Curve Ahead ~ My Cyber Home

I'm excited (news flash, right?)

But seriously, I'm thrilled to be moving to a new cyber home. Yeppers, I'm getting a makeover. Well not me. Of course I could use one. I mean the whole mom hair isn't the greatest and the post-pregnancy clothes could use a little...and now I've gotten distracted. Where was I? Oh, right. My blog.

This blog has always felt pretty cozy to me and I've been snug as a bug in a rug the last two years, and have loved the fact that you all stop in to say hi now and again. Great, now I'm getting emotional.

Sniff...sniff.

Let me just snatch a kleenex. Why am I sad? Because this feeling is bittersweet. Because the time has come to stretch my legs. I need a little elbow room now that I have a few more stuff to squeeze on here like a historical romance series (woohoo!) a newsletter, and some other fun things I can't wait to integrate into my cyber home. I'm also looking forward to sharing a little more about myself, where I came from and why I write the stories that I do.

So to pull it all off, I've enlisted the help of some pros and... *cracksnuckles*...I am once again going to put on my designer hat and see what sort of place we can create.


I can't wait to see the end results and more than that, can't wait to share it with all of you. So in the next couple of weeks, changes will be underfoot, and once the dust settles, I hope you'll stop by for another cup of tea. Shoot, stop by before the dust settles, I could use a friend to talk to while I sweep the floors :)

The Winds of Change

It's one of those times of life for me. Great change is on the horizon. I feel it coming. It's exhilarating. Thrilling...and a little... intimidating. 

Why? Because change is different. The old will be no more and the new will come. 

I've been waiting for this for a very long time. It's the type of change I've prayed about, worked like crazy for, and knew that if it was in God's plan, it would eventually come to be. Standing on the threshold of that change fills me with an overwhelming urge to laugh, cry, and to celebrate. The road will be hard and the road will be incredible. There is nothing to do now but continue to place my hand in the Lord's and with the confidence that we're in this together, take one step at a time. I hope you will be with me to share in this journey. Your comments and support mean so much to me!

Tell me, have you experienced change lately? Looking back now, what advice would you have given to yourself as you were on the threshold of that change? 

Photo credit: Pride and Prejudice, 2005

"OK, God. When Does it Get Good?"

We drove to Utah this last week. Two toddlers, one newborn, eight hours. Yep. Fun times.

Well, the anticipation for this trip has been building for a while. It's our annual ski/snowboard trip in the mountains. I know, I know--leave the mountains to go to the mountains? Our's isn't exactly the ski-resort type. It's more the mountain man/bed and breakfast type. Point in case, no slopes.

But this is the first year our son was going to snowboard and he was thrilled as we left our little home and drove and drove and drove. And drove some more.

Out of California, through the tips of Arizona and Nevada and into Utah.

Even after this, our five-year old son kept looking up at random mountain ranges and asking, "Is that Utah?"

And we would constantly remind him, "We're in Utah, we've been in it for a while."

But he would still look up to the mountain tops, clearly confused. And we knew why. To his little mind, Utah was snow, slopes and boarding. Not this flat, red state with cliffs and bluffs.

And it hit me that so many times in our lives, we ask God the same question. When are we going to get there? When is my luck finally going to pan out? Surely, this can't be as good as it's going to get.

I know I've had those moments in my life. And what a waste. It's a waste because one day, we could turn around, find ourselves 90 and completely alone, just wishing the grand kids would come for a visit or that our loved ones would send us a card. I hope that in my old age, I will be able to look back and be grateful I counted the little moments--the moments that really mattered. Because, before we ask "When does it get good," perhaps stop and think that today is a day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.

If we just live for those Academy Award moments like, a larger home, job promotions or book contracts, we could waste a lot of time realizing that we're already there. God has already blessed us abundantly if we would just look around and see it. 

So how about you? What are you thankful for this very day?

The Moment I Forgot About Christmas

It's been more than forty-eight hours now since my husband came home from work early in excruciating pain. More than forty-eight hours since I called his mom to see if she could rush him to the ER. I watched in near tears as our neighbor, who is a nurse, brought him a face mask to put on because if her fears were correct, he could have been so contagious that our whole family would be at risk.

I didn't know anything. I simply knew that he was so weak he could hardly stand. And watching him leave with no color in his face and tears in his eyes for fear the baby or the kids would get whatever it was that he had, simply broke my heart.

Watching them drive away was almost too much to bear. I wanted so desperately to go with them. But we all knew that taking a four week old into the ER was not a good idea. So I stayed home and waited.

There were a few things I knew. I knew he was having headaches so severe they were making him throw up, an alarming amount of pain in his neck and back, and after speaking to the nurse, I knew it could be spinal meningitis and that after signing a waver because of the possibility of paralysis, he would be getting a spinal tap to reach a diagnosis.

I could not hold his hand. I could not tell him how much I loved him. He was over an hour away in a tiny quarantined room.

That's when I vaguely remember hearing that there were only five days until Christmas. And suddenly it was like I was waking up from a coma. Like all I could see were bright lights. Everything else washed away.

All except my husband. And my children. And my King.

There was no more tinsel and no more lights. I didn't care whether the cookies needed slivered almonds or chopped pecans. Or that the last row of lights on the tree had burnt out. All I cared about was whether or not my phone was going to ring and what was going to be on the other end.

All I wanted was for my husband to be OK. And I had no idea if he was actually going to be OK.

As the hours and days have worn on, with presents still unwrapped and many left to buy, it was natural to wonder if Christmas was going to be normal. But maybe--just maybe its not supposed to be.

Because Christmas was never about us. It was about the Savior who came to this earth as a baby to be born in a cold stable among donkey and sheep. And just like the drummer boy--we have no gifts fit for a King.

Except to get down on our knees and thank him for our family.

And thank him for the night he came into this world beneath a midnight sky. Although there was no room in the inn, and although the world He came to save would betray him, He still came.

To bring us tidings of comfort and joy.

