One Word 2015: Peace

Looking off into the distance after a much needed

rainstorm, during the drought in 2012.

After throwing around some different options, I've decided my One Word for 2015 is going to be Peace.

This crazy life we live up here in our Tiny Little Town gets hectic. There's always more to do than will ever get done. Two Little Girls are getting to be very busy with their school work and activities - the pressure is mounting to keep them well-taught and well-rounded. There are always more things I could be doing – chores that fill the never-ending to-do list, things people have asked me to take on, things my kids want to do, animals we could bring home, family activities we'd like to plan. But there has to be a limit.

This past year, my life has been full, busy, blessed... but it lacked peace. It was stressful, sometimes to the breaking point. I tried to do it all – with a big smile on my face – but I didn't always succeed. And when I didn't, it was my family and myself that suffered.

My first step in achieving the peace I so desperately need has been to prioritize. I spent some time doing some much-needed soul searching and journaling. I wrote down all of the things that truly matter in my life, categorized them, and numbered them in order of importance. From there, I got my Top 3:

• Grow and maintain relationships that really matter
• Live a life of intention and purpose
• Find peace and joy in my life

Having that list, tucked into the cover of my Household Notebook, I can easily ask myself if something applies to one of my priorities. It's easy to see which parts of my life are important: Spending time with my family, my parents, my dearest friends and a few new friends; farming; leading my own kids and many others in 4-H, an organization I truly believe in; spending time on crafting and creating and art, something I've hardly allowed myself to do for the past several years; keeping a clean and organized house – but not so clean that I'm making myself crazy; successfully homeschooling my children in a way that prepares them to be the women I'd like to see them be someday.

The list of things that matters is long, but the list of things that doesn't can be even longer if I'm not careful.

I'm also an exceptionally skilled worrier. I can find things to worry about that don't even exist, except in my head! Let alone worrying over things I truly can't change. I worry over my kids and my husband and my animals. I spent hours worrying about the health of two loved ones last year, and despite my constant worrying, they still passed away. I worry about what other people think of me, I worry about how to get everything done, I worry about the future – and we're talking the really distant future.

Worry is the opposite of peace. What is going to happen will happen whether I worry over it or not. I can be diligent and caring without worrying, and that is what I will strive to do. I will be at peace with situations beyond my control. I don't have to like them, but I don't have to worry about them, either.

Life is too short, too precious and valuable, to spend it all wrapped up in worry or fear or frantically trying to keep up.

This year, I will slow down, I'll breathe deep, and above all, I will embrace peace.

What is your One Word this year?

Reflections from a 4H Leader

When I was asked a year ago if I would consider running a 4-H club, my first instinct was to run as fast as I could in the opposite direction.

There are a million reasons that I shouldn't be the person to take on a job like that. Like the fact that I'm a ridiculously busy homeschooling, farming mom with plenty of animal and kid responsibilities to take up every spare second of my time. Or the fact that we are relatively new to the 4-H world and I wouldn't have any idea what I was actually supposed to do. And then there's that part about how I really just don't enjoy being around kids very much.*

But I knew I was going to have to suck it up. As much as I wanted to be a dance mom, or a gymnastics mom, or even a karate mom for heaven's sake, that wasn't for me to decide. I've got one girl obsessed with raising poultry and another who is just smitten with horses. So 4-H Mom is my title. And I'm not one to do anything half way, so taking on the role of Organizational Leader just kind of made sense. And in every possible way, I'm so glad I accepted the offer.

The woman I run the club with – who I barely knew and was mildly afraid of until we were thrust into this job together – has become one of my dearest friends here in The Tiny Little Town. Working on 4-H projects with her has become time I really look forward to – something of a social outlet for my otherwise very anti-social life.

And the kids, the ones I wasn't sure I actually wanted to be around? They are amazing. I truly love my time spent with them. A few months of getting to know them, learning their personalities and quirks and strengths, seeing them grow and accomplish new things, watching as they make friends and form relationships that really benefit them – I couldn't ask for a greater gift! There is the added bonus that I know personally all of the kids my own girls are spending time with, and also the bonus of getting to know their parents. Apparently, 4-H isn't just an opportunity for kids to socialize – it's for parents, too.

