This Is Us

Wow y'all. Aside from feeling a little guilty that I might have been taken as begging for comments, your responses just made my day(s)!! Thank you. Thank you so much. I loved it.

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With the start of a new year, I thought perhaps an introductory post might be in order. I don't think I've ever actually written an introduction to my family, as such, although if you've read here for any length of time, I would guess you've gotten to know us quite well along the way. Off the top of my head, I can think of several posts that would give you a little background, such as the series of posts on how my husband and I met, and my introductory posts to the Treasure In Heaven series here and here.

But without further ado, let me tell you a little about us.

Soon after we got married, a friend inspired me to try to get a family picture every year over the time of our

anniversary -- it doesn't have to be anything

great, just a simple snapshot will do. Well,

I have a picture from every year, but we'll just say

that "over the time of our anniversary" has

become a very broad term. This year's photo

was taken on the very last day of 2018. 

Starting with the oldest child... 

Isaac Christopher was born to us a little less than one month before our first wedding anniversary. We basically know very little about marriage without him in the equation. Isaac is 16 years old, has his driver's license, and is set to graduate this year, completing 12 grades in 11 years. With his blonde hair and blue eyes, most people assume he takes after his father. The truth is, in personality Isaac is the most like his mother... albeit with a healthy dose of his father's upbringing, which is not a bad thing at all. Isaac has a tender heart, loves any kind of game and would like to teach school some day. 

Jasmine Annette is our second born. Arriving one year and nine months after her brother, the two of them have always been close.  If Isaac is the most like his mother, than Jasmine is even more her father's daughter. I am continually amazed at the way the two of them think alike. Jasmine will be 15 next month and does everything she puts her hand to with all of her heart. She loves painting and drawing and about every other creative outlet you can imagine. She's fulfilled my girlhood dream of learning to play the piano and enjoys cooking and teaching her younger sisters much more than I do. In spite of us joking that we never like the same things, the two of us are best of friends.

Jennifer Lynn is our rainbow baby. Joining our family 4 years after her older sister, Jennifer was a much longed and prayed for baby. I don't think I've ever talked here about my miscarriage between Jasmine and Jennifer but those years had their share of tears in them for me. Jennifer is 10 years old and has held the drama card in our family for every one of those years. You will never be left in doubt as to what this child is thinking. On the other hand, you will probably never fail to be charmed either nor fail to be astonished by her creativity and imagination. I have never seen a child who possesses quite Jennifer's ability to create vivid, enthralling play out of whatever materials are available for use. While I struggle often to identify with her completely different personality, I love to watch her vibrant creativity and her passion for reading. 

Lillian Bethany came to our family 17 months after her longed for sister. I will never forget calling my midwife (who knew all about my tears before Jennifer) and confessing that I was crying again but for an entirely different reason. She laughed and told me that God certainly has a sense of humor. She could imagine Him saying, "Make up your mind, honey!" Lillian was born into probably the hardest years of our marriage. But this is about her. Lillian is 9 years old, loves making lists and hates washing dishes. She is our only child who is shy and quiet like my family, although she can easily hold her own when no strangers are around. Lillian is a protective little mother hen and does great with young children. She does not like to be pushed but she does love to be hugged and held and cuddled. Lillian has a hilarious sense of humor and writes the best funny stories. 

And then, there is Charles Elmer, the little tag along who came 3 and a half years behind Lillian. I still feel bad sometimes that we didn't have the second part to his duo like we did the rest of his siblings but life happens and that's just how the years played out. Charles is small for his age and definitely treated as the baby of the family, poor thing. He is the most touchy - feely child I've had and still comes around often  to spontaneously give a hug and kiss and to say "I like you!" Charles loves stories. And every story that he hears then gets translated into his play and acted out with his Fisher Price people and cars and trucks. He has the Eicher gene for memorizing and can rattle off countless snippets -- from Bible stories to Adventures in Odyssey to Hank The Cowdog -- all with impeccable precision in wording and voice inflection. I love nothing more than to listen to Charles and Isaac doing the voices in a story and Charles setting his older brother straight on some minor mispronunciation. 

And then, of course, there are the parents. We are definitely an 'opposites attract' couple, although I would say 17 and a half years of marriage have certainly made us rub off on each other a good bit. 

