Jeff's Customers Really Like Him

They must anyway!  They sure give him a lot of stuff!  :)

This is by no means an exhaustive list, but here are some things they've given him through the years:
~ garden produce - this is a given; when you live in a gardening community, you're going to be given extra tomatoes and cucumbers and zucchini and whatever else the grower can't use up  :)
~ oranges
~ corn-on-the-cob from a "famous" local stand
~ pumpkin bread
~ tickets to the circus
~ a free ride on Cass Scenic Railroad
~ clothes for the boys
~ clothes for Jeff
~ clothes for me
~ puppies  :)
~ venison
~ bear meat

There are definite advantages to being an old-fashioned, small-town barber!

Saturday, Jeff called from work and announced his latest gift:

Ducks.

My thoughts raced, "Ducks?  DUCKS?  Why would someone give him ducks?  Don't we have enough animals around here?  And where are we going to put them?  We don't have a pond!"

Then he clarified:

Dead ducks.

My thoughts took off again, "Oh, duck meat.  Somebody shot some ducks and cut them up and gave Jeff some of the meat.  He'll bring home some Ziploc baggies of duck meat; and although I don't really know how to cook duck, we'll figure something out.  I can look up some info on the Internet."

I still didn't have it quite right.

This is what those ducks looked like:

Not exactly nice neat baggies of meat.

Jeff was not discouraged.  His little boy tribe gathered around him and watched as their Daddy-Who-Can-Do-Anything did...well...something to the ducks to get some meat to grill for dinner.  The boys thought it was grand.

I, on the other hand, didn't enjoy it quite as much.  I'm not a vegetarian, and I've lived in the country long enough and spent enough time during my growing-up years on my grandparents' farm to know, for example, that the delicious fried chicken Grandma served for dinner was pecking around the barnyard just the day before and the juicy steaks we enjoyed recently came from the steer whose dark brown eyes I gazed into last summer.  It's the cycle of life, and I get that.

But these ducks were so pretty!  In a flash, I turned into one of those kinds of people who doesn't mind eating meat, but would rather buy it wrapped in cellophane at the grocery store, and who doesn't want to think too much about where it came from before that!

If only Jeff's customers weren't quite so generous!  ;-)

Mr. Spontaneity

I never know what Jeff will think of next. 

God knew that being spontaneous was not one of my natural gifts (ha!), so he blessed me with a man skilled in spontaneity, a man who would be able to bring out of me something that wasn't there to begin with.  I've changed so much because of Jeff, but I still don't hold a candle to him when it comes to spur-of-the-moment ideas.

Today, for example, one of the first things he did this morning was say, "Let's hang up this shelf.  Where do you want it?"  This shelf, by the way, was given to us months ago by my dad; it was a cast-off from his office, no longer needed because of his retirement.  Since Dad gave it to us, it's been hanging out in the back of Jeff's closet.  I haven't pressured Jeff to put it up; and in fact, I haven't even thought about it recently.  

Apparently, something made Jeff think about it, because he was all gung-ho about putting it up this morning.  I didn't complain.  :)

Jeff found the studs and screwed it in securely--it's a heavy shelf--and now it's a perfect place to display some of our books where they can visually tempt little hands to reach for them, pull them off the shelf, and peruse them.

We decided to hang it right under the big map in our upstairs hallway, which reminded me of this quote I read recently in an article by Jill Hardy in my oft-used and much-appreciated homeschool planner, The Well-Planned Day:   

Your personal preferences will dictate a lot of your storage and organizational methods.  I know many homeschoolers who bristle at the idea of leaving maps on the wall, or having desks in common living areas, and just as many who embrace home learning as a decorating style.

"Home learning as a decorating style"?  Yes, I'd say that sounds about right.  :)

The next thing Jeff did to surprise me today occurred when he returned to the house from taking some food scraps to the compost pile and feeding the animals.  He came in the kitchen from the porch; but instead of quickly closing the door to keep the heat inside, he held the door open and gave a short whistle.  In trotted Molly.  Dear, sweet Molly.  Our first dog, my favorite dog of the three we have now.  But in the house?  Our dogs are outdoor ones and always have been; they enjoy the room to run freely in our pasture, and I enjoy the fact that my house has no dog hair or dog smell in it!  :)  But The One Who Surprises Me decided that it would be fun to bring Molly down from the pasture and bring her in the house...

...and then take her for a walk with three eager boys.

It was fun, too; and if it wasn't for that little bit about the dog hair and smell, I would dearly love having Molly as an indoor dog.

As it is, we'll let her stay outside with her two dog buddies and two goat buddies; but I'm so glad Jeff thought to bring her inside for a little bit today.

That man!  He surely keeps me on my toes.

That's why I married him.  ;-)

40 Days for 40 Years

"I've really been getting a lot of nice emails recently," Jeff said to me a few nights ago as he stretched out on the couch by the woodstove.

I was puttering around in the kitchen, putting some things away, I suppose, or doing one of the myriad of tasks that accompany the keeping of a home.  "That's great," I said, and tried to hide the huge smile spreading across my face.

