The Value of a Wedge

We have a saying in our family, "Don't be a wedge."
Granted, it's said mostly to one child.
He has a gift for provoking, dividing us in anger or frustration.
One day in school, we studied the wedge as a tool. I explained to the kids that a family is like a piece of wood. We have cracks, but we're a solid unit. When one child acts as a wedge in a family, they stick in the crack, and their actions and words hammer and split apart something that was whole.
"Don't be a wedge."

We walk this Christian walk with others and we learn from each other. We've been close to a family for years, and this family also harbors a wedge. And as their wedge got older, the consequences, the frustration, the crack in the family veneer, deepened. But what dawned on me the other day is this family is not falling apart. God is using this child to provoke things deep within themselves, things that never would have come to light if it hadn't been for the struggles with this child. And the way they handle the situation brings glory to God and brings others closer to God.
And their child, with wedge tendencies, is a tool used by God to bring light into dark places.

Jesus was a wedge. Everywhere he went He caused division. Because God didn't care about what people looked like on the outside. God cared about their hearts. God is in the business of cracking people wide open, healing, and binding up again. Jesus blatantly stated that He came to divide, "Do you think I came to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you, but division....They will be divided, father against son and son against father, mother against daughter..." * You get the idea.
To God, no whole is worth more than the Spiritual whole.
He knows that we can put up a good facade while we put our faith in a whole lot of other things, but by His Grace, He cracks the facade asunder, shows the rotten core of our faith, exposes the heart.
Jesus brings light into dark places.

The family who's wounds are bound by God, who's fissures and cracks prompt repentance, confession, change and growth, will be used by God.

We have a wedge, and we have to acknowledge that for some reason, God wanted us to have him. We need him in our family.
Just because something is whole, doesn't mean it's healthy.
The core of our family could be rotting, but as long as we're keeping it together on the outside, we resist help. Jesus refers to this as "whitewashed tombs."*
So my thinking evolves. And I thank God that the son who provokes has a purpose. And I pray that I stop resisting the wedge and let it do it's God-given work in our lives. Even when that's painful. Even when it cracks the veneer. Because I want light more than I want a glossy exterior.
And I thank God for friends who let me see into their crevasses and who say in the dark places, "God is good to allow this."
Because He is.
Always.

I need to alter the family saying,
because any tool in the hand of God can wield good.

*Luke 12:51-53 NIV
*Matt. 23:27 NIV

This Life We Eat or This Food We Live

I used to eat ice cream for breakfast.
Mint chocolate chip or
Peanut butter chocolate in a pinch.

I didn't just have a sweet tooth, but a whole sweet mouth.
I ate what I wanted and didn't really care what was in it, as long as it was yummy.

I could make cookies by myself without a recipe by the time I was 7.
When Avonlea was 7 she was well on her way to such heights of accomplishment, when it hit.
Allergies.
Gluten. Dairy. Eggs. Sugar.

Avonlea sat in the doctor's office and described her allergic reactions.
She kept saying, "But that's not allergies because my Daddy does it, too."
And as I sat there and her words worked their way through my brain I realized what I later told her in the car, "Life as we know it is over."

Dave did indeed have the same allergies as she did. So did Grant. And Rowan. Rosy's reaction to egg produced an emergency room visit.

To make a long story short, I no longer eat ice cream for breakfast.
We now eat very differently and I've come to terms with it all.
Soaking grains can be fun. Really.
Raw milk is yummy and the cream on top can be made into ice cream. With honey.

I know how this all has affected me but sometimes I forget that my children also have been affected by these limitations and food awareness.
And then I'm reminded.

Dave took Grant hunting this month. Dave had grabbed a bunch of food at the store before they left. He later told me that Grant refused to eat the canned chili that he made for dinner. Why? Grant read the label, spotted "Trans fat" in the nutritional information, and wanted nothing to do with it. He wouldn't eat it. Dave scoffed at him, ate it, and was later sick. Grant had a moment of "I told you so."

So my ten year old checks labels and won't eat it if it's not healthy...it gets worse.

