Family – Page 5 – Inspired Ramblings

A perfectly wonderful day

There are few days that top the one we are wrapping up. Nothing extraordinary happened, but it was full of the things I love most.

I started by reminding myself where to leave my cares and worries. I prayed, released, and listened as I colored.

I went to the children’s school for field day and spent several hours there enjoying the company of all sorts of children, teachers, and staff. No pictures though.

The children and I took a walk/bike ride. I had the baby strapped on my chest and the dog on a leash. We stopped by and said hello to friends. On the way home a puppy wanted to join us. We got him back to his owner and I ended up carrying the smallest bike along with everything else when the youngest bicycler wore out. No pictures from that either. I didn’t have enough hands as it was.

I made a batch of chocolate chia pudding to celebrate the boy’s A on his practice SOL test.

I made two batches of rustic cracked wheat bread. I turned one batch into four dozen rolls and one into two loaves. I also made a chocolate cake (plant-based and outrageously delish) to take to the school tomorrow for teachers and staff to thank them for a great year.

We enjoyed sandwiches with the fresh rolls for supper.

As I worked in the kitchen, I could see my rose bush out the window.

There are many days when heaven seems far away, when I truly have to live by faith in spite of questions and the unknown, but today I felt God in the very marrow of my bones. I looked at this rose bush, heard the birds singing and the breeze in the trees, saw the blue sky freckled with fluffy white clouds, and I felt like I could simply unzip the veil between this life and heaven. What a peaceful, hopeful feeling.

This evening we made a teepee.

We lit a fire in the fire pit.

And found cloud pictures. Can you see the whale chasing Nemo?

The dog rested from the day’s activities.

We tucked the children in and listened to them recount our day, sharing their own gratitude for our many blessings.
It has been a perfectly wonderful day!

Vegan Whole Grain Pancakes with Fresh Berries and Coconut Cream! (With non-vegan alternatives)

If you are not vegan, please don’t let that word scare you from trying this recipe! It is fabulous for all eaters. I’ve also included non-vegan alternatives.

Ever since we’ve had children I’ve made breakfast for supper one night a week. For the past few months, about ninety percent of the time, our family has been eating a whole foods plant based diet. Pancakes are so easily adapted to plant based recipes and they are one hundred percent fabulous!

Vegan Whole Grain Pancakes

1 cup whole wheat pastry flour (can also use oat or buckwheat flour or plain old white flour)
1 Tablespoon Sucanat or Raw Sugar (of course you can use regular sugar)
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/8 teaspoon sea salt
1 cup non-dairy milk (almond/coconut) or just plain dairy milk for non-vegan
2 Tablespoons unsweetened applesauce (or vegetable oil)
Chocolate chips for the children (of all ages.)

Mix all dry ingredients together and add the non-dairy milk and applesauce. Stir until incorporated, but not too much.

Heat a non-stick griddle or skillet to medium-high heat. Drop 1/3 cup of batter into preheated pan. Cook until bubbles appear on the top and middle. (If you are adding chocolate chips, now is the time to sprinkle a few on the pancake before flipping.) Flip and cook for a few more minutes on the other side.

Toppings:

Of course you can used dairy whipped cream, but the whipped coconut cream was delish and worth it!

Whipped Coconut Cream

1 (14 oz) can full fat coconut milk
1-2 Tablespoons sweetener (maple syrup/honey/raw sugar
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Chill the can of coconut in the fridge overnight. An hour before whipping, chill a bowl in the freezer.

Open can and pour off coconut water (save water for smoothies and other yummies)

Scoop the solid coconut into the chilled bowl. Beat with an electric mixer until fluffy. Add sweetener and vanilla. Beat until mixed through.

Layer a pancake on a plate. Drizzle with pure maple syrup. Spread a dollop of whipped coconut cream on top and add fresh sliced strawberries. Repeat layer if desired.

Delicious!

Dear June

I wrote this letter to June in 2012. An updated response is churning. Look for it soon!

Dear June,

I never gave you much thought. As a child, you were the month that started my care-free summers. By the time I was a teenager, you were just another page on the calendar. But now you haunt me. I am never prepared for the wave of conflicting emotions that wash over me every time you come around. It feels like June 2007 every year you visit.

