Category: friends and loved ones

life with my loved ones

friends and loved ones

lessons from my first born… (and a birthday wish too)

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November 28, 2001.  8:40 pm.  That’s the day and time when my life was forever changed dramatically, and for the good, I might add.

At 26, with no other children to call my own, I had no idea what was in store.   None whatsoever.  I guess no woman can truly know what childbirth or having a child of their own is like until it happens for the first time.

Excitement with a twist of relief, mixed with unbelievable fear was the elixir pumping through my veins on that day when they placed her in my arms for the first time.  The only answer bringing calm to the deep places of my heart was the knowledge that my day to day experiences would be laced with God’s never-ending mercy.

Fast forward 11 years.  I can hardly believe that I am the mother of an eleven year old.  It seems miraculous and  impossible to comprehend all at the same time.  The gift that Emily has been to Michael and I is far beyond what I ever imagined.  Our love for her is overwhelming.

From her I have learned many life lessons, like (1) never judge a book by its cover, (2) in every circumstance be yourself, and (3) if a baby hasn’t pooped in a few days, they will as soon as you put them in the bathtub.   But one of the most valuable is this:  For every mistake there is forgiveness.

My daughter is one of the most loving people I know, able to let go of offenses in the blink of an eye.  When I make mistakes, as all moms do, her heart is forgiving.  And believe me, I’ve had to receive her forgiveness many times over. (and that was just today)  I pray that I can be more like her: quick to forgive, open handed, soft hearted, prepared to understand.

She is not a little girl anymore, she is a young woman.  A lovely, witty, intelligent, kind, Christ-like young woman.  And I couldn’t be more proud to be her mama.

I love you Emily Kameryn.    Happy 11th Birthday!

a bit of history · friends and loved ones

snowballs

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I can’t describe my disappointment when I heard that Hostess was going out of business.  It was heartbreaking for me.  Not because 18,000 people lost their jobs, although that is a depressing thought for all of those employees right around the holidays.  Not because my children will probably never eat a twinkie, although word on the street is that the twinkie will survive Hostess’ demise.  I was not devastated for either of those reasons.

Its the snowball.

Every  time we spent the night with my great grandmother, GG, the hostess snowball, a chocolate covered, cream filled cake covered with marshmallow and coconut, was the favored treat of choice.  Who else but GG would  feed small children a snowball and coke for a bedtime snack and then manage to get us to go to sleep?   Snowballs were soft and moist, sweet and delicious.  And we loved them.  But not as much as we loved GG.

After looking at a couple of stores last night,  I realized I probably wasn’t going to find any snowballs on the shelves of our local grocery stores.  GG passed away more than 20 years ago, and there are times my memories of her are crystal clear, as if I spoke with her yesterday.  But there are other moments where I can barely summon the sound of her voice.  The snowball’s disappearance from the world signals one more piece of GG slipping away.

With these thoughts in my heart, panic ensued.  Losing a loved one is hard.  Losing the memory of them is even harder.

Last night, I had to come to terms with it.  again. “Please Lord,”  I begged.  “Help me.”    How can it possibly be okay to let go of the snowballs?  of the summer happinesses from my childhood that I want to hold close to my heart?

After I let my heart ache for a while, and I shed the necessary tears, He reminded me, as He is so faithful to do, “This is not the end.  This life is just the beginning.  GG is not gone, she’s with Me – and someday you will be too.”

Often I hold on tightly to the material things – as if I all I have is this life and the physical things that adorn it – the snowballs and everything else I enjoy.  But, it isn’t true.  This earthly, mortal life is just a blip in eternity.  I am an eternal being. And so are we all, including my precious GG, who is in Heaven now with our Savior.

The promise of eternity allows me the privilege of letting go without fear or anxiety.  Instead, I can focus on the hope He gives;  Life everlasting with Him for all the saints- for all who believe .

I find comfort in these words this morning:

from 1Peter 1:3-9

3 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who according to His abundant mercy has begotten us again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, 4 to an inheritance incorruptible and undefiled and that does not fade away, reserved in heaven for you, 5 who are kept by the power of God through faith for salvation ready to be revealed in the last time.

6 In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while, if need be, you have been grieved by various trials, 7 that the genuineness of your faith, being much more precious than gold that perishes, though it is tested by fire, may be found to praise, honor, and glory at the revelation of Jesus Christ, 8 whom having not seen you love. Though now you do not see Him, yet believing, you rejoice with joy inexpressible and full of glory, 9 receiving the end of your faith—the salvation of your souls.