* * *

I have since learned that our prayers have been answered and Noah was not contagious. Test results have begun coming in and the worst illnesses are slowly being ruled out. Which meant that I was able to visit him! Holding his hand and seeing the color in his cheeks and the smile on his face was all the Christmas present I needed.

We are so thankful for all the prayers and all the love that has poured in from friends and family. It's going to be a very merry Christmas this year, despite the fact that the thanksgiving decorations are still up and we don't have a stocking for Caleb :)

Wishing you a Merry Christmas and a joyous time celebrating the birth of our Lord!
From my family to yours.

An Advent of Giving: Our Family's Twist

What is advent?

It's a beginning.
An arrival.
An anticipation.

All for the celebration of Christ's birth.

And we celebrate it by pulling tootsie rolls and sticks of gum out of numbered felt squares.

Really? That's the best we can do?

Imagine anticipating the homecoming of a loved one from the war overseas and celebrating that anticipation by shoe shopping on day 1, getting a pedicure on day 2, and so on. All to express your love and unbridled joy at greeting your dear one.

Well when you put it that way... My point exactly!

So it was as my husband and I were discussing ways we could increase Christ and decrease Santa ( sorry chubbo) that we came up with the idea of doing an advent calendar in reverse.

Yep. Instead of getting shiny chocolate kisses for each day we draw closer to our Savior's birth, we as a family, come up with one way of blessing someone else that day.

Now granted our lives are a little hectic right now with three small kids including a 2-week old, so while we hope to do more in the years to come, we're keeping the ideas extra simple and surprisingly enough...it doesn't take all that much to make a persons day.

Here are some of the things we have marked on our homemade advent calendar:

Day 1: Levi drew a picture for our elderly neighbor who has just lost her husband to cancer, he carried it over and took a few moments to chat with her.

Day 2: Mabry helped me bake banana bread--she's is the worlds greatest masher--for another neighbor.

Day 3: On Sunday, Noah handed the baby to a lovely woman in our church. With everyone itching to hold a newborn and mommy and daddy wanting to keep him close, it was a real treat for her. Her ear to ear grin the entire time nearly brought tears to my eyes.

Days 4 & 5: Lastly, while out with his grandma at a taco joint, Levi asked an older gentleman if he could throw his trash away for him. Imagine finishing your meal only to have a five-year-old offer to whisk away your trash. (I love that he had this idea all on his own!) And the following day, he filled the wood box next to the stove, then swept the dirt he had tracked in and even offered to mop! All to bless his mommy. My heart melted when Noah came home and secretly told me that I was the recipient of the advent blessing that day.

I love that our children are learning at a young age to serve others, and they're doing it so joyfully. I'm excited to see what ideas we continue to come up with this advent season. And even more excited when I hear him say "Jesus is the reason for the season," each time he finds a way to bless someone.

So tell me, what are some of your favorite holiday traditions?


Photo credit: The Nativity Story, 2006

Welcome Baby Caleb!

As promised, here's the update on our new little addition!
My November 18th due date came and went and it was quite clear our third baby had no interest in coming on time. In fact, I think he may have gotten hold of some super glue because the kid was snug as could be. The midwife had been monitoring his size due to the fact that my belly was big enough for twins. In fact I got asked ALL THE TIME if I was having twins. In one night two people asked me if I was having twins and a third lady said my belly looked just like hers. I thought, finally, someone who had a belly as big as mine. Then she said, "I was carrying twins."

Fabulous. Time to go home to hubby and consider picking a back up name!

Needless to say we were concerned about this baby coming late and getting ANY bigger. So aside from all the old-fashioned remedies for encouraging labor to begin, I decided to google it and see if I had missed an idea. A youtube video of a mego prego lady rocking out to music in her living room immediately caught my attention. I mean the lady was really getting down with her bad self. So on Saturday I decided to give it a try. Of course my husband whipped out his I Phone and lets just say if the footage was not properly deleted his life may be in jeopardy.


Although I did decide there were 4 good things about being overdue:
1. No one will try and kidnap you. It's just too much work. Plus you have the whole bladder control thing playing to your advantage.
2. You can walk through Costco devouring an almond ice cream bar and no one will bat an eyelash. Except for the man who gave you the odd look when you took off the wrapper as you rather (indiscreetly) sang hallelujah to your about-to-be-consumed-dessert.
3. It's most likely the only time that someone will tell you your belly is hard as a rock.
4. Even though you have kankles...you can't see them *grin*


Anywho, back to the action.

On Saturday night, to my surprise it kept the momentum of my contractions going. Since we live an hour+ from the hospital, I woke up my husband, Noah, and he got to work throwing on clothes, loading bags and warming up the car.

When we got to the hospital it was 2:00 AM and the labor and delivery floor was under construction. We walked the halls for an hour watching the commotion to keep my mind off things. When faced with the uphill climb of labor and pain, a gal can get overwhelmed. When anxiety and doubt crept in, I asked Noah to read to me. He pulled out his phone and Bible app then read all of first Timothy. Later on, after officially checking in, things really intensified and he rounded the corner into 2nd Timothy because still, it was keeping me semi-calm. This is a good time to point out that we had chosen the name Caleb Scott for our little man. The day before I went into labor, Noah suggested the middle name Timothy. We decided to wait and see when he was born and we could decide. More on that in a minute...

To our delight, Caleb was born at 12:02, a surprising 9Lb 15 oz, and the whole labor experience worked out really well. I was so thankful for my husband, especially when it came down to the idea of changing our original birth plan and veering in a different direction. The whole time Noah was my hero and I was so thankful to have him by my side. We named our new son Caleb Scott then shortly after, I asked Noah if we could change it to Caleb Timothy due to the fact that we had nearly consumed both books only hours before. Since his idea the day before, he was pretty thrilled and it suddenly became clear that was the perfect middle name.

