A brief, quiet moment

~milk giving me the death stare

Milk, chicken of my heart, is now molting and has a big bare spot on her duff.  She just waddles around like everything's fine, which is wonderful.  In strict contrast to Anastasia who appeared to be suffering from a stroke.  She'd have to trace alongside the coop fence to get where she was going, since she couldn't run in a straight line.  Thankfully she's fine now.  Must mess with their nervous systems, all that feather dropping.  (The above-photo is from last week, when Anastasia would get trapped in the corners of the yard, indicated, and when Milk was still gorgeous.)

House is relatively tidy.  The girls have been awesome.  The least one polished our sweet collection of silver (all from my dear friend, Tina, but about three serving pieces and a fork and some knives from my grandparents), a job she loved.  Middle daughter has spent the last two days freshening up the paint in our 'only' bathroom.  Sixty plus years of yuck in that room, which has always been a major eyesore.  We're only the third owners of this house, but the second owners were self-improvement junkies, sadly they were amateurs.  Plastered 12" ceiling tiles indiscriminately, put up paneling (which we immediately painted over) and hung Masonite on the bathroom walls.  Still, I love the house, but like all of us, it has its flaws.  Tall son, the one in California, remarked on the bathroom ceiling last time he was in town, which has the tiles.  They're coming loose around the fan, and he said they looked about to fall.  I reminded him that they've been doing that for years.  And if they fall, they'll fall softly.

Not on my radar.

Resting now.  Scrambled eggs and buttered toast for dinner.  Church service.  The girls will make pies when we get back home.  We're on a roll, and I ain't lettin' nothin' get me down.

Take care all.

Altar Guild Clown

Sometimes I think I'm put into certain situations to provide a level playing field.  And not to sound self-deprecating, but being overly particular just isn't my style.  I know how things should be done in ordinary life, but clearly I have issues with being on the Altar Guild.  Or the women on it have issues with me.  Goodness.

Today we had a working lunch, I guess you could call it.  With two women moving away, there are now only four of us to do the altar, and I'm still new and continue to have a steep learning curve.  Why do they put up with me?  Answer:  There aren't many folks doing this chore.

Called to task in that passive-aggressive manner Southerners are famous for----don't tell the person to their face, but to the group at large.  Seriously?  This time the brass vases for the flowers are showing some wear and need polishing.  Okay.  But nobody polishes anything.  Why would I even think of it?  Silver chalices sometimes have fingerprints on them.  Finger pointing (sorry for the pun) at the new guy.  I'm the only one at fault, apparently.  And considering I only hold the clean silver after it's dry with cotton cloth, it's baffling.  Also, two different cloths are used on the altar for wiping/serving but did anyone tell me?  No, but I'm supposed to know this.  You're talking to a Presbyterian here.  I've been selecting the cloths based on which embroidery I like best, but okay, I'll be the fall guy.  Eye roll.

* * *

The Reformation makes such sense.  Get rid of the frills and preach the Gospel.  I get it, but I do love the bells, whistles, and incense.  Yet it comes at a cost, that is, if you're going to be involved in the set-up.

As to the minute fingerprints, wipe them off, and move along, little dogie.

Grace, so important when folks focus too much on the non-essentials.

 I bared my soul to my husband after the lunch, and after I heard his sensible advice, I was good. Said it reminds him of the Orthodox Jews.  Legalism, plain and simple.  But let's get upset about real stuff, not cleaning.  I will try to do better, but again I say, lighten up.

Personally I believe the Lord has put me in this position for a purpose.  I really don't want to be so picky that I miss the big picture.  One woman gets her knickers in a twist when I do the flowers in the main sink we have and afterward have to wash the altar pieces in the same sink.  It's necessary.  (She's sort of a bacteria nazi.) Only place to do it.  She'd have me do the flowers in the bathroom, which is NOT going to happen.  Please.  I mean really.  Please.

Again, Grace.

