WHY I SECRETLY DON'T LIKE THANKSGIVING

I'm not a fan of Thanksgiving.

Unfortunately, that feeling has started extending into Christmas, too.

Probably not for the reasons you might be thinking though...that I'm just grumpy, "Scroogie" and an all around bah-humbug-stick-in-the-mud.

I have wonderful memories of the holidays...Thanksgiving through Christmas...from when I was a child.  My mother turned our house into a Christmas wonderland.  There were family celebrations with both my dad's and my mom's sides of the family.  I have lots of aunts and uncles and cousins.  My maternal grandparent's house was always full to the brim.  There is a photograph that comes to mind of a grandpa and grandpa's living room at the farm packed full of cousins (babies up to young adults), the Christmas tree in the back and everyone waiting to exchange gifts.  If I close my eyes I can smell all the delicious food cooking in the tiny little kitchen.  No one minded the lack of space and if it was nice outside most of kids were playing in the barn, outside exploring or climbing trees. My dad's side of the family has always known how to throw a good party.  Always.  I was the youngest of all the cousins on dad's side so I didn't always fit in with all the "big kids" but it was still okay.

Good times.

Great memories.

When Scott and I got married things got a little more complicated.  Our early years of marriage were spent dividing and conquering.  Thanksgiving was the most difficult since it was only a "one day holiday".  We had dinner with one side of the family and dessert with the other side of the family.  Our first Thanksgiving together we started early out early in the morning driving 265 miles from place to place to place, ending up back home that night.  We didn't have kids so it worked.  Christmas was a little easier...Christmas Eve was with one side, Christmas Day with the other.

But then Parker came along and it went past complicated...but it still managed to work out.

It wasn't until ten years ago...Thankgiving 2003...that we finally said, "Enough!" and our whole perspective about the holidays...Thanksgiving through Christmas...changed.  Here's why:

Faith was born just five weeks and three days earlier and had been in the hospital that entire time.  She had already been under anesthesia several times for her retinal cancer, both eyes receiving multiple rounds of heavy laser treatments and she had received her first two rounds of chemotherapy.  After what seemed like five months instead of five weeks, we were finally able to bring our sweet baby girl home.  Parker, who was just shy of five at the time, was SO excited to finally have his baby sister home and to get to know her without the surroundings of the neonatal intensive care unit, doctors, nurses and machines.  I remember Scott saying many times, "I can't wait to have our whole family home and all under one roof."

Faith came home on November 25, 2003.

Thanksgiving was on November 27, 2003.

That year we made the decision...firmly...that we appreciated the Thanksgiving invitations, but we were bowing out.  We would be spending the day at home...JUST THE FOUR OF US, thank you very much!

We completely bucked tradition that day.  No turkey...because turkey is okay, but not necessarily our favorite.  No stuffing or mashed potatoes or gravy or cranberries or green bean casserole or all the other over-indulgent Thanksgiving menu items.

Instead we made our absolute favorite...pizza.  Homemade pizzas.

We stayed in lounging clothes all day.

And we got to know ourselves as a family.

Parker held his baby sister as often as he could.  He laid next to her on a blanket on the floor and played with her little fingers and toes and talked to her like any good big brother would.  He asked to be allowed to give her bottles.  In his words, he "took good care."

And Scott and I sat back and watched the miracle of our family finally beginning at home.

It was the most content and beautiful holiday we have ever had because every.single.second. of that day was full of "true" thanksgiving...hearts over-flowing for all the blessings God had given us.  In the midst of all the pain that cancer brings...there was absolute pure joy and thanks for all the things cancer hadn't taken away.



What it boils down to is that ten years ago we experienced a Thanksgiving like none-other.  One that set aside the post-card perfect world and welcomed in the "raw-this-isn't-what-we-expected-but-my-goodness-don't-we-have-much-to-be-thankful-for" kind of Thanksgiving.  We experienced a Thanksgiving that raised the bar...and hasn't been met since.

But every year Scott and I say..."Someday...  Someday we will escape for the five beautiful days of Thanksgiving...just the four of us all under one roof."

My hope is that roof is just steps away from a warm beach...but we'll work on logistics when "someday" actually arrives.

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple day.

peace
jeanine

PURPOSE

Happy Monday, everyone!

Yep...Monday.  Here's how mine started:

Pre-8 AM...Faith says she has a tummy ache and isn't feeling well.  She's home for the day.  Dropped Parker off at school.  Came home to discover that one four-legged one had puked in the living room.  Soon discovered that another four-legged one (most likely the same one that visited the living room) pooped upstairs.

yay

Got one snuggled in for the day.  Cleaned up the "presents" in the living room and upstairs.  Sorted dirty clothes and started a load of laundry.  Emptied the dishwasher.  Put breakfast dishes in the dish washer.  Called my mom and dad to let them know they would not be seeing me at the Veteran's Day program at the high school.

All by just shortly after 8 AM.

And to think I wonder some days what my purpose is.

Silly me.

But then I sat down to ready my daily devotional.  Here's what it said:

I honor my commitment to sacred service.

Jesus brought a message of supreme importance to the world.  He taught about the power of love and about God as our indwelling, loving father.  Even though delivering that message cost him hi s life, Jesus stood by his convictions.  His message still lives today in our hearts and minds.

In following the example of our Master Teacher, I desire to live a life of great purpose.  I commit to living a God-centered life, and I honor that commitment through sacred service.  I serve in joy, sharing my unique gifts and talents in ways that honor God, my family, and all people.  I am honored by loving God and blessed by keeping my sacred commitments.

Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also.  Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.  ~ John 12:26

Well...there you go.

Serve in joy...share my gifts and talents in ways that honor God, my family and all people.  I am honored by loving God...blessed by keeping my sacred commitments.

Purpose.

My purpose.  I like it.

It's not grand.

It's not fancy.

But I like it.

It brings me joy.

Not joy in the fact that my daughter isn't feeling well...as is obviously one of the dogs...but joy in the fact that God has blessed me with each one of them and that it's my privilege to serve them.  That my talents and gifts...and my love...can be used in ways that honor them, the rest of my family, my friends, strangers and God.

Now...if you'll excuse me...I need to swap out laundry and make sure my sweet girl gets some extra-special lovin'.

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple...and purpose-filled day.

peace
jeanine

TEN YEARS - PART 2

(You can get up-to-date with today's post by clicking here TEN YEARS)

TEN YEARS - PART 2

It was ten years ago this past Sunday, October 20, that this sweet little girl entered the world.

Faith Marie Johnson made her anticipated, but six-week early arrival.
She arrived at 3:19 PM and weighed 5 pounds, 6 ounces.

She was beautiful.

One of the first things I noticed about her was her delicate little features.  So dainty.  So very tiny.


Being in the hospital for a couple of weeks had given me much to much time to think about things.  One of the things that had me troubled was what if I didn't have enough love to go around?

As soon as our little girl arrived that fear of not having "enough" disappeared and I realized that God was overflowing my heart with an abundance of love...plenty to go around...with more for good measure!

Tears of joy flowed from my eyes.

Once we were able to we called home.  My parents were staying with Parker and they knew that no one...absolutely NO ONE...would know what sex the baby was until Parker found out first.  My mom answered and immediately handed the phone to Parker.

We told him he had a baby sister and her name was Faith Marie.

We could hear him say to my parents, "I have a sister!  I have a sister!"  My mom said he just kept walking around the house saying, "I have a sister!  I can't believe I have a sister!"

More joy and tears.

Soon they would be bringing Parker to the hospital...and again...no one...absolutely NO ONE...was allowed to meet Faith until Parker met her first.

It was getting late in the day so they got Parker dressed in his PJs knowing he would most likely fall asleep in the car on the way home.

When they arrived at the hospital, we were waiting for our little guy and after showering him with hugs and kisses, brought him to meet his new baby sister.

Here is there first meeting...Parker in his dinosaur PJs and Faith with ink still fresh on her teeny-tiny little feet:

Now lets jump ahead to ten years ago today...October 22, 2003.

Faith was two days old.

I was scheduled to go home later that day but because Faith was six-weeks premature we knew she would be in the hospital for approximately two more weeks.

