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...

Fitting

Ow. Skater Girl had five teeth extracted yesterday because there's not room in her mouth for all of them to fit. Eighteen hours later, our girl was back in the chair with her mouth wide open. Those newly spacious gums have been joined by brackets and wires on the remaining teeth. The application of full braces hard on the heels of the extractions were not originally scheduled quite so close together. The appointments were supposed to be a couple of weeks apart, but the orthodontist's computer somehow had the day of the braces installation listed as, "Available," though that was untrue since the date fell in the midst of the doctor's vacation. (Oops.) With skating competitions in June and July, the decision was made to cram the treatment into a whopping day-and-a-half.
This is good for skating, even though it means Wednesday afternoon through Sunday off the ice. (The dentist said so yesterday.) Even with explanations of dry socket (yuck), Skater Girl was already attempting to bargain herself back into the rink tomorrow. Her theory is that it would surely be okay to skate as long as she doesn't jump or spin. Eesh. Fortunately, her new skates came in yesterday (8 weeks to manufacture the boots!), and she will have her first fitting tonight. That may satisfy her jones for all things skating-related at least for today, and the promise of next week's accelerated training schedule with a competition on the 17th should cover the following week.

Waiting

Dr. Seuss's Oh, the Places You'll Go!, refers to Waiting Places. (One does tend to wind up there from time to time.) Despite a range of dates, we're stalled in one such Waiting Place for answers as to when The Boy might be home.  The insurance company required a switch to their in-house pharmacy for I.V. medication infusions this year, and January saw a four day wait for the administration. February's wait is at a week and counting... That Waiting Place leads to the waiting room outside my doctor's office this morning to determine whether or not a cold has blossomed into an ear infection. Waiting on a friend's medical scan, is now waiting on an appointment with a Specialist because the scan revealed more questions rather than answers. These are the gloomier sorts of Waiting Places.
Thankfully, there are other sorts. Like waiting for the coffee to brew. The wait for Shelley-in-Poland and Laura-in-Honduras and I to catch up in person while they're on their furloughs to Pleasant Suburb. The wait for the belt/blanket to develop into a string, then a belt, and now onward to who-knows-what. The wait while Skater Girl practices her stroking, spins, and jumps toward her first big skating test and resuming competition. The wait for Middle Child to come home and launch into her play-by-play of an evening at Perfect's house. Or her day at school. Or why she loves purple. My turn for the next move in Words With Friends. The in-between days waiting for Wednesdays and Saturdays when the mister and I have our dates. Opening each morning's Bible study e-mail from the church to see what little gem is waiting inside. These are the best sorts of waits. These are the anticipatory Waiting Places full of promise and potential.
That's the thing. In these Waiting Places, there is no one simple thing. There is more likely to be a whole host of just about everything. So. I'll gather my things, and sit down to wait. Eventually, it will all shake out. If not, at least we'll know what becomes of the belt/blanket with the addition of a few more rows.

Unexpected



Unexpected * July 13, 2008

  Sometimes things crop up unexpectedly. This sunflower blooming in a field of brick and stone caught my eye years ago as the mister and I explored an area being built to replicate a European village. The first shops were open and few homes inhabited, but much remained unfinished. In the years since the photo was taken, the Village has become a popular site for photographers shooting portrait sessions.

Tomorrow night, Perfect and Middle Child, dressed in their formal finery, will be photographed by their beaming parents in the Village. In preparation, tonight will find us snapping test shots at the site. Perfect and Middle Child may be hoping this effort will yield a shorter session of parental photography before they head off to enjoy their much-anticipated evening.

The Chapel at the Village near sunset

In the midst of planning the final details for this weekend's Winter Formal, a phone call came that was no more expected than the sunflower sprouting from that jumble of stone in the Village. The Boy was calling to say he returns home in two weeks. The unlooked-for news comes as a shock. Having just made it through our third Christmas without him, we are unprepared for his nearly unheralded restoration.

Even while executing this weekend's plans, the family must prepare for the return of our prodigal son... again. The sense of anticipation that characterized his previous homecoming and our family's short-lived reunion is tempered by trepidation over his abrupt secondary departure a year ago. One can only hope that this time will be different, and that he will choose to bloom and grow here among us rather than uprooting himself and leaving us broken.