Our ten pound baby was quite a hit on the labor and delivery floor that night, as nurses came and went, amazed at his heft each time they picked him up. He's just a warm, snuggly, teddybear and I have to admit it's not always easy to share him :).

We were so excited to have the kids come see him the day after he was born and even more excited to finally bring him home. He likes his snug little house in the mountains and loves even more having his diapers changed near the wood burning stove and two doting siblings singing to him, reading to him, and just loving him endlessly. Our family feels so much more complete now and my husband and I are excited to watch Caleb, Levi and Mabry continue to grow into the lovely people God has planned for them to be.

Waiting on Baby...

The changing table is in place, cloth diapers are organized, and the bassinet is in it's spot by the bed, little blue blankets folded and waiting for someone to warm. Now all we need is a baby. And after nearly 10 months of waiting, we are so ready for this little one to come!

When we went to the ultrasound, we were planning on being surprised. But alas, while showing us a few final images of baby B, my husband and I both saw a little too much. We knew right away we were having a boy. But we left the ultrasound room, still planning on being surprised. Stopping in the hall, we turned to one another and both said that we knew what it was. Laughing, we shared that it had to be a boy and wanting to be certain at this point, as opposed to 99% sure, we knocked on the door to the ultrasound room, and a surprised technician greeted us. We asked her to confirm our suspicions and she very sweetly told us we were having a boy. Then, she urged us to come back into the room so she could take some more pictures just for fun.

So once we knew our "it" was actually a "he", all we had to do (aside from completely overhauling our bedroom to accommodate a pint sized person) was choose a name. Easier said than done this time around. We tossed around a few ideas, but nothing had that special something. And then one day my husband suggested a name and I immediately agreed. But what about that surprise we had been hoping for in waiting to find out the baby's gender? So right away, we decided we would keep the name to ourselves and tell our family and friends once the little guy made his grand entrance. This is driving our families crazy and there has been much guessing. More than once, they've asked one of our kids what the name is. Like we would tell those two rug rats, hehe.

Everyday, people check in on me to see if anything is happening, but alas, this baby seems quite comfortable where he is. I think he hears all the commotion in our little house and has decided to stay put where it's a little more peaceful ;) Though little does he know there are two pairs of tiny arms just itching to show him love. I have much to be thankful for and look forward to the next phase in our lives!

Farewell, Television...

So we have officially gone five months without a TV in our home. Well, the TV is still there but its not hooked up to anything except our trusty VCR.

Now, rewind five months….

As my husband and I discussed the pros and cons of having television, we realized this would mean no more American Idol. No more Top Chef or HGTV or Outdoor Channel. No more…cartoons. GASP! What would we do without a TV? Well, we decided, we’d save a lot of money each month. We did the math, in four years it would be several thousand dollars. I can’t think of a single hour that I've spent watching TV that changed my life. I can’t get a single one of those hours back. And if I reached the end of my life and was given the opportunity to have all that time back, I would take it in a heartbeat.

I remember sitting there watching one of my favorite shows and thinking, what am I doing? If there had been a mirror right there, know what I would have seen? Me, sitting on the couch without moving, staring at the box across from me. Wow. Impressive.

We saw this as our chance. Not only to unplug, but to spend more time as a family. More time getting real stuff done and living life instead of watching others do it. 

Our routine has been to let the kids watch about ½ an hour a day, while missing some days all together. No TV, no problem. We’ve got plenty of good videos for the kids and the library provides extra variety. Plus, there's just way too many fun things to fill up a kid's day than cartoons. Now when the kids go down to bed at eight, instead of one of us plopping on the couch and choosing something off the DVR, my husband and I turn to each other and one of us always asks, “What do you want to do tonight?”

And we hang out.

We talk. Sometimes we both have projects to keep us busy. Sometimes we watch a movie. My new favorite thing we do is read aloud to each other. I love falling asleep to the sound of my husband reading to me from one of his books, or better yet, his Bible. And the other night, I read a couple pages from Thunder Dog and my husband laid there, listening to the real life account of escapees in a stairwell in the World Trade Center.

Of course we could have been watching Lady Gaga do something life-changing on American Idol…tempting, but I think we’ll stick with what we’ve got!

The Pages of My Journal

I keep a journal. I've kept one for as long as I can remember...all the way back to that little book with the gold colored lock and tiny key I kept hidden away in my room when I was a girl.

I've saved every journal I've ever filled. Now, the one sitting on my dresser contains memories from my first son's birth and then my daughter's and everything in between. I've taped memories inside: ticket stubs from a special date with my husband, the little greeting card that came with a gift of flowers from an illness, tracings of my son's feet and hands when he sat with me one night, watching me scribble away. With a broken heart, I've torn pages out of my journal and watched days best forgotten scatter like the wind. It is a record of my life. The good moments. The everyday memories that I couldn't risk forgetting. The not so good.

Every so often, I flip back through my journal and remember where the adventures of life began. I did just this last night. And each time, it nearly takes my breath away. I am once again awed by God's steadfastness in every area of my life. My journal has been a journey of faith. Through ups and downs, I continually see the same thing repeated; God is in control. And each time I scribble that phrase, or its many variations, I know--I believe--that pages and pages down the road of life, I will flip back and think to myself, Yes, He certainly was!

Yea Though I Walk Through The Valley

The LORD is my shepherd;

I shall not want.

He makes me to lie down in green pastures;

He leads me beside the still waters.

He restores my soul;

He leads me in the paths of righteousness

For His name’s sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil;

For You are with me;

Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;

You anoint my head with oil;

My cup runs over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me

All the days of my life;

And I will dwell in the house of the LORD

Forever. (Psalms 23)

The 23rd Psalm has never had much impact on me before. Aside from memorizing it as a child with my parents help, I just thought it had something to do with a Shepherd his staff and something about lying beside still waters. I just never quite got it. Until now.

The valley of the shadow of death is a very real place. For those who find themselves in the valley, away from the mountain tops and sunlight, take comfort that it is something we walk through--not around in aimlessly, not back and forth...but through. There is a beginning to it which can feel the darkest, but there is also an end. And though it may feel that way at times, we are never alone.

