Outward Expression

Smells good anyway

2012-02-05T16:49:00.000-08:00

Today in church a girl shared her testimony of the power and strength she receives through studying the scriptures. My heart easily agreed. This is a truth I know well, but her next words pricked a little.

"If you don't have time to read your scriptures, you need to make time."

... my denial became my reality.

Last year at this time I had a busy, crazy life. So much to do and so many places to be, but there was time for what was most important. "I know who I am, and I know God's plan," was my motto and it all fit.

For the last couple months with a new job, a new role and even a new me; everything is still spinning and I just can't make it fit.

What does a Christ centered life look like when I am constantly surrounded by evil. Maybe the word evil sounds harsh considering I'm just speaking about kids... kids only a few years older than my own, but there is strength in calling something by it's name. Not the kids, but all they bring with them, everything they shoulder with their backpacks and sagging pants. Can I really still be all I should while I'm knee deep in the mud, slipping and sliding, white knuckling any piece of iron rod I can keep hold of? Don't misunderstand, I'm not tempted to join in, use their language or attend their parties. I still know who I am and without a doubt I know His plan, but where I used to have my scriptures out all day, feasting and snacking at will, there is a faint wiff of spiritual aroma I catch as I clear them off the table to make room for dinner. When I can't seem to fit enough time in to sustain my own hunger, how can I keep up with the demands around me.

Never mind keep up, can I even make a difference?

So much of what I know how to offer has no reference point for them. How do I have the conversations that aren't really allowed but are really the only ones they need to have. It seems so silly to be working so hard to teach congruance and linear equations when they need eternal truth confidence in who they really are.

They are drowning and I throw them a drink of water.

How Gentle God's Commands

2011-09-18T07:44:00.000-07:00

It rained again this week and all is right in the world. The clouds moved in low and slow all Wednesday, easing the panic pace of life. For the first time in weeks is seems, we had time to just sit together and listen to the rain.

It came down in small steady drops,

not

one

was

wasted.

It rained all night and a day leaving the ground wet trice as long. The entirety of Friday was used for the storm to clear. Watching the sky as "that hand which bears all nature up" lifts, parts and swirls the clouds, left me in awe....

nothing doubting.

How gentle God's commands!

How kind his precepts are!

Come, cast your burdens on the Lord

And trust his constant care.

Beneath his watchful eye,

His Saints securely dwell;

That hand which bears all nature up

Shall guard his children well.

Why should this anxious load

Press down your weary mind?

Haste to your Heavenly Father's throne

And sweet refreshment find.

His goodness stands approved,

Unchanged from day to day;

I'll drop my burden at his feet

And bear a song away.

Strangled

2011-06-12T18:48:00.000-07:00

"Mom, those flowers are so pretty!" I said as I looked at the small white funnel shaped flowers scattered through the grass. "Can we grow those in our lawn?"

"Don't let your dad hear you say that."

I couldn't believe it. Who wouldn't want pretty little flowers in their lawn? Mom went on to explain that those pretty flowers were morning glory...long time nemesis of the farmer.

Morning glory, or more specifically, field bindweed, reproduces through seeds and extensive root growth. A study done in Kansas concluded that a single plant six months after germination can produce 197 vertical roots, each at least 4 feet long for a total of 788 feet. Plants can have over 34 horizontal underground roots coming from the tap root, averaging 4 feet in length giving the plant 136 additional feet of growth. These 34 roots can produce 141 new shoots which establish as individual plants.

The best defense against morning glory....don't ever let it get started.

I know this to be true, I've known it since I was that little girl in awe of those pretty white flowers. And yet, here I am, my own soil choked by the weed. This wasn't my land when the first seed sprouted or the aggressive roots crossed the property line, but I bought it anyway. Its tree lined field, water rights and shady front yard wooed me into a commitment I don't regret.

So I dig out the stringy roots patch by patch claiming what is mine and ignoring what I can't control. I imagine the white root tangles are getting weaker, that my super human weed digging skills are too much for this strangling beast that so often wins.

But maybe...

my view is skewed from too much time in the dirt.

Wordfull Wednesday ~Wack-a-daisical Summer

2011-06-08T09:58:00.000-07:00

Writing a summer alliteration sounded so fun, but I ran out of time, so my wonderful, whimsical, wordfull daughter jumped on it. Enjoy!

Wonderful, wonderful summer,

We truly believe as we wade,

Under a cascading waterfall.

And on to a nice warm hug,

Then to watermelon with Welch’s Lemonade we tromp,

After a good, long Sunday walk.

Wishfully thinking of water colored wildflowers,

We trek to Wal-Mart to search,

Only to woefully return empty handed,

To our too warm home for the night.

When we wake up and look outside,

It’s snowing.

Summer day alliteration @ Chocolateonmycranium

Begging Morning

2011-06-07T13:26:00.000-07:00

I pulled my body from deep slumber's relaxation and dumped it into a pair of running shoes tied just tight enough. Slogging into a trot I begged the morning to convince me that I had made the right choice. Longing to be under covers snuggled around by strong arms, I inhaled deeper than running demands and glanced at the swelling pink over fenced pasture.

I knew I wouldn't be disappointed.

Big start with a little fizzle

2011-05-28T20:53:00.000-07:00

It's been a long time since I've been here. I stop by briefly now and then, but just long enough to remember the good ol' days and wonder if there is more to be said, and if so how to put it into words. I wonder if it's ok to just write about the beginning and middle...or maybe just the beginning...because I haven't figured out the end, and don't know if I ever will.

So here I am. Where thoughts and ideas are safe to start, and meander, and maybe fizzle out...or maybe come together.

I'm really good at such non committal type goals, and apparently there is an award for such things....

But nothing is free. This award comes with a few rules.

1. Thank the person who gave it to you, and link back to them.

Now really, does that need to be a rule? I've been able to say say thank you without a nudge from my mom for years now. But still....Thank you Mary. I did really need a little push back into the blogosphere. It was Mary that gave me some of my first realistic ideals of motherhood, and I still love and need her advice and insight on this thing called parenting. She is often here, and sometimes here.....and always so worth the time spent in either place.

2. Tell seven things about yourself.

1. My son just came and crawled up on my lap and begged me to go sleep in with him, and although I've been up for almost three hours and run 6 miles I think I will celebrate my new non committal goal and join him2. I like applesauce on my pancakes.
3. I can't remember Calculus. I have to take a math test to renew my teaching licence, everything has come back except Calculus. I remember how to do it, just not why.
4. Adults make me nervous, I'd rather play with kids. Sometimes I wonder what will happen when my kids grow into adults. :-)
5. My idea of a perfect date would be to work in my garden with my husband. He loves me, but doesn't really share these sentiments.
6. I don't want to run another marathon.
7. I don't ever want to stop running.

3. Pay it forward and award the Versatile Blogger to 15 recently discovered new bloggers.

Since I haven't been blogging recently, this may be tough....lets see how far we can get.

OK, that didn't go very far....but here are some of my favorites, which aren't recently discovered or very new, but that's all I got.

Anna White Officially I believe this is a web page now, but I know her from her blogging days. She can build anything and still keeps it simple enough for the average Jane.

Chocolate on My Cranium She blogs about lots of things, always in such a positive light.

Lynn's Kitchen Adventures: Chocolate chip cookies and pudding...and if your really daring, homemade vanilla.

Run Like a Mother Lots of mothers who like to run.

And a few others that apparently aren't around anymore...like I said, it's been a while.

pause

2011-04-20T21:37:00.000-07:00

It rained last night. Three-thirty in the morning I lay in my bed just listening. It's been a long time since it's rained, and I can't remember the last time I heard it splashing, gathering in the rain barrel. A busy spring planting and planning is pointless without rain's promise. I could tell it wasn't a lot, but it was enough for now. I didn't sleep again until it stopped.

Picture not my own (thanks Megan!) but fit well with my thoughts.

This for That

2011-02-28T20:42:00.000-08:00

Remember that old poem about the footprints in the sand and the guy looking back on his life and realizing he'd been carried through the hardest parts of his life?

I get that.

But it seems a shame to wait for the end of your life to recognize that He has been there all along. Jesus says, "For my yoke is easy and my burden is light," if we will come unto Him. But I still heft my way down the trail, thinking that it isn't until I reach the destination that I will find relief.

But that's not what He said.

It's not "my yoke will be easy, and my burden will be light." It's right now, in the middle of the muck, and sinking fear that He says,

Take this, I've got that.

The "this" offered for our "that" is to follow His example of love and meekness, and find rest. I'll admit, that I have been strengthed when I thought I couldn't haldle anymore, that impressions and peace have been felt when fear circled all around....but to actually feel the easy rest of his yoke compared to occasionally stopping to catch my breath and then continuing on my own, that has been a new experience.

So I take this, unconditional love and He takes that, my selfish desires. I take complete trust and He takes my fear. I take an ability to serve with my whole heart and He takes my pride and stubbern grudges. I take complete obedience and He takes my every failure.

This for that...

I know I don't deserve it, and sometimes I want to trade back, slip into the comfortable, instead of learning the new way, but I know there is no other way.

Prone to wander, Lord I feel it,
prone to leave the God I love:
here's my heart, O take and seal it,
seal it for thy courts above.
This, my whole heart, for that, all that He has.

Happy Valentine's Day

2011-02-14T09:26:00.000-08:00

This day

2011-02-11T11:36:00.000-08:00

Who doesn't like a little encouragement now and then? A little pick-me-up, kind words, a reminder of what's important....it can make all the difference. Perhaps it's not "needed," perhaps you could make it on your own....

perhaps....

but with 8 miles down and 18 looming in the distance, anyone who has run a marathon knows the value of a little encouragement. It doesn't matter where it comes from or in what form. Honking horns and crazy cheers, painted signs, a word from a stranger as you pass, or just the sound of feet matching your stride as you run together. My personal favorite was, "Hurry there's a buffalo chasing you!" I laughed, then ran faster. My second favorite was from a stranger as I ran by. She simply said, "You're doing it."

And instantly I knew I was.

The end would come whenever it came, but for that moment I was doing what it took to get there, and that was enough.

Recently I found myself in the middle of a marathon when all I had scheduled was a 5K. At first I panicked and almost lost my breath, until a friend grabbed hold and reminded me that I knew how to do this. One step at a time....and I lifted my eyes and kept running.

Pray~step~scriptures~step~love~step~ponder~step~pray~step~repent~step~
church~step~serve~step~love~step~forgive~step~teach~step~pray~step~ listen~step~live~step~breathe~
step~
step~
step~
step~

Just because something takes you by surprise doesn't mean you can't be prepared for it. Supplications for daily bread are always answered, for today.

And today you're doing it.

3D Views

2011-02-09T21:27:00.000-08:00

She was southern personified. Elegant, gracious, welcoming and kind....and I didn't see it coming. I had watched her for two years and been a recipient of her kindness, and I knew she was good. Her children all grown with kids of their own, she still lived a life of service. On a car ride with 6 other women through a tunnel of trees she offered a single act of kindness with a heartfelt plea. She told her story of ache and sorrow, problems we never would have guessed; the burdens only a mother can carry when her children struggle to find their way. I suppose it wasn't such a strange story, similar things happen every day, but what it did in me, I'll never forget. To have someone like her ask for help, for a shoulder, for her sound to be heard....

from someone like me...

it spun me around, and I saw in 3D what before had been a pencil sketch. This woman of strength and beauty had also been ripped and torn, and she was real. And if it was so for her, why not every other woman I knew?

Since then, I have had the privilege to know many other women who have lived a full life and fought a good fight, and I love to hear their stories. They show me purpose in what I am doing now. Purpose in the day to day, purpose in climbing the mountains, purpose in fighting with everything I've got for what I've got, and purpose in doing it together.

I suppose they could just smile and wave from the sidelines, covering their scars with the excuses of old age, but they don't, they share the good, the bad and the ugly, and that act of kindness gives me hope that one day I'll have some stories to tell of my own...

in high depth resolution.

wordfull wednesdays @ chocolateonmycranium

Not so random advice for every situation

2011-02-08T07:17:00.000-08:00

Some Things Never Change, But Some Things...

2011-01-27T10:38:00.000-08:00

We run in the afternoon heat, soft rubber under foot, lap after lap and even 12 years later the smell, the taste of the heat reflecting from the track is like yesterday, and I am the same. The same person who loves to run, to push past tired legs, to compete and finish stronger than planned, and I am different. My mind is more sure of who I am and what I want. Solid confidence not defeated by the coming and goings of others.

Home with just one and loving the funny conversations and his dependence on my friendship, I am the same. The same as when the oldest was the only one at home and we were best friends all day and had all the time in the world, and I am different. When not careful, I can easily fill the hours and never have enough time to push him on the swings or read with him curled and heavy on my lap for hours.

I feel a little stir of excitement as I guide my niece through the algebra unknowns and I feel in awe at the truth of it all, and I am the same. The same person who discovered this math love through pure accident and reveled in learning the language of it all, and I am different. Still excited, I read the foreign text that has been unused for a decade, I fight fear and wonder if it will ever be preferred tongue again.

I hold the chubby babe of my friend and smell that smell; I swear I can feel milk in my breasts, I am the same. The same one who sat for hours and months, staring...still staring at the wonder that was created inside me, and I long for more of this divine role and soft cooing sounds, and I am different. Understanding the evolution of my divine roll and acceptance settling in as a young girls dreams collide with reality, and I begin to feel that it's ok.

Favorite Childhood Book

2011-01-26T20:58:00.000-08:00

“For one who reads, there is no limit to the number of lives that may be lived, for fiction, biography, and history offer an inexhaustible number of lives in many parts of the world, in all periods of time.” ~Louis L'Amour

The sand and grit, the rough mountain terrain and the wilderness upon wilderness. The Indians, the ranchers, and the men who wore guns tied low across their hip. The blood ties of distant family, the good verses evil, and the last man standing.

