if these walls could talk

while pounding my 189th nail in the wall yesterday, i found myself humming amy grant's, "if these walls could speak."

i suppose when a woman begins to personify the walls of her home, it's officially {high} time to take a break.

but after two solid weeks of figuring out corners and closets and cupboards and paint colors ... let me tell you ... it could be a whole lot worse. 

if these walls could speak ... "if hallowed halls could talk these would have a tale to tell ... "

what these walls would tell you is that this woman is frantically trying to set up her home.

like, FRAN-TIC-LLY, people.

with the oldest girl heading off to college next month and the other four beginning school and sports and crazy schedules in exactly one month from last friday (OH.MY.GOSH) this woman is desperate to make sure we can locate lunch boxes, laundry hampers and every little last thing! 

a rush.

a race against time.

a reality tv show in the making.

confession: i've even found myself pretending (just a little bit, mind you, and at very late hours) that i was a designer in one of those HGTV home shows. 24 hours. 24 dollars. GOOOOOOOOO!

maybe not 100% socially acceptable to pretend like this, but i'm game for anything that helps hold me from the edges of homemaking insanity.

yesterday, as i was putting the finishing touches on emily's room, she said, "mom, you know you really missed your calling." i mean, seriously, how many rooms has my daughter watched me flip ... furnish ...  fuss-over and finish?

oh yes, if these walls could talk ...

but, here's the deal:  they can't. 

i know talking walls is a (kinda) romantic notion ... and i'm a (kinda) romantic woman ... 

but seriously, even beyond the incredibly creepy factor, talking walls would be (kinda) annoying. right?

and IF these walls COULD talk in these past couple of weeks i'm pretty certain i wouldn't want to hear the tale they had to tell.

no, i need no one -- not even talking walls -- to converse with me about our most recent case of crazy.

we bought this house from the nicest people -- empty-nesters who were ready to down-size. they were barely out the door when our super-sized family came rifling right through. a semi-truck followed and the serene, empty nest began to bulge ... the walls began to shake, the floors to quake and the roof, well i'm sure, it just shrugged its shoulders and sighed. 

here. we. go.

empty-nesters out. obscene-nesters in.

and as is the case with any home we have lived in, we cover it well. we fill all the rooms. we invade the corners. we seize the square footage. we occupy the space.
c o m p l e t e l y.

there is no unused air in our home (homes). there is nothing which escapes unruffled by my ruffly, riotous kind of crew.
n o t h i n g.

it's not a relocation, but an invasion.

and even though i'm pretty sure the walls don't talk, i wonder if my new neighbors might. there's a tiny piece of me which wonders what the neighbors are thinking as they peer out from behind their blinds.

in between spackling and sprucing, i'll be honest, i've been feeling sort of compelled to go and apologize to anyone within earshot.

because ... here. we. are.

and because ... we are THAT family. 

we are the cacophonous circus which showed up on this sleepy southern street with one cat, two dog-horses, three teens, four cars, five children, six bikes, seven people and eight thousand pounds of garbage each week.

did i mention my almost 17 year old son now drives a pickup truck. it's red. and  it's big. and it's everything nice, neat neighbor-people shake their heads and sigh over. 

and when he drives that big-red-thing up the driveway, these walls which don't really talk sure do shake. they do. and, i'll be honest, this mother kinda shakes, too. i wasn't all that sure about adding a truck to our automotive arsenal, but rick persuaded me it was a purely practical thing. "honey, think how easy it will be to haul things ... pine straw and mulch and costco stuff. honey, think about the FURNITURE you can fit in it." 

did someone say FURNITURE?

smart man.

man-ip-u-lat-or.

so, i now have a big red truck parked in my driveway. and ... (if you'll allow me to whine for one minute more) the shade of red clashes horrifically with my shutter color. the sacrifices we make as mothers ... 

just sayin ...

anyway, here we are. pounding on walls and doors and floors. arrived and arranging our new life in this new space. feeling a little bit like a tetris junkie as i fit old things into fresh facades. organizing cabinets and orchestrating projects. hanging pictures and clothing and curtains. hanging on to the brink of sanity while trying to set up and fix up and cover up. 

holding on, that is, with paint covered hands. i've been busy not only pounding nails in our walls, but also painting like a mad woman. i'm telling you, it's therapeutic for my kind of madness. we've knocked out the dining room, the laundry room, and emily's bedroom and bath.

