do whatever anybody else is doing
I've climbed up into a McDonald's playplace tunnel and pulled another child down by the ankle who was harassing my kid.
I'd move overseas in a heartbeat if God ever asked me to.

There's no need for Sara or Cyndi or Joan to compete for my friendship. They are irreplaceable individuals that each have a unique spot in my heart (among so many others:). No one is like each of them, and no one relates to me the way they each do.
And so just as we are different in every friendship / relationship, God is experienced differently by each person.  The way I know and relate to Him is different than the way my husband knows and relates to Him.  I LOVE that! 
In "The Shack" the character portraying Father God gets a twinkle in her eye whenever she thinks of any one of her children.  Each one makes her gush, "Oh, I'm particularly fond of him."  "Oh!  I just love her!" 
The author does a wonderful job of showing how every single one of God's children has a unique spot in His heart. There's no need for me to compete for His affections. No one is like each of us and no one can relate to God the way each one of us does. 

The Night Before the First Day of School

The Night Before the First Day of School

Twas the night before school, when all through this home
The children were bathed and their hair was all combed.
The backpacks were hung by the front door with care,
In hopes that morning soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of play grounds danced in their heads.
And Dean in his jammies, and I in mine too,
Had just finished blessing and kissing our crew.

When there on the News there arose such a clatter,
I sat up in my chair to see what was the matter.
Pictures of danger flew past like a flash,
With bullies to teachers my children might clash!

 
I worried and stewed and fretted and stressed,
From home-school to private – what would be best?      

When, what to my wondering heart should appear,
But my Bible with bookmarks at places held dear.

With a flick of the wrist, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment which one I would pick.
“God takes care of flowers, it’s wonderfully true.
 But think of how much more He cares for you!”

My Madison is pure and gentle and kind;
A funnier girl you will never find.
She is sweet and creative – a real sweetheart,
Will Father stay close while she and I are apart?

Adrian is next with his chuckle of glee;
He waves from his bike as he looks back at me.
It’s not everybody who sees his soft side
nor the tears of frustration he tries to hide.

And then, in a twinkling, I think of God’s Word
where God sees the fall of each baby bird.
He’s holding these two precious children of mine,

Guarding their spirits – making sure they are fine. 

Then there is Kaden – our sensitive soul;
He loves to create, to build and to mold.
His quiet nature finds school a real pain,
We need Holy Spirit to lead through this “rain”.

And Carson who flies by the seat of his pants,
For fun and friends he raves and rants!
Will the pull of these others, these kids in the school
Make him forget what we’ve taught as the rule?

Love the Lord God with heart, soul and strength,
For family and loved ones – go every length.
You have a purpose, a plan and design!
You are no accident, children of mine!

I will declare, I’ll decide what is true
as from God’s Word, I take my cue!
“You are the head, not the tail,” He has said,
“The top, not the bottom – you’ve nothing to dread.”

Each page of your lives was written with care
before you were born, and I called you, “Wee bear.”
Adventure, excitement, fulfillment is yours
As you pursue Jesus – His plan and course.

So settle down worries, doubts go to sleep.
I’m praying for my babies, and babies don’t keep.
Settle down fears. Uncertainty rest.
I’m trusting my Father to do what He does best.

In defense of average people

Somewhere in the world of YOUTUBE I listened to Joyce Meyer confess her need to forgive her son for making her look bad, and for not being as spiritual as she thought he should be.  Then she went to apologize to her son for not accepting and loving him the way he was.  He was in his late teens at the time.

Now he's deeply involved in ministry and missions.

And I'm encouraged - and puzzled. 
What budding skill or interest did Joyce miss when she looked at her son? 
What about all those stories we hear about great artists, singers, ministers and chefs that have shown unusual aptitude for their area since at least 20 weeks gestation? 
Is there hope for all of us average people?
What about those of us who didn't come out of the womb dancing ballet or playing Chopin waltzes?
Is it possible for my wonderfully ordinary son, who is more interested in reading I Spy books in church than paying attention to anything, to end up being a powerful force for the Kingdom?

