55

She shared what she remembered with me a few weeks ago. The reception planned by the family, the food they served, the fact that her brother was not present at the wedding because someone had to guard their house at all times. The weather, the road, the types of fruit in season. Her ivory skirt and her best shoes and the run to meet her two friends that would stand witness. The groom was thirteen hundred miles away, waiting for her in the new country they would both call home. She was the lone bride on her wedding day. She shared the day and the celebration food with everyone around her but him. My Abuelita went before the judge and stood next to her future father-in-law and married my Abuelo by proxy.

She is telling me this story while we make croquettas together. We are rolling the ground, spiced ham into the proper form. Hands reaching into the large cast iron pot, scooping up the ham and repeating the long learned ritual passed between us, this generational rhythm, a synchronized history of food preparation. Our hands are the same hands really, I need only glance over to see what my hands will look like at age seventy. I am proud to have her hands. We roll and form, roll and form, she keeps telling me the stories.

The morning spent watching one final surgery at the village hospital, the hasty shower back in her dirt floor home, the tearful, heart wrenching goodbye to her mother. Abuela hopping on the bus from her village to Havana, traveling down the road to a city she has never seen. The following morning, February 9, 1956, she pulls on her traveling clothes and boards an airplane. Everything is foreign to her and there is a horrible storm that day. The plane shakes and she recalls the fear climbing up her throat and plummeting to her stomach again. She gives a small smile when she tells me that she was the last off the plane that day. That my Abuelo had stood there, anxiously waiting, wondering if something had happened or if she had changed her mind.

"What happened then?" I asked.

"He hugged me and handed me a large coat that he had brought for me. I've never felt so cold in all my life," she smiles again.

"Did he kiss you?" I need to know.

"Of course. He better have, I went all that way just for him."

"Were you very in love?"

She looks down at her hands, rolling and forming the croquettas, and her eyebrows lift slightly. She lets out a small sigh, "Oh, yes. We loved each other very much."

The heavy shuffle of feet comes down the hall, a slow drag of stubbornness, and he walks to the table and begins watching us as we work. He starts giving orders. Roll this way, form that way, use more breading. He turns and leaves again. Shoulders slumped, voice raised, arms seeking out great grandsons to hold.

"He taught me how to cook" she confides.

She had worked every day and never learned the most basic elements of cooking. That first meal in their new apartment had been a supper of rice and beans. He gagged and asked whether or not she was trying to kill him. She cried. He taught her how to cook.

He interrupts us several times, wanting us to do things his way. They begin to argue and I watch them. Wrinkled faces, work worn hands, once dark hair now shot through with white. I think of the miserable jobs they have held, the brutal sacrifices, the impossible mountains they moved to provide physical necessities for their children. The indelible mark they placed upon us by never once walking away from their Lord. I think of their entire lives pouring into one element that is us, our family, their children, their children's children, their children's children's children. The small bodies playing just one room away from their bickering. My children. My children who are watching television in a house with electricity, running water and a floor made of wood and not dirt.

I smile to think of what their love has built. They argue all the time. He is perfectly horrible to live with, and yet he is what holds it all together, he is the heartbeat and sinew and blood. He loves so fiercely, despite the brokenness and pain he came from, his hands cling tightly to the frays and he pulls them into himself.

They both grew up on that small island, the reality of third world poverty stained to their very core. They do not love extravagantly, with gifts and vacations and such. They love simply. To the depth and breadth of what they have, they give to each other. What are flowery poems and diamonds when one has known hunger and hard labor? There is no need for material surplus.

He is her anchor and she is his lodestar.

There is not a basic need unmet, they tend and provide and shelter. I have never seen one grab a piece of fruit without first offering half to the other. It is true love right down to the very last mango, even if they are both shouting at each other as they slice it.

We finish breading the corquettas and she wanders away from her stories, into the next room of her mind, something about prescriptions and a doctor's visit and warnings of mosquitos that bring encephalitis. We pack the food into bags and shoo the kids out of the house and into the cars. Everyone exchanges hugs and as we pull out of the driveway for our seven block drive home, they sit together on the porch wrapped up in fifty five years worth of marriage, watching the fruits of their labor and love drive away.

Happy Anniversary to my grandparents. 55 years together. I treasure every day that I have with you.

Lady G

One of my very favorite things about God is the creative unlimited ways in which he cares for us. I have had a rough couple of days, the ugliness of humanity bearing down on me. Sin cracking the window, obstructing the view of what I should be focused on. My vision tunneled onto those deeply mired cracks.