Monday night we watched Sound of Music as a family. At the opening of the film it is announced that the movie is modified to fit the screen.
Avonlea turned to me gaping, "They modified the movie!" Yes my daughter knows about genetically modified foods, which we avoid at all costs, and thought that they somehow did something unhealthy to the movie. I had to assure that it was perfectly safe to watch.
I was still reeling from this when the part in the movie comes where the kids and Maria buy fruit at the stand and take it up into the mountains to have a picnic. During this charming scene, where the boys are playing ball and the girls are lounging while they eat their fruit, Rosy turned to me in consternation and said, "They didn't wash that fruit!"
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I explained lamely that they probably did but just didn't show it and I toyed with the idea of explaining to her that they probably didn't use harmful pesticides at that time, but I let it pass.

I think I'm going to go make some ice cream for breakfast.

Birthday Babies, Fairyland, and Pigs

Today is my mother's birthday.

Happy Happy Birthday Ma Glo!
This morning at 5am she got a phone call.
There was a birthday present on the way....
Another call confirmed it's arrival....
Mom got a great-granddaughter for her birthday!
My sister's daughter had her baby two weeks early!
Yeah!

Rowan and Rose spent the entire day making presents for Ma Glo.
I commented at one point that life would be much easier for me if she had a birthday every week.
Everyone was so occupied.

She finally opened Rowan and Rose's gifts after dinner.
They gave her lavender in a bunch (picked from her garden), a handmade placemat, a crown and necklace made from paper (see above), and Rowan gave her $5 (see below).

In other news, three of my children have begun taking regular trips to fairyland.
Avonlea made up the game in the basement, I thought it sounded charming.
UNTIL.....
I came down and saw this....

Apparently, only girls can get into fairyland and so Rowan needed a disguise.
I AM NOT OKAY WITH THIS, even though it gave me a very needed laugh.
Rowan is henceforth banned from fairyland unless they can accept him as he is, masculine.

I'm thinking these pictures will one day be worth a whole lot of money.
I'm expecting a little more than $5 in my birthday card.

Rowan spent the night at Ma Glo's house last weekend. He came up in the morning, with his holster and gun over one shoulder and a metal bucket of puppy food in one hand. "Well," he said, "I didn't get any sleep last night. Ma Glo snored SO loud."
I had warned him. "Well Rowan, I told you..."
He interrupted, "No Mom, I'm not complaining, I loved it!"
Later when Ma Glo apologized for the nocturnal chorus he re-emphasized his delight, "Oh it was fine Ma Glo. I loved it. It was like sleeping with a pig."

I think maybe Ma Glo should have gotten more than $5 in her card, too.

Why I Hesitate to Leave the House

I have an incredible husband.

Contrary to my first opinion of him, he is very creative.

Almost...dare I say it....artistic.

He took this picture.

Need I say more?

He calls rugs, "floor blankets".
He is amazing at mixing cliches and says things like:
"We'll cross that bridge when we burn it."
And,
He unconsciously created an incredible mental image when he grafted "You're trying to get my goat" and "Get off my back" into,
"Get off my goat."

He melded "Don't boast" and "Don't toot your own horn" when he told Grant,
"Don't boast your toot."
Which being a male, also was applicable.

So, I am used to these kind of things.
I know, that if I send him out for ice cream, he is very likely to come home with 19 half gallons.
This my friends, is the honest truth, I am not exaggerating,
He is just rather incredible.

So....
because of this.....
I always hesitate just a little to leave home.
NOT because I don't trust him....
but because of that crazy creative streak.

I came home from harp last night pleased to see that the younger kids had been bathed.
I commented on their wet hair and Rowan replied,
"Yeah, Dad let us take a bath with Gypsy! He took pictures!"
This was a blow.
It never crossed my mind that Dave might be tempted to bathe children and puppy together.
I turned on the camera with trepidation.
It was all too true. There was Rowan in a washrag loincloth and his puppy. In the bathtub.
Dave told me the loincloth was not as much for modesty as to protect the goods from a hungry pup.   
When I questioned him on the wisdom of this arrangement, he brushed it off with a,
"Well I needed to do a flea shampoo...."
I walked away.

Really between my Jewish Mother and my Creative Husband,

I feel normal.

The Scent of Adventure

Two weeks into school and I was finished.
I hit the wall in September that I don't usually hit until June.
Not good.

I love home schooling my children. But what started out as a fun adventure had somehow morphed into a crazy Ben-Hurish chariot race. Through the years we've quadrupled our number of children that need to be educated, we've added several instruments (with lessons!), not to mention ballet, basketball, art, Spanish, Friday School, etc.

