Coming home is always an exciting time. We've lived overseas most of our married lives and all our kiddos have grown up in China. Its home because that is where we have been planted and for the most part have taken root and bloomed. When we say home we are usually referring to our China home. This time however when we say we are going home we mean America home. The land of convenience and Chick-fil-A. We love coming home. Going to church is a highlight and since we'll be home in the summer the kids will get to enjoy VBS. We won't have lessons hanging over our heads and friends will be on summer break as well. We look forward to driving wherever we want to go and rolling around in the grass and breathing clean air. Most importantly we'll see our Moms and the kids will see their grandmothers. I must say I always count the days until we are with them.
This year will be different on several accounts. On the upside it'll be out first trip back without a nursing baby - woohoo! Travel will be easier I hope and I'll definitely be able to stop and smell a few more roses. Having all my kids 3 and up will be a game changer. On the downside, I'll go home to a new normal of one less family member to greet. I must admit I'm a little overwhelmed at the thought. My brother is gone. How do you work through that properly overseas? I'll surely spend time with his wife, Wanda, who is so dear to me. And I'll see his kids and grandkids. We'll all reminisce about how funny he was and the antics he often pulled. But that void will be real.
My Dad passed away at the end of our first Stateside. I was so glad I was there, for closure and to help my mom. Marty was there too. It was hard to leave my mom to come back to China. Two and half years later, when Pete was just 7 months old we went home again and I had to deal with Dad being gone. It was hard. It is still hard. Mom is preparing to sell her house. My childhood home. We moved there when I was 2. Too many memories, but the hardest to leave are the ones of my dad. That is hard for mom too.
I'm so thankful Mom is still with us. You cannot imagine the knot in my throat each time I say goodbye to her. She always stands in the glass door and waves and whispers that she loves me. She covers the kids with kisses and we take a final photo. I have a similar memory of my dad seeing me off at the airport back in the days when visitors could see you off at the plane. He'd stand at the big window and wave and say he loved me until I turned the final corner and lost sight of him. I know that Mom could join him any day and I just don't want to even think about it.
Mom still looks good. But looks can be deceiving because diabetes and dementia are really taking their toll. Decisions need to be made, mostly by her, about where she will live out the rest of her life. Will she go to assisted living, and if so where. Will she no longer be in the town we've called home for 40 years? Do we need to come home for a time and care for her? Yes, I'd gladly do that if the Lord wills. So many things that will be different this trip home. Most of me just wants to go home, tell folks about the last 2+ years, visit with family and friends, eat good food and go to Target. But I think we have a little more cut out for us this go.
Will home still be home after this Stateside? I don't know the answers but I know the One who does, so we walk and talk to Him and wait for His leading. Life is a funny thing. It has so many ups and downs and twists and turns. We pour ourselves into projects and work and this and that and in the end very little of it matters. We want our lives to matter. We want our lives to have eternal value. We want to give our God glory. I recently just thought through all these things and the bottom line was basically it doesn't matter so much what we do, but it does matters how we do it.
We are going home. May we do it well.
Sunday, April 30, 2017
Thursday, April 27, 2017
Remembering my brother Marty
Its been almost a year and I still cannot believe my brother is gone. I found the letter I sent back to be read at his memorial today and thought it really captured my thoughts well. A few tears later I'm posting it for the first time.
-->
Last year when we found out Marty was sick I felt robbed. I was so angry. It was not fair that he would be taken from me. There was much I wanted to do with my brother. I had plans to zip line some ravine with him or sing a crazy duo on a lazy cruise ship in the Caribbean. My brother that I had always adored would be taken before I could call him my friend.
A memory from his little sister, Jenny. I loved him. 2016
My
brother. He was a hoot. I think everyone would agree that his
easy-going way and fun loving demeanor made his presence a delight. I didn’t always know my brother. He was 17 when I was born and was out into
the world while I was still taking naps.
But I did adore him. As a child I
was enamored by his beautiful doll like children and played with them
tirelessly. Marty seemed so big, so
adventurous, moving every few years to manage a new lumber store. We always went wherever he was to visit. I still point out his old house on Upland
Drive when I find myself driving through that part of town.