"aloof gray" - sherwin williams

"palladian blue" - benjamin moore

also "aloof gray." we started with a color called "pensive sky," but it looked a little too um ... pensive periwinkle ...
and so we grabbed the leftover dining room paint and gave that a try! and it worked!
it looks gray in em's room and more blue in the dining room light. color is so very strange. 

emily tackled this old blue bookshelf her first week in the house.
changing it from her brother's navy blue to gray.

i assure you, the bulletin board won't remain empty for long!

painting and pounding ...
refining, recreating and repurposing ...

speaking of repurposing ... i have to share with you the story of the wine cellar. see, the previous owners did a bang up job creating a lovely wine room in the basement. like, i'm serious, four walls with floor to ceiling wine racks ... teak stained and climate controlled. it's like SO BEAU-TI-FUL. but even though this woman can appreciate a good bottle of wine (especially when she's pretending to star in her own HGTV show), i've got to tell you, i'll never fill an entire cellar with fine bottles. BUT ... i DO happen to have two furry beasts trying to acclimate from cool minnesota to the horrific-heat of georgia AND SO ... it just seemed too obvious a match.
wine bottles out and big dogs in.
cooper and minne now have their own refrigerated room to cool off in.  cheers!

oh, yes, if these walls could talk ...

they'd tell you a bunch of crazy loons have moved in on whitney valley walk (what a name, huh? just like a lot of southern children get multiple names -- so do southern streets). 

they'd tell you this family is loud and that they leave their bikes in the front yard and that a bunch of extra kids come and go. i'm sure the neighbors would like to know if we have five or fifteen kids living in this home.

they'd tell you the dog is often wet from the river and the children sometimes run wild.
they might tell you about how one morning they met the woman of the house when she - clad in strangely mismatching and rather raggedy pajamas - had to retrieve one of her big beastly dogs from their garage.

and if the walls were really being honest, they would tell you that sometimes the pictures hang crooked, the color is wrong, the furniture doesn't quite fit and the people aren't always patient or polite or even very kind.

because ... real life will be lived on whitney valley walk.

they might tell you the front door, even in the hot georgia heat, is often left wide open.
they might tell you there's sometimes some odd hooting and hollering, but hopefully even more laughter.
they might tell you there's plenty to watch and wonder about.
that there's some loose-screws ... some loud-living ...  and some life.

but, what i hope these walls would tell most of all is that in the middle of this lunacy, what there really is ... is some love.

if these walls could talk ... 

"If These Walls Could Speak"

~ amy grant

If these old walls

If these old walls could speak

Of things that they remembered well

Stories and faces dearly held

A couple in love

Livin' week to week

Rooms full of laughter

If these walls could speak

If these old halls

If hallowed halls could talk

These would have a tale to tell

Of sun goin' down and dinner bell

And children playing at hide and seek

From floor to rafter

If these halls could speak

They would tell you that I'm sorry

For bein' cold and blind and weak

They would tell you that it's only

That I have a stubborn streak

If these walls could speak

If these old fashioned window panes were eyes

I guess they would have seen it all

Each little tear and sigh and footfall

And every dream that we came to seek

Or followed after

If these walls could speak

They would tell you that I owe you

More than I could ever pay

Here's someone who really loves you

Don't ever go away

That's what these walls would say

They would tell you that I owe you

More than I could ever pay

Here's someone who really loves you

Don't ever go away

That's what these walls would say

That's what these walls would say

That's what these walls would say

one last thing, i'd like to give a quick shout out to my minnesota flowers for making the trek to georgia and surviving! i won't tell you my family didn't grumble about sharing vehicle space with the foliage ... but, grumbles or not, i am SO GLAD i insisted on fitting them in!

and while we're on the subject of flowers ... here's my deal of the week: i found these urn/planters at goodwill. five dollars, baby! gotta love the goodwill. they were a light shade of gray and looking a little rough around the edges, but spray paint works wonders and now i have two matching planters at my garage. (which also probably clash a little with the big red truck).

when company comes

i've [often] considered changing the title of my blog from even the sparrow to something along the lines of, you can't make this stuff up, folks!

though, as a child, and maybe even still as a story-telling adult, i am prone (just prone...only prone) to exaggeration...i, typically, do not embellish my anecdotes here in this blog.

but one might think i do.

last night's party-story, a perfect example.

i mentioned in my blog post sunday, that though i was away for the weekend, i should have been home readying the house for a party we were hosting tuesday night.  emily's high school volleyball teams (all 3) and their parents/families were coming to celebrate the end of the season.   if you haven't read about this team, check out amazing girls. anyway, approximately 85 people were on their way for dinner.  i wasn't cooking, only cleaning, and as i said above, "readying."

