If November Had 32 Days...

...I wouldn't feel quite as behind as I do now.

Actually, when I remember where I was a year ago and how behind I felt going into that Christmas season, I realize that this year, I'm actually way ahead of the game!  To give just one example, last year I wrapped all the Christmas gifts on Christmas Eve--and by "wrapped," I mean, "shoved into gift bags and threw some tissue paper on top"!   Not my most favorite way to spend that special evening.  This year, I've already had two sessions of wrapping gifts (one was made possible by the kindness of Sally, who generously gave of her time to come over with her kids and watch my kids one afternoon so that I could have some free time to do whatever I wanted--what a friend!), and it's delightful to look under the Christmas tree and already see some pretty packages under there. :)

But here is the area that I am blatantly behind in:

Yikes!  November rolled around, and it was my grand intention to post something about this theme every day.  I even had a list of ideas jotted down in one of my drafts:  ideas about memorable encounters that changed the course of my life or taught me a valuable lesson, stories that I wanted to reflect upon and share.  But I didn't get very far into the month before events of life crowded out my intentions to write those stories; and then when I got caught up in the mother-in-law series...well, it was all over for Encounters after that!

But now that December is here, does that mean I can't go back and finish (or add to, even if I don't finish) the 30 Days Thankful series?  Of course not!  Gratitude is good and right any time of the year.  And besides, I didn't finish last year's 30 Days Thankful theme until the very last day of the year.  Compared to that, I'm astonishingly early.  ;-)

Encounters #8, 9, 10, 11, 12

I want to group these encounters together because they all involve books.  Let me tell you about five books that have significantly impacted me.  As fellow readers can imagine, limiting myself to five is quite difficult; but I'll try to contain myself and not go over that number.  :)  Additionally, I will try to keep my natural wordiness in check so that I can give a brief summary of each encounter and then zoom ahead to the next one.  Each of these almost deserve their own blog post, but I'll do my best to lump them together so that I can catch up a little.  :)

When I was in college, I went through a period of questioning my faith and trying to determine whether the spiritual path of my parents was the one I wanted to travel.  In hindsight, I realize that was completely normal; but at the time, it made my whole world feel a little shaky.  During a conversation with one of my professors, Dr. Terry Brensinger, he recommended that I read Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis.  I complied; and as I started reading it, it was like water to a desert wanderer who is dying of thirst.  That book gave strong bones and mighty muscles to my weak-at-the-time faith, and I realized that it is not only right to believe, it is also reasonable.  That was a life-changing revelation, to say the least.  (And I am trying to say the least.  But oh, I'd love to say more about this!)

On to the next one...

During my senior year of college, my roommates threw a surprise bridal shower for me--and, oh, I'd love to say more about this, too!  One of the gifts I received that night (I believe it was from my friend Susan Monserrate) was The Five Love Languages by Dr. Gary Chapman.  At the time, I had not heard of love languages...or Dr. Gary Chapman.  I thought he was Amy Grant's (now ex-)husband.  Nope, different Gary Chapman.  Anyway, what a blessing that Susan gave me that book and that I was able to read it (and Jeff read it, too) at the beginning of marriage and establish healthy love-language usage from the start of our married life!  I love reading marriage books and had done so before marriage and continued to do so after marriage (I still do, as a matter of fact), so I've read lots of good ones; but The Five Love Languages wins the title of Most Helpful, as far as simple, practical, down-to-earth help for marriages (and other relationships, too, since we all benefit from understanding the concept of love languages).  When Jeff and I weren't feeling close or when we were hitting bumps in the road, it was incredibly useful to think of the love languages, discern which ones we were or were not speaking, and then be able to change quickly to fill up each other's love tanks.  The other wonderful thing that book did for us was open the door to communication about our own needs.  For example, I could say to Jeff, "I need some words of affirmation," and he would, without hesitation, pour forth meaningful, loving words.  This course of action is vastly preferable to using the silent treatment...or the loud treatment (yelling at each other)...or the completely senseless game of let's-see-if-he-can-read-my-mind-and-figure-out-what's-wrong treatment.  

Gotta stay focused, so I can move on...

As newlyweds, we knew we wanted to find a good church to become involved in; but the process of discovering one that seemed like a good fit for both of us seemed almost insurmountable at times.  Everything changed one day, however, when a man in his 30s named Bob Ricker walked into the barbershop where Jeff worked, sat down in Jeff's chair for a haircut, shared deeply from his heart about his cancer and his young family and his church and his zeal for God's work, then walked out, having left a copy of Discipling by Gordon Ferguson for Jeff to read.  Read it, he did--pen in hand, ready to criticize, marking furiously in the margins, arguing points about the Greek text and legalism and all those "one-another" scriptures Gordon had dug out of the Bible and grouped in this book.  From Jeff's initial harsh critique...to hours and hours of conversation with Bob, his wife Jayne, and many of their friends...to eventual membership in that church:  all prompted by Discipling.  In actuality, it led to much more than membership in a specific church; it actually redefined for us what church was.  And for two people who had been through as much religious stuff as Jeff and I, that redefinition was life-altering.  We're still feeling the effects of it.  :)

Three down, two more to go...