As
things go, I grew up. I still thought my
brother was hot stuff, but I had my own teenage drama to attend to so I saw him
less. I went off to college and ended up
in China. I, too, got married and lived
far away. My brother, like so many
people that were dear to me, seemed distant.
But I loved him so. And I was
amazed at the things we had in common.
We both loved zip lines and adventure.
We both joked, although he had a quick wit that I’ve never found.
When
our Dad passed in 2009 we grieved. You
know I always thought I was Dad’s favorite, but upon reading letters he left
for us I had to admit that Marty was indeed the favored one.
Last year when we found out Marty was sick I felt robbed. I was so angry. It was not fair that he would be taken from me. There was much I wanted to do with my brother. I had plans to zip line some ravine with him or sing a crazy duo on a lazy cruise ship in the Caribbean. My brother that I had always adored would be taken before I could call him my friend.
I
went home. Eyelids heavy with jetlag I
made the long drive every day to see him and we laughed. He got to know my boys and they laughed. Heavy hearted I returned to China and
faithfully prayed for my brother every day.
And every week, at least once and sometimes twice or three times I heard
his voice via Skype and saw his face… actually saw his face when he shaved his
beard! And I heard him say, “I like
talking to you.” And I felt closer with
every passing week and then we got good news and I felt hope that we would do
some of those off the wall things together.
Then he got sick again. None of
us knew it would come so abruptly, but the Lord knew. The master of time saw to it that I made my
way back to America for what seemed to be a trivial matter of paperwork. And there we were. My hands on him praying. Then there he was, in the hospital again;
slipping.
We
once talked about our Dad. He sang. Mostly hymns.
Our Dad taught us to sing to our Lord, to have a heart song and
worship. The Lord does indeed inhabit
the praises of his people. It seems only
fitting that the last thing I did with Marty was sing. How Great Thou Art – and I’m sure that tune
drowned out AC/DC’s TNT as my brother and my friend met Jesus on the other side
of eternity. I’ll miss you Marty but
I’ll see you again!
Monday, April 17, 2017
Easter Reflections
It doesn't get any better than this folks!
A friend asked a group I was in Why God loves us? Man, it hit me hard. What answer shall I give? I have nothing worth giving Him, I haven't done anything great, and really why should he love me? I sat there speechless which is not like me at all. I love the Word and can usually conjure up an answer when in a group like the one I was in... and no doubt had answered that very question before, but this time was different.
I tried my best to observe Lent this year. Not to be strict or put a notch on my belt, but to try and discipline myself to daily think about what Christ has done for us. To be honest there were days I didn't do my reading and there were days I probably didn't think about His sacrifice, but all in all I felt like my heart was more prepared for Easter this year than in recent years past.
So many ideas have come to me, a blog for another time. This idea, even though not a new one, really knocked me off my feet. Why does God love us? Why? I mean I had the passing thought, maybe He doesn't. I felt overwhelmed and then I remembered... He chose us. He chose to love us. While we were yet sinners He loved us. He is love. It is an overwhelming idea.
I don't know if you have experienced deep hurt from feeling unloved, abandoned or rejected. I must say that in hindsight I've had it really good, but I have been wounded also. Most likely not intentionally. Some of those wounds were self-inflicted when I was young, but the more recent wounds came from those I call brother and sister. I'm speaking of fellow believers.
I would say I typically love well. I don't set many boundaries in relationships and try to be understanding and give grace often. I really do like people. I like all sorts of people. I'm a bit escentric about some things and don't always follow the party line, but in general I'm a conservative Jesus loving girl. I used to think everyone was mostly open to others. Of course you don't click with everyone, but you are always kind. In situations where someone needs you you do what you can do. In my experiences I have often become very fond of people that I didn't care much for on the first and second meeting, whether they rubbed me the wrong way or were annoying or I thought they were just plain dull. In the end, when I spent time with those people, invested in them per se, I found that I grew to truly love them. It was no longer an obligatory relationship but a genuine friendship. A true gift!
