My mansion

I love to do projects around my home. We purchased this home, in part, because it didn't need much work, but before we even moved in I had plans to add an additional bedroom in the basement. Add to that list, plans to do a laundry room remodel / bathroom addition in the basement, master bathroom remodel, kitchen back splash tile and under cabinet lights, overhead lights in 3 rooms that don't currently have them, replacement of 80s-style bathroom lights, removal and replacement of popcorn ceiling texture on entire main floor, and I'm sure there is more I'm forgetting. That's in addition to what we've already done: replaced 2 gates and the entire front of the fence, painted multiple rooms, added framing and a door to the master bedroom (yes, it never had one), built a raised garden bed, and probably a few other things I'm forgetting.

I'm not discontent with my home. I like my home a lot, but I love to look at the design and function of something and see how I could make it better. I set a budget and a goal, watch for sales (we tiled the floor of a bathroom in our old house for under $40 using 18" tiles found at more than 80% off), and refuse to hire anyone to do the work for me (that would take away all my fun).

Scott teases me that when I get to heaven, I'll know which mansion is mine. It will be the run down one in need of repairs and ripe for all the projects I've been eager to do. People will probably glance down the golden streets, spot my mansion, and wonder what bad things I did on earth to deserve such a place. I, however, will be in heaven...well, yeah!

I've been thinking of this in context of going to Africa. I've wondered if I shouldn't be on a construction team instead of a teaching team. But there isn't a construction team going this year (they built the school last year), and I do love teaching too. Who knows, maybe I'll find a few opportunities to do some projects too while I'm there. And, if something happens and I don't come home from Africa (don't get me wrong, I fully intend to return, but I'm not in control of my fate), you'll know where to find me when you get to Heaven. Just look for the fixer-upper mansion.

 

Tiling the kitchen back splash in our old house.

Africa

I’m about to embark on a great adventure! I have drafted a detailed letter which I'll soon send out to some friends & family; I wanted to include a portion of that letter here since I've had many people asking for more details about my upcoming trip.

I will travel to Africa with a large group. The group is made up of smaller teams that will work in different areas during the day, and come together at night at a retreat center. Some of the teams are: clean water, health, sports, pastoral, and teaching. I am part of the two person teaching team.

The school where we’ll spend our days is about an hour away from the retreat center. We'll help teachers develop lesson plans, train on classroom management and setup, show them how to use stories and other methods to reinforce lessons instead of just using repetitive drills (currently their main teaching method). We will take some materials there and help them create some materials, but our main focus will be to leave the teachers with skills they can pass on to other teachers, thus helping them to be self-sufficient instead of needing to rely on outside help. While I will help with all of the above, I will also spend a lot of time subbing in the classrooms while the other team member works one-on-one with the teachers. They teach in British English, but there will still be a language barrier due to unfamiliar words and accents. Students at the school are preschool - 5th grade.

At the end of our time at the school, we will enjoy a 2 day safari before leaving Africa. One exciting aspect of the trip is that I’ll also be traveling with my dad who is on the team that will work with area pastors. On our way home, he and I will split off from the group and spent two days in England – one with a friend, and one in London.

Finally and most importantly, I ask and thank you for your prayers - for me while I go out of my comfort zone, my family who will be without me for that time, and those I will encounter while I am gone.

The Allure of Teaching

Before I had my own kids, I had classrooms full of kids.  I loved the looks on their faces when something really clicked.  I loved to explore the world with them and often got as excited as they did.  Never will I forget the day we were studying weather and had just talked about hail when a rare hail storm hit the Chicago area.  We ran out into the yard and gathered up platefuls of hail.  The kids looked at me as if I had magically caused the sky to open.  They couldn't stop talking about the circles on the hail stones, and how they were formed by tumbling over and over in the clouds before falling to the earth.  That group of energetic 5-year-olds has now graduated from high school.  Maybe one or two are pursuing a career in meteorology.  Another child that stands out in my mind is a 5-year-old color whiz.  Of course by the time kids are 5, they have usually mastered their colors, and so I always had a unit on secondary colors.  You know, blue + yellow = green, etc.  While the other kids were overlapping color paddles to see the results, this little boy wanted to know what would happen if we mixed a "new" (secondary) color with an "old" (primary) color.  I casually mentioned that you would get a tertiary color, like red + green = brown.  He spent the rest of the year at the easel mixing various colors and reporting his results.  By the end of the year, 11 other 5 year olds knew the word tertiary.  That child has most likely been driving for more than a year now; he is probably also quite an artist or graphic designer.  The excitement of reading a book or singing a song or dancing or digging in the dirt with a completely engaged group of children is without compare.

