facts from my amazing weekend

A little bit silent over here? Well, I'm back -- right after 10 Days of Intentional Parenting wrapped up I found myself on a plane flying out to Washington DC to emcee the Titus 2:1 Conference - the first ever Christian Homeschooling Blogging Conference.

It was amazing.

So today, I thought I'd share some miscellanies with you about it. I've only got some instagram pictures -- imagine that, I was busy speaking and didn't have time for pics... :)

1. Flying. Despite all early cries {like last July} I actually enjoy flying. I've figured out certain patterns when taking off and landing and no longer feel the need to white knuckle grip the armrest. Turbulence? Bring it on. A little. And, oh yes, I seem to like pictures taken from my plane seat right before I take off -- evident by the two instagram photos below. One is in Chicago and the other in Washington DC. Which is which? Anyone know? And yes, I flew United.

2. Washington Dulles Airport is huge. And I mean H.U.G.E. type huge. And, it's not marked clearly. Up here in Minnesota we like labels. Lots of labels. I was standing around wondering where to go to get my bags when I arrived and it was like - go down this hall, down these two escalators, take a right, go around the corner, up one escalator, down a hall that bends, take an escalator down, take a super fast train, look around in the train for baggage claim signs, get off train, go up two more sets of escalators, go through doors that state stuff about not being able to re-enter, have the moment of doubt that you're in the right spot since you've just wandered around a small city, go through the doors, down one more escalator and then your bags are at a baggage claim 1/2 block from where you are. Good luck, get your bags, and come on back.

3. Online blogging friends are real friends. For those of you who've experienced this - you know what I'm talking about. But, for others, it's an amazing experience to walk into a room full of people and already have connections with them. There were tears shed when I left.

My friend Cheryl {on the left - who organized the conference} and me - first night for the Apologia PJ party
pic taken by my roommate {love her} Tara at Feels at Home Blog

4. The microphone.  I've decided that I need a microphone at home. Could you imagine? Okay kids, if you could all make your way downstairs in 2 minutes we'll be starting. Hmmm...

5. My family, after the Lord, comes first. This weekend was so amazing as it was a beautiful combination of topics - blogging and homeschooling - but was woven together by the common thread of our belief in Christ. I walked away feeling refreshed, on fire for the Lord, and motivated to be a better mom, wife, friend, and blogger.

6. The Lord can carry us. I was blessed to be able to give the Saturday morning keynote. Nervous because I hadn't prepared, had no slides, etc, but I truly felt the Lord calling me to step out of the boat and speak -- and I believe He blessed me with the words. I spoke about not comparing, keeping our eyes on Jesus, and that we matter. It's true, my friends, you matter -- what you're doing today, in being a mother it matters. Wiping noses, dealing with sick kids {I came home to a home full of sick children}, writing an encouraging comment, bending on your knees in prayer, all of that matters. The world will tell you that it does not - but friends - it matters.

7. Family. Throughout the weekend I realized how passionate I am about reclaiming family. I realize that our culture, our society, and our world is set out in many ways to steal family from our hands. Just as I wrote last Thursday about family and fighting for it, I'm writing it again today - we must stand up against a culture determined to whittle away at the core of family and instead stand up, stand together with arms linked, and protect, and make family stronger.

8. Intentional with my time. I am convicted to be more intentional. That's it. I just had to put it out there.

9. Pillows. And to wrap it up on a light-hearted note, at the hotel I was at that they had a "selection" of pillows. Note the quotation marks around selection. Here's the deal {that's my instagram photo below} I tested both of the pillows - firm and soft - they were the same. I think it was a marketing ploy - but it gave me something to chuckle about in front and for that I was grateful.

I'm looking to get back in the groove of my writing. The last time I took two days off {was that it?} was back in October. Of course, I'm linking with my lovely friend Carissa. Who, if you'll remember was a friend I first met through blogging, and then in real life last July {back when I didn't like flying} and now I consider her a life friend. You must read it - When Rachel Met Carissa.  God is good.



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save the tree cut. a simple memory.

We save the tree cut from our Christmas tree every year.

It's a simple, inexpensive, and very easy tradition to start.

Unless, of course you don't get a real tree.

This is the sixth Christmas that we've had in our current home -- and it's also been six years since my husband's cancer diagnosis. So those rings of pine wood remind our family of years of victory.

The kids, especially the little boys, love to play with those pieces of memory wood.

And this year? Even better, more fun. Our tree, a beautiful Fraser Fir that we got at Costco, had an absolutely ginormous {I can use that word -- didn't Buddy the Elf say that in Elf?} trunk. So this year, 2011, we have this large piece of solid wood that we know will be talked about for years to come.