"What?"  Jeff asked.  "Why are you smiling?"

I wasn't going to tell him.  I was trying to keep it a secret as long as I could.  I knew he would find out eventually, but...

Finally I had to confess that I had arranged for someone to email him each day with thoughtful words of affirmation for him:  40 days for 40 years.  Jeff's not a big party guy, and it's nearly impossible to find a gift--a physical item--that means a whole lot to him.  Oh, he receives them graciously, but they usually don't touch his soul.  But words of affirmation?  They speak to him.

Back in September, I read on Krista's blog about how her husband (also named Jeff, incidentally) had planned 40 days of celebration for her 40th birthday.  "Aha!" I thought, "I could do something like that for my Jeff!"  But what to do?  I wished that I had the money to take him on a trip, but that wasn't possible.  I knew that I could easily make a list of 40 special moments with Jeff, so I did.  But what else?  Then it dawned on me:  simply contact 40 of his friends--ranging from guys he knew when he was young and single, to men that he's met and become close to during our years in Virginia, and from every time in between--and ask them if they would be willing to spend a few minutes jotting an email to Jeff expressing appreciation for his friendship and for the way God has used him in their lives.  The response was immediate:   yes, I'd love to help!  what a great idea!  I'm honored that you asked!  what day do you want me to send my letter?

It's been fun, so much fun, to see the emails arrive.  They're not even written to me; but as Jeff shares them, they bring back a mountain of memories and reminders of cherished friendships through the years.

I'm not sure it's fair for me to be gaining so much enjoyment from this when it's supposed to be for Jeff's birthday!  ;-)

Now That You're 40

My dearest love,

Now that you're 40, 40 seems young.

To tell you (and whoever else is reading this) the truth, I've had a tiny bit of apprehension through the years as I've thought about you turning 40.  We've known some people who have apparently gone crazy when they hit the big 4-0 and have made some terrible decisions, particularly related to their marriages.  I've wondered, would that be you?  You've always made me feel so incredibly loved and secure in our marriage, and I couldn't imagine life any other way; but would this birthday suddenly make you lose your mind and look for a way out?  I'm happy to report that, as of this morning when you kissed me goodbye before you left for work, you still seem quite sane and in-love with me.  ;-)

I've only known you for the last fifteen years; but from that time, it's not difficult to remember 40 significant moments for us.  Wanna take a walk down Memory Lane with me?

1. first time I saw you (on the steps of the university in Jerusalem)
2. the field trip to Ashkelon and your decision to stay with the small group of us that were heading to Tel Aviv to spend the night (instead of going back to Jerusalem with the larger group)...I knew I was falling hard for you on that trip because I was so jealous!  any time you talked with another girl from the group, it tore me up inside; I wanted you for myself!  :)
3. you going with me to Bethlehem to help out at Bethlehem Bible Institute (instead of going away sight-seeing during Spring Break)
4. "the talk" in the garden on the night of Passover
5. the kiss at Petra
6. the proposal at the Western Wall (I had no answer for you then)
7. you riding with me to the airport when I flew back to the States after that life-changing semester in Israel (and your suggestion to me that we hop on a plane to Australia together and get married! crazy man)  :)
8. our discussion on the big rock at Camp-of-the-Woods, hammering out not only our beliefs, but also how we would handle disagreements
9. our drive home from Washington, D.C., via the Skyline Drive, and all those deer we saw
10. the proposal here in Virginia (I still wasn't ready)
11. the proposal at Lover's Cove on Catalina Island (this time, I said yes)  :)
12. the many pictures you sent me of our first apartment, and your excitement about finding one with such a gorgeous view (the bay in San Diego)
13. our wedding, wonderful in every way
14. the pomelos you went to great pains to find so you could bring them to our wedding
15. the elaborate, romantic Valentine's Day dinner you planned and served me on the beach in Coronado
16. your compassion, during the first years of marriage, when I would occasionally wake up during the night with horrible headaches (one time, you fixed me some soup...another time, you mixed a little Kahlua with milk and gave that to me!)  :)
17. your statement on January 1, 2000, that you were ready for us to have a baby (two and a half years ahead of the schedule I thought we had in place!...it didn't take me long to adjust my thinking to your revised schedule)  :)
18. standing outside the Boys and Girls Club with the Fields and Bentleys and being asked to go on staff for the church, knowing that one of your (our, really) dreams was coming true
19. watching you preach in the Boys and Girls Club; standing in awe of your zeal and passion and ability to communicate and inspire (God uses you mightily because you're such a willing vessel)
20. your graduation from the University of Phoenix (I was SO PROUD of your diligence and determination)
21. your weekly trips to the Chula Vista farmer's market to get Oro Blanco grapefruits for me when I was pregnant with Josiah
22. the birth of Josiah
23. the sermon you preached the Sunday after he was born (which happened to be Father's Day)
24. the phone call you received, asking us to sell our stuff, pack a few suitcases, and move to Israel
25. the joy you brought into our apartment when you would return from a morning of Hebrew Ulpan (language learning) to have lunch with Josiah and I (we always eagerly awaited your arrival, often watching out the window to see you come into view)
26. the many, many times you strapped on the Snugli and carried Josiah with you during outings in Tel Aviv
27. our seventh-anniversary celebration, which included a stay at the famous King David Hotel in Jerusalem, fulfilling a long-held dream of mine
28. the evenings of walking with you to your Hebrew classes at that Ulpan that was further away; I was pretty far along in my pregnancy with David and I waddled as I walked; you slowed your steps to match mine; I loved that time to talk with you; sometimes we got freshly squeezed pomegranate juice on our way; Josiah was in the stroller, and after we kissed you goodbye, we would waddle our way home, looking in the shop windows, and watching the people on the streets
29. the birth of David
30. the time we spent in England while moving from Israel to Virginia, and your advice to me to just relax and enjoy everything (that was exactly what I needed to hear)
31. the day you walked into West Side Barber Shop with resume in hand (little did we know that God would use that shop to provide for our family during these years in Virginia so far)
32. the morning after your birthday in 2006 when you opened the door to our neighbor being held hostage by a gunman, and I saw first-hand that "greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends" (John 15:13)
33. your encouragement to me in January 2007 to start blogging; I wouldn't have done it without you (little did we know just how much I would indeed blog over the following years!)
34. your calm demeanor when we were stuck in the ferry line to go to Ocracoke, NC, while vacationing on the Outer Banks in September 2007; we were stuck there because the battery of the van died! (talk about stressful!  whew!  but you handled it amazingly well)
35. the birth of Tobin
36. the way you missed me and the boys so intensely when you were in Israel without us in July 2008
37. the birth of Shav
38. you killing the snake (well, snakeS, since you've been a part of more than one snake incident around here); you're my protector and hero  :)
39. our decision to leave the church of which we were a part; I saw your heart torn to pieces by your love for God and for people and by your desire to see righteousness be done
40. late night talks on the couch ("can I sit at your feet, Boaz?") about where God is leading us and what the next step is