readying for me involves much more than mopping the floor and putting out extra hand towels in the bathroom.  readying for me yesterday, involved important things like hanging icicle lights from the front porch roof (thank you heidi larkin).  readying includes things like trimming more evergreen from the yard and placing bundles around the house.  it includes adding cranberries to candles and extra ornaments to the tree.  i'm not going to lie, i ADORE adding the special touches and little extras which i allow myself when company comes.  my husband calls it, "party mode."  when he sees me in my flurry of extra accent activity his comment is always, "oh boy, watch out kids, mom is in party mode." and yes, i am.  and yes, they should (watch out). 

good  fireplace...bad tree.

but here's the deal, though we've thrown a lot of parties, i am pretty sure we have never hosted anything in our house without some kind of story.  i almost expect it. remember the post, no place like home years ago about the christmas candlelight open house -- i'll link you to that little gem.  it was a doozy.  and last night i had a similar moment which might rival that embarrassing episode from 2010.

it began yesterday morning when i woke up to find that OF COURSE the christmas tree lights were ALL OUT.   my 6 am thought, "you've got to be kidding me!"  seriously! and if that wasn't enough, on my way upstairs to wake sleeping children for school, i noticed half -- yes, HALF -- the lights on the bannister garland were also out.   have you ever attempted to replace lights on a real live, already hung garland?  it's not pretty.

please appreciate the icicle lights!

okay, so after stopping at target and arming myself with multiple boxes of new lights i headed home to tackle my project.  i have to tell you though, while at target, i obviously over estimated myself, and picked up a box of icicle lights as well.  on the way to school that morning connor had been going on and on about how wonderful icicle lights would look hanging on the outside of our house.  keep in mind i have spent the last couple of weeks stringing lights and garland from post to post...corner to corner.  but i cannot help myself when an idea strikes.  and i cannot help myself when my 9 year old boy begins to talk about his christmas light vision. i had to agree with him -- they would look pretty good.  i probably should have thought about this earlier in the week, but on the off chance, on this day with close to 100 people coming to dinner, i found 10 extra minutes to drag out a ladder, hammer and some nails, i just might be able to swing it.  (that was my delusional thought process standing in the christmas aisle of target at 8:30 am yesterday morning - bella and i both in our pajamas -- clearly, i hadn't had enough coffee yet).

bella and i arrived home and proceeded to tackle the tree.  i was worried we'd have to undress the entire green monster -- all 12 feet of it.  garland, ribbon and precious ornaments -- that could, very well, take all day.  you know how these things go.  well, good news!  it turned out to be only an outlet issue.  you see, this behemoth tree is smack dab in the middle of our great room.  it looks cool there, and because there was this perfectly placed little outlet in the middle of the floor running an extension cord across the room wasn't necessary. well, it wasn't necessary when that outlet was working.  BUT, after it blew, i had to get all creative with several extension cords and the area rug.  ah, don't y'all just love the little intricacies and challenges of christmas lighting!

okay, well that was the start of my day.  let's fast forward to 15 minutes before the party began.  everything was ready.  everything in place. the house looked, i have to admit, pretty darn good.  smelled good.  felt good. i was in my element -- the queen [wanna] bee hostess with the mostess! (or something like that).

and then i decided to light the fires in the fireplaces.  (rick was on his way home from work, but had to pick up connor from basketball practice).  i want you to know, i am a friend to fire.  it doesn't scare me.  i light them all the time.  no big deal.  so i lit the first fire in the great room...lovely. picturesque. the perfect touch. i sighed in a moment of utter contentment.  i went on to light the second fire in the family room.  we had had that flue closed this week and i realized the fireplace hadn't been cleaned out in a while (we use our fireplaces every single day--minnesota living)....anyway, when i opened the flue a huge gust of cold air came rushing down and out.  i coughed and rubbed my eyes.  yuck.  but, the good news was, i was sure the flue was wide open.  remember, i am not a novice when it comes to starting fires. i know a thing or two about tricky fireplaces, we had them in our atlanta house as well.  i know the importance of getting the fire going fast while making sure to heat the chimney with newspaper held up high...i know the tricks.  but when i lit this fire and did what i know to do, it didn't work.  it just didn't work.  the gust of wind kept coming down except now i had a fire and hot ash and it all came billowing out at me and at the room.  i really cannot describe to you how crazy this was.  soot and old ash and new hot ash and tiny bits of burning newspaper swirling out of the chimney and all over this room -- this room filled with white couches and a mantle full of dry, crisp, real evergreen.  i began to panic as the firey ash settled and began to spark on the garland and fly all over the room.  it seems i always have at least 2 or 3 kids at my heels,  but of course, at this moment, there wasn't a soul to be found.  i began to scream for my older kids to come help.