I sometimes think back to who I was as a young person, and I see little of the roots of who I am now. 
I don't ever remember even planning so much as my own 13th birthday party (which my sister did for herself!  She was highly disillusioned regarding how much fun that would be.  I just remember that she had to run and serve her friends all evening, and then clean up after everybody).  And now I find that I love event planning. 

I had no interested in becoming a teacher, and don't remember ever having much of a relationship with any of my teachers.  The ones that I can remember paying any attention to me called me funny nicknames (Burnt Braun was my identity in one science class due to a small mishap with a bunson burner), or pinched my neck while walking along behind me in typing class because I couldn't stop giggling.   I certainly don't remember anyone inspiring me with a passion for learning which I then wanted to pass on.  My only passion throughout highschool was a good laugh and hopefully not at my own expense. That's not to say I don't admire some of my past instructors, it's just there were no red flags waving that this was the path for me.

If I were to describe the thing that most pulls at my heart, it's the lifestyle of Mother Teresa.  The idea of living with the goal to serve others - to help those less fortunate - intrigues me, even calls to me.  But I never headed up any sort of philanthropy as a young person.  I was too busy defending the importance of my position amongst my siblings.  I wasn't the oldest, the youngest, or even the only boy like my sisters and brother.  I didn't feel like I had anything to offer those less fortunate.  I sure feel different now - and a huge part of that was a trip to South Africa when I was 18.  Experiences from those 7 weeks are still impacting me today.

This leads me to 2 unsettling conclusions:
1) My story isn't finished and there may be some new experiences that will bring out new abilities and belief systems. 
2) Nobody else's story is finished yet either, and hopefully I have the grace to look past what is, into what could be.  And that goes for my kids too.  God IS at work in each of them - in a unique way, and it's somewhat premature for me to assume that I know all the amazing plans he has for them. 

Everything is holy now

"GOD IS ALWAYS AT WORK AROUND US... THE QUESTION EACH OF US MUST ASK IS, WILL I JOIN HIM OR WILL I ASK HIM TO JOIN ME?  ONE WAY WORKS, THE OTHER DOES NOT.  I FOUND OUT LONG AGO THAT GOD DOES NOT NEED MY LOFTY PLANS.  HIS WERE MUCH BETTER."    

 ~from Two Crosses by Elizabeth Musser

Every once in a while I get feeling impotent.  I want to be more of a world-shaker than a middle-aged mom on the prairies.  More honestly, I don't really want to be a world-shaker, but I FEEL like I SHOULD be more of a world-shaker. 

I'm really happy where God has placed me, but quite often lately I get drenched in "WHY".  Why am I so blessed?  What makes me different from the starving woman longing to feed her children on another continent?  Why did God bless me with more family and friends than I know what to do with?  Why did he gift me with my amazing sons and daughter that love the Lord and care about other people, and have bright minds and strong bodies?  Why did I have parents that stayed together and focused on raising us to know our heavenly Father? Why do I have a husband that treats me better than I deserve? 

And there is no answer to those questions - besides a grateful heart.  But the overflow of a grateful heart is always a return of blessing, a giving back of reward, an offering of praise.  And I struggle with how to truly express that, so my mind conjures up images of me picketing an abortion clinic, or writing a thousand letters to my MP, or committing my foreseeable future to serving in an orphanage somewhere.

This quote is from an older novel - one I didn't even finish because I didn't find it interesting.  But these words arrested me.  "God does not need my lofty plans."  What a relief! But the scary part is the earlier question she asked, "Will I join Him?"  In the mundane?  In the repetitive?  In the daily grind?  In the possible adventure?  In the stretching and the unknown?

