Thanks to their very capable aunt, Priya and Sam have a craft to show for. Left to their mother's craft skills, they might not even have heard of glue and scissors, except for the mending of things they break.

Since it is so cold today, Anneka is modeling Sam's old bomber hat in the house. Poor third child gets left with wrong-gendered hand-me-downs.

Looking on the bright side, which at the very least it was today, the frost etching is on the outside of the window and it will melt eventually. The real and permanent glass etching is up above on the inside. And even when the breezes blow through, it's a small price to pay for their 80-year old character.

However, the frost IS on the inside in this window here on the north side of the house. Just another perk of living in the Midwest in the winter...

literature

I don't remember when I last read any part of Little Women.

That's rather unfortunate because in the time since I actually looked at the actual book, I had the misfortune of watching the flick. The one with Susan Sarandon. For a long time - until this week in fact - whenever I thought of the story, I pictured Ms. Susan in the movie. There's something feministic about her role in that movie. Feministic meaning stand for your rights, men are bad, do your own thing-type rhetoric. I guess that reasonable since Susan, from my observation, has chosen her friends, political candidates and causes that reek with such ideology.

I guess there is a time when a woman should stand up for her rights - depending on what "rights" we are discussing. A woman should do her own thing - as opposed to following the rest of the crowd doing destructive things - sometimes. And yes, some men are bad - just like some woman are bad too.

Then, we took a road trip this weekend and I borrowed the radio theatre drama of Little Women. We ended up listening to radio theatre drama The Legend of Squanto and reading another book outloud with a flashlight. But I cracked those little women open later when I was in the car.

The story resonates with a different kind of independence and bravery than Susan Sarandon gives to the film make of the story. Quite the antithesis of the actress and her ideology in fact. How about unselfishness, grace, gentleness, dependence on God and strength not even related to standing up for your rights.

That serves me right for taking the lazy way out and watching the movie instead of cracking open the book.

rescue

1. Rescue the perishing, care for the dying, snatch them in pity from sin and the grave; weep o'er the erring one, lift up the fallen, tell them of Jesus, the mighty to save.

Refrain: Rescue the perishing, care for the dying; Jesus is merciful, Jesus will save.

2. Though they are slighting him, still he is waiting, waiting the penitent child to receive; plead with them earnestly, plead with them gently; he will forgive if they only believe. (Refrain)

3. Down in the human heart, crushed by the tempter, feelings lie buried that grace can restore; touched by a loving heart, wakened by kindness, chords that were broken will vibrate once more. (Refrain)

4. Rescue the perishing, duty demands it; strength for thy labor the Lord will provide; back to the narrow way patiently win them; tell the poor wanderer a Savior has died. (Refrain)

(words by Fanny Crosby)

Sometimes I try to imagine what God must see when He looks at this world. How does His heart not completely break and how does He hold off from just making everything right, right now. These thoughts don't last long merely because my tiny mind doesn't get it.

I want things to be fixed now. I want to change the people whose kids are an afterthought, after they make time for fun times at the local dive every weekend or after they put in on their highly lucrative careers 14 hours out of the last 24.

I want all those moms who don't think they have the time for an inconvenient baby to come stay with me (they'd move out rather rapidly I suspect from the sheer noise level but maybe that'd be enough time to convince them that kids ARE good character developers and everyone needs that).

I want justice for parents who trade their little girls innocence for a little cash and the adults who carry those little ones off... well I wish really bad things would come their way. I can't take care of all the girls caught in this despicable traffiking but maybe just the ones that are close to Priya's age could be here where I could let them play all day instead of having to "entertain" vile adults with nasty appetites.

And those are just about three drops in the bucket of just the injustices done to kids. What am I doing about it?

In her book In My Hands, Irene Gut Opdyke narrates how she, a 17-year old Polish nurse in training, became a catalyst in the rescue of in an unknown number of Jews in World War II Poland. She was questioned early on how she, "just one girl" could make a difference. But by the time she was 25 years old, her name was well-known in her country for the risks she had taken to save people from extermination.

I'm nearly finished with Gary A. Haugen's account in Terrify No More of his work with International Justice Mission to free many Priya-aged girls from brothels in Cambodia.

Irene and Gary did and are doing something. Maybe I have the mistaken idea that what I'm supposed to do to help "rescue the perishing" will be book-worthy some day. In fact, maybe what I'm supposed to do won't even be short-story worthy or even mention-in-passing worthy.

But like my roommate from college reminded me a few weeks ago, if I can just save one, that will be worthy in God's eyes. I just hope I'll be willing to put my life on the line then. I just hope I'm paying attention then.

shed life

There are so many happening things that go on in the shed. There is used straw to carry from one place to another in the miniature wheelbarrow. The proper attire is especially important. Of course overalls, but most importantly the foam bead necklace. Sam made it himself after allAnd Priya had a prime opportunity to manhandle her sister into the miniature wheelbarrow and give her a ride. To which Anneka was, for a change, happy to comply. Of course overalls are important attire, but the foam bead necklace was equally important.

principles

While I was rearranging some clutter this week, I found a quote I had written down a while back credited to Dwight D. Eisenhower:

"A people that values its privileges above its principles soon loses both."

Hmmm...

Right-handed...

....and left-handed.

Yes, I know, one must overlook that she is writing in a book with a colored pencil.

But it is a pretty cool trick for 14 months and the colored pencil was light pink.

Grandma Eisfeld would be proud - with the left-hand thing at least. Not with the writing in books.

subjective

I'm just wondering how the general, average Bob or Sally American would respond to a political candidate who unashamedly defended the rights of those who choose to spend their money (among other things) at brothels stocked with scared, scarred little eight and nine and 10-year old girls trafficked from their moms and dads and siblings.

Or what would be the reaction to a candidate who ardently defends those individuals who set up and stock such places with these tiny human beings?

Would their reaction be any different to candidates who defend the practice that will snuff out the lives of 3300 pre-born babies today? The practice that will leave 3300 scarred and maybe scared moms with a piece missing from their lives forever because they don't know the truth.

boots and hats

easy-going type

What an amazing story! Oh, it's not that it's about triplets, triplets are not uncommon today. It's how they came about and most importantly their parents comments to the press.

