Where It Went

Somehow days and weeks escape despite the intent to post a little update, story, picture, anecdote... yeah. So. There's all sorts of stuff that was intended for remembrance which will never be known because someone failed to post to the blog that has replaced those messy and time-consuming scrapbooks...

Gentle Reader didn't really miss that much, though.

Unless you wanted a play-by-play of the hours spent applying one sparkly little crystal at a time to Skater Girl's competition dresses? (A picture is worth a thousand words- and you'll be better off. Really.) It's pretty, though. And so shiny. Anywho. Placing each little stone... Oh. Hey. It's just like those scrapbooks...

Love Letters

Middle Child is twelve. The last of her tween years is now numbered in months. That seems short, but will likely feel far shorter on the other side. Time passes more quickly in the rear view mirror than seems possible when one looks out over the sometimes long stretches of road ahead. Those first months certainly felt endless as the series of ten p.m. and four a.m. feedings made every night's rest just short of satisfying. Yet they are far behind in the blink of a mother's eye.
Kate's baby book features an addition that she holds especially dear. In the pages (acid and lignin free!) of her album (archival quality!) a series of notes were penned (photo-safe ink!) to cross the gulf of time and speak to her from the perspective of a mother utterly captivated by the tiny new daughter who was unlikely to remember the words whispered and cooed to her in those late nights and early mornings. Not likely to win any awards, the words are hand-written. They flow through the thoughts of young motherhood, across the small milestones that mark a little one's development, and they are treasured by a girl verging on the first bloom of womanhood. Those words intended to communicate the love of a mother for her infant have bridged the widening gap between a mother and her increasingly independent tween.
And the daughter has requested more of such simple declarations. Which she will have--- written secretly in the coming months in a lovely journal. And presented on her thirteenth birthday.

Titus 2 MOB

I am headed out later this morning to meet up with a friend for lunch. She is one of those ladies I think of when I consider "3Older women likewise are to be reverent in their behavior, not malicious gossips nor enslaved to much wine, teaching what is good, 4so that they may encourage the young women to love their husbands, to love their children, 5to be sensible, pure, workers at home, kind, being subject to their own husbands, so that the word of God will not be dishonored." from Titus 2. She has a daughter who became engaged a couple of weeks ago, and the engagement has led to the Mother of the Bride (MOB) contacting a group of twelve ladies. In preparation for the daughter's upcoming wedding and marriage, the MOB is forming a prayer team. What a wonderful gift to the happy couple--- months of prayer support to prepare them to enter into their marriage covenant!
I was initially, and am still, tickled by the invitation to join in this team committed to preparing the bride and groom through prayer for the challenges that inevitably come over the course of planning a wedding and in the days and years of marriage to follow. I can imagine no greater gift that we can offer, and the idea of documenting the prayers for the couple in scrapbook form will create a precious testimony of the days leading up to their wedding, and of the unique blessings desired for the pair by the prayer team God has inspired the MOB to form.

Scraps

Today I will clean up my scrapbooking messes because I have finished the Poland scrapbook so it can be put away. Don and I delivered the scrapbook detailing the journey of our friends Ralph and Tammy through a recent extended challenge to his health. I am simply not in the mood to play with the little pieces of paper that ordinarily delight me right now. I am sure the mood will eventually strike again, but it is unlikely to happen anytime soon. Our kids refer to the dining room as "The Scrapbook Room", but I suspect that cleaning up my tools, books, pages, papers, and whatnot will restore it to its former state as a place for gathering together around the table rather than a hang-out for me and the cat. (Bella's going to really miss all those lovely piles of paper on which to perch...)

Full Armor

Yesterday, I was looking up scripture from the trip to Poland to quote in my scrapbook. I am familiar with the verses on the "Full Armor of God", but enjoyed the opportunity for the familiar passage to be presented in a fresh way during the OPS trip to Poland last month.
Dale, who is currently serving in Poland as a missionary, gave an intriguing combination devotional and Polish history lesson to our prayer team. He and three young men (the sons of one of our hosts) appeared dressed in actual armor bearing shields and weaponry! (How cool is that?!)
The scripture reference began with Ephesians 6:10--- for those who are not immediately familiar with the passage:
The Armor of God 10Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of His might.
11Put on the full armor of God, so that you will be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil.
12For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places.
13Therefore, take up the full armor of God, so that you will be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm.
14Stand firm therefore, HAVING GIRDED YOUR LOINS WITH TRUTH, and HAVING PUT ON THE BREASTPLATE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS,
15and having shod YOUR FEET WITH THE PREPARATION OF THE GOSPEL OF PEACE;
16in addition to all, taking up the shield of faith with which you will be able to extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one.
17And take THE HELMET OF SALVATION, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.
Dale's teaching was an awesome time of preparation for our team before we headed out on our road trip that included the visits to Auschwitz and the Jasna Gora monastery where the Black Madonna is housed. One of our team members became ill on the return trip, but we had Dale's visual of the guys locking their shields together in order to present a stronger defense to inspire us to pray together for the health of our team mate. Our prayers for him were answered with his ability to rejoin us. He said later that he was feeling better after our prayers, but that his full restoration came about as we travelled on down the road singing our praise.

