It’s been one week since our “light at the end of the tunnel” became at least four more months of darkness. Trusting God as we hold His arm through pitch black, with no hope in sight. What a week.

The first few days I was a wreck. One sweet friend brought me the most beautiful flower arrangement and note of encouragement. Which made me feel like I’d had another miscarriage or like someone had died or something, but oddly, didn’t feel strange or over the top. She knew best how much I’d been hoping for a moving forward…a change. Everyone called to see how I was doing, and I didn’t call them back. What is there to say? Anything can happen in four months. Which makes it hard to talk about.

Tomorrow is Midge’s first visitation in a while. She’s been so settled, happy, relaxed during her little “break,” and I’m not looking forward to seeing her thrown into confusion again. I’m also not looking forward to all the driving. And the weekly guilt trip from my agency case manager about how I should be monitoring all eight hours of her visits and I should feel so lucky that we have an intern to monitor 4 hours. One side benefit of Midge’s case maybe moving towards adoption would have been getting rid of this new case manager, who attempts to make me feel badly every single time I talk to her, and mostly succeeds.

Seventeen weeks left.

But there are signs of grace every day. Moments when I feel a smile spread across my face or hear myself laugh and I realize God has given me the gift of momentary joy. I’m working on the thankfulness thing. MUCH work left to do there. I don’t think I’ve moved from anger or frustration or impatience to thankfulness even once yet. But I will. A trite thank-you won’t do it. It must be a feeling of thankfulness to edge out the feeling of negativity. My feelings are still rubbed raw and angry, but I’ll get there.

On Monday I called my little kiddos’ current foster mom and asked if I could come and bring Middle Boy (aka Athlete) home with me for a few days. It was just what I needed. He is three and a half now and so amazing. I could barely wait to get him out of my house most days when he lived with us, and now I would keep him here all the time if I could. What a turnaround. It was pure joy to keep him for three days…a good distraction, a good treat for him, a reminder of why we do this fostering mess.

Then I returned him home. Where their “family” had grown by two while he was gone. I babysat 12 kids for 45 minutes or so and saw what a life of sacrificial giving is like. Two biological children. Our Small Girl and Tall Girl and Little Boy and Middle Boy. Those six were a breeze. Then the little girl for whom they’ve done day care since birth. Also easy. Two biological grandsons who were over for a few minutes to play. Then sweet little Baby O, who joined their foster home a few weeks ago. And his siblings, five year old K Girl and six year old E Boy, who I’m sure were still in shock about everything. In the span of two weeks they are taken from their Auntie and Grandma to a hospital, sent straight to one Emergency Shelter home for a week, on to a respite home for a few days, and then just two days ago brought here. E Boy, whining about needing food. Although he’d just eaten. Not sure if he’d get enough and worried about it, at age six.

Perspective is a good thing.

But that doesn’t mean I’m growing in wisdom and grace at a normal maturing rate. The lessons need reteaching just about every few hours. What can I say, I’m a remedial student.

Today, a morning of unhappy phone calls. Much angry whining and childish complaining to poor husband, who always bears the brunt of it. I don’t want to do any chores around the house. I just want to sit here and mope.

Doorbell rings.

It is the mailman, delivering hope. Three new books that I’d purchased a few weeks ago. An impulse buy that was delivered at just the right moment. A baby who slept extra long at naptime so that I could soak in the sunshine (eighty degrees!) on the back porch swing while I read and renewed. I spot the first pink plum blossoms between me and the bright blue sky!

Refreshed.

At just the right time. In the middle of darkness. A tiny joy to get me through today. (Until the tantrum after tennis lessons. Isn’t that just life? Smile.)

Isaiah 58:11, a longtime favorite:

The LORD will guide you continually, giving you water when you are dry and restoring your strength. You will be like a well-watered garden, like an ever-flowing spring.

I really wish I could be writing this to exclaim about how wonderful things are today around here. Instead, I spent the afternoon mostly crying and attempting a trip to the park because the boys were dying to, and hiding behind my biggest sunglasses and pretending I was afraid that Midge wasn’t safe on the play equipment so I had to follow her around instead of talking to the other women at the park.