I sat Dave down, on the Friday night of the second week, and told him I was pretty much finished.
He was unsure of how to take this.
He thought maybe he should quit his job and help me.
This scared me into clearer thinking.
My thoughts were that we should chuck everything extracurricular.
Toss it.
Who cares that we've invested thousands of dollars into lessons? So what that we bought Avonlea a harp? Why does Craigslist exist if not for the superfluous harp?
Dave and I hit these thoughts back and forth rather like a lame game of badminton when suddenly, he scored. "How about asking your mom to help?"
The room pulsed with light for a minute as we paused.
My mom will be 72 next month. She still works full time and then some. Maybe she'd like to retire to my house? Hmmmmm.
"Yeah?"
Dave pounced on my uncertainty, "Go down and ask her right now." (She lives next door).

I went. I asked.
She replied, "Can you hold on for two weeks so I can give my notice?"
I fainted (in spirit if not body).

Apparently she was ready to retire, ready to jump in and help me out for a bit, ready for God's next adventure for her. However, I'm not sure who's in for the bigger adventure, her or I.

We are in our third week of togetherness. Rowan and Rose climbed into bed with me this morning and I inhaled and had an urge to throw them in the frying pan and saute them with some onion. Upon questioning I discovered that mom's been slipping them whole pickled garlic cloves. They eat them like candy at her house.

Last week she told me to clean up the Lincoln Logs and I had a crazy urge to tell her that Rosy spilled them and not me! Why should I have to clean them up! It's not fair!

She drove the kids to piano and sang Jewish songs in Hebrew at the top of her lungs the whole way home. The children were slightly traumatized and only agreed to go with her again if she gave them more pickled garlic. It's a vicious cycle my friends.

Rowan asked her if she was alive when Pompeii was buried. She wouldn't answer him. He was rather offended. "I still don't know," he said sadly.

All in all, I feel like this is how life was meant to be lived. The stories she tells, the songs she sings, the garlic she propagates, all add to the richness, the fullness, the aroma of our lives. There is a circular sense of rightness. There is a give and take that is generous yet careful of boundaries.

The wall that I was hitting has disappeared and life is a fun adventure again.
And I feel what I sometimes only know, that God loves me very much and he cares.

"Rosy if you get off of me I'll give you some pickled garlic!"

Hours Gained

I sat on a moss cushioned log.
It was beautiful and surprisingly comfortable.
The stream gurgled beside me and I
exhaled.
I heard the boys upstream building a dam.
The sounds of a dam being built are chiefly
laughter and puppy yaps.
Rosy cleaned out a tributary downstream.
Her voice, clear and high as the autumn sky,
"Summer's over, now it's fall, just the nicest time of all."
I smiled and watched as a sudden pant of wind
rained golden leaves. Her voice pipped again,
"Down, down, down, leaves of red and gold and brown,
come falling, falling down."
Eventually she joined me on the log, leaned into me,
golden head on my arm.
An afternoon passed and I gained
the hours.
I held the autumn wind in my hand for a moment.
The stream paused in it's rippling journey and I felt it's stillness.
A five year old remained inactive next to me.
Miracles surely.
Later that night there would be cookies and stories.
Grant would tell me, "It always feels like Christmas when we're with you."
And even later,
I would lean my dark head into my husband's shoulder,
and listen to the rain on the roof.
And sleep.

Rowan and Gypsy

Dam building!

Rose on the log waiting for me!

Story time!

Harvest time!

The exceeding beauty of the earth, in her splendour of life, yields a new thought with every petal. The hours when the mind is absorbed by beauty are the only hours when we really live, so that the longer we can stay among these things so much the more is snatched from inevitable Time. -Jefferies

Isn't She Yummy?

Rowan turned seven with a very big bang.
A treasure hunt led to a puppy.
The yummiest, darlingest ittle silver lab.

At night, there was a party with family.
Pizza. Cupcakes. Gifts.

A big boy was tucked into bed with a little silver dog snuggled in his arms.
"Daddy, can you die of excitement?"
Practical Dave replied, "Yes, if you have a weak heart, you could die of excitement."
"Do I have a weak heart Daddy? Cause I'm really excited."

Rowan was assured of the strength of his heart. He and a little dog named Gypsy Pepsi (don't ask) fell fast asleep.
And they lived happily ever after.
The End.