Tidbits: Round and Round

• One of the shredded mullet dresses is hanging in the coat closet (with the tags and the receipt good for return within 30 days attached) just in case an invitation to the Winter Formal comes too late for delivery of a poufy dress (plus time for potential alterations) found online. I refuse to order a special occasion dress only to find myself standing in line at the post office to return it if not needed.
• Perfect will have an opportunity to ask Middle Child to the Winter Formal today. They will be skating in circles around the rink occasionally holding hands. (He has a tendency to drop her hand like a hot potato under parental scrutiny.)
• Skater Girl will be spinning and working on increasing her jump rotation in the middle of the rink with one coach at 4:15 and practicing foot work with another at 5:00. Finally, at 6:15 she participates in a group class.
• Two and a half hours is a long time to huddle on metal benches alongside a hunk of ice. The time is well spent by serving double duty as chaperone to one daughter and cheering section for the other.To the embarrassment of the offspring, I've taken to carrying a fleece blanket to wrap around myself in an effort to avoid hypothermia.

Stretch

I need to go to the grocer. In the spirit of enabling myself, the decision to attempt one of those pantry cleansings where one makes meals with the items already stocked has been made. The idea is intended to maintain a coupon queen's stockpile, prevent items from exceeding expiration dates, and allow one to shop according to sales. It can also stretch groceries until pay day. Such a brilliant idea can be turned as easily to procrastination as thrift.
To that end, I've taken stock of what's on hand. Staring into the refrigerator and freezer, the obvious answer to, "What's for dinner?" was a glass of wine and a bowl of ice cream. Suspicious that the mister might question the nutritional benefits (and legality as the lovies are all quite underage for alcohol consumption) of this plan, a pork roast was shifted from freezer to fridge to defrost for tomorrow. Pasta, cheese, herbs, and vegetables that can serve as a meatless meal between Skater Girl's lesson, Middle Child's youth group, and the mister's band rehearsal make a busy evening easy. With rice, beans, and assorted staples, it's likely that a grocery trip can be put off for the remainder of the week at least.

Eleven

Last year, we missed celebrating Skater Girl's tenth birthday on 10-10-10 because, while we were celebrating early with the ladies in the immediate family heading to Honduras the week after the actual birthday, the party centered around the theatrical release of a movie. This year, today would have allowed the celebration of Skater Girl's eleventh birthday on the ideal day for such an event. Except that the party is scheduled for tomorrow. (And she's not a Veteran...) Maybe next year we can celebrate Skater Girl's twelfth birthday in December. I should mark the calendar to ping me next October so we hold off on celebrating until 12-12-12... Maybe a Twelfth Night theme? Or maybe not...

Humbug

Once October 1st rolls around, an internal clock starts ticking. It grows progressively louder until the little details related to the Thanksgiving and Christmas Holidays have been organized into lists. Then the clock resets until those lists have either been satisfied or abandoned. The abandonment issues are relatively new traditions. Last year, we failed to actually decorate the tree. It sat in the living room with the tree skirt beneath and the star at the top. There may or may not have been a garland or two partially threaded through the limbs. This is a world of difference from the years when we strung garlands, wish-I-was-pine boughs, and ornaments from every surface that failed to escape. There were liberal applications of glitter and ribbon. Holiday table cloths sat beneath collections of Christmas Tree china. Stockings were hung. Holiday baking threatened the waistlines of those far and near. Christmas pictures were a Major Production...

This year, the arrival of October has renewed the question of whether this year will be another Blah Humbug sort of year, or if perhaps we can see the reawakening of a bit of Christmas Spirit. After all, the clock has begun ticking. This weekend, an old picture of Skater Girl (circa 2004 at the ripe old age of 3) inspired the creation of Christmas cards a full month before such things would have been completed in the Good Old Days. The photo selected rather fits the attitudes toward the holiday season around here over the last year or two. (Okay, she was trying to catch snowflakes. Still...) That said, perhaps it announces a return to our family's once festive celebrations and the departure of the humbug.

