Thanksgiving

Of what can I claim to not be thankful for? I have a simply amazing husband, a marriage I have fought for and found joy in, three children born of that love, two more whose birthmothers chose life for them, another who God is leading to us from across the world. I am loved and cherished by the family of my youth. I have friends to call when my heart is either burdened or rejoicing. I can homeschool my children. I write when I wish to write. I have a full pantry. My home is warm.

And in the midst of all of the blessing and giving of thanks, it is so easy to forget the One to whom all thanks should be directed.

It is easy to forget the greatest gift of all:
I am a beloved child of the Most High God.

Give thanks with me.

Psalm 118:1

Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; his love endures forever.

TOS Review: Life on the Farm game

The best part of reviewing things, in my humble opinion, is passing along true gems that might get overlooked in the homeschooling world. Yes, yes, I get free stuff. And don't get me wrong, that's very cool. But the number one thing that keeps me writing reviews is being able to try something that I immediately want to rush out and buy for everyone I know.

This game is one of those items.

Life on the Farm is a Blandings family game, through and through. It is a classic ... and I've only had it for a month and half. Already, it's in our normal game rotation. I think it's even edging out Horseopoly, but Jo hasn't noticed, so we don't have a mutiny on our hands. (Yet.)



This is the kind of game that makes your kids laugh, starts fabulous discussions, can be played as individuals or teams, and requires some good old strategy skills. Before opening the box, Atticus predicted that it would be "Monopoly ... with cows." Turns out he was kind of right. Life on the Farm is what happens when the little plastic people from The Game of Life get out of the car, snatch the Monopoly money, and settle down on a family homestead. With dice.

You get sent to the back 40. You collect a milk check. Your cattle get sick. Taxes come due. Equipment needs to be repaired. And in the end, you retire.

All without getting your hands dirty. Nice, huh?



The game is $25 and would make a fabulous addition to any family's collection. Younger children (say, under 7) can easily buddy up with older siblings or a parent to play. There's high interest for adults, too; This is not a game you will endure, mom. You will enjoy it. Really!

The game is available through the family who created it, at some specialty stores, and at Kmart.com. (where it's currently listed at $19.99). It would make a great family gift for yourself, or for giving.

At the library

I ran into a friend at the library today. She had a grande something-yummy-with-whip in her left hand, and in her right hand were three of the novels that have been on my "to read" list for so long that I had even forgotten to put them into my Paberbackswap wishlist. She'd just come from getting her hair done, she said--and indeed, her hair looked as fresh and springy as the very hip dress boots she was sporting.

"You here with the little ones?" she asked, tilting her chin to Manolin, who was strapped into the stroller, scowling. Oliver stood dutifully nearby, mumbling, "Howwd dight, 'Li. Howwd dight, 'Li," as a reminder of his role in this whole process.

"Oh, no. They're all around here somewhere," I said, waving my hand to indicate that my offspring were lurking deep in the stacks. Not deep enough, apparently; Just then, Logan bounded by, followed closely by our rattling, overstuffed book bin.

"I don't know how you do it," she told me then, and I pondered this familiar phrase anew. What part is so novel? What seems impossible? At what point, I wonder, do I approach insanity in the eyes of the masses?

"It's not that tough," I said then, catching the beautiful sight of my daughter's lithe form heading towards me with a toothy grin, arms full to bursting with her haul of reading material. "They're great kids."

"Yeah, but ...." and she stopped for a minute, pondering the plausibility of it all. "You gave up all of this," she raised her latte and reading material, "for that." Again, she nodded in the direction of my little brood.

I couldn't think of a thing to say, so she filled the silence.

"I have the best of both worlds," she continued. "I've got my kids. And when they're at school, I get this too."

She offered me a the Cheshire Cat grin of one who has figured it all out.

Just then, Atticus--who must have spent the past ten minutes plotting out his sneak attack--wrapped his arms around me in a bear hug from behind, nearly toppling me over in surprise. I laughed so hard that Manolin and Oliver caught the giggles and started shrieking. Our joy echoed through the stillness of the library. I ruffled Atticus' copious strawberry-blond hair.

My friend was staring at me now. Her eyes had softened.

"My nine year-old wouldn't be caught dead hugging me in public," she admitted with a longing sigh.

I contemplated her coffee, her new haircut, her ability to read for hours on end, uninterrupted. I could still feel the firmness of my delighted, delightful Atticus' arms as they snaked around my sides. I made a mental note to check my Paperbackswap wishlist status, and to put a Starbucks card on my Christmas list.

