I am a Leap Year Baby…well, not baby anymore but…

Today is my birthday. That sounds like Vida’s Dora Doll singing: “Today is your birthday, hoy es tu cumpleaños!” And this year, it actually IS on the 29th.

So much of my life has been in that limbo land of what-day-do-you-celebrate? No, not the 28th, I was born on the 29th. No, not the 1st, I was born in FEBRUARY not MARCH. When Nathan and I were first dating, my birthday failed to come. I was far away from home, missed the phone call from my parents, and had this crazy boyfriend who decided I didn’t have a birthday at all. His compromise was to combine the hours of the 28th and the 1st, divide by 3 and give me the middle third of the hours for my “fake birthday”. Let’s just say he learned a very painful lesson about how NOT to celebrate my birthday on the off years. Because of his “creativity”, we started taking BOTH days in their ENTIRETY for my day…the calendar already shorts my birthdays, don’t dare try to do even more chopping with my UN-DAY!

So today, depending on how you choose to calculate it, I am turning 13. I decided that, now that I have entered the teen years, it’s probably time to perfect each new age. Apparently it takes me longer to get my lessons learned at each age, and that is probably the reason God decided to pop me into the world on this odd date. Those of you who know me are probably a little bit afraid. I have a lot more confidence this time around, and experience. But there are so many things I wanted to try or learn or do when I was sort of 13 that I didn’t do, so…..

I gave Nathan my selfish wish-list: a really good camera and a photography class so I can learn how to use all the parts of my camera. I find that…(oops–my 120 lb dog just climbed into my lap for some love)…while there are so many things I enjoy–like sewing–but I don’t really have time to do it anymore the way I would like, and with so many little bodies all around, it isn’t really the safest way for me to pass the time. A camera–small in size, big in potential.

I guess in a sense I would like to be a camera–capturing images of life and revealing a facet of its beauty. Sometimes in the most insignificant or unexpected ways. So, Nathan, that Canon EOS Rebel T2i would be just great! Feel free to surprise me.

Nicaragua

(Through the eyes of my son-in-law–check out his blog at justmeandmyboy.wordpress.com)

Well the plan worked out.  My wife figured that if we could have a baby in late November or early December she could once again make her annual trip to Nicaragua to work in a clinic down there, with the baby being at least 2 months old, thus having one round of shots, but without being pregnant during a trip.  I guess God liked her idea and made it all happen.  The little guy was born Dec 3, just enough time for even 2 rounds of shots before we left on Feb 18.  I don’t even remember my expectations and am not sure of my wife’s, but reality usually ignores expectations and has a mind of its own.  So off to the Crazy adventure we went.

The trip started with a 5am arrival at the airport, where there initially was no record of an infant traveling with us, which stalled us for about 30 minutes at the ticket desk.  Divine intervention #2, first class tickets, got us in the short line for security and to the gate with time for me to have a second breakfast even before 7am, much to my liking.  Not sure how we lucked out with First class seats on 2 of our 3 flights eachway for no extra charge, but pretty sure thats the only reason we survived our long travel days.

We eventually made it to Managua at about 11:30pm that night, with very little baby drama. The next 2 days baby schedule were topsy turvy but by the third day he got himself on a his “Nica” schedule.

5-5:30: Wake up and eat

7:30-8: go back to sleep for a morning nap in dad’s baby carrier while he and mom worked in the clinic (wouldn’t we all like a nap at 7:30am)

10-10:30: wake up to the surprise of the Jalapenos (what the folks from Jalapa call themselves) who I doubt have ever seen a blonde haired blue-eyed infant in real life and Probably never will again.

1-1:30: head back to the hotel for n nap with Dad.

3:30-4: return to the clinic for the end of the day and more laughs and pointing from the locals.

7-7:30 go to bed for the night to get ready for another hot sweaty day with his Nordic Prince father.

