Should I write every day?

     Should I write every day?  All I know is I don't want to become some kinda philosopher.  In teaching the children, I'm confident that not much "sticks" without relevance and that's how I wanna keep this, relevant to the goings on of the day.                                                                                                                         
     I cannot believe January has come to an end, so I'm looking over my "aspirations", and can say that I'm disappointed I haven't cracked my Bible 'til last night in desperation, of course.  I was glad to find again that, "God has chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty...things which are not, to bring things that are: that no flesh should glory in his prescence," which reminds me that when I get lost in how to tear down the wall, God is in the business of making something from nothing.  Last night I was able to walk through the fear of the past returning.                                                                                                   
     Next is the "moving and shaking" of the children.  Academically, I'd say January was a loss.  Life altering January WAS.  2 small boys came into our midst:  training, obeying, adjusting...They are accepted now, truly accepted, into the fold for as long as it may be.  Madalynn (2) even frowned on me in discipline of one of them and said, "Be nice to my brother," ...and no one had referenced that word for her.                                
     I just hung up from a call with Megan who's up for an interview with Nascar again and if all falls in place, she could be back with us, since most of the time she would be traveling anyway.  (11 of us, wow!)   Miranda (16) is my escorter (when she's not working) of basketball players (McKala, Michael, and Melody) and enjoying every minute of it.  Macklynn (5) and I hula hooped together yesterday and I imagine the bicyclers, who went by before I noticed, winced and gave an extra heeve ho up the hill.  Thankfully, Madalynn's Fifth's is fading fast.  I'm wearing a lot of Manuel's supper, but in the end, he ate and it WAS something he liked a few nights ago.  He simply didn't want the help I gave him to scoop up a bite.  It wasn't a battle I cared to have tonight, but to gain a child's whole heart, I have to gain his will.  Sebastian (2) was the bit of exercise I had today.  We were having a wrangle with a sword when he sat down and threw up his feet and I took off.  He held on for life and roared as I ran up and down the hall with him.                                                                                       
     Taking care of this body wasn't quite as easy as I'd hoped since I just got over the state of confusion I've been in caused by fluid in my ears.  Eating is under control.  Half servings isn't too big a deal with some forethought.  I'm gettin' a little jazzed about the thigh high boots the girls found for me tonight.  Incentive to "rock" something works for me, so does camouflage of the veins that ARE worth having for 7 healthy babies.
     Friends - I've never been surrounded by so many good people.                                                              
     February, here we come.

     There are 2 things I've learned NOT to do when I'm feeling dark, dubious, or misunderstood.  If it's about my own family, don't talk it over with other family because forgetting "ain't" as easy as forgiving.  Second, don't eat into oblivion because being fatter tomorrow is doubly bad.                                
     Do I call up an old friend?  Do I meet up with a new friend?  Do I seek counsel of a wise friend?  Truth is unless the timing is perfect for both parties, I quickly become a burden to those who have their own.  Plus, I've seen God stand in the way of any earthly conversation when I'm skirting around the obvious source of direction.                                                                                                                                                        
     Tonight, I'm glad to sip on the hot cocoa Miranda made for me, and her, then pick up that Book that'll never steer me wrong, while Madalynn covered in measlelike spots with scarlet red cheeks sleeps with "Mama". 

Mrs. Landreth

     I'm longing for something tonight that may never be mine, but instead of baring my soul, I'll go back in time to Mrs. Landreth's classroom at NHS.  I had several good teachers but she's the one who always pops into mind.  She was stern because she was serious about our language.  I had to be split from Ashley, one of us in the front and one in the back; then, Mrs. Landreth had my attention and me.                      
     She might would be disappointed with my rustiness and continuous mistakes (so might Mr., Mr., ?....my summer school typing teacher.  I still type way better looking at paper ,as I am now, than at a screen.)  Anyway, Mrs. Landreth decided to put my chattiness to use.  I must have been a Junior and went as a back up to compete in "Extemperoneous Speech" (when you throw together what you already know and speak flying by the seat of your pants) at Emory University and, by golly, I won 2nd.                                    
     She, my Mom, and a long list of others were, I'm sure, worried when I "got hitched" a month after graduating high school.  I did go on to college, riding MARTA to GA State for a couple of years and did exceptionally well on all my papers, but got a little "slap on the hand" once for being too descriptive; I was a newlywed afterall ;)                                                                                                      
      I'll never regret choosing full time motherhood.  Since school, I've always written letters (some unsent), especially when I'm exasperated or impassioned.  I have barely legible notes tucked everywhere.  Writing has lent itself to financial and legal dealings.  One was playing hardball with Ford to force them to buy back our F250 Diesel under the Lemon Law because they surely didn't want to.                                           
     I had an offer to pair with an illustrator, Stephen Shumaker, and I let it pass, not inspired to pull things together.  So now, here I am with almost 40 years of innumerable memories, people, beliefs, mistakes, and blessings to acknowledge and suddenly bursting at the seams to do so.

