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!

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

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?

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.

First Day Of Two Thousand Eighteen

It started out bright and serene,
A day that was fit for a queen --
   The smallest of plans,
   No schedule demands;
First Day Of Two Thousand Eighteen.

But in a fate twist unforseen,
Straight downward the day did careen.
   "I don't feel the best,"
   My pale son confessed;
First Day Of Two Thousand Eighteen.

He soon turned from pale to light green,
A bucket completed the scene.
   But that was just one,
   We'd only begun;
First Day Of Two Thousand Eighteen.

As fast as the dominoes lean,
Then topple in piles as you've seen.
   Another turned pale,
   "I'm sick!" Came the wail;
First Day Of Two Thousand Eighteen.

The night was a sleepless routine,
Of visits made to the latrine.
   Both upstairs and down,
   The flushing did sound;
First Day Of Two Thousand Eighteen.

The episodes numbered 'umpteen',
And mother became a machine.
   To steady the bowl,
   And comfort the soul;
First Day Of Two Thousand Eighteen.

The smells and the sounds were                                                           obscene,
The whole business screamed out                                                       "unclean!"
   Would night never end?
   The sun not ascend?
First Day Of Two Thousand Eighteen.

The mother, she vowed to houseclean,
Till all would be fresh and pristine.
   At last they all slept,
   As light upward crept;
First Day Of Two Thousand Eighteen.

The sun rose on folks pale and lean,
With no thought for fancy cuisine.
   And I will not lie,
   We sure did not cry,
   As we said Good-Bye,
First Day Of Two Thousand Eighteen!

In Which Bethany Is Interviewed And We Peek Into Her Week

Good morning to you all on this sunny, Saturday morning in Ohio! About My Father's Business here, reporting on Bethany Eicher's week. Hi Bethany, we're all waiting to hear about your week, how did it go? Did you find it impossible to be cranky if you were actively trying to make others happy?

B: Good morning! Wellllll, I would say there is a lot of truth to the statement but I don't know if I accomplished it completely last week.

AMFB: So you're saying you still had some cranky moments?

B: I'm not going to comment on that, except to say I did find that what you're focusing on really does make a difference.

AMFB: And how did you come to that conclusion?

B: Well, I would say it really did make a difference in my week to have the idea of making others happy at the front of my mind. Even when I wasn't necessarily doing something specific for someone else, my focus was different.

AMFB: Interesting. So did you do a lot of specific things for other people last week?

B: Yes and no.

AMFB: Yes and no? Can we get a little more specific with that?

B: Well, it was a very ordinary week. I didn't do a lot of specific things for people outside my four walls at home. I guess I kinda decided if this is going to change me it's going to have to work at home, you know what I mean? I can't just be coming up with a bunch of unusual projects for other people, if that makes sense.

AMFB: Yes it does, I like that. So you're saying you chose to focus on the people closest to you? How did that look?

B: Pretty normal, actually.

AMFB: Ok, so not a lot of fancy tea parties or special activities? What did you do exactly?

B: Well, I read more stories; I played some games. We had some special snacks - like I made cinnamon rolls one day, just for anyhow (which is very unusual!) We got out the ice cream and chocolate syrup one night for a snack before bed, little stuff like that. 

AMFB: So maybe you could say it was more paying attention to the little things than it was actually doing lots of extra specific things to make people happy?

B: Yes, exactly! I found myself viewing everything I did in a different light. Like I looked at the things I needed to do as doing them to make my family happy, instead of just jobs that had to be done - poor me. Two of my girls needed dresses for programs, I let the children choose the supper menus for the week, baking cookies for lunches... things that needed to be done but I looked at them as ways to make my people happy, and it made such a difference in my focus!

AMFB: So basically you're saying that you didn't look for all kinds of extra things to do to make people happy, you just focused on how the things you needed to do would make people happy and that changed your attitude in the process?

B: Yes! Yes, I would say that is what happened.

AMFB: That's awesome! Did that carry over into things you needed to do for people outside your family, as well?

B: Yes, I would say so. We had the opportunity to host my son's friend for several days last week while his parents were gone, umm, I helped give two Christmas programs with our church choir - one at a church on Sunday evening and one at a hospice Christmas service another evening, I worked on Christmas mail, we invited friends over one evening. I know I looked at all those things differently because I was thinking about 'actively making other people happy'.

