The Maddox Family

Warning

2011-03-16T13:21:00.002-05:00

Could that title be any more dramatic? I just wanted to tell y'all that a friend told me this morning the new site does not automatically feed into google reader. Apparently, you have to add http://thestorywood.com separately. I don't use reader, so I'm unsure how to direct you any farther...I do know there is a little icon that looks like sounds coming out of a megaphone in the top left corner of the new blog screen that has something to do with feedburner (apparently it's linked to google reader).

As long as I'm issuing warnings, let me give you something that really does require a warning...This Youtube video. I am usually the last to hear about these things, but if you haven't seen Antoine Dodson's reaction to his sister's near-rape experience, you should do yourself the favor of watching it {Not that rape is not extremely serious, and I wouldn't be thankful for a brother so willing to...defend me. It's just the way he goes about it...oh my}:

And then, really reward yourself with a good laugh by watching this remix:

So hide yo' kids, hide yo' wife, and hide yo' husbands, causetheyrapin'ereybody out here. And then update your google reader :)

Big Announcement and A Giveaway

2011-03-10T18:01:00.006-06:00

Well, I have some big news... ... ...I have a new website!!!

Everything from this blog has a new home there: http://thestorywood.com/

We could only leave poor Mary Aplin out of the url for so long :) I explain the title on the About page, here.

I can't wait for you to see! And you better run on over and check it out, because I'm doing a giveaway to celebrate the big news.

I've loved this little space, but I hope you'll all follow me over to the new one. I told Kendall today I wasn't sad about it...but now I kinda am.

Good-bye jeremiahabbyandpace.blogspot.com

Trip to Dothan

2011-02-27T18:37:00.005-06:00

The girls were absolute angels for their first airplane trip. I felt like they were old pros.

And besides the fact that I got "felt up" by airport security (Have any of y'all had that happen?! I've heard the jokes but I was not prepared for the, um, intensity and thoroughness. I could not stop laughing the whole time. I was totally inappropriate.) for the sippy cup in my carry-on, the whole experience was uneventful...even fun.

This little baby was marvelous. Thank you for your prayers. I feel sort of ridiculous now about how anxious I was.

It's hard to describe how wonderful it felt to be. home. I stopped in for a visit with my friends in our old neighborhood. I love when familiarity rolls over you like it never skipped a breath.

On our way out of town, Bryan asked us to drop by his studio for him to try out some new lights he'd gotten for taking natural-looking photographs (It was way more technical than that, but that's the gist of what I came away with). We looked a bit bedraggled after a hard day of playing, but I never miss an opportunity to be a part of a A Bryan Photo. He is so awesome. You can see a few of his shots of the girls here. Thank you Bryan! It was a blast and an honor, as always.

Then, we headed down to Dothan. All my sisters came home for the weekend, along with their husbands/boyfriend. This was the first time in a really, really long time, that we've all been under one roof... It felt bizarrely wonderful and normal. Although normal is not what comes to mind here:

Watson was leading everybody in a football workout in the front yard.

I smiled when I saw this rolling by the house. Not something I've seen a whole lot of in Seattle :)

Kendall tried to drop a subtle hint or two to the only remaining "boyfriend" in the group.

I'm not sure he took it quite the way she wanted him to ;)

Sometimes my camera gets hi-jinked. I'm not sure what Taylor was trying to capture here, but I know what it captured for me, "Oh my! Look, there are boys in the backyard with Dad!" It still feels surreal to see the men we all hoped would come one day, be real in this day.

I spent much of the time doing this:

On the phone with Jeremiah, the only one missing to make the joy complete, trying to describe all the houses I'd been seeing.

On Saturday, Dr. Maddox invited our whole big Clark family crew to come out to the farm for a horse drawn wagon ride through the woods.

And they weren't just any horses. Meet Heidi and Maggie:

Two of the cutest Clydesdale horses you'll ever meet.

They're both rescue horses.

And my girls couldn't resist a little time on their backs, despite the availability of a perfectly good wagon.

'Ol girls had quite a heavy load to carry. This isn't even everybody. A total of TEN adults and two chicken wings. Keke baby, we're not in New York.

These guys were staying far away from us. Who could blame them? I wouldn't have wanted to be strapped to our raucous party either.

Dapples and Popon "hemmed and hawwed" us together for a bit.

There was something magnificent about seeing these girls work their way through rough cut wooded trails. They seem like they should be clipping across pavement through a parade. Instead, it felt like we were using them in the way they were made to be used.

Until we wore them out, utterly and completely.

And hopped out and walked for a while to give them a much needed break.

Sashey met us after the ride, so we could meet Coco...

...her new friend who she's trying to train to barrel race.

On their first ride, Coco apparently stopped to try and drink water off the top of the barrel. She's come a long way!

We also celebrated my Dad's 53rd birthday!!!

My Dad with his brother, Uncle Alan. Does anybody else see George W?

We had a huge crowd of extended family, and my Aunt Sheila prepared a Mexican fiesta to satisfy my Mexican-loving heart. Unfortunately, I blanked out on taking pictures. Thankfully, Caroline snapped a few for us.

Grandma and Grandpa made their famous homemade icecream.

I looked at a lot of really wonderful potential homes while we were in Dothan. I'm still excited about what God's going to do...but He hasn't done it yet. I thought He was gonna, but apparently he didn't get my memo with the schedule ;)

This was my lap on the plane ride home. We're all feeling pretty drained, but thankful for sweet family, friends, and home.

I Can't Seem To Resist

2011-02-14T17:12:00.005-06:00

If this is your first year on this blog, you may not know that Valentine's Day is my thing. Truly, in a bit of a psycho-pathic way, I love the heck out of Valentine's Day. I explain how it is that I hate hearts and candy but love V-day, here.

Last year, I loved a lot of people who had loved us throughout the years, in a bread and butter kind of way. The year before, you can see a little bit more of my manic-ness, through all the preparation here and execution here.

I still have on this V-day sweater today, as I did three years ago. It's been part of my V-day uniform for the past five years.

And if you want me to go back farther--old school, we can sometime, over a cup of tea. I bet I could make you laugh pretty hard. Especially if I told stories with Jeremiah sitting beside me, reliving the embarrassment. It's not that I like to embarrass him (which is what it sort of looks like from the outside), it's an issue I have with big love statements...and wanting to make them. I have never had one of those scenes in the airport. You know the slow-motion-run into a kiss so big you don't care who's looking you just drop your bags and make out right there. But I feel like every Valentine's day, I let myself get wound up into wanting to create one of those type moments. I can't help myself. The first one, I attempted in an actual airport. It didn't go so well. I actually posted it-comment form-on someone else's blog recently. If you want to relive my embarrassment, you can, here (I'm the 9th comment down).

So this year, I determined to NOT cave to all the hype. We are flying out in the morning and I could use some Prozac to calm my frazzled nerves. The girls have never flown before, and I'm doing it by myself. Some of our flights have only two seats on each side of the plane...who would you leave by themselves? I'll let you know how THAT goes.

Even with the anxiety, I just could not let the day go without a little V-day ghost action. Especially after Pace said, "Mom, why am I going to school? Valentine's day is about doing things for people you love with your family." That's her Momma's girl. I couldn't disappoint that heritage I've been instilling all these years :) So, I made a simple chocolate brownie cake:

Picked up a CD I thought my Valentine would like and wrote a note (that I hoped would make him blush ;)) in a big red card. Then, we headed to his office--where he'd forbidden us to come. Pace got nervous once we got inside (and I did too). Have you walked through a busy trauma center carrying a heart-shaped cake, and dressed in various shades of pink and red lately? It can be a little unnerving. Pace asked if she could stand outside the office while I took it in. I knelt down to my ghost-in-training and said, "Baby, Valentine's Day is all about making a fool of yourself for the one you love. Be brave!" We did it, and he was sweet and thankful. You'll have to forgive me though...I couldn't add the whopping camera to the embarrassment. I did take a shot in the parking deck:

We got home to find that Daddy had sent us some surprises too:

That man knows me a little too well.

I may or may not be currently eating some of each type...How was I supposed to choose?! Evil gift!

Mrs. Konie and Papa had sent a whole big box of goodies that the girls tore into!!

Hopefully, tonight, I'll be dancing off at least one of the aforementioned cupcakes :) Jeremiah and I have a date, and it's of a very different type. I'd tell you more, but it's a surprise for somebody else who might check this. Hopefully, I'll get some pictures to share later.

Happy V-day!!!

Soaking It Up

2011-02-10T16:15:00.004-06:00

We are soaking. it. up. over here.

What? You may wonder. Or why is my child wallering on the concrete with her feet stretched up in the air? Just trying to take in every last drop of this that we can:

We have had three gorgeous days in a row. And not Jeremiah-kind-of-beautiful days, but REAL blue skies and sunshine.

I can hardly get myself out of a window, even when I'm inside.

I realized how hungry I was for sunlight and blue skies on Monday morning when I was describing an Alabama fall day in my book.

Milton was in the raging height of her fall season, with skies the color of blue flame and as painstakingly bright. Alabama springs are smug in their warm sweetness and demure flowers, but fall brought a beauty that was as sharp as her crisp leaves and nipping winds.

I must of sat there for a solid five minutes trying to think of just the right word to describe the color of the blue skies painted in my memory. I wrote and erased several different phrases, trying to taste the blue of our Southern skies. I had begun to wonder if the blue of the sky really existed or if it was all in my imagination. The next day, I was reminded that they not only exist, they even exist in Seattle.

I wanted to take a break from playing building blocks on the porch with the girls to thank y'all for your prayers. We haven't left town for Dothan yet, but God has already answered your prayers for wisdom for us...in an amazing and vivid way. I'm not ready to tell the story yet, partly because it's not over, but I believe I will be back eventually with a story that will speak of His provision.

God is good, and so is sunshine! We're basking in it all.

A Book and a Song

2011-02-05T12:25:00.004-06:00

My reading has fallen almost to non-existence since we've been in Seattle. My quiet moments (few as they always seem) have been devoted to writing away at my little book or embroidering. The past three days, however, I went on a thrilling reading adventure. It much revitalized a heart in need of being swirled in the delicious whirlwind which only a good book can bring. This is the book: When Knighthood Was in Flower by Edwin Caskoden (pseudonym for Charles Major)

My friend Lanier put me onto it here, and I've learned to trust whatever books she recommends. If you want to read more about it, you should follow Lanier's link. I call this type of writing high Victorian--full of (hard-to-believe but wonderfully refreshing) virtue and (over-the top but oh how it will make your heart swell) love. If you like Augusta Evans, I feel very safe recommending this one to you. If you tend towards the cynic...you might not like it so well.

This is my favorite quote from the book:

I do not mean that Mary was in love, but that she had met, and for the first time felt the touch, yes even the subtle, unconscious, dominating force so sweet to a woman, of the man she could love, and had known the rarest throb that pulses in that choicest of all God's perfect handiwork--a woman's heart--the throb that goes before--the John the Baptist, as it were, of coming love.

I love it partially because I know precisely what it means, having experienced it myself. When I first met Jeremiah I knew, I just knew, he was the one God had been protecting me for. I had never told a boy I loved him before Jeremiah, because I knew I was still waiting for something that had not been given to me yet. However, on a summer night in May, sitting on the tailgate of a white Dodge truck, with stars reflecting off the little pond we were pondering I heard the words, "I love you, and you don't have to say anything back, but I do." And finally, a heart who had been waiting for, what seemed like forever, could finally burst forth and answer back, "I love you, too."

He may have said the words first, but his heart was not the John the Baptist of the rest of our dating relationship. There was actually one point when I worked up the nerve to tell him, "I know you're the one, I've always known, and I'm just waiting for the time." I was answered by silence. "Do you not feel the same way?" And his answer, "I can't say that for sure." Oh there were some dark days on our road! But don't all good love stories suffer twists and turns and snags?

Before the days of iPods and iTunes--even before Napster!--Jeremiah used to call and leave songs on my voice mail. I would rush out to my car each day after school, to see what message he had left. The first song he left on my phone was John Denver's "I'd Rather be A Cowboy." When he started recording, the words were saying this:

We were just beginning it was such an easy way. Layin' back up in the mountains makin' songs for sunny days.

It was a perfect description of how this springtime beginning to our relationship felt, and if you could have seen me in my car as I listened to those words, you would have thought my face was going to break off if my smile grew any larger. However, if you know the song (you can listen here if you like) you know that it quickly makes a turn for the worse:

She got tired of pickin' daisies, and cookin' my meals for me. She can live the life she wants to, yeah, it's alright with me. I think I'd rather be a cowboy. I think I'd rather ride the reigns. I think I'd rather be cowboy, than to lay me down and love the lady's chains.

Now, as a man who loves music for music's sake, I now know he was just taken up by the song and wanted to share it with me. As a woman who listens to music for poetry's sake--searching for hidden meaning everywhere--I thought I was being broken up with over voicemail.

Anywho, we worked that one out, and that song has become one of our absolute favorites, partly because it expresses a deep desire that we've been fostering since those very first days together. The idea of wanting the freedom of fresh air and open spaces--

I'd rather live on the side of a mountain, than wander through canyons of concrete and steel. I'd rather laugh with the rain and sunshine, then lay down my sun down in some starry field...

And there have been moments, during all of this long medical training, when I've reminded him of those very words. When I've said, "I can't do this any more. I just want you. Can't we just go live in the woods somewhere. I'll learn how to garden, I swear!"

But now, we're almost through. Almost finished with the training, and we stand here still feeling a lot like those two kids who wanted nothing more than to disappear to a mountainside together,...but we also feel like two adults who have learned that we value and need community. We have signed a contract to move back to Dothan--I don't think I've told y'all that yet. We are so, so very excited to move back home, but are feeling really torn about where God wants us to put down our roots when we get there. I'm flying home with the girls next week to look at houses. Pray for me friends! It's such an exciting time in our lives, but pray for us if you will. That God will make it clear what His plan is because, ultimately--land or no land, community or countryside, we want desperately to be in His will.

Light Heart

2011-01-25T09:00:00.000-06:00

After the last couple of blogs, I thought we might could all do with a happy one :)! Not that they haven't been happy...just maybe some light-hearted happiness. What could be more light-hearted than flying a kite...and eating chocolate?

This Sunday was a typical Seattle day:

I have laughed at Jeremiah, because he's started calling these days "beautiful." I hear him on the phone all the time saying, "Yeah, it's beautiful here today!" I look out the window, thinking maybe I missed something. When I question his truthfulness he says, "Baby, it's all relative." I guess he's right. Rain is not actually falling and for us, that's a beautiful thing.

So on this beautiful Sunday morning, while I was getting the girls dressed for church, Jeremiah packed us a picnic lunch and threw the kite that the girls got for Christmas into the back of his car. After the church service we went to Gasworks Park to have a picnic and fly a kite.

I'm really glad Jeremiah didn't tell us the plan, otherwise I would have taken play clothes for the girls and I wouldn't have gotten these shots of the adorable dresses that Moogie and Sashey gave them for Christmas. I love the bright colors of their dresses and the grass against the charcoal sky...That's one good thing about this weather.

(I think the dresses came from here, but my MIL got them at a little shop in Dothan, AL, and I didn't find them on the website, so I'm just not 100% sure.)

Some new, and already dear, friends of ours joined us. They have a little girl named Hannah.

Can you tell they're from the South too? Most people in Seattle don't dress their kids in cutesy dresses. You can pick us out pretty quick around here.

After the kite flying, we were all nearly frozen (I didn't know to bring play clothes OR jackets), so we went to a coffee shop to warm up. And then, we went to a chocolate factory just down the road. We'd heard about Theo, but never gotten to experience it for ourselves.

You can smell warm chocolate as you walk down the sidewalk. It's almost impossible not to go in.

And then, piles and piles and piles of free chocolate for the sampling...it was like a dream.

Thanks for all your sweet comments on the last blog. I love y'all. Thanks for sharing in our lives and adding a beautiful richness. Happy week!

An Undeserved Answer to a Hard Question

2011-01-21T19:11:00.005-06:00

"Why did you tell us, and others, that you were going to heal Mom, and then not do it?" That question has been the root of some bitterness in my life for the past three years. You see, we (as in my family) believed God told us, members of our community, and even strangers that this was His plan for my Mom. He was going to heal her of the Ovarian cancer she had been battling for 13 years, and it was going to be miraculous, and it was going to be an earthly healing. We clung to that and believed it, until she took her last breath...and then we waited with one eye open to be sure He wasn't going to raise her from the dead.

I would have thought my belief in God would have been shattered over such an occurrence, but it wasn't. He had been too present during the fight, He'd held me too tightly for me to question His existence...or even His goodness. What was shattered was my faith. I still believed He had the power to heal, but I certainly wasn't planning to claim that healing for anybody else (or myself) ever again. I was happy for other people to claim it, I would even encourage them to do so, but I was done believing God for anything big in my life. It left me too vulnerable.

Then, I moved to Seattle and became desperate for the fellowship of other women and God. I missed Him and the good grind of knowing Him more deeply. So, I invited a few different women that I'd met here to do a study in our home, and I called my sister Kendall. Kendall's boyfriend's Mom (are you still following me, that's Watson) was one of my Mom's dearest friends in all the world--Mrs. Abby. She also collects Beth Moore Bible studies that she lends out to others. I asked Kendall if Mrs. Abby would be willing to lend me one. I didn't specify. Any 'ol Beth Moore study was fine with me. What did she send?...Believing God--experience a fresh explosion of faith. And Mrs. Abby added the note that it was the last study she and Mom ever did together.

Crap. That was my thought. It would be rude to send this back, but CRAP. I don't want to talk about faith; it's too sensitive. I don't want to dredge up old feelings about Mom; I'm not ready for that. However, I do know Him well enough to notice that He often asks of me things that I don't particularly like. The good lessons are never padded with satin and wrapped with a ribbon. So I opened by barbed-wire covered package and I stepped out--on the little bit of faith I'd managed to salvage.

On Day TWO of the study, we reached the scripture I was dreading the most. Hebrews 11:11 was probably the most quoted Scripture in our household for the last few months of Mom's life:

By faith Abraham, even though he was past age -- and Sarah herself was barren -- was enabled to become a father because he considered him faithful who made the promise.

God had given Mom this verse and we claimed it with her over and over. God was going to heal her, even against how bleak it all looked--because she considered Him faithful who made the promise. The verse still pierces my heart.

However, on day two of this study, facing my dread, I read on and God broke truth over my heart like a sparkling wave of light. If you read on, verses 13-16 say this:

All these people were still living by faith when they DIED. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw then and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country--a heavenly one. [Emphasis mine]

Tears were streaming down my face as I realized what He was telling me, and as I sat there the sun, the literal sun, broke through the clouds on this rainy Seattle Saturday--on a day when the cloud-cover was so thick I would have thought it impossible--and the warm sun suddenly spilled all over my face. It was a hug from God. Pure and bright and palpable.

I wrote down what He spoke to me, and I wrote it just like He was saying it. I felt like a secretary trying to scratch it all down so that I didn't miss a word. He said:

She wasn't wrong. You weren't wrong. You did what I required, what pleases me. You had faith to believe what I promised, but I gave her a choice. The free-will that is also my gift. And she chose me...she loves you but not more than ME. What would all that journey have been worth if she didn't? I foreknew the choice she would make and the promise is completed now. She is healed. She is healed and if she had chosen the promises' fulfillment to have been made on earth, I would have gladly given her that as well. But once I'd brought her to the place where I wanted her, the place where her heart desired me more than anything else--then the earthly healing no longer seemed so important. Who wants the shadow when offered the substance?

Now I need you to understand this. To bind it on your heart. I need more than the quarter of a mustard seed you walked away from this experience with. You've been content to tuck that in your pocket. I need you to take it out now. I'm ready to grow it.

My Love and Hate of Handmade Gifts

2011-01-13T16:53:00.005-06:00

I love handmade gifts. I cherish the time the giver takes to conceive the idea and then craft it with love. I love to be the giver of a handmade gift--committing a part of myself to someone else and anticipating the love with which it will be received.

I also hate handmade gifts :). I've already shared my grinch-y-ness with y'all over the Christmas season. I thought Jeremiah was going burn all the nightgowns up before I could finish embroidering them and demand his wife back. I still have two to finish, and we're eeking up on the middle of January (don't tell Jeremiah--he thinks I've abandoned the projects).

I've admitted something else this Christmas season--I love store-bought gifts too. Especially when they come from clothing stores ;). If you've been around long you know that shopping doesn't fit into our residency/fellowship budget. This year, I acknowledged the anticipation I hold for Christmas to bring a MUCH needed spark to my wardrobe. Having a handful of new items to mix in with the old faithfuls makes a WORLD of difference. For Pace and Mary Aplin, who outgrow their clothes between seasons, it's more a state of necessity than desire for a few new items. When a once long-sleeve shirt goes past three-quarter length and begins inching close to the elbow, it's time for a new shirt.