Truthfully, I intend to look a few more places for one last Hostess Snowball, just for fun.  But life and happiness don’t hinge on it.  If I don’t  get to taste one again, and that little piece of GG slips away, I know I will see her again.  And there is so much strength and peace in that thought today.

Here’s hoping there are a few snowballs in Heaven – if there are, I know GG and I will have one together some day.

********************************

This post is dedicated to my cousins and my sister, from the Young family, who sat at GG’s table late at night eating treats:  Danielle and Branson, Nate and Becky and Marilyn Young.  and Mason, who didn’t get to meet GG yet- but will someday.   

friends and loved ones

She said my house looks nice…

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She followed me up the steps of my home, into the living room.  Running late, after a succession of errands, my friend had beaten me home- she was going to help keep my children while I ran down the street to vote.   My kids had scrambled up the driveway ahead of us, and I came along behind with all of our various and sundry items from the afternoon.

I cringed as she entered the space.  Hadn’t we picked up before we left?  I thought sure we had, but it didn’t appear that way now.  She settled on the couch, and I, in my normal form, began tidying while we chatted…  gathering this and that, putting things where they belong, trying to make things a bit more presentable, as most moms are known to do.  I was thinking to myself, “Why didn’t I do those dishes in the sink, and wipe up the bathroom, and vacuum the living room rug, and, and, and…”  When she said,

“Oh Melody, your home always looks so nice.”

and she meant it.

I stopped in my tracks. “Thank you,” I said, feeling doubtful.  We spent a few minutes catching up and then I dashed out the door to a local church to do my civic duty.

My friend, she’s a wife and mother of three grown boys – a grandmother now – and she knows.  She knows what it is like to raise three kids in what seems like a small space, or what its like to end the day wondering where the hours went.   And she’s been good to remember those days gone by.  Do you know how I know she remembers?  My friend is an encourager.  I believe her experiences brought her to this place in my life, where she offers well spent words of sympathy, a listening ear when I’m in the middle of a struggle, and a heart that points mine to Jesus.

As I stood in line, out in the chilly evening air, I was warmed by her kind words.  Words that I’m not sure I deserved, but my heart was revived just the same by her kindness.    Isn’t this how I am supposed to treat others?  With grace and love, offering life, choosing the sweetest words when dealing with those around me.  Oh yes.   That is how I should be.    My friend  was such a good example to me today of these verses from 1 Peter 3: 8-9:

 8Finally, all of you be of one mind, having compassion for one another; love as brothers, be tenderhearted, be courteous; 9 not returning evil for evil or reviling for reviling, but on the contrary blessing, knowing that you were called to this, that you may inherit a blessing.

Heavenly Father, I am so thankful today, for this friend you have placed in my life as an example and mentor – and for the compassion and kindness she has shown to me.  Help me to treat others who You place in my life with this same affection. amen.

friends and loved ones · in my kitchen

the conspiracy…

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(I wrote this quite a long time ago, but its been on my mind as the holidays are approaching…)

Today I am sitting looking at our Christmas tree. It is up and the little white lights are sparkling. Other than that it’s naked. It’s complicated decorating for Christmas with a potty training preschooler and a fussy infant, even if there are two adults in on the effort.

But I’m enjoying it for a moment – thinking about our holidays, the memories. Nostalgia is always a part of Christmas. I think of my loved ones – especially my grandparents who are in heaven now. But today, I have someone else on my mind.

It’s Michael’s granddaddy, John B Day the second. Truly, I did not know him well. He was advancing in age when I came on the scene. He was a widower and kept busy with gardening among other things. He was up early in the morning and to bed early as well. He loved God, he served his country and he provided for his family.

To claim I know a lot of first hand information about him would be illegitimate. But there is one thing I have heard about him. He was a generous man. I have heard so many stories of his giving. He would grow produce in his gardens all around the town of Signal Mountain and give them to anyone who needed them. He seemed to be the type of man who would give you the shirt from his back.

Let me tell you something I did experience first hand. It was his honey. My husband’s grandfather had beehives from the time Michael was little. I can tell you personally that the honey he harvested from those hives was magnificent. One of the first meals I had at the Day house included fresh, hot biscuits. Michael’s dad, John the third, held up this jar, almost ceremoniously and said that this was honey from one of his dad’s hives – would I like to try some? Of course I did, who can turn down fresh biscuits and honey? My taste buds have never been the same. The honey was exquisite – full of very distinct flavors from the flower gardens that bloomed all around the beehives and Mr. Day’s home. I would never be able to eat normal honey again.

