The Nothing

In my spiritual eye, I could see the emending storm. It was coming like The Nothing from The Neverending Story. My spirit is peaceful as I knew we would survive it. I didn't know how, but I knew we would. We may be weather beaten coming out the other side, but we would definitely survive it. Our marriage would remain intact (issues with financial trust and control played a huge part in the break down of my first marriage and was the leading cause of Big Man's parent's marriage splitting up after sixteen years) and our children would be fed and clothed. All our needs would be met one way or another. We just simply had to endure. Or do we?

At what point in our faith do we just assume that our circumstances are meant to teach us a lesson? Job's circumstance wasn't meant to teach him anything. The Enemy was ALLOWED (oh yeah. He had to ask permission!) to put Job through this trial because God knew his heart and had faith in Job that he wasn't faithful because of his circumstance nor would he lose his faith when he lost it all. I know so many people who read into Job and just get mad. How could God let Satan abuse this man so badly when he lived so virtuous a life? But I see a faith so deep and a trust so great that even the powers of Hell won't move it. I'm not talking about Job's faith in God. I'm talking about God's faith in Job. God knew his heart and saw in him the depths of his convictions and knew he would not stray from him regardless of his circumstances. I want this. I want God to have this kind of faith in me.

Now I'm not saying that I want Satan and his legions to release The Cracken on my life! I'm not saying I want God to throw me to the hounds of Hell to prove my obedience. I'm not stupid by any means. I'm saying that this is the relationship I'd like to have with God. Mutual faith. Mutual trust. To be THAT kind of servant. Like Joseph in Potifer's House. Trusted with all he had.

Except, why do we think that, in order to have this type of relationship with God, we have to suffer the lengths of Job? Why did I feel we had to ENDURE this storm? Didn't the man I call my king calm the storm on the sea? Doesn't He control the weather? Insurance companies don't call it "An Act of God" for just any reason. They are all subject to his will. Aren't we all?

In talking to NiNi, I was describing what I was seeing lately. The only way to draw a proper picture was to describe it as The Nothing. Yet, The Nothing ripped up everything in it's path and left just that in it's wake....Nothing. Just gray matter where there use to be living things. If The Nothing was coming for us then why did I think we would survive it at all? Isn't that the intent of The Enemy? To kill, steal, and destroy? Yet isn't that the intent of faith, as well? A blind belief. A belief that against all odds there is hope and He will work to our good the things intended to harm us (Gen 50:20 ). Then NiNi asked me an interesting question. Had we prayed for God to STOP the storm?

???

Well......no, actually. We hadn't prayed to stop the storm. We'd just been praying for the strength to endure it. To get through it. To survive it. WHY??? Why doesn't it occur to us as Christians to ever ask God to just make it stop? Why do we assume that each thing is either A) straight from the devil when it may in fact be from God to teach us something that will prosper us in the future or B) a Job-esque circumstance that we must endure to get our blessing? Why don't we consider option C) that all God is waiting for is for us to come and ask our Daddy for his help.

So I did. I hit the floor. OK, actually, I made a bit of a spectacle out of myself trying to get 8-months pregnant on her knees by the side of the bed. Here's what I saw almost as soon as I opened my mouth.

The storm just started to dissipate. The clouds rolled back and started breaking up. Sunlight filtered through in lemonade rays. And I knew that this was about the posture of my heart.

Elohim

It has been so long since I bellied up to the table, I didn't even know at which "dish" to begin. So I asked God outright. Where do I go, Lord? Your word is so vast and I've been so long away I don't even know where to go.

And I remembered.....

Names from a power point flashing onto the wall above my head.
A book on a shelf long ago purchased.
A section in my Bible that gave a brief summation of what those names mean.

I remembered the Names of God.

I remembered Tara leading communion talking on the character of God.

So this is where I began. I pulled the book from the shelf along with two different translations and I sat down at my dining room table and began to seek out Elohim.

Elohim, the one who made it all. Created the heavens and the earth. Separated the light from the dark. Water from the land. Day from Night. This most ancient name of God contains the just the mere idea of God's CREATIVE power as well as his authority and sovereignty.

The creativity of God awes me. The sheer magnitude of his scope and vision is incredible. The artist in me. The part that takes the time with plate presentation at dinner so that it's aesthetically appealing. The hairdresser who is always balancing out the color wheel with the angles and planes of the face. This is the part that stands enamored with his ability to think up creations like the duck billed platypus AND give them a purpose in the food chain. The God of the Universe. The maker of the Milky Way. This is whom I worship. The One Who Made It All.

And yet, He still comes to sit with me and have a cup of coffee. To take me to the story from which I was named and expose a new layer of the onion. Taking me to the part in which Laban was perpetually cheating Jacob of his wages. For YEARS. YEEEAAARRRS, people!! Yet, no matter how Laban tried to cheat him God prospered Jacob. Reading that, I knew we were in this for a minute. There aren't going to be any quick fixes. No immediate rebounds. This faith journey, this trust testament. Still I have peace. Maybe it comes from jumping into the wave instead of fighting against the torrent of the sea. Accepting that this is where we are going to live for a bit instead of looking for an instant relief that doesn't come, but still manages to bring the gifts of disappointment and despair.

What I learned of the character of Elohim was a reminder. That the God of the universe is large enough to carry our burdens. That the one who created the sea cucumber is creative enough that the plans of mere mortals are not so convoluted as to be able to stop his ability to give us our needs as we need them.

He's got the whole world in His hands
He's got the whole world in His hands

He's got the mommies and the daddies
IN HIS HANDS
He's got the little bitty babies
IN HIS HANDS

He's got the whole world in His hands

Walking Out Loud

I've felt the pull to write again. It's been an off and on endeavor over the years. It's always been hard to write whenever I quit smoking. Writers are strange and fickle creatures with peculiar habits. Whenever I would put the pack down, I would go into stalemate with words. But here I am, three years after I snubbed out my last smoke, pecking away at the keys watching the words in my spirit be birthed onto the screen. Sometimes there are more than one reason for the desert we are journeying in. Maybe, just MAYBE, this could be another one.

I've felt a call lately. A call back to this blog. A call to share this place we are sojourning through. This hard, rocky, brutal place that digs into our sandals and cuts at our feet. Testing us. Propelling us forward because to stop means certain death. A command to go back to Walking Out Loud this faith that is humbling and sometimes hard to share. A command to be transparent during the difficulty of financial poverty and the spiritual growth that comes of watching God show up. A need to be obedient. Above all things obedient so as not to get stuck permanently in a place that was only meant to be for a season.

A month ago, my husband went into work fully aware that there was some restructuring taking place in the near future. He knew it was scheduled to take place at the beginning of August. His position would change and with it would come some changes in our salary and commission percentages as well. We were looking forward to this as the past year had proven stressful as he created the Property Management Director position for a start up. We were all looking forward to him stepping into a job that he enjoyed. What we didn't expect was that the last week of July he was told that effective immediately we would no longer have a salary, but would now be straight commission. No notice. No transition time. No time to train the incoming Director. Just immediate change. As often is the case with real estate, we are at the mercy of the banks. Almost immediately, there was a bottle neck in closings leaving us with no houses to rehab and market. No houses means no commission. No notice means no time to plan for bottle necks. No time to plan means only one thing: we are leaning solely on God as our provider right now. The past year has brought with it different emergencies that depleted our savings and increased our debt. There is no back up. There is no Plan B. We have been brought to a place where we are wholly dependent on the Lord.