And the BBQ was good

     Mike had a few things to accomplish in "town" (20 miles from home), so since he put up a fuss that we spent most of the day apart yesterday, I decided to tag along.  When I looked in the mirror, I knew it wouldn't be one of those days I could just throw somethin' on.  When I really want to "glam" up, I grab my mp3 and go at it, but somebody inevitably needs something and interrupts by beating on the door so hard that even my music can't drown it out.  Mr. Harper, though, is bad to just unlock the door...sooo I was groovin' to "Fergalicious" and threw my head around just in time to catch him peeking through the crack at me.  He shoots for being home in my "happy" time of the month and pointed out his accuracy when I said how cold I was in the pharmacy.  I silently thought, "Yeeaaahhh, it makes sense to be chilly when your body is 'honing in' on someone to keep you warm." ;)                                                                                                              
     We were in town to handle the custody of the boys, only to face bureaucracy (which looks to me like bureau crazy).  Why can't it be simple as signing the legal form as a voluntary action before a judge?  We need a lawyer, really?!                                                                                                                               
     Then, we got home to a discovery that required punishment of the majority of the lot.  We were extremely serious; in seeing that, most of them took it gravely and didn't complain that their plans for the evening were off and that everyone would clean, "deep" clean, 'til bedtime.  We agree as parents that making the kids "do" something is superior to" time out" alternatives, where a child might scream - to the torment of those nearby or most likely sulk 'til he becomes clever enough to end it by giving a, "Sorry," no matter how insincerely.                              
     The thing that tells me our kids aren't just kids anymore is the way they didn't talk back, didn't excuse themselves, didn't whine, didn't cry even though tears welled up at the thought of missing a game, and another offered personal accountability of what happened even though she didn't have any particular charge over the trespasser.  That other was Miranda.  She said she had harshly told Madalynn to leave (the room) to not be underfoot in the kitchen.  And as much as I hate to reveal the details (because ultimately I'm responsible), here they are:   when we drove up near dusk, Madalynn HAD left and was prancing up the gravel drive next door in her pretty, footed PJ's dawning one pink glove and having every intention of joining in the fun of the ones over there playing outside.   AND, you guessed it....our children were oblivious to it, although they were all together and industrious when we arrived.                                                                                                                       
     Miranda's face told it all.   It's no secret that she's had a struggle ever since we moved here, not questioning the existence of God, but not "feeling" it either.  I know God has touched her heart or she wouldn't have such a tender conscience.   In my own experience as a young adult, although my God had been courting me for a while, salvation was as simple as being asked by a counselor, "Where would you be if you left this parking lot, were hit by a dump truck, and killed?"  Now, the "working out" of my salvation is another story.  I know people who wrestle with things, as if tortured, more than others; and it's tempting to blow them off, but sometimes I think they might be the best of us whom Satan is determined to devour and make ineffective.                                                                                                                                                     
     At least while children are little, we can temporarily release them of  heavy, guilty hearts through discipline.  Confrontation about safety had to happen.  After I ranted at the big kids, I had to deal with Madalynn.  Just a couple of days ago, I talked over with a heart bound to mine the difficulty of spanking sweet little girls ...but it had to happen.  Humility finds me when a child comes to my lap for confirmation of approval afterwards and is thereafter happy.                                                                                                      
     In holding back those tears, making no fuss, and her team needing her; we decided McKala could play and make up her cleaning tomorrow.  The cool thing about her playing in the rec league is the mix: coed, black, white, hispanic, talented, not so talented and in watching them take a beating; I had fun seeing them all crack a smile now and then regardless.  I got a little insight into some of "her" fun when I got back into the car after gassing up and told her it smelled like "guys" ...and she just giggled.                                                                  
     OH, and the BBQ this afternoon was good, the hushpuppies better, but the BEST was that I hadn't eatten 'til I was hungry and enjoyed the meal that I was offered.  Yes, it was the only meal (and a reasonable size one) I had today.  That's against common advice, but it worked for me.

Febfest!