This year, I volunteered to host the club Christmas party at our house. Twenty kids, all their parents, a dessert potluck, hot cocoa, a mug exchange, and an awards ceremony. Everything about it seemed a bit like insanity on my part, but what fun we had! Being around all those kids really energizes me. I've learned to relax a little when little boys hold an impromptu wrestling match in very not-kid-proof living room, or when a table full of youngun's are having hot cocoa in my kitchen without lids on their cups. Messes clean up. Memories last, though. I honestly enjoyed myself all the way through.

My girls hugged me and thanked me over and over for letting us have the party here and helped with every aspect of it so willingly, from cleaning the house and setting up beforehand, to vacuuming the millions of crumbs on the kitchen floor afterward.

In every way, I'm glad I took this on – not just the party, but all of it. 4-H doesn't just grow kids and animals, it grows grown-ups, too!

 

*It sounds terrible to say I don't enjoy being around kids very much, but it's true. I adore my own children very much, but other people's kids tend to stress me out.

The Most Wonderful Time of Year

“Christmas” isn't just a holiday at our house. It's a season, one that lasts a month, and it stands for so much more than just the one day we celebrate the birth of the Christ child.

I love this time of year. The garden is put to bed and no work needs to be done. The produce is put up in the freezer and cellar, what canning I had to do this year – there wasn't much – is finished. The goats and cow have been dried up in preparation for next year's babies. Horse events are over, 4-H is down to just monthly meetings and a few extra activities instead of being a daily project. The house was deep cleaned and decluttered in the fall, leaving only basic housework to keep up with. In December we decrease the schoolwork load to only math and English, doing about three hours of school each day instead of the usual six.

This is the time of year for spending with family and friends, for crafting beautiful things as gifts, for ourselves, for our home. It's the time of year for baking and trying new recipes. There's time for playing games, singing Christmas carols, or reading aloud to one another by the fire. We pick up forgotten knitting projects, we play with play-dough and paint and just sit and chat. We have time to go for walks, to just sit and play with the animals. We have time to just relax, and it's very welcome.

It's been a hard couple of years up here on our little mountain. One mama trying to handle all that comes with homemaking and homeschooling, plus keeping a small farm running without much help at all, is bound to start falling apart sometime. But things are looking up. The Daddy moved home in September, and we've all settled into having a man in the house again. We've lost some very special people in our lives this year, but my heart is healing as I'm reminded how important The Little Things really are, and I'm focusing on being grateful for each memory and for creating new ones. Loneliness has been tempered by the making of new friends and getting involved in the wonderful community we live in. I'm looking to the holiday season with hope and joy this year, I'm not overwhelmed and discouraged.

It's going to be a good Christmas season.

Nanny Part Three: Grief, and Moving On

The first time I experienced grief, I was nineteen years old. My brother died. I was at odds with my parents and my whole family, and though I was there with them, there was a definite rift between us. I was hurting – so deeply and entirely – but I felt so very alone through it all. I thought surely it would've been easier if I'd had a better relationship with my parents and everyone else, that we could be grieving together, that I'd have someone to talk to about how I felt who would really understand.

But now, thirteen years later and another beloved family member gone, I'm realizing something important: grief is always something you do alone. I want so desperately to sit and cry with someone else, just let the hurt exist for awhile, and not be alone. But that's not how grieving works. When everyone is together, you pretend everything is okay. You make small talk. You tell jokes. You smile. You put away the hurt, push it deep down inside so that it doesn't show, and you act like nothing has changed. Sure, you can mention it - “Gosh, it was hard to sleep last night.” But you don't actually feel anything with anyone else around.

