The Nine Days

Rose came into this world on a rainy morning in April. She was pink and beautiful and precious. Dave was in the room and so was little Avonlea. Avonlea was six at the time, nine days from her 7th birthday. She had prayed for years for her sister Rose to be born and I thought she might want to be in on the action in the delivery room. 
As she held her new sister, I asked her, "So what did you think of little Rose's birth?"
She thought for a moment before replying, "It was very....private."
Later that day, I had the realization that in 2020, for nine days, I would have 4 teenagers. Rose would turn 13, and 9 days later, Avonlea would turn 20.
Of course at the time, I didn't really believe that day would ever come. If they grew up that would mean that I'd have to grow up, and I had no intention of doing so. I loved my babies being babies. I loved kissing soft little faces, holding grimy hands, and listening to their hilarious thoughts. 
Sometimes I wish life was a book that I could read as many times as I liked. The chapters have flown with adventures and heartache, laughter and pets, and it's 2020. 
Last week we ushered in the Nine Days.
Dave and I had made all sort of plans. We were going to Hawaii, a Victorian Tea House, a hike, 2 restaurants, etc. It was going to be a huge party, a celebration of 4 teenagers, all of whom we think are absolutely amazing people. But alas, COVID19. 
So the Nine Days that would have been spent in celebration are spent in isolation.
During the Nine Days we found out that the government ran out of money for small business loans and we had to lay off all our employees. Our business is considered essential but we do our business to "non" essential businesses so we had no work. 
Rose had kind friends who drove over and sat on blankets 6 feet apart from eachother to celebrate her day. Her grandparents stopped by with a present. We went on LOTS of walks with the dogs. We played games, did puzzles, went to a protest, prayed, and watched old movies. But the Nine Days looked nothing like I envisioned it looking. 

This is what a birthday party looks like during COVID19. We are doing a Bible Study. 

One of the things I did during the "stay at home" order was read through all my old journals starting with my marriage. I was constantly being surprised in my journals. Marriage was way more work than I thought it was going to be. Babies were surprisingly challenging. Homeschooling was alarmingly unvaried. House cleaning never ended. But even though so many things were not as I had anticipated them being, I still dove right in and enjoyed what I could and endured the rest (like diapers). 
So with the Nine Days. Another chapter. Another journal entry. Another surprise that I wasn't expecting but that I dove into anyway, thanking God for the good and enduring the rest (like Rose's zoom ballet class for 7 hours a week). 
I woke up this morning and knew the Nine Days were over. Twenty years ago I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. It was as if Dave and I had planted an unlabeled seed and we've had such pleasure in watching her become herself over the years. Avonlea is a delightful surprise and she has bloomed in extraordinary ways. 
I'm pretty sure my kids haven't stopped surprising me and life isn't done surprising me and I guess I should just dive in and enjoy what I have to endure because this is it. And I suppose the biggest surprise is that the kids have managed to grow up....but I haven't.

Before

After

Before

After

Before

After

The Slopes

Yesterday, Dave took the boys skiing. 
It was a beautiful spring day and they had all kinds of dangerous, adreneline pumping fun. 
I stayed home and vacuumed and schooled Rose. Later, I took the girls on a stroll through an antique store and ended up at a restaurant for dinner. 
We all missed each other.
After having Avonlea away last year we are profoundly grateful for the times when we are all together. Because we know it's not going to last. Avonlea's year in New Zealand was the beginning of the end. Grant leaves in July for his year in New Zealand and Avonlea has boys circling the house like vultures. So the nights of Catan and movies and dinner around a candlelit table are expiring and therefore precious. But truly, they were always precious.

Dave said the weather conditions up skiing yesterday were interesting. At the top of the lift it was sunny with blue skies but as he skiied down the mountain it misted over and then began snowing! Different altitudes had different weather and he only had a brief time to marvel over it as he manuvered the hills and landed the jumps. 

I understood this. Conditions are constantly changing around here and I have only time to blink in amazement before my attention is demanded for navigation of the terrain.  A few weeks ago the kids were all in the office playing a game and I was cleaning up a desk and reading alternately. I went to get something and Rowan called out, "Mom, come back. You're the sunshine in the room." This random little comment stopped me in my tracks. Do I help decide the climate of their lives? Yes, I do. I wonder if they'll remember their childhood as tropical or polar? Probably both or somewhere in between. 