AMFB: Made it 'impossible to be cranky', hu?

B: Ha ha, I guess you could say that. I didn't do it perfectly, of course, but there's no question that it made a difference!

AMFB: That's great! I really love the idea that it's not about doing all kinds of extra big things for others - cause, I mean, we can't always be doing that! But that it was more looking at the daily things in a different light.

B: Right. Of course, it always helps to throw in a few extra things just purely because you know it will make people happy...

AMFB: Sure! That keeps it exciting.

B: Exactly. But that's not really what's going to hold you up through the long haul. I mean there's a lot of daily-ness that just has to be done every week; no amount of coming up with exciting ways to make people happy is going to change that! 

AMFB: Yes! That's why changing our focus on those things is so key!

B: Absolutely. 

AMFB: Thank you so much for sharing, Bethany! This has been very interesting and, hopefully, helpful for someone else out there today. 

That's all we have to share today! As always, we'd love to hear what you're thinking or maybe you have something to share about your week of actively making others happy? Feel free to tell us in the comments! 

Have a great weekend.

I Am A Woman

I'm pretending to be sitting in my room folding this pile of laundry.

The laundry is a good ploy. It keeps people from bothering me - they don't want to take the risk of getting put to work, see. Rather clever of me.

What I'm really doing in here, is trying to decide whether I should bother with a blog post this week. And, if I do, should I take the easy route and grab some pictures and some chatter and call it an update? Or should I try to come up with some insight into something that would encourage and inspire? I wonder, is there something somewhere between the two of those? Because neither one of them is really grabbing me.

If you are ever near Cambridge, Ohio during the Christmas season, check it out. It's worth it.

I am an odd woman.

Some days my husband looks at me, with humor in his eyes, and says, "Are you sure you're really a woman?" I mean, what real woman never had big dreams for her wedding day, has to be told to spend money when she shops, has zero bottles of perfume (I was going to lie and say 'has one old bottle of perfume' but I felt convicted), and likes to pack as little as possible for trips?

Finding boxes of old pictures 

is so entertaining!

Other days he looks at me and rolls his eyes and says, "You're a woman."

Those are the days when I am in an impossible funk. The days when everything weighs me down and there's not even a good reason. When I hold my husband at arms length and snap at my children and I'm tired and probably I'm depressed. What if I am? What if, really, I need help? What if I'm going off the deep end and I never even realize it but just keep plodding along in this hopeless, everlasting, pointless life? Probably, after all, it's because I should pray more. People who read their Bible every day probably don't ever feel this way and really, I wonder if I am even a Christian and, oh my goodness, what IS wrong with me? Probably it's some deep, dark, something from my past that I've never dealt with. Supposing it is?

On just such a day as this, when I felt sure that my marriage needed fixing (although three days prior I was sure I had the best marriage in the world) and I couldn't think of anything to make for supper (again) and I didn't even feel like going out to eat with my husband (sure sign of deep problems). On just such a day as that, I got told what my problem was.

This picture makes me smile,

every time.

Have you ever had someone shoot straight with you and tell you what your problem is? I wonder if you liked it? Did you say sweetly, "Why yes Dear, you are right! Thank you so much for telling me."?

I confess, I did not. I confess that I said instead, "I don't think I want to go out to eat with you."

But then a funny thing happened. After some thought I realized something, and this is what I said, "I'm actually relieved to be told my problem. I was sure it was something much more complicated and hard to understand. I think I might actually be able to deal with this 😉" You wanna know what my problem was - according to my straight shooter? 

"Focusing on Bethany Eicher."

And he (It was Chris. You had no idea, right?) added to that this nugget: "It's impossible to be cranky if you are actively trying to make others happy."

Ouch.

I think God was actively trying to make me happy this morning with His

beautiful handiwork!

So, here's the deal. This next week I'm going to focus on actively trying to make others happy. Next Friday I'm going to report back how it went. Anybody else have my problem and want to work on this with me? It's always better to work on things together.

And now, the laundry.