It was bittersweet for me.  Wanting to get home after spending over two weeks in the hospital myself.  Wanting to get home to Parker who had been bounced around while I was gone.  But I wanted to stay with my baby, too.  I didn't want to go home without her.

I told myself that two weeks would go quickly and soon our family would all be under one roof.

The morning of October 22 I was anxious to get to the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) to be with Faith.  I couldn't wait to hold her, rock her, nurse her, change her, smell her...take in every little tiny little thing about her before heading home and not seeing her until the next day.

Nursing her was a challenge.  It wasn't the easiest task for me to accomplish in the first place (I made it two weeks with Parker until finally moving on to bottle feeding)...but I really wanted to make sure I gave it extra effort this time for our little early bird.

But preemies take a little longer to figure these things out.  I didn't help that there was usually a nurse standing over my shoulder offering suggestions, tips and "you can do it!" words of encouragement...all just making me the more nervous and anxious over the whole thing.  I wanted to be in a room, by myself, with my baby and feeding her.  But that just wasn't the case.

I remember being sent back to my room to "rest" for a while and to allow Faith time under the lights used for jaundiced babies.  I was slightly frustrated about the nursing and and very tired so I decided to close my eyes.  I thought nursing was the toughest thing on my list right then.  Little did I know that thought would soon be proven wrong...very, very wrong.  My eyes were barely closed when the nurse came to tell me that soon a doctor would be arriving to check Faith's eyes.

This was the plan from the very beginning.  Since Scott had bilateral retinoblastoma (cancer of the retinas) as a child (significant treatment, radiation and loss of an eye) and two other cancers to follow in his adult life, and Parker was diagnosed at four months with the same retinal cancer (treated within twenty minutes using laser treatment to destroy the tumors), Faith needed to be checked as well.

I honestly never even worried about the fact that bilateral retinoblastoma would be an issue again.  I mean, come on...no way would our children be two-for-two with this disease.  Right?

The nurse walked me down to the NICU and I waited for the doctor to arrive.  When he did he suggested I wait in the waiting room and the exam would be very quick.

So I sat down, grabbed a magazine and waited.

He was right.  It was only about fifteen minutes later when I saw him walking down the hall towards me.  A nurse was with him and the looks on their faces told me already what they would soon tell me out loud.

In a compassionate, soft and quiet voice, the doctor said, "Mrs. Johnson...I...I'm so sorry.  But your daughter has extensive tumors on both of her eyes.  She has bilateral retinoblastoma.  She has cancer."

The nurse was there for a reason.  To catch me as I fell to my knees, sobbing, "NO!  NO!  NO!  This is not happening again!  You have to be wrong!  You're WRONG!"

"No.  No, Mrs. Johnson.  I'm not wrong.  I'm so very sorry."

I sat on the floor and cried.

And the nurse sat next to me.

I'm not sure how long it was before I was able to collect myself enough to call Scott.  He was home with Parker and getting things ready for me to come home that evening.  My mom was going to be taking care of Parker that day.

When Scott answered the phone I just remember sobbing into the phone that he had to get to the hospital quickly.  That Faith had cancer.  Soon doctors would be meeting with us to come up with a plan for how and where Faith would be treated.  I begged him to get there as quickly as he could.

He barely said a word because I know his heart was breaking.

I hung up the phone and went immediately back to Faith in the NICU.  I just sat in the chair, holding her, rocking her, kissing her tiny little cheeks and fingers and toes, telling her how much I loved her...and crying.

The NICU became eerily quiet.  All the machines and people coming and going and the voices over the intercom were suddenly whispers.  The doctors and nurses approached me cautiously...did I need anything?...they were so sorry for our news...was there anything they could do?  They didn't know that I just wanted them to make it all better.

It seemed like hours before Scott arrived.  He came to Faith and me and we pulled the curtains closed around her crib and we stood there alone with our baby, holding her, telling her how much we loved her and crying.

It wasn't long before the doctors came to us to tell us that Faith would be transferred the next day to the NICU at Fairview Riverside Hospitals where specialists from the University of Minnesota would be waiting for her.  They would develop a treatment plan for her that would begin as soon as possible.

By this time it was getting to be early evening...and they told me to go home.

Go home.

How could I go home?  How could I leave NOW?  Why couldn't I stay?

Because there was nothing I could do that night.  Because the next several days would be filled with treatment plans and meetings and things that would be difficult to make sense of.  Because the next several days were going to be exhausting...and I needed rest.

Go home.

I don't remember leaving the hospital.  I don't remember the drive home.  I do remember walking into the house after being gone for nearly three weeks and my mom standing in the kitchen holding back tears.  My sister-in-law had come over and she was doing her best to cheerfully welcome me home.  Parker was so happy to have mommy home and wanted to know when he could see his sister.  When would she be home?  We weren't sure yet, buddy...but hopefully very soon.

I sat down on the floor to play with Parker and he crawled up into my lap and again...the tears started to flow.  Then they turned into sobs that wouldn't stop.

My baby had cancer and there wasn't a damn thing anyone could do about it.

The next morning (October 23) we left early for the hospital.  Faith was being transferred by ambulance right away that day so plans could begin for her treatment.  I rode in the ambulance with her and Scott followed behind.

By mid-morning she was settled in.  By the time they let us be with her she was hooked up to IVs and other machines...but the first thing I noticed was that in the midst of the chaos someone had taken the time to put a tiny pink bow in our beautiful little Faith's hair.

By the end of that day we had met many doctors.  The retinal specialist.  The oncologists.  NICU doctors and nurses.  They had contacted several hospitals around the country...St. Jude's, Baylor, John's-Hopkins, Mayo...to make sure their treatment plan was on the right track...and it was.  The plan was to treat the tumors with lasers and chemotherapy.  Yes...chemotherapy.  They had not given a child this new chemo before, hence the consults with other hospitals.  This was all to begin the next day (October 24)...day four of Faith's little life.  She would be put under anesthesia for a thorough eye exam and extensive laser treatment to the tumors.  She would then be taken to surgery for a central IV line to be inserted into her chest for the chemo and medications to run through.  She would also be kept under anesthesia while given an MRI of the eyes and brain.  The day would end with her first chemo treatment.

While meeting with the retinal specialist that afternoon, the outlook was bleak.  "No," was the answer to our question of whether-or-not our baby was going to die.  But she could lose one or both eyes.  Both eyes could possibly be saved, but she could be blind.  She might have some developmental setbacks.  Plan at some point in the near future to start learning braille.  The doctor told us it was actually a blessing that she arrived early because had she gone full-term it was very likely that both eyes would have HAD to been removed or that she WOULD have been completely blind.

Blessing.  It was now becoming very clear that this little girl was much stronger than her 5 pounds, 6 ounces.  We had no idea, however, how very strong she was going to prove herself to be!  We also didn't know that she was going to live up to her name, as Faith means, "believing in the things you cannot see."

At this time in our life we were Catholic.  We called our church.  The new associate priest was sent to the hospital.  Father Joseph.  It was a very large church and we had met him about a month before.  When seeing that I was pregnant I remember him kindly asking how I was feeling and if he could offer a blessing to the baby.  He did.

When Father Joseph arrived we went to a private waiting room and filled him in on what had been happening.  He listened.  He asked questions.  He asked how we were doing.  He let us express our feelings...and that's when I told him I was mad.

He asked, "Mad at who?"

"God," was my response.

Then he said something I was shocked to hear.  He said,

"Well...you know what, Jeanine?  After hearing all this...Scott's story...Parker's story...and now Faith's story...I'm a little mad at God, too."

Then he said,

"But you know what?  Just like you and Scott have a relationship and at times will get upset or angry with each other...having a relationship with God can be the same.  But who better to be able to take it and understand than God?"

We talked some more and then he left.  It was getting late and the next day was going to start early and end late.  Scott and I went back to Faith for a while before being told once again to go home and get some rest.

Go home.

It was going to be a while yet before "home" felt complete...

...and the story continues...

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple day.

peace.
jeanine

TEN YEARS

October 3, 2003.

Ten years ago today.