So I vacuum. I have the kitchen painted blue and the living room painted red (Dave wins again). A barn is going up behind Ma Glo's apartment. It will house a milk cow and Rowan's tractor. There is a big vase of tulips on the counter next to a plate of cinnamon coffee cake. As hard as I try to make their home beautiful and cozy, it's actually my heart and hands and smile that make the difference in their lives. I know I forget this. I get grumpy cleaning toilets and begrudge them the crumbs on the floor. But this counteracts the very thing I'm trying to do. Which is, make their lives beautiful, colorful, engaging and then point to the one who is the Creator of all creation. I've been manuvering this terrain for twenty years, through all types of weather. And although I'm tired, I realize there's no where to lay down. I'm still on the slope. 

There are days when I'm ready to check in my rentals, but there are also moments of exileration that encourage me to keep going. My adorable and shrinking, 79 year old mother, goes downtown to Portland every Tuesday evening to pray for homeless people in line for the free dinner. She braves the cold and dirt and occasional violence to offer people the love of Jesus. She mentioned to Rowan that sometimes people ask for Bibles but that she doesn't have any to hand out. Rowan gathered his siblings together and asked if they'd put their tithes and offering toward buying Bibles for Ma Glo to distribute. The purchased 600 New Testiments with commentary on how to become a Christian. 

Moments like that, when I see them loving well, I realize afresh the faithfulness of God. 

For faithful He is. In all kinds of weather through all different landscapes. He persistantly takes my world and shakes it up and teaches me to appreciate the changes instead of whining about them (even though whining is unfortunately part of the process for me). The changes change my life when I submit to His work in me. 

So today, I drop off kids at class, stop by the clinic for blood work, cut up watermelon for the ducks, make a pot of tea and read a book aloud to lunching children. I do these things in His Name for a kingdom I cannot see, but one I highly anticipate.

I know that we won't all be together forever on this earth, in this (clean) home, but I'm doing my utmost to make sure we're all together in another home for eternity. 
These are precious years.

Prone to Laugh

I felt that maybe we should have been wearing a label.

"Prone to Laugh." At everything.

In January, at a Mission Conference, I discovered that Sue Gilmore, a Capernwray legend, would be speaking at a woman's conference in Canada in May.

I sent out an email, would my Capernwray girls like to go to Canada?

Johannah was having a baby in March, Canada would not be realistic.
Chrissy was going to Disneyworld, in the opposite direction.

But Traci and Sara were up for the adventure. So we went.

Sara picked me up, whisked me out of a mind-bogglingly stressful May, and drove me up to Seattle to Traci's house. Somehow, I shed 20 years in the drive. Life became a thing to be laughed at again.

We left at 5am the next morning and headed for Thetis Island. A journey including 2 ferries and lots of driving and much laughter.

This is Capernwray Harbor. Unbelievably beautiful.

We saw Sue within minutes of arriving. She was surprised and astounded and happy to see us. And she somehow made us feel like we were AMAZING women for braving the journey to visit her, when really, the AMAZING is all on her side.

As a speaker, Sue was hilarious and challenging. She has lived her life for Jesus. Unabashedly. She is full of the joy of the Lord. She is feisty.

This is our little cabin in the woods.

If I had a dress or a pair of pants that I wore 20 years ago at Capernwray, I wouldn't be able to fit into them. Life has changed the shape of me. I was immensely relieved that I could still fit into the psyche of a young girl laughing at life. That with Sara and Traci, the core of who I still was rose up and asserted itself....even though Traci and I were asked how many grandchildren we had, by an obviously seeing-impaired elderly person. Even though I was asked if I home-schooled because, "you just look like a home-school mom." (Good to know. I obviously wasn't showing my tattoos and body piercings off enough. Probably because I don't have any.)

Trying to escape "Grandma"

And when we told people that we had been to Capernwray together 20 years ago and they replied that we had just given away our age. Traci piped up, "Oh we were very young!" and I backed her with, "We changed each other's diapers." Sara had to think hard about this comment, because we did so many wild things at Capernwray, she wasn't sure if I was joking or not. I was, but the three of us were laughing....laughing.....laughing.

I was glad to get home. Glad to see the faces of my kids.

But I also felt, that in a sense, I had left home behind me. That those girls, that place, that sound of laughter, was my home. That snuggled next to my friends, telling the stories of our lives, singing around the campfire, downing dessert, laying on the dock, worshipping God, listening to Sue and her English accent, were as familiar to me as my daughter's face. And just as dear.