The last quote from Kerry Lyons just makes me smile.

real religion

Religion that God our Father acepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress

and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world. ~ James 1:27

In recent months, I've become very aware of a mandate given to Christians in the Word. It's something that those who don't claim to follow Christ (and other variations between them and Christians) seemed to think they have the edge on us as believers just a little. "They" have lots of programs to cover the bases in this area, generally involving the government and large sums of money in various forms. It bothered me a little, well, quite a bunch, because it's been on my mind.

It started when our neighbors adopted five kids from two continents to their family. This James 1:27 verse came up a lot in our Bible study that included them. I started to notice how many times God talks about caring for orphans, widows, the poor.

Several months ago, we heard Rick Warren speak about the subject of taking care of those in need: orphans, widows, the unfortunate. The church, he reminded his listeners, is the best source for taking care of others - there are many churches, in the U.S. and worldwide; there are many people involved in churches and everyone has something to offer as far as help.

Then in Sunday School. our neighbors who also go to our church have been leading a small series on a workshop they attended in Florida on orphan ministry. This morning, James 1:27 came up again and I noticed the second half of that verse in a new light: "and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world." Jodi, our neighbor, nailed what I've been mulling in my mind for a long time when she noted that we, as Christians, are to be offering them what they need, but also offering them the Gospel. Otherwise, she said, what's really the point? Jodi said it this way: "We are to offer them a cup of cold water to drink but also the Living Water."

Here we are blind as bats: the Bible has been written for at least two thousand years defining a real Christian: look after people who need help but don't lose your focus on who it's all about - the Saviour. I am frequently mildly and wildly frustrated with my children: 4 and 2 years of age who can't seem to think beyond their own comforts. How must our God think of us. He hasn't chosen to use angels to get His work done on earth, He picked us. We seem to be either standing around waiting for somebody more experienced or with more money to help those people or we get involved in a cause but ditch Him, the real reason behind our work.

What if we partnered with the county social services, not for their money, because we've got more resources than they could imagine, but to be willing to take in foster kids, teenage moms, divorced moms and dads? Several churches in the U.S. have already done this.

What if social services didn't need so many on their staff because us church people were taking care of people with needs AND serving them a cup of Living Water at the same time?

Now I see quite clearly, it's been there all along. Social programs can ONLY offer money to fix social ills and maybe some good advice sterilized of any mention of Jesus. But we have a Heavenly Father, who not only owns the cattle on a thousands hills (all the resouces and money) but who created each of us with a purpose and place in history and sent His Son to live and to die and to live again to redeem all those ills, all that wasted time, all those broken hearts and minds.

It's all in the perspective: once I realize that He's calling me, He's calling all Christians to be willing, to get it straight He is the answer, He provides all the resources.

A worm killed at least one of our squash plants. The cucumber plant produced a half dozen cucumbers - all except one of which were severely bitter. The fancy radishes were a disaster. BUT...the carrots are spectacular. There should be enough potatoes for at least a couple months and even a few parsnips made it.

truth

As I was reading I Chronicles tonight, the thought struck me: I wonder how many things we attribute to our own petty little selves when actually God is completely behind it. In the 22nd chapter of I Chronicles, David is preparing to hand over the throne to Solomon. As a man of war and blood shedding, God wanted Solomon to build the temple. God promises to "give him [Solomon] rest from all his enemies." That's huge. God would protect Israel from their enemies.

People in older times than now seemed to have the good sense to credit God when He was blessing or punishing them. Today, very few - and they are immediately labeled as bigots and intolerants - even have the courage to stand up and label something "evil" or "bad." And when something goes well, we pat ourselves on the back and boast about our good fortune, our smart policies or our brilliant planning.

The people in Isaiah's day and Jeremiah's day and Hosea's day treated them shamefully for speaking the truth - the truth that was coming straight from God. So I'm wondering, are we ignoring some voices God has ordained to set us straight while we're looking for newer, more gentle, tolerant methods of truth imparting? Or does God not use people to speak the truth like He did in Old and New Testament times, trading that method for more palatable methods?

about God

While I was preparing for our final study for youth group on "Do Hard Things" yesterday. I came across perhaps the most honest, Biblically driven argument against abortion. On his blog, Alex Chediak features a eight-and-a-half minute YouTube clip, reiterating to me that my opposition to this grisly practice that we, as supposedly a civilized nation, have in common with some other rather uncivilized nations, is not just an nice opinion.

rough

It's been a rough week on the farm here.

It started when Stew-pot, the cat, had six kittens in the stroller in the garage. To protest my moving them to a nice box lined with rags a few feet away, she refused to feed them for a while and three died. She since decided to feed the remaining three and when I checked them yesterday, they were fat and their eyes were starting to come open.

The week continued when Fanta, another cat with a sketchy reputation for caring for her young, had kittens also in the garage. But Priya and the neighbor girl found them strung out around the yard. Mollie, the dog, while being a fabulously, gentle dog with human children, feels no such sympathy for the offspring of cats. For the second time this year and fourth time overall, felt inspired to kill yet another litter of kittens. Cats are a dime a dozen and I'm not terribly distraught that we have four less kittens except for the chore of locating the corpse's and hoping none are still struggling. One was quite alive in this latest round of killings. Besides have several puncture wounds, it seemed to want to eat. It didn't make the night however. Fanta has since adopted another cat's three half-grown kittens from this spring to be her own though.

The week finished when one of the sheep suffered a irreversible injury as a result of an ornery horse. So I am quite confident that while my children may be considered sheltered in some regards, they are very familiar with the death of their pets.

small town

I was reminded again how small-town southwest Minnesota we really are.

When our kids were born - at least Sam and Anneka - we were the only ones on the birth wing of the hospital (except for the man and 20 of his closest relatives who was suffering from consumption or pleurisy who they moved next door to us because the regular sick wing of the hospital was full). There are a few halls in the hospital - one to get to that wing of the hospital and one connecting it.

Armed with a plant, a gift bag and three children, we headed from the parking ramp toward the wing of the hospital where we thought we'd find the long-awaited addition to the family. In the lobby, there was a big poster of a couple gazing longingly at their new infant. Surely there must be babies in this wing. Nope, after searching several creepy dimly lit hallways, I think we found the ICU and oncology and endoscopy. We met three or four employees as well - unless scrubs and name tags are now en vogue for street clothes - who must have assumed we were out for a Sunday afternoon walk. In retrospect, the wall across from the elevator would have been a fabulous place to put a large clearly marked sign directing visitors to the various wards.