These were the pages of books of Louis L'Amour. The books I wasn't allowed to check out from the library until 5th grade. The books I snuck into my bag in the 4th grade. I loved to read all sorts of things, but these were my candy. A lot of the story lines were familiar, but I never got tired of the gun fights, the fist fights and land wars, where good triumphs over evil, not just from happenstance, but because that's the way it should be and no matter how many times you get shot, or how long you have to hold up, the time will come for the wrong to be made right.

Yeah, those were the good ole days.

chocolateonmycranium ~Wordfull Wednesday

The Work

2010-12-29T10:07:00.001-08:00

"But now O Lord, thou ART our father; we ARE the clay, and thou our potter; and we all are the work of thy hand." -Isaiah 64:8

Humility is more than just recognizing your weakness, your faults and your inadequate offerings; it is also seeing your divine potential in His hands.

They both can be a little scary.

I want more

2010-12-17T09:06:00.000-08:00

"Why a true Christmas may be painful" ..That was the title of a blog post I saw in cyberspace this week. Unfortunately, 'tis the season for not having enough time to read (let alone write) blog posts. But that phrase has stuck in my mind. I suppose Christmas could be painful for a lot of reasons here among the have and have nots.

I love Christmas...all of it...even the hassle of gifts and the tipsy balance between commercial craze and simple joy of giving. But I have to admit that Christmas makes me a little greedy, and every year I want more. I want more of the music that sets the mood, I want more of the traditions and time spent with family, I want more of the babe in Bethlehem, and I want more to understand what He wants of me.

But painful?

This is the season of giving and anyone who has given knows that giving is the best gift received. But it can hurt. If giving means that you lose something or someone that you love with your whole heart. If giving means that you see how much you have but how little you have to give. If giving means that you just hurt because no matter what fantastic Christmas scheme you come up it doesn't even come close to what is really needed. If giving means to mourn with those that mourn, not just to offer sympathy, but truly mourn with them. It can hurt.

Painful....and usually humbling.

I think of Simon's words, "Master, we have toiled all the night, and have taken nothing: nevertheless at thy word I will let down the net." and I know there is more that can be done. Miracles happen every day, and with a little faith and guidance I let down the net, and stand in complete awe as it begins to break under the load.

It was SO worth it

2010-12-12T21:35:00.000-08:00

I needed that.

Scrunched in a pew with family and friends, the musical sound of praise bigger than the room and filling every part of me.

I needed that.

After getting dressed up again on a Sunday evening to sit in church for two hours, I thanked my kids for sticking with me and their reply was, "It was worth it."

I needed that.

Bingham falling asleep on my lap as choir after choir sang the new and the familiar.

I needed that.

Reminders of the power that comes from those who willing mourn with those who mourn and comfort those who stand in need of comfort.

I needed that.

Completely carried away by "O Holy Night".

I needed that.

No guts, no glory

2010-12-04T19:43:00.000-08:00

There was a moment when it was all clear, but before that, the miles stretched out endlessly.

Studying the map before the race, it was clear that these miles would be hard, 9-17, where the beginning excitement would be well worn off and it would still be a l...ah....ong way from the end. It would be a mental game...

me against myself.

Who else would know if I slowed my pace, or walked a little longer through the water stops?

But I didn't. I held on, kept pushing; going faster when I wanted to go slower. Just get to mile 17.

Then I did.

Slowing for water and goo, my body felt done and my mind was tired of telling it otherwise. Then something opened in my gut and spread...up through my lungs and spread through my legs. My eyes lifted and I started to run. That was the moment of clarity, when I knew that not only would I finish, but finish well.

This week I feel like I have been stuck at a water stop at mile 17 just waiting for my gut to kick in. Finally today I had that moment of clarity and it scared me. Sometimes knowing for sure what I should do does that to me. I hope I have enough guts.

just flip the switch

2010-11-10T09:14:00.000-08:00

The music bounced around the car blending and becoming one with the voices of the 3 tween girls in the back seat. I smiled and chuckled to myself...but it was a nervous chuckle. Wouldn't it be so much easier if they were still singing along to primary songs or the love between peanut butter and jelly instead of these love sick lyrics. I wanted to just turn it off...perhaps some would have...but I didn't, some lines I don't cross.

I remember my own mom letting us listen; suggesting other alternatives or simply just talking, but usually letting us listen....and letting us make fools of ourselves as we sang along. Once she even pulled some lyrics out of a song for a hopeful teaching moment. "Ooh Baby do you know what that's worth ~ Ooh heaven is a place on earth" sparked a lesson about how our homes can and should be heaven on earth. Genius. I'm pretty sure I rolled my eyes at that one.

But this wasn't memories of my goofy behavior at that age, this was MY daughter in the back seat; singing along to lyrics I'm sure she knew nothing about. So instead of silly memories it was if every wrong choice I've ever made steamed back to the music I listened to at such an impressionable age, and I fought the urge to shut it off...just flip the switch...like it could be that easy; just turn off this music and she would never make the mistakes I made, in fact, she could grow up perfect in a controlled little bubble.

There are always lines that should never be crossed and those that should. There are lines that I enforce with consequences and love, and fear that they might choose to cross anyway. There are lines that I sometimes cross in hopes of keeping them always safe, and lines I'm afraid to cross for fear of failure. I say there is nothing I wouldn't give to ensure the safety of their souls as I cling to the extra change in my pocket. Such a little amount...why would it be needed? Daily I give millions freely, but this little bit I keep hidden...

just in case...

..just in case it's not enough.

Lately I find myself slipping out a nickle, or even a dime. Inching over that line, still scared, but not as much.

2010-11-05T10:16:00.000-07:00

She stood there in the heat looking at struggling tomatoes, beans and basil intermittently spread through the garden box...and what was that plant that seemed neither weed nor wanted?

With a sigh she leaned into her dad who stood next to her. "Isn't this just my life? A little bit of everything and nothing done well?"

When she told me about it later, she laughed, and I had to chuckle...really, who hasn't felt that way? To laugh about it is a sure way to keep from crying, and to share it with a friend who knows brings the fear into the light of day; dissipating shadows of self doubt.

And yet I was amazed. I knew her well and she was solid. Nothing wavering. I wanted to be her when I grew up. And here she was, unsure of her offerings, and I admired her all the more.

Learning Greek

2010-10-25T21:29:00.000-07:00

“So you run 26 miles...and you get…..what?”

My friend was completely serious. A complete stranger to even a 5K, she was incredulous when I told her how long a marathon was….and that I was planning on running one.

I couldn’t tell her why; not that I didn’t have my reasons…just that it would be all greek…a language neither of us understood.

That was three weeks ago, and my 26.2 have come and gone, and I am a better person because of it. Sometimes when I think of it, it was simply something fun to do, and other times it was everything that I had to do. One thing is for sure, it was one heck of a ride, and in an attempt to cruise a little longer I will be little posting several marathon thoughts, stories, lessons and full on life metaphors...unless I decide to train for another marathon...in that case look for a post on harmful addictive behaviors and how to live happily in denial.

1998

2010-10-24T20:29:00.001-07:00

It was hot and I had nothing left to sweat, dry salt dusted my skin and I wanted to quit; to find a hole and hide until everyone left and then crawl home alone.

But I didn’t know how to quit and walking only prolonged the pain, so I continued to run…

18, 19, 20…

Only six more miles…six miles had always been an easy run, a recovery run, but now it was longer than I could imagine.

We had started the marathon fast, too fast. Feeling fresh, confident and completely invincible, my husband and I clipped through the first 10 miles passing jokes as we passed runner after runner…after runner, but now depleted and deflated, I was spent. I knew my husband could run faster, in fact it would be easier for him if he left me behind, and I told him to go, but he didn’t…he went against all he had ever trained for, and he stayed.

And I saw the backs of those I had passed miles ago slide by and out of my sight as I wondered if this would ever end.

It did.

I didn’t think it would, but it did. I finished the 26.2 miles and one lone sob escaped my body. That was all I had left. Every part of me hurt, both emotionally and physically and nothing I did brought relief…I never wanted to feel like that again.

But I knew I would.

I didn’t know when or where, but I needed another shot at that thing. It wasn’t my time; despite the painfully slow ending, I finished with a decent time. Truth be told I had come face to face with a part of me that I wasn’t very proud of, a part of me that wasn’t 100% true. I always had a pretty good sense of exactly how much work I had to put in to get by, and I had gotten by pretty well, but you can’t bluff your way through a marathon, and as anyone who has run a marathon knows:

"The will to win means nothing if you haven't the will to prepare."
Juma Ikangaa, 1989 NYC Marathon winner

Next time I would be prepared.

Just Like That

2010-10-19T21:12:00.000-07:00

He did it.

And then went back for more.

I have read to the child from the beginning, and it wasn't always easy; he's not a sit and listen kind of kid. I read to him as he climbed up and over and along the back of the couch. I read as he hung upside down or played with trains, and if I stopped he would look up and tell me to keep reading, so I did.

We made the jump into chapter books with "Where the Red Fern Grows" reading hours at a time in the summer shade on the trampoline and then again on the couch that night, his excited rubbing hands at his nose. Naturally I thought he would eventually pick up a book on his own, get lost in the pages and ignore me when I called...years slipped by as we meandered through book after book. Occasionally, I would have him read a page or two of every chapter, and he read well....and he still would hand the book back to me, content to just listen.

I worried he would never pick up a book on his own, that this one who lives life to the fullest might miss this life opportunity. I worry too much.

Tonight he finished his very first chapter book, only stopping to tell me the funny parts, and then when it was my turn to read, and he was already deep in a second book he asked me to wait while he finished, so I did. I just sat there and watched him as he read silently on the couch turning pages 'til he got to the end of the chapter and then sneaking a look at the next page.

Hmm...just like that.

My heart stopped for a second as it realized what we had been working towards for so long happened in it's own time anyway, and I felt happy and amazed, and a little left out.

People survive them all the time...

2010-10-01T10:36:00.000-07:00

It seems every time I start a post I feel like I need to apologize, or at least explain why I haven't been here, when this is such a place I love to be. I say I'm busy...too busy, for this and that and way to busy to write it all down; who has time to sit and write it all down...there is so much to write down. Nothing spectacular I suppose, just the day to day events of a slightly rebellious, often humbled daughter of God.

There is nothing noteworthy in the fact that once this week I succeeded in getting my house clean or even that it all came crashing back down around me two days later. Nothing original about sending my youngest off to preschool and then having my heart jump then fall to my feet at the sound of silence in my car. And who hasn't felt the exhaustion that comes, not of physically doing the daily mundane, but from constantly wrestling heart and mind with the decisions that will both protect and prepare your kids for the life they are already living every day? I don't suppose that these things are any different than what a million other souls deal with, and yet it is all different and all so mine; and when I pray with my heart full of thanks for every minute of it all He answers with a peace that is designed just for the way my mind works and exactly what my heart understands.

Last night the storm hit hard, and I wasn't surprised...it was in the forecast...the awe came with the clarity of the stars afterward. In the beginning as the winds started to blow I kept telling myself not to stress...after all, storms are quiet common, people survive them all the time. As the rain turned to hail we took shelter under established routine, pushing through, ignoring the darkness; until it was over and all that was left was the darkness. And then the stars...clear and bright, not so bright as to show the damage that surely surrounded, just bright enough to know the storm was over. It was beautiful.

forgiveness...

2010-09-19T01:52:00.000-07:00

"Successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness," ...forgiveness....most definitely forgiveness....

This month is the 15th anniversary for the "The Family, A Proclamation to the World". In fact, there is a month long celebration at Cocoa's...in fact, you're invited....in fact, that's where I am today.

to give chase..

2010-09-08T08:08:00.000-07:00

I watched with amazement as the little girl walked up between the pews, quietly playing and twirling and then quietly walked back to her parents.

That has never happened to me. If my child were to get that far out of my grasp they would have taken off, sprinted up on stage giggling and laughing with glee until I was finally able to corner them and drag them kicking and screaming (and still giggling) back to our pew.

I know this because it happened.

But I couldn't help but wonder which came first; my kids running away or me giving chase.

As a mom, I've always been big on giving my kids freedom. For the most part, they wear, eat and play how they choose, letting logical consequences follow. For the most part they make good decisions.

But occasionally...

...they wander farther than comfortable and I hold my breath and pray...and sometimes, like this morning, they can be brought back with a gentle hug and reminders of love....but other times, like last week, I have to chase them down and bring them kicking and screaming back to the pew, and I wonder...why they ran in the first place.

Taking Pictures

2010-08-31T11:13:00.000-07:00

It was just two of us.

Winding down through the canyon the day the metal brackets came off her teeth and she couldn't stop making funny faces, letting her mouth enjoy movement again. She leaned back against the window and the breeze caught her crimped locks and pulled them straight up.

We both giggled and tied to get my camera phone to work. No luck, and instantly my mind switched to camera mode and my heart caught in my throat. Early evening sunlight, the kind that lets you know summer is almost done, caught her freckles as if boasting of it's own work...

and while watching the road, I couldn't take my heart eyes off her.

She is so beautiful, and although I carried her inside myself every minute of the nine months plus three days, I still wonder how she could be mine and how she could be so grown.

She knew she had my attention and she laughed again, eyes sparkling gray-green and I know she loves her "freaky runner mom", and I think for now she is mine, but hold my breath anyway, not wanting this to change..

at least for a minute,

and I take a picture.

Running at 10,000 Feeet

2010-08-29T21:00:00.000-07:00

All week the dirt has been gathering...

...in the corners and under the table.

It would probably bother me more if I had time to stop and look at it. I'm running and I can't catch up...but I'm enjoying the run anyway.

(nope...no way...not gonna post a pic of my dirty kitchen)

Kids left for school and once again I question everything...so many contradictions...what is good and bad and what is best.

Tomatoes, green beans, the last of the corn, peppers and still the weeds...

...oh the weeds, someone should tell them they have lost battle and need to go home.

Have you ever tried running at 10,000 feet?

More specifically 10,500.

Nothing works like it should, my stomach forgets how to handle a sip of water but still cries for more. My lungs feel unused but my muscles ache from lack of oxygen...