Lunch

Do not worry about what you will eat or drink... unless it is lunch time and your Mom is scrapbooking instead of preparing your food. I'm not sure where that one is at in the Bible, but it might appear in the New Testament somewhere. At least according to my kids. Despite having never missed a meal, they become mildly alarmed when I fail to announce what will comprise their next meal because I am in the midst of a task that has wholly absorbed my limited attention. Today I was trying to express my thoughts on having visited the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camps while in Poland, and I was struggling to find words that could begin to convey the history and emotion I discovered in that place. Somehow, the thought of food was far from my mind. Go figure.

Scramble

2008 is a year I will either remember as rushed, or it will have flown by so quickly that I won't remember squat. We're in the thick of a crazy season right now. Spring Break from March 15-23. Palm Sunday on the 16th, and St. Patrick's Day on the 17th. Today is Good Friday. Easter and Evan's thirteenth birthday coincide on Sunday. Don and I mark our fourteenth anniversary next Wednesday. All of that plus visits with Grandparents, the exciting news of our niece or nephew who is due on Erin's eight birthday, and the actualities of daily living.
Our house seems to be in on the overkill plan. It has needed plumbing, roofing, extermination (Acrobat Ants only sound cute. Yuck.), painting, weeding, fertilizing, and is now coming up on regrouting, flooring, and glass replacement. The excitement just never ends around here. (Our house is coming up on 20 years old, and it entered into a suicide pact about 7 years ago with Chris and Sylvia's house in a nearby suburb. If one of us needs a a garage door opener, the other one does, too. If the oven goes blooey at her house, I had best start shopping for one, too. It allowed us to form a support system to deal with the sticker-shock associated with home repair and improvement costs.) Eventually, it seems like we will have to reach the point where we have replaced everything in this house. That will likely be the point where whatever went blooey first goes kaput again.
Adding to the feel of time somehow flying, I am zipping through scrapbooks. Having reached the photos and memorabilia from Erin's birth, I am now trying to work on the family album and her baby book simultaneously. Erin found the photos showing a rapt Katie smiling at her a bit confusing. She is used to the more hormonal current version of Big Sister 10.0. The original has a simpler interface.

October 2000

We took too many pictures in October, 2000. I am so close to the all-too-wonderful date of November 15, 2000 in my scrapbooking. I am probably not fully appreciating Katie and Evan painting pumpkins or riding ponies at the school carnival. I think I did give reasonable "Awwww" to Dylan in his first little puppy dog Halloween costume. (He was really, really cute. The boy had some serious cheeks.) I also had a chuckle at the pictures where Sylvia was bringing Dylan over to our house to visit so I could see why it was so important to honor my doctor's orders to stay on bedrest. (It worked. He was that cute.) I am not discounting those days in October. I just want to get past soccer season and pee-wee ballerinas dancing at Harvestfest downtown on the Square. It's mildly reminiscent of the final weeks of the actual pregnancy.

The task would probably be quicker if Bella would quit "helping". The cat is an absolute menace.

Baby Book!

Progress! Erin's baby book has all sorts of things in it now. I finally reached the magical month of September, 2000 so I could put the photos and invitations from her baby showers into our family album and into her baby book. She's been after me for a couple of years to get to work on that baby book. It really bothers her that there are a big pile of family albums in which she is yet to be featured. Miss Erin has been very patient all things considered. So, what was her response to the dozen completed pages that chronicle her baby shower, birth, homecoming, and the assorted growth, firsts, and medical info?
It was a mixed bag. She objected to my writing in cursive. She was thoroughly grossed out by her initial appearance. She was impressed by the pictures of Dylan R. from the baby shower. She especially liked hearing about how she kicked so hard when I held Dylan that he bounced off my belly. She thought that was pretty funny.

Cutting

I am scrapbooking feverishly. Erin is still waiting patiently for me to do her baby book. (I'm only seven and a half years behind.) I'm chronologically two months and one week from her birthday. In the photos I am as big as a house. I have tried pointing out that she is in the pictures... that she is the gigantic belly. That answer fails to satisfy Little Bit.

I am up to a fatal... er, fateful weekend in September, 2000. I am putting together a rather odd scrapbook entry of a wedding with as little of the bride as possible. I have cut her out of every most photos. My brother's ill-fated marriage to the female referred to within the family by many unflattering terms was a weekend when our family gathered. Many photos were taken. Evan and Katie were the ring bearer and flower girl. Don and my cousin Kirk were in the wedding party. I want to enjoy the photos of our family, but I am trying to work around the soul-sucking Evil Empress. (Not that Jim is perfect. I just love him better.) I'll be glad to finish up with those photos so I can move on along to the wonder of our Erin Elizabeth's arrival to complete our family. (That's my assumption. We will happily raise any kids that happen to be left on our doorstep. It just hasn't happened thus far.)