The kiosk with the monitor where lost (in our case) or smart (not our case) visitors can type in the name of the person they are visiting or the room number must be the replacement for signs, that is if you happen across one of them before you get lost.

The big city is fun....to visit. But give me the hospital where the nurse on duty has time to chat and the hall only goes two directions in one straight line.

And while we try to keep hospital visits with our tribe of small children at a minimum, we left on our own accord AFTER our small children met their new cousin and BEFORE they had a chance to organize foot races with the bassinet. It sure was a good reason to visit a hospital. No, let me rephrase that - the best reason to visit a hospital.

miriam emma

Miriam Emma Koski arrived Saturday evening weighing six pounds, 15 ounces hoping to add a little more excitement to her parents life and to keep her three cousins in line.

eating

So here's my theory on my kids and eating (with only 4 years of experience): they need variety and lots of chances to develop their tastes. I heard once that it takes 20 or 30 times of trying something before you can develop a like or dislike.



Life is way too short to eat tasteless canned corn and limp pale peas too many times in a year when there are options like spinach with salad fixings, stir-fried asparagus, mashed sweet and white potatoes and grilled fresh green beans. And that's just the vegetable part of things.



Granted there are things that are more difficult to serve to kids, but they won't learn to appreciate a variety if they are in college when they first try them. It might be too late to develop a varied palatte at that point. Kids will eat beef and broccoli on rice, sprouted wheat bread, plain yogurt, grapefruit and oatmeal pancakes if that what is being served.



What Mary Poppins said about a spoonful of sugar is quite accurate. Sometimes it takes a slice or two of cheese, a sprinkle of parmesan, a little syrup and butter, a squirt of strawberry syrup or a generous amount of jam for the good stuff to go down, but think of the variety one misses when only frozen pizza, fish sticks, chicken wads, pop tarts and cocoa puffs comprise a person's diet.



I'd make a terrible vegan. Grilled steak is too succulent. Sour cream finishes the taste of so many things from chili to salsa and chips. And without cheese, a piece of life would be missing. Completely sticking to everything organic is great in theory until I visit the six-aisles of my hometown grocery store. Not to mention that I'd leave the grocery store with significantly fewer bags and smaller containers considering organic prices. But variety is such a fine concept.



So for right now, my theory is I make no conclusions about my children's definite dislikes yet. I have so many new recipes to try.

Anneka Cate - August 9, 2007 - 11:02 a.m.

Anneka Cate - one year later

egg

In March, Priya picked out 10 chicks for her birthday. One didn't make the week, but the other nine happily spend their days eating fallen apples and catching bugs around here during the day. At night, they all crowd into the doghouse they inherited from Molly who has never spent even one blizzard or rainy day in.

They are big now - four brown ("yellow" as Priya calls them) and five black speckled and they are tame in a sort of strange way. When was the last time you walked across the yard and looked down to see nine hens keeping up with you.

But their real purpose is to lay eggs. Yesterday, there was one little egg in the doghouse. Priya and Sam were quite sure it was from the chickens and even discussed the possibility of launching a acreage-wide egg hunt to look for more. On the way home from church, we settled the question of how many eggs each chicken would lay a day. Today at dinner, they discussed some various theories how chickens make eggs.

Unfortunately, we'll have to wait until the next egg is laid to analyze it since the first egg didn't make it back into the fridge after show-and-tell last night.

Sam and Priya, the proud owners of some freshly picked cat tails and their picked-on kitten.


Anneka's favorite post in the kitchen - on the counter where the view is the best.

summer church

So, if summer school is for people to catch up on academics, why is Sunday School suspended and Sunday's church activities abbreviated for the summer?

What a relief to know that God doesn't take off the summer from us even though we do it to Him.

banana flavored

play

I think there are two kinds of playing that kids can do: formal and free.

In the formal kind of play, there are activities set out or formally organized for children to keep themselves entertained for a certain period of time. This might be craft time or playground time or Barbie doll time or anything. Disputes are settled before blood, high-decibel screeching or crying can evolve. The organized adults who plan such play time also have rules and keep track of when the children have completed their stint at the planned activity and make them pick up the mess before they move on to another play area or activity. Everything is labeled and has a container.

Free play time is short for free-for-all, sort of. Children are turned out of a room or the front door of a house to entertain themselves. The adults involved here get involved when there is blood or there is a dispute or someone starts to cry profusely. Free play might involve a sculpture in the front yard constructed of dogfood, sand, the tops of carrots just picked from the garden and some leftover boards placed end to end in a triangle. Other times lots of random animals and dolls are dressed in a varying wardrobe are tied up in a tangle of blankets and pillows where they may be going to church or driving in a car. Sometimes vegetables and cooking utensils are involved. The adults of these kids are thankful that the kids aren't fighting too bad or nagging for snacks and sneak off to attempt to get a thing or two done leaving the kids to mix activities and strange little messes. When these activities are cleaned up, everything is supposed to fit in some big tubs.

I've observed one of these forms of play and have attempted mostly unsuccessfully to coordinate it. It might be something best left to the professionals. The other I am quite familiar with.

In 50 or 60 years, I will have a brilliant theory about which combination is most effective in producing quality. profitable members of society.

night

Well, it was another eventful night. By that I mean 12 a.m. to 4 a.m.. The good thing is that they don't happen every night so I kind of appreciate them in a strange sort of way.

The sleeping patterns of my children never cease to amaze me. No amaze isn't the appropriate term. They amuse me, they baffle me. I've long ceased being frustrated at my night interrupted. Just two days ago, I awoke at 6 a.m. to realize that Anneka had slept a good 8 hours straight. Last night she was up at least three times. Two nights last week, Priya slept all night. Last night, her dreams were haunting her or she has bedbugs in her quilts or maybe she heard the sheep out eating grass in the pasture. Now with Sam, the most successful method of getting him to sleep soundly is quite simple. If he should wake in the night and come tumbling, stumbling from his bed around the corner to our room, situate him comfortably and leave him be. There's no sense in putting him back after he seems sound asleep, he will repeat the stumbling thing and be back in an hour. An an hour after that. It gets to be rather exhausting.