Every where we went the Jalapenos pointed, laughed, and rambled on in Spanish about, about the ghost baby in their presence.  They even called him a doll, as if he wasn’t even real because of his fair skin and almost non existent head hair.  Our team of Pediatricians, dentists and a surgeon saw over a 600 patients and the dentists pulled nearly 1,000 teeth including at least 14 from a couple different mouths.  An incredible experience as always working with Los Pepitos.  They are a group of disabled kids who get pushed aside by the health care system, but come out in their Sunday best and giant smiles to see the doctors from the states for their annual check ups.

Most of the excitement again surrounds gastrointestinal fire power.  He went a couple of days without making a mess of a diaper and making his mom worried, so after a little deposit to make things happen, the flood gates let loose.  Not only did he fill a diaper, but half way through the change he let loose again and overflowed the banks, lucky for us he was on a vinyl changing pad to keep things somewhat under control.  After that things got a little more normal.

Until the trip home that is.  By 1pm he had already leaked through 2 diapers and 2 sets of clothes. the second happened just after we started our second of 3 flights.  We had to wait to get to cruising altitude and the beverage cart to get out of the way to make it to the lavatory hoping to avoid any further overflow.  These issues however I contribute to some diapers that seem void of any absorbent quality, with the poo just flowing where ever it pleases including making a little puddle in my lap.

We made it back without much incident, and with a rare experience of a week in a small village in a developing country with an infant,  Cant wait till he starts talking and telling us how crazy we are for the decisions we make.

I hate pacifiers, binkies, nukies, whatever…

 I have a hate-hate relationship with pacifiers. As a professional Nana for little guys, as well as watching my grandchildren, I have come to totally, and without reservation, hate pacifiers. Those things are nothing but nuisances. Unless, of course, you want your child to get quiet because you can’t sleep at night…

One of the little ones that I watch each day has become so dependent on his binky that it has to be a particular brand and size or we all go nuts. Let’s just say that we have all gone nuts today. And this Nana feels more like a ground up nut than a whole one at that after enduring the last two nap times without said binky.

Cadance, little dancing eyes grandson of mine, had (still sort of has) a thing for “lovies”–you know, those little blankets with a cute animal head attached to it? He loved his lovies so much that he was known to sleep with FIVE of them arranged around his head on his pillow. (Lest you are gasping, he was 3 years old, not an infant, so it was safe!) And the one he held, well of course it was the silkiest and softest one of the bunch. The others were arranged in a particular order and without all of them in place, he just couldn’t get comfortable.

Vida, curly head crazy granddaughter of mine, is apparently permanently attached to her thumb and the longest curl she can wrap her other fingers around. She made it all the way through weaning from her bottle without the need for her thumb or a pacifier only to pick up the “it used to be cute” habit of thumb-sucking from another cherub in my charge. Great! Now we have a thumb with cracked skin–and if you try to put ointment on it, one must be sure it is safe to be ingested, because she will lick it off.

As I work through my annoyance with pacifiers and other such comforts for little creatures, I must be honest and admit that I have my own comforts that make me feel safe, calm and secure. For example, I only like MY pillow. When I travel, it gets a free ride. I like to sit facing the door…no matter where I am. But I guess the most important security feature I have is the one that assures my final destination–that is my salvation.

I John 5:13
(Phillips translation)
I have written like this
to you who already believe
in the name of God’s Son
so that you may be quite sure that,
here and now, you possess eternal life.

Wow–I remember learning that verse as a child and holding onto it–for as sure as the night came, so did my doubts. That verse gave me something concrete, certain and sure–my future was, and remains, secure. It was secured for eternity at the cross. Now that is a pacifier you can NEVER LOSE!