I was just shy of my 32nd week of pregnancy.  I was due December 1.

I felt great!

Tired...but great!

Just a month before, over Labor Day weekend, we had moved from St. Michael, Minnesota, to Delano, Minnesota, where I had been born and raised.  My family was there and Delano had great schools...something we wanted for our children.

Parker was four and started preschool just a few days after we moved in.  He was excited about our new home, starting school...and mostly excited about becoming a big brother.

Right after we moved into our new home, I got to work making it feel like home.  Parker's room got painted.  The bathroom that he...and eventually his new sibling...would be using got painted.  Scott and I went shopping for the nursery and brought home two sets of nursery decor...one pink...one blue.  The plan was that he (or most likely my mom) would wash and put the appropriate decor in place (crib, curtains, lamp, etc) before baby and I came home from the hospital.  Things were going smoothly.  We had a little over eight weeks before baby's due date and it seemed like forever away.

On the evening of October 2 we were all hanging out in our bedroom...which was commonplace.  Parker was alternating playing on the floor building a Lincoln Log house or snuggling up in bed watching TV.  Eventually Parker got tucked into his own bed and a little while later Scott and I turned in for the night.

Or so we thought.

It was at 4:00 AM the morning of October 3 when I woke up needing to use the bathroom...which wasn't uncommon at this stage of my pregnancy.  It didn't take long for me to realize, however, that my water broke.  As calmly as I could I called for Scott...who was sound asleep and snoring away in our bed.  When he woke he said, "Where are you?"  My response was a calm, cool and collected, "I'm in the bathroom.  Can you please come in here...but don't step on Parker's Lincoln Log house."

As Scott opened the bathroom door the conversation went something like this:

Scott:  "What's going on?"
Me:  "Well...I think my water just broke."
Scott:  "WHAT?"  And then very matter-of-factly he said, "Nope.  It's too early."
Me:  "Yeah...well...early or not...you need to get the phone and call my doctor's office."

After talking to the on-call doctor I was told I needed to come to the hospital.  My response was, "First thing in the morning?"  The doctor said, "Ahhhh...No!  NOW!"

Well okay, then.

Next call was to my parents who lived about two miles away.  It was now about 4:30 AM.  My dad answered the phone and the conversation went something like this:

Me:  "Hi, dad.  Sorry to call so early in the morning, but I think my water just broke."
Dad:  "WHAT?!?!?!  Here...talk to your mother!!!!!"

Then he inadvertently hung up on me.

Eventually mom and I connected and it felt like she arrived at our house to be with Parker before I even hung up the phone.  Mom had Parker.  He would be in good hands until Scott and I returned home from the hospital.

Once at the hospital we learned that my membranes ruptured and I was leaking amniotic fluid.  The plan was to NOT have a baby at this point in the pregnancy and to try to hold off delivery until 34 weeks, at which time it would be the safest time for the baby to arrive and I would be induced.

I was told I'd be on bed rest for the next two-plus weeks.

My comment went something like, "Well...how are we supposed to do THAT?"

That's when the doctor said, "Jeanine...you're in the hospital until you reach 34 weeks.  Then we induce."

When I asked why the hospital and not at home the doctor said, "Because you're a stay-at-home mom with a four-year old at home.  And...we know you.  You won't do well with bed rest at home.  We're working on getting you a room right now."

It was clear in the doctor's tone that there was no room for me to question the decision.

Final answer...two-plus weeks of hospital bed rest.

I have this vision of Scott and I being sort of frozen for the next few minutes.  We just sort of looked at each other not knowing how we were going to do this.  Scott had to go to work...not to mention he had just started back to school for his Master's Degree only weeks before.  Who was going to take care of Parker?  Not to mention how was he going to get to preschool two days a week and swimming in Maple Grove once a week?

"What?" and "How?" were the two main questions on our mind.

Before I knew it I was in the room I would call home for the next two plus weeks.

I could get up to take a quick shower or to use the bathroom.  The rest of the time I was in bed at no more than a 45 degree angle, preferably more laying on one side or the other rather than flat on my back.

yay.

My mom became Parker's biggest caretaker when Scott was gone.  Scott arranged to work from home as much as possible.  He made the decision to drop out of the Master's program.  It was divide and conquer with Parker, whether Scott, my mom, my dad, Scott's mom, sometimes my sister-in-law, taking him where he needed to be...but mostly Scott and my mom.

Every mid-afternoon my mom would bring Parker to the hospital.  Scott had brought toys for him that we just left in the room.  When Scott would arrive my mom would head home and our family time would be spent in my room.  Scott would always have something for him and Parker to eat...sometimes me, too, so I wouldn't have to have hospital food...and we would eat dinner together.  We'd watch TV, color, draw, read to Parker, play games, or just let Parker play with his toys.  Sort of just like the night before this all happened and we were hanging out together in our room.

Before Scott and Parker would head home for the night, Parker would push the button for the nurse and when she responded he would say, "Can we hear my baby hearting now?"  The baby's heartbeat needed to be monitored twice a day and we would save one of those times for when Parker was there.  The nurse would always come in the room smiling at Parker's request while hooking up the monitor.  Parker would crawl into the bed with me and snuggle up close.  The baby moved a LOT so he thought getting kicked by his little brother or sister was silly.  He would touch my tummy, comment about the "hearting" and giggle when I told him that I could feel the baby having hiccups.

After a while it was time for our little guy to get home to bed so we would get him changed into his jammies and he and I said our "good nights" before he left.  I slathered him with kisses upon kisses and told him how much I loved him and that I would see him again the next day.  He would pack up his little bags, take daddy's hand or reach for Scott to carry him, and my two boys would head home to bed.

And then I would start to cry because I missed my little boy so very much...and because I loved this little baby who needed mommy to just "be still" for a while so he/she could make an early, but healthy, entrance into this world.

For the next couple of weeks I followed the rules set before me counting the days until October 20 when I would finally get to meet this new little one who was already showing me that he/she was stronger and more determined than one would expect a little baby to be.  And even stronger and more determined than I would have ever imagined once he/she did arrived...

...but that's a story for 17 days from days from now...

...and 19 days from now...

So until then...

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple day.

peace.
jeanine

What in the WORLD is that SMELL?

In an attempt to utilize space efficiently in our home, our laundry room serves multiple purposes...it's where the kennels are for our three dogs and it has also become my "office."  My husband works mainly from home so we have designated our main floor office as his space.

This morning while sitting in my "office" I couldn't help but wonder...

"What in the WORLD is that SMELL?"

Even with the window opened it stunk.

Then I started my laundry tasks and while sorting clothes I came across this lovely and filthy little gift from my son...his football pants (photo included for your viewing pleasure).

There isn't practice today and he remembered my request that he bring home his stuff to be washed.  The day they got their pants...many weeks ago...he brought them home with instructions that they needed to be cleaned.  Other than at games, that was the last I saw of these pants...until today.

I cringed when I saw them and was tempted to get tongs to pick them up.  But I've been puked on, pee'd on and pooped on more times than I care to count in my years as a mom so I certainly wasn't going to let a pair of sweaty, stinky, filthy pants intimidate me!  I braved it and picked them up...bare handed and determined!

The pads were still in them so I pulled those out as they are not to be laundered.

Woooooo...another wave of fresh stink wafted into the air!

Also included for washing was an item of "protective gear"...completely intact for mom to disassemble and clean.  The pads and "protective" item were removed and quickly taken to the deck for a thorough spraying using Lysol disinfecting spray.  They are currently airing out in the freshness of this beautiful, cool, fall day.  The pants, however, are still waiting to be cleaned in the pile of "whites" that is typically my last load of the day.

But as I sit here typing...I gotta tell you...it's really not all bad.  That stench of stinky, sweaty, filthy football pants brings more joy to my heart than you can imagine.  Joy over a healthy boy.  Joy over the fact that he loves playing football.  Joy over the fact that I love to watch him play.  Joy over the fact that he actually listened to my instructions and brought the pants home for me to wash...even if he did just throw them on the laundry room floor and left the disassembling to me.

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple...and odor-free day!

peace
jeanine

THIS HAPPENED THIS WEEK:

So here's what happened this week:


This little guy...