Experts might advise me that I should have let them all cry it out as young babies. But there's no telling my mental status after five nights of two hours of howling or whatever it takes. We rarely watch creepy frightening or disturbing television before bed. (I might add that when we have watched something that might be a bit concerning at least to the kids, Priya sleeps like a rock) I've never left the house for the evening and expected the kids to put themselves to bed. I've never put them to sleep drunk or high on anything. They listen to nice music. We read non-disturbing stories before bed. There are only a couple of nights a month, I can blame a full-moon.

But it seems that our house wasn't the only happening place last night. At 3:30 I looked out to see what sort of vehicle might be passing through at such an hour. I was confused to see a tractor pulling something pull into our driveway, until the ambulance sped past shortly thereafter.

By four, we were all sound asleep. Priya took my place in our bed. I think I was in the spare room bed with Sam. Anneka was in her crib.

I only hope whoever took an ambulance ride last night fared as well.

the kids

Sam can be especially helpful with a tool and something to fix.

And this is Priya. With a typical smile.

Anneka did take a few steps a couple days ago, but she reverts to crawling mostly because she can get to things fast. Like catching and torturing cats.

voting

I am most nearly convinced that God's heart is about people. Why else would He spend so much effort and exert so much patience with us? He disrupted a perfect universe by creating us, then when we messed up, He scheduled all the rest of history with our redemption in mind.

So if, God's heart is most concerned for people and if I want to know God's heart as a follower of Jesus Christ, then it might be wise for me to be concerned for other humans. The most vulnerable need a lot of attention and care and protection: those unborn and those not grown up yet. And it seems that not a day goes by but I read about some child being violated by those whom God designed to protect them.

Right now, I have three that need lots of help and that are under MY care. I'm in charge of making sure they eat good things to help them grow, wrestling them down to sleep and keeping their minds focused on what bring the most glory to their and my Heavenly Father.

That's my primary responsibility, but not my only one, I don't think. My whole life, which is mostly at home, needs to be centered on bringing glory to the Father (which is immensely difficult a lot of times) as well as being a light to a world who desperately needs THE Saviour, not A saviour. The world is chock full of "saviours".

Mostly, for me, that conjurs thoughts of politicians at this time of year who realize how necessary it is to convince us how bad things are and how good they would be at bringing hope and restoration to everything slighted. They are vying for the job of running and making decisions for still the most influential nation in the world.

But do I bring glory to my Father if I support and cast my vote for any politician who does not honor and respect God by honoring and respecting the human life God made in His image? After all, they are asking for the privilege to make decisions for that human life in their district, their state, their country. How can I be sure that a politician who holds that a baby at 4 or 16 or 28 or 37 weeks of gestation can be inconvenient and disposed of, will value my existence. I'm not defending law in the courtroom. I'm not building boats at the factory. I'm not performing complicated and life-saving surgeries. I'm just trying to keep my three kids fed, clothed and preparing them to be God-honoring profitable members of society. Would that politician also argue that someone much more qualified could do a better job of raising my kids if he or she didn't agree with my philosophy?

I guess that makes me the single-issue voter I have been accused of. It's the most basic right - the right to live. I don't think I read in Genesis that God only made some humans in His image. One image, lots of appearance variations. We don't gain more value in God's eyes as our list of accomplishments grow.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it...

napping

Although it will be several decades before he'd fit in with the south-for-the-winter crowd, Sam appeared to be headed in that direction this afternoon while he was napping. I dressed him in the flowing parrot shirt and the elastic-waisted pants, but he donned the hat just before he fell asleep.

In a year when it looks like rhetoric and style will trump substance, McCain has got his work cut out. He might consider a weekend off with a Bible, a copy of the Constitution, and some old Ronald Reagan speeches.

- Star Parker

Oh what simple, but nearly impossible advice not just for McCain, but both candidates who hope to talk Americans into putting them in charge next year. Sadly, I'm not convinced either is very interested in Parker's prescription.

generosity

Volunteering is good for everyone, especially those of us living in the U.S. where even the most poverty-striken are rather well-taken care of compared to a great deal of the rest of the world. For one it makes one realize how well-blessed he or she is. Secondly, it gives one a good perspective on being generous versus just giving away what one doesn't want.

Mark, Anneka and I took four of our youth kids to Minneapolis for a Friday evening prayer retreat and a Saturday of doing random jobs around the Marie Sandvik Center. I guess it's most like the Salvation Army because they serve food, give clothes away and offer chapel to get the most important things in life settled.

While the boys did manly repairing jobs like fixing the doorbell that lets staff know somebody needs help at the door and waterproofing the outside of the building, we girls unpacked nearly an entire room of clothing donations. Bless those dear sweet little ladies from several Lutheran churches in rural Minnesota for doing some serious spring cleaning in their closets this year. After undoing at least a couple dozen neatly packed banana boxes of what I would call "grandma" clothes, our pile of "winter womens clothes" stretched up no less than five feet. For the right person, the plethora of coordinates would be exciting and I'm sure there will be several "right" people.

Then there were some other donations. Hmmm. Here's a tip for donaters: if it didn't work for you because it was stained around the collar and the zipper was busted, chances are even less that clothing item will work for a homeless person or somebody who's having a hard time making ends meet. I understand. I used to think there was something wrong about throwing a piece of clothing in the burn pile too. But if you think about it, a winter coat that doesn't zip up is really more of a hindrance than a help. And to the generous folks who donated an entire box of sagged out swimwear and yellowed undergarments, some things are just better taken out of commission. Kind of like stray cats, the world is already full of old rags and there will be more where those came from. THROW THEM AWAY. Let the garbage man have the satisfaction of carrying away three or four bags from your curb instead of the usual one or two. Watch the flames lick those old worn out duds. They served you well, let them go.

By the end of the day, my youth girls were probably dreaming of floating in the pool or even thinking about cleaning their own rooms just to be done there. Anneka passed her day sitting and mostly standing in empty banana donation boxes and avoiding taking a nap.

parade

They were having a parade, I was informed. Of course being the big conscientious sister that she is, Priya hopped on her bike and instructed Sam to pull the heavy sled of junk from the garage,( "candy to throw out at the parade").

small hard things

Here's what I found the other day in Alex and Brett Harris' book Do Hard Things: their top five list of why small hard things are so difficult:

1. They don't usually go away after you do them.

2. They don't seem very important.

3. They don't seem to make any difference.

4. They don't seem very glamorous.

5. No one is watching.

Then the five ways "we fail to do small hard things":

1. Procrastination

2. Inconsistency

3. Compromise

4. Begrudging

5. Cheating

While it's written for adolescents and youth adults, the principles are universal for all ages. It's the small hard things that get me almost every time. Washing another sink (and the counter and the other counter and the stove) of dirty pans and dishes. Finding a place for all those little odds and ends laying around the edges of almost every room of the house. Trying to exert patience at another round of insistent pestering by a small child about a treat or doing a project or reading a book while the dishes pile up, the clutter piles up or the unfolded clothes pile up.