For the beauty of the earth…

the various stages of this flower--beautiful at each stage

the yellow is such a happy color--bees drawn to these

pollination--continuing the cycle of life

lovely colors of green and purple in miniature star shapes

the most gorgeous colors i have ever seen in one bloom

such a cool stone

 

 

I Fail

Ye Call Me by Geoffrey O’ Hara

Ye call me the “Way” and walk me not. Ye call me the “Life” and live me not. Ye call me “Master” and obey me not. If I condemn thee, blame me not. Ye call me “Bread” and eat me not. Ye call me “Truth” and believe me not. Ye call me “Lord” and serve me not. If I condemn thee, blame me not. Is this the reality of your life? I only ask because I find that too often it is true of my reality. To KNOW something yet to fail so utterly in fulfilling it completely. To claim to live by faith, yet be without hope. To claim an intimate relationship with the Savior of the world, yet be filled with anxious thoughts and the “I have to figure this out myself” approach to problems. My daily life continues to be one of warring worlds: my human world at war with my eternal, spiritual world. It is the unfortunate consequence of a life STILL becoming that perfect (complete/mature) and entirely submitted life. I am tired of the battle; I yearn for the ultimate fulfillment of rest—and that rest being the perfect rest of Hebrews, in the arms of my Lord. Some days are so glorious in their upwardly heavenly thoughts and reminders, yet other days are so firmly planted here on the earth by the sin-gravity that weighs me down. Oh Lord, release me from my weakness and strengthen me by Your word. Continue to completion the work You have begun in me—may I become more useful, less temporal. My innermost desire is to be found faithfully abiding in You, pleasing in Your sight, my life a fragrant perfume. Continue to chip away at those things in my life that hinder my walk.

Creation speaks

Dancing Eyes

Of my four grandchildren, three have very dark brown eyes and one has blue eyes. When I say very dark, I mean it is difficult to see the pupils. It does make for a challenge when checking for a concussion, and given how many times these three brown eyed beauties decide to jump from increasingly greater heights, or tear down the driveway with breakneck speed, concussion potential runs high around here. (Let me just add that we have a tremendous slope from the street toward the creek, and the kids find ever new ways of utilizing that slope and increasing my risk of heart attack every day.)

Sean has been the cautious dare-devil, surfing down the driveway on Tonka trucks and anything else he can squeeze his little body on, in or over. Cadance…well let’s just say he is more fearless than his brother.

Cadance is named for music and rhythm and dance. Superman and I can tell who is walking across the floor upstairs just by the foot steps. Sean walks with a heavier step and very purposeful. Vida races–a fast run wherever she is going. And Cadance sounds like Tigger–bouncing down the hall. Talk about a spring in his step…I think Cadance was the inspiration for the phrase.

As an infant, Cadance was like a tightly wound spring. We were concerned because he seemed to be in a constant state of physical tension. But as he learned to crawl and walk, we realized he was just preparing to bounce and jump and dance. All three of my black-eyed Susans and Stevens walked well before age 1, and truthfully, they were almost running by their first birthdays. So Cadance was just keeping up with genetics.

But Cadance has dancing eyes. Sean is more serious, Vida more crazy…Cadance’s eyes just sparkle and dance. He sees delight in everything. He loves music and movement…and he has some smooth moves. Where Sean is more artistic and creative with paper and markers, tape and recycling bins…Cadance can move to any kind of music and have it make sense. He is funny and bubbles with silly humor. Cadance is the one who initiated the “toes in the papa belt hang on the back” maneuver, and one night actually fell asleep on Papa’s back while he was bent over laying tile on the basement floor.These little loves each have a special place in this Nana’s heart. Not because of eyes, or athleticism or artistry, but because God has entrusted them to us to love and guide. The opportunities to minister to the very souls of these children is a precious gift. We pray that we might be faithful in leading them to the Lord and letting the Lord Jesus shine through their lives.

Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world.
Red, brown, yellow, black and white, they are precious in His sight.
Jesus loves the little children of the world.

It’s a coyote, and I don’t mean Wiley Coyote, either

We live in the suburbs of St. Louis, Missouri. It is a nice community and it is known for its trees. A lot of them. Just since we moved into our house in 2008 we have removed eight trees, and I still don’t have much sunlight in the yard, and NONE in my house. We still have huge trees dotting our back yard all the way down to the creek.