Wrestling

The pocket book and the calendar remain key clues to the state of one's heart, mind, and perhaps soul. Asked to "wrestle with God," over opportunities to give to various projects, forward surged the urge to justify where both time and money are spent. From "mapping" potential income in relation to planned giving, the mister and I also looked at where we spend our time. If considering our family's projected giving over the coming year, it is not only the cost in U.S. Dollars, Polish Zloty, or Honduran Lempira that needs counting, but also the hours, days, and weeks to take into consideration. Our time is finite while the finances are fluid- dependant on everything from price fluctuation to job status.
Despite hearts for ministry in Poland and Honduras, there is no calling to go live in either country, but instead to stay in our Pleasant Suburb. ShelleyinPoland keeps prayer requests coming across the internet and updates on the fledgling church plant in Gdansk while the countdown ticks away toward the next visit to the La Moskitia region of Honduras. Not only that trip, but also a flurry of activity surrounding the Waits Family during their current furlough between personal time and ministry-related events reveal dedication to God's provision for the often marginalized people in remote Puerto Lempira. Gathering for Worship services at our family's church, an evening spent in the front yard for an ice cream social with our neighbors, meeting in small groups or one on one, sitting alongside Little Bit as we share the task of helping kids with homework at an after school program, a fledgling prison support ministry, loving on preschoolers who have been placed in protective custody at the local shelter, playing bass and directing the church band... The list of places where, individually and as a family, we are called and enabled to serve God and our neighbors next door or across town goes on and on even while there are seeds sown in far away places. Pleasant Suburb is the place where this family been planted, and our roots are deep here.
In addition to time, we are privileged to be part of funding ministry and charity in those places thousands of miles away where seeds can be planted out of sight, but not out of mind. We give regularly to share in the day-to-day operations of our local church. These aspects of financial giving and our times to worship and serve are all budgeted and scheduled just like the mortgage is paid and appointments are kept. Our calendar is often full. Our pocket book is not typically empty. More importantly, our lives and hearts are often overflowing. The time crunch of the often over-committed is keenly felt some days, and it is necessary to skip or delay some purchases to stretch our available funds. Those conservation activities feel worthwhile because what we have to give is not running down the drain but accumulating like so many drops in the proverbial bucket.
The places where we must scrimp on spending time or money are so often to allow for word of God's saving grace or demonstrations of His provision to be shared with someone or allocated in some place beyond our means and availability. This is possible because of the multiplication of many giving from personal resources to provide enough for all. Without gifts from the many people choosing to put concrete valuations on faith and charity by volunteering, donating, and simply putting the needs of others in a place of worth documented in calendars and financial records, the whole world would surely be a poorer place.

I wonder, Gentle Reader, what calls to you? Where do you find joy and satisfaction in sacrifice? Because giving seems a choice between self and others... and it is fascinating to see how personal needs and wants can be put aside in the interest and love of others. What does your calendar and pocket book reveal?

Recipe

This morning was spent in the kitchen knowing that tomorrow is going to be hectic with a memorial service, kids back in school, the middle school science fair projects due, and both girls' skating lessons. A batch of bulk sausage browned for a breakfast casserole. Another batch browned with Rosemary, Basil, Oregano, and Black Pepper for a quick pasta sauce tomorrow. Finally, a pound of ground beef browned with green and red bell peppers, dried onion, oregano, and garlic. The breakfast sausage was sprinkled over slices of buttered bread in a foil baking pan. The hamburger was divided into a batch to mix with the Italian seasoned sausage and another tossed into the open mouth of the crock pot. The breakfast casserole was sprinkled with cheese, black pepper, and a creamy egg mixture was poured over the top before the pan was covered with first a sheet of foil and then a plastic lid that featured quickly scrawled baking instructions in black Sharpie. The breakfast casserole occupied a shelf in the fridge until time to deliver it to friends later, and it was back to the sausage and beef mixture with the Italian seasonings which were also to be sealed away in the fridge until needed. Finally, the crock pot received the makings of tortilla soup to go with the remaining seasoned beef. A sprinkle of chili powder and cumin finished off the soup for our lunch. Whew.

Erin wandered down into the kitchen shortly after the multi-meal prep fest was cleaned up. She had her homework assignment in hand, and pointed to the reading assignment for the week. Eh? Really... She needs a family recipe that she can write down. Then she is to follow the recipe to actually make the dish. A parent is to sign off on this specifying whether Erin made the dish from the recipe on her own or with help. Well, of course. So we made dessert.

Running

Saturday Last week was craziness culminating in a hurried Saturday morning. Evan and Katie were each signed up to support Day Spring Christian Academy in Uganda through their entry fees to compete in a 5K Fun Run set to begin at 8:15. There was a 40 foot container waiting to be loaded full of supplies for the House of Hope and personal belongings for the Waits family in Puerto Lempira beginning at 9:00. No problemo.