...started his freshman year of high school...

 

And this little girl...

...started 4th Grade...

Where did the time go?

They say, "Time flies when you're having fun!"

We must be having a LOT of fun here at our house because wasn't it only yesterday these two were babies in my arms?

They're growing up...and I'm so proud of both of them!

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple day!

peace

jeanine

THE BRIDGE BETWEEN TWO WORLDS

This is "bridge week."

The week that bridges the end of summer and the beginning of another school year.

In six days kids will be back at school.

We have a freshman this year.

High school.

HIGH SCHOOL!

We have a 4th grader this year.

Last year of elementary school.

LAST YEAR!

I know for many the week of "bridge crossing" is a busy one, trying to cram in as much of what's left of summer as possible before the routine of school kicks in again.

"Bridge crossing" at our house is quiet.

I have home-bodies, remember?

They cherish this time to just "be."

To play with friends...to hang out...to stay up late...to sleep in even later.

Don't get me wrong, though...it's not as though we aren't busy.

Parker has football practice every day and he had freshman orientation earlier this week.  Faith has piano lessons.  There's school open houses tonight along with another orientation for students and parents.  There are haircuts to be had (and let me tell you...there's LOTS of hair to be cut), last minute school shopping to get done and hard-to-find jean sizes to track down.

But we're not jam-packing our schedules.

We're crossing the bridge at a slow and steady pace...although too slow for Faith who REALLY wants school to start!

Next week I'll give them over to another year of school.  Part of me will breath a little sigh that we are back into a "routine" again.  But most of me will be watching and waiting for that bus to arrive at 3:15 in the afternoons when Faith is once again returned to me after a busy and learning-filled day.  Then I'll wait again for that 5:30 afternoon time when Parker is returned to me from his busy, learning-filled and football-playing day.

Soon our dinner conversations will change to hearing about school friends, new friends, teachers and exciting (and maybe not-so-exciting) things that happened throughout their days.  Evenings will be homework-filled, with Scott taking everything math and science related and me taking everything reading, writing and spelling related.

Ah, yes...the busyness of another school year is just on the other side of the bridge.

But for the next six days...we're just gonna chill.

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple day.

peace
jeanine

BAKING COOKIES

I don't even have to look at the calendar to know we're over half-way through August and school is less than two weeks away.  All I have to do is listen and I hear these words:

"I don't know what to dooooooooooooo."

Yep...end of summer boredom.

I think it happens to almost every kid at some point in their life.

So today after many attempts to play with friends who were either gone, too hot (it's a warm and humid day today) or grounded, Faith asked,

"Mom...do we have the ingredients to make cookies?"

Me:  "Yep.  Chocolate chip?"

Faith:  "Yep."

Me:  "Let's do it!"

So while I sat at the counter and gave instructions, Faith made the cookies.

At one point she was concentrating very hard on scooping the flour mixture out of one bowl into the butter/sugar/egg bowl spinning on the electric mixer.  She was so focused on making sure the flour ended up IN the bowl...and the expression on her face was a combination of concentration and sweetness.  She had some glitter on her cheeks, too, from an art project we had been working on earlier in the afternoon.

It was this expression and glittery little face that brought tears to my eyes.

(Yes...I get tears in my eyes watching my little girl make cookies.)

You see, I'm one that has a very difficult time letting other people do things that I typically do on my own.  If it's quicker to do it myself, then that's how I do it.  It's a nasty little habit that I'm working on breaking...but that's probably a different blog topic.  Anyway, I remember being nine years old and wanting to do things myself...so I sat back, watched and called out cooking-baking instruction from my stool on the other side of the kitchen counter.

And there was a mess.

Faith's depth-perception isn't quite like everyone else.

So flour and sugar ended up missing the measuring cups...so she scooped up some more and eventually the measuring cups were filled, leveled off and dumped into the bowl.

Pouring vanilla into a teaspoon is difficult, too, since it's hard to tell when the teaspoon is actually full to the brim.  So our cookies ended up with a little more vanilla than the recipe called for.

When it came time for the above mentioned scooping flour into the butter/sugar/egg bowl on the mixer that required so much concentration...to make sure it all got IN the bowl and not accidentally on the counter, that's when the cooking-making tears welled up in my eyes.

These tears were not ones of sadness over the spills and messes.  Instead they were tears of joy in watching my sweet girl learn and do the simple task of making cookies...which we were told as a baby she would probably not have the ability to do.

Eventually the chocolate chips got mixed in, we ate more raw cookie dough than we should have and some of the dough actually made it onto the pan and into the oven. 

The cookies are done now.

And you know what?

They. are. delicious!

Best chocolate chip cookies I've had in a long time.

I think it's because they were made by a glitter-faced little nine-year old who is way sweeter than the sugar that got spilled on the counter :)

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple day.

peace.
jeanine

SUMMER 2013

I just realized I haven't written on this site for several months.

Funny how summer arrives and we take a break from what goes on during the other three seasons of the year.

Summer 2013 has been great.

Not too busy...not too dull.

"Manageable choas" is what I like to call it.

June and August found us at the local pool for swimming lessons for Faith.  She loves to swim.  She's a good swimmer (like her daddy).  She glides beautifully and gracefully through the water...although sometimes she belly-flops her dives, but even those have improved significantly.

June also found Parker on a week-long mission trip to Green Bay, Wisconsin, with our church youth group.  As always he.had.a.blast!  He came missing his little sister more than me and Scott and exhausted but fulfilled from being the hands and feet of Jesus.

July was pretty much the busiest month for us.  We have friends that stay with us every 4th of July.  We look forward to this holiday almost more than Christmas and Easter.  Our two families have a great time together and the our kids think of their kids more like cousins.  We went to a Minnesota Twins game on July 3 that included beautiful fireworks after the game was over.  We enjoyed our house filled with four adults, three teenagers, a tweenie-bopper and four dogs ranging in size from 60+ pounds down to 5 pounds.  We enjoyed another Twins game later in the month with family.  Our Saturdays consisted of "Adventures" to wherever we decided to go that day...movies, waterfalls, requested favorite restaurants, mini-golf, school supply shopping...pretty much did whatever our little old hearts desired.

Faith found out her 4th grade teacher today.  She has had her fingers crossed for a particular teacher since the first day of summer and today she found out she got this teacher!  She is so excited!  Parker had the same teacher for 4th grade so I know we're in for a great year!  After finishing up classroom driver's ed the last week in July and first week of August, Parker has now moved on to football practice.  He's a freshman this year and the two-a-day practices that started last week have taken a little getting used to...but he loves it!  He comes home sweaty and stinky and tired and always with a funny story to share and a smile on his face.  Freshman orientation is next week as well as school open houses.

It's hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that it's mid-August and school starts in two weeks.  TWO!  In the past week I've talked to moms who are counting the days and minutes until their kids are back in school.  I am not one of those moms.  I've talked to more moms, however, who say they're not ready for summer to end yet and for their kids to be gone all day.  I am one of those moms.

Soon my mornings will be filled with packing lunches, making sure backpacks are filled with completed homework, feeding sleepy children breakfast and driving them off to school for the day.  Evenings will consist of football practices and games, piano lessons, homework, and back-to-school routine.

All good stuff.

But for now...we'll do our best to make the most of the remaining summer...playing with friends, children sleeping in late when they can and hangin' on the porch with a glass of wine (me...not the kids).

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple day.

peace.
jeanine

BEAUTIFUL THINGS

So there's this song..."Beautiful Things"...that's been stuck in my head.

 

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things
Out of the dust.

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things
Out of us.

The words touch my heart.

My soul.

You see...this song makes me think of my husband and my children.

The last few weeks have been a wrap up of school and activities and welcoming in the excitement and new adventures of summer break.  Our son (14) finished up 8th grade.  We joined in his excitement over another season of football last fall and his first year of Track and Field this spring.  We listened proudly as he played saxophone in Jazz Band and Concert Band throughout the year.  We rejoiced in a final grade from a particular class that was challenging him.  We prepare now for him to continue saxophone in Summer Jazz Band.  In less than a week he will leave on his third summer mission trip with our church and be farther away than this mamma likes him to be...but he'll have a blast and experience he joy and rewards of being the hands and feet of Jesus.

