One weekend in March

When I am old and bored and it's March I hope I read this and feel the memories course through me bringing life and joy and energy.

Thursday night all of Kait and Nicks science fair work culminated in the grand Science Museum. They did wonderfully. I really loved it. But I love knowing they are done just as much.

Friday I got a bee in my bonnet and demanded a lunch date with my chum Jenny. Now why do I always blog about Jenny? I don't know. I guess she's just one of those people who blows wind in my sails and when I think about sitting at some little restaraunt with her in a little spot of sunshine I smile. While all of my friends are beautiful and amazing, the thing I just love about Jenny is that she believes in me. And she says those little words we are all dying to hear from just anyone like "you are such a good mom" or "you're so positive" because you know that's what we all want to be so badly. Anyway, we had one of those perfect lunches where we would sometimes talk too fast and sometimes we just stopped talking entirely and soaked up Hazel's smiles. Then I snooped all over her new house build exclaiming over every beautiful thing but finding myself turning more often to see her face because she's getting so damn excited and I love it. Her new wooden porch went in just like her old one and she told me she never even anticipated it but when her shoes landed on those boards and she walked across them she felt like she was home again. And I didn't know whether I wanted to cry with happiness for her or bust a move. Because I seriously loved that old porch even though it always got me half drunk. Yeah I always try to blame other people and even inanimate objects for my poor alcohol outcomes.

On Friday night I got a free pair of tickets to see a local band and I took Kait. We had so much fun. I've never had that much fun at a local event. They are seriously talented. Their name is       Face. Kait was so cute at the concert and I had the best time explaining to her what an encore is and how you always keep clapping at the end so they come back for one more song. She and I danced and sang and laughed when the "brush hazels teeth" alarm went off on my phone. I'll always treasure the memory of that night. I know it sounds petty but it sometimes feels like nobody in my family does anything with me just because I really want to but this time Kait did. 

Saturday morning we were up bright and early for cheer. Kait did beautifully as always. 

We read some of the Penderwicks because we squeeze it in wherever we can when we get close to the end of a book and then we went to Eden's yellow belt test. My girl Eden really was beautiful and graceful out there. I could not have been more amazed. And of course she earned her yellow belt. There was something very beautiful and special about sitting there, the whole family watching her with rapt attention, nerves on end. An hour of test after test after test. I'm certain every skill she has acquired in karate was put on display.

We went home and just relaxed and had family time. 

In the morning, I was volunteering in kids quest and the leader asked a small group of girls to share very hard things that had happened in their lives and how God brought good from it. They shared harder stories than I've lived through. A father in jail. A little brother gone to heaven. It was sad hard stuff and it reminded me of this golden season I'm in right now. I so treasure it. I'm so thankful that it's here. 

We went to see Star Wars FINALLY all six of us. It's an event. Getting six people to church and the movie theater is a full day's work. But my Hazy curled up to cuddle me the whole time and I sat by my man and shed a tear here and there. I have never purposefully watched a Star Wars movie but I was assaulted with the movies so many times as a child that I couldn't help but get a little sentimental. 

Tonight after a feast from the grill we hunkered down and drove straight to the end of "The Penderwicks in Spring" I had to pause often to wipe my tears but we made it and it's honestly one of the best books we've ever had for a read aloud. 

And at bed time as we prayed and cuddled and sent our children off to bed it felt complete. I laid in the arms of my husband, I smelled spring I kissed him deeply and felt a presence... Yes the dog had come to see what we were doing... Just like a fifth child indeed, 

Thank you March for such a lovely weekend for me to always remember with my beautiful family.