* * *

Perfect example of how I roll...just found a fresh chicken egg in my shirt pocket, from having picked it up when I bedded the hens a couple of hours ago.  Forgot all about it.  Not unusual for me to carry around a couple, and accidentally have them break while they're in there.  See what these Altar Guild women have to work with?  Clearly God has a sense of humor.

(replaying tobyMac's song Til the Day I Die and Tenth Avenue North's Stay on Spotify)

Ordinary days

After the early morning busyness and activity with the chickens, now comes the lull.  They've been fed, allowed to run about a bit, and are now back safe in their run and feasting on warmed-up, leftover macaroni.  Hugged and and loved on.  Seems they're satisfied for awhile.  It appears.

Sort of like humans.  Keep us fed, kept warm when it's chilly, secure when danger lurks, show some affection and we're good for another stretch of time.  It appears.

This day is free from obvious anxiety.  Have to re-write some forms for school.  I tried to reuse last years, scratching through the old date, but they were sent back.  This is what happens when your printer runs out of ink, you have no funds to buy more cartridges and try to recycle.  Sometimes it isn't the best idea.  So, today will fill in the current forms I was mailed and try again.  The girls laugh.  Every year when filling out homeschool forms I hit a snag.  Wait for it.  It is a never fail situation.  Least I'm consistent. 

And second son flies back to California later today.  He bought a rifle while he was here, and is borrowing my husband's lock-up case to fly it back.  Should pass through security just fine.  He goes to Portland, a city he says is gorgeous, and then his chef will pick him up and they'll drive back to the retreat.  He'll be there through Thanksgiving, which we regret, but he's living the life the Lord has set out for him, so who can really complain?

Today should be low-key except for his drop-off at the airport.  School, writing a couple of notes to folks at church, helping do the front yard, making chicken salad for dinner/yeast rolls.  We bought Mom's groceries yesterday and dropped them off, did a quick go through of her house, so she's all set for a few days.  

See how mundane life is?  Isn't it grand?  No drama.  Issues to pray about, yes, but nothing too difficult to manage in my head.  I think a break from new difficulties is mighty refreshing.

Monday morning

Woke up around 6:30am to take care of chickens and made my tea to have outside with them.  The city was just waking up, and traffic on our street hadn't taken hold yet.  Birds.  The last sounds of the crickets. Heavy dew on the grass.

Slowly the earth woke up.  Trafficky sounds.  Blue Jays squawking.  Lots of Sparrows, who come in droves to eat chicken feed.

It's a bit chilly today.  I wore my nightclothes out back and in a few minutes, after eating some bugs and such, Nora hopped up into my lap.  Snuggled down into my robe.  Milk followed a bit later.  Love watching their eyelids as they blink---backwards, with the main eyelid going up from the bottom, opposite of humans.  Their pupils dilate as they watch me watch them.

* * *

Wanting to take more charge this week.  Seems sometimes my life runs on its own speed, and I have little ability to manage it.  It manages me.  I've said this before, but it appears I tend to react to what's been placed in front of me, rather than initiating change.  I adapt probably way too well.  Have had to, first with so many children being born one after another, and also with our financial situation.  Figured I could either buck the situation or go with it.  Sort of weary of the flow, if you get what I mean.  Ready to change the river's route, so to speak.

You know, life has to be about making it work regardless of the messes.  I find that hard.  I want to have a re-do and clean up ahead of time the trials our children have forced on us.  To be warned beforehand that those delightful photos of the family when everyone was young and unlined were real, but now is real as well.  Not my favorite real, but nonetheless, it's my deck of cards.

Still, when I look at a blog of a mother holding fresh, young children I feel a catch in my throat.  I might always have that catch.  I want to tell that mom to hold onto that precious time with their young ones.  Relish it.  Breathe in the scent of that sweet neck.  Danger ahead.  You think it's hard waking up to a baby with a frighteningly high temperature---wait until they discover the world is bigger than you've shared.  They might like that big, dangerous world.  Well, we might never see the results of our hard prayers, but then again, it might happen.  Keep plugging along.  Be thankful for my tribe here.  For seeing Christ's work in my children at home.  See His work in their faces and their words.  I guess it's all a process.