Michael and I have been wanting our family to be a part of something bigger this Christmas. We want to give our family purpose and meaning – and also find a way to give Jesus a gift at his birthday. Some have labeled it “The Advent Conspiracy” in an attempt to put a title on this concept: we all need to turn away from the materialism of the season and move toward those in need. We embrace the concept but have not been sure how to put it into action.

A few months ago my husband received a Samaritan’s purse catalogue. There in the middle pages was a picture with beehives. You can give a certain amount and a beehive will be purchased and given to a family who needs an income. The hope is that they will be able to harvest and sell the honey and then be able to provide needs for their own family.

Here was a way for us to continue in the spirit of John Day’s life, giving to someone in need. A beehive. And it dawns on me. Michael’s granddaddy, in his consistent generosity was apart of the Advent Conspiracy all along – before it was ever labeled such.

Christ said in a parable in Matthew 25, “Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

By giving, to those in need, we are truly able to give just a small gift to our heavenly Father who gave His son for us.

Mr. Day passed away in 2007, so my children and I won’t have opportunities to get to know him better. But maybe at the great marriage supper someday we’ll all sit down together. We’ll tell him how his life inspired us to give to those who were in need. And maybe, just maybe we’ll share a hot biscuit and fresh honey while we chat. Could there be anything more heavenly?

md

(written on November 30, 2009)

friends and loved ones

even for colds…

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Here at our house we find ourselves in the middle of our Thanksgiving season.  We’ve been trying to be grateful for everything we can think of.

and what happens?

We get sick.  with colds and sneezes and wheezes and runny noses and coughs and fevers and little sleep.  Now, I (the mommy) am not sick – but two of my three little people are.   And its hard.

Am I the only one who thinks its difficult to turn my heart in gratitude?

I find it hard to be thankful for colds.  But, we’re trying.  Especially me.  I am trying to be grateful for sickness and health – because in everything we are to be thankful.

So, in honor of the colds, I am listing some things my heart is grateful for today, things I might not notice if not for the colds…

For blankets and Sprite and movies like “The Sound of Music” – perfect for our sick days, bringing just the right amount of comfort.  One might not even notice they’re sick.

For paper dolls that help pass the moments… the dragging by sick moments…

For popcorn and apples, the only lunch for my little champ (who is resisting getting sick, praise the Lord!)

For the kind of leftovers that always bring a bit of happiness.

For the sickness itself, that brings this slightly tired Mama to a new place of reliance on Him – and that renewed posture is a gift.

Thank you Heavenly Father for all of your wonderful and perfect gifts.  All of these things are from Your hand, and I am blessed.

a bit of history · friends and loved ones · in my kitchen

a little comfort goes a long way

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It is unusually cool and windy, for us here in Tennessee at the end of October.  Having grown up a northerner, I don’t mind it.  In fact, over the past 14 years that I’ve lived here, I have found myself really missing the fall season that I was acquainted with from my childhood.  The kind of fall that required a jacket for the morning walk to school and a cup of  hot chocolate after the walk home.  The kind of fall with fiery hues shining from the red Maples.

I loved that kind of autumn.

With all of these memories swirling through my mind, like the wind thru the trees in my backyard, I got to thinking about my favorite comfort foods that mom used to make.  I couldn’t help but think of some of her specialties, what her cooking was like in the winter.  And I could almost taste some of those favorites that my sister and I loved growing up.

Especially the meatloaf.  Now, many people turn their noses up at meatloaf.  It is definitely not a rich man’s food, I suppose.  But there is nothing more worthy of my oven, than a delicious hot, steaming meatloaf on a cold fall day.

You would probably be surprised (if you know me at all) to find out that I didn’t have the recipe.  Until today, that is.  I knew I wanted to make a meatloaf for dinner, since it is perfect meatloaf weather, but I didn’t want to make the same old sub-par meatloaf any more.  That one I always regret making.  I’ve been doing that for the past several years – and its just not as good as mom’s.

I called her.  and I said, “Mom, remind me.  I know we’ve made this meatloaf together before in the same kitchen.  I know you’ve made it for us when you’ve come here to visit.  But, I can’t remember.”  Without hesitation, she knew it by heart, right off the bat.  And I made it, one ingredient at a time, while we were on the phone chatting.