Parenting

My mom called yesterday and asked how the kids are doing. I rattled off my pre-teen's five latest stunts, rambled about how sweet the others are and stopped for breath. She sighed and commented that it's rather bittersweet how each child seems to pull us close and push us away at different times and you're always seeming to feel closest to a different child. I love that she had four kids and can really relate to so many things with me. Then she said a bunch of nonsense about how proud she is of my wise handling of everything. I was like a deer in the headlights. I mean Mom knows me. She knows google is my guide. She knows I have to have people explain every single social decorum to me three different ways before I actually get it.  I think, when I look around that parenting seems to be this beautiful natural evolution for other people. Somehow they have intuitions, instincts, experiences and knowledge to guide them. In recent years, this used to intimidate me which would in turn bring out my ugly side. The catty judgmental side. But that's exhausting. So after I got really tired from all of the judging, and excuse making for my ineptitude I realized I was humbled. Being humbled is something God has made a hobby of gifting me with. I know he sees something great in me or else why bother right? Wink wink! Anyway, as I've stumbled through every stage of parenting, always seeming to google the least important facets of the stage I'm in, I finally developed a new way of surviving. Yes, I literally google the sentence my kids say that leaves me curled in the fetal position and find out what "experts" think I should do. I spill it to my trusted friends and find out what they would do. Then I just kinda go limp and let it all wash over me while I scroll up and down my meaningless Facebook newsfeed because it's my guilty pleasure. I mean, that's the profoundly unprofound thing I've learned. Reacting is stressful. I feel like I'm playing the part of a mother in a movie nowadays. My oldest doesn't know what to do with me. She's spent 12 years perfecting the art of getting Mom's goat and now I just hopefully appear incredibly bored and distracted offering nothing more than a benign smile while my mind feverishly races around for a steam valve. I think of the people who come by this naturally and gaze into their child's defiant face with measured calm who maybe really are that calm inside and yes I'm jealous. Playing a part is not the same thing. The other half isn't a part. I try to savor the beautiful moments with her and bless her with approval and acceptance.  She has decided not to believe in God. Every single time she drops that bomb I feel my stomach lurch. Faith is something she has overanalyzed her whole childhood and it used to worry me so bad.  Even now as I write about it my mind is like a rat in a maze trying to figure out whether she says it to manipulate, as a desperate plea for attention or because she's truly conflicted. But deep down I know that I can only love her and let her take this journey. I think I stopped worrying per se about it sometime after Dad died and I stepped into Jesus love. That was when I realized my whole life of professing faith and belief had really been just a time of seed planting. I hadn't known Him. I didn't deny him like she is but I misunderstood faith for sure. I remember being out for a walk with a friend when I was pregnant with Hazel and casually stating that I wasn't sure I was saved. She was floored and told me once you're saved, you're always saved. I laughed her off and told her I'd been baptized twice and spent a life floating closer and further from God and wouldn't blame Him for sending me to hell at some of those points. I hadn't really known Him. Well, now I really do and I can't imagine one of my children spending their whole lives never knowing Him and if declaring an independence of Him is what someone needs to do for her journey, her story, her peace, then who am I to shame that or argue it? Additionally, if a 12 year old is guided primarily by emotions, what is the real purpose in trying to control her spiritual course? The gifts and callings of God are without repentance. My mom spoke that over me for 34 years before I had a real experience of what it meant to be His child. I think I can give my kids that much. It's funny how you can have all of your own stuff going on with people you know, unforgiveness, anger, judgement etc... then look at your child and tell them not to. I had to let go of one of my closest friendships this year. It felt like I cut my arm off. I still think about it and wish I had done things better, been a better friend, been kinder, been gentler, more intuitive, lived grace vibrantly. But deep down, I have to accept my journey. Know that I'm not there. I'm fragile. I'm not complete. I believe that God will be faithful to complete a good work in me. I believe that he will do the same for my kids. And I believe that He will give me the self control to avoid inhibiting their journeys. I try to pray for each of them several times per day and trust God with the process.

Is it worth it?

I met my chum for dinner the other night.