Now that you're 40, I realize anew that, in all the ways that matter, you've made me a extravagantly wealthy woman.

Now that you're 40, I still can't believe that you chose me to share the adventure of your life.

Now that you're 40, I stand in awe of who you are as a man:  your talents and abilities, your convictions, your provision for us, your boldness and courage, your character and integrity, your tenderness when appropriate, your knowledge base which is so vast (you seem to know something about everything!), and the love you lavish on me and our family.

Now that you're 40, I look forward to the next set of memories we'll build in this new decade of your life.

Now that you're 40, I love you more than ever.

I am yours,
Happy

And Just Like That, I...

...caught a cold.  At the 8:30 church service we attended this morning, I felt perfectly healthy.  When we went to the Christmas tree farm afterwards, I marched up and down the hills with vigor.  Then we drove to the barbershop to drop off a tree there and...

I sneezed.

And suddenly, I knew I was catching a cold.  A half hour later, while eating lunch here with my parents, I felt the familiar tight throat and the itchy, drippy nose.  Oh no, here we go.  Let me grab the bottle of Vitamin C and the box of Puffs Plus.

My original plan was to spend some quiet time this afternoon finishing my mother-in-law series; but once those symptoms hit me, I decided the wiser course of action was to go to bed and sleep while the little ones slept.  So much for finishing that series today!  

No matter.  This gives me a chance to post these pictures from our romp at the Christmas tree farm.  It's a delightful tradition for our boys, and I'm not sure Christmas would be complete for them without it.  When we first went back in 2007, I suspected that it might be the start of a family tradition; and sure enough, every year we make the trip to Singers Glen to the farm (here is 2008 and here is a snippet from 2009)--much more fun than our family tradition in San Diego of making a trip to Home Depot to choose our tree!  

At the farm, there are hills to climb...

...and run down...

...and run back up.

There are long shadows to chase...

...and a tree to (watch Daddy) cut down.

There are more hills to climb...

...and arms to outstretch when the climb seems too much and you have to call out, "Mommy, carry me!"  (To which I replied, "No, I can't carry you because I'm carrying Shav, but I can hold your hand!"  Then suddenly Tobin found new strength and realized he could actually climb it himself after all.)  :)

There are hills to fall down on...

...and get up on to continue the race with your brother.

There are trees to drag down the hill:  one for home and one for work.

And today, for a short time only, there were the cutest boys to photograph!

And no trip to the Christmas tree farm would be complete without candy canes to suck!  See how serious Tobin is about this?  :)

Also today, as a happy surprise, there was a kind lady who was willing to take a family picture of us outside the springhouse.  Pictures of our little family of six are few and far between, so I was especially grateful for this treat.  

Shav was a little distracted by David's candy cane; in fact, the only way we could get him to point his head in the general direction of the camera was to ask David to let Shav have a lick.  :)  Maybe we should have let Shav have his own.  

Oh well, there's always next year.  :)

Encounter of a Different Kind

Grandparent babysitters are the best!

