So I Think We Can't Dance.

Enjoying our new Christmas gift. All 5 of us.

3rd Annual Burns & McGowan Griswold Christmas Tree Road Trip

There are several other posts floating around in my head. But other things must be taken care of before I put fingers to keys. But there is no reason to wait for this post: it was too much fun, and too many wonderful photos that captured the fun, to wait for it to be chronological. 

Here's the gist: in 2009 Chris suggested cutting down their tree, something the McGowans have done before, and something us Burnses thought sounded quite romantic. We followed directions that took us into the middle of the Pisgah National Forest, over 6.5 miles of bumpy gravel road, to emerge onto Zeigler's Tree and Trout Farm. We passed a sign that says "Keep Going, Almost There!" that was placed at that exact spot where one begins to think "yeah, we should turn around." Click on their name, get the address, and try it if you haven't gotten your tree already. This is the family's livelihood, and they would appreciate your business!  To say I wish we lived out there may be an understatement. And there are no shortage of perfectly beautiful trees.

The road entering the farm.

Thomas & Kate carrying our measuring stick.

T liked to hide in the trees and say "bye bye!"

I told Cohen to smile like he liked me. This is the face he made. 

Looking back at the house & part of the farm. We like to take the scenic route to hunt for our trees.

This, of course, is the year we decide not to send out photo Christmas cards. The first year ever that everyone's looking at the camera.

The family lets you put your kids on their 4 wheelers and take photos....

...and ride in the back of the trailer with your freshly cut trees.

Pure excitement!

It may look like Emily is about to fall off the back of the trailer. I think she had just made the joke that it was it was obvious from our kids' squealing that we do not live in the country.

I Am From Family, Laughing and Coffee

Yesterday I joined Kate in her class for an Author's Tea. The students are studying poetry and the teacher hosted a time when parents and family could come in and hear the kids work. There were also notebooks on each students desk where you could write "critiques" of the author's work. 

I took a video of Kate reading her poem, since Dad couldn't be there. I love that you can hear all the students reading their own poems out loud in the background. 

Kate likes to write. She likes to write short stories, poems, thank you notes....pretty much any opportunity to put her vocabulary to the test. Remember last years impromptu Thanksgiving poem? I am not sure what I was expecting of this poem thing, but I can definitely say I was caught off guard. It really did make me tear up. 

The students were given a template to follow, almost like a Mad Libs. You know, "The (adj) (noun) walked in a (noun) and (verb)." But it was done in a way that what they were able to verbalize what they hear and do and love. My tears were because I love what Kate loves. It makes my heart happy. Listen closely, you may hear something about what you love, too!

I like collections of things, like books in a series, pens in a set, paint from the same brand, and the entire line of My Little Pony miniatures. I hate having just one of something. The Randomness, it disturbs me for some reason. I like things in chronological order. I like to make lists and mark things off. And yes, if I do something not on the list, I write it down just to mark it off. 

Can you hear my sharpie marking "August blog post" off the list?

T, big ball, big belly.

Aunt Nancy, Mo & Kate. Who doesn't love a 3 in 1 celebration!?

The combined age of the celebrated ones. Kate turned 8. I will not disclose the remaining subtrahends.

Nancy Rose pretending to be shy, cuddling up with Uncle Charlie, who welcomed his first grandbaby in August as well! We are efficient, if nothing else.

The Birthday Girls opening presents.

Birthday donuts.

Nan took this one. Not a bad angle, and it's actually a cute photo. Especially considering Kate nor myself are wearing any makeup.

Getting the bags of stuffed animals, pillows and clothes down after 16 days in the attic. Hoping the lice were melted in the August heat.

The girl wanted a pile of donuts for her birthday "cake". Done.

Our wonderful and memorable trip to the American Girl Store in Alpharetta, GA

My surprise Happy 10th Anniversary arrangement from RMB. 

Third Grade!!

'Maters. After 3 years of trying, a triumph for me!

Goodbye, Osborns!! We love you!!

T, Everett and CK. Not Calvin Klein. Eatin' dawgs, hangin' out.

Nancy said she was crying because she was going to miss Belle and Lucy so so so so much. I wish I could give her the benefit of the doubt, but unfortunately am privy to her track record.

K4!!

Big boy. Happiest when misbehaving.

Baseball game. Nancy just got the news that since she didn't eat her supper, she doesn't get dessert. Our eldest, the Rule Follower, kinda looks like she's reveling in the justice of her sister's consequence.

Taking in the game with yet another hot dog.

To Share

I read this today and had to share. She shares, very beautifully and humbly, what dependence has looked like for her. It looks different for all God's people, the how. But the why is always the same.

When It All Came to a Headful of Lice

I have given you fair warning. It's in the title. So if you don't want to hear about it, move on. 

Summertime is most inconveniently the busiest time for me and my job. I say inconvenient, because my usual 8-10 hours a week jumps up to 20 on average for at least 6 to 8 weeks. Remember, it's summertime. The kids are home. There is no routine save for the one I create. I become a Camp Councelor Extraordinaire. When a good friend told me that there was a nearby church having a daytime VBS the last week in July, my heart started singing. I could send the girls for the morning and work! I would have 10 to 14 hours of work under my belt before we left for the beach! Truly, I thought, this was God's provision.