Evan sprinting the final yards of the Day Spring 5K

The kids took off from the starting line at 8:13. They ran like rabbits to finish well. The first two runners crossed the finish line in the 21st minute of the race. Evan came into sight third, and right behind him was the light blue, short-sleeved shirt signalling that his little sister was his nearest competitor. Cheering for Evan, I saw him keeping his steady pace that would likely bring him across the finish line at a fair time, but not his best time this season. He knew someone was behind him, but didn't know who until I began to cheer for Katie as she came into shouting distance. The Boy told us that he thought I was cheering for him until it clicked that I was saying, "Go Katie!" He decided to sprint at that point.



The Finish Line



Katie saw her brother putting on speed. She knew they were in the final stretch, and she also began to sprint. I was caught up in cheering, watching the clock, trying to photograph the kids, and being very aware of the time our next commitments looming imminently closer. I snapped a shot as The Boy went by, but missed him crossing the finish line at 24:05. Katie evaded the camera during her final push, but was captured for posterity in the final seconds as she approached the Finish line. Thinking that there would be awards for the Overall Winner and Age Group Winners, but that our runners had not qualified since they were in 3rd and 4th place, we quickly headed to the car after the kids congratulated the top two runners.

The container was loaded while Katie attended a football game and had lunch with friend, and I began to follow up on the idea of such a race as a means of raising awareness and support for the ministry of Reach Out Honduras in Puerto Lempira. It's expensive, but such an event could bring the needed attention of those enjoying a high standard of living to the plight of others who cannot even truly imagine the daily availability of things I consider "necessities" like fruit and vegetables to eat. My mister is encouraging me to keep investigating and preparing for the possibility because the up front expenses could result in great benefits for Reach Out Honduras. "Benefits," which translate to vegetable gardens to feed families currently subsisting on, at best, a daily meal of rice. It could mean needed funds to purchase a vehicle for transportation in and around Puerto Lempira. It could mean the world to a child who receives an education. Such big dreams... and all completely beyond me. This one will have to be God's because I am out of my depth. So. The possibility of a Fun Run to benefit Reach Out Honduras becomes a prayer point that will hopefully lead to taking our kids' hobby and making it one more way that we can serve others.

This morning, as I read through the proposal for races like the one the kids ran in on Saturday, I pulled up the race results. With my mind more focused on Honduras, I was a little confused by the first line of the standings which read, "OVERALL FEMALE WINNERS Place 1 Name KAITLIN MIDDLE CHILD". Eh? Scanning down the list, I was no less surprised to find, "Male 15-19 Winners Place 1 Name EVAN THE BOY".
Oh.my.WORD! I quickly fired off a copy of the standings to Katie's middle school coach and her youth group small group leader who have both encouraged her all season with thanks for their efforts to support her in achieving a win in her very first 5K. I just yelled upstairs to The Boy who was still at home. It was a small field of runners, but is a big reason for celebration in our family with two strong finishes and surprise winning results.

Projections

Erin's 10th birthday falls the week of our departure for Honduras adding to the usual messiness of scheduling time to celebrate with her friends. (We have learned to always celebrate the weekend before her birthday because the weekend after is almost always the weekend before Thanksgiving.) The idea of trying to work out those party details while preparing to leave the country seemed daunting until Little Bit saw a movie trailer for Legend of the Guardians.
The movie adaptation of Kathryn Lasky's children's series featuring valiant owls having epic adventures comes out today. We talked about the movie as a source of Birthday Entertainment, but Erin was sure all her friends would see the movie way before the arrival of her November birthday. Except that I have spoken with the other mommies in advance, and Erin has asked her friends to wait one week to see the film. We will address both our travel plans and the movie's release by having the Friend Party October 1st.
Next Friday, the girls will be retrieved from the carpool lines and delivered to our doorstep. We will load them all into the Mom Mobile and head to the theater to see the story unfold in three dimensional detail. After the movie, we will feed the assorted precious girls dinner and cake before dropping them off at their own homes. Each guest will receive her own copy of the first book in the series (There are fifteen books in paperback as of this writing.) in hopes of spurring them on to discover, "What happens next..." to the characters they will have seen on the big screen.
While squaring away the details of Erin's "Friend Party", without playing host to a herd of giggling tweens the week of our next mission trip, I have other reasons to be thinking of the planned trip to Central America today. Far from treats like parties and pleasure reading, Hurricane/Tropical Storm Matthew is headed for the region. From Puerto Lempira, Laura says, "Our weatherman friend... has let us know that if current projections are correct, we will be south of where it hits land. We should just receive lots of rain and heavy winds.

