Road Trip

Mom and I packed up and drove to Grenada Friday. We visited my great aunt and uncle (Mom's aunt on her dad's side). My uncle turned 80 on Thursday. A few years ago, he was diagnosed with Parkinson's and Alzheimer's. I didn't know what I would find. When I was little, they were always the fun ones, the ones I wanted to be with. In the sense that we all have to accept that our parents are imperfect human beings, sinful and fallible, I have had to accept this with my aunt, especially (she is the more talkative one so I know her better), realizing that it is not she who has changed, but I as I have grown older and ceased to see anyone through rose-colored glasses.

We were there for one night and left early Saturday, but while there, my uncle talked to me some. He has always been quiet, with a bit of a stutter. When you are a child, you don't think to ask people about themselves, but Mom and my aunt went out to WalMart. My aunt warned me that he might not talk to me; she was doubtful that he even knew who I was. I sat next to him on the couch and read him a chapter of a really funny book that I like, trying to see if he would take it in. I finished and asked if he wanted to keep going or take a break. He said, "Let's take a break." Then, he asked me how my husband was doing at the bank, showing me that he knew a little bit of who I was. I seized the opportunity to ask him about himself. I had read an article about how while Alzheimer's patients may not remember what is going on from day to day, they can often remember their past.

Well, I got treated to more knowledge of my uncle than I have ever known. I got to hear about his days as a disability insurance salesman and how he would go visit his clients in the hospital to give them a hard time about "spending his money" when they were sick. He told me about how he had a lot of black clients and how he got along well with them -- remember, this is an 80-year-old man who lived through Civil Rights and integration, and it wasn't the norm to be friendly with "the blacks", as they used to call the group of people that my generation looks at and so many see no difference. I am thankful for how far we have come. I can see where my uncle would have had good relationships with so many black people. He is a sweet man.

He told me about swimming in the creek when he was little and the sound the snakes would make when they dropped into the water. He told me about how his grandparents raised him (I didn't know this!) on their farm outside of Hattiesburg, growing potatoes, corn and watermelons. He talked about how his grandfather would put a big X on a watermelon and he could share those with his friends but they were seed watermelons and they had to save ALL the seeds for the next years' planting. He talked about plowing barefoot behind the big red mule who only went fast when she was headed back to the barn. He shared about his first job driving an 18-wheeler for his dad with his friend who went by the name "Sports Model", another of my uncle's good relationships with a black friend. He told me about getting drafted to Korea, and how he serviced telephone poles on the base in Seoul.

I was so fascinated by my uncle but also by thoughts of what we call "a simpler time". While things were simpler because of lack of technology, there were still broken families, broken homes, broken people. The human condition has not changed, though there is more opportunity for evil to rear it's head now because we accept it's presence so much more readily. My uncle has never talked much and apparently has become even more silent. I am so thankful that I got over not knowing what to expect and went, and I am thankful for the window of time that I was there to hear the stories of this quiet man! Who knows what tomorrow will bring? I feel so blessed.

A True Southern Lady

We'll start where I left off on the last "catching up" blog, with a picture of lady pea "pot likker".In truly Southern food, it doesn't get any simpler or better than pot likker. I'm pretty sure pot likker came from days of poverty when you didn't waste anything. But I grew up watching Daddy eat it every time Mom would make vegetables and cornbread, and I learned to love it (also, from Dad I got my love of coffee and mass quantities of ice cream -- ha). It's basically whatever veggies you have, with some crumbled cornbread and the juice from the peas or beans poured in to make a soup. If you have your own tomatoes, your own veggies, it's only better. AND if you have just come in from gardening or playing in the sprinkler, that enhances it all the more. It's amazing to taste the nuances of flavors melding together in one bowl.

**After Jennifer's comment yesterday, I googled "pot likker". There are actually definitions. I originally spelled "pot likker" as "pot licker", which, it turns out, is a derogatory term for someone of very low station -- so poor, that they have to lick the bottom of the pot for nourishment. "Pot likker" is the appropriate spelling for the leftover juice from cooking greens, used for a soup base. This practice was started in times where a good ham bone wasn't always available and as time went on, people made up their own versions of pot likker, but there was always some sort of boiling juice involved. Boy, for something so good, it sounds disgusting! You may read about it here, although they spell it "pot liquor", which according to a letter written to the NY Times, only a Yankee would spell it that way (boy, people get passionate about these things!).