Chris manages his brother's tire shop and is a handy man to have around with his previous years of experience in carpentry, cabinets and countertops. He built the house we live in almost single handedly. Oh, he had some help, of course, but he hired out very little of the work. Chris loves nothing more than to pull off a good surprise and his favorite thing is to keep his family wondering what idea he'll come up with next. While his opinionated nature often portrays a false harshness, Chris has the biggest, most unbiased heart you will ever find. 

And.... I'm the mom of the bunch. I cook and clean and do laundry (Do I ever do laundry!). I'm quiet and a home body and a loner. I like using my creativity and making something from nothing puts a sparkle in my eye. Give me a good book and I won't be worth a thing for the rest of the day; ask me to play some strategy game like Chess and I will soundly refuse. If you want to know any other bits about me, I shared 39 of them once. 

This is us. We have strengths and we have weaknesses; we mess up and sometimes we get it right. All in all, I like us a lot. 

Moms On Sunday Mornings

Groggy and blurry eyed, I focused my eyes on the clock. I'd tempted fate last night, not setting the alarm, but the red numbers came into focus at 6:45, exactly when my alarm usually goes off. Every part of me wanted to roll over and go back to sleep; I hate getting up in the morning. More often then not my mind mumbles this desperate prayer, "Dear God, I need you for this day!" I imagine He smiles down in amusement, knowing that the day isn't really the issue here, the issue is really getting me out of the bed.

As I said, getting up on any morning is not my strong point but this was Sunday morning. This was the one day of the week my husband could stay sleeping in the morning (He works until noon on Saturdays). This was the one morning the children were apt to snuggle in a little longer and the house remain quiet a little later. Oh, the temptation was strong to close my eyes to those red numbers on the clock and pretend I didn't know that I should get up.

"Why should I have to get up early on Sunday morning?" A part of me argued. "They don't always have to have sugary biscuits for breakfast." My head sank deeper into the pillow, blocking out those flashing red numbers that were already climbing relentlessly toward 7:00. "We could eat waffles or eggs or...I don't know... cereal, for lunch. I wouldn't have to get up and get something ready for the oven."

But another part of me wouldn't listen to reason; the grown up, responsible part of me that a mother of 16 years should, by now, have. "You know you'll wish you would have," it told me. "You know you'll be glad you did. Might as well do it; you'll have to sooner or later."

And then, as I pushed back the covers and slipped quietly from the cozy bed, the voice started saying some other things. "Remember how you talked about Treasure In Heaven once?" I warily eyed my bedhead  reflection in the mirror and vaguely wished the voice would mind it's own business. "What if getting up in the morning when nobody else has to is storing up Treasure In Heaven?" the voice persisted. "What if cheerfully serving your family sugary biscuits because you know it will make them smile is storing up Treasure In Heaven?"

By now I'd washed the sleep from my eyes and I found a tiny, little stirring of joy in my heart. Supposing it is, I wondered? And supposing I prepped lunch with a smile on my face and a song on my lips instead of feeling sorry for myself that my spot under the covers was empty while everyone else got to enjoy theirs a little longer? Maybe it wasn't fair that I had to get up earlier just because I was mom but, then again, maybe it wasn't fair that I had that opportunity either.

Sunday morning is tough for a mom sometimes. There are things we can do to make what is often a hectic morning more peaceful -- prepping lunch on Saturdays, laying out clothes the night before, getting up early, making sure our diaper bag is ready... But in spite of our best efforts, a mom on Sunday morning is usually a busy person. We're the ones finding people's belts and shoes and washing the spot out of someone's dress. We smooth hair and settle fusses and inspect little faces for dirt. We gather Bibles and fix casseroles and sometimes we spend a little time looking in the mirror at our own face. It's easy to feel bitter as a mom on Sunday morning, especially when the children are young and the baby got you up during the night.

I will tell you this, a smile on my face and a song on my lips made for a much happier than usual Sunday morning the other week. I arrived at church feeling somehow like I had already worshipped, instead of sighing over the marathon I'd just run to get us there. The shift from "poor me" to "what an opportunity" put a paradigm twist on my attitude and outlook.

And I'll tell you something else.

A week later the same voice came talking to me again on Sunday morning. I was tempted to wish I'd never written anything about Treasure In Heaven that could come back to haunt me. But then I slipped out of bed and made that choice again and I think it could - just maybe - become a thing for this mom to store up Treasure In Heaven on Sunday mornings.

The Dilemma Of A Woman Who Invites Company

So you're living your life, doing your work, accomplishing your tasks, content with your world, and then... you invite company.