 photo courtesy jiji

This is part of the reason I chose to say yes to this opportunity to go work at a school in Africa. I have no idea what to expect. I haven't been in the formal role of "teacher" in many years. I'm feeling inadequate. Will I remember all those tricks I used to have up my sleeve? In addition to spending time in the classroom, I will help to train teachers. That makes me feel really inadequate! However, I feel certain that I'm being called to go on this trip. I have some fears and reservations. I'm starting to get very sad about leaving my family for 18 days. However, I hope to come home more excited to spend time with my own kids; more eager to teach them, and read to them, and dance with them. While it will be hard to be gone for so long, I hope a greater appreciation for my own kids is just one of the many lessons I'll discover while I'm gone.

Too tired to sleep.

I don't have it in me to write tonight, but I feel like I need to. I've been here before. I wrote about it then, so here it is. Everyone - specifically B - is OK, so don't worry.

He is looking particularly mischievous here as he tries to rip a tree out of the landscaping.

This was taken near the time of the incident below, almost four years ago.

4-1-07

Something happened today that nearly changed my life forever.  What if it had, and how will I let what did happen impact me?

We often visit my parents’ church in Colorado; when the service ends, my husband goes to get our older daughter and I pick up five-year-old Katherine first and then two-year-old Benjamin.  However, today I felt concerned about Benjamin, so when the service ended, I went straight to his classroom.  He spotted me from across the room.  Nudging another little boy out of the way, he announced, “That’s MY mom!”  I beamed as he took my hand and smiled, “You’re MY mom.”  Maybe I said something nice back.  I held Benjamin’s hand (I think - I don’t recall exactly when his hand was no longer in mine) as we stopped to pick up Katherine.  I dropped something, picked it up quickly, and then turned.  Benjamin was gone.  I called him, looking around pairs of legs for my small boy, but he was nowhere.  I called more urgently; people looked my way.  Five feet from us a door lead outside.  Hauling Katherine with me into the alley, we looked - still nothing.  Back inside I became one of those moms you see in the movies - yelling for her child who is nowhere to be seen.  People asked what he looked like.  “Plaid shirt; black jeans.  He’s two and small.  He’ll go anywhere.  He doesn’t understand.”  Tears then panic filled me.  People looked, but he wasn’t anywhere.  Someone took my daughter’s hand, “I’ll watch her.”  Maybe I said thanks.  A man said someone saw a little boy outside.  I ran out that door - my heart soared, then sank - it was one of Benjamin’s classmates standing beside his father.  Then across the parking lot I saw my son - in the arms of an angel wearing a red sweater!  Crying, I ran, swooped him up, and thanked the woman.  She hugged me and explained that she had found him talking to himself as he wandered between cars in the parking lot.  She had specifically left the building to look for my child.  I don’t even know her name and probably wouldn’t recognize her again.

As I walked with my reunited family out into that same parking lot, I envisioned the scene that could have been.  Throughout today, I’ve thought what things would be like now if this morning’s outcome had been different.  It has changed my perspective of my son and daughters, at least for today, and I hope for always.  Any moment could be their last, or mine.  I even cherished changing Benjamin’s diaper this afternoon!  Mothering is hard and tedious, but it is a gift.  A gift I could have lost with my son today.  Tragedy can separate us from a loved one in an instant.  Life on this earth is fleeting and temporary, but God gives us hope that goes beyond this life and its tragedies.

Idol

I'd planned my next blog post to be an update on Benjamin's room, but as with all home improvement projects, it's much slower going than I'd hoped. The walls have been painted, the closet organized, and the furniture rearranged. I'm waiting to put the finishing touches on a special painting request and for the arrival of curtains that aren't for the windows. Hopefully soon.

