Sweetness!

Tonight we had a date.

Joel and I.

A sweet lady in our church, our neighbor, offered to take the kids for the day.

THE DAY.

And we decided to send them to her after lunch.

Joel was away since breakfast getting trained for a part time job and he called to ask me to meet him in town for and early dinner date.

I thought about it all day.

Meeting him.

And when I sent the kids to our neighbors and prepared to go to town early to do all my weekly grocery shopping before meeting Joel, something happened.

A something I was not expecting.

A something I was pleasantly surprised to find.

It was butterflies.

Yep. Butterflies.

In my stomach that is.

And instead of leaving the minute the last cute little toddler shoe crossed the threshold, I stayed and spent way too much time on my hair and makeup.

I sewed the tear in my favorite shirt and scrapped the tennis shoes for my favorite brown Clarks.

I.was.nervous.

Like, first date wonderfully excitedly nervous.

To meet my husband…….of 12 years.

TWELVE YEARS.

I laughed at myself trying to pick out the cutest dangly earrings I had.

Four fifteen.

He was to be done with training and meet me at Walmart at four fifteen.

Yes, Walmart

I mean does it get any more romantic than that?

Well it WAS a SUPER Walmart.

But the wonderful thing is that it COULD have been the front of Maggiannos in Chicago for the anticipation I had.

I sat in my jumbo van and stole looks for him out my dented car door window.

I played with my keys, searched for something on the radio, turned the van on and off checking the time in two minute increments all the while half laughing at the knot in my stomach.

And then he drove in.

Big smile.

He didn’t see me. He drove a bit and would you believe I was half too nervous to even get out of the van?

I gave him five minutes and then decided to go and see where he went to look for me.

I was parked on the side and as I came around the front there he was.

Big smile from me,

Big smile from him.

And then I saw it.

In his face.

He felt the same way I did!

He pulled me close and we walked hip to hip back to the van because walking side by side isn’t close enough, mumbling something about which vehicle had the most gas in it to take and where do you want to eat, half laughing at ourselves and you look lovely and nervous grins.

We got in the van still smiling like we were running off on our honeymoon and decided on a restaurant.

He ran to open my door and my mind kept telling me, “twelve years???? Already?”

We asked for a booth with a view.

Our waitress commented that we snuck out without the kids. We were amazed that she remembered us from a store we frequent. She was a cashier there.

She left to bring get us our water and we sighed.

Even she was tickled that we were out together.

And she smiled when she came to take our order and noticed that we had decided to sit together in the booth instead of across from one another.

I leaned into him, and just as I was enjoying my wonderful twelve years of living, he said it.

“I’m glad I married you.”

I smiled.

He had been thinking the same thing I had all afternoon.

How we had been married twelve years.

Twelve years of fights, misunderstandings, of knowing the other better each year, of first borns, tight spaces, hope deferred, and financial mishaps.

Twelve years of bad haircuts, car accidents, feast and famine, dinner flops and discipline dilemmas.

Twelve years of “I’m sorry’s, you shouldn’t have, I thought you knew that, why didn’t you , you’d better! And too many sighs to count.

Twelve years of pursed lips in rebellion, exploding diapers, no clean whites, forgetting special days, yelling at each other for being sick too long or cutting themselves, or burning themselves or forgetting a coat, a hat, proper shoes or gloves.

Twelve years.

And an unexpected date……

And butterflies.

Still.

We share dessert and fight over trying to give the last bite to the other for them to savor.

“I’m glad you married me too.”

And I persuade him to enjoy the last bite,

And I savor this moment.

The last twelve years of last bites of dessert that are my life.

O taste and see that the Lord IS GOOD.

And we head to the van, hip to hip to go home and gather our little band of blessings.

Picture Post

Things I love:


Laughing....... A LOT!

Being able to capture sweetness for years to come.....

Spending time apart to remember all the reasons we still say, "I do."

Coming together as a family.

Missing It......

Come spend time with me, a little voice said to me.