Someday, Lord willing, my grandchildren will look through that pile of tree trunk cuts and then I can tell them about this year. Sure, maybe, I'll tell them about it being six years from their grandpas cancer diagnosis, and the year that Samuel was told he had Celiac Disease. But, beyond that, I will tell them it was a year of goodness and joy. Of family, and adventures, and healing, and victory.

Save your tree cuts. Write the date.

It's a simple way to remember.

love our tradition? please consider clicking my sweet little facebook like button below.

sweet reflections

I want to remember.

a little boy sitting at the table
with a box of crayons
and a much loved coloring book
contemplating what color to choose next

and four little letters perched above the cabinet
reminding me of the important

these little moments of childhood innocent
and playing games
and feeling content
are beautiful.

So grateful
to have captured these snippets in time.

Now, grab your camera
find your ordinary
and forever remember it
as beautiful.

what i never thought i'd learn to love

 {my parents back yard and garden to the side}

I can still hear it. My dad calling from the top of the stairs, leaning over the metal railing, asking me to go down to the garden and pick beans. I'd inwardly groan, and do that eleven year old super-clever trick of hard of hearing, and go back to my book.

I knew it was temporary.

Within minutes I'd hear him ask again, and yet this time, there was more force. I knew I was busted. I'd throw my book to the side, dog-earring the page, and would look for my old garden flip flops. Those beat up, pink and yellow sandals, with the strap that seemed to consistently fall off.

{i still love these stairs}

I'd grab the paper sack that my dad left by the door, throw my hair in a sloppy eleven year old best you can do pony-tail, lope down the faded blue-stained deck stairs and wander down the hill to the garden. Where my dad was waiting. We'd nod and smile and I'd set to work for the next hour plucking long green tendrils into my bag.

By the end of the day I was happy. Happy to have worked side by side with my dad -- even though, back then, I would never have admitted it.

********** 

{my little garden area}

I can hear it. The kids are calling for me, leaning over the dark mocha stained deck rail, asking when the beans would be ready. I look around at the tomatoes I just planted -- looking at the rows of beans just plunked into the earthy soil -- and knew that within weeks we'd be harvesting our first bags of beans.

The silence was temporary.

Within minutes several eager little faces wandered down the deck stairs, across the sidewalk, and began to lean by the garden watching me work. "Mom?" Elijah would ask, "Mom, when are those seeds goina be beans?" I look up, brushing my face with my muddied hands, and tell him that it would be soon. We just need water and sun.

He looks around and next thing I know I see him trying to drag our no-kink hose down to my gardening square. "For the beans, momma," he tells me. I look at his sweet face and nod and smile. I set back to work planting herbs, and celery, and tomatoes. All grown by my dad. Waiting for me. For my garden.

{a tomato, started by my dad in late February, for me}

I am so grateful for my dad needing me -- wanting me -- to help him in the garden when I was young. His love for gardening his passed down to me which I hope passes down to my kids. There is solitude and peace that can be found in working the soil. In the shovels of dirt, the weeds pulled, and the excitement as new green shoots push upward. It's a haven from the rush and crazy schedule and technology driven world.

{some of my herbs -- labels handwritten by my dad}

Peaceful. And, I'll admit it, I love it.

(my friend Amy, at Raising Arrow's, wrote a wonderful post about herb gardening. Make sure to hop by and read it as well)

Do you garden? What's your favorite thing to grow?

And, by the way, I still don't have the biopsy results for Samuel. As soon as I get them I'll update. Thank you for continuing to pray.

~rachel

loving his kitty -- sweet nostalgia

There are mothering moments that melt my heart.

Completely.

Samuel has this little toy kitty cat 

{it's actually a beanie baby - remember that craze?}

that was Hannah and Chloe's when they were young.

He loves that kitty.

He carries it with him.
He feeds his kitty.

{I think he loves it because he had it with him for many of his doctor's appointments}

There is something endearing about seeing him tote that kitty around the house.

And if you could hear his -- meow -- it would melt your heart too.

I know someday I'll be nostalgic for these moments captured.

Oh, I love that sweet Samuel of mine.

Thank you, Jesus, for two months of health. Thank you.

Have your own nostalgic picture?
Then  click on the one word wednesday button below and link up.

goodbye lights, ornaments, and 2010

 
Yesterday I took the Christmas tree down.  That thing probably could have been up for a couple more weeks -- it was still drinking water and the needles were barely falling off.  Yet, it was totally time for me to remove it from the house. We needed space.  But, more than that, I like to start the new year without the Christmas stuff up and the house clean.

There is beautiful closure found in taking down the tree.