While I'm extremely excited about handmade and non-handmade gifts from this year, I've taken pictures of the handmade ones to share with you:

My Mom's friend, Kendall Boggs, is an artist and I won this in a giveaway on her blog--sort of. Somebody else was actually drawn to win, but she gave me one too. I love it, and I'm counting it as a homemade Christmas present. You should check out some of her other artwork--here.

Alex, Jeremiah's baby sister, made this collage of pictures for us. Jeremiah's Grandmother Maddox made GI-normous picture collages of their family throughout the years. When Jeremiah and I were dating, I used to stand in front of them and love seeing the changes grow across the wall--from three little boys and a young preacher with his wife, to teenage boys with their girlfriends and, later, wives. Grandchildren playing baseball and riding horses--you could see the whole family grow up before your eyes. It was a big day for me when I finally made a debut in one of those collages! One small picture of Jeremiah and me at the first concert we ever went to together. And now, Allie, I feel like I have been truly inaugurated! Our very own family collage. Grandmother would be so proud :)

Taylor took that favorite picture of Mom that I shared in the last blog and did an "acetate transfer" (don't tell Taylor, but I have no idea what that means). I think the vintage and whimsical look that created is fascinating,

especially when paired with a "love you" written in Mom's own hand-writing...

From one tear-jerker to the next! It was sort of a weepy Christmas around here :)

Caroline was going through Mom's sewing kit, and she found a poem written on this needlepoint canvas.

It says:

Abby Catherine, bundle of joy,

Tiny and helpless, beautiful to see.

How did you come to belong to me?

Little hands that hold on tight,

Sweet small mouth to kiss goodnight.

Growing, growing every day,

If only you could stay this way.

In need of me for everything,

Hold you close and softly sing.

Jesus loves you this I know,

Designed you, formed you, and watched you grow.

Dimpled grins are all in fun,

When up your back the angles run.

Chinkypen eyes sent to me from above,

Abby, you'll always have my love.

May, 14 1982

Still crying every time I read it.

Nice to know she really loved that honeymoon accident...

I vaguely remember her reading me this poem that she wrote for me as a baby. I remember asking her why she thought it kind to call my small eyes "chinkypen." (I hope nobody is offended by what seems like a racial slur to me as an adult :) Apparently, she thought it was a compliment fit for her newborn!) I also have a very vague recollection of her telling me she loved to run her fingers up the angles of my back, and watch the way I wriggled and grinned under her touch.

Caroline learned to needlepoint, so that she could finish this project for me, that Mom started so many years ago.

And finally, those embroidered nightgowns. Pretty sure I promised Caroline I was photographing the nightgown and not her face. Pretty sure I assured her I wouldn't post any of her face...I lied :)

The quote says: "Is solace anywhere more comforting than in the arms of a sister." I felt like that quote captured perfectly the last three years for the four of us.

The back. That deep fold is the zipper running down the middle of the back of the dress.

Caroline and her sweet mother-in-law, Mrs. Melinda, sewed all these nightgowns for me. I adore them and am so thankful for smart people who can turn ideas into substance with a sewing machine. I am a pitiful seamstress, but I do love to embroider.

Unfortunately, I didn't take pictures of all the nightgowns (four down, two to go), and they're all a little different. However, here is a close-up of Taylor's.

The non-handmade gifts will be appearing on the blog as well...as we wear them out :)

Game Day!

2011-01-10T12:30:00.006-06:00

I woke up this morning wishing I had a friend I could shout "War Eagle!" to (Thanks Darby, for not thinking I'd lost my mind when I couldn't resist the urge). I dressed the girls for gameday, and mourned all the years I've spent rolling my eyes at how the entire state of Alabama shuts down when there's a big game.

Tonight, we have community group at our house and I didn't know how to break it to my house full of non-football fans that...I wanted to watch a bunch of grown men knocking each other down instead of talking about a sermon tonight. Back home, it would have been assumed. There would have been a note in the church bulletin canceling all community groups for Monday night and encouraging everybody to just get together for fellowship instead...Nobody seemed to know that here.

So now, I hope my family (who considers me the puniest football fan who ever lived) is getting a good laugh over my brave attempt to turn my cherished community group into a tailgate party.

The group, however, is officially on-board (though I'm not sure they understand why) and have even agreed to bring tailgate food (though they had to ask me what, exactly, that was :)).

Look for Watson Downs #51!! Kendall's sweet boyfriend who offered us his seats in the football family section of the game...and now I'm wondering how/why in the world we didn't take out a loan and GO!!!

War Eagle!!!!

(This is my favorite picture of my Mom--and it's her on the field cheering for Auburn)

The Similarities and Differences of the Clark Girls

2011-01-04T09:10:00.004-06:00

We may not have gotten to go home for Christmas, but we did get to spend close to a week with my three sisters and two brother-in-laws here in Seattle.

What a precious gift!

Our house is not the place to come for a relaxing vacation. We love the city much too much to allow anybody to sit still for long around here. So, we wore each other slam out, but I'm pretty sure we made some memories we will never forget.

I've been thinking about how I want to word this post...we didn't do many things new--that I've never blogged about before--so I don't really want to just throw the pictures up and tell you what we're doing. I've decided to tell you instead some things that I learned about my sisters on this trip. It's funny what can be made new when you haven't gotten to experience the day-to-day with someone for a long time. Yes we change some, but more than that I think time away affords you room to see small things that have been left unappreciated all along.

How about we go in birth order? I am the oldest. A honeymoon baby and an utter accident :) There are four and a half years between Taylor and I, and then the next three happened all in a row. I think that partly because of this age gap, partly because of my personality, and partly because it's just the way it normally goes with the oldest child in a big family--I've always been the mother hen.

The settler of arguments and the meeter (what a great word that is) of needs. I admitted something about my past self to my sisters this weekend, and I'm not sure they thought it nearly as big a revelation as I found it to be. We were re-living memories when the old "You never wanted us to be around you or your friends," joke came up. It is true, and I feel bad about it now, but they are right. I spent my childhood trying to be away from them, and I feel like I've spent my adulthood giving anything to be close to them. This is not knew knowledge, however.

What became clear as we perused some funny memories was that I resented them. I was always in charge, always telling them them "no," and my summers seemed like one very, very long babysitting job that I never got paid to do. It wasn't that I was just some angst-filled teenager that wanted my peace and quiet, I was angry at the responsibility they were to me. Whew, nice to get that out and move forward!

Taylor, number 2:

The defender of the family. I've mentioned before that I can have a scrappy nature. However, if I really had a problem with anybody, I'd call Taylor. We have a story that sort of sums this up. One night, Mom and all four of us girls were staying at my house in Birmingham. It was not long after a string of robberies had occurred in our neighborhood and everybody was feeling a bit on edge as we went to sleep. In the night, we were all awakened by a loud sound outside (I still don't know what it was), and Taylor's immediate response was to jump out of bed and cry, "I'll fight to my death!"

I still laugh out loud every time I think about it.

This is how riled her spirit became at the thought of harm coming to any one of us. She is always the one I call if I get my feelings hurt. By the end of our conversation, I end up excusing away the injustice in order to calm her down. It's a great way to get over things. It is NOT great, however, to be the one IN a fight with Taylor. All three of us have been there as well :)

Caroline, number 3:

The eternal optimist. To Caroline, there is no problem that is not fixed with a simple answer. There is no bad day that will not surely be followed by a better one. If life seems like a burden to carry, I call Caroline. She always has a little sunshine to shower on it.

Throughout childhood she was known as "The Aggravater." Most poignant example was when she found Kendall crying in her room one day after getting in trouble. Caroline slid softly up to her side in, what looked like, an effort to console her little sister. Instead what we heard was, "You know what else, Kendall? I have your baby..." To which Kendall wailed all the more loudly. Sometimes, we still see this tendency creep up. Like this week when she sang the most random and annoying songs out loud, just long enough to get them stuck in our head, and then stopped. Over and over.

Kendall, number 4 (I feel the need to say that this glamour shot photo is a joke):

The surprising chameleon. I've been chewing hard on this one. I think if you asked any of the three of us, we'd probably say we have the most in common with and argued the least growing up with--Kendall. I feel like she's taken us all in over the past 21 years--she observed the good and the bad that we were all making a big deal over, and she quietly picked up the things around her that she liked and did it herself, without all the fuss the rest of us made.

For example, graduating from Houston Academy (my college prep high school)...nearly killed me. The drama show I must have been over my chemistry tests and Calculus exams! Then, a few years later, Kendall just graduated, and I realized I'd never heard her complain. She's still doing it. I feel like she sneaks up beside each one of us and can truly celebrate whatever is happening in our lives--partially because she just does whatever we're stressing over doing.

And she's pretty fun too :)

Time with the three people who know my core more innately than anyone else, is always a joy. The surprising new blessing in all of our lives, however, is the addition of brothers.

I would say that if I thought about it at all in the past, it was to dread there being men in our lives that would come in and disrupt our sweet sisterly communion. I could never have imagined the gift it would be to have these new additions. I feel extraordinarily blessed by God to not only love but enjoy my brother-in-laws. I love to see the parts of my sisters they draw out,

and the similarities they recognize in the four of us that often we cannot see.

Unfortunately, they have also formed a support group for "Men who have to deal with the Clark girls," but they at least help us laugh at out short-comings as we recognize them. And they are also committed to loving us deeply as they help us reign in these sin natures.

And don't think we don't dish it back to them as well :)

Thank you Taylor, John David, Caroline, Riley, and Kendall for taking the time and expense to come and be with us. We love you so much!! and I can't think of any other way I'd rather have started 2011...

Merry Christmas from Pace and Mary Aplin

2010-12-27T14:37:00.006-06:00

I'm sorry to all you blog readers, who I know don't care about seeing picture after picture of our children opening presents :). These, however, are for our family. Thank you, thank you for the time and effort it took to send little pieces of you to us on Christmas morning. You seasoned Seattle with love, and we are so thankful.

Wow, this a lovely one of me! I did go to AUBURN and not Samford. This just happens to be the only sweatshirt in our house. Did I steal it from you Allie?

"Daddy, if you want me to tell the Christmas story I can. I did memorize it."

"Could we please stop telling the Christmas story over and over and just open a few presents?"

Aren't we sassy?

I love this lipgloss so much, I could eat it...oh wait, she is eating it.

"Oh the ballet costume I've been asking for for so very long! This is seriously graceful business."

Or...maybe not always so graceful :)

We were treated to dinner Christmas night in our dear friends' home.

And I haven't eaten at any restaurant in Seattle that had food this good.

Merry, Merry.

Have I Really Been Gone THAT Long?

2010-12-21T15:32:00.006-06:00

I do this every year. I get overwhelmed by Christmas--to the point of breakdown,--and I write lots of blogs in my head but cannot find the time to sit down at a computer. I feel like I start earlier every year and STILL never have enough time. A lot of the problem is that I've tried to go handmade for all the girls in my family the last couple of years. I can't wait to show you pictures of the some of the finished products, but would you believe that I have not completed these projects that I started a YEAR AND A HALF ago?! They were supposed to be given last Christmas, have now been deferred to this Christmas, and Jeremiah looked at me a couple days ago and said, "Step away from that needle {I am embroidering, not doing drugs in case anybody is worried :)} and go buy however many presents you haven't finished. You can give them the finished projects whenever they're done, but I can't live with you being the Grinch any longer."

It's sad. I really, really love embroidering. I love thinking about and praying for the gift's recipient as I stitch away. I love the sea of color choices and deciding on just the right combination each time. I love watching a project go from nothing to something finished (since there are so few things in my life as a Mom that are ever finished). I love the order provided by each little stitch paired with the creativity of the whole picture. I love the books on CD I listen to as I work...I JUST HATE HOW SLOW I AM AND HOW FEW HOURS ARE IN A DAY!

And now, as though I were not struggling enough, I fell this weekend and broke my butt. No really, you read correctly. It feels like my tail bone is shattered into a million tiny pieces--even though Jeremiah won't let me go to the ER and get an X-ray to prove just how seriously injured I am, because he says there's nothing anybody can do about it even if it is shattered. "Do you want me to make you a butt cast?" He's offered several times, with much too much of a smile.

It happened this weekend in Leavenworth (which is where all these pictures were taken). We went for the town lighting ceremony, a little sledding, and some hot chocolate.

I was staying safe, taking pictures on the sidelines, when baby girl Dapples got cold and wanted to be held by her Mommy. My strong-willed child so rarely wants to be cuddled, that I jumped at the opportunity--even with slick cowboy boots, standing on ice, with a camera around my neck. As I took a cautious step down a very tiny but icey hill, both feet went straight into the air and my arms gripped Dapples more tightly instead of breaking my fall. My coccyx took the brunt of it all, and I am truly wondering if I'll ever walk, sit, or lie down comfortably again. It happened Sunday evening, and on Monday morning the pain was so bad, I passed out twice just trying to get out of bed. I am not kidding--and I've never passed out in my life. Take care of your butt. It seems pretty useless until you can't use it :)

Fortunately, Jeremiah's best friend Tommy has been here visiting us. Bless his heart, he came for a manly adventure in Washington and yesterday he went to the grocery store, cleaned my house, and entertained my children for much of the day. I love you Tommy Tolleson!

I hope I'll be back soon, but considering how bad it has hurt to sit and write this post, I'm not making any promises. I'll leave you with our Christmas card. The front picture is from the Christmas tree cutting adventure and the back picture is the girls' awe at waking to find the city covered in snow.

Designed by Whitney--my best friend since second grade. If you'd like to order from her next year, give me your email and I'll pass it on to her. Thanks Wee!! We love them!

MERRY, MERRY CHRISTMAS BLOG FRIENDS!!!

Romans 7:19 At Work

2010-12-09T12:18:00.003-06:00

{Keke, my little sister, talked to Santa about sending the girls some elves--to work mischief in our house throughout the rest of the Christmas season. They arrived via the chimney this morning, and these pictures are of that and some shots of this morning's breakfast. Food on faces, squinty eyes and all. At what age are they going to be mad at me for posting these kind of pictures of them?}

For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do NOT want to do--this I keep on doing. Romans 7:19, emphasis mine

This child. This child has been giving me fits.

It's as though things I thought we mastered at 12 months age, now, at 3 YEARS seem to be giving her trouble again. She does things...like playing in the toilet water, rubbing my face lotion (my one big extravagance in my make-up bag) in her hair, writing all over her legs with markers, knocking an entire row of shampoo bottles over in the grocery store, or jumping from the TOP of the couch-back and hitting her forehead on the coffee table--you can see the bruise remnants below.

When you add this behavior to the fact that she is pathologically clumsy, and falls somewhere around 1,425 times per day, I am not sure how she is going to survive much longer.

One of yesterday's falls happened at a most inopportune time. Before I exercise, I try to get my day's tasks started and the house decently straight (as in my bed made and the dishes in the sink), and everybody dressed...which means I rarely make it out of the door before lunch-time. It had been a particularly frustrating morning with the Dapples. The morning began with her standing up beside her chair at breakfast and just peeing all over the floor. "Oh, OK! Mary Aplin. Let me get that for you! Don't worry about the fact that I asked you 30 seconds ago if you needed to go potty?! If the floor's more convenient, then go right ahead."

As I'm Cloroxing the mess and getting her pajamas in the washing machine, I hear mother-Pace reassuring her, "Don't worry Mary Aplin, you're not going to get a spanking."

"Pace, you are not the Mom and are not allowed to decide when spankings will or will not be administered."

Mary Aplin also managed to perform a handful of the above tasks before I had them out of the door in warm coats, mittens on hands, blanket ready, and Locks rigged to a belt because I couldn't find his leash--All this so that I could take a run and work off some of the morning's frustrations?

There is an incredibly steep hill that I have to climb right out of our driveway. The girls wanted to walk up it (Praise the Lord!), so I pushed an empty double stroller to the top of the hill before they climbed in. As soon as they sat down, I noticed something was wrong. I couldn't move the stroller forward at all. I looked down to find one of the tires was "wallering around on the rim" kind of flat. Ugghhh. "Get out girls, I have to go back to the house and try to put some air in this tire."

As we headed back down the mountain towards our house, I hear a scream of pain behind me and turn to see Dapples, face plant number 435 of the day, on harsh concrete. In a panic I attempt to throw the stroller break on and toss Locks' belt/leash to Pace. I turn and sprint towards my screaming victim and then hear, "MOM!" out of Pace's mouth. I swivel mid-stride and see the double stroller picking up speed as it hurtles towards Pace and Locks, then gets turned because of the flat tire (thank goodness, sort of) and tumbles into the road. The shock of taking the curb flips the stroller, scattering my phone and car keys into the road as well. All of this, in front of a mini-van climbing up the road.

I gave up the run and we went back to the house and ate grilled cheese sandwiches instead.

While the falling incident was obviously not Dapple's "fault," there are so many other things that ARE. However, the baffling thing about Mary Aplin is that you can NOT stay mad at her. Two minutes after she gets in trouble, she'll come and tap on the side of my leg. I look down to the face blotchy with crying and wet with tears and she says, "Torry Mommy" (we've got a little lisp), just before she clutches my leg in a tight hug and cries harder. Over and over I hear Romans 7:19 play in my head as I go down to my knees and take her into a proper hug. My heart turns into a puddle as I feel her real penitence and recall all the times God has offered me Grace for "the evil I do not want to do--this I keep on doing."

Surely, she will never play in toilet water again...at least not for fifteen minutes :)

Bama Belles and Another Brush with Fame

2010-12-06T16:49:00.005-06:00

Did y'all watch? Jeremiah and I certainly did. I think it's the first time we've sat down and watched any television show (except for the occasional Saturday Night Live) since the second season of Grey's Anatomy (when dead lovers started coming back to life, we decided it was time to hang it up :)).

I have gotten several calls, emails, and texts today asking me what I thought. For anybody out there who cares...I was pleasantly surprised. I think it showed women, from different walks of life, who live in the South. We aren't all the same, and I am thankful for the differences. My biggest fear was that only one walk of life would be represented--ignorant red-neck. While

there was an element of that, I feel like TLC made an effort to show that everybody is not that way. That's all I ask.

Did some of these situations seems contrived?--Absolutely. But what do most of us do when it's 100 degrees and 100% humidity on a summer day? You keep your butt in the air conditioning as much as possible. Would that make for entertaining television? I think that the girls were doing activities that were true to at least one member of the group, and the rest were going along to see what happened. As far as reality show scripting goes, I'd say that's pretty mild.

Obviously, I'm no judge of what makes good television, but I was entertained last night. I laughed out loud when Melissa was a frantic mess before her company arrived, only to turn around and greet her visitors minutes later with fresh make-up, a big smile, and the most loving welcome known to man. I felt like I was re-watching a scene from my childhood--baffled at how my Mom could be screaming at us one minute and loving on a visitor

the next. I wanted to hug Jana in all her vulnerability, and I wanted to take her Mother-in-law out back and have a word with her. I thought Josh looked very handsome, and I'm wondering how in the world they're going to spin the whole drama with him.

There were moments that made me cringe, but all in all, I thought it was...good. About the lives and struggles, vulnerabilities and strengths, and funny hobbies of a group of (mostly) Southern women.

On a whole different subject, I need to do a little bragging. Watson Downs, who I babysat throughout my teenage years and who my little sister has been dating since eighth grade, made the final tackle in Auburn's SEC Championship win Saturday night!!!! I was so proud I could have burst!!! If anybody wants to watch, it's in the last 20 seconds of this two minute video. He's number 51.

War Downs Eagle, baby!!!!

A Television Show and Some Questions Answered

2010-12-03T12:20:00.003-06:00

I've debated whether or not to share this...but I've determined to go ahead. My hometown and my brother-in-law will be making a television debut this Sunday night (9 pm central time) on TLC's new reality series, Bama Belles.

Why have I debated sharing?! you must wonder. I love Josh (and Jana is great--one of the girls on the show who I knew in Dothan), but I am terrified of what kind of spin TLC is going to try and put on a place that I love. When one of the two promotional videos is about lawn mower racing and men without teeth...you have to be a little leery.

The other promo video shows my very handsome brother-in-law, who is indeed a "real live cowboy!" But something about the way they call him that in the clip, makes me cringe. Josh was recently voted PCA (did anybody else know that stood for Professional Cowboy Association?) rookie of the year for steer wrestling--or Bulldoggin' as they call it. It's a serious sport and he has an amazing talent for it--VIDEO (Obviously, all those are not him. You can pick him out by his white cowboy hat or big hair :)). As long as they show him for what he is--a talented, tough, intelligent and multi-faceted guy...

