The Fastpass

The day after we got home from Disneyland mom and I went to Sisters for a celebration of life service. I left Kurt with the kids at home.  It is never easy to celebrate the life of ones who leave far too soon.  But somehow these little beautiful lives were celebrated.  One of my cousins lost two beautiful little girls, identical twins, at 34 weeks.  No sense can ever be made from situations like these.  I have completely stopped trying.  I do still know that my God is good, my God is kind, and my God loves others more than I can ever imagine.

At the service I was amazed.  Their daddy is a pastor, and he actually spoke.  He did the whole thing.  I don't know how, only by the power of God.  He wanted to share what God had been teaching him through all of this.  I don't know if there was a dry eye there, but he made it through and he did an amazing job.  One thing he said was that these precious little girls took a short cut to heaven.  Even though we feel short-changed, they are where they have always belonged.  As soon as he said this I began to think of the fast pass.  In Disneyland, where I had spent the last five days, we liked those fast passes. It was great to get to bypass most of the line to get on the ride in less than 10 minutes.  Seeing the envy of those watching you walk right by, standing in line with loud, impatient, overtired and overstimulated children.  Other times we did not like the fast pass…those times when we did not have one and we were the ones waiting in the line.  We weren't really happy for those who had them, we easily forget that it does take some forethought and sometimes even a line to get one.  Rather than being happy for those who have one we become jealous or bitter because we have to wait.  It's not fun to wait.

I know this analogy between the two isn't perfect.  But it made sense to me.  These precious little girls got a fast pass into heaven.  How can I be upset about that?  They are enjoying life to the full.  Happy in Jesus' arms.  I don't like to wait.  Would I really want them to skip the fast pass and wait in line with the rest of us?  For selfish reasons yes, I would.  It doesn't seem fair to their parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and everyone who cares that they now have to live life in line without these precious girls.  But God gave them a fast pass…so I should not question His choice, but choose instead to somehow rejoice.  So much easier said than done.  Sooner than later though, this sweet little family will be reunited… and this life will seem like an eternity past.

School instruments

I should start this by saying I love music.  I love the idea of kids learning music, practicing music, and understanding music.  Cade and Ella take piano lessons.  It can be loud, but a good loud.  They know how not to bang on the piano (I can't say the same for the other two yet…) and they can make some beautiful music.  Now…when they come home with recorders I want to run far away!  No matter how good you are, I don't think anyone can make a recorder sound good.  I'm so sorry kids, when you read this some day.  I love the fact that they will practice until they get the song right.  But even then I dread the random squeal that can come at any point in time from that piece of plastic!  The first day they played everywhere; the car, the kitchen, the bathroom, outside, garage, pretty much anywhere there was an audience to listen to them.  I was woken up at 6:00 am the next morning because that was apparently a very important time to practice.  Once they thought they would be funny and wake me up with it in MY bedroom!  They quickly learned that would not end well for them if it ever happened again.  

So when Cade brought this thing home ( I can't remember what it was called already, maybe the auto harp?), I was a little nervous to start with.  He only could borrow it for two days though, so I knew I could handle it.  I did not know that I would be serenaded everywhere.  Unlike the recorder, it was always in tune and did not squeal if touched wrong.  I thought he would stay in one place to practice because it was pretty big and a little awkward to carry, but I was wrong.  I was planting my petunias outside so first he opened the window so I could listen.  But that was not good enough so he joined me outside.  I was really looking forward to the quiet and the songs of the birds…I got Edelweiss instead.  He is a marvelous singer, so it was pretty sweet.  Even with the pauses to change chords.  I love this boy and his enjoyment of learning.  His growing brain is amazing and I will cherish all the serenading he decides to do…even if it is with a recorder!  I'm just praying one will learn the cello.

Burn piles....to love or fear?

The burn pile begins….

We all made it safely to the other side…it's a bit warmer over here!

We came back the next night to roast marshmallows!

Ella likes to burn hers.

We finally got around to burning all the branches that were left from clearing a few trees we feared may fall on our house.  I did not know how entertaining this would be.  Kurt started burning it on a Saturday morning.  It is now Thursday evening and is still going!  All day Saturday the kids were out watching and throwing more sticks on it.  Sunday after church, they went right back to it.  We had a birthday party for Ella Sunday night, it was so hard to pull them away from their new toy.  Yes, I'm a horrible mom and let them "play" with the fire.  We did go over all sorts of fire safety….they were "working"!  I was still so nervous, I don't know how many times I said things like, "Do not walk around with that torch!" Or, "Stop!  You are going to burn someone's hair!"  We made it through.  No burns, no trips to the ER.  I do had to add that they were never left unattended with the fire.  I think my husband enjoyed playing with it almost as much as the kids.  I think that Papa liked it maybe too much too…he was driving the tractor grabbing more and more things to put on it!  We all reeked of smoke for days, with baths and showers nonstop!  So many memories were made and so much time spent as a family.  I guess I may have lost a few years from the stress…but it was worth it!