It is not a place of abandonment--God is there to be our comfort. And though it is so hard to see, we will not be the same as we were in the beginning. With each step, God does a work to transform us. To strengthen us. To bring us closer to him.

To God be the glory.

Bloopers and Blunders of a Wannabe Author



"I'm just a cotton headed ninny muggins."

"You're not a cotton headed ninny muggins...You're just special."


Poor Buddy the elf. I know just how he feels.

How so? Well, I've decided something--aspiring authors can sometimes be rather spastic people. Or for the sake of this blog post, "special." I mean, we've got all this penned up energy, all these stories darting around in our brains while trying to squeeze through this funnel that leads to the world of publication. So at times (due to all that creative energy and darn emotional drive) we tend to be more of a menace to society than a pulled together professional. Ever had one of those moments? The moment when any decorum (or coolness) you may have had dissipated quicker than you could say "elevator pitch."

Boy, have I ever. So just for fun, and for all you out there who've ever accidentally traded your brief case for a dunce cap, I've decided to share a few of my own writing bloopers and blunders.


1.  So when I first starting sending out query letters, I printed them on this really nice ivory paper. Nothing wrong with that. But then I decided to get crafty and use my little embosser I got at the scrapbook store and make a pretty little header on top with scrolly things and a flower. Apparently, I thought my crafty touches would secure me an instant contract. It didn't. Fortunately I showed restraint before pulling out the stickers and puffy paint--but not before drawing, then scanning, my own personal logo that I so professionally designed and printed on each query letter. Beginning to see the whole wanna be author on the loose thing? Oh, it gets worse.

2.  Many moons ago, at one of my first signings for a little book I had, an old family friend (someone whom I've known practically since birth) came to buy one. I pulled out a fresh copy of the book and my little sharpie marker, then went to personalize it.

Except I just stared blankly at the page, wracking my brain for this person's name. For the life of me, I couldn't remember.

I asked them--this person I'd known since birth--who I should make it out to. They suggested I make it out to them and their spouse.

Oh.

Now at this point, I desperately wanted to dive under the table but I'd probably smack my head and knock myself out and I really didn't want the bookstore owner to have to call 911 on my behalf. Besides, as a close family friend this person would probably have offered to ride in the back of the ambulance with me and hold my hand while I iced the lump on my head the size of a cantaloupe AND I still wouldn't have been able to remember their name. Hmmm, at least I'd have an excuse. Tempting...

I decide to forgo the diving under the table opportunity and proceeded to stare blankly at the page awaiting personalization. Finally, I asked, "How do you spell your name?" And (of course) they said, "Just like it sounds."

Uh.

At that moment, this sweet, kind, patient person spelled out their name and the light bulb went on. I may have been sweating bullets by then, but if they noticed, they showed nothing but gratitude for the book.


3:  At a writer's conference recently, I had an appointment to meet with one of my absolute favorite authors. I was really excited. Beyond excited, because I'd been planning on meeting with this person for months and had all these questions I was just dying to ask.

So. I had my time mentally recorded when I began chatting with another writer friend during a free moment. She told me about her upcoming appointments and somehow my (spastic-wannabe-author-on-the-loose) brain decided to convert her time to mine. Long story short, I suddenly realized that I had missed my meeting so I rushed (OK, I practically ran--if you're envisioning me in my ridiculous black high-heels catapulting myself through the facility, business cards flying out behind me like a cloud of dust...you're not too far off). I missed the meeting and with a broken lil' writer's heart, mopped my brow and probably went in search of the snack table to drown my sorrows. I hear they invented this thing called pen and paper--they say its handy for writing things down. Who'da thought?


4.  The VERY first time I called my agent, it went to her voicemail and I was so nervous I blurted out, "Hi Suzanne, this is Sandra."

Instant Replay: "Hi Suzanne, this is Sandra."

eh em.

My agents name would be Sandra and my name would be Joanne.

Apparently I confused her with my mother-in-law, then proceeded to steal her identity. Oh, and then I sat without speaking for probably five seconds, no doubt breathing into the phone like a stalker, debating whether or not to hang up. Then I remembered this little thing called caller ID (and how to converse in the English language) and quickly left the shortest, most pitiful message I could manage before hanging up. Yeah. Great way to kick off that professional agent/author relationship.

Well that was painful, but I feel like I got a lot off my chest ;) Feel free to share you're own bloopers and blunders. I'd love to know that there are others out there who've lost all sense and reason at least one time or another! Oh and the next time you bump into a writer aspiring toward publication, be patient...they're a little special.

Photo credit: Elf, 2003

Mount Hermon, Here We Come!

I am so excited! In less than a week, some fellow writing pals and I are going to load up in the car, weighed down by a variety of road snacks, Starbucks gift cards waiting to be redeemed, a little help from the GPS, and we'll set out on the 7-ish hour drive to Mount Hermon. Can I get a "Roadtrip! Woohoo!" *composes self* Thank you.

Oh and by the way, I took this picture while writing this blog post. Yep, no kids and what is a writing mom to do but spoil herself? That box may or may not contain pastries from the tea shop in town. You would see the slippers on my feet but you know...the whole feet on the table thing...

So back to Mount Hermon. This is my first major writing conference. For several years, I attended the two-day conference put on by our local Christian writer's guild in San Diego...I know I'm not really local, but they let me hang anyway :) The guild hosted their annual Spring Event just this past weekend and it was so much fun getting to meet with my fellow writers, chit chat, nibble on yummy food, and listen to Leeana Tankersley, our fabulous speaker, author of Found Art. Also, Susan Meissner, author of The Shape of Mercy, always hosts one of the workshops. This year she showed us how to create a fabulous one-sheet. Invaluable tips and advice, thanks Susan! I've got mine all done and ready to print out to take to Mount Hermon.