When we hung up, and I was finishing getting dinner prepared, I had a few quiet moments to think.   I recently found myself in a similar situation with my Emily; it was a tender-hearted moment, where she wanted me to tell her again.  She came, with her heart wide open, wanting me to remind her – why it was going to be okay, why she didn’t need to worry.  Where is the comfort? And, I don’t need to tell you all the details, but it was one of our most precious times together.

This is the kind of mom I want to be:  the kind of mom who offers the recipe to comfort.  Except, its pretty easy, because there is only one ingredient.  I know it by heart.  His name is Jesus – and it is all she needs, and all I need for that matter.  He is all this world needs for comfort,  for peace, for confidence: Christ Jesus, our Savior and Lord.   I don’t want to just offer it once in a while.  I want to say it so much and live it so well, that they are my children’s favorite words to hear, that they ask for them again and again and again, and they dwell on them with utmost fondness, fully settled into their hearts.

==================================

These are Words I’ve been lingering over – my hope, my peace, my strength for every situation.   My prayer is that I will live with confidence, and that I will be prepared to offer this comfort to anyone who needs it…

from Psalm 119:

145 I cry out with my whole heart;
Hear me, O Lord!
I will keep Your statutes.
146 I cry out to You;
Save me, and I will keep Your testimonies.
147 I rise before the dawning of the morning,
And cry for help;
I hope in Your word.
148 My eyes are awake through the night watches,
That I may meditate on Your word.
149 Hear my voice according to Your lovingkindness;
O Lord, revive me according to Your justice.

and from Isaiah 26:1-4:

“We have a strong city;
God will appoint salvation for walls and bulwarks.
2 Open the gates,
That the righteous nation which keeps the truth may enter in.
3 You will keep him in perfect peace,
Whose mind is stayed on You,
Because he trusts in You.
4 Trust in the Lord forever,
For in YAH, the Lord, is everlasting strength.

a bit of history · friends and loved ones

cactus

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Saturday morning our family made a trip to Lowe’s.  We had several home improvement and gardening supplies on the list.  As we walked through the store, I had to stop.  There in the garden center was a whole aisle of cactus.

Looking at those plants, I was transported back in time to our house in Bowling Green.  It was there that I literally came in contact with my first cactus.  The former owner of the home had planted a cactus right at the edge of the sidewalk, at a rather pivotal place, in such a way that one could easily graze it on passing by…  Oh it was annoying… and painful.  I can’t tell you how many times I found myself pulling the tiny spikes from my sock, or worse my foot.   I know it brought curse words from my lips a time or two.  Stupid cactus.  urgh.

We tried removing it.  Digging it up.  But that’s hard.  How do you go about pulling out a cactus that is so prickly without getting hurt?  Its impossible I tell you.  So, it shouldn’t suprise you that in the winter  of probably 1996 there was much joy and jubilation when we found that the snowplow had actually run over it and dug it out of its smug little spot.  And you could see little pieces of the cactus in the snow bank near the curb.  Ahhh victory, at last.  Or so we thought.

That spring, it was rejuvenated and grew back even bigger and stronger.   I was jolted from my not-so-fond cactus memory by my son, standing there in the gardening center of Lowe’s.  He was crying.  Wailing.  He wanted a “Cars” watering can.  He wanted it now!   I could have sworn we already dealt with this…

Meet our own contemporary version of the cactus.  Greed.  In this modern day society, my kids are tempted by consumerism just like the rest of us.  Its ugly.  I find it to be one of the most prickly and complicated, besetting sins to deal with in my own heart – and in my children’s.  And at just the time I think I’ve eradicated it, there it is rearing its nasty head again!

Interesting that this happened on Thanksgiving weekend… a time when I wish my family would celebrate being thankful for all that God has given us.  But, instead, I find old selfish desires, wanting the things I don’t have and don’t need, creeping up on me.  I don’t know if its possible to get rid of this sin once and for all.  But, I do know a way to combat it.

Psalm 100:

Shout for joy to the LORD, all the earth.

2 Worship the LORD with gladness;
come before him with joyful songs.

3 Know that the LORD is God.
It is he who made us, and we are his [a] ;
we are his people, the sheep of his pasture.

4 Enter his gates with thanksgiving
and his courts with praise;
give thanks to him and praise his name.

5 For the LORD is good and his love endures forever;
his faithfulness continues through all generations.

Its almost impossible to live a life filled with greediness and envy, if I’m consumed with giving Him thanks.  Its not hard to get started – all I have to do is look around at all of the blessings in my life.   And, I guess this is what Thanksgiving is all about.  At our house we have plans to celebrate from now (on Canadian Thanksgiving) until American Thanksgiving in 6 weeks.  Its the first attempt at uprooting that mean ol’ greedy cactus.

happy thanksgiving everyone!