Because of that, I was able to slip away from here, show up at Jeff's work as he was closing, and kidnap him for dinner out.  It had been a while since he and I had connected, just the two of us; there's usually so much noise and so many people around here!  :)  The time away was good for us; but as a result, I don't have my 30 Days Thankful post ready.  Oh well, I'll catch up tomorrow...or the next day...or?  :)

Completely and Hopelessly...

...indecisive!

I've been having fun tonight getting my October header and layout ready.  But I have one small problem:  I can't decide which background to use.  

Normally in situations like this, I would have a quick consultation with my in-house design expert, and he would help me decide; but at the present time, he's lying horizontally a few feet from me and...well...his snores aren't telling me much.  I keep going back and forth, but not landing...so I'm going to post these options so that when Jeff looks at my blog tomorrow, he can then tell me which one I should use!  :)

Option A:

Option B:

Option C:

Option D:

Option E:

And Option F, which is the current background on the blog.  I would post a screen capture of it, but The Powers That Be at Google just informed me that I have used up all my free storage space for photographs, so I need to purchase more.  Well!  We'll see about that.  

I would go ahead and buy the storage space now so I could be a perfectionist and post Option F along with the others, but I'd really like to ask my resident computer expert first, and...well...you already know what he's doing.  :)

When Time Is Short...

...and words are few,

a video will have to do!

We've been having more issues with our internet connection (or rather, our lack of internet connection), so my blogging has been enduring an enforced rest.  With the few minutes of time I'm allowing myself to blog tonight before I take my weary self to bed, I simply want to record another example of the creative way Jeff cares for our boys.  This isn't the first time Jeff has figured out an out-of-the-box way to bathe--and entertain--them.

These boys are so blessed to have such a fun daddy!

This One's Too Short, This One's Too Noisy...

This morning, it dawned (pun intended) on me that Jeff slept in four different spots last night--all within our house, of course.

First, he fell asleep on the little couch in our living room.

Then, he came up to our bed and slept there.

Next, he left our bedroom when I told him he should.  And why should I tell him such a thing?  Because Shav, dear little Shavi, who has been doing much better with sleep than he used to, had a relapse last night and cried and fussed terribly.  I didn't mind being up with him, but I figured that Shav's crying didn't need to disturb both Jeff's and my sleep...so I told Jeff, "Why don't you go sleep somewhere else?"  :)  When I came downstairs this morning, I noticed that the pillow on the big couch was rumpled, and the blanket was lying abandoned on it...so that was spot #3.

But where was Jeff?  Josiah and David were downstairs in the library; but when I asked David if Daddy was down there, I thought he indicated that he was not.  So I started looking through the house.  Had he gone back to our bed?  No.  Was he in Tobin's room?  Nope.  Josiah and David's room?  Not there.  One of the bathrooms?  Negative.  I checked the doors to see if he had gone outside to pick peppers and pray.  Both doors were locked, and the alarm system was still on, so he obviously hadn't gone out that way.  I headed downstairs to check the garage, thinking maybe he had somehow snuck out in the Jeep to go climb Mole Hill or something (although "sneaking out" with the Jeep is a misnomer since when you use that noisy vehicle, you lose any element of surprise whatsoever).  If the Jeep was still there, then where in the world was Jeff?  The thought literally flashed through my head that maybe the Rapture had happened.  :)

And then, I peeked into the library - and found him - asleep on the guest bed there, just the top of his head sticking out from under the covers.  That was the fourth place.

In this regard - and only in this regard - Jeff has something in common with Goldilocks..except she only tried out three sleeping places.

:)

What the World Needs Is...

...more grasshopper babies???  Apparently so.

I'm no entomologist, but I'd say this amorous couple has babies on the brain.

Although we often see grasshoppers around here during this season of the year, I haven't looked at one closely for a while - have you?  Now that I take the time to inspect them, I realize that they actually look like aliens from outer space.

Regardless of my repulsion, they obviously find each other sufficiently attractive; and even though I find them severely lacking in the cute and cuddly department, I do stand in awe of the Creator God who can think up and make such bizarre creatures.

Of course, in their {bug} eyes, I'm the one who's bizarre.

* Photo credit goes to Jeff, who discovered these loveBUGS hiding out in his hot pepper patch a few evenings ago.

You Were Right, Mark Twain

"I can live for two months on a good compliment."  So said Mark Twain; and the longer I live, the more I see the truth in his words.

Receiving a compliment brings a smile to my face, joy to my heart, and lightness to my step.  It energizes me.  I can be dragging along, wishing that the kitchen full of dirty dishes would magically clean itself; and then out of the blue, Jeff casually remarks, "You're a good writer."  Suddenly I discover energy I didn't know I had, and I'm flying around the room happily scrubbing pots and pans and wiping down counters, tasks that have nothing to do with the compliment Jeff gave me.  Regardless, his compliment was the fuel that got me going.

Or if Jeff says, "You and Josiah have the same kind of humor, you're really good at making him laugh," my willingness to patiently love and tenderly deal with the bedtime I-can't-wait-to-get-these-kids-into-bed-but-they-keep-popping-out shenanigans soars.

