Dear Mom

Dear Mom, I still remember you...

I remember you when I sit with Charles and read Henry's Red Sea. I remember how we had recordings of Peter Dyck talking about the stories in his book Up From the Rubble, and how you had many copies made of our cassettes to give to other people. I wonder what happened to them. 

Hadn't thought of this book in years. 

It's a good one!

I remember you when I have sick children and I suggest gargling salt water and guzzling EmergenC and applying cool wash cloths. I also remember that you didn't have Google; how did you manage?

I remember you when I'm addressing envelopes and adding notes to form letters with Christmas mail. I remember how you always said your goal was to have your Christmas cards in the mail by your birthday. 

I remember you when I have the urge to give someone an encouraging note or a bit of homemade granola or cookies. You were so good at that kind of thing. Too often I pass the urge off and never get the deed done; I want to be more like you. 

I remember you when a friend posts the link to a sermon by Ron Dunn titled Chained to the Chariot. This was another one of your favorites that got made into many copies to share with friends. Just seeing that title brings multiple lines from the sermon to my memory. (Go listen to it, it's good.)

I remember you when one of my children asks for sausage balls, so we mix them and squeeze them into shape. I hadn't made them in ages but they were one of your favorite things to make ahead and stick in the freezer. (Freeze them on a cookie sheet; throw them in a ziploc bag once they're frozen, then take out as many as you need to bake fresh and enjoy!)

I remember you often, but especially today: December 13; your birthday. 

Missing you always and thankful for memories...... Love, Bethany 

A Bit of Mindless Chatter

 

After a long holiday weekend, I spent the morning putting my house back together. Now, I'm sitting down to enjoy the lovely, clean space and the gorgeous sunshine and I thought I might chat with you a bit. We woke up to a dusting of snow this morning, but it has all disappeared and the sun is shining cheerily. Winter in Ohio is often very grey, so I drink up these kind of days! 

We had a quiet Thanksgiving. Chris's folks joined us for lunch and the afternoon. 

Charles went home with grandpa's for the night and spent the day there Friday, while the rest of us helped with the Tire Shop's biggest day of the year. Every year, they do a Black Friday sale and have a contest between their company's stores. Chris and his salesman are quite the competitive team, and this year their hard work paid off with more sales than they've ever made before! Friday was a once in a lifetime adventure and a lot of hard work. It included a ton of organization ahead of time and the willingness to crawl out of bed at 3 a.m. 

Rows of tires, ready to go, lined up by order of appointments...

The girls and I joined the force at 8. Jasmine worked in the bay (and had the black hands and clothes at the end of the day to prove it), Jennifer took care of the snack table, I helped in the office checking in customers who had appointments (with my trusty little cheat sheet of questions), and Lillian ran errands and took videos. They put on a whopping 207 tires on Friday (as opposed to 55 on an average day), besides selling 157 tires that will be put on at a later date. 

I am not a competitive person by nature, and will never quite understand the thrill some people get out of this kind of thing, but it was fun to be a part of the big day. I also think it might be a good idea for every wife to take a front row seat in their husband's world for a day. Friday certainly gave me a new appreciation for what Chris does on a daily basis!

The rest of the weekend was much more chill, with no big plans and lots of games, naps and relaxation. 

It's hard to believe tomorrow is December, with all the flurry of Christmas and it's activities right around the corner. Somehow it doesn't seem so very long ago that we were nearing the end of 2020 and now here we are already, a whole year later. 

The sun streaming through the windows is warming my toes. I have laundry to take care of and lunch to eat and an afternoon to do list to tackle. I'll end this mindless chatter with a few links to things either my children or I have been enjoying...

Me: Growing up, we often had music playing in our house. Since I'm home alone a lot, I find myself getting back into that habit and I love it. As you know, I have an endless supply of old cassettes for entertainment but I've been enjoying the music from Sounds Like Reign and also piano playlists from Kaleb Brasee. 

My Children: These are a few videos my children have watched and enjoyed over and over The Great Children's Bake Off (The Gesslers are a great, family friendly YouTube channel!) 