But on my mind is the quote by Mother Teresa: "We can do no great things. Only small things with great love." And another: "We are not called to be successful, but faithful." She said lots of great things and backed them up with what she spent her time doing: things certainly less glamorous than my duties entail.

dirt

I've read and heard that plain old dirt is helpful in curing such disorders as Crohn's disease. Maybe a few regular mouthfuls can be useful in preventing such diseases.

stories

I found a wealth of parenting advice from some unlikely sources: Laura Ingalls Wilder's Farmer Boy and Ralph Moody's Little Britches. The principles aren't written out with headings and subpoints, but they are there.

I noticed that the parents never berate or criticize each other in front of the kids. They talk about their differences in opinion after the kids are in bed and they aren't loud about it. The kids know the parents have been discussing it, but they seem to trust their parents judgment.

Probably the biggest chunk of parenting advice though, was this: the parents aren't afraid to let their kids do hard things and then allow them to mess up in the process.

In one chapter of Farmer Boy, Almanzo's father lets him (at the age of 10) use his new bobsled to help drag timber from the woods back to the farm. When he gets stuck and when he loads too much on his sled, his dad doesn't bail him out. Almanzo figures it out himself. James Wilder isn't absent nor oblivious, he's just a few yards away. He just doesn't meddle with the process of his son learning important life lessons .

Ralph Moody recalls a similar time in his life when his dad lets him try cowboying the neighbors milk cows. When he works their horse too hard, Charlie Moody directs his son(who is also around 10) to a more efficient way of accomplishing the same thing. Another time, when Ralph takes it upon himself to abuse their horse with a job he didn't get permission for, instead of punishing him for such, Charlie Moody directs his son to channel his 10-year-old energy to do the same job, but correctly. Plus it kept Ralph busy for nearly every waking minute he had for the next two weeks.

Yet, the parents are never portrayed as harsh or unreasonable. Oh, they aren't perfect, but they aren't hurried, distracted and rushed, even though their responsibility list in a day would shame any of us moderns.

In their day, raising children WAS a full-time responsibility, not something we pay others to handle for 8 hours daily while we parents are out doing real jobs. No, I will be the first to appreciate modern conveniences such as disposable diapers, chicken already cleaned and packaged and the variety of cleaning conveniences such as automatic washing machines and electric stoves, but I'm not sure progress involves leaving behind principles that have worked for hundreds of years in regards to our protegy.

For some reason, I can read about all kinds of principles and they slip right on through, making it impossible for me to implement them in everyday life. But a story, well, somehow that sticks and I can conjure up the story with the principle when I need some parenting direction.

swinging

He's knows the concept of pumping to keep the momentum going, but he's still working on the timing of it.

Let me never fall into the vulgar mistake of dreaming that I am persecuted whenever I am contradicted. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson


Oh the frivolous ills of the world that would be resolved, if only a few more people reminded themselves of this thought.

christian

I've been thinking about the word "Christian" and I've decided that it's among my most favorites. In the biblical book of Acts, it was the name that Jesus followers were first called. It means "little Christs." I'm weary of all the abuse that word has taken. All the fakes it has supported.

Think of it this way...just because there are arguably millions of mothers in history and even in the world today that are terrible doesn't mean that I try to come up with another word to call myself because I don't want to be associated with the mom who drowned her five kids or the one who left her baby in his car sear for over a week to starve while she played video games in the next room. I'm sorry but "guardian of children" or "maternal caretaker" just doesn't have the same ring as "mom."

So rather than reinvent a different name for myself who claims Jesus as my Saviour, I would suggest that I need to define the term "Christian" for those in my circles.

"Believer" is a nice name but it's confusing to those not familiar with churchy type activities and discussions. Believer in what? Angels? Santa Claus? My own terrific abilities?

"Follower of Christ" is nice too, but terribly cumbersome. And I realize that in some places, calling oneself a Christian may elicit a death warrant, but here where uttering the term may elicit a snicker rather than a bounty, I think it's time we help define the word.

Not with the way we want to see Jesus or wish He was, as a reaction against someone or some group who called themselves Christians but didn't rub us the right way sometime in the past . The good thing about Christianity as opposed to any other religion is that the guidelines weren't determined by any human. God did it a long time ago.

And when I get to Heaven, I will join millions of real Christians, many of whom are so much more worthy of the title than I. Jim Elliot, John and Betty Stam, my Chinese, Indian, Indonesians and so many other brothers and sisters who traded their lives for the privilege of being called a "little Christ."

standing

Anneka discovered a new skill this week while riding in the wagon. Why sit when you can stand?

And if the dog gets in her face, Anneka's not afraid to make a grab for whatever she can on Molly's face.

planting

Priya and Sam are "busy" helping Grandpa plant potatoes and onions on Friday. More accurately, Priya is searching out earthworms and wresting them from the dirt while Sam is stomping down the dirt on top of the potatoes. Hopefully with this year's outside help with potato planting, we will have more success than last year when I planted them. A half dozen potatoes are hardly worth digging. I'm still holding my breath that spring is here and that another major snowstorm isn't on the schedule.

home work

Wanna get people freely and ferociously offering their opinions? Try bringing up the subject of mom who work or don't work outside the home. More specifically whether keeping a home and raising children solely is the more biblical mandate.

Reading the boundless blog post on women as homemakers and men as breadwinner and then mostly the comments concerning it just makes me laugh. To me, among other things, this topic is a good lesson in NOT waxing eloquent or theoretical about something you've never experienced. (It's in the same lesson with keeping your comments to yourself about the lady screeching her overflowing cart around Wal-Mart desperately trying to finish her shopping while her child wails and whines. God has a wonderful way of teaching character development with your very own set of similar circumstances in the near future.)

Can or may I just say that being a full-time mom is perhaps THE most challenging job there is? Some days the least fulfilling and probably more days the best. Does one every master all the things involved in it?