(originally written October 11, 2010)

a bit of history · friends and loved ones · in my kitchen

The only meatballs I ever make…

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It was probably 1989 or so.  My family had been invited for dinner at a friend’s home.  Miss Refsell was her name – a young elementary school teacher.  She also was an incredible vocalist – a soprano with a voice the size of all outdoors – and I was in awe of her.

Turns out she was also a phenomenal cook.  She made us meatballs for dinner that evening, with baked potatoes.  And those meatballs were to. die. for.  Oh yes.  All this time later, I don’t just remember them.  I have an unusual affection for them.  So much so, that as the holidays and other special occasions approach, I try to figure out how many times I can make them for parties and get togethers.  They are that good.

However, they are a tiny bit unusual with some surprising ingredients.  Those same items, that might make you raise an eyebrow, are what make the dish so wonderful.  Typically I’m a baker, not a cook.  I place recipes on my kithcen’s altar, sacrificing ingredients and their integrity, omitting some of the necessary items, cooking others far too long or others not long enough.   My culinary skills leave much to be desired on many occasions, its true.  But, this dish of yummy, rich, goodness, I’ve never messed up!

I’ve decided to share the recipe here with you, my friends.  I hope Miss Refsell (now Mrs. Lamgo) doesn’t mind.  You might need it as a hearty and delicious option for a fall or winter menu in the coming months.  Happily, I make them in the crockpot, which makes this yummy recipe easy to boot!

Recently, when I made them for a fall party,  I meant to get photos to share here. But, alas, they were gone before I could even get my camera out of the bag.  They are such a crowd pleaser!  So, I give you:

Miss Refsell’s Meatballs  (I don’t know the real title.  To this day, this is what the Young family calls them)

Ingredients:
1 cup of brown sugar
1 can of whole cranberries
1 bottle of chili sauce
1 bottle of water, (use the chili sauce bottle and fill with water)
1 can of sauer kraut ( around the 15 oz size)

about 4 pounds of meatballs – You can use your favorite recipe.  I use a bag or two of already made frozen meatballs

Instructions:

Combine the water and chili sauce, sauerkraut, cranberries and sugar in a pan.  Bring the ingredients to a boil for a minute or two.  Place the meatballs in the crockpot and pour sauce ingredients over top.  Let the meatballs cook for about 8 hours on low.

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I hope you enjoy these, as much as we do!  Make them once, make them often – you won’t regret it!

a bit of history · friends and loved ones · in my kitchen

the old, new “southern glow”

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A few months back my mom called.  She was cleaning out some of her older things in the kitchen.  And she wanted to know: Did I want the old set of dishes we used to use at the dinner table during my childhood years?  They were still in really great condition after many many years of wear and tear: Noritake’s  “Southern Glow” was the pattern name.

Well, I couldn’t say no.

In the first place, I had been saying to Michael not a week before that I thought we were going to need some new every day dinner ware.  A lot of ours had broken, or were cracked and chipped and frankly I was a bit concerned about little fingers getting cut.   Well, these dishes from Mom weren’t the same as the lovely pattern I had found in the Williams-Sonoma catalogue online, but they were definitely nice enough.

Besides, what Mom was offering was a big chunk of my childhood.  And I’m such a sucker for nostalgia and reminiscing.  I could not turn her down. It was settled then.  She would deliver them in person later in the fall.

Last week, when my folks arrived for their visit, they brought a large box full of “southern glow” dinner and luncheon plates, cups and saucers.  I opened the box and unwrapped the pieces. My fingers traced over the red and brown floral pattern that perched on the rim of each piece, those unique, little flowers looking as bright and crisp as ever.  Oh the memories that flooded in, from birthday dinners to special meals with guests, to the regular every day kind of suppers.

The flowers, they really do kind of glow…

And then I gave it more thought …

My parents didn’t just serve food at dinner time – Our family meals at supper time were some of our best times together, laughing and sharing our lives.  Especially as we got older, I know my parents were investing in us, teaching us godly principles and wholesome character.  When I look at those dishes, I remember so much of what they taught me, day in and day out.

