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Sunday, November 6, 2016

Let Us Not Forget Thanksgiving


On the day after Halloween, the children and I perused the aisles of Michael's and Home Goods looking for Thanksgiving decor that might be on sale.  First we had to get through the shelves and shelves of Christmas plates, wreaths, pillows, and decorations.  We searched around the numerous bins of ornaments, artificial poinsettias and holly greens, and Christmas lights.  Finally, at the far end of the store, we spotted the tiny section of fall merchandise as "Jingle Bells" played over the intercom.  Although there wasn't much left, it was 80% off.  I felt like I hit the jackpot.


I was able to purchase all of the above items at Michael's for only $11, and that was with no coupons.  The resin "Give Thanks" decoration, white ceramic embossed tray, and the rattan cornucopia were only $3 each.  The harvest charger was $1.  For some reason, my ten year-old kept asking me for a horn of plenty this year, so we lucked out there.  He's been stuffing it with gourds, corn, pumpkin, apples, and whatever else he finds.  Fun, fun.


The sales weren't quite as awesome at Home Goods, and they did have a bit more fall items still in stock, but first you had to get past all the Christmas merchandise.  This canvas turkey wall hanging and the brass leaf dish totaled only $9.  I can't wait to use all these plates for our Thanksgiving dinner.



I will admit that it was very tempting to give in and buy some new Christmas stuff, but I resisted.  I mean, it was the day after Thanksgiving, for crying out loud.  I have such good memories of the Thanksgiving holiday: watching The Charlie Brown Thanksgiving back when you could only see it on TV once a year; dressing up as pilgrims and Indians at school; looking forward to a week off from homework; and anticipating eating as much turkey and pumpkin pie as my belly could hold.  I don't want to skip over this special day when we remember our history and count our blessings.

So instead of filling my shopping cart with things red and green and playing Christmas carols while decking the halls of our farmhouse, I purchased and displayed the above items and did some more Pinterest-inspired chalkboard art for Thanksgiving, and I'm hunting for some new recipes to try this year as well.  And I'm going to do my best for the next 18 days to recognize and acknowledge all the blessings in my life and to be truly thankful.


Friday, November 4, 2016

Feeling Mama Pride and Teary Eyed


I admit that I've never been a sporty person.  Watching sports on TV bores me to tears.  Sitting at a soccer field or the bleachers at a football game makes me wish I had a good book in my hands.  The only high school sports I participated in at all was cheerleading---as the mascot.  It was the only way I could get through an entire game.  When our older children played soccer, ran track, and swam on swim team I went to a number of their events, but I always had babies or toddlers in tow, which meant I was chasing after them the whole time.  But last weekend when we attended our daughter's cross country district meet on a soggy field on an unusual balmy fall day, I understood.

We thought we got there late because we got lost numerous times.  When we found out we actually had hours to wait until our daughter ran, I had that feeling of dread that I get at sporting events.  What in the world were we going to do with ourselves for four hours?  No chairs, no book, no Internet.  It turned out that we ran into a number of old friends whom we hadn't seen in a long time, so we followed their children's races while we caught up and ate concession food.  When it was finally time for our daughter's race, I felt nervous and excited for her, and I offered up a prayer.  A prayer that she would do well.  That she would be able to finish.  That she wouldn't throw up and be embarrassed.   That she wouldn't be last.

Because she's running with a very good team of extremely fast girls.  She used to be the last one to cross the finish line when she ran track in middle school.  She'd be near the end of the line of boys and girls when the track team practiced.  She was usually the last one to reach the school in the evening at the end of their cross country practices.  But she persevered.

And because she has persevered in a way that I've never seen her do before, I wanted so badly for her to do well.  She has pushed through the sore muscles.  She has run in the rain and the wind.  She has covered miles that I never imagined she could just a few short months ago.  She never quit.  And this is the girl who used to go up to strangers to show them a hangnail and dramatically go on about how much it hurt until they offered her a bandaid.  But this fall, I've watched her turn into a young woman with stamina, dedication, and fortitude.