Back to wounds. I came to China high on maternal hormones. It wasn't my first rodeo and I thought I knew how to stay on the bull. My previous excursion to the Orient had been as a single English teacher. This go, I was toting a 6 month old and everything was different. Now that high was good and bad. I was in love with that baby! I protected her fiercely! But I also rode the waves of postpartum mania. Even still I was surrounded by some wonderful people. The Lord knew I needed them and boy are they still so special to me 11 years later. It wasn't long though until those people moved on to other places and we found ourselves alone in a city of 4 million people. Of course we had local friends and we were busy, but those people who knew where we'd come from and shared similar values were gone. We stayed alone for a year. That was easier than what followed.
--> New people came, but it wasn't long until the judgement began. That's what I felt anyway. I cannot judge another man's heart any better than they can judge mine, but no matter how hard I tried to be in relationship it just didn't seem to work. There were always hurt feelings and I could not understand for the life of me why. That ended and I was wounded. For the first time in my life I felt like someone didn't like me. Didn't love me. Didn't allow me to be myself.
Now, here is the irony. I became the needy one. I became that person who needed someone to just be my friend. Even if they didn't like me. I suppose I became annoying. I was depressed and hurt and between all that still having babies and riding the waves of hormone overload.
Fast forward several years. We finally got some good teammates but I was already bitter. I turned my wrath on my host culture and hated everything that was wrong with it. I somehow, by God's grace alone, still loved the people and was able to share, but not from joy - only from hope. I really felt numb and trapped so much of the time. Numb from loneliness and trapped because I couldn't leave my calling even though I really was beginning to hate it.
As usual, Dad swooped down and changed our circumstances at the perfect time. We moved into a new community with lots and lots of folks. I was amazed and shocked. In shock is more like it. Overwhelmed by the incredible differences I was experiencing. My children had peers and I had peers. Unfortunately, my wounds were still sore. I was nursing a baby and of course sleepless nights and stress and hormones dictated many of my feelings. But everything seemed great. A hoard of people came to help us move in and we had instant friends in our neighborhood. We were grafted into an existing house meeting on Sundays and the homeschooling community was unlike any I've ever known in the States or elsewhere. It was paradise. Oh, but my wounds. Wow. I didn't see it coming. I thought everything would be perfect. But then our girl had some kind of preteen scwabble with another kid and she was miserable that he didn't like her. That carried over to Sundays and what had been the most likely people to share our joys and struggles just became collegues, acquaintences and neighbors. Very good ones no doubt, but less than we'd hoped for. That's ok. There seemed to be many expectations from some and none from others. It was confusing trying to navigate the intricate web of expats. Some were collegues and others co-laborers. Most were super nice, but we weren't super close to any of them and what was worse was that we were in a new city and had no local friends. Foreigners were a dime a dozen so no one cared that a blond haired, blue eyed baby lived upstairs or shopped in their market. Trying to homeschool and keep up with a preschooler and baby/toddler was all I could do... you know that stage of life where you just breathe and eat and take a bath when you have to... that's where I was but I was also trying to do many other things because I hadn't been able to for so so long.
It was like trying to water a houseplant with a firehose. I just drowned in activity and didn't gain much. I slowly began to find myself. I adjusted to my new normal. I took a few steps back. I let several people off the hook who didn't know what to do with me. I finally weaned the baby. I got some couselling for my daughter who was struggling to know how to be in relationships at all since she had basically never had a real friend for more than a couple weeks at a time and only then when we'd travel to conferences or go to the States. That woman was a God send too. She helped us all. We slowly began to lower our stress and our expectations. I started making local friends and well, here I am. Maybe not completely on the other side of it all. I still have some healing to do. I still feel the pain of rejection when a boundary goes up, a request for help is denied or an invitation is rejected. I know not all of those instances are really rejection. Some are just legitimately busy people trying their best to stay on top of their own game. They are not responsible for my wounds nor are they trying to inflict new ones.