Ah yes…we have a creek. Somehow every house we have bought has had a creek behind it. This one is by far the best one and it has been a source of observing animals in their habitat from the back deck. The first year we lived here, it was really exciting to see the deer in the neighbor’s yard next door. There were three of them just eating at the edge of her yard along the creek bank. The next year, I walked out the front door and saw a huge deer across the street–when he saw me, he ambled back down to the creek and disappeared into the woods.

Later that year, we saw a red fox taking a nap in the back yard. He popped his head up long enough for me to snap a few pictures, then curled up and went back to sleep. I suspect he knew about the mink family that lived down near the creek. They came scurrying up and almost ran across my foot in a deluge when the creek rose rapidly and spilled over the bank. In that same storm, I saw a male and female pair of mallards in the creek. They looked like they were water skiing in the rapids. A little later, they flew back upstream and I saw them float back down. They were having fun!

The barred owls are a lot of fun to see out in the woods, too. Sean and I have learned how to mimic their hoots and calls to each other. Not sure we want them to come too close, but we are enjoying learning about them, as well as the hawks who live there.

But of all the creatures we have gotten to observe, there is only one that I want to leave, dead or alive. The coyote. He made his presence known about two years ago when we were awakened in the middle of the night to the sounds of him subduing his dinner. It was an awful, sorrowful sound made by the victim, and a terrible grunting noise made by the coyote. I suppose it was a rabbit or raccoon or cat that met its end that night.

On Monday, Nathan called me outside. The dogs were going nuts, hair raised, maintaining a steady stare on something. I followed their stare and saw the coyote down at the edge of the creek, staring right back. Eventually it turned and disappeared into the woods. Great. Broad daylight and it’s out on the prowl.

This morning I stepped onto the deck to check the bird feeder only to see Mr. Coyote making his way up the inter-coastal water way highway system. Later this afternoon he was back again, apparently heading home for dinner.

With all the babies around, I am not as comfortable seeing this critter running around my neighborhood, so  I called the police about getting it arrested, and they said I should call Wildlife Rescue. You know, I learned way too much about coyotes and how to “discourage” them from hanging around. Bottom line–no food, no coyote.

So, I am putting up signs all through the neighborhood telling the rabbits, raccoons, mice, cats, small dogs and other edible critters that there is just no more room at the inn if we want to get rid of the coyote. Now, I just need a few volunteers to teach the little guys to read so that they can get a move on out of here and not become dinner for carnivore coyote.

 

Lady Macbeth, meet my table…

The table is still “progressing” for those of you who use day planners. About 3/5 finished with round one and oh the lessons to be learned! At this stage of the “progressing”, I am pleased with what appears to be the eventual outcome, but like most perfectionists, I will continue working the plan until I can say “complete”. And then probably work at it a little more.

The process of gluing TORN brown paper to a dinner table must be done in numerous stages, because one layer is not going to be enough, at least not for my house with all the little bodies that come and go every few minutes. After the glue dried, I could see gaps…shudder and shriek…between the paper. And, horror upon horror…GLUE BUBBLES! DRIED!!! I know, I am overreacting a tad, but just allow me the space to work it all out on paper. Ha! Paper. (Superman is a punster…he would love the wording here and question as to whether I planned to say it for the effect. Alas, no…a mere slip of the pen–lol). But I digress…

From my previous attempt at decoupaging my table, I learned how easily small children could wreak havoc on my artistic attempts with their own artistic works. So, I am doing layer upon layer, glue upon glue, and ultimately, polyurethane LAYERS…plural. And still in hopes that the final product will be clearly hand-done, but beautiful and DURABLE. I am not quite sure which is more important to me…the beautiful or the durable…I just don’t know that I want to undertake the project for a table this size EVER AGAIN.

When I saw the dried glue bubble, I tried to flatten it first. Nope, no way. Then I tried to massage it with my thumb. I got a callous. I tried to pop it with my fingernail–I now need a manicure. Then I backed up and looked at it without my glasses on…AWESOME! Clearly not going to be an issue for most people, and if it is…well, that won’t be my problem, will it? I may just set a basket by the door for people’s eyeglasses upon entering the house and that will solve numerous problems, won’t it? The flaws will be gone, then, right?