Children at home in Puerto Lempira, Honduras

Right now, we are concerned about the people who live where this will hit. We know the types of houses they live in – made of wood, built on stilts. There is no way these homes could survive a hurricane. We are praying for these people today. Please join us in lifting them up.

We ask you to join us in prayer for this entire region."

Flake

The mister and I are both sticklers for commitment. In our marriage, this is good. As parents, this is also good. Alas, the goodness can be turned to the Dark Side. Our personal desire to honor our commitments sometimes becomes a lack of flexibility. Having failed to enter a commitment to help out at our church with preparations for catering a breakfast tomorrow, there was an "Uh-oh!" moment when the reminder text arrived. The already full To-Do List of obligations great and small loomed large. Still. A promise is a promise. Right?

Last night, the one night of the week when we are supposedly at home, I was out until 9:00 picking up a prescription left until the last minute and a book (that Middle Child faithfully warned me she needed a week in advance) because I knew there wouldn't be time to do it this morning. (It's not a good sign when the teenagers are having to remind Mom of tasks.) Crawling out of bed this morning, feeling far from rested, it was all-too-soon time to load children and serving pieces into the car. Travelling on autopilot, the Mom Mobile arrived in a parking space at the church well before 8:00 a.m. when the coffee shop opens.

I wandered back into the offices where I interrupted Walker's Quiet Time. (She's flexible.) She offered a much-needed cup of coffee. We chatted a bit about the bizarre visions in her day's Bible reading, caught up on the news since yesterday, and then she shepherded me back to the coffee shop. Dropping off the various items to serve the planned meal, I contemplated the list of things not getting done at home. Then it happened. All the years of dependability went spiralling down the drain with the rare decision to simply beg off today. There was a real sense of relief in heading home even with the administrative mountain awaiting my attention.

So. Should I have left the coffee shop hanging? No. Should I have agreed to be at the coffee shop today? No. Was it worth it to be unreliable today? Well. Yeah. Because this is not a pattern of behavior, but it a necessary recognition of my own limitations. More. It meant that the rest of the week will not be characterized by a nasty case of Catch-up.

Scratch

There's a sort of Murphy's Law at work around here when it comes to possessions. The dining room table and chairs that took seven years for me to commit to? The day it was delivered, one of the offspring held a portable cd player several feet above the tabletop before letting it drop to put a notable dent in the wood surface. Yesterday, the new living room furniture arrived, and it held true to our pattern. Bad Bella was startled and dug in her hind claws as she took off from the chaise. There are a couple of holes screaming in mute testimony to Bella's flight marring the otherwise pristine leather. The mister and I have each repeatedly touched the spot, but there's really not anything to do about it. Bad cat.
In other news, ShelleyinPoland is in Pleasant Suburb. Tonight she will join us for a family dinner that was supposed to be manicotti from scratch using yesterday's spaghetti sauce. Then the calendar on my started binging away about back-to-back dentist appointments in the space between after school carpool (I don't know why I call it that when I am the only driver. No matter how many kids, one driver is not a carpool.) and the dinner hour. So. The sauce is in the fridge. The manicotti tubes are in the pantry. I am headed to the market for chicken and sausage to slow cook with barbecue sauce and the makings for corn casserole. That will leave a salad that can be prepared ahead, the casserole and protein that can cook while I run around all afternoon, and rolls to be popped in the oven just before dinner. Having checked off the dinner menu, it's going to be a lovely day of anticipating the excellent company.