And then God started orchestrating ways to uncap the pressure, a few adjustments to let the steam hiss out. Out of the blue my mother offered to babysit all three boys so that J and I could have an evening out. Then my generous in laws treated us to dinner and a movie. J and I dropped the kiddos off and had such a lovely evening together. We let go of the stress and enjoyed that long forgotten phenomenon of eating a meal the moment it arrives. Ahh the simple things...Thank you Lord for a little R&R.

But God was not finished yet, because on Sunday He shuffled my schedule around so that I could make a new friend.

Now let me start this story by saying that I never grocery shop on Sunday mornings and my new friend only ever shops on Sunday mornings. Divine appointment right off the bat!!

I love the grocery store. Its where they keep the chocolate and the avocados and the English Breakfast tea. Its also a great place to meet someone and brighten their day. Of course, I am referring to my lovely children brightening others days. I always slow the cart down when I catch someone looking their way. More often than not, it is an elderly person. I always slow down for them. I let them talk to Babe or the boys and I soak in their smiles and laughter. We introduce ourselves and we make new friends. But then after a few minutes we part ways and I usually don't see them ever again.

On Sunday, I was strolling through the produce department when I spotted a lady by the tomatoes, her eyes glued on Babe, a wistful smile on her face. I headed her way and we started talking at once.

Lady G, as I like to call her, is from England. She looks to be around seventy but knocked my socks off when I discovered that she is ninety!!

"You look fantastic!" I say.

"Yes, I know. I never drink coffee and I take great care of my skin" she says with a cheeky wink.

She keeps me laughing there in front of the tomatoes for a full twenty minutes. We talk about England and World War II. She shares her love story and I soak in every word she says about the handsome American boy that stole her heart and whisked her off to Pennsylvania in the late 40s.

We finally part ways and I continue with my shopping. Every aisle I put between us I keep feeling that feeling.

You know that little nudge from upstairs when He is asking you to go talk with someone? Well it went from a feeling to an itch to an outright SHOVE.

I don't even know if I have any paper on me, I thought to myself. I fished around in my bag and came up with a lone scrap of paper, which happened to be the sleeve of an English Breakfast tea bag. Ah, confirmation.

I scrawled down my name and number and started searching for Lady G. My heart ached and I prayed that I was not too late. I recognized how badly I wanted to be her friend. How lovely it would be to share stories over a cup of tea. It was one of those moments when you have met someone new and realize that your life has been holding a place for them for quite some time and you just know that their laughter should be echoing around your dinner table every once in awhile.

I found her a few minutes later, parked in front of the frozen food section. She was quite surprised to see me advancing with my name and number. But Lady G smiled graciously and thanked me with a nod the Queen would approve of.

When I left the store I told J all about her and ended the story expressing my hopes that she would phone me.

Today the phone rang and I heard Lady G's voice, telling me how happy she was to have made a new friend. We had a lovely chat and I have decided to keep a record of all the English-isms she uses.

I am so thankful she called. I am looking forward to many cups of tea and stories with Lady G. Unlimited creative ways, reaching into my life. Lady G definitely fits the bill. :)

A Sneak Peek

Its safe to say that I am about one week away from finishing the boy's homeschool room.

I am quite happy to be done. So is my husband, since the completion of this project will usher in a new age of laundry being done on time.

Here are a few sneak peeks at what I have finished this past week...

I reupholstered my rocking chair from pottery barn in a cute blue madras print. Bear asked me to add a heart to the pillow. I agreed. This is the chair that I nurse Babe in. I also hug injured children and read special books from this chair. A heart is quite appropriate, I think. :)

Race car lamp. I super glued a few race cars to this black drum lamp and added the road drawing. I finished this just today!! The boys are quite excited about this lamp and at the same time, puzzled by the fact that the cars are S T U C K! "Poor little cars" Cubby said with a sparkle in his eyes and a smile on his face, "I wike it!!"

I ordered a set of alphabet letters for the main wall of the room and was quite disappointed when they arrived after a six week wait! Two of the letters were cracked and 10 of them were either beige or white. Ummmm....boring!! So, Mommy had to upcycle these bad boys.

I glazed some Where's Waldo paper on the letter 'W.'

I glazed a map onto the letter 'M.' Can you see what's on the map? Florida, Pennsylvania and I managed to squeeze Price Edward Island on there!

Love this letter 'E.' The Bear decided that we should paint an "electric car." I warned him that Mommy has no artistic skill whatsoever and that since his gifted, talented Auntie N was not due for a visit anytime soon, that we should probably 3D the letter. He quickly agreed.