But I only have to deal with today.  This moment is blessed.  Enjoy yours.

Saturday morning

Nothing hanging fire....I don't think.  

Chickens are out in the backyard, free-ranging.  Their coop area is large enough for the four of them (about 20x40'), but they've eaten every green leaf and bug in there.  Most mornings after we've let them out of the coop, they eat breakfast, scrounge around, then begin to make loud and unappealing noises until we let them out into the main yard.  So annoying.  They are so spoiled.

This morning I got up at 6;30, let them out and then got my tea.  Ate breakfast back with them, allowed them to be out and about for an hour and coaxed them back in their yard.  Thirty minutes later they're making racket.  

I'm such a push-over.  Out they go again and remain there now.

Can't blame them.  They just want their greens.  Thankfully we have some to spare, but if we let them free-range all day, we'd have a dirt backyard.

And so it goes with my dear little chickens.

* * *

Rest of the day will have to figure out dinner, go (alone?) to the library bookstore and just chill.  Have already set up the altar for tomorrow, so my church chores are done.  The day is pretty free and clear.  Maybe someone else will offer to cook dinner.  Will work it into the conversation. :)

My dear little chickens...

Sat out with chickens this evening.  Heard an owl across the street as Milk was the last one getting in the coop.  Stayed out as a reinforcement.  The reason....on Sunday morning (we stayed in from church) at about 8am or so, I could hear the Blue Jays going crazy in our oak tree in the backyard.  Got up, opened the back door  and a small hawk looked at me from the ground and flew off.  I let Romeo out, followed him, and stood out there watching the bird land in the oak out front.  The Blue Jays were all over it.  Went back inside for a minute, came back out and it was in the backyard again.  Turns out it had swooped down on something in our yard (not a chicken) and had left it behind.  Came back for its dinner, I guess.  I buried it. Not the hawk, but what it killed. End of story.

But now we have to stay on our toes in the morning.  The hawks know the chickens are there, but thankfully this was a small one.  Sparrow hawk, kestral, falcon...who knows.  About 12" in length, which is small for a hawk, and much smaller than our birds, who are built like little football players.

Interesting how having chickens has brought me out of the house more.  Sitting with them in the evenings, or sitting with them in the cool of the mornings.  The quiet therapy of cleaning out the coop and putting in more wood chips, which I really enjoy.  Puttering.  Easy tidying and happily seeing them go inside the coop right by my side as I tidy up.  Looking at what I do, approving of the clean place to roost.  Making sweet little chickeny sounds.  

Waiting for Milk to get on the roost last.  Bird sounds in the neighborhood slowly ending and the crickets, tree frogs and grasshoppers beginning to sing.  Day turns to night and all is well.

Wedding things and chickens

Cool story.  First of all, my dear friend Tina gave us money when she was in town, and she was glad we'd be able to use it for the wedding.  I don't know what we would've done otherwise.  Seriously.  So, with the blessing of provisions at hand, Gary and I went through what needed to be bought, making a list for groceries/supplies for the BBQ rehearsal dinner, keeping in mind the girls' clothes and our youngest son's tux, and also a jacket (he's found a Ralph Lauren one at thrift store near his shop) and tie for Gary (who owned no neckties until he got a bow-tie the other day), shoes for him (he got some wicked wingtips at the thrift store), and some things for me.  I prayed specifically for what I wanted this morning, even visualizing the short black leather ankle boots I really wanted.  Had found some online at a local shoe store, and knew what would look good with the dress I already had (one Gary bought for me last year) for the wedding.  And a white blouse to go with it.  That's all.

Walked into the big Goodwill across town, headed for the shoes, and there were the boots, and in the right size. Went to the blouses, tried on two and one was perfect.  Beading on the collar making it very wedding-worthy.

And, and, and....the least one got a party dress, said it made her feel like a fairy, and some black patent leather flats.  All the girls got something, and we're, pretty much, set for clothes for the wedding.

Answered prayer like this is awesome.  Plain awesome.