I believe this is part of the point. I believe this is in part a lesson on not confusing your provision with your Provider. Not equating your freedom with your finances. Leaning solely on the promises of God and accepting whatever this path might look like. He has brought us to a place where we must lay down our pride and our expectations and say, "I believe in YOU, Lord. My hope is in you. My faith is in you. My family will be fed. We will have shelter. We will have our needs met and it will be because of you and all the glory will be yours."

My husband, my handsome and faithful Big Man, has a phrase he has said to me since we met. He says, "Our faith is personal, but it's not private." There is a deep truth in this. Parts of it I have wrestled with. Namely the part I'm writing about now. I was raised that you don't talk about money. It's rude and ill-mannered and no one's business but your own. Part of it is pride. Small town upbringing drips with a Keeping Up With The Jones' mentality. Even though we've chosen to try to lead a relatively "simple" life forgoing new cars (because I despise a car payment more than anything in the world) and making most of the things we could buy out of convenience, I still struggle with wanting the appearance that we are capable of "handling our bid-niz" and not just having another child we can't seem to afford. So here I am. Stripping down nekked to walk out this faith in technicolor. Leaning in on my part of the lesson in this desert experience and gleaning the reward of seeing my words on the page.

Lessons on Serenity

My sweet friend, Lenda, has a saying: "I never learned anything profound on vacation."

I'm always brought up short by the vast truth in this statement. I should have known then that I wasn't going to learn to be serene in an already peaceful place. Oh no. The reason Serenity has its own prayer is because you need it.

The start of this year has me beat down and heavy laden. It began with a gas leak in the fuel track of Ruthie the (not so) Wonder Van. First it was under recall. Then it was already fixed. Then it hadn't been fixed. Then it was maybe it had been already fixed, but nobody knew. Then it was yes it definitely had even though we'd told you it wasn't and since you can't remember the exact date, time, and name of all the people that told you this too bad so sad pay for it yourself. Then it was oh that guy left. Then after a solid month of having one vehicle and becoming cab driver mom carting the mister and small fry all over the city it was "It's under warranty." Dude, I didn't even care at this point. I was just so happy that we didn't have to pay $400 on a van that is on its last leg.

In the meantime, the kitchen faucet went belly up and refused to push any water out of the spout. This fell at a time when we were tapped. I'm mean beyond broke seeing as it was the week after Christmas and just had to buy a new battery for the defunct van. For a whole week, I carted dishes back and forth to the bathtub and did dishes there. But then we went on a mini date night to Menard's and Home Depot finding an awesome faucet on the clearance rack for $40! SCORE! It's awesome. The water pressure is amazing. It's black. Our sink is stainless. I don't care. It adds to our quirky, wack-a-doodle house. But it couldn't stop there. Oh no.

The dryer went on strike refusing to heat. Cancel two hair appointments seeing as my cape and all shop towels are in said dryer. Cold. And Wet. Good News? It was a fuse. That we didn't even have to pay for :)

At Christmas, I kept burning everything. I thought it was because I cheated and bought pie crust. Turns out it was because the knob to the oven was stripped out and I couldn't control the heat setting. I couldn't turn it off either. So a new stove it is. Except that due to Big Man's position at work, he is in constant contact with a man who runs a used appliance store. We went down there and I picked out a Maytag gas range that was self-cleaning with A CONVECTION OVEN!! Payment? Just the trade in on our old range since B sends him so much business. Whaaa?

We can't stop there, folks. The faucet in the bath tub pulled a full out Vietnam protester act and simply refused to revert the water from the nozzle up into the shower. The little do-hickey (that's the technical term) that reroutes it broke. Now, we have an 84- year old Arts and Crafts style house that I adore. And with that Arts and Crafts style house came a claw foot bath tub that I THOUGHT I would adore. I don't. In fact, I hate it and completely understand why they are ripped out of every house that has them. You can't just pop down to Lowe's and pick up a $30 faucet kit and it's as good as new. Oh no. You have to buy specialty parts. $80 specialty parts. Not cute $80 specialty parts. But it was an easy fix and my husband is quite handy :)

Two days later, the screw holding the curtain rod into the ceiling over our claw foot tub rusted through and fell on down...while I was in the shower. It is now duct taped. I don't care if it ever gets fixed as I really just want a different tub.

Harder even still was a week ago last Sunday. Brandon's 91-year-old grandmother had a stroke. She was moved to hospice last Wednesday. It's just a matter of time now.

It's been one hit after another since our week of rest at the end of last year. I should've known. Serenity is not found nor practiced when the road is easy. Makes me wonder what the rest of the year will be like. But here is what I've discovered as I type out the horrors of the past four weeks: We were provided for. The stress is great. I'm not going to gloss it over. It's starting to take it's toll. We are snappy and unkind. Over-tired and beyond weary. Our love is still strong, but our communication is shotty. And I need to sit at the blog and write more as it nurtures and helps balm my sore spots.

I feel amazed though as I write this down. We only had to spend $230 ($90 for the battery, $40 for the sink, and $80 for the bath) when so many things went kaput. In that period, Brandon also painted our living room and my mom gifted us beautiful curtains I found at Penney's. My table has a lovely vase full of flowers from Brandon's bosses telling us they are praying for his grandmother. I am glad I sat down here today to whine and complain because in doing so God reminded me of his provision.

Kisses to your faces,

Rach

The Word of 2013

A couple of years back, I had a friend who told me that she follows a blog where the writer picks a word for the next year. I thought this sounded like a lovely idea. So I prayed on what my word for 2011 should be and SHINE kept ringing in my ears. So Shine it was and Shine I did. I graduated school. Bought a house. Got married. It was a good year.

2012 rolled around. And again I prayed for a word for that year. GRATITUDE was what kept popping up, so gratitude became my word for 2012. It was easy at first. In fact, the more you practice looking for things to be grateful for the more things you find to be thankful for. As 2012 rolled on, we hit hardship. Rough waters. Patchy times. Lots and lots of change and highly stressful situations. Looking in the rear view, I realize now that the word gratitude completely did it's job. Even in the hardest parts it became second nature to find the things to be glad about. I usually have a glass-half-full perspective, but this was different. It was deeper.

Here's 2013. Leading up to it, I had nothing. Not a word on the radar. It hit me New Year's Day. I hadn't even asked God what my word should be. Just a minor importance, I think. Schlepping across the hardwood floors in my new jammie pants and furry slippers to let the dog back in, I started the prayer asking God what my word should be for 2013. Apparently, He'd been waiting for me to ask because the  words weren't all the way out before I started getting bits and pieces of clouded code type feelings and jumbled lettering forming strange word associations in my mind. I have to confess that my receptors to the Holy Spirit have been less than in tune for some time. This is my fault. I've been stuck in "suppose to's" which makes it hard to lean into who God says you are instead of the pressures you put on yourself to be. Walking outside of who you are born to be is exhausting and has made me mean. It's also blocked too many nurturing words from the Father.

Not understand why I keep getting twinges of a house that is peaceful or words like calming clipping very shortly in my ears, I stopped by the table and said...out loud..."I think I'm seeing where You're going with this, but I can't pinpoint the word." Off to the bookshelf  I shuffled. Picking up the thesaurus, I flipped to the word peace to see what jumped out at me. Then I saw it. No. That's not it. Oooooo. Tranquil. That's a lovely, pleasant, nice to say word. I like TRANQUIL, Lord. *Nagging feeling telling me to go back to the last word* OK fine, but isn't it the same thing, really? I mean this is a thesaurus. It lists words that are similar....why don't I like this word if it means the same thing too....why don't I really want to know the answer to that question? My eyes skimmed backwards to the sort of offending word.