And I WANTED to.

It had been a while since we spent time just us, together.

But the day was just beginning and I was busy.

Yet I thought and thought and thought about that voice.

I said to myself, “Well he knows my heart.”

And yet I still thought and thought and felt just awful.

How could I just turn away from him?

The sun was bright on my face and it would have been the perfect time,

If it were not for ME complaining that it was not the right time for ME.

And then I thought, what if he stops asking?

What if he grows tired of me putting him off with a thousand “laters?”

Or “tomorrow, I promise,” or “how about we talk while I do the dishes or fold laundry?”

After all something is better than nothing, I reasoned, though I would never accept that kind of “quality time” from Joel in place of us being alone and spending time together.

But I would accept that with him.

Should I have told him I loved him when he asked me to spend time with him?

Would he have believed me by my actions and not just my words?

Hmmmmm….

And I knew I had blown it, like eating brownies after the kids have gone to bed, blown it.

Why?

Because my flesh is weak. It has been allowed to feast without restraint. It is lazy and hence I am lazy.

And another little voice, this one different comes now and sweetly asks me if she can have breakfast.

Now, instead of getting out of bed when I was sweetly asked by my Lord, who wanted to spend the quiet of the day with just me alone, I roll out to feed my littles.

And I will feed them, but how much more could I feed them of that food that will last after yet another bowl of oatmeal has gone.

Sigh.

And I pour oatmeal and sigh, and begin another day, knowing I had missed out on something sweet.

Because I was lazy.

And I am not saying that if you miss your appointment with the Lord in the wee hours of the morning you are sinning.

I AM saying that when He calls and you put him off, you are missing it.

Missing what is really important.

More important than your sewing project, your one hour of good morning sleep, your book, or and early dinner.

I know that the Lord is grieved when we do not spend time with him, just you and him.

He IS jealous over us with a godly jealousy.

And I think of Joel eating out with his friends and how long it has been since we have gone anywhere alone.

Just us enjoying being together.

I miss him.

Do I miss the Lord?

Do I treat him like a friend who left us a message wanting to “catch up” and we put off that phone call, not because we do not like the friend, but there is JUST SO MUCH to do and SO MUCH catching up to do.

It is easier to just try to see if it will magically go away?

Hmmmm…

And I wash oatmeal bowls, and I make shopping lists,

And I am sorry.

And I say, “Lord, I am yours. I am your servant. You bought me. YOU lifted my feet out of the miry clay. YOU know my dowsitting my uprising, and you alone understand my thought afar off. Meet again with me today. I love you. I love you more than anything and more than anyone.”

And the sun hits my Bible just so on the chair in the living room and I know I need to get some of that “living water” and pile some littles on my lap….

Do you have a date with God friends?

Hello Blog Friends.....

Hello Blog Friends,
In the big blog world.

Please be advised that the human grossness factor is high in this post.
Just warnin’.

For those with stomachs of iron……… by all means proceed.

Today was an ordinary day, and I was getting my ordinary shower at the ordinary time of 10:30.

No hatin’.

This is because I spend a lot of ordinary time cleaning in my frumpy night gown and Medussa hair.

I do this because I somehow believe deep down that a clean house means well behaved children.
This has never happened.

But I still believe that someday it magically WILL happen and so I continue.

And this cleaning becomes a woman whom you would believe was in the nesting phase of pregnancy, mopping and scrubbing like there is no tomorrow.

And I wonder if I did not get enough of that out during my pregnancies…….or just because of the sheer number of children it never leaves entirely?

These are questions I will never answer.

And so I just keep cleaning.

Until my shower at previous stated time. I say this because even I am too ashamed to acknowledge it again in print!

Ahem.

So, the shower is my think tank.

I can feel world peace in there I tell ya.

I can feed my family on 50 dollars a week if I had to, find way too many ways to hide one chicken breast in casseroles, make my own laundry soap and fuse the previous sliver of soap in the shower to the new sparkling bar, somehow believing that this makes me a good saving person.