...and yet I, my whole self, can't get enough.

Farther and farther up and around the next curve, longing for the top. My friends are done but I can't get enough.

I always knew these mountains were a part of me.

Later I will completely crash, but now...I just enjoy the run.

In This Shape

2010-08-12T14:53:00.000-07:00

As a young wife, before stretch marks and nursing bras, I ran. On a trail through cedar and sage, miles stretching out behind, I made plans with a friend. With tight abs and short shorts we exposed our naivete as we planned it all out, it was simply really, run a marathon between each baby, just to make sure we stayed in shape.

And so I ran a marathon.

It was the hardest thing I had ever done....until about six hours before the birth of my oldest child, at that point I looked back on those miles run for strength and found they were marathons short of what I was about to experience.

I haven't run a marathon since...had no desire to really, suprisingly content to stay in the shape of a mother. But now that mother shape is changing, my youngest is now three and sleeps in late...

so I run again.

I find friends who like to run and who read books about running marthons, and again we plan. And now I run miles and miles on Saturday morning and try to ignore little aches and pains, not wanting to give them encouragement, and I wonder just a little bit how hard it will be....

A marthon in this shape that I am in.

Layton Marathon, October 9, 2010

Feeding the Hungry

2010-08-04T15:45:00.000-07:00

We sang the song I'm sure I had sung several times before, and had never heard.

In fasting we approach thee here

And pray thy Spirit from above

Will cleanse our hearts, cast out our fear,

And fill our hunger with thy love.

It had been a tough week for everyone. Unexpected loss of those so young disrupts, even breaks life as we know it; leaves us scrambling to fix, offering food and calls and silent hugs.

Thru this small sacrifice, may we

Recall that strength and life each day

Are sacred blessings sent from thee-

Fill us with gratitude, we pray.

During that mending melody they came in, one less than the week before but stronger. Strength that came not from their own splintered spirits, but from the angels surrounding them; I felt them as they squeezed by and settled into crowed pews.

And may our fast fill us with care

for all thy children now in need.

may we from our abundance share

They sheep to bless, thy lambs to feed.

At that point we were all children of need and and yet there was so much abundance shared.

This fast, dear Father, sanctify-

Our faith and trust in thee increase.

As we commune and testify,

May we be filled with joy and peace.

I saw her again that night, the mother who had lost, and and for the first time in thee days she looked fuller; maybe just the edge knocked off her hunger, simple willingness to trust in her eyes.

The Real Joy of Summer

2010-07-21T15:35:00.000-07:00

I love summer.

I know, I know, who doesn't? The lengthened daylight hours seem to attest to summer as a preference for even the Divine. Big trips and family reunions, sprinklers and half naked babies tinted brown, green growth and the intense first bite of tomato.

Oh, and lets not forget....

the weeding and watering, the packing and unpacking, the cleaning, the canning, the cutting the lawn.

Yep, summer is a lot of work too, but I still stand by my first statement. Although work is....well....work, it can also be a lot of fun. I remember as a kid having all sorts of competitions as we worked. Memories of my sister and I beating our "city boy" cousins moving irrigation pipe is a favorite. Or sitting and talking in the shade of our big tree podding a mountain of peas until our fingers were permanently etched in green.

There were other times too. Pulling rye from our field and having my eyes get so itchy and sore I thought I'd go blind. (I guess I should remember that one next time my kids play their own version of that drama card) Or driving tractor alone hour after boring hour. That was not so fun, but I also remember my mom (who can still out work me, by the way) coming in from the garden, weeding done, just as I was pulling my sorry tail out of bed. And my dad coming in from hours longer than mine on the tractor, with only his eyes and teeth showing through the layer of dirt. Not doing what needed done was never an option.

Work is one of the most sincere forms of gratitude. Taking care of what you have been given speaks louder than a million thank yous. When I was in high school, my uncle passed away. I remember a lot of tender moments during the day of his funeral, but the one that I can never forget happened at the very end. After the burial service I was waiting in the car for my parents to finish up and come take me home. I was tired and probably hungry, and had been in a dress all day; summed up, I was being pretty selfish, and wanted to go. Just about then, two of my uncles walked by and one of them mentioned some shovels he had in the back of his truck. What? And then I saw one by one as more shovels appeared and I watched, humbly, as my aunts and uncles shoveled dirt onto the casket and completed this last task for their brother.

Gratitude....stewardship....love...and yes, fun. Work is an essential part of all things good, including true and lasting happiness.

For more thoughts on the value of work: Wordfull Wednesday at Chocolateonmycranium

Here are some pictures from this year's family reunion; which of course included a work project.

A mountain of dead branches from a heavy spring storm, reduced to a pile of chips and fire wood.

No doubt my nephew worked hard...tough kid that one.

Just because they weren't allowed near the heavy machinery doesn't mean they didn't work hard too!

This one's for you, Grandma...and to all the flowers fallen in your absence :)

Tactile Learning

2010-07-11T18:51:00.001-07:00

Last fall we took a vacation to Moab. Driving past the towering red cliffs was breath taking, unimaginable that these rocks and cliffs had been here my entire life and I had been content to just view them from pictures.

Being so close as we drove by and not touching almost drove me crazy. Sometimes the moment can never be your own until you’ve felt the sand under your nails and rubbing blisters in your shoes. I’m a tactile learner, I need to walk the trails and and feel the the wind in my face as I sit near the edge of the cliff. I need to slip a little to find my footing and jam my own fingers into the cracks to pull my weight up over the top.

Sometimes I can make it with just a scratch or two, sometimes the price is higher, affecting those around me, but when I climb back in the car at the end of the day with legs trembling and body covered in salt and sand…

I know.

Laugh, Love, Smile

2010-07-08T11:06:00.001-07:00

Today I ran where she ran, but I didn’t run her race. I remember what she had told me about that last struggle up the hill to the finish line and how determined she was to beat it. The hill wasn’t so foreboding for me at my easy pace, but it had been a beast for her and she had attacked it…run it down like so many other demons she had to face.

We ran to honor and remember her determination, and as I ran I couldn’t help but think of all the little things that made my sister who she was. I have heard from her mouth and read from her pen about many other hills she ran, and so many of the small things that happened between the repetitive meeting of foot and road, and I wonder if I could remember well enough to write them down…stories worth telling for sure.

Where's the Line?

2010-06-12T20:31:00.000-07:00

How far would you go to show your love and support for your spouse?

Would you give up an entire day (plus babysitting) just to show them?

Would you sit uncomfortably in the sun for hours just to obtain a minute of glory for them?

Would you stretch your body far beyond what it has done in the last five or ten years just because your effort is important to them?

Would you give up an entire Saturday afternoon of working in the garden with perfect weather just to show that you're all a team?

Would you????

I would....

...and did. This week was like an extended company party at my husbands' work. It involved a lot of different competitions and hubs, being a part of a very competitive group, signed me up to compete. I'm sure he was thinking, "My wife played competitive sports in high school, (16 years ago) surely she can be an asset to the team." How flattering for me...really...my husband still values my high school achievements.

Now that it's done I can't complain too much; just because my body aches in ways I never new possible, and my fingers shake as I try to type, and my pride is slightly wounded from getting out 5 times in 3 innings...really, I was glad to help. There were some high moments too, not so much in softball, but the 5K was fun and my body did remember a trick or two involving a volleyball.

Now I need my bed...and maybe a chiropractor.

Just thankful he didn't sign me up for football...even if he had, a girl's got to draw the line somewhere.

To Soften the Blow

2010-05-25T13:58:00.000-07:00

Cinnamon Honey Butter

1 cup butter, softened
3-5 T ~~new unfamiliar~~ honey
1 tsp cinnamon

Mix until combined into a smooth, gooey consistency. Spread on toast, pancakes, waffles or whatever makes you smile.

Oh Honey...

2010-05-24T13:57:00.000-07:00

Last week I scraped the bottom of the honey bucket.

No, this isn't a life metaphor with deep meaning, I really scraped the bottom of my honey bucket...and then licked the spoon...and fingers. The last of the honey may be an ordinary occurrence for some, but this time, for me...it hurt. This wasn't just any honey bucket, this was the last of the good stuff. The stuff family drove hundreds of miles for, the stuff I grew up on...a sweet taste of heaven right here in my kitchen. I would make the drive myself, just to refill my bucket, but the honey man has retired and I have found nothing that competes. My brother still has a stash that he guards very heavily. I guess deep down I thought he would soften and share, being family and all, but no...honestly I don't blame him, he's only looking after ~~himself~~ his own little family.

The fact is, I don't have the resources to be a honey snob anymore, so last night I took the plunge and bought some different honey. The price was right, at $120 for a 5 gallon bucket, I've seen it sold for more than twice that. It was recommended by a friend and it's local, which helps with allergies. It's raw, which means it still has live enzymes and a few bee parts. AND it's pretty tasty...after all, it is honey. I've yet to open the bucket...in fact, this post is a way of delaying the inevitable...but the bread must be made, and my kids want goodies in their lunches tomorrow...so humbled, here it goes....

Story Time

2010-05-23T20:56:00.000-07:00

One of the major reasons I blog is to keep a record. I'm never the same person two days in a row, yet morphing by such small degrees I would hardly notice unless I had a written record of my previous self.

This blog is probably the closest to a journal I have ever come, but I have always thought that there are several different ways to leave a record of your life.

We live in an old house...not just an old house but an old house with character; keep in mind here, not all character is good. Many people have lived on this property before us and they have all left little stories about themselves built into this house, piled in the dirt, and even a few...a very few, planted in the soil. Mostly tales about horses, cattle, and chickens. Little narratives of how to make do with what you have are nailed in the barns and strung on the fence posts. Written in the fenced front yard with lawn, (a rarity it these parts) is the possibility of childhood adventures. The one lone lilac in the back, though weak and unpruned when we found it, is a small chapter of someone, at sometime that desired more than livestock.

This week my fingers have been distant from my computer keys and etched with dirt, but I have left little blog posts all over. These are some of my favorites.

A new row of lilacs from a neighbor who had too many.

Three tomato patches...with 5 different kinds of tomatoes, most from seed. No doubt these are a short story, but sometimes those are the best kind.

Day lilies....for free.

Nine grape vines, eight for only the price of digging the holes.

Honeylocust tree, so pretty and NOT an elm, and I had better mention...for free.

So even if my posts are far and few between this summer, I continue to tell my stories. Maybe this winter I will actually get some in print.

*I have a great friend who is redoing her yard...resulting in a lot of free transplants and a lot of happy work for me :)

To think, or not to think....

2010-05-14T21:51:00.000-07:00

I sit here eating yogurt, that I made, and enjoying it...trying to NOT think about how it was made.

It was so much easier than I thought...sterilize, heat, mix, and let it sit in a warmish environment and spread it's little active bacterial cultures, and try not to think about it.

Really, if you DO think about it, it's quite amazing...scientifically anyway; to go against everything you've ever been taught about food safty and come up with a product that is not only safe to eat, but good for you.

Everyone should try it...at least once.

Vista Optional

2010-05-09T14:44:00.001-07:00

Yesterday I ran one of my favorite runs ever. It involves running up the side of a mountain, along it’s ridge and then down the other side. Maybe I exaggerate when I say mountain, since the entire run is not even 7 miles, but to call it a hill would be a mighty understatement. I dread this run that I am unable to resist, and now that it’s done I can’t wait to dread it again.

Pictures taken last fall while walking with hubs, not yesterday while running light headed with the girls.

It always gets me thinking about what kind of vistas I miss by taking the easy road…even when the easy road clearly leads to my destination.

Sometimes I think God gives us optional hills…nothing really necessary to salvation, but just an opportunity to feel a little burn as we gain empowering perspective.

This week I want to hit the hills.

Morning Breath

2010-05-04T12:41:00.000-07:00

The lilacs alone were worth facing the day at 5 am.

271/1000

I love a good race...

2010-05-03T13:03:00.000-07:00

I love a good race, and this.... was a good race. It was a 5K/5 mile race and everyone started at the same spot. I was running the 5 mile, but it was good to start with the 5K-ers...a little more excitment and speed...AND I got to start with Hup. This was his second 5K, so I knew he could do it, but I always worry he'll get lost (cause it happened once), so his dad ran with him. He hit a tough spot with about a mile to go, but thanks to the wonderful encouragement of fellow runners he sucked it up and finished strong at 27:47. That's almost a minute faster than last summer, and the best part is, he's excited for his next chance.

(warming up with his Dad)

My race went almost as planned. I think I fell off pace somewhere around the thrid mile. It wasn't well marked and had a lot of distractions...maybe the distractions helped me mentally, but I lost my focus on my pace, and in the end I came in at 40:00.6. Yep, that's right .7 seconds from my goal of going under 40 minutes. I guess that gives me a good excuse to run it again next year.

(notice my hands clear across my chest...nice form, egh?)

It was fun to see friends who have been hiding out on the treadmill all winter, and to see the smiles on the faces of those coming in strong, no matter what their time. I loved having my family their to feel the excitement and see this side of me that usually only comes out early in the morning while they still sleep, and I can't help but be a little excited when they all wanted to join in on the next race.

Pass it on

2010-04-27T20:45:00.000-07:00

Running is contagious, and I love seeing people ~~get sick~~ catch the fever. People who you would never think...all of a sudden asking to meet at the track for a little speed, or braving the dark and cold just to get a few miles in, or sprinting even though they "hate" running.

Then take these people and put them in a race. Once you get past the "why would I pay $20 to run this trail when I can run it for free" comments, something crazy sick happens as they find themselves pushing past old limits and feeling high and wasted and.....completely happy.

I'm running the 5 mile Blossom Day race this Saturday, and it's supposed to be rainy and and a little cold and perfect at the same time. I'm running with some of the newly infected, and can't wait to see them at the finish line. Of course, I've had the disease for several years now and so I'm looking for something beyond compeltely happy, and that would be a specific time...really I'm flexible, as long as it's under 40 min. Last year I came in at 41 something and...well, faster would make me smile.