When we returned to the States after having lived in the Middle East for two and a half years, we once again found ourselves somewhat in a state of spiritual bewilderment.  After having witnessed a wide range of religious experiences (and that's just within the Christian tradition!)--everything from participating in very charismatic worship services with Messianic Jews to watching an Orthodox woman weep as she anointed a stone slab in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre--I was wondering things like, "What kind of worship is right?  What kind is wrong?  And what kind do we now involve ourselves in?"  The typical American Sunday morning church service left us feeling empty.  What should fill us?  Then I read Streams of Living Water by Richard Foster and was reminded again of the vastness of God's character compared to ours and the value of various expressions of worship.  Foster talks about six traditions:  contemplative, holiness, charismatic, social justice, evangelical, and incarnational.  He did it in such an uplifting way that, rather than feeling like the spiritual mutts that Jeff and I really are with our varied church experiences, I was left grateful for the way these six traditions had already touched my life, humble in my attitude towards fellow believers who excel in one tradition or another (perhaps different ones than I do), and eager to learn more and grow in each of the six.  I should probably read this book again!

OK, last one...

This is the easy one.  Why?  Because I've written about it before!  It's Small Beginnings by Barbara Curtis, and I'm just going to link to the post in which I wrote about it way back in February of 2008, when Tobin was just a month old.  I love this book!

Whew, I did it.  Encounters 8-12 are complete.  That's five more I get to check off my list.  Will I make it to 30?  ;-)

Taking Advantage of Free Labor

I've been spoiled recently.  Having Jeff's mom here means having an extra pair of extremely helpful hands, ready and willing to do whatever task is at hand.  

One task that I knew I wanted to do this fall was make applesauce.  We had run out of all our home-canned applesauce, and a cellar without homemade applesauce is a sad cellar indeed.  :)  Rather than spending time in September or early October to tackle that project, I decided to wait until Jeff's mom was here; I wouldn't want her to miss out on the fun after all.  :)  (Last year, by the way, when she stayed with us for three weeks shortly after Shav's birth, our canning project was peaches.  We always make sure she gets a good dose of canning while she's in this part of the country!)

We ended up devoting the better part of the afternoon on two days to our applesauce project:  school in the morning, applesauce in the afternoon. 

We made applesauce out of about 3 bushels of apples (and despite the picture above, we did not get the apples from Romney Orchards; that's just an old wooden crate my parents have that we used to transport the apples!), and we ended up with 52 quarts:  47 canned, and 5 frozen.

We used Yellow Delicious apples, and the applesauce was so sweet that we didn't need to add any extra sugar.

I was beyond grateful to have the help of both my mother and my mother-in-law.  We made a very good team as we worked together--my mom specializing in cutting the apples to get them ready to cook and in washing the dishes as we finished up, Jeff's mom specializing in running the apples through the mill, and me specializing in the canning process--although, of course, we all helped out in a variety of ways.  Three are better than one, for they can make a whole lot of applesauce a whole lot more quickly than one woman by herself!!  That's my loose translation of Ecclesiastes 4:9 anyway.  :)

I had heard about these food mills from several friends (real-life and blogging) but did not have one.  When Jeff's mom found out that we were going to make applesauce and that a mill was available to make the process easier and quicker, she bought one for me--a most useful and appreciated gift!  We were thrilled by how much it sped up the process and by how little waste there was.  The chickens liked pecking at the skins and seeds that came out of the mill, so really, it wasn't wasteful at all!

Both Josiah and David took a turn at the handle, but David was the one who liked it the most and stuck with it.  It was a genuine help to have him doing this job.

The end result: pleasing to look at, delicious to taste, and... 

 ...a sweet reminder during winter's cold days of the time spent in my warm, cozy kitchen with two women I love.

********

Encounters #6 & 7
Making friends is an interesting task:  sometimes quick, sometimes slow, sometimes easy, sometimes difficult, sometimes one-sided, sometimes mutual.

When I was a child, it seemed easier to make friends than it does as an adult.  Back in those days, if a girl was nice and if we had fun playing together, she was my friend--easy as pie!  Now, with a busy life and little time for "play," friendship usually seems much slower to develop.

Two encounters come to mind, as I think about making friends.  The first occurred when I arrived at college and discovered that one of my roommates (I had two at the beginning of that year) was a sweet girl with long, dark, curly hair and a big, quick-to-laugh heart.  Her name was Juli Yoder, and we hit it off instantly.  What a precious gift to have her friendship to help ease me into the huge transition of leaving home for college!  She left college after a semester because of her romance with Bryan, a young man back at her home who was pursuing and wooing her.  They ended up getting married during Christmas break of my sophomore year, and I was honored to be one of her bridesmaids (and wear a gorgeous navy blue velvet dress, by the way).  :)  It was her wedding that caused me to fly to Israel by myself (as I mentioned in this post).

Looking back, however, I believe that that was the last instantaneous friendship I've had.  Don't get me wrong:  I've been blessed by an abundance of friendships in the years since then, but each of them has taken more time to develop.  Like with Jayne, Carolyn, Jacqueline, and Maggie...

Those four women were part of a church in San Diego that we joined back in 1998, during the first year of our marriage; and they were the first to reach out to me and, as such, were hugely instrumental in helping me grow spiritually in ways that I could hardly have imagined I would grow.  God used them to sharpen me like iron, and I will forever be grateful for their input (as well as the barrels of fun we had and the mountains of memories we made along the way).

But here's the thing about those four women (and the many other wonderful friends we made in San Diego):  the friendship wasn't immediate.  I remember my initial encounters with them; I felt guarded and reluctant to open my life and heart to them.  They were so different from me!  Could they ever really be my best friends?

