Light in the Dark

How light is it where you are right now?  In a country where the sun rarely shines from November til at least March, I'm feeling the cold. Do you have nice warm lighting, or do you dread the afternoons when you have to put on the eco-saver bulbs just so you can see what you have to make for dinner?

Back when I was in University, I went on a choir trip to Minneapolis. In February.  It was COLD.  Colder and icier and darker than I had ever experienced. And I was ill. Half the concerts, I had to sit out because of an infection I finally got treated while there.

But one encouraging thing happened, and it changed my life forever.

I stayed one night with a host family who gave me breakfast by candle-light.  It was comforting and I asked them, "Why the candles?" They explained that their ancestors (Swedes) always burned candles on dark mornings. It helped them be cheerful to greet the day when the natural light finally arrived.

We are burning candles at breakfast now, and the children really appreciate it. It helps all of us feel warmer, and it's a more friendly light than the eco-saver bulbs.

I've been listening to a song by Sara Groves called "You are the Sun" quite a lot recently. In it, she describes how we can only glow when our face is turned towards the Light. Maybe you need some more Light in your life. Maybe a vacation to Spain isn't in the budget. And just MAYBE, even more sunshine wouldn't warm your heart. I know for me, feeling cold can sometimes be helped by turning up the heat in the house, or by going outside and feeling the sun on my face. But often that chill comes from lack of time spent looking at the One who is the True Son.

Home for Christmas

Just wanted to say Happy Christmas, Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year!! So thankful we all made it to 2016!

You know that house I wrote about that I never thought we would be able to move into?  The one that surpassed my expectations, and probably was a little unrealistic for us to afford? We moved into that house on the 17th October, and now live in a town called Glossop, in Derbyshire.  We have hills out the front windows, and hills out the back.  There's a cricket pitch in back of our garden, and it is so quiet.  No traffic noise, and no mold!

For the first time ever, Valerie and Jenny and I spent a morning the week before Christmas cutting out Christmas cookies, which we then decorated. We delivered 12 plates to various service people around town. They were not gluten-free or dairy-free because we weren't eating them. I was so thankful that Valerie didn't start wheezing from the flour in the the air and did not break out in hives, even after having her hands in the dough. I made her wash them often, but she must be doing better with her allergies because I never would have even tried this in years past. 

The police station was so shocked by our gift that they asked if we would like a friendly visit from some officers. They came the next week! The Fire and Rescue Captain happily gave us a tour of the fire trucks, even letting the kids climb in the special little truck they take out on the moors to fight the fires or rescue poor folks who get lost in the fog.  

The library ladies haven't forgotten us, and now we have friends there! The ladies at the Volunteer Centre were very surprised and I think thankful that someone realized they needed encouragement.  One is head of all volunteer services, and the other heads up the Alzheimers' Unit.  "Well, then you DEFINITELY need cookies," I said, smiling.  And they both said, "YES we DO!"  

We went to the petrol station and handed a plate to the workers there. At first, they gave me a dirty look, thinking I was going to ask them for something. When I handed them the plate and said, "We'd like to thank you for the services you give our community and wish you a Happy Christmas," we were turning to go before I heard, "Oh...wow..Thank you..That's sweet!" How could anyone resist tiny Jennifer in her shiny red raincoat reaching past her knees and her little red rain boots. 

The postal service workers were equally shocked, and it was something we will definitely do again.  The hardest part for the kids, but the part that I think made the strongest point, was that none of the cookies were for them to eat. 

They were to be given away. 

I explained that Christmas is about celebrating the greatest, most generous gift ever given. We talked about how it is a happier thing to give than to get. And although David (7 yrs) and Valerie (10 yrs) REALLY wanted to eat what they were making, they were happy to see the looks of surprise on people's faces. Jimmy and Jennifer enjoyed handing the cookies to people and were quite subdued by each response. I believe they felt the sacrifice after the last plate was given out and everyone wanted to stay in our warm house and not go anywhere else. 

We made special cookies for ourselves another day. 

Lessons from my Broken Finger

Have you been wounded? Have you ever tried to press yourself back into service even when you're bent out of shape? Maybe you try to deny that you've been hurt. Or you just want to try to move on. 

These were some questions I found myself applying to my life after I broke my finger. In case you didn't hear, on the first day of my trip to the states in July, I tripped and fell in the dark and caught my finger on the bed frame. It was so painful when it happened that I kept waking up to the throbbing and didn't really feel any relief even after pain medicine. I hoped it was fine, and played the piano and even shook hands with a few folks. Cousin Steve said to wrap it, which I half-heartedly did, but then I got annoyed at how much more it hurt, so I unwrapped it.