 I admit I was nervous on some level. Not because we hadn't seen each other in nearly twenty years, more because I became a housewife with four kids and she became a high powered business woman. It's scary. Sometimes women get competitive... and sometimes when their lives take different paths... (whisper) they judge or worse yet think they will be judged which is just as miserable. Don't tell the guys I'm labeling girls because they will totally run away with that train. Overwhelming those little nagging fears was a bursting excitement to see my giggle snorting, never ending sleepover five nights in a row, bosom buddy, kindred spirit... wait for it... twin. Yes, she's my twin. I had a lot of friends who had never-ending sleepovers and giggle fests but she's the only one Dad ever called my twin and after the other night... I finally understand why. He was cagey, always making little jokes to himself without anyone realizing it. We shed a little tear for him and it was nice. But that's kind of another story.
Anyway, she selected our wine with ease and gave our pompous waiter a subtle set down just so he knew who knew more about wine which made me snicker and perhaps feel sorry for him. She told me about how God is working in her life and using her career and freedoms and just basically wowed me to death with what a little dynamite she is. I was fascinated and impressed and amazed but not jealous. That was the beauty of our time together. We weren't comparing to see who has it better so far. We were literally talking at warp speed to tell each other all about our lives and drinking it in faster than that amazing cabernet she picked.  She asked me at one point in our dreamy fairy tale wine and cheese gab fest if Jody and I have the perfect marriage. Let me just say it stopped me cold and sobered me up in a hurry. Because let me tell you honey, after four kids, 12 years of marriage, cancer, financial duress and moving 7 times... there's nothing perfect to see other than the beauty of those four little faces. We are battle scarred. I thought I might chuckle... then I thought I better not because after all a successful single friend seems to think maybe the stay at home mom who lives in sweat pants, reads goodnight moon by rote, rerolls toilet paper "clouds" (yes for real, that stuff is pricey!), mops up hershey's puddles, coaches kids to puke on their covers so you can just wash it and be done - might "have" something enviable. I realized I can't chuckle it off or play it up for Celly. She looks right into your soul and waits for the truth. I closed my mouth. I squeaked "perfect?" She smiled encouragingly like she'd enjoy a good brag and said "yeah, it looks so perfect on Facebook." Then I stumbled for words. I said, "perfect no... good, solid, forever, stable... yes." Her face fell like she was waiting for bad news. That's when I realized... single people want to know. They really want to know. And the reason they want to know is because they aren't sure if it's worth it. I didn't want to just throw a wet blanket on things and nobody does... A perfect analogy is you want to have a baby so people talk about spit up and newborn liquid poop and sleepless nights like that's the whole story. That's all you hear because deep down... we all want you to have the baby and we know you have enough bravado to decide to soldier through that... If we actually told you what it's like to try to get them through 12 years of school then figure out college without stabbing your hand with an icepick to distract you from the stress... it could be a game changer and then we might get so baby sick that we talk ourselves into having another one and that is freaking hard work... WE KNOW! So we just talk about babies crying at night. By the same token, deep down, the married people for some reason want the single people to get married. So we might try to make it sound like something it isn't or more simple than it really is. Which is not what the single people want. But to describe it to a single person is nigh on to impossible anyway so it's moot. I believe with all of my being that being married to Jody is the best. It's not the only thing I could have done with my life and it's not always happy and it's never really perfect. But it's good, strong, full of love and grace... and yes - worth it. For the single people out there I have only one piece of advice. If you're going to try to handle picking your spouse... all I can say is don't worry about their faults and imperfections, just know your own and find someone with different one's so you truly can be one flesh and you truly can carry each other through the storms, someone worth it like Jody. Besides a perfect spouse would be so ANNOYING!!! My mom's advice is "God knows more people than you, so just let Him handle it."
On the flip side...well gosh... even I think that family looks pretty perfect. LOL!

A sunset and a tree

Two nights ago I was driving through the neighborhood right as the sun sank behind the Rockies. In a rare display the entire sky radiated colors in an enveloping glow. I was overcome and told the kids to look at the sky. I twisted in my seat and could see little whisps of pink glowing all the way to the eastern horizon. There were billowing dark clouds high in the sky which I suppose reflected the sun into a breathtaking display. As soon as the car stopped Eden was out and running for the house to take a picture with my high dollar camera. I find it shameful that she has had full camera privileges since Nick was born and I still treat Kait like a two year old. She dashed to the back yard and snapped several pics. I was carrying baby, groceries etc... in and asked her if she got it. Her face was neutral. I did but they aren't great. I didn't think any more of it until this morning. I was rousing my poor tussled blondies in my usual no nonsense fashion; offering the unwanted lecture of falling asleep sooner so it's easier to get up. A completely hypocritical utterance but habitual all the same. Eden sat up in her bed and in a gravely voice she said "Mom, are you going to take a picture of the tree by my window today?" I leaned over and glanced out the window and the tree took my breath away. I wish I were a real photographer but alas, you will have to use your imagination to visualize something far more sensational than what I captured. I will say that what I saw both times left me aghast that anyone on this planet could doubt the sure evidence of a master design. It also gave me great appreciation for Eden's eye and her instant appetite for raw beauty.

I had a hard time picking which of her pictures of the sunset to use, so I chose the first and last. It shows the lapse of time and I have no idea why she thought they were less than great. If you click on them you can see them bigger.

This is the exact view from her window.

It wasn't good enough so I tromped out in the snow in my boots, pj's and bathrobe to take a couple close ups.