They could, and they were.  Imagine:  a Jewess, a Hispanic, an African-American, and a Texan, all creating such a circle of love and security and spiritual friendship around me.  It was amazing, and my surprise at our developing friendship led to sheer delight at how God made our paths to cross.

And so, from these two encounters, I learned that friendship, that dear, sweet gift that brings such joy to life, sometimes comes quickly and sometimes comes slowly.  But either way, it brings so much rich beauty to our days.  Nowadays, if I meet someone and hit it off right away, I give thanks for that; and if it takes a little longer to click with someone, I don't fret, but give thanks anyway!

It Must Be the {Lack of} Caffeine

Why am I so tired this evening?  We had a scrumptious early {really early...about 3:45 PM!} dinner at a Japanese steakhouse where they cook your food in front of you and add all sorts of tricks to the cooking process today.  We only eat there when Jeff's mom is here; every time she visits, we pick one day and she treats us to dinner there.  The food is great; but the best part, hands-down, is watching the faces of the boys as they see fire come out of an onion volcano or an egg go flying onto the top of the chef's hat or a lemon get speared in mid-air by his fork.  So much fun!  (Except for when Tobin got scared by the fire today and was literally trembling in fear; but after he was reassured, it was all fun!)  :)

Anyway, after we got home, I dragged around and tried to get inspired to do something; but all I managed to accomplish was putting away some things that had piled up on my grandparents' old chair beside my bed.  Usually I'm looking forward to the time for writing that I have after the boys are in bed; usually I'm rarin' to go when I think about my blog.  But tonight, I felt so drained that I could hardly muster up any energy or desire to write.  

So I did the only thing that sounded like fun:  I went Christmas shopping.  Oh, not "real" Christmas shopping, that requires getting in the car and going somewhere.  I did the kind of Christmas shopping I could do at home on a night when I had no energy:  online shopping.  Perfect for tonight!

When I think back to Christmas last year, I have so many really good, sweet memories of that time.  The whole Christmas/winter season of last year sort of makes my heart ache because it was so precious.  But here is the part that wasn't so precious--staying up until after midnight on Christmas Eve wrapping presents for the boys.  I do NOT want to repeat that; in fact, this Christmas Eve, I want to go to sleep on the couch in the living room with Josiah and David, not be fumbling around with gift bags and tissue paper and tape and bows.  I'm hopeful that with my early start to Christmas shopping, I'll be the one snoring on the couch this Christmas Eve.  ;-)

********

Encounter #5

Sometimes God speaks through dreams.

I don't always remember my dreams; and when I do, it rarely seems to me that they are a message from God (because God is a god of order, but my dreams are not orderly!).  But once in a while, a dream will seem to have a fairly clear spiritual application; and I'm grateful for the inspiration that can come to me in that way.  

No other dream, however, contained as vivid a spiritual message as the one I'm about to describe.

I must have been a teenager, journeying down the path of spiritual awakening and questioning and am-I-going-to-make-my-parents'-faith-my-own?  I had times of doubt; and looking back, I see how completely normal and even necessary that was.  At the time, however, the earth felt a little shaky under my feet.  Would I keep my faith in God?  Could I?  Did I want to?  How did I know He even existed, after all?

And then one night, I had the dream.

In the dream, I was sitting, for some reason, in a pasture by the S-turn on Silver Lake Road that goes to Dayton.  In the odd manner of dreams, I somehow had a seat belt on, even though I was sitting on the ground in a field.  Then a voice spoke a short, simple sentence.  No, it didn't "speak" it.  It boomed it.  Whose voice was it?  I'm not sure.  But it was deep and powerful, the kind of voice that echoes around in the head and heart even after the initial sound has died away, the kind of voice that brings confidence and erases doubt.  The words it uttered were simply, "JESUS IS LORD."  

That's it.  No long discourse, no lengthy utterance, just a statement of truth that immediately brought peace to my heart and that stayed with me, comfortingly, as I continued my path through spiritual questioning and inner turmoil.  That moment, that dream, that voice was an encounter that helped to shape the future direction of my life; and for that, I am very grateful.

Series Are for...

...breaking?

Apparently so, because not only have I gotten dreadfully behind in my Encounters {30 Days Thankful} posts, but yesterday I also broke my Sunday habit of posting a verse for my Truth-Light-Hammer-Fire series.  How could I?  ;-)

Once in a while, I run across a button on somebody's blog that declares "Blogging Without Obligation," and I think to myself that more bloggers should be that way:  blogging only when (and what) they want to, more focused on the pleasure of keeping a journal for themselves than building the biggest blog audience around, not feeling like they have to apologize when they miss a day (or week or month) of blogging, etc.  So tonight, even though part of me would like to be curled up in bed, snuggling cozily under my favorite invention since flush toilets, another part of me is telling myself to stay here in my rocking chair, with my bare feet cold on the chilly floor and my laptop perched on my knees...NOT because of any sense of obligation to blog on a (nearly) daily basis or to continue a series that I started days (or months) ago, but because of the pleasure of capturing moments and turning their fleeting nature into 26 black and white symbols that preserve the thoughts, the actions, the sounds and smells and tastes, the emotions, the essence of these precious moments of these busy, busy days that fly by in a flash.

A year from now, I'll maybe be sitting in this same rocking chair with my feet bare on the cold floor while the rest of the household sleeps; and I'll be so glad that I took the time tonight to write something.  And maybe, just maybe, these boys...