Here is the finished wall!!! You can see that the letter "C" is from Eric Carle's Hungry Caterpillar" and that we are supporting Daddy with the letter "U." I am quite pleased with how it all turned out after all the readjusting we did.

I am off to sew some curtains. Did I mention that my middle son almost killed himself with the curtain pull two weeks ago? Yeah. The project list has been interrupted by the urgent need to install curtain rods and sew curtains for the windows of our home. He always keeps me on my toes.

I'm going to try and have the room finished sometime next week and I will post the pictures of the finished product then!! Happy Saturday to all!

Zoo

After two weeks of nonstop rain the restless energy in the bungalow reached fever pitch levels. The Bear woke up Tuesday morning, peeked out the window and said, "Let's go to the zoo!"

I really really really did not want to go to the zoo.

So we went to the zoo.

I dropped Babe off at Bella's house and took off with Bear and Cubby for a morning of unbearable heat.

Now I should clarify that I love the zoo. Our zoo is wonderful. Great classrooms, fantastic animal exhibits, we are constantly learning there! But our zoo is HUGE...and not in a good way. A massive sprawling zoo, completely outdoors and totally impossible to complete in one morning with two toddlers. Throw in ninety degree weather topping one hundred on the heat index and pour in a hot soup mixture of humidity and well, you can understand why I did not want to go to the zoo.

The boys shrieked and cheered when they heard where we were going. They love the zoo. When we turned into the long driveway entering the zoo they began kicking their legs and squealing out the names of their favorite animals. I took note of the heat waves rising off the concrete. Once they started asking for animals located at opposite ends of the zoo, I made an executive decision, announcing that we could each pick one area of the zoo to visit before returning home. The Bear picked his favorite place, the aviary. Cubby selected the Children's Zoo and I told them we would go to a secret spot after we finished there.

Wings of Asia is a beautiful display. Tented and packed with bamboo forests and trees, a cool river runs through the exhibit and there are plenty of waterfalls and small ponds. The exotic birds inside are spectacular and my boys love watching them.

Ok, fine.

They love chasing them. But once in a blue moon they do love watching them peacefully from the sidelines. That moon is quite blue, by the way...

So there we were, wandering through the bamboo forest, total peace and quiet, shattered occasionally by the sound of my voice screaming out my middle son's name as he tried various ways of killing himself via waterfall drowning or losing an eye to the seven foot tall crane following us. The Bear tip toed down the path in hopes of catching a partridge unawares.

The humidity swirled around us, the mosquitos abundant and hungry. Yes, a very normal day at the zoo.

And then I spotted an elderly man sitting on a bench. An expensive camera hung from his neck, a brown sack lunch fixed at his side. He was dressed in a suit and hat, despite the hot weather. His face had wrinkles in happy spaces, laugh lines like sunbursts mapped outwards and immediately drew me in.

I love elderly people. Have I mentioned this before? I love talking to them, or rather, I love listening to them. I think toddlers and elderly folks are the best story tellers on the planet. I could listen all day.

We met Ted. Who is originally from Switzerland and frequents the Wings of Asia display on a daily basis. Thats right, he goes to the zoo every day and spends each hour in a lovely bamboo forest full of birds. He likes to photograph them, he says, laugh lines stretch upwards, tufts of white hair peak out from under his hat. I end up taking his arm and he shows us around the place. He knows where all the nests are, knows the name of each bird and where they like to hide. He knows the treasures of this space. He gazes at my children, drawing from their energy, I can see his heart lifting as he takes in their giggles. Looking at them seems to fill his soul and he hangs on to my arm a bit tighter. He tells me about his family, his brother in particular. His eyes mist as he speaks of that brother and he stares into the distance, looking back only to watch the little brothers ambling down the path behind us.

We shared the better part of an hour with Ted. Precious time, well spent. When we reached the end of the exhibit, I held his hand and kissed his cheek. His bushy eyebrows lifted, as did one corner of his smile and a sweet blush covered his weathered cheeks.

We parted ways, all smiles and waves. The boys and I ventured off into the blazing sun once more, the slow shuffle of feet just behind us, retreating back into the cool shade of the bamboo.

After a half hour ramble in the reptile house at the Children's zoo, we fed a small army of goats near the new barn. The boys are quite red by now, damp faces and dirty knees too. Their bodies emitting smells of summer, sweat, grass...they smelled a bit like goat food as well.

"Time for Mom's adventure!" I announce.