I'm fine all day. I've decided this is a good week to deep clean my house from top to bottom, while still managing a farm full of animals and trying to be an exceptional parent. Keeping dishes washed, laundry folded, and organizing storage closets has kept my mind from wandering too far. It's the nights that are impossible. I lay down to try to sleep, and the thoughts and feelings I've been suppressing all day come flooding through my brain that isn't ready to sleep yet. It's this swarm of thoughts – happy memories, concern for my mother, gratitude, the pain of watching her take her last breath, remembering the way she used to look before she got sick, regret from having not visited more than I should have, seeing the tears on the faces of every person she loved as she opened her eyes and didn't recognize any of us, wondering what she was thinking, what she was feeling, if she even could think or feel, wondering what my uncle is doing right now at this moment, wondering if my mom is thinking all these same things, realizing what things really matter in life, wishing I'd had just one more meaningful conversation with her, remembering her yard and gardens and beautiful flowers and seeing the girls explore them, every Halloween when we made a special trip to see her with the girls in costume, wondering if she ever did forgive me for putting my parents through hell as a teenager, being angry at my whole family for being the kind of people who just don't ever feel anything.

That's what reality is. The reality that one can only experience alone, after everyone else is home an asleep and dealing with their own reality.

Grief is a very lonely thing. And you're not allowed much of it – it shouldn't last long, and while it does last it should be hidden and kept private. My husband assures me that grief lasts about a week. That means I have two more days. I'm pretty sure this sleeplessness, these swirling thoughts, they're still going to be there two days from now. I'll just have to get even better at keeping them to myself, and hiding them and moving past them and pretending I'm just fine.

I'm fine. Just fine. I promise.

Nanny Part Two: What Really Matters

As I stood there in the dimly light room next to the hospital bed, watching my beloved aunt take her last breaths with the help of an oxygen mask, thoughts were swirling through my head faster than I could keep track of them. But I noticed something: they all focused on her generosity, and on happy memories.

These are the things that matter. These are things people will remember us for.

Nanny gave so much of herself to everyone. She was always bringing cookies to someone's place of work. She was always giving gifts full of thought and meaning. She was known for making the best pies, and for having the prettiest house and garden of anyone in our family. She was known for always having time for anyone who wanted to visit and for truly caring for everyone around her, opening that beautiful home to anyone that showed up at her door, whether expected or not.

My home is filled with things that will always remind me of her. In every room, something beautiful hangs on the wall or sits on shelf that she gave me. Blankets she made are the ones we wrap around us on cold winter nights. The antique cookie jar on the counter. The earrings in my jewelry box she gave when when I was eleven years old. The plate that hangs on my kitchen wall, that previously had hung in her kitchen and made me smile every time I saw it. The framed picture of the girl having breakfast in bed with her dog and cat that is in my living room. The butter churn we use to make butter. The flower arrangement in the antique boots on my mantle. The antique Singer sewing machine that we still use from time to time. The cedar chest that houses our scrapbooks and photo albums. The wooden rocking motorcycle that both of my girls adored so much as toddlers. Truly, so much of my decor is actually her decor, passed on over the last several years. She loved beautiful things, and old things, and she passed that love onto me.

But it wasn't just things. It was her time, her thoughtfulness. When I was little and lived nearby, she always had time for me. She had time to do things and go places and to just let me be with her... and each little moment added up gave me a heap of memories to hold onto, memories that I will never lose.

Her generosity shaped who I am, and I will always be grateful for it. But more than that, I'm grateful that, in the end, she showed me what really matters in life. It's giving. Not of things, necessarily (though she always did that) but of yourself. She gave so much of herself to me. She loved bringing joy to other people and she lived her entire life doing it. We spend our time doing so much... but how much of our time is spent leaving others with happy memories of us? Of everything we do in our lives, it's what we leave other people with that really matters in the end.

Nanny - Part One

She was there for everything. Every great moment. Every awful moment. Everything in between. She was there the day I came home with my parents. She was there when my brother died. She was there when my first child was born. She was there through my divorce. She was there Every. Single. Time. Everyone called her Nanny, and it was me that named her. I couldn't say “auntie” when I was little – it came out “Nanny”. And it stuck. All her closest friends called her Nanny.