Perhaps there are those who have the organizational skills to keep the entire house orderly all day while living in it, do business or otherwise on the telephone while the toddler and preschooler quietly sort and fold clean laundry, prepare healthy, tasty meals and then promptly wash, dry and put away all the dishes involved in that venture in addition to making time for one hour of step aerobics class at 5 a.m. each morning followed by an hour of Bible study and prayer accompaned by a steaming cup of fresh brewed tea or coffee and a homemade caramel roll. I must talk to this person.

Am I busy? I guess so if busy is defined as "always having something to do" and mainly because I am my children's nanny, there is always another load for the washing machine, Meals-On Wheels isn't available for my kind and Pizza Hut doesn't deliver out this far. But the schedule is flexible.

Ultimately I am responsible for the children God entrusted to me. Therefore, FOR ME, paying another twenty or thirty or eighty dollars a day to feed and teach those who I have brought into the world, while I spend 8-5 investing in somebody else is illogical in my mind. In the same breath, I have no doubt that a job outside the home would provide me with daily accomplishment, recordable achievement and end of the day closure, three things sometimes lacking from a day at home.

And just because I honestly believe I would be disobedient not to invest my time right now completely in my home, does not indicate that my procedures are close to being all in shape. Let's just say that Martha Stewart herself might just throw up her hands in despair by just walking into our porch right now.

still winter

It's a good thing our wardrobes have such a plethora of winter wear. It's April 11 and still snowing and blowing and cold. I used to think I'd never make it in a place like Alaska. I probably wouldn't but it helps me sympathize with the locals there. The stunning white covering that snow provides in December or Janary to cover up the dead-looking landscape just doesn't have the same effect in April.

Even Stewpot, the cat has a dazed and confused look (which isn't unusual for her on the perkiest of days) as she picks her way to park her free-loading self by the front door to wait for handouts. She was formerly known as Stewart, a tom cat, until she had six kittens in the dog house a couple years ago. So we switched her name to Martha Stewart and that name digressed to Stewpot.

the heart

I heard an interesting thought yesterday about parenting on a radio talk show. The speaker noted that an older lady noted to him that American parents are raising their kids with their heads and not their hearts.

He went on to explain that many parents today know all kinds of qualified, researched methods for raising their kids instead of just using a little common sense and doing what's best for their particular kids. It's true. The world is full of methods and kids who just need a bunch of their parents time to know they are important. There's the cry-it-0ut method and the family bed methods of getting kids to sleep (to name just a few). Some experts say that nursing a baby beyond a year is of no benefit except to pacify while others claim that nursing well into the first or second year has a long list of benefits. The time-out chair or spanking. Some claim a child's social well-being depends on maximum involvement in preschool, ECFE, dance class, gymnastics and play groups as soon as a child walks while others feel that a child should learn to be secure in his own home with his parent before he or she learns to be independent. And on it goes.

I frequently fall into line that if I read this book or hear this expert talk, I will be able to eliminate the behavior misdeeds of my children. I think God definitely has a sense of humor because while I haven't read everything on parenting, that which I have read rarely seems to apply to my specific dilemma. God creatively has given me three children who more often that not seem not to respond to any of the well-worn, researched methods of eliciting good behavior.

I hope that I am using more heart than head. It makes sense that the One who designed my kids has the best perspective on keeping them on the straight and narrow. That's not to say that a book or idea with God's principles on humankind once in a while isn't helpful for perspective.

bella

Bella comes out on DVD on May 6 and I plan to own it.

I guess it's stories of redemption that get me pulled in. The world is full of awful, terrible, horrendous things and you would just fall into depression to dwell on it. Things don't always turn out good either. There isn't always a happy ending where the girl and the guy kiss and everything is better. But the stories where good comes from the inconvenient, the hard to understand, the horrific, remind me of these words by James Russell Lowell:

Truth forever on the scaffold, Wrong forever on the throne, - Yet that scaffold sways the future, and, behind the dim unknown, Standeth God within the shadow, keeping watch above his own.

The icing on the top of this cake is that the director and main actor have such powerful testimonies of the writing and making of this film. And I like how this movie is described as "a love story but not a romance".

This one rates right up there with Life is Beautiful. But that's just according to me.

to fly again

As much as I adore reading books myself, that is rivaled only by listening to audio books in the car. (It only works in the car because we are sitting anyway and there's no where to move to) This may be one of Mark and my only hobbies in life. Anyway, if we think ahead enough to check them out of the library and we are traveling at a time when all THREE kids check out for a few hours, it works marvelously. Mostly we've listened to stories...John Grisham and Hank the Cowdog by John Erickson and a few others.

This time after we had finished Michael Landon, Jr.'s One More Sunrise (with Tracie Petersen), which is a sweet story of redemption and not overly sappy and fairly realistic as far as Christian fiction, we started Gracia Burnham's second book, To Fly Again:Surviving the Tailspins of Life. Gracia and her husband Martin were missionaries in the Philippines for 16 years before they were kidnapped by Abu Sayaf muslim terrorists while at a resort celebrating their anniversary. Martin died a year later while they were being rescued. She weaves anecdotes from their life in the Philippines, the year they were in captivity in the jungle and the rebuilding of her life after Martin's death and coming back to the States. I might not have picked it up because it seems geared toward people who have had something horrendous happened, just judging from the title. Was I ever wrong.

She defines God's grace so succinctly and the importance of forgiveness among other things. She has such a sweet spirit and is so real, it's hard not to heed her advice. And she doesn't claim to have all the answers, but really she does because she knows and loves her God, His Word and has been through the refining fire.

the mall

It's like a drunk who forgets the agony he or she was in last time and goes right back to it. The mall that is.

I always assume: there's lots of stores in the mall and therefore the chance of finding the item (usually of clothing) is greater than say just going to Target, right? Except for the one time I went and found that GAP had 25% off everything even sale things, that has never happened. And almost without fail, I walk out of the place after 30 minutes or 90 minutes with nothing but a splitting headache. Whether that has to do with carrying one of my children or just bad fumes that permeate the place, I do not know.

The one good use of a mall however, I did notice yesterday. People watching.

Yesterday when we walked in, there were these 3 teenage boys in the sitting area behind Caribou Coffee doing handstand tricks. Yes, teenage not toddlers. I'll admit I was probably an abnormal teenager but I never thought of hanging out by the mall couches to practice breakdancing.