Now, the dishes are circa 1960’s – and they look it.  The pattern is not just retro, it is vintage.  There was a day, not so long ago, I would have refused them for this very reason.  In fact, I’m sure many looking at the photos, might think they are ugly.  They certainly aren’t the newest Kate Spade set of every-day-ware on the market. But, do I really need those?  really?   In a season of life where I am trying to learn more fully and deeply about contentment and gratefulness, which is something my parents spent time trying to instill in me so long ago,  these dishes are the perfect object lesson.

The old is made new again, in my heart and on my table.  The plates and cups will be a beautiful and constant reminder of so many things. But, as I use them I will be able to take to heart my need for being content with what I have, and I am hopeful it will prompt me to be grateful for the ways He provides.

We kicked off our family’s celebration of Thanksgiving, by sharing Canadian Thanksgiving with my parents while they were visiting us last week.  Each place was set with our old-new dishes.  The table was almost radiant with gratefulness.  It couldn’t have been more perfect.

Thank you Heavenly Father for your continuing work in my life.   I pray that my heart will always glow with thankfulness and contentment that can only be found in You. amen.

friends and loved ones · in my kitchen

On the eve of my (too close to 40) birthday…

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My plate was full today. There was a large variety of items on my to-do list; a list I never could have dreamed up as a younger woman.   But, it has been a wonderful, crazy, and actually fairly normal day…   I am pleased, as I inch closer and closer to forty, that I am the queen of my castle…

And by Queen, I mean the woman, mom, friend, sister, baker, maid who does all of, but is not limited to, the following…

A sleepy snuggle with my baby girl who, long before daylight, found her way to my bed and slept sideways with her feet in my armpit.

Coffee in my favorite mug… with lots of cream and sugar. yummy.

We really got going when I had to contact our plumber, who later arrived and retrieved a deodorant from the toilet in my bathroom, leaving a lovely overflow.  ewwwwww.

Gathered together the ingredients and recipes for one of the larger tasks of my day which involved baking some sweets for a local home school event.  Cookies – 6 dozen of them and 4 dozen cupcakes. My house was full of heavenly aromas, and covered with lots of stickiness.

Talked with my mom and sister, at least once each, maybe more, I can’t remember – We all love to talk shop when it comes to baking.

I swept and vacuumed,  and changed pull-ups.

My mother-in-law brought Emily some special clothes we’d been searching for.  so blessed.

Instructions were given (read here: I yelled from the kitchen) in regard to the piano practicing that was happening. 

Angelina Ballerina was Mackenzie’s babysitter at one point while I tried to frost and finish those four dozen cupcakes.

I made breakfast and lunch for my little people, and then proceeded to feed my them the extra cupcakes for dinner.  Don’t judge me on the day before my birthday.

I swept again.

A bandaid was discovered sticking to furniture, which I now know that just because bandaids are removable from skin, does not mean they will come off of bedroom dressers.

I had the pleasure of warm and absolutely lovely conversation twice.  One long distance on the phone, one in person. Adult conversation is always welcome.

Don’t forget the laundry, two loads to be exact.  Both basketfuls have been folded and put away…  Miracles do happen, friends.

My daughter discussed her new favorite book with me, which she is devouring – this is a huge success at our house.

When Michael came home he told me he could tell I had been working hard.  I basked in the compliment, until I realized  he must have seen the cake flour in my hair.

Before I knew it, I had hurt Isaac’s feelings, but he forgave me when I asked.  I have to ask often.

Dishes. more dishes.  baking pans.  mixing bowls and utensils.  My hands are still prun-y.

Of course I forgot to return the same two phone calls that I forgot yesterday, too.

And then,  I got to open my birthday  gift from my precious family a day early.  I am the proud owner of an iPhone dock with speakers for my kitchen.  I can now boogie while I bake.  No worries, there will be no photos of that, I promise.

Mid-day, in a moment of weakness, I sulked  to myself while sweeping in the corner of the dining room, “A girl should be treated like a queen on her birthday week.  I just feel like a servant.” As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I was reminded of One who was royalty, but lowered Himself into the place of a servant.  washing  disciples’ grimy feet. caring for the ill. helping the down-n-out.  It seems that maybe I really am a part of His royal line if, in love,  I am following Him, fulfilling the call to serve and care for others.

This is my life, as wild and crazy as it is, here on the eve of my (too old to mention) birthday. I am the Queen of my happy little castle.