As long as I'm able to laugh at our Dothan red-neck side... No matter what it should be entertaining, and they shot several scenes at Jeremiah's family farm. My homesick heart can't wait to see that at least.

Second, my camera. I am so flattered by the emails I've gotten lately, asking for my photography/camera advice. I love to take pictures, and I feel like the creative gift I've always envied (painting, which I can not do AT ALL) is partially (very partially) granted to me when I capture just the right shot. However, while I love to take pictures, I know VERY VERY little about the craft.

When I first got my DSLR a little over a year ago, Darby gave me some quick lessons on ISO and made the suggestion that I get pictures in natural light as much as possible and rarely turn on my flash. I only use a flash if its pitch dark, and I think that is wonderful advice. My friend Bryan, who is a top-knotch professional photographer and lived across the street from me in Birmingham, tried to give me a few pointers, but to be honest, they all went right over my head. For some reason, camera lingo baffles me.

My camera is a Nikon D3000. My Dad has the nicer D90, but I honestly like mine better. I find it more user friendly (they make it work for the dummies they know will buy them), and it is slightly smaller (so it fits better in my hands and feels less awkward to shoot). My lens is a Tamron 28-75mm, F/2.8 that Jeremiah's Mom gave me for my birthday. It is great for low-light pictures.

I do edit all the pictures I put on the blog. I use Aperture now, but for a long time I just used iPhoto on my Mac and before that a rando program that came with my PC. I think that editing makes a HUGE difference, but all I usually do is add (or occasionally take away) exposure, contrast, and saturation and you can do that with basically all editing programs (I think).

Lastly, I want you all to notice the Cranberry salad in the foreground of the picture of all of us at Thanksgiving dinner. I meant to point this out in the last post and Darby recently reminded me.

The recipe is hers, and it is delicious but I was not at a congealed salad kind of Thanksgiving. I had never been to a Thanksgiving where something congealed and filled with festive cranberries was not appropriate, but the sight of my Tupperware gleaming on the crystal filled table, still makes me want to crawl underneath the table. Our hostess, in an attempt to be kind, put my salad in a place of honor on the table (all the other food was on a side table in earthenware beautifuls). During the pictures and the prayer, all I wanted to do was snatch it back off the table and hide it. Oh well, it looked a bit ridiculous, but it's yummy taste made up for it.

I meant to spend five minutes on this post. What happened?!

Some Things You Only Get to Do Once

2010-11-30T08:49:00.004-06:00

This was the first Thanksgiving I've ever spent away from my family. I was apprehensive as we approached this holiday, especially since it coincided with my Mom's birthday. How would this be?

Dr. Chapman, one of the attendings that Jeremiah works with, invited us to join he and his wife's family for Thanksgiving dinner. I was thankful to have a plan--somewhere to be for the big day, but I was apprehensive about spending a holiday with people we had never met.

We found, as I am discovering over and over in our experience out here (and our road trip out), that when you allow life to just happen it can be surprisingly beautiful. We spent Thanksgiving here:

A farm in North Bend Washington, blanketed in snow. The Damazo/Chapman family welcomed us in a way that is still blowing my mind. They were fascinating--full of life experiences of which we were allowed glimpses--bronze sculpting, building a state-of-the-art free dental clinic in Kenya, fox hunting in England, mosaic art, running a horse farm, cooking gourmet meals,...my mind was in a blur the whole evening trying to take it all in. I imagined we would be dropping in as interlopers in another family's whirlwind, and instead, I found myself being served (by some very sweet children) a candle-lit meal with things like truffle-cream sauce over my turkey. Where were all the casseroles?! :) Were my children going to break the crystal? And how in the world did we get admitted to this grand evening? Dr. Chapman served us a variety of his favorite wines while his sweet daughters took my little chicken wings upstairs to play after the meal.

It was intimate and elegant and fascinating, and while I missed our family and my Mom like crazy, I felt blessed to be able to experience a new kind of Thanksgiving.

Ready for a gear switch? On Saturday after Thanksgiving we had another kind of all new experience--cutting down our own Christmas tree. Here in Washington, for a mere ten dollars, you can purchase a permit to troop out into the wilderness and chop down your very own tree. Is anybody else picturing Clark Griswold?

As we pulled off the exit ramp that Jeremiah had chosen for our tree extravaganza, I looked to the right and left and felt terror grip my heart. Sheer panic. I love my husband, and I trust him to take care of us, but when we are in a car and there is snow all over the roads, I do NOT trust him to keep us from getting stuck in it. I see this glint in his eye from all those Saturdays spent "mudding" in high school, and I know there is some part of him that just wants to slide all over the place. I began rationing out the picnic lunch I'd packed in my mind, wondering how long the four of us could survive on it after we were stuck in the wilderness in the snow.

Needless to say, we had a few scary moments (we had to help dig another family's car out the snow, and did a little spinning out), but we managed to make it out without having to ration our picnic--although we didn't enjoy it quite as I had anticipated...

Fifty degrees in Seattle, but thirty minutes outside the city was beyond my scope of planning.

We hiked a magnificent wooded trail, occasionally being sprinkled with snow, and in awe of the quiet peacefulness of a snow-covered wood. I know I will never forget that walk. Miraculously, I never felt cold but I saw streams tumbling over ice capped boulders

and a forest of evergreen trees with boughs drooping from the weight of their white mantles.

As we walked and waited for the glorious moment when Our tree would reveal its face, something changed in our spirits. We discovered we'd made a rookie mistake in buying the 12-foot and under permit. Who needs a tree taller than that, right? However, when you're talking about undergrowth in a forest, anything under 12 feet is, ummm, scanty at best. If we had paid $10 more, we could have felled a 20-foot tree and used the plump top half as our Christmas tree, but there were strict rules (and steep fines) for cutting outside the boundaries of your permit. We went from looking for the perfect tree...to looking for a tree that would support lights.

We sent Jeremiah down into a sun-filled gully, in hopes that some of that undergrowth might have grown some branches on more than one side.

I wish you could have heard how hard we've laughed over this dilemma. I am normally OCD crazy woman about the most perfect, most full Christmas tree on the lot...and here I was just praying for a tree with more than two branches.

I stayed back on the trail with the girls while he disappeared into waist-deep snow. And y'all, twenty minutes after his disappearance he emerged with this smile and this tree, saying he felt like he'd found the tree for Rockefeller Center when he saw this one shining in the distance....

I congratulated him on his magnanimous find and smiled to myself at what we now considered beautiful. By this time, Mary Aplin had managed to pack snow down INTO her boots and was crying in fear of why her Daddy had been gone so long in the woods. After unpacking the snow, I removed her wet, freezing socks and put my gloves on her feet instead. With empty fingers crammed into her boots and a chest cold that seemed to be developing before our eyes, there was no way little girl was going to make the half-mile trek back out of the woods. So, we went back to our old methods :)

I don't know how he did that the whole way out of the woods, but he only let me drag the tree for a very short reprieve before taking it back.

I think there was some kind of man-in-the-woods-need-to-bring-home-tree-for-my-women thing going on.

We didn't bring any of our Christmas decorations, so after a $30 trip to Fred Meyer (Seattle's version of Wal-Mart) we were drinking hot chocolate around our Christmas tree.

I feel staunchly protective of this tree's ugliness... Maybe because I feel like she's doing her best to shine for us, or maybe because she was born out of such a magical day. Either way, she may be ugly, but she's all ours.

Aware But Not Anxious

2010-11-25T11:40:00.009-06:00

So very sorry! Jeremiah wrote this several days ago, and I've been procrastinating adding the pictures.

One of the seemingly harsh realities of growing up has hit me over the last few years. Nobody remembered to warn me about it, so I felt blindsided. I can remember being in school and having that really big test or project that you were dreading. Finally as the day approaches you tell yourself to just keep pushing because soon it will be over and you can relax and have nothing to worry about. I loved that feeling the afternoon after a test in college, when you knew there were days ahead without expectations or responsibility. How about the holidays where you had days and nights of whatever you wanted to do and nobody expecting you to perform or produce anything? I guess I subconsciously assumed this is the way it would always be, but I have since realized that life proves to be more of a continuous challenge, still marked by some big tasks that require endorphins to get you through. However, that post-test sense of ease doesn't come as easily once you are all grown up.

It is similar to the practice of medicine. As a kid you think a person gets hurt or sick and the doctor fixes them up and they get well and forget about it. So when a kid decides to become a surgeon, he thinks, "I can fix people up, patient after patient." At least I somehow thought that was how it works - you operate on someone and they get better and it's done. Then I started my training and began to observe what is meant by the term "practice of medicine". A patient comes in with a problem that needs surgery and they get it. Hopefully, they get well and move on but there are those cases of unfortunate complications - infections, persistent pain, surgical errors etc. This is hard to swallow - I thought you could do your best for a patient and then relax in a job well done, but sometimes the "test" doesn't end that day. You may follow that patient for years trying to help them but never have that nice "mission accomplished" feeling we grew up with.

Medicine is one place I see this but only a small part of it. I think raising kids may be the better example. I have seen that women don't usually get to get up in the morning, perform a task well, and then immediately see the results. They don't get to climb the mountain of tasks and then sit back and bask in the break from responsibility. Instead, they work daily, making investments of time and effort that will hopefully be successful in their children. The work doesn't really ever stop - always a kid who is sick, hungry, misbehaving, needing questions answered, and nightly baths and stories. So as parents, it seems impossible to get that reprieve we used to know. Maybe we could leave the kids with the grandparents a couple times a year but nobody wants to spend their lives desperately waiting to get away from that feeling of responsibility - we would be unhappy or bitter 90% of the time.

I think there is a way out of this. We can live a very safe life and keep our responsibility to a bare minimun. Keep ourself protected from expectations and relationships and keep that wonderful feeling void of responsibility we knew growing up. To me, this is not appealling but I have seen some people living that way. Since I don't want that kind of life, I have had to ask myself where to go from here. The problem is that the more responsibility you allow yourself, the more potential anxiety. You could handle it growing up because whatever task you had to complete was always followed with that period of reprieve. With every new responsibility comes a potential risk. For parents - will the kids turn out the way you hope, or for leadership - will you let people down that are counting on you, or for any challenge - how will this turn out? So what do you do with that potential anxiety because the challenges keep coming and the breaks don't?

Lately, we have been studying Luke with a group of friends here in Seattle. Much of Luke talks about anxiety. There are a few applications here. Jesus repeatedly emphasizes that he does not want us to be anxious. So what do we do with all this responsibility? If we know we are supposed to cast our cares on Him, how can we practice this? I think what we have to do is be Aware but not Anxious. No we shouldn't ignore the risks and responsibilities that we face by the lives we have chosen. However, I think the danger is on focusing on those things instead of what we are trying to do. So what if we could learn to be aware of those risks but not experience any anxiety because we don't focus on them? I think we have a choice to be Worriers or Warriors. May sound cliche, I know but I can't get this out of my mind and though Webster may not agree, I think they are perfect antonyms. In Luke, Jesus asks a question about which of us, before going to build a tower, doesn't first stop to consider the cost and if it can be completed. Obviously, there is a place for measuring the cost of each responsibility but that is where you become a worrier or a warrior. I think a warrior stops and kisses his family before going to battle. They cry together at the thought of possibly not seeing each other again and then he turns his horse and rides full speed and doesn't look back. The worrier considers the cost, rides a few feet and stops to reconsider and then rides a little further and then stops again to reconsider the costs and risks and eventually is anxious and paralyzed by anxiety and fear of the responsibility. It would be better to either ride back home and relax or to ride on into battle; but to stay in the middle world of the worrier would be miserable for anyone.

So the point is that we can't reasonably get away from responsibility and we really probably don't want to. The pertinent thing is how we deal with it. We have to learn how to enjoy life and enjoy our responsibilities, being aware of them but not anxious about their cost or outcome. Then I hope that we won't spend our lives living for that carefree post-test feeling. Instead, maybe we can learn to enjoy our responsibilities because of how we approach them as aware warriors instead of anxious worriers....

Let It Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow!

2010-11-22T12:14:00.003-06:00

Just look at the winter wonderland we awoke to find this morning!

Can you see the Space Needle peeking through the storm?

The girls preschool was not cancelled, so I got to brave our STEEP hills covered with snow. I was talking to the girls about leaving their seatbelts securely fastened, because Mommy had never driven in snow before...As I cranked the car, guess what came blasting through my speakers, "Let it snow, Let it snow, Let it snow!" It took my nerves away :), and made the drive to school feel more like a sleigh ride.

Thanks, Aunt Taylor for our Sou'Westers. Since they came from England, Mommy thinks they are the coolest things ever. And she just realized they are on backwards... ;) They were perfect for our first snowy day (and Dapples refused to take hers off once she got to school). Be back soon with a more substantial post (or maybe Jeremiah, I'm trying to get him to come back this week).

I'm Sure Stranger Things Have Happened...

2010-11-16T18:24:00.004-06:00

...But I can't remember when.

Today we're going to talk about Pace. My first-born, my right-hand lady, my truth-seeker, my tender-heart. At her current stage, she can be hard to spend long periods of time with. It's not that we don't get along, and it's not that I don't firmly believe we have a beautiful lifetime friendship spreading out before us. It's that right now she is burdened by questions...and I get to field 95% of them. They aren't just questions that leave me wishing I'd saved my eighth grade science book (although there are plenty of those); they're questions about intricate heart matters--that I often cannot answer (Like, "When is God going to give me a perfect body and take me up in the sky?" Guess they're studying Revelation in Sunday school??). She hates the, "I don't know," response and usually comes back at me with, "Ugghhh, Mom, we are just not understanding each other right now." Well no, FIVE-YEAR-OLD, I guess we're not. I guess you're just talking right over my head. It's humbling and maddening at the same time.

Because of this daily diatribe, I have vowed to answer any question I can truthfully and to the best of my ability (As long as I'm not having a "Mommy cannot take ANY MORE questions right now. No, don't even ask if you can have more milk. That's a question." I hit that wall at least once a day; let's keep it real.). So recently, Pace has started asking me what different meats we eat are made of. Like the ham sandwich I pack in her lunch every day--"Mom, what's ham made out of?" "Pig." Yes! That was an easy one. "Mom, is an egg really a baby chicken?" I'm gonna tell you that answer got a bit more complicated--trying to be truthful (it is an egg and not a baby, right?) without launching into the birds and the bees at five.

Anywho, this had been going on for a couple of days when I went to pick her up from school and her teacher pulled me to the side and said, "I thought you should know that Pace is refusing to eat her sandwiches any more because they are made of pig." "What??!!!" My first thought was, "Dadgum Seattlites and their diets! What kid is turning my child into a vegetarian?" After questioning her, however, I discovered that the only dadgum Seattlite turning Pace into a vegetarian is...me.

She very innocently and tearfully explained to me that she did not know anyone else who didn't eat meat, but she never wanted to eat it again. She said that she loves all animals and can't bear the thought of eating one ever again. When told to eat her dinner that her mother made her, she had a gag reflex trying take down her baked chicken and apologized to me for not being able to eat it. When I explained that God gave us animals so that we could eat them--that eating meat is what makes her strong, she asked if God wanted people to eat Locks too.

Out of nowhere, my deer hunting, meat-loving, "It's not dinner if there's not meat on my plate" family had created a true convicted vegetarian--who has never even heard that word spoken. I'm sure stranger things have happened...but I can't remember when.

What Jeremiah and I have come to, I think, is that she is not old enough to make a decision like that for herself. However, the fact that she is so sweet-spirited and apologetic about the whole mess makes us want to work with her when we can. I've started making hummus roll-ups for her lunches instead of ham sandwiches, and if she wants the black bean and corn quesadilla at the Mexican restaurant instead of chicken, it's ok. When we have dinner at home as a family, she has to eat some of everything I cook--just like always.

How about I leave you with one last strange happening with Pace? Jeremiah and I came home from a date last weekend and our babysitter said, "I don't know if this will be an issue, but I just thought you should know... I was putting the girls to bed and Pace got really upset when I would not say prayers with her. I tried to explain that different people have different bedtime rituals, and I brush my teeth--just like her--but I don't say prayers. She then said, 'You mean you don't know JESUS?!'"

Try fielding that one from a career nanny with good references that you hired....Aggghhh!

[These pictures are of the girls riding the new bicycles they got for their birthdays. They saved up chore and birthday money and bought them with their own little stash (Thank you family for the money gifts!). It was a sweet day and Pace still goes in the garage on the days she can't ride "just to look at it for a little while."]

Dad and Konie's Visit

2010-11-12T08:07:00.003-06:00

I feel like most people who read this blog know that my Mom passed away almost three years ago. She had ovarian cancer. I am finding that I go through periods of time where I miss her more than others. I'll bounce through months just fine--being reminded of her occasionally, missing her at big events, but grounded with the greater realization that she is happier and healthier now than all of us down here on earth. However, I also go through periods where she seems to be everywhere--a mis-glance in a mirror and I think I see her, she frequents my dreams, and any big event that occurs seems unbearable without her to share it. I am just coming out of one of these latter periods.

I don't know what triggered it. Maybe it was all the stress of moving out here and making several life-altering decisions in a row? Maybe it was because we read Same Kind of Different as Me on our drive out here, and it stirred so many memories of the times when Mom was sick? Or maybe I'm just always going to go through these times, and this was one of them. It's always small things that hit the hardest, like Mrs. Linda buying me a new sweater and my immediate thought being, "I can't wait to show this to Mom, she's going to love it!" And then the crashing remembrance that I can't show it to her. Or getting the girls settled in a new school and missing our phone calls where she would listen and agree to ad-nauseum to every teeny little fear or hurt feeling. Or planning the girls birthday party and longing to share the details with her.

So, in that state, I was feeling a little nervous about my Dad and Konie's visit. Konie is my Dad's new wife. She lost her husband (who was an orthopedic surgeon just like Jeremiah, side note) to cancer a few years ago and is probably the most genuinely sweet person I have ever met.

She has a child-like heart and love of life,

And she loves my girls so endearingly (sending balloon messages to God).

Most of all, she and my Dad are happy together, and I (as a daughter) have the peace of knowing he is not alone.

While all those statements are true, and I feel them to my core, sometimes it is still. hard. It just is. I wish I could blame some fault in Konie, but I can't. She, in all truth, does everything right. She has jumped into our lives and been a supporter and a helper, without stepping over any boundaries. She is easy and fun to be around, and I know I could call her and she would be there for me, no matter what. So what in the world is still hard???!

I think I figured it out asI said goodbye to her. I think the lingering problem is my loyalty (insert stubborn, pig-headedness, but I'm going to use loyal because it sounds a lot nicer :)). There are people from HIGH SCHOOL, that still make my insides recoil if I run into them. You know why? Because they cheated on, or hurt the feelings of, or said something nasty about...one of my dear friends. It was like I pegged them a mortal enemy from that moment on. A lot of times, I can't even remember what they DID, but I just know it was something bad. Now, we're talking high school bad, so GET OVER IT PSYCHO-PATH (which is what my husband very rightly says to me if I ever make the mistake of telling him). I have had moments, when people hurt my family members, that I have questioned my propensity for murder. Don't you hope your kid is the bully in my kid's class at school?! :)

I think you get the point; I am pretty loyal. As I hugged Konie good-bye I felt like my Mom whispered in my ear, "It's Ok to love her, Abby. It's O.K." And that was it. I needed to know it was Ok--that I wasn't being dis-loyal to my Mom by embracing my Dad's new wife. What felt like an inherent need to protect and serve my Mom was misplaced. In reality, Konie is protecting and serving Mom by taking care of the man who was most precious in her life. And it is Ok to love her, even if it were only for that.

Guest Blogging Husband

2010-11-03T18:11:00.003-05:00

It has become clear to me of late that blogging for men is much like a man wearing a pink shirt – not a red shirt that looks a little pink from a distance-- but an authentic pink shirt. One that actually impresses other males that see the wearer. A couple of my friends have walked bravely into blogdom, and they never even looked back. I enjoy reading this blog best of all, but I have been known to follow some of my friends’ wives’ blogs as well. I try not to talk on that too much. By the way, I grew weary of Abby’s blog inactivity and so this is Jeremiah writing.

We have, as you know, been in a new world for the last few months. We both knew we needed to come. I had my reasons and Abby had hers and many of these were the same. I love the South. I have loved it my whole life and that has scared me a little. I can remember leaving for college and trying not to count the years when I could return to the farm that had impressed my life so much. Many want to leave the “small town” they came from and return only for the obligatory check-in with the family. For me, my greatest memories at an impressionable age happened in the woods at our farm – many on horseback and many in hayfields. Why would loving my home scare me?