***

In more serious news, there were ten, count 'em, ten hawks circling over our backyard this afternoon. The chickens huddled under their coop, Milk peeking out and looking up at the sky through the oak tree.  Kept making a worried little sound.  Since it's illegal to kill the hawks, we used an air pistol and just made noise, startling them.  Eventually, they flew away.  Parents teaching the babies to fly and hunt, no doubt.  I ended up draping sheets across the fences around the chicken yard. Oldest daughter and I sat out with them until the danger passed, Milk getting in my lap.  So sweet, but not funny.

Tomorrow is a home day.  Dinner bought, straightening a badly messed up house.  Rest.

Tuesday afternoon

Finished Your Spacious Self and have begun reading a bit of Emily Freeman's A Million Little Things in its place.  I find that if I make serious time for my devotions after tea, and add a book to think about after that reading, there's something to study on in my head during the day.

And about that de-cluttering---I'm prone to get distracted, put things down before I'm finished and then I leave a trail.  I'm (at my age, imagine) now learning to pick up something once, use it and then put it away.  Life changing, let me tell you.  I have to make a concerted effort to not forget.  Oh my.  This lesson should have been learned years ago.

And I can't stress enough the importance of doing even one tiny thing, picking up one morsel of something and putting it away or tossing it.  One bit of paper, a bobby pin, a feather or floating bit of dog hair.  Pick it up and deal with it right then.  I think my depression has allowed me to be more piggish than I'd ordinarily be.  I'd see something and think, "Oh, who cares?" and then walk away.  

Today I swept underneath the treadmill and don't tell me that's a pleasant chore.  Speaking of dog hair, and shoes.  The combination of the two is very unpleasant!

Sweeping, my new favorite thing.  And with our vacuum on the fritz, very necessary.  Sweeping has a tendency to clear a muddled mind, and you get such fast results.  Very partial to that chore.

Have a good day.  Rest, and take care of yourself.

A mid-week quiet

Sometimes I just need me some Nora to cuddle.  She tends to be picked on by gorgeous Madelyn, who is apt to be way too big for her britches.  Beauty queen syndrome, I'm thinking.  But, here's the thing.  I think Madelyn is just jealous, because Milk and Nora get lap-time and Maddy just struts around waiting to peck at Nora when she jumps from my lap.  Like people.  Huh.  The least one came into the chicken yard this morning, picked up Maddy and she settled right down.  As with humans, those who are most prickly, seem to need the most loving, not that we want to.

Having a quiet day today.  Yesterday was supposed to be that, but my mental health went a bit awry. One son needed papers from me in order to apply for a college grant, and unfortunately I'm one of those people who isn't very organized in terms of papers.  It all got settled, but having to hunt when I wanted to chill was a bit frustrating.  He got it figured out, though, without my 'lost' papers.

I'm the person who's always asking where my keys, comb, pen, etc. are.  Terminal, I fear.

Believe we'll take it easy in the house until Monday, which is the first of June.  Then get a schedule of sorts for summer.  Not pressing, but a bit of organization would be a good thing.  Last summer was a wash, and with third son's official wedding on September fourth, I'd like to feel settled in my head.  I figure three months to get there will work. :)  

Milk-the head chicken

~napping for a minute

Dust baths

Winding down the week...

Heard from Jacob just now.  They're about an hour from the California border, making good time.  Took a dog-leg North off of I-40 and went to the Grand Canyon, which was an excellent idea.  Might as well enjoy the journey.  Jake's said it's been fun to see the terrain change, seeing the land turn into, what he called, Cowboy Country.  Love that he's experiencing these things for the first time, and with someone who's been there, and is experienced on the road.  God answered that prayer in a unique way.

At home, however, we just do chickens and homey things.  :)  Oldest daughter was upset about something earlier today, and I felt for her.  Went out for some Chicken Zen afterwards to chill.  Works every time.  

About our daughter---she has a serious astigmatism in her left eye and it's worsened since her last eye exam.  Has been to two eye doctors to get help.  They sort of dismiss her, not knowing how to correct the problem, and treat her like she's imagining things.  Blurriness is blurriness, no matter how you slice it.  Her next plan is to go to the eyecare school downtown, hoping that the teachers and students can help her.  I've got astigmatisms in both eyes, and have never had her problem.  She's worn contacts for years, and is trying to get a prescription for glasses and contacts.  The 'script doesn't fix it, so back to square one.

