November and December, eh?



***

I prepared a new recipe that I found in the newspaper, an "apple-chicken skillet." I had the ingredients on hand. Time to liven up the rut!



After a few bites, Josh said, "Now I get it! The sauce is like blood and the chicken is like a skull!"



Uh. . .



But, then: Oh! "Skillet"= "Skeleton" and "Skeleton" became "Skull."



Imagine his confusion when he thought he heard Mommy say we'd be eating apple-chicken skulls.



The dish wasn't good, by the way. Let's not knock the rut after all. 7 great meals eaten 4 times each a month might be better than new and different meals that suck.


***
But if anyone has a new and different meal to suggest that is also great, I would be glad to add it into the rut. Hey, if I can get 7 new ones, I could make a 14 day rut and possibly even reduce my grocery shopping to once every 2 weeks.


Here are the rules: It has to be delicious.

And. . .well. . .given who is reading this and apt to respond, I probably don't have to state any other rules.  If you can do it, I can do it.  Probably.

***

Gemma came in from playing and said, "I'm not trying to tattle on Josh, but he threw a rake at my face."

Good work, Gemma. This is indeed something you should tell me. Particularly as he was guilty of chasing her with a shovel the day before.

I called him in and asked, "Did you throw a rake at Gemma?"

"Yes."

"Then you're done playing outside. Please go to your room."

Moment's pause. Then a contorted face. Then, "What the heck?!"

(!)

"Gemma lied!"

"But, Josh, you just said that you threw the rake."

"When I asked why she was going in, she said it was to make potty, but then she tattled on me!"

He still had to go to his room. They sorted it out later. Had Gemma lied to Joshua? No, she really did have to make potty, and after making potty, she came and told me that Josh had thrown a rake at her face. 

This phrase is now in our family lexicon. Whiny, exasperated, brief: "What the heck?!"


***

Gemma turned 8 in late November.

This seemed the right year to do a tea party.













I won't put up photos of Gemma with her 3 guests because it's not my place to put other people's kids up on the web. But here, enjoy the lovely table display I put together. . . The fruit cabobs were my own creation, the cupcakes, alas, a friend made for us.







No boys allowed at the party, either. Daddy got home from work early to whisk Joshua away. And you'll note that even I dressed up for the event. . .

 ***

We did Thanksgiving at a friend's house. Several other friends and newly-met friends were there, too. Then, one of them pulled out a game. The kind of game that says, "For 13 years and older" not because of "mature content," but because it's so frickin' complicated.

 Loved it.  

Thankful for: Bryan, Gemma, Joshua, Benziger, our home, our minivan, our health, and our friends who like to play games.


***

I haven't written much about our van, have I? I don't plan to start because it would be fawning, drivelly sort of stuff. But that van. Ooh, that van. . .

 ***

Hey, pet peave: When, at a dinner or party, parents let their kids eat crackers or chips plain when they have been served along with a dip or cheese or meat that the kids don't want to eat.

The chip or cracker is a vehicle for the stuff it's served beside. How are people supposed to eat the dip or cheese or meat without a vehicle? It's less than ideal.

 A couple of chips? OK. One cracker? Sure. But, people, don't let your kids screw up the vehicle-to-stuff ratio.

 ***

Christmas in Story, Wyoming, to visit our friends, Aunt Helen and Uncle David. Here's what makes WY such a nice prospect for us (aside from our friends there): It's an easy, delightful 7 hour drive. Not a painfully boring drive that some Interstates offer.


North of Denver, every view is gorgeous. There's no traffic. The road is in terrific shape.  

The other part is that there's something about being in Nowhere-ville that isn't anywhere close to Somewhere that is very relaxing. There's no agenda in Wyoming. There's nothing you "should" be seeing. There's no crowd as you go from here to there. It's peaceful.

 Of course, this time, we drove the day they opened I-25 following a storm and a few of those hours were a little less than "peaceful."

 Benziger liked it, too.

I was reminded that he is a small dog.











Aunt Helen gave Gemma pierced earrings, which required making 2 new holes in Gemma's head. Sorry I forgot to turn the photos.











 

Yes, we planned this ahead of time. But it was a surprise for Gemma. She was 100% brave about it.


Then we went to see The Adventures of Tin Tin in 3D. I told my people not to smile so we would all look cool. It worked, right?





 

Christmas Day sledding in Helen and David's meadow.








Josh loved it, too, I promise.







By the time we finished lunch, the temp had reached 45 and the snow had gotten wet enough for packing. Bryan shovelled up an igloo for them and they dug like a couple of prairie dogs to hollow it out. Can you ifnd Benziger in this photo?