Until Monday afternoon, when I found one of the girls with a head full of lice. How did I know? Her hair was in a ponytail, and there were those nasty red bumps behind her ear, bug bites. My heart's song stopped. I knew what it was. Knew I didn't really need to look to make sure. Knew my entire plan just got flipped upside down. Flipped upside down, kicked around and spit on. 

13 bags of linens, stuffed animals, clothes and pillows that spent 2 weeks in our attic to kill any lice not sucked up by the vacuum cleaner or dried in the drier.

I called a close friend for help and ran outside so the girls wouldn't hear the details of the plan of action, or hear my desperation. My dear friend went straight to my heart, not my circumstance, and said "this is not the worst thing to happen to you." Her words of truth immediately calmed the growing anxiety in my heart. I had not yet lost it, because I  had not yet understood how utterly exhausted and stripped I would be from this ordeal. But she knew. Because she had done it once. And remembers how hard it is. And was willing to share how it doesn't have to be so hard.

This post is not really about our head lice ordeal (which 3 of 5 of us had). The head lice was the beginning of yet another time period where God forced my dependence on Him through seemingly random, uncontrollable and boringly normal circumstances. For 7 weeks, the predictable suburban life was more than I could bear: 16 days of lice inspecting. Packing for the beach for 8 days, with in-laws as an audience to watch the continued lice checks. Sick toddler at beach, prescribed steroids for wheezing, who we got to share a room with (read: no sleep). Working during vacation. School starting. Hit a parked car. Ryan clocking 60 to 80 hours a week at the office. Sick kids and parents. Blown tire. $750 for car and tires. $250 in medical expenses. 

At some point, more than once, I finally did lose it. Sobbed those big, ugly, selfish, angry, hot, "why me??!" tears. You've never done that? Then I may not understand you at all. The most painful thing was not dealing with the happening, but the battle I was having against my flesh. All this junk, it's life. It will happen. But because of Jesus, I have a choice to make. I can choose to be gracious to my family, patient in all affliction, and persevere. But the choosing, oh my word. It is the most exhausting part of all. At times I felt a physical pain in choosing to do what Jesus died for me to be able to do over what I wanted to do. Which was throw things and scream. 

Oswald Chambers writes in My Utmost for His Highest, "if we are in fellowship and oneness with God and recognize that He is taking us into His purposes, then we will no longer strive to find out what His purposes are."

Why? Why now?

He answers, dependence. Complete and inexusable.

Aren't I?

Never enough. You can always rely on me more.

How??

Stop looking for the why. Spend that energy in fellowship and oneness with Me. The why has already been answered. 

In a sermon on July 30, I heard "pride puts God and me on opposite teams; He's an opponent, He is not for me. God is involved in my undoing because He is so personally offended by my pride." I Peter 5:6 calls me to humble myself. It is my responsibility to humble myself. Asking God "Why me?" is not a question coming from a humble heart. Essentially, I am telling God "how dare you!" Like Eve, my default mode is operating under the dangerous premise that God might be withholding something from me (Williams). And like He has shown me, I know the answer to "why?": dependence. 

Having children was the beginning of the end of me. My undoing. For God's glory. Not that the actual children themselves are my undoing; but the event of bringing them into our homes as part of our family marked the beginning of the journey of my undoing. Much to my surprise, God uses the mundane to put me in situations that are excruciatingly normal in order for me to persevere. In order for me to long for Him. In order for me to long for the world beyond here. And to long to tell others that they have a choice, too. He is only limited by our trying to do his will our way, in our flesh (Clarkson, p. 209). 

One of my dear friends lives far away in SE Asia. She is doing this mundane thing, but in a completely foreign land. Her hard is multiplied 1000x by the crazy, nonsensical-ness of an ancient, confusing culture. Her words to describe working out the ugliness of our flesh in everyday happenings are beautiful and encouraging. I have preached the truth in her words to myself daily: "There were a few days I was begging and waiting on those new mercies, and they weren't coming. But, the biggest mercy and the biggest grace was that I knew they would come!!!!" 

"Sometimes, He required more of me than I was capable of giving, but He gave me more than I could ever have dreamed." (Clarkson)

That was heavy. So here are some cute pictures:

Making beach cupcakes with Mimi.

 The 1 hour T was actually happy on the beach all week. 

Such a performer. 

What T was like 99% of the week.

Rice Paddy plank. 

10 year anniversary dinner date.

Being bears at Atalaya castle, home of the Huntingtons. 

It was humid. T's hair is our barometer.

A deer? A bear?

Another lice treatment. 

Please Stay 4....

Overheard in van today:

K: "Did you know the praying mantis girls eat the praying mantis boys?"

N: "I SAW a praying mantis at our friends' house! But it didn't have a big belly. It was like a green stick. Yeah, that praying mantis was a boy. Because I didn't see any eyelashes on him."

Comment on a very quiet passing of gas:

N: "Welp, that wasn't a real poot. That was a whisper poot."