Full cup overflows

Today at church as we sang Psalm 23, I got choked up on the words "My full cup overflows".  I am a blessed mama, wife, sister and daughter...in the fullness of life that is bursting at the seams right now...tears of thankfulness flowed - I'm choosing thankfulness even in the midst of sorrow (Jeremy wrote a blog post at his blog MusingandMotion about the resent sorrow).  Here is a glimpse of scenes of thankfulness around my house today.  Thank you LORD, for the beauty and the mess. Amen.

November

How can this month be a month of giving thanks?  A month of joy and fullness?  November, a month that brought silence to a voice that comforted me as a child.  A month that brought emptiness and despair to half of me.  A month too that brings pleasant memories of family gatherings under pecan trees, Gene Deckerhoff on the radio, pecan pies and all things pumpkin. 

 It comes every year without fail, and in its coming there is comfort - the comfort of consistency and routine - that there is something, or rather, Someone who is holding all things together.  The reminder that all shiny things fade and wither and become dust and with this fading there is order and even beauty.  Something to always count on.  The reminder that in the fading and the dust that this isn't the end of the story - there is spring - EVERY year. 

Why am I not more drawn to the spring but more to the fall?  Maybe my autumn tinged hair gives reminder of this time but even more I think it is the picture of HOPE that fills this season of thankful hearts.  A harvest of blessing reaped, a fulfillment of last year's hopes and a looking forward to what might be in the shoots of spring green.  Hope is sometimes all you have in the fading light, in the journey toward making all things right and pure and beautiful.  A certain hope that allows for the peace that comes in truly giving THANKS. 

November - a perfect month to choose to give thanks.  A perfect, full, colorful time to remember to choose to Trust the giver of all gifts, the mixing of spices with pumpkin for pies as with the mixing of joy with pain - a permanent state of our emotions and experience in this life.  Joy with sorrow, the daily - seemingly mundane with the gloriously extraordinary.

 And we move on as pilgrims knowing this is not our ultimate destination -

 November - strangely I look forward to you each year - joy with sorrow and in it ALL I give thanks

"Blessed are those whose strength is in you, whose hearts are set on pilgrimage.  As they pass through the Valley of Baka, they make it a place of springs; the autumn rains also cover it with pools.  They go from strength to strength, till each appears before God in Zion."     Psalm 84:5-7

"Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good.  His steadfast love endures forever."  Pslam 136

Oh a pumpkin is a pumpkin...

One of the sweet girls, Regan, who watches Lydia for us came over and took some shots of punkin (and a few of the whole fam).  Lydia was quite the serious subject here...not sure whether this is her "Cinderella after midnight by the side of the road pose" or her trying to pull out her inner punkin from the real thing.  Either way she's a keeper....and so is Regan - thanks Regan!

Happy Halloween...

...from the not so Happy Punkin who got happier when not dressed up

When I told Lydia it was time to go she wandered off and came back ready to go to Mrs. Debbie's with her bag and toothbrush.

Backyard fun

Nana and Uncle Jake

On day two of our family adventure we slept late, ate pankcakes, swam and spent time with Nana and Uncle Jake.  We were so glad they came.  We ventured to Downtown Disney in the evening and ended the night with a crazy game of UNO.  Thanks for coming Nana and Uncle Jake!

 Lots of laughter over cards

 The largest Lego store we've ever seen!  Loads of LEGOs, creations and build-stations.  The kids could have spent the whole day here!

Proof

I found the proof...lest anyone thinks my memory is failing.

Fact check

Just to get it out of the way before the barage of vacation pictures and memories -

1.  Yes, the tallest redhead did wear his "muscle" shirt to Disney - AND he broke out the head band halfway through the day (no pics to verify but it is etched in my brain).  To his defense it was 95 degrees...that's all I have.

2.  Yes, my children wore their KINSEY FARMS hats with the tractors on them most of the day.  No, we don't live on a farm but Papa and Grandma do.  Yes, I'm sure we were mistaken for country folks come to the big city.

3.  I took lots of pictures - about 500 - but the children wanted me to take a gazillion billion more than I took.

4.  Yes, I hauled around a backpack full of snacks, lunch, Dollar Store glow sticks for the parade at night, lollipops for the shows and flavored powder for the water bottles to make the water fountain water "de-li-cious"

5.  Little punkin didn't make the trip - and though we missed her - we were super glad she was enjoying farm fun with Grandma and Papa while we avoided having to park a stroller or listen to a tired punkin.