I lead them to the ice cream cart and we order two scoops of vanilla. Then we walk to the tiger exhibit to sit and eat and watch. A little bench stands in front of the tiger's keep, shaded by a nice old oak tree. They sit with me, one on each side. We watch the tiger for half an hour. Have you ever watched a tiger for half an hour?

We did. It was lovely. Even after the ice cream dribbled away, belly bound or sidewalk smattered, we sat together, watching, waiting. Pointing things out, laughing, learning, always learning. And then silence for a few blessed moments...

The boys, thinking about tigers and sword fights with each other.

Their mother, thinking about the shuffle of feet in the stillness of a bamboo forest and the small bodies flanked on either side of her, the little heartbeats she loves so very much.

We ran back to the car, their sneakers pounding on the pavements, their small voices shouting, "Lets do this again and again and again and again!!"

How wonderful that we will :)

Something New

We started something new this week, something Jesus put on my heart. A new way to help our boys understand accountability. A clearer picture of the repercussions of their decisions.

My boys like to wrestle. Or rather, Cubby likes to wrestle and Bear defends himself out of necessity. We average about four or five injuries a day.

So this new thing to help them understand consequences? Well it seems to be working so far...

Whenever the boys wrestle or fight over a toy, I usually separate them and immediately ask, "What is more important? This ____(insert toy, activity, food item) or your brother?"

They usually peek up at me from under their lashes before mumbling tearfully, "My brother."

And yet when an injury is involved, I usually move off to tend to the injured boy while the other boy waits in the time out corner until I return. The boy in time out misses what happens in our bathroom. He doesn't see his brother's tears as I tend and doctor a wound caused by selfishness and anger. He avoids the tears, the blood, the bandages. He stands in a corner thinking only of his own misery and isolation.

So we started something new. Hands that hurt must learn to heal.

Now when the boys wrestle and hurt each other, they must also help each other heal. Beyond a simple, "I am sorry," the boys must now tend each others wounds.

A few days ago, Cubby scratched Bear across the face, leaving behind an angry, bleeding cut. It breaks my heart when my sweet boy hurts his brother so viciously. His two year old heart is entirely self centered still and it aches to see this biblical evidence, glaring me in the face. None of us without sin, not even one. Not even our smallest, sweetest children. He is my son. Shared bone, shared blood, shared sin. And to watch him hurt my other son, pierces me. So I am taking the time to help him see and understand his part in all this.

I separate them. Comfort the Bear and lead them both into the bathroom. Cubby's eyes are wide as he watches me, waiting, for the punishment he expects to greet him. Anxious for his own fate and not sparing a thought for the brother with blood dripping down his face.

We sit the Bear down and I make Cubby hold the Bear's hand.

"Now," I say. "Help mend what you broke."

I guide him in cleaning the Bear's face, in applying salve, in unwrapping and placing the bandage. We wipe away the Bear's tears together and pray for him.

I oversee the apologies and forgiveness.

Then I ask the Bear to walk his brother to the time out corner. And Cubby serves two and a half minutes because he is two and a half years old. (The time is doubled if they refuse to apologize). Once the time out is done and the last tears are wiped away, we sit down together and talk.

Does this sound like a long arduous process?

It is.

And yet, I have to discipline myself to discipline them. To set aside whatever I am doing so that my boys can understand the depths of their sin so that they may one day appreciate the depths of grace and forgiveness. I sacrifice this time for them. The dinner burns, the laundry stays piled in the basket, the floor goes unswept. But they learn one day at a time to take responsibility for their actions.

At times, sin feels like an imposing mountain in my path. My children's sins tower even higher. I fret and worry over them. I doubt. I grieve.

Then Jesus gently reminds me that I can not save my children. He has done it for me. He has done it for them.

I often think of that precious verse, Isaiah 40:11

"He tends his flock like a sheperd:

He gathers the lambs in his arms

and carries them close to his heart;

He gently leads those that have young."

He leads me gently as I slowly push my young along, nudging them ever closer to the truth of grace and the hope they can have in this life.

Sweet Summer

We are in the midst of our rainy season. Each day the dark clouds roll in off the Everglades and unleash a torrent of rain on the bungalow. The garden is grateful for the recent rainfall, it was a dry spring.

Our rainy season is a bit like the North's winter. The early morning heat waves are challenging to overcome for the sake of outdoor adventure, the afternoon rain and lighting makes us burrow in all the more. Our only respite comes on days when the sea breezes are strong or in the late afternoons when the sun emerges after a long rainstorm has cooled the earth. Even then, we only get about half an hour before the mosquitos come out in swarms.