I held my breath as I saw her running up that first steep hill.  We ran farther up the field to see her again, and she wasn't near the back of the line.  We crossed the muddy fields again to see her make that final stretch before she reached the finish line.  And we waited.  And waited.  So many runners passed us.  My heart sank.  Did she fall?  Did she stop?  Was she sick?  Finally, finally we saw her...but she was walking!  Her dad started cheering her on.  Her coaches cheered her on.  Her fellow team mates who had finished cheered her on.  Her little sister and I cheered her on.  And I wished her all the positive energy I had inside of me and hoped she could feel it.

And she started running again.  I hurried to the finish line so I could see her cross, and I made it just in the nick of time.  As I approached, she was coming across, and she was not walking, but... sprinting.  She was hurting.  She was sweating.  But she was running, and she didn't throw up.  And she beat her personal record by two whole minutes.  I was so proud of her, and I couldn't stop the tears from coming.


It turned out that she placed high enough to earn her very first medal.  And her team finished first in their division, so along with the rest of the girls, she got another medal.

And I finally got why people like sports.  Or at least why parents enjoy watching their children play in sports.  It was exciting.  It was nerve-wracking.  It was exhilarating.  And with every photo I looked at, I cried some more.  And I'm tearing up now while I write this blog post.

So I have a whole new respect and appreciation for athletes, and for all those parents who spend countless hours in the gyms, the pools, and on the fields.  And I am awed by the transformation I've seen in my daughter this season.  And I am humbled by the eye opening I received on those rural, muddy cross country fields last weekend.


Tuesday, November 1, 2016

Fast Forward Through Halloween



Life has been so crazy busy here that Halloween was just a blip on the radar.  There was no time over the weekend to prepare, so yesterday after school, some of us were searching the clearance racks at Target for last minute Halloween decorations.  We rushed home to try on the costumes and wolf down some prepackaged, processed food (horror!), and get out the door before we missed trick-or-treat hours altogether.  I almost forgot to take pictures, and we never had time to carve jack-o-lanterns, and our 7 year old even painted her own face.  Hubby took the youngest three to the nearest town to go door to door because there's nowhere to go up here on our mountain unless you visit the Amish.  And they don't celebrate Halloween.  As of a week ago, only one of our kiddos was even willing to go trick-or-treating because they've been so spooked by this whole scary clown fiasco.  The one who wasn't afraid put together his own makeshift costume and declared himself to be an evil clown terminator.  In any case, at the last minute, three of them did go out for about an hour, and our youngest only refused to stop at a few houses this year: those she deemed too creepy to go near.

Meanwhile, back at home, I agreed to let our teenagers rent a classic chiller from Google Play, and the three of us sat down with a bag of orthodontia-friendly candy (ie. No caramel, gummies, or anything sticky) and watched Alien.  This is actually the first suspense thriller I've let them see.  I've been fairly censorial about the images allowed to enter this house, but they are now the age I was when I saw the stream of 80s horror movies, and I thought Alien was a safe one to start with.  After all, I don't need my older children to be too afraid to retrieve items from the basement, go out to the barn at night, or stay home alone to babysit their younger siblings.  As it turns out, our son didn't find it all that scary, but our daughter has decided that the horror genre is not for her.  I guess there will be no Nightmare on Elm Street, Amityville Horror, or Carrie in her future.  I am relieved to say that everyone did sleep soundly, and there were no night terrors at our farmhouse last night.  Maybe just a bit too much sugar.

Now that the two hours of Halloween have passed, we look forward to Thanksgiving, which I'm hoping is a little slower paced.  A couple of our children will actually be running a 5K that morning while I'm happily cooking away in my nice, warm kitchen.  I'll bet I can find some great deals on turkey and Pilgrim decor now that the stores have displayed all their Christmas merchandise.  I think I'll check that out later today with the littles.

Thursday, October 27, 2016

Easy Pumpkin Cobbler


October is the month I pull out the pumpkin recipes, and this is one my children beg for.  It's really simple and easy to make, and it's delicious warm or cold.

Pumpkin Cobbler
Mix 28 oz. canned pumpkin, 1 large can evaporated milk, 1 cup sugar, 3 eggs, 1 tsp. cinnamon, 1 tsp. ginger, 1 tsp. ground cloves, and 1/2 tsp. salt in a mixing bowl.  Pour into a greased rectangular cake pan.  Spread 1 boxed yellow cake mix on on top of all the ingredients.  Dot some butter on top.  Bake at 350 degrees for 55 minutes.  And that's it.