"TYLER!  EMILY!" TYYY-LLEER! EM-AAAA-LEEEEE! HELP MEEEEEE!"

at that very moment the door bell rang.

imagine soot and ashes - everywhere!

i ran to the front door,  frantically flung it open and found the johnson family standing on my front porch with bright smiles under the newly hung icicle lights, arms full of food (they were the family catering the evening) and screamed, (yes, screamed) "THE FIREPLACE IS ON FIRE, BUT COME ON IN!"  and then i continued to run down the front hall screaming, "TYYYY-LLEER! EM-AAAA-LEEEEE! HELP MEEEE!!!"

the somewhat startled johnsons came in and my older kids came down and we got things under control.  tyler and i worked on the fire and it finally calmed down and started to behave like a good fire should with smoke and heat going UP the chimney and not OUT in my family room.  nothing actually did catch fire, but there was ash everywhere.  at this point, the door bell began to ring again.  guests were arriving.  emily grabbed a broom and dustpan.  i grabbed the vacuum.  and we began to clean up the mess.  about 20 seconds into the vacuuming POOF -- THE POWER WENT OUT.  yes, i had blown a fuse. i suppose one strand too many christmas lights in this old house.  it must have been the icicle lights.  yes, i'm sure it was the blankety-blank icicle lights!  i looked up in my darkened room the tree lights out, the garland lights out, about half the house was light-less.  

ding-dong.  the door bell continued to ring.

the bad fireplace!

you can imagine.

i won't publish my exact words here in this blog.  but they weren't exactly pretty.

as guests began to filter into my ash covered, half-darkened home, i, also slightly sooty, headed for the basement (really a creepy old cellar).  back upstairs for a flash light i ran, the creepy cellar was pitch black too.  i literally prayed all the way to the fuse box. i hadn't had to deal with it before and i sure as heck wasn't looking forward to addressing it right at this moment as a party was descending on my house.  i wanted to be upstairs stirring punch and lighting christmas candles and warmly welcoming my guests.  instead i felt (and looked) like i was in the middle of a war zone -- a holiday-hoop-a-la war zone!

let's just stop here for a moment and ask, why does this happen? why do these things happen right at the moment of guests arriving?  why did the christmas tree lights not work on THIS morning...the fireplace explode on THIS evening... why?  i am not sure.  i've done my very best to let God know i've learned the lesson of humility...am learning it...always learning it... i am not sure why this kind of stuff happens to me.  except that it sure as heck makes life more interesting and as my friend, jackie johnson kept saying last night, "i can't wait to read about this in your blog tomorrow!"  jackie was the one standing at the front door with all the food.

so, how does this ridiculous story end?

the cellar fuse box -- creepy!

i opened the old electrical box with great amounts of fear and trembling --  keep in mind our house is almost 100 years old.  i was not prepared for this.  i was not prepared to tackle an old electrical box in an even older house -- not with my door bell ringing up above.  yes, i was praying as i stood shaking before this frightening box of too many switches.

with the beam of flashlight i stood looking and praying and deciphering.  it was a triumphant moment -- like an angels we have heard on high kind of moment -- when the basement lights came back on.  i knew we were headed in the right direction.  i ran back upstairs and found my house, though still a little sooty, glowing again in the spirit of christmas lighting.  i put away the vacuum.  we swept and mopped up the remaining ashes.

ding-dong...the guests continued to pour into our entryway.

it was a wonderful evening.  it was.  i can’t tell you how much i enjoyed the time celebrating these awesome girls.  we had fellowship and fun.  it was a night of festivity.  most people had no idea of the chaos just moments before their arrival last night.  and isn’t that usually how it is?

most of us don’t know what’s happened just before we open the door and walk into someone's life.  i guess that’s one of the lessons from last night’s entertaining armageddon.  it's good to remember, we really don't know what messes and mishaps people are in the middle of when we come calling.  i don't know if i needed quite that level of excitement last night to arrive at this conclusion, but i refuse to let the mayhem pass without extracting some kind of something good.  at least a decent blogpost! (to humor my sweet friend, jackie johnson)!

this morning, while in the family room, i noticed there was still plenty of ash scattered around.  we never got it all up last night.  someone probably took a look at the sooty bookcase and wondered why i hadn't cleaned.  and that's okay.  i did my best...even got those icicle lights up on the roof...maybe i'll think twice before judging someone else's sooty bookcase.  but the bottom line is this party wasn't about what i had accomplished in this pretty house, this party was about some pretty awesome girls and their accomplishments this season.