So now we have more work, a shed will hopefully be going in it's place.  Maybe I will finally be able to get some chickens…and goats if I can dream of no poison oak around here!  I'm sure we will really have some good stories then!  

Easter memories

The best picture is always the silliest one.

Easter began really early this year.  Kurt and I got up early to run.  I can't wait until one of us doesn't need to stay close to the house and we can actually run together.  Even though I really dislike waking up early, I love the peacefulness of the morning.  The smells of fresh, crisp air.  The random coyote.  The moon setting as the sun rises.  Just as our glorious Savior rose!  

This year we went to service early, at 8:00am.  Yes a.m.!  It was wonderful though.  We were able to come home and get back into our pjs and hunt our resurrection eggs and make our rolls and just enjoy each other.   It was so great.  We need to remember this every year!

Growing up

Brock went to kindergarten round up today (April 6th) ...

I can't believe my baby is getting so big.  He loved kindergarten round up and can not wait to go to school.  He was very angry in the car when I told him that he didn't start school until September, it was ugly.  He yelled and kicked the seat and ended in a fit of tears.  Poor guy, he just wants to grow up like his older siblings.  I will miss having him with me all day.  Full day kinder is going to be rough, I was looking forward to getting him to myself for at least half the day….

April 28th…today was Brock's last day of BSF preschool program.  I have to admit, I did cry.  He has been in the program since birth.  So many of the women have been his teacher and have poured out God's love on him.  They have all invested in him and prayed for him so much.  He has made amazing little friends, who are probably really rowdy altogether (their poor teachers)!  He is an amazing little guy with such a big personality.  I just pray that he will grow up to love the Lord his God with all of his heart, with all of his soul, and with all of his strength.  That he would remember how God was faithful to His people and to Moses and to him.  That Brock would follow hard after Him all of his life.

Women's Retreat with church

So this is an awesome picture!  I'm kind of embarrassed to put it on here, but it was sunny and great, and I have two amazing friends to show off!

Weekends away always seem a little stressful before they begin.  I do have to plan for meals and make sure things are taken care of before I leave.  But it seems to get easier every year.  Kurt is learning to cook more and the kids are getting older, they can all make due for a few days.  I was so excited to rest, be refreshed, and renewed in my relationship with the Lord (I have been tired and weary and feeling like I am not doing enough, or like what I'm doing matters).  This year didn't seem super special to me in any way in particular.  The speakers were amazing and had beautiful stories and excellent things to share, but none hit me with "wow" that was God speaking just to me.  But God is good, and it was coming.  There was a wedding I was not super excited that was happening on Saturday night, but God assured me that all things will work out for His glory in one way or another.  There was a session on forgiveness, and yes, I need to just forgive and not hold things against anyone, no matter what they have done!  Then in reading "my verse", I heard "God is not unjust."  He is amazing.  I don't really want His justice.  I want His mercy!  Even for others whom I would like to have experience some justice….I don't.  He has given me compassion and empathy, and pity really, for these people.  Anyway….

Everyone gets a verse at retreat.  It's random, and the leadership prays over the verses, that everyone would get a verse the Lord wants to use somehow in their lives.  Mine was Hebrews 6:10.  "God is not unjust; He will not forget your work and the love you have shown Him as you have helped His people and continue to help them." My initial response was, "I don't help anyone."  But then on Sunday we had some quiet time so I read in context and looked up the cross-references.  Matthew 10:42 said, "If anyone gives a cup of cold water to one of these little ones who is my disciple, truly I tell you that person will not lose their reward."  Okay.  I do "help".  The image came to my mind of every week at BSF handing each child a cup of water.  Another was Matthew 25:40, "Whatever you did for the least of these you did for me."  When I serve my kids, I'm doing it for Him.  Even if they never notice.  And the opposite is true, if I don't do it for them then I am not doing it for Him, ouch.  In Hebrews 6:12 it says not to become lazy or sluggish, which is exactly how I have been feeling.  God is so good!  His word was what I needed.  After that 30 minutes of silence, digging into His word, I felt like a new girl. I know I am right where God wants me.  It is just so easy to think that I should be doing more.  Or teaching adults, or someone who can at least make me feel like they are listening.  

