hidden

Don't you sometimes wish you could hide from the world this easily?

Cover your eyes, and the world disappears. She does this when I am trying to get her dressed in the morning, and she wants to stay naked. She does this when I am trying to feed her something she doesn't want to eat. She does this simply to play her favorite game of Peek-a-Boo. If I can't see you, then you can't find me.

It is easy to laugh at a child when we see this. But we do the same thing in our Spiritual lives, don't we? Hiding from God, that is. He suggests something new in our lives and we cover our eyes. I don't want a job change... I don't see the need to develop a new friendship with that person... I don't want to move... I don't want to pour extra energy into that ministry. Whatever it is, we all live in some type of Spiritual denial. If we refuse to see the good that can come of these changes, we ultimately avoid the growth that follows.

The great thing about a child hiding behind her hands is that it never lasts very long. Developmentally, at the age of one, children are learning about the idea of object permanence... the concept that when an object disappears from sight, it still exists. I am always waiting for her on the other side. She still has to get dressed at some point in the morning, even if she tries to hide for a while. God is patient with me too. He is still on the other side of those decisions I avoid. Maybe my Spiritual object permanence still needs some development.


Instead of hiding, help me to shout "Here I am, Lord!"


"No, we speak of God's secret wisdom, a wisdom that has been hidden and that God destined for our glory before time began... However, as it is written: 'No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him'" 1 Cor 2:7,9


"So do not be afraid... There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known" Matt 10:26

hawaiian haiku

There is no relaxation like vacation in Hawaii.
We stayed in a resort on the island of Kauai.


Everyday we snorkeled or went swimming in the pool,
visited a beach, and read a book or two.




Annike returned with a suitcase of clean clothes;
Her tutu suit was all she'd wear, and shoes to shield her toes.




Of course there was the option to wear no clothes at all,
But sand gets into many cracks... the big ones and the small.




The water slide was all the rage - look close, she's having fun!
It'd be scary for you too at first, if you were only one.




Best of all, we loved the time we spent with family,
Joined by Ashley's kin, missing only sister Jilly.




Most importantly, we thank the Lord as we end this little rhyme
For resources to take this trip, and a restful time.

papa-time

How does a one-year old get around on a farm? On her Daddy's shoulders, of course!


The best view is from up here!

strawberries

One of the highlights of living in the country is the organic produce picked right off of our property. The first crop of 2010 is sitting in this bucket!

Although we did not actually plant, water, and feed these strawberries ourselves, they are growing at the top of our hill (farmed by the neighbor) and sure are a perk to living out here! This next picture shows our house (white) and barn (red) in the distance.


Annike knows the difference between a good and a bad "taw-bee".


If you want to check out some more fun on the farm, try
Rebecca or Jessica, some of our dear friends. We love having visitors, so stop by any time for some fresh fruit!

clean house

I have always imagined I would be the kind of woman with a tidy home that was ready for drop-in visitors at any given moment. Someone whose bed is always made, whose dishes are always done, and whose living room looks lived in, yet orderly at the same time. Ha!

It is disappointing that my "new" house doesn't stay any cleaner than my old house. Instead, it seems that pieces of small rocks and sand stick to my feet when I walk across our wooden floors. Articles of clothing are strewn about on every available chair. And the only "always" about the mess in my home, is in reference to the small barn animals that are always somewhere they shouldn't be... like on the kitchen rug and in the middle of the hallway, not to mention window sills and in between couch cushions.

Various degrees of frustration consume me regarding the state of my home. And I wonder, why does the mess occupy so much of my time, my energy, and my thought life? God must feel this way about us sometimes. So much of his energy goes towards cleaning us up, because frankly, a lot of us are a real mess.

Someone once challenged me to spend as much of my time reading my Bible and praying as I did getting ready in the morning. The point was to get my internal self ready for the day, just as I did my external self. Although I don't actually spend that much time getting ready in the morning now that I have a toddler on the loose, I do spend time and energy fretting about the condition of my home. Isn't that the same thing? It is placing value in my appearance rather than the condition of my heart.