As I put away each ornament and pulled down the strands of light I began to ponder next year. I wondered what my life would be like when I unwrapped the strands of light.  I thought about life changes, and challenges and growth.What will life be like the next time I touch these lights? How will things change? How will they be the same?

Ornaments and decorations are interesting.  You pack them up at the end of the year only to unpack them at the almost end of the following year.  Year after year they are pulled out.  There is a beautiful nostalgia in this tradition.

As I pondered the future I also remembered this year.

Samuel 
Your first birthday. How grateful I am that emergency doctors and surgeons recognized that you needed help when you swallowed that sequin star.  We are so blessed by you in our lives.

Elijah
Your voice.  You started the year as a 2 1/2 year old who talked just a bit, and now as the year closes, you talk a blue-streak.  You are hilarious. And full of spunk. And feisty.  And such a gift.

 

Caleb
What can I say?  You are my hero. This year you started to read.  You are deeply caring.  Not a day goes by where I don't hear from you, "love you mom." You have a beautiful heart, my son.

Brennan
Super strong man.  With a heart for God.  You made me so proud when you were in your Pirate Musical.  Watching you on stage filled my heart with joy.  You are a reader, and a helper, and the leader of the band of brothers. And you look so awesome missing those front teeth. :)

Grace
My ballet princess.  You are so beautiful.  This year you dove into ballet -- and the result is exquisite.  You help me out so much.  I am blessed by your company and am so grateful to be your mom.

Chloe
This is my last year with you before you turn 13.  It seems like I just looked into your beautiful blue eyes when you were born.  And now, you're just about as tall as me.  Your heart is so tender, so pure, so focused on the Lord.  Thank you for reminding me how beautiful it is to be real.

Hannah
My oldest.  I have seen you start the year with an interest in photography which has now shifted to a passion for photography.  You capture our lives with every click.  Thank you for living your life for Christ.  Your faithfulness encourages me in my own daily walk.

Todd
My faithful husband.  This year marked five years since you were diagnosed with cancer.  These years have been hard -- ripple effects from being out of work for months due to cancer -- and yet despite the difficulties they have been beautiful.  Full of gifts, and hope, and a future.  I love you.

So now the 2010 tree is outside plopped in the snow. This journey, this Christmas, is coming to a close. Tomorrow marks a new year. New challenges. New joys.   Life keeps moving.  Time flies by.  I want to live.  Alive. Aware.  And grateful.

"For I know the plans I have for you,"

 declares the Lord, 

"plans to prosper you and not to harm you, 

plans to give you a hope and a future."

 Jeremiah 29:11

the important stuff

It's not all about the presents, right?
At least that's what I keep telling myself.
The stuff doesn't matter. The stuff doesn't matter. The stuff doesn't matter.

The stuff doesn't matter.

And, yet, here I am nine days before Christmas without having bought one present.

Not one.

And, honestly, I'm starting to panic.  To fear that this Christmas won't be good, won't measure up, won't be worth it. That my kids will be unhappy, that I'll fail Christmas, and that this Christmas will always be the one they talk about with "remember when?"

When the budgets really tight, and your husband is in the early stages of a new business, extra money for Christmas is scarce.  I know there will be some....just not yet.  And, for me, the planner, the one who loves to order all those on-line amazing deals, who pores over the mass of catalogs that stuff my mailbox daily, this is proving to be a true test of character.  In fact, just several days ago, I let the tension of not having the stuff get to me.

I was negative. And crabby. And not looking at Christmas right.

I wanted stuff.

It's hard.  Society tends to define happiness by stuff.  It can be extremely uncomfortable to find contentment and peace when life doesn't fit society's pre-determined mold. I've had to surrender my ideas of what a perfect Christmas should be.  In fact, the Lord has been showing me just how blessed I am -- without needing the stuff -- and redirecting my attention on family, friends, health, and those in need. In need of what I forgot that I have.

We have a home. My husband is in remission. My children are healthy. We have food. Vehicles. Clothes. Opportunity. Freedom. Toys. Friends.  We have stuff.  I just forgot.

Today, we'll pull out the glue sticks, paper, and crayons and make some homemade ornaments for grandparents.  I'll package cookies and handmade cards for friends. As far as gifts for my kiddos?  We'll get them.  Maybe it won't be as neatly tied and organized as I'd like, and that's okay. Christmas isn't about that stuff. Really.

I'm content in waiting.
And grateful for my Savior's birth.  Truly grateful.

That's the stuff that truly matters.

i need more cookies! (the link-up)

I'm serious.  Completely serious.