And my favorite part of this quote is the very first line: "God is always at work around us."  How exciting!  That gives such meaning to every part of our day.
  He is at work! 
For the past few months I've been trying to practice an "awakening".  A conscious, purposeful awareness of God's presence in everything.  In the morning I ask Him to nudge me, poke me, and remind me, "I am in this." 
And He has! 
All of us around the dinner table.  nudge
My daughter laughing uncontrollably.  poke
Tears and a clogged throat at a friend's son's funeral.  nudge
A text from my husband that says I sure do love you.  nudge nudge
Beautiful sunny weather every morning for swimming lessons.  poke
A hilarious profile status from a good friend.  nudge
Struggling for a response when someone misjudges my words. poke
Clear skies and an evening fire.  poke poke
Knowing I'm forgiven, seeing a shrub has grown back after I over-pruned it, the echoes of a hammer as my son puts together his first club house, the smell of rain, my heart's longing for a child I've never even met,  a perfect moon, an extra-capacity washing machine, a full freezer, figuring out how to pay an unexpected bill, joy at work...

"And so, the challenging thing becomes,

not to look for miracles, but finding where there isn't one.

Everything is holy now."     ~Peter Mayer

~Everything is Holy Now ~ Peter Mayer
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CaGnQc5Vmhs
(I'd argue the word "everything".  More accurately it's God's Presence IN everything that is the holy part...)

BOYS!

I am the mother of sons. 

I imagined motherhood differently. 
I pictured neatly organized play things and doing crafts together. 
I purchased new carseats with the intention of keeping them clean. 
I still believe that short-sleeved shirts, long-sleeved shirts and pants should each have their own drawer and go in neat piles - but unless I want to do everything myself, that's not the usual result.
I most certainly never thought my kids would leave the house in mis-matched clothes or with bedhead!
And it never even crossed my mind that anyone of my offspring would consider using anyplace but the bathroom for "bodily functions".
I used to always vacuum my way out of the house each time we left for more than a day, so that everything was tiptop when we came home. 

But my reality is this:
Sometimes I sniff out dirty clothes stuffed into a little Hotwheels suitcase and stowed in the closet (is that any less work than putting them in the laundry room?)
Sometimes I find a toothbrush on the floor next to the toilet in the boys' bathroom, and NO ONE knows how it got there.
I recently found a frog in my dishes rinse-water bowl as we were camping - his name is Freddy and apparently I frightened him with my screams.
One of my children chose to forego the modern plumbing and poop behind our camper - "just because".
I have a plethora of tiny scars on my feet from stepping on Lego pieces. 
Instead of using all 3 dresser drawers to sort clean laundry, one of my children chose to shove so much into only ONE drawer that the bottom eventually popped out. 
I have a son who likes to unscrew all the drawer handles from furniture, and then forgets where he puts the handles.
Saying the word "bum" in our home will result in uncontained laughter and I might as well forget any serious converation for at least an hour.
One of my sons has a serious aversion to clothing.  He is now 6 and we can be sure he will have pants on when we leave the house - but socks, shoes and underwear are still optional.  When caught without underwear (again), he usually says, "I don't need any today.  These pants stay up without them!"
After I have approved what everyone is wearing before church, my boys have ran back down and put on something else entirely - which I won't notice till we're all in the pew.  It's possible that once or twice the changed shirt had a skull and crossbones on it. 
One of my sons poured out his blue raspberry slurpy on the floor of the van just because he was done and "didn't know where to put it."

This is only the tippity-top of my iceberg. 
I have had a few people suggest a good beating or some solitary confinement on a regular basis.  But I had a grandma who raised 8 sons, and gave me the best advice even when I only had 1 son.  "He's a boy!  This is normal!" 
The things that really get me worked up are selfishness, lying, being unkind, disrespect and other character issues - but not so much the every day details.

I look back almost 12 years ago to who I was and what got me bent out of shape before I had my first son, and I look at who I am now with 3 sons (in addition to our daughter) and I see a huge difference in myself. 
Yes there's a lot of high-pitched shrieking that happens here - and loud instructions like, "Get off of him, he can't breathe!" or "That's really gross, go wash your hands!"  But overall - I appreciate the new flexibility and tolerance that Father has developed in me. 