Later there was this kid, maybe 13, sitting on another mall bench with a person I would assume would be his "girlfriend"( if that's possible at that age when you take public transportation or your parent drives you in the minivan for a date) laying with her head on his lap. I had to do a double take mostly because he was still at the stage where he could pass for a gangly pre-adolescent girl or an awkward pre-adolescent boy.

Even college students trying to look cool were there strutting their stuff. I'm still getting use to the Scooby-Do Shaggy look where you have to constantly twitch your head to the side your hair is combed to maintain the look. That takes a lot of work.

As I was leaving the mall establishment, I also realized that it is not my imagination that styles that were in when I was a third grader are back. The hot pink spandex jeans and flats are just not the most flattering cut in jeanswear, but you could pick the girl I saw wearing this out of a crowd of a million.

fragile

Ten little chicks have survived 41 hours now under the watchful care of Priya and Sam. But they still have a long way to go. I

They've already had a colorful past. After I looked at the receipt where we purchased them, I noticed we HAD paid for the heat lamp, a heat bulb, feed and a watere but NOT paid for 10 chicks. Evidentally the two cashiers didn't notice Priya standing there holding a box of pepping chicks and I failed to remind them that we weren't just taking home a box because we liked the shape and construction of it. But they are paid for now. Now for no casualties due to cats, dogs, other varmits or the kids.

Yes, we do have style. And rubber boots work really great for puddles and shallow mud. They don't work well in deep garden mud or knee deep water. Good thing it cooled off and is windy today so the four sets of rubber boots the kids own can dry out.

relative

It is extremely easy to arrive at the conclusion that most everything in life is relative. What works for you is great. Something else works for me, so that's peachy too.

Some things are. Like diapers. You use cloth diapers and use lots of soap, water and energy but don't clog up the landfill. I'll use disposable and pitch them in a pile in the far corner of the farm and get rid of them with a match and some used oil. It's probably a toss-up who is being more environmentally friendly - you fill the landfill with burned-out washing machines, while I put toxic fumes into the atmosphere.

Some things aren't. I am not free to get drunk. I am not free to hate anyone. I am not free to steal or murder either.

Then there are those other things that I have a definite opinion on that I believe come from Biblical discernment, but if what if another person who claims to be a Christian comes down on the opposite end of the spectrum. Like voting. How about a candidate who seems to value my freedom to get rid of a child who isn't convenient, but doesn't value my freedom to spend my money where I choose, my freedom to raise my children as I choose or my freedom to express my faith as I choose? Am I wrong to say that it is wrong to vote for a character when his or her views are light years away from what my Guidebook says?

I have a theory that churches and leaders who are in a position to help people be discerning are so scared of offending some "seeker" that although they use the Scripture in their discussion, they end up confusing the same "seeker" with their lack of application of that Scripture. It seems to me that we just want to leave the application up to each individual to find what's right for him or her. I guess I don't see Hosea or Jeremiah mincing words. Certainly not Jesus. The woman caught in adultery was definitely seeking. Jesus offered grace in one hand and justice in the other.

What I'm trying to say is...I would venture that are a lot more things that are BLACK and WHITE than we would like to admit. That is if we are willing to go by the Bible and not by our own interpretation.

warm

Could it be, here on March 10 that we will see double digit temperatures for multiples days in a row? Amazing. And even more amazing is the fact that tonight, the wind is less than double digit m.p.h. too. I feel compelled to spend the night outside in case I wake up tomorrow to find it 6 below like it was two days ago.

Those folks who live in more temperate climates just don't know what they are missing. Such variety. Such thrill. Where else would you be grasping for five layers one day and two later find your thoughts drifting toward capris? Plus we here should never be want for a topic of conversation when the occasion arises for small talk.

living

This song is ...well, it just says so much...

Living for Jesus, a life that is true,

Striving to please Him in all that I do;

Yielding allegiance, glad hearted and free,

This is the pathway of blessing for me.

O Jesus, Lord and Savior, I give myself to Thee,

For Thou, in Thy atonement, didst give Thyself for me.

I own no other Master, my heart shall be Thy throne.

My life I give, henceforth to live, O Christ, for Thee alone.

Living for Jesus Who died in my place,

Bearing on Calvary my sin and disgrace;

Such love constrains me to answer His call,

Follow His leading and give Him my all.

Living for Jesus, wherever I am,

Doing each duty in His holy Name;

Willing to suffer affliction and loss,

Deeming each trial a part of my cross.

Living for Jesus through earth’s little while,

My dearest treasure, the light of His smile;

Seeking the lost ones He died to redeem,

Bringing the weary to find rest in Him.

small

Just because we humans are petty doesn't mean that God is. Lent, for instance, brings out an about face for some people.

Does it really make sense that if we choose six weeks out of the year to do good deeds and follow a certain diet, God will look down and say, "Oh, that person really means well. He passed up grilled hamburgers at work today to eat a fake fish sandwich at McDonalds."

The other 46 weeks of the year, we can live like we belong to the devil and God is just going to overlook it because we took time to attend Ash Wednesday service and take advantage of the fast food industry's annual fish frenzy?

The idea of lent is terrific. Forty days, like Jesus did in the desert, to commemorate what Jesus did for us at Easter. But do we not completely bypass the point, by following a set of expectations for this season merely for the purpose of being religious?

My goodness, Jesus Christ let himself be treated like a traitor and be crucified like a horrific criminal, so we wouldn't have to be petty, marking off the measly few good deeds for the year off our lists, trying to be good. Of course, we can't be good on by ourselves. We are wretched to the core, just take a look at any two or three year old. We do what benefits us. God doesn't grade our behavior on a curve. Nobody makes the cut on how many fish sandwiches we consume during lent or old ladies we hold the door for or dollars dolled out to UNICEF.

Jesus fulfilled the law, strung out on a splintery cross, struggling with each breathe, so we could live excitedly all year long, our whole lives long.

monkey see, monkey do

One of the most disturbing things that can happen when one spends much time with young children is that you start to hear yourself...

Today I was in the kitchen and asked Priya who was in the living room to do something. Sam, who was sitting in his high chair at the table, stood up and said, "Now! Dhya (his rendition of Priya) Now!

That's just one instance...