Flying Into The Light

It's a curious thing to fly to Alaska from the lower 48 at 9:30pm.
The world was dusky as we boarded the plane, but the further north we flew, the lighter it became.
It gave me an eerie time machine sensation of going backwards.
Three and a half hours later, we landed in Alaska, at dusk.

The next day the strangeness continued when it started to snow. I left the lower 48 in May and I landed in December.

Hearing someone shoveling their driveway when I awoke was a bit surreal.

I haven't been up to see Page for a few years. They were attending a new church, it just happened to be the church I grew up in, and haven't seen for 25 years. Again, speeding backwards.

I was even more amazed that someone there actually recognized me. And the man that stood up to preach was an old friend's little brother, who last I saw was running around in pull-ups. By some strange twist of fate, they planned a clip during service of an interview with the man who was pastor the whole time I was there. There he was, up front, proclaiming God's faithfulness on video just as he did when I was a little girl. I'll never see him again on this earth, but what an unexpected gift to have another glimpse of his kind face.

We were able to visit the little girls I used to nanny. They are beautiful women with babes of their own and I am so proud of them. So thankful for the times of laughter and dancing that we had together.

I look at these girls, and I look at my girls, and I look at Page, all growing every year more like Jesus, and I know that I don't really want to go back in time.
I came home today to 2 boys and one man who desperately missed their girls. Grant ran through the kitchen after we were all settled back in and said, "Everything is happy again now that you're home!"

I am so thankful for a past that brought me to this present.

Rosy's first time at the chocolate fountain.

Page and I love our girls!

Avonlea walking the tracks.

The tree which sister Amy and I almost ignited. It's my kids' favorite story of a bon fire gone wrong.

Madison and Rose on Beluga Rock. Dave proposed to me on the rocks right behind them.

Avonlea Page and Page on Beluga.



Avonlea converted Madison into a birdwatcher. They were able to spot a bald eagle and it's nest and several other birds which made Avonlea gasp and squeal at the same time.

I'll leave you with one of my personal favorites. Please remember that we came to Alaska from a heat wave in our neck of the woods. We were a little unprepared for the inclement weather. Page told me it was going to snow, but I didn't really believe her.

Rose was a trooper as we hiked to see the fairy field. In flip-flops. In the snow.

 



From the Chronicles of Ma Glo

The day started strangely.
I laid in bed while four rambunctious children alternated jumping, yelling, and kissing me. Grant with a Nerf gun and foam missiles turned my peaceful bedroom into a war zone. I opened my mouth to still the uprising and I ended up with a Nerf missile sticking out of it. The kids found this incredibly humorous. Grant had liquid laughter running down his face.
"It was just like the three stooges!"
Dave and I finally evacuated the troops and proceeded with our day.
At breakfast Ma Glo called and told me she'd take a couple kids with her to the store. This, my friends, is grace. For most of you, like myself, do anything short of crime to avoid the stress of taking young children in the grocery store. My mom sacrifices her sanity willingly to give us some time to get stuff done.
The next issue was who got to go with her. Rose was a given. Rowan and Grant both claimed it was their turn. Avonlea turned her big brown eyes on me and said, "I've never gotten to go Mom."
It was true. She stays home dutifully every Saturday and cleans the bathrooms and the floors with me. The balance swayed in her favor. I told her she could go after she finished her work.
Mom, Rose, and Avonlea set off blithely, and I gave them a lunch list.
Three hours later, I called to tell Mom that if they came home and found us all unconscious, it was from food deprivation.
She, however, was in no mood to hear about it. She was still in Whole Foods and had been stressed in the worst way. She told me about it, graphically.
They had gotten to the store to find that she had forgotten her purse at home.
They came home and got it.
Pulling off the freeway, on the way back to the store, a car side-swiped them.
Mom and the driver rolled down their windows and Mom ordered him to pull over on the side of the road. Avonlea claimed that she had been scared but at this point she got excited, "Because I knew there would be a scene!"
The offender turned out to be a 17 year old guy who wasn't paying attention (sound familiar?).
My mom had her full mother-bear nature roused by this time and began with the intimating statement, "Do you know why we're not dead? It's because the blood of Jesus is all over this car!" A feeble apology and a questioning glance at the blue car did not suffice. "Those are my granddaughters in the car! You could have hurt my granddaughters!" Feeble apology. "Are you a Christian?" Answered in the affirmative. "You'd better be if you're going to drive like that!"
There was quite a bit more in this same vein. I'll spare you.
Finally they got to the store and Mom was a walking time bomb of stress and strain. She waited at the deli counter and saw people working on things behind the counter, but no one helped her.
She raised her voice and yelled, "Is anyone going to help me?"
Here is about where Avonlea decided she was content to stay home and clean toilets.
That night at dinner we expressed our gratitude to God for the girls safety and Avonlea added, "And please help that poor boy that hit us."
Maybe we should pray for the deli guy, too.
I have a feisty Mommy.