This is too amazing to attribute to chance. This is the product of a divine being making beauty for his enjoyment.

Kind of like... this...

Happy December world, Hazel beckons to me.

Hazel Ann

Jody and I have another child. A breathtakingly beautiful little girl named Hazel Ann. Somehow we never had the sense to ask God for her, so he gave her to us of his own volition to show us how wonderful His ways are and to bless us because He loves us so much more than we will ever truly comprehend. She is as calm and quiet as a morning after snow has fallen. She gazes into my eyes and her lips play with a smile then form a perfect O. Her head and cheeks are as soft as a peach and her toes are long and amusingly prehensile. Her fingers are delicate and refined; she holds them like a little lady about to play a pinafore. The overwhelming gush of raw love and emotion when she was born still sneaks up on me several times per day. Her squeaks and coos, her gulping as she tries to drink every drop of milk and her little hands grasping my finger, my necklace, my shirt. The desperate sucking on her hand as she anxiously waits to eat again and again and again. These are all magic. A magic I really never thought I would experience again in my life as a mother. I find it incomprehensible that I was content without her and amazing that God has given her to us.
Her birth was the most gentle and easy of my four children. I woke up a little after 4 AM on Sunday, October 23rd. I got up to go to the bathroom and felt little trickles of water running down my legs. I couldn't really bring myself to believe my water had broken but sure enough it had. I stared contemplatively at the evidence and couldn't quite believe it. After a few seconds I said "Jody..."
He responded as though he'd been awake for hours. "Yes."
I said "I guess my water broke."
He sat up and said "should I call the midwife?"
It set the tone for the whole morning.
I called Gin and texted Jen B. to tell them how sorry I was that they were going to miss the birth. They were both sad but gracious about it. I know Gin blamed me for starting the labor by having Eden's birthday party and going to the pumpkin patch but it was actually the easiest birthday party ever. I didn't even have to set out plates and napkins or make a cake or basically anything. The pumpkin patch excursion probably took 20 minutes and required very little from me, other than supplying the coupon code on my phone for my living social discount. I take comfort in the fact that the midwives believed very strongly that there had been a drop in barometric pressure causing me to go into labor. Either way, I really would have held on until the girls got here if I could though the end of pregnancy really is a miserable thing. I had not the slightest premonition that Hazel would show up 9 days early, but man is it a relief to be done being pregnant.
Jenny T. came over right away with her camera and we hung out and laughed about Jenn D. being completely comatose when I called her. I was having light contractions, Jody and I had the bed ready, and I was kind of twiddling my thumbs and wondering if I should eat something or if it would be puked back up in no time. Finally I decided to have some cheerios. At the time I thought it was goofy of her to take the picture but as I looked at the photo's it seemed like the natural beginning of the story.

A little while later the midwives came. Jeni checked me and I was 5 centimeter! I wandered around for awhile doing little things and I couldn't find the right place or position, so I'd grab Jody and hang on him since every other contraction was starting to feel uncomfortable. He makes me feel warm and fuzzy. ;-)

Jody went to wake up the girls and get things together for the birth and I just couldn't seem to find the best place to sit so I sat on a barstool in the middle of the living room. I think someone had drug it in there to set my drink on while I sat on the ball but it became my platform for the first half of my labor. While my friends lounged on the couch making funny conversation, I perched up on the barstool laughing and moaning.

Jody came down from upstairs and said the girls told him he was joking when he went to wake them up for the birth. I found this very entertaining. It didn't take five minutes for them to come down to check for sure.