Mark Rober is another fantastic YouTube channel. His mind is a wealth of scientific information and his creativity is unbelievable. He has lots of fascinating videos but these are some favorites -- Squirrel Maze 1.0 and Squirrel Maze 2.0 and also World's Largest Jello Pool. 

And now I must stop. 

Happy post-Thanksgiving Tuesday to you all!

Oh Hi, It's Me

 Oh hi, it's me. 

What? You mean you don't eat chai tea and plain pie crust for lunch? Well, here's a news flash: there's probably a lot of other things you don't know about me too.

Like the fact that cooking large amounts of food terrifies me but somehow making pies is no big deal. When I got married, I knew embarrassingly little about cooking but for whatever reason, I knew how to make pie crust. 

Also, the fact that this picture, taken this very week, is basically my life in a nutshell. I can be super productive and knock out a whole list of work if I need to, but little things like bringing the hummingbird feeder in at the end of the season? I put those things off until kingdom come. 

Another fact? I value authenticity to a fault. But also, I am a peace keeper who doesn't ever want to make anybody feel bad. Hmm. Is it any wonder I struggle with relationships?

Strange fact: I follow people on Instagram who I don't know in real life but I rarely, if ever, like or comment on their posts. I don't know why either. 

Fun fact: I still basically use the same dress pattern that I had when I got married (plus an inch or so at the waist). No credit to me, honestly. It's called getting my father's genes, I believe. 

I like this man.

And these children. 

Just thought I'd  throw that in there. 

Random fact: Growing up, if we deep cleaned a room in our house, we rearranged it. I still tend to do that. 

At forty-two, I still do silly things like change my dress and sweater three times before going on an outing or go into great angst on Sunday morning about how short boots and leggings look with a skirt. I know. Y'all never thought I was that ridiculous, but there it is. 

Also. At forty-two, I feel like I know less about God and Faith and Christianity than I ever have in my life. It's not a comfortable place to live in but that is the one thing I have learned: God is not all that concerned about my comfort. 

-------------------------------------

I haven't been writing, because I haven't had words (also, that last fact in the list there...) Tell me what you'd like to hear, and I might get inspired. Maybe. Ask me questions in the comments or throw out your ideas, it might be interesting! My email is christopherbethany@juno.com if you'd rather message me that way. 

PS. If you're dying to know more things about me, I wrote a post once called "39 Things". Those are all still true. 

My Father's Touch 2.0

My soul feels cluttered these days. There are no words for the heartache of this wide world that I live in. And in my own, narrow world? No words for the muddle of questions and wrestlings and feelings that take up all the space in my brain. 

And so, today on my way home from town, I intentionally turned left at the stop sign instead of right. I took the path less traveled, and I stepped outside. I took the time once again to pause and look for beauty. And when I opened my eyes to actually see.... there it was:

A splash of yellow here...

Abandoned buckeyes there...

Crimson bittersweet vine climbing high...

Why, hello there Woolly Worm!

Hint of orange in the green...

Clusters of blue...

Leftovers from the squirrels...

Hint of pink and purple...

Spot of red....

In the process, somehow the clutter in my soul cleared a little. 

I accepted again my place in the story and felt down deep the presence of God. I acknowledged once again that people are people, and that we're all here (mostly) trying to do the right thing. I spoke to myself the truth, that one can judge right and wrong without judging the humans involved; that, indeed, it is necessary. 

Then I went home and put my groceries away and ate cottage cheese with salt and pepper on saltines. I cleaned out my fridge and washed the nasty dishes and swept the gritty floor. I breathed in deep and promised myself that I would remember to open my eyes wide more often.

Maybe you should too?

Untitled

I'm laying on the recliner in my quiet house this morning, listening to the clock tick, and trying to untangle all the thoughts and feelings of the past 7+ days. The suitcases have all been unpacked and put away, the laundry washed and folded, but my mind keeps replaying and rehashing a myriad of thoughts and feelings and experiences. The short version is that my sister got married last Friday, and my girls and I spent the week before the wedding in Arkansas, helping get things ready. The long version is much more nuanced and layered with feelings and emotions, half of which aren't mine to share and the other half of which are rather sacred and personal. 