There blinking back at me (Oh, yes. It's alive. This word is most definitely a character. It blinks. It breathes. It haunts, just so you know.) is the word that I see elegantly scripted on coffee cups in the Christian bookstore. One plaques above it's own prayer. Oh yeah. It has it's own prayer!! It's that much a word. It's a big one. Entire philosophies hang on this ONE WORD.

S   E   R   E   N   I   T   Y 

The state of being serene, calm, and tranquil. *deeeeeeeep exhale* There is a reason He pushed me. It's to make me better. More like Him. Because He loves me enough to not leave me stuck where I am. Because He's heard me say for as much years as I could talk that the thing I wish I could change about me is that I'm a screamer. I'm a screamer because I have high anxiety and I don't slow down. In truth, I don't know HOW to slow down. My house is often in a state of high stress because I operate in a state of high stress. The only way to change this and to make it more functioning for the rest of my family (including 2 introverts who do not do well with my state of manic) is to answer my prayer. So here goes. The word of 2013 is serenity.

It's going to be an interesting year. In the past six days, I've failed miserably at being the least bit serene :)

New Year's Detox

This is how I spent my New Year's Eve. Eliminating my body of the toxins that I gorged myself on during the holiday festivities. I slathered my hair in coconut oil and tucked it up under a cheap plastic cap. I must say my hair hasn't look this luxurious since before I started coloring my hair! 

I ran a bath as hot as I could stand it (which for me is pretty darn hot). Add two cups of Epsom salt, 1 cup dead sea salts, 1/2 cup baking soda (if you have hard water) or you can just use 2 cups of Epsom salt to dissolve into the water. After you turn off the water and the salts are dissolved, but before you submerge into the water add a couple drops of essential oils. I used lavender for its calming qualities and lemon for its detoxifying effects. I have a lovely recipe for making a bath salts with basil and balsam fir essential oils for a deep detox but seeing as how I didn't have them on hand, I used what I had available. This part is most crucial, take a biiiiiiig and by big I mean SUPER HUGE glass of water with you and drink it while soaking. This will pull nastiness out of your body so use this time to put goodies back in. Plus it'll keep you from getting light headed when you get out. Set the timer on your phone for 20 minutes and relax. 

After the timer goes off resist temptation to soak a bit longer and stand up slowly. Dig some coconut oil out of the jar and slather it on while your pores are open and ready to absorb the moisture. Shower off under a cool stream of water to seal the oil into your pores. Resist the urge to suds up. Most soaps and shower gels are loaded with chemicals and as the call it "yucky stuff". Simply shower off in cool water and towel dry. 

My skin was so soft and all glowy and pink. I'm resolving to do this at least once a week!

Year End Review

The last six months have been stressful. Who am I kidding? This has been a hard year here. The first year of marriage is difficult. I don't care what anyone says. Two people trying to maneuver how to live in the same space merging two different styles of life. Then factor in 3 more people on top of it. 2 of which are teenagers.  We were a well oiled machine. For ten years, we'd been doing things a certain way. Enter Big Man with a different pace and philosophy and all of us looking at him as if he were mad because he didn't just instinctively know he was doing everything all wrong. Trust me, teenagers think they have the right to express EVERY THING they think. There is noooooo filter whatsoever. Balancing that with school closings and building a new one (which essentially is a lot like blending a family). New jobs. No jobs. Attempting to put a salon in your house because that works better for the new school which demands a lot of time. Re-balancing your budget to squeeze out tuition. Car repairs. Health issues. Re-balancing budget to account for food needs for health issues. House issues. Communication issues. Lily moving home. Lily moving back to her dad's. Impending deployment. One brother in Afghanistan. One brother leaving for Afghanistan. Election. New Friends. Old Friends. Family Politics. Materialism. Consumerism. New church. New dog. Holidays. *phew*  Reading back over all that it's no wonder we've been in a state of mania. That's a lot period, but that's definitely a lot for one year. 

This is so much of why I stopped writing. I just couldn't balance one more thing on my plate. I was so full I was already regurgitating things back up. It sucks because in so many ways this helps me to process what's in my head. I started this blog during my Maybe Cancer scare almost 4 years ago. It was a way to take my desire to publish and put it in my own hands. Even if it was 'just a blog', it was my words on a screen for other people to read. I erased the majority of those years when I met Big Man. I didn't want to have a place that I didn't want him to read, but I didn't want him to read my history. I wanted to tell him the things that had happened to me at the time I was ready to share it. I'm not ready to stop writing. It doesn't define me like it use to. But then nothing that use to define me does anymore. Except the momma bit. That's jumped into the forefront even more so. Mainly because I finally get to be the momma I'd longed to be. The Stay-at-Home Momma. Even hair doesn't appeal to me like it use to. It's nice to have a trade and I'm considering going into a salon to offset tuition and we need a new van, but really I'm just content to keep my house running for my loves and cook and make concoctions and find natural ways of doing things. 

I'm not ready to give up my space. My writing place. Even if only for me. Except all writers write with the intent of having another read their words. I guess we'll see. Maybe this year will be slower and year two will be settled in. Maybe I can a recipe or two. List a place to order my salves and balms. A couple of hair how-tos for curly girls. Stories. Memories. The areas God is tenderizing in my heart. Book Reviews. My day to day. There it is. My few minutes at the computer in a quiet house. 

Kisses to Your Face~

Rach

Aaaannnnd GO!

OH.MY.GOODNESS!!

So here's the low down on why it's been almost a MONTH since we've visited. *Deeeep Breath*

Big Man left Lowe's and is now working as the Property Leasing Manager for Realty Wealth Advisers. It's a start up and they actually have offices now (which is pretty kick butt) only he takes his laptop with him to the office and various housing sites all day. This leaves me in a bit of a technological lurch seeing as how Lizzie, my puter, took a nose dive several months back. We weren't in any hurry to get her repaired (thought it was a battery thing but I suspect a wire connection issue from the keyboard to the screen) since we had B's. So when he started taking his laptop to work Lizzie jumped to the front of the Must Fix List. Except....

The bulb blew out in the TV the other day. I'm not too terribly concerned with this. I couldn't care less about not having a television. No ugly news. No video games. No incessant babble in the background. SA-WEEET! However, the rest of Clan Maxwell is not as joyous as I am and I fear Lizzie is getting pushed to the back in order to have the Boob Tube back in business. Theeeeen....

Two days ago, B went to open the door to his truck and the handle was wonky and wouldn't open. He crawled through and did that for a day, but come on. If your real estate guy pulled up and had to Dukes of Hazzard it in and out of a ForeRunner would you be impressed? Hmmmmm....actually, maybe I would...most likely I'd make fun of him. It's horrid, but honest. So off to Buck's Automotive I took Becs (yes, and again, I name every single thing we own...that I like) to see what was amiss. $50 has her opening until the $495 part could be ordered...or found cheaper from a junk yard!!

Not to be outdone, Ruthie (ma van) has a few issues all her own that will no longer be ignored. SO. Lizzie is now at the bottom of a long heap of crap that has to come first. Which means I will be posting few and far between as the technology will be on the northside of Indianapolis for the majority of the day.

This is super sucky since I have tons and loads to yak about. The school we went rogue and formed. Emma's attempt to get to see the British Isles this summer. The salon I've set up in the house. The social experiment we are currently undertaking since Emma went (and I quote B on this) "shit stupid" last weekend and told me I had plenty of time since I was 'home all day'. So for the time being Emma has to do MY job and I have to do the dishes...her one chore. Should be interesting. I've already learned something...that I like my "job". Not the hair bit, although I do enjoy that so much I can't really call it a job, but the momma business. The picking up and cooking and all the things that come with it. I'm a bit lost this week. I'm glad I've had hair stuff to keep me occupied. I've finished a book. I'm off to clean my Catch-All Room (aka our bedroom) today.