so there you have it.  a wild, wild tale.  maybe a tad embellished, but no exaggeration. something to write about.  something to think about.  something to (someday...SOMEday) laugh about.

i'll make sure y'all know about the next party we throw!

best practices (kind of)...

am i the only woman in america who does strange and desperate things when we are due at the dentist for our six month cleaning? we had appointments for everyone later that day and i did what any madcap mother would do: i brought floss in the car.  that morning, while driving the children to school i reminded them of their afternoon appointments and then i promptly proceeded to pass around the small, white container of dental floss.  "it's my new idea, kids," i explained.  "it's how we will make sure to remember this very important hygenic step in our oral care. we will floss every morning together on the way to school. collectively."  i don't have to tell you, but they all [collectively] rolled their eyes while working the shiny waxed thread through their breakfast coated teeth.

"it's my new idea, kids."

i don't know about you, but i am full of them: new ideas. new procedures.  new systems.  new routines. new ways. i guess in the business world these are called "best practices." but in my house we call them mom's-crazy-going-to-try-to-fix-everything-again-ideas.  i'm famous for them. and they are, indeed, best practices. because we are, very much, in the business of running a busy home and, more importantly, we are in the business of raising some children.  of course, these best practices are more like best attempts or even, at times, just flat out weak attempts...but we try to do our best.  yes, we try.

you name it, i've addressed it:  chore charts and summer reading spread sheets ...vocabulary building banks and kind word awards...memory verses and color coded calendars. labeled bins and boxes and baskets everywhere. we've considered it all and we've covered most of it.  with seven of us sharing space, i am always looking for ways to do things better. faster. cheaper. smarter.  or at least i think i am.  though my husband would probably argue my suggestion of "cheaper," the truth is, we are often desperate for systems and short cuts.  we have to be.  there are too many of us for me to just handle it all quietly and efficiently on my own.  i cannot possibly remind each of my children to floss each of their teeth each morning and each night of each week in each year.  if that's all i had to do, i could.  i really could be a ferocious flossing mama.  but i have a few other things on the list which also need some attention beside the running of wax between their bicuspids.  thus, my constant proposal of "new ideas."

i've been in the business of best practices for years now.  one of my favorites was the "i'm bored bag."  it hung, thumb tacked to a bulletin board in our laundry room up until the time we moved two months ago. you've heard the saying, "necessity is the mother of all invention." well, i consider my sanity to be somewhat necessary and so, on occasion,this mother is forced to invent something new and improved.   this "bored bag" idea was born from a time when the children were all little and clamoring (and on summer vacation).  you know what i'm talking about.  the time when they would, one by one, wander into my  kitchen and announce "there's nothing to do, mom.  i'm bored."  oh my.  that just about made me crazy.  i mean it:  cra-z-eee.  and so, finally, after one of those wildly desperate days, i spent a summer evening writing out little slips of paper with an assortment of horrible, terrible, blood-curdling chores.  i carefully folded each lime green slip of paper before placing it in a bag labeled, "the i'm bored bag."  the next day, when the first small child collapsed listlessly across my countertop and made their dreadful announcement, they were immediately directed to the laundry room and this bag of green slips.  i had them slightly fooled at first.  when they saw the title, they thought they would be drawing a creative, exciting, summer adventure. like, "let's go get a triple scoop of chocolate ice cream and then buy a puppy!" but oh no.  it is never a best practice to reward boredom.  they instead held in their small hand a piece of paper directing them to clean the dust bunnies from underneath the beds, to scrub the stained grout on the bathroom floor or to gather pine cones and small twigs in the july heat of our backyard.   let me tell you, it worked like a charm. i am pretty sure since that summer many years ago, i have hardly heard them use the "i'm bored" phrase in my presence again. this mother's sanity was absolutely the invention of that necessity. or something like that...

but not every new idea works so well. you know that.  there's all kinds of things which we try in our homes which never really work. things which seem like a good idea for a moment.  things which capture our best intentions, but quickly fall apart...fail...are forgotten.  like the floss.  yep, did that for one day.  one day last week.  tuesday. that's it.  truly pathetic, huh? only the day we were heading to the dentist did i even attempt to implement this practice...this new, great idea.   but as soon as we cleared several children with a "no cavities" report, i threw that container of floss right back into the kitchen junk drawer.  that's the way it goes sometimes. i guess group flossing in public wasn't exactly a best practice anyway.

last weekend i hit another low point in my domestic duties.  laundry.  you've heard of the "laundry list." well i made one. ten typed tenets i shared with my family. at sunday evening's family meeting they each received their own copy.  even the littlest girl got one.  we took turns reading the bullet points out loud.  point by point by point.  even the husband was in need of that list.  i have been doing the laundry of my family for 22 years, and i had a few things to say.  the mcnatt family had some room for improvement.  here's what i gave them: 

mom’s laundry list
as your mother and wife, i am happy to do your laundry.  really, i am.  in fact, i find it relaxing and an opportunity to bless you.  sometimes, while folding your clothes i even pray for you. yes, i do. i count it a privilege to wash what you wear...