It took another week at home before I finally went for an x-ray. I was relieved and a more than a little happy to find out it was fractured, and that I should wrap it. But the nurse who did the wrapping had not seen the X-ray so she put a HUGE bandage around it. This not only hurt, but made it almost impossible for me to do anything besides focus on my finger. So distracting! 

My bandaged finger also made me very protective of it...not using it, watching it whenever the kids came too close.... Long story short, it started to look like it was going to heal crooked.

I finally got an appointment with the fracture clinic, where I waited two hours to see a surgeon. He very quickly unwrapped my finger, and said, "Go ahead and use the finger. It's fine. It's not going to be crooked, and that swelling will be there indefinitely. Fingers don't like to be broken at the joint."

Use the finger?! I doubted the expert advice I was being given, so I asked to see the X-ray. I was shocked to discover that the finger appeared fine, except for a MINUTE chip out of the joint . 

I threw the wrapping in the trash and began using the finger zealously. I exercised it through the pain. It will never be the same, and still hurts, but I don't think about it all the time. The realization that its healing was going to be a process helped me release my need for it to be the same as it was before the accident. The injury was no longer the focus of all my attention.

Just when I thought the finger was mostly better, I hurriedly cut a large onion with a knife that wasn't sharp enough. The onion slipped and the knife cut my broken finger instead. This time the pain was excruciating and very bloody. I not only had to bandage it, but I couldn't get it wet. It needed steri-strips to hold the slice together. Once again, I could only wait for this healing to take its course. I cut a small nerve, which means I have some numbness in my fingertip from now on. Other than that, my finger has almost returned to normal. It's just slightly sore in the joint.

I think something similar happens when our spirits are wounded. Sometimes we choose to ignore the hurt, try to forget it, or deny its very existence. Other times, we focus so much on it that there's nothing else we can see. Admitting and recognizing that we have been hurt is the first step toward healing, but sometimes that process is unpleasant and messy. 

Only after we see the situation for what it is can we begin to move toward peaceful acceptance. Whether or not we see change is not our responsibility. Our reaction is the only aspect we can control. There will come a time when the hurt doesn't feel as raw. But we will never be the same.

The Purpose of My Rocking Chair

There was a rocking chair in our home when I was small. It was black, made from a special kind of wood. It had a lower than usual seat so that small people, or shorter adults, could more easily sit.  It had a high back with 10 or more thin carved rungs streaming down from an ornate design in the headrest. 

I remember a few times it was abused and tragedies resulted. A cut on the head, or at least a bruise, as the rocker went top over tail. We also played with it on its side, and used the rungs for a cage to house an animal for our zoo.

Its real purpose, though, was for resting.

I never was able to rock Jenny or Jimmy as babies, as we had to leave our sliding rocker in West Chicago in 2008.  I have wished for one several times, then forgotten. It wasn't until I saw how happily Jennifer rocked back and forth on a friend's rocker that I remembered. But it remained a wish.

Maybe that's why I got so excited when we received our rocking chair as an early housewarming gift. Now I can rock my children when they need to be comforted. I can even rock myself now and again. You're not supposed to be in a hurry when you rock in a rocking chair. I struggle with that, often operating from a sense of urgency, always feeling the need to be doing something. I need the reminder to slow down, to sit and rest.  I need its physical presence as a example of how to be patient while still being slightly active. You have to move to activate the Rest while rocking.

Active rest is a picture for me of what it means to keep walking and trusting that there is One who knows all and is always active. He is the One who invented Rest, and without Him, there is no peace. I will let our rocking chair call me to wait and be still, even when there is so much to do.

10 Things I Love About Valerie

The night Hurricane Katrina swept through Mississippi, (with tidal surges flooding New Orleans), Aug. 29, 2005, I was getting prepped for a c-section, excited to meet you, but a little sad that my plan for a natural water birth was being abandoned.  You were breech, and I had had contractions off and on throughout the day.  My dear friend Robin had gone into proper labour a few days before, and I was eager to catch up. She had a little girl, Mila, and I was sure that you were a boy.


You were born and they had to suction some fluid out of your lungs before we heard your first cry. Maybe that's why you've never liked water in your face.  Maybe that's also where you first experienced your fear of loud noises.

You lay in the bassinet with your legs straight up and out-- the perfect pike position.  The nurses said that was normal for a breech baby, because that's the way you were in the womb.  I really think you were preparing for gymnastics even then.