In the mean time, I'll turn my attention back to a more serious topic. (Dear Reader, By now I'm sure you don't know what to expect each time my blog pops up on your feed. That's really not so different from the real me I suppose, so I invite you to keep reading. I promise you'll learn a little more about me no matter where my topics jump. Feel free to comment - encouragement, challenges, even disagreements - I welcome the dialog.)

Idolatry. This was the title of last Sunday's sermon, part of the series "Breaking Free" which has also included such topics as Greed, Pride, and Hypocrisy (which appropriately came just days after my fender bender post). While I've been challenged by some of the other sermon topics, I really wasn't expecting to find much in Idolatry. I understand that idolatry doesn't mean bowing down before idols - I know it can, but for the typical American Christian this probably isn't much of a temptation. It's what we choose instead of God that becomes an idol. This is a concept I've heard many times in many churches. My priorities - where I spend my time and money - show my true heart. If I'm spending all my time and money on gambling instead of nurturing my family and helping others, gambling is my idol. As I said, I really didn't expect to see any problems in my life in this area. Then I heard, "Those things in your life that give you your sense of self worth or your identity, those are your idols." This was so much bigger than Pride or Greed or even Hypocrisy. I am a confident person, at times I probably come across as overly confident, even uncaring. For the most part I don't let what others think about me effect how I feel.  Sure I like people to like me, but if they don't it doesn't bother me...or so I thought. Suddenly I realized how often I do let my perception of what someone thinks of me control what I think about myself. Not strangers or acquaintances, but those close to me. It's somewhat hard for me to admit (because it sounds weak, right?) but when a friend doesn't seem to notice me, or when someone close drifts away, it affects how I think about myself. My self worth takes a hit and sometimes a big one. Not until Sunday did I really get it. I saw it as their problem not mine (there is that confidence - aka pride - rearing its head). I didn't see it as me setting up my relationships as an idol. But that is exactly what it is. When I choose to find my self worth in anything external, I'm putting more weight in what others think than what God thinks. And God thinks I'm pretty cool. In fact, he thinks I'm so amazing that he was willing to sacrifice Jesus for me. No relationship bump should ever make me think differently. I rarely take notes in church, but I wrote, "So much about me hinges on how my relationships make me feel about myself. My relationships are my idol." This realization doesn't mean I'll immediately stop feeling this way, but it does mean that I'll work harder to look to the God who dwells within me, for my sense of self worth and not leave it up to the fickleness of human feelings - mine or others.

Photo copyright PriyadarshiC.

Lesson In A Fender Bender

I was in an accident today...the first in my nearly 40 year existence. It was minor as accidents go. I nearly avoided it, but not quite. I was driving straight, the other driver coming onto the street via a curve with a yield sign. He didn't see me, so he didn't yield. I saw that he wasn't yielding so I changed lanes and got as close to the median as I could; I laid on my horn when I realized he was continuing on into my lane; I yelled in frustration as I heard the crunch. I was ticked off. No, I was angry. Our vehicle is less than three years old and we've already had two major hail claims, the last of which has yet to be fixed because the body shop has been putting us off month after month after month. This makes three major incidents. Anything like this means more inconvenience, especially since we are a single car family. I had a few choice words to say as I pulled into a parking spot nearby (don't ask my son about that, he'll probably repeat it). Honestly, I was ready to give the guy a piece of my mind. As I watched in my rear view mirror, he pulled into the parking spot behind me. I looked. I looked again. I couldn't believe it was actually someone I knew - an older gentleman whom I've interacted with briefly on a number of occasions. Instantly I felt bad. It was an accident. He hadn't seen me. All my anger melted away. I greeted him kindly. We exchanged few words (it was 18 degrees below zero), then sat in our respective vehicles to wait for the police officer to arrive and write his report. I busied myself with talking to my son and sending a few text messages. When I arrived home, I phoned the man's wife and told her they should not feel bad. It was an accident. Accidents happen. I was genuinely gracious.