Our daughter (9) just finished up 3rd grade.  She blossomed this year.  She is learning to play piano and listening to her lessons and practice makes us smile...from whatever room in the house we're in.  Thanks to her wonderful music teacher at school, she even had enough courage to play a couple songs on the piano in music class.  She pleaded for another puppy...and won...and she has taken on the task of training that puppy, as well.  This summer she will take more swimming lessons.  She will continue piano and working with the puppy.  She will play outside with friends and connect back up with friends from school.

These are not the children we thought they would be.  It was April 1999 that Parker was diagnosed, at four months of age, with retinal cancer.  It was October 2003 that Faith was diagnosed, at two days old (and being six weeks premature), with retinal cancer.  Parker's eyes, although treated quickly, left him with the side-affects of severe anxiety.  Faith's eyes were treated with lasers, chemotherapy and radiation and her side-affects were many...including hemorrhages, blindness in her left eye and less-than-perfect vision in her right eye.

With Parker I recall a psychologist telling us that we had a long road ahead of us.  Parker's emotional issues and anxiety would require years of treatment and it was going to be a far-from-easy roller coaster of a ride.  I told that psychologist he was wrong.  In fact, I believe I promised him he was wrong.

With Faith we sat in small room shortly after she was diagnosed and the doctor told us to prepare for not only physical handicaps but developmental handicaps, as well.  We should consider learning braille.  Raising Faith was going to be a challenge.  This time I didn't say it out loud, but I believed this doctor to be wrong, too.

Today, Parker is one of the most laid back kids you might ever meet.  He's witty, he's got a grin that melts this mamma's heart...and he knows how and when to use it!  He's makes the B honor roll every quarter...even if sometimes he has to run fast from third and slide into to home plate to get there!  He has a big, happy heart...as well as big, floppy hair that he says has become his "signature" look.  He has humor like his dad...not sure if this is good or not...and he gives his mamma big 'ol hugs.  His little sister can pester the dickens out of him...but don't mess with her or you deal with big brother.  His emotional issues and anxiety shows up periodically like they do time-to-time for most of us...but all-in-all, it's a thing of the past.  It's something that no longer has a hold on him...and that's a beautiful thing.

Faith can be summed up in a four words:  pink, shoes, sparkle and JOY!  No...she doesn't have vision in the left eye and her right eye is hanging in there...but it hasn't stopped her from much.  There are certain things she can't do for understandable reasons of safety, but what she can do, she does well.  She took 1st place in high jump for the 3rd grade girls for track and field day.  Although her report card doesn't include the typical letter grades yet, she gets all S (satisfactory), S+ and E (excellent) grades.  With the help of her teacher for the blind she is learning to properly and safely navigate through things the rest of us take for granted.  Faith is funny and sweet and can sometimes really work things in her favor...especially with her daddy.  She likes snuggles and animals and she is beautiful inside and out.  She might have a physical setback, but there is nothing developmentally handicapped about her...and that's a beautiful thing.

My husband has gone through more physical challenges in life than any person I know.  His story is one he tells well...so I won't do it injustice here.  He may be limited in some ways by physical handicaps, but he is unlimited in determination...and that's a beautiful thing.

Beautiful things out of dust.
Beautiful things out of us.

Yep...

God makes beautiful things.

See....

...aren't they beautiful?

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple...and beautiful day.
jeanine

LETTING GO

Sometimes there are things in life that we need to let go.

Maybe it's something that has a tight grip on us.

Maybe it's something that we have a tight grip on.  Something that has been part of us...our desires, our hopes, our dreams...something that makes us who we are...and we don't want to let it go.  Even if clinging to it is risky to others and to ourselves.

Eventually letting it go would happen on it's own, but we cling to it for as long as we possibly can.

Sort of like a fraying rope...

There are only a few strands left holding it all together.

If you wait, the rope will eventually break on it's own.

But sometimes you need to cut those few remaining strands earlier than you want.  You need to be ready to "let go" of whatever it is...thoughts, ideas, dreams, one more chance...

This week I will be letting go of something that I should have let go of almost ten years ago.

But it's time.

I am not one to ask for prayers for myself.  My prayer requests are for my husband, my children and our family...for other family members and friends.  Most of the time if there is something I need to take to God, I take it to God myself and try not to burden others with requests to pray specifically for me.

But this time, I'm going to ask.

I'm asking for prayers of comfort, of closure, of peace.


Prayers of strength to realize that letting go will not make me "less" and that my heart will only open wider to enable it to hold "more."

The blessings I have received in my life have been more than I could have possibly dreamed of.  These blessings will only multiply in years to come.  One more, added to one more, added to one more...and so on, and so on, and so on.

Those blessings will not disappear when I "let go and let God."

I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Marvelous are Your works,
And that my soul knows very well. 
Psalms 139:14

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple day.

peace.
Jeanine

LITTLE JOHN AT TARGET FIELD

Last night I had the strangest dream.

I was at Target Field for a Minnesota Twins baseball game and I was beyond excited.  Sitting just behind home plate was the cutest little boy...maybe about nine years old...and I couldn't wait to see him.  When he saw me, he ran up to me and said, "Jeanine...I was sitting here by the railing with my feet dangling over the edge and then I jumped down onto the field to move just over here...but then they told me I had to leave because I jumped on the field.  For some reason, though, they changed their minds and said I could be the Bat Boy at the next game!"

His eyes were lit up with excitement.  This little boy always seemed to be full of innocent mischief and one couldn't help but love him even more because of it.

Then he looked behind him and smiled at his dad who was sitting a couple rows up in the stands.
His dad waved at him and smiled back.

The little boy in my dream was my cousin, John.

John was killed in a motorcycle accident in September 2012.  He was 46.

Just a few weeks before John was killed, his dad passed away, too.

I loved John a lot.
I will miss him always.

I hope he and his dad enjoyed the game.


Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple day.

peace.
jeanine

SO HOW'S YOUR SPRING BREAK?

"So...how's your spring break going?"

This was a question I was asked last night.

I hesitated with my answer because I wasn't really sure what to say.

My first thought was to answer, "Boring."  But that's just really negative and makes the conversation awkward from that point on.

Instead I said something like, "Ahhhh...it's...goooood."

The person who asked me this question sort of looked at me like, "Well it doesn't SOUND good."

But then I said, "You know...it's times like these that I'm happy we have children who are content to be home-bodies.  Although, if we all had our choice, we'd be in San Diego."

Unfortunately, trips to San Diego just aren't in the budget for spring break let alone all the other times we desire to go there.  "Some day," seems to be the answer to this topic of conversation.

But back to being at home.

I started thinking about this a little more last night.

Of the four of us in our family, I'm the one who wants to be "going" and "doing" stuff.  Don't get me wrong...I love home...but I like to escape it once in a while.  When I am home I tend to see things that constantly need to get accomplished:  laundry, dishes, cleaning, laundry, picking up dog poop, vacuuming, laundry, feeding people, more dishes, and yes...more laundry.  Venturing out for entertainment is something I thoroughly enjoy and desire to do on a regular basis.  I would be considered the "adventurous" one in the family saying things like, "Hey!  Wanna go do this....?" or "Wouldn't THIS....be fun to do today?"  I desire to venture out from the place I spend the majority of my day doing the majority of my work.  When the weekend comes I can guarantee you Scott won't say, "You know what I would LOVE to do this weekend?  Go hang out as a family in my cubicle where I spend the majority of my time during the week!  Wouldn't THAT be fun?"  Or you certainly won't hear my kids say, "Can we go back to school after dinner and just hang out there and then do the same this weekend?"  No...these are the places they want to escape from...not go back to during their down-time.  It's a little the same for me.

Their response to my question of "doing stuff" is usually met with something like, "Eh..." or "Um...not really.  Sorry, mom!"

But I get it.  Really...I do.