...and their little brothers, will someday read these words; and they will be glad that I sat up late to write them.

That picture, by the way, was taken by Jeff during our trip last Friday to Mt. Vernon.  He took almost all of the pictures that were taken that day, and I hope to post more of them at a later date.  I'm grateful that even when I was in a photographic slump, he wasn't.  :)

Before I go on to talk about Encounter #4, I'll give a quick recap of the last few days.
Friday:  Mt. Vernon, of course
Saturday: recovering from Friday, and preparing for a Bible study in our home that evening
Sunday: an Old Order Mennonite church service with our neighbors (something that I definitely want to write about sometime!), lunch for 15 around our table, Josiah's violin recital in the afternoon, and some relaxing time with the faithful friends who watched our little guys during the recital
Today: homeschool as normal, with the added joy of putting our Christmas candles in the windows to surprise Josiah when he got home from SVCC practice (they are much more than Christmas candles to me; I put them out early and keep them up late, and would leave them in our windows year-round except for the danger of them falling and breaking when I have the windows open during warmer weather), and a rousing pillow fight with my three oldest sons after supper...I love my boys!  :)

********

Encounter #4
Fourteen was a big year for me.   I went on my first airplane ride, left the country for the first time, and went on my first mission trip.  I switched schools.  Encounter #3 happened that year, at that new-to-me school.  But even before all that other stuff happened, another Encounter occurred which helped to shape me into who I am now.

My grandfather died.

My dad's dad, he was the first of my grandparents to die, the closest living relative that I had lost to death.  He was elderly and had lived a long, productive life of service to God and humanity.  He was the original Dr. Huffman in this area (and an inspiration to his two sons who both became Dr. Huffman as well).  He had suffered from heart trouble, and he had a prosthetic leg (it's kind of funny as a kid to see your granddad take off part of his leg).  :)

He died the day after I turned fourteen.

His tradition had been to pull our ears on our birthday, although why that tradition started, I have no idea.  When he died, I couldn't help but think, "But he didn't get to pull my ears for this birthday!" (because he had been very ill in the hospital).

Although there is so much more that I could say about his life, what really stood out to me is how he approached death.  When he realized that he was nearing the end of his life and would only be able to survive if kept alive through artificial means, he wrote on a piece of paper in shaky but clear letters (because he couldn't speak due to the ventilator? that was breathing for him), "Let me die."  It wasn't because he had a death wish; it was, simply, because he was ready.  Ready to enter eternity.  Ready to meet Jesus.  Ready to see face-to-face the Lord he had served all his life.  Death was a doorway; and at that point for him, it was a welcome doorway.

It surprises and grieves me when I see how desperately some Christians cling to life, and how fearfully they approach death, and how ungracefully they slip towards it, digging in their heels and fingernails and anything else they can use to slow down their progression..  Don't get me wrong:  I love life, too!  And I'd be so grateful to have 50 or 60 more years of it here on earth.  But at the same time, I realize (and I pray that I continue to realize it as the end of my earthly life approaches) that death is just a door.  When you know Who is standing on the other side of that door, there is nothing to fear.

Thank you, Granddad, for teaching me that.

Quintessential Fall

"Real" fall seemed a little slow in coming this year; but now that the calendar says November, I think it has arrived.  How do I know?  Well, let me count the ways...

1. Applesauce is being made and canned.

2. Fires in the woodstove burn every day.

3. My favorite sweater is being worn again.

4. Academic achievements are being celebrated (two days ago, David finished a math book; yesterday, Josiah finished a piano book).

5. Night falls earlier than in the long summer evenings, making a bedtime of 8:00 or 8:30 seem doable again.

6. A container of homemade hot chocolate mix resides in our kitchen, and every load in the dishwasher includes at least one or two mugs.

7. Daytime skies are often an unbelievable shade of blue:  clear and brilliant.

8. The seasonal sorting and switching of the boys' clothes is occurring (rather slowly this year, I'm afraid).

9. The garden is forlorn, needing some time and attention before it's tucked in for the winter.

and the big one...

10. Leaves are falling and being raked into a pile to be...what else?...jumped into!

I love Tobin's face in this next one.  :)

OK, we've jumped.  Now it's time to throw leaves at each other.  :)

I brought Shav out to join the fun, and I plopped him down in the middle of the leaf pile.  He hardly knew what to think.  Should I smile, or should I fuss?  Well, big brother David is pretty entertaining, so I'll laugh at him.

The Four.  Getting them all lined up, sitting still, looking at me, and being pleasant was nearly impossible.

I realized trying to restrain these wild young stallions was useless, so I let them go and the leaves immediately flew again.

It would have been nice to get some sweet sibling pictures.

But Shav was in a phase of "I don't think I like this leaf stuff!" and the pictures...well, it's obvious how they turned out.

Josiah wanted me to bury him, and then to uncover parts of him and take pictures.

 I obliged, capturing feet, legs...

...a hood, and a sliver of a grinning face.

Seeing Shav's reaction to the leaves today made me think of his reaction, months ago, to grass.  :)

I'm gonna cry.  No, I think I'll stop.

 I'll give a tentative smile, since you all seem to think these brown and gold crackling things are something special.

 OK, now I'm happy.

Uh oh, here comes Tobin.

What is he up to?

 Throwing leaves on my head, that's what!

I give up.  They won't stop pestering me.  I might as well enjoy it. 