Anyways, I missed being on this space. Missed the steady click of the keys as my thoughts slide into place on the page. Miss my outlet. Miss comments (shameless hint)

Kisses to your faces, Babies~

Rach

The Love Bug

I'm sure it's no surprise that deep down in my heart I'm desperate to become an Herbalist when I grown up. It's not like the dream I've had to be the voice of a cartoon. Yes, that's a legit dream I've had for many many years. It stated when I was 13 and watched The Little Mermaid with my family. I was all "DUDE! I could toooootallly be a rockin' voice for a Disney toon!" And I would. So that dream lives on albeit not all that realistic since you have to be Demi Moore or Drew Barrymore to land a cartoon gig these days.  But herbs? Now those babies are open to all people. Providing that you can find a mentor to intern with.

I'd stumbled upon a  guy who gives little mini courses at a community center just up the street from my house, but had missed the last class. A deep sigh sent it sliding away from me and forgot all about this guy UNTIL this link: http://www.monzelherbs.com/p/classes-and-events.html popped up in the facebook page of a lady that I deeply admire (you can read more about her in the Apron in the Window Blog link I have to the right).

There are a couple of factors here:

1. Tuesdays is the day we start our new women's group at church.

2. Brandon and I are trying to pay down debt all while raising 3 daughter. August is back to school  time. One of our hardest months financially. i.e. we're broke!

But if I do the class by class basis and wait to start women's group....anyway, I'm highly considering it. I have about a week to decide. Seems like there are a lot of one-week-to-make-a-decisions lately.

But oh it would be so lovely :)

Into the Grove

I'm very excited to share with you some news of what's happening with The Project School, but as of yet it's not ready for a public unveiling. Suffice it to say that The Man can't keep us down. Oh yeah.

We are attempting a return to normalcy. Lily moved on Sunday; started Greenfield yesterday. (Here's the skinny on the semicolon. I read somewhere a couple days ago that using a semicolon is really quite smug doing nothing more than proving you know how to use one. EXCEPT, like the rest of the world, I've always been confused by them. Reading Truman Capote's Breakfast at Tiffany's, I've noticed that old Truman loves himself a semicolon...I'm not shocked if the smug comment is accurate. Seeing it over and over in print, I think I might just have figured it out....maybe. If that's NOT correct please leave a comment so that I can be reassured that I still, in fact, have no concept of the dreaded semicolon.)

Saturday afternoon, Belle was riding around with me and happen to express that even though we still have some TPS options open she liked Beech Grove and was ready to start school. She said and I quote: "I like change sometimes. I'd like to try out Beech Grove and make some new friends." How do you argue with that? She's EIGHT. Going into the third grade. Stating that she likes change....sometimes. What other choice was there but to send her. I was heavy of heart to send her away from the school I love so much. From the diversity and the village of parents and teachers that surround and encourage her in her education. I've always told my kids that if they can give me a clear, well thought out argument I'd not only listen, but I would genuinely consider their proposition. Did I mention she's eight? So yesterday morning off to Beech Grove we sent the littlest one. Aaaannnd she loved it. Loved her teacher. Made a couple of friends. Was a bit irked about no homework policy and confused by the lack of cultural differences in her classroom. The last point made me sad. That's part of what made her last school so great. The continuous exposure to the reality that not every family looks like yours, not every person has your same experiences, and how do we love and accept each other when we're all so different. I'm going to mourn that loss for a while still.

Emma is in her last week of summer vacation. Or what little she had. She spent most of her summer in summer classes or at camp. This evening she bounces off to her grandma's for some R&R til Sunday. Summer is winding down and even though she's been in summer classes I will "officially" have an incoming freshman. Life moves quickly. I was watching Belle and her bestie Trinity run ahead and leap to touch the leaves on tall branches on yesterday's evening walk. Deep in  my heart I longed for them to stay this age. I look at Emma and at Lily and yearn to move backwards until they are small again. This is why women pester their grown-up babies for grandchildren. It's like getting them back for a moment. This growing up business SUCKS!

In the meantime, I'm anxiously awaiting the arrival of my portable shampoo bowl. I'm disassembling the chair I bought as it doesn't work and looking for something else. Ideas are being hashed around and calls are coming in. Back to doing hair out of my kitchen. Salons are interesting places, but I think I was always meant to do it in my kitchen. Coffee and girl talk and folding laundry in between. It's taking it's sweet time right now, but sure enough normal is slipping back into our lives.

Soon it'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming with a post about the miracles of baking soda...

No seriously. I've had a bazillion questions lately about natural cleaning and how I do it. Baking soda is godsend. But I'll lead with this: If you should decide to use baking soda to clean and deodorize your mattress (which is nasty by the way) use a shop vac to suck it back up. Dirt Devil is NOT baking soda compatible.

Later Days, Babies~

Rach

Hannah's Choice

I've been sitting in front of the computer for a minute...or 120 now. More or less avoiding this post. Knowing I need to get it out. Knowing that those who read this that are my friends will just be able to hug me over the next couple of weeks and not have to have explainations which honestly, I'm going to need desperately.

We were slated to go to court Wednesday morning for the final ruling on whether the Federal Judge was going to uphold the power of the Mayor's office or if he would give us the year to find another charter. He didn't even hear arguments. He looked over all the information and made his ruling Tuesday late afternoon. He closed us down.

Tuesday night was AWFUL. Belle sobbed. Of course the news came right at bedtime, so we were going to wait to tell her the next day except she heard her sisters' reactions and quickly the jig was up. Devastation set in as an 8-year-old met the harsh reality that sometimes your best efforts aren't met with victory. Then came the worst of it. Lily had decided to return to her dad's and attend Greenfield next year in the event that the judge did indeed close us. After a sit down conversation and lots of tears and desperation and raised voices. (We're passionate people. We do most things loudly...except for Big Man who use to be very quiet until he lived with 4 girls...now he gets loud too, but when that happens we all tend to S.T.O.P.) That night being near exhaustion and utterly confused about what Lily said she wanted and what she was choosing to do, I told her to pray about it before she made any decisions. B and I went to bed and decided that he logic looked like Swiss cheese which meant the very real possibility of me pulling out the I'm-Your-Momma-Trump-Card forcing her to go Beech Grove.

So yesterday, I told her that where I understood that she didn't want to go to, but part of being resposible enough to make decisions meant being responsible enough to look into every option. That being said get in the van. We're going to tour Beech Grove. She wasn't happy, but she went and asked questions and listened and talked it through with me afterwards. Later, we went downtown to the Central Library so that we could meet with some of the TPS parents to discuss some options for the next year. I'll tell you more in the next day or two as the plan becomes more concrete. However, I will tell you that TPS will indeed open as a school on August 20th and Carrie-Belle will be there. Lily, on the other hand, has made the choice to continue with her plan to return to Greenfield.

Long story short, Lily and I had a really good, very mature conversation about why she would choose to move and go to Greenfield when in fact she doesn't actually want to live away from me. In her perfect world, she would live with me and I'd drive her into Greenfield everyday, but that's not possible. Truthfully, I thought she wanted to move back to her dad's and this was just a way to do it without hurting my feelings. When we talked it through that's not the case at all. We talked about the fact that she did pray the night I asked her too. She got her answer. She even asked why, but didn't get an answer on that one....I did.