"God bless you," I told her, and I meant it. "Have a great day."

The view from my couch

It's cold. It's raining. The sun has barely made its presence known.

But inside our little home, it's warm, and cozy. The fireplace is humming. Books are being read. Scarves are being knit. Children are laughing. Cookies are being nibbled.

Yeah. I'm blessed.

He is there

I read Danielle's blog post at 6 Year Med today, and I cried. I cried and I cried ... because that little girl, well ... she was my Oli. My dear, precious, sweet little Oliver.

The little bits that I know about Oliver's life before "coming into care" (as we say in the fostering world) come from a stack of medical files that I never should have been given. A social worker plopped them in my lap at a case meeting, and I realized right away what a gold mine I'd been given. Pages and pages and pages of completely irrelevant, minuscule details about Oli's physical state from birth to 7 months of age. I probably should have handed them right back. But I didn't. I held onto them. And in a quiet moment alone, I pored over them with a fine tooth comb, holding my heart in my throat as I stared into the dark little places where I had not been able to kiss boo-boos or soothe tears.

Oliver's birthparents, like the mother in Danielle's blog post, had a habit of literally dropping him in the ER. When his life was still numbered in weeks, he was deposited, like so much spare change, in the repository of institutional care that the hospital offered. The careful, professional notes made by countless nurses/angels who watched over him pierce my soul anew every time I ponder them:

"Mother contacted by phone and advised of patient's status. Mother asked that she not be called again until her son was ready to be discharged."

"Father visited baby for forty minutes, and spent the entire time playing with his cell phone. Was not interested in interacting with baby."

"Mother said patient had been vomiting for three hours. Left immediately after child admitted."


I read these things, and they make me mad. I'd like to think it's a righteous anger. I picture Oli, skin and bones, swimming in a cage-like hospital bed, hooked to tubes and monitors. I imagine sweet, soft-faced nurses leaning over him and whispering, "It's o.k., baby. You're all right." I pray that he heard these gentle words, and that they took root in his tiny soul.

I hope beyond hope that someone, anyone, took the time to hold him. In the rush of the night, in the chaos of the job ... I pray that a few moments were stolen where Oli's head rested on a loving shoulder, and that he felt hands that brought soothing comfort in the midst of it all. I pray that someone took the prompting to be God's hands, even as He was pouring out His heart for that hurt, sick little boy.

Some day, I hope to meet the angels God placed in Oli's path as he journeyed to us. I'd love to wrap my arms around the men and women who took note, the ones who saw wrong and wanted to make it right. I want to thank them for standing up and being counted. I want to thank them for my son's life.

Maybe I'll meet them here, in this life. Maybe I will meet them in heaven.

God places people in our path every day who make a difference. Maybe it's the person who does the obvious: the doctor who admits the broken baby to the hospital, calls Child Protective Services, and files a report. Sometimes it's the people we don't even notice, though. The person who bags the bread on top, so it doesn't get crushed. The elderly lady at the library who smiles and pats our back, telling us how it blesses her to see such a beautiful family.

God's hand is in all of it. HE IS PRESENT. Don't doubt it for a minute.

Our God is in the business of healing, rescuing, and restoring. He is a just and mighty god. And yet ... He cares even for the tiniest among us. The forgotten. The babies whose parents can't even be bothered to set foot in their child's hospital room.

He is there. Let us not forget.

Jeremiah 31

"At that time," declares the LORD, "I will be the God of all the clans of Israel, and they will be my people."

This is what the LORD says:
"The people who survive the sword
will find favor in the desert;
I will come to give rest to Israel."

The LORD appeared to us in the past, saying:
"I have loved you with an everlasting love;
I have drawn you with loving-kindness.

I will build you up again
and you will be rebuilt, O Virgin Israel.
Again you will take up your tambourines
and go out to dance with the joyful.

Again you will plant vineyards
on the hills of Samaria;
the farmers will plant them
and enjoy their fruit.

There will be a day when watchmen cry out
on the hills of Ephraim,
'Come, let us go up to Zion,
to the LORD our God.' "

This is what the LORD says:
"Sing with joy for Jacob;
shout for the foremost of the nations.
Make your praises heard, and say,
'O LORD, save your people,
the remnant of Israel.'

See, I will bring them from the land of the north
and gather them from the ends of the earth.
Among them will be the blind and the lame,
expectant mothers and women in labor;
a great throng will return.