Bad court day.

Four more months…a gift to Midge’s parents from a judge whom the social worker calls “loopy.” Because after all that has not been accomplished or attempted over the past fourteen months, another four is an appropriate response. When the other option was to begin putting Midge’s best interests above the parents’ best interests…which seemed like a no brainer. When we were hoping for two visits a month, and instead are saddled with another four months of four visits a week.

Which makes you wonder about prayer. A month ago, I knew that it was prayer that moved the court in the direction I was hoping for. So where does that leave us today? When just as much prayer results in the worst possible outcome from today’s trial? Did the prayer stop working? Or is there something I’m not seeing?

Jake, who is almost eight, throws tantrums when I have to cut his nails. I must be missing something in the parenting department to have a tantruming eight year old, whose nails I still cut with infant nail scissors. It is as if I am sticking pins underneath his fingernails rather than cutting dirty millimeters off. He thinks he is dying.

But he is not. In fact, the nail cutting is for his own good. To keep him from looking like the kid whose mom never gives him a bath. Okay, so maybe it’s for my own good. But that is beside the point.

The nail cutting lasts only a minute. We timed it today. There is a bigger picture that parents see, while children only see torture.

I was barely able to talk to the girl this afternoon. At twenty months, she recognized that I was upset and kept coming over with a little upset cry and asking me if I was “kay?” No, I was not. But life keeps coming and I keep changing diapers and singing bedtime songs while we rock.

God is so good. God is so good. God is so good, He’s so good to me.  (even when I’m throwing a tantrum as my nails are being cut, God? And what do I need short nails for anyway…I like them the way they are!)

He answers prayer. He answers prayer. He answers prayer, He’s so good to me. (even when I’m pretty mad about everyone praying and the answer being a pretty stupid one, if I do say so myself?)

I love Him so. I love Him so. I love Him so, He’s so good to me. (even if I just feel defeated, let down, tired, and I can’t see much past today?)

So how do you go about living through things that stink? I’m reading a book that says it’s eucharisteo…giving thanks precedes the miracle. And the miracle is finding joy in whatever life God keeps giving you.

Funny thing is, I’ve been trying it for three days, this choosing thankfulness instead of anger, frustration, annoyance. And as I told the boys when I tucked them in to bed last night, I’ve failed completely. I find that when I’m feeling mad, I actually don’t want to feel thankful. I actually want to feel mad. And when I’m annoyed…well, you get the idea. I told them that you have to start somewhere, even if somewhere is three straight days of failure.

Make that four, since today’s pretty much over.

Another day I’ll tell you about the book, One Thousand Gifts, that’s shaping this new goal of choosing thankfulness over anger. Today, I’m pretty angry. What can I say, I’m new at this. Although I’m a four day failure, I keep on, because of this:

“Do I really smother my own joy because I believe that anger achieves more than love? That Satan’s way is more powerful, more practical, more fulfilling in my daily life than Jesus’ way? Why else get angry? Isn’t it because I think complaining, exasperation, resentment will pound me up into the full life I really want? When I choose – and it is a choice – to crush joy with bitterness, am I not purposefully choosing to take the way of the Prince of Darkness? Choosing the angry way of Lucifer because I think it is more effective - more expedient – than giving thanks?”

And when you put it that way, Ms. Voskamp, I say “Go Jesus! Boo Satan!” or something like that, and then I keep on trudging, mad, but trying not to be.

And the babysitter/daughter comes over and plays Monopoly with Greg and the boys while I slump at the computer. And I find a new blog that makes me laugh out loud and forget about loopy judges and kids who don’t really know who their parents are. For a moment I forget. Then I start to count the blessings.

1. that my mommy was the first to call after it happened, and she didn’t care if I cried.
2. that Jake is old enough to begin to show compassion.
3. that dinner was already made and in the oven.
4. that I have a baby to cuddle tonight.
5. that Monopoly makes my family so happy.
6. that I found a blog that made me laugh out loud.
7. that I have two good carpool buddies who are flexible (in scheduling, not in body. well, maybe, I don’t actually know.)
8. that speaking of flexible, my babysitter/daughter wants to take yoga with me.
9. that I found this blog post which hooked me on that new blog
10. that I’ve been singing the same two songs to Midge for months, and they speak to me.