There are so many memories. So, so many great memories. I used to spend the night at her house. She had the best coloring books and the best crayons. In the bathroom there were always pretty smelling bath salts and bubble baths for me to use. I remember sitting there in her bathroom talking to her while she got ready for her day, putting her makeup on, watching her every move. She had a closet full of clothes – so many sequined and sparkly dresses and pretty shoes that I would try on. She and my mom looked so much alike – the two most beautiful women I'd ever seen. They used to go to Vegas together sometimes. I loved the pictures, they always seemed so fancy, dressed up for a night out on the town. Every year for my birthday she would take me shopping at Nordstroms, let me pick out the most trendy outfits for the next school year. The prettiest skirts and dresses, and I'd get to try them all on and model them for her. She made me feel like a princess. I remember when she took me to see Cats and Phantom of the Opera in L.A. I felt so grown up, being old enough to go on those trips with her. She used to have these big block parties where they would set up a volleyball net across the street. All the neighbors would come, and all of her friends and her kids' friends. We'd play til it was dark, lifting the net if someone needed to drive down the street. She was always the life of the party, so much fun and making sure everyone else had fun. On the fourth of July she'd put a ladder out in the street and we'd all set our fireworks on it to make them even more exciting. She always bought me books – Babysitter's Club books, by the boxed set. She had a waterbed in the room I always slept in, and I thought it was the coolest thing ever. She would take me to the nail salon when she went sometimes and they would paint my nails to match my outfit. I remember planning the outfit for my fourth grade school pictures, this hideous dress with shoulder pads in hot pink and black, and she had my nails painted striped hot pink and black to match. I always felt so grown up, having my nails done while she had hers done. Hers were usually neon, and really long fake nails. Oh, she was so trendy and fashionable. I remember going shopping with her and my mom sometimes – there was this one special boutique they loved to shop at. I'd sit outside the dressing room and watch as they tried things on. Cherie's, maybe? I can still picture the place. And if we went to the mall, we'd always get a Mrs. Field's cookie or stop at See's Candy for a truffle of some kind. When the Carousel Mall opened, we'd always get to ride on the carousel. I remember staying up at night with her and Uncle, watching Seinfeld and laughing even though I wasn't sure why it was funny. I remember my first sip of Andre' – I must have been about 9 years old. It was fantastic. I'd had a sip of my dad's beer before, and I was sure Nanny had better taste in these grown-up drinks I wasn't allowed to have. I remember how she would laugh with Benny – not many people ever understood his sense of humor, but she always did. She never seemed uncomfortable around him, and she was one of the few. I remember when Adam and I would both stay the night, and she would rock him for what seemed like forever, singing Queenie. I still sing that song to my girls, and they sing it to their babydolls. She would take me out to Love's Steakhouse for dinner a lot of times, her and Uncle would have steak and I'd get a hamburger. Dinner out was pretty special back then and I loved those nights. I remember her dishes, cream colored with cows on them. And Christmas. This enormous tree, and she'd use tree-topper angels as her ornaments. Nothing she ever did was average - it was always bigger and better. The wrapping was always light pink, with dark mauve ribbon. It was beautiful, but I remember telling her I thought it was boring. She had a special desk in the upstairs hallway where she would always wrap the gifts. I loved watching her make the big poofy bows using miles of wide ribbon – she never just used the stick-on bows like everyone else. When I was really little I'd spend the night, and she'd take me to Burger King for breakfast and get me french toast sticks, buy me a paperdoll book, and let me sit behind the counter at the flower shop where she worked. I'd take the bits of flowers that they wouldn't use and make my own little bouquets. I learned about carnations and baby's breath and lilies and roses. Every time I walk into a flower shop the smell reminds me of those times. She made the corsage for my sixth grade graduation, when I finished private school and started public school. It was a really big moment in my life. She gave me the prettiest earrings and matching necklace to wear that night – pearl, with porcelain roses as accents. She bought me my first dangly earrings when I was nine, ones that went just below my earlobes and that I had to get special permission from my dad to wear. It was a set of about eight pairs, they were hearts, stars, and circles, attached to studs, in neon colors. Everything in her house was mauve and blue when I was little – the ultra-trendy “country decor” style. Wreaths and flowers and wall hangings and curtains and blinds and everything. Her whole house was always perfect – then and now. The decorations were 'just so'. I remember the creepy guy's heads over the doorway into the living room. Normal Rockwell mugs. She loved Normal Rockwell for awhile. Pigs for a long time, and then cows. I remember the rose garden outside, all these beautiful colors right off the back patio. And how she loved all her neighbors. She loved people so much, and people loved her, too. She was friends with everyone. She was so full of life. She had this huge personality, she engaged everyone around her. She was never uncomfortable with who she was.