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

Excuse the over use of parenthesis in this post. And please, don't get all concerned that I really might be going off the deep end, because I'm quite sure I'm not (today, anyway). (I mean, today I'm quite sure.) Bother. Also, you do know you are responsible to keep me accountable this next week, correct?

That is all.

A Can Of Worms For You To Consider

I have a feeling I may be opening a huge can of worms here; worms that, once released, may be impossible to recapture and return to their docile state. But, since I am only going to open the lid and I really have no personal agenda or stake in the worms wriggling inside, I believe I will take the chance.

My husband took me shopping yesterday; he's amazing like that. I've been wanting to get up to Holmes County for quilt batting and fabric and he so nicely made the trip happen. I've told you before how our thrift store adventures turn out. I'm happy to say, we came home without a single cassette in hand. What I may have failed to mention is his other thrift store weakness: Books. Particularly ones that have something to do with marriage. He insists the dusty stack of books hiding out in the back corner of a closet that I roll my eyes over and repeatedly ask permission to dispose of is the reason he is such a marriage expert. He is, so what can I say?

We added to the stack yesterday ---

He flipped through the book and spent the $1 because of a page and half that he read and wanted to show me. The ironic truth is that I spent a good part of last evening reading what Mrs. Norman Vincent Peale had to say back in 1971. It didn't take me long to figure out that she must have had a stack of dusty books on the subject of marriage in the back of her closet too, because she sure thinks a lot like my husband!

                       

The page and a half that convinced him to spend a dollar has me intrigued too. It flies full in the face of popular marriage advice these days and I find it very, very interesting. I'm not going to say anything else about it; I'll just pry open the lid on the can and leave it here to let the worms wriggle where they will...

"The wife who studies her husband over the years--really studies him--will come to know him even better than he knows himself. She will be aware of qualities and potentialities in him that he himself may not know are there.

I thought of this the other day when I heard a story about a certain wife in a small Midwestern town, a gentle  sweet-tempered woman who's husband was a gay blade, very attractive to women. He knew it, and he took advantage of it at every opportunity--and there were lots of opportunities.

Since it was a small town, this man's amorous adventures were a matter of common knowledge. And since it was a typical small town, there were those who considered it their duty--their somewhat gleeful duty--to tell the wife about the husband's philanderings.

But the curious thing was that these bearers of ill-tidings never seemed to get anywhere with the wife.  She would listen patiently to the worst they had to say, then she would smile and reply that she was quite sure they were mistaken. Her Bob was not that kind of man at all. He would be incapable of such deceit. She appreciated their interest, but they really need not concern themselves further, because obviously they didn't know what they were talking about.

The informers kept trying. But against this serene assurance, against this unshakable faith (for that is what it seemed to be) they made no headway whatever.

Meantime, because nothing remains secret in small towns, reports of his wife's attitude got back to the husband. At first he congratulated himself on having a wife whose suspicions were so hard to arouse. He told himself that it made his extra-marital exploits a lot less risky. In fact, it just went to prove his long-time contention that what a wife didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

But gradually a change came over this man. He stopped looking for adventures, and he ceased being responsive when adventurers came looking for him. The townspeople were amazed. One day a man who knew him well asked him what had come over him.

"Well," he said, "I think I could have stood up to any sort of complaint or recrimination from Martha, any wifely jealousy, any amount of anger or accusation. But the one thing I couldn't do was brush off her faith in me. If she thought I was a hero, how could I go on being such a heel? I tried to go on, actually, but I found I just couldn't. I owe her a lot. I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to her."

Was that wife simply naive, innocent, starry-eyed? Or did she know her husband better than he knew himself?

Who can say?"

--Quoted from "The Adventure Of Being A Wife" by Mrs. Norman Vincent Peale, chapter 3. Study Your Man

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

I have not forgotten my last post. I am delighted to say I have had several responses and will be back to share with you! In the meantime I'm still listening if someone has thoughts to share.

A Post To End The Year

It's almost time to bid 2016 good-bye. I'm not good at looking back, giving 365 days a sweeping overview and concocting a tidy analysis of all that was, wasn't and might have been. I'm also not good at looking ahead and, as many do, choosing a word for the new year. It sounds so magical when others talk about it. I tried it once and come about March I couldn't even remember what the word had been.