One time during supper, Jeff told us about a conversation he had in the barbershop with one of his customers.  Jeff was thinking of my eight-week menu plan and told the man, "Davene knows what we're having for dinner on Tuesday five weeks from now."  The man replied, "Really??  My wife could sure learn from that!"  On hearing that, I was determined to be even more prepared with menus and grocery lists, and thus eliminate the stress that can come from those homemaking tasks.

Here's a recent compliment from Jeff that meant a lot to me.  I love to learn the "secrets" of family living from mothers with large families, because if I can figure out how they handle their eight or eleven or fourteen kids, surely it will be easier for me to handle my four!  After a particularly noisy, tempestuous time with our boys, I was remarking to Jeff, "I think moms of large families have to learn to just let all the noise and crying roll off them like water off a duck's back."  He simply said, "You already do."  I thought, "I do?  You really think I do?  Well then!  I will!  I can do this!  I won't let the crying (that happens every day around here by some child or another...that has, in fact, happened daily for the last eight and a quarter years) get to me and raise my blood pressure.  I'll stay calm.  Jeff thinks I do it, so I will!!"

It's not just compliments from Jeff that feed me, of course.  Even a casual conversation with a stranger can have that effect.  When the waiter in Golden Corral, for example, says to me, "You have the best kids!" it gives me more patience when David is head-down under the table and I have to remind him to sit in his chair and Josiah is asking for someone to go with him to get dessert and I haven't even eaten two bites of my dinner and Shav is making a royal mess on the floor around his highchair with all the food items he's tossing overboard and Tobin is trying to hold his cup ALL BY HIMSELF but forgot that when drinking from a cup with a straw, you're not supposed to tilt the cup or it will spill...  The waiter's offhand comment gives me new lenses to look through, and suddenly I think, "Yeah, they are pretty great kids after all."  :)

These thoughts were rolling around in my head tonight because today, at Josiah's orientation for the Shenandoah Valley Children's Choir (which I will write more about soon, I hope, because it was so amazingly wonderful!), I was so bountifully "fed" by two conversations with people who read my blog.  The first was with Sandy, who years and years ago, taught, along with her husband, my junior high Sunday school class.  That's some history, all right!  Now that I'm all grown up, here I am blogging, throwing words into cyberspace, not knowing that she and her daughter occasionally take time to sit down and click on Life on Sylvan Drive and read those scattered words and see the pictures that show my view of life and learn the nicknames that we give our boys.  (I loved it when they referred to Tobin as Tobin Bear.  It makes it feel like they're part of the family.)  :)  Sandy said, "It's a treat for us to do that."  Really?  A treat?  How honored I am that she would feel that way.  How humbled I am that she wants to know me in this way, that she peeks into my life and finds something worthwhile here.

And then, as Josiah and I were walking out to the van, Evan stopped me, smiled beautifully, and introduced herself as a blog reader.  "You read my blog?"  I thought in surprise.  But I just asked, "How did you find my blog?"  Through her friend Emily, as it turns out.  What a small world.  Again, I was honored and humbled and encouraged and uplifted and filled as a result of Evan's kind words to me.

As I was telling my family about this over our supper of spaghetti this evening, Dad said, "It gives you extra incentive to write, doesn't it?"

It certainly does.  Oh yes indeed, it certainly does.  Thank you, Sandy and Evan, for touching my heart today.  If Mark Twain is right, I should be able to live for four more months, just because of your kindness.  :)

~ For fun, here's a picture of Tobin Bear with a little friend who came to visit recently.  When I saw them like this, I couldn't help but think of another time when Tobin stood and watched from a window.  Such sweeties! It's tough to have to be inside when big kids are outside having so much fun and doing so many exciting things!

I Saw a Snake...

...and I didn't freak out.  Well, not much anyway.  Maybe just a little bit.  On the inside.  On the outside, I was pretty calm.

This is huge for me.  HUGE.  My (strange, disproportionate, irrational) fear of snakes is well-documented in this blog, so for me to react even somewhat normally to seeing a snake is a major victory.  Maybe it even falls in the category of "Miraculous"!  :)

It happened on Monday--Labor Day--a day of beautiful, sunny weather, just right for a little family outing.  After tossing around various options, we decided to hike Mole Hill as a family.  Despite growing up just a few miles from it, I had never climbed Mole Hill before; and although I've heard Jeff talk about his excursions there, I wasn't familiar with the terrain and the length of the hike.

But we set off optimistically, with our child-carrier backpack that we planned to use for Shav.  I thought Tobin would love the chance to walk and climb and explore and be a little adventurer.  I knew we weren't in a hurry, so if it took him a long time to hike up Mole Hill, it would be fine.  No pressure, no stress, no rush.  Just a nice, peaceful hike with the family.

We set off, with Jeff carrying Shav in the carrier on his back.  I was the cows' tail, bringing up the end of our procession with Tobin close by.