Sixish

The schedule. It's lovely to have all three children out the door by 7:30. The school day mornings are lovely since the mister and I are early birds, but the aftermath afternoon revealed that this year is going to be a wild one if these first few days are any indicator. There's not really time for the kids to knock out chores before school since they are just bleary-eyed zombies wandering around seeking breakfast, clothing, shoes, and backpacks in the wee hours. That means they come in the door hungry, with all their chores still waiting, homework/supply needs/extracurricular stuff/"Let-me-tell-you-about-________!" to be crunched into the time between the end of 2:30-4:00 carpools, dinner, and wherever someone(s) need to be by 6ish. Riiight.
I did not exactly do this to myself. Or to the family, for that matter. There are commitments that have been made that are likely to lead to my eventual Commitment, but there really should not be an overlap. Except there is initially. Monday night saw the middle school athletic meeting plopped into the dinner hour of 6:00. The volunteer orientation for the children's shelter included a TB test that could only be read by the volunteer performing the screening on Monday night at... 6:00 in a location at least thirty minutes from the athletic meeting. During rush hour traffic. The Boy did not have a supply list at all until the first day, so his supplies needed to be purchased on Monday after school. The Boy has a standing Monday evening appointment that requires whomever takes him to leave the house by (uh-huh.) 6:00. And people needed things like dinner.
Gentle Reader should be spared the scariness that made up today's similarly wild afternoon and evening hours. There was an early swimming session with Walker, and I whined away about my frustration with the schedules that were not supposed to coincide, but were all holding extra meetings that were not necesarily forseeable and not flexible. She suggested just not going. Heh? (Yes. This.could.work.) And that is how some of it is working out. I flaked on the athletic meeting, and Middle Child will just have to get the paper work home so I can sign off on her riding buses to meets, taking Tylenol, and being randomly drug tested from the comfort of my own home. I went to have the TB test read, and picked up the items not available from the school supply list at the stores nearer our house on the way home. The mister took the Boy to his appointment while the girls stayed home to knock out chores and get showered. Hopefully, tasks and meetings divided, together we shall stand. Or I'm going to start saying a whole lot of, "No."

Carpe Diem

What to do? What to do? Last weekend's training at the church yielded the possibility of serving in a lay counseling role at our church. There also arose opportunity to be an active part of the East Pleasant Suburb initiative called Neighbor to Neighbor. This weekend holds the much awaited volunteer training, TB test, and background check for filling in a slot on the schedule for a local emergency removal children's shelter. All of these opportunities are good ones; yet, they present a challenge, too.
Knowing that my mister is not enthusiastic (at this time) about fostering, it's worthwhile to seek ways to care for children who might not have the same benefits my own lovies enjoy in place of that particular desire. There is a caution to all these good opportunities, though. There are a pair of teens and a tween in our home who need their own Mom, too. The mister has a rather strong claim as well. The same may also be said of the precious friends who share our lives.
Commitment to one or any of the Good Things outside of our existing relationships and commitments is something withheld for the moment. Not out of stinginess, but out of a desire to genuinely give a full commitment to whatever service is undertaken. The next couple of weeks are for mining data--- determining what our family's needs are going to be with the new school year starting, the mister working a couple of days a week in an office rather than solely from home, athletic schedules, regular meetings and appointments, new school start and release times, etc. Then it will be time to determine which of the Good Things can be opportunities seized.

Idol

"Out of the heavens He let you hear His voice to discipline you; and on earth He let you see his great fire, and you heard His words from the midst of the fire." (Deuteronomy 4:36, NASB) This verse is smack in the midst of Moses proclaiming idols bad and reminding the Israelites that God's laws are for their benefit. As a Mom, the whole passage is one which brings to mind thoughts of how easily a parent can get caught up in one's child(ren), and that someone can become an idol if that person takes precedence over God in daily life. This is increasingly evident as our household ramps up for Back-to-School.

This morning's quiet time occupied all of ten minutes, but it will have to see the heart, mind, and soul through Cross Country practice pick-up, middle school schedule pick-up, athletic locker assignments, year book pictures, Cross Country team pictures, finding Middle Child a new swimsuit after she suddenly grew just in time for a water park outing, and whatever else comes up today for the offspring. Had that few minutes not come early today, this would likely be a day without an infusion of scripture. The Bible is where the voice of God is found if only there is enough desire to seek Him and the discipline to do so when there are many other distractions. (Many of those distractions are beneficial, but...) Really, no desire exists to get to that fire part that tends to singe one when the focus becomes centered on anything other than God. (Whether kids, self, activities, work...) In fact, I'm pretty content to read the words and commands given by God to the Israelites without getting them firsthand from the Creator who inspires no small amount of awe.

There was a time when I wondered with a lack of humility how the Israelites could get so much wrong so much of the time, but these days it is crystal clear how easy it is to become caught in the snares of activity and commitment that leave little energy for prayer and contemplation. For today, I'm just uttering a small prayer of thanksgiving for a start to this day that honors what I say I believe over the suburban American Dream the mister and I have been busy building for so many years.