Our new "full time" school schedule

Some ladies in a homeschool group I read have been posting about their daily school schedules. I love reading about other folks' days. Probably because I'm nosy. But anyway, I'm gonna jump in and participate. I've done this before, but with two kids that are old enough for "real school" (and one in middle school, eek!) things have changed some. Here's what our day looks like:

I wake up at 5:00. I drink coffee, check emails, etc. for half an hour. Then I get to work - shower and dress, start some laundry, clean somewhere or another. I get as much done indoors as I can while it's still dark out and the house is calm and quiet.

The kids get up at 6:30. They have their own set of morning chores - straighten rooms, make beds, get dressed and wash up, etc. Each kid has a chore that revolves each week, along with their regular ones to be done at this time. Breakfast goes on the table at 7:00. It takes my children an hour to eat their breakfast and rinse their plates, even with my perpetual nagging. At 7:30, I give up the nagging, and retreat to my bedroom for half an hour of Bible study, where I
askbeg God to grant me the patience to get through the day without yelling.

Outdoor chores start after that - milking, feeding and watering animals, pulling weeds in the garden, harvesting and cleaning veggies, cleaning pens, filling troughs, whatever needs to be done. The girls work til 9:00, and get an hour of free time to run and play. I work until 9:30, either outside or in the kitchen, then have another cup of coffee and remind myself that patience is a virtue.

10:00, school starts. We do math first - about an hour. Littlest One (2nd grade) does a page of seatwork while I do a lesson for The Oldest (6th grade.) Then The Oldest does her workbook pages while Littlest One gets a lesson with me and finishes her workbook. We're using aBeka for the youngest, Saxon for the oldest. Right now, they are both working really well. If either of them finishes early, they get to play a math-related computer game. I use that as bribery to actually get their work done, instead of dawdling and staring at the wall. Sadly, it's not a very effective bribery tool, and it doesn't work all that often.

After math is Language. Littlest One does her phonics workbook and activities while The Oldest gets a lesson. Then we switch - Littlest does her reading aloud and reading workbook while The Oldest does her written lesson. We are using Rod & Staff for the second grader, aBeka for the 6th grader. Littlest is loving R&S, and I am too. The Oldest is learning to diagram sentences in aBeka. She finds this as useless as I do. I try not to show it, because I'm sure it's good for her. At least, I think I'm sure. Anyway, a fair amount of, "Focus on your own work," and she gets it done by noon.

Lunch is prepared and served at noon. I have started setting the timer and giving them 20 minutes to eat, because quite frankly, I don't have time to wait another hour for them to eat a pb&j. While we eat, I read through my favorite verses on patience.

Forty minutes of indoor chores - folding laundry, cleaning the floor, vacuuming, etc. and then we pick back up in the school room at 1:00.

This is our favorite time of day. KONOS. Can't tell you the love affair I have with this curriculum. It's Bible, Character Study, Science, History, Art, Handicrafts, and so much more, all rolled into one gigantic book. Each day is different, but it usually involves some kind of fun hands-on activity that my kids don't want to be over. But when it is, we settle into the sitting room where they color and I read aloud - sometimes a biography, sometimes a "living book" that goes along with whatever we are studying. I try to wrap this up around 2:30.

From 2:30 to 3:00, we do whatever "revolving subject" I've decided to focus on at that moment. Typing, foreign language, music, artist study, educational computer games, free reading. It's different every week. If The Oldest has 4-H work to catch up on, she does it at this time. This is usually a self-guided time, so I work on cleaning but am always nearby for questions. Or reminding them that it's not play time, and threatening to separate them.

