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 :)

Adventures in Country Living: Raising Chickens

So these are our lovely ladies. They are a great group of chickens and there's nothin' like fresh eggs.

The yolks are a deep orange that make the yummiest fried eggs, rich quiches and are a blessing to have on hand when throwing together a cake or batch of brownies. What? No eggs in the fridge? Time to trek out to the coop! And I must admit, I'm the #1 go to person on our street for "Do you have an egg to spare?" :D

As you can see they're a hodgepodge of different breeds. We started out with a quad of beautiful Rhode Island Reds.

And then we got a dog.

Turns out chickens and ADD Labrador teenagers (who know how to dig) don't mesh well. I'm pretty sure he meant well but no, they weren't moving toys. So the Labrador went to a neighbor (thanks Kelly). And she posted this picture on Facebook a few days later...

"If I don't make eye contact, they can't see me"

This would have been our backyard.
And those feathers would not have been a pillow.

So fortunately now, Zak has a home that is chicken-free with a super loving family, and a BFF named Kaya to play with all day long.

Keeping chickens is incredibly easy. All they need is a little shelter from varmints, food, water and room to roam when the weather is nice. Ours love walking the yard and eating grass and worms. This makes for happier chickens. I used to run a country store with my mother-in-law. We had a sign out front for "Happy Chicken Eggs." They sold as quick as we could put them into cartons. There's nothing like a farm fresh egg and the experience is all the more enjoyable knowing they come from happy chickens :) 


My favorite way to eat eggs is fried with crumbled goat cheese on top. SO good! How about you?

Book Contract: How It All Happened

I write Appalachian romance. And if you read last weeks post, know that I recently signed a three book contract for the Cadence of Grace Series with WaterBrook Press. Yippee!

The first book in the series, Be Still My Soul, drops readers in the midst of the Blue Ridge Mountains at the turn of the last century at a time when honor and duty walked the same path as hope and faith. It's my prayer that this love story will touch hearts and encourage readers.

When I originally sent out queries, I knew this series was going to be a tough sell to agents. If I managed to get an agent, I knew it would be an even tougher sell to a publisher. Which is why I am throwing confetti in the air in honor of my fabulous agent, Sandra Bishop (MacGregor Literary). The woman is a rock star and not only saw potential in my story, but had enough faith in it to sign me on and pitch it to publishers.

When she informed me that WaterBrook Press was considering my proposal, I was over the moon. I've long admired their taste in fiction and am a huge fan of titles from authors like Liz Curtis Higgs, Susan Meissner and Kristen Heitzmann. The journey continued for months and months as my proposal went farther down the conveyor belt, constantly under the scrutiny of publishing pros. I was prepared that most likely, nothing would come of it. If by some miracle anything did, they just might want one...maybe two books. But all three?

As the waiting continued, I checked my email every day, chewed my fingernails down to stubs, and wore holes in my jeans for all the time I spent talking to God about it.

Then one day, I got The Call. Hearing my agent's voice on the other line with that mysterious-happy-restrained tone, my heart went into over drive. When she broke the good news that all three books had been chosen for publication, I wanted to cry. I think I might have. I immediately called my husband and of course my mom and I know I did the happy dance. I was REALLY pregnant then and let's just say...no that wasn't an earthquake you felt. :] That was one happy author!

Photo credit: Cold Mountain, 2003

"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.

A Homemade Christmas

With the economy not what it used to be and many families looking to save money this Christmas season, it's no wonder more and more people are choosing to make homemade presents for their loved ones.

Despite the sparkle and glitz of flashy holiday commercials, some folks are still choosing to slow things down a bit. Embrace the beautiful simplicity of a handmade gift. From aunty's chocolate dipped pretzels to grandpa's rustic bird feeder, to the handcrafted shopping bag angel on top of the tree with old manuscript pages for wings (oh, wait that's just us.) Homemade gifts are special. They say "I took the time to make this for you."

So in embracing the pioneer spirit this year, I've conjured up homemade gifts, including the infamous apple pie soap, crochet scarves and a crochet rag rug ( oh yeah, took it up a notch on this one.) And lastly, I bought one of my favorite teas, creamy pumpkin pie, and I'm planning on putting together little glass jars packaged with a ribbon and tea ball.