Out of habit, I’ve found myself clicking over here to peaceliving every few days over the last few weeks. It’s as if I think I’ll suddenly see some really witty or meaningful post that I’ve written here that day…I’m almost disappointed when I realize that, no, my imaginary self has stayed silent. I’m just left with me and my sporadic postings of 2012. All three of them.

It’s been a good sixteen days. I started the year with new goals & old ideas that I hope to finally achieve, along with ambitious schedules and action plans…ahhh…I love the new year! Part of the plan for me has been to stay off the computer during the daytime. I’m here for 5-10 minutes in the morning before Greg leaves for work to click through my blog subscriptions, then I’ve been actually turning the computer off all day until after Midge goes to bed at night.

It’s weird.

But you know what? The world has not ended. I haven’t even gotten any angry calls wondering why I didn’t respond to someone’s email right away. In fact, there is time for my email box to fill and my blog subscription list to replenish when I’m away all day.

It’s not that I was online that much before, really. But it was so easy to pop in for a minute here and a minute there if the kids were all occupied or asleep or something. Then I’d click from one thing to another and the next thing you know, my search for the JoAnn’s store hours has turned into 15 lost minutes of my day.

So I’m turning those stolen minutes into working time around the house. And it’s been productive! I can’t believe what I can get done with a few minutes here and a few minutes there. In combination with the new chore schedule the boys and I are doing, the house is staying neater than I ever thought possible. Boy, is it nice having kids who are almost 6 and 8…so much work can be squeezed out of them. And for once, I finally feel happy with our housekeeping routine.

Then again, it’s only been two weeks. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

I’m also trying to get back into some meal planning. Without the temptation to get on the computer during the afternoon nap hours, I find myself planning a whole two or three hours ahead to dinnertime. Imagine that! I even pulled out the old bread machine. And with my same favorite recipe, I baked some fresh bread for dinner. Which Greg declared to be my best loaf ever. Which made me feel guilty because it’s obviously been too long since we’ve eaten fresh bread!

As for the poor neglected blog, I’m afraid the sporadic postings might be a sign of things to come. Between my new anti-daytime-computer stance and my determination not to spend so much time editing photos, blogging is a bit more difficult. But I am not shutting this place down…I’ve done that before only to realize that I really enjoy having a writing outlet to share online, and I bring it back again. I’m not making plans or goals for how often I should blog; I’ll just take it as it comes.

After all, without writing here, would I have had a chance to use a semi colon for the first time in years? No, I would not.

And you would have missed out on seeing Tyler as a pirate.

Happy January.

I finally got my hands (photographically speaking) on my good friend’s Thanksgiving day baby. What a sweet boy, and such fun to photograph a newborn again. Earlier that day I was supposed to deliver her husband’s wallet to him at church after he left it at our house the night before. Instead, I was moved by the guest worship leader and stole $5 out of his wallet to buy a cd after the service before giving it back to him. When I didn’t have a $5 bill to give them later as I shot their newborn, I joked that they could pay me $5 for the photo session. We got a good laugh. And it made me so happy when I emailed Momma some of my favorites and she said it was the best $5 she ever spent.

My favorites are the boy in a basket shots. For some reason the black and white treatment of those feels timeless, like the JFK shots with his son under his desk. And does it make me have the baby itch? Not a bit. It makes me even more grateful that Greg is finally going for the little snip-snip this Friday. But I’ll continue to love on other people’s newborns with enthusiasm, before heading home to my own warm bed with a full night’s sleep. I know that in the end, newborns are always worth it. And this one is sure a cutie. Welcome Baby M!

This week we begin a new year. 2012 is fresh, with no mistakes in it. (That one’s for the Anne Shirley fans.) For the past several years I’ve chosen One Little Word that I wanted to focus on for the year. Listen, Peace, Slow, Focus, and an honorary word from years ago, Breathe. This year I’m not choosing a word, but an idea.

A Life Poured Out.