Anyway, sitting with my chickens is generally a very restful time.  Highly recommended.  Are we cozy, or what?

More rest

Woke up earlier than usual this morning.  Stayed in bed 'til six, then heard the Voice in my head tell me to go outside.  The sun was beginning to make the sky light, but the chickens still slept.  As soon as I opened the back door, though, the sounds of the birds along with traffic on the main drag a few streets north of us hit me.  Loud.  And we'd slept with the window open.  I'd not known how loud it'd be.  My goodness.  Usually when I let the chickens out I'm not interested in experiencing nature.  Just get 'er done.  

Took a blanket out with me and sat in the cherry Adirondack chair Gary'd made.  Looked up and watched the stars fade away.  Wished I'd gotten out there about half an hour earlier.  I love the moment when the sky is black and it slowly turns blue.  Saw a hawk in the next door neighbor's tree---way, way up.  Heard the local owl across the street, hooting before going to sleep.  The little birds raided the chicken feed that'd gotten knocked out of their dish the night before.  Safe in the backyard.

Stayed out long enough to see the sun rise far enough to slip into the chicken coop.  They kerflumped off of their roost, and began making noise.  Let them out, fed them, and went back inside.  Got into bed, reset the alarm and got up again at just before ten.  It was enough.

* * *

I'm realizing the dear importance of taking time, and slowing down.  Those aren't really the same thing.  You can take time to do things, but run through them.  Sort of defeats the purpose.  I'm being more deliberate.  I feel fragile.  But I like it.

The Lord told me last week that this period would be a blessing to me.  That the need for me to stop was necessary so I'd not self-destruct.  I know that's true.  

Sitting for about half an hour with chickens everyday when it's not raining.  Milk hops up, and now Nora is a regular lap-sitter as well.  Two hens all cozied up in my lap.  Heaven.  

I can't really explain to my husband what's going on.  He's a fixer and while he tries to understand, it's enough for him that I'm not running around like mad.  My temper is settled, and I'm not so quick to lose my cool.  I've been like a live wire for so long.  Now I'm not.  I pay a price for that now that's not a good exchange.  

My advice.  When you feel like you're losing control on a regular basis, make changes.  Two women at church are 'doers'....they have a strong servant's heart going on, both of them.  I was sharing with one of them on Sunday and she had a glazed look on her face.  Told me about a girl who had to leave church (I mentioned a bit ago), who had Adrenal Failure.  Sounds serious.  But this friend couldn't see where she was headed herself.  We're not machines.  And I don't think the Lord would have us live like it.

Rest well.

Thursday evening

Wonderful weather.  Cloudy, but so pleasant.  A couple of windows up, but not many because Daisy the Pug has had her cough again.  Giving her echinacea, and she's better.   Raining now, but still, the temperatures are dishy.  Relaxes my spirit.

Bible study last night with the first 12 chapters or so of Isaiah.  Gary's been going, and he's getting to know folks, albeit that they're Anglicans (insert laughter), and he's seeing that they're not too scary.  Just folks.  My dear Presbyterian husband.  He's learning.  He knows I'm not budging, not in rebellion, but in belonging-ness.  

At the end of the study last night, our priest was talking about the Eucharist and why he has his back to the congregation when he prepares it, and I was mesmerized.  I just love listening to him---he's been blessed with a teaching gift.  He faces the cross which is at the top of the altar, breaks the bread and holds it up--and does the same with the wine.  He was talking about facing the heavenlies in worshiping the Father.  Liturgical East.  It's all so beautiful when it's explained.  So worshipful. 

~ ~ ~ 

And got to spend some time with the chickens before dinner.  Cleaned out their house a bit, gathered up the eggs, and sat while they ate some bread and seed I'd brought out.  As usual, Milk hopped up in my lap.  Adore.  The.  Chickens.  But you knew that.