For my family, home is where they long to be after a long day at work or school.  It's where they desire to just hang out when they have a break.  Unlike me, they spend significantly less time at home and when they have the opportunity to be here, this is where they want to stay.  They are content here.  They don't care about the to-do list stated above.  "Home Sweet Home" is their place of refuge from the rest of life.  It's their place to relax and unwind and simply "be."

So back to the question, "How's your spring break going?"

I guess my answer is that those in our home who are ON spring break are enjoying it.  For Scott and me, it's just a regular week with children being at home.  It's fine...but certainly nothing exciting.  And I guess that's okay.  How horrible would it be to have children who expected grandness every time they have a break from school?  I am beyond thankful that this is not the case for us.

I do secretly hope, however, that before Parker graduates from high school...and then again before Faith graduates...we can spend the week of spring break some place a little more "spring-breakish."

But for now...we're gonna wrap up the week by spending some time outside today (because it was a whopping 40 degrees yesterday and today is looking pretty good so far, too!), meeting Parker's youth director, along with another youth and her family, for dinner tonight and then maybe tomorrow we'll go bowling.  But we're not doing anything before we pick up dog poop from the back yard.

:)

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple day!


peace.
jeanine

IF THERE WAS EVER ANY DOUBT...

I have never had any doubts about being a stay-at-home mom.

I love being mom to my kids.

Sometimes, though, I wonder if they care about having me home as much as I care about being home with them.

Every time I wonder they inadvertently prove to me that they do care.

Take for instance the last two weeks.

I've been gone more-so than usual.

Scott and I have both had meetings at the same time during the evening.  Parker is now old enough to take care of his sister.  But they won't go to bed before we get home.  And if we're gone later than expected, neither one of them like it.

The past couple of weeks I've had a small job tending a parade of homes model for our Realtor friend.  Tonight I got home and aside from the three dogs nearly knocking me over when I came in from the garage, the first one to greet me was not our nine-year old little girl...no...it was our fourteen-year old son.  I hardly set foot in the kitchen and there he was coming at me with his big signature "grin," arms stretched out wide and when he got to me he gave me one of his big ol' bear hugs!  "HI, MOM!!", he said, "How was your day?"  I barely answered with, "It was good," before he jumped into telling me about his day at school.

If you haven't figured it out yet...

I LOVE BEING A MOM!


Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple day!

peace.
jeanine

ONE YEAR AND LOTS OF CHANGES

One year ago today my husband, Scott, woke up with what he had originally thought was a migraine headache but quickly discovered it wasn't going away.  His vision was significantly distorted in his right eye...his only eye, as his left eye is artificial.  We called his eye doctor and got in that morning.

As I drove our children to school that morning they asked, "Mom...what's going on?  Is dad going to be okay?"  As confidently as I could I told them that the doctors would figure out what's going on and not to worry.  All would be well.

Little did I know I was telling an untruth.

I got home and Scott and I left for the doctor.  Once there we quickly felt things spin quickly out of control.  Scott's doctor did not give a diagnosis but wanted him to see a specialist that afternoon.  We had to be across town to the specialist's office by 2 PM.  Scott's doctor recommended he not eat lunch...just in case a procedure was necessary.  We could feel our bodies tense.

Once at the specialist's it didn't take long for him to make a diagnosis.  Scott's retina was about 2/3 detached.  He needed surgery...not the next day, but that day.  Waiting a day could have risked almost complete detachment of the retina.  He was scheduled for surgery at 6 PM that evening.  He needed to be to the hospital by 4 PM.

My husband is one to keep his cool in these situations.  After four cancers himself and two children who each had cancer diagnosis as babies...he has learned to be stronger than necessary...mostly because he wants to stay strong to ease the nerves of everyone else around him.  Losing his vision, though, is something he has always feared and this diagnosis made that fear all too real.

He was scared.  So was I.

The specialist told Scott that there were no guarantees.  Even after surgery his vision could end up being compromised.  The fear of blindness was something Scott and I talked to each other about.  What would we do if this happened?  We decided to leave it in God's hands and cross each bridge as we got to them.  Right now, surgery was the bridge to cross.  Healing would be the next one.  One day at a time...letting God lead.

As we waited at the hospital, I made phone calls.  Scott's mom was already with us so she called his dad.  I called my parents.  They would be at the house when the kids got off the bus.  I called our pastor.  He asked me if he could come to the hospital.  I said, "Yes, please."  Scott and I wanted our kids.  We needed them there.  Our underlying fear was what if the day prior to this one had been the last day Scott would have even seen our children clearly...without cloudy, distorted vision?  He not only wanted Parker and Faith there so he could hug them and kiss them before surgery, but he wanted to SEE them before surgery.  He wanted to see everything about them.  So I called my brother and asked him if he would be willing to drop everything and pick up the kids at our house to bring them to the hospital.  I didn't want my 80+ year old parents to have to navigate city driving to get the kids to us.  My brother said he'd get them there as quickly as he could.

By the time Scott was prepped for surgery he was surrounded with love.  I was there.  His parent's were there.  Pastor Steve was there.  We waited for what seemed like hours...even though it wasn't...and then the kids were there with my brother and our oldest niece (18), who wanted to see Uncle Scott, too.  We talked, we did a horrible job of pretending not to be nervous.  The kids were so worried...you could see it on their little faces.  They stood as close as they could to daddy's bed.

I could see the fear in my husband.

There were times I felt like I wasn't going to be able to breathe.

Pastor Steve prayed with us.

And they took Scott away to surgery.

Steve had to leave shortly after they took Scott.  I excused myself from the others and walked out into the hallway with him...one because I wanted to thank him for coming and two because the room we were in felt like it was running out of oxygen.  As Steve and I stepped into the hallway I could feel myself take a deep breath.  When I get nervous I tend to hold my breath...and that's exactly what I had been doing.  I remember looking at Steve, voice trembling and saying, "I...am...so...scared."  He said, "I know you are...and it's understandable."  We talked a little more and he gave me phone numbers to reach him at outside of church.  I thanked him for coming and went back to everyone else.

Now it was time to wait for the surgery to be done.

My brother and niece took the kids back home where my parent's were waiting for them.  Scott's parents and I went to the waiting room.  Where I sat...and then paced...and then sat some more.

It felt like forever but the doctor eventually came to tell us the surgery was complete and it had gone well.  Scott could go home that night.  He would need to spend the next ten days completely face down.  His face would need to stay parallel with the floor.  We had already made calls to rent the proper equipment that would keep him "comfortable" during all of this so it was time to get him home and settled him in for healing.  The doctor would also need to see him every day for those next ten days, as well.

Once home we realized the equipment we rented wasn't going to be very helpful.  The next day we figured out how to make this work...which ended up being the futon mattress directly on the floor with neck pillows to rest his face in and an ice pack tied to his back to relieve back pain.

Here's what he looked like during recovery:

It was a long and uncomfortable ten days.  And Scott never complained...not once.

When I asked what I could do for him he would just say he was fine.  He wanted to listen to something.  I'd ask him, "Books?  Music?  What would you like to listen to?"  He wanted me to put the television on the Christian music channel.

He had nothing but time...

...to listen...

...to think...

...to pray...

...to talk to God.

And that's exactly what he did.

After ten days the healing process changed to ten days of eight hours of this continued face-down, eight hours of laying on his left side, then eight hours upright.  He excitedly told me that his eight house upright on Sundays would be used for church.  He missed everyone.  Several had been by to see him...but he couldn't see them...and he wanted to.  It was where he wanted...and needed...to be.

By mid-summer he was well-healed.  He has restrictions for the rest of his life.  But he's already had life-long restrictions because of his vision so this was just a few more restrictions added to the mix.  He was back to being able to drive.  Things were back to normal.

Sort of.

"Normal" just didn't feel right any more.  All that listening, thinking, praying, talking with God had him in a different path.  He had already been headed toward this path for quite some time prior to his surgery...but now it just seemed that nothing short of real purpose was going to be acceptable.  He wanted to use his talents and skills and life experiences to serve God.

I suggested he call Pastor Steve and see if they could meet...just to talk.  And they did.  And boy did that ever go well!  They meet now on a regular basis...and Steve is far more than Scott's pastor...he is a friend, a mentor, a confidante.  Scott is involved in vision-planning at church and he has stepped into an interim children's director position.