Suddenly every nook and cranny is viewed through visitors eyes. As if the scales have magically been removed from your eyes, every room - every wall - every drawer - every cupboard - every closet - appears different than it did only yesterday. Every project you have been meaning to tackle, every half-finished idea you haven't found time for, every dream you wanted to do suddenly becomes a pressing need you should have accomplished yesterday.

"Oh, that horrible, awful trash pile that certainly shouldn't still be here a year after moving! Oh, the weeds I was going to weedeat; oh the brambles I was going to mow! Oh, the messy porch -- and most other people would wash their filthy siding! How do the appliances in my kitchen get so grimy? I've been planning to hang a plant in that corner... I've been wanting those quilts done... All winter those coat hooks were supposed to go up... HOW do I let my bedroom accumulate so many piles?? Why do I let my children pretend the bookshelf is their kitchen/play space/storage area??? Does anybody ever dust this place thoroughly?! When was the last time I washed that mirror? I absolutely refuse to examine the windows; there are limits."

Of course I am exaggerating.

A little.

Clearly I need to have company more often. Or I need to keep the scales off of my eyes on a daily basis. Or I need to leave the scales on and realize that the company will probably be wearing some themselves. Or I need to remember that visitors will be too polite to comment on that trash pile so who cares what they think.......

Or, even better, I could just focus on making the people entering my home feel welcome and cared about, instead of thinking about me and my pride and reputation.

Then again, I could just look at it as a good way to get some things accomplished around here for once. After all, when else do I ever get around to cleaning those corners that my company won't see anyway?

This is what happens when you try to take a Mother's Day photo --

One out of twenty catches everyone looking at the camera!

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Obviously, we had company yesterday. And, obviously, although this is written tongue in cheek, it's also embarrassingly true. I'm curious, do any of the rest of you identify?

Two Breakfasts For One

When the rest are at work and school, and there's only Charles and I at home, I am notorious for not eating. I don't enjoy cooking and Charles and I both have enough Gingerich genetics to easily do without or go with very little. It's not really the most healthy habit, because then we end up being starved at odd hours when it's easy to grab some quick snack to tide us over until the next meal.

Recently I've fixed myself two yummy breakfasts that I sort of made up and I got the notion to share them with you this morning. All of you homeschooling mommies or those with a busy row of toddlers or those heroes who get up and fix their school children a big breakfast can feel free to roll your eyes and skip over the bizarre idea of making a breakfast just for mom. Someday you might be odd, like me.

The first one is this....

No measurements here, of course. I just heated butter in my iron skillet, threw in a couple handfuls of frozen hashbrowns, sprinkled them with a few seasonings and fried them a couple minutes. Next I added some spinach leaves to the butter on the side, sauted it a bit, then mixed it into my tators. Last, I cracked two eggs into the empty side of the pan and fried them to taste. Two pieces of toast on the side, and there you have it!

It looked pretty and it tasted delicious too.... Except, that particular day I ended up getting two phone calls before I got a bite, so it was a little on the cold side.

The second one is a twist on creamed eggs over toast...

My mother-in-law is a native Virginian and grew up on cornmeal gravy. I'd never heard of it either, but I love it! It's basically the same idea as brown flour gravy but you use white cornmeal instead of flour. For my personal plate full, I put several tablespoons of vegetable oil in my little pan, added about an eighth cup of white cornmeal (I didn't measure but that's probably close) and salt and pepper to taste. I stirred that together with a fork and browned it a bit, then gradually added milk and whisked and cooked until it was gravy consistency.

I put two pieces of toast on my plate, cut up two leftover hard-boiled eggs I had in the fridge and sprinkled them over the toast, then poured the gravy over top. Yum.

I didn't bother to share either of these creations with Charles; he wouldn't have wanted them anyway! It's kinda fun sometimes to do something a little extra just for oneself.

Got any little extras you like?

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I wanted to thank all of you for your encouragement after my last post. I got feedback from a number of you, all encouraging and blessing, and it meant so much! I'm finding out that there are lots of people who have been in the ministry of foster care over the years and it's so good to hear their input and stories. Thank you.

I'm sure you'll hear more about this subject from me down the road. Sometime I'll tell you about some people in the foster care trenches that I have greatly admired who probably planted more seeds in my heart than I'll ever know. Also, a few of you thought it would be interesting to hear more about "Module VIII"... I'll keep it in mind.

Many blessings on your weekend!