Can you tell I love food? Well, I do.

And so does Addie! My kids eat all sorts of things that would be considered strange for kids. Here is Addie with a plate of guacamole:

And guacamole really isn't that abnormal, but she LOVES spicy pickles and anything else spicy. Carter loves raw sushi. They're just funny kids.

Last month, I made chicken n' dumplin's with the pie crust, and peas, cornbread, tomatoes, etc., on the side. I haven't had pot likker in years so I decided to make a bowl of it on the side (pictured above). Addie took one look at it and piled everything on her plate together, including the chicken n' dumplin's. As she ate, she proclaimed, "MMMM! Good pan likker!" :) She tasted a few bites of my concoction and loved it.So, I told her next time we would do it properly.

Monday night was her chance to do it properly. We had butter beans (put up from the farmer's market earlier this summer), cornbread, chopped onions, home grown tomatoes, etc. We grilled some deer sausage for protein. I fixed her a bowl, and she insisted on throwing in the sausage as well. She cracks me up. Here is the product.

The bits of brown in the picture above are barbecue sauce where she would dip her sausage in it, then in the pot licker. And she ate almost the whole bowl.

She is truly my Southern gal...

Laughing at Myself...

SO... In 2008, Slumdog Millionaire was released. The song at the end and the dance that goes with it, Jai Ho, have become the rage. Here is a video of the dance breakout in the Ole Miss student union:





We went to the pool last week and the kids saw the swim team dancing it together and wanted to learn it. SO... I investigated to make sure there was no hidden meaning or agenda behind it, and after determining it to be "safe" I embarked on learning the dance so I could teach it. I think I have it down but I know I look ridiculous doing it. My husband caught a clip of me on his phone last night when I was practicing. And Carter is hilarious trying the moves and Addie basically gallops in a circle around us. If we can coordinate ourselves I MIGHT get Daniel to video us doing it all together. But a thirty-year-old woman struggled to learn this simple dance much more than she would have ten or twelve years ago. Still, it's been a lot of fun...

And the funniest part by far has been Hank making up his own words since the lyrics are in Indian. There's this part where he starts singing, "Itchy, itchy, scratchy, scratchy, now I got one down my backy..." I about collapse in hysterics and can't keep dancing. It's just very Hank.

Catching Up

We have stayed so busy lately that blogging has been the farthest thing from my mind. I keep up my list of thanks though because that is just good for me. I WAS going to do one long blog catching up but my new goal is to do a few short blogs for a few days just to remember what we did and what the kids were like this summer. Rie's blog about Delia made me choke up and remember that I started this blog as a place to keep memories and thoughts, and a record of our life during this season. I will never relive a day of my life, but there are many good ones that God has graciously given that I would like to remember, especially where my children are concerned. So, here is the first short (relatively) catch-up blog.

Carter enjoying the corn that he himself grew. He said it was the "best corn ever" and he was right. We all LOVED it! Almost a month later, he maintains that his corn is still the best ever. We'll see if we can do even better next summer. Below is Addie enjoying an ear from the harvest...

Addie at the blueberry farm where we picked our own. We don't have a big enough yard or big enough energy to cultivate blueberries on top of the other things we grow. SO, we fairly inexpensively picked our own with some friends and had a great time doing it, AND then we went swimming because it was insanely hot. Below is Carter in the field. His quote for the day was "I'm going to pick 100 more and then I quit!" And he did.

Some of the harvest.

The inside of a fresh-baked muffin the next morning. This recipe is WONDERFUL -- you make a simple blueberry jelly and once you have put fresh berries in the batter and spooned it into the muffin tins, you add a teaspoon of jelly to the top and swirl it in for maximum berry flavor. They were FABULOUS. Caerter doesn't even like blueberries but he loved these...

A very big moment for Carter. He has been giving regularly to the church for some time now. Our church financial secretary noticed the homemade envelopes he was using and sent him some of his very own. She is so sweet and this was such an encouragement to him.

The best treat all summer. During the snowfall in February (or was it March?) I scooped up a big bowl of clean snow and put it in the deep freeze. We made it into snowcones. The kids were SO happy in the heat to have some real snow...