Brothers!!!

********

Encounter #3

I was 14 years old, a sophomore, and had just switched schools from my private school of roughly 80 students total (K-12) to another private school which had 60+ students just in my grade:  an enormous adjustment.  Into that semester of new-student fog came a moment which significantly shaped the rest of my years at that school--and the rest of my life.

Jay Hartzler, the music teacher, knowing that I played the piano, approached me and asked if I would accompany the choir for one piece during the Christmas concert.  The piece was "This Endris Night," my answer was yes, and that was just the beginning for me.

I discovered the wonderful world of accompanying which became, so to speak, my true love in the world of music.  I found my place in that new school and earned the respect of the other students as they learned who I was and listened to me contribute to the group.  I gained admission to select choirs, not only at that school but also later when I was in college--admission granted to me not because of my singing talent (which was adequate, but not a stand-out), but because of my accompanying skills.  I had doors swing open to me in the world of music that I would not have dreamed of before that life-changing day when Mr. Hartzler said, "I'd like you to accompany 'This Endris Night.' Will you do it?"

Accompanying became so cherished to me that, were it not for other Encounters further down the road, I might have gone on to graduate school to pursue a master's degree in it and see how far I could go in accompanying, career-wise.  But, as is apparent at a glance, other Encounters changed my direction and led me away from that path.  I have no regrets.

But I do still have a keen fondness for accompanying, even if my only chance to do it these days is accompanying Josiah during his violin recitals. :)  Martin Chapel is a far cry from Carnegie Hall, but I am content...AND I'm grateful that Mr. H. took a chance on a new student and started me on the path of accompanying.

The Day the Filing Cabinet Fell...

...on Tobin.

Regret.

Such a familiar feeling, known to all of us who inhabit this planet--and today, I got a whopping serving of it.  Oh, I'm not talking about the way my nose wrinkled up when I went into the garage and realized that I must have run over a skunk carcass somewhere on my way home from voting.  I'm not referring to the feeling of chagrin when I realized exactly how many potato chips I had downed while absentmindedly finishing my lunch and reading at the same time.  I'm not thinking of how I stayed up way too late last night and didn't want to get out of bed this morning.  

I'm talking about how, late this morning, soon after Jeff's mom had left the house with my mom for a ladies' lunch out at our local tea house, I was in our downstairs room with Josiah and David and Tobin, Josiah was playing the piano, I was focusing on him as I listened and gave suggestions and answered questions, and Tobin--my adored Tobin Bear--was opening the drawers of a tall, four-drawer filing cabinet we have next to our computer desk.  This is where I get the sick feeling in my stomach...the thought that if I had just been paying more attention to Tobin, nothing bad would have happened...the sensation of "where is the rewind button?  can't I just do this moment over?  please?  PLEASE???"

The filing cabinet started to fall.  On Tobin.  The big, heavy, crammed-full-of-papers beast of a filing cabinet began its descent; and my sweet little fragile child stood in the way.  In the tiniest portion of a second, my attention completely left Josiah and focused fully on Tobin.  During the previous blink of an eye, I was not even consciously aware of the fact that he was pulling out the drawers of the filing cabinet.  But in that blink of an eye, my heart exploded with fear and I screamed, "God!  God!" over and over as I ran to him, lifted the filing cabinet, told him to move out from under it, realized that his right foot was caught, lifted the cabinet higher, and got him free from it.  In the next eye-blink, I realized David was asking in a terrified voice, "Is he going to die?", and I heard myself answer, "No, he's not going to die."  I scooped Tobin up, carried him up to the living room, sat on the couch, and let my tears flow with his as he wailed and wailed.

Already, an ugly line had appeared on his leg.  A short scratch on one side of it caught Tobin's attention, but the deep purple bruise looked far more menacing to me.  I felt certain he must have broken his leg, and I was envisioning a trip to the hospital, x-rays being taken, a cast being put on (I, who have never had a broken bone, was secretly jealous as a child when a friend or classmate would break a bone and get a cast, generating all sorts of attention and sympathy, not to mention the signatures and smiley faces people would decorate the cast with!...but with Tobin today, that was one cast I was not looking forward to seeing!).  But before I loaded all the boys into the van for a trip to our local ER, I did the only sensible thing:  I called my dad.  As I have uncountable times before, I thanked God that my dad is a doctor and that he lives so close to us!  He came right up the hill and brought peace into the home as soon as he walked in the door.  It was a little hard to examine Tobin's leg and discern exactly the extent of the injury because Tobin was still crying quite hard and couldn't answer Dad's questions with any degree of clarity.  But Tobin was able to wiggle his toes--a promising sign that no break had occurred.  Dad's instructions were to give him some pain medicine, put a cold pack on the bruise, and do lots of cuddling--directions which I followed to a T!  :)  Tobin cried for quite a long time, but eventually quieted down as I read story after story to him.  I think he stopped crying so he could hear the words of the story.  :)

During the next few hours, Dad checked in with us a few more times; and each time, Tobin seemed to act more normal and moved his leg in a more regular manner.  I asked him a few times about his foot, because it seemed to me that it had been caught under one of the drawers and might have been really damaged by that; but each time, he insisted that it was his leg that hurt, not his foot.  I'm guessing that the cabinet struck his leg in that spot during its initial descent, when it had the most force behind it.  

As I was snuggling with Tobin on the couch, Josiah wanted a turn.  He and Tobin pretended to be asleep...