243/1000

Hiccups

2010-04-26T09:02:00.001-07:00

Scissors in hand I run,
across slick muck and fresh snow.
Risky, I know, but I can’t risk losing
tender asparagus to a Spring hiccup.

Back inside, I crank the heater up
in protest,
and eat chilled spears for breakfast
as little Sunshine looks out…

past forgotten bubbles on the sill…

so unimpressed.

“I don’t like this kind of spring…snow is pretty when everything is dead, not when it’s already pretty…spring pretty.”

My own eyes try to look past
drooping fruit blossoms
to a summer of rest for the growing trees.

But in the end I concur
and offer her some asparagus.

Start Now

2010-04-23T09:09:00.001-07:00

Last fall, in an effort to use the cucumbers that seemed to appear every time I set foot in my garden, I searched out pickle recipes. The homemade pickles of my childhood were ok…I think it’s pretty hard to mess up a garnish…and the copious amounts of cucumbers I had on hand last fall were slicing cukes, so my expectations were not very high; but I had to do something.

I found this recipe from my favorite organic farming book, and it was really pretty simple.

Dill Pickles

Pack 3 lbs. small pickling cukes or thinly sliced slicing cukes into 6 clean pint jars leaving 1/4 inch head space. Add to each jar:

1 garlic clove

1 head of dill (or 1 tsp dill seed)

1/4 tsp cayenne pepper

In a stainless or enameled kettle bring the following to a boil:

3 1/4 cup water

3 1/4 cup vinegar

6 T salt

Pour boiling mixture over cucumbers in the jars leaving 1/4 “ head room. Tighten lids and process in boiling water bath for 10 minutes. The full flavor of these pickles develops in about 2-3 weeks.

I’ll admit, I was a little hesitant to try these, and waited about four months (when we finally used the last store bought pickle) to try them. I’m a fan of a crunchy pickle, and these looked a little soft and squishy, so I closed my eyes, held my breath and popped one in my mouth.

Tasty.

I went back for more, and shared with my two year old, who came back for more. I gave some to the rest of the gang and they all came back for more.

Who knew?

Then last week I made a roast and used the left over pickle juice to cook it in. It was by far the best roast we’ve ever had…and we’ve had some tasty roast.

The moral of the story?

Get started!

Find yourself some cucumber seeds and get them planted (after last frost) and when you and your neighbors are sick of fresh cukes…lucky day.

Food on Fridays with Ann Kroeker

Necessary Heat

2010-04-21T06:00:00.001-07:00

As I pulled the decaying muck from my pitchfork, I could feel the heat through my gloves. I had been working this compost pile all spring…keeping it moist, turning it over and over; and yet I was surprised by the heat.

Did you know that an orange peel left setting alone in the desert heat will crinkle and dry, but take months…if not a year to decompose? Take that same orange peel and add a little moisture, pressure and a little oxygen; and a transformation takes place…the result is soil so rich, it is call black gold.

“The ability to qualify for, receive, and act on personal revelation is the single most important skill that can be acquired in this life.”

Simply hearing His word, or casually reading it keeps His true message dry…inactive in my daily life. But to ponder, and ask for that personal witness, creates a heat that changes the stagnant into eternal value.

“Revelation can come hour by hour and moment by moment as we do the right things. When women nurture as Christ nurtured, a power and peace can descend to guide when help is needed. For instance, mothers can feel help from the Spirit even when tired, noisy children are clamoring for attention, but they can be distanced from the Spirit if they lose their temper with children…. It requires a conscious effort to diminish distractions, but having the Spirit of revelation makes it possible to prevail over opposition and persist in faith through difficult days and essential routine tasks... Because personal revelation is a constantly renewable source of strength, it is possible to feel bathed in help even during turbulent times.”

Quotes taken from an address given by Julie B. Beck; “And upon the Handmaids in Those Days Will I Pour Out My Spirit”

Carnal Confession

2010-04-20T15:41:00.001-07:00

OK, I admit it.

I like pretty things.

Not that you’d see me dressed up for a run, or even in pantyhose at church, but I do appreciate beauty when I see it.

Have you ever been surprised at where pretty shows up?

I know my morning run will be pretty; even in the dark chill the stars are amazing.

I know the mountains can take my breath away at any given moment…and they jump at the chance.

I know my kids are adorable (and funny, and smart, and not afraid to use any or all of these traits to get out of trouble).

But yesterday, I was surprised by the pretty…didn’t see it coming…but I hit my breaks fast to take another look.

I know, just a truck. I’m not even into trucks…really…

…or so I thought.

But I ~~am jonesing~~ sure would enjoy a drive.

Nurtured

2010-04-14T10:44:00.001-07:00

"By divine design...Mothers are primarily responsible for the nurture of their children." (Family Proclamation, paragraph 7)

Just this morning, I longed for the nurturing of a mother. Hadn’t I just cared for my little ones…one at a time…before they passed the sickness to me? Where is my mom, when all I can do is moan on the couch?

Of course, I know right where my mom is. Physically she is spending her days in service (as she always has) on a mission for our church; but that’s not all, because she is here with me too.

I may not have been bright enough as a child to let her teach me how to make bread, sew, and clean; but I did learn how to nurture, and it had little to do with the advice you might find in popular parenting magazines. A family is a hard place to hide imperfections, and we were as naked as the next; but in the end we are covered with covenants kept.

I love being a mother…and some days I think I’m pretty good at it; others…not so much. Those bad days would be enough to do me in with guilt and self doubt if I didn’t know about the back up plan.

We had a huge family growing up, and I often felt like one of the many. Really, how could one mother reach so many, cover so many bases…every day? Impossible really…on her own. I think she learned early to let go of perfection and cling tightly to the covenants she had made with the Lord.

Covenants that have greater strength than even a consistent discipline plan. Covenants that can reach through generations and bind family close, regardless of daily mistakes. Covenants that I have made with my Father, and my family.

So she does comfort me now, from a distance, and I know that even though my house will probably take a thrashing before I get back in the game, my family will be held close and covered.

Wordfull Wednesday @ Chocolate on my Crainium

It’s all about the soil

2010-04-14T09:02:00.001-07:00

I watched the plow turn up the dark rich earth that had been undisturbed during months of cold. I didn't really like being dragged out of my lazy routine to help in the fields, but once I was there...I couldn't imagine a better place to be. Being a part of working the land, my young mind didn't understand it then, but I was unable to deny how it worked something up inside myself. Even the smell of the freshly turned dirt was amazing, and I told Dad as much. He just chuckled, and then in seriousness corrected my error. "It's not dirt, it's soil. A living breathing organism that we depend on to produce our livelihood.”

Years later, and with my own patch of soil to work, I know the importance of those words. A seed sown in soil that is weak, worn out from hot sun and dry wind will never reach it’s potential. The soil must be worked, gently turned over, cleared of nutrient sucking weeds, and most importantly supplemented with life…life that comes from heat and decay.

Jesus may have been a carpenter’s son, but showed his experience as the Creator in the parable of the sower. Not only is it an applicable story, Jesus exemplified the sower by sharing only the parable with those who were not prepared, and to those were, he offered “the mystery of the kingdom of God”.

Soil needs to be constantly worked…and work it is…to accommodate the deep roots required to survive the long hot summer. Start first by recognizing your soil as a living breathing organism…the dependence of your livelihood. Clear out the weeds…you know what they are. Add life; apply heat to the waste by trusting in Him and the light of His word. Gently turn things over, ponder in your heart to reach the deeper soil….

…and then plant the seed.

Worm Bin

2010-04-13T20:13:00.000-07:00

I have a few new pets.

Make that 1000 new pets.

Plus a few more.

It all started a few years ago when I finally got the garden of my dreams. OK, maybe not THE garden, because that would involve a longer growing season, less wind and violent storms and, well...water, but really...it's pretty dreamy just the way it is. Now, I'm always looking for ways to improve my soil and I couldn't resist the suggestion in one of my very favorite books, "Organic Farming, Everything you Need to Know" by Peter V. Fossel. He suggests starting a worm bin.

Start by drilling holes in the top and bottom of a plastic 10 gallon tub, and covering it with a screen attached with adhesive calk. The holes in the top are for aeration, the screen is to keep the flys out. The holes in the bottom are for drainage, so you just want a few on one end, and the screen is used to keep the worms in

Next fill it with rotten hay, soaked shredded cardboard, straw...basic compost material, and add about 500 red wigglers. Set it on a shelf about 12" off the ground (in a shed or barn or something). Set it up so that the drainage holes are all over a funnel leading down to an old milk jug. I found an old board with holes in it almost the exact size as my funnels. Every so often add some more kitchen scraps, keep it damp, and the result should be worm tea. It's supposed to work wonders for new transplants.

So, I ordered my red wigglers, and drilled some holes and set it up in the barn. I already have some lovely dark liquid leaking out into my milk jugs, and just today when I went to feed my pets, I noticed a tiny little baby worm; they should double in number every three months and so you can expand your operation or just add the extra worms to your compost pile, lawn, or garden. They don't like to be too crowded, so you do need to do something with the offspring.

my word against hers

2010-04-11T20:23:00.001-07:00

As testimony fills my heart,
It dulls the pain of days.
For one brief moment, heaven’s view
Appears before my gaze. “Testimony”

I looked her in the eye and denied her accusation. Her ice blue stare shot back disgust, proof of her disbelief. I had no alibi, no way to convince her of my innocence. I had never felt so hurt and alone.

Since that moment I have been keenly aware of my lack of vocal persuasion. I’m not one that can suggest an idea and have everyone jump on board, in fact, it usually falls flat pretty fast. So when it comes to the things that matter most, the things that I know without a doubt, it is a relief to know that I am not alone; “No man can say that Jesus is the Lord, but by the Holy Ghost” (1Corrinthians 12:3), and that the Lord has a backup plan for our unconvincing words.

“When a man has the manifestation from the Holy Ghost, it leaves an indelible impression on his soul, one that is not easily erased. It is Spirit speaking to spirit, and it comes with convincing force….”
“Through the Holy Ghost the truth is woven into the very fibre and sinews of the body so that it cannot be forgotten” ~Joseph Fielding Smith Jr.

I will continue to fumble along, blurting when silence is called for and forgetting to speak until the conversation is passed; hopefully learning this skill of vocal communication, bu always knowing when truth is concerned, He's got my back.

Orange Yogurt Cake

2010-04-09T16:02:00.001-07:00

Well, it’s that time of year again. Dishes sit unwashed, laundry wrinkles, forgotten in the dryer, kids run around half dressed while I get lost in the yard and garden. I feel like just signing off for the next few months, but in an effort to find balance and maintain some sort of house hold structure I thought I would share this yummy cake we made for Easter.

I like to make cakes, but they rarely come together as planned, but this one did…so it’s a keeper. I first saw the recipe in a Greek cookbook my daughter brought home from the library. Before I had a chance to make it, the book was returned and I lost the copy I’d made. So I looked around on the internet and found this one that looked really similar. Only problem was that it was on Martha Stewart. com, and really, as much as I struggle with baking cakes, what makes me think I could make something of Martha’s. But, it did look really easy, so I just made a few changes and doubled it (come on Martha, if your going to make cake….make some cake). But if you trust Martha more than me, click on over…I’ll never know :)

Orange Yogurt Cake
2 cups all-purpose flour, sifted (I never sift)
1 1/4 cup sugar
1 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup plain whole-milk yogurt (none of that low fat stuff)
1/2 cup vegetable oil
zest from one orange (try to find organic…lots more flavor and no hidden nastys)
juice from one orange (hint, hint…use the same one you zested)
2-3 eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
powdered sugar for dusting

Preheat oven to 350. Butter 2 8-inch round cake pans. Add everything in order stirring a little after each addition. When all is added, stir just until well mixed. Easy to do by hand, and doesn’t take long.
Bake until toothpick comes out clean, about 25 min. Let them cool for 5-10 min, then carefully dump out on wire rack. Dust with powdered sugar. It’s good warm or cool. Martha adds a little orange garnish that looks tasty, but I didn’t have time for.

And now I’m off to dig a 3X3 foot hole for a new tree…

Finding my schedule....

2010-04-07T20:35:00.000-07:00

I love spring break. Nothing went as planned and it was perfect.

180/1000

Strong

2010-03-30T10:38:00.000-07:00

I'm strong...really I am, but I have an Achilles heel; I can be talked into just about anything.

My friends say, "Come run over this really steep mountian, it'll be fun!" and I go. They say, "Let's run in the early morning freezing wind," and I go. They say "Let's run one more 400 after we've finished our mile repeats...just for fun," and I go.

And now my legs are tired and my arches are sore, but I am happy...and strong.

"...then will I make weak things become strong..."

168/1000

Sweet Invite

2010-03-27T11:00:00.000-07:00

Choose ye this day, to serve the Lord God who made you. Behold my Spirit is upon you, wherefore all thy words will I justify; and the mountains shall flee before you, and the rivers shall turn from their course; and thou shalt abide in me, and I in you; therefore walk with me.~Moses 6:33,34

Waking Up

2010-03-25T14:58:00.001-07:00

I built something.

It’s not perfect, but that was never the point. It wasn’t really cheap, but that wasn’t really the point either. So why did I shell out $200 for lumber and hardware only to neglect my house, kids and spouse for a whole week and only end up with an OK piece of furniture?

It was fun.

It seriously awoke this part of me that has been hibernating for years…neglected as I juggled babies, toddlers and relocating …and babies, toddlers and relocating. In fact, as I was bending down to hammer in an odd nail, I had a little flash back, of the last time I had attempted such a thing...last time when I bent down it was a strain to reach over my growing stomach and I only had a hand saw, and two year old Rose as a helper. The closet I built then wasn’t perfect either, but every time I looked at it I couldn’t help but smile.

This time all the kids got to help. Sunshine bravely held boards while I cut, Hup did a lot of the hammering and even showed Laser Boy some tricks of the trade. Rose helped paint exactly the way I asked her to, except for not leaving a little of the under color visible; she said it was just sloppy painting and she wouldn’t do it.