Almost immediately, Tobin asked to be carried.  What's up with that?  Here was his chance to roam freely, and he wants to be carried?  "Oy," is what he says when he wants to be picked up; and "oy" is what I was thinking.  Oh, vey!  How are we going to handle this?  He's much too big and heavy and the climb is much too long for me to carry him in my arms the whole way.  We should have brought the Snugli for Shav and let Tobin use the carrier, but it was too late at that point.  What to do?

Jeff and I were trying to convince Tobin to walk, and Jeff had come back to where Tobin and I were lagging so that Tobin could hold his hand.  We had just completed the hand-off of Tobin from my hand to Jeff's when I saw it.

In the middle of the path, in some grass, exactly where Tobin had just walked, was a snake.

It was so directly in our way that I'm certain that Tobin either stepped on it or extremely close to it.

Just typing this makes me shiver.  It also makes me want to jump up and turn on all the lights in the room so I can look on the floor to make sure there are no snakes lurking about.  What was that about disproportionate, irrational fear?  ;-)

By the time I saw the snake and managed to squeak out, "SNAKE!", Jeff had already gotten Tobin part of the way up the trail; and he told Tobin to keep going, up to where Josiah and David were.  Tobin didn't really make it that far, but he was far enough along that I wasn't worried about him being in danger.  The other reassuring thing is that I could see immediately that the snake had a green stripe down its side; and although I don't know much about snakes (and don't have any desire to learn more!), I was fairly certain it was a harmless garter snake.  Although, as I've written before, I'm not sure how any snake can really be called harmless.  ;-)

At this point, I was thinking that the snake was almost certainly not poisonous...and of course, we weren't going to kill it...and wasn't I doing a good job of dealing with the situation?  There was just one problem:

I was on the other side of the snake from the rest of my family, and I had to get around it somehow.  How to do that?  Get a running start and jump over it as fast and high as I could?  Go off the path into the woods (where there were probably more snakes slithering along) to get around it?  Turn around and go down to the minivan and sit in it until the males in my family finished their hike?  ;-)

Fortunately, My Knight in Shining Armor was there to lend confidence to me, and I think he even said something encouraging, although I can't remember what.  I was able to make a (rather wide) detour around the snake, and then on up the path I went.  My heart was beating a little extra quickly; but in all honesty, my reaction was the most sensible, sane, laid-back response I've had to a snake since we've lived here.  Do you think God arranged for that little ol' snake to be there in the path, just so I would be confronted with it and realize that it wasn't as dreadful as my mind has imagined all snakes to be?

I came home feeling rather good about all of this.  Then I made the mistake of googling "garter snake" so I could make sure that what we saw was one of them.  That was an awful decision.  I could not handle seeing image after image of various snakes, stretched out, coiled, big, small, close-up, far-away, and on and on.  It was horrid, and I began to feel sick.  I did the only sensible thing I could do:  clicked the "x" and got off that screen as fast as I possibly could!

Is it any surprise that for the next two nights, I dreamed about snakes?

For the record, we didn't see any more snakes on the hike...it seemed like a long and hot climb to the top, especially because I was carrying Shav in my arms for most of the way because Jeff was carrying Tobin in the backpack carrier...but the best part was plopping down on the ground--after I checked carefully for snakes, of course--when we finally reached the summit (that makes it sound really high, doesn't it?  it's not) and resting while Jeff peeled some peaches he had brought along in the pocket of the carrier.  He handed them to us, one slice at a time, and the sweet, juicy goodness refreshed me tremendously.

Oh, the other best part was passing the spot where we saw the snake and making it all the way back to the minivan without seeing our little slimy friend enemy.  ;-)

When Jeff Heads to the Garden...

...his little two-year-old helper tags along.

Tobin has found such delight in being in the garden this summer with his daddy.

And he's learned a few things, too.

Like, if you put your fingers in your mouth after you've been picking hot peppers, you will regret it.

And, washing the peppers for Daddy is really fun because not only do you get to play in water...

...you also get thanked for being such a big, real helper. (He really is a real helper this summer!)

Most of all...

...being Daddy's buddy is the BEST.

Magnolias, Blood, & Childbirth

From Shav's window, I spotted a flash of white:  a blossom on one of the magnolia trees Jeff got me for my birthday a few years ago.  They're still spindly trees, and they don't blossom profusely--not yet, at least--so every single blossom is cause for rejoicing.

I wanted to see it closer so I carried my littlest son on my hip, beckoned the next two oldest sons to accompany me, and set off, still feeling the coolness in the morning air and the dampness on the grass.

There it was.  High enough above my head that I couldn't get the picture of it I had imagined in my mind, I simply held up my camera and pushed the button.  

A view of a magnolia blossom from below is still worth seeing.

********

You might be a mother of little ones if...

...an afternoon excursion to give blood while Grandma watches the children (and one child spends time at the barbershop with Daddy) is the most relaxing thing you've done all week.

That's how I felt this afternoon anyway.  Despite the tourniquet around my arm and the needle sticking in my vein, I thoroughly enjoyed my time and--for once--didn't regret the fact that I'm a slow bleeder.  I had a book to keep me company, of course (The Autobiography of George Muller, that my dear blogging friend, Margie, sent me), and was easily transported from the mall corridor where I reclined as my blood dripped out to Bristol, England, in the days of Muller.  That George.  He ALWAYS challenges and inspires me.