I remember you flinching during your hearing test.  Some babies sleep through it, but not you. You have been gifted with ears that hear things others don't and eyes that see what others miss.  When you were smaller, and could barely talk, one of your first phrases after a Quincenara party was "Music..too loud for babies..." The eye doctor says you have perfect 3D vision.  It's rare for adults to have that, and in a child it's almost unheard of.

I wrote here about some of what we went through during your first two years of life.  And now I get to celebrate 10 things I love about you.

1. You are musical. You could sing before you could talk. When you were just 11 months old, you sang the tune to "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" from the back carseat--just without the words!

2. You are happy most of the time. Even when you were so allergic to so many things, you sang to keep yourself occupied. You love life! You enjoy things in a way that many of your friends cannot understand.

3. You are courageous. Even when you are afraid of something, you will try it at least once.

4. You are tenderhearted. Whether it's a small person or a tiny animal, you care deeply and seek to love.

5. You are loyal and have lots of friends. You make friends quickly and people are drawn to you.

6. You are physical. We didn't know this until you started gymnastics, but you really love to move! Now you finally have a fun way to use your body and strengthen it! It's wonderful to watch you.

7. You are artistic. I have never seen someone sketch with grey pencil and show life in colour. Each drawing shows movement, perspective, and emotion. God will use these drawings; I'm sure of it.

8. You are sensitive. You pick up on how someone is feeling without them having to say a word.  You do not miss a thing.

9.  You love to read. I have found it hard keeping up with you, and have been surprised at how well you remember what you've read. It has made you more articulate, and has helped you tell stories.

10. You are imaginative. This has fuelled your dreams, your music, and your art.

I'm so thankful for you.

There are many more things I love about you, my firstborn Valerie, but these are just 10, in honour of the ten years we have been gifted with you. I never want to stop being thankful for your gifts. Happy Birthday!

Hunting for a House

Our rental has been a gift in many ways, but the mold has gotten me down.  It's a strange thing to feel depressed every morning, go outside and feel encouraged (because the air is not tainted), then go back inside and be depressed again. Environmental illness is real. Our lease is up soon, and we need to go somewhere else.  Somewhere with clean air, not in a river valley, and preferably with sheep nearby, grazing calmly.  Glossop seems the right place for more reasons than the landscape.

We've seen seven houses. Every house we've toured has seemed SMALLER than I thought it would be.  Yet we have to make a decision.  I've been worried that we could make the wrong decision and be stuck with a house with a myriad of problems.

Some of the houses we saw seemed perfect on the inside, but cars whizzed past at high speed on the road outside. Sometimes the location was perfect, but the house needed work.  Mat and I have learned that having a demanding full-time job and trying to fix up a house with four small children living in it all the time is not best for us in this stage of life.

Once I realized this was a hunt, and not just a choice between one house or another, my attitude changed, and I've found it's not as scary as I had made it out to be in my mind.

We've learned about our needs, what we really love and what we really hate.

We've learned that no matter how big the space, you still need to heat it, so having a large conservatory with a ceiling with double glazing windows is not practical.

We've also learned that just because a house seems priced right, doesn't mean it is.  People exaggerate, brag, and even lie to you to get you to buy their house for more than it's worth.

I've been learning about my desires for a pet-free, mold-free house with space and newness, and how I had assumed that denying them just for the sake of humility isn't wise.  

Questions such as, "If this is the house we are meant to have, will I accept that it's not exactly what I was hoping for?" or even more surprising, "What if the house we are supposed to get is MORE than I dared hope?" have me realizing there might be more to this hunt than just finding a place to live.

We keep walking and trusting, and we see our kids happy with simple things. They are excited when I am excited. They follow my lead when I start to voice or show my fears.

Having a bit of grass big enough to host a trampoline is their dream right now.

Treat Day

Someone asked me the other day, "So you don't have pudding every day?" No, we don't. My children love treats and sweets so much partially because they are not given them often. Fresh fruit for snacks on normal days, and a special dessert on Friday and Saturday. This means ice cream (our version) is only in limited amounts, and enjoyed so much more.  Sometimes a little sweet on top or on the side makes it even better. These pictures show the kids in pajamas enjoying homemade coconut milk ice cream with berry sauce (cook frozen berries on stove with a bit of maple syrup to sweeten, pour over top, and YUMMY!) although I am not against sugar, some of us are more sugar sensitive than others, and I enjoy finding things that are sweetened just with maple syrup or fruit. No hyperactivity, and lots of happiness.