Thanks Giving

One of our local news channels did a story on the rising cost of Thanksgiving dinner. Apparently the Farm Bureau (don't disown me, Dad, for using their information!) has said that nationally the cost of the ingredients for a typical Thanksgiving dinner has gone up. If the extra cents and bucks went to those who labored to grow and raise said ingredients, then few people should/would have much problem with it. I think they quoted the increase to be around $5.17 total increase for an entire meal. This is where my thankfulness for the week begins.

17. That even in a recovering economy we are able to go directly to the grocery store and buy most everything we would like to cook a large family meal. No rationing, no bread lines involved. Why not be thankful for that which we take for granted?

The news story continued by interviewing two shoppers stocking up for their Thanksgiving feasts. The reporter mentioned the rising cost of food; both shoppers laughed, perhaps nervously since they were on camera, and responded flippantly. Maybe they just got nervous and silly for the tv cameras; maybe the station picked the most flippant responses, but the response of the first especially saddened me:

*"Everything is a little higher, but, honestly, I don't pay much attention. It's Thanksgiving, so we'd have it no matter how much it cost! I'm not scrimping on Thanksgiving! Are you kidding??"

I wanted to shout at her. Really? Seriously? You don't pay attention??! Now, I sure don't mind giving another $5.17 to a farmer who grew the bread for our stuffing or rancher who raised the turkey we'll carve. But my heart broke for the mothers who know they have to head to the food pantry to pick up Thanksgiving dinner ingredients....or those who hope their children don't notice they're using food stamps (whatever form they come in now) to pay for the groceries. My mind travelled to the fathers who are out working twelve-hour-days on the rigs out West, sleeping in man-camps or RVs or hotel rooms or cars, sending their paychecks back home to their families who will eat Thanksgiving dinner without them. Being able to celebrate this upcoming holiday with a massively-large meal, rolling ourselves away from the table in disgust at the amount of food we consumed, happily lazing on the couch enjoying the turkey-induced haze....This isn't a right of ours. It isn't something simply guaranteed us. It's a blessing for which we ought be thankful, and it would seem that thankfulness should automatically lead us to be mindful of those who have less or have to sacrifice more than typical to have it. So...

18. For knowing that we will partake of a traditional Thanksgiving feast; That I can, without hesitation, go to the store and buy ingredients for the dishes I'll be bringing.

19. For needing to be fiscally-conscious enough that budgets can still give me a headache....which also seems to keep me pretty grounded in thankfulness.

20. For celebrating this holiday season with my husband as I'm clearly aware there are military husbands/wives spending the holiday in hot, sandy, foreign lands and oil-boom-workers spending the holiday in a world that is cold, dark, and strange to them, too.

We've had a blissfully dry, open autumn. This brings me to more numbers:

21. Tap-dancing Mice in the golden, fading light of a late-autumn afternoon.

22. Being able to warm the hands of Miss Mouse myself

23. Warm afternoons where warm mittens end up discarded as the tap dancing warms little bodies.

25. Playing with my girls....in the park...in NOVEMBER....even if it meant getting covered in leaves!

26. Swinging on the "low swing" with two breathless little tap-dancers.

27. That my little Mice can be enticed to explore more of the park than the playground equipment....strange findings though we stumbled upon....

28. For those who envisioned this park as a place for families to run and play together......for all the years it bustled with activity....and for the ways in which it still does....

29. For finding the "new" barns to explore to replace the "old" barn whose remnant is shown above

30. For delicious, golden light

31. For time to edit some pictures....though not all....

November's lovely autumn continued as we had two days last week of huge, snow-globe-type flakes falling all morning (it was most lovely because it all melted by 5 p.m.!).

32. For Mice who desperately want to EAT the snow (one more than the other)

33. For a responsible Miss Mouse who would never think of some of the escapades her sister engages in.

34. For a fiery Sunny Mouse who taught me to sample the fresh snow (off the wooden swingest, thank you very much) and to taste it's freshness

35. Snow - Nature's Cotton Candy

(I love Miss Mouse's face in this picture - Pure confusion and disgust! Why is my sister eating snow from the dirt?)

36. Catching snowflakes so big I could feel them melting on my tongue

37. Time to play games, play musical instruments, to play in the snow, to play at the park as a family

Yes, Virginia

These words have been rattling around in my head for some time now; it just seems like finally the right season to force them out into a semblance of coherence.