I think all of us have a desire to know what we are capable of outside of what is familiar and comfortable. Sure I love the farm and thrive on it, but there was a whole part of the world that I didn’t understand – The big city... It has always intimidated me. One of my favorite lines from a John Denver song that I often quote to Abby as we drive through the country is: “…mountain rivers and country livers set my mind at ease”.

There’s something settling about that kind of life. When I think about living in a large city, I wonder, “Where is the outlet for those people?”. They’re not getting on horses and escaping to the woods, and I assure you they aren’t throwing hay in the barn to let off steam. So the question became, “Can I make it in that kind of environment?”. I don’t mean just survive, but really be happy somewhere other than the familiar. Could I learn to enjoy the same outlets that people in a big city enjoy? I think Abby and I both had to know that - or at least she obliged me and agreed. (Abby would put a smiley face right here but I’m not ready to do that yet.)

Seattle has brought with it many challenges for us. The four of us started from scratch in a new town without friends or fellowship, and living in a remarkably shady 1-bedroom apartment. An absolutely perfect setting to engage our questions! This kind of situation takes you back to the basics of your faith and leads you to seek out fellowship and adventure rather than waiting for it to come to you. You have no other choice. That is uncomfortable, and that is what I was looking for.

Before we came out here, I struggled with whether or not I should be doing something in the foreign mission field for this year instead of doing extra training. I think one of the main reasons I struggled with that was because I knew the foreign field would bring out any and all the best in me and my family, as opposed to relaxing in the familiar. It was a hard decision because I really wanted to do spine training but felt that maybe I should do missions--to serve other people who were different than me in a very different place. It wasn’t until we arrived in Seattle and I realized how different it is here and realized that perhaps I had been provided with both the opportunity to train in spine and be in a “foreign” place that brought all the discomfort (and more) I was seeking. That sounds crazy, I know.

It is wonderfully challenging here and sometimes Abby and I remind each other, “Hey we live in Seattle” and then can’t stop laughing. We have seen some of the most magnificent landscape I have ever laid eyes on and have seen mountains and rivers that seem too good to be true. We get in the jeep almost every weekend and head somewhere new to explore and still feel we haven’t put a dent in the wilderness here. I really didn’t think I would ever say this but we have a beautiful view of the city, and I love it. The high rises are down to the left and the bay to the right as we look south and that refreshes you just to look on it. On a clear day, we see Mt Rainier; on a cloudy day, we know it is still there.

The highlight has been the relationships we have made. I haven’t found a lot of people here that I have a lot “in common” with, and I love it. Most of my friends here don’t do the same things with their free time as I do, but I’ve learned we are plenty alike. We were made by the same Creator and we recognize the need for true friendships and that is enough to generate real fellowship. I am learning people are quite alike and really have similar needs and desires regardless of where they live in the world and that is a valuable lesson.

I haven’t learned how to do Blogging cliff notes so this is too long but here is my current thought. We were all made to be challenged and stretched to beyond what we think we might be able to do. I am glad we came to Seattle to experience that. However, most anyone could go to a foreign land, rise to the occasion it takes to survive and possibly even thrive. What I am learning is the remarkable discipline it requires to engage a challenging life in a place that is comfortable and familiar. That requires far more intention and self-discipline and I admire those greatly who have learned how to do this. The fact is, when you are in a foreign land, you are quite aware of your surroundings as your mind perceives all this new material. You also have a tendency to reach out to people because your normal distractions are absent and you aren’t walking around like a zombie to do all your busy tasks. You are forced to engage the challenges that just living brings you and all of a sudden…. lasting memories are made.

It is like a person trying, unsuccessfully, to diet for years. They fail because they are too busy and never really commit to the diet. They somehow get shipwrecked on an uninhabited island and are forced to survive on the sparse healthy foods available in that desolate place. Of course they lose weight – it required no discipline – just survival. But they certainly rose to the occasion to survive and they benefited nonetheless. We are like that person on the island who rises to the occasion of survival and we are far better for it. I love where we are and would choose it again in a second, but eventually even this may become comfortable and familiar. I want us to learn the discipline to live that kind of fulfilling life no matter where we are – to wake up to the challenges to be met and the relationships to be had. I know few people like that, but I admire them greatly.

Dream Home Tour

2010-11-02T13:30:00.004-05:00

There are two basic home styles that make my heart beat fast. One is the English cottage: stone, steep gables, heavy rugs, candle-light, firewood, meandering passageways. The other is the farmhouse, and here my style preference diverges. I like the traditional white painted wood exterior, wrap around porch, tin roof, wide-plank pine floors...but Jeremiah doesn't. Soooo, the other farmhouse style we both grow giddy over is the converted barn: wide-open architecture, rustic charm, a hay loft where kids can play and sleep, plenty of wall-space for my bookcases with that rolling ladder :). That's not a style I would imagine finding in the middle of Seattle's Capitol Hill district, but find it we have! Welcome to Melrose Market...

It's a grocery store of sorts, with two different restaurants inside as well. Every time we have company come to visit, we tell them we want to take them to a delicious sandwich shop called "Homegrown."

The sandwiches (and breakfast, for that matter) are delicious. However, the food is merely a happy accessory. I come to drink in this beautiful space.

On warm days, these windows all slide to one side, virtually eliminating one wall. Welcoming you to step right in...

And peruse the cheese shop,

And meet the butcher boys (who had just asked me if I was going to make them famous :)),

Swoon over the fresh vegetables and flowers,

Even the sweet little bread cart makes me smile. However, the hidden gem, is at the very back of the market. I go there first usually, before I even order my sandwich...

It's my dream kitchen in restaurant form.

The name of the restaurant is Sitka and Spruce. I've never actually eaten there, but they cook while you eat and watch. And use spices from this delightful spice rack

Does the marble and bead board make you squeal too?

Is the open fire in the back MORE than a dream come true??? What about the industrial range? Small change request, very small, but I wish those pots were copper. We are dreaming, right?

Even leaded glass windows and burlap curtains.

Aghhhh. Now the song "If I Had a Million Dollars" is playing in my head. How about you?

I'll leave you with a teaser picture from our weekend, AND the exciting news that JEREMIAH will be in this space soon. I don't know why, but he told me he wanted to write a blog. I don't know what he plans to write about (he was very mysterious and hiding the computer from me when I tried to peek), but it's sure to be interesting!

All For One...

2010-10-25T12:19:00.006-05:00

...And One for All!!!

This past week has been a doozy. My Dad flew in on Tuesday. Konie followed him on Wednesday.

Then my Aunt Jan, Uncle Michael, (cousin) Kimberly, and (her husband) Kevin followed on Thursday. AND Saturday, I was throwing a double birthday party with a Three Musketeers theme. Would you like a peek at my To-Do List for the week:

I wrote it out because on Sunday I was having panic attacks about when and how I was going to get it all done. A list helps me like that. Even though I stayed approximately a day behind all week, I at least took comfort in knowing everything had an allotted time.

Konie's arrival on Thursday was an absolute gift from God himself. She cleaned and entertained and never said "No" to any request the girls made. I think she went into a comma each night from how ragged Pace and Mary Aplin ran her. On Saturday morning before the big party, we both stepped out of our bedrooms bright and early to start to work...And we matched :)

I've always been a sucker for a party theme, and Pace and Mary Aplin's request for a Barbie and The Three Musketeers birthday, was a party planning dream for me.

(I hope you can read the poem, because I am super proud of it :))

The invitations were from this seller on etsy. She was great, GREAT to work with and I love her stuff. The only complaint I have is that the actual invitations were smaller than I expected. She had the dimensions written in plain view, but I envisioned them as being larger. I bet she could make them bigger for you if you ask, though.

No I did not make their capes. They also came from etsy, but this seller.

Ok, so after all that set up and all that planning, we began the wait to see if anybody would show up. I had this horrible fear that nobody was going to come and the girls would be scarred for life. Why would they come? They don't know us. And most of the people out here don't strike me as the types to throw a themed kids' birthday party. They probably think I'm nuts. I just had to write a rhyme on the invitation didn't I?

Jeremiah got into the spirit and helped the girls work off some nervous energy as we waited...

And, since we were all dressed, we got a little family picture.

And slowly but surely (thank you Lord), they did come...

And they decorated Musketeer masks,

And played "Disarm the Musketeer" (Our version of pin the tail on the donkey, which Konie manned like a champion)

And ate birthday cake

And danced along with Barbie at the Musketeer Ball

And got scared of that weird Southern woman who is way over-animated

And everyone was so kind and we had such a good time, that I wondered what in the world I'd been so worried about all week.

By the end of the day, we were all feeling a little sugar-loaded, dazed, and confused...

But oh-so-very thankful and happy.

Come Away With Me

2010-10-19T08:45:00.004-05:00

I haven't figured out how to only post once a week and not give you extremely long posts with a smattering of unlinked topics and pictures :). I may have to rethink this once-a-week thing, but for now---

One of Jeremiah's attendings mentioned that he had a log cabin built on 1200 acres (!!!!!) in eastern Washington, where he had just finished building (as in, with his own hands) a two-story cedar barn. Don't you wish you'd been there to see Jeremiah try to not squeal with excitement? He told me he played it really cool and didn't invite himself, but we managed to end up there two days later. :) You can't start talking about vast amounts of land and cabins and expect us not to show up.

Jeremiah asked me early in the trip, if I was ready to call it "The Most Beautiful Drive" we'd ever taken, and I told him to hold his horses. We've taken a lot of beautiful drives lately. However, after driving by this aqua colored river for about 15 miles, rushing over boulders, through evergreens and scattered deciduous trees--I told him to pull over for some pictures, because he was right.

Even in cloud cover, without being able to see the tallest mountains, it was still the most beautiful drive I've ever experienced.

Now don't think we weren't feeling a little anxious about the potential awkwardness of staying overnight with Jeremiah's boss, who he just met. What if the girls were unruly? What if we didn't have anything to talk about? What if Dr. Wagner didn't think we would actually take him up on his offer and now he was dreading us coming? How much food do you show up with so as not to be a mooch but also not look like you're making yourself too at home? I was a little short of breath when we arrived.... ...

All for nought. Dr. Wagner immediately engaged the girls and crawled up into the loft to show them their special beds in the air. He's one of those people who has done a little bit of everything--riding a motorcycle across the Middle East, a fellowship in China, a honeymoon on his '67 BMW motorcycle... And then he's a dreamer and an idealist--always thinking of ways to improve spines and third world countries and energy consumption...

What I'm saying is, it was sort of my ideal evening :)

We drove a different way home, to see what lay on the other side of the mountains. And we found lots of apple orchards.

We stopped for some hot apple cider and pumpkin doughnuts, and the girls found their friend Mater

Random insert--Mary Aplin turned three on the 13th!!!

And she hated every minute of it. I made pink and green cupcakes for her class (at her request). When we walked into school and all her friends cried, "Happy Birthday Mary Aplin!!!" she lifted her dress above her head and hid between my legs. The rest of the day she refused to talk to all the well-wishers on the phone and just grunted at everyone who wished her a happy day. She is a funny little bean, but we still can't get enough her. She adds a lot of spice to our life :)

This weekend we went with some friends to a pumpkin farm a little south of Olympia.

The pumpkins were a bit picked over, but the apple fritters, OHHHHH the apple fritters!! We stood in an hour-long line to get them, wondering what all the fuss could possibly be about. Boy, did we find out! This is as close as I could get for a picture without someone eating my camera.

There was also a petting zoo.

Pace's gentle nature and tender heart was right at home.

Tenderness does not come quite as naturally to the Dapples...

"Why is this horse attached to a stick? This is not nearly as fun as Popon's farm. I can make those horses run wild. Get me down. I need more action."

I'm always glad to act as her interpreter.

Happy week! Sorry for the randomness. My Dad is coming in town today, and we have quite the little double birthday party planned this weekend. See you next week!

Honey For A Child's Heart

2010-10-11T23:49:00.004-05:00

We've been having two types of honey round here lately. The first type, was grandparent honey.

I'm not sure if Jeremiah was taking a picture of the waterfall or their heads, but there they are :)

We had such a great time with these two. They are ever eager to try anything we suggest, and I heard Dr. Maddox tell Retha (his office manager) over the phone, "There are 400 parks in Seattle you know. We've been to three, but I think we may get to see the rest of them this afternoon." He winked at me, but he really would have gone to every one and acted like he had never seen a park before each time, if we'd wanted to.

Now, I'd been waiting for just the right visitor to give me an excuse to RIDE THE DUCKS!!!!

I've been watching them pass me all over Seattle, doing things like this with music like "YMCA" blaring over the loud speakers.

I can't explain why that would call to me, but it did. And when Mrs. Linda asked me what I thought the girls would most want to do to celebrate their birthdays, I felt my opportunity had arrived.

We blew our quackers to ad nauseum,

sang songs aloud with complete strangers, learned fascinating facts about the city to share with all our friends, took a dip in Lake Union,

saw the "Sleepless in Seattle" house,

And had an all-around grand 'ol time.

I would recommend it, in all seriousness. Just be prepared to cheese it out with relish. It's better to go all in. You look much more stupid if you're already ON the Ducks, and then you act too cool for them.

We also managed to visit the biggest waterfall I've ever seen:

And get another lovely family photo in front of it. Why do children forget how to smile when they turn 4?? We are about to be 5. Is there any end in sight?

On second thought, perhaps I need some smiling lessons as well :)

We ate good food, had some long talks on the porch, Mrs. Linda taught me how to make granola and took me shopping (without the little girls!!), and we saw a few parks :). It was honey to our hearts.

The second kind of honey we've been experiencing comes from here (also the place where I borrowed the name for this post):

My friend Lindsey sent these books to us as a "here's some comfort out of your comfort zone" happy, but I had no idea what was in store for me.

I feel like Gladys (the author) and me go waaayyyyy back. Like maybe she was whispering in God's ear while He was creating me :) As I read her words, I suddenly felt like so many of my feelings made sense. Like all the hours I'd wasted trying to figure out why reading fiction was important to me, or why I had such an intense desire to share it with my children, or why I wanted to read aloud to my husband, or why some books are good and others are just not...all those wasted wondering hours could have been saved if I'd just read Gladys' book a few years back. She'd already figured it out!!

I cried at least once every time I sat down to read. You know that thankfulness you feel from being understood? From feeling validated?

I read it once (the first half is her thoughts and the second half is a book list, so it isn't really all that much reading) and then went back to re-read/highlight all the parts I wanted to read to Jeremiah. Most of the book is now yellow :) I'll try to limit myself to a couple of quotes here:

What kind of books are proper fare for a child's mind?... 'Stories that make for wonder. Stories that make for laughter. Stories that stir one within with an understanding of the true nature of courage, of love, of beauty. Stories that make one tingle with high adventure, with daring, with grim determination, with the capacity of seeing danger through to the end. Stories that bring our minds to kneel in reverence; stories that show the tenderness of true mercy, the strength of loyalty, the unmawkish respect for what is good.'

Good literature teaches more than we know. Example always speaks louder than precept, and books can do more to inspire honor and tenacity of purpose than all the chiding and exhortations in the world.

Reading aloud as a family has bound us together, as sharing an adventure always does. We know the same people. We have gone through emotional crises together as we felt anger, sadness, fear, gladness, and tenderness in the world of the book we were reading. Something happens to us that is better experienced than described--a kind of enlarging of heart--when we encounter passages full of grand language and noble thoughts.

Later, when we said good-night and prayed together by a moonlit shore, a seventeen-year-old [Gladys' son] thanked God not just for "beautiful things we can see, but for beautiful words which remind us of realities we cannot see."

I am going to make myself stop now, but I hope you get the point.

Jeremiah and I discussed, very early in our marriage, how we wanted to have a time set aside each night for reading real, good books aloud as a family. We've talked about the comfortable space we'd create to encourage these readings and have added many a finished title to the must-read family list. I'd never heard of anybody doing this before and reading Gladys' testimony of how it shaped their lives was moving for me.

It also inspired me to stop waiting for "one day" and start now. And so we have. Each night for the past week Jeremiah, Pace, Mary Aplin, and I have piled into the girls' bed and read a chapter of Winnie the Pooh. What honey this beginning has already been!

(I just had to share this picture of this morning's sunrise...)

Catch Up

2010-10-05T08:47:00.006-05:00

I feel like it's been a while since I just told y'all what was happening around here. Some of you have been kind enough to ask, so I thought I'd fill you in...

First, how I hung those pictures.

There really is no magic to it. I feel silly even showing you what I did. All you need are a hemp ball (which the girls so graciously unrolled for me :)):

Some good quality black mats:

This was actually the most difficult step. Because they are free hanging, you want them to be good quality. However, mats can get expensive and you must keep in mind I was trying to make my husband happy. The best deal I found was here. I am happy with the quality--good and sturdy. And yes, I bought all 100, but it was significantly cheaper to buy in bulk, and I have the ability to change/add pictures whenever I want.

Some crazy glue and clear tape:

A board, painted the same color as your wall, and screwed in place. And these little hangey down thingeys to tie your hemp to (I haven't searched these out for best prices, but that's the first website I found). They have a lip that goes behind the back of the board and a hook on the end.

I wish I could be a little more help with this step, but these items were already here when we moved in--and the reason for my different way to hang pictures.

Some weights to tie on the bottom:

I took the girls to the beach and let them collect the rocks.

As for the pictures, I ordered 5x7 glossy finish. I would think I would prefer matte finish, but I just don't. I like the gloss. Something about them looks more finished to me.

I don't have any pics of the process, but I just used the tape (easily removable if I want to change out photos as well) to secure the pictures in the mats. Then I used books laid at either end of a long piece of rope to lay things out on the floor as the would be on the wall. I wanted there to be a straight line of pics across the top, but the rest to look scattered.

After scattering and re-scattering (in a state of OCD madness) until I was happy with the color distribution, family member representation at eye level (yes, I took it that far), and placing landscape shots way up at the top...I used the Krazy glue to secure the hemp rope to the back of mats (And spent two days pulling flesh off my finger-tips to try to get rid of all the dad-gum glue stuck to me).

If you notice, while I measured the lengths of each rope, I ended up adding some length to the top as I was hanging. Just tied two ends together and trimmed the extra pieces as much as possible. I did the same thing at the bottom to get more rope to secure our rocks. I'm just telling you, that you don't have to get stressed about things being exact. Rope extends, thank you Lord!

Moving on to life. The girls and I went to support Jeremiah in his race a couple of weekends ago.

I learned, yet again, that they do things a little differently here in Seattle :)

This weekend, Jeremiah's Mom and Dad came for a visit, but I'm going to do a whole blog about that later.

The girls have started school.

Ashley actually took them to school on their first day (pictured above), because it was the one day I was back in Alabama for a wedding. I had some anxiety about not being there, but Ashley handled everything perfectly and I realized I am not needed nearly as much as I think I am :).

They are loving school. Pace because she's just like that, and Mary Aplin because it's the first time in her life she's had her own friends and hasn't just hitch-hiked along with Pace's. Every morning when we pull up to the little church where their school is Mary Aplin screams, "School!! My class! My friends!" It makes my heart happy and helps me justify the ludicrous amount of money we're paying for 3.5 hours, 3 mornings a week.

And while they're at school, guess what I've been doing?? Writing. It's scary to say. I've been trying to be disciplined about it. Really give that time when the girls are away to writing instead of exercising, or cleaning the house, or going to the grocery store, or paying bills... Obviously, those things still have to be done, but I am trying not to do them during that precious window. I drop the two little chicken wings off and get a big fat grin on my face thinking about the time that lies ahead. And then, it passes so quickly. It's a lot of the reason for the major decline in blogging. I've been trying to put my writing efforts into the book more than the blog. That's hard sometimes too. I get blog itch that I try to tell myself not to scratch :)

I don't know that I'll ever be able to get it published, but I am learning so much--and loving so much. I suppose the only way to learn to write a book is to do it, so I've given myself permission to write a first book. And to be ok with the fact that it's not some wonderful piece of literature, but it's my best right. now. The creative high that comes from typing away with one idea in mind and finishing in an entirely different place than expected, is a heady thing. To watch characters dance across the page in their own skin. I've been allowed a small taste of what Michelangelo meant when he said, "Every block of stone has a statue inside it, and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it."

To feel that I'm being led on a journey. The thankfulness I feel for a Creator that allows me the gift of creation. The body-numbing satisfaction of watching the pieces finally slip into place. Those feelings make the writing worthwhile, truly, if nobody ever reads the words but me.