The Day That Didn't

You know how it is when you hear about an event and you can't get the idea out of your head that you'd like to go? You're sure that if you don't go, you'll wish you would have but you're afraid that if you do go, it will end up not being any good. And, if you're like me, if you do go and it ends up not being any good, the day will become a hopelessly wasted one that you now know -- beyond a shadow of doubt -- you should have spent at home to start with.

Maybe none of you are like me.

If that scenario does ring a bell in your mind, you probably learned long before the age of 39 how to handle such issues. I can't say that I've learned, but I think I might be learn-ing.

I think the first time I consciously made a choice to break my trend was when we took our famous train ride. Many times since then, when I'm tempted to grovel in despair that I've made the wrong choice and the day has been ruined, I'm reminded that I have a choice to make and my feelings aren't necessarily true. Actually, I've started trying to remember to do one better than that. When I've finally made the decision to do one of those things that I've gone back and forth and around and around on, I pray about it. I tell God, "Please would you bless this day as I go __________. I would love it if everything goes the way I'd like it to go but if nothing goes right, I'll be ok with that too."

And then I do my best to keep my promise.

Yesterday was one of those days. I'd heard that Zinck's fabric store was having a 50% off sale on some of their dress fabric this week. I find fabric for a lot of my girl's school dresses at that store so it seemed like an event that I should try to take advantage of. But that meant an hour + trip and pretty much spending a whole day away from home. Should I or shouldn't I? There was no way Chris could take a day off and turn it into a date day. Should I go alone or ask someone to go with me? Yes or no; around and around.

I'd finally decided I would just go alone but the night before, all my usual second guessing began. I could just see the van leave me set somewhere or spending the whole day away and coming home with nothing. For every reason I had thought I would rather just go alone, I now knew having someone along would be better. The very fact that I was so nervous about the whole thing was probably a clear indicator that I should just stay home, you know?

In the morning, I fished for sympathy from my husband. All I got was, "If you get left set somewhere, I'll come and pick you up personally." Which sounded to me a lot more like, "You're being silly but I'll humor you a bit," rather than the sincere sympathy I was coveting. Deep down inside, I knew I was being ridiculous. So, I said my prayer and set off with my trusty GPS, determined to keep my promise.

My first stop was a large, lovely Goodwill. I've found lots of treasures there numerous times in the past but in spite of enjoying meandering through the aisles, this time I left with exactly one item. A pair of pants for Charles in the next size up that I wasn't sure if I should even buy.

From there, I punched in another thrift store and promptly did one of my directionally challenged deals, which is the reason I use a GPS religiously even though it doesn't take care of all my driving issues. What I did was forget that there are two thrift stores with the same name and select the one I didn't want to go to and assumed the GPS was taking me a different way instead of going the way I was familiar with. Oh well, I'd check out this location for a change.

Let's just say, the Lord didn't arrange that mistake so that I would find some wonderful bargain. I walked out of that store with nothing.

By that time, I decided I should just go to the fabric store and do what I'd come to do in the first place. Pleasantly, my route took me right past another thrift store that I recognized, so I stopped. I added two shirts for Charles to my meager stash.

On to the fabric.

I don't know if the manager of the store was just trying to lure people in their doors for nothing or if all the good stuff had been snatched up by the bolt the previous two days of the sale or what but ladies, there was no fabric on sale that I wanted. None. Nada. Out of sheer revenge on a day gone haywire, I bought some knit pieces that I liked at full price but I couldn't believe it!

It was time to have lunch and regroup, so I did just that over a juicy, yummy Sub. The thought crossed my mind that maybe I should just abandon the rest of my plans and go drop in on my sister who works at a newer thrift store 40 minutes away. In spite of living so close to each other, we rarely spend time together and I'd never managed to check out the store where she works. I'm not good with figuring out what time I need to be where in order to make my appointments, so I texted Chris for his input. When my sandwich had disappeared and no reply had come back, I decided to throw caution to the wind and just do it.

Driving along over this road and that road and then another, I figured it might be just my luck to get there and discover my sister wasn't even working that day but I'd come to far to stop now.

Long story short?

She was there. I had the fun of walking in and surprising her. I got to see what she does and tour the part of a thrift store behind the 'Employees Only' doors. I got to discover how they sort and organize and keep everything running smoothly; it's quite impressive! And I got to chat with her and even buy a few things. I ended up picking up my school children nearly 10 minutes late but all in all, the day that didn't go as I envisioned didn't do some other things either.