Lily says this is the right thing. She doesn't know why, but she knows that her spirit settled down as soon as she accepted this as the right thing for her this next year. I was ready to trump until we had this conversation. The Spirit washed over me like water and I knew that she was speaking truth. She and I spent some time talking it through with B on the front porch and I asked her to pray again for confirmation.

Two or three years ago, God did me the incredible service of speaking into my heart that hard realization that these children are not mine. They are His. For what ever reason, He choice ME. He blessed me as the fortunate woman who got to be their mother. To love them and grow them and teach them to hear His voice. They have their own paths to walk that have nothing to do with me. They have their own destinies and their own futures regardless of my hopes for what those are to be. They are uniquely and wonderfully created separate and apart from their parents. Hannah knew this and gave Samuel to the priests when he was but 2 or 3 years old. Look what that obedience did in the life of Samuel!

I can't tell the girls to seek the will of the Lord and then disobey their call. I can not nor will I hinder the work of God in their lives. Nor will I say that because she is 13 God doesn't lead her in her life. I know that's not true. But I do ask for confirmation that this is indeed the path she is intented to travel. So it was this morning that I was the one to receive the answer to her 'Why'. I was crying. Dragging my feet and not wanting to go through the steps of the things that needed to be done to get her ready to move. I was praying and asking why knowing by the peace in my spirit that this was indeed her path. I've been asked before how I can have peace in my spirit if I'm hurting. Just because you know it's the right thing doesn't make it easy to do.

I was chocking back sobs waiting to fall to my knees and beg for a different answer when I heard, "Because she needs this." I don't know what it is that she needs from this and I don't have too. God is already there waiting in it. Raising kids takes the faith to move mountains. Faith that God has them in his hands when you have to let them go. Often times we think 'oh when they're 18...' never realizing that we don't get to be the ones to decide when the time actually arrives.

Pray for me, Friends. Pray for her. That she gets what ever it is she needs from this.

They Said You Can't Fight City Hall...So We're Suing Instead

The next time I hear anyone say something along the lines of oh say "Dirty Hippie, get a job" I just may break my streak of never raising a hand in anger to harm another person.

I'm starting this this statement because this week has stretched my poor family to the very edge. And we have loved each other surprisingly well under high emotion, immense stress, and bad for you food. Taking a stand and fighting The Machine is by far the most exhausting job I've ever had.

I probably have 12 posts from this experience of fighting to keep the Mayor from closing our school with less than 3 weeks to go in the school year. I've wanted to write out my feelings numerous times, but by the time I got home I was asleep on my feet. Ironically, this ugliness from the mayor's office has permitted me the ability to fulfill life long passions. I walked a picket line! I protested. I called political offices and wrote letters. I manned a table at a rally. I've volunteered and sat in on committees. I've made the paper once and the news twice. I did these things because I believe in this school and the I believe that we should be afforded all the rights the Constitution affords us. And tomorrow I'll sit in a Federal Courtroom waiting to hear the outcome.

In the mean time, I've had to look for possible other schools. All of which were lovely, but still made me cry at the thought of giving up the lovely holistic education my kiddos receive now. We have a traditional school already on stand by and I'm touring a private school (hallelujah for vouchers) this afternoon. I haven't been to the grocery store in over a week except to grab odds and ends. Emma swears she hasn't eaten since this started and the rest of us have had...wait for it...FAST FOOD! Yech. blech. groooossss. It's a very rare treat for us to eat fast food and even then I rarely eat it. My body is in full on revolt. Apparently, I'm not the only one protesting. The kids have loved it. I'm insanely bloated. I feel sluggish and none of my clothes fit. It's crazy how much damage you can do in so short a time. I feel exhausted with little desire to exercise or detox. Yet, I know I must or I'll feel like this forever. I'm not looking forward to how long it's going to take to shed a week and a half of the bad stuff. I have an old acquaintance from a Bible Study that is now doing detox body wraps. I may have to do this just to get a kick start.

Brandon is still hard at it with two jobs, so with all the time spent with the school stuff I vaguely remember what my spouse looks like. Plus, he developed bronchitis over the weekend. The doc is booked with some bizarre summer virus so looks like I'm going to be consulting The Big Book for some home remedies. (I've been working on a series of the miracles of baking soda and how to make your own cleaning supplies since I have so many people ask me about what I use, but that's gonna be a minute. I have found an awesome face scrub made out of oatmeal that made my face feel like a baby's fanny I'll share soon!)

In the midst of all this, I've left my salon. I rented a chair about 4 blocks away from my house and due to a miserable set of events including the drunk daddy of my salon owner scaring one of my clients, Brandon and I have concocted a way for me to be able to do hair out of my house without having to shove any one's head in my kitchen sink. As crazy as all this is, it couldn't have come at a better time since I have to be completely free to pick up and drop off two different kids at two different schools across the city from each other instead of up the street. Not to mention that I was only breaking even at the salon and now we have at least $250 a month in which to offset some of the potential school costs. Of course that is after we purchase some equipment for the house. So if you don't mind hanging out in my kitchen with coffee or having your hair rinsed in a chair that will lean your head into my bathtub then please come on over. Belle wants to know what I'll name the home salon...QuirkyGirl Salon of course!!

We also had NiNi hanging with us since Thursday. She's trying to move into this area, but her house is still in Ktown but her job is 50 minutes away on the southside of Indy. Mix in trouble with the new car and we asked her to bunk with us until her car was ready on Monday. My mom came on Saturday and stayed the night to go to church with us on Sunday, attend the First Annual Mosaic/ New City/ Indy Metro Church Picnic and Kick Ball Extravaganza with Belle and I, then give us some much needed support at the Save Our School Social. She also gave the money to secure Belle's spot at the back up school since we couldn't afford to dole out $130 "just in case".  So as you can see, we had a full house.

As if aaaallll that isn't enough we have added a new member to the cast of Clan Maxwell. I don't know if any of you remember my other blog (The Gratitude Project based upon my New Year's Resolution to be grateful) post about Stella Luna, the pit mix that adopted US but Stella's family was moving out and Brandon asked what they were doing with the dog. Low and behold, Stella came home. She's been trying to live her since February anyway. Every time she would escape this is the first place she'd come, so I guess it's only fitting this baby of a big dog is home to stay. Hey, why not throw one more log on the fire, right?

During the week I learned many things. How much this particular school and the community it's created means to me, how grateful I am that I have the husband I do who tells me he's proud of me for fighting so hard so something I feel isn't right, that it doesn't matter to me that my other half isn't the rally type, because he works extra hard so that I can be, that I'm teaching my children my ethics through action and not just word, that the kids in the Martindale-Brightwood neighborhood know that adults think they are worth the fight even when they belong to a neighborhood the city wants to pretend doesn't exist. There is one a large dark cloud looming though. If tomorrow the Federal Judge doesn't side in our favor, Lily is moving back to her dad's. She has stated from the get go that if she can't go to TPS then she'll return to her dad's to attend Greenfield Intermediate School. She's rather return to what she knows than to start another new school. This trumps the internship I have to turn down in the neighborhood butting up against the school's. This trumps losing teachers who love my kids. Or paying tuition when we can't afford it. This verdict means my child no longer lives in my home. So when so many people wonder WHY I'm fighting so hard. It's because this judge holds my family in his hands.

Please pray for us. Pray for the judge. Pray for God's will and our acceptance of it. Pray for Lily. This is not an easy decision and this time this move will be for the year not just 6 months.