Several weeks ago in Sunday School, the S-man came up...... the Guy in the Big Red Suit, Saint Nicholas, none other than Mr. Santa Claus himself was a brief topic of discussion amongst my 3 and 4 year olds (and 2-yr-olds, if indeed Sunny counts as more of a participant than a mascot). I'm not sure how, or why, or how he related to what we were discussing, but one of my sweet, little Sunday School girls innocently commented, complete with her adorable lisp, "Santa's just pwetend.". I smiled at her and went on with our lesson, hoping neither of my girls had picked up on her little statement.

After multiple time-outs, too many scream-fests to count, and behavior nearing the Mommy-may-tear-her-hair-out-piece-by-piece level, I finally figured out that not only was Miss Mouse upset that our Sunday School drama stage had changed, which it had that day, but she had also heard the Santa posit. Rats.

So, as we continued to deal with the "why did the set have to change to tell different stories" question repeatedly asked and answered for three days (our Miss Mouse is a definite creature of habit), I also decided I needed to address the Santa comment in question.

Far earlier than I had ever imagined, I took Miss Mouse on my lap and asked again if she had indeed heard what Little Cute Girl said at Sunday School. Oh, yes, indeed she had. "Okay, deep breath, Mommy," I thought and proceeded to utilize this strange age of technology to pull up the "Yes, Virginia" letter within seconds online.

I remember coming home from school having heard similar rumblings about Santa and asking my mom "the" question. I distinctly remember sitting at the kitchen table with her as she read that letter. I remember she had a hard time reading through it and had tears in her eyes, and I remember clearly that I couldn't figure out why. I'd be willing to be she still has that copy of the newspaper editorial; it was, I think, yellowed already at the time she read it to me, say 25 years ago. Maybe it even came from a neighbor or someone who had already used it for her own children before us. Whatever the case, I remember her reading it, and I remember a sort of disappointment as the idea took hold that perhaps Santa wasn't really the person who put all the glorious presents under the tree on Christmas morning....but there was also a sense of security, warmth, and love as I was given permission to believe, if not in the person of Santa Claus, definitely in the idea of him. At that point, it didn't matter to me that the Santa who stopped by Papa's house on Christmas Eve was Jim Grote (and maybe Ron, too, sometimes?) rather than Saint Nicholas himself; it mattered that we were celebrating love and giving and Jesus' birth together in that warm house and that Jim cared enough to spend his own Christmas Eve traipsing around the neighborhood in a big, red suit.

And so I read and snuffled and read and sniffed and read and swallowed really, really hard. I explained as clearly as I could to my four-year-old Miss Mouse that Saint Nicholas - the real Nicholas - was a giver because he knew of Christ's gift to him. We have a book about Nicholas, so Miss Mouse does know his real story. She knows we give Christmas money to our Compassion sponsored children because Jesus died for our sins; she knows we donate food to the food bank for the same reason; she knows that is why we rang the Salvation Army bell for an hour last week in below-freezing temperatures to raise money for those who have no food or homes; she knows that is why we have "adopted" a soldier spending Christmas in a dangerous and distant land and are sending him a care package. She knows we give because of the gift we have received in Christ.

And she knows that is why Saint Nicholas gave and why Santa Claus, today, gives to us. At our house, Santa doesn't bring humongously large, impressive presents. One year, "he" painted a moon on Miss Mouse's bedroom wall; the next year, he gave her a note that said she'd get to go to another session of skating lessons. This year, he's going to be a real hit if he comes up with clip-on earrings for Sunny and lip gloss for Miss Mouse. No doubt he'll come up with a few more impressive items to add, but he's definitely not the "cash cow" here that he has come to be in our society-at-large.

So, for now, Santa is still safe at our house. The Mice can't hardly wait to go see him when he comes to "live" here in town for the season; I'm holding my breath that our Santa is still "our Santa" given that that man is actually our neighbor a few doors down and lost his son early this summer. More than ever this year, I hope "our Santa" can feel the promise and hope of Christ that encouraged Saint Nicholas so many hundreds of years ago.