Homemade projects are all about heart. Some projects are easy and fun while others challenge us making one want to set fire to the green sweater we've knitted that we thought was "hunter" but in the sunlight, just so happened to be "chartreuse." (I'm not venting, I'm not, I'm not)

Despite the glitches and imperfections, I hope these homemade gifts will bring a little cheer.

I'd love to hear your thoughts. Are you making any presents this year for your Christmas gift giving? What special homemade gifts have you received?

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!

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!

First Home School Days

Well we have officially begun home schooling. Yet isn't home schooling something so many moms do? Whether they send their kids to school or teach them at home? I think so. Playing blocks, coloring, learning numbers and letters and so many other activities are really teaching our children, so the transition into official schooling can be a smooth one.

We've casually done preschool up until now. Levi, who will be five in November has had trouble with numbers. Right now he has just mastered counting up to the number twelve. Some kids that I know of can count much higher by this age and at first I was worried because Levi really struggle in this area (sometimes making me want to bang my head against the table) but once I realized it was OK to slow down, it took the pressure off of both of us. And trying to work with a stressed out mommy is no fun for any child. It was time for a change.

We made a game by cutting out small pieces of cardboard and I spread them out in the center of the living room. Levi had so much fun jumping from one number to the next (whichever number I called out) like a frog on lilly pads. Other times I'd do a scavenger hunt by placing the cards in a special spot and after telling Levi what number I needed, he'd race off and find it. There was lots of laughing, high fives and woohooing as we played these games. And for a squiggly, wiggly, four-year-old, counting and numbers became a pleasant time again.

On the other hand, when it came to letters, I hardly had to try. He just naturally picked it up. Now we're working on sight words and he's picking those up just as quick. Once I realized that he knew about 20 words, I made him his own little book out of construction paper. I printed off sentences that included the words he knew, simple things like "Levi and Mabry run." or "I said truck." (I taught him a couple extra words like truck, dog, his name and sister's name, and a few others to make the storybook a little more possible.) He loves that he can read what the little book says and has such fun reading it with his grandma or dad and showing them what he's learned.

In all this, I'm learning just as much as he is. A joy of home schooling is that I can pace Levi differently in the various subjects so he's learning at a comfortable rate with enough of a challenge to find his successes thrilling. And his two-year-old sister insists on learning along with us. She hates being left out. So even though she's just a tiny tot, she wants me to show her the flash cards and I'll help her say them back. She thinks it's so fun to be doing what brother is doing and it makes it so much easier to have her close and participating so I don't have to worry about what trouble she might be getting into somewhere else in the house. Most of the time, though, she keeps busy scribbling on scratch paper. And her brother has the most generous heart. He admires her wild scrawling and points out what he sees. "Look, May. You made a boat." And my favorite was when he said..."You made a beaver tail, good job!"

Oh, and I almost forgot about the picture above! I grew up reading the Little House books and have been waiting for the right time to read them to the kids. I wasn't sure how well they'd get into a story with so few pictures, but they love sitting down each day and reading several pages and it gives Levi and I a special time to simply chat about what we're reading. He can ask questions and it's a great opportunity to explain history and pioneer life. And my time of having my children at home with me is only going to be a season. I'm so thankful to have them with me, learning, laughing and being together as a family.

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.

A Case of Sour Grapes

Jealousy. A word that's green with envy and a little bitter to swallow. A word that most of us have been familiar with at one point of our lives or another. I got hit with a case of it recently. I stumbled upon an author awhile back with a book contract I would have probably sold my left patella for and a series of the most beautiful book covers I've ever seen. Instead of being happy for them, I plopped down on the floor and cried "Why them, God? Why not me?" Me, me, me, me.

Ew. It was rather unattractive.

But I was frustrated. Really frustrated. Have you ever had that feeling? It was hard not to throw my hands in the air and count off all the reasons why I should be as fortunate as them and who are they to... yeah, like I said, pretty unattractive. It was at that moment I halted in my tracks. What I felt was wrong. Very wrong. And suddenly, the only emotion I felt was shame...OK, I'll admit, the jealousy was still lurking in the shadows. So I asked, "God, what do I do about this? It's not right to feel this way."