This is great the way it is, or you can put a dollop of whipped cream on top of each serving.

Wishing you Readers a Halloween weekend full of pumpkin treats and, hopefully, no tricks!
 

Monday, October 24, 2016

A Cold Day at the Corn Maze


Holy Cow!  Did we ever have a change in weather.  We went from 82 degrees last week to an extremely windy 48 degrees on Saturday.  Even so, our family met up with some friends at a nearby corn maze and pumpkin patch.  At least the rain stopped, and the sun peeked through once in awhile.  Otherwise, I think I would have sat it out in the small, heated building where children could come decorate cupcakes and drink hot cocoa.


This was the way to enter the maze, and we all went through.  It was much higher and longer than it looks in this photo.


Once you've made it through the tunnel slide, it's corn stalks for as far as the eye can see.


Every year, the owners have a different theme, and you must find your way through the maze to get to the clues.  Once you've found all the clues, you can answer the riddles or questions.  And then you can win a prize.


This year's theme was presidents, and there was a crossword puzzle full of silly (but true) questions about past presidents.


The clues do not, however, help you find your way out of the corn maze.


You're either on your own to do that, or you can follow others and hope they know their way.  


Or you can cheat a little bit by climbing up certain platforms and survey the entire maze from above.  The corn here was actually quite short and scrawny this year, so I could see my teenagers' heads from most everywhere.  I usually can't do that.


Not to mention that between our younger daughter's neon pink coat and our older daughter's bright pink stocking cap, they were fairly easy to spot.


Once we made it out, crossword puzzles were completed by the more studious members of the group.


While others had go-cart races (or hitched a ride.)


And certain teenage boys played King of the Haybales.


We finally got in a hayride, and I managed to get one good picture of my kiddos.


Good thing because the rest of the ride just got ridiculous...and cold.  Did I mention the cold already?


As usual, we had a great time, but when it was time to go, my kids came running up the hill.  They were either freezing, or they were coming for the hot apple cider and whoopie pies I had just purchased from an Amish woman who had braved the elements and set up a bake sale table (which was blowing away.)  For those of you from other parts of the world, if you haven't ever had a homemade whoopie pie, you are seriously missing out.

It's a tad bit warmer here today, but that wind has remained and broken off several trees up here.  In fact, as we were driving up our lane after the corn maze and a grocery run, we slammed on the brakes because a dead tree had just come down across the lane right in front of us.  We walked our groceries the rest of the way to our house and were fortunate enough to have an Amish neighbor with a chainsaw at home who walked down and cut it into movable pieces.  We're thankful that it missed any of us who were out that afternoon and that no trees fell on any of our goats or sheep who were yards away eating peacefully in the pasture.  

With the colorful leaves blown to the ground, dark skies by 6:00, and weather cool enough to pull out our winter coats, it definitely feels like fall here in the Alleghenies now.  But I'm not complaining.

Wednesday, October 19, 2016

Why We Moved to the Country---in Pictures



It's been ten years since we've lived here, and we still occasionally get asked why we left our southeastern suburb to move to a rural area up north.  "You're so far away from everything," they say.  "But there's nothing there," I hear from others.  "You mean that even the nearest Walmart is twenty miles away?" they gasp.  As incredulous as it may seem, we chose to leave a beautiful, safe, preppy suburb in a warm climate to move 700 miles north to a quiet, sparsely populated, mountain farmhouse amidst the old-order Amish.  Since a picture is worth a thousand words, I'll let this week's photos describe our reasons for me.










Oh, and these were all snapped from my Samsung Tracphone.  No photography equipment or skills necessary out here in God's country.

Monday, October 17, 2016

Doing Small Things With Great Love


In commemoration of the canonization of Mother Teresa, our younger children's school chose her quote, "Do small things with great love" as their theme this year.  This simple sentence is hanging in every classroom, on students' lockers, and throughout the hallways.  What a beautiful reminder to each of us every day to go about our daily tasks, but to do them mindfully and with a heart of love.  It has caused me to pause and reflect on my own life as a mother and how acts of kindness and love change with the different seasons of our lives.