So, I'm not really sure why I'm trying to write an end of the year post. Maybe because it seems like the thing to do? I would always want to be sure to do the expected thing, you know.

I did do a quick check back through the titles of my blog posts for 2016 to get an overview of my year. I give every post a label (or more often several labels), so I did a quick review of those too. In my reviewing I discovered that - not counting the labels in the January and June series - I used the labels "humour" and "tid bits" the most often at seven times a piece. "Grief" came in a close second at six. "Building" and "new house" fell low on the list with only two a piece which shows you .... well, if you take seven plus six and subtract two you'll see what it shows you.

Not Much.

Except that, if you knew much about 2016, you would realize that it was dotted with "building" and "new house" a lot more than twice a piece! I suppose what that really shows is that I get tired of talking about it. Or maybe, on a much deeper level, it had far less of an impact on my year than I would have thought.

On further consideration, I think I'll go with Not Much.

Looking ahead at 2017, I will leave you with two things. First of all, I don't have a word for the new year but this quote says a bit about the desire in my heart for the year ahead ----

-- Thomas Blake

I want to learn to draw more deeply from the source of all strength; to meet my days with my ear tuned to His voice.

Secondly, I am planning to do another series for the month of January. I'll be starting with the first post on Monday, so you can get ready to listen in and contribute all your valuable input in the next days and weeks.

Thank you to all of you who keep coming back here to read in my little corner. You bless my life, you really do.

Having said all of that, I shall hit publish and add the label "humour" to this post thereby giving it the highest usage of eight. I now feel that my year has been a success. Amen.

If You Build Your Wife A House

If you build your wife a house, you will almost certainly need to buy some land.

And, if you need to buy some land, it follows that you will need to have lots of money.

If you do not have lots of money, you will search for something cheap.

And, if you search for something cheap, chances are, you'll buy a steep hill.

If you buy a steep hill, your wife will look at it skeptically and say, "Build a house here??"

And if your wife says, "Build a house here??" You will say, "Yes!" And proceed to make a lane.

If you proceed to make a lane, your wife will say, "How am I ever going to get up and down that thing in the winter time??!!"

If your wife says, "How am I ever going to get up and down that thing in the winter time??!!" You will say, "Oh, it's not that bad."

And if you say, "Oh, it's not that bad." Your wife will continue to insist quite firmly that it IS.

If your wife continues to insist that it IS, you will begin to check out concreting the lane and getting a fourwheel drive.

But, if you check out concreting the lane and getting a fourwheel drive, you will begin to wonder how you will afford building the house?

If you begin to wonder how you will afford building the house, you will shelve the lane and start building.

If you start building, your wife will look on and say, "I just can't even believe that we will ever actually live here."

If your wife gives such encouraging support, you will close your mouth and keep working.

And, if you close your mouth and keep working, your wife will look at the progress and say, "Wow. This is getting exciting!"

If your wife thinks it's getting exciting, you will smile and start putting up walls.

If you start putting up walls, chances are pretty good your wife will stop at the bathroom door and say, "Why in the world did we make this bathroom so tiny??"

If your wife fusses about the size of the bathroom, you will sigh and say, "So how should we have done it different?!"

And, if you say, "How should we have done it different?!" Your wife will look at your bedroom with disdain and say, "This bedroom is HUGE! We could have easily moved this wall over a foot and made the bathroom bigger!!"

If your wife says the bedroom is HUGE you will roll your eyes and say, "Just wait until you have everything in the room." And move on to the kitchen.

If you move on to the kitchen, you will need to decide on kitchen countertops.

If you're deciding on kitchen countertops, you will want good ones because you used to make and install countertops.

If you used to make and install countertops, you will search around for the best buy.

And, if you search around for the best buy, you will buy the material up, have them made and get them installed.

If you have them made and get them installed, your wife will walk in the house and try to look pleased and finally say, "That looks terrible with the cabinets! It doesn't go together at all."

If your wife says it looks terrible, you will try to show her it does match and tell her the flooring will tie it all together.

If you say the flooring will tie it all together, she will look at the flooring and say, "Why did we pick that? Now nothing goes together!!"

If your wife continues with this nonsense, you will sigh and keep slogging along on the job.