Sometimes I wonder what happened to me? Where did that fun loving girl with that big smile go? Who is this person who has self doubt and thinks no one really truly cherishes her friendship? This is God's will for me life. Not that I be wounded necessarily, but that I may be broken of my reliance on everything and everyone except Him. Why does He love me? Because I am His. He cherishes me. Because He chose to. I didn't have to seek Him out or say the right thing or be cool or fit in. He just loves me for me.... with all the scars and open wounds and ridiculous notions and imperfections. Just because...
Yes, I love Easter. I love being loved. Don't we all. How amazing that the creator of the universe loves us. He loves me. He loves me so much that He sent His most precious one, the one he loved fiercely, to die that I may live. So that I could have relationship with God and be saved from the coming wrath. Wow! Yeah, none of that other stuff really matters in the light of TRUTH. How thankful I am I get to live and breathe and shout His name. Praise be to our God. He is Risen!
(Anyone represented in this blog is free and clear and forgiven for any wrong-doing or perceived wrong doing. It will be all for His glory!)
A friend asked a group I was in Why God loves us? Man, it hit me hard. What answer shall I give? I have nothing worth giving Him, I haven't done anything great, and really why should he love me? I sat there speechless which is not like me at all. I love the Word and can usually conjure up an answer when in a group like the one I was in... and no doubt had answered that very question before, but this time was different.
I tried my best to observe Lent this year. Not to be strict or put a notch on my belt, but to try and discipline myself to daily think about what Christ has done for us. To be honest there were days I didn't do my reading and there were days I probably didn't think about His sacrifice, but all in all I felt like my heart was more prepared for Easter this year than in recent years past.
So many ideas have come to me, a blog for another time. This idea, even though not a new one, really knocked me off my feet. Why does God love us? Why? I mean I had the passing thought, maybe He doesn't. I felt overwhelmed and then I remembered... He chose us. He chose to love us. While we were yet sinners He loved us. He is love. It is an overwhelming idea.
I don't know if you have experienced deep hurt from feeling unloved, abandoned or rejected. I must say that in hindsight I've had it really good, but I have been wounded also. Most likely not intentionally. Some of those wounds were self-inflicted when I was young, but the more recent wounds came from those I call brother and sister. I'm speaking of fellow believers.
I would say I typically love well. I don't set many boundaries in relationships and try to be understanding and give grace often. I really do like people. I like all sorts of people. I'm a bit escentric about some things and don't always follow the party line, but in general I'm a conservative Jesus loving girl. I used to think everyone was mostly open to others. Of course you don't click with everyone, but you are always kind. In situations where someone needs you you do what you can do. In my experiences I have often become very fond of people that I didn't care much for on the first and second meeting, whether they rubbed me the wrong way or were annoying or I thought they were just plain dull. In the end, when I spent time with those people, invested in them per se, I found that I grew to truly love them. It was no longer an obligatory relationship but a genuine friendship. A true gift!
Back to wounds. I came to China high on maternal hormones. It wasn't my first rodeo and I thought I knew how to stay on the bull. My previous excursion to the Orient had been as a single English teacher. This go, I was toting a 6 month old and everything was different. Now that high was good and bad. I was in love with that baby! I protected her fiercely! But I also rode the waves of postpartum mania. Even still I was surrounded by some wonderful people. The Lord knew I needed them and boy are they still so special to me 11 years later. It wasn't long though until those people moved on to other places and we found ourselves alone in a city of 4 million people. Of course we had local friends and we were busy, but those people who knew where we'd come from and shared similar values were gone. We stayed alone for a year. That was easier than what followed.
--> New people came, but it wasn't long until the judgement began. That's what I felt anyway. I cannot judge another man's heart any better than they can judge mine, but no matter how hard I tried to be in relationship it just didn't seem to work. There were always hurt feelings and I could not understand for the life of me why. That ended and I was wounded. For the first time in my life I felt like someone didn't like me. Didn't love me. Didn't allow me to be myself.
