Track and Field Day

Before I begin with the Track and field day pictures....here is another freak show picture.

I chased him outside shortly after snapping this shot.

I literally have children hanging from my ceiling and climbing my walls. Despite finding it somewhat irritating....I do find it quite impressive.

Me and a very precious little girl. I am soaking up our time with little Cece. She is growing so fast and getting so much easier as the newborn stage passes. I am totally in love....and totally enjoying having a little girl after so many boys. I had a heart dropping scare yesterday when I missed a call from her case worker. I was so afraid to call back because I was sure that she would ask me to bring her in. It always happens so suddenly like that. I almost had a panic attack when I saw Social Services number on my call display! Turns out she's not leaving yet. phew. I can put off the heart ache a little longer.....

No ,climbing my walls isn't a track and field event. If it were this boy would definitely win a medal. I think we need to build some monkey bars or climbing walls OUTSIDE this summer!

It's a good thing you can't see my scowling face telling my son to get his dirty paws off my wall.

I am starting to wonder if he was bit by a spider at some point....

So far I haven't seen any signs of a web shooting ability.

Today was Track and Field day at my kids school.

Meet team Hickville. Yes, that is the size of their k-6 school.

Its' the same school I attended...and my dad....and my grandpa...

Every Burlando kid knows that where you lack in athletic ability you can make up for with showmanship....or clown-man-ship.

Run Roman Run!

Silas and his "bef fwens"

Watching kids at the "ball throw" event.

Elementary school high jump is always very entertaining.

Aili actually made it over the bar without knocking it over...despite her interesting form.

Another classic event, running long jump.

Despite my questionably bad attitude leading into the day it turned out to be a lot of fun. The rain went away for the day. The wind kept the mosquito's in hiding and the temperature was perfect. Nathanael was able to come and work our shift in the makeshift food booth. The kids enjoyed hotdogs , rice krispie squares, 10 cent candies, and cheetos for lunch!

That right there is worth writing about.

My Circus

Staring Roman the Monkey boy and his trusty side Kick Silas. In this hallway are 4 doorways. Roman monkey's his way around to all of them without touching the ground using his toes and fingertips. I think I should get this kid to a climbing wall!

He aspires to be a break dancer, not that he's ever had a dance lesson. This music loving boy loves to dance, to move, and to contort his body in all sorts of strange positions. I may have too look into something sort of gymnastics or dance lessons next winter...if we aren't in Mexico. He would love it!

Roman is a boy with various unusual talents. One of his most recent interests is constructing. It has only been recently that his attention to detail and his fine motor skills caught up to his creativity. He now designs and creates the most fantastic..um..."things" with Bionicles, Legos, wood (yes his daddy gave him a drill, hammer, and a saw one afternoon). Actually he can create something with just about anything including a stack of garbage (which I now can't throw away because it will eventually be a "go-cart").

The detail and symmetry in his Bionicle "ships" are amazing. They even have moving parts that fold up. I can barely figure out how to attach two of the pieces together never mind build anything spectacular. I am always surprised at the precise symmetry of his creations. Not a piece out of place.

He looks a little stoned in this picture. Still cute...but burnt out. This is how he comes home from school everyday. Completely spent. He then disappears into his room to get lost in his imagination for a while. We have learned he needs to have some decompression time from his school day.

This is also how he unwinds and spends the rest of the evening. Upside-down. Usually in very little clothing. Free of every sort of conformity. Every since he was a toddler he has decompressed, processed his day, and de-stressed up side down. We may have to start calling him Mork.

He decided to add some balancing difficulty with the couch cushion...or maybe his head was getting sore. Either way...he just gets up there and stays that way...until little brother knocks him over and makes him mad. Making his big brother mad is one of Silas' unique talents.

The last several posts have been on the deep and heavy end of the scale. I am now going to purposefully position my thoughts (and posts) back toward the fun, "enjoying -my -very- blessed- life- to- pieces"..side of the scale.

Sometimes the deep and heavy topics are warranted. That is where my heart has been . That is the season we find ourselves in. In this season God is taking me to knew wonderful heights and depths of faith that I would not experience without the trials. I record them here to mark where I have been and to remember what God has taught me (I forget far too quickly).

At the same time life goes on. I have SO much life, love and laughter to enjoy. I have 3 healthy thriving kids. I have a beautiful little foster baby...who I am soaking up every moment of. I have a husband whom I love and who loves me. I have a big old family that knows me and has my back. I am a forgiven, blessed and cherished daughter of the King. I am so thankful for those things. I feel so thankful.