Carter has developed a deep love for Legos. This is big for us because he has been very slow in fine motor development. He read on his own at the age of three and began playing piano by ear at the age of four. But he has never really been interested in "normal" little boy things. This summer, he has embraced Legos and wants nothing but more Legos. It is so sweet and we are happy for him.

Addie's new venture. She has been taking piano lessons since the beginning of June. I may have mentioned this already but I wanted to put a pic up. She loves it, works VERY hard at it, can play a few little songs on the black keys but most importantly, she just loves her teacher and the experience. We hope that music will always be a joy to both of our children.

A close-up of Carter's sweet face as taken by Addie.

Addie laying in the bed and waiting for some snuggle time and a movie with me. ("Mama, will you make some fettucini alfredo, please?" When I came back in with her pasta, she was sound asleep, so I curled around her and relished her sweet, warm body and four-year-old trust.)

This is a teaser for what will hopefully be a post soon, a bowl of lady pea pot licker. I was raised eating it, and Addie loves it. There is a story behind it that I want to remember, so I will try to blog it soon.

Eight Years

"I take you to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part."

Eight years have passed since those words were said. He was 24. I was 22. I was shaking and lightheaded and nauseated, due mostly to the three-month-old baby inside me. Things were shaky. Things were scary.

But we promised.

And we have been true to each other through the good and the bad, through the sickness and the health, through the richer, but mostly through the poorer; and will remain so until death parts us. God has taken this marriage, a second marriage for my husband, and an out of wedlock pregnancy beginning for both of us, and for reasons unbeknownst to us, He has blessed it. He has allowed us to truly love one another. He has given us two children and brought us to a place where we can glorify Him by living a life in a place where according to His law, we never should have been. This is called grace. Not cheap grace, where we excuse the beginning by how good things are as an indication that we must have done something right ourselves, but full out grace, where we have been led to brokenness over our beginnings and our continual sin condition but live knowing that God sustains and blesses us regardless because He loves us. I point this out because a handful of younger people read this blog, and the last thing I want is to be flip or trivialize or romanticize the beginning. It was terribly hard and at times I thought maybe it wouldn't work out. But God intervened. And I am forever thankful.

I wish I could say that on my end of the bargain, I have always been nice, forgiving, tender and obedient, but I haven't. And God has used this marriage to open my eyes more and more every day to the reality of how I fall short in my ability to save myself, and that in turn reminds me that my marriage is to be a picture of Christ and the church. The references to this relationship in scripture refer to a bride that has to be washed by her husband (especially in Ephesians 5 but at other places too), NOT the picture we think of when we think of human brides painstakingly preparing themselves to meet their groom. There have been times (post c-section AND post torn ankle ligament) that my husband has had to physically care for me in ways that I never thought I would have to rely on someone else for. At my very most disgusting, he has loved me and taken care of me. And at my worst emotional and spiritual times, he has persevered with me despite the confusion. And at his worst emotional and spiritual times, I do my best to persevere too. We've had a few instances of minor physical care for him but it has been more me that needed it and I know that if the time ever comes that he needs it, I will do the same without question. I will say though, that he on the whole is more giving than I am in this area.

In all of this is our Father's deep, great love, that while my husband and I were sinners, Christ died for us, (rf. Romans 5:8) and He did not forget to pay for the sins committed that surrounded our marriage. And He paid so completely that He has allowed us to be joyfully united to each other through Him. I pray for eight more years, then another eight, then another, and on and on until hopefully, we meet our Savior together some day when we are very old and worn out (this is ideal, I know -- someone usually has to go first -- but I can still hope, can't I?). I don't know what the future holds but today I am content in what God has given and will remain so.

A Hill to Die On

"I'm no model lady. A model's just an imitation of the real thing." -Mae West

What hills will I die on? What battles will I make my own? When is it really my job to overlay my convictions onto others?