But like I said, never been there, so I am a little (OK, really) nervous about the conference. This is very outside my element. I'm a mommy who stays home with little rug rats doing all those sticky, noisy, things that mommies with rug rats do all day. So rubbing elbows with people who actually have a wardrobe of business clothes, professional business cards, and eloquently delivered elevator pitches...well has me shakin' in my apron. Ya know?

But I think that's sometimes the point. Writer's conferences can be INCREDIBLY intimidating to those who are new or just plain inexperienced. Like me. And my guess is, for many others. The good news is that it always seems like once we step into the unknown, put on our Lucy Pevensie brave face, and dive into a new experience, we often (if not always) come out a little stronger, wiser and the better for it. So I am excited about the new experiences I will have, fabulous workshops and tracks awaiting, and the new friendships and contacts yet to be made. Not to mention...this mommy could use a vacation :D

And for more on Mount Hermon, check this post out.

Spring Fancies

It's spring. Crocus are beginning to bloom with daffodils close behind. The birds are chirping outside and my wind chime is carolling a happy song. I actually have my front door open--its such a delight to invite the yumminess in. I've tucked away my snow boots (though, granted, I might have to pull them back out again.) And I've replaced my winter wreath with a brightly painted sign: Spring.

In honor of this lovely time of year, I thought I would share some of my favorite spots for celebrating the growing season. Every June for the last three years, my family and I have gone down to the Lavender Festival at 123 Farm. Imagine this: sitting in a grassy area, surrounded by massive trees while classical music is performed on a grand piano mere feet away, sipping on ice-cold lavender lemonade, and inhaling the sun-warmed fields of lavender wafting by on the breeze. I know, doesn't sound relaxing, right? Lavender is supposed to have calming effects, so just imagine being surrounded by an entire farm of the fragrant herb. It's like walking around in a happy daze all day :D

We love the horse-pulled wagon tour and petting zoo. My children enjoy the sprawling lawns set up with games of cricket and Frisbee while I find myself a toasty lawn chair to enjoy the cool breeze. What's that? My glass is empty? Time for another round of lavender lemonade. The festival has become known for their use of lavender in everything from soaps to sachets to baked goods and beverages. My all time favorite is the lavender shortbread cookies and the fragrant vanilla ice cream laced with the subtle flavor of...yep, you guessed it. Oh. So. Good. Don't worry, I'll place the link below. But before you run off, check out my other favorite destination for spring.

Summer's Past Farms is a cozy and inviting family-run establishment tucked away on Olde Highway 80. Filled with quaint gardens and nooks for the child at heart, Summers Past Farm is the perfect place to spend a peaceful afternoon with the family or a couple of girlfriends. Because of it's size, strollers aren't even necessary (this mom's dream!) After setting up our picnic blankets in the grassy area where the kids will spend hours running around in the sunshine, we usually secure our glasses of homemade Black Mango iced tea from the coffee bar, and set to exploring the farm.

There are gardens of every shape and size, an occasional cat stretched out in the sun, picket fences covered in flowers and arbors heavy with the fragrant smells of spring. My children love the playhouse with the pint-sized garden where they can explore. Our favorite time is to go in May when the Sweet Pea Maze is open to visitors. Imagine exploring a maze made entirely out of sweet pea vines. Heavenly.

The cottage-style shops will pull you into a world of seeds, teacups and all those things that have me pulling out my wallet. Don't forget to buy a package ( in my case several) of the Black Mango tea, its delicious hot or cold. Oh, and the soap shop? Divine. Before leaving, we scour the nursery and take home new varieties of our favorite flowers and herbs. A box filled with fresh parsley, colorful nemesias and lanky foxglove inevitably gets tucked into the back of the car.

So if you're in the southern California area, I hope you will get the chance to visit these beautiful farms!
The only down side is having to leave.

Lavender Festival @ 123 Farm
Summers Past Farms

Mountains and Flowers

I'm in the middle of a long journey. And I've felt stuck in the middle of this long journey for a very...long time. I wanted to share a conversation with God I had in my heart. A conversation that was way overdue.

"What are you doing?"
"Is that you, God?"
"It's me."
Grunting. "Grrr. God, I'm stuck on this mountain."
"I see that."
"No, I don't think you get it. It's a really sticky mountain! Why did you make it so sticky?"
"I didn't make it sticky."
"But its covered in tar."
"Think back to who covered it in tar."
Hangs head. "I think I did."
"I watched you do it, my child."
"Why didn't you stop me."
"You seemed pretty determined to cover that mountain. Did you think it would go away?"
Blushes. "I thought maybe it would help me get over it. The last mountain was too slippery. I kept falling."
Chuckles. "I remember that mountain."
"And do you remember the one before that?"
"The brick mountain. How could I forget? You kept banging your head against it."
Rubs head. "Yeah, it really hurt."
"Why did you do it, then?"
"Because it wouldn't move."
"You want these mountains to move, don't you?"
Plunks down in the grass. "Yes. I don't like these mountains."
"I can tell."
"They're really frustrating. And, God, I pray that you will make them move and you don't."
"That's because I don't want to move the mountain."
"But...why?"
"Because I think there is a lesson to be learned at the bottom."
Grumbles. "I figured you would say that. What if I'm tired of learning lessons?"
Wipes tar from my cheek. "You're tired because you keep wearing yourself out."
"So what do I do?"
Sits down beside me. "I want you to be thankful."
"For the mountain?"
"Yes. And for the time that you've been given. Its precious time."
"But I don't know how to be thankful for that." Points at mountain.
"Have you ever considered planting flowers?"
"Flowers would be easier than tar."
Chuckles. "They would be a lot easier than tar. I don't think the tar makes you happy."
Shakes head. "The bricks don't either."
"So plant flowers. This mountain is not going to be moving just yet."
"But it will someday?"
"It will."
"Are we going over it or under it? Or maybe we are going around it. Can you tell me?"
"Not right now."
"Then....can you at least tell me what is on the other side?"
Squeezes my hand.
"You're not going to tell me, are you?"
Shakes head.
Sigh. "Fair enough."
"Do you believe that I have good things in store for you?"
"I do."
"Do you really?"
"Er...most of the time."
Smiles.
Hangs head. "You always lead me in the right direction, no matter how much I worry."
"But you worry anyway."
"I can't help it."
Hands me a trowel. "Yes you can."
"So you really want me to plant flowers at the bottom of this thing, don't you?"
"It would make the waiting easier."
Takes the trowel. "It would."
"You always try and scramble over these mountains. And you beg them to move. You kicked the last one."
"I think I broke my toe."
Smiles. "Did it make you feel better?"
"No."
"Did it make the mountain move?" Pulls out a flower.
"No."
"Then here. Make the best of your time while I'm working on the mountain."


Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. Phil 4:5-7

Do You Hear What I Hear?

Said the little lamb to the Shepard boy.
Do you hear what I hear?

That song is full of the most beautiful words.

I'm a Christmas song geek. But I admit it with pride. I just love them. Since the day after Thanksgiving, my computer has been eternally fixed on my favorite Itunes Christmas station, Heavenly Christmas. There is something about the songs of the season that help me remember the reason we are celebrating. And my love of this music, as for many of us, goes back to childhood.

My dad is a mailman, and for anyone who has ever been in the delivery service, knows that the fun only gets better as Christmas approaches (just kidding). My dad would come home late every Christmas Eve, exhausted from his duties of making certain that every package and card was safely delivered before quittin' time. Once home, he'd kick off his black boots, jump in a hot bath and my sister and I would be giddy with excitement (In my family, we opened half of our presents on the night before Christmas).

I always remember my parents turning on the festive sounds of Nat King Cole. Hearing that smooth voice fill our little house as we enjoyed sparkling cider in my mom's holiday glasses is a memory I will never forget. And dressed in his jammies, my dad would emerge, refreshed and ready to share some Christmas joy with his girls.

Although I have a love for Christmas music, I'm not real big on the hits you hear on the radio (ok, that was an understatement). In truth, I have an embarrassingly large stack of Celtic Christmas Cd's and a few Bluegrass ones that are pretty fun.

But my husband is not a huge fan of Christmas music. Not because he lacks holiday cheer. I mean, the guy is certainly festive. He hung a nice display of Christmas lights on our house (granted he got to use his staple gun which is practically a power tool) and he always sets up my village for me. But he grew up on a Christmas tree lot and the day after Thanksgiving meant getting his hands dirty, strapping trees to minivans and enduring six weeks of Santa Baby. So I can't blame the guy. Although to his credit, whenever he hears the stations shift into Christmas mode he calls me up from work and tells me the stations. (Definite brownie points.) Then again, the other day he told me he liked a Christmas song. Springsteen's Santa Claus is Coming to Town. I nearly fainted with shock.

I have a lot of favorite songs--Oh Holy Night and The Holly and the Ivy, pretty much take the cake. But recently, while enjoying my new found radio station, I kept hearing music by an artist that plays the most beautiful songs on the piano. His name is Tim Neumark and after hearing several of his arrangements, I immediately went to the ITunes store to download the entire CD. But I only had $1.04 in my account, and after fighting the urge to throw a minor tantrum, chose my favorite one, its a variation on "Do You Hear What I hear?"


It's hands down, one of the most beautiful Christmas songs I've ever heard. I highly recommend giving it a listen as it reminds us that the true meaning of Christmas, is what was lying beneath the bright and shining star all those years in Bethlehem; the child who has brought us goodness and light.

I'd love to hear what your favorites songs and carols are...

(Directions to my favorite station: Itunes Radio-Ambient-Got Radio, Heavenly Christmas)

For more on Tim Neumark and his music, visit Tim's Website

Sinterklass ~ A Timeless Tradition

Have you ever noticed that my last name is Bischof? My husbands family is a happy blend of German and Italian. I've never seen my mother-in-law use red sauce from a jar and when it comes to pizza and pasta to die for...well I've married into the right family. But back to the German side of things. There is a little holiday the Bischof children always celebrated when they were growing up. Aside from spending every Christmas Eve devouring plate loads of Waffles and Brats for dinner, they celebrated Sinterklass on the eve of December 5th.

If you are Dutch, prepare yourself for our American attempt at your holiday ;)

Even in America, some Dutch communities still celebrate this holiday town-wide with a parade where kids wait and watch for Sinterklass on his gray horse.

The way my husband grew up celebrating Sinterklass (More properly known in the Netherlands as Sint Nikolaas or Goedheiligman) was to put a pair of shoes out the night before and in the morning, Sinterklass, a man with a red hat and snowy white beard (sound familiar?) has filled them with treats. I hear my hubby and his brothers and sister would search for the largest, deepest pair of shoes they owned and they would often times put out hay for Sinterklass' horse, sometimes even putting it up on the roof. Boys will be boys. And what kid doesn't like to wake up on December 6th--three solid weeks before Christmas--to chocolates and goodies stuffed in their shoes?

When I first met my husband, as the shoes-out-the-night-before thing faded, my mother-in-law would hand each of us a mug stuffed with yummies and a Christmas ornament or pair of socks on the 6th--so its fun for kids of all ages. And now that there are plenty of grandchildren to spread the magic with, the shoes can return!

This will be the first year we celebrate Sinterklass with our kids and I am excited to tell them about it and watch them put their shoes out and when they go to bed, help Sinterklass fill the toddler size treads with dutch cookies and treats. Of course, only if they have been good ;)

Just plain Christmas fun!

Pumpkins and Crows

Its that time of year when cobwebs creep up in front yards and felt spiders the size of preschoolers cling to the sides of trees. Grocery stores are bursting at the scenes with bagged candy and costume advertisements make people blush.