Then the answer came--the way to cure a case of sour grapes:

I added this person to my prayer list.

Yep, you heard me.

Beyond their name, pretty book covers and 3 book contract, I really have no idea who they are. I don't know anything about them. I don't know how hard they worked to get to where they are or how many hours were spent on their knees talking to God about their hopes and dreams or how excited their family and loved ones were when the big "call" came through that a publishing house had offered a deal. 

But here I was, pouting about their success. So I did what I felt God calling me to do and I immediately began to pray for them. And I continue to pray for that person until this day. Whenever they pop into my head, I immediately lift them up to the throne of grace and pray for God's hand to continue to bless their life and writing career.

And you know what? The jealousy vanished. And if ever there is a moment where it tries to creep back in, I turn right around and spend those moments that I could have wasted stewing about how others have it "better" than I do, into a time of worshiping my God and trusting that he knows what books need to be published a WHOLE lot better than I do, and thanking him for the lives that have been touched through that very special author.

Encouragement For Mothers: Little Helpers

As my husband and I are raising our two (soon to be three) children, there are a few character traits we have made a priority to instill in them: self control, patience, cheerfulness and being helpful. We've found that we have had the greatest success in training them up to have these traits in their hearts by teaching with example and keeping them close to us as we go about our daily lives--which means we have had to teach ourselves how to keep these traits front and center in our hearts and countenance (not always easy, but the more we work and learn in our own spirits, it continues to grow in our family).

There have been times, particularly early on in my mothering that I wanted to shoo a little one off. "Go play with your toys, mommy's busy. I really need to get this done." Now while I'm sure that still pops out of my mouth here and there (particularily when trying to meet a writing deadline!) I have tried to give my attitude a mega adjustment and see those little hands as being helpful while recognizing an opportunity to have my children work alongside me, whether it be in the kitchen, garden, etc. A valuable chance to not only teach them what I am doing, but to listen and talk with them. To spend time with them. And busy little hands helping mommy have a lot harder time getting into trouble, then little hands left on their own somewhere else in the house!

My daughter recently turned two and I cannot be in the kitchen, whether its making a PB&J or a batch of cookies without her scooting a chair over, nabbing her little apron from the drawer, climbing up and seeing how she can watch and help. This brings her joy. Her favorite tasks are dumping ingredients that I've measured into the bowl and stirring. She's also my champion tortilla roller outer. Give that girl a rolling pin and she's one hot senorita in the kitchen.

Recently, after about an hour of working in the garden with my four-year-old son, I turned to him and asked, "What would you rather do? Play with toys or help mommy do a project." Now this wasn't a trick question and I was certain of his answer--toys. But he surprised me. After a moments thought, he turned to me and said, "helping mommy with projects."

I couldn't believe it. So much of our culture today instills into our minds that our children need every toy on the market and millions of DVD's to keep content and be entertained. When in reality, they just want to be loved. They want to be noticed, appreciated and helpful. They want to look up into an adult face and hear the words, "You did an awesome job. I couldn't have done it without your help." And to parents with younger children, take advantage of that window while its still wide open.

There were a few life choices that helped. My husband and I have always talked about having very few battery-operated toys. We didnt want our children always seeking entertainment. Plastic tools, little shovels and rakes, balls, trucks, tractors, puzzles, books, and cooking utensils for mud pies and leaf soup are what our children have had since they were tiny tots. People sometime comment on my son who is always eager to jump out and dig in the snow or the dirt or to help an adult fix something. And I always say "Tools are his toys. This is his favorite thing to do."

While my children get plenty of time for free play everyday, hours in fact now that its beautiful and sunny out, we always manage to come together here and then to work side-by-side which is where so much of their schooling and learning takes place. And the results are a parent's greatest reward. Just the other day, while the kids were in the back yard having fun all on their own, I looked out to see that my son had hopped off his swing and was standing their giving his sister a few minutes of good-pushing time on her own swing. I saw then and there, that to be helpful is now a part of his heart. He's learning to value the time he spends with his sister and to think of how he can serve others, not grudgingly, but with a laughing, four-year-old heart.

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

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