The Project School Indianapolis Lament

This past week has been an emotional roller coaster. I can't even list all the things that have gone on...mainly because I feel on overload and can't remember them all. Highlights include getting quoted in the IndyStar, walked a picket line, shadowed at a new salon, and had two rough days with my husband. I'm spent.

 This is my children's school. It's a progressive school with project based education. Very similar to a Montessori type of learning environment. What makes our school different is that our motto: Heart, Mind, Voice is based on the idea that children need to feel safe in their environment before they are able to effectively learn. Sometimes that means you have to take care of their social and emotional needs before you can ever begin to take care of their educational needs. Amazingly enough, it takes very little time for the children that come here to realize that this school and these teacher and administrators are here for them. This is their school. This is a safe place where ideas are not laughed at nor are you made fun of for learning at different rates of speed or levels. As a parent, the beauty of this place for me is that it's a community. A place where my children are learning not just ABC & 123, algebraic equations and reading comprehension (which they are), but they are experiencing these things in practical ways that I didn't get the opportunity to in school. Things such as how each choice has a consequence and that sometimes manifests itself in unexpected ways i.e. my junior highers learning that your credit score effected things like your insurance rates or the ability to live in decent housing or how to change a tire (this was tied into geometry. the angle at which the car had to be positioned in order to do so and why)

The school is located in a converted factory where the very first V6 engine in America was produced. It was purchased and renovated 5 years ago in a time when economically it was almost impossible to do these things. Yet a loan was secured and each year they have been able to maintain and expand the property. Gym class is done in two different electives: sports inclined or walking which is done by taking them to various trails and cultural walkways all over the city. Music encouraged by the Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra. Big City Farms volunteered to help with projects on Urban Sustainability and teachers paid for (out of their own pockets) for eggs to be incubated for our chicken coop. My youngest daughter learned of her love for the stage during her Passions Class taught by Mr. Justin from the Young Actor's Theatre of downtown Indianapolis because finding what you're passionate about is part of a well-rounded education.

I think what hurts my feelings the most are the lies. This school and these people are apart of my family. When someone speaks against my family they are speaking against me as well. That just simply can not and will not be tolerated. The above picture was taken at the Press Conference the school called upon learning via the media that our charter was being revoked for sub par test scores and financial mismanagement. The mayor's office failed to recognize that the 3M in debt is actually a mortgage. A MORTGAGE!!! Because we are a school of involved parents who refuse to give up on our school, we formed a peaceful protest & picketed the mayor's office on Friday.

I'm shocked and appalled. I'm hurt. With 2 weeks left before school was slated to start, where will my children go? I'm fearful to send them to our local public school. They came from a small farm community into this beacon of encouragement and support. IPS will devour them. Not to mention that I want project based/ reggio emilia inspired education.

I'm emotionally exhausted. The choices for our next year now hang in the balance. Friday I shadowed at a salon just up the street from the school and nine blocks walking distance from Em's high school so that the No Buses for charter schools wouldn't effect us. Financially, my husband and I need for me to return to work at this time. At least until my student loans are paid off. Now, I may not be able to simply because our other school options leave me no options.

I'm weary. The wait is killing me. The meeting started an hour and a half ago and I just keep praying, "Please, Mayor Ballard. Look at the over all good of this school. That children thrive and academically excel if given the two year grace needed to let the methods take effect." Actually, it doesn't even take that long. It's simply what we ask for so that as a school we aren't judged based upon the child's previous school's test scores. Would you like to be graded as a Mayor based on Bart Peterson's term?

Prayers needed all around, Sweet Readers. I have secured a place for Lily and Belle at Beech Grove Schools, but the $260 initial cost and pick-up schedule may seriously hurt this family financially.

I feel sick. 

The Big Book

I'm so very excited to share with you today a little prize I bought for myself Tuesday evening when I popped into Good Earth in pursuit of something to help Lily clear up some sort of poison something or other. The doc told her dad that the rash on her step-sister wasn't poison IVY, but it's poison vine of some kind.

So there I was, upstairs, in the apothecary's shop (my favorite part of the store. I have a secret desire to work up there and learn all the ends and outs of the various herbs and natural healing elements) asking the dude behind the counter for their reference book...again. It's all beat up and dog-eared and well used and oh-so-loved. Every time I'm in there and flip through it's pages I just wanna slip it into my bag and sneak off down the stairs with it. It looks so old that I just assumed like most things I inquire about it is no longer available.

EUREKA! It was on the shelf. New and current editions. Slightly more than I usually spend on anything for myself, but I really wanted this. Typically I am over whelmed with Buyer's Remorse every time I spend money on myself but this time... Baby, I am just STOKED! It gives herbal and traditional suggestions. Eastern and Western alternatives. It's arranged alphabetically according to ailment for quick reference. Anybody need some homeopathic reference material regarding everything from acne to yeast infections or various herbs and minerals hit me up. You can use my book anytime.

DISCLAIMER: I am not a licensed physician or pharmacist. I recommend seeking medical professional help in all cases. I do not offer advise or treatments of any kind and personally seek the advice of my physician before taking any and all herbal supplements. This is a method passed down generationally from my mother's side and I just happen to prefer it to Western Medicine. Please Please PLEASE do NOT say under any circumstances "Rachel Said to do...." I'm just a girl who loves me some natural products. 

Homeopathic Bug Spray

Sometime back, I started developing a serious conscience about the chemicals we immerse ourselves in during our day to day lives. Cleaning products jumped out at me with their lists of unpronounceable "ingredients".  So began my love affair with essential oils and homemade cleaning products and skin care potions. When I made this bug spray (much to the scoffing of Lily and B's screams for 100% DEET -the man has serious bug issues) I was also bombarded with numerous requests for the recipe if it actually worked! SUCCESS!!! Belle came home from camp with ONE bite. In fact, we all used it the weekend we picked her up and went camping and were bite free (: 

Recipe is as follows minus all the nasty neurological issues caused by extended use of commercial bug sprays. Plus, it smells good. Kind of like a woodsy perfume.

Homeopathic Bug Spray Recipe

Witch Hazel

Distilled Water

Essential Oils: Tea Tree, Lavender, Citronella, Lemon Eucalyptus

I make my spray directly in the bottle I'm going to be using. These are just small spritzer bottles I picked up for .99 in the travel section at Target. Fill half way with witch hazel and the rest of the way with distilled water. It's important that it's DISTILLED water and not tap or spring or drinking. Distilled water has been boiled to remove the minerals and chemicals found in common tap water and has not had fluoride added as in drinking water. The condensation from the steam is collected and this is what is bottled. It's the lack of these minerals and chemicals that allow the essential oils to be the most effective. Essential oils should be used with caution as too much can be toxic. However, I think it's condensed version I make that has a higher potency in this bug spray. I use 5 drops of each oil per spritzer bottle. I buy my essential oils at The Good Earth in Broadripple. They have a good assortment for good prices. However, if I can't find what I'm looking for (their selection is surprisingly limited) I go to Whole Foods. I have a few friends who buy theirs online, but I'm an instant gratification shopper. I want my stuff  NOW! If anyone has a link to a site with great prices please leave a comment. I'm always up for change in the sake of a good deal. Otherwise, shake and be bite free :)

** I do have one more oil that I myself have not yet added to my current mixture but I will! It's called Pennyroyal. I discovered it from a soap maker at the Farmer's Market Downtown. I bought his woodsman's soap while talking to him about a soap for my dog to help repeal fleas and tics. He had several "pet" soaps, but said I could use the Woodsman's Soap on the dog as well as us. (I bought it for our camping trips because my spray is not for tics. Repeat. NOT A TIC REPELLENT) However, adding pennyroyal deepens the hatred of skeeters and adds tics to the list. If adding pennyroyal oil simply use the 5 drop standard. WARNING: DO NOT USE PENNYROYAL IF PREGNANT OR NURSING!