More and more lately the Lord is impressing on me that the hill for me to die on is Calvary. That's right -- sharing the gospel itself. If people really receive Christ and are regenerate, then the Holy Spirit will lead them in the directions that He has planned for their lives. That's not to say I should never speak up for right and wrong even within Christian circles, because there ARE those times, but there are many different lifestyles within even Christendom. Some of them I do not see as good and fruitful but I am human and so blind in many ways. I am telling you this because I am trying to be as honest as I can about my struggle with my broken condition and the knowledge that I am VERY susceptible to wanting to make everyone be like me, and far too unconcerned with wanting people to see Jesus in me and know Him. And I'm fairly certain that every single one of us has some lifestyle that we deem as "unacceptable" or at least "not as good as ours". Still, God allows these things to be so within His people, so far be it from me to assign someone else a "hill to die on". Also, I do appreciate a certain degree of diversity. It continually reminds me why we make the decisions we make and it's a form of "checks and balances" that constantly keeps me on my toes in thinking through the issues.

However, I must quietly live out my convictions and hope that if that is a ministry to someone, they will ask questions (Titus 2 relationships are important -- I have been blessed with a mentor who is godly and I hope, some day, to be a godly mentor). I must also remember that I too am in need of direction and even when deeply convicted, my best efforts contain human error and I could be convicted of something that causes me to change what I am doing today. I cannot make every single stance I have a hill to die on. It would be divisive and that is not the kind of sister in Christ that I want to be.

It is also not the kind of wife and mother I want to be. I want to be the 1 Peter 3:4 kind of Christian sister, wife and mother with the "gentle and quiet spirit" and the "imperishable beauty" produced by that. But these things do not come naturally to me, therefore I need fresh grace EVERY DAY.

I have, since I have been married, been guilty of trying to change my husband and force him to adapt to "my ways". As God has opened my eyes to this, I have realized that I would much rather him be a man who knows and lives through the scriptures, of course valuing me and my thoughts and convictions, but at the same time, holding God's principles as supreme. I daily have to remind myself to allow him to be led by the Lord and to not try to put him on a leash as if he is some sort of bread-winning lap-dog. That is not my role. I am his helper, and in our household this means I can hold him accountable as a Christian brother, but not boss or berate him. I am equally valuable but never his leader. He is my leader, and in our household that means I listen to him, get frustrated with him sometimes, but ultimately look at my tender-hearted husband and know that his decisions always look to the best interests of our children and myself, often putting himself on the back burner -- and so I choose what God has assigned and submit myself to his leadership.

I have, since I had my children, had a deep desire to instill in them the value of a mother who is home. This, in and of itself, is not a bad desire but I do not want to make it an idol and anything -- including staying home and homeschooling -- can become an idol if put before the Lord.

Many will say that there is no difference in whether the mom works or is home but this is not true. Does being home make me a better person, a better mother than others? No, absolutely not! I am fallible, broken and led astray like all other sheep. What it does do is provide our family with many and varied opportunities to know each other, to learn the gospel within the context of home, which I believe scripture indicates is the best forum for teaching the gospel.

We want our daughter to be aware that being "just a mom" is a viable and sacred calling, and while it is something so often looked down on and so often challenging and exhausting, calling every day for self-sacrifice, it is also worth more than any paycheck she could earn or any nice house she could live in or new car she could drive or mani/pedi or hairstyle and clothes or "perfect school" for her children, whether it be a private school or the "right" school district. It is also not something that ends jut because the kids turn 12 or whatever age deemed acceptable for the parents to start pushing them away and just cave in to the notion that "they don't want me around because I'm not cool so I'll just go away and let them be taught by their ever-so-wise peers". In fact, I would argue that a preteen and teenage young person needs the presence of a strong mother at home even more than the little child (and of course Dad but in order for Mom to be home, Dad has to be at work during the daylight hours). There are so many tricky situations to navigate and too many life issues to learn to sacrifice that valuable time just to chase the wind of career or "me time". My mother stayed home with us and yet because of the schools I was always in, I never was aware that just being a wife and mother was enough. I always thought I had to "be something". It is only by God's grace that I know otherwise. And really, that is what I want for my daughter -- for her to know that whatever she chooses, we love her, but that being her husband's helpmate and her childrens' mother is absolutely enough so that she does not wrestle with her conscience should she choose to be in the home long-term. If she prayerfully comes to the conclusion that God has more work for her to do than just being home, then that is between her and her husband. I would hope, though, that the choice would be made in light of God's direction and not in light of wanting more or selfish motives.