Today, I'm particularly thankful for this very agile and unique gift from God.

A Call to Anguish - David Wilkerson

Anguish. I now have a word for it. It's not a word we hear very often..especially in this context.
I came across this message, and although cheesy music and open displays of emotion usually make me queezy, this impacted me.
Mr. Wilkerson put into words the things that I've been wrestling with. Intimate union with the Spirit of God brings a mysterious dichotomy of both inexplicable joy and heart breaking agony. Even more mysterious is that joy is born in agony.

That realization struck me because, I now have a name for it.


I have been reading and studying in the book of Nehemiah on and off for about a year now. For some reason God has been bringing me back to that somewhat obscure book of the Bible.


Years ago I sincerely prayed that my heart would be broken by the things that break God's heart. I not only prayed it, I yearned for it.


Little did I know what it was like to go through life with a broken heart. In God's heart there is no apathy, ignorance or arrogant disdain. His is a heart of passion. Not reckless or given to fits and starts..... but steady and unchanging passion.




God's heart anguishes over the child who sleeps in the streets of a slum...fighting off the cold and gnawing hunger by sniffing chemicals.


God's heart anguishes over broken families. People who are supposed to love, forgive and protect each other ... consuming, biting and abandoning one another.


God's heart anguishes over the child who is abused and discarded. The child who doesn't know where his next bed will be or if anyone will ever love him.


God's heart breaks over greed, over sin, over injustice, over cruelty...
Enough that he came to redeem us out of our own mess. So often we think of the cross as merely physical. The nails piercing his hands. I think they pierced his heart even more.


How can we take the name of Christ and not also be broken over those things?


How can we sit in our comfy pews, sing our songs, and then go home unchanged by the Holy Spirit? It's so easy to put up our facades, paste on our smiles, paint our walls and on the inside be dead. A pretty painted tomb.


Satan wants nothing more than to make us impotent Christians. To make us apathetic, non confrontational , "I don't want to get involved" , or just plain too busy...kind of people.


When surrounded by ruin (close to home or much further away) do we feel God's agony over it? Not destructive worry, aimless concern, or bitter hostility..... but grief straight from the heart of God.


"You see the trouble we are in: Jerusalem lies in ruins, and its gates have been burned with fire. Come let us rebuild the wall of Jerusalem, and we will no longer be in disgrace."
Nehemiah 2:17


The boundaries of Jerusalem had been destroyed. It's people were in danger. Nehemiah knew that this was not what God intended Jerusalem to be. Instead of a glorious city it was a heap of rubble.

Nehemiah wept, mourned, fasted and prayed before God.
He didn't get ticked off or offended about the situation and then assume it was from God.
First came the agony and the love. Out of that came the calling and the action. He didn't have to be involved. He had a successful stress free life without caring about Jerusalem. It was the Isrealites own fault after all...hadn't they been warned? Hadn't they silenced the prophets? They had brought ruin on themselves, but still God grieved.

Nehemiah faced opposition, intimidation and ridicule because he knew what God's heart was for Jerusalem. Agony.


"Remember the Lord, who is great and awesome, and fight for your brothers, your sons and your daughters, your wives and your homes."


Love the orphaned. Be a voice for the voiceless. Fight for the oppressed. Pick up that first brick and begin to build.


.....but first seek the heart of God.






(disclaimer: I happen to like kick butt awesome music in church :). The bigger picture Mr. Wilkerson is trying to paint brought me to my knees. )

Jungle Guide

I found a post recently on another blog. It really encouraged me.

We have been making our way through the jungle for what seems like far too long.

I am tired.

Hearts broken. Hopes for healing crushed. Loved ones lost in the destruction. I'm tired of hoping. I'm tired of wishing it could be different.

I'm weary of the lead backpack we are carrying. I'm ready for some smooth sailing, for some journeying through a sweet easy meadow. I have been straining my neck trying to see the path ahead...hoping to catch a glimpse of a clearing. I want a grief free, stress and mess free life...or at least maybe even a short reprieve at an oasis. I'm tired of lurking dangers, uncertain footing and obscured vision....but this is where we are. It is what it is.

This post reminded me that maybe instead of wishing the jungle away and searching for a clearing.... I should keep my eyes more focused on my guide.

He won't remove the jungle but he will lead us through it.

I've discovered that sometime he even provides little miracles and moments of beauty along the way.

Enjoy the read. Maybe it will encourage you today.