********

On Tuesday evening, we had Sally and her family over for dinner; and we loved having time with them and seeing (and holding) their sweet little three-week-old Marie.  As Sally and I were talking about Marie's birth and swapping details of our other birth stories, it dawned on me again that I sort of fell into natural childbirth through default.

Before Josiah was born, I thought it would be great to have a natural childbirth.  I also thought it would be great if the pain wasn't very bad so that I didn't need an epidural.  :)  Wishful thinking, I know.  At that point, I had not even heard of women who delivered naturally without pain and used the incredible power of the mind (and God's Spirit) to take away fear and pain.  Regardless, without taking the time to write all the details of Josiah's birth story, I'll just mention that I ended up getting an epidural when I was 9.5 centimeters dilated; and although it provided some initial relief, it also slowed my progress and made it extremely difficult for me to push.  The pain returned, the baby still wasn't out, and I nearly went out of my mind before he was finally born two and a half hours later.  Four months later, Jeff's sister had her first baby; and we were at the hospital, waiting to welcome our new little nephew into the world.  At one point near the end of her labor, Jeff was in the hall outside her room; and when he returned to the waiting room where I was playing with Josiah, he said in amazement, "She had an epidural, and she was laughing!"  Even with my epidural, I certainly didn't laugh when I was that close to delivering Josiah--not until after the birth, at least.  :)

So I didn't accomplish my goal of a natural childbirth, but I was just fine with that and didn't feel bad about how my labor had gone (well, I felt bad that the epidural didn't work better, but that's all).  :)

When I was pregnant with David in Israel, I again thought it would be neat to have a natural childbirth--if the pain wasn't too bad.  I was such an optimistic second-timer.  "Surely this birth will be easier than the first, right?"  And it was.  Easier, and shorter.  But even still, if I could have gotten an epidural, I would have.  The only problem was that when we got to the hospital, I was already dilated to 9 centimeters, and there was no time for one.  (The rest of his birth story is here).

I vividly remember that after David was born, I had the strongest sense of relief I had ever had up to that point in time.  I can't overstate how deeply the word "relief" became real for me, as I sank down onto that beanbag on the floor and held my newly-delivered son on my chest.  Besides the obvious relief of "the baby is out of me!", there was also a strong sense of accomplishment because I had done it naturally without pain medicine.  "Now I'm a real pioneer woman," I thought.  "Now I've reached that goal I've had ever since Carolyn Fields started influencing me.  :)  Now I can check that off my list.  Now I've proven myself.  Now I'LL NEVER HAVE TO DO THAT AGAIN!"  :)

Before Tobin's birth, I wasn't opposed to the idea of getting an epidural; but I had done some reading about childbirth without pain and my mental preparation was the best of any of my deliveries.  As I've written about here and here and here, I felt GREAT up until the very end.  However, once again, I hit the wall of "I can't take this, and I'd rather be dead"  :)...but it was short-lived, and Tobin was born soon after, and life was BEAUTIFUL.  Another birth without an epidural!

And then with Shav, I've documented (here, here, and here) how I wanted an epidural.  Really, really wanted one!  But the nurses couldn't get my IV started quick enough; and before I could get the epidural, I was completely dilated and ready to push.    Yet another birth without an epidural!

I don't feel like I should get any kind of Hero Award or Strong Woman Medal...or Woman Crazy Enough to Deliver Without an Epidural Badge.  If circumstances had been different, I would gotten an epidural each time - for sure!  However, I am EXTREMELY grateful that my deliveries went the way they did because--this is the best part--in my experience, you just can't beat the recovery from a natural childbirth.  I have loved the ability to get up right away, shower, walk, be normal, etc.  That, to me, was the major difference between my epidural birth and my natural ones.

And all of that is why I feel like I fell into natural childbirth through default.

********

My latest post for The Foodie Spot is up - a perfect meal for when it's 5:57 PM and you suddenly ask yourself, "What are we having for supper???"  :)

What I've Learned in the Kitchen This Summer

~ Canning tomatoes isn't difficult, but it is a little time-consuming and A LOT messy. In fact, it's impossible to can tomatoes and keep your kitchen clean and neat at the same time. Which reminds me...one evening, Dad walked in for supper while I was in the middle of getting a cannerload (that's odd; my computer tells me "cannerload" isn't a word!) :) of tomatoes ready; and as I bemoaned the state of my kitchen, he looked around and then said, "This kitchen isn't messy!" Bless his heart. He's a good man. In actuality, it was horribly messy with almost every flat surface covered with some kind of canning paraphernalia and sticky tomato juice; but I guess he was looking through a man's eyes and didn't think it was so bad. Bless his sweet heart.

~ One of the sweetest sounds of summer is the "pop" that comes from jars sealing.