{Caleb and I on our cookie making day}

This is the one time of year where I go all out baking cookies.  Come January it'll be whole-wheat wraps stuffed with spinach and light chicken.  Ha ha ha.  Okay, just regular chicken.  But, you know what I mean -- the diet shifts after that new calendar gets slapped onto the wall.  Until then??  I've got some time to try some new cookies. And I'm looking for some recipes.

I'm starting an online cookie recipe exchange link-up. Here are the details.  Post or link to a post with your cookie recipe or cooking making day (you can always add a recipe to a previous post...) Add your link to the linky below.  Then, to make it fun, blog hop to three other blogs and take a peek at their recipes.  And comment.  Because you know, we all love comments. :)

Oh, yeah, and add this button/banner that my Hannah made to your post. (how could you not? it's so cool and festive and that's my cherry-chocolate kisses cookie on the left looking yummy.)



<a href="http://rachelmariemartin.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-need-more-cookies-link-up.html"><img vspace="none" hspace="none" alt="finding joy | Christmas Cookie Recipe Swap" src="http://i617.photobucket.com/albums/tt255/ElvishAuthoress/christmascookieswap-1.png" align="center" /></a>
Sound fun?  I can't wait to read your recipe and your story to go with it. So start baking.  Now.

And, yes, if I could have figured out a REAL cookie exchange I would have.  Trust me.

********

I was interviewed by Mrs. Claus on the blog Like Christmas Every Single Day.  Sandi is such a sweetie, and asked me the most interesting questions.  If you'd like to read more of my "interview" click here. And make sure to check out her very festive blog!

Thanks, Mrs. Claus!  It was fun.....do you know any cookie recipes?

i remember

I know you're out there.

You're the one whose heart aches with each post about Christmas.

Where walking through the store is a challenge.

Your life is messy, or scary, or confusing.

You feel alone.

It's hard now, at Christmas, isn't it?

When the world, and bloggers, seem to have beautifully packaged lives.  Pictures and recipes and gifts and laughter and happiness.

Inside you feel sad.

Why doesn't anyone notice?  Why does it have to be so hard?

Why now?

Why at Christmas?

Don't people know?  Don't they know that it's hard to do Christmas when life is so hard?

Do they see?

I do.

I know.

I remember.

I remember walking through Target, with eyes brimming with tears, wishing someone knew that the only reason I was there was to try to find blackberries for the nausea for my husband that was caused by pain-meds from cancer surgery.  I remember feeling sad and angry and bitter when I saw the carts bursting with goodies -- like I wasn't a part of the grand celebration.

I remember.

I relied on God greatly during that Christmas.  God blessed me with a strength I didn't know I had.  A strength to push that cart through Target and to say thank you to the cashier -- and not cry.  At least not every time.

I remember thinking about all the hidden others, masked behind their lives, carrying loads.  Burdens.

I remember.

Will you remember?

That perhaps that mom that is a bit shorter with her kids, or you, or the cashier, might just have a husband at home sick?

That there are many others who would love to fill a cart with food at Target?

That people, and friends, are way more important than things?

That there is a tomorrow.  There is hope.

There is joy.

Even when life is hard?

I remember.

memory strands

4 hours.

2 daughters

27 degrees and dropping

3 pairs of gloves 

6 extension cords

100's of twinkling white lights

1 glorious cup of coffee

3 red Rubbermaid Totes with green lids. 

7 thrown away strands

and

1 me

Why?  Why do I spend an entire afternoon stringing (and throwing -- while hoping it catches on a lone branch) Christmas lights outside? It's not for me.  Well, that's kind of not true -- some of it is for me.  I do love the peace and silence -- once my body goes numb with cold.  I love the beauty when I'm done. I do love the laughter with the girls.  And I love having lights outside -- it's so festive -- the lights twinkling against the sparkling snow.

I put lights up for my kids.

It's about memories. Tradition.  Sentiment. Excitement. Joy.

My little ones will stand in the living room and stare out the window in wonder as strand after strand lights up the yard. (Just a tidbit of info -- I only use strands of lights -- no blowups, plastic things, signs, etc -- just simple strands.  There are probably over 2000 lights out there.) With each light that goes up you can see the excitement rise.  My little Elijah excitedly exclaimed --  it's Christmas outside! -- as his little eyes glowed with glee as he watched me work.

My kids start asking in October if I'll put lights up.  How could I not?  Do I regret that day, the time outside?  Not in the least.  Someday my sweet little ones, and not so little anymore, will be grown.  And they will remember.

They'll remember the lights.
They'll remember their mom outside weaving the lights on bushes.

They'll realize how much I love them.

Because I really do.   Christmas is not about the stuff.  It's about Jesus. And family. And traditions. And memories. One little light at a time.

(love the pics?  They're all taken by my daughter - Hannah - who you can find here.)