Now drinking Vanilla tea and thinking about Spring Break, which I'm just beside myself about.  It begins NOW, not Monday.  We're going to bake chocolate chip cookies for some new neighbors---both rentals, one has a mess of young men in it, very friendly it seems, and another is a single mother with two little girls.  Just making folks welcome in our pleasantly ragged little neighborhood. :)

Music update:  Loving me some Spotify again (free is always a good thing), this time a Mumford & Sons song called Ghosts That We Knew.  Right about 3:20 is my favorite part.  The instrumental section.  Oh my, it makes me feel so good inside to listen to it. 

More birds

So, my mother-in-law sees similarities in the old lady in Mary Poppins and me with our chickens.  Yeah, I guess I can see what she's talking about. :)

Rest

It pours.  The temperature continues to drop.  The chicken yard sucks shoes off your feet, with the extreme wetness.  Groceries in.  Not much, if any, bread left on the store shelves.  A chocolate sour cream cake to bake. 

I feel easy.  My mind is calm.  When oldest daughter comes home, my chickens who brood here will be safe.  Dinner tonight will be a simple meal.  Tomorrow we'll feast,  just in case we're iced in,  with barbecue, potato salad, and baked beans.  Food that sticks around.

Having nowhere to go, food in the house, and books to read makes my heart feel restful. Reading Woolf's 'To the Lighthouse' now.  Oh my is all I'll say.  Delicious.

Perspective

Eggs from Madelyn and Nora,  our Easter-eggers. Beautiful greens.  Milk and Anastasia lay light browns.  Funny thing,  we can tell which specific egg comes from each chicken.  The colors are that different. :)

The girls

The side photo is my reality, well the reality I prefer. :)  Milk was sitting in my lap this afternoon, then Nora hopped up.  She didn't seem content to sit in my lap, though, and got on top of Milk's back and ended on my shoulder.  I have no idea what she was thinking.  Likely she didn't either.  They're not real bright, which might be why I love them so.  No heavy thinking coming from a chicken.  My girls.  Like yoga in the chicken yard.  Such contented creatures. 

Gary'd been out there digging worms for them, and grabbed his phone to snap some photos. Today it was about sixty, and tonight they're saying it'll make it to the teens, or maybe just the twenties.  Nuts.  Getting spoiled today with the warm sun.  Maybe it'll be the last blast before we hit consistent milder days.  The daffodils are coming up too, but they'll brave the freeze, I'm sure.

Hope you've had a good Valentine's.  I took the least one out for lunch, then we met up the two older girls for grocery shopping.  Oldest daughter is baking fancy brownies now for our treat.  We ate by candle light, and dressed up the table.  That's what you're supposed to do on Valentine's Day, you know.  And Gary made me eat on the heart-shaped plate.   

Now we rest.  Time to turn off brains and read.  It's definitely time.

Monday evening

~sweet milk

Time to quit.  Have been blowin' and goin' the whole day, but not too awfully tired.  Started the day with holding Milk the chicken on my lap for a bit in the sun.  Always an excellent way to begin the day.  Soon after took run to the Mediterranean store nearby for more loose Cardamom tea, and picked up a bag of red lentils as well.  I shared a recipe here awhile back for the lentils served with rice---that's tomorrow's dinner.  Thought I'd do that again, being that I'm tired of spending money on meat. 

After the tea trip, picked up the kids for a library trip to pick up a reserve book and they each got a stash.  Then got Mom's groceries and ran them to her house.  Finally home and bed, which is where I am now.

Having tea and looking forward to reading.  I got a review book from Thomas Nelson by Christa Parrish, who's wonderful.  She wrote Stones for Bread that I reviewed last year, and now I'm reading Still Life.  She writes absolutely beautiful sentences.  It's like she tastes them before writing them down.  Lovely.  And, at an Indie bookstore with Gary last week I got Virgin Time:  In Search of the Contemplative Life by Patricia Hampl.  Another keeper.  Another excellent writer.  