Rachel is the sister next to me in age (there's two brothers between us, which makes her a little over 9 years older than me), but growing up, I don't remember us being especially close. My next older sister was the one who was like my second mom -- we shared a bedroom and she combed my hair and I cried sadly when she went off to teach school in Virginia. Somewhere along the line though, Rach and I became close. Maybe, it was when I grew up and we were the same size and shared dresses and shoes. Maybe, it was when we lived in the same community after I was married. Maybe, it was after my mom died and Rach became my main source of connection with the world I had moved away from. For sure, it's been the last couple of years, watching her and Steven's story unfold and realizing how much alike we are in some ways and how very different in others. 

I feel so, so privileged to have been able to spend that week in Arkansas before the wedding. God worked out a ride for my girls and I, so we didn't have to drive out alone, and Chris was way more than generous with encouraging me to go and leave him and the boys behind. Forever grateful. It was such a good week. 

I'll share a few pictures, but I won't even try to do justice. It's not my wedding to share for one thing. Also, I couldn't begin to tell it all.  Rach is a woman of unbelievable creativity and sentimental attention to detail and the wedding was so perfectly her, it makes me get tears every time I look through my pictures again.

The venue was a little ol Arkansas church built in 1907. 

(And that is a tiny, little puzzle, made by a niece for the children's treasure hunt bags)

They kept the guest list to right around 100, and the effect was a relaxed, informal, "family gathering" kind of atmosphere.

It was a beautiful, beautiful day. 

And now, it's home to the real world. My emotions have been all over the place and I'm still catching up on my sleep but life goes on and we all go along with it...... 

PS. I'm sorry, Ohio. Arkansas is still the most beautiful place in the world. The End. 

A Winner and A Few Other Tid-bits

I loved having all of you participate in last week's giveaway! I only wished later that I had asked you to answer some kind of interesting question to enter. That always makes reading the comments so fun, but I usually have a hard time coming up with a good question. 

Anyway. Without further ado. 

The winner for Luci's book Turtle Heart was: "I believe I would enjoy reading this book. Please enter me in the drawing. Thanks. Linda Rose"

Linda Rose has been a faithful reader (and comment-er) here for a very long time! She has frequently sent me encouraging emails as well. I think it is very fitting that her comment was chosen! Congratulations and I hope you enjoy the book 🙂 Email me your mailing address, and I will pass the info on to Luci. 

* * * * * * * * 

We have been having absolutely gorgeous fall weather. When I can stop my mind from screaming, "No! Help! Stop! Summer is leaving!!" I can actually enjoy it. 

We took a family bike ride one evening last week...

Excuse the blurry video screenshot...

It was a beautiful evening!

The girls took it upon themselves to bring some "fall" indoors another evening, while I was away...

(The black and white drawings are by Jasmine, and yes, she is amazing. They will be for sale in a few weeks at our school auction so, see you there!)

On yet another lovely evening, my girls and I had a little "photo shoot", just for fun...

Now this is how my camera roll looks...

It's fun to have daughters for friends. 

And now, if you will excuse me, we have a trip and a wedding and a big week coming up and I still have fifty-eleven things on my to do list....

Turtle Heart -- A Review and A Giveaway

Four years ago, I talked here about a book by Lucinda (then) Miller. Today, I am happy to tell you about another book by the same author, although her last name has now been changed by her marriage to Ivan Kinsinger.

Luci is gifted in the art of story telling. In Turtle Heart you will find the same layers of emotion and honesty that drew readers into her book Anything But Simple. While enjoying the story line and the eccentricities of Luci's friend, Charlene, you will also find yourself digging deeply to examine hard questions. Questions like how to meet people where they are, like Jesus did. Questions about different cultures and acceptance. Questions about things foreign to a sheltered Mennonite world, like splintered families and homosexuality. 