Morning People

Sure. We can be up and out the door before dawn for a few days with coffee in hand and a cheery, "Good Morning!" to greet my sleepy-headed teen as I slap a yogurt and a breakfast sandwich in his hand to be eaten (oh, shame...) in the car. No big deal. The sunrise is pretty reflected through all the highway emissions. Yes, it is. Makin' with the sunshine...
Um, wait. The information imparted at last week's Cross Country meeting clicked into place as I plied my too-bright morning cheer during the early morning cruise in the mom-mobile to get The Boy to practice. The regular school day practices will begin at 6:15. The boys are supposed to be on campus by 6:00. That means driving him to school before 6:00. Every single day. Oh, my. I wonder if it is possible to un-know this tidbit to spare my thoughts from the anticipation of the return to being Morning People that, all too soon, heralds the dawn of the new school year?

Carefree

The mister has been on vacation from both jobs this week. That alone is a rare enough occurrence, but The Boy is also out of summer school for the week. With two of the biggest commitments in our Summer daily schedules cleared, the days stretched practically wide open before us. There was talk of looking into all sorts of tourist attractions that are so often missed by locals, but that was scarcely even an idea before it began to feel claustrophobic. Instead, we have done a little something most days, but not too much of anything.

The mister took Little Bit out on a Daddy & Me Date to see a movie, and she chose to invite the rest of us to meet them at La Madeleine for dessert afterward. Middle Child, The Boy, and I will go catch a morning showing of "Eclipse" since we have devoured the young adult book series (again... The Boy did not see the movies with the teeming halls of females on the night of the movie release, but he did enjoy both the story and the first two progressively less low-budget movies.) All five of us caught the M. Night Shyamalan snore-fest "The Last Airbender". It's been a quiet week laced with these frequent escapes into fantasy.

Not that we have been in danger of becoming vacant-minded lumps staring blankly at screens teeming with make-believe lives in darkened rooms. There have been peaceful hours tallied sitting on the covered patio over coffee, breakfasts, grilling, and just chatting. We've wandered the exhibit halls of the Museum of Nature and Science again where each of us has favorite displays. There have been many, many miles logged by the assorted runners and walkers thanks to cloud cover providing cooler mornings. The mister and I slipped out yesterday, leaving the children to assorted other activities, for a date involving a trip to peruse the book store, wander through a lovely urban outdoor shopping and dining mecca built around a faux creek and waterfall. (There was a stop for gelato. The scale will no doubt say something unpleasant to me after this week's indulgences. Not that I care enough to feel guilty over the treats. What goes up, can certainly come down.) We have done the loveliest list of near nothing I could ask for over these days.
The doctor gave an all-clear mid-week saying that there were no signs of malignancy in my scans or blood work. He had no idea why the struggle with fatigue and shortness of breath go on, and he suggested that I go back to the immunologist. Again. I think I will simply ignore the symptoms in the relative conviction that I have done enough to chase down a cause. Besides, our family has better things to do than worry.

Four

Little Bit has healed up nicely from her four teeth extracted last week. Thinking that we had that behind us, The Boy and I headed over to the dentist this morning for his cleaning. As I signed him in, it occurred to me that perhaps I was due, too. Sure enough, June 4th had come and gone. Our obliging dentist offered to clean my teeth during Evan's appointment since I was already there. Perfect.

Reclining in the chair, there was a certain amount of pleasure in hearing from the hygienist that Evan's oral hygiene was excellent. (Whew. That should preclude any cavities. Um, no, but cavities are not all that lurked in The Boy's sparkling clean mouth...) Once the cleanings were completed, the dentist popped in to go over the findings from both exams at once. Displaying Evan's panoramic x-ray, he pointed to four little teeth unsuccessfully attempting to erupt. Four little impacted wisdom teeth pushing up against the roots of The Boys back teeth and just waiting to cause his nerves untold trouble. The dentist suggested getting them out sooner rather than later.

So. In another show of accommodation, the office has an Oral Surgeon who was scheduled to be in the office tomorrow for another procedure at 8:00. Said surgeon will be removing four impacted wisdom teeth at 9:00 from Evan's mouth. Theoretically, Middle Child does not have a set of four teeth that might need to come out, but after the past few days, I'm not counting on that.