Not until this afternoon did I remember how angry I had been, and how ready I had been to tell the offending driver just what I thought of him. I was hit by the hypocrisy of my attitude. Does a stranger not need my grace and kindness as much as an acquaintance? Was my anger justified because it would have been relatively anonymous? Did I only change my attitude to save face? Was my first reaction really the reaction of my heart? Gulp. How often do I show that side of myself when I don't think anyone is looking, or when it's "only" my children or family? May I see this as a fortuitous lesson to show grace and kindness to those around me always, no matter who they are.

Opportunity Knocks

For some time now, I've been praying that God will draw me and our family closer to Him. That is a desire of mine always, but at times in my life I pray more specifically along those lines. I've learned in the past that it can be a dangerous prayer to pray. It causes changes and challenges for which I am not always prepared, but through which I am always made better. As I've prayed this prayer over the past months, I've also prayed for opportunities for us as a family or individually. My girls have both had good friends move away in the past few years, so I've prayed for opportunities to make new friends to fill the gaps they feel. Faith desires to be a missionary, so I've prayed about possible opportunities for her to go to Haiti where our church takes a group on a semi-annual basis. I've prayed that Scott would be able to go with her so I'm not sending my pre-teen out of the country without a parent. I've prayed that we will be better parents and show our kids unconditional love (and God has given us MANY opportunities to practice that - and there is much more practice ahead I'm sure).

I have spent exactly ZERO time praying about going on a mission trip myself. I have never left the country although I've always assumed I'll go somewhere someday (thinking more along the lines of anniversary trip to Europe rather than a mission trip). Missions has always been something that I've been very willing to support when friends and family have an opportunity to go, but nothing I've considered for myself. Until last week.

I received a call from my dad asking if I would join a group of teachers going to Africa in late May. They will be working in Uganda and needed one more teacher to join the team - a preschool teacher (my occupation before parenthood). My first reaction when my dad called: Nice thought, it feels good to be considered, but no way!  I'm not going to leave my family for 2+ weeks to go across the globe. I'll bow out gracefully. Good, then I won't have to fly all that way. (Yes, I really think such things.) Instead of verbalizing all that, told him I'd pray about it and think about it and discuss it with Scott. So we did and I did and I discussed it with a few friends. Overwhelmingly I was left with a feeling of excitement and possibilities. Scott and I made the decision that I'll go. We have some logistics to work out yet. The kids will be out of school by the time I leave, and it's not practical for Scott to take two weeks off work. I have much fundraising to do in a very short time (most of the people on the team to Uganda have been raising funds for months and plane tickets will be purchased soon).  However, I believe that this opportunity is from God, so I know these logistics will fall into place.

As I prepare for this adventure, I know I'll have much more to share, but I'll close with Jeremiah 33:3, which says, "Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know." I'm calling to God and ready to learn all that He has in store for me through this opportunity. I'm stepping out of my comfort zone!

My dad in Uganda at the school where we'll be working.

Too Safe?

My life is comfortable and it pretty much always has been. Sure I get bent out of shape sometimes and feel like I've been wronged or life isn't fair or certain things are harder than they should be, but life is still comfortable. In the midst of the comfort it's easy to fall into patterns of relying on myself and believing that I am in control. I begin to think of my friends and family as my world and forget that I'm not called to sit here in comfort but to be out in the dirt of the world.

I'm a creative, disorganized stay at home mom of 3 kids. I've got plenty of dirt, but it's all quite safe. At this time in my life my family is - and should be - my number one ministry. However, I'm open to other opportunities for ministry as well. I enrolled in a class on the creative use of technology in ministry, and I'm considering an opportunity to volunteer in a communication position for an organization I love and highly respect. These are exciting opportunities, but they too are quite safe.

I used to be a fearful person. I had mild to moderate panic attacks and often feared I was about to die. I still fear flying, and occasionally I'll take the stairs when I can't bring myself to get on an elevator. I've learned my triggers and coping skills and how to keep myself feeling safe. I accepted that, yes, I might have a heart attack or come crashing to the earth at a speed too great for my body to endure, but I can't control that. Plus, lying awake worrying at night became so exhausting that maybe I just got too tired to keep worrying (and years of pregnancy related hormones - my big trigger - finally leveled out).