It helps to consider the implications this may have on my daughter. We aren't really sure how much toddlers remember, but I know from experience it must be a whole lot more than they let on. It seems to me their memory is selective, remembering things that made a particular impression... like the time we found Annike poking at a bee with a stick, and made sure she learned that bees can give you owies. She says "owie" every time she sees one now. Or the way she has learned to pat my back when she hugs me, because that is what we do when we hug her.

In the end, I am not sure having a clean house makes any impression upon her at all. And if there is an impression made when I am in a cleaning frenzy, it might be that vacuuming is more important than spending time with her. Or worse, that appearances matter more in life than who we are on the inside. And when I allow the disastrous state of my home to get to me, my inside person is not particularly nice.

Just to clarify, I am not talking about allowing my family to live in a pig-sty. I simply recognize the need for balance in my life in allowing a messy house to strip me of my ability to have a healthy attitude. What's more important: having a clean house or a clean heart? I know the right answer, but I want to live it too.

boots

A Tale of Things That Happen When Living on a Farm
These are Annike's favorite pair of shoes. She refuses to wear anything else.


It's no wonder that she likes them because everywhere she goes someone comments. Plus, they are so soft and fuzzy inside. You would like them too, if you were one and a half.

Last week we drove to Salinas to do some shopping and drop in on my mom at the school where she teaches. Of course Annike wanted to wear her boots, so I put them on her in the morning before we left. At the end of a long day, I set Annike in her car seat for the drive home and decided those boots must be awfully hot. Removing them, I noticed a black smear on her left foot.

Strange, I thought. We didn't play in the mud. We were in stores all day long. Pause. There must be something inside of her boot.

In telling this story to others, I have heard numerous conclusions about what was inside of the boot - everything from a spider, to rat feces, to Annike's feces. The answer is far far worse.

As if in slow motion, I looked inside of her boot, and resisted the urge to scream. I saw a flattened lump of fur with a tail, and some entrails. An adult mouse was squished dead on the inside of Annike's left shoe.

How did this happen? I have no idea. The facts I do know are these:
1) The boots were left inside overnight.
2) She had worn them the day before, and there had clearly been no mouse inside either shoe.
3) By the end of the day I periodically noticed a foul odor coming from what I thought was Annike's diaper. Because it was empty, I attributed the smell to bad gas.

I assume the mouse was in the shoe when I put it on her that morning. The only logical conclusion is that Annike killed it when I put her foot into the shoe. Christian thinks the mouse was already dead, but how does a dead mouse get into a shoe?

Either way, Annike walked around for an entire day with a dead, flattened mouse in her boot. She may have killed a live mouse with her bare foot, or squished a mouse that had crawled into her shoe and died because it was sick. Neither option makes me feel good.

I came close to throwing the boots away, but because of Annike's great love for them, I threw them in the washing machine instead. Mouse actually washes out pretty well.



The boots are so soft and fuzzy inside. You would like them too, if you were one and a half, or a mouse looking for a cozy place to die.

how not to bake a strawberry pie

1. Use a frozen crust. Leave it in the microwave for too long until it becomes a mushy mess.

2. Press the crust into the pie pan, but don't worry if the crust does not reach to the top edge of the pan. Go ahead and under cook that crust, too.

3. Consult 3 different strawberry pie recipes. Mix and match instructions according to which ingredients you happen to have in your cupboard.

4. Pay no attention to the portion of the recipe that says to boil the strawberries while "stirring constantly". It is okay to walk away and do something else, like entertain your child, feed her, and step outside for a few moments to look for your husband so that he can watch her because, by now, it is probably time to get back to stirring.

5. Overfill your pie crust so the strawberry filling runs between the crust and the pie pan. Of course, this won't happen if your crust is above the edge of the pie pan (see step 2).

6. Ignore the instructions to let the pie set in the refrigerator for 2-3 hours. Leave the pie unattended on the counter top where your husband can discover it and sneak a piece before it has cooled.

Wa La! You have a freshly baked strawberry mess!


Note from the Cook:
While you might have followed these instructions flawlessly, I would like to recommend that you not give this pie away to the friends you planned to take dinner to tomorrow (sorry, Staci!) It might be better to keep it at home and eat it yourselves.

When baking a pie like this, I try to remember that God has given me many passions and talents. Cooking is not one of them. I thank Him for the other things in my life that I am good at.