Bloody Ballet Slippers

I had just washed the sheets.

She decided to tuck herself in during quiet time.

Bladder full.

She woke up and realized she soaked the work of my morning with urine.

She hid.

I found and comforted and put the sheets back in the washer.

I gave her a banana.

I went to Avonlea's room to see if she had finished sewing the elastic on my ballet slippers for me. I needed them for lessons tomorrow.

She had sewed on one strap. In three days. It was done wrong and badly. She was reading a book. A book that she had read a dozen times before.

I picked up the slippers, threaded a needle, and began the painful process which really can't be called sewing. I hit my finger more than the elastic and the blood started to run.

Rose came up crying, "Mommy my banana broke in half! I can't eat it!"

Normally I would have comforted.

Under the circumstances I replied, "Get used to it Rose. Life is broken bananas. Life is dreams broken in half. That's life. That's normal and if you refuse to take it as it comes, you starve." I looked down through the mist in my eyes and saw the blood running all over the pink leather, and I said, "Life is bloody ballet shoes."

I can remember excruciating hours as a girl on my pointe shoes. I would unwind the sheep wool around my bloody toes after long rehersals. If too much blood had dried onto the wool I would have to soak my foot in water to get it off. I would look at the few toe nails I had left and think, why am I doing this to myself? I was pretty sure I was never going to be a professional ballerina. What was the point of all this training and discipline?

I've taught many, many little girls how to dance. At a dance studio in Portland, at Friday School, and in my home. It's given me so much pleasure and joy. I have been able to teach my own little girls and their little friends. The joy now is worth more than the pain then.

I finished sewing and my fingers looked like some rare form of porous coral. I said a few words to my big daughter on what trust and responsibility means. I went downstairs to find my little daughter eating a broken banana and evidently enjoying it despite it's brokenness.

I put on my bloody ballet slippers, and danced.

She can laugh......

So my plans for this week, the wood between the worlds, was to organize (the above picture is my efforts in the boys' room), ponder, and prepare. INSTEAD.........Dave and the boys headed to LaPine for some snow time with Pa and Ma and I got a week of GIRLS!!!!!!
I must admit....I went a little wild. We went shopping every day. I ate cookies for breakfast. I let Rose get her ears pierced. I bought Avonlea make-up. I let Avonlea stay up till midnight and we read poetry, did our hair, and drank sparkling cider out of goblets. I stayed in bed till 10am. I took Rose to the build-a-bear store and let her indulge. We rode the carousel. We watched Anne of Green Gables. We went out for dinner. Need I go on..........

How much fun we've had, just being the GIRLS! We've bonded and laughed and ushered in a loving, accepting, delightful new year.

This week, I also finished reading The Selected Journals of L.M. Montgomery Volume 4. We know now, that the beloved author of Anne of Green Gables was a very depressed woman. Everyone back then would have known it had they been able to read her journals. They are utterly heartbreaking.

"At times I am filled with such a terror of the future that I cannot face it."

"I am a prisoner with no hope of release."

"He is the only thing I have to comfort me." She is referring to her cat.

My mind kept comparing her words with the words of Proverbs 31. The contrast was stark.

"She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come." (vs 25)

"She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue." (vs 26

"Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised." (vs 30)

And as I romp and play with my girls this week I ponder these things in my heart. And when we snuggle up and watch Anne of Green Gables and little Rose turns to me and asks, "Does Anne (pronounced "On") love Jesus Mommy?" I cringe and tell her that "On" is just pretend, it's just a story. And as delightful as Anne is, she's not the role model I want for my girls.

I want them to be women who fear the LORD. I want them to never be afraid of tomorrow because He will never leave us or forsake us. I want them to throw inhibitions to the wind and walk courageously forth as the girls He has made them.

And I want them to laugh, joyously, at the days to come.

The Girls

Two females rule this roost with me,
Posy-Rose and Avonlea
Beguile and amuse
As they choose
And with feminine charm
My levity, disarm
The Queenship is a ruse
I but a puppet, mouth what they muse
And should they demand the worship of the doll,
God help us all!