I didn't feel blue and discouraged; I didn't feel like the day had been totally wasted; I didn't feel certain I had made the wrong decision and should have stayed home. And, perhaps best of all, I didn't have to be picked up personally.

Normal Days And Saying Nothing

I probably shouldn't even mention the silence in this corner lately -- as if I believe myself to be so important that people are breathlessly waiting for me to say something. Somehow there hasn't seemed to be anything to say, so I haven't said it; that's about the only reason I can give.

To be honest, there doesn't really seem to be anything to say this morning, either, but I'm saying it anyway.

In Ohio, the battle between Winter and Spring continues to rage fiercely. One day we revel in short sleeves and the urge to dig in the dirt; the next, we are forced to admire the magic of a snow covered landscape. The grey, dreary days always wear on my mood but every sunshiny day holds the promise of warmth and new growth and Spring. I cling to those glimmers of hope and Jasmine's row of paper cups hold a promise all their own.

Life has been very normal here at The House On The Hill. We eat and sleep and go to work and school. We consume food and create dirty laundry and a messy house with alarming regularity. Except, if you think about it, it's actually not alarming but comforting. Normal means we're all here; healthy, comfortable and reasonably happy.

Normal means there are little girls creating imaginary houses and accessories out of upside down bar stools.

Normal means a little boy making up stories about 'Honey Bear' and strewing toys all over the floor. It also means shared laughter over the funny things this little boy says. Last night before bed Chris said, "I volunteer Charles Eicher to pick up all these toys. Everyone voting for Charles, raise your hand." Everyone quickly raised their hand. But when Chris told Charles to get busy he piped up, "But I didn't raise my hand!"

Looking back through recent pictures I realize that there have been extraordinary days too. Little things that switch up the 'normal' and keep life interesting and exciting.

One day, grades 1-4 went ice skating. Along with several other moms, I went along for the day. I tied skates and encouraged the wobbling ones, letting them hang onto my hand and even, once, landed hard on the ice when the wobbler lost their footing. I had some sore muscles the next day but it was fun anyway.

Speaking of school, Jennifer and Lillian are enjoying special days during the month of March. The latest one was Hat Day and different headgear seemed to put a sparkle in their eyes. Maybe I should try it myself someday?

Sometimes a cup of hot tea is just the thing to cheer up a cold, dreary day. It's even better to share a cup with a couple of friends, which is just what I enjoyed doing yesterday. I need to do that more often.

I continue to dabble in my new hobby. When I get started, it's hard to stop.

One day, the nice man at this house did his usual good deed of stopping at Aldi after work to pick up whatever it is that I'm desperately needing and grabbed some flowers while he was at it. They are still brightening my days.

That about covers it for normal days and saying nothing.........

Confessions From Vacation

Our family has been away the past week; away in another world. A world of sunshine and blue skies and no cares but our own. A world of sleep and relaxing and doing nothing...or something...just as we chose. We took our own selfishness and human flaws along with us, to be sure, as you will see in this piece written early one morning last week.......

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In the semi-darkness, my eyes take in the clutter of clothes and suitcases and abandoned footwear. The flat surfaces are strewn with discarded cups and empty bags. The trash can overflows with the rubble of seven people. My order loving heart chafes at the messy chaos; there's too many people in one room and this introvert soul is reaching a breaking point. Slipping down onto the ugly, striped carpet in the pale glow of early morning, I clutch at a sliver of solitude as one person moans in their sleep and another snores blissfully on - that same snore that so annoyed a third at 2:00 this morning.

It's a dream vacation, taking everyone to Florida during school's week of winter break. When their dad broke the news to them of the plan, the children all looked at me in wonderment to see if he was serious. But halfway in, I confess, I'm not feeling very dreamy and the guilt of that fact threatens to overpower any fun I am having. I had desperately wanted our own space, see - a house, an Airbnb, something. But the plan was short notice and it was hard to beat other prices and I had sweetly said I would be ok with whatever he decided. After all, he didn't have to take us anywhere!


But I wasn't really ok with whatever.

Messiness and chaos and no personal space just get to me, that's all. How can it be a vacation when I'm constantly smashed into the same space with six others, unable to even enjoy a private conversation with my own husband? At every turn my stubborn mind aches to point out the benefits of what I so desperately thought was better. I don't want to be like that but how can I not when I feel like I'm suffocating?