From 3:00 to 4:00, the kids get an hour of free time. If I'm feeling really energetic, I'll spend some time with them doing something fun. If I'm not, I say a prayer of gratitude for having gotten through the day, drink more coffee, and stare mindlessly at my computer for awhile. Or, on really bad days, I lock myself in my bedroom, call my best friend, and cry as I admit to her how badly I've failed. Thankfully, those days aren't too common.

From 4:00 to 6:00 we fix dinner, eat it, and clean up the kitchen. Unless I'm feeling lazy. Then I ignore the dishes altogether until the next morning. Around 6:00 we go back outside and work in the garden, tend the animals, play with the dogs, get the mail, ride the horses, or whatever else sounds good. The Daddy is home in the evenings now, so we're going to have to see how that plays into our evening routine.

During the summer, the kids are in bed by 8:30. The Oldest gets half an hour of reading/crafting time in her room before Lights Out at 9:00. During the winter, when we are indoors longer in the evening, I read to them, usually a few chapters from a book I deem worthwhile, and we call this Literature. Either way, I try to be asleep by 10:00.

We do school four days a week. Usually we need a day in The Big City for running errands - that day often changes from week to week. If we're lucky and don't have to go down there, we try to do a hike or something else fun, or just enjoy a free day of crafting and playing games and such, or catching up on cheese making.

Saturday we rest - we do a Bible study, we have some special activities that are only for Saturdays (like arranging and rearranging the porcelain doll cabinet, which can make my kids happy for hours at a time.) Again, The Daddy is home on weekends now, so this could change. And Sundays, if we get to stay home, we spend deep cleaning the house, organizing, and doing other general upkeep because there are mysterious mess-making elves that destroy things like linen closets and playrooms while we sleep every night.

So that's what our days look like. It's a far cry from what it looked like a couple of years ago, when the kids were younger. School takes most of each day. Some days are great, some days are rough, but I'm enjoying this new "full time" stage of homeschool with them, for the most part. I could do without the nagging, if we're being honest, but it seems like a fair trade for watching them grow up into the smart young ladies that they are!

Just A Day

The other day, I sent my husband a text message every four hours, letting him know what I'd done.  This probably sounds ridiculous, but I hate the fact that he comes home after ten days and it looks like I've done nothing at all except keep two kids and 50 animals alive. I needed for him to know that I don't actually sit around doing nothing - it just looks like I do.

Any worthwhile wife would be able to manage all that I do - and more- without getting overwhelmed. But I wasn't raised to be independent or capable, and mostly I just feel like there is more to do each day than there are hours to do it in. If I was better at managing my time, or if I wasn't so slow and lazy and weak and helpless, I'd be so much better at this. I'm getting better as years go by, but I'm still pretty much a failure.

Here's what I did on that "average" day:

4 am to 8 am: Worked out for 20 minutes (I'm getting so fat it's kind of disgusting), made zucchini bread and fruit salad, washed and dried a load of laundry, changed the cat litter, cleaned the laundry room, milked the cow and turned her out (turning her out involves wrangling a calf, which isn't always easy), milked the goats, strained the milk,fed the foundering horse, drained the side roll, added a wheel, moved it, weeded a garden bed, and washed the dishes, hooked up a hose and started watering the lawn. Oh - and parented.

8 am to 12 pm: Planted beets, folded and put away the laundry, taught math, English and reading, made German potato salad, cole slaw and pudding for dinner, tacos for lunch, cleaned up the kitchen and washed the dishes, moved the water... and parented.

12pm to 4 pm: Helped one kid finish a 4H record book, cleaned and organized the playroom, made a batch of brownies, made butter, moved the water, made 4H phone calls while folding more laundry, vacuumed a few rooms, ran for 20 minutes, and parented.