*This post is not intended to be a critique of those who choose not to let their children believe in Santa Claus. I first heard of that practice when we were pregnant with Hope seven years ago, and I was honestly horrified because of how beautiful my experience with Santa, and even my experience finding out that he wasn't "real", was. I realize, though, that not everyone's experience was like mine. I love the Little Cute Girl who made the comment at Sunday School, and I harbor no negative feelings towards her or her parents. I was just shocked at how young we had to address this issue, and my reason for writing about it is to remember how we addressed it and why we addressed it when and how we did, not to critique anyone's parenting choices.

Her Turn

It's been such an exciting summer for her big sister with new accomplishments that I've never seen a child of mine do before that I'm looking back on the blog here realizing that maybe I haven't painted quite as brilliantly sweet a picture of Sunny Mouse as I have of Miss Mouse.

This go around, this second time of seeing bandaid-ed knees, dandelions crumpled in tight fingers, first sentences, first rote countings to 16...In another lifetime I may have had the idea that it would seem more routine the second time around. Nothing could be further from the truth. Sunny has such a bright personality, such fire in her; it erupts in her contagious giggle, her dimpled smile, her flashing eyes as well as in her sudden tantrums! She is definitely a no-holds-barred type of gal; her knees show this well. I thought she'd slow down now that winter has set in, but it seems that she is determined to learn to run in snowboots. At this point, my main prayer is for all her teeth and bones to survive the winter intact.

Sunny has been such a trooper, learning to play independently while Miss Mouse does her preschool work. Here she's conned her big sis out of the large Braille-dots that Miss Mouse created (while we were learning about sight and Helen Keller....) and is happily lining them up on the floor. I think she spent a good 15-20 minutes lining them, messing them up, and reshaping them.

This picture is from mid-summer, so the girls now need to be pictured 1.5 inches taller (I'm serious - they measured themselves last weekend). Use your imagination to add another inch or so. In this picture, Sunny is proud that she made the foam letter magnets on the fridge into a shape. Miss Mouse is also proud. They are eachother's fiercest cheerleaders; Heaven help the bystander who doesn't cheer for the sister!

Apparently Miss Mouse wasn't sure I got her sister's picture quite appropriately. They're just making sure I caught the "magic" of the moment, I guess.

I'm unhappy with almost all the pictures in this post, technically. I'm pretty thrilled to have captured my Sunny's personality so well, though. We have pictures of Miss Mouse in these poses; she is hesitantly trying to be the best little model she can be. Sunny just enjoyed hamming it up, knowing I was trying to catch her.

Her short little legs we did not peg as runners, but she's doing her best to prove us wrong. And to grow her legs by adding an inch and a quarter in height (somewhere - her body maybe?) since July.

Sunny's brave; at home her bravado shines through, screams through sometimes, yet she's also nearly as hesitant as Miss Mouse in some situations. I don't trust her; Sunny's an incredibly "typical" two-year-old, ready to run head first into danger. But she's also sensitive; she burst into tears yesterday when she tripped and nearly fell on our way down the stairs. "Dat wad skeewy" she managed to sob out. She also, the same day, had to sit on her sister's lap when I used the sewing machine on a "wowd" (loud) stitch setting. She's unpredictable for sure!

The Mice have been using any stick deemed long enough for their walking sticks/hiking sticks. Maybe next summer our hiking plans won't be flooded out, and they'll get to try their hand at the real thing!

I think it's hilarious to look at that mouthful of teeth and remember how long and hard she/we worked to get them! What a little shark mouth!

"Are you comin' or not????? 'Cuz I'm going!!" I can just see it in her mind.

With all the dimpled smiles and mischievous eyes, this is my sweet baby. This is my Little One who now insists she be called "Big One", mainly because she's proud she can reach the light switch to turn it both on and off. Oh, the independence she is finding! She can hardly wait to be three, and now that we started attempting to learn some letters more officially, she's delighted to be in "pre-sku-dool". She loves her "Mama time" and definitely enjoys watching Miss Mouse swim because it means she has Mama all to herself to cuddle, draw, or just sit with. She's a real 'run-for-our-money', and may always be, but she also looked directly in my face this afternoon, after ringing the Salvation Army bell for an hour in 20-degree temps, and told me that the baked oatmeal I made as a snack to warm us was, "Dust a wonderful tweet, Mommy! A wonderful tweet!". And that's just what she is. A wonderful treat.