Now, here is the irony. I became the needy one. I became that person who needed someone to just be my friend. Even if they didn't like me. I suppose I became annoying. I was depressed and hurt and between all that still having babies and riding the waves of hormone overload.
Fast forward several years. We finally got some good teammates but I was already bitter. I turned my wrath on my host culture and hated everything that was wrong with it. I somehow, by God's grace alone, still loved the people and was able to share, but not from joy - only from hope. I really felt numb and trapped so much of the time. Numb from loneliness and trapped because I couldn't leave my calling even though I really was beginning to hate it.
As usual, Dad swooped down and changed our circumstances at the perfect time. We moved into a new community with lots and lots of folks. I was amazed and shocked. In shock is more like it. Overwhelmed by the incredible differences I was experiencing. My children had peers and I had peers. Unfortunately, my wounds were still sore. I was nursing a baby and of course sleepless nights and stress and hormones dictated many of my feelings. But everything seemed great. A hoard of people came to help us move in and we had instant friends in our neighborhood. We were grafted into an existing house meeting on Sundays and the homeschooling community was unlike any I've ever known in the States or elsewhere. It was paradise. Oh, but my wounds. Wow. I didn't see it coming. I thought everything would be perfect. But then our girl had some kind of preteen scwabble with another kid and she was miserable that he didn't like her. That carried over to Sundays and what had been the most likely people to share our joys and struggles just became collegues, acquaintences and neighbors. Very good ones no doubt, but less than we'd hoped for. That's ok. There seemed to be many expectations from some and none from others. It was confusing trying to navigate the intricate web of expats. Some were collegues and others co-laborers. Most were super nice, but we weren't super close to any of them and what was worse was that we were in a new city and had no local friends. Foreigners were a dime a dozen so no one cared that a blond haired, blue eyed baby lived upstairs or shopped in their market. Trying to homeschool and keep up with a preschooler and baby/toddler was all I could do... you know that stage of life where you just breathe and eat and take a bath when you have to... that's where I was but I was also trying to do many other things because I hadn't been able to for so so long.
It was like trying to water a houseplant with a firehose. I just drowned in activity and didn't gain much. I slowly began to find myself. I adjusted to my new normal. I took a few steps back. I let several people off the hook who didn't know what to do with me. I finally weaned the baby. I got some couselling for my daughter who was struggling to know how to be in relationships at all since she had basically never had a real friend for more than a couple weeks at a time and only then when we'd travel to conferences or go to the States. That woman was a God send too. She helped us all. We slowly began to lower our stress and our expectations. I started making local friends and well, here I am. Maybe not completely on the other side of it all. I still have some healing to do. I still feel the pain of rejection when a boundary goes up, a request for help is denied or an invitation is rejected. I know not all of those instances are really rejection. Some are just legitimately busy people trying their best to stay on top of their own game. They are not responsible for my wounds nor are they trying to inflict new ones.
Sometimes I wonder what happened to me? Where did that fun loving girl with that big smile go? Who is this person who has self doubt and thinks no one really truly cherishes her friendship? This is God's will for me life. Not that I be wounded necessarily, but that I may be broken of my reliance on everything and everyone except Him. Why does He love me? Because I am His. He cherishes me. Because He chose to. I didn't have to seek Him out or say the right thing or be cool or fit in. He just loves me for me.... with all the scars and open wounds and ridiculous notions and imperfections. Just because...
Yes, I love Easter. I love being loved. Don't we all. How amazing that the creator of the universe loves us. He loves me. He loves me so much that He sent His most precious one, the one he loved fiercely, to die that I may live. So that I could have relationship with God and be saved from the coming wrath. Wow! Yeah, none of that other stuff really matters in the light of TRUTH. How thankful I am I get to live and breathe and shout His name. Praise be to our God. He is Risen!
(Anyone represented in this blog is free and clear and forgiven for any wrong-doing or perceived wrong doing. It will be all for His glory!)