They will come with weeping;
they will pray as I bring them back.
I will lead them beside streams of water
on a level path where they will not stumble,
because I am Israel's father,
and Ephraim is my firstborn son.

"Hear the word of the LORD, O nations;
proclaim it in distant coastlands:
'He who scattered Israel will gather them
and will watch over his flock like a shepherd.'

For the LORD will ransom Jacob
and redeem them from the hand of those stronger than they.

They will come and shout for joy on the heights of Zion;
they will rejoice in the bounty of the LORD—
the grain, the new wine and the oil,
the young of the flocks and herds.
They will be like a well-watered garden,
and they will sorrow no more.

Then maidens will dance and be glad,
young men and old as well.
I will turn their mourning into gladness;
I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow.

I will satisfy the priests with abundance,
and my people will be filled with my bounty,"
declares the LORD.

This is what the LORD says:
"A voice is heard in Ramah,
mourning and great weeping,
Rachel weeping for her children
and refusing to be comforted,
because her children are no more."

This is what the LORD says:
"Restrain your voice from weeping
and your eyes from tears,
for your work will be rewarded,"
declares the LORD.
"They will return from the land of the enemy.

So there is hope for your future,"
declares the LORD.

Mary Grace and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

You ever wake up in one of those moods?

I do.

Not very often ... but sometimes. Usually it's because before my eyes even open, my brain is already rattling through a whole list of things that I need to get done.

Gosh, I hate that.

But it happened to me this morning.

First thing in the morning--6 a.m., bright and early--my eyes slid open and BOOM! There was my to-do list. It was almost as if it was written on the ceiling, it was that clear.

At-home therapy appointment for Oliver. (ugh)
Phone call with birthparents. (sigh)
Check in on my mom, who just had surgery. (ugh)
Schedule Manolin's 18 month check-up. (do I have to?)
Oliver's speech assessment. (whine)
Atticus to Karate. (ugh)

And on and on. You get the point.

So my attitude was poor from the get-go. And yes, I had a bad day. And the thing was, I knew I was having a bad day because I was in a bad mood. I just couldn't seem to do anything about it.

I hate that. I hate it when my brain can't seem to shake the general yuck and grab onto some joy. I want to give thanks in all circumstances. But the truth is ... sometimes I whine. Sometimes I whine a lot.

And today I was the Queen of Whine. School barely got done. I checked off my to-do list but, buddy, I was not happy about it. I even got two really cool boxes of books that did nothing for me.

But tomorrow ... tomorrow I'm going to wash that grey right out of my hair. I've decided that it's a no-whine zone. I'm going to be happy.

Because just like I decided today that I was going to be in a foul m odd, I figure I can decide that tomorrow is shiny happy day. Why not? I'll let you know if it works.

So easy, it's sinful

Remember my commitment to make more gifts this year? Well, I'm doing it! I'm actually, satisfactually doing it! YEAH, me!

Today's little tutorial features Jo making gifts for her friends. If you or your daughter is likely to be on Jo's gift list, please do my girl a favor and keep this dark, o.k.? She's really excited about her little craft spree, and if her mom managed to ruin the surprise factor with her blog, of all things ... well, it would be drama. ((insert eye roll here)) And the last thing a 12 year-old girl needs is more drama.

O.k., on to the gift ....

BOOKMARKS!!!

When Jo saw the link to the elastic bookmarks, she was smitten. And why not? It's truly the ultimate gift for a homeschooled pre-teen--at least most of the ones we know. I was planning on making some of these as well, but Jo wanted to dive right in so I handed the reins to her. We went to our local craft shop, got some simple supplies, and tried it out. Turns out, they're so easy that you really have to make half dozen of the things in order to fill up any time at all. Really. They're that easy. But don't take my word for it. I've got pictures to prove it.

Supplies:
charms (Jo bought nice ones at $9.99 for a pack of three. Most were far cheaper, but it was her money so hey, buy what you want kid!)
elastic cording ($1.79 for enough to make a dozen or so bookmarks)
optional: jump rings (if your charms didn't come with them) Does the charm face forward on a string? If so, it doesn't need a jump ring.




And away we go---

1. Measure and cut about 15 inches of elastic cording.


2. Slide on a charm.


3. Knot the cording just above the charm.

4. Knot the loose ends at the top. Trim to even the cording.


5. You made a bookmark! Simply slide it around the book and enjoy.



I told you it was easy. It's also überpractical and cute to boot! Who wouldn't want one of these?