Go Fish

Miss Mouse has been doing super with her alphabet; she knows pretty all capital and "small-partner" letters and can write most of them, as well.

What she hasn't been completely sure of is number-recognition past 5. As of mid-September, she recognized the symbols up to 5, but past there, she was sort of fuzzy on the symbols. Counting isn't a big deal for her; she can count up to 30 herself and beyond with help. But the number recognition was something I knew we needed to work on.

In September, I started having "Momma time" with each girl in the afternoon. Each girl gets 30 minutes of me to herself. They both love it and ask for it everyday. I love it. I think we're going to love it even more on the long, cold winter days to come. Anyway, it occurred to me one day that playing cards forces number recognition, but that it does it in a fun way! Miss Mouse loves worksheets, but I can only dole out so many of those in good conscience. So, Miss Mouse was introduced to "Go Fish"!

We usually play in her room, as the afternoon sun streams in her window, each of us sitting on a warm spot of carpet, our bare feet soaking in the heat. On this particular day, I just couldn't resist grabbing my camera, something about her blonde curls and big eyes, I guess.

While we sit and play, at least on the days that Sunny obediently takes her "quiet time" in her own room, we focus only on each other, only on our game. That's all there is in the world, all that matters for those 30 minutes.

It's been four years since I laid on the living room floor, in a piece of sunshine, staring at my sweet baby staring at me. I wouldn't change where we're at in life right now at all; there's so much excitement, so much going on - swimming, Sunday School, playdates - but there is a simplicity and quietness and stillness to sitting on a piece of sunshine with this little blonde girl.

It's really just a bonus that she's improved tremendously in hand coordination (and she has always had pretty good dexterity - Cheerios were never an issue for her left pointer and thumb....) and now recognizes all the numbers in the deck.

As of this day we hadn't even introduced a scoring system yet, but look at that tongue! For a no-pressure game, she certainly concentrates!

And concentrates....

Until she gets them "just right" in her hand.

Just this past week, Miss Mouse finally understood the idea that she isn't supposed to tell me which cards she has. She now thinks it's hilariously funny to hide her cards from me, especially if she draws one she knows I want. Then I can tell from her cat-that-ate-the-canary face that there's a card there I want!

Yesterday I attempted to introduce a scoring system where each card laid down is worth two points...it's my attempt to integrate "skip counting" into "Go Fish". Really, today I integrated her memory verse (Psalm 90:12) into "The Doodlebops" television show story; I should be able to get skip counting into a card game!

One thing I love about these half-hour segments of card playing with my four-year-old is that I can see Papa sitting across from me at his kitchen table, smell the coffee and Emma's doughnuts, hear the door open when Dad comes into check on us as we play our own game of "Go Fish"; I can see Grandma playing hand after hand of "Rummy" with me, all afternoon card games that lasted until one of us was too hungry to play anymore, or until Grandpa came in to see what was for supper. How can it be that those memories are 20+ years old now? I love that we've carved out time for Miss Mouse to have her own memories of games....of time with people who love her....of quiet moments sitting on a piece of sunshine.

Christmas cards on Halloween

"Disappointment is the difference between your expectation and reality".**

A friend used this quote in a raw and honest blog post lately, and it struck so many, many chords with me that I had to form at least one post around it. There are so many that could be.

The Mice and I rushed out the door to church on this cool, gray morning. Miss Mouse had to be awoken; she's had a cold, and apparently 14.5 hours of sleep was not enough for her. Grousing she dressed and accompanied us. Once there, her quiet excitement was apparent, at least to me.

The reason for our rush today was a Compassion International Christmas card writing table that we were heading. Last year, Miss Mouse and I wrote out (she drew pictures) around twenty Christmas cards. These cards we mailed to the Compassion office in Colorado where they were translated and sent to families all over the world who would not otherwise receive anything - not even a card - on Christmas. How easy can it get to just sign our names, or at the most write a short note, on a card?! To share the love of Christ, the hope of His birth with those to whom the world whispers, "You don't matter. No one cares. No one loves you. No one even notices you exist.....", by simply signing a Christmas card? Well, it was too easy for me to resist.

And as usually happens when something is too easy....I decided to complicate it.

This year, after becoming a Compassion International Advocate last spring, I set my eyes on a Christmas card writing event. On our region's advocate group on facebook I've seen other advocates talk about the hundreds of card their fellow congregants signed to be sent (by tomorrow!). Honestly, most of those churches likely worship far fewer people per Sunday than ours does......which unfortunately led to my faulty expectations....