Yesterday Dean and I crouched down in front of our boys and demanded to know who had relieved themselves beside the truck at our campsite.  "It's okay to go to the bathroom outside if you can't make it to the bathroom, but it's not okay to lie about it."  I guess that sums up my attitude towards parenting boys. 
And I have a new favorite Scripture verse: If any of you who lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all liberally.  James 1:5   I REALLY like the "liberally" part, because in mothering boys I don't feel that just a little bit of wisdom will do me.

There was absolutely no one that warned me one of my boys would pee down their bedroom register to see where it would go. 
No one reminded me to watch the air conditioner in summer because my 5 year old would unscrew every single bolt and lift the protective screen off, reach inside, pull out his toy - all while the air conditioner was running and the blades had just shut off for a few moments.
Nothing in my prenatal classes, or early childhood education classes, or my education degree courses prepared me for a little personality that would take off at the Calgary zoo when he was 2 years old - and be returned smug as could be because he got to hold the hand of a park ranger.
When my friend rolled her van with my 2 youngest sons inside, I pulled up to the scene ready to comfort and console my frightened boys.  But I found them completely ecstatic to have all the emergency vehicles and officers around.  The lights and sirens had made this "the best day ever!"

My boys LOVE fire - and making campfires.  This morning - warm as it was - found my oldest boy stuffing the firepit with chopped lumber.  I stepped out of the camper and he called out, "Mom, is this a bonfire yet?" 

Don't get me wrong - I still have my standards, and am digging my heels in, completely determined to raise godly gentlemen. But I refuse to destroy my sons' individuality, or my relationship with them in order to have my organized and "just so" house and family.  I still have to remind myself of this regularly. 

The amazing this is, that all this "boyishness" has become precious to me.  I value my dignity and composure less, and my time with my sons more. 

All things LM Montgomery

For our entire week on PEI (just Madison and I celebrating her entering the teenage years) we stayed in Cavendish at Shining Waters Inn.  It was an old farmhouse that belonged to a cousin of LMM, Rachel MacNeill (who is generally acknowledged as the inspiration for Rachel Lynde).  It has since been developed into an inn with many cottages surrounding it.  The building itself is over 150 years old.

We first visited "Silver Bush", the home of LMM's Aunt Annie and Uncle John Campbell.  LMM stayed here numerous times, was married here in 1911, and referred to this home as the wonder castle of her childhood.  She wrote several books with this home as the setting (including Pat of Silver Bush and Story Girl).

In this home were numerous pieces of memorabelia from the life of LMM.  2 of my favorite pieces were the Enchanted Bookcase, and the Blue Chest

"In our sitting room there had always stood a book-case used as a china cabinet... When I was very small each of my reflections in the glass doors were real folk to my imagination.  The one in the elft-hand door was Katie Maurice, the one in the right, Lucy Gray... I would stand before that door and prattle to Katie for hours... I never passed through the room without a wave of my hand to Katie..." ~The Alpine Path (from the journals of LMM) - the obvious inspiration for Anne's bookcase friend Katie Maurice!

A true romance from the Campbell home in 1847 is the inspiration for an episode in The Story Girl called "The Blue Chest of Rachel Ward".  It's a story about Eliza Montgomery (distant cousin of LMM) who was to be married at Silver Bush.  On her wedding day the groom didn't show.  Eliza buried her cake and locked all her wedding clothes and gifts in this chest for almost 40 years.  She never married.  LMM obtained permission from her cousin to open the chest, and some of its contents were displayed.

We took "Matthew's Carriage Ride" along the red dirt roads surrounding Silver Bush, and along The Lake of Shining Waters.

Madison and I posed against a little gazebo in the mist, alongside the Lake of Shining Waters.  We included a little pink octopus in many of our pictures - Inky.

 I never got tired of the vivid colors of the island.  LMM was quoted: "I love this island of sapphire, emerald and ruby."  Truly the red dirt, the greenery, and the blue sea created this trio of color.  Something I hadn't expected were the thousands and thousands of lupins in bloom.  They were all along the ditches - everywhere we drove.