...and then David came and wanted to join the fun.  More pretend sleep followed...

 ...but then they couldn't help it.  They had to burst out laughing.  :)

Tobin ate a little lunch, and then I carried him up to his room for a nap.  A little later when I checked on him, I discovered this...

 ...his sweet hand clutching My Final Answer (a Bible trivia book), even while he was sleeping.

Of course, I had to lean down and give him kisses.  And of course, my heart welled up in thanksgiving at the way God protected him.  It could have been so much worse.

After all of this, I went back downstairs to our library and tried to get the filing cabinet set back up.  You know what?  That thing is heavy!  I'm not quite sure how I was able to lift it off him so quickly...except to say that the way God designed us with the unbelievably fast rush of adrenaline that gives herculean strength is amazing!  And, if I could have seen into the spiritual realm, maybe, just maybe, an angel was helping me lift it. You think?

********

Thinking about the idea of regret, of wishing that I could go back even one minute in time so that I could do things differently, made me think of what I want to share for 30 Days Thankful today.  I know I wrote yesterday that I was only going to share about "beautiful and pleasant" things, but here I am, only on the second day, and already breaking the rules!  :)  But this encounter that I'll describe does stick in my head as a defining moment when I learned a very important lesson in tact.

Encounter #2

My maternal grandfather suffered from Alzheimer's Disease, and had it for many, many years before he died.  When I was a child, I did not fully understand what was going on with him; and on one occasion, I insensitively blurted out something that I soon wished I could take back.

As I remember it, Granddad, Grandma, Mother, my brother David, and I were having a picnic at the James Buchanan Birthplace, a spot not too far (relatively speaking) from my grandparents' farm in southern Pennsylvania.  I think that was the only time we ever did that, and I'm guessing that we probably stopped there on the way to or from a doctor's appointment or a shopping trip in one of the nearby towns.  As we were spreading our things on a picnic table, I noticed that someone had set the silverware out by the plates...but had not done it correctly (knife on the right side with the curved side facing the plate, spoon to the right of that, fork on the left side, all lined up neatly).  I spoke up and perhaps even laughed about it, wondering aloud who could be so silly as to set the table incorrectly?!  Why, everybody knows how it's supposed to be done!  

A quick shushing from my mother, and the realization that my granddad had set the table to the best of his limited and fading ability, made me long to take back those words.  I wasn't sure if Granddad had heard me; and if he had, would he even remember what I said?  But I hated the thought that my careless speech had perhaps caused him embarrassment and shame.

Hasty speech?  Bad.

Thoughtfulness before opening one's mouth?  Good.

Tact?  Absolutely necessary!

Lesson learned?  YES!

Today, I'm thankful that even in those moments when I'm looking for a rewind button because I can't stand what just happened, God is not.  He knew it was going to happen, and He already has a plan to redeem the situation--whether it be through teaching a small boy to not play with the filing cabinet...or teaching a young girl to guard her tongue and speak with prudence.

When November Rolls Around...

...I like to turn Thanksgiving Day into Thanksgiving Month--hence, the 30 Days Thankful series that I've done in 2008 and 2009.  Each year, I like to choose a different focus for my expressions of gratitude.  The focus for the first year was, rightly, Jeff and all the various attributes of him that drew me--and continue to draw me--to him.  Last year, I chose to direct my thoughts towards happy memories from my childhood; and as I reminisced, I was renewed in my gratitude for the people and places that made my growing-up years so delightful.

And this year?

Encounters will be my theme.

By encounters, I mean events that happened to me, conversations with various people, books I've read, spiritual moments--anything that, although it might have seemed insignificant at the time, changed me significantly in some way.  Something which altered, in some way, the course of my life.  

Although I could find, in my memory bank, a handful of negative encounters which did indeed alter the course of my life(!), I will instead focus only on the positive and the things that I have learned through peaceful and beautiful moments.  Here's an example:

Encounter #1

It was the end of the school year, and my small private school was holding its annual awards banquet.  I can't remember exactly how old I was--somewhere in early middle school, I would guess--but I do remember who my teacher was:  Bruce Hollingshead.  One of the eagerly-anticipated parts of the awards banquet was a presentation to each student of a special character trait exemplified by that student, and a short explanation of why that character trait was given to him/her.  I usually got things like "Dependable"--perfectly appropriate for the nice, quiet, shy, sweet girl that I was.  But the year Mr. H. was my teacher--well!  He called my name during that awards ceremony, then told me that my character trait was "Courage."  Huh?  Was there another Davene in the room that he was talking about?  ;-)  Surely it wasn't me!  Courage???  That's crazy!

I don't remember all that he said that night, but I do remember him emphasizing that, even though that character trait of mine seemed hidden, it was there, and it was strong.  

Now as I look back over my life, I see what he knew all along:  God has given me the gift of courage.  Not that I never struggle with fear, because of course, I do.  But running through my veins, giving life and health to my soul, is courage.

Courage that says, "Yes, I'll speak in front of hundreds of people at a Back-to-School Night, even though I'm a new student here and hardly know anyone."

Courage that says, "Yes, I'll fly to Israel all by myself, taking three different flights to get there, traveling alone from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem, to meet up with my study abroad group."  (I had stayed behind to be in the wedding of one of my dear college friends.)

Courage that says, "Yes, I'll marry you," to a passionate Californian whose upbringing was very different from my own.