This is Rosie. If I had anything close to a knack at keeping the house tidy from three childrens' messes, I might consider her as an inside pet. The reality is: she will have to learn to be happy in the shed, fraternizing through her cage with Max, the mini-lop and Ruby, the New Zealand and Arnie, the rooster.

winter

Like I've said before, when a blizzard hits the east or west coast, pictures of balled up traffic make national news. When three blizzards in a matter of a week bring 6 feet of snow to Minnesota, Iowa or South Dakota, it's business as usual with a little extra snow removal.

Those of us who live around these parts realize that hibernating like bears for the winter would take a serious cut out of a year of life. So we must carry on. But I kind of hope that by June, the temperatures will stay in the 30s and 40s and not keep dipping into the sub-zero territory.

Although it appears we are living in a refugee camp somewhere, we were warm, clothed and well-fed when we took this picture. In that context, living in a refugee camp is nearly unimaginable to me. In reading John Weaver's Inside Afghanistan, he talks about all the thousands of people - familes - who flee with nothing but the clothes on their bodies - from the Taliban even prior to 9-11. It's almost like God prepared this American exactly for what the Afghani people would need in someone who could help them with all they needed to survive the heat and cold while they were on the run. How thankful I am for a warm house and a furnace, not just a tent and a fire, even when the wind blows outside and the draft seeps in.

baking

Making cookies with children really requires the arms of an octopus and the patience of Job. I have neither.

"No you can't sample the eggs, butter and sugar and you can't lick off the spatula yet either. We just started making the cookies."

"Wait, don't stick your hands in the mixer. If you do, you won't have any hands."

"Two kids can't both stand on the same stool in front of the mixing bowl."

Sometimes a few eggs are the casualty. Usually lots of flour or oatmeal is littering the floor. Everytime the dough has to be sampled. But cooking is a good skill and everyone, in my opinion should know how to make cookies at the very least.

By the time the cookies are done (sometimes the job isn't finished), Anneka is no longer content where she is and the sticky, crusty dishes are piled up, the counters are smeared and slopped. Give me two days or so and I'll get the mess cleaned up.

prayer

Just a random thought:
How often do we pray that things will go well and stay comfortable and easy?

"Keep so-and-so safe."
"Help such-and-such to go well."
What do we mean by that?

If perseverance and testing produce character that God is bringing about in our lives, maybe we're not on the same page as God is. How would our prayers differ from believers in Indonesia or India or China? Do they pray that their house church will not be found by the authorities or do they pray God will help them to be brave and bold?

spicy pickle

This afternoon I told Priya that Mark and I were going to go someplace special for supper tonight.
"Where are you going to go", she asked.
"I don't know."
"Well I know someplace special you could go. It's called the "Spicy Pickle".

We ate there once when we were shopping in Sioux Falls this summer and apparently it made an impression on her. Maybe it's just the catchy name.

Mark warned me that for some reason Sioux Falls restaurants, even though there seems to be more restaurants than anything else in the town, are always full on Saturday nights. I wasn't ready to make that call until...

After six people cut in front of me in the line to the counter, the chick at the Texas Roadhouse told me there'd be a 100 - 110 minutes wait. That was just before 6 p.m.

Across town at Minerva's, we pushed our way to the counter through the masses. It would be an hour and a half before we could get a seat there, but we could certainly make reservations for 7:45. That was at 6:30 p.m.

Back across town again at Chili's, the nice kid at the counter told me we'd have to wait 50 minutes to find a seat. That was at 7 p.m.

We crossed the street, walked in to The Spicy Pickle and were just about to order our pizzirini's or whatever they're called when the pleasant lady behind the cash register asked if we had questions and that they were out of dough for those little pizza things. No wait in line. The maximum capapcity clearly stated 70 on the wall by the drink cooler. But beside us there were only 8 other people there. We ate our panini sandwiches in quiet and moved on to the next things on our agenda.

Well at least we didn't have to eat at McDonald's...

sleep

I probably never be among those who list sleep as one of their favorite pasttimes. It takes a lot of time. I heard once that Chuck Swindoll needs only 3 or 4 hours of sleep a night. He must have a highly efficient brain. Which leads me to my next thought: sleep and being sharp.

Mark noted last night that, after having stayed awake most of the previous night, that he just didn't feel so mentally sharp.

Hmm...I wonder how sharp I would be if I slept more uninterrupted than I do. But if I sleep too long in one night, I'd feel like I missed something by not noting what time it was at least three or four times at night. I might be like this 90-year-old lady who had raised a whole lot of children I heard about. She said she hadn't slept a whole night since her first child was born. Maybe someday when I really can't do anything about being sharp because I'm rocking away the rest of my life in blissful ignorance at the rest home, I'll get more sleep.

50 million

Talk is good but action is even better.

Yesterday was Sanctity of Life Sunday. In the bulletin, we had a Roe Vs. Wade quiz, the answers to which are pretty much nothing short of dreadful. (that's not a strong enough word) The original ruling had no restrictions, for instance, at what stage in a pregnancy an abortion may be performed. We also looked at a few statistics concerning the number of abortions done SINCE the 1973 Supreme Court ruling - 50 million, more than all the deaths from all the wars the U.S. has been involved in, by a long shot. That was talk and it would have been powerful enough to make the point.

But later the grandpa of a little girl in church who was just about a year when she was diagnosed with cancer, came up to give an update on her. She's been undergoing chemotherapy - she will face the 7th round in the next week. She's 18 months now.

Right before the sermon, Pastor Sliper had the parents of the family who wins the prize, among other things, for having the most children, stand up. On Saturday morning, Pat and Jodi are leaving for Addis Ababa, Ethiopia to bring three orphaned siblings home to join their 4 biological children and their two adopted Guatemalan sons. Their oldest daughter got married this summer. We prayed for them as they prepare to go.

I don't know if the worship committee had planned for all this in the same service or not. I guess God had it planned though. Just the other day, I heard someone rant that Christians seem to harp on the anti-abortion message exclusively and miss the other parts of the pro-life message. I don't agree. It may just be our church that I hear what I would consider a fairly well-rounded pro-life message, but I suspect not. If I had a dime for everytime (on the radio, in magazines, at church, from friends) I've heard only the adoption part of the "Life is Precious" campaign, I'd have a few dollars in my pocket.

And besides that, even if we do err, as Christians, on the side of harping too much about preventing abortion and not the other aspects of respecting human life, we still are the only ones who have the answers from THE ANSWER written down in our language to read. When was the last time you heard about Planned Parenthood offering adoption assistance, layettes for newborns, job opportunities for single moms...