And, if you sigh and keep slogging along, things will get done slowly, bit by bit.

If things get done slowly, your wife will quietly get more and more discouraged and say things like, "I'm so tired of telling people the same old thing when they ask about the house!" and "We might as well just say we won't get in the house til spring and get it over with!"

If your wife begins to be so discouraging, you might say, "Hey, do you wanna just live in The Shack By The Road and forget it??"

And, if you ask her that question, your wife will say, "No. I really want to live in The House On The Hill."

If your wife says she wants to live in The House On The Hill, you will need to keep building the new house.

And, if you build your wife a house....
well..............

On Mornings When Mom Has A Headache

On mornings when 

Mom Has A Headache,

I'll tell you a tale that is true --

A lot is at stake,

Commit no mistake,

You'll be wrong whatever you do.

On mornings when 

Mom Has A Headache,

I'll tell you just how it will go --

You won't get a break,

From the time you awake,

The reason, you may never know.

On mornings when

Mom Has A Headache,

I'll tell you just how you will feel --

Your heart it will quake,

Your boots, they will shake,

You'll wonder, what is the big deal?

On mornings when

Mom Has A Headache,

I'll tell you a secret or three --

Small things take the cake,

All grace she'll forsake, 

No patience you're likely to see.

On mornings when

Mom Has A Headache,

I'll tell you, good feelings depart --

Your smile will be fake,

Your outlook opaque,

Your day will not have a good start.

On mornings when

Mom Has A Headache,

I'll tell you when you get to school --

Your teacher will take,

The brunt of the ache,

If something does not overrule.

On mornings when

Mom Has A Headache,

I'll tell you what turns things around --

"I'm sorry" will make,

A 180 retake,

And pick your day up from the ground!

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

Written by a guilty mother of five.

10 Things A Mom Might Discover

1. Laundry multiplies on it's own overnight. I am convinced.

2. Keeping track of ten fingernails and ten toenails is nothing. It's when you have eighty + individual nails you are responsible for that you might end up with a handful that looks like this --

          Sorry. That was gross but real.

3. If you own a couch and have little people in the house for any number of years, you cannot even begin to imagine what all gets down into said couch. Let's just say removing the bottom of your old couch before you burn it might reveal things you never thought you would see again .... not to mention plenty of things you never wanted to see again. Don't ask me how I know.

4. There is nothing sweeter than having your three year old crawl up beside you, snuggle in close and say, "I like you Mamma!"

5. Children who only have to dry any dishes that won't fit in the drainer or on the towel are some of the world's best stackers.

6. Trash also multiplies overnight. Seriously, how DO the trash cans get full so fast??? I will tell you this - it is not because people put things in the trash cans because....

7. I will never understand why it is so much easier to leave the papers, wrappers, Kleenex, what-have-you, right where they fall. What do they think trash cans are for, I wonder?

Not to mention stray cups and bowls...

8. Dusting and cleaning the cobwebs out of every nook and cranny is way overrated. You can easily have a decent looking house just by straightening everything up. Not sure if you learn this from your children or because you have children?

9. Light switches are so much easier to switch on than off. Apparently once they are in the "up" position it takes the strength of mom's arm to get them back down. What other explanation could there be??

10. There is no feeling like that of sitting around the table or living room with your offspring and discussing Big Questions or re-telling family stories or arguing the meaning of words and realizing how much you love these people - fingernails, never-ending laundry and wayward trash notwithstanding.

You Never Know

Some days life flows along with all the predictable mundane duties that result from a family of five children. You do laundry and clean up messes and cook meals and wash dishes and scrub dirty toilets and tubs with alarming regularity. You settle fusses and dole out punishments and kiss ouchies and  listen to the ever repeated refrain of "Mom. Mom! MOM!!"

Then there are days when chance collides with circumstances and you find yourself in the back of a stranger's vehicle doing something completely out of the ordinary. If you're on your toes, you might have the presence of mind to snap a couple of photos and turn your adventure into a story before the opportunity passes...or you might nearly miss it, like me.