We had worked hard on a big Compassion Sunday event back on Mothers' Day. Miss Mouse was nearly as crushed as I was when person after person walked by our tables without giving us a second glance. When we did get a second glance accompanied by a nervous smile and a quickened shuffle, it was nearly as crushing. Our other campus, where the other advocate, Eunice - the awesomely experienced and wise one - was stationed with her crew of volunteers faired better than we and our volunteer group did, but still, it was a disappointing response which I had to fight to not take on myself. Without Eunice's encouraging words and repeated reminders about "seed planting", it may have seemed like a pointless battle to be involved in....

But her "seed planting" reminders and the faces of our own Compassion children, the Compassion correspondent children to whom we now write, encouraged me to pick myself out of my pity party and plan another event to keep Compassion in the focus of our congregation.

But those faulty expectations, those expectations that should not have been there in the first place, they crept in as I planned this Christmas card event. I rush-ordered ten child packets, set up volunteers for both campuses, purchased beautiful Christmas cards (please don't ask me to tell you where, ahem, because it started with a "W"....), and rushed my two little Mice out the door this morning.

All this with my eyes set on the "goal" of 190 Christmas cards simply because I saw another advocate post that number on our facebook group.

If I could have seen the day through my Miss Mouse's eyes, I have to think I would not have spent the afternoon moping and berating myself, the congregation, myself, myself, myself, the congregation, about the 66 cards that we did have signed between the two campuses.

The first words out of her mouth to her Daddy were, "It was so great! People stopped at our table and signed the cards! They didn't all just walk by! Isn't that great, Daddy?". It is great! It is marvelous that there are 66 families who will be receiving cards, some with drawings by small children, to remind them that they are not forgotten to the world, that we remember them and pray for them, whether we know their names or not. God does, and so we pray for them and show them the love that we can. And that really is great.

And yet, there is that difference between my expectation that anyone and everyone would want to do something as simple as sign a greeting card (for free!) to encourage others to know the love of Christ and the reality that a lot of people just didn't understand the idea, or were in a hurry to get home for the "big game", or had Sunday dinner that might be burning in the oven, or had to get the kids home to start their homework, or, or, or.....

There is the 124 card difference between the number of cards our congregation of thousands was able to produce compared to that of the other congregation mentioned on facebook. Sometimes I hate facebook! Perhaps I hate my own competitive nature more, though, because truly I should only rejoice for the 190 families who will receive cards from the other congregation and be joyful to add 66 more families to that number. Perhaps it isn't facebook at all at fault and is far more our (my!) own sinful nature that gloms onto the disappointment that God would not want me to feel rather than onto the sweet excitement that my less-cynical Miss Mouse enjoyed today.

So....eat that, disappointment! Sometimes that difference between expectation and reality does not matter! Sometimes it only matters in our own, small, human view of the world!

Sometimes it does matter; I've been in dark valleys where it has mattered so very much. I'll probably be there again someday.

Sometimes, though, it does not. I have ideas for next year's Christmas card push; I think I learned some valuable lessons from today's event; tomorrow, though, the Mice and I will mail out 66 cards for families known only to God and Compassion, 5 cards for our own sponsored children and correspondent children, and some fun goodies for our little ones, as well, and I will not let my disappointment cloud the joy of that event!

Oh yeah, and disappointment? Eat these thanksgivings, too:

8. Two sweet girls who care so much about children they have never met and will likely never meet in this world.

9. The help of those sweet girls' faces in attracting people to our Compassion table - few people are as intimidated by children's faces as they are by an adult sitting behind a table.

10. The leaf sweeper our awesome neighbors let us use.

11. That said sweeper is a convenience rather than a necessity. That I have the physical strength and ability to rake or sweep the leaves, tired and sore as it may leave me.

12. My "helpers" with said sweeper who stretched the sweeping job time out by at least 50%.

13. Celebrating 19.5 years of friendship by road tripping to a spaghetti feed.

14. That I was on the giving side of the spaghetti feed.

15. That I get to debrief my wacky Compassion International events with the pastor in charge of missions (though I'm not sure this one would be on that pastor's list!)!