BUT,

BUT, I do NOT save money when it comes to the econo shower.

Nope. And I have never tried.

I figure if I took military showers I could save the difference and actually go to a real spa, but for now home sweet home has become my spa sweet spa.

I think in there. I think in there until I am a prune.

And be sure that two things will snap your inheritance, slim as it may be, clean away:

1.Talking while Mom is trying to roll out a pie crust and get it in the pan…in one piece.

And

2. Interrupting Mom’s shower unless you are becoming disemboweled.

That’s it. Otherwise I am Mother of the Year.

Well ok now I just lied so that totally takes me out of the running….. I digress.

So, ordinary day, ordinary cleaning spree, ordinary shower.

Then I go to brush my teeth.

And I grab the wrong toothbrush.

I grab someone’s who will remain anonymous, but will tell you that they are of the little sort barely in school.

And apparently they do not have strong feelings regarding rinsing………..anything.

Yeah. No hoorays for me who thought it swell to buy toothbrushes in bulk packs thinking how clever I was to have them match.

Bad idea.

Next to YooHoo drink, possibly the worst decision ever made.

And I literally wondered as I quickly brought the brushing disaster to an end if this was indeed what “Shock and Awe” feels like.

I then realized that I had most likely eaten all of the food that pervious stated child had consumed and had hanging in their teeth from the last week…..

Or several.

And in the midst of my body shuddering the Lord showed me just how foolish I am to take anything of anyone else’s and try to use it for my own.

Hmmmmmmm

You KNOW I HAD to check out friend’s homeschooling tips and ideas, and read about what this family does and that one.

ALWAYS to my detriment.

Several months ago I may or may not have mentioned this story so indulge me because I am too lazy to scroll back months to reread my banter. (And I am still queezy enough….. )

I was on facebook. I know, I groan too these days.

SO, I was on and posted about how I had made a couple of loaves of bread.

Now did I write that to seem “All that” and show a glimmer of “Martha Stewartishness”

Well to those questions I plead the Fifth, or the Eighth? Anyhow I plead the First through the Fifth. That should cover me.

And a happy go lucky friend commented.

SHE makes bread too. SHE makes whole grain breads. By hand.
I used the bread machine.

(enter Whistling music from an Old Western gun shoot out scene)

I wrote back.

I grind my own wheat…..

(eyebrows saying, “So there!”)

And I ALMOST hit ENTER.

But the Holy Spirit hit DELETE.

Who cares?

WHO CARES?

Really? Again I compare myself with someone else?

Why must I be the biggest and brightest star out there?

Now this was a while ago and yet recently I have fallen into the pit of comparison again.

I really should just make a Vacation cottage there I visit so often…..

So and So is using DVD’s to school their children.

So and So is using “Myster y of the Next best thing out there” History curriculum.

So and So had to grab take out because they were too busy finding fossils in the backyard while they were geo cashing and leaf rubbing.

And on it goes.

Me?

I am home waiting on visuals to come in that I forgot to order, while my kids do workbook pages and while I try to hide the fact that every time The Sweet Man (Joel) goes over the teaching part with me I have to excuse myself to the restroom because I am so dog gone nervous.

There ya have it.

I DO realize that letting you know what we do may have caused some deep jealousy wanting what we have and for that I am sorry.

(snicker, snicker…)

Trying to be someone else, use someone else’s schedule, fit into their mold for their family is as sickening as using someone else’s cruddy toothbrush.

Use what you have. Go to the bathroom several times while preparing if you must. (that was for me) But know that teaching your children to love the Lord, having a loving atmosphere for your family to live in, your husband to come home to, for visitors to be welcomed, is more important than keeping up with the facebook Jones’.

My kids will not remember their curriculum.

They will remember me.

And several bathroom breaks.

We are not cookie cutter families.

We are individual families, placed with the children God wanted us to disciple, in the place where we can shine the brightest in the world for Him.