My midwife Jeni had told me I could get into the bathtub whenever I wanted to but I wanted to wait until I was not coping easily with labor and wanting relief. Finally awhile later I went in the bathroom and got into the tub. I lounged in the water worrying to Jody that my labor wasn't getting hard and wondering if it was just going to take a really long time. Jeni offered to check me and I was at 7 centimeters. I remember locking eyes with Jody and saying 7 down 3 to go!" He smiled. The only thing hanging me up was how many birth stories had I read and how many births had I attended where a person progressed great and then stalled anywhere between 7 and 10? I was happy but not over confident. I continued to feel a niggle of fear that this could take all day. The girls came in the bathroom and Eden anxiously asked me how much longer it would take. I laughed about how present and excited she was. I told her I had no idea. I focused exclusively on a picture in my mind of my body opening wide up for the baby. With each contraction I would go limp and find that picture. I could feel my insides creaking as the baby came down. This is what they call "laboring the baby down." It was fun to doula myself through this process so consciously.
I had to go to the bathroom so I labored in there for awhile leaning into Jody, my ever present faithful one. He did whatever I asked, pushed on my knees, braced his arm so I could hold onto him. I remember yelling for God to help me and hoping to high heaven this wasn't going to last for very many more hours. I announced that I was getting shaky so they brought me some nasty sweet stuff to balance my blood sugar and forced me to drink it. Jeni said I was getting pushy to which I whiningly replied that I WISHED I felt pushy. She wanted me off of the toilet especially since the baby was in a +2 station as she didn't want me to plop a baby in there. I still maintain there was no danger of that happening but all of those dramatic people like to say "it's a good thing we got her out of there when we did" so I just let them say it. I didn't want to get back into the bathtub so Jenny T. ran out to Jeni's car and got the birthing stool and they set it by the tub. I sat down on it and hated it instantly but I felt the baby about to come out and announced that I would not be moving. It seemed like I waited forever for the next contraction and then I pushed, ever so slowly telling myself not to tear and holding my mouth ajar. Every time I felt it start to burn I'd slow down a bit and then let it rest for a second. It's the first time I've ever tried to control the pushing so that I would not tear. Very gently, the baby's head came out and the midwife said "the cord is loosely around the neck but it flipped over easily". By this time all of the kids were gathered around and though I didn't know it, Kearney was laying behind everyone and attending her first birth as well.

When they handed me the baby, I felt a rush of love such as I cannot describe. I don't remember having it with the other kids to such a magnitude. I was completely overcome by it. She was completely covered in vernix and incredibly beautiful and perfect in every way. I'm told it's the hormone oxytocin, but that seems to make it sound so much more clinical than it felt!

Kaitlyn was at my left elbow and everyone wanted to know if it was a boy or a girl. She got nervous and said it was a boy. I said, "lets check and see." We checked and I instantly wished I could take the words back and let them be hers so badly but I instinctively corrected her and said "it's a girl!" Nick seemed a little terrified of the baby, I think because she was covered in vernix and had blue skin but I reassured him and a few minutes later he was all over her, trying to give her a matchbox car.

Eden wanted to be a part of everything. She cut the umbilical cord. The midwife warned her that she might have to cut twice but Eden didn't wait for her to finish the explanation, she expertly snipped the cord and was complimented by Jeni who told her she did a better job than most adults.

Then she helped weigh, measure and dress her. Eden's very competent in a foreign setting. I wonder what she'll be when she's grown.

All in all, my labor lasted from waking up a few minutes past 4AM to 7:52 AM when Hazel was born. She weighed exactly 7 pounds even though she was 9 days early, was 20 1/2 inches long and her head was 14 inches. The average baby head is 13 inches so that makes my completely skid mark free delivery quite notable. ;-)

I could post a thousand pictures and make this story so long because I love to tell a birth story but I guess I'll stop here. Hazel's birth was amazing. The pain was never worse than a stomach flu and I honestly think if I'd known that it would go so easily and end so soon I probably wouldn't have bothered complaining for the 20 minutes when it was a bit of work and wasn't feeling so great.