I had also gone to the If:Gathering in early February.  God gave me the same words then.  "Persist.  Go on.  Keep on at the work I have given you.  I will let you know when it's time to do something different.  The kids I have entrusted to you matter.  They are a big deal, treat them like it.  Teach them my word.  Be purposeful in everything you do.  Most importantly, dig in to Me.  I matter most.  I want you to give yourself to Me over and over and over.  Every day I will help you.  Give me your burdens and rest in Me.  I will do the work."  I didn't hear Him speak out loud.  He speaks through His word, to my heart.  God is so good.

Coloring contest

I didn't know that on Saint Patrick's Day our family had traditions….until Ella decided to make a plan.  She spent a while up in her room writing a list of things to do together as a family.  We had to pin the pot of gold to the end of the rainbow.  Also had to play pin the hat on the leprechaun.  Another was a coloring contest.  These are the pictures.  Kurt and I were supposed to be contestants too, but I convinced her we needed to be judges (I had things to do, like dinner and laundry, dishes, etc.).  Next time I will think twice.  

They colored and colored.  Each one working as hard as they could.  Making their picture the very best.  The oldest ran out of ink in his black marker (as seen above).  The youngest thinks clovers are black.  The middles like to add other details (look at the adorable mushroom on Ella's).  So how in the world is a mom supposed to choose which one child is the winner?  They shuffled up the pictures so I wouldn't know who did which one.  Well, if I didn't know each of them and their styles that would have been a marvelous idea.  But a four year old is definitely not going to be able to do what a ten year old can.  I tried to make a tie, pointing out all the good things about each one.  Declaring each the winner of a different category.  That was not going to fly.  

The only thing left was to call dad inside.  He looked and picked.  How?  I don't know.  He said it was obviously either of the middle children's because they took so much more time in the detail.  I wish it could be that easy.  True, he didn't know they spent equal time…but how was it so easy?  I think about the feelings I'm going to hurt.  The arguments I will face.  Whose fits do I feel like dealing with at the moment?  Who do I not really want to upset today?  Who needs encouragement?  They each tried so hard.  But I am so thankful for my husband.  It's life, we all have to learn to lose.  I'm a huge fan of teaching kids how to lose.  I just don't like to choose who is the loser (or in this case which THREE lose)!  Next time I'm just going to color!!!

The Best Birthday Present Ever-memories of my Daddy

As promised I will write about my Dad.  I mentioned it in the post about my grandma, so that I would have to. I knew it would be hard.  I'm tough.  But there is a lot more inside than I let on, to pretty much everyone.  I think that is what growing up without my daddy has taught me.  I've had to be tough and hold myself together.  I wanted to be strong for my mom (who was being strong for me just the same).  I wish now that I would have asked her more questions about him…who knew that when you get older you forget things?  I didn't ask her a lot because I didn't want her to be sad.  I saw it in her eyes, I remember, and I wasn't even five.  He was her true love, her one and only.  It made her sad, even if she didn't cry.  So I didn't ask.  After she remarried when I was six, I didn't ask because I didn't want her to think I didn't like my new step dad.  I didn't want to compare him to what I thought my dad might have been like.  So I was tough, and I still am.  But I cried, and I cried a lot.  I still cry.  I sometimes just wish I could meet him, just once.  Just once feel my daddy hold me and hug me and tell me everything is going to be okay.  Just once hear his voice.  Just once look at his hands.

I asked God so many times when I was little to just let me see him, just once.  I always knew that God had a reason in allowing him to die.  I never questioned that.  Mom always said that God's plan was going to work out for our good, even if we didn't see it or feel like it.   But I knew it.  I trusted God completely, which is odd, I think for such a little girl.  To not be mad that I didn't meet my daddy.  But I knew nothing different.  I had a wonderful mom and an amazing family.  I didn't have siblings, but I had some close cousins who were like my brothers (we fought like it too).  So I trusted, but I begged and begged.  I cried and tried to imagine what he was like.  I still remember laying my bed staring into the corner of the room, trying to see if he would show up…like an angel.  It wasn't every night, so don't feel too bad for me, maybe once a month or so….even into high school.  Mom never knew, and I would have never told a soul.

It wasn't until I was pregnant with Davis, about seven years ago, that I really started allowing my sadness about loosing my dad to be known.  A family at our church had two girls and two boys, and she was pregnant with her third boy.  When she was about half way through the pregnancy her husband died.  His name was Steve too.  Oh man, it tore me up.  I got the phone call and I couldn't stop crying.  Cade, who was 3 1/2, and Ella ,who was almost 2, had no idea what was wrong with me.  I felt so bad for the family.  I could see no good in it.  But I still trusted that God is good, because He is, all the time.  I didn't feel like it though.  Then I found myself somewhat jealous and thankful at the same time.  I was jealous because those girls got to meet their dad.  They got to know him, love him, and spend time with him.  I didn't get any of that.  But then I was thankful, because I didn't have to endure all that pain of loss.  I always only known loss.  I don't know if any of that makes sense.  But that dear family is still in my prayers.  I still cry when I think about those five sweet babies who lost their precious daddy too.  They too are in God's hands, and He will work all things for their good too, because they love Him!