Sadie Rose

Your sweet fragrance of summer brings with it the smell of hospitals and funeral homes. The delightful sound of children enjoying your sunshine also rings with the sounds of hospital carts squeaking down the hall, doctors and nurses talking in hushed tones, and hearts breaking. Your beautiful green mountains and bountiful gardens remind me of the greenness of the cemetery grass, the tiniest white baby casket surrounded by flowers, family gathered to remember. Your fresh corn on the cob leaves a bittersweet taste in my mouth as I remember feed-sacks-full being shucked to feed our family that had gathered in shock and disbelief after the death of our baby girl.

Sadie in sand

So much I want to remember, so much I long to forget.

June, my dear June, I don’t hate you, I just don’t know what to do with you. One minute I welcome your presence and the next I am overcome with another wave of sadness and memories. You seem like a dream. Are you real or just a ghost to remind me of what we had and lost? What do you want from me? Do I have to give up Sadie again every time you come around? Will you hurt me forever?

Sadie's stone

This carousel, this annual visitation, reopens the wounds of my already aching heart. I want to be friends, but I don’t know how. If you find me distant, if your sweet summer breezes cannot penetrate the barriers of my heart, please know that I am just now learning how to accept you. I am trying to understand how our relationship has changed, how I have changed. Walk with me sweet June, and we will eventually come to a new understanding, a fresh hope. And in the meantime, just continue being that steadfast annual presence.

Sweet Sadie, sweet memories, sweet month of June.

Sadie Rose Harlow, born, lived, and died, June 20, 2007.

A Family of Sorts

Last evening I led our monthly grief support meeting for families grieving the death of a child. We talked about lonely isolating grief and the courage it takes to tell your story, about how those who have walked a similar path are the ones who become our family of sorts.

This morning I was up at 5 to help barbecue chicken at the church. I worked side-by-side with people who are becoming more familiar to me. (I started as associate pastor there in January, and am just learning to know some of the people outside of a Sunday morning worship service.) I was updated on health issues, farming conditions, and concert recommendations. These precious folks are already my family of sorts.

I returned home mid-morning and made baked beans, Cajun corn salad, a loaf of braided egg bread, and a triple batch of chocolate chip cookies for a family reunion this afternoon. We arrived to see new faces among the familiar loved ones, but that’s not unusual. In our family, DNA is not the only thing that makes us such. Nearly every reunion and family meal has at least one or more persons not related by blood. The unspoken theory seems to be, if you can handle the chaos, you’re welcome to join us. Throughout the years, friends have come and gone from these reunions, but they forever remain our family of sorts.

As I type this, our foster child is snuggled contentedly beside me, basking in the love of family and home. Regardless of where her unwritten story takes her, we are her family of sorts.

And then I read this quote and count myself among the world’s richest.

“I don’t care how poor a man is; if he has family, he’s rich.” ~Dan Wilcox and Thad Mumford, Identity Crisis,” M*A*S*H

Wherever you find yourself when you read this, I pray you too have a family of sorts.

Character Test

It was the most basic character test and I blew it. Right there in front of God, my husband, and our children. I was looking for an important folder I need for an appointment today, and thought I knew exactly where it was. (Never mind I should have secured said folder several days ago, knowing this was coming up.)

I huffed around, shuffling papers and sighing, being snarky with my husband, and then of all things, blaming it on the children who hadn’t put their toys away. Really?!

For the sake of peace and sanity, I gave the folder search a break and went to get myself ready for the day. As I separated myself from the frenzy and frustration of the missing folder, I was convicted to ask for forgiveness.

The test of character is not in leadership training and board meetings, not in the face we wear and the facade we present in public, but in the ways we treat those closest to us. I was ashamed at what this most basic test revealed. And I repented.

Thankfully God and my family both have an overwhelming fountain of grace and patience, and I seemed to be the one most upset about my reaction. I still haven’t found the folder, but life will go on with no one the worse for wear. I, however, pray that this incident will continue to serve as a reminder for me to pray and breathe before I respond.

Character quotes I found on the Internet.