Lift Off

As Jody and I sally forth in life with our arms locked and our shoulders squared, I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt that we are walking across the palm of God and he has marked our path for us. So, while sometimes one of us feels like a foot gets stuck in between his fingers or that the wavy print of his hands are too bumpy (maybe that's why I've been so queasy lately), I must thankfully acknowledge, that it's a close, familiar and special, even Holy place we tread. I'm overwhelmed when looking back over the last few years, seeing so clearly how God has held us, spoken to us and used us. It has been a much better journey than the one people walk down there on the cold hard ground. I think I can remember the day we stepped off of the ground and into his hand. Well, I'll speak for myself, I tend to assume that Jody always feels exactly the same way I do because he does more than half... but anyway... Fear had a clincher hold on us of with all of that stuff we were going through and God put a picture in my mind of us sleeping in our bed and it was sitting in His hand. His other one was smoothing our covers. I guess that was the moment of "lift off."
I'm pregnant. When we found out, it might be an understatement to say that we were extremely upset that things were NOT going our way. Just to clarify why, I'd like to reference my 2005 Christmas letter where I lined out that we had been blessed with a second daughter and were happy that Gods plans had so far coincided with ours and we hoped for a little boy someday to make our family complete. You may then reference the 2007 Christmas letter in which Nicholas (the little boy) arrived. You can imagine our shock that God had not wrapped up his family plan for us when we did. Nick will be four in June... Jody and I even looked to heaven and asked God if he just didn't even like us, in our selfish moment of "BUT WE WERE DONE!" I wallowed in this self pity/God loathing state for a few weeks... several weeks... much to the bemusement and even dismay of my closest friends, but alas it came time to read James and reconcile. This is the only proven method in my life for receiving constructive criticism. I have granted James a special authority but I suspect it's because he's dead and his book is short. Some little excerpts: "God blesses the people who patiently endure testing." Made me think of this little peanut inside of me right now because I always hear "it's a blessing, it's a blessing, it's a blessing." Then down a little further "Whatever is good and perfect comes to us from God above who created all of heavens lights." Ah, what could be more "good and perfect" than a little baby, hand made by God for our family? The part in between talked about the danger of blaming God for tempting you when you want to do something wrong. Something wrong... something wrong... like considering a pregnancy anything but a joyous sovereign gift from heaven to be celebrated and going so far as to ask God if it's a mean trick? See, I like it when James sticks it to me. I must be sick... but anyway. Alrighty then! So yeah, that's what we signed up for when we stepped off of the the cold hard ground and onto the living palm of God. Plans that were not our own and ways that are not our ways. We've kinda got our "palm legs" though. We can roll with it.
So, to the wonderful little person inside of me, if you ever read this blog, you've blessed me already and I've only known about you for a few weeks. You will be an amazing person I know, and I consider it pure bonus that God used you to help me become the woman He wants me to be.

Girlfriends and God

Last year I hit thirty and thought things would start to make sense. Who was I kidding? I still feel like a nineteen year old girl "playing grownup." People have always said that age is just a number and now that I'm thirty-one I think I have figured that one out. The question of where I'm at, now that I'm thirty-one is the most interesting contemplation, not the monotonous progressive counting reminiscent of kindergarten. A great discovery now that I'm in my thirties is the incomparable value of girlfriends and God. I'll be honest that I guess I'm a late bloomer in this respect. Most people seem to grasp the value of girlfriends fairly early on but I didn't. Managing relationships has never been my strong suit and I was not good at prioritizing or showing appreciation for my girlfriends at all. Through my twenties I think Jody and I explored the immeasurable worth of having a true connection with your spouse as you begin a family. It was great and I look back on it with a glow of satisfaction. But now I'm broadening and thinking about things in a little different way. My chum Jenn brought over Chinese and we had a four hour lunch today. When I was primarily focused on Jody, I used to sensationalize how grand it would be to go have lunch with him, and it is grand if he has the day off of work. On the other hand, if you go on a work day, he will be thrilled but distracted and you'll be lucky to have him 70% at attention for a little less than an hour. I'm not saying Jody is an abysmal lunch date. I'm saying it's not the best way to connect with him and it's not the most relaxing thing in the world that you can do for him. On the contrary, I feel like I'm slightly taxing him. I don't regret the effort, I feel we have nice memories from our lunches and I'm sure we'll still do it, but under close examination a good question is "What is the best way to love your man with meaning?" Around noon Jenn called to tell me she was running a bit late because she had tried to cram a little too much into her morning so she could be free all afternoon without chores. I laughed and told her I had done exactly the same thing. We were so focused on how great our lunch date was going to be, that we had crammed a ridiculous amount of effort into setting our entire afternoons free. And we were glad we did. We ate way too much Chinese and gabbed it up for the whole afternoon. It was kind of a dawning of a new realization for me. How nice to have my dream lunch and an animated discussion of things that would be physically painful for Jody. How nice for Jody to come home to a less than needy wife who had a great day and prepared a fine dinner. By the same token, how nice it was that he and I had a lovely breakfast together without my telephone or internet when he had a day off last week. I feel the same glow from both experiences and I'm glad that I'm learning how to tap into the "good times".
The other thing I'm exploring in my thirties is resuming my "best friend" status with God that I had in my teen years. It seemed like I just couldn't do it in my twenties. I had baggage from churches, choices and the overwhelming new job of wife and mother. I think finding God in the middle of it was just beyond my faith and organization level. It seemed like whenever Jody and I made a step in that direction we'd hit a spiritual wall and the Holy Spirit was elusive. I look at how reachable God is to me now compared to my twenties and I'm kind of flabbergasted and very thankful. I spent a worried and guilty decade wondering how I was ever going to get back to Him and here we are. I finally feel myself pulling back into a comfortable and familiar friendship that makes everything in life make sense. So yeah, I'm glad I'm thirty-one and I'm pretty sure I'll be glad to turn fifty-one and eighty-one.