Bday Aftermath or Let's Get it Started...(I don't know which...maybe both)

So 35 ain't too bad. It was actually a really lovely birthday all in all. Got new shoes, new make-up, free flowers from guy at Trader Joe's who was quite simply a messenger. Those flowers were from my Big Daddy. I saw them when I went into the store and thought "oh, how lovely. Those are the perfect 4th of July arrangement" and then they were mine :) And I got to go sweat my tuckus off at The Earth House Collective at a Josh Garrels concert to benefit Loving Accurately Ministries work with the AIDS afflicted in South Africa. AWESOME!

I think our birthdays are our own private New Year's. Soul Searching. Dig Deep. Personal Growth and Development Goal Setting Sessions. Couple interesting things have cropped up this year. Namely some unresolved anger issues which really is rooted in unforgiveness. yeeech. ouch. blaaaahhhh. It always stinks to think you are one type of person only to discover that maybe you aren't who you thought you were...or maybe you WERE that person and now realized that evolving isn't always for the better. But I would rather know than stay stuck in it.

Discipline is not a strong point for either myself or my other half. I'm just a very by the seat of my pants person. That or I typically have so many irons in the fire and seeing that I'm scatterbrained and haphazard by nature mingled with OCD let's just say that I flit from one thing to the next until I end up with 17 unfinished "projects" (which by projects I mean laundry and such). In my past I revolted at the idea of a schedule. Can you hear me scoff? No? Well that's because I accidentally discovered the sheer joy of creating a morning schedule for myself. Only I've let it slip as of late. Oh how I and the rest of my house has suffered because of that little tidbit.

My morning routine consists of quiet, coffee, the computer, and my bible. Some study time in the word. A Song o' the Day posting on my Facebook wall. Some recipe rummaging. Breakfast...It's my downtime. I never expected to be a morning person, but it really is a beautiful start to the day. So I'm signing off. I'm gonna do my Jesus: The One and Only study for women's group and let the love of The Master wash over me and uproot some nasty unforgiveness I've go going on. Then I'm gonna pray for my peeps. I'm gonna drink some coffee and let this day unfold...I'm thinking library time with Belle Girl and heading to Ktown to pickup my Lilliput who's been hanging with her granny for a week.

Request: Pray for Em this week. She headed off to camp yesterday all excited and reved up to go. Getting there she realized her camp week is quite small and most of the girls came in one large group kind of leaving her as the odd man out. I know she'll be fine as she always manages to find a friend quickly, but my heart was panicked when we left her yesterday. Please pray that God meets her this week and she gets what she needs to come back recharged and on fire.

Later Days, Babies~

Rach 

17 Has Turned 35...

The summer I turned 17 my mom was turning 35 that fall. We were in the car on our way to get my Senior pics taken when the John Mellencamp song Cherry Bomb came on the radio. We were laughing at the irony of the lyric '17 has turned 35'....but here I am. Sitting at my dinning room table and 17 has turned 35. I'm left wondering where did it all go? How did 18 years slip slide away?

I've always looooved my birthday. It was my favorite holiday and considering that it was butted right up against the national celebration of our independence I had, more or less, a two day party every year. I'm usually sad when it's all said and done and I have to wait a whole nother year for my day. Yeah. Not so much this year. I've tried to sort of ignore it....but that doesn't happen in this house. We are birthday people. I was raised with birthday people. My dad's birthday's were notorious and lasted with week long celebrations. Your life is unique and special and should be celebrated. It is a day that is just for you. This year, I'm feelin my age.

Except I don't! And there in lies the rub. I don't feel 35. When I was 25 I would've told you I felt 32. Now that I'm 35 I feel more like 25...ish...maybe 27....I've never been good with numbers. They don't tell you that part. Or maybe they do. You just don't pay attention because you ARE 25 and nothing really matters at 25 even though you think EVERYTHING is monumental. That the part that reaches up and slugs you in the jaw. My knees pop and catch and groan in the mornings. I need sleep now. Like for real sleep not the 4 hours I use to get by with. I'm going to bed by 11 or there's hell to pay tomorrow sleep. And I LIKE being up early...6 am early. When the house is quiet and my kiddos are sleeping. It's calm and peaceful....and clean. And my mother comes flying out of my mouth ALL.THE.TIME!! When did she move in there? Seriously? I didn't get the change of address card. My boobs aren't perky anymore. They're still better than some, but not like they were. And since I've quit smoking and got married I can't lose these 20 lbs. And another thing! What's up with DRY SKIN??? Which I do have to admit, I don't mind all that much. It was harder to moisturize when I had to degrease my face and now I get to slather it with like 6 different 'anti-aging' bunch of bullshit and sunscreen (which I should've embraced earlier) but the rigamarole of putting it all on is exhausting. Yet, in my head, I feel younger all the time. I feel lighter and more comfortable in my own skin (minus the 20 lbs of hangers on).

I thought it was the fact that B and I are going to have just one more sometime this year was what was freaking me out. Being 35 technically puts me in the "high risk" bracket (because hemorrhaging wasn't enough). After talking to the OB who said no worries until you're 42 that pretty much packed that away. Yet, the dread lingered like the taste of burnt coffee.  Maybe it was checking a different box....ya know, the one that now says 35 to 49!! Nahhhhh. My quote unquote box does not have the same effect has say our male counterparts and their euphemisms.

I think it's just vanity. Suddenly it all seems to have gone so fast. I look at my two older kids and think of a plethora of things I wish I could go back and change about being their mommy. Things I would do differently because I was young and parenting in the "suppose to". I was too hard on them. I expected too much. Maybe it's not so much vanity as regret. Like a dish that was overly salted. Not bad just not as good. I've never dealt with much regret. I just plowed forward and yes there are things I wish I'd have done differently, but this tastes different. There's a sadness that comes with regret. A mournful settling.

So this is what they mean by middle-aged. It's sort of like being a teenager again. I was hugging Lily that other day and smelling her hair. We were talking about how 13 is what I call The Ugly In Between Time. You're not a little kid and you miss some of that and want to stay there, but you're not big enough to do any of the other things you want to do either. 13 is haaaaarrrrddd! 35 doesn't look so different. I'm not young although I feel like it, but I'm no where even near old. It's a strange in between.

But I did read a quote a couple of days ago that I stumbled upon almost as if it were on purpose ;)

“In your 30's you can finally stop trying to be a 10 on the outside and work on being a ‘perfect 10’ on the inside. That's where your true beauty exudes from! It's an empowering time in your life because you begin realizing that we all age and wrinkle on the outside, but inner beauty is forever lasting! Oh yea, go ahead and embrace your quirks -- get over the size of your thighs and stop being so critical of yourself.” --Tiffany Hendra, beauty and style expert who teaches empowerment classes to underprivileged young women

So this is where I stand today. Just over the threshold of my 35th year. I'm going to clean out my closet and donate the clothes I've held onto thinking I'm going to get back into them (minus my favorite blue jeans of course). If I do. I do. If I don't. I don't. I'm not the number on the scale. I'm not the number on the tag inside my clothes. I'm not 22 anymore so I can stop trying to be a 10 because I already am. I love my quirks. I rejoice in my uniqueness. And since I'm an external processor, I'm hoping this post will allow me to forgive myself for areas I feel I fail.