And it's frustrating. On the mornings when the words clash and clang instead of rolling smoothly. When a character won't cooperate as I'd like and the words sound typed instead of spoken. When my descriptions sound contrived and inserted. It is a finicky craft...which makes those glimpses of perfection all the more satisfying.

So, I hope you'll keep coming to visit here, even though I am blogging much less. I hope that one day I'll be able to share it with you all.

Discovering Discovery

2010-09-28T08:22:00.006-05:00

I think Seattle must have the best park system in the world. There are over 400!!! of them, and I feel the need to see each one. This past week, Jeremiah went to try out Discovery Park. We had heard it was a good one, but we did not know it was 534 acres, over 11 miles of trails, and a slice of true wilderness right down the road from us. He came home like a kid on crack-rock, saying no matter what I was going there the next day to take a run. My husband can tend towards the superlative, and I sort of smiled and told him I'd be sure and try it out sometime. (Thinking in my mind that I had way too much to do on Sunday to take a long run, and surely he was just over-zealous, seeing as how he had not experienced all the parks the girls and I had.) The next afternoon, when he offered to watch the girls AND cook dinner if I would just GO, I finally left the mile-long list of things I was trying to accomplish and went. Wondering what kind of wonderful notion had possessed my husband :).

It was the. most. beautiful. run I have ever taken. Deep green forests, glorious seclusion, to rocky beaches, to a lighthouse, a jaunt on the sand, white sailboats over the deep blue water, craggy daisies and fall's bright berries, back to fern forests, and then the sad return to my car. I actually laughed out loud throughout the run over how shockingly beautiful each new turn became.

I arrived at home to my husband grilling hamburgers and teared up as I thanked him for the best gift I'd been given in a long time. "Told you," he said with a big, knowing grin on his face.

I was eager to take the girls back, so that they could experience Discovery as well. I soon learned that there is a reason for the deep seclusion...you can't park anywhere near the beaches. You literally have to take a mile or so hike in order to reap the rewards of the secluded beach. But these two little chicken wings were eager for the adventure:

It was a long go, and there were some serious hills,

But that first glimpse of the beach they'd been working for, made it all worthwhile:

As a parent, I am not sure there are any joys greater than watching the wonder of your children as they delight in new experiences

And learn to love one another

With the promise of a lighthouse and more sandy shoreline, we resumed our hike.

We met a frightful, eight-legged creature along the way:

That big sister, in her apprehension, convinced baby sister to touch

And when baby sister tried instructing her elder, she was accosted instead :)

Finally, we found the lighthouse.

And we stood at the pinnacle of our journey and talked of sailors long ago who would have crashed into these very rocks if not for this sturdy beacon, shining through the darkness

I asked it they would like to move into this house and become the new light-house keepers. Sounds enchanting to me.

They thought playing sounded much more fun

It was a wonderful, wonderful experience I hope they will never forget. I know I won't.

Lies and Submission

2010-09-21T08:40:00.006-05:00

Do you ever lie to your husband? Are you ever tempted to lie because you want to appear to be submissive? Let me give you an example from our life:

I believe God places a desire (in most women) to make their house feel like a home. I believe God puts it there, which certainly makes it right. Our Creator forms within us a desire to create--to make our earthly dwellings a (albeit meager) shadow of the heavenly one He has prepared for us. The problem I run into is that He also asks that we be good stewards of the money He entrusts us with. I don't know about you, but I have trouble making a beautiful home without money :). There is no "decorating budget" at our house at present.

So, what is a girl to do? I was about to move into a fully furnished home. Amen, what a blessing! However, while it is a blessing, it is also strange to be surrounded by things that aren't ours. Especially since the couple we are renting from have an avid (AVID) love for the Orient. As in, the wife has written textbooks about the Sung Dynasty, and her husband devotes a large part of his retired life to collecting Asian art and textiles. There are also total libraries filled with books written in Chinese. I can value their passion; I can appreciate the art and clothing of a different culture, but it is in not my personal shadow of a heavenly dwelling :)

When we walked through the house before moving in, there were decorative robes and long tapestries written in Chinese hanging from the walls. All I could see were Mary Aplin's peanut butter and jelly covered fingers running by and smudging their priceless collectibles. They offered to take down anything that made us nervous, and I smiled and asked that they please take it all down (Have you met Mary Aplin?!).

They did take down the valuables, but that left me with a whole LOT of blank space on the walls. I knew I couldn't fill it all, but the big gaping area over the fireplace where a Chinese painting once hung just screamed "Fill Me!! Fill Me!!" While it was screaming at me, I received a little brochure in the mail from Pier 1, with a picture of a mirror that sent off a little spark in my heart. I started doing internet searches to see if I could find one similar on eBay, or Amazon, or a random knock-off anywhere. I tend to get obsessive when I get my mind set on something. Finally, I call our local Pier 1 "just to see," I tell myself. Keep in mind, this has all happened over a couple of frenzied hours, and I have not informed Jeremiah that I even have a desire to fill a few wall spaces.

The nice lady at Pier 1 puts me on hold while she goes in the back to see if they have my mirror in stock... ... ...Not only do they have it, but it's ON SALE!! I ask if they can hold it for me, but the answer is "No," not for a sale item. The only way they can hold it is...if I buy it. I looked down at the coupon for another $15 off I held in my hand. I thought back to all those mirrors on eBay, none of which were as pretty or as cheap, and I swiped it. I caved under the sales pitch. I couldn't stand the thought of losing my mirror, even if it did mean making a (for us) big purchase without asking my husband.

As soon as I hung up the phone, the dread hit me. How was I going to tell Jeremiah? It's not as though you can easily hide a big mirror hanging over the fireplace :) So here's when the lie happened over our innocent little dinner table:

Me: I feel like we need to put something over that huge open space above the fireplace. Don't you? It just feels sort of stark in the house with all the empty space, and I think that is probably the most important space to fill...

J: Ummm, have you looked around the house to see if there is something lying around we could stick up there?

Me: Pretty sure there's not {What on earth does he mean? Seriously, I am thankful he is not in charge of decorating.}, and I found this really beautiful mirror at a great price from Pier 1. It's on sale and I have a coupon.

J: We've been spending too much lately with the move and living here, let's just be content. We have a great house, the last thing we need to spend money on right now is a mirror.

And there it was. Sunk in the water. My lie of omission, thinking I would manipulate him around to my way of thinking, not happening. And my mirror waiting on hold, already purchased, right down the road. What bothered me the most, was that he was absolutely right. I didn't need that mirror right now. If I had consulted him, like I knew I should, from the outset, I could have been spared the lie and the buyer's remorse. Why is it easy to lean on my husband in the big things (like whether or not to move to Seattle, or where to go to church...) but much harder to relinquish control of the small things?

I didn't say anything to him at first. I was too embarrassed about being caught in my lie and unsubmissiveness. However, conviction crept up on me while I washed the dishes and kissed the girls goodnight. As Jeremiah and I sat in bed, I debated how I could ease the blow on myself, and finally decided that I should just be honest:

Me: I lied to you.

J: About what (His face is turning red, like he's imagining some huge scandal)?

Me: I already bought that mirror I told you about at dinner. And I'm not sure if I can return it, because it was on sale.

J: Why in the world didn't you just tell me you already bought it?

Me: Because I knew you would be more likely to agree if you were part of the decision. I know that's manipulative. I'm sorry. {And now I am crying over a stupid mirror} I'll ask if I can take it back.

J: I don't want to be a person that tells you "No" all the time. I don't think we should get it, but you decide.

What a beautiful picture of the grace God offers us. Even though we screw up, and think we can hide things from Him, and think we can make a better decision than He can...He's still there, waiting for us to stop wallowing in our mistakes and just confess and ask for forgiveness.

After all that grace, you'd think I would have found a way to return the mirror wouldn't you? Weellll, I got there, and I'm afraid I loved it even more in person. He had told me I could make the decision...And I convinced myself that he would be glad one day. How could he not love such a beautiful mirror at such a great price?

As a sort of an apology, I devised a much cheaper way to decorate the even larger wall space:

Which serves the dual purpose of helping us fight our homesickness. And the pictures reflect off that lovely mirror above the fireplace :)

Veni, Vidi, Vici

2010-09-16T08:40:00.004-05:00

While Alex and Josh flew back south, we managed to convince Ashley to stay another week or so :). I just love this girl. We have so much in common (a love of running, eating, enjoying God's creation, family...and then a whole slew of psychological make-up similarities that comes along with being the first-born girl of four), and she is the world's BEST guest. I asked her one morning if she wondered how things ever got done when she wasn't around. She cleaned, took care of the girls, went grocery shopping, did all the laundry, took care of Locks...much more than I did. When we're together, I feel like she's a straight-line wind blowing at 90 miles per hour, moving mountains. I feel like I'm a hurricane, swirling around just as fast but accomplishing nothing.

Unfortunately, during her stay, Seattle weather decided to go on and show up. It was cold and drizzily a lot of the time, and left us un-motivated to do the types of things we normally would have gotten out and done. However, there was a little somethin'-somethin' that caught our eye:

After watching Julie and Julia (six months or so ago), Ashley gave me a copy of this cookbook, with the request that we start cooking through some of the recipes together. Well, we never did get around to that back in Birmingham, but now here we were--stuck inside and craving a warm and savory soup...and then there was this vintage copy of Julia's masterpiece...

We started flipping through the incredibly intimidating recipes, and settled on this one. It sounded pretty straight-forward. Ashley went to the grocery store and only called once...just to verify that leeks were indeed those plants that look like giant green onions. I told her I was pretty sure that was right, but suggested she ask. She whispered into the phone, "I think if you are buying something like leeks, you are supposed to know what they look like. I'm going with it."

This first venture into Julia's world taught us a lot. We first learned that she is a funny little bean. She writes the cookbook as though she is speaking to you directly, and some of the things she has to say are laughable. Or at least, they were laughable in our delusional state:

How fortunate we are to have chicken in pieces--those who like dark meat feast upon thighs, white-meat only people are welcome to breasts, while wings at half price make lovely finger food when the budget is low.

Is that funny to anybody else? It's like she just gets a little carried away by her rhapsody over chicken being divided into pieces...What?! Or this:

The host starts the proceedings as usual by spearing out the beef and placing it on a platter. Then he finds a sausage, and after that a big piece of pork. Finally, to wild acclaim, he brings out a chicken...

Don't you all begin your dinner proceeding by spearing out the beef? And wouldn't you cheer to find a piece of sausage hiding beneath it?! This woman is funny...

Between our laughs we did manage to create the Soup a la Victorine,

And this lovely plate of sliced heirloom tomatoes, with a variety of local cheeses, and a balsamic reduction. Get back now!!

Besides the fact that we found it a tad on the salty side, it was all superb (if I do say so myself).

Probably because Ashley's love language is "Acts of Service" and mine is "Quality Time" we found that the process of spending a day cooking together was one of the best things on earth. SOOOO, we did it again the next day. And this time, we went ahead and threw down the gauntlet:

Do you remember this part of the movie? When Julie dumps an entire bottle of red wine into a pot of braised beef. Was I the only one who wanted to crawl through my television and have a bite? Ashley and I have been talking about Boeuf Bourguinon since that day, intimidated, but desperate for a bite.

This time I went to the grocery store. Let me tell you this, going to the store with the intention of buying the finest and most perfect ingredients is a much different experience than scouring the shelves to try and make dinner as good but inexpensive as possible (which is what I normally do). I had a blast, and I even gave the meat man a hug for how much time he took to help me.

I didn't take many pictures. There was way too much concentration required for that. The difference between following a normal recipe and following one of Julia's recipes is much like the difference between reading Francine Rivers and C.S. Lewis. Francine may get the job done. You can fly through her books and get a little Jesus happy along the way, but if you go ahead and take the time to read (and re-read, and re-read, line after line) C.S. Lewis, you are going to grow. You are going to learn something that will last a lifetime AND get some Jesus happy.

We came. We saw. We conquered.

Glory, glory, it was even more delicious than we could have dreamed!!

And Ashley even took on cooking an artichoke with lemon butter sauce, since we'd grown so confident.

It was a fun, growing, and delicious couple of days. Thanks Sashey...and Julia!

Family Fun

2010-09-14T08:16:00.007-05:00

We only had two nights with all three of Jeremiah's siblings. They have busy lives and we felt honored that they took the time to swoop in and bring some added joy to us. Ashley, Alex, and Josh drove in on Thursday night, after a jaunt up Highway 1 from LA, through the wine country and rocky ocean precipices of the Pacific, to Portland, and finally---Seattle!! It was a very bizarre feeling, to welcome them as they drove up our driveway. Something about the fact that we are living in Seattle and have felt like we were on a slightly different planet, and then they just drove up like they were dropping in for dinner in Dothan, Alabama. What's up y'all? No big deal....

I asked my friend Azurae what her perfect day would be in Seattle, and it sounded so delightfully perfect that on Friday, we followed her advice to the "T" (and I didn't bring my camera, like a big dummy). A jaunt through Pike Place Market, to take in the flying fish, vendors, fresh fruits, vegetables and flowers, and the original Starbucks. Then, off to lunch at what Azurae said would be her "last meal in Seattle," Matt's in the Market.

(Picture borrowed, randomly, via Yelp, from Jeremiah C. Hoping to get a pic from Ashley soon to replace this one.)

With it's floor to ceiling warehouse style windows, overlooking the heart of Pike's Place, the lolling sunflowers on every table, and the scrumptious food...we were a happy family.

After lunch we went back to the market where we bought some Alaskan halibut from the flying fish men, lots of fresh vegetables to accompany the fish, and some local cheese and fruit for an appetizer, for our dinner that night. We did squeeze in some music, a run around our new neighborhood (not this big Mama though :)), and a little park time for the girls in between our two big meals. We finished the night lingering over dinner on the porch, watching Seattle twinkle in the distance. It was sort of perfect.

The next day was much more chill. We hung around in our pajamas until we made it to Greenlake Park for a run (Have you ever seen five adults and double stroller running together down a lil' track? I felt like people were diving out of our way.).

(This picture of Greenlake borrowed from here. Did y'all know that people are still roller-blading???)

Then we ended our day at Palace Kitchen. You remember? The same place Jeremiah and I went on our date. If you come to Seattle, you really must go.

The next day we said goodbye to Allie, who had to fly home for work or some crazy business :), and we headed to a trail in the Snoqualmie Forest that promised three waterfalls.

It was absolutely enchanting. I couldn't decide if I were on a movie set:

Or deep in a magical wood,

I felt like I was going to bump into an evil witch at any moment

Or maybe Pace was just going to turn into one after hiking a mile and half UP-hill on her little legs.

The reward was great though!!!

We were all really proud of how great Pace did. Despite that one shot, there really was very little complaining from that mountain goat.

This one, however...

Never had her feet touch the ground. When you've got an Aunt and Uncle willing to spoil you, I guess it's smart to take advantage while you can :)

It was a beautiful, invigorating experience, that left us all tuckered out:

Have I mentioned that Mary Aplin is potty trained, even in the wilderness :)?

Like a Stream in the Desert

2010-09-09T07:55:00.003-05:00

I'm sorry I've been gone so long. A whole lot has happened out here over the last week...we've moved into our new house for the rest of the year and had our first visitors! Mainly, I haven't posted because the earliest our internet could be hooked up was late yesterday afternoon. Right now, I am about to start packing to fly back to Florence, Alabama to see one of my best friends from college get married. So, not a whole lot of time to get you caught up, but here's a little glimpse at what's to come:

Our house:

The reason this post is titled like it is is because that was the phrase that played over and over in my head the day we moved into this house. It's weird because I feel totally ok about telling you how awesome this place is...because it is nothing but a gift from God. I'm serious. We could not afford to pay anywhere near what it should cost to rent this place, fully furnished, in the location where it is, with all the room it has, WITH THE VIEWS THAT CONTINUALLY TAKE OUR BREATH AWAY. I feel like God opened up "a stream in the desert," and we have been giddy with his sweet provision.

This is what I looked out on from our porch as I sipped my coffee and had a little devotion the morning after we moved in.

Seriously?! Is that real?!

I don't think the wonder will ever wear off. Jeremiah and I can't decide if it's more beautiful in the day with Mount Rainier and sailboats in the harbor, or at night with the lights of the city twinkling all around and reflecting off the water. I mean, thank you Lord, is all I know to say.

The Guests:

Ashley, Alex, and Josh (Jeremiah's sisters and brother) came to visit us last Thursday and helped us make this house feel like a home.

I can't wait to tell you about all the adventures we had with them...

But right now I HAVE to pack. Be back with more after the weekend! Promise!

Get Ready...

2010-08-26T22:26:00.007-05:00

...Cause I have a bone to pick.

Let me begin this post by saying, "I am NOT at a good place with my children." We have traded a life filled with Aunts, Uncles, Grand-parents, Great-grandparents, and friends who have loved on and invested in our children, for a life on our own out here on the West coast. We know it is going to be good for us, but the repercussions of that choice at this very moment are a little...much. I have learned that my girls have grown accustomed to a WHOLE HECK OF A LOT more attention than I am physically able to offer.

In practical application in my life it looks like this: Jeremiah has a strenuous new job, so it's my----(cross) opportunity to show him we're in this together by taking on the girls in their entirety. Yes, amen. He needs me. I want to be here. B.U.T there's the real issue of the tee-ninciness of this apartment, the fact that Mary Aplin has been like a cantankerous, leaky faucet to potty train, the foreign nature of a new big city, and the lack of another loving family member to absorb some of the girls' energy/attention/education/need to be in the spotlight/HELP!!! to deal with.

Those first two paragraphs are the intro. I just don't want you to think I'm talking to you from some mother-of-the-year-who-adores-every-last-ounce-of-her-children high horse. My children have embarrassed me in public and harassed me in private more in the past month, than they have in their entire lives combined...but, they're still my two favorite little people on the earth. Which is why I want to say this:

WHY DOES SEATTLE HAVE A PROBLEM WITH CHILDREN??!!!

There are a handful of restaurants in Birmingham, Alabama that I would not take my children for dinner. Because they are expensive, or have white table-cloths, or have a bar filled with rowdy people that I don't want them exposed to. A handful. However, here in Seattle I feel like every restaurant we approach, I have to walk inside, with my proverbial hat in my hands and ask, "Is it alright for my children to eat here???" And 8 times out of ten....they tell me, "No, sorry. No kids here." And I walk back out with a red face, muttering under my breath about how embarrassing that was, and wishing that I could try Seattle sans babies and see if it sets me ablaze.

Maybe I'm looking in the wrong places, because I have yet to find a "cheap" restaurant in Seattle either...except for good 'ol Taco Bell and McDonalds. However, even a drive-through chain, you know the ones that grace every street corner (to the point of being eye-sores) in the South, are extremely hard to find here. How many times have you had to use a GPS system to find MickeyD's? Because that's the only way you'll find one here in Seattle. And you can snicker about me being so desperate to find McDonalds, but you just think about being out and about after a hair-brained morning, finally getting both girls strapped into their car seats, and then think about having to 1) find an open parking space big enough for your big 'ol SUV 2) parallel park 3) pay (with the cash you never have) for your parking space 4) undo both girls from their carseats as cars whizz by your precariously open door 5)and then walking with your whiney, hungry children that several blocks back to the cute but (hopefully) inexpensive local restaurant you just passed...YOU'D BE GPS'ING A DRIVE-THROUGH TOO!

Why can't Pace and Mary Aplin come with Jeremiah and me to dinner anywhere in Seattle that is not a chain?

Do you think children are disruptive? Do you think they are more disruptive than that loud drunk guy who almost spilled his drink all over me?

Do you think they are distracting? Do you think they are more distracting than that man with hairy legs wearing a short white tennis skirt with tall black socks?

Do you think they are messy? Are they more messy than that woman's dog underneath her table with its tongue hanging out of his mouth?

I know that some children are un-ruly and my children probably shouldn't be allowed in public at this particular point in time either, but I say--Let the parents make that call! Then, if they don't make a good decision, you have every right to ask them to please excuse themselves (and here is your food in a doggie bag). But, don't act like my children are lower class citizens than the dogs you allow to crouch underneath the table. They are marvelous little people, who I would prefer to spend an evening with over almost any adult I know. And you hurt my feelings.

I feel like society has some things confused, and this rant comes after finding myself stepping in line with society. After the embarrassment of being turned away from several restaurants and the hesitation to go into another for fear of facing the same fate, I found myself wondering (laughingly) how our parents would feel if we just shipped the girls home for a couple of months and really experienced Seattle.