Embrace that.

Embrace honey sandwiches because It is close to payday.

Embrace visuals coming late and workbooks and art projects consisting of yarn and glue because you cannot find the crayons.

Embrace dinners of chicken casserole because chicken is all you have left in the freezer.

Just. Live.

If you need me to write you a permission slip just send me a note. I will gladly excuse you from the latest and greatest.

And while we are at it,

Write one for me will ya?

Do you know today how very much God loves you?

New library today. One with windows.

And no curtains.

Seems like a small funny thing but it makes me look out the window more. The trees in Western New York are just beginning to turn color and light up the mountains surrounding our Great Valley.

It is a sweet, cool, lovely, lazy day at the Royalty house.

Yesterday we got Farmer Boy from the library and I cannot wait to pile the kids in a heap and sit and watch my husband read to them.

When he reads to the kids it settles the world and gives you that wonderful, "dinner is in the crockpot and the porch is swept clean," feeling. It is one that I could bottle and sell to the many frazzled Moms I pass almost daily, wishing I could bring them home with me.

Is our home a place of refuge? Absolutely. Is it free from chaos? Never. Organized that is.
And isn't a little chaos good? I read somewhere in my self-help frenzie that if we did not have any stress we would just die.

Some days I would like to test that hypothesis.

And some days I am enjoying the clutter and dirt and clatter and barefeetness.

The country has been good for me.

For all of us.

Today I am thinking of all of those I love who are in the midst of a battle.

Then again aren't we all? A battle of seeing the glass as God has intended it. Not just half full, but full to overflowing whatever our lot.

God is good.

At a conference lately I made a point to reach a speaker just as he stepped off the platform. I just had to speak with him. I know God prompted me to do it.

And so I did. And he began to ask me some questions and the answers began spilling out and at in the middle of it all he looked me dead in the eye and told me that God loved me. He told me that I needed to know just how much God loves me. He questioned me again,

"Do you know how much God loves you?"

And I did the unthinkable. My pen stopped the furious writing of all that he was telling me, enlightening me, and I wept.

With people standing by to ask him questions, with my little still in the nursery, with my husband gathering all the other kids.

I couldn't help it.

I think I just saw a glimpse of how much God really cares for me.

Me.

ME.

He DID die for me. For even me. He DOES live to make intercession for me and my needs.

MY NEEDS.

And today as I look through a glass darkly at fading beautiful trees, a beautiful creation, I am reminded that this is all for me.

For He and I to walk together and commune, and for me to worship Him with the sacrifice of praise.

When life is going smoothly or not.

I love these windows and this crisp day, and my family and friends who pray for me.

We were home a week ago and My FIL is just the best of men. He and I talked about life, about my kids and I told him that one is so so close to understanding what God truly has done for him and I asked him to pray for him and he looked me dead in the eye and told me that he does...

every day.

He prays for us every day.

For me stubborn in my kitchen,

For Joel leading wounded people,

For children so close to the heart of God.

And I even now just cry, in the library, with people seeing me look a mess.

God is good.

I have all that I need.

I have his love.

God LOVES you friend.

The seemingly insignificant value of quality time

There are apples.

Everywhere.

And there is no one in sight to help me crank.

By that I mean turn the crank to the strainer we use that conveniently chews the apples, skin and all, and spits out the skin and spits the sauce into my pie plate.

Which just happens to be the only plate low enough to catch the good stuff . Not my favorite set up mind you, but it works.

If you have someone to crank.

Because while they crank I am:

Keeping the apples from boiling over

Feeding the hopper to the strainer

Scraping the applesauce into the pie plate because the cranker is faster than what the strainer can hold

Dumping the sauce into the large stock pot as the pie plate overflows

And most importantly I am listening.

To the cranker.

Not normally on my list of jobs when making applesauce.

Not until today.

You see, I called out to Dad for a cranker. See we use this language with each other and some how understand what we mean. And he sent me someone.