I just don't want to do it some days. Go out into the cold and ride a bike while my hands and face freeze to take a kid to a school where the guard at the complex gate will ask me a hundred questions as though I don't go through that very gate multiple times a day. Sometimes I'm really off my game and forget something and have to run back up 4 flights of stairs to get it, but I'm thankful I don't live on the 7th floor! Noah has taken the house key and lost it, again.
This was in the draft pile... but its so reflective of my daily life... maybe I'll finish it someday.
This was in the draft pile... but its so reflective of my daily life... maybe I'll finish it someday.
Mims' first visit to Chengdu
Choir girls
Friday, March 03, 2017
Thailand - 3rd times a charm
We do love Thailand. We particularly like Pranburi, Som Roi Yat. To prove this fact we have been there 3 times in 12 months. All that thanks to getting new visas and a meeting. It has become so much like another home we didn't even take pictures on the beach this go. Also, we love this stretch of beach, also known as Dolphin Bay, so much that we decided in January that our vitamin D deficient bodies needed Pranburi sunshine, and when our favorite and affordable housing option wasn't available we went out on a limb and stayed in an unknown Condo for half our stay. It was grand.
After some doctor visits and a trip to Fed Ex we headed south. We stocked up on some snacks and sandwich makings, chocolate milk and cereal at Tesco Lotus ( I always say this store's name in my best Thai accent). The Condo was better than expected. The seas were rough when we arrived so we were more than delighted to discover the amazing pool, tiled in blues and greens with an infinity type flow-over all around. To top it off it was salt water! We basically had it all to ourselves, with the exception of a few neighbors, we ruled the lot.
We biked to dinner a few times and hitched a ride down to Juniper Tree to see friends, but mostly we enjoyed it being just us. It was good to swim with my kids and play silly games with no other responsibilities.
Pete celebrated his 6th birthday while we were there. We had a party which was mostly a flop, except that all the kids had fun because they were in the pool. And we ended with water balloon play which is always a win.
The second half of our vacation was spent at Juniper Tree. We met a lot of nice folks and enjoyed not cooking and not washing clothes, because that is included at Juniper Tree. The beach is also a plus and Noah is the child most likely to become a beach bum. He wanted to be at the beach morning and afternoon. We collected hermit crabs and shells and built sand castles and dug holes. The kids all made new friends and played tirelessly in the pool and on the grounds. I caught myself laughing and smiling more... which is good.
Other things we love include getting coconut and lime smoothies, riding bikes up and down the beach road, renting the moto with a side car and going for a Sunday afternoon drive, and of course the clear sunny skies.
Growing up I dreamed of going to Thailand one day. I never dreamed that I'd give birth to two children in two different cities there. I never dreamed I'd go there multiple times a year to visit a doctor, attend meetings or just vacation with the fam. Thailand is my new Florida (I grew up in GA). I love it.
Thursday, March 02, 2017
Lola's perfect 7!
September 9, 2008 was a wonderful day. We welcomed Lola Mei into our family that day and from the very first moments we could all sense that she was going to be a sweet one! Lola has always been cheerful, helpful, caring and obedient. I tell her she is my sunshine and she really can brighten a dismal kind of day.
Being in a brand new city made this a birthday unlike birthdays in the past. A party was in order and we'd be having lots of party guests that have party games, cake and ice cream culture. Lola and I planned and then I planned some more. The dog party was happening.
I remember last year Lola only wanted Lydia to come to her party. She relented and we invited Tian Tian, her Chinese brother. Her other guests of choice were Tracy and Huan Huan, both her Aunties. She is so friendly but prefers a few good friends to a crowd. This year however she got the crowd.
The party started out with a dog show. The kids all ran the course and were delighted as they watched each other perform. Crawling, jumping through hoops and rolling over had never been so fun. Once the dog show was finished we played shake the cup. Or something like that. Two cups were hot glued to the ends of a large popsicle stick and filled with macaroni. The kids paired up to duel and shook their cups by only gripping the stick with their teeth. Macaroni flew.