I found a new song too. "Before the morning"

Thankyou God (and other bloggers) for ministering to my weary soul today.

"It’s a Jungle Out There
by Max Lucado

The story is told of a man on an African safari deep in the jungle. The guide before him had a machete and was whacking away the tall weeds and thick underbrush. The traveler, wearied and hot, asked in frustration, “Where are we? Do you know where you are taking me? Where is the path?!” The seasoned guide stopped and looked back at the man and replied, “I am the path.”

We ask the same questions, don’t we? We ask God, “Where are you taking me? Where is the path?” And he, like the guide, doesn’t tell us. Oh, he may give us a hint or two, but that’s all. If he did, would we understand? Would we comprehend our location? No, like the traveler, we are unacquainted with this jungle. So rather than give us an answer, Jesus gives us a far greater gift. He gives us himself.

Does he remove the jungle? No, the vegetation is still thick.

Does he purge the predators? No, danger still lurks.

Jesus doesn’t give hope by changing the jungle; he restores our hope by giving us himself. And he has promised to stay until the very end. “I am with you always, to the very end of the age” (Matt. 28:20 NIV).

We need that reminder. We all need that reminder. For all of us need hope.

Some of you don’t need it right now. Your jungle has become a meadow and your journey a delight. If such is the case, congratulations. But remember???We do not know what tomorrow holds. We do not know where this road will lead. You may be one turn from a cemetery, from a hospital bed, from an empty house. You may be a bend in the road from a jungle.

And though you don’t need your hope restored today, you may tomorrow. And you need to know to whom to turn.

Or perhaps you do need hope today. You know you were not made for this place. You know you are not equipped. You want someone to lead you out."

Come, Jesus, lead us out.

Legacy

This may prove to be a bit of a strange post, considering all the pictures were taken in a country grave yard.

As a child, I grew up only 1/2 a mile from this cemetery. Because we basically lived in the middle of no where, entertainment and outings consisted of going on "backpacking adventures" in the nearby gravel pits and strolls through the nearby grave yard. Our childhood adventures were only limited by our imaginations. The walks through the grave yard peaked my curiosity, imagination and sense of history.

I used to enjoy reading all the tomb stones, imagining who these people were and what their lives were like. All of the names and dates became familiar. So many of the last names still exist in our farming community. This cemetery is what is left of my pioneer history. They were the people who came out west to break the land, fight the odds, and make new lives for their families.

Because yesterday was Samuel's birthday, the kids and I (my hubby is on an adventure of his own right now) went for a drive to visit Samuel's grave.

Aili and Roman telling Silas about their brother Samuel.

We brought some tulips from our garden and a solar light to put next to his little head stone. I had hoped to re-do his headstone in honor of the 10 year anniversary. I would love to set the plate on a marble slab to get it up out of the wild grass further. I really love the fact that the cemetery is filled with original prairie grasses, sage and wild flowers but I would hate for his headstone to get lost under them someday.
Here are my kids exploring and running over to see the war memorial.
Maybe I'm strange but grave yards don't creep me out at all. I find them a fascinating bit of history. Maybe because I know they are only remains. Tangible markers to remember a person who was loved. The souls of the people who lived their lives have long since gone to their eternal homes.
My son Samuel's grave marker lies next to 2 sets of his great great grandparents, great aunts and uncles and will someday contain the generations in between. This is the new headstone of one of my great grandmothers buried here. She died 4 years before I was born, but because we visited the cemetery so often as children her name became very familiar to us. I love family genealogy, looking at pictures and learning about my history. It makes me think about the legacy of family, faith and strength that they left behind.

I told my kids on the way home that they have an amazing heritage. Generations of people who loved the Lord, loved their families and worked the land. My kids are a part of that legacy. That heritage belongs to them. With in an hour and a half drive, my kids have a grandma , a grandpa, two great grandmas, and a great grandpa. That is one amazing living heritage as well. That is a lot of family to love and invest in my kids physically, emotionally and spiritually.

I have beautiful memories of watching my grandma read the worn pages of her bible. The pages have been so used and marked that I knew it was more than just a prized possession. I remember sitting next to her while she read to me out of it's dog eared pages. I have precious memories of singing with her as she played hymns on the piano. She didn't just teach me about faith. She was faith to me.

I think the most powerful impact that strolling through a grave yard has is putting us face to face with our our own mortality.

Someday my gravestone, along with my husbands, will be set next to our sons. It will contain our birth dates and the dates of our home going. The two dates will be separated by a " - ".