“Our character is defined by what we do when no one is looking.”

“Be more concerned with your character than your reputation, because your character is what you really are, while your reputation is merely what others think of you.”

What has helped you refocus when you are stressing about something like this?

Holy as the Day is Spent

Thanks to Carrie Newcomer for this delightful reminder…

Holy as a day is spent
Holy is the dish and drain
The soap and sink, and the cup and plate
And the warm wool socks, and the cold white tile
Shower heads and good dry towels
And frying eggs sound like psalms
With bits of salt measured in my palm
It’s all a part of a sacrament
As holy as a day is spent

Holy is the busy street
And cars that boom with passion’s beat
And the check out girl, counting change
And the hands that shook my hands today
And hymns of geese fly overhead
And spread their wings like their parents did
Blessed be the dog that runs in her sleep
To chase some wild and elusive thing

Holy is the familiar room
And quiet moments in the afternoon
And folding sheets like folding hands
To pray as only laundry can
I’m letting go of all my fear
Like autumn leaves made of earth and air
For the summer came and the summer went
As holy as a day is spent

Holy is the place I stand
To give whatever small good I can
And the empty page, and the open book
Redemption everywhere I look
Unknowingly we slow our pace
In the shade of unexpected grace
And with grateful smiles and sad lament
As holy as a day is spent
And morning light sings ‘providence’
As holy as a day is spent

Listen to this beautiful song here.

The Stuff Summers are Made of

We were not home for a full day after a week-long visit in Chicago, when Eli arranged for a few cousins to come for the night. My first “sigh” was instantly replaced with musings of how we could make it a memorable summer night.

I think we accomplished that.

We built a fire in the pit and set up the tent for playing in.

Elsie played ride-a-horsey and ring around the rosey with Cooper.

We made s’mores and played kick the can and dodge ball. Our Anatolian shepherd/chocolate lab, Sampson, even joined in.

We chased lightening bugs and ate insane amounts of air-popped popcorn covered in our favorite Wildtree popcorn seasonings. We watched Duck Dynasty and read stories.

We went to bed at midnight and slept in until 8 o’ clock this morning. We made fruit and yogurt smoothies for breakfast and the kids are already back outside enjoying an unusually cool summer morning. We picked fresh tomatoes for lunch later.

Forget the cares and worries that try to creep in, we are enjoying all things summer and making memories to last a lifetime.

Letter to a Teacher

Dear Teacher,

Our son is about to enter your kindergarten class. Admittedly, this mama is a nervous emotional wreck. As a former preschool teacher, I know that a child’s caregiver knows more about that child’s family than the parents would ever want to admit. But that’s not what makes me emotional. I have not yet been able to comprehend sending my child to someone else for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. I am grieving the loss of time I will be able to spend with him.

We considered homeschooling, but ultimately, we believe YOU have something unique and special to offer our precious child. We are trusting you to see him as an individual, not just as a student.

You see, he was our second-born living child, but sadly, the first one we were able to bring home from the hospital. From birth, he has had an amazing ability to sense sadness and loneliness, and respond with compassion, wisdom and tenderness beyond his years. Death has been a part of our everyday language, but he is still filled with vibrant wonder, trust and belief in God and humankind.

He always remembers his angel sister he never met and is fiercely protective and loving of his baby sister. He adores his dog, Sampson, and his cats, Green Bean and Nelson.

He loves camping, fishing, bugs, mud fights, swimming, campfires and helping daddy around the house. He has an incredible ear for music and knack for memorization. If he talks about healthy and unhealthy, it is because he helps me cook and garden and our conversation is often centered around nutrition during those times.

He clothing style is shaped by his farming, cut-up t-shirt wearing Uncle Mikey, whom he adores, as well as by his love of bull-riding he shared with his late grandpa. His grandma intervenes with some dress clothes you might see him wear on occasion and he loves to wear ties like his daddy. There are times when he insists on wearing ties with his farm shirts, but I don’t mind because he is so cute.

Although we’ve had “the talk,” he might occasionally bring up a conversation about guns or knives. Rest assured, these are all tucked safely away in a locked cabinet. Our family values living off the land as much as possible and that includes harvesting game to grace our table and fill our tummies when we can. Even his BB gun and fishing pole require one hundred percent adult supervision.