I sighed. Really? I thought. I wanted to fly through the apples not hear about every inch of my son’s day and all the neighbor’s days also.

Don’t look at me like that, you have a child like this too.

One whom you adore, whose jokes have an hour long punch line, who’s favorite book of the Bible is Revelation….. you know the type.

So off we go, him cranking away, talking as fast as he can crank.

Talking so much that the strainer begins to separate from the table and spill sauce and peels on the floor.

Several times.

We talk about apples, space exploration, husbands, his favorite shirt he is wearing, and too many things for me to remember.

We spill, we fill, we transfer

Together.

I am constantly thinking about my new glasses which are small, and thick and make me look funny and make me think I see more apples than what I really see.

He is thinking about life, what he will be, where he will go, and what it would be like to travel half way around the world in a sailboat as a family. (yes he really said that)

I smile. He is trying my patience and I am trying to get through the apples and we are making a horrible mess and the madder I get the more fun he seems to be having.

At my expense.

We fill a pot and then some. We have never made so much sauce before. We get out a new pot and the Lord speaks,

Out of the overflow of your life, you give to your son. You give to everyone.

What is overflowing from my life?

We sweeten the sauce.

It IS good.

He smiles and feels such accomplishment. I feel exhausted and so thankful that he has not noticed that I want to squelch his ever dripping enthusiasm.

We press on and finish up. He is dreaming of selling applesauce and I am dreaming of a green comfy lawn chair and some ice water where I can watch my husband work on the shed.

He is wishing he was a few years older.

I am realizing I have just a few years left.

To crank and talk and think with him.

He offers to get my chair and knitting bag for me. I give him a squeeze and head outside. As I head out the door he sees his sister and tells her, “You missed it. Mom and I have been having fun in here!”

He follows me out and gets me all set up to relax and then asks, “Hey, can I help you with dinner?”

I smile.

Butter Beans, Ball Blue Books and Blessings....

Today I am tired.

And thankful.

I am thankful for hands that can work, thumbs that heal from being burnt, a mind that can think and the stamina to face mounds of fruit that needs canning.

I am thankful for the apples, tomatoes, green beans and peaches that God has allowed us and the zillions of jars church folk have found in their basements and garages and graciously given to us.

I am a little put out that they did not offer to wash them.

All 100 plus jars.

I jest.

And while I wash jars and make simple syrup and sautee onions and search for more rings, I think of all that God has given to us through others.

It was the peaches from the worker who showed us hoards of boxes her employer was giving away for free. Good peaches, just small.

Too small to sell, but just right for canning.

Thank you Lord, you encourage me. YOU had us at the right place at the right time, with the right worker.

It was the chief from the fire station down the road who had a fireman drop off apples.

Beautiful apples and I mean bee-you-tee-full.

Just because he thought of us and our six kids.

Thank you Lord. YOU were thinking of us. Thank you for remembering me and my six kids and thank you for letting him stop by when my hair was half decent.

It was the neighbor who watched some hoodlums so I could run hoodlum number five to the ER for chin stitches and greeted me with dinner and delicious butter beans for a meal and then some. She also gave me swiss chard and lettuce enough for the feeding of the five thousand. We will use it for the feeding of the eight…..of us.

Thank you Lord! You gave me those. YOU knew that sweet husband forgot to grab veggies ( off of his list) when we split, each taking kids, to conquer the grocery store.

So tonight, my hands are sore. I find a new sticky spot on counters, elbows and floors each turn of the head. I dream of a tree that produces regular sized jar seals. I fear an earthquake breaking my 70 plus jars of saved produce, and the story of the man in the Bible who had to build bigger barns. I wonder if his wife canned…….

I laugh at things that are not funny and can be caught pretending to stir and staring out the kitchen window…..

BUT

I am thankful.

I am being fed by the mighty hand of the Creator of Earth.

Who loves me…..

Through others.

Who wants me to love others

Through Him.

Apparently with canned goods .

(smile)