Holding Nothing Back. Not conserving my energy or my resources or my creativity or my love or my service (or even my craft supplies!) for a rainy day in the near or distant future. Pouring myself out like a drink offering, reserving nothing. Like the woman who poured perfume on Jesus’ feet. Like the boy who gave his loaves and fishes. Like Abraham who took Isaac to sacrifice him. Like Joshua who did crazy things like instructing his people to march around a city and shout and expect the walls to crumble. Like Jesus who said, “If anyone wants to come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever tries to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.” (Matt. 16:24)

I am guilty of trying to save my life, my time, my energy for that something else…something that is not right in front of me now, and perhaps never will be. Can I let go of the idea of the life that I want in exchange for the actual life that God gives me today? Can I trust that His plan is for life more abundantly than I could ever dream?

This thought of pouring myself out like a drink offering came to me several weeks ago, as I was writing in my journal the petty complaints of the day. I had finished a quilt top that I originally started with a certain 5 year old girl in mind. When I started it, those many many months ago, I was sure that our little foster boys and their big sister, whom I’ll call Tall Girl, would be on their way to being part of our family by now. The quilt was stitched with dreams of Tall Girl sharing our Small Girl’s bedroom, a handmade quilt on each bed. A dream that has not happened, and maybe never will. What could I do with this quilt now? It sits, unfinished and waiting for someone. That day as I wrote, I realized that I was holding back. If I made that quilt with Tall Girl in mind, then Tall Girl should have it, whether she ever joins our family or not. Believe me, for a slow moving quilter who rarely gives them away, that is a big offering.

The thought led me to another. What else am I holding back, just in case? This plays out in my possessions, my schedule, my routines, my heart. If I haven’t used that thingamajig in that one cupboard by now, I probably never will. Why not let it move on to someone else? If my heart feels tugged toward three children who may never share my home, why worry? Why not pour out the love as if they were my own? If I want my house to be clean, I need to stop holding back and throw myself into a new routine with all my heart. If I pour myself out, suffering nothing from laziness, I can trust that God will fill me up again.

I need to learn to Find Worship In The Work.

I’m not talking about adding activities and commitments and more lists of things to do to my life. I learned during the Breathe years how valuable it is to choose not to hurry. I am not one to neglect myself or run myself ragged with lack of self care. I have learned not to force my family into hurrying through life. But I’m still learning how to hold loosely to the things of this life. If I am letting my time, talents and treasures pass through me and prayerfully on to others, maybe I’ll see more clearly what the most important things are. Maybe I’ll learn how to pare down my life to just those essentials.

Maybe I’ll better learn to Love My Neighbor with abandon.

I’m just starting out on this 2012 journey to live a life poured out for God, find worship in work, and love my neighbor. I want to live for the cause of Christ, whether that cause is blessing my husband with a clean shirt and a relatively neat house, blessing my kids with another game or book together, or blessing others with extravagant love or exhausting sacrifice, I’m eager to get going. Today was day one of the boys being back to school, and I felt good and successful as I started the journey. Aren’t day ones just like that? It’s days two and up that are trickier.

Let me begin 2012 by sharing the three verses I wrote in the front of my new bible journal, from Lamentations 2:19, Malachi 3:10, and my long-time favorite Matthew 16:24.

Pour out your heart like water before the presence of the LORD; lift up your hands to Him for the life of your little ones who are faint because of hunger.

“Test me now in this,” says the LORD of hosts, “if I will not open for you the windows of heaven and pour out for you a blessing until it overflows.”

Then Jesus said, “If any of you wants to be my disciple, you must deny yourself and take up your cross and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it.”

