The Eighth Day

"I will be nice to my sister on the 8th day!"

When Asher took the "No Babies" sign off the front porch in September, we thought the switch in his brain had permanently switched to being sweet to Amelie.

But then she started to screech.
And now she crawls.
She even dares to look at Asher's toys as if she might possibly be interested in them.

And so now the unkind Big Brother Asher has returned. Whenever I correct his mean behavior he calmly tells me not to worry because he plans to be nice to Amelie again on the 8th day.

I know about what happened on Days 1-7 of Creation but I never thought about what might happen on the 8th day.

Every morning last week I tried proclaiming, "Today is the 8th day!"

For two days I received the reply that "No it's not the 8th day yet." Finally we reached the 8th day on Friday but Saturday sent us right back to Days 6 or 7. On one of those days he even resorted to putting the "No Babies" sign back on the porch.

Just when I think he's making progress, he'll slip in a little poke to his sister, or yet another reminder to her that "YOU SHOULD NOT SCREECH! IF I HAVE TO TELL YOU ONE MORE TIME NOT TO SCREECH I WILL BE VERY ANGRY." (And yes I did just mean to scream at you just as Asher screams at us.)

Probably our son isn't the only one in the family who progresses and regresses on a daily basis. Despite my good intentions as I start each morning, I often find myself lapsing back into negative selfish, prideful patterns I thought I already conquered.

I might make good progress towards becoming the loving mom, wife, and friend, I want to be and finally arrive on the 8th day, but too often the 9th day comes back around and I easily fall back into interacting with others without the grace I have been shown.

But its a new day again and I declare today to be the 8th day!

Creating Thankfulness

Can you believe Thanksgiving is only TWO weeks away?

Thanksgiving for us means hiding away from the shopping madness with Walter's family in a Missouri cabin. We can hardly wait to sit around the campfire, hike down to the river, and of course play (or cheer for) the annual Reedy-Walling-Fry football classic.

Amelie will get to try her first turkey.
Asher will (hopefully) walk on his own down the hill to the river.
I will take knitting lessons from Laura.
Walter will try not to dominate in Poker and promises to hold his tongue as some of the family plays the less strategic game of Dominoes.

Beyond the traditions and excitement of Thanksgiving, I hope it will ignite gratitude that lasts through the Christmas season.

Today my ideas to create thankfulness are posted on the Hearts at Home website. I invite you to check it out!

Hilarious Giving

Paul didn't ask us to toss coins into an offering plate laughing hysterically or cracking jokes to our pew mate, but he did challenge Christ followers to be hilarious givers. I don't know exactly what it means, but giving hilariously must go beyond writing a check with a smile on my face.

For my 3 year old who knows nothing of what it means to really need something I want to teach a lifestyle of hilarious giving that goes beyond duty or going through the motions because its what we should do.

He doesn't know anything about little boys and girls who don't get snacks or even healthy food when they wake up from their naps.

He lasts less than five minutes raking leaves in the yard with mommy and daddy before running off to ride his bike so the concept of forced labor is completely foreign.

Even knowing that some kids go to sleep at night without even one bedtime story or goodnight kiss is out of his realm of understanding.

So how do I teach him to hilariously fill up a shoebox for a child who has only a tiny fraction of the material things we have?

For the little boy who still daily questions my choice to go to the bathroom sitting down instead of standing up, I must start with myself.

Give creatively. Give regularly. Give cheerfully.

Treasure hunting

If you've seen us with our faces hidden in a tree, please don't think we're crazy!

We might have seemed a little strange hanging around a port-a-potty when we ran into friends from our small group on their evening walk.

Tennis players may have wondered what we were doing at the back corner of the tennis court pushing a stroller and explaining to a 3 year old the intricacies of trees and sap.

And best of all Grams and Grandpa might have mysteriously returned to Kansas covered in poison ivy because they spent a visit with their grandchildren bushwacking through Illinois woods.

With a three year old and baby, we aren't exactly the most inconspicuous geocachers.

But we use them as our decoys and admit our addiction.

I wrote a column that ran in our newspaper, The Pantagraph, this weekend describing the fun times found in geocaching, and I realized I've never shared of this new found obsession on my blog.

Since we started looking for treasures, we've visited parks we never knew existed in this town. Asher's had a fun time discovering new playgrounds and we found a beautiful diamond ring for Amelie.

I enjoy knowing the secret about what is under a light post in one of the parking lots of a fast food restaurant on our town's main drag. I also look at those trees by my regular grocery store with a new found appreciation for what they contain.

So I write this post to notify friends that if you see us poking around town in odd places, don't be surprised. We're just searching for treasures and would love for you to join us!