16. That our family have voices to be used for those who have none.

Running

I love running. I love hearing the thump of pavement under my shoes, seeing the first brave, green blades of grass poking through leftover snow on a sunny spring morning that promises to be just a little bit warmer than the one before it, crunching golden-brown leaves in the fall; I love to run.


But not on errands. Nope. Not at all.


The only thing that makes running errands all day a bit brighter is that the Mice usually come along. Yes, that's right. The addition of my kiddos to my errand-running is the best thing about the errands. I'm sort of a countercultural rebel that way. Although I hate running errands with a passion (a passion), I do love including the girls in the grocery and household shopping. I am the mom who talks to her babies through the whole shopping trip far before they can respond.


I am that mom, and I'm okay with that.


Regardless of how much I enjoy having the girls along on errand-running, I still can barely deal with how much I dislike that running. The whole time we wait in line at Walmart, during the drives from the bank to the grocery store to Walmart, I go through the list of what else we could be doing that would be far more valuable to their development (and to my sanity!).


Therefore it should not be surprising that leaving for my first Walmart trip at 10:45 yesterday morning, a good 45 minutes later than I had planned, and returning from my second trip to Walmart at 9:45 last night was not exactly the idea day in my world. In between Walmart trips we "ran" to the church, the dollar store, two health food stores, and a swimming lesson.


And yet.....it was a good day. It was a marvelous day, a brilliant, beautiful, crisp fall day spent working my tail off to clean up from a glorious vacation, to organize and re-organize a house that is finally being settled after four years of spending our lives here, and most importantly, to fight as hard as I could to find some peace and calm in our rat-race lives for the Mice.





As I struggled to find some quiet, calm time for them in the midst of our necessary errand-runs, they were the ones who provided for me.


They wanted to picnic outside for lunch, and, since the wasps have left (died?) for the season, I happily obliged. I was 'running' around the kitchen munching leftover pizza while they dined on their sandwiches outside when I suddenly heard two gasps. Miss Mouse, in a horrified voice, announced, "We forgot to pray!". Sunny, equally horrified, set her sandwich down with an, "Oh, no!". I waited, just wanting to see what would happen without my intervention. Sure enough, two tiny voices in unison began, "Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest.....". They resumed their picnic after finishing their prayer.


In the midst of our running day, the children were the ones who remembered to pause, to give thanks, to enjoy the moment. With that, I'm beginning an intentional practice of thanksgiving, counting blessings to 1,000 and beyond.

1. Two children's voices in unison saying our table prayer

2. Knowing those two voices are our children

3. Crunchy leaves all over our lawn....and the strength and health to be able to take care of them with a rake

4. The means to be able to run all those errands - the time, the finances to know our needs will be filled

5. The post-vacation chaos that is present because we were able to take the vacation in the first place

6. My 4- year old insisting on buying bracelets for her 2-year old sister with her own money "because [Sunny] wants them, Mom!"

7. These moments with my girls - these days that I could not see from October six years ago

More - More - Summer - Summer

We've been soaking in all the "summer" we can around here. It's been a bit rough on the motivation to break out the crockpot or make apple pie, but it's been so very, very worth it after the incredibly late spring we had! I couldn't say "no" when the girls begged to wear these overly-summery outfits last week. It's not often I have troubles saying "no", but I couldn't squelch this pure joy about the combination of warm weather and crunchy leaves!

In this first picture here, I think Sunny Mouse looks so much like my Grandma and her family. She has one certain expression where she does. Then, she can change and look just like my Auntie Linda and my Grandpa Don. Then, of course, there's the Grandpa Bob look that's been around since she was born! The other day, she added some of Daddy's side into the mix, too, for good measure!

This is my relaxed Miss Mouse just enjoying herself and the weather and those crunchy, wonderful leaves. She was throwing them into the air to be caught by the 50 mph wind gusts.

Sunny decided she wanted to be a doggy. Miss Mouse had been jumping rope (another of her summer accomplishments - getting started on doing so, anyway), and Sunny wanted some attention from Big Sis!

You can judge whether Sunny is a "good dog" and a "good listener" or not by their expressions! She's a "fun dog" for sure!










This week is supposed to cool off and bring us more fall-like temperatures. Bring on the apple pies and soups! Deep in the middle of winter, though, we will survive by remembering these gorgeous gifts of warm October days!