Then, today I heard some info-mercial on PBS saying, "...because families are made for FUN..." And it hit me like a nine-pound hammer: God--the supreme being who spoke the whole universe into existence--instituted marriage and the family. He created us for fun, for purpose, for the satisfying life that He intended. I am not weird for wanting my children by my side as we experience life--that's exactly what God intended. How can we expect to foster confident, loving children if we don't delight in their fellowship and love their company (Is anybody else channeling Edith Schaeffer :))?

Now you know why I started this blog the way I did. At this particular moment, Jeremiah has taken the girls to get ice cream because I could not take one more minute of togetherness :)... I understand that couples need date night (I more than most, I think!) and there should be restaurants out there that children are generally...unwelcome. But not the majority of them. Even on "date night" if you can't delight in the sound of laughing children in the background--you need to check the status of your own heart. I know I've often had to check the status of mine.

(I do feel the need to point out two restaurants that have been safe havens to us when we were walking around, stranded with no place to eat with the girls. Both of these restaurants not only allowed our children inside, but were very kind to them and gave them crayons to color with: Volunteer Park Cafe (Steph it was all you said and more!!!) and Lombardi's (which is actually a bit of a Seattle chain, but beggars can't be choosers.))

A Few of My Favorite Things

2010-08-23T07:34:00.004-05:00

While I did not get to see The Sound of Music a couple of weeks ago, I have still heard Maria singing "Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens..." over and over in my head, because lately, I have discovered a few of my favorite things.

What favorite things would you hope to encounter in Seattle? For me, it would be books, coffee, and breathtaking landscapes. I think I may have found the best of all three :)

Books

With two little chicken wings that have still not started school, I am afraid I have not been able to peruse any old book shops located here in the city. Does anyone else have visions of beautifully bound covers falling onto the floor one after the other? However, I am not sure that any can compare to the one I've found at my virtual fingertips at Lanier's Books.

I feel honored to call Lanier my friend. I remember my Dad asking me the question, "Who are your role models in motherhood and homemaking?" It startled me because I think we, all of us, need a standard to look to in a world where these two callings are ever being challenged...but where do you look...Jennifer Anniston? Martha Stewart? Kate plus Eight? I am going to have to stop because I can feel a tangent coming on strong, but the bottom line is, Lanier is one of the very few people I was able to list.

I wrote about a trip I had to her house, here, if you want to get a better picture of her gracious nature and homemaking prowess (Consider yourself warned: It was before I was into taking pictures--there are none. There are a lot of over-the-top descriptions though :)) Lanier is also a great reader and a writer. It was through her, via my friend Lauren, that I learned there were actually authors out there, besides Jane Austen, who could make my heart pound out of my chest and release my imagination to gloried heights. So, learning that she was opening a book shop was one of the most exciting pieces of news I've had in a long time. Have you ever walked into a store and known that you would delight in every. single. item. on the shelf???? That's a dangerous place to be :)

These are my first two selections:

And I've told Jeremiah he will never again have to worry about finding me a birthday or Christmas present. "Just email Lanier from now on..." I told him.

Coffee

I have found that coffee here is very serious business. Yes, it is the home of Starbucks, but I have seen quite a few local noses lifted high in the air over the thought of the franchise. Apparently it is not the gold standard I thought it to be...not even close. I am not sure if you should trust me (in my opinion you should not trust the palate of a girl who craves Taco Bell and Quarter Pounders with Cheese), but I have talked to a person or two who seem to have a much more developed palate than my own. Vivace is the favorite if you want to stop in off the street, but Storyville is the best delivered to your door.

Azurae took me for a tour of Storyville's "roasting studio" on Bainbridge Island, and it felt a little bit like Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory for coffee. Dream a coffee dream and we can make it come true...

Everything is so well done. Pristine and beautiful...and a lot of fun in there too. Lots of interesting people and art and music and big Apple computers that make things look super official. I kind of wanted to ask if they needed any extra help. Like maybe I could be the one to play the piano while the beans are roasting...

No, you don't do that? Well, could I drive the little forklift thingey?

OR run the roaster?

Or stamp the freshness date on each bag?

Or drive the delivery vans?

Really, I'd be willing to do any of the above if you'd keep letting me drink the coffee :) No, you'd just like me to please exit quietly with my children before they break everything in here?

It really was the most flavor I've ever tasted in a cup of coffee, without the bitter dregs left on my tongue. They told me that feeling means the beans are burned...I think that's what they said anyway. Their theory is that it is actually cheaper and more efficient in the long run, to brew a really great cup of coffee yourself, than it is to go out and buy it in a coffee shop one cup at a time. You should try a bag of your very own, but be sure and watch their video on how to make a proper cup first. My gracious! Did you know there was so much to coffee?!

Breathtaking Landscapes
If you followed along on our journey out here, you may remember me talking about how the last stretch of interstate into Seattle was the prettiest part of the drive, to me. We were a little too busy praying/feeling completely overwhelmed for me to take pictures then. However, a couple of weekends ago (on our way back from Leavenworth) we made that same drive west on I90 through the Snoqualmie National Forest. I had my camera ready this time (Although it was getting too late for our hungry children for us to stop, so these were all taken while holding my camera above my head out the top of Jeremiah's jeep...hence the blurs and the tail-lights)

Locks On the Watch

2010-08-21T16:54:00.002-05:00

Seattle, Take 1

2010-08-18T23:18:00.008-05:00

We have been out and about, getting to know this wide and wonderful city. I've gotten kind of stressed at the thought of trying to do a post about each attraction we visit. I also thought that a lot of you might get bored and think, "Abby, we don't live in Seattle, are not planning a visit to Seattle, and wish you'd stop making us go along on every site-seeing adventure!" So, I decided that about once a week, I'll do a "Seattle" post. That way, I will have record of our time and a reference to look back on when our family and friends come to visit, and you can skip the "Seattle" posts if you aren't interested. Ok, here goes:

The Locks, in Ballard

I just read through all the purposes of the Locks on their website, and if you want to know exactly you can go there. From what I could see, the Locks move boats from Puget Sound to Lake Washington and vice versa. Since one side is fresh water, the other side salt water, and they lie at a difference of 20 feet in sea level it would make it difficult for a boat to pass without their help.

It was pretty intimidating to stand on that bridge, that had the potential to open wide underneath our feet, with that low railing. Especially with a two year old who has a compulsion for climbing on everything and a fear level of zero.

We watched the boats rise and fall for a while and then we walked over to see how the salmon were fairing in their journey across. You can't really tell from this picture, but there were a TON of them and they are ginormous.

And ugly up close :)

They call this a fish ladder and it is sort of fascinating to see these delicious creatures in the wild. It was hard for me to picture them in a way besides A) wrapped up at Sam's with a price tag on their orange belly or B) on my plate at dinner. But there they were.

Golden Gardens Park

We heard there was a park near the Locks that had a beach. So, instead of naps, we decided to check it out.

The dark sand, rocky coastline, chilling breezes, and mountainous backgrounds were very different than what we are used to down on the Gulf Coast.

But I think I could have pushed the girls on the swings until my arms fell slap off, if I could just keep looking out at this view.

The Farmer's Market, Queen Anne

It seems that almost every neighborhood has a Farmer's Market. Capitol Hill has one on Sunday and Queen Anne has one on Thursday. Sine the girls were already delirious from the jam-packed day, I thought one more stop couldn't hurt us too bad.

The fruits,

And vegetables,

And breads,

And flowers,

Are so fresh and beautiful and locally grown, they can cause a poor girl to lay a lot of money (she didn't have) at their feet, with aspiring dreams of all the food she will prepare!

And then, when she realizes that it's way to late to start chopping away at all the fresh goodies this day, she can stop in at one of the many food stands (or BBQ trucks in this case) to buy dinner :)

And since there is a cute pregnant lady teaching kids how to make gelato and mini waffle cones, why not have dessert as well!

The Space Needle

On our kid's map of the US, the symbol for Seattle is...the Space Needle (surprise, surprise). Therefore, the girls learned to equate Seattle with the iconic symbol. I have heard over and over, "Mommy, when are we going to go to SEATTLE?" "We are IN Seattle girls. Right now. You are here." "No, no, I mean the real Seattle!" Pace proclaims, pointing to the needle.

Welllllll, I checked immediately upon our arrival here, but learned that tickets were $18/adult and $11/child just to ride up in an elevator and look at the view. I love my kids, but $58 is a little steep (plus parking which is always expensive around here). So when a friendly blogger (Thank you AMY!!!) commented letting me know that this past Friday was FREE admission at the Space Needle, you can believe I packed up my cheap self and two excited girls and booked it over there...to stand in line for an HOUR AND A HALF. And in all my haste...I forgot my camera.

I have two camera phone pics and one of the cheasiest, funniest, tourist shots ever, to share with you :)

That cloud-like formation in the center of the shot is actually Mt. Ranier. It really does look like it is floating in the sky in real life too. Sorry you can't see it better because I am scatter-brained.

No, she is not really about to fall to her death. There is some extremely thick glass behind her. She is just ever-so-thankful to have finally reached Seattle.
And then this...
I don't know if its how extremely realistic the shot is, or how Mary Aplin is doing her dangdest to pry her little fingers from my hand in defiance of the hour and a half she's been waiting in a line, or the pacey-please-a-lot smile plastered on my oldest daughter's face, OR the ridiculously short sundress that was a heinous mistake on my part (the winds at the top are a force to be reckoned with--and not in a short, flowey skirt), but no matter what the reason, I chuckle every time I look at this one.

Will this post EVER end? Is anyone still reading besides my family???

Leavenworth, Washington
About two hours outside of Seattle, there is a cute little Bavarian village tucked into the mountains.

We spent a magnificent day there on Saturday!

Not everything is quaint...

Some sights border on the majestic...

After a day spent in the sun and water, we sampled the gelato and chocolate.

And listened to some locals strike up a toon :)

(A special thanks to Aunt Caroline for making Mapple's dress. We LOVE it and are wearing it out!)

One big regret I have is that we couldn't see The Sound of Music. Apparently they do a show at sunset in their outdoor theatre, and Maria comes marching through the fields singing "The Hills are Alive" with those mountains at her back. I am glad that none of you were there to see my face when the woman told me that they had very. strict. rules. about not allowing any children under the age of five into the theatre (as she looked my sweet girls up and down). If they hadn't been sold out anyway....ohhh it made me mad.

We are excited about going again at Christmas. Apparently there is a big light show and I bet I could get a mug of hot chocolate :)

Whew! Good night!

Azurae and Mars Hill

2010-08-17T08:03:00.004-05:00

When I am pregnant, I tend to get a little irrational. I am NOT pregnant, but I found that living in a faraway place where I didn't know anyone felt a lot like pregnancy. I didn't make that connection until Jeremiah told me he had to go to Chicago for four days, and I responded like this:

"I don't know if you can do that. I am serious, Jeremiah. What if something happens, and you're way over there and I'm way over here by myself with the girls? I mean, I'll be ALL A.L.O.N.E!"

To which he calmly responded, "Are you worried that you'll go into labor? [sly grin] It seems we had a similar talk to this the last time I had to go to Chicago, and you were really pregnant."

And he was right, I wanted to be left alone right then about as much as I wanted to go through child-birth without him. I was panicky. It was weird, but I couldn't shake it for days. The "you might just have to tell them 'NO' about Chicago" axe hung in the air for several days...until I met Azurae (and Juniper, that cute little munchkin beside her):

Azurae is from Orlando, went to college at Samford (which is in Birmingham, AL and Jeremiah's Alma mater), and now lives here in Seattle. She is friends with--my old neighborhood, basically--but it was actually the Klings (who now live in our former home) who virtually (through the internet kind of, virtually) introduced us. Have you drawn a diagram to put all that together :)?

The first time we met, I was sweating profusely, partly from nerves but mainly from pushing Pace and Mary Aplin up these Seattle hills [insert mountains] at a dead sprint because I was running late (surprise, surprise!). Despite the sweat, she threw her arms around me and gave me a big 'ol hug, then held me back at arms length and grinned at me with those dimples (I thought about you, SB :)). I knew then and there that I was going to like this girl. She then apologized for being late and we both had a good laugh over the fact that we are both perpetually late...a match made in heaven :)

We live in the same neighborhood (Although, she lives in a MUCH less scary part of it than we do) and we have seen each other almost every day since. I told the Klings, "I have spent a good bit of time with Azurae, and I still feel like there is so much more of her to know! She is fascinating." Stephanie's answer, "I've known her for years, and I still feel the exact same way."

For instance, when she had the girls and me over for lunch, this is what she served:

Insanely delicious! I asked her how long it had taken her to make that (Can you see how many different layers there are?) and she laughed and said, "About a week." Oh, ok. No big deal. I once made a pot roast that took a day... :)

So she loves food and has been an invaluable guide to good eating here, but she also loves Jesus. Her husband, Danny, is a musician and he is in one of the bands that plays at Mars Hill.

Now, several people told us about this church and the pastor, Mark Driscoll, before we moved. I nodded and smiled as everyone talked about how awesome the church was, how it was blowing up all over Seattle and Pastor Mark was awesome... Can I just tell you honestly that that kind of talk turns me off from churches? When I hear "huge" I think "watered down message and lack of truth." When I hear "awesome" I think "neon lights and rock bands playing music I've never heard." Basically, not my idea of a lovely Sunday morning--and you can bet your bottom dollar that they probably meet at night too :) I sound like one of those old people at church who get mad if you sit on their pew don't I? I like tradition. It comforts me, call me a prude if you need to, but I like to hold a hymnal. I completely understand that God doesn't say (or care!) what time we go to church, or what we wear, or how we sing praises to Him, so long as we do it. I just had some little preferences tucked away and wasn't sure I would like Mars Hill.

I was wrong.

We went with Azurae and Danny 1) at night 2) there were flashing lights and a rock band 3) people were wearing everything under the sun...but it didn't matter one bit. Because we got to be wrapped up in a crowd of people who love God. You could feel it as we sang the songs I didn't know. You could hear it in the Truth that poured from Pastor Mark. You could know it by the way God spoke to my heart. After feeling bombarded by the sin all around, it felt like a spring of living water to hear Truth spoken plainly. Not "politically correct" words that were right but wouldn't offend anybody, but TRUTH. How sweet the sound!

So, I made a friend. I found a church. I no longer feel like an unbalanced pregnant woman wondering who I could call if my arm got cut off and I needed somebody to drive me to the hospital...because those were the type of thoughts I was struggling with :) Thank you Jesus!

A Big Arrival

2010-08-16T09:10:00.003-05:00

I am just about three posts behind, but I wanted to do this one first this morning. Pace's fear from "Shark Week" soon turned to sadness about Locks (Our dog, that we left in Dothan with Moogie since we weren't sure how a cross-country road trip would go with the little guy. His full name is Sherlock, but you may find him referred to as Locks--usually and La-La--occasionally.) We have all been missing our fifth family member. Talking about how each dog we bump into resembled him in some way, and throwing unleashed affection on any dog who would allow it. However, Pace was waking up in the night and crying about La-La and talking my ear off throughout the day about how badly she missed her friends--and most of all La-La.

While I cannot fly Natalie and Noah out here to live with us, I could fly Locks. So, on Friday afternoon, after MUCH behind-the-scenes work from Moogie and Sashey (Jeremiah's Mom and sister, who I am not sure I could possibly thank enough) and some paperwork/shots from my good 'ol veterinarian Dad, we received a very special delivery:

Locks was not his normal joyous self. I felt like he was looking at me saying, "You have NO IDEA what I have been through to get here. And where exactly is here anyway?"

But we understood. It just felt so good to see a familiar face from home and have our family whole again, that all the dog rules have been cast aside. Liiiiike, riding on the car seat:

Sleeping in the bed:

(This was the first night Pace slept through the night since we've been here. Locks!)

And watching Saturday morning cartoons on the couch--with Pace's blankey :)

Don't think the little girls were the only ones who were over-joyed...Here's a little preview pic from the rest of the weekend :)

Catch Up

2010-08-12T10:05:00.005-05:00

In order to prevent killing each other in this teeny condo, the girls and I have been trying to knock out all that Seattle has to offer. The first Thursday of every month, Seattle offers free entrance to a lot of their museums. Since last Thursday was the big day, the girls and I went to MOHAI (Museum of History and Industry). There, they learned all about catching and canning salmon:

We saw the "glue pot" that is believed to have started the fire that burned nearly all of Seattle to the ground in 1889.

And Mr. Ibsen gave me a great idea of what I can do with all the girls' old Keds:

While the museum was interesting, if you are planning a trip to Seattle, I don't think I would put MOHAI at the TOP of your list for sites to see. What I would highly recommend, however, is a picnic at the Washington Arboretum, just outside of MOHAI.

While we ate, we were visited by some feathered friends.

And then we did the half mile (or so) walk through the water that is part of the Arboretum. Trees bowed to make an arched path,

And sites different from ones we are used to, delighted us all.

We saw why the Seahawks think they have a leg up on our tailgating. I still think half the fun is walking from one one tailgate to the another and sampling everybody's food. That would be hard to do by boat.

At the other end of the Arboretum, the girls took a lot of joy from feeding the ducks their left-over grapes. We did bite them in half...and I wasn't sure if grapes were really safe for ducks...but we didn't see any signs of choking.

On Friday, we met some blog friends at the zoo! Where I managed to find a new giraffe friend to replace my baby in Birmingham:

And some people friends! This is Andrea and Madeline:

Andrea is from Trussville, AL (just outside of Birmingham), went to Auburn, has been living in Denver for the past several years and just happened to be in Seattle this summer because of her husband's job. When she saw we were moving here, she kindly offered to be a little Southern comfort to us, and we were all very thankful.

It was probably the coldest and wettest day we had had in Seattle so far. So we didn't see a whole lot of animals, but we did have a lot of fun at the indoor play area. Mary Aplin and Madeline got to run off some energy:

And can you tell how much fun Pace had learning about the animals from this young zoo worker?

Pace planted herself in that seat and didn't get up for about 45 minutes, just soaked it all up! Mary Aplin stopped by to see what all the fuss was about...

...but quickly got distracted by the elephant behind her :) A little more along the lines of her idea of fun.

I think that Madeline was trying to figure out what kind of species we all were.

Thanks Andrea and Madeline! We had a lot of fun with y'all!

I didn't have my camera with me for the weekend, but we took the girls for a hike on Big Tree Loop at Tiger Mountain Saturday afternoon and then that night...JEREMIAH AND I WENT ON A DATE!! I have managed to make a Seattle friend (who I want to tell you more about later) and she offered a babysitter name so that Boots' dad didn't have to do it :) Thank you all for the kind babysitter suggestions from the last post. The one we used this weekend is about to get married, so I will definitely be taking you up on your ideas!

I wish so badly I hadn't forgotten my camera on date night. Jeremiah looked really handsome in a coat his Mom gave him for graduation. We went to Palace Kitchen, and if you come for a visit you must go, and if the blackberry cobbler and coconut cream pie are on the menu YOU NEED BOTH!

On Sunday, we went for a run at Greenlake, bought fresh produce/had lunch with our new friends at the Capitol Hill Farmer's Market, and then found our church home on Sunday. I really think we found it...more later! Hard to know how our Sunday night was so bad after such an awesome weekend...huh? I thought so.

You Know You Need a Babysitter When:

2010-08-10T08:10:00.007-05:00

[I wrote a post earlier this morning, in response to yesteday's comments. It's below this one, just in case you might not notice.]

Last week, as our family was crowded in the hallway of our apartment building, waiting for Jeremiah to figure out which of our new 100 keys actually unlocked our door, I noticed a sign posted for a lost cat. Now, we have lost a dog or two (or three...) over here in the Maddox family. Each loss has been followed by a frantic sign campaign and search effort (one of those may or may not have involved a private investigator...another story for another time :)), so these types of signs always tug especially hard on our heart-strings. We know the hopelessness (insert hysteria) those poor owners are feeling, and we all took time to commit "Boots" and his cute little self to memory...just in case.

Later that night, as I lay dead asleep in bed, I was awakened by the unmistakable clatter of vinyl mini-blinds, followed by the throwing open of a window. "Jeremiah!" I hissed. "What in the world are you doing?!"

"Did you not hear that noise?" he asked.

"What noise? I was asleep!"

"I heard a cat make this horrible noise, like it's head was being ripped off. I was trying to see it. I think it might be Boots."

"You have GOT to be kidding me! Go back to sleep, that wasn't Boots! You're talking crazy..." I say, as Jeremiah begins stepping into his pants and feeling around on the floor for his shirt.

"You are not really about to go outside this apartment in the middle of the night, are you? You could be shot out there! I'm serious!" I cried, half laughing, as he ignored me and went out the door.