Guess you could say I'm like the cat with the cream.  Hot tea beside me, and books to tease me.  Perfect.  And tomorrow I ain't got nowhere to go. :)

A Wednesday that feels like Friday...

Just came in from cleaning out the chicken coop, putting fresh straw underneath in their hidey-hole, and generally tidying them up.  I sat on the bench out there, and Milk came and hopped up in my lap.  She and I watched the sparrows eat chicken feed.  Peaceful and sweet to be out there.  I do love birds so.  And keeping an ear out for the Owl, who showed up yesterday, but hasn't been by today.  YET.

Thinking about things.

Oldest daughter's best friend has a brother (who I briefly mentioned a few months ago), who got into a compromising situation while drinking which resulted in a baby, who was born last week.  Darling little boy named Jackson.  The interested parties are having paternity tests done this week, and we're all silently waiting on pins and needles. Silent because the friend's younger siblings (there are ten children total) are unaware of what's happened, and our youngest don't know either.  It'll impact everyone in some way or another.  Daughter's girlfriend is so shamed by this that she is making herself miserable.  Sort of like us with having sons living with girlfriends, seems if you've raised them right, this shouldn't happen.....but it does.  Sin is out there whether you want to recognize it or not.  But I understand the reality of a baby is different than not having a baby.  The child is proof of the indiscretion, whilst horsing around can be shrouded in having a good time, without paying the piper, so to speak.

Makes me tired.  And you know, all of these kids know better.

I was reading a blog earlier today, and the woman was talking about her two sons.  They're Godly young men, apparently behaving, and both have a strong Christian witness.  She talks about reading to them, devotionals they'd have, church-going, etc.  Credits the way they were raised with how they'd turned out.  Well, yeah, but only to a certain degree.  You really can do everything in your power to raise them up in the fear of the Lord, but after that, they're on their own.  And you can't beat yourself up when they stray.  I've cried myself dry over our children, their sin and their apparent enjoyment of the same.  Tears me up.  We did all the things that other mother did, but at least now, some of them aren't following that teaching.  I'd tell that mom to be very, very thankful.  Not to take it for granted, which I don't think she does, and to cherish her sons' faith.  What a gift.  I just might have to wait a bit until the kickback occurs.  

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Drinking a hot cup of Darjeeling and eating a heavily frosted and sprinkled Christmas cookie from the pile the girls made today.  About to get up and maybe make a quick little pot of potato soup for the festivities at church tonight.  Not very motivated.  Might take cookies instead, just as an offering.  We always take stuff, and with consistently being involved doing, it'd be a nice change to back off a bit.  The least one will be Mary in the Pageant.  One family with four little girls moved away this summer, so the number of children available for the play have dwindled, but my goodness, it's sweet. 

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Oh, and it seems like our dog, Romeo, has had, as Gary puts it, a Come to Jesus experience.  Since he hit his back and wigged out a couple of weeks ago, he's a new man.  His disposition, which can be sort of scary, has quietened quite a bit.  Can't explain it unless his brief attack of paralysis affected his brain.  He'd been pushing it, over-barking when someone's at the door, which is nice in a guard dog sense, but when it's the family who's coming in, it gets a bit much.  He's not known the meaning of the words self-control.  Now he's actually nice, and pleasant all the time.  A change for sure.

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And in further Christmas news.  Gary said last night that he wanted me to have Julia Child's cookbook, Mastering the Art of French Cooking.  He said that if I'd order it---being that ordering can be tricky, and considering that there are two volumes put out in different years---it would be his present to me.  He's already given me a poetry book, so he didn't have to do this, but I'm proud he brought it up.  Hard to find that cookbook in used bookstores.  Darn near impossible, and I've been looking.  Next hard book to find is the Latin Vulgate with the English translation alternating the verses.  Gary was reading that CS Lewis had written that it's a wonderful way to learn Latin, by reading the New Testament in Latin/English verse by verse.  He already downloaded it on his phone, but I'd prefer a hard copy.  Fun to look, especially if it's difficult to locate.  I could go to the Catholic bookstore to get it, but that's way too easy.

Yak, yak, yak.  Got to go now.  You take care.