BUT, loved ones, we CAN do better. 
please consider the following items -  (they are not suggestions): 

1.  turn your socks right side out
2. turn your shirts and pants right side out
3. there is no need to wash sweaters or pants or jackets every time they are worn
4. take your underthings out of your spandex, shorts and pants. always. enough said.
5. ask yourself...is the shirt REALLY dirty or is it that you just don’t feel like taking the time to put it back on a hanger?
6.  if there is a stain -- tell me before i wash it.
7. if it is an item which needs to be dry cleaned -- do not put it in your laundry basket.
8. take  your belt out of the loops and everything out of your pockets -- especially tissues and chap stick! 
9.  towels:  you should only need ONE towel per week.  not three.  not four.  but one.  just one. hang it up each and every time you use it.  if you do this ONE simple thing with your ONE towel...(miraculously) your ONE towel will remain dry and clean and your mother/wife will remain sane. ( well, sort of).
10. the clean clothes in your room belong folded in drawers, hung in a closet or on your body...nowhere else.  not on the floor. not under the bed.  not in a corner.  it IS possible to keep your clothes tidy.  this is a matter of stewardship.  God has provided clothing for your body ... your responsibility is to take good care of it.

“to whom much is given, much is required...” luke 12:48

maybe to some of you these things seem minor.  and i agree,  they are minor.  digging my fingers into the sweaty, dampness of a balled up sock before throwing it into the washing machine is incredibly gross, but it's minor.  there's no way i am going to try to persuade you otherwise.  it is a little thing, but it is also time consuming when you multiply that by seven and then multiply it again by two (we all have two feet).  it's time consuming and it's gross and we can all un-ball our own sweaty, stinky socks before placing them in our laundry hampers. yes, we can.  we can peel out our own underthings from our shorts or pants or volleyball spandex.  we can take off our t-shirts and not turn them inside out.  we can remove our belts and our chapstick from pockets. and we can, by all means,  remember that throwing perfectly clean laundry back into the hamper (because it is easier than hanging it up) is an offense punishable by a cruel and unusual death -- something to do with dental floss.  i realize that my laundry list isn't going to win me a proverbs 31 award or anything.  maybe that perfect proverbs woman didn't fuss at her family about their dirty socks, but she did dress them all in the same color. "when it snows, she has no fear for her household; for all of them are clothed in scarlet." (proverbs 31:21)  i think she, too, was sort of tired of figuring out who wore what.  she was smart enough to buy bolts of one color and clothe them all in it. brilliant!  that woman had a few best practices up her scarlet sleeve as well.  i'm sure of it.  maybe when it begins to snow here in minnesota (next week?), i'll be shopping for some serious scarlet myself.

the point of this piece? i'm writing today for no other reason than to encourage you to keep up the good fight.  to keep working with what God has given you.  don't give up in the training and the teaching and even in the occasional need for a tirade.  it isn't a final destination, this motherhood thing is a journey.  piece by piece.  best practice by best practice.  don't be afraid to try something new. don't be afraid to do it differently.  even if it feels a little desperate. of course it does! we are all a little desperate now and then. but that's not all bad, it keeps us kind of motivated.  

now, i know that the charts and chores and checklists aren't nearly as important as the state of my child's heart.  of course, more than anything, i want that to be in order.  that's the major in this post of many minors.  but nowhere are we told that these things are mutually exclusive.  we can focus on the heart and the home.  i think that's pretty clear in God's word.  when i begin to feel like a nag or nuisance, i am encouraged to remember, God is absolutely a God of order.  He was the great designer of our universe and the creative developer of all systems.  so, yes, there are times when we just have to throw the floss back into the junk drawer, but don't give up in this business of raising our kids...it does, indeed, take a lot of practice...  but it is absolutely the best practice ever.