Since one year ago today I have seen my husband change.  He has become more relaxed.  He is softer-hearted.  He enjoys things more.  He listens differently.  He hears differently.  He sees life differently...and not just because of his physical sight being affected...but because his "eyes have been opened." 

Go grab your Bible...or just click the link...and look up John 9:1-15.

As I think back on these past 365 days God's love has once again shined through even the darkest of storm clouds.  He has encouraged us and strengthened us in ways we could never have imagined.  He promised in Hebrews 13:5 that He will never leave us and He will never forsake us.  And he hasn't.

God certainly doesn't need to prove Himself to anyone...but every day He shows Himself to me...to my husband...to our family.

He "is."

I know this because I've seen it...I've witnessed it...I've felt it...I've experienced it...through all the ways He has shown His love and His healing...for my husband, my children, me, our family.

As I reflect on all that has happened since one year ago today, I thank God with all my heart for His healing, His steadfast-love, His patience, His honesty, His truth, His warmth and His continual presence in our life.

He...is peace.  Simply and fully.  

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple day.

peace.
jeanine

SLEEPING THROUGH THE STORM

I've had a lot on my mind lately.

Personal things...family things...things I need to plan and organize (mostly out of my comfort zone).  There is one thing in particular that has had a tight grip on me.

Yesterday in church our pastor's message was related to the storms in our lives.  The scripture reading the for morning was from Mark 4:35-41.  It reads as follows:

That day when evening came, he said to his disciples, “Let us go over to the other side.” Leaving the crowd behind, they took him along, just as he was, in the boat. There were also other boats with him. A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?”

He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Quiet! Be still!” Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.

He said to his disciples, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?”

They were terrified and asked each other, “Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!”

Our pastor spoke of how during the trials of life...the storms...we need to ask Jesus to get in the boat with us.  To have faith in Him.  To acknowledge Him.  To invite Him.

Last night I found myself sleeping on the couch.  Not because of a marital spat, or because my husband was snoring or because I couldn't fall asleep.  No...it's because we have a nine-month old puppy who sometimes still has accidents.  Now keep in mind puppies in our house do not sleep in kennels at night.  The sleep with humans in beds.  With three dogs in our house that means there's one dog in each bed.  One with our son, one with our daughter and one with us.  The puppy.  Who last night decided to have an accident on my side of the bed.  Which meant cleaning the mattress...leaving my side of the bed wet.  Yeah...I know...you're thinking kennel...but it just doesn't work that way here.

Anyway...long story short...Scott was able to keep his side of the bed but I took the couch.  Taking the couch always makes me secretly happy (almost giddy) because we have the...absolute...most...comfortable...couch...EVER!  If I knew what sleeping on a cloud felt like, I would say that's what sleeping on our couch feels like!  On the other hand, we also have a really old, uncomfortable and lumpy mattress and I can't tell you the last time I slept well on it or the last time I woke up in the morning not feeling like I had the body of an 80 year old.

So there I was on my comfy cloud couch...snuggled up with my pillows and blankie.  Tired.  Thinking I'd fall right to sleep.

I don't know about you...but this is the time that thoughts/concerns/event planning/ideas, etc. all decide to come to mind.  As soon as my head hits the pillow...BAM...there they are!  Even when I'm on my comfy cloud couch.

Praying at night as I'm falling asleep is not uncommon for me...and then sneaks in the nagging thoughts, etc., and soon I've got a mix of those nagging thoughts, prayer, event planning, prayer, concerns, prayer...I think you get the picture.  The thoughts keep sabotaging my prayers.  So last night I...PRAYED!  I talked and talked to Jesus and told Him how grateful I am for Him being in the boat with me.  That I should know better by now to doubt storms in life because He always...ALWAYS...calms them...and then shows me something more beautiful than I could have imagined on the other side of the storm clouds.  I just kept talking to Him and talking...and talking...and talk...ing...until I found myself wrapped peacefully in His warmth and love and I slept like I haven't slept in a long time.  The only time I woke up is when Scott let the puppy down because she prefers to sleep with (on) her "mamma."  Once she curled up with me I slept even better.  This morning I didn't even wake up before the alarm on my phone went off.

I think there could have literally been a huge thunder and lightening storm last night and I would have slept through it.

Jesus can create such calm in the midst of our stormy hearts...if we remember to ask Him in.

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple...and storm-free day!

peace.
jeanine

PERSPECTIVE

Last night was our weekly family night at church.  When the adults were done with our study time together, it was time for prayer requests.  I shared a request from within our family that right now is manageable but over time could quickly get out of hand.  It was a valid prayer request and was met with nothing but encouragement and support from those in attendance.

And then others shared prayer requests...

...for seriously ill children that are one way or another a part of their lives.

Children.

I know what it's like to have a seriously ill child.  I know what it's like to fear that child will die.  I know what it's like to fear for their future.

Suddenly, my prayer request didn't seem as significant.

If faced with the choice of having to choose my current prayer request or the prayer request we were faced with nine years ago, I would choose today's situation...hands down.

When children are seriously ill, well...it brings the rest of life into perspective.

At least it does for me.

"Gracious God, I pray for all the sick and ailing of this world...especially the children...who don't understand what's going on.  Let them all feel your healing hand upon them.  Let them feel your warmth surrounding them.  Let them know that you are as near as their breath.  Surround them with your love and peace.  In Jesus name I pray.  Amen."

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple day.

peace.
jeanine

THE COMPANY YOU KEEP

"Tell me what company you keep, and I'll tell you what you are."
~ Miguel de Cervantes

Yesterday I had coffee with a friend.

We meet at a our regular coffee shop and our visits can last for hours.

I look forward to these meetings.

Yesterday I left the coffee shop to head out on errands for the rest of my day before getting home in time for the kids to get off the bus and I was refreshed and energized.  I felt blessed by this friend...by her words, by her honesty, by the fact that we can both talk to each other about pretty much anything that's in our hearts.  We talk about our families, about being moms, about how sometimes we can lose ourselves in caring for others.  My friend does not judge my quirks.  I haven't really found any about her that would even make me think to judge her.  It is a genuine friendship.  It was initiated by God.  He is part of our lives and our conversations.

I hope you have a friend(s) like this.

I have several.

It's a good thing...friends like these...

...because...

"If you choose to awaken a passion for God, you will have to choose your friends wisely."
~ Lisa Bevere ~

And then when you meet them for coffee, you can go about the rest of your day feeling blessed and happy that God has placed such beautiful people in your life.

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple...and "coffee with a friend" kind of day.

peace.
jeanine

WELL...THAT'S AN ATTITUDE WE NEED TO CHANGE!

On our way out of church yesterday we were visiting with one of the Sunday School teachers and when we got in the car Faith said, "He's a funny man!  I get him next year when I'm in 4th grade."  My husband and I commented on how men have a different "style" when teaching Sunday school.  My comment was, "Sometimes men seem to be better than women at these kinds of things because they make it more fun and silly."

Note the key word here was "SOMETIMES."

Faith said, "Yeah...sometimes."

And then Parker said, "Yeah...and women are just better at the diaper changin' and stuff."  Then he gave me a quick glance out of the corner of his eye, smirked his big "Parker smirk" and waited...

...for mom...

...to respond...

And respond, I did!  "Whoa, whoa, WHOA, there mister!  You get that attitude out of your head right now or you're going to be one woman-less man when you grow up!  Better at changin' diapers and stuff!  You won't get far with that kind of thinking!"

Parker laughed because he knew he was going to get me going with that comment.  It was his plan when he said it.  Scott thought it was all hilarious...but knew better than to chime in to help Parker out.

Better at changin' diapers...

Best be changin' that attitude.

Oh how this boy of mine can make me laugh.  And if he keeps this up, he'll be MY boy for a long, long time!

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple day!

peace.
jeanine

GIMME A BEER!

It's Lent.

Although I am no longer Catholic, my side of the family is.

Lent for Catholics means no meat on Fridays.