We stopped by the birth place of LMM, and wandered through that farmhouse - it was kind of sad b/c she only lived here with her parents for maybe the first 18 months of her life. 

She and her mother went to live with her grandparents until her mother, Clara, died when little Lucy was only 21 months old.  LMM's father remarried and moved to Saskatchewan.  Grandparents MacNeill raised Lucy in Cavendish.

LMM stayed with her grandparents.  When she was 31 the Reverend Ewan MacDonald asked her to marry him, but she chose to stay with her grandmother b/c by this time Grandmother MacNeill was all alone.
5 years later when her grandmother died, Lucy happily said yes when Ewan came calling.  He was now living in Toronto, and they moved there together, and had a family. 
Ewan and Lucy are both buried back in the Cavendish cemetery up the road from our inn.

We visited the tourist Village of Avonlea and were treated to characters interacting all over the streets and on backyard garden stages.  We loved listening to Songs from the Shanty, and the one man tried to teach Madison to play the spoons.

"Oh Marilla! I thought red hair was bad -

but green is ten times worse!"

Josie Pye and Dianna Barry joined our music group for some east coast step-dancing.  The music was FANTASTIC!!

Madison and I stopped for raspberry cordial at the General Store.

 Charlie Sloane grumbled because Gilbert Blythe got to stand beside the pretty Madison.

Another beautiful place was Green Gables - the home of LMM's grandfather's cousin.  They spent a lot of time at this home, and we were able to wander through the Haunted Woods, and down Lovers' Lane.
It truly is an inspiring place of beauty.

We explored the red and white sand beaches, the dunelands, and the cliffs.  None of these figure too much into the Anne series by LMM, but oh how breathtaking everything was! 

 

Our first lobster ever - we also had fresh haddock, halibut, and poached salmon.  I tried my first oyster and it went down fairly well.

We took a horse and wagon tour through old town Charlottetown - and loved every minute of the old buildings and beautiful architecture!

We took in 2 amazing theater performances - Anne of Green Gables in Charlottetown, and Anne & Gilbert in Summerside. 

We finished our week with a Canada Day boat parade out North Rustico Harbor.  We loved the seaspray and friendly people. 

Madison and I are now racing to see who gets to re-read the Anne books all over again - and I'm thinking of getting the LMM journals.  She was an amazing writer, a unique and creative individual; she was quirky and imaginative - and seems quite unapologetic about it all.  I would have liked to have known her.  We surely would have been kindred spirits!

The Love Note

This morning our summer Sunday program, Power Kids, started.  I had brought in a real double-edged sword, and a beautiful love letter that smelled wonderful.  I shared with the kids about the Bible being God's love letter to us, and that it is living and active - sharper than any sword.  

I told thiestory of when Dean and I used to write love letters to each other all the time.  We lived 4 hours apart while we were dating, so we wrote an awful lot.  Dean would spray his cologne on his letters and I'd add a dab of perfume to mine.  You could close your eyes and pretend the other person was in the room with you for a few moments as you smelled the love letter.

Then I shared how we met at Circle Square Ranch, and Dean would let me wear his jacket around the campfire.  Sometimes he would tuck little love notes in the different pockets for me to find... and that's kind of like when God sends a friend to listen, or a "coincidence" to brighten your day, or someone does something special for you.  That's Father showing his love letter to you, because He says "every good and perfect gift comes from the Father above."  These little unexpected highlights are God's "love notes" tucked into the pockets of your life. 

Well, as we were waiting in Winnipeg airport this afternoon to fly east, the only seat for Madison and I was beside a man that looked like cross between a regular dad and a safari adventurer (turns out he ACTUALLY was on safari once!).  This man told me about his many, many flights to many different continents around the world.  He shared about a pilot in the Caribbean climbing onto the wing of the plane with a metal toolbox and tinkering for a bit before they could take off.  He told me about being in a 6-seater plane in an electrical storm over the ocean.  He told me God always took care of him as he did work for World Vision and travelled 6 months of the year. 
Then he got up to get on the plane.
Madison and I waited till everyone else had boarded, and went to find our seats.  And surprise!  Here was my new friend waiting in our row!