I dozed back off--thinking that those micro-chip devices that they insert into your pet in case they are lost, would be worth whatever they cost if it would prevent my husband from going insane over lost pets. This time, I'm awakened by the overhead light in our room being flipped to the "on" position. I squinch my eyes in the glare and look around...

There is Jeremiah, standing over me with a grin like the Cheshire Cat, holding...Boots. Hysterical laughter.

"I stand corrected!" I choked out between laughing tears. "I cannot believe you found Boots, but what are we going to do with him now? It's two in the morning!"

"I've already called the owners. They were really excited and are on their way over right now."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

So, Jeremiah got Boots back to his very excited parents. They turned out to be a young couple and the girl lived in our building (but was currently staying at the boyfriend's place a few blocks away). I didn't meet them myself, but Jeremiah said they were very nice people.

The next day we were all riding in the car when Jeremiah got a phone call from Boots' Dad. The phone was on speaker, and I heard him telling Jeremiah that they had offered a "Reward" for finding Boots, and he had forgotten to mention that in the middle-of-the-night confusion. Jeremiah explained how we were just so happy to have helped and, of course, didn't want any money. The guy kept on and was insistent that, if we didn't want money, there must be something they could do to thank us. That is when I heard my husband say this:

"Well...would you mind babysitting our kids sometime? I mean just for an hour or two so that my wife and I could grab dinner together?"

My mouth dropped open so far that my jaw popped. I looked at Jeremiah in silent, but utter disbelief. Had he really just asked a TOTAL STRANGER to babysit our kids? Boots' dad was almost as speechless as me. He stuttered some reply like, "I mean, sure. I guess I could babysit kids, why not?"

Jeremiah hung up, looked over at me, and smiled. "Did you really just do that? Really?!" I asked. Not mad, just nearly as flabbergasted as I'd been to see Boots in the flesh, in my bedroom. I guessed this was why God made women mothers and not men.

"Baby, he was insistent, and we do need a babysitter more than anything else..."

"I'll find us a sitter," I said as I grabbed his hand. "Please don't ask any more random strangers."

And God's People Say...!

2010-08-10T07:53:00.004-05:00

Wow. Wow. I cannot even begin to express how grateful I am for all of you. It's hard to say you feel abandoned by God, when you re-wake up (sometimes I might sneak back in bed after I write these :)) to ten missed calls and a whole load of encouraging comments and emails! I hardly got anything done yesterday for reading over your Scripture references and sending everything along to Jeremiah's phone. To show love and true, heart-felt concern for (in a lot of cases) a total stranger, says a lot about all of you. We felt showered by blessings and prayers and were reminded (how many times does He have to show us?) that He is always near. Thank you.

Let me also clarify that we suffered no bodily harm in the night. I think that lack of sleep and stress really brings out the flair for the dramatic in my writing. Sorry about that. I got a lot of calls wondering if the authorities had been alerted--surely we'd been robbed at gun-point. No, it was just an all-night onslaught on our hearts and minds....And I think I'm being truthful when I say, I would have preferred a man who wanted to steal our worldly possessions. Besides this computer, he would have been pretty sadly disappointed anyway :)

You'll have to forgive me for not going into more detail on the blog. If you could drop in for a cup of coffee, I'd love to hash through our current heart hurts with you. However, it's hard to know who all sees this little blog, and I just can't be more explicit than I already have been. That's annoying as heck, isn't it. Sorry.

Now, I'm going to write one of those happy blogs, because guess what--I AM happy this morning!

I love y'all. I mean that.

A Downer after the Smiles

2010-08-09T07:50:00.004-05:00

I have two different posts that I'd like to write this morning but can't write either one. They are happy, and we are not. We as in, Jeremiah, Pace and me. Fortunately, Dapples is still looking at us like we're all crazy--she's still happy. We had a great weekend, a truly great one. However, the enemy hit hard in the night, and this morning we're left feeling the effects.

Have you ever felt abandoned by God?

We are claiming what we know to be the truth...that He will never leave us or forsake us. Sometimes though, in the midst of trouble, He can seem elusive. Maddeningly intangible.

What do you do? No really, I am asking. We look back at all the ways He's been faithful in the past. Other times we've felt alone or scared or overwhelmed, and the ways He delivered us each time. We acknowledge the godly counsel of dear friends. Oh the well-spring of life encouragement from a fellow believer can be! But still, even that sometimes cannot tilt our heads up enough to breathe in the full breath of God we crave.

What do you do?

A Few Smiles

2010-08-06T08:19:00.004-05:00

Apparently, I was not the first to run into this little problem...
(Sent to me yesterday by Caroline and Kendall, thanks sisters! Now if you could just find it for me in T-shirt form so that I can wear it next time I go to the grocery store.)

Desperate times...

(Rigged by Jeremiah when he walked into the non-air-conditioned house where I'd been cooking for the last hour.)

And....Pace's face when I asked her if she thought there were sharks in the water behind her.

My mother could never resist torturing us either ;) And don't worry, I did reassure her that there weren't any.

Not a Whole Lot to Say

2010-08-05T09:28:00.003-05:00

I don't have a whole lot to say this morning, but I realized that I hadn't posted any pictures of our little one bedroom apartment.

From the outside.

The couch/futon where the girls sleep. Notice the fans? We don't have air conditioning, so I begin each day with throwing every window open and end each day closing them (stifling us) and locking them tight (but keeping us safe).

The study/dining room.

The kitchen, where only two of the oven eyes work, and I've had to use some major creativity to cook our meals with the appliances/utensils I have.

I didn't take a picture of the bedroom or bathroom, but I will say that this is the first time since college that I've been able to vacuum my entire living space without having to replug the vacuum once. Whole house in one fell swoop.

I am really liking Seattle. I like the weather (It hasn't rained once, and I've decided the grey mornings are much too English for me not to like them :)). I like the endless possibilities of restaurants and museums and parks just waiting for discovery. I love the water and the mountains. I love that there are endless hiking trails just outside the city...now if I could just figure out how we're supposed to hike them with Pace and Mary Aplin? :)

I don't like the "big city" feeling. Meaning, I don't ever feel like I move or think fast enough for the people bustling around me. I don't like that I have only seen Jeremiah (awake) for about an hour and a half since he started work on Monday. After all that together time, the separation has been especially hard.

I don't like that Pace saw a clip from Shark Week (on the Discovery Channel), and it has pushed her over the "I'm having a hard time dealing with all these adjustments" edge. She was being brought to tears over little things before the Shark Week experience, but now the tears have become meltdowns and her fear of being left alone (especially at night when we are all trying to sleep) has become--manic. Last night, I found myself losing patience (not for the first time), when it hit me that it wasn't really the sharks at all. They are just a good excuse. She's acting precisely as I did for the three months BEFORE we left Birmingham...Do y'all remember me crying over the baby giraffes at the zoo and saying goodbye to my OBGYN's nurse?! Pace is not the only one losing it over the little things :), she's just come around to the mourning a little later than her mother. Yesterday, when I was chiding her over the "stomach ache" she urgently developed when I tried to put her down for a nap, she stated, through choked tears, "I'm just having some hard times right now, Ok?!" Where do you think she heard that?...probably shouldn't have laughed at her drama.

As far as sticking out like a sore thumb goes...we still are. Thanks for all the sweet encouragement from the "Sundress" post! I think I've pin-pointed the insecurity, and it's helped me to cope. I asked myself, "Why does it bother you so much for people to know you are Southern? Why would you stop trying to say "y'all" and try so hard to blend in? You are proud to be from the South...right?"

What I found was this: I am proud to be from the South. However, I feel like there's a stereotype that comes with a Southern accent. A stereotype that was only heightened by my sundresses. I was worried they thought I was stupid--ditsy. Floating around in my little sundress confused about the world at large, how it worked, and probably just dumb in general. That was the insecurity with the random people at the grocery store and other chance encounters. On a deeper level, what I've found as I've tried to make a real friend or two, is not so much that they think I'm dumb, but...uncultured. At least that's my unjustified fear. I assume people think that, since I'm from the South (or maybe a small-town in general) that I don't know anything about art or music...or have good taste on the whole.

Recognizing the source of my discomfort, has diminished it greatly. If they do think I'm stupid because I talk slow and squinch my words together, it's them who's wrong. Who cares? If they think I'm ditsy because I wear sundresses, so what?! If they think I'm uncultured and have bad taste...they may be exactly right! That's part of why I'm here, right? To expand my horizons. Experience something new! Remain me, while being open to growth, change. I know my Dad's scared right now ;) Don't worry, I promise to continue bathing regularly and remain un-tattooed and un-pierced. Off to start the day and say y'all with reckless abandon!

Capitol Hill Stills

2010-08-02T08:06:00.006-05:00

There is a wonder here.

Different from anywhere I've ever been.

The trees are bigger, permanent, filled with life,

And tend to make me wonder if there's an enchanted rabbit hole, disguised in the crook of their arm.

The houses hold character, each a story, one that involves the sea.

Some are stately and bear the mark of Americana,

While others hold more whimsy.

Our neighborhood is filled with these gems...

...And these?

You just have to know where to look.

There is mystery here,...and I think I love it.

About Sundresses

2010-08-01T17:16:00.004-05:00

We stopped at a gas station as we got close to Seattle and every woman I saw had on zero make-up, cargo-esque shorts, a shirt that looked as though it could be worn in OR out of the water, and endurance sandals. I looked down at my purpley-pink sundress, with it's big flower right on the center of my back, my bronze wedge flip-flops, and the flair and flounce of my dress as I went to buy a Diet Coke. It was my first realization that I was heading into a world where I would be the minority. As I got back in the car, took a glance at my sweet little girls in matching, embroidered dresses, I started laughing.

"What is it?" Jeremiah asked.

"I am going to get on their last nerve, aren't I?" It had never occurred to me that my love of sundresses in the summertime and children dressed as though they stepped out of the eighteenth century might not "fit" somewhere in the continental U.S. Now, if you've been reading more than a day, you know that I'm no prissy pot. I love to hike and camp and run, I just also prefer to be in a dress when I'm not doing one of those things :) These women at the gas station seemed to have no time, or patience, for dressing up.

When we landed at our month-long home on Capitol Hill, the comparison became different but nonetheless stark. Now, not every woman looked ready to climb a mountain, but I also didn't see any that looked to be the stereotypical "housewife." Now, men were wearing jeans even tighter than mine and very few women had left their bodies UN-tattooed. I started to feel like the big flower on my back was bouncing along behind me like a "Kick Me" sign and found Dora the Explorer's "Back Pack, Back Pack" playing through my head like a mantra. We were all staring. They at us, us at them. Who are you? And where did you come from? We were all wondering it--as Pace and Mary Aplin giggled on--not knowing or caring that they were an anomaly in our new neighborhood.

The next day, I decided to try and wear something that would help me blend. I love sundresses in the summer. You throw one on and don't have to worry about finding anything to coordinate. They're cool in the 100-degree weather, and besides all that practicality, they make me feel girley and fun. I wear them almost every day. But this day, I was doing laundry, in a communal laundry room, using quarters, and I didn't want to feel any more different than I already did. So, I put on a shirt and a pair of shorts, and I went to try and hit up our local (unfriendly) market for a butt-load of quarters. I was grumpy, and I somewhat hated myself as I tried not to use the word "y'all" (I had no idea how OFTEN I said that until now), and I wore clothes that made me feel as unlike me as possible.

I went to the grocery store, where I had to park in a parking deck and ride an elevator, and I suppose I looked lost enough in the QFC that a clerk came and asked if she could help me. I'd been looking for, what I thought was, a normal sized buggy--but all I could see were mini ones. "Where are the BIG buggies?" I asked...and she literally burst out laughing. "The whats?!" "Ohh, do you call them carts? Shopping carts? You know, the big ones." She had to go get me one from the back, once she got control of herself.

Later, as my big buggy overflowed, I thought I heard one of the guys stocking the vegetables talking about me. You know when you just know, even though you don't hear a word they are saying. He was talking to the girl stocking papaya, or some such exotic fruit, beside him. I convinced myself that it was my own paranoia and walked on. Suddenly, I remembered I'd forgotten the asparagus and whipped around to go back. The stock boy's face turned red and they both stopped talking abruptly. I quickly grabbed the asparagus and turned around to hear the girl say, "Don't worry, I could tell by her face that she didn't hear what you were saying about her." I almost started crying.

Jeremiah watched me trudge back and forth with the laundry, and helped me with the groceries, as he tried to entertain the girls and do a little studying. About halfway through, I walked over, laid my head on his chest and burst into tears. He consoled me, and I kept on keeping on. As I put away the last of the clothes, I looked at my sundresses, all hanging there in a brightly-colored array. They looked happy--a lot happier than me. I took one out and looked at it. It was a summertime twirler, covered in pink and blue and green flowers, short and flouncy and well-worn. I took my drudgeries off and put it on.

When I came out of our room Jeremiah gave me an "I know you and your weird dress need" smile and asked me why I'd changed. "My shirt didn't fit," I answered, and it was only a half-lie.

Then, we made a conscious decision to let a little of the joy of this town sink in. We went to Pike Place Market with a picnic lunch and ate sandwiches while the sailboats streamed before the Cascade Mountains. We bought some fresh, local vegetables for dinner and blackberries for breakfast the next morning. "I love your dress!" a girl said as she passed, and I really appreciated it.

Since we'd saved money on our packed lunch, we indulged in a slice of rhubarb pie, a cream-filled Napolean, and two cups of coffee at a French bakery right there in the middle of all the bustle. It was wonderful, and filled with sunshine and music. "I love your dress!" the girl said from over the marble counter-top as she handed me my pie. Her friend walked over with our coffee and added her agreement. I beamed--way more than I should have and said, "Thank y'all!" They smiled back and didn't seem one bit bothered by my accent or my bright colors.

As our little girls fought over the last crumbs of dessert, I said, "I think I'm really going to like it here." Jeremiah, who knows me better than I'd like to realize, grinned over his coffee cup as he said, "Is it because those girls liked your dress?"

I thought about denying the petty reality of his words, but then I realized why my heart felt so light over the two tiny compliments. It was because, yes, speaking in generalities, my personality and life preferences as a whole are different here, but we're in a place that embraces different. My different isn't "bad" any more than theirs is, and if they're claiming to accept everybody, that should include me too...right?

"Yes," I answered. "It's because they liked my dress." ;)

{I'd like to say here, as an aside, that Seattle is a liberal city, but we are also living in the most liberal area of the city. We've been to visit before and I wasn't bothered at all by feeling so...different. Let me write here what the Newcomer's Handbook for Moving to and Living in Seattle says about our neighborhood.

Vibrant and diverse, Capitol Hill is one of Seattle's best-loved neighborhoods, where affordable rents, off-beat retailers and ethnic eateries lure a rainbow of residents. It is both the center of Seattle's large gay community and a neighborhood of traditional Catholic families...At the south end [where we are] is Neighbor's, a cavernous gay dance club...It is the place to go for lively dining or take-out; boisterous young residents fill innumerable restaurants and bars nightly, and on summer evenings the streets ring with voices late into the night. [EXACTLY the place to raise small children! :)]

So, if there is anybody reading this who is from Seattle and feeling totally ticked-off (maybe you love sundresses too!), I think it has a lot to do with where we are living and not so much the city itself.}

Day Ten--The New Home Stretch

2010-07-29T17:21:00.006-05:00

We wanted to take in every last paid-for-minute in Coeur D'Alene...and post-pone the inevitable end of our journey. So, we had breakfast on our balcony, soaking up the view:

Both Jeremiah and I took turns taking a run on the trail by the water and taking the girls swimming.

Then, reluctantly, we packed up and said our last goodbyes.

I sent my family a text that said, "I think I've found paradise...Who would have ever thought it was in Idaho?!"

Only 300ish miles left to our new home. When Jeremiah went ahead and set the clock back in the car, it was a stark moment for me. Wow, this is permanent. We're changing the clocks to Pacific time...

I will say this, I have decided that a lot of our country looks arid, in the summertime at least. In the South, I think we don't realize how many trees there are, how the grass is green and not sparse--showing the dirt underneath. How all that humidity we complain about, is part of what makes our home look filled with life, instead of limping along through it. I enjoyed our road trip and the diverse beauty God has created all across it, but I found I love my home too. Our mountains might not tower as high and our streams may be cushioned by sand instead of stone, but it feels different from everywhere else. A good kind of different, to me.

As we entered Washington, I was happy to see how green it was. That part, at least, felt a little more like home. I don't think Jeremiah agreed with me, but the mountains looked even bigger here. In Wyoming and Montana they went on and on; in Idaho they were crowded and tall, but in Washington--they looked like big green giants. Wide, tall, some snow-capped, but all covered in lush evergreens. They seemed to echo the overall feeling inside our little car--intimidation. This is where we live now, I kept telling myself. It's breathtakingly beautiful...and frightening.

Jeremiah asked if I wanted to pray, and we did. For a long time, really. It felt like something big was happening, beginning, but neither of us knew what it was. All of life is divided up into segments, but very few of those segments are a single, concentrated year. I believe God has brought us to Seattle for a reason. In Jeremiah's understanding it was for the best spine training he could get. For me, it seemed like a chance to finally write. But, I'm not sure either of those obvious purposes is the true purpose. I know it sounds strange, but as we held hands and wove between those big green giants we prayed we wouldn't miss whatever it was God was trying to do with our lives.

And suddenly we were here. Getting our first glimpse of Mount Rainer:

Trying to navigate through a big new city:

We made it to our home for the next month (our house that we're living in for the year won't be ready until September 1):

And it suddenly seemed like the God who had been beckoning us forward a few minutes before, had dropped us straight on our butts. Nowhere could we find a single parking place, much less two in a row to park our car AND U-Haul. When we finally did find a partially burned down building that had some pay-park spaces underneath, we saw a man being arrested who, according to the screaming store-owner, had "tried to shop-lift and then tried to KILL one of my customers." We saw several cross-dressers, pink hair with leather leggings, tattoo parlors, homeless people, and not a single restaurant that wasn't a major bar where we might get a bite to eat with our two small children. It was horrifying. Especially after ten days on a nature high :)

I'd been able to smile at the Washingtonians on our way in. Instead of "Rest Area/ 5 miles" their road signs said "Tired? {Have you ever seen a question mark on a road sign?}/ Rest Area 5 miles." Instead of "Litter $100 fine," they wanted it to feel a little more personal "If you litter, It will hurt." I thought, "Ok. They're kinda touchy feely out here, but I can dig that. I can handle different." There's a big difference in choosing to accept that people are different and having those difference all up in your personal space, in the eyes of your wondering children. I wasn't so sure I could handle it any more.

We were able to find a pizza place, where we sat outside and ate with the girls, and while we felt like deer in headlights, we were laughing about it enough that Jeremiah said, "I'm not sure the culture shock could have been any greater if we'd moved to Kenya."

That was Saturday night, so we've been here four and a half days now. We are doing a LOT better now, and I plan to tell you why and get the 'ol camera out and take some pictures, but for now I want to wrap up the journey blogs. Thanks for coming with us, it was the greatest adventure I've ever taken :)

Day Nine

2010-07-28T17:56:00.006-05:00

We had a hard time saying good-bye to Mrs. Ohs the next morning.

Especially Mary Aplin :(

You could never ask for a more loving, giving, interested, and up-for-whatever hostess!

We also had a hard time knowing it was the last day of our idyllic journey. We originally planned to stop in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, but Jeremiah and I had decided that we'd exasperated our funds and it was time to make the last 600-something mile trek to Seattle. We all had a little bit of the depressies as we turned onto I-90 West. Even Jeremiah, who had vowed we'd make the trip in a week said, "I can't stand knowing it's over."

Dr. Maddox (Jeremiah's Dad) called around that time to tell us that one of his partners had said we COULD NOT miss stopping to see the glacial lake in Coeur d'Alene...or eating at one of the top five steak restaurants in the country. We thanked him for the suggestion and said we'd talk about it...but it was a short talk. About that time we literally almost ran out of gas.

We sputtered into a miraculous gas station--that our GPS system hadn't picked up and we'd already been talking about the logistics of the two of us pushing a car with a U-haul up the steep mountain roads...could Pace steer :)?!--when Dr. Maddox called us back. He said, "I hope I'm not over-stepping any lines, but I can't stand for your trip to be over either. I've booked you a room in Coeur d'Alene...all you have to do is call and confirm if you decide to stay."