I see a slice of blue sky through the parted curtain - the part carefully made at night so the room isn't too dark for the little people - and I remember yesterday and the blue, blue sky and the puffy white clouds and a little boy reveling in the wonder of the ocean's waves. It was sheer joy just to watch him. Into the waves and then out; laying down to let the water rush over him; head up in surprise when the water nearly got his face, and all the while giggling and bouncing with delight.

 Then their was the drama queen who was shivering with cold and tearfully disappointed at the cold water and the strength of the crashing waves. Sitting in a dejected huddle under her towel, on the beautiful, sandy beach, she could think of nothing to do and her mind was fixed on one thought - the pool back at the motel. The mother in me wanted to shake her. Indeed, the lecture I delivered was rather much like a hard shake that might rattle the teeth.

Laying, now, on the hard floor as the occupants in the room slept on, I wondered if it was me, instead, who deserved the lecture and a good, hard shake. Was I not quite a lot like the drama queen myself, unable to recognize extravagant beauty and privilege in the face of my own selfish little heart?

"Really, woman. Do you know how blessed you are? Look at your children sleeping peacefully - one, two, three, four, five. Once, they were tucked away safely under your heart; once they were tiny, dependant on you for life; once they needed you for everything. Look at them now, stretching tall and strong, yet still content to all be huddled together in one room. This week is an incredible gift. It won't be long till they're all independent, finding their own way in the world and making their own plans. The time left to make these close knit memories is fast passing by; don't waste it. Do you hear me? Whatever you do, Do Not Waste It."

Thoroughly chastised, I slip back into the cozy bed. The room is still silent, I've had my sliver of space. It's a beautiful day and I'm thankful, so thankful, to be spending it in close proximity with these special people.            

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That early morning lecture on the floor was well taken. I must say, we had a most amazing week together. And now, we are home. I'm finding the drama queen tendencies crop up just as easily in this world. It's cold and drab and brown here, with piles of laundry and Real Life staring me in the face first thing this morning. But there's just as much extravagant privilege here, if I'll open my eyes. Just as many special moments to not miss; just as little fleeting time. I find myself needing the same lecture here as anywhere else, "Don't waste it. Do you hear me? Whatever you do, Do Not Waste It."

A Never-Ending Opportunity

"For the eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout the whole earth, to show himself strong in the behalf of them whose heart is perfect toward him."
 2 Chronicles 16:9

I remember the day Chris took me to look at the little piece of land he was considering buying. There were trees and brambles and briars; fallen logs and leaves and limbs. All of it was situated on one steep hill. We scrambled up through the woods, dodging thorns and branches. Chris was busily dreaming and scouting out the best spot to build; I was looking around at it all in bewilderment - "A house? Here?"

But we bought the land and the dreams began turning into reality. Then the lane went in. From that day forward, there was one nagging question in the back of my mind - "How am I going to get in and out of here in the wintertime?"

I've talked about this before - how I never had to drive in the snow before moving to Ohio, how I dread it and hate it and, in short, what a chicken I am. And now here I was going to be on this Hill, with no way in and out but a steep lane. Not only that, the steep lane comes out right in the middle of a fairly major hill on Pennyroyal, the road running past our house. Put simply, the whole situation is basically a chicken's worst nightmare.

We did bite the bullet and concrete the lane. Last summer, we also blacktopped the parking area by the house. Major, major improvements and without question a good investment; we would have been hauling in new gravel regularly.

So, here we are at The House On The Hill for a year. That lane has continued to be a thorn in the flesh. It's not just bad in the winter, see. Even in the summer you have to know how to maneuver the thing so as not to produce ominous scraping sounds from your vehicle. This can be quite alarming, especially to visitors who are generally a bit more concerned about their vehicles than some of the rest of us. It is completely possible to enter in and depart from said lane without the scraping sounds, but one must Know How. Like Eeyore playing Pooh sticks, there's a twitchy sort of way, if you know what I mean.

All in all, I have become somewhat used to this treacherous lane that elicits so many comments and wonderment from all who see it. I've joked that I will homeschool my kids in the winter months and I still cringe as I listen for the scraping sounds every time someone comes to visit. For the most part though, I've gotten used to it. I still dreaded winter but that's nothing new and I already know that worry isn't going to change anything. Besides, I've also discovered that God can actually handle wintertime pretty well, imagine that?