When the turbulance picked up, I panicked and involuntarily reached across Madison's seat and grabbed his sleeve.  He had his earbuds in, and quickly pulled them out to look at me.  "Are we okay?"  "Is this normal?"  I must have sounded desperate.  No matter how many times I fly, I just HATE the feeling of turbulance.  It feels wrong no matter how many flights I sit through. 

I wish I knew this man's name.  He was so kind and reassuring, "This plane can withstand at least 25 times what we are in now.  This is very normal for Ontario airspace.  Let me tell you about the time...."  And off he went on an interesting tale that took my mind off the discomfort of the flight.

As we began our descent into Toronto, he shared about his work with his own businesses, his work with World Vision, and that his wife (although sick with 4th stage cancer) still ran a successful ballet costume design business and a Pregnancy Crisis Center in Montreal - the only Christian Centre around there.

He finally said, "It's not about numbers.  It's not about success.  Life is about obedience."  He helped a few other people get their carry-on luggage down before he left to catch his connection, and we left to catch ours.

And I thought - That was someone Father sent as a love note tucked into my day. 
And then I thought - But His WORD is His love note, so what part of His Word was this about?
And immediately Father said, "I will never leave you.  I am with you always." 

I know I was never in any real danger.  I know my panic and adrenaline is rather uncalled for.  I know I still would have landed safely in Toronto, and then in Charlottetown without this man in my life.  But I'm so glad Father chooses to walk with me in a tangible way even in this simple thing.

People change

People change.
We like to remember a certain circumstance or event and label someone based on their behavior or words at that time.
But I don't think that's fair...
People change (hopefully).


Dean told me the funniest story this evening. 
We had some good friends over, and we got talking about hockey - then the Jets - then the cost of tickets - which led to the good ol' days - then to back when Dean was living California and his family had season tix to the King's games.


"I got to go to the games whenever I wanted,"  he boasted.  Then amended that with, "Well, at least whenever my dad or uncle was working or didn't want the seats - then I could go whenever I wanted to."


Dean told us about a time when he caught the puck - these were the days before plexiglass and protective nets.
He was at the King's game in LA. He heard the slapshot, and in reflex ducked as the puck shot just past his head - but he forgot in that instant that a blind lady always sat right behind his seat.  He heard a thwack  and a wailing and people came rushing to help the woman behind him.


But this trauma happening behind Dean was all part of his peripheral memory - what was DEAN doing while all this was going on?  He was buried head first up to his shoulders behind his seat digging for the puck where he'd heard it roll after rebounding off of the blind lady's shins.


Only when he had jumped up victoriously and was waving the  puck and yelling "I got it!" (no doubt hoping to get a glimpse of himself on the jumbo-tron), did he become conscious of the damage done to the sight-impaired ticket holder one row back.


He sheepishly sat down - but did he offer the puck to the wounded fan who still didn't know what had hit her?
Well - he never exactly said, but I happen to know he has a King's game puck stashed in a box in the basement.  I'm just sayin'... 


But as I sat their laughing - really people, you should hear my husband tell a story (well, rather you should just watch his face while he tells a story) - you'd laugh too...
But as I was laughing I thought, "That's so NOT Dean." 


If I watched some 17 year old guy  completely tune out the painful cries of someone (blind, no less!) so that he could get a free hockey puck, I'd  think he was self-centered and unfeeling.  Who does that? 
Apparently my husband.


But I know him as kind, caring and protective.  He goes out of his way to help people whenever he can, and notices other's pain or difficulty.  He's not self-centered or unfeeling - quite the opposite.


People can change.
Sometimes we just need to give them time to grow up, but I think most of the time we underestimate the AMAZING work of Holy Spirit - when He's given a few years with a teachable spirit.