"train up a child in the way he should go;
 and even when he is old, he will not depart from it." 
 ~ proverbs 22:6

a room with a new view

i climbed into bed well after midnight.  littlest girl asleep at my side.  two more children had dragged in covers and pillows and favorite stuffed animals and were asleep on my floor, at the foot of the bed. my midnight bedroom was busy with the snores and sleepy sighs of my youngest three children -- they wanted to be close.  i wanted them close.  my older kids and i had just arrived home from a quick trip to minnesota.  emily, tyler and i had flown north on thursday, meeting rick and taking care of all sorts of new life business:  new schools and new home and new friends... that kind of stuff.  a whirlwind visit to this place we will soon call home. but saturday at midnight i was back in atlanta, curled up with small sleeping children. and this was home. 

before turning out my light, i decided to check out my daughter, emily's, instagram account (an online place to share pictures).  i was told she had posted some photos from our trip and thought i'd take a peek before bed.  i knew what the past few days had felt like for me, but i wanted to view it through her lens, to see what she was thinking and posting and saying.  i had a good idea -- we had spent quite a bit of time talking over these past 48 hours.  it was sweet having just our two teens with us.  we even rented a small car -- talk about strange!  though we missed the younger three very much, it was kind of cool hanging out with the older kids.  good conversation.  funny memories.  relaxed meals.  not to mention we could do everything fast and more focused.  while we were in the airport waiting for our return flight to board, i watched a big family stagger by:  a mom, a dad and five kids in tow.  everyone lugging some piece of luggage.  everyone, even the very smallest child, sporting overstuffed backpacks.  a tiny airport parade of chaos, one which i knew quite well.  all of them looking a little frayed around the edges, a little blurry in the eyes...clearly they were on their return trip home.  emily and i sat calmly sipping our starbucks, texting on our phones and chatting casually with tyler. the big family stuff is all too familiar, but for the moment i was only in charge of teens taller than me...and it was easy.

or was it?  is it really easy? when i did pull up my daughter's instagram photos i came across a picture which she took while we were visiting our new home in minnesota.  it is a rental house on lake minnetonka. an amazing house that we stumbled upon in february and are fortunate enough to rent for this next school year.  it's not a house we could afford to purchase, but it will be a wonderful place for our family to enjoy in these next many months.  kind of like a little bit of vacation as we figure out life.  at least the idea has helped all of us with the transition.  yes, we will vacation ourselves into minnesota life -- or at least until the first snowfall!

this was the photo em posted and

my view

her caption below read,  "my view." sitting there in my midnight hour, i felt some emotional splintering occur in my heart over that simple picture.  her view.  her view.  her new view. you see, i know the view is incredible.  magnificent, in fact.  but i also know that our morning spent at this rental house, wasn't entirely about breathtaking views.  emily is really struggling with this move.  she is grieving the fact that she will be leaving her friends and her life here in atlanta.  i found her sitting on the front steps of this grand house in tears earlier today.  it's a terrific house.  charming and romantic and lovely.  but for my 16 year old, it doesn't come close to making up for the leaving of those she loves.   in her tears she said to me, "it's not that i'm not grateful, mommy.  i am.  i am so grateful for this house and the new school and new friends...but i'm so sad."  and what's a mother to say?  i know.  i feel the same way. i do get it.  i think minnesota life has a lot to offer...i know God has a purpose and plan for this move...i believe that He is already going ahead, making connections and laying the foundation for a new life.  but...but...but...leaving is hard. so hard.  16 or 43.

when we had first arrived at the house emily was enthusiastic, moving quickly from room to room, taking pictures and notes -- taking it all in.  she quickly staked her claim on a pretty bedroom with soft greenish-gray walls and wooden floors.   we talked about what we would do with it and how we might make it work for her.  we looked at the other bedrooms and began to formulate a plan for the rest of the children as well. tyler having no need or interest in figuring out bedrooms,  headed immediately for the water out back.  the owners were with us for the first hour...touring us around and showing us the unique features and tricky things which accompany every home.  the house is almost 100 years old.  it was built in 1920 by a wealthy family in the elevator business.  as the owners, shirley and jim, walked us through the house we were given bits and pieces of its history. while in the basement, shirley showed us a storage room where the wife of the wealthy elevator mogul had been locked up when kidnappers attempted to hold her for ransom.  can you imagine?  emily, tyler, rick and i stood there and kind of gasped.  truly?  add to that a secret spot behind a bookcase and the setting is complete for the nancy-drew-wanna-be in me. it is a romantic house, with lovely views of the water from most every window.  i think i will have no problem sitting in any number of places with my morning coffee and my writing or reading.  spoiled.  that's what i felt like looking at this place.  how in the world did we end up with this as an option?  i know my children will enjoy it immensely, and i know even my 16 year old is grateful.  grateful for a home with a beautiful view.  grateful, but sad.