I wish you could have felt the lift that happened in our car. ANOTHER DAY!!! IT WASN'T OVER!!!! We travelled into Idaho on pure joy. I'd like to say now that I was totally wrong in my picture of Idaho. I've always thought of it as sort of a flat, arid place. Jeremiah asked me why and I laughingly realized that I think it's because...of how dusty Idaho potatoes are. Bahhahahaa. My mind is bizarre! I think Jeremiah described Idaho (or at least the skinny, northern part of the state where we were) best, "It's like in Montana, all the mountains are spread out and then you get into this little narrow part of Idaho, and it seems like all the mountains got squished together--just like the state." It's true! You feel like the steep mountains are jam-packed on top of each other. Fighting for their ground, their height, their streams--beautiful!

Then we got to Coeur d'Alene. Man, did we get there. A lake formed 2,000 feet in the air by a melting glacier. The water is a deep, cold blue and the mountains surrounding the lake are covered in evergreen trees.

And our hotel room was such a GIFT! I don't think I've ever stayed anywhere this nice (except maybe on our honeymoon), and I jumped up and down and squealed (along with the girls--who were excited at the excuse to act crazy like their Mommy and Jeremiah who watched us and grinned from ear to ear) for a solid five minutes straight.

The view (and those blinds closed with a remote control. imagine the delight for the girls :)):

And if you came in the winter-time, there was even a fireplace.

We wallowed in the lap of luxury!

And were so very thankful to Popon and Moogie who gave us such a dream night.

Day Eight

2010-07-27T13:00:00.004-05:00

It was the most comfortable night I've ever spent camping...but that's not saying a whole lot :) I can say that I was neither too hot nor too cold, except for those couple of times I woke up and my butt cheeks felt numb ;). And those little pads they sell to put underneath your sleeping bag, make quite a difference on the 'ol hipbones. I crawled out of our tent to see this:

The rising sun and fog over the mountains. A couple of sweet sleeping faces:

And my husband getting breakfast started on the fire:

I am willing to "rough it" when it looks this good :) We had eggs, sausage, cheese toast, and coffee,

And apparently Mary Aplin's night was too rough to feed herself. Thankfully, Sister was there to help...as always.

We took a walk through the fields,

And then we broke camp and spent the rest of the morning getting prepared to tube down the Madison River.

I didn't dare take my camera with me in the water, but here's a shot of some other tubers. Apparently it's quite the past-time, and people float on all types of things...including air mattresses :)

As we lolled down the cool, rolling river, underneath the big Montana sky, with mountains towering on either side of us, I wished for my sisters. Taylor, Caroline, Kendall--it was our kind of paradise. A sport that revolves around laying out ;) We L.O.V.E.D. all three glorious hours!

That night, tuckered out from camping, and sun, and water, we had a low-key night. Mrs. Ohs taught us how to make sushi, and we watched Willow while we ate her favorite strawberry ice cream.

Day Seven

2010-07-26T19:05:00.007-05:00

We woke up at Mrs. Ohs' (if you are wondering who Mrs. Ohs is, I explain a bit more in this post) ranch, where I never cease to be awed by the view from her back door.

That last mountain on the right is Hollow Top, and back when we were dating and didn't have children that we drug along with belts, we (along with some friends and Mrs. Ohs son--David--as our guide) climbed it. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I'll never forget when we reached snow for the first time, and Alex and I mistakenly took it as the summit. We started exclaiming our joy and the fact that we didn't know if we could have made it another step, when David laughingly informed us that we were just about halfway up. Allie, do you remember the devastation?!

Anywho, Mrs. Ohs leases her land out now to a farmer who grows wheat across her 1000-something acres. I'd never seen unripened wheat before, since it's not a big cash crop down in the South. I'd also never payed close attention to these little babies.

They irrigate the crops with run-off water from the mountains, but they move themselves extremely slowly and precisely over the same path--day and night. Precisely enough that they run right over teeny lil' bridges that span gullies throughout the farm. I'm going to stop talking about machinery now, but it was mind-boggling. Guess people aren't farming with watering hoses like I thought :)

Mrs. Ohs kept both girls while Jeremiah and I took a run together. I am sad I can't run with my camera, because some of my favorite views of the whole trip were on that run. Little red barns nearly swallowed by rolling green wheat fields with mountains soaring in the background. I also had a mighty nice view of a hunky guy who was always several yards ahead of me. It was after that run that I told him, "Not that I doubted it before, but now I know for certain, I'm ready to go anywhere as long as I'm with you." This trip has been so very good for us.

While we were sweaty anyway, we went and picked out a spot and set up camp.

Quite a better view than an RV two feet away, huh :)

Then, we headed into Bozeman and met Mrs. Ohs' daughter LeAnn, with her two cute kids Naudia and Colton, an older gentleman that she cares for, and Jim and Dianne Good--Jeremiah's pastor and his wife from when he lived there. Y'all get all that? And we all stormed the Museum of the Rockies, where we saw a DaVinci exhibit (Did you know he invented one of almost everything we still use today? :))

This was his design for an armored tank.

Pace got to see some more dinosaurs (that would be the largest T-Rex head ever uncovered):

And then we went to another part of the museum--this old house, and y'all, I am in love:

Dianne Good works there as a part-time job, so she gave us lots of sneak peeks

And I am sort of jealous that she gets to wear these outfits and operate this fabulous kitchen just like they did in the old days--with no running water or electricity.

This was the lady of the house's nightgown, laid out on the bed:

And I spent a lot of time lingering over all the sweet baby clothes, like this jacket:

And loving the ancient feel of the oddities:

If I could garden, I would want them to look precisely as these did. Beautiful and functional and untamed, all at once.

A rainstorm brought an abrupt ending to our time together, and we worried our camp-out was about to be squashed again.

Fortunately though, it was fast and furious, and while we did cook our dinner at the house instead, we still had dessert around the fire.

I love s'mores.

And grown-up time talking in the open air, after the girls are all zipped up in the tent.

Day Six

2010-07-23T16:09:00.009-05:00

Right now I am sitting in a cafe in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho...all by myself!!!!! Can I get a hallelujah from all the Mom's out there :)? I'm sorry I disappeared, but we have not been anywhere with Internet access the last couple of days...we've barely even had phone service. The disconnected time has been filled with joy and beauty though, so I've decided to keep on recording our days, just a little behind.

We got to Cody, Wyoming in enough time for Jeremiah and I to take turns going on a run/swimming with the girls. It was the first evening we'd arrived at our hotel in enough time to do that, and I am so thankful. Cody was quaint and beautiful--store fronted main street, picture book neighborhoods, and mountains all around. It was our anniversary (thanks for the congratulations!) and we went to a quaint local steak house (think a hair fancier than Conestoga, Dothanites) where I ate the absolute best steak I have ever put in my mouth. No exaggeration. Apparently all that corn treats their cows well, because my filet was charred on the outside, but soft goodness on the inside. I asked if I could hug the cook--pretty sure they thought I was crazy :)

And the next morning we did a quick map refresher on where we we'd been:

And where we were headed:

Organized our camping gear and bought supplies for dinner and breakfast (in hopes that we'd be prepared parents and not starve our children this time) and went to lay my virgin eyes on the sights of Yellowstone.

I was not disappointed.

This is Lake Yellowstone, with Old Faithful erupting in the distance.

And Jeremiah showing the girls how to skip rocks.

Now this is the beginning of our little hiking adventure that turned into a significant mistake.

The girls are pretty tough and adventurous, but taking a round-trip hike of 2.5 miles at a significantly higher altitude turned out to be a little much. At first just the smallest chicken wing needed help.

But then the second man started to go down...

And being drug by Daddy's belt didn't prove helpful enough...

I was taking turns carrying Dapples on my back, and somewhere between a baby, a belt, Jeremiah's sunglasses, and a camera around my neck, my sunglasses fell off--unbeknownst to me. My sunglasses that I'd splurged on against Jeremiah's wishes...

And while we did get to see a bridge built by God himself:

And while we did search the whole way down, and Jeremiah ran back and forth along the trail twice looking for them...I'm afraid they were never found. And I had to have a little talk with myself about monetary possessions not being worth as much as memories...but my stomach still felt sick over the loss.

But we bounced on along the Yellowstone loop, and refused to let our joy be stolen.

We stood with hundreds of others, in reverent silence as we watched the wonder of Old Faithful.

And since that steam in created by lava, Pace told us she felt satisfied in her wish to see a volcano on our trip :)

We also stopped at the Fire Paint Pots (not totally sure that name is right?) and saw more evidence of God's never-ending creativity.

And Pace experienced a "volcano" at a closer level.

We stopped all throughout our trek at different camp sights, hoping to find a perfect spot for the night. Two things prevented us. One--they were all full. Two--I couldn't understand why we would camp 2 FEET from another group of campers. Or worse yet a big 'ol RV with a humming generator.

We decided to drive on out of Yellowstone (At around 7:30 and we still don't have a camp site and we have to build a fire, pitch a tent, and make dinner. I was starting to develop some tension in my neck...) to see if there was a more secluded (and available) spot. There wasn't.

I guess maybe I've been spoiled to having friends and family gracious enough to let us camp on their land. But y'all, those camp-sites didn't feel like camping...they just felt like sleeping outside. I wasn't sure it was worth all the effort without seclusion. SO, we decided to drive the 90-something miles on to Mrs. Ohs, Jeremiah's mountain Mama.

As I dealt with the two devastated mini-campers in the backseat, Jeremiah spotted a little dive off the highway where it looked like they may serve us some much-needed dinner. It was sitting on a lake, and it turned out to be a boat that had been used as a bar during the Prohibition Era. It was now permanently landed as a restaurant/bar. There were only a handful of locals there, and we headed out to the prow of the boat and had dinner overlooking this:

All to ourselves. I guess the locals were accustomed to the beauty...or maybe they just didn't want to have drinks with our kids :).

As soon as the sun started sinking behind the mountains, we sent Jeremiah out to the U-Haul for some winter clothes.

We talked about our favorite parts of Yellowstone and dreamed of going back with a whole week to quench the desire we felt for more. We'd only scratched the surface. We ate cheeseburgers and sweet potato fries, and experienced something worth leagues more than we were paying. Our own private family dinner, surrounded by mountains and water and sunset.

As the girls tuckered out immediately in the backseat, Jeremiah and I wound through mountains towering majestically in the moonlight. I whispered, "This is more than happiness, it's bliss."

Day Four and Five

2010-07-19T08:35:00.007-05:00

Yesterday we saw the Badlands of South Dakota. I read Mornings on Horseback this past year, which is a David McCullough biography about the young life of Theodore Roosevelt. I wish that my book wasn't in a storage unit in Dothan, and I could give you some of his quotes about this mesmerizing land. From the cliffs that seem fragile enough to be made of sand, yet strong enough to stand firm through the harsh winds that rip through the prairies...

To the herds of buffalo,

that sauntered right by our car.

To the prairies dancing with wheat, and sage and even a few baby cacti:

We all delighted in the opportunity to take in something so very new to us all.

In an effort to have an adventure of our own, we decided to take off on our own trail. It wasn't against any rules we could find, and the girls were both begging to climb a "mountain." We spotted one in the distance that looked like it could handle two small children.

I'm just going to tell you that it was a little scary walking through that tall and prickly grass. I kept envisioning the large replica of a coiled rattlesnake I'd seen in a shop window in town the night before. While there weren't any written rules against walking in the grass, there were lots of rules warning about the danger of wild buffalo and RATTLESNAKES. I started thinking about stories of compartment syndrome I'd heard Jeremiah tell, from patients he'd seen in the ER with snake bites. I also thought about all those corn fields...without so much as a small town and wondered where in the world we'd find anti-venom. I had just finished reassuring myself that snake fangs were surely sharp enough that the actual bite couldn't hurt too badly, and surely Jeremiah could fit me with a really awesome prosthetic leg, when we finally reached our mountain. (I will mention that Jeremiah and I were flanking the girls in a line through the grass and I felt pretty safe for them that a snake would either attack the front or the rear).

And so, Jeremiah helped/took them to the top--

And the reward for our effort, and all that fear of snake bites :), was great.

Can you see the confidence?

We continued on through more wonders of the Badlands, until our stomachs (and more loudly our children) reminded us that it was lunchtime.

And the fearless adventurer parents had not thought to pack a lunch! Shouldn't there be a snack bar somewhere in a National Park? We did eventually find a picnic area with some drink machines, and we broke out the sandwich toppings and other odds and ends Jeremiah's mom had packed for us for a picnic our first day. The girls had a lot of Peanut butter with Ritz crackers and Jeremiah came up with these little concoctions for us:

That would be two saltine crackers with a slice of tomato, a couple of banana peppers, and a smattering of tostito cheese dip. Lunch of champions.

After lunch we encountered my favorite view of the day, at the "White River" overlook.

I thought of Roosevelt and his lonely winters alone, trying to keep a herd of cattle alive in this strange wilderness. I thought of how creative God is, to weave lines of color through rock that ripples on and on. And I thought about all the flips my insides were turning at having myself and two little babies so close to that drop off with the wind whipping our hair.

At around two, we left the Badlands,

And drove the 75 miles to Mount Rushmore:

It was an iconic moment. To smile with my very own family in front of the statues I remember staring at in my History book as a little girl. When did I get children of my own? And when did it become Ok for me to drive around wherever I want to and stay in hotels with the man I'm crazy about?

Am I really aloud to have this much fun?

We hiked the half mile trail around the monument. And went to the artists' studio, where I learned that 90% of these beautiful carvings were made by dynamite, AND Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt, and Lincoln were meant to be pictured to the waist like this:

but the base of the mountain became too variable.

All in all, it was a wonderful day. But the little girls were pooped (and battle scarred):

So we headed off across the Black Hills and then the Rockies.

Today we've driven to Cody, Wyoming. We'll stay here tonight and head into Yellowstone tomorrow. Whew, and today is our seven year wedding anniversary on top of all that!

Day Three

2010-07-17T22:05:00.003-05:00

We are currently in Wall, South Dakota--the entrance to the Badlands National Park. It's been a good day, despite the 536 miles that we drove. I've been reading Same Kind of Different as Me for we-the grown-ups. We have also played some eye-spy, "I-start-a-story-and-we-go-in-rounds-til-its-finished," and lots of nursery-rhyme type songs that Jeremiah still attempts to sing harmony with :) I guess I should also update you on the fact that we broke the DVD barrier last night. So they watched one movie yesterday and two today--still not bad all things considered. I stand amazed at how good the girls have been. I can only think to thank prayer. I know it's not them!

I hope this doesn't sound ugly, but if you are from Iowa or South Dakota WHAT IN THE WORLD DO YOU DO FOR FUN??!! All we saw were corn fields. I mean really, very very few small towns and corn fields. It was fun the first day, but by today I pretty much had corn fields down and was ready for a little change.

South Dakotians crack me up with their advertising schemes. If you thought Sikes and Kohns had a lot of advertising signs, you should see the ones for the "1880's town" "Ghost Town" and "WALL DRUGSTORE" in South Dakota. We got taken in at first:

We soon learned, however, that a whole lot more is spent on advertising than the actual attraction. This one was basically a slightly glorified gas station, with some Buffalo in a pen out back.

At this very moment I am extremely happy. The weather here is to die for. A cool breeze in a cloudless sky with a sunset that seems to never end. I don't know if it's because of how big the horizons are, or if the northern mid-west is just blessed with never-ending sunsets, but it seems to stay twilight here for around four hours.

I found some mini-log-cabins for us to stay in for a really good price. I can't begin to tell you what a $20 difference in price has made in the quality of our hotel stay. Last night was MISERABLE (and disgusting). I won't go into too much detail because Jeremiah will say I sound like a brat, but the hotel did not have air conditioning, there were un-identifiable stains on our bathroom wall, and even Jeremiah admitted that he had a hard time sleeping on his pillow with the odor it was emitting. OK?! I will note that I kept my disgust to myself since Pace and Mary Aplin were still enthralled by it all. Pace actually said, "Mommy, look at these beautiful roses on the bed spread! Aren't they just lovely?" I mean, you hate to spoil that kind of innocence. Even though she was slightly distraught when I threw the comforter off our bed using two fingers that barely touched. I told her I was just hot (which was true).

Right now the girls are playing on a log-cabinesque play fort with slides galore, while Jeremiah and I eat Ben and Jerry's straight out of the carton in this never-ending sunset and breeze. I've decided I love road trips :)

Tomorrow we plan to hike around the Badlands and see Mount Rushmore. We may even watch a movie in our CLEAN bed tonight.

Day Two

2010-07-17T09:30:00.003-05:00

First of all, I want to thank you all SO VERY MUCH for your prayers and well-wishes for travel safety. God not only answered, but He answered fast. We started out the morning getting the trailer light problem fixed. I had prepared myself for the worst, but y'all we pulled right up to the correct mechanic shop (a miracle in itself considering I scribbled directions down half asleep) and they fixed the problem in ten minutes flat. The girls and I never even got out of the car! (It was just a blown fuse--thank you Lord no new trailer was required. I may have just started walking back home if they'd asked us to re-load :))

Next we went to the Indianapolis Children's Museum. A.W.E.S.O.M.E.

Pace's one request for this road trip was to see some dinosaurs. Her request was granted, but I think maybe a little too well. She was pretty scared the whole time we were in "their world"...even Dapples wasn't her normal independent self, when faced with these gigantic creatures in the semi-darkness.

The girls said their favorite part was the Barbie exhibit. The got to design outfits and walk the catwalk:

They also rode a 90-year-old carousel,

And played rock-star right next to Elvis' motorcycle.

Jeremiah and I did a lot of ear-to-ear grinning, just observing their intense excitement over each new discovery.

At 2pm we were pulling out of the museum and Pace asked how far we had to go. Jeremiah's reply was hysterically sobering: "Ok girls, we are going to drive the same distance as Birmingham to Dothan, back to Birmingham, then back to Dothan AGAIN!" We then proceeded to calculate the rest of the trip through questions like, "Are we back to Birmingham yet?" "How long before we start BACK to Dothan?"

It was a long haul through nothing but Illinois corn fields. Beautiful in a lot of ways. It seems the small-time farmer is still alive and well out here. Each field contains some little white farmhouse that we delighted in picking out and rejoicing over. We saw a thunder storm raging in the distance. More lightning up in the clouds--and contained--than I'd ever seen. It looked like a warring pack of demons, fighting to break through the sun-setting horizon.

We did drive thirty miles in the wrong direction at one point yesterday. Jeremiah and I decided that it was both of our faults...and thus were able to not spend too much time sulking.

Got to go now. Lots and lots of miles to travel today!

The Journey Begins

2010-07-16T00:44:00.004-05:00

I could write a very humorous book about all it took for our family to officially begin our journey West. Despite the lost storage keys, trips to the DMV, power outages, and MULTITUDINOUS trips to a lovely U-HAUL location called "Backyard Treasures," we managed to pull out of Dothan only one day behind our (already-pushed-back-once-by-choice) date.

That last parenthetical note occurred because Jeremiah decided he might want to be in at least one of the girls' rehearsal dinner video pictures--at the beach as a child. And, since Dothan is only an hour and a half from some of the most beautiful beaches on earth....And since they may soon be covered in oil...And since our friends who have been in Vermont doing residency for the past five years invited us...we took one last journey down:

Then, after that fun, we began the fiasco of organizing and loading (for the 3,756th time) a trailer. We reached a low point last night, when we realized at around 8pm that it would be pointless to begin our journey at the weary state we'd reached. So, we decided (against our pride and our families' jokes) that we would just start bright and shiny this morning.

We went to bed defeated, but awoke on the farm to something pretty amazing:

Little Hope, the horse I like to ride at the farm, had her long-anticipated baby boy.

He was so beautiful and sweet and smart, we could hardly leave--still :)

And a successful birth felt like just the right way to begin such a life-altering journey.

At 8:30 am on July 15th, we pulled out of the driveway. SIXTEEN hours later--at 12:30 am on the 16th we finally arrived HERE--tucked away in a hotel in Indianapolis, Indiana. We had LOTS of lil' stops and good-byes between Dothan and Nashville, but each one was sweet. The girls were pretty perfect, and we never even had to turn on a DVD player...It can't last long can it :)? This is their first time to ever stay in a hotel--perhaps that's why Jeremiah let us stay somewhere that I'm willing to let my arms make contact with the comforter ;) He normally likes to build my immunities during our hotel adventures.

Besides the fact that we discovered, as dusk settled on us, that the running lights on our U-Haul didn't work...leaving us with no choice but to drive the last 200 miles with our flashers blinking, things are going well. Pray we don't have to wait forever for a repairman to come fix our lights in the morning. Pray even harder that we don't have to UNLOAD AND RELOAD THIS SLAM-JAM-PACKED-FULL TRAILER.

Still smiling after Day 1. Mainly thankful to have our little family all together...Good-short-night.