He is a fairly typical child in many ways. He will certainly need your instruction, your affirmation and even your discipline at times. It is my prayer that you will see him and all the children in your classroom as unique as their DNA proves them to be. All of them come to you with a diverse set of stories and circumstances and will learn through the lens of their own experiences. You have a difficult job, a calling that I am not equipped to walk in. You hold in your possession the power to help shape the lives of these precious children into responsible contributors to our world.

I know it’s not all up to you. As his parents, we commit to continue our part at home. Please let us know the ways we can best support each other in raising this precious gift we cherish so dearly. And know that while he is making you laugh, testing the limits or trying your patience at school, we are eagerly awaiting his return to our arms every day.

Sincerely,

Eli’s Mom

The power of intentional living

It’s true, most of my problems are merely first-world inconveniences. Yes, there are those valid emotional agonies and scarring life experiences that are universal, but all too often my stresses are self-imposed and stem from over scheduling and busyness.

So when our riding lawn mower had an extended stay in the repair shop, I was only slightly daunted by the task of tackling our overgrown yard with a non-self-propelled push mower.

Considering it takes three hours with the riding mower and someone else feeding our little urchins and wiping their noses and bottoms, using the push mower and being solely responsible for the kiddos at the same time made this look like an all-day affair.

Those who really know me know that I not Pollyanna by nature. I am selfish, cynical, critical, ungrateful and extremely impatient. (My husband is a little more gracious in his description of me.) None-the-less, I have to practice an attitude of gratitude. Living my life on purpose is the only way I can be and become the person I want to be rather than who I am. I decided to take this land-mowing opportunity to be intentionally grateful.

As I pushed the mower along, I became aware of the gift of walking. I breathed in the hot sticky air and was thankful for the gift of smell. I was truly aware of what was around, beneath and above me.

Now I am more of a wildflower gal, so I don’t get who invented this lawn mowing business anyway. Metaphorically, well-manicured and perfectly tended lawns and lives seem a bit boring to me. Give me beauty all-naturale any day. But I consciously gave thanks for the gift of green grass that needed cut according to town ordinances and machine-powered mowers as I walked back and forth in the hot sun.

This evening, Lee and I are celebrating eight years together. While we have much to celebrate, cultivating our marriage has been intentional as well.

Together we have experienced the unimaginable grief of the death of our daughter, we’ve experienced job losses, and typical marital stresses. But by being intentional about caring for each other with mutual respect and commitment, these adversities have only fertilized and watered the lawn of our relationship and turned what could have been dry, dusty, brown and dying into lush beautiful and green.

I made an intentional effort to continue counting blessings throughout the morning, but as the sun grew hotter, the air stickier and combined with multiple interruptions to care for the babies, I had to become even more intentional. This was not a sprint, but a marathon and the excuses for quitting mounted with each passing swath.

As with anything in life, growing and cultivating takes time, perseverance, and doing and living on purpose.

But when the baby comes to me, clearly taking advantage of my in-attention by eating dirt, and offers me a hand-picked dandelion or our son uses his magic wand to turn the push mower into a rider, all the combined wealth of the world could not afford so rich a moment. The power of intentional living has the power to transform. It only takes a moment of purposeful intentional reflection to be reminded How. Blessed. I. Am.

Us seven years ago on our 1-year dating anniversary

Elsie Ray with her dirty face and beautiful dandelion

Eli using his magic wand to turn my push mower into a rider

Us this evening

Charmed Moments in an Ordinary Day

Today has been wonderful. We had Eli’s preschool graduation picnic at the park this morning.

I spent the afternoon writing homework assignments for class Saturday. For a fun break, we went outside and escaped hovering hyenas

And lurking lions

And jumping jaguars

We have enjoyed an ordinary uninterrupted day and for that, I am thankful.

“…there is no such thing as a charmed life, not for any of us, no matter where we live or how mindfully we attend to the tasks at hand. But there are charmed moments, all the time, in every life and in every day, if we are only awake enough to experience them when they come and wise enough to appreciate them.” Katrina Kenison

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