and so much of it is about our view.  i don't mean the view of the lake.  though i will never grow tired of staring out at that --- summer, fall, winter. winter. winter. and more winter. i think so much of what we are going through right now depends upon our view -- how we view this transition, how we look at what God is doing with us, even how we view our relationship with Him.  it is easy to get caught up in everyone else's view.  so many people seem to have them.  since we announced to friends and family our plans to move, we have had no shortage of opinions on the matter.  these are loving friends who don't want us to go...but sometimes it is difficult to talk about it with so many.  for a while i started to avoid social gatherings (rather extreme, i know) because it was too hard and too tiring to talk about.  "the move" became it's own, stand alone, phrase in our home.  at one point, not too long ago, emily kind of blurted out, "can we please stop talking about the move for awhile?"


but now here we are, just a summer's throw away from it all.  though we will be back and forth a bit with sports and things in july, officially, all seven of us will board a plane on july 29th and head north. we are still choosing to view it all as an adventure.  God is expanding our borders and increasing our territory.  He is giving us a chance for a new view.  not that we were looking for a new view, but how about a broader view? a bigger view? isn't that a little bit how life is supposed to be lived? though we all know that doing something new can be a really good thing for us, we still want to control it.  for me it goes something like,  i'll do THIS new thing, but not THAT new thing.  i'll take THIS step of faith, but not THAT step of faith.  maybe you don't do that, but i sure do! i'm okay with a new view, as long as i feel God has left me some measure of control.  well, it doesn't work that way does it? He can change how our life looks in an instant.  one day we don't have cancer, one day we do.  one day we have a marriage, one day we don't.  one day we have money in the bank, one day it's gone. one day our child is running through the backyard, and one day she is fighting for her life.  our circumstances change all the time.  and if we decide to let our circumstances dictate who and how we are -- we're in deep water...lake view or not.

last night as we were driving home from the airport, i was listening to a little snipit of interview from the lead singer of tenth avenue north.  he was explaining that the song "love is here" was written from a place when he realized he, "needed to stop looking at my circumstances and start looking at the cross."  i was driving home kind of worn out from our busy few days, but those words just kept rolling around in my tired brain. stop looking at the circumstances and keep your eyes on the cross jody.

when the new house doesn't feel like home.  when the teenage daughter sheds tears.  when the little guy has to walk for the first time into a brand new school.  when the middle daughter feels lonely.  when we can't find the grocery store or the post office or the coffee shop.  when we take the wrong turn off the highway.  when we stand awkwardly in a room not recognizing a single soul.  when we long for the things and people we left.   keep our eyes on the cross, family. keep our eyes on Jesus.

before we left this rental home yesterday, rick and i sat down in one of the rooms with our two oldest and talked.  we had just experienced an emotional moment with em and we needed to come together for a few minutes before closing up the house and heading for the airport.  we wanted to give the kids a chance to verbally process the weekend a bit.  one of the things the four of us discussed was how blessed we felt to be moving from one community of believers to another community of believers.  each one of us agreed that we couldn't imagine making a move as a person or as a family who didn't have Christ as the anchor.  i cannot imagine what that would feel like to just get up and go and not have Him as the connecting point between two cities, two lives.  now i don't know if it would be quite as scary as getting kidnapped and locked in the cellar, but it could be.  without Christ and the fellowship of His people, what would bridge the gap? what would carry us through? i am sure looking at the view without the lens of Him and His faithfulness would be most overwhelming.  and yet this is how so many people go through life.  no anchor. no bridge. no lens.  just themselves and their "i'll make it work" attitude.  no thanks.  no mam.  uh-uh.  this crazy mother of five would crumble in a day.  if there is one thing i am certain of, it is that i am not strong enough, calm enough or steady enough to do this on my own.  as i hugged my sweet daughter on those front steps of our soon-to-be-house saturday morning, i was more sure than ever...my strength alone is not nearly enough.  

and whether our view is a lovely lake or a cement wall or a daughter in tears or a hospital room or a dirty kitchen (like mine right now)...my prayer is that we see it -- whatever it is -- through the lens of a loving God. 

. . . . . .

funny thing, when i was 16, my family made a big move too.  and though it wasn't across the country, i did change locations and schools.  ironically enough, my new address was 137 lakeview lane.  

i see morning coffee here...even if i have to wear a parka and boots!

this lawn slopes down to the water - looks like a good place for a party.  who's visiting us?

i know the lake is cool, but i'm looking forward to these beautiful hydrangeas everywhere!

there's a little playhouse on the property -- a perfect spot for bella!