The hinges were a little tricky…I’ll know better next time, and the paint needs some touch up, but overall I’m giddy. And now, even two weeks after I finished my book shelf, I can’t walk by it (crooked doors and all) without a little smile.

Plans and loads of more ideas @ Knock Off Wood

Running on my own

2010-03-23T09:54:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I've run alone. I've been lucky to have good company; commitments that get me out the door and down the road.

But not today.

To be honest, I was looking forward to it...to doing my own thing. Sometimes like to take my time and other times I crave speed. Sometimes I like to have the option of changing route mid run just because something looks interesting, or to listen to music..loud, or not, and just let the chirping birds tickle my thoughts.

This morning I chose music and speed. I started out slow in song and stride and just let it build; body warming, beating past the slugish jog. It was like my playlist knew exactly what I had in mind, the bass started pounding as I hit the hill hard;and then stopped short after a ripping guitar. All I could hear was pounding breath and crunching gravel as I claimed last of the hill; the perfect sound, life as the instrument.

158/1000

Chili Smoothie

2010-03-19T04:34:00.000-07:00

I love a good pot of homemade chili. Throw in a slice of homemade whole wheat bread with a little honey and a big glass of milk, and it’s as good as sitting in Mom’s kitchen on a Sunday afternoon.

My kid’s favorite is canned.

I have tried a million (at least) different recipes with no success…until now. Turns out, it’s not the flavor they don’t like, it’s the texture. So I came up with a brilliant plan…

Chili Smoothies!

Hang on, stick with me, it’s not as bad as it sounds. In fact when you serve this chili, you can keep the smoothie part a secret.

1 lb. hamburger
1 large onion, chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 7-oz. can diced chilies (or ½ pint if you can your own)
1 15-oz. can diced tomatoes
1 46-oz. can tomato juice (or two quarts total tomatoes if you can your own)
2 15.5-oz. cans red or chili beans (or one quart if you can your own)
2 Tablespoons chili powder
1 bay leaf
2 tsp oregano 1 tsp basil
While your hamburger is browning put onions, garlic, chilies and tomatoes if you need more liquid in the blender on med high and blend until your pickiest child won’t recognize their origin. Add mixture to browned meat and heat on medium until bubbly, simmer 5-10 minutes. Add remaining ingredients, bring to a boil and simmer at least 20 minutes, but an hour would be better.

Enjoy eating dinner with out a single complaint of “This has onions/peppers/tomatoes/whatever in it!”

This post is shared with Food on Fridays @ Ann's

Power Tools

2010-03-18T08:58:00.000-07:00

He hit the nail square and hard, three swings and it was in. I was amazed. He moved on to the next nail as I stared with mouth open.

Wasn’t it just yesterday that I first handed him a hammer, sacrificing my own fingers to hold his nails straight? Didn’t I just wipe the tears of frustration and help pull out crooked nails? All that I was told said he was too young; too young for real tools…they have some nice pretend sets you know…but we were both desperate for more.
And now I watched with pride that was instantly humbled.

This was his deal, I merely gave him the tools. How many nails had he hammered on his own…and missed and pulled out and straightened…and hammered again? How many sore thumbs and slivers? All this shaping him beyond what I could keep up with…

…and now he was holding nails for his little brother; sacrificing his own fingers to hold nails straight, and helping his little sister put her ideas together.

Showing how, quiet and kind; with just a hammer and a nail.

Noisy Run

2010-03-16T12:09:00.000-07:00

Gaggle, cackle, swaking geese.
In pairs and flocks of new feathered
waddling feet.

Chitter chatter gabbing girls.
Warmed by sun and blood pumped by
running feet.

129/1000

Can you hear me now?

2010-03-15T11:22:00.000-07:00

I haven't seen my sister in a long time and I miss her. I don't know if I can remember what it was like just to pick up the phone and call her. But sometimes, she comes and whispers something in my ear or even hangs out for a while. Sometimes I'm too busy to even realize she was here until I think back and hear her laughter and encouraging spunk mingled throughout my ordinary day; as real as the laundry, and I gratefully fold and tuck those memories away with the others.

I'm different now. I suppose loss changes anyone, you see things differently, appreciate things you never noticed, and cherish more what is really important.

But it's more than that.

I'm a different person without her here. Bad or good...probably a little of both, but definitely different. I see more of myself, I'm more responsible for my decisions and more accepting of my shortcomings. I feel more united with all kinds of people and more confident on my own.

She stopped by last week and stuck around a while, reminding me of funny songs to teach my kids, helped me do a spring cleaning on my list of priorities, and celebrated new found grit.

I'll always miss her...she left an un-fillable hole. She made me a better person when she was here and when she left. In some ways I like this form of communication better. Simple and uncluttered. Better than any phone plan available.

The Difference

2010-03-09T07:34:00.000-08:00

It was cold, and I was tired. With beauty all around me, I ran hunched and tight; chopping steps from the road.

My mind tripping over disappointed possibilities. I had been privileged to be a part of an amazing discussion, to witness with my heart eyes the divinity of sisters. Hopeful encouragement mixed with testimony and love....stopped short by a short sighted comment. Feelings were hurt; my heart hurt, then I remembered these words, as the Lord spoke to Moses: "I have a work for thee, Moses, my son...." and then, "Satan came tempting him, saying: Moses, son of man, worship me."

Satan seeks first to demote, discourage our possibilities, blind our eyes to the divinity in each of us...and those who surround us; then his work is easy.

I pray for confidence in the first; a life lived worthy of the first; words spoken with the love of the first; a soul strong enough to say, "Who art thou? For behold, I am a son of God..."

My frame straightened and I ran; open and soaking up the confidence of divine beauty.

110/1000

Just like the good ol' days

2010-03-02T10:11:00.000-08:00

"You may run by yourself, but no matter how early you start, no matter how remote your location, you never run alone." -Marc Parent

I kept telling myself this as I ran the cold, dark mile to my friend's house this morning....just when I thought I was calm and in control a bunny hopped out of the bushes. Who says I can't run a sub-six minute mile?

80/1000

Lengthened out all the day long

2010-02-28T12:02:00.000-08:00

He kicks his feet up, smashing the hymnals in the wooden pew in front of us. I pull his legs back only to have him slam his head back into my chest. He twists and I relent, his little body flopping to the floor. Less than a breath later he’s climbing back up on my lap, pulling at my shirt and wrinkling my Sunday best. He snuggles in and I rock back and forth and he breathes…and then it starts all over again.

“...I have thought of the Lord’s invitation to come unto Him and to spiritually be wrapped in His arms. He said, “Behold, [my arms] of mercy [are] extended towards you, and whosoever will come, him will I receive; and blessed are those who come unto me.”
The scriptures speak of His arms being open, extended, stretched out, and encircling. They are described as mighty and holy, arms of mercy, arms of safety, arms of love, “lengthened out all the day long.” ” ~Neil L. Anderson

Even when I squirm.

He is my cake...I am his icing

2010-02-24T08:13:00.000-08:00

He's big, I'm little

He's loud, I'm quiet.

He's bold, I'm shy.

I laugh, while he pouts.

He is sure, even when he is wrong, and I can never decide.

He leaves for work and relaxes at home.

I leave to relax and work at home.

He is quick to love and quick to fight as I meander through miles of emotional possibilities.

He is man, I am woman, and at the end of the day my cold toes find his warm legs and we both smile.

Two completely different creatures...designed with differences, and divinely so;

we are one.

"By divine design, fathers are to preside over their families in love and righteousness and are responsible to provide the necessities of life and protection for their families. Mothers are primarily responsible for the nurture of their children. In these sacred responsibilities, fathers and mothers are obligated to help one another as equal partners."

Wordfull Wednesday "Unity in Marriage" @ Chocolateonmycranium

Fasting to be Filled

2010-02-21T10:43:00.000-08:00

Each step required mental command and my breath came in deep gasps, proclaiming out loud a week of missed exercise...my body had forgotten it's rhythm.

Such a reflection of my spirit. I had been off beat all week, a little sick, but mostly just off. Lack of daily sustenance...not even a snack.

That's how I began my fast, this monthly ritual of skipping meals, snacks and mindless eating...I began with my soul already starved.

I sat in church, stripped of all numbing food, bearing my soul... and it was ugly. I sat muddled and shamed but felt no desire to hide, only to be filled.

And I was.

Slowly at first, like a drink of cool water after a long run, wetness seeping into places I didn't know were dry. For a moment I was tempted to stuff myself full of sweet forgiveness without acknowledging the depth of my hunger, but mindless gorging can never fill, and each thoughtful bite offered was savored...was exactly what was needed,

and I ate.

For the Lord God is a sun and shield: the Lord will give grace and glory: no good thing will he withhold from them that walk uprightly. O Lord of hosts, blessed is the man that trusteth in thee.~Psalm 84:11

Only One Way

2010-02-16T05:41:00.000-08:00

"Here, let me help you"

Of course that's not what I mean, and I make a grab for the shirt to slip it over his head. What I mean is, "I don't have enough time to wait for you to learn, so just let me do it for you."

He yanks it away and tries again.

Head in the middle, one arm on each side; plain and simple... really only one way it works.

Still he tries, head stuck, trying to push through the long skinny opening. So obvious to my eyes, my experience; still he pushes, stretching the opening.

I put off the clock and wait for his wail for help, and it comes.

"Is that not working"... feigned innocence.... "Do you want to try something different?"

Again, I show him the head sized hole. A little more struggle and he learns success.

I remember when my own father's eyes meet mine,

and I knew he knew.

He could have stopped it all right there. If he would have commanded, I would have obeyed...but he knew I already knew; and so he let me choose.

I struggled, sure there must be another way, until I was completely stuck; again, he lovingly showed me the right way...and I learned.

Know then that ev'ry soul is free,
To choose his life and what he'll be;
For this eternal truth is given,
That God will force no man to heaven.

He'll call, persuade direct him right;,
Bless him with wisdom, love, and light;
In nameless ways be good and kind;
But never force the human mind.

~"Know This, That Every Soul is Free"

And so I wait.

Likeness

2010-02-14T13:15:00.000-08:00

Driving home yesterday after my run, the sun just coming up, caught the mountians in such a way...

And behold, all things have their likeness, and all things are created and made to bear record of me, both things which are temporal, and things which are spiritual; things which are in the heavens above, and things which are on the earth, and things which are in the earth, and things which are under the earth, both above and beneath: all things bear record of me>.~Moses 6:62

His & Hers

2010-02-10T07:45:00.000-08:00

ME: "Honey! They're playing our song!"

HIM: "Hugh?"

My husband and I have never liked the same songs, or even the same type of music...at least...not at the same time, so we have several songs we claim as our own, but they are in two different categories: HIS and HERS.

One of my earliest favorites was "Cowboy Take Me Away" by the Dixie Chicks...but, my husband never was a cowboy, in fact, he used to joke about buying a house within walking distance to the GAP.

One of his early faves was probably something by R.E.M.

We did come close once. When my husband heard Alison Krauss sing "When You Say Nothing at All". He loved it, thought for sure it should be our song....unfortunately I thought it was silly since we never said "nothing at all." Besides, I thought "Simple Love" by Alison Krauss should be our love theme...sigh...

But we keep trying. I love the song "Radio King", covered by Wilco. It seems to fit us lyrically if not musically...(of course, Hubby doesn't like that kind of music...whatever.)

Your music fills my car
your voice breaks every time
I'm still wonderin'
if I know who you are
so I hang on every line.

I'm ok with our differences here, in fact, it intrigues me. Many wonderful conversations have begun with the line, "This song reminds me of..." I also love what the kids pick up from our different tastes, and we've had some fun family "dance offs" to music I never would have thought of playing.

Maybe one day, the music will start and I'll look up and catch his eye, and we'll both smile....but until then, all I ask, is that the music keep on playin'.

Tune in to Love songs at chocolateonmycranium

Hope

2010-02-07T05:04:00.000-08:00

Click here to donate...or here....or even here.
Yes, money is tight; already spoken for, but really we have so much,

compared to nothing.

Our hearts are filled with sadness as we have watched the suffering in Haiti in the wake of the devastating earthquake. We turn to the example of Jesus Christ, who reached out to “lift up the hands which hang down” and “strengthen the feeble knees.”

But it still feels empty...not enough to reach.
What more can you do when hands are tied to juggling all that they should?
Yes, click....donate, and donate again.

And hope...

Money is not the only need in Haiti. People are frightened, bewildered, and wholly uncertain about their future. In addition to what people can do in helping with food, water, and shelter, there needs to be a calming influence over that troubled nation. We invite our people everywhere to supplicate God for a spirit of calm and peace among the people as urgent aid and reconstruction efforts continue.

Wasn't His message a message of hope? Our hands are never strong enough, our arms never long enough to lift and to reach all...there are so many.

But hope...

I can do that.

The Dare

2010-02-05T08:16:00.000-08:00

It was cold this morning,
running in the half light of the moon.

It's winter, I know, it's supposed to be cold...but there was something in the wind

the cold wind
that felt like a breeze...something springish.

It's supposed to snow on Sunday, but I couldn't resist. I fed the animals in my shirtsleeves grinning at the not-so-slanted sun...
and dared it to be spring.

Chickens

2010-02-03T11:48:00.000-08:00

The idea of keeping chickens always sounded like a good one. Such a down to earth, home grown, provident living kind of thing. But I'll admit, I resisted until the end...and with good reason. Some days are so crazy and full that I lose track of my own kids...what chance would a chicken have around here?

So I held out with my excuses of where and how and how much, until sweet neighbors offered a few for free...free is my weakness. The kids were excited, and so was the dog, but still it was me who went out in the cold to feed and water and bring in no eggs.

Little by little they came out of their huddled corner to greet me, and I caught myself staring as they pecked and fluffed and strutted around the yard. Then, on the coldest day, when I was thinking chicken broth would be a good idea, they gave me an egg...and I was hooked.

Have You Heard?