Our youngest five children were born in eight years, and most nights I collapsed into bed feeling like I was just barely keeping my head above water.  I yearned to volunteer in our church and the community, but I was lucky if I got time away from my children just to keep a doctor or dentist appointment a couple of times a year.  I remember telling a spiritual advisor that I felt guilty for not doing more charitable works, and he reminded me that in that particular season of life, my whole day was an act of charity.  Every diaper I changed, every hug I gave, every book I read and song I sang to my small children were acts of love.  I can assure you that during the many moments of exhaustion, exasperation, and sleep deprivation, I often didn't feel very loving.  I offered up prayers throughout the day just to get me through the next few hours with a patient, kind, and loving heart.  In that season, most of my acts of mercy and charity were directed toward my children, but we did occasionally find ways to reach out to others.

We homeschooled during those early years, and the children and I did participate in some group volunteering through Cub Scouts, our local homeschool group, and our church.  We visited nursing homes and brought homemade cards and cookies to the residents.  Some of my children sang and played the piano there.  Others helped the elderly open their song books to the pages we were on so they could sing along.  Our toddlers often just talked with them and gave them smiles.  Sometimes I felt that the innocence and exuberance that emanated from our youngest ones brightened the residents' days far more than any gifts we brought or any organized performance we had prepared.  We also participated in numerous food drives, toy collections at Christmas, cleaning trash from roadways, and ringing the Salvation Army bell at local retail stores.  But I think most of our memories of acts of kindness remain the ones of us in the nursing homes.


As the children have gotten older, and most of them have started school, many of their volunteer activities occur with classmates or fellow youth group members.  Sometimes I tag along, but much of the time they do it on their own.  In groups, they clean up the grounds around the church and school and put together boxes of donated items for hospitals, pregnancy centers, and our troops overseas.  Our more musical children still perform at nursing homes, but now they do that with fellow band or strings members or with their choir.  Our older children have baked hundreds of pies and cookies with other teenagers to raise money for good causes.  Our teen daughter and some friends took it upon themselves one year to bake their own cookies, cupcakes, and brownies to raise money for a little girl with cancer.  They have also gone with me to help prepare and serve monthly free meals for the less fortunate of our community through St. Vincent de Paul.  More recently, our middle-schooler took care of a neighbor's cat and got her mail while she was away on vacation.  I'd like to say that they did all these things out of the goodness of their hearts, but the truth is that some of them did so because they needed mandatory service hours for school or confirmation.


The other week the children's entire school spent the morning in various charitable deeds.  One class cleaned the church; another planted bulbs in all the flower beds around the school; yet another made items to send to those in less fortunate countries.  All through the school, you could find students, teachers, and parents participating in small things with great love.  Mother Teresa said, "We are all but His instruments who do our little bit and pass by.  I believe that the way in which an act of kindness is done is as important as the action itself."  I hope that these experiences foster hearts of service and attitudes of gratitude that will carry into my children's adult lives as well.


All of these service projects are beneficial, and I'm glad my children have these opportunities to serve.  But I am reminded daily that charity starts at home.  Why is it that doing these small things with great love is often the most challenging at home with our own family members?  The little annoyances that occur throughout the day under our own roof seem to make it so difficult sometimes to demonstrate mercy, compassion, and forgiveness.  Washing the dishes, cleaning up someone else's mess, helping a younger sibling with a homework assignment bring the biggest complaints from my children.  I, too, sometimes find it difficult to be cheerful while doing the small things in my own home.  Every time I fold another basket of laundry, prepare yet another meal, call out this week's spelling words, or act as mediator in sibling squabbles, I am given the opportunity to do so with love, even though I don't feel like it.

Saint Mother Teresa said, "It is easy to smile at people outside your own home.  It is so easy to take care of the people that you don't know well.  It is difficult to be thoughtful and kind and to smile and be loving to your own in the house day after day, especially when we are tired and in a bad temper or bad mood.  We all have these moments and that is the time that Christ comes to us in a distressing disguise." 

My goal this school year is to live and love in the example of Mother Teresa and to remember that "We are all but His instruments who do our little bit and pass by."