 

He stood atop the igloo the whole time, jumping after the snow Bryan tossed up.





 

Cosy enough for 2.















High enough for 1.







It was a merry, peaceful Christmas, indeed. And then we all went out to a Chinese buffet for dinner.

October

Started with a hike up Green Mountain Falls.  We had ambitions of achieving the resevoir at the top, but took the wrong trail.  One day.  One day, we'll get there.

Just Bryan, Benziger and I were on this hike, and Benziger, lacking thumbs, was not able to take a photo of us together.  Had to resort to that hold-the-camera-out thing.

First snowfall.  This is winter #6 for us, so we were delighted and not shocked.
First time the snow has been of packing quality--a genuine, 3-ball snowman, right there.
With a snow-dog, too.

Halloween.  We have, here, a fairy.  With face paint kind of in the shape of a butterfly. . .

And, yeah, a Lil' Stinker.

Costume made last summer by a youth who will one day win an Academy Award for period costuming, right, Amy?

A FIERCE 4-month-old puppy

Actually, that was just a yawn.

Ever Farther Up

I have photos to show you of a recent hike, and then an incredible story to tell you about God's work.  By "incredible" I'm pretty sure I mean that some people would find it difficult to credit as being a true story.

But it is true, and I guess if you know me personally and you read my words, you might indeed have to find it credible.

The photos first. 

The superheroes headed to Catamount trail in Green Mountain Falls, just outside of town.  I read about this hike in the newspaper.  The hike was rated "2 Boots" out of 4.  We thought we were up for it.

We even brought along our GPS device to geocache along the trail, and we downloaded two points that were in the first mile of the hike, because the loop is 4 miles along and with two small kids and a puppy, how far were we going to get, really?

The first pic taken:  Bryan finally has to stop to mess with the GPS that keeps telling us we are 2000 miles from the target.  This was my fault--I had not made a careful search for a cache and I'll bet there is another "Catamount Trail" about 2000 miles from this one. We tucked the device away for another day.

Notice that we are on a dirt road.  Can you see the incline down the street that is half a mile behind us?  The kids kept asking, "Have we gone far enough yet?"

Ha!  The hike hasn't even started, people!  This is the hiking-in-to-the-hike stage.

But even the hiking in was pretty.  I took photos because I wasn't sure whether we'd ever reach the actual hike.

People live along this road, BTW.  There is a house behind me as I took this photo.  Nice.  But what do they do come winter?

At the trail head. Pretty magnificent, that wall right behind them. Why not climb part of it, right?

The bottom of the waterfall we hadn't realized we'd be hiking along.

At this point, I realized a few things: 1) I really like hiking with my dog and seeing him trot along off leash.  And 2) The trail right here became switchbacks through boulders, requiring a good deal of scramble.  So. . ."2 Boots" in the newspaper is kind of like Amy's version of, say, "4 Boots, wait until the kids are at least 12 years old."

Benziger will not go down our basement stairs.  They intimidate him.  When Bryan announced that we would sally forth up those switchbacks, I said, "O. . .K. . .  I'll just wait here with the dog, there's no way he'll go up."

Then the dog watched Bryan, Gemma and Joshua go up and starting whining and pacing.  His people!  His people! He must be with them!

But those little legs, Benzig. . .  I started up as well, and lifted him onto whichever boulder was too big for him to climb. 

What a delight to see my children and our puppy scramble, climb, scramble, up and up and up!  LOVED it!

Then it came time to cross the waterfall.  If I look very concerned about this crossing, and my children making it with wet shoes and a few logs holding the whole joint together, it's because, well, you get the point.

Does Gemma looked concerned, too?  But we followed on!

Here at a look-out.  The trail began an easy stretch here, and here is where we turned around.  On the way down, Bryan, Gemma and Benzig were far ahead of me and Josh.

Benzig made it across the waterfall, but then back-tracked to come back for us when he realized we were not right behind.  He was shaking with fear when he met us on that watery rock bridge, but was with us nonetheless.

This is what a good hike is, I think.  It's beautiful enough just to do the ordinary stroll on a dirt road.  

The climb up can seem intimidating before, even during the ascent. 

You never know quite what the pay-off is until you reach it. 

Even after you've reached it, you know there is still more to aspire to.

All of this relates to that incredible story I promised:

I went to a women's retreat this past weekend.  It was a Friday evening session, then going back to the church for a Saturday morning session.  To my surprise, it was really a prayer retreat:  the time was a simple matter of low-key worship alternating with private prayer.

A powerful time.  The Lord told me a lot about my own life and my children's.