Courage that says, "Yes, I'll go on vacation to Israel in the middle of scorching hot August...with a two-month-old baby."

Courage that says, "Yes, I'll pack up and move to Israel, leaving behind family and friends and all that's familiar...with a seven-month-old baby...right when the Iraq war is starting...and we're issued gas masks that we must carry with us everywhere."  Welcome to Israel, y'all.

Courage that says, "Yes, Jeff, I share your spiritual discontent.  Let's leave the familiar and journey into the unknown."

On that night long ago, when Bruce spoke the word "Courage" to me, I don't know if he was right and that courage was really there, or whether him speaking that into my life helped the tiny seed of courage to grow and develop.

Regardless, tonight as I pause to remember, I say,

"Thank You, God, for the courage in me that could only come from you."

and

"Thank you, Bruce, for looking past my timid exterior and somehow, improbably, seeing COURAGE within."  

Wrapping Up Gratitude

Now that Christmas is past and the new year begins tomorrow, I guess it's about time for me to finish up this Thanksgiving post!! :)

For most of the years since we moved back to the States, we have made the trek to my brother's house in Pennsylvania for our Thanksgiving celebration. The year that I was heavily pregnant with Tobin, we did not; but if my memory serves me well, all the other years, we have. This year, not being pregnant at all, I was eager to make the trip.

Because Jeff had to work on the day after Thanksgiving (like always), we went up and back in a day, rather than spending the night. Six hours on the road is a long time, but it's worth it for a chance to be with family.

This year, we were fortunate enough to borrow a wonderful large van from some friends (thank you, friends!). Jeff grew very fond of it and didn't want to give it back, I think. :) It was so nice to be able to fit all eight of us (my parents included) easily into the van and have plenty of room for everything we needed to take along. That is the way to travel. :)

The way up passed fairly smoothly, especially since I had come prepared with various books, games, snacks, etc. for the boys. Shav got a kick out of looking out the window at the passing scenery...and occasionally batting at the frog hanging from the handle of his car seat...

Even though it was a cold, drizzly day, that didn't stop the kids from playing outside. My brother's three kids are older than my boys (and older than my sister-in-law's sister's kids who were also there), but they are so good at playing with the younger ones: asking them what they want to do, including them, being patient and kind with them, etc. No wonder my boys adore their cousins!

Jacob is a very good soccer player and plays on various teams throughout the year...

Isaac and Josiah were on the same team...

Isaac plays soccer on a team (teams?), too. They're such a "soccer family" that I can't quite keep up with which kid plays on what teams!

This was the first day of Tobin's life that he didn't have a nap. How could he sleep on this day? There were too many exciting things to do! Like walk and walk and walk and walk around the "circle" in my brother's house...and play with the dogs...

Oh, the dogs! Josiah got lots of affectionate kisses from Belle, my brother's pug, and Buddy, their new white poodle...not a toy poodle either...nothing miniature about this dog...

Buddy was bigger than Tobin and just as full of excitement...

Sometimes Buddy would gallop past Tobin, wagging his tail, and Tobin would get whacked in the head with his tail...Tobin didn't seem to mind; he just loved being with the dogs...
There was another dog, too; he belongs to the sister of my sister-in-law Lori, but I don't have a picture of him.

The guys did their fair share of lounging on the couch and watching football. It's an American tradition, after all!

Lori's dad showed us all up by being the first to work at clearing up the table; what a servant's heart. We love my sister-in-law's family and are always glad for this opportunity to visit with them...

Shav got some cuddles from Jean, Lori's mom...

...and from Lisa, Lori's sister...

This picture is what it's all about: the chance for our kids to spend time with their much-loved cousins (and cousins-in-law--is that a word?). :) And, of course, we didn't just make the trip for the kids' sake. We adults had a great time, too!
No doubt about it, family is precious.

When we set out in the van to drive home, I fully expected Tobin and Shav to quickly fall asleep. Instead, Josiah and David were the ones to drift off almost immediately; and it took the younger ones longer to finally go to sleep. After the others had gone off to dreamland, Shav was still awake and fussy so I put my little finger in his mouth for him to suck on and be soothed to sleep. But then I quickly took it out. Something hard and sharp had just bit me!! I inspected further; and sure enough, there was his first tooth: the right front bottom tooth. A day or so before this, David had told me that he thought Shav had a tooth; but I downplayed his comment, telling him that "no, Shav's too young to have a tooth." Boy, was I wrong; and the next day, I sheepishly told David that he was right: even though Shav was only four months old, he indeed had a tooth! That little discovery was a memorable way to end Thanksgiving 2009. :)

Prior to that, I had not noticed that Shav had been unusually fussy so I never once suspected that he might be teething. It wasn't too long after this that his other front bottom tooth came through the gum, so now he's got a beautiful shiny pair of teeth gleaming in his mouth. For once, one of my boys was actually EARLY in something! :)

Days 26, 27, 28, 29, & 30 - When I began the month of November by focusing on being grateful for various parts of my childhood, I was flooded with happy memories that I wanted to write about, many more than I actually had time to mention.

In November, I wanted to write about...