Since i know how it feels to fear, it's easy to want life to stay, and feel, and be safe. I know I'll have a greater impact on the world if I get out of my comfort zone. In my head I'm willing to step out if the opportunity arises, but when a risky opportunity presents itself, how will I respond? Will I be able to see it as a prompting from God, or will I make excuses and stay safe?

Farewell 2010

The last half of 2010 brought with it more transitions than I've experienced since the addition of new little ones into our family. Sadly - and thankfully - we are past those types of transitions, but these transitions were major ones nonetheless. We did end up in our "perfect house" even though the first time I looked at it I knew it was not the house for us. Through the experience we realized that God's path is much better (although not always smoother) than the path we would take on our own. Many turns along the path to our new home were not ones we had planned...from the exact neighborhood where we planned to live to the square footage (this was not the downsize we thought we needed, but a much needed rearrangement of an almost identical amount of space) to details with the loan to the sale of our previous home. Every turn made us realize God is in control and has a better handle on our life than we do, for which we are so grateful.
The day we officially became owners of our new home was also the first day we had all three children in elementary school. This hasn't been a huge transition for me personally, as half day kindergarten still allows me to have my sweet boy home part of each day. It has, however, been a huge transition for him. He had never expressed any reservation about a move, so it surprised us when he was the one weeping about the loss of his house. It's been heartbreaking to hold him as he cries and asks, "Why did we lose the house, Mom?" as if this was done to us instead of a choice we made - I suppose he may feel that it was done to him, and he had no choice in it. This has made every little transition difficult for him. Many days he says he is sick and can't go to school and should stay home with me instead. Last week he sobbed and told us, "I can't handle that Christmas is over. I just can't handle it." And today he told me that he isn't a good enough artist to start the art lessons he's been begging for for months. He even tried to tell me he couldn't go because he didn't put a belt on and didn't look good enough to go (he never wears a belt and I think he always looks good!). While it's difficult to watch him struggle, I don't let him stay home, I nudge him out, tell him it will be OK, and I'll be here for him. Life's transitions will continue and maybe this is his time to prepare for that.
Maybe that's what God is teaching me in the transitions. To trust Him. That my way isn't the best way. That when things seem scary or even painful, that when I'm digging in my heals because I want it the way it's been, that there is more for me out there. He's nudging me out the door into new and better things. It's OK because He's there for me no matter what happens.

"Age does not diminish the extreme disappointment of having a scoop of ice cream fall from the cone." -Jim Fiebig

The morning one is waiting to hear big news is not a good morning to have a work crew cut a cable and render the city devoid of communication.  Not that cell phone, landline, or internet service would have changed the outcome.  Another bid was accepted on the house we fell in love with.  We don't know the details.  Maybe we came in too low, maybe we waited too long, maybe the buyer was known by the seller (a rumor we have heard), but none of that matters now.  It's not our house, or yard, or garage.  It will be someone else's and we will (for now) stay where we are.  We will most certainly simplify right here.  We will make choices to spend our time wisely and put our family first.  We have learned a lot about letting God have control - probably even more today than we knew yesterday.  But we are disappointed.

Waiting and wondering and trusting.

We made an offer on the house this evening.  Being the thorough, meticulous - yes, anal - first-borns that we are, we came to our second look at the house equipped with a detailed list and a tape measure.  We determined that our family of five could certainly live comfortably in a house that is half the size of our current home.  It would mean getting rid of a lot of clutter that we rarely use and certainly don't need.  We would part with a few items that we love and would like to keep but just won't fit - specifically our antique piano and our treadmill.  A piano and a treadmill are a small price to pay for a simplified life.

While we measured and mulled, the kids occupied themselves by running in the backyard.  By the end of the hour, three kids were as ready and excited as we were to make an offer on the house.

Now we wait.  We have learned that we have competition on the purchase of the house.  Another offer is expected to come in the morning.  We all were feeling so much tension at supper that we barely ate.  We talked about how much we want this house - even our sweet little hold out.  We also reminded each other that God is in control of this situation.  He knows our family and what we need.  We feel confident that we need to simplify, and we feel this house is part of that answer.  It might not be.  If it is not, we will be sad.  Will have all pictured ourselves living there.  Even if this doesn't happen, this weekend has reaffirmed that our family and our faith in God are what really matter to us.  We are moving away from the things that take time away from those priorities, not a physical move but a move in our thinking.