There are many ways that I identify with Luci, in her story. Her description of herself as a youth and young adult could, quite easily, have been describing me:

"No one hates me and no one loves me because no one really knows me. I constantly wear a smile on my face because I want everyone to think I am enjoying myself, that I have friends somewhere, just around a corner. 

I am a young adult, more confident, but still commonly described as "sweet" -- a word I both love and hate. Hate, because it defines me as passive and without spine. Love, because it protects me. People treat me kindly because I am sweet."

I also identify deeply with her difficulty to stand up for herself and say no. It is helpful to listen to her navigate her own humanity -- feelings of resentment at being taken advantage of -- and her deep longing to be Jesus in skin to her friend. One does not have to cancel out the other, when apologies are given and we get up and try again.... and again. 

I love how Luci shares her struggles with hard questions about God and Faith. I am, by nature, an "accept-er" and some of her questions are not ones I have dealt with deeply myself, but now have children who do. Her father's wisdom in providing answers, when he can, but simply confessing "I don't know", when he doesn't, was powerful. In Luci's own words:

"...there is tremendous release in these words: "I don't know." I begin to realize I don't need to know everything, and that not knowing is necessary to living."

The fact that Luci has poured her heart and soul into Turtle Heart is evident throughout the book. She has opened the doors to her inner self and confessed thoughts and feelings that are vulnerable and raw. Through her words, she holds out her heart with open hands, asking the reader to handle it gently. Hoping against hope that as you do, you too will begin to see and love the people around you -- the ones who are like you, and the ones who are so very different -- through the eyes of Jesus. 

If you would like to read Turtle Heart yourself, you can order online through Amazon, or Barnes and Noble or order an autographed copy directly from Luci at lucindajkinsinger@gmail.com. 

Luci is generously allowing me to give away one copy of her book to my readers! If you would like to be included in the giveaway, leave a comment below (or via email or Facebook), and I will choose a winner on September 30, one week from today. US addresses only. 

My Father's Touch

When the world weighs heavy on your shoulders, sometimes the best thing to do is grab your camera, and search for beauty.......

Oh, the perfection of the artist!

Even in the humble marigold.... 

The changing of colors....

The mixture of textures....

Why, hello there!

The unfolding of the flowers...

The cheer from the simple...

Inside, as well as outside...

The touch of the Father is everywhere 

when you take the time to pause

 and look for it.

Remembering

August 2006

I was twenty-seven that year. Mom of two, ages four and two, this pregnancy had been planned for, prayed for, and celebrated. This was a first for us. Not that the previous pregnancies had been unwanted or uncelebrated, but this time we had been in control of the timing and everything about it was perfect and exciting. The euphoria lasted two weeks, then I discovered I was miscarrying.

It's a little hard for me to remember, with the distance of fifteen years passing, how very difficult that experience was for me. If I'm honest, I don't think I grieved the loss of my child, so much as the loss of my perfect little plan. Why wouldn't God have wanted it to work out? Why? Why did He let it happen? 

And then, for one excruciatingly long year, I couldn't get pregnant. 

It seems ridiculous now, to remember how difficult that was. So many people go through years of infertility, and here I was with two lovely children already! But you don't know, when you're in the middle of a hard thing, how long it will last. Maybe there was something wrong that needed to be fixed. Maybe we would never have any more children. Maybe there would be a huge gap in our children's ages. Maybe this wondering and holding my breath every month and not being pregnant would go on forever.

That year was agonizingly long. I shake my head now, thinking of the tears and anguish that my husband endured. In the moment, the longing and the pain were so real -- I wanted a baby. The smallest of comments, from people who had no idea what I was carrying inside, stung and cut and hurt.

Finally, I made an appointment to have my thyroid checked. The doctor was booked three weeks out, but at least I was doing something. And then? Then, in the mean time, I didn't get my period and the pregnancy test -- those awful things I had come to hate and nearly refused to take -- was positive!

Our rainbow baby was born March 30, 2008.