6.  This was the first visit to Disney World by everyone but me.  I loved seeing them all - tall and short - enjoy.

Magic Kingdom

We saw it all - It's a Small World, Peter Pan, Pirates of the Caribbean and all the rides, explored Tom Sawyer's Island and climbed the Swiss Family Robinson treehouse. We watched the electric light parade, fireworks and a street parade and rode Splash Mountain. Lucy met princesses and Samuel saw Mickey...great day in the Florida heat...fun times with family!

One of the kiddos favorite places at Magic Kingdom was the Swiss Family Robinson Treehouse - they LOVED it.  We've read the book and seen the old movie quite a few times and they enjoyed seeing the treehouse come to life.

We rode rides...

Exploring Tom Sawyer's island was another big hit

 

Met Tinker Bell and some princesses

And ate our picnic lunches and yummy snacks...


....

Fall Break

Guess where we went for Fall Break....it was "awesomeness" as Samuel says.  We had a great time as a family...more pics soon.

Time Flies

Friday I sat in my living room floor and played with the Little People Thanksgiving set with Lydia.  The windows were open and the crisp autumn air flowed in - there are no screens on our windows but I just can't live shut in - I have to let in the changing season - embrace and breath deep.  I mean, I would like to live in a controlled environment without risk of the little one throwing her toys out the window, insulated from dirt and dust and blowing leaves but I just can't bring myself to shut it.  Let in the light, let in the breeze, let the outside craziness flow in...spiders and all...it's messy but so refreshing. 

 That third child - She's growing so quickly - too fast - I've said it with all of them - and as I often do I found myself wanting to pause time...Wanting to savor, to soak, to marinate in the time...to study each minute like a Van Gogh with it's toothpaste thick paint and rich colors. 

 I've often had that thought lately, just wanting to sit and drink a cup of coffee rather than chug the last cold swallow as I circle the parking deck to park before work - wanting to sit and think about where to put the board games so that we'll be able to play a quick game when time is running short - wanting to sit and smile at three redheads playing in the leaves and fading light singing some made up song and plotting hiding places for the new weapons fashioned out of sticks - wanting to reread the Word that brings life and savor the Truth that brings joy.  Wanting to pull hard on the reigns of time or add thickener to make it stick rather than run so quickly through my fingers...like Pooh Bear with his honey.

 There is laundry the size of Lookout Mountain upstairs, there are 10 gazillion billion boxes (as Lucy numbers things) in my garage, there are things to plan and organize and clean but I sit delighting in my one year old dance and talk to the those Little People in her own tongue. 

 And as I do a bird flies into the kitchen and lands on the cabinet and the fridge.  I sit and wonder at this fragile, wild creature so out of place in my kitchen...an unexpected visitor...a reminder that trying to be safe from all risk - can keep out an unexpected blessing.  I can't help but stare.  The third child can't either.  We sit, we watch.  Finally, I stand to open the door and let the wild blessing slip out.  And he does, quietly and without commotion.  I think about the Author and Sustainer of all life - the One who holds all things together even in this wild, fragile world...and I am grateful, joyful at this reminder of His presence.

 I know my children will one day come and go as quickly as that bird...it will do no good to try and control time, no good to wish it slowed  - but - by CHOOSING to be thankful for the moments I have (even the moments of piles of dirty dishes and laundry and aggravating screaming and angry words and laughter and wonder and joy) - allows me to savor them.  What happens in these walls matters, what I let in and what I nurture here matters so that one day when I open that door and out they go...they will be full and grown and wise in what truly matters in life.

 I'm grateful for that open window - for that refreshment - for that little bird.  I remember that I am cared for by One who is bigger than time...even as my time speeds by one tick-tock at a time.

Little helper

Somebody helped me make stew yesterday.

Public Service Announcement

This long break in blogging has been brought to you by the following....

 

1. Fall break and vacation!

2. Crashing computer

3. Overwhelmed Mama

and

4. New house paralysis (Paralyzed into doing nothing because of the boxes)

 

We will return to our regularly scheduled 'beautiful mess' of a life soon.