• This year went by fast. Way fast. I attribute that to God’s grace in getting us through the most emotionally difficult year in memory.
• I’m really excited about 2012. I have big plans and big dreams for what I will do and what I will see done. How about you?
• I like this new trend of wearing belts over cardigans. Please note that if you know me in real life, you will see me doing this often. Add that trend to the scarf trend of last year that I am still firmly hanging on to.
• overheard:      Tyler: Daddy, I know how to spell “know”.  N-O-W.             Greg: Actually, it’s K-N-O-W.         Tyler: What?! “K-no”?           Greg: I know, it’s a tricky one.
• Lots of driving this fall. Two days a week involved approximately 3 hours in the car dropping people off and picking people up from schools and visitations. Needless to say, I’m working on arranging a kindergarten carpool for 2012. Which feels like a really small drop in a really big bucket.
• Why is it that I felt a general annoyance when people called 2011 “twenty-eleven” rather than “two-thousand eleven,” yet 2012 sounds perfectly fine to me as “twenty-twelve”? I think it’s the alliteration.
• quoted:   Jake: (while watching ELF): Mommy, in real life Santa’s sleigh doesn’t have an engine. In real life it’s only powered by Christmas cheer and the flying reindeer.
• My baby girl is not much of a baby anymore. She is thrilled to be doing exactly what she pleases and throws monstrous tantrums if you don’t let her, say, put the choking hazard water bottle lid in her mouth, or chew on that package of raw meat in the grocery cart, or other such ghastly things. Boy does this baby know how to throw a good fit. Real tears and all. Toddlerhood is here in full force.
• Favorite book of the year: A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini. So moving and so real and so heartbreaking. That one and The Hunger Games, which is almost as meaningful, right?
• Favorite t.v. shows of the year: I can’t pick just one. For new shows, we love Person of Interest, Terra Nova, Once Upon a Time, and Last Man Standing.
• Biggest lesson of the year: don’t draw conclusions from what anyone tells you (especially if that person is employed by the Social Services department), trust that God has the perfect plan for your life.
• My go to recipes this year: it’s been a year of life adjustment, resulting in a lot of pasta, fish sticks, and eating out.
• Compassion is the fruit that has grown most in my life this year. As a result of getting to know the parents of my foster kid(s), I see a whole side of humanity that I had never seen before. What a struggle life is for some people.
• Lice: We had a grand lice infestation in early December. Lice, you are not my friend, and you are sure hard to get rid of. I will always remember the daily head checks while Midge watches Elmo or Zaboomafoo and holds out her hand for me to kiss when she can’t handle any more of the hair pulling pain.
• Favorite newly discovered blog: Sit a Spell, documenting a family’s ministry in Haiti. I love the writing, the stories, and their model of ministry. If I were ever called to international missions, I hope I could find the grace to handle a tough life with the humor and patience that they do.
• Best new habit: morning moments with my bible verse journal. I don’t have a lot of time in the mornings, but I’ve finally found a way to consistently set my focus on God before beginning my day. What a difference it has made. I plan on doing a post about how I use my journal soon.

Twenty-twelve, I welcome you!

Phew. My day with all six kiddos is winding down. 20 months is upstairs in her crib. 2, 3, and 5 went home half an hour ago, and 5 and 7 are working on Daddy’s Millenium Falcon lego ship with him. My feet hurt.

What a great day. It was a major success with few time outs and no serious injuries. The house is clean although the children are all quite dirty. Perhaps if we had all six all the time, we’d figure out a bathing routine at the end of the day, but when it’s only a day here and there, it just doesn’t seem worth it to figure out that schedule! I offered to take the kids so their foster family could get some alone time with their teenage daughter and we could celebrate Christmas with the kiddos.

There was a pajama clad breakfast at IHOP where we picked the kids up, two walking/riding/scootering trips to two different neighborhood parks, a movie for rest time (again, not worth trying to get naps out of kids who aren’t in their own home!), wrestling with Daddy, and lots of craziness. And dirt and diapers.

Survival strategy: the children are your whole job. I did have about an hour during Cubby’s nap while Midge was at a visit with her dad and the older kids were watching their movie. I used it to clean up from the morning and chop vegetables and prep the crock pot for dinner. I felt like a marathon runner. Tired, proud, victorious.

I still don’t know what role we’ll be playing in these kids’ lives in the future. Both of their parents’ rights will most likely be terminated within months. None of their family plan to adopt them, and their foster family will keep them until they find a family, but the foster family isn’t planning to adopt.