I'm not really that into Halloween--I mean the bats and ghosts side of things-- but don't get me wrong, I love this time of year. There's something in the air that makes October just plain fun. Its a time when its perfectly OK to nibble on handfuls of candy corn and blast the Phantom of the Opera from the CD player. (side note--who would have thought you could Jazzercise to the Phantom? Our instructor put together a spooky set for us and I had no idea what the motions were so when in doubt, keep bouncing--and hope no one notices you. And...try not to fall down the stairs. I have a bad habit of standing in front of the stairwell. I've had visions of myself sashaying my way to a rather abrupt demise.)

What was I talking about? Oh yeah, pumpkins and crows. So I love pumpkins on my front porch. I've also developed a little fascination for crows this fall. Not in a scary way, more like the Nanny McPhee kind of way. You know. Cute. But not creepy. I don't know what it is about October--fall is just my favorite time of year. It makes me happy. There's something about living in Southern California that makes one appreciate cold weather. The other day it was pouring and my one and three-year olds were playing on the front porch, soaking wet, happy as tadpoles after a drought. And me? I was sitting in the doorway--trying not to get wet--reading a book. I know, we're weird about rain.

I've already made my first pumpkin pie cake of the season, every morning there's a fire in our wood burning stove and more often than is good for the 'ol waistline, there's a pot of homemade popcorn crackling away on the stove top. (We don't have a microwave but even if we did, it would still be the best way to do it.) We like ours in olive oil with a drizzle of butter and salt. And if we're going all out, homemade cherry cokes with grenadine and maraschinos. Yum! Its the way my dad did. Its the way his dad did it. If it ain't broken...

Yay for October :D

Lemonade Out Of Lemons

You know how people ask you "Where are you going on vacation this summer?"
My answer this year was always the same. "Yosemite!" I was soooo excited. We had just bought a new toyhauler and I had visions of lowering the back, having the breeze bounce off half dome and into my trailer bringing with it the smell of mountain wildflowers. I'd wave to hikers going by and pet little baby bears on the head while my husband wrestled with their mother. Ah. These were my visions of vacation. It was going to be perfect.

Before we left, I had asked Noah's mother what to expect of the drive up there since she'd just gone.
"Will it be green and lush?"
"It would be pretty dry until Fresno, dry in Fresno, then it starts to get pretty."
"Okay." I thought, translating that. "I can make it till Fresno before the great views show up." That's what Ipods are for, right?

Wrong. We drove and drove and drove and as we stared at the dead, dry landscape, I watched the "miles to Fresno" slowly shrink. "We're getting there!" Although the landscape wasn't much, we did enjoy all the acres of grapevines and fruit trees and as Fresno came and went, I rubbed my hands together in anticipation and I blew an imaginary kiss to half dome. Yosemite, here we come!

Between studying the CA map and the roadsigns, it suddenly occurred to me that our campground was mere miles away. 30 miles to go. Then 20, then 10. I continued to study the dry landscape. There were hardly any mountains and very few green trees. "Wow," I said to my husband. "That Yosemite just jumps right out at ya." As I scanned the hills for signs of half dome, I spotted another sign...we were almost there! With a puzzle in my brow, I stared at the map.

As we pulled off the highway into our campsite, we simply stared. I almost started crying. Our families got out of the cars and with mouths ajar, we studied our surrounding--then we started sweating and wiping our brows (another theme of the week). It was dry, dead and brown. No flowers. Hardly any trees.

Where were all the bears? The cabins? The hikers? "Mom," I said, afraid to hear the answer. "Where's Yosemite?" That's when we learned that due to road construction it would be another 3 and a half hours to the valley floor (that's just one way...and with a car full of toddlers). Are you kidding me? Had we really just driven nearly ten hours to camp for a week in a fire hazard?

So, with slow, sad movements, we mopped the sweat from our brows and started to set up camp. That's when we saw a girl walk by in a bathing suit. We followed her damp trail to the end of the campground only to find that a cool, clear creek flowed through the place. As quickly as we could, we threw on our suits and sank into the water. The kids played and splashed and we finally found relief from the hot campground. We didn't dry off for a week.

By the end of our vacation, my children had turned into fish and us adults had invented a game called "water soccer". With hockey-sized goals made out of bent willow, a ball and a half-dozen willing people, we proceeded to kick and splash each other until we were soaked and exhausted. With a few bruised ankles and one broken toe, we had more fun playing water soccer.

And my favorite memory, was one night when my mom, my aunt and I decided to play scrabble. It was one of those games where nothing was going right. You know the game when one player has all the Q's with no U (of course), another has all the vowels and another has all the consonants--with championship quality words like "put" and "hi" we were not getting anywhere. So being the scrabble enthusiasts and rule followers that we were, we decided to invent our own version of the game. There were only two rules: You could only use the letters sitting in your little wooden church pew & the word could NOT be found in the dictionary but must be accompanied with its corresponding definition :) Here's what we came up with:

JELON: (Jay-lawn) a Jello dish from France
TMTRY: (Tem-etry) a form of math, much harder than Trig (of course!)
ZOOO: (pronounced just as it sounds) a VERY LARGE zoo
BAOM: (Bay-om) Emeril's "Bam", but with a southern accent
ZEAD: A man from the old testament
GLAVT: A horse from the Lord of The Rings
my mom came up with the word ECNS and on my turn, I added a few letters making it QECNSOUX which of course made it French. It had to be the most fun we'd ever had playing scrabble.

Needless to say, there wasn't a whole lot that went the way we had planned that week, but all we could do was roll up our sleeves, have a laugh and make the best of it and by bending our expectations, we found out that we ended up having a lot of fun. It will be a vacation we never forget!

A Very Country 4th

We celebrated the Forth of July Country Style. Some dear friends of ours have a lovely farm in the country. Literally, their home is the very last house on a rural dirt road which means they have only one neighbor and the 300 degree view from their back porch of the untouched mountains is stunning.

For most of the day, my son ran around in his bathing suit on the lawn chasing kids both older and younger, squirt gun in hand, water balloons flying past his head like little torpedoes. I don't think the kids stopped for a breather all day, except when it was time to eat. And then, I don't think anyone could have resisted that spread.