Last year my girls discovered wild raspberries growing around the edges of their grandparent's property, where we live. They waded through weeds and brambles searching out the tiny little treasures, returning to the house triumphantly with purple fingers and just enough berries to whet their appetites for more. Once, they found enough to turn them into a couple of pies but mostly the meager piles were carefully divided and quickly consumed.

This year, they've been at it again. The berries are just beginning to ripen well and Monday they arrived back inside all hot and sweaty with a nice bowl of them.

But the excitement of the nice bowl of berries was quckly forgotten in the hullabaloo of words.

"Mom, we were down by the road picking and this man stopped and asked us if we're berry pickers? We were kind of scared but we were like, yeah, we're picking these wild ones."

These days one hardly dares to let their children do anything on the road alone, even if ours is a quiet, country one. Stories abound of all the bad things just waiting to happen when we are least expecting it. But this time it was a good thing.

"He said he has a raspberry patch that needs to be picked and he wondered if we'd want to pick it!"

"For free?" I wondered. I'm not a Mennonite for nothing, after all.

"I think so. He said he would stop in here after he talks to the neighbor man and, Mom. If he knows the neighbor man and the neighbor man knows grandpa then he's probably fine, right? Can we go, Mom? Will you go with us?"
Somebody was bubbling with anticipation at this point.

Sure enough, minutes later a red vehicle pulled in and I met the grey haired gentleman on the sidewalk.

"Hello, young lady!"

He clasped my hand and gave it a shake while he introduced himself and explained about his berries that he couldn't get anybody to pick.

"They all say it's too hot to pick em but when I saw them girls along the road I said, there's my berry pickers! If they'll go to that much work to get berries..." he chuckled heartily.  "It's not a big patch but I've gotten five gallons off a there already."

I assured him we'd love to pick berries and he left with the promise to return in 20 minutes to pick us up. When he got back, the two youngest had been sent up the hill to grandpa's and the three of us were waiting with pails and water bottles in hand and shoes on our feet.

We piled into the back of his vehicle and headed off, with him keeping up a steady commentary and us wondering where in the world we were going? He drove right past the lane where I knew he lived but the mystery was soon explained when he told of owning four (or was it six?) farms and that where we were headed was about fifteen minutes away.

We bounced along on a dirt road while he filled us in on the terrible coal company people who he is fighting tooth and nail to keep from ruining the land around where we live. That wasn't the only subject, by any means, but it was obviously one dear to his heart. Talk turned to school and carrying concealed weapons.

"Now are you Amish or Mennonite?"

"Mennonite."

"Which was it that had that school shooting? You know, where they visited the fellow that did the shooting." I confirmed it was Amish. "I just don't know if I could go that far and respond the way they did, could you do that?"

Well, of course. I'm a Mennonite; nonresistant, turn the other cheek. Thoughts can go through your mind in a flash, you know, but an honest answer was what came out of my mouth.

"Well, I'd like to think that's how I would respond but if it came down to it and that was my children, I have a feeling it would be a lot harder than I think."

"That's right. That's exactly right." He seemed pleased with my honesty.

We finally came to a few tumble down buildings amongst waist high weeds and he turned into a narrow driveway.

"Here's where you start wondering if you're getting kidnapped," he chuckled.

I laughed and told him I wasn't too worried.

We bounced along a bit further, and came to a stop. To our left we saw an overgrown berry patch that someone had obviously planted at some point in time, judging by the fence around it. We climbed out with our pails and he showed us the best place to pick.

"Whatever you pick in an hour you can have!" He told us. And we set to work with a will.

The sun was hot, and the berries? The berries were beautiful. Nothing like the tiny little things the girls had been picking at home! These were bigger, and much more plentiful.

Picking berries must have taken all of the old fellow's concentration because the stories ceased and we picked in silence. Except for a few mutters of "Ouch" here and there, and him assuring us that we should feel free to trample down the brambles in our way, the only sounds were berries being dropped into buckets.

I'm not sure how long it took us but we soon had the top part of the patch picked, which was all he wanted done as his brother was coming in in a few days and he wanted to save the bottom of the patch for him.

The air conditioning felt awfully good as we situated berry buckets and got ready to leave.

"Are you in a hurry?" he asked me, as he turned his vehicle around.

I assured him we weren't, thinking maybe he had some other errand to run on the way home.