We want our son to know that supporting a wife and family is his job and his responsibility -- not his wife's job or responsibility. Even if she works, it is still his responsibility and the man that he is and the lifestyle that he chooses for his family will directly affect whether or not his wife can be fulfilled and serving as his wife, helpmate and mother to their children. He may have to sacrifice the dreams of nice boats and other "man toys" (these are not all bad but they are not to be made priorities) and yet if he pursues those at the cost of his God and his family, he will be empty and will feel the pain of knowing he is striving in vain. He needs to know how to pray for his wife, lift her up, provide for her and the children, defend them, and honor and cherish them. And he needs to know the woman he wants to marry WELL BEFORE they get so serious that someone's heart could get broken, and whether she is career-driven or homeward bound. These things can be deal breakers and better to break the deal early on. Same for our daughter. And don't worry, we will be all up in that process! :)

While instilling these values, we want to leave room for the Holy Spirit to lead them where He would, knowing that there will come a day when they must discern and choose and whether they choose what we have taught or not, they will remain within our hearts and our lives, because the God-given bond granted to us will change as they have their own families and their allegiances to us become secondary but will never be broken. We also want them to learn how to quietly live out their convictions as well, setting a godly example but remaining flexible to knowing that they too are human and may need to change.

While I want all of these things, I do not want my children boxed into a life path that I choose for them. I want them taught well, filled with scripture and the Holy Spirit, AND able to discern what God has for them. That is why we are homeschooling at this point in time (what once was an academic venture has become a spiritual and life-centered one) -- so we are sure that what is being taught will provide them with the human instruction necessary and hopefully the gospel presented will take root and the Holy Spirit will be real in their lives (Hank has already professed a saving faith and we see fruit in his life -- that has been THE MOST thrilling part of motherhood thus far). That is why college is not an assumed end to this journey. It is a privilege for furthering an education that is necessary to the path God leads them to -- and that goes for both of them, male and female. They are youngsters so this could change, but as things stand now, we hope to neither push nor prohibit furthered education. We only hope to keep it from being the "holy grail" on which we base the raising of our children. It will be a decision made in prayer at the right time.

Jesus tells us in Matthew 11:30 that His "yoke is easy" and His "burden is light". I want that to be the yoke and burden my children carry -- not one that I select for them that has them trying to be "good enough" for me.

I guess I have rambled on. These thoughts have been heavy on me for several weeks as the pendulum comes back to a place of balance after learning about so many different ways of thinking. I did not really want it to stabilize. I wanted to stay very far to the right, but the Lord is leading us to the place He has for us. We have been exposed to many things we never examined before and we are thankful for that exposure. But we do not want to overlay a human system, no matter how good, onto our child rearing. We want to open the Word, see what it says, and apply it to our family. Really, those are the only principles that will help. That, and the examples that we, as parents (NOT the youth minister or the Sunday school teacher though those can have a good place too when set in the appropriate context) set for our children. I believe I have said before that parents set examples -- whether it's a proactive example because of what they do, or a passive example because of what is neglected and/or swept under the rug. My little ones are watching. I want to point them to Calvary.

"Example is not the main thing in influencing others, it's the only thing." -Albert Schweitzer

"She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue. She looks well to the ways of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all. Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised." Proverbs 31: 26-30

Father's Day

Happy Father's Day to the best earthly daddy I know...

Daniel and the kids at church this morning.

As for my Heavenly Father, I am forever in awe of His love for me and am further reminded of it when I see the daddy that my husband is to our children. His tangible love for them is a reminder to me when I struggle with my doubtful self. Many of you know this song, but I wanted to write out the words. Whenever we sing it at church, I cry. I can't help it. You don't see many tears in Presbyterian services, but this one always gets me going... **If you turn your sound on, you can hear it as well.

How deep the Father's love for us,

How vast beyond all measure

That He should give His only Son

To make a wretch His treasure

How great the pain of searing loss,

The Father turns His face away

As wounds which mar the chosen One,

Bring many sons to glory

Behold the Man upon a cross,

My sin upon His shoulders

Ashamed, I hear my mocking voice,

Call out among the scoffers

It was my sin that held Him there

Until it was accomplished

His dying breath has brought me life

I know that it is finished

I will not boast in anything

No gifts, no power, no wisdom

But I will boast in Jesus Christ

His death and resurrection

Why should I gain from His reward?

I cannot give an answer

But this I know with all my heart:

His wounds have paid my ransom

"For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, Abba! Father! The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs--heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him." Romans 8:15-17