So we must be creative, you see, if the boys are to get their daily dose of adventure and play.

Summer always brings this challenge. How do I continue to guard their precious boyhoods by creating opportunities for imaginative play?

Lately I've been encouraging the boys to get messy. I mean muddy, sticky, slimy, gooey, sweaty, wet, head to toe COVERED in fun. They always behave more on days when they get good and dirty.

I love when they smell of sunshine and sweat and giggles. I love finding small blades of grass in the house. I love seeing smudged handprints on the glass panes of the bay window. I love bathing a round baby who has recently played with a helping of baby food, the frothy bubbles swirling round chubby legs covered in applesauce. I love the sweaty strands of hair and the faces covered in smears of chocolate. I love this smell of life's joys.

The Bear and Cubby are assisting me more and more in daily chores as of late. Cubby likes kneading bread and folding clothes. His little voice always pipes up, "I want to help you, Mama!" and its the sweetest music of my day to hear him say so. He has also helped with sewing some of my projects. Many of the seams are crooked and the projects are at times, less than perfect...and yet they are so very perfect because my boy sat on my lap, his small hand encased in mine. My arms wrapped around his frame as I worked to help guide the needle to and fro. His little voice chattering as we worked. How I treasure those crooked seams.

The Bear, as always, loves making a game of our chores. I made fruit leather this week and we eagerly stood guard over the tray of sweet mangos drying in the sun. Peeking out of the window every so often to make sure it was still there. Running outside to rescue the tray whenever rain threatened.

I fashioned two jet packs for the boys, complete with firing engines, and they have yet to cease zooming around the bungalow. Space exploration, dinosaur hunts, pirate escapades, jungle safaris, and runs through the "deep dark forrest of animals" are the games of the day. Happy shouts and loud thumps echo through the house all day, with the occasional sparring match here and there.

This morning as I changed bedding, folded laundry, kneaded bread dough, and tidied up the living room, I noticed a strange sound in my home. The sound of silence. A terrifying sound.

Yet all was peaceful and innocent when I found the boys gazing out the window.

Bear looked up at me when he felt me settle down beside him.

"Can we play outside?"

A hundred practical reasons to say "no" floated through my mind before an eager "yes" spilled from my lips.

We ran in the sunshine, acquired mosquito bites, watched the mango leather dry, and played with trucks.

We weren't outside for long. Soon we had to come inside, strip out of muddied clothing, brush off bits of grass, and guzzle down cool water.

Both boys thanked me and ran off to play. The game they chose to play is called, "Wrecking Ball." This consists of both boys running at the hallway wall, top speed of course, and slamming into the wall with all the force their bodies can muster. They end up sprawled out on the floor, moaning a bit and giggling. Embracing joy and soaking in the magic of summer.

Sweet, sweet summer.

Projects Taking Off!!

Hello.

We've been busy this month! The boys and I are having a ball this summer. I plan at least one or two 15 minute adventures per day and the kids love it. Digging toys out of ice blocks, sailing boats in the tub, making crayons, making sidewalk chalk, sewing, puzzles, scavenger hunts, paper towel roll animals, bubble wrap race tracks---to name a few. I love when they face the day ready for adventure!

Today we finished making jet packs for the boys. I found this idea on Pinterest, which led me to a cute blog by a stay at home mommy providing a tutorial for jet packs. Hers were made of tin foil and streamers, which is great! But I know my boys and that would not last an hour in this house. So we used duct tape and fabric for the fire streams. The boys LOVE them.

I've been sewing like a mad woman. And I am happy to report that I am about 60% finished with the back room update! I'll make sure and post pictures once its all done. For now, take a look at some of the pillows the boys and I finished...

Yellow rocket pillow, waiting to be ironed....

Madras plaid pillows with little buttons...

Here they are!

And I finished one of the bigger projects, the puppet theater!! Cubby loves this thing a lot! I used two small utility hooks on either side of a doorway so that we can string it up whenever we want. Many happy hours of play to come with this theater. :)

We churned butter a few days ago and I made pumpkin muffins with the buttermilk that came from our churning efforts. Oh the yumminess. Cubby, our resident toddler chef, is excited about using our fresh butter to roll out some dough for an apple pie tonight. He really loves helping in the kitchen and I have found that its his best place to learn.

I have so much that I want to share on here about the boys and their homeschooling. I'll have to save it for another day though. The babe is asking for some food and special cuddle time and really, how could I say no to that?