2010-01-31T09:40:00.000-08:00

Is it so strange to feel connected to a tree? Scraggly, hanging bark, mere sticks in the ground..."just part of the yard"...could it be more?

Farmer payers answered with weighty blessings...too much of a good thing? "No, never...but oh, we will miss that tree."

Circled rings, shaded rest, horses, huts and high places. Even before coming alive with giggling grand kids, it was ours.

We stood on branches too thin to grin at the whole world from it's very top, rode it's horse branches and shelled pea mountains in it's shade. We mowed under it's branches as it scratched at bare arms, dozed, laughed and could hardly wait to share it with our kids...adding one more circled ring.

Good times, good memories, and if that was all it would be enough...but I've always felt more...heard more...maybe I'm just feeling sentimental, or waxing poetic, but how do you explain a language to one who has never heard? And if you have, then my words are inadequate.

I have heard whispered peace as I walked under pine boughs...a homesick college girl. I have heard branches beseeching to be climbed every time I ran by, until I finally succumbed, to the surprise of my fiance. I have quietly conversed with willowy treetops as I nursed my babies. I heard live oaks gently awakening my hibernating soul.

Spiritual connection with nature is not a new thought, as Eliza R. Snow wrote of the sacrifice of the Savior, she included the human reactions of the elements.

"The sun in shame withdrew it light!

Earth trembled, and all nature sighed

In dread response, "A God has died!"

~Eliza R. Snow, Behold the Great Redeemer Die

I remember a family grieving for a mountain on fire; more than just fear of lost crops, but the knowledge that a dear friend would never be the same again.

I hear trees, they speak to me, but I believe all nature can encourage, comfort and lift our eyes heavenward; visual symbols of reaching branches and elevated mountain peaks or simple words of praise only our hearts can understand, it is all a simple conversation of gratitude, dependence and love...just waiting to be had.

". . . as long as there are movement and harmony, there are words."~Shannon Hale

Hands like the Ones that Raised Me

2010-01-26T14:27:00.000-08:00

She stamped her foot hard in protest on the kitchen floor, but it was clear she had lost the battle...or had she?

She could never stop him when his mind was set, but that was never her role. Honor, cherish, care for and even submit; never to control. Her soft, quiet, sure ways smoothed the rough edge off his stubbornness. Even with this simple disagreement over her concern of his shaking, weathered hands lifting the 5 gallon bucket of honey to pour some into the kitchen container...for her, they were an example to their newly engaged granddaughter sitting there at the table...suppressing giggles.

Grandma & Grandpa Campbell

"Marriage, the coming together of two very different individuals.." can result in complimentary beauty or a blinding clash; most likely, a combination of both. Hubs and I, we're not the beauties we once were...so says my 10 year old...but I'm proud of who we are now; not what I had imagined 14 years ago, a little worse and a little better, but we own every minute of this joy work that carries us day to day. Here's three tips from the trenches.

1. Take care of yourself. Not in a pampering, ditch the kids kind of way, but in a praying, studying, asking for forgiveness kind of way. At my wedding shower, an "experience wife" warned me that if you can't change your husband in the first two weeks, it will never happen. I remember crying as I sat down on a wet toilet seat on day 15....that wasn't the last time I've had to clean myself up and move on, but alas, I have a few messy habits of my own. My Mother-in-law has a saying scrawled across a scratch paper hanging in her kitchen, it says, "Sweep your own step before your worry about your neighbor's." I believe Jesus had something to say along the same lines....something about beams and motes, and how best to remove both.

2. Work hard, stay soft. Things can run smooth and efficient when I tuck emotions neatly away inside, but that is not how it was meant to be. Live every moment.

3. It's not just about me. Happily ever after as two separate beings is not what I want. A long, lasting marriage will just be a consultation prize if we haven't grown together, evolved into one. Here's a note from my mom's kitchen: "The secret in a successful marriage is not in two people finding each other...it is in two people finding Christ together. He makes you one." There is more at stake than the here and now, "'til death do us part" will never do.

(my folks)

My wedding ring is a simple golden band, just like the symbol I have always seen my parents wear; yes, money was tight in the beginning, but that's not why. He even gave me an engagement diamond...but all I wanted were hands like the ones that raised me. Simple and sure, sometimes shaking, ready for...even desiring...the work that will bind for eternity.

What is important in your marriage? Wordfull Wednesday @Chocolateonmycranium

Spaghetti Meatballs~Make peace with the grease

2010-01-22T09:56:00.000-08:00

My daughter brought home a book from school called "Cooking the Italian Way". At 10 years, she is still my pickiest eater, still shying away from anything different. I'd be crazy to not jump all over this opportunity, right? Even if it turns out bad, well...who's fault is that? Of course, this isn't her first experience in the kitchen, but she usually sticks to chocolate cake, cookies, pancakes and chili from a can; which just happens to be the extent of my knowledge when I left home for college. She's excited to try some new dishes (Minestrone and Risotto)and revisit some family favorites (spaghetti and pizza).

We started last night with spaghetti, making the sauce from scratch. The consensus: tasty, but definitely not spaghetti sauce. The star of the evening turned out to be the meatballs. I'm not a big fan of meat, so huge chunks of greasy ground beef have never been on the menu. But, we tired it...her idea, and well...YUM!

Spaghetti Meatballs

1 lb ground beef
2 eggs
bread crumbs (I used homemade whole wheat with the crusts cut off 1-2 slices)
1 T dried basil
1/4 to 1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese.
salt and pepper to taste
2-3 T oil to cook them in, I used coconut.

Mix all the ingredients well, except the oil. Roll into tight balls (golf ball size). Heat oil in skillet to about medium high. Drop in meatballs, don't overcrowd, it's better to just do 2 or 3 batches. They cook pretty fast, only a few minutes on each side, i only turned the 3 times. Be careful of the hot grease, remove meatballs from pan and drain on paper towel. Add them to you spaghetti sauce while cooking, or just on top of prepared plate.

Using coconut oil is better than vegetable and olive because it is more stable at high temps, and oil is actually required for your body to absorb all the healthy nutrients in the tomato sauce. I made peace with the grease and the grease brought peace to the dinner table.

Who'd have thought?

Lemonade Master Cleanse

2010-01-15T05:22:00.000-08:00

As part of new ideas and renewed efforts to be healthy, I joined my husband in a cleanse. The idea being to clean out the insides in preparation for a new start.

After a week of only consuming lemons, maple syrup, cayenne pepper and a whole lot of water, I've learned a few things.

1. Clean is good. Just like having a clean house, things run more smoothly. I've always been a fairly healthy person, eating natural foods and lots of exercise, but I'm amazed at the difference. Every move feels less restricted, when I didn't even realize that it was. Breath flows smooth, muscles react quicker than expected and I have a keener sense of bodily placement.

2. The body is smart, listen to it. Taking variety and choice out of the equation, and just listening to the body's hunger signals was very interesting. I remember at one point, as I was sweeping the floor, I saw an old peanut shell hiding behind the couch. Instantly, I felt a reaction in my stomach and I wanted some munchies...anything salty and crunchy. This feeling was different from the usual messages sent when actual nourishment was needed. Learning to differentiate between sight/smell cravings and cravings for needed nutrients was very eye opening, and one I'm still working on.

3. Food nourishes more than the body. It felt good to give my body a rest from digestion and a chance to deep clean, but honestly, my body and soul were bored. Relying on food for entertainment and comfort isn't healthy for mind or body, but saying that food is the spice of life is no exaggeration. Giving into every compulsion is not what Heavenly Father ever intended for us, but I think there is a reason feasting is so often linked to our spiritual diet. Feasting does not equal gluttony, but a planned meal full of nourishment, variety and enjoyment. "...for food and for raiment, for taste and for smell, to strengthen the body and to enliven the soul."

4. Give thanks. Nothing like abstaining to increase gratitude for what you've always had. Faint aromas, married flavors, the ability to prepare....confessing His hand in all things; a blessing in itself.

Will I do it again? I look forward to it, but not for a year or so. Hubs says no way, so I guess I 'll be on my own...more to learn for sure.

Go to Work

2010-01-13T08:35:00.000-08:00

Weeks into new year
new ideas
white chill swirling
white knuckles clinging to desire to change.

I want to do this
be that
inward self looking
inner focus on improving own vessel.

Efforts to clean inside
dark corners
lead to empty
frustrated dirt, swept back and forth.

Until eyes opening
we see
and share possessions
stepping over fear, out of focused flaws.

Loving like Him
Spirit led
service changes self
white knuckles warmed, stretching open to give.

"Forget yourself and go to work" ~Gorden B. Hinckley, advice from a father.

My Word

2010-01-11T10:57:00.000-08:00

It seems hard to write down my goals in a numbered format, so I'm borrowing the idea of just using a word that captures the feeling of change I desire. It's taken a while, but I finally have my word for the new year. I got it from a talk given by Elder Bednar called "More Diligent and Concerned at Home". Like most good advice it comes in the form of a promise and a warning.

Promise first.

In my office is a beautiful painting of a wheat field. The painting is a vast collection of individual brushstrokes—none of which in isolation is very interesting or impressive. In fact, if you stand close to the canvas, all you can see is a mass of seemingly unrelated and unattractive streaks of yellow and gold and brown paint. However, as you gradually move away from the canvas, all of the individual brushstrokes combine together and produce a magnificent landscape of a wheat field. Many ordinary, individual brushstrokes work together to create a captivating and beautiful painting.

Each family prayer, each episode of family scripture study, and each family home evening is a brushstroke on the canvas of our souls. No one event may appear to be very impressive or memorable. But just as the yellow and gold and brown strokes of paint complement each other and produce an impressive masterpiece, so our consistency in doing seemingly small things can lead to significant spiritual results. “Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great” (D&C 64:33). Consistency is a key principle as we lay the foundation of a great work in our individual lives and as we become more diligent and concerned in our own homes.

Now the warning.

Being consistent in our homes is important for another reason. Many of the Savior’s harshest rebukes were directed to hypocrites. Jesus warned His disciples concerning the scribes and Pharisees: “Do not ye after their works: for they say, and do not” (Matthew 23:3). This strong admonition is sobering given the counsel to “express love—and show it,” to “bear testimony—and live it,” and to “be consistent.”

The hypocrisy in our lives is most readily discerned and causes the greatest destruction within our own homes. And children often are the most alert and sensitive when it comes to recognizing hypocrisy.

A public statement of love when the private actions of love are absent at home is hypocrisy—and weakens the foundation of a great work. Publicly declaring testimony when faithfulness and obedience are missing within our own homes is hypocrisy—and undermines the foundation of a great work. The commandment “Thou shalt not bear false witness” (Exodus 20:16) applies most pointedly to the hypocrite in each of us. We need to be and become more consistent. “But be thou an example of the believers, in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity” (1 Timothy 4:12).

I know that's a bit to take in, but it has been on my heart since I heard it last fall. I found comfort in his promise that little everyday actions do make a difference. And the warning is to strong to ignore. The thought that hypocrisy is not just a stagnant choice, but a destruction of good that has been built.

So my word for the new year is:

Consistent.

Consistent in my actions reflecting my beliefs. Consistent in who I and what I offer my husband and kids. Follow through on thoughts, impressions and responsibilities.

Nodding my head like Yeah!

2010-01-07T12:37:00.000-08:00

To keep Laser Boy busy while I swept my piles and mopped dirty corners, I popped in a homemade DVD from my sister. He was completely captivated with the faces of family and playing his imaginary guitar to the rockin' music. I enjoyed it too, of course; it knocked the drudgery right out of my mop bucket, and we had a little party.

I love how clean my house is in January. New perspective in motion. I wonder how it ever could have been any other way....

I wonder how long I will wonder that.

At least I'm past the point of house work being a necessary goal to set, something that requires a yearly calendar change to get done. However, I do still need to check things off my list...it's far from habitual.

I dread the mundane, doing something all the time...because it needs to be done...

all the time.

But lately I have really come to enjoy my brain time while doing what will need to be done again tomorrow. Have you ever noticed how mopping a floor can take your mind to places you would have missed otherwise? Better yet, how it works it's way through problems that direct focus only blocks?

Almost as good as a run, but then my running still eludes the habitual.

Party on.

Passion or Drudgery

2010-01-02T10:44:00.000-08:00

Is it possible to change something you do simply because you love it, into something you do for a purpose, without losing the enjoyment?

Why Unexpected?

2009-12-30T11:00:00.000-08:00

My poinsettias were beautiful last year. Maybe because they were alive....I usually kill them off at least a week before Christmas.

Not only did they survive Christmas with splendor, they continued to grow into the spring. They lost their red leaves, seeming to know that fresh green growth matches spring better than the deep red...blood red.

The whole time I assumed they would bloom again. I imagined their beauty accenting perfectly the feeling of the season. I was relieved I wouldn't have to buy more this year.

Two weeks til Christmas and they, still with green leaves, sat in my window while I googled. Did you know that a poinsettia requires twelve hours of darkness each night for six weeks, in order to bloom? Not just dimness, but complete darkness, uninterrupted.

I didn't know.

I should have planned ahead. Along with water and fresh soil, sunlight and minimized drafts; I should have studied, I should have known.

Christmas Eve was all it should be. Laughter and excitement, quiet moments and reflection. I looked up over my children's heads, and then, looked again.

Really?

On Christmas Eve?

Undeserved and so unexpected, but there it was.

I walked across the room, I needed closer inspection; the deep crimson leaves, small but leaving no doubt, were pushing their way out, ringing the petite yellow bloom.

Christmas miricle?

I think so.

Really not so unique to the season though. The sheading of outgrown beauty, warm sunshine growth, long...prolonged night darkness, beauty renewed.

I should have known.

Thoughts on the New Year

2009-12-28T07:21:00.000-08:00

My talk on Sunday....it's all about learning right? I learned that I have a lot to learn on this subject.