~ My man has proven once again that he can can.  Salsa and hot peppers (jalapenos, cayenne, habanero, etc.) are his specialties, and I'm not sure how many quarts he's canned (a lot).  My Fisher Man is hot--in more ways than one.  ;-)

Not Your Average Midlife Crisis

When you think of someone having a midlife crisis, what vehicle do you associate with that? Something small? Sporty? Red? Two-door? Fast? Extravagant?

Not in our family.

We still tease my dad that, when he had his midlife crisis, he got all crazy and went out and bought a...get this...headlight for his riding lawn mower. Mowing your yard after dark: now that's life on the wild side.

Jeff is approaching 40 so I've been looking out for signs of his midlife crisis. Actually, since he's going to live to be at least 110, he's not even close to midlife. But in case it hit early, I was keeping my eyes open for it so I would be ready.

His midlife crisis is here.

A few days ago, he went out and bought THIS:

Is it a beauty or what?
Let me tell you about this amazing vehicle.
It's originally a 15-passenger van, but now it only holds 11 because the back bench seat is gone (which is actually nice because there's more room for luggage).
It has 197,000 miles on it and has absolutely no frills. Plain Jane, all the way. It does, however, have a cassette deck. That could come in handy whenever we want to listen to our wedding ceremony or my senior recital. On long trips, that will make the miles speed by, for sure. ;-)
It's a '99, one year older than our minivan. Instead of moving into the 21st century, we're going back in time, folks.
I thought we should call it Max. Our minivan could be Minnie (of course), and this van could be Max. Ingenious, right? Josiah and David didn't think so. In fact, Josiah informed me that it had to be a girl's name because ships and cities are always referred to as females. He's right about ships and cities, but I'm not sure I've ever heard any rules about naming vans. Nevertheless, the boys and I settled on Daisy (because she's white) as a good name for her. However, I didn't realize that Jeff had already started calling it The Yacht, so perhaps the whole discussion about whether vans are girls was pointless. Perhaps.
When I mentioned in this post that we were envious of the homeschoolers' van, I wasn't joking.
Jeff found it on Craigslist, and we paid $2500 for it--hard-earned cash that Jeff had responsibly saved up for it so that we wouldn't have a car payment. (We haven't had a car payment in years, and don't want to start now.) The original asking price was $3150, but the seller quickly came down when it became obvious that we would have to do a little repair on it (i.e. get the driver's window motor replaced so that the window could roll down...although why do we say "roll" when, these days, we push a button and it magically glides down?).
On a serious note... The van was owned by a company and used for work; but when they wanted to get rid of it, the man who sold it to us (who works for that company) bought it and fixed it up to resell. It's been taken care of very well, even if it is lacking any luxurious touches. This was the first time we had bought a vehicle (or anything of much value) through Craigslist, and you know how it is: there's a little insecurity about who the seller is, whether they'll be honest or not, how good the item really is, etc. Jeff knew that the seller was Russian (just to be clear, this is not a slam on Russians...we LOVE Russians...our best friends in Israel were Russian...I could write a whole post on this, but I won't tonight...maybe someday), so Jeff decided to call up one of his Russian friends who lives here, gets his hair cut by Jeff, provides us with delicious local honey, welcomed us to his home for a house church service earlier this year, AND happens to be a mechanic. This friend, Michael, out of the goodness of his heart and his love for the Lord and for his brother-in-the-Lord Jeff, met us at the home where the van was, helped with any communication hurdles that arose, AND checked over the van to make sure we weren't being sold a lemon. While we were there, I watched Jeff really seesaw about whether we should get the van or not (mostly because of a rattling noise that sounded odd); but I also saw how God used Michael to give clarity to Jeff's thinking and peace to his heart. It was really beautiful to watch. And--more good news--two days after we bought it, Jeff took it to the auto shop right next to his barber shop (where he always goes for auto help); and besides fixing the driver's window, they also checked it over thoroughly...and proclaimed it in excellent condition!!! We are so grateful for God's provision, and we hope and pray that we will be able to squeeze quite a few more miles out of this ol' beast!
If it's not already clear from the pictures, the boys LOVE it and are thrilled that we got it! All of us are.

Now. On to the important question...

Some of you might be assuming that, by acquiring this van, we're thinking of...ahem...adding another family member.

Well...

Actually...

I wasn't going to say anything so soon, but...

I might as well tell you...

Yes.

You're right.

There is another family member on the way.

And it's a she.

Her due date?

October 17.

Oh, and did I mention she's 70 years old?!?! ;-)

Jeff's mother is coming in October and will stay four weeks with us. We really wanted to have a vehicle that all of us could comfortably ride together in; and with this new van, we can do that--plus some. Besides, ever since our little family grew to include four boys, we've missed being able to ride places with my parents in one car. Now that's no longer a problem.

Jeff told me that any time he tells someone about our new van, the very first question out of that person's mouth is, "Is Davene pregnant?" So I thought I'd better go ahead and lay that rumor to rest. Be assured that, in buying this van, we're planning on transporting Grandma Fisher, not Baby Fisher.

But I had to have a little fun with this anyway.

;-)