The enormous BBQ hauled in on the back of a vehicle was large enough to feed everyone with chicken, ribs and lamb drizzled in the most wonderful homemade BBQ sauces. Pots large enough to hold a couple of youngins held more corn than I have ever seen in one place in my life and with plenty of entrants in the cobbler and pie competition, there were desserts-a-plenty. My dad was eager to join in on the judging and as he walked around the table, sampling the cobblers with his fork, I don't think he could have been happier. The Lemon pie won, but I was too busy nibbling on peach cobbler that had been freshly baked in a dutch oven over a hot fire then topped with hand churned vanilla ice cream, I forgot to nab myself a slice of the winning entry before it vanished.

As everyone enjoyed the meal, a handful of toddler girls waddled about with chubby legs and ribbons in their hair. With watermelon juice still dripping from her chin, my daughter wandered from picnic blanket to picnic blanket, seeing what bites of food the kind folks would offer a doe-eyed, dimple-cheeked one-year-old. Needless to say, I don't think she had any room left in her little tummy by the end of the day.

As the meal came to a close, folks shared patriotic readings, poems and songs and when that was wrapped up, a gaggle of barefooted, sun-tanned kids hopped onto the flat bed truck for a trip down to the creek. I have no idea what they did down there, but when my three-year-old returned, he was wet, a little muddy and very happy. At that moment I figured he'd probably sleep for a week.

Earlier on in the day, names went up on a board in preparation for the shotgun competition. My honey did quite well in the shootout, making it all the way to the semi finals before getting knocked out of the competition. He has the bruise on his shoulder to prove it. His brother took the championship, shooting through four rounds of competition at twenty-five clay pigeons each round. I bet his bruise is bigger :-) Later on, some of the shooters took part in a twenty-one gun salute. My husband and dad were among the few who lined up for the series of shots in front of the garden...it was VERY loud...things you can only pull off in the country ;-)

As the sun sank on the 4th of July, the s'mores sticks came out and by the time the fire was crackling, a group of kids were huddled around the pit with eager hands. With my friend doing graham cracker duty and me on Hershey bar duty, we managed to sandwich those golden (sometimes rather charred) marshmallows up before any kids realized we actually only had 4 skewers. Even so, those too impatient to wait for a skewers, found a stick long enough to satisfy their s'mores cravings (several adults included) Meanwhile, the guitars came out and as we sang songs around the campfires. The littlest ones drifted off to sleep while the older ones were told they could have no more s'mores but if they were still hungry we had plenty of graham crackers and corn on the cob.

I realized just how late it was when my dad got a little droopy eyed, guitar still in hand. We packed up the picnic blankets and loaded up the kids. My dad managed to stay awake in the car, but my children were asleep in the car seats, with sticky stuff still on their faces, before we were out the driveway.

A Soft Answer

I had a bit of a rough day yesterday. So I decided to journal about it...on my blog. And since I can write about Vatever I Vant, I figured why not?

Anywho, yesterday definitely won't be filed away as one of my favorite days of all time. In fact, I got my "feel feels" hurt. Thumb + finger to forehead=loser...that sort of feeling. But seriously, it turned my day into a rotten banana.

For anyone who knows me, I'm rather a tender soul (sniff, sniff) and I take things to heart pretty easily. I could never be a movie star. One bad tabloid picture and I'd be draped over the bed, box of Kleenex in hand and a six pack of Hershey bars...well wrappers, strewn about.

It got better, though. A lot better.

First, I had a ridiculously therapeutic hour of sweating my Nike's off at Jazzercise. (Yeah, I Jazzercise and no, there are no headbands or leotards involved anymore.) In fact, we rocked out to some pretty good dance music. Which brings me to my second point. During a lovely cool down to the sound of Michael Bublé, the thought struck me--"Stop fuming about it."

"What?" I glanced at the other Jazzercisers but knew it was just the voice inside me. "Yeah, it's not going to go away and you certainly have no possession of a time machine, nor do you have any friends smart enough to invent one (no offense, friends), so move on." But really, I didn't know how to move on and with this thought process rolling around in my mind, I realized that I was so busy running away from the sliver in the eyes of others, that I smacked right into the log in my own. It really hurt! So I sat there last night, frozen peas pressed to forehead, thinking about what's really the core of all this.

And that's when I realized the lesson I was meant to learn: Sometimes, even as Christians, we forget to be nice.

Gasp! No, it's true. And I found myself very, very at fault of that.

I thought over some of the times that I responded in a rather not-so-nice-way towards others and the sting of shame burned hot. I imagined all the people that I had hurt with my words--words spoken in the heat of anger, without thinking or weighing the consequences of how it would make the other person feel.

Now, the bump on my head was really starting to throb and I knew I needed to ask for God's forgiveness. I did, and the best part is that I know he did. Now about the people I've hurt. My motto in a tough situation has often been "Kill 'em with kindness." I don't always heed that advice (obviously), but from now on, I'm going to pin it to my heart as a reminder that a soft answer turns away wrath and a kind word is sometimes just what someone needs.

After the way I felt yesterday, the icky feeling in the pit of my stomach, I realized that I never want to be rude or unkind to anyone again. I don't know if that's actually possible, but then I figured--why not? Isn't that the example that Christ lived out on earth--the one we're supposed to follow?

Besides, it's not as if I witnessed someone running over a basket of newborn kittens. In fact, all those times that I was SOOO offended, weren't really that big of a deal to begin with. I could have shrugged it off, better yet laughed it off, and moved on with kindness towards others. And then of course there's that other golden rule: you can't help what others do, you can only help what you do. Ain't that the truth. I'm going to try, really, really try, to keep Jesus' love as the filter in front of my lips so that I can think BEFORE I speak and treat other's the way I would want to be treated.

Blessings!

Photo credit: Pride and Prejudice, 2005