When I think of setting goals, I think of the many lists of good intentions that I’ve made over the years. Exercise, eating, housekeeping, scripture study, musical instruments, journaling, photo albums, quilting projects, scheduled time with those I love and many other great ideas have been on these lists. Some even detailed with how’s and when’s and cute little boxes to check off when accomplished. I often find these lists after months of abandonment. My heart sinks as I realize I’ve forgotten my goal list, and then jumps with joy as I realize many of the things on the list have been achieved. Those that lie uncompleted on paper and in my life usually lack one of two things…desire or discipline.

A goal without desire and discipline is just a wishful thought. Our desires should be aligned with the Lord’s, and disciplined by His word.

I don’t think it is by chance that the holiday season is set up the way it is. Beginning with Thanksgiving, and the focus on gratitude, not just gratitude for the accomplished and obvious beauty, but gratitude in all things; gratitude in the journey, in the learning, the humility; the understanding that through gratitude all experiences can bring us closer to Christ.

With this renewed awareness, we are ready to celebrate the ultimate gift of the Father, the birth and life of our Savior; the giver of all we have and the completer of all that we lack.

With these things in our hearts and minds, we approach the New Year, and it is our turn to give a gift….the only gift that is ours to give, to submit our hearts, our desires, our will to the Father. When this is our true desire, we are well on our way to accomplishing any goal that aligns with His.

So what is a good goal, a good gift? Anything that will bring us closer to the Savior is worthy of our time. In January Ensign President Uchtdorf quotes Harold B. Lee,

“Testimony isn’t something that you have today and you keep always. Testimony is either going to grow and grow to the brightness of certainty, or it is going to diminish to nothingness, depending upon what we do about it. I say, the testimony that we recapture day by day is the thing that saves us from the pitfalls of the adversary”

Worthy goals are those that strengthen our testimony. They are not singular events, but character changing events, thus affecting several different aspects of our lives.

Some goals require cutting out the sinful and replacing it with that which glorifies. Elder Neil A. Maxwell, in a talk entitled “According to the desires of our Hearts” said this:

"… when people are described as “having lost their desire for sin,” it is they, and they only, who deliberately decided to lose those wrong desires by being willing to “give away all [their] sins” in order to know God (Alma 22:18). Even a spark of desire can begin change.."

A goal is not just something to move us from one place to the next, but a mode of change; this requires work, work that should be based on gospel truth. Elder Maxwell continues with this:

".. educating and training our desires clearly requires understanding the truths of the gospel, yet even more is involved. President Brigham Young confirmed, saying, “It is evident that many who understand the truth do not govern themselves by it; consequently, no matter how true and beautiful truth is, you have to take the passions of the people and mould them to the law of God” (in Journal of Discourses, 7:55)."

As a few of you may know, I enjoy running. Most runners I know are a very driven, goal setting and goal achieving bunch. But that’s not why I run. I run because I’m happy, or stressed, need a break, or just can’t contain myself any longer. I can smell a good run in the air, or see it in the shadows across the road. I crave the empowering runners high and desire the clarity of mind that results. As much as I enjoy running, I am in no condition to run a marathon, right now. But because of my desire, it would be a simple step to add habitual training…..perhaps even writing something down on paper with cute little boxes to check off, and it would be very possible.

Elder Maxwell continues quoting Brigham Young with this:

“Do you think that people will obey the truth because it is true, unless they love it? No, they will not” (in Journal of Discourses, 7:55). Thus knowing gospel truths and doctrines is profoundly important, but we must also come to love them. When we love them, they will move us and help our desires and outward works to become more holy”.

How much do you love your Savior and the eternal truths he has taught? Do you crave his Word more than an extra hour of sleep in the morning? Do you desire his presence more than relaxing in front of the TV? Do you love his truth enough to open your heart and share it with those around you? What if you don’t, is there still hope?

Start with what you know, with what you love, or even what you desire to love. Make a place for it in your life, however small; it may require the removal of habits not in line with your new direction. Write it down. There is power in writing things down in a place we will see often. Writing down our goals helps to strengthen our commitment and remind us of thoughts and impressions we once had. I’m pretty sure the goals that I have made and not achieved out number the ones I have successfully completed, but not one has been a wasted effort. Simply recognizing the need and having the desire to do better begin the change desired.
Elder Maxwell continues:

“Each assertion of a righteous desire, each act of service, and each act of worship, however small and incremental, adds to our spiritual momentum. Like Newton’s Second Law, there is a transmitting of acceleration as well as a contagiousness associated with even the small acts of goodness.”

Then the work begins. Just like good study habits, it is a good idea to have a set time or place to work on your goal. At first it may seem like you are constantly white knuckled with teeth clenched, but since this is a goal based on righteous desires, you can also depend on your Savior for added strength, even completing what you cannot. Keep in mind that it is not just the end result that we desire, but an actual change in our character. This type of discipline is more than just the ability to get things done; it is the cultivated ability to get the right thing done at the right time.Elder D. Todd Christofferson calls this type of discipline, “moral discipline” in the last General Conference he made this connection:

By “moral discipline,” I mean self-discipline based on moral standards. Moral discipline is the consistent exercise of agency to choose the right because it is right, even when it is hard. It rejects the self-absorbed life in favor of developing character worthy of respect and true greatness through Christ like service (see Mark 10:42–45). The root of the word discipline is shared by the word disciple, suggesting to the mind the fact that conformity to the example and teachings of Jesus Christ is the ideal discipline that, coupled with His grace, forms a virtuous and morally excellent person.~ D. Todd Christofferson, “Moral Discipline,” Ensign, Nov 2009, 105–8

A common New Years resolution has to do with food consumption. What we will eat or what we will abstain from. In the beginning, it may be hard to envision a life without the sweet, or salty, or caffeinated succulence that we have long depended on, but after a while of what may seem extreme measures of abstinence, we come to notice that the craving is not so strong, we have learned to enjoy other flavors, and even, if we dare, to sample our previous addiction, we find it too strong, or no longer what our body desires. We are changed.

And they all cried with one voice, saying: Yea, we believe all the words which thou hast spoken unto us; and also, we know of their surety and truth, because of the Spirit of the Lord Omnipotent, which has wrought a mighty change in us, or in our hearts, that we have no more disposition to do bevel, but to do good continually. Mosiah 5:2

Such a change may seem distant and unattainable, such as the command “Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in Heaven is perfect. (Matthew 5:48) But, the creation of the earth was not done in one day, and the creation of the soul we desire can only be done in a lifetime. Pres. Uchtdorf offers this encouragement.

“If ever you are tempted to become discouraged or to lose faith, ….Hold on a little longer. You can do this! …. The Lord has blessed you with a testimony of the truth. You have felt His influence and witnessed His power. And if you continue to seek Him, He will continue to grant you sacred experiences. With these and other spiritual gifts, you will be able not only to change you own life for the better but also to bless your homes, wards or branches, communities, cities, states, and nations with your goodness. It may be hard to see that a times, but hold on a little longer, for “eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him”

Cleaning up, scraping out, replacing and trying again; consistently purifying our efforts through His atoning sacrifice, we will become all we truly desire.

Eye hath not seen...

2009-12-11T13:14:00.000-08:00

Whenever I read Luke 2, I'm amazed by it's beauty; it seems to sing the story of the Christ child, a complete cantata of peace and open arms all wrapped in swaddling and laid carefully in His Word.

I wonder how words that seem to be a little awkward from translation,can flow so easily across the page. It's not the grammar of today's common literature, but strewn with never ending comas and strange sentence structure.

Yet it sings.

Following forgotten soul paths hidden from the natural eye. Maybe Paul said it best, when he said,

"And my speech and my preaching was not with enticing words of man’s
wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power:"

Luke 2 is perhaps, one of the most well-known scriptures, discussed and deciphered yearly in sermons and around Christmas trees. What is left that hasn't already been said?

Yet I return.

Every year my eyes slip through the familiar story.....searching.....not for something new, instead seeking the familiar, sometimes misplaced, and receiving....finding peace renewed.

"That your faith should not stand in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God.....But as it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him."

For the Love of Hot Shocolate

2009-12-08T15:27:00.000-08:00

"Mama, I play in snow?"

"No baby, way too cold out there."

Ten minutes later.

"Mama, I make tracks in snow?"

"I'm so sorry buddy, it's so cold."

And so went my day. It broke my heart. I love playing in the snow, and what mother doesn't want her child to experience the wonder of snow?
But it really was cold.
So cold.

Finally, when the older snow buddies got home from school, I consented to let him go out with them. I tracked down socks and boots, snow pants, hat, mismatched mittens; covered all but dimpled cheeks and sent him out to play.

Two minutes later.

Is that a knock...
mittened hand pounding on door?
I crack it open and peek out at him, dimples bright red with chill.....smiling.

"Hot shocolate, Mama?"

Today when the little scamp asked to go outside, I skipped the hassle and just turned on the kettle.

It's All About the Baby...and maybe a little Chocolate

2009-12-08T13:10:00.000-08:00

I love Christmas. I love the lights and tinsel. I love the color red.....and green....and even gold (but only at Christmas time). I love presents, given and received. I love how happy everyone is at church or even strangers on the street; wearing their inner beauty on their sleeves for all to see. I love living in a small town that isn't afraid to tell the Christmas story during library story time or to sing about Christ in the Kindergarten program. I love Poinsettias and minty hot chocolate. I love it all, but none of these things bring it home like music.

Not just any music. I've been disappointed more than once by carols sung by a half-hearted soul. There is something about expressing yourself through music that doesn't let you lie. Voice or instrumental; both reveal the soul.

I'm picky about my Christmas music, it's personal, so no generic version will do. My favorite Christmas song is "O Holy Night"; it's personal. I just listened to a new-to-my-ears version and my heart felt Christmas. It's from a CD titled "It's All About the Baby" and sells for only $10.99. But if your looking for a better deal than that, there is a free give away at Chocolateonmycranium, and really, what's Christmas without a little chocolate?

Excuse me, your fly is open.

2009-12-02T08:16:00.000-08:00

Oh the embarrassment when those words are whispered in your ear. Face flushed, you try to find a way to quickly, discretely zip.

As bad as this is, it is always so much worse to get home and realize you were exposed all day and not a single friend thought to tell you.

So it is with my blog. I was so excited to get online with my new computer (oh, the stress!) only to find my blog was in shambles on my new screen. Text and graphics overlapping and things all askew....sigh....so, I guess I have a lot to learn about formatting my blog, but AT LEAST I KNOW now.

The moral of the story is: Please tell me if I'm exposed!

Thanks :-)

Abundance

2009-11-17T11:49:00.000-08:00

Abundance is being completely filled, having all....even more than is needed.

Four dozen pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. Drawers that won't shut when all the laundry is done at once. Unlimited access to a building full of books. Long summer days. Gardens that won't stop producing. Shelves lined with more than I grew. Gifts of honey, wheat, beef and listening ears. A crowded house. High speed Internet.

This is abundance.

But there's more. Abundance itself is quite abundant, you know. Awareness and gratitude for what we have can produce a wealth of abundance from supposed deprivation.

My first tomato from seed. An unexpected hug. Everyone liking dinner at once. An inappropriate burst of laughter. No homework on the weekends. Enjoying a kiss. Winter sun shining through my windows. Phone call when you don't have time. Hugging Kevlar twice daily.

I believe abundance is always there just waiting, but sometimes is it seems elusive. Suppressed by loss of self control, doubt, and selfish desires; concealed behind rebellion. Refusing to look, to ask or listen.

To rediscover your abundance it may be as simple as to, "Look outside - I know that you'll Recognize it's summertime"

When I'm willing to look outside of myself and see the penetrating summer heat of God's love...it is truly overflowing.

"One of the remarkable qualities about God's love for us is that not only do we
experience it as validating and affirming, but it also produces growth and
change in us. It literally moves us forward, toward Him and our own eventual
exaltation. It is a sculpting, correcting, and purposeful kind of love."
(friendly facebook quote)

Without this kind of lasting abundance, this unconditional abundance, this filling in my missing gaps abundance that I receive daily from my Savior, I would be continually lacking.

Long awaited change. Being picked up when you fall. A broken heart made stronger not harder. Whispered truth when surrounded by lies. Feeling peace in the pain. Being held when it hurts. Runner's high lasting way past the second mile. Finding joy in the simple. Understanding hidden treasures.

More than I need.

Exactly all I need.

What does abundance mean to you? http://chocolateonmycranium.blogspot.com/2009/11/wordfull-wednesday-abundance.html.

Ongoing gratidude list #7-32

Stubborn Beauty

2009-11-15T10:10:00.000-08:00

This tree has caught my eye all week. It's our cherry tree that we planted just over a year ago. While all the other trees are busy undressing, preparing for winter bed, it stands defiant; clinging to it's autumn negligee, refusing to go unnoticed.

Yesterday, as the sun lay low, I could resist no longer. Putting my house on self-pilot, I grabbed my camera and ran out to catch the last bit of light glowing through it's leaves before the early winter dim cooled the show.

I spent the night up and down with sick kids and once, as I again sought slumber, I thought about the tree and connected. This was not just any tree.

This was her tree.

Snow blew in hard through the night and covered the still covered tree beautifully, and I smile.

Three trees were planted to visually remind that they are still close; roots mingled in our soil and branches reaching to the sun.

The kids laughed and named this one Audrey, after the youngest.
She was stubborn just like her mom.

Ongoing gratitude list, #5.

Ongoing Gratitude

2009-11-06T20:03:00.000-08:00

Last year we did a Thanksgiving gratitude list with the kids. It was fun, then it was done. This year I want to do more. My kids had the idea to paper our entire kitchen with our lists of gratitude....I love the idea, not just because my kitchen is in desperate need of a paint job, but because it would be ongoing. Taking inspiration from the kiddos I'm going to begin my own list.....with them.

I'm thankful for....

1. The new wonder of each day....through his eyes.

2. Learning that anything can be (and should be) made beautiful.

3. Learning that there is always another way to see things.

4. The reminder to be real, I've missed too much being content with the surface.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

Sister Sweat

2009-10-24T15:50:00.000-07:00

I feel like I've been talking a lot about running lately. Maybe it's the time of year; the time of year when running is in the air....I can smell it. Running is a blessing, even a talent, but mostly a gift. A gift I depend on. So it's not with ease that I give up my morning run....my communion....for a jog.