It wasn't until my junior year of high school when I realized how not growing up with my daddy has affected how I see my Heavenly Father.  I was at a young life work week and a leader asked us to think of God like our daddies.  I realized I couldn't.  Yes, I did have an amazing step dad who raised me well, but it wasn't the same.  I didn't look at him quite like a little girl with her daddy.  It was okay, and I was thankful to understand that I couldn't understand completely that aspect of my Heavenly Father.  God redeems and teaches in other ways though….and I will have to make a part 2 to this one!

So not to make this all sad.  I mainly wanted to write some memories of my dad that have been passed on to me.  My Grandma has told me so many stories, I can't possibly remember them all.  So thankfully she wrote them down for me!  Which was the best birthday present ever.  One of my favorite cousins ;) had some people write their memories of my dad.  She put them together and gave them to me for my 30th birthday.  I have loved hearing the stories and now I can read them whenever I want, and don't have to rely on my horrible memory.  I finally got brave and asked my mom to write some too….now I'm just praying that those memories will come back to her!  My aunt also found a picture of him in her yearbook, it was her senior year and he graduated the year before….but somehow he got a full page and he didn't even attend school!  I loved the picture, but I love what he wrote even more:
"I don't really know what to write but here goes nothing.  May God bless you in everything you do, may he show you a vocation that will suit his needs for you that you may serve Him to the fullest extent…..If God's willing it may you have a happy and close life and a long one walking with God all the way as it is meant to be and should be.  So may the rest of your life be as close or closer if possible to God!!! a friend named Steve Howell"

I love reading those words of encouragement and I imagine he may have said those same words to me when I graduated from high school.

This is my all time favorite picture of my dad.  I think it probably describes his personality, what I think he might have been like.  This picture just makes me smile!

Here are a few funny stories about his childhood from my grandma…I should get some pictures on these too :)

When Steve was about four and a half years old, they all lived in Coquille, Oregon.  The three boys shared a room with a little closet. 

Steve went to the closet and came back to Grandma and exclaimed, “Mom, I don’t even have one single black dress!”

“You don’t even have one black dress?” Grandma asked trying not to laugh.

“No!” Steve replied. “Come look!”

Grandma came in and looked with him in his closet.

“You don’t even have one dress in there.  What are we going to do?” asked Grandma.

“I know!  We could go and buy one for me!”  Steve answered eagerly.

Steve was a very happy and talkative boy.  They [the brothers] were nice to each other and never allowed to hit each other. He was always a helpful and a good boy.

Grandma remembers one time they were all out fishing and she slipped.  Steve came and helped Grandma get back up.  He was very helpful.

Grandma remembered a funny one once when Audrey came over with the boys.  They kept hearing this loud screeching sound, so Aunt Audrey went out to check on the boys.  Well, out on the back porch was a tiny wood stove that had a chimney pipe sticking up from it.  It was just sitting there unused. The whole thing was about three feet high. 

She came to find the boys taking the cat and dropping it down the pipe.  The cat would screech and yowl, and then they’d let the cat out the little stove door, catch it and do it again.

Audrey came in and informed Grandma and had Grandma follow her out so the boys could show her too.  When they asked why they were doing that to the poor cat, Steve answered, “’Cause they like it!”

At school, the teachers said Steve was very helpful.  He would take the kids in when they were hurt and things like that. In fact, he was so helpful he’d even do their school work for them.  So he had to sit in the front row.  The teacher told him that was to give him “privileges”.  Hand out papers etc...  (Really, it was so that she could keep an eye on him.)

Sometimes when he talked too much, though, and he’d have to go out and sit in the hallway.  They had to be good or get spanked by principle. 

He was the fastest picker of the three boys.  He threw berries too.  Chuck and Rick would try to keep him talking so that they could try to beat him to the end of their rows. 

Every now and then, Steve would borrow the car from Grandma and Grandpa.  Several times, Grandma noticed the car had more miles than she thought it should for where he said he was going.  When she asked him about it, he would just say he had a looooong day, or made some excuse like that.  Grandma was almost upset with him ‘cause she couldn’t figure out why her car needed more gas already.   Eventually, she ended up finding out that he went all the way to Portland to see Lisa.

So there you have it.  A few fun stories.  I will write another post.  Because there is just too much to say about Dad and God.  The Lord has continued to teach me so much, and I want to be sure I get all the positive things out there too!