Sometimes I feel a tugging on my heart to take them all. Sometimes I realize that I’m crazy. Sometimes I am surprised by what God gives me the strength to do. Sometimes I wonder if God would call us to do something that would so drastically affect our current children. Sometimes I remind myself that God knows ALL, even the futures of all of my kids. Sometimes I break down and cry when I’m sick or overwhelmed or too tired, and I know that I could never do anything for any extra kids, much less my own. And sometimes I realize that I can’t do any of this anyway, but God can.

And then I breathe out and thank God for the people whom He has placed in my home right now and the way He gives me emotional and physical strength to take care of them, even though fostering is way too heartbreaking and hard. And sometimes I’m just grateful for the quiet. Although the noisy chaos is a lot of fun, too.

I admit, I enjoy lists. The new school year and the new calendar year just thrill me. A fresh start. A chance to really plan to get that pesky laundry under control. (Yes, that’s been on my list of things to conquer for years now.) An opportunity to begin a new routine and feel like the slate is wiped clean. So what if I didn’t quite get that sewing room or craft room organized in 2011? It’s 2012…opportunity for accomplishment awaits!

My sister hacked into my amazon wish list and gave me the book Year Of Plenty for Christmas. It follows a typical suburban family through a year of buying local products as well as growing or making their own. I told Greg that he can blame Amy for my renewed enthusiasm for local and ethical purchasing.

Now, our yard is unable to grow anything substantial…we have a tangerine tree that gave us two tangerines this year (does it count if it’s about knee high?) and a lemon tree (which finally started producing again once we put it in a pot instead of the ground!) and a nectarine and plum tree which each produce an average of 15 fruits a year. Other than that, the lack of sun prohibits us from growing anything worthwhile. Do you think the lack of time spent pulling weeds or managing garden problems could play into it at all? No. Let’s not go there. Instead, let’s go to the farmer’s market.

On my list for 2012: get back into the habit of going to the farmer’s market every week. It’s been about a year since I was into that habit. Enter foster children, weird school schedules, naptimes to work around, and it just hasn’t happened much this year. But with Midge’s naptime changing, I want to get back into the habit of going every Friday. And I need to support our local grass fed beef man. By local, I mean that his cattle are grazing on the next hill over from our neighborhood. I love that the boys point and say, “There are our cows!” when we drive by. I miss Frank the beef man and Noah the honey man and Jimmy & Anita the avocado and citrus couple. And I don’t know the name of the nice lady from Picket Lane Bakery who sells us whole wheat baguettes, but I’m determined to find out. Putting a face to your food is always a good thing.

The other 2012 ideals are the usual: get into a laundry routine, clean out the craft room and sewing room (today as I write this I’m ready for a total purge. It’s a bit harder when it actually comes down to it), drink more water, take fewer pictures. I know that last one seems strange, but I just have too many pictures and spend too much time editing them. I am determined to get some of those unfinished projects in the sewing room done, and I need to use my after the kids go to bed time doing that, not on the computer!

I’m also not sure I’m going to do the Becky Higgins’ Project Life album next year. It’s a scrapbook that’s really basic but has a two page layout for each week of the year. Most of it is just sliding photos into sleeves and journaling a bit to keep track of what we’ve done, but I do always end up a few months behind by year’s end. I’ve done it for two years, and I think a monthly album would suffice this year. I reserve the right to change my mind on that one, but right now I’m leaning towards not doing it.

I don’t think I’m going to choose Ali Edwards’ One Little Word this year. I never really focused on my word (which, ironically, was “focus”) this year. I’m ready for something new. If I did choose a word, it would be POUR. As in, pour yourself out, reserving nothing. Give it all for the sake of Christ. I’m thinking about a different approach this year. But that’s another post for another day.

Oh, how I love a fresh start.

A slow start to Christmas this year…days later than usual

Means that this season has soared past a bit too quickly.

One boy growing so tall and skinny with his bony knee knobs

One boy transforming from his preschool self into his boy self

One girl running and dancing and tantruming and smiling, but screaming on Santa’s lap.

Finding trees and decorating trees and smelling trees and seeing them undecorated from toddler’s height down.

Sweets. Lots of sweets. Maybe even too much for my own liking, and that’s a lot.

Feeling a bit more behind than I like. Wrapping presents and feeling better.