I wait in the dark, van still running, tying my running shoes and singing to forget I'm scared. Soon anther car pulls into the parking lot, chasing away fear and by the time I'm out and locking my door, we're all here. This isn't the only time I see these ladies, my sisters; we sing together at church and they teach my kids. Sometimes we gather in mixed company with loud spouses and too much food.

Not this morning.

Kids and husbands left in weekend slumber, we sneak out for exercise....so we say. All different, sisters always are, but we meet together with pony tails and breath mints once a week to sweat. I'm the one who questions, with the hole worn sweats, and who drives in from the sticks.

Blood warms as we talk of whatever..... and everything. Worries and funnies that are dressed up, pinned back, for church tumble out easily, flapping in the breeze as we work our way down the river. Strange, that as we move side by side down a dark path, it's so natural to run exposed. Celebrations of years of school finally done and marathons run. Lost babes and stolen innocence, growing kids and amazing balance...or not so much. Sisterhood offerings, embraced and strengthened.

Not all is spoken, we share a similar, familiar path, and this binds too. In college, my running sisters, twice daily training warriors, were so close our cycles lined up; hormones emanating through our sweat. Yet this weekly gathering, this sister communion, is tighter; based on more than just a desire for speed, we share a desire to emanate His love....training warriors.

The sky is a little lighter as we stretch and cool. Plans are made for next week and we part, visions clearer. This sister gathering, all it should be, is a favorite gift. How do you gather with your sisters?

Euphoria

2009-10-20T19:55:00.000-07:00

Training, diet and mental desire all align.....and I run.

*Euphoria.

What happens to the body that has been conditioned with healthy nourishment, that habitually strains and stretches, that desires to be more? Is the idea so strange; to find peace in the race? Not in slowing, but in pushing, thrilling with the growing strength of each step. What once was painful becomes a natural state of being, and I find rest.

But they that await upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.~Isaiah 40:31

When fatigue shows it's fearful face, tired distractions clutter my day and my misguided desires land empty at my feet, it's not a break that I need.

The need is for exercise of winded faith, words grow tired without actively following truth. The need is for scarfing nourishment from His word, storing up what is needed to improve performance and recovery. The need is for falling in step with His will, speed is of little importance if you are on the wrong path, and His race is the only one we can win.

"....let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us."~Hebrews 12:1

I think God is a runner.

*"...runner's high is thought to be ... a product of the natural, rhythmic motion of running and the mental calm caused by the meditation-like focus of long distance runners." (livestrong.com)

Lens One, or Lens Two?

2009-10-20T08:02:00.000-07:00

"Lens one......or lens two? Now here again, is it clearer through lens one, or lens two."

I remember the first time I got glasses. I had been dreading it for weeks, knowing it was inevitable and fearing mind exaggerated social ramifications. But on the way home, with my new frames perched on my face, I couldn't stop staring at a world made new.

Have you ever had one of those moments; though painful at first....and sometimes for a long time, it changes how you see everything. Blades of grass appear where before there was only green, wires appear connecting fence and telephone pole, and signs appear legible beyond their shape.

"The whole world is different." That's what he told me last night; his focus still blurry....painful. "It's like I live in a completely different world now." Lens one is dim and obscure, I pray for clarity through lens two.

Gratitude in all things...this isn't the first time I've heard it's call, not the first time it has clarified my view. But it was different last time....not as much at stake; life will be renewed, but a lost soul...things blur and I don't understand. Gratitude in trials is faith that you can grow, putting off the natural man to be more like Him; He who created this natural man.....I still don't understand.

Neither lens is clear.

What's in a name?

2009-10-18T17:23:00.000-07:00

"Esther? Isn't that the name of a cow?"

I overheard them talking, but I wish I hadn't. My name has it's moments. Being named after a courageous queen can be a nice boost sometimes. Unfortunately, it is also a popular name for "old ladies" and apparently even cows.

I celebrate my current last name, a gift from my husband, because it ties me and my children to another wonderful family that amazes me more every day.

Even though I've been married for 13 years, I still cling to my maiden name. It's both a tie and a reminder of a heritage that I that I work to earn. I love the old Judd's song "My Guardian Angles", especially the last verse:

Sometimes when I'm tired
I feel Elijah take my arm
He says, Keep a-goin', hard work
Never did a body harm.
And when I'm really troubled
And I don't know what to do
Fannie whispers, Just do your best, We're awful proud of you!

(Tear...sniff, sniff) It gets me every time. Names are a spoken reminder of that eternal bond that keeps us close despite years and mountains that separate.

What's in your name?

Wordfull Wednesday@Chocolateonmycranium

Slow Cooker Survival

2009-10-15T10:14:00.000-07:00

Last week when I was feeling a little under the weather, I dusted off my slow cooker and put it to use. I don't use my slow cooker very often simply because I don't usually plan ahead that far, and to be honest, I haven't always had a lot of success; things come out too runny, or under/over cooked, too bland or too hot. Luckily for me and my family, these recipes (that I got from a recent issue of Simple & Delicious) worked.

Tex-Mex BBQ

3 1/2 lbs beef roast
1 jar (18 0z) hickory smoke-flavored BBQ sauce (or make your own)
1/2 cup finely chopped onion
1 envelope chili seasoning
1 T Worcestershire sauce
1 tsp. minced garlic
1 tsp. lemon juice
14 hamburger buns (make your own....YUM!)

Cut the roast in half and place in slow cooker. Combine remaining ingredients and pour over beef. Cook on high for 5-6 hours. Remove beef and shred then return to slow cooker. Serve on the buns.

This made enough for dinner one night and Sunday lunch. I'm sure it would go farther if you actually feel well enough to serve it with a side dish or some vegetables.

Fiesta Chicken Burritos

1 1/2 lbs boneless skinless chicken breasts
1 can (15 oz) corn, drained
1 can (15 oz) black beans (I cook a batch of these up these from scratch and keep them in the fridge to use through the week)
1 can (10 oz) diced tomatoes and green chilies
3 T ground cumin
1 tsp salt
1 tsp paprika
1/2 tsp pepper
Dash of cayenne pepper and crushed red pepper flakes
1 pkg. (8 0z) cream cheese
8 flour tortillas

Place the chicken in the slow cooker. Mix remaining ingredients except cheese and tortillas and pour over chicken. Cook on low for 4-5 hours (better use high if your chicken was frozen). Remove the chicken and shred, then return to slow cooker adding the cream cheese. Cook for about 15 minutes more or until everything is warmed through.

We ate this on four tortillas the first night, over mashed potatoes a few nights later and then I cooked up the leftovers last night with corn tortillas in casserole of sorts.

Ditch the Leash

2009-10-14T08:35:00.000-07:00

I tighten the leash back, pulling her closer to me...and she pulls harder; her small frame leaning sideways as her feet slip on the gravel. She starts to cough as her collar pulls tight around her throat, obvious discomfort and yet she continues to pull.

I slacken my hold, giving her the whole length of leash and softly call, snapping my fingers at my side. Instantly she relaxes, looks up and comes to walk by my side, eager to please and content to be on our daily walk.

My short leash is self-imposed, and I, so fixed on pulling against it forget with whom I walk. The gravel slips from under my feet, as I hit my knees I hear His gentle call. Peace relaxes my strangled heart as I eagerly fall into step with my Master.

New Window

2009-10-13T16:13:00.000-07:00

I pulled back the lace curtain,
not to let the light in,
but to let my vision pass

Without obstruction through
the new glass,

wrapped in unfinished pane.

Clean blankets laundered and

aired where neighbors can see

fragrant the room.

It seems so long ago,

the broken glass

and the escape in the wind.

What happened in between

forgotten....almost;

unfinished pain.

Laundered but still hanging,

softly lifted by the wind.

Are the neighbors still watching?

Wondering if we'll ever

bring it in, before the fresh air

fragrance turns stale.

Surprised by the Light unknowingly

let in, I go loosen the pins

and gather arms full.

The Scarecrow's Dance

2009-10-08T10:04:00.000-07:00

I've been wanting to start my own little book list for a while now. Reading is one of the parenting skills I do really well...hehe, and a big part of our family time. I love reading to my kids. From the very beginning it is something I have done consistently; sometimes reading hours at a time. My oldest (when she wasn't so old) would sit forever on my lap, munching cheerios and listening to whatever was in reach of our chair. Hup was never content to sit for too long, but would always come back for more. I can't tell you how many books I've read to him as he climbed furniture, did somersaults, and played with toys. For Sunshine, it's all about the fairytale, and she's not picky, she will crawl up on anybodies lap to get her story. For Laser Boy, it's just the beginning as he moves from the stage of just happy to be snuggling to really demanding his favorite stories.

All this said, some books are just painful; as in, how in the world did this even get published? However, if one of my kids wants to read it, and it is appropriate, I can make my way through just about anything. Then there are the books like this one, that have it all. Well written, beautiful pictures, nice message, and enjoyable for all.

The Scarecrow's Dance written by Jane Yolen and illustrated by Bagram Ibatoulline is definitely worth checking out. I picked it up at our local library because of the pictures, and it had such a sweet little message I'm thinking about buying one for my own shelf.

I read it first to my oldest two and they loved it. It led to a discussion about how much I'm going to miss reading to them when they grow up and move away. I told them I'd just sit at home by myself reading picture books. Rose squeezed my arm and told me to be quiet because I was making her cry.

That moment was worth every painful book I've ever had to read.

Six Words

2009-10-07T10:01:00.000-07:00

Sum up your life in six words.

I think I would do this different everyday...today it would be: Shivering, aching, sick as a dog, but in my weakness I'm breaking the rules...perhaps this is more like my life:

Continuous ball dropper and that's OK.

Wordfull Wednesday @ ChocolateonmyCranium.

Put Up or Shut Up

2009-09-16T13:32:00.000-07:00

Seriously.

Times are tough. Like everyone else we've been looking for ways to trim costs, save more and live well within our means. So when the garden produces more than expected, peaches arrive by the box load, neighbors offer trees of bounty, and friends unload ripening fruit you say thank you and get busy.

First, it was peppers. These I chop and freeze, dry or can. If canning you should use a pressure cooker since they have low acidity. I don't have one and I have just used a water bath, but it's not recommended.

Next there were peaches. What we didn't eat I simply cut up into slices, added a little sugar and froze in quart freezer bags. Growing up, Mom would always can LOADS of peaches....rows and rows of the peachy fruit lined our storage room shelves. It was pretty, but my kids don't really care for canned peaches; they do love peach smoothies, so I froze most of them with just a little sugar to keep them pretty. I also made peach jam, that turned out quite tasty, by following my apricot jam recipe.

Before I was even half way through the peaches, my neighbor offered her apple and plum trees. So we (and by we, I mean me and Laser Boy) made applesauce, plum applesauce, apple pie filling and plum jelly; still too many apples left on the tree....with such cute help, I'm sure I'll just have to make more.

In the middle of all this, another neighbor calls offering three large boxes of pears that are going rotten faster than she could get to them. Hmmm, let's see, wasn't that me just praying for solutions to lower the ol'e grocery bill.....

k, I'll take 'em.

Turns out they went rotten faster than I could get them to my house (Hubs said they smelled like hooch), not sure what my well intentioned neighbor had in mind, but they did make an excellent addition to my compost pile, and with all my extra time I was able to freeze my corn before it went too mushy.

Now, I think the rush is over and I'm just dilly dallying with more peppers, green beans, basil and tomatoes; hoping it doesn't freeze until I can stock up on canned tomatoes and tomato sauce.

To be honest, I'm surprised by it all. Not that I am well taken care of, that I have come to trust, but the fact that I can.....um, can. All those Labor Day weekends spent in hard labor, helping my mom can everything you could imagine and in amounts that are now unimaginable, must have paid off.

Food on Fridays with Ann Kroeker

Continuing Transformation

2009-09-09T11:20:00.000-07:00

I remember sitting on my couch, mind racing; wanting to giggle but managing to suppress because of the seriousness of her tone. Did she really just ask me if I had been saved?

Unrealized, the transformation had begun. With each conversation...and there were many....we learned more about each other, our beliefs and our God. There had to have been some chuckling going on in heaven, putting a God fearing Baptist right next door to a confidently, complacent Mormon; both so alone, now dependent on each other, both believing they had the whole truth, or at least the faith to make up for the questions. Thinking back I can almost hear the rumbling laughter.

In the beginning of our friendship, all I could see was this wonderful missionary opportunity, so of course I found it a little funny that she was worried about my salvation. As life happens, and it always does, I learned things from her I didn't know that I didn't know. Like what it really means to daily walk with Him, not to just meet casually at the end of day. Don't get me wrong, I don't think I've ever taken lightly my relationship with Christ, but I had never seen it so all consuming as it is in her life, and it began to rub off on me. It made me dig deeper in my studies, linger longer in prayer, and ultimately to be still and know.

It wasn't all perfect, frustration and dark prideful moments snuck in...casting shadows of doubt on truth; but not for long, because light always overcomes darkness as His glory became our only goal....you see, friendships that begin before life in this body don't go down easily.

The lessons learned in this short season of my life are too many to cover right now. In the end....well, I know it's not the end, but as we parted.....me still completely Mormon and she faithfully Baptist, I was consumed with gratitude for the new awareness I had gained of familiar truth; looking forward as I look upward to this continuing transformation.

Wordfull Wednesday @ Chocolateonmycranium

Off and Away

2009-09-06T16:54:00.000-07:00

It's back to school week at iheartfaces...*tear, sniff* ....so if your missing your rug rats, (or celebrating the peace) take a minute and post a pic of the moment here.

No, I don't send my child to school in her pajamas, but I missed pictures of her first day of school.....heck, I was lucky to get her there on time, kind of......so, here is a symbolic gesture of my little one taking off on her own; ironically the same week school started.