4pm to 8 pm: Taught a 4H crochet class, moved the water, moved the side roll, fed and separated all the animals, disposed of 4 dead baby rabbits, filled a horse trough, wrangled a calf, made dinner, weeded two garden beds and planted out the melon plants, listened to two Poultry speeches, washed dinner dishes, cleaned the kitchen... and parented.

From 8 pm to 10 pm I put the kids in bed, showered, finished cleaning up, graded school work, read a book for The Oldest, and then finally got to bed, only to start again in 6 hours.

It seems like a lot when I type it all out like that, but when I'm actually doing it, it seems like I ought to be moving faster, finding time to do so many more things. I just move too slowly, I think. Most women would be able to do that and still find time for the things I didn't have time to do - sew a nightgown, call a loved one, plant corn, shovel the corral, read a story to the kids.

I wish I could say I feel like I've accomplished enough for one day, but I'm constantly searching for just a couple more hours. I'm sure they're there... I just need to learn how to find them. Day by day, I learn to be a bit more capable, and a little less lazy. But it's not a fast process. The awful days are the ones when something happens that I can't control - a sick kid or animal, a failure in the irrigation system, or any number of other things that find a way of sneaking up on me. Some day I'll have it all together. Until then, I'll struggle along, wishing I was able to do so much more than I am right now.

Flower Garden Chatter: When She Grows Up

Littlest One is a Flower Gardener. I do not understand this. If I am going to spend my precious time tending a plant, it darn well better produce something for me to eat. She, however, places an exceptional amount of importance on Beautiful Things. Her flowers have names. She talks about them like they are people. She reports every few days who is blooming, who has buds, who looks a little sad this year. Growing Beautiful Things is her heart's desire when it comes to gardening. And so, I decided I have two options: I can ignore her, let her do what she does, and go work in my own ("important") veggie garden, or I can suck it up and work with her, weeding and pruning and planting perennials. I chose the latter.

So we were out working in the flower garden today, and she was chattering away. Gardening is the best time to listen to kids. They love to talk while they work. They will pour out every single thought that runs through their mind as they pull weeds. So I sat and listened - it might generally be mundane, but I'm glad she feels like she can just tell me what she's thinking. It'd be even better if we can keep that up for the next ten or twelve years, and I figure this is a good place to practice.

Today's topic of conversation: What Littlest One Wants To Be When She Grows Up. Apparently, she puts a lot of thought into this. I mean, a lot. And that bad part is, she doesn't believe me when I remind her that she can't be fifteen different things. If she's going to realize every dream she has for occupations, she's going to be in college until she's 80.

She wants to be a doctor, because she wants to help sick people get better. She wants to be a police officer, because she wants to make sure the bad guys get in trouble for doing bad things (which may or may not involve wrestling them to the ground, and/or carrying a gun, both of which she is not opposed to.) She wants to be a horse trainer and a professional barrel racer. She wants to be a teacher so she can teach kids how to like math. She wants to work at a daycare so she can take care of babies. She wants to be a professional ballerina. She wants to be a farmer and raise food and can it. And she wants to raise dairy goats and beef cattle. She wants to be a 4-H leader and she wants to feed homeless people. She wants to be a park ranger so she can help protect the plants and animals. She'd also like to work at McDonald's so she can have all the chicken nuggets she wants.

I was listening, amused, thinking at least my kid's pretty well rounded, with so many interests, even if her plans are more than a little far-fetched.

The Oldest was listening in as well. And when Littlest One finished listing the things she intends to do when she's grown up, The Oldest had one thing to say: "What you really want to be is just a mom. You can take care of babies, teach them math, get them in trouble when they are bad, dance with them and ride horses with them and you can farm and take care of animals. And you don't even have to go to college to be a mom. You can just start when you're 25."

Ahh, Oldest One. You wise, sweet, wonderful little girl.

For that brief moment, it almost seemed like she actually realizes all that I do, in this world where I feel like they don't see a thing that I accomplish.

Yes, being a mom fulfills every dream, if you just let it. It takes a little bit of thinking outside the box, more energy than any single person will ever actually have... but you get to do SO MUCH. And you get to do it while serving the family that you love. And even better, as those little ones grow up, they maybe even start appreciating it, just a little bit.