~ visiting Uncle Dan and Aunt Rosa Lee (actually, my great-uncle and great-aunt)...sitting quietly in their fancy living room while the adults visited, looking around at all the pretty fragile things in that room, glancing occasionally at the glass candy dish on the coffee table and eagerly waiting for Aunt Rosa Lee to encourage my brother David and I to have a piece

~ planning a family church service for the Sunday when we were at the beach on vacation...a time or two, we found a local congregation to join on that day; but most of the time, my parents let us have our own little service together...my brother David and I would be in charge of it, and we worked hard and thoughtfully to prepare the various parts of the service...we even made a handwritten program for it, decorated by David's colored pencil drawings of beach umbrellas and seagulls and such things

~ ways that I "helped" around the house when I was very young: handing Mother clothespins when she was hanging laundry on the line, standing on a kitchen chair by the sink to rinse the dishes, etc...rinsing the dishes was certainly a favorite job, MUCH better than the task of being the one to wash the dishes or dry them

~ playing Chinese checkers with my maternal grandparents...they were farmers and didn't take a whole lot of time for leisure, but this was one game that we played with them...such fun!

~ listening to the radio while we stayed at their house...they had a radio in their kitchen, and it was always tuned into WCRH...we listened to the news, weather, and various Christian programs...my favorites were the kids' programs, of course...Grandma knew when they would come on the air, and she would make sure we got to hear them if we were around

~ Grandma made a wonderful kind of homemade sausage, and I devoured it when we went to visit...she would bring out a little dish--white with blue flowers--full of thin slices of this sausage, and I would try to restrain myself from eating the whole bowl, but oh, I wanted it all!...it was good by itself or on bread with butter...I don't have any idea in the world how to make it, but thinking about this reminds me that I want to ask Mother about it...if she knows, I am definitely going to have to try it!

~ spending time at my paternal grandparents' home...they had a basement that was always a little (or a lot) scary to me, but there was some fun stuff down there, too--like a ping-pong table and some games...the most fun thing though was playing card games with Granddad...after his retirement from practicing medicine, he spent quite a bit of time playing card games: lots of Solitaire, but also Rummy when he could find someone to play with...he was glad to teach us how to play, and we had a lot of fun doing that

~ teachers that I have had that positively influenced me...here's just one silly memory connected with my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Warner...she had these cookies that she called Scream Cookies...whether that was really the name of the cookie or just her invention, I'm not sure...but every once in a while, she would take us to the back exit of the school building, we would stand outside, scream as loud as we could, and eat these cookies...now that I'm a homeschooling mother, I can understand why she needed to allow us to let off steam in this way! :)

~ times when I was sick...I'm not sure these really qualify as happy memories, but tonight I am inspired to write about these times because today, my own sweet Tobin got sick, awaking from his nap with vomit all over the place...he's vomited a number of times since then, and the diarrhea has set in, too...that means lots of mess, lots of laundry, a couple of baths, and the best part: lots of cuddles...anyway, my memories of being sick include waking up one night, feeling nauseated in my bed, trying to run as fast as I could so I could make it to the bathroom in time, and NOT succeeding...I spewed vomit all over the place near the doorway of my room...I particularly remember the light switch and the decorations I had nearby being covered in vomit...ugh...another time, one of my older siblings drove us to school (in our old burgundy and silver Suburban, I think); and just as I was climbing out of the back seat when we arrived at school, I couldn't hold it in any longer, but threw up in the car much to the chagrin of my grossed-out siblings...I think my mom was hastily called and had to drive over to pick me up and deal with the mess!...I distinctly remember having had eggs (scrambled, I think) and some kind of black bread for breakfast...to this day, I still don't like black bread!...another time, when I was a little older, I was having some kind of cough/breathing problem/respiratory issue...I remember Mother laying down in bed beside me, not a usual thing for her at all!, and I knew it was because she was worried about me and wanted to make sure I didn't stop breathing :)

~ my parents' waterbed...once in a great while, when my dad was gone overnight to a medical conference or a men's retreat, my mother would let me sleep in the waterbed with her...I thought waterbeds were the coolest thing ever and could hardly wait until I was old enough to have my own (which I never have had--does anyone have waterbeds anymore?)

~ speaking of medical conferences, I remember my parents returning from one that they went to together...they had saved the packages of peanuts (back in the days when airlines actually gave out peanuts) from their flights so they could give them to us...I was thrilled...it didn't take much to make me happy :)

~ my dad braiding my hair...I had long, long hair until I was eight years old; my sister cut it off one time when my parents were away...as a mom, I cannot imagine how my parents must have felt when they returned home to that!...but anyway, before that untimely haircut, my mother always parted my hair in the middle and braided it in two long braids...when she was away from home, my dad had to do it which I'm sure was not his favorite task...I'm also sure that my teacher at school could tell instantly when Mother was gone, just by one look at my braids :) ...oh, well, Dad knew a long time ago that he'd never have a career in hairdressing...my Uncle Jay helped him figure that one out :)

Oh, so many memories! So much love in my childhood! How blessed I am to have been born in the time and place and situation in which God placed me! How blessed I am, in turn, to have the opportunity of pouring out my love and affection on the four precious souls God has given to me!

Gratitude is a good way to end a year, so even though Tobin's sickness cancelled our plans to have dear friends over to see in the new year and even though I'll likely have interrupted sleep tonight and even though I might not get to go to the Harmonia Sacra sing tomorrow evening if Tobin's not feeling better and even though the sickness might spread to one of the other boys (or to myself or Jeff), still I remain conscious of the depth of the blessings that surround me. God has lavished me with His love; and this past year brought new evidence of that, particularly the indescribable gift of my son Shav.

Goodbye, 2009. Thanks for the many sweet memories!

Hello, 2010!!!