A beautiful Mess

A fond farewell

Yesterday my sweet Mema left this world. 

She fought long and hard with a fiesty spirit and warm love but in the end she was spent - I think she left this world the way she lived her life in it - fully with nothing left to give because she was always "spent up" for others.  Though its no surprise its hard to remember that her body was always meant to fade away one day - its the hard thing about these physical bodies - they wear out and hurt and fade but before that, and even in the process, they bless and love and serve.  My Mema used her life and body well - its easy to look at a body worn from 8 decades of life and see some bumps and bruises, see the weariness, see the weakness but I see something else -

I remember tender hands that always held a simple ring of gold, trimmed with orange blossoms and worn thin by 6 decades of wear.  One simple ring - a reminder of a simple promise "I do" that she swore over 60 years ago - words and promise that shaped the rest of her life and generations to come.  That ring of tenacous love that encircled two hearts and eventually a family.  Those hands baked cakes, hot glued, and sewed everything that would submit to her making - those hands typed (because everyone needs a useful skill) they corrected, they cleaned, they sent birthday cards, they held Rummy cards, they hugged and they held babies and somewhere tucked into her sleeve at her wrist was usually a soft Kleenex.

Her feet always willing to go and do.  From my perspective as a child I remember her feet - fresh in from work around lunch time with her high heels on, or walking through Cloth World with her Key West sandals, or walking the farm in her white Keds or barefoot dancing in the kitchen - she was always willing to go to whatever graduation or ceremony, whatever event to bless and just "be present" with the family she loved.  Her feet took her to Biloxi with her Love, to Puerto Rico to visit the youngest, to the homes of those she grew and birthed.

She had a mouth that spoke - sharp and witty, tender and sincere - and always whatever she meant to say exactly as she meant to say it.  It was framed by a smile that often was mischevious - a smile that was tender and yet full of spirit - a smile that often had a tongue behind it ready to stick out if needed.  Her lips held vaseline - loads of it that she wore as a balm - a balm that seems a secret source of comfort even for her great-granddaughter most nights.  Her words and voice still echo words of love and endearing moments - like her rendition of the Mississippi song she sang as we crossed the Mississippi river the summer I turned 8 and she took me to the World's Fair in New Orleans or of her ever so patiently reteaching her son-in-law to read and talk when his brain and body faded too early or when she talked to me years later on the phone and told me about the daily goings on of a house quieted by time but bursting with life lived well and sweet memories.

My Mema loved beautiful things but the most beautiful thing about her was not what she made - though creative, crafty or delicious but it was the impact on the hearts and minds of those she loved.  The beauty of a love of a man and woman determined to make it side by side through all of life - the beauty of observing the blossoming of a Christmas cactus or orchid and in the process how her tending and care caused the blossoming of her children and grandchildren.

I am a blessed woman to have had such a grandmother - my sweet Mema.

I baked a cake

Last night I baked a cake.  It was all I could do.  What else do you do when the Mema you love who taught you how to bake a cake is miles away fighting for life, sleeping fitfully on a hospital bed and you can't be there?  Oh how I wish I could be there.  It seemed the only thing to do even though I can't even find a pillow case for my pillows yet or cloths to wear to work the next day - baking a cake seemed more pressing - more important.  

My Mema taught me just how to take each cake layer out while still hot and spread cool whip on the layers and watch it melt, thinly ice the layers and then put it in the freezer...it "seals in the moisture just like Papa likes it"...  She taught me a lot more than cakes but alot of it was taught while baking a cake or waiting for one to bake.  We've all enjoyed those cakes, the celebrations surrounding them and the ordinary days that just needed a cake to make it better...and we love the hands that made them.

So I opened the windows and listened to the rain falling outside and baked a cake...It was all I could do.

Back door guests

I stepped out my back door the other day and stepped over the usual collection of treasures left by little hands.  Some sticks, a bird feather, some dirt.

If you come to my back door you'll not see any pineapples or a plaque welcoming you - but do expect to see wonder and mess and adventure scattered in the floor - just step over it and come on in - messes welcome here - trust me sometimes the floor inside doesn't look much better!

Another rainy day

I love the rain - don't you?

Rain Races - On your mark

Get set

Go!

She's walking away