January 2009

My baby was nine months old and I felt sick; nauseous. The feeling persisted. What was going on? Surely I couldn't be? No. Not that. But I was.

I looked at the positive pregnancy test, and I cried. I wasn't ready for this; no. Too soon! I didn't want to tell anyone. Why? So many things were wildly out of control in our lives already, how could we handle this too? My midwife laughed and said, "God does have a sense of humor. First you're crying because you want a baby, now you're crying because you don't want a baby. Somewhere He is saying, 'Make up your mind, lady!'"

Lillian Bethany

8 lb 14 oz  21 in long

Perfect in every way

(A note to mothers everywhere: it is possible to go at least three years without a menstrual period. Ask me how I know.)

September 3, 2021

My surprise baby is twelve today.

Almost every year, I remember. I remember the confusion and pain of God disrupting my tidy, good plan. I remember the year of longing and heartache and not knowing. I remember the joy and excitement of the first, unexpected positive test that I longed for and the shock and confusion of the second, surprise one. I look at my two girls, seventeen months apart, and I smile.

I'm not sure why I felt compelled to share my remembering this year. I think I have mentioned some of these details on my blog before, but never quite in this way. 

It is good to look back, and remember. I don't know why God chose to plan our family the way He did. I can't look back and see, "Oh. It's good it was that way because x-y-z that I didn't know". I think, mostly, He wanted me to learn how little control I ultimately have over my life, and how very capable He is of handling the details.

Maybe, I needed to look back and write it out, because I need that lesson today just as much as I needed it then.

Pretty Much Normal

I lay in bed and the tears just wouldn't stop seeping out of my eyes. I could easily have burst into full out sobs, but how silly would that have been? Every sentimental bone in my body ached, as I went over every little detail I was nervous worried about. Mentally, I counted up the months... seventeen of them. Seventeen months I'd been with my four youngest children almost every single day. Seventeen months we'd done everything together -- worked, played, argued, learned, fought, talked, laughed, cried. Seventeen months, we'd kind of been each other's everything. Tomorrow, they would go back to school.

Everyone has had their version of  'crazy' from 2020 and it's aftermath; this is mine. 

Seventeen months ago, school closed. I went from five days a week at home alone, to never being home alone, plus homeschooling and foster care. Twelve months ago, we chose to homeschool, and embarked on an adventure I never, ever wanted. Now, I cried, because the adventure was ending.

I don't know if I'll ever fully understand what these past seventeen months have been about. I feel like a completely different person than I did that day school closed so many months ago; a person I'm not really sure I know or recognize. It feels like our family has been in this sort of incubation period, where we've needed to learn to dig deeper, lean in closer and grow together, in a unique and different way. Now, it's time to turn that loose, and sort of reintegrate back into the real world. It's kind of scary for all of us.

That all sounds overly dramatic and a bit ridiculous and it probably is. This morning, I sent the four scholars off to school and practically danced around the empty house shouting hallelujah! Two days from now, I'll probably be crying into my pillow again. Maybe, after all, I'm simply losing my mind?

I feel like I have a lot of soul sorting to do in these next quiet days at home. I have just as many conflicting feelings about that, as the sad tears and happy dancing I just described above. 

Yesterday, I cried over the first day of school and Facebook memories from ten years ago.

Ten years ago: 

First day of school in Ohio

Re-enactment picture

before Isaac left for work

I went to town and bought groceries and had to call my husband to instruct me on what to do for my overheated van.

I picked up school children and discovered my youngest had thrown up at school twice on the first day.

I packed up clothes for my husband, who left on a work related fishing adventure.

I doled out purple medicine and emergenC to multiple children coming down with colds and sore throats.

I went to bed, and hoped for the best.

Maybe, after all, life is overly dramatic and a bit ridiculous. 

Today, I'll clean my dirty floors and sew the back to school dress that didn't get finished and hang out the never ending laundry... and marvel at the silence. Tomorrow, we'll take the emotions and drama that the day brings and go from there. It's pretty much all we can do, and it might even be pretty much normal.