We turned left, instead of right, as we left the narrow lane and I had no idea where this road would come out. But I wasn't too concerned. All the back roads around here connect to places you'd never dream of and, sure enough, we eventually came out to a place I recognized. The only puzzle was, at the stop sign where we should have turned right to go home, he again hooked a left and I watched with interest to see where this would take us. Maybe he needed gas?

Understanding dawned when he pulled in at a little, country drive-in and wondered what we'd like? A rootbeer? An ice cream cone?

It was then that I finally had the presence of mind to recognize a good story when I saw one. As we drove away, with ice cream cones in hand, I grabbed my phone for a hurried snapshot to prove that this all really happened.

We have other things to prove it, of course - purple fingernails, scratches on our legs, delectable raspberries to turn into desserts, and a new friend who's red vehicle we will recognize and wave at when he drives by. I hope the next time he needs berry pickers he comes straight to our door first thing!

I told him to stop by that evening and I'd give him some crumb cake but he insisted he wanted us to have it all.

So we went ahead and enjoyed it ourselves.

And so, that is how the old saying proved true -

You never know what a day

will bring forth.

Where Have You Been?

Bethany, Bethany,

Where have you been?

I've been to Arkansas

To be with family.

Bethany, Bethany,

What did you there?

I sorted through memories

And treasures and more,

And packed box 

Upon box

And heard stories galore.

****

Bethany, Bethany,

Where have you been?

I've been to the Zoo

On a school field trip.

Bethany, Bethany,

What did you there?

I walked and I walked

And I walked some more....

I looked at animals,

I rode the train,

And I came home sunburned

And with legs quite sore.

****

Bethany, Bethany,

Where are you going next?

I'm going with my husband

To celebrate 15 years.

Bethany, Bethany,

What will you do there?

I'll sleep and I'll sleep

And just lounge on a chair!

When You're Losing Your Mind

I'm not sure whether to show my blushing face or pretend to be oblivious. I just realized I accidentally sent my weekly family email to, not only  my family, but also my blog! I deleted the post but that does nothing for those of you who receive my posts via email.... I guess, like Pollyanna, we can be glad that I am now forced to write a blog post.

Sometimes I fear for my future.

Last Thursday I got a phone call saying I could pick up our monthly treat of three loaves of homemade bread that Chris bought at the school auction. "If you can just stop by after picking up your school children it will be ready for you." Sure, no problem.

At 3:20 my phone chimed and my jaw sagged. I was back home with my children and picking up bread had never once crossed my mind!

Friday and Saturday I went along to the Bible Quiz Retreat. Last year I also went with the Antrim crew and arrived there to discover I had left my pan of dessert at home in our fridge. They didn't give up on me - this year I needed to bring two pans. As I lay in bed Thursday night going over Things To Be Done In The Morning I told Chris, do NOT let me forget that dessert!!

We rushed out the door several minutes late Friday morning with me saying, "I feel like I'm forgetting something" and my children telling me, "You always say that, mom!" We were several minutes down the road when it suddenly clicked in my brain, "We forgot the dessert!!!" At least this time we could go back and get it.

If I'm this bad at 37, what will I be like at 50?! This is why I have an alarm set on my phone to go off every morning reminding me to give Chris his pills. It is also the reason I tell my youngest daughter to remind me about the bag of dresses that has been waiting for a month to be taken along to church. Now, it is also the reason I will be double checking who all my next email is being sent to....

A Lady Writes About Women for a Month, You'll Never Believe What Kind of Mother She Really Is!

LRM commented on my last post, "...perhaps there will be some "sequel" posts?? I hope so." Here you go.

The last three mornings I've won the "Worst Getting the Children to School Routine" award - without even trying; it came naturally. It involved lots of ugly things you don't really want to hear about: threats, whining, loud voices, frustrated people, repeated threats, tears.... lots and lots of tears.

God is faithful; sometimes painfully so, as a friend of mine pointed out recently. Less than an hour after posting the  report of my 'take away from this month of blogging', God pointed out some very specific ideas about delighting in my top assignment.

"Is whining about what you should fix for supper every night delighting in your top assignment?"

"What about sighing about getting everyone settled in bed every night before you can lay down your weary head?"