Due to snowy, slushy, slippin' and slidin' weather today, I drove my mom and dad to an out-of-town medical procedure for my mom.  I have four-wheel drive...they don't.  And...dad's 87 and mom's 85.  I am not.  They didn't need to drive on a day like today.

On the way home we stopped for lunch.  Mom was looking for fish on the menu.  When the waitress came dad said, "I'll have a hamburger!"  Mom said quickly, "Oh...no-no!  It's Friday...you can't have meat."

The waitress was quick to offer them their fish special for the day.

Mom said, "I'll have that, with a glass of water, please."

Dad grunted a little at being told he couldn't have a hamburger and then said, "I'll just have that, too.  And gimme a glass of beer!"

I honestly started laughing out loud...and mom and the waitress both giggled.

Can't have meat...but by golly...give the man his beer!

Love those two.

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple day.  And go ahead...tip back a cold one while you're at it!

peace.
jeanine

NOW you tell me!

It was twenty-nine years ago and I was months away from graduating high school.

Yes...twenty-nine years ago.  I'll just do the math for you and tell you I'm 47.  Now that we've got that covered...let's move on.

Where was I?  Oh yes...months away from graduating high school.

The world was a blank slate before me.  There were so many things I could do with my life.  The possibilities were almost endless.

Except for one...small...thing.

I had NO IDEA what I wanted to do with my life!  No only that, but my confidence and self-esteem was less than stellar.  I was absolutely TERRIFIED and the fact that it was made very clear to me that no one wanted me to leave home...even for college...only made it worse.

Oh sure...I had thoughts of what I wanted to be when I "grew up."  The top two were veterinarian or photographer with photographer taking the lead.  However, it seemed when I spoke of these things rather than being encouraged, I was discouraged.  It was suggested that I wouldn't make a good veterinarian because I would want to "save" all the animals...but I would also be required to let some of them go...or even "help" them in their deaths.  I decided they were right...I didn't have what it took to be good vet.  I was told by a successful photographer that should I choose the path of photography that I better plan on just giving up my life to the job.  They told me it was a 24/7 job...plus a few more hours if I could manage to squeeze them in.  I did know that I wanted a husband and a family and these less than encouraging words certainly didn't make any of that seem possible.  I guess this person was right, too...I didn't have what it took to be a photographer, either.

I would learn many, many years later that these people...without intending to be...were "saboteurs."  Their words, actions and lack of support and encouragement were sabotaging my dreams...and I wasn't strong enough to resist them.

I did end up going to college for a year.  It was horrible.  I stunk at anything math and science related (which would have probably ruled out the whole veterinarian dream right there).  I enjoyed history and political science (that last one surprised me then and it still surprises me today).  My psychology class was fun.  Literature classes were okay...but writing classes were better.  By the end of the year, though, I was adamant about the fact that college wasn't for me.  I convinced myself that it was because I didn't know what I wanted to do.  Really it was the fact that I felt guilty being away and when I decided to pursue something that would keep me closer to home...although less exciting...it made people very happy.  I realize now that I never even allowed myself to be excited about the possibilities that were ahead of me.

The following year after my one and only year of college I decided to attend business school.  This was more like a job rather than school.  I attended classes daily...almost like high school...and went home every.single.Friday afternoon.  I had a job back home and I worked every Friday night, all day Saturday from noon to midnight and had Sundays off.  The last quarter of business school was during the summer.  I had to be out of my living quarters in May so I stayed home that summer, driving an hour to school every morning and an hour home every afternoon.  That summer I worked every.single.night of the week, noon to midnight on Saturdays and again, had Sundays off.  I told myself it was good.

By the time I was done with business school I had a degree in Travel Management.  I could have booked you for an awesome vacation at any tropical destination of your choice.  Except I couldn't seem to find a job.  Again...I was encouraged not to move away.  Stay home...it'll be cheaper and you can save money.  So I thought, "I'll commute...really far.  It'll be fine."  But I couldn't find a job that would not only help you book the vacation of your dreams...but maybe take me to some far-off destinations as well.  Soon I was applying for non-travel jobs and ended up with one that was far different than what I expected.  Administrative.  All future jobs followed this same path.  And they were all fine.  I was good at these jobs.  I know this because people told me I was good at them.  They requested me for projects.  Some even asked me to do projects for them outside of work.  Eventually I was asked to supervise those who were my peers.

It wasn't all horrible.  Really.  It was during this time that I started building confidence.  I started to break out of my shell...as well as break some rules.  (Actually, I started to break lots of "rules.")  I started to discover who I was and gained self-esteem and independence.  I met the man that would become my husband.  When we started our family, that's when I found the contentment I had been looking for...being a wife and a mom.  Me being home with our children is what both my husband and I desired for our family.

But deep down, I knew I desired something for myself, too.  I told myself that in time I would discover what that was.

A few years ago I was offered the opportunity of having a life coach.  It all sort of just fell into my lap and the bonus was that it was FREE for six months.  Sold!  My husband had a life coach once that was provided through work.  I saw so many changes in him during his time with his coach.  When he shared with me some of the conversations he had during their sessions I almost felt like a sponge, trying to soak up as much as I could from what my husband would share with me.  Now it was my chance to experience this and I was beyond excited!

My coach lived in Missouri so we would meet via phone.  I can't even tell you how much I looked forward to these calls every week.  Through our sessions she was able to help me uncover things about myself that I didn't even know existed.  She encouraged me to find "me" and seek out the things that made me happy.  She encouraged me in my vision of creating "peaceFULLYsimple" and although I don't fully understand yet where God wants me to take this concept, my coach was the one who inspired me to at least breathe some air into the dream and make it something real and alive in my life.  I don't have time to explain my concept of "peaceFULLYsimple" right now...but the dream I have of seeing it grow into something has become part of my daily life.  My coach is the one who made me aware of my past "saboteurs" and encouraged me to be aware of any future "saboteurs" I will meet along the rest of my journey.

My coach inspired me in ways I never imagined.

When the time came to end our meetings due to a promotion my coach received at the company she for worked full-time, one of her final questions to me was, "So where do you see yourself going now?"  She encouraged me to think on this and then send her my response.

The answer that was revealed to me was nothing I expected and nearly shook me to my core.

The answer came in a quiet voice...almost a whisper.  And it was very matter-of-fact.

The voice said, "Be a life coach."

I remember just sitting there...dumbfounded...thinking, "Where did THAT come from?"

I know exactly where it came from.

God.

It was God saying, "You know all those trials in life that you've experienced?  You know how even in the worst of them you came out stronger on the other side of it?  You know how even when it was really, really hard I encouraged you to trust me?  You know how your coach just sort of "fell into your lap" and helped you discover things about yourself that you never even imagined?  That was all me...helping you discover what I've seen all along.  Now help someone else find in themselves what I already see in them...just like someone did for you."

This certainly wasn't anything I expected to hear.  Being a life coach had never even crossed my mind until my coach asked me, "So where do you see yourself going now?"

So...have I done this?

No.

I am confronted with new "saboteurs."  Saboteurs like money.  We can't afford the training I need for this.  At least not today.  Saboteurs like training that would take time away from my family.  But my children are older now and able to help in providing their care rather than needing all care to be provided too them.  Saboteurs like, "buy my husband has dreams he wants to fulfill."  So do I.  My dreams are valid, too.  Today I am aware of saboteurs.  Twenty-nine years ago I was not.   

So as I sit here today, typing what's in my heart, I think back to 1984 and realize that if I had chosen my "life's path" way back then, my life today would be completely different.  I think of all that I would have missed, too...especially during the last 23 years of knowing "my man" and being his wife and the mother to our children.  I believe the "life" God placed before me is the path I belonged on.  It is the life that God desired for me.  It is the life he made me for.  He chose to educate my heart...because he knew that's what I really longed for.  Now...because I am ready...he has planted in me the desire to share what he has taught me with others.  Not because I'm a product of higher education...but because I am his continual student.

My life coach brought out so much in me that had been hidden and buried for more years that I can remember.  She uncovered in me things I didn't even know existed within myself.  However, in the grand scheme of life...God is my continual life coach...seeing me just as he designed me to be...and helping me to see it, too.

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple day.

peace.
jeanine