Knowing that the things I’m behind on aren’t really that important anyway.

Editing pictures. And taking more. Trying to capture this one Christmas with the kids that will never come again.

Knitting. Just rectangles, like I know how to. And sewing. Stuffing owls and helping our “daughter” make aprons. And weaving together strips of t-shirts into something new for Christmas. Lots of Christmas crafting.

Skipping the snowflake cookies this year. But not skipping the fudge. Never the fudge.

Thinking about the future. Hoping for the future. Praying for the future. Wondering about the future.

Lights. A street sparkling with lights strung across from house to house. Inside on the piano, the banister, the mantel, the trees. And from the advent candles on the table.

Not enough Christmas book reading. A little bit of bedtime Christmas singing, but I could have done more. Next year.

Beautiful Christmas cards that I managed to photograph (with help), design, print, and actually send this year.

Cold, windy weather. It really is beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Hail and rain and thunder and lightning. Sunny and warm predicted for Christmas.

Sleeping in until seven on this school break has been heavenly. Oh, how I’m remembering our homeschooling days wistfully.

Celebrating with our little girl. I never would have imagined it even six months ago.

Smiling ahead to Christmas Eve night and reading Twas the Night Before Christmas, just like I did as a child.

Christmas morning coming. New birth. Joy. Christmas bread. A fire on the hearth. Christmas music. Legos. Lots and lots of Legos.

Family. Warmth. Home.

Merry Christmas to you and yours.

From me and mine.

]]> http://peaceliving.wordpress.com/2011/12/21/merry-christmas-to-all-2/feed/ 2 peaceliving IMG_9478 family4x6 http://peaceliving.wordpress.com/2011/12/15/wanna-see-an-ugly-quilt-i-made/ http://peaceliving.wordpress.com/2011/12/15/wanna-see-an-ugly-quilt-i-made/#comments Fri, 16 Dec 2011 05:14:06 +0000 peaceliving http://peaceliving.wordpress.com/?p=4452 Continue reading →]]>

There’s a lot of crafting going on around here, most of which can’t be shared before Christmas. Let me just say that I bought 22 large men’s t-shirts at the thrift shop and I’ve been putting them to good use. I have a serious crafting addiction.

But this quilt I can show you. Unluckily for you, it’s super ugly. I decided on Wednesday that I should make a little quilt for my former foster son (whom I’ve previously called Baby Billy Goat, because of his strength, but whom I’ll now call Cubby, since that’s what I call him in real life.) His birthday party was a full four days away. Plenty of time to make a simple strip quilt, right? Ha!

Lesson one: don’t try to make a quilt work by using leftover fabric from your stash that you really don’t like that much. It won’t turn out well. I really wanted to use the helicopter fabric and the toy fabric, so I grabbed several blues and greens that coordinated and just went for it. Hmmm…

Lesson two: I started with just strips of these fabrics, but it didn’t do it for me. I can never leave well enough alone, so I started cutting the strips up. And rearranging. And what started out as a quick little quilt turned into a major project. That was still ugly.

Lesson three: If your quilt is really ugly, maybe you can make up for it by appliqueing something onto it. Or in my case, because I had SO much time to make it, appliqueing twenty something stars onto it. In a swirling pattern. And then quilting over them with a trio of swirled lines.

Lesson four: If the appliqueing doesn’t redeem the quilt, maybe the quilting will. This is my first time trying free motion quilting. I was attempting a stone-like pattern with no experience or tips from anyone. Another mistake.

Lesson five: If all else fails, at least put something soft on the back of your quilt. Like some leftover blue dotted super soft minky fabric and some brown chenille. Yes, that’s at least one thing this quilt has going for it. The front may be ugly, but the back is perfectly cuddly.

Lesson six: Even if you’re sure it’s hideous, your five and seven year old boys will cheer you up by saying they love it. Even better, your newly two year old Cubby will squeal with joy and grip it so tightly when he opens it, that you can’t even unfold it to show him the helicopters or the stars on the front. He’s just thrilled that his “Mommy” came to his party and made him a snuggly and will hold him all night.

And he enjoyed his cake immensely.

Happy 2nd birthday, Cubby!