The legacy we leave behind will be determined by what that dash represents. Will that dash represent years of brokenness and deception ? Will it represent a life lived in self gratification or the accumulation of "stuff" that we can't take with us?

Will our children remember us as a Godly heritage? Will they say "My Dad not only taught me about faith....he was faith....he lived it in every area of his life" ?

I realize how blessed I am to have a heritage of Godly generations before me. Imperfect people serving a perfect God. Faithful men who were committed to their families. Strong women who lived through trials with grace and tenacity. They didn't build fortunes here on earth but I'm sure they had some waiting for them in heaven. They didn't leave a legacy of material wealth but they invested in the lives of their children. That has produced a wealth of faith and unity in the lives of their grandchildren, great grandchildren and great great grandchildren.  

Many people don't have that heritage. Some may come from broken and fragmented families.  Some come from legacies of abandonment and abuse. Some don't have families at all.  I married into a family devastated and fractured by these things.  The effects of that broken legacy are far reaching and damaging.  We are doing everything we can not to let the hurts of past generations  affect us or the heritage we leave for future generations.

 Each generation can be the beginning of something beautiful. You can be the beginning of that lasting legacy. God loves nothing more than to bring beauty out of wreckage.

What are we doing with that dash between the two dates that will be on our own headstones?

Will future generations rise and call us blessed or will they shake their heads in pity as they attempt to clean up the mess we left behind? As long as we still have breath, we are able to choose or change our legacy... for the good or for the bad.  We each make our own decisions and will face the consequences of them.  The most important choice being, choosing to seek truth about who God really is, who we are, and how we come into relationship with Him.  Life doesn't end with that final date on our tombstone but our time to find truth does.  Not personal truth, subjective dialogging truth, whatever I find that makes me feel warm and fuzzy...but Truth.
  
 The sobering thing to remember is that our choices not only have lasting impact on us now and for eternity, but also on the generations that come behind us.  

Are we living in light of eternity? Living with eternity in mind makes living in the moment something meaningful.

Now if you'll excuse me I need to go take this moment to bake cookies with my son.

I will carry you

10 years ago, I became a mother.

It has been whole decade since I had the privaledge of carrying and holding my son.

This past year a song was written in honor of a mother who chose to carry her child, even knowing that the baby would not survive.

When I carried my son, I had never heard of such a thing.

There were no blogs with pretty pictures describing what to expect.

I was barely past childhood myself and I was faced with grief no one expects, and no one would want.

....but it was part of a bigger plan.

He had a purpose that in my sadness I could not see.

"I will carry you,

while your heart beats here.

Long beyond the empty cradle

through the coming years."

I vowed to carry my son as long as his heart was beating.

What I didn't realize was...

I will carry him as long as my own heart beats.

...and I wouldn't have it any other way.

"Such a short time, such a long road"

Happy 10th Birthday in Heaven my sweet boy.

Spring has Sprung...finally.

Spring fever? ....or a party girl who's very excited that birthday season has officially begun.

My little tomato plants are growing and waiting to move out to the garden (it froze last night...so it could be a while)
My tulips are blooming. The landscape of brown and grey is finally turning green with splashes of color.
My cherry bush is blooming.

I have my garden planted and the farm "seeding" season is almost done. It would have been finished Saturday evening but the work got rained out. Rain is always welcome in this frequently dry part of the world.

What has our pickiest eater smiling?

Fettecinni Alfredo (I used penne noodles), garlic fried scallops and edamame (the kids call them "pop beans"). I tried a new recipe that I had seen on "Dr. Oz". The secret to the Alfredo sauce is it is made from pureed cauliflower...instead of the usual butter and cream.

It was amazing!! Even I was surprised how yummy it was. You would never guess that it's cauliflower since you couldn't taste it at all. It tasted like creamy Alfredo sauce.

Here is the recipe:

Steam 1/2 head of cauliflower (cut into small florettes)

in a frying pan cook 2 diced shallots in 2 tbsps olive oil. (I also added minced garlic)

once they are translucent add 1/2 cup chicken stock.

Allow the cauliflower and shallots to cool a little and then puree it all in a blender.

Add 1 cup reduced fat parmeson cheese.

salt and pepper.

Pour over whole wheat fetticini or other pasta.

I dare you to try it! Yummy, healthy and really easy.

Even my husband thought it was delicious. No one could guess what the secret ingredient was. They all tried.

It was very rich and creamy but without the fat of traditional Alfredo. It also contains a big old serving of cancer preventing cauliflower.

...and there was no unusual side effects what so ever.