Wellll.... you see, Lord, I'd kinda rather deal in theories here. Do we have to be so specific? I think you know how that conversation went down.

If there's one thing I hate about writing a series, it's worrying that I sound like I know it all. I know I made some single people feel that way, and that only underlines the high possibility that I made a lot of other people feel that way too, in who knows how many ways.

God and Satan have been busily at work in my mind the past couple of days. I find it hard to discern between the two of them some days, ever had that problem? "Now, is that just Satan trying to discourage me and make me believe lies? Or is that God reminding me that I asked to be kept humble, so He's taking me at my word?" Let's just say it's been really easy to live out of my feminine bent towards feelings, rather than facts.

I think maybe it's time to lay all of that aside and ask myself this: "Were you really serious about delighting in your top job assignment? Because if you are, you've got some serious work to do!!" 

I'm searching for someone who is writing a series on, "How to make the rubber meet the road", any leads for me? Extra points if you share personal experiences.......

My Two White Hair

I have a white hair; two of them in fact. I've had them for awhile, actually, and I'm kinda proud of them! At this point, they want to hide under all my other hair and no one gets the benefit of seeing them but me. Recently, I was messing with my hair, trying different hairstyles, just for fun, to see if I couldn't show them off somehow. Then, last night when I was getting ready to go away, lo and behold! the one on the left was laying there, all nice and silvery and exposed, so I carefully left it that way. But I don't think anyone noticed the poor little thing. At any rate, they didn't give it the publicity it deserved.

By now you're all wondering if, at worst, I've lost my mind? Or if, at best, this is some kind of a joke?

I'm totally serious. I'm proud of those two little white hairs; I wouldn't pull them out for anything! Come to think of it, I think I can explain why.

As far back as I can remember, my mom had white hair. I can remember when she had some black hair, but I can't remember her having no white hair. My dad, on the other hand, had no white hair for years. As you can imagine, whether joking or serious, they heard lots of comments on that fact. Was he younger than her? Did he do something to his hair? Obviously mom was doing all the work or all the worrying or taking all the responsibility or something!

I remember the big deal daddy would make about every white hair that, finally, showed up on his head. "Don't pull that thing out!" "Don't cover it up!" "Make sure you don't cut that one!" Finally, he would get some credit for his years of labour, now that the white hair were showing up. He was proud of every new one that made it's appearance.

It makes me laugh when I think of it now, but I suppose that has something to do with my view of white hair. I never could understand why people want to pull them out or cover them up or go to the bother of dying them black again. Maybe it's because I always thought my mom's white hair were beautiful or maybe daddy's little jokes really did make me believe finding the first white hair was an experience to be anticipated.

Whatever the case, to me, white hair are a badge of honor to be carried with pride and that's just what I plan to do with the two white ones on my head.....whether anyone else can see them yet or not!

Thrift Stores and Hit Singers of the 80s

I am blessed to be married to a man who doesn't mind shopping.

 Groceries, clothes, thrift stores...
 you name it,

He's really probably more of a shopper
 than I am!

I had the privilege of riding along with Chris the other day to pick up some things for the house. We stopped at a couple of thrift stores and ate out and discussed all manner of subjects an just generally had a great time.

I must admit that we do go for different things when we shop at thrift stores.

At the first store we stopped at, Chris met me at the cash register with an impish grin.

He knew I would have a fit.

He hit the mother lode of hit Mennonite singers of the 80s in that store!

Oh my lanta.

Check out the dresses...

 Not to mention the shirts...

He found them all, let me tell you.

The beards...

And the no beards...

Gospel Express...

And the all time favorite Schwartz's...

I must say, at 10 cents a piece it was some very cheap entertainment!

To any close friends and relations of these Golden Oldies -

No offense. At all.

And to all of you present day CD makers -

Here is what you have to look forward to.

Some 30 odd years from now a man with a gleeful gleam in his eye will snatch up all your hit albums for 10 cents a piece at some obscure thrift store. He and his wife will probably pick fun at your carefully planned outfits and your cutesy scarfy deals and will almost certainly howl with laughter at your elaborate song endings and fabulous bass. Such is life.

Now if you will excuse me, I have a stack of tapes waiting to be listened to.....