Every year, I spend a little time with God going over my life. Where I've been, how far I've come, the people I miss, the ones still with me, and especially where I'm going. This year, my prayer is to make my desires align with His will for my path. So with a a deep cleansing sigh I say....

"I'm surprised that we're still livin/ and if we've done any wrong/ I hope that we're forgiven." - John Mellencamp Cherry Bomb

Camp

For all those who were inquired and patiently waited while the 8-year-old was the family guinea pig....Camp was a smashing SUCCESS!!!

When Em and Lil went to camp, I got to sit in a sweltering parking lot with a myriad of other parents waiting for a bus to belch out our children. Then it was sort through a zillion and one totes and sleeping bags and odd assortments of this and thats double checking to make sure you grabbed your own possessions and not some other kids all while your kid (and in my case TWO) told you 20,000 tales about their adventrues and screeched goodbyes across the parking lot to other kids as their parents where doing the exact same thing you are doing. By the time all the property is shoved and stuffed in the van (did I mention I also was a single parent at the time with a fascinated toddler who kept chasing her sissies across the death trap parking lot) you're completely exhausted and realize that the only thing the week they're at camp is for on your end is to recupperate from the drop off and gear up for the pick up.  All the excitement of getting to wrap your babies in your arms once more is lost in a sea of oozing black top and the lingering effect of sugar highs from the pixie stix at the canteen.

Going to Mitchell to pick Belle up at Spring MILL Bible Camp was a completely different experience. The counselors were the ones looking spent and ready for a long winter's nap. The kids had everything packed up and on their bunks waiting to be tossed into the chariot that would take them home...or in our case the State Park down the road for a days worth of camping and siteseeing at the Pioneer Village.

I didn't anticipate how antsy I would be. Sitting in the parking lot you have no choice but to well...wait. Knowing that the car was in a forward motion and acting propelling us forward to get Belle made me a toe-tapping NUT! I couldn't get there fast enough. Especially once we parked the car. We were half way to her cabin when B decided to just go back and drive the van around. I started walking faster and faster and faster until I was in a dead on sprint up the wooded trail to her cabin.  I mean I was bookin it, y'all. Bookin'. It.

Behind me I could hear my other two baby girls screamin "MOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMM!" Not stopping, I glanced over my shoulder and saw Belle Girl running full speed after me. I turned on my heels and started back DOWN the trail to my little slip of doll baby. By the time that girl got to me she was sobbing and tears were just rolling down her face. She croaked out, 'I missed you so much.' I liked to have died. My baby. The youngest. The littlest one that we sacrificed as the ginuea pig was a crying mess and hadn't been able to reach us all week. "Oh, Honey, didn't you like camp?!?" "Yeah, It was AWESOME!!! I just missed you." Insert toothless smile.

The next couple days were at camp this and at camp that. It was a blessed and fantastic first overnight camp experience for her. She can't wait to go next year. And I am pleased because Spring MILL is only $100 a week!!

And apparently, the food is excellent ;)

Later Days, Babies

Rach

Today we're going to pick up the littlest one from her first week of overnight camp. I can't wait to hear about all her adventures! This camp came to be in typical QuirkyGirl fashion. Complete mishap.

When we moved into the city last summer, we had to basically start all over. We were at a new church, new neighborhood, new schools, new just about every thing. Previously, the kids had gone to camp with the church, but with moving and a new church I wasn't even sure where to send them at all. So I asked The Preacher's Wife. (Seeing as both of my besties are PKs I know this is not just the title but the official name of all spousal support in every church across the land.) TPW gave me the name of a camp they had just sent their kids too and raved and gushed about the joys and wonders of it all. She told me it was expensive so we might have to get scholarship info like they did. I was excited filing back the name of the camp until the following year.

Flash forward to the following year....

Sometime around March I start doing the research for camps and summer programs to keep at least the littlest one occupied. Pulling up the reserves from the back of my mind regarding the previous summer's camp convo with TPW, I set out on google. The name of the camp was Spring Mill...right? Sure enough Spring Mill Bible Camp in Mitchell, IN popped right up on the screen. I was confused regarding the scholarship remark for no other reason than it was a mere $100/week. Truthfully, I wrote it off because often times when people know you're a single parent they immediately assume their is financial hardship. Rightfully so 9 out of 10 times, but still....ya know? So I shrugged it off. Rejoiced in the affordability of it and proceeded to  look at the calendar.

Spring slipped into Summer. A week before Belle was set to go to camp Brandon and I had dinner with our marriage mentor couple who just happened to be the former youth ministers to The Preacher Man. As we were talking about the camp TPW recommended I said "Spring Mill" and Marty looked at mean and said "You mean Spring HILL".  "No. Spring MILL....in Southern Indiana." "Yeah, Spring HILL is in Southern Indiana." After a bit of the back and forth and a comment on the affordability of the camp it became apparent that I had mixed up the name and seeing as to how the camps are in the same region of Southern Indiana but the one is $400/week cheaper.....I registered my kids for an unknown camp. Because that's how we roll in this family. Flying along in a series of mishaps and misadventures. Yet, God has his hands on me (and my kiddos) with my haphazard ways because it almost always works out wonderfully. So this will go down as the summer the youngest was the guinea pig for summer camp.

We're hoping it was awesome and is a place to go back to over and over again. In fact, several people have asked to be in the loop about how it went as it's affordable and not so very far. Did I mention it's right next to Spring Mill State Park with a Pioneer Village and such? Cuz it is! I gotta hop off here and start packing up our stuff. We're camping tonight at Spring MILL State Park as a mini getaway with our motely crew. Maybe some pics later.

Kisses to Your Faces, Babies~

Rach

For me to tell a short story would be a Christmas in Almost July miracle. I couldn't even give a book report in under 15 minutes (true story). You see, for me, every detail is important. It's all a series of thoughts, comments, opinions, etc., that each link to the other. All of these things create the whys and wherefores of the culminations of our lives....which is why I almost don't even know where to begin because it all seems pertinent!

Here goes....

I've made a new friend. I don't know her well yet, but I'm quite certain I already love her.

Yesterday, I was sitting on Lenda's couch picking up a book that she so kindly bought for me when she mentioned she had read my blog.

My blog. An online diary of sorts. A safe place that got tainted and was put away on a low shelf tucked out of sight. I'd tried to re-name her. Dress her up in different clothes. Tried to make her and to some degree myself into something we were not. I tell the kids: It's too hard to go against your own grain. It hurts too much. So I let her have her name back, and then I packed her away once more.

About a year or so ago, my lovely friend Nikki from across the pond, sent me a quick note and said she'd been checking in on my blog only to find nothing new posted. "I'm guessing maybe you don't need it as much as you once did."  Those words stuck. I chewed on them a bit. Was there truth in it? Yes....and no. I'm not certain I can even explain the yes. The no is much simpler. I used to be able to say I was a writer. Because I wrote. Now, not so much. Yet, I watch Emma peck away at the keyboard and print off pages and pages of original work and something in me sighs. Is it time? Is it that I am no longer 'tortured' in the ways of writers because I am happy in my life? John Lithgow in the movie Orange County said upon hearing his son tell him he wanted to be a writer: "WRITER? You're not gay! You're not oppressed!! What do you have to write about?!"

I miss it. I miss the words in my head being pushed onto the screen by the laboring cursor. So here I am. Months and months later. But I am here. Not the same QuirkyGirl but QuirkyGirl all the same.

“Tomorrow may be hell, but today was a good writing day, and on the good writing days nothing else matters.”
― Neil Gaiman