I thought maybe God would handle it by giving us a mild winter with very little snow. Well, He has pretty much turned that idea upside down. I wish I would have counted the number of times it has snowed since Christmas. Really, I think it might have been too many to count! It's not that we have had such a huge accumulation, like some people, but just enough to cover up the cleaned up roads - and lane - again and again and again.

It was early one morning during the first part of January when it came to me. I was standing in the kitchen, getting ready to start the morning routine of lunches and breakfast and school prep. The noise of the snowblower filtered in through the window; my husband was out there, again, clearing off the lane before heading to work. He'd bought that snowblower at our school auction and every time I heard it's hum, my heart melted into a puddle. Forget the roses and chocolates. Let me tell you, seeing my man out there in the early morning hours or late at night after a long day at work, faithfully cleaning off that lane in the freezing cold puts more stars in my eyes than any flowers ever could.

It was in that moment that I heard God whisper, "That lane is a never-ending opportunity for me to show myself strong on your behalf."

I stopped mid-stride in my morning bustle and stood there in awe. I'm not sure I can explain how sacred that moment was. You can't very well hate something with such great potential, can you? "A never-ending opportunity..." it almost gave me goosebumps. A lump came into my throat, as I stood there in my kitchen with tears in my eyes and my hands raised in worship, "Oh, dear God! Thank you for that lane; thank you for a never-ending opportunity!!"

I still groan when it snows, I still dread needing to get out there. But now it's a dread laced with anticipation - 'How is He going do it this time?' And you know what? He is so creative!

Some days He has the school board chairman cancel school (Bless the man). Some days He has my husband park the van at the bottom of the lane and gives me the courage to brave the road and backing the van back into its precarious spot. (You see those marks behind the van? That's where Isaac took a little run and slid all the way down to the van.)

Some days He has grandpa pick them up here instead of me taking them to grandpa's to catch a ride (he takes them to school Monday and Thursday). Many days He has the sun shine just enough so the lane is clear by 3:00 when it's time to go to school again. (Huge perk of concrete and blacktop; our lane is usually the first to be clear!)

He doesn't do it the same every time and it doesn't always look the way I imagine it will, but always, He shows Himself strong. It never ends.

I call that amazing.

39 Things

January is over and so is Q & A time -- the 'official' time, that is. Your questions are always welcome.

I just had a birthday on Sunday and I got the crazy notion to tell you all

                   39 Things About Me:

1. I am the youngest in a family of six.

2. I like empty trash cans.

3. I'm learning to crochet off of YouTube videos. It's so much fun. (Funny story behind this is that I got the idea about a month ago while lying in bed with the stomach flu. I watched crocheting tutorials to get my mind off my churning stomach.)

4. I have brown eyes.

5. When I have Facebook notifications, I save them up for later.

6. As of Saturday, I have a child with a permit. (I have no idea how we got here and I'm pretty sure I'll never be the same after my first ride in the passenger seat.)

7. I could easily live without ice cream.

8. I enjoy being alone.

9. I am just learning to like coffee.

10. I wear glasses.

11. I like to hang laundry outside. Even when it means icicles. (Actually, I'd never had that happen before!)

12. I was 23 when my oldest was born.

13. And 34 when my youngest was born.

14. I love to quilt.

15. I cannot make decisions.

16. I dislike winter.

17. I don't enjoy cooking.

18. I'm discovering that I love plants.

19. I got married at the age of 22.

20. I am 5' 2".

21. I have very thin hair and not much of it.

22. But I am proud of every grey one on my head.

23. I hate conflict.

24. I am not a Shopper.

25. I like to sew.

26. I have less than 20 dresses in my closet.

27. I am married to a man who loves to surprise people. (One day when we were shopping, I drooled over this cute cart. He bought it and snuck it in here Sunday after I thought they had given me my birthday gift. I was happy to make his day with my cluelessness.)

28. As a rule, I prefer working alone.

29. I wear a size 6 1/2 - 7 shoe.

30. And I have less than 10 pairs of them.

31. I don't like to drive

32. I am directionally challenged.

33. But I'm learning to go places with my GPS! (Friday me and my GPS went shopping in Holmes County while Chris and the two oldest had a quiz meet. Although I left all the goodies there, wandering around in this place was good for my soul.)

34. I hate making phone calls.

35. I lived in the same house from birth until marriage.

36. My sweaters/jackets are nearly all grey or white.

37. None of my grandparents are living.

38. I enjoy music.

39. Next year I will turn 40!

And now you know all about me ☺
How many things do we have in common?