A friend put it very simply in a text this evening, "Praise God that he is in control."  I'm excited to see where he is taking us!

Downsizing?

Today I told a friend, "Right now we all feel like the space & stuff are controlling our lives. The idea of living simpler and better is very appealing."

Both Scott & I have felt that way for some time now. Occasionally we've talked about moving to a different house, but the kids, knowing no other home in their lives, have been adamantly opposed.

Last evening, after telling a friend how we would love to have them over to our (non-existent) backyard so the kids could all play while we talked the night away, I decided to look at realtor.com. I felt guilty for indulging in my discontentment. I love my home, but it's so big we can't keep up with it and it is lacking a yard, garage, and working fireplace. We have plans in place to fix what is lacking, but it will take time & effort & money. The kids are rapidly growing up & we want to spend our time enjoying our family instead of pouring it into our home - either for improvements or upkeep.

Even so, I was still feeling guilty for looking at other houses. Until I found one that seemed (still seems) too good to be true. It's half the size of ours, has a lovely backyard (with a fabulous climbing tree), two car garage, newly updated interior (with a kitchen that looks so much like the one we just remodeled), gas fireplace, etc. And the price is right.

Even better, the kids are excited for the most part. We have one partial hold out (not the one you'd expect), but she does love the idea of the climbing tree and camping in the back yard. We saw the house this morning and hope to make an offer tomorrow. We've spent much time praying and thinking and discussing.

Looking back at my last post (on my other blog), I get a little sad. I love our home & the memories it contains, but if a move will help us continue to make more & better memories, I'm ready.

Time for change

It's been months since I've blogged and that is going change.  In fact a lot of things in my life are going to change.  I'm nearing the end over 6 years as a leader in my local MOPS group.  The experience has been one that has stretched and grown and bettered me.  It's also taken up a large portion of my time.  I'm excited to have that time back.  Another big upcoming change is that my youngest will be attending school five days a week this fall.  Still half days (for which I am very grateful), but that means even more hours each week to do what I want and need to do.  Other obligations are coming to an end as well and I now find myself in the position to decide how to structure my time instead of having obligations that must fit in to my schedule.  Not that I'll be sitting around twiddling my thumbs wondering what to do, no, I am sure I will be as busy as ever.  But I now get to decide what I want to fit into my days and when.  I feel as if I have purchased a brand new notebook with so much potential  - I can write whatever I want.  At the same time, I don't want to waste the pages.  I want to make every line count.  Stay tuned for some ideas of what I might pencil into the notebook.

Longing

As I revisit the few posts Scott and I made to our family blog exactly three years ago, I am unexpectedly struck by what almost feels like sadness or longing. Not a longing for the ages the kids were then or who they were then, or longing for who I was then (or even my age then). A longing for a chance to have the time back that I've wasted since then. Of course I haven't listened every time Benjamin pointed out a bit of nature or Katherine asked for another snack, but have I listened enough? As a mom, I often struggle with feeling like I should be doing more and being more. Mommy guilt. If you are a mom, you have it. Some days I have lots of it and some days I feel like I have it because I deserve it. I made choices that weren't wise. I yelled and broke a little spirit that is fragile, yet, thankfully, amazingly resilient. I wasted time on something trivial that should have been spent reading a book or playing a game. That longing or "mommy guilt" or conscience or whatever name you want to give it, serves a purpose. NOT to make me feel inferior or not good enough, but to spur me on to action.

A Passion for Love

I am a woman with many passions but I so easily hide those passions. I am afraid. Afraid of what others might think, afraid of being mocked, afraid of rejection.

I have a passion first and foremost to be loved.

I know in my head that I am loved by God. I feel it in the touch of my precious children I have been given to nurture; I feel it in the warmth of the sun on my face at the top of a mountain where the scene around me screams of His creation; I feel it in the gentle nudges to be better and wiser and more trusting; I know it from the truths in His word.

I know in my head that I am loved by my family. I see it in my husband's eyes; I see it in the sweet little notes written to me in cursive and print and wobbly crayon; I see it in all the gifts & tasks & meals & calls & help that my family - both near and far - showers upon me.