Traditions of time...

My childhood Thanksgivings were grand. It was the embodiment of the true spirit of Thanksgiving. Mom was always overwhelmed. She never knew how many turkeys she was going to have to cook. She didn't know how many chairs and tables she would set but somehow she always muddled through, linens starched, crystal and china washed and silverware polished.
We formed some traditions that died before we had a chance to get too used to them but some still hang on. About a year after Mom and Dad bought Culligan Mom announced that she was postponing Thanksgiving dinner to Saturday so she would have time to prepare for it. It stuck. Instant tradition. It was a double edged sword though. Yes, she had more time to prepare but practically nobody we knew would be otherwise engaged the Saturday after Thanksgiving... and the number of people who get invited to a house when six people are doing the inviting gets a little bit out of hand. Mom stuck to her southern hospitality with fervor though. Some people who came were a thrill and some were less than thrilling. I prefer to reminisce about the thrilling people. We loved to invite the Torrijos family every year and embrace the diverse heritage and the shared thankfulness for America. Gilberto and Elesia were first generation Americans hailing from Columbia with a mysterious fascinating background and beautiful foreign accents. I can hear Gilberto's hearty laugh as I sit here. He was like a grandfather to me in some ways, maybe a great uncle or something, I don't know but he was grand and funny. Aunt Bonnie and Aunt Jessie always came with our cousins Diane and sometimes Michael. Aunt Bonnie personified joy, her voice rang clear and high above the din and her shattering laugh was her hallmark. Aunt Bonnie and Gilberto now laugh for Jesus in heaven. That tradition is gone but I've saved it as an example I would like to pull out and apply in my own home someday. Striking vibrant people who are the jewels of a party. Aunt Nancy and Uncle Roger usually came. Uncle Roger would be pressed into service repairing a car and Aunt Nancy would industriously charge into the kitchen and start delegating tasks that Mom had been trying to shoulder on her own.
We always bought huge bags full of mixed nuts to shell for the fruit salad and the nut pies. That one carries on. Kids love to shell nuts.
Homemade rolls were a staple and Gin and I both hold to that tradition as well. What is Thanksgiving dinner without homemade rolls. Ah the funniest story of all lies in the homemade rolls but that will have remain untold... regrettably.
The fruit salad Granny used to make remains and though every one of us made it without celery at Dad's request for years, it turns out that Ginny, Mom and I all found ourselves wanting to put it back in last year.
Then there was the pie situation. No amount of reminiscing over Thanksgiving would be complete without reliving the pie drama. Every single person in the family wanted a different kind of pie and some all of their own. Dad wanted a walnut pie and a mince meat pie. Louis wanted an entire pumpkin pie all to himself. Ginny wanted apple pie, Daniel and I wanted pecan pie and Mom wanted coconut cake. We then had to calculate the number of additional guests and divide it so at least 1/3 of a pie had been allocated per person. I believe the record set on this was 14 pies to be divided among 32 people. Yes, the math isn't quite right but I am certain we had 32 people in my parents little house sitting at tables made for anywhere from 2 people to 8.
It's funny how we never took pictures. We didn't even realize we were making memories we might want to relive someday. If I had a picture of Mom, Aunt Bonnie and Aunt Jessie doubled over in laughter, faces flushed from the hot kitchen and tears of hysterical laughter running down their cheeks when Aunt Jessie accidentally put baking soda in the gravy instead of corn starch, it would be a prize. If I had a portrait of Gilberto's face when he tasted a persimmon that wasn't ripe against Dad's advisement, I'd have something to make me laugh on my darkest day. If I had a picture of Gin's consternation when I insisted on dying my hair black (though it turned out gray) and wearing my Native American dress to Thanksgiving dinner, I'd post it on my facebook page every Thanksgiving.
This year, Jody's dad and Marcy will come have Thanksgiving with us. It sounds so small but making Thanksgiving Dinner for seven people is a big deal. It gives me some empathy for Mom. What a wild scene our house was as a kid and I didn't even know it.