When Disaster Strikes in a Small Town

I'm not entirely sure all this is gonna make sense, or sound the way I mean for it to. But my mind has been running a million miles an hour all day, and I've gotta get it out somewhere. So here I am.

If you watch any kind of news at all, or have been online at all today, you probably heard about the massive mudslide that spread for miles in all directions, and has left three men missing in a remote Colorado town. That's here, folks, right here in our Tiny Little Town. My kids were sledding up there at a friends' house this winter. My husband and daughter traveled the same trail that those guys were on, just last fall. And then, between the huge amount of snowmelt and a big rainstorm, in the blink of an eye, a "cataclysmic" disaster occurred. An entire chunk of a mountain collapsed, and somewhere out there in all of it are three of our neighbors.

Neighbors. That's a small town thing, one I've had to get used to. See, up here, we're all neighbors. It doesn't matter if you're a down-the-road neighbor or an across-the-valley neighbor. We share this town. We're neighbors. There aren't strangers here, unless they are tourists or out-of-town hunters. When we go to town to run errands, seeing an unfamiliar face is an uncommon occurrence. We don't all know each other well - though many of us do - but you can't help but know the folks that share a town this small with you.

It's a strange thing. I lived in The Big City for almost fifteen years, and in that amount of time, I amassed a circle of folks I cared about that included about 20 people. I never saw anyone I knew when I went to the hardware store, and they sure didn't ask about my kids. But here... in only two and a half years, we know and care about so many people! These people, the ones here in this Tiny Little Town, they aren't just taking up space on a city block. They are the lifeblood of this community. Each and every one has a place here, a meaningful existence that makes this place what it is. You wave to every person you pass on the road. You chat about your families when you stand in line to buy a pack of gum. You know where each person lives, you know their parents and kids, and you really care about them. It's so hard to explain. It's intimidating and overwhelming, and it's positively beautiful. There aren't many places like this in the world anymore and if you haven't experienced it, it's hard to imagine.

So when things like this happen - when three men are missing in the outskirts of town - it affects every single person who lives here. You see it when you walk down the street - what is supposed to be a Memorial Day celebration turns into people just being together, praying and caring and hurting and worrying. But they do it together. Each person I know up here is so independent. But when all of those independent, capable people come together, something incredible happens.

And these country folk - one of which I myself am becoming - they are a different breed. There's no sitting around, wishing they could do something. No. They get the details, they sit in shock for five minutes and try to comprehend what has happened. And then they take action. Country folks don't sit around and wait for someone else to come take care of them. Life up here just doesn't allow that, and people that live this kind of life couldn't do that if they wanted to. They get to work, finding every way they can to help one another, to do something. They may not be able to go out and search for the missing, but there is plenty else to do, and you can bet it's going to be done.

Doors are opened, welcoming anyone that might need to evacuate. Our only restaurant opened, even when they should be closed, to feed the emergency workers. (Remember, there's virtually nowhere to get a meal up here.) Donations were sought and gathered from across the valley - water and gatorade, food of all kinds, shovels and gloves, enough to keep the emergency personnel fed for days.

It's not the first time I've seen this. It's just amazing, mind boggling, really, how much everyone in this community cares so deeply for one another. How they will drop everything they are doing to find a way to help, give everything they have if someone else has need for it. How they come together to create something so powerful that it can overcome anything - even a disaster like this. Everything might turn out okay. Or it might not. But either way, the families of those involved will be wrapped in a kind of love that only a small town can offer. They will be taken care of in every way they need.

This is why we moved here. It's not for the views. It's not for the wildlife. It's not for the solace and the quiet and the beauty of nature. That's all secondary. We came here so our girls could grow up knowing what a real community feels like, so they would be a part of it, so they would be just like all the people that have lived here for so long - caring, generous, capable, helpful... and part of something so much larger than themselves.

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Please pray for our missing neighbors. Pray for our hurting community of incredible people. Pray for the rescue and emergency personnel. The people up here are capable of a lot, but there comes a point when we all need God to step in and take care of what we can't.