Check out the fun at http://www.geocaching.com/

The Movie Angie

I seriously used to think someone secretly followed me around documenting my life for a movie. Not because I believed my life to be so exciting, but more because I felt like everything I did was typical and would be interesting if anyone cared about the life of an average Illinois girl.

But no one does care about the average unconflicted life. Characters must be compelling and overcome conflict.

We listened to Donald Miller speak last night. I loved his book "Blue Like Jazz," so when I heard his 65 city tour included a stop in our little town, I immediately knew I would be in the audience. His funny poignant and carpe diem type challenge encouraged me to live my life like I imagine the movie-Angie would live.

Real life Angie avoids conflict because of the work, pain, time, and sacrifice it involves. Movie Angie plunges into the conflict (otherwise known as life) to live full days of no regrets.

Real life Angie quits her knitting washcloth project because my purl stitches still look exactly like my knit stitches.

Movie Angie determines to make washcloths for Christmas presents to force herself to perfect the craft (don't worry family, I don't even have time to attempt that - this year!).

Real life Angie abandons her dream of writing a book because I have no platform, I'm just...well me.

Movie Angie wakes up early every morning forcing herself to sit at the keyboard because of a love of creating words on the page.

Real life Angie dreads the practicality issues of leaving a nursing baby for day long adventures in Chicago.

Movie Angie can't wait to spend time with her sister and experience the surprises of the city.

Real life Angie's heart aches for orphans but knows the drawn out process of adoption is expensive and could take years.

Movie Angie plunges into adoption embracing diversity and identifying with God's heart.

Real life Angie rushes inside when coming home late at night.

Movie Angie pauses before going inside to see the incredible star filled sky. Musical Angie might even break into song praising God for those stars. But in my movie I still can't sing well so maybe I'll just speak my praise.

OK. So my life, my story, would never make a blockbuster movie (especially that knitting thing) but I do hope that every once in a while, real life Angie remembers to make the choices that movie Angie would make.

What choice would that be today?

What can I do?

"Mommy, What can you do?" Asher asked as I tucked him into bed last night.

I'm not exactly a Renaissance woman, but I chuckled at his question.

As a student I can get good grades.
As an employee I can research and report on my findings.
As a writer I can create columns and essays.
As a baker I can concoct yummy treats.
As a driver I can get us to school and back.
As a former runner I can finish a marathon.
As a decorator I can peel off wallpaper.
As a gardener I can plant, water, and prune.
As a shopper I can find a good deal.
As a Bible study leader I can point out God's truths.
As a friend I can listen for hours over coffee.

But none of those skills mean a thing to him.

He wanted to know what I can do as a mom?

I can make a mean peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
I can puree and freeze baby food.
I can read lots of stories.
I can push my boy super duper monster high on a swing.
I can bathe a slippery wiggly baby.
I can navigate a stroller and tricycle across a busy street while holding a little boy's hand.
I can bite into an apple to "get it started."
I can comfort.
I can hug.
I can sing a favorite good night song while Asher is snugly tucked into bed.

And this is all my indirect son needed me to do.
So I did.

Any day of the year

Celebrating Christmas in October seemed like a lot of work.

But when I logged on to my homepage yesterday morning, the day of our celebration, the daily Bible verse affirmed the good in our early celebration.

"For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace." (Isaiah 9:6)

Yesterday was Christmas.

Compiling wish lists, gathering (and wrapping) presents, preparing holiday food, setting up the Christmas tree, coordinating clothes for family pictures, and even disrupting normal napping schedules. All those preparations that typically run me ragged in mid-December didn't seem so bad in mid-October.

It was just enough.

Stores didn't tempt me at every turn with extra discounts if I just bought one extra fleece blanket for $15.

I didn't feel sick to my stomach after hearing about the proverbial roasting chestnuts for the bazillionth time.

My wrapping took less than half a day.

And when I left mom and dad's house with a stomach stuffed to overflowing, I felt a little better knowing it was from just one evening of indulgence rather than an entire month of overeating.

Maybe best of all it was a family gathering we hadn't had for a very long time.

We've celebrated Christmas as a family at my parents home in Ethiopia a couple of times in the years they've been missionaries there, but never with our traditional potato soup made with all the American ingredients or a fire blazing in the fireplace.

Yes our celebration was out of the ordinary. I spent my days in Christmas preparation mode when friends picked out fall pumpkins.

Asher is now completely confused about when Christmas actually is.
But the memories we created made the celebration worth it!

And we've been reminded we can sing Happy Birthday to Jesus any day of the year.

Even today He is Emmanuel, God with us.