During the last time of worship, I began to pray for my friend who was also at the retreat, whom I knew to be in a difficult circumstance regarding a person she loves. 

I prayed that God would tell me something that I could share to encourage her. 

Then I saw a mental image:  A huge vault with doors locked on top.  Giant, giant hands on strong arms pry apart the doors.  This person she loves is inside, alone in the vault.  God pours water in, drowning the person until he realizes he can swim.  He comes up from the water and releases a guttural scream, then shouts, "I had forgotten how awesome this is!"  He calls others to jump in and join him.

Image ends.

Worship was still on-going, but I had to share this.  I picked her out of the crowd and motioned to the back of the sanctuary.

She met me there.  I told her this image.  She wept and wept and wept and said that she has been seeing that vault--all locked up--in her prayers for years. 

I prayed with her right then, and said, "As Elisha called for the end of drought, Lord Jesus, we're asking You to open this vault now.  Rain down now

She cried all over again.  She had just been praying during worship, "God, the soil is prepared for his heart, please send rain now."

So.  We'll see what happens with that.

But worship was still on-going, and I was positively high from the experience of having heard from God so powerfully the whole weekend.

Another friend came to mind, whom I like a lot.  But I've never prayed with her and I didn't know much about anything that might be a concern for her now.  Even still, I saw another mental image, a very concrete one.  Somewhat peculiar.  Then worship ended.

I thought, "All right, in faith, I'll go share this with her."  I did.  She wept, then, to.  The image made no spiritual sense to me, but it was exactly something to the heart of something that did weigh on her.  I cannot share the details, because it's all pretty private stuff.

So this was all wonder-ful.  I mean that literally.  It was God's wonder-working power.  So meaningful.  The kind of thing that reminds me: I want to spend all my remaining days on Earth being part of God's plan in the lives of others, actively pursuing this hike He has designed for me. 

I'm going to die one day.  I really am.  And then my opportunity to live a life on Earth will be over.  There is no do-over.  Not for me.  Not for anyone. 

And, yes, I know I'm going to live in Heaven because I believe that I sin and that God's own just nature requires that a penalty is paid for that sin. This is what it means to "need a savior."  I need one, people. 

And I have one in Jesus Christ.  He paid the penalty for my sin by dying on the cross.  He defeated sin and death by resurrecting from the dead. That same Resurrection power was working during that worship service.

A retreat leader came up to me afterwards and concluded the story: 

"You know, Amy, I was looking out over the women during that last time of worship and my eyes were drawn to this one lady.  Next thing I know, you were motioning her to the back of the church to say something.  Then God turned my eyes to another woman there, for some reason, and I was praying and praying for her and then, next thing I know, right after worship, you went right up to her!  Pretty cool, huh?"

Uh, yeah.  Cool indeed. 

Where are you on your hike with God? 

I don't want to settle for a pretty enough picture along the dirt road.  I want more of God than that.

And I'm learning that the only way to get more of God is to let God have more of me.

One Time, I Could Have Died

We published a poem in our undergraduate literary magazine once that was titled, "One Time I Could Have Died."

That sounds like something an 18-year-old would write, but really, it was from a faculty member as he watched his 13 year old daughter stand on the edge of a cliff.  She was relishing in the ocean spray and the thrill of being on the wet rocks.  All he could see was all the danger that she could fall into.

Must have been a good poem if I remember it after 10+ years.

Anyway, the other day, I could have died:

They've been doing a lot of rock climbing at our gym lately, when Daddy takes them.  We should not be surprised that this has made climbers of them, and one day, they decided that the lowest tree branch was not too low after all.

It took them a good 2 hours to figure it out.  The first 30 minutes, they asked for my help again and again and I kept repeating the rule from Mrs. Queeney when we were attempting to climb her crab tree:  You have to get it on your own so that you know you can get down on your own.

I reconciled myself to the eventuality that we would go to the ER that day, or one day in the near future.  But I decided to choose the injury:  no head wounds from skulls crashing on bricks, and soon after this photo, I cut down those sucker branches on the ground so that no eyes would be poked out, either. 

I don't know.  They might not be that high up.  Higher than they've been before, though. 

Down River

I don't think I ever put up all the photos from the rafting trip. . .  Not on the blog, anyway.  And my mother's not on Facebook, so here's her chance to see them, too.

This was Joshua's 5 year old birthday celebration.  Betsy, Amy and TJ joined us, which was very handy.  Between the 2 strong guys in front and the raft guide in back, I didn't have to work very hard.

The kids loved it.

I loved that the kids loved it.

It was one of those days Bryan and I have often enough:  This is not vacation.  We actually live here.