I know in my head that I am loved by my friends. I hear it in the laughter we share over coffee, the tears and prayers we share through struggles, and the love I feel through hugs and calls and time spent together.

I am loved beyond what some can even imagine and still I struggle knowing it in my heart. I struggle when life doesn't seen to go the way I planned. I struggle when strife overtakes harmony. I struggle when small insignificant acts make me feel unloved.

As a passionate woman I FEEL. I feel the highs and lows; the ups and downs; the good and the bad. I suppose I wouldn't have it any other way.

My muse.

"It never works to write for someone else, or to do something because it's something I think I should be doing" a fellow blogger recently wrote. While I like to think I've never had a problem with the latter, the former made me examine the question, "Why do I write?" If I am not writing for someone else, for whom am I writing? When attending writing workshops, I am told to "know my audience." Is it for them I am writing? It is TO them I am writing, but is it really FOR them? That's an important question for me to answer for myself. If I write to impress someone I will not be writing with honestly or transparency or vulnerability. If my writing lacks those things, it is not a true reflection of myself. It is shrouded in pride and vanity and not worth the time in takes someone to read much less me to write. A few days ago I wrote the most honest, heartfelt words I have written in months. I was feeling lost, defeated, and at the end-of-my-rope. I did not try to edit my words or worry about how the person to whom I was writing would interpret those words. I was writing for myself - not selfishly - but for myself. I needed to vent, to de-stress, to pour out my emotions. My intent was not to impress or persuade or even send the words I was writing. And as a result, I let my guard down and simply wrote. In fact, it wasn't even a conscious decision, my situation that day stripped away all the facades I've carefully crafted and left behind only me. And I wrote.

Family Hike

Today we went on our first family hike together. After a slow start (we hit the trailhead at about 10:30 - too late to miss the heat of the day), it appeared that we would have a long trek ahead of us. About a quarter mile into a 2.4 mile round trip hike up the 400 foot bluff, Faith was already asking to turn around. "I'm ready to quit," she declared with enough force to make me dread the rest of the trip. Soon we realized a full bladder was to blame for her defeated attitude. (I must mention that she had relieved herself just 15 minutes earlier at the visitor's center - of course we wouldn't attempt such an endeavor without the obligatory stop.) A quick lesson in how to make due without modern facilities and we were back on our way. 400 vertical feet later, two very proud little hikers, mom, dad, and Benjamin (who had bounced his way up in the stroller) were enjoying the best tasting pb&j ever eaten! The hike down was punctuated with many exclamations of "look how far we've hiked" and "wow, we started way down there." As Faith and I neared the spot of her first "pit stop" she was amazed. "I can't believe when we were here on the way up I wanted to quit!" I told her how proud I was of her and she echoed the sentiment. We waited for Scott, Kate, and Benjamin to catch up so she could praise them too! A brief stop ("This museum is BORING, can we leave," announced Katherine) in the visitors center completed our outing to Scottsbluff National Monument. It was a wonderful time; the first of what we hope to be many such family outings. In fact, we've been doing some research and plan to hit the Devil's Backbone Loop trail near Loveland, CO next Monday. Care to join us?

Big Boy

Benjamin is very quickly becoming our "big boy" and no longer a baby. He is now nearly 20 months old and talking non stop. For awhile we kept track of his words and by 18 months old he was saying over 60 words - he's got to have over 100 by now! My favorite new word of his is "monkey" with lots of emphasis on the "key" and usually followed by the "ooh, ooh, ooh" monkey noise. He loves to applaud himself for all his big boy feats - jumping (his feet actually leave the ground a few millimeters now), helping pick up his toys, and pottying in the potty chair! Today after one of his accomplishments he looked at me and said, "Big boy? - me!", as he raised his hand in the air. He loves to raise his hand in the air to indicate he wants to be included. "Who wants ice cream?" Benjamin raises his hand. "Who wants chocolate milk?" Benjamin raises his hand. "Who wants to go outside?" Benjamin raises his hand and begins to jump excitedly. "Who is ready for a nap?" Benjamin scowls. He is so much fun!