Then I thought of Lady Macbeth and her persistent stain that she tried to wash out…now THAT would have driven me crazy. Spiritual dirt. Oxiclean could not remove that stain from her hands and certainly not from her heart. And you all know how I feel about Oxiclean. It is interesting how much time and money is spent covering up visible or perceived imperfections…makeup, hair color, collagen injections, liposuction…but so little effort is spent on the spiritual dirt that we carry around. What a load that can be when we stubbornly insist that it is our load to bear. I can just hear someone say that with the little sigh at the end of the sentence and the accompanying forlorn look.

All that garbage was paid for, once and for all, so that we could be freed of the burden and live in peace. Jesus’ last words on the cross were: IT IS FINISHED. He had accomplished all that was needed. Why do we think we can add to what He did? Why would we WANT to? And what does He require of us? Simply taking Jesus at His word that the total price for all that spiritual dirt…also known as sin…has been cleansed fully and for all time. My load is gone. Forever. And I don’t want it back.

My table will probably not look like it is quite finished, even after I am done with it. But I hope to reach that point, very soon, of saying I am finished with it and start living my daily life using that table fully and fearlessly. When it is finished, I will show it to you:).

Just me, my table, some brown paper and glue

I am a cheap skate in many respects. I like to take junk and turn it into junque. Garage sales, “antique” shops, road side stands…all fair game–I’ve been known to take things other people set out for the trash too.

I have a pretty small dining room that adjoins my living room and is open to the kitchen…not formal, but not an eat-in kitchen either, so having the right table is important. When we moved into this house, my old table was too wide. So, I started looking for something to replace the table and happened upon this broken down wood table. The veneer was chipped in a few places, and it needed new legs (it only had 3), but I could see how it could be made to work, and my husband is generally a very good sport at turning my finds into usefulness.

I found some table legs on Ebay and we sanded down the table to refinish it with stain. Major fail. So…I decided to go out on a limb and paint the table chartreuse green. Hmmm, not quite fail, but not quite right either. Decided to try my hand at decoupaging pretty paper onto the top…not quite great, but passable.

The first time we ate at the table, one of the kids pulled off a piece of the paper on a corner. Day two, permanent marker joined the torn corner. After a few more days, there were all sorts of new evidences of distressing…and that was distressing ME. The green was starting to bug me, and at Christmas, the pretty paper wasn’t so pretty and didn’t go with any of my decor. Ugh…I hate making this many changes for a piece of junk.

Then I was struck with a new idea…black paint and brown paper. Leather looking, right? Superman agreed to repaint the exposed parts of the table black (looks amazing in black) and I began tearing paper and applying it to the top. This time I decided to finger paint the glue and made my own glue medium. I am half way through the gluing and papering process. I love it so far.

But as you well know, I cannot undertake a project like this without seeing some hidden significant spiritual truth to think about as I work. I was reminded of so many different examples throughout the Bible of God taking someone seemingly unlovely or unusable and turning them into a piece of His workmanship. There are so many examples of God moving people  into unusual roles and giving them all they needed to fulfill His purposes. I am reminded of Ruth–a Moabitess who left her people and her home to follow Naomi and ultimately became a part of the line of King David and on down the line to the Savior. Major wow. Or how about David…shepherd boy, musician and giant slayer who became known as “a man after God’s own heart” even though David’s sin with Bathsheba was very public and just awful. Or what about Esther, the young Jewish girl, who became queen and saved her people from destruction? What about Paul, the one who participated in the killing of the Christians only to be knocked off his horse and converted into a tremendous missionary of his day?

Like my unlikely table, God does the same things with us. Broken people in need of major rehabbing from the inside out and does all the work to make us HIS!

Ephesians 2:10–for we are His workmanship created in Christ Jesus unto good works

Gotta love the way God does the work before expecting us to be of any use…and now, I must get that table finished so that it will be useful by tomorrow!