The best part of the party was the doggie adoption. The party guests lined up to choose a dog, name it and fill out their adoption certificate. Once their dog had a name they made doggie collars with name tags. It was super fun. The cake cutting didn't go as well as I'd liked - the birthday girl was overwhelmed with the excitement and people and was already cowering when Grace and a couple of her friends decided to sing a special birthday song... something along the lines of "you're 3 and you still want your Mo-mmy". This sent the birthday girl crying into the bathroom because she thought she was being teased. Of course the big girls had no idea that their clever song had misplaced harmony. Who hasn't sung "you look like a monkey and you smell like one too." It was all in fun.
All in all it was the best party we've ever had. Well planned, well executed. Lola had a great time although she did get a little overwhelmed toward the end. We definitely feel blessed to have so many great little girls and boys in our community. I know Lola will have a memorable seventh year among these fun friends.
Posing with their newly adopted pups!
Being in a brand new city made this a birthday unlike birthdays in the past. A party was in order and we'd be having lots of party guests that have party games, cake and ice cream culture. Lola and I planned and then I planned some more. The dog party was happening.
I remember last year Lola only wanted Lydia to come to her party. She relented and we invited Tian Tian, her Chinese brother. Her other guests of choice were Tracy and Huan Huan, both her Aunties. She is so friendly but prefers a few good friends to a crowd. This year however she got the crowd.
The party started out with a dog show. The kids all ran the course and were delighted as they watched each other perform. Crawling, jumping through hoops and rolling over had never been so fun. Once the dog show was finished we played shake the cup. Or something like that. Two cups were hot glued to the ends of a large popsicle stick and filled with macaroni. The kids paired up to duel and shook their cups by only gripping the stick with their teeth. Macaroni flew.
The best part of the party was the doggie adoption. The party guests lined up to choose a dog, name it and fill out their adoption certificate. Once their dog had a name they made doggie collars with name tags. It was super fun. The cake cutting didn't go as well as I'd liked - the birthday girl was overwhelmed with the excitement and people and was already cowering when Grace and a couple of her friends decided to sing a special birthday song... something along the lines of "you're 3 and you still want your Mo-mmy". This sent the birthday girl crying into the bathroom because she thought she was being teased. Of course the big girls had no idea that their clever song had misplaced harmony. Who hasn't sung "you look like a monkey and you smell like one too." It was all in fun.
All in all it was the best party we've ever had. Well planned, well executed. Lola had a great time although she did get a little overwhelmed toward the end. We definitely feel blessed to have so many great little girls and boys in our community. I know Lola will have a memorable seventh year among these fun friends.
Posing with their newly adopted pups!
I'm back... almost
It's been almost 2 years since I last blogged. I've been in the Mommy fog which was intense at 40 and 41 and uh-hum 42... but I weaned Noah finally this past October, yes he was 2 and something, but he's the baby. Anyway, its the 6 month and like clockwork I'm feeling myself again. Its nice to be back. I guess I just love nursing more than sanity... does that make me insane? Maybe for the better portion of 10 years, but I think we can safely say I won't be nursing any more babies. That makes me both sad and excited. I know I am now ready to do the next thing God has for me... of course weaning the baby doesn't mean my top job of Mom is finished, but I think I can probably begin multi-tasking again which includes blogging and checking email.
I have no idea how many friends I've lost over the past 10 years of my fog. If you are one of them, I'm sorry for my inability to check email and keep in touch. My home becomes my world when there is a baby in it... and that is where I have been - in my bubble.
So, Grace is now 11, Lola is 8 and a half, Peter is 6 and Noah is 2 and a half. Noah starts preschool today. I'm sure there will be a story there.
Blessings y'all. God is good and I hope to shout that from the mountaintops!
I have no idea how many friends I've lost over the past 10 years of my fog. If you are one of them, I'm sorry for my inability to check email and keep in touch. My home becomes my world when there is a baby in it... and that is where I have been - in my bubble.
So, Grace is now 11, Lola is 8 and a half, Peter is 6 and Noah is 2 and a half. Noah starts preschool today. I'm sure there will be a story there.
Blessings y'all. God is good and I hope to shout that from the mountaintops!
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