     A good bit of time has been spent in the last days planning what is our Feb(ruary)fest.   See, 4 of the children's birthdays are in the same week - 11th, 12th, 15th, and 18th!  I have answered, "Yes," to the question of May being good for us. ;)  I will say... 2 of them were induced, but not so they would be in any special week.  (The reason for the inductions is very much why we won't be having more babies of our own.  Mom at risk on blood thinners and bed rest is no way to raise children.)                                                                
     Since we were "mountain folks" when all these were born, a traditional ski trip this time of year is practically "mandatory".  Since Mike has always been a Nascar fan, a trip to Daytona and the Bud Shootout has become the birthday boys' new thing, along with gettin' on screen while they're there.  Since Macklynn was so weak (and just ate the whole time because of ultrahigh doses of steroids) for his birthday bowling last year, he wants to go back with our new next door neighbor, Trevor; turns out Trevor's b-day is the week before Macklynn's and he's invited him to the circus - good deal!  Through sports and youth, Michael and McKala (4 days shy of being Irish Twins) have met some good kids and can't wait to have them over for some HarperHouse fun!  The girls staying over with McKala will wake, God willing we've made it that far, to throw a breakfast party for young Maddy Z, with gourmet coffee, make-overs, and even new undergarments. ;)  Then, Miranda has decided to sweep her away for an afternoon movie.  She, they all, would love to swim but I haven't gotten that far yet.  So, if you're trying to track us down in a couple of weeks, have fun with that 'cause we're on the mend and ready to throw down!
     This time last year we had a kitchen fire, Macklynn would soon fall very ill with meningitis AND encephalitis, then our marriage would suffer it's biggest crisis.  This year I'm remembering all that and having a better time in the name of surviving it.   We will have a load of fun and memories, but what I really wish I had done was written down and kept the exact date each child (5 of the 7) laid their lives before Christ.  THAT is a real birthday, much like celebrating the Resurrection as opposed to the Birth.   I hope it's a tradition our children will decide to make in their own families one day.                                                                        
     Another thing about this February is that we have 2 extras to up the fun.  With any real fun, risk comes into play.  As I walk through each day thinking of the details of each child's life, I try to remember that every decision could change the future instantly.  I AM the perfect example of  "God watching out for children and fools".  It makes me think of not only the mortality of our children, but also, my own.  When each of the children was tiny, I had the confidence that I was "needed" or "irreplaceable" here on this Earth.  In watching and hearing about what appears to be random deaths of people much better than I, I know that my dedication of every moment and thought DOES matter.  I know where my final destination lies, but I never want to assume that my position as "mother of many" automatically ensures that I won't put myself in a situation of early departure.                      
                                                

Nothing particular came to me...

     I had 2 friends message me today and blow me away with words that inspired me, of liking the "raw" in my writing.  One, well, we raised most of our children together, times of pure fun like playing in the river and picking blackberries that still make me want to breathe in the fresh air of the mountains.  I esteem her highly as the best of people, and to think, I almost lost her because of my simple misinterpretation.  I surely have had substantial hits in losing contact with people I yearn to have back, so I'm glad God saw fit to return her to me.  The other, a schoolmate I haven't seen in over 20 years, sang in our wedding.  I never knew her to be anything short of nice and believe that she has become just the kind of person I love to be around.                                           
     I didn't think I had any one thing to "blog" (BTW, you'd think there could be a prettier word in the universe to use in the place of "blog") about tonight.  As I drove to and from practice, I kept coming back to the warm feeling it brings me to be enveloped by people who are the facets of my past and the delights of my present.  I keep my Facebook friends to a minimum and am desperately happy to have connections to these "chosen" ones because so very many of them hold a special piece of time for me and are people who have firmly embedded themselves in the eternally valuable things of life, but have not snuffed out their humor and adventure in doing so.                                                                                      
     Over the past fews weeks I've gotten some other surprising comments, so now I have a "short list" (of people "I" aspire to imitate) who are telling me, "Do this."  I'm really not sure what "this" is but it does rise from the profound sense of freedom I've gained dealt by a man who no longer disapproves of me and my eccentric ways (although he has always asked me to write).  I do feel things pulling together, an ease, something outside of these walls.  It's always been family, family, family - as it should be.  I hate, though, that I had periods I thought (or didn't even have time to consider either way) that "friend" time is overrated.  At this point in this life, friends, new and old, most of whom are the kind who have befriended my best friends, our children, are whispering for me to fly and have no expectation that I will fall... and I can't do anything but sit here and smile about that.

Not for those who can't handle the truth...

     I got back a while ago from the little, local grocery store and it reminded me of a few days ago, when I had taken Madalynn (2) with me.  I was bending over to double check prices on sausage, when Madalynn asked and pointed, "Why is that man wooking at you, Mommy?"  There was a short display beside me, so I peeked just over the top and sure enough, there was a young guy grinning from ear to ear and he assured me he heard her ask it.  I might would've basked in a moment of vanity, but my first thought was it was a good thing for him that he couldn't see the roll hanging over my jeans for the hoody I had on....my winter camouflage.                                                       
     The holidays and, yes, I said "holidays" because I thoroughly enjoy it all, Thanksgiving to New Year's, with the birth of Christ being the centerpiece, are over.  Spring is delightfully close now.  With all that I have ahead, I need to be nothing less than my best.  Who knows?  I might even join the boys' mother in Military prep exercise.                                     
     I'm really good at "maintaining" weight when not pregnant but that can certainly work against me after I've gained a few too many in that condition.  Everybody wants to look good and I've read and am believing that there isn't a thing wrong with that when it comes from within a healthy body, a smiling countenance, and a pure heart.  Femininity goes hand in hand with confidence.                                                                                   
     And all this leads to the final chapter of renewal of this marriage.  When I was young, very young, I used sex.  I got into this marriage of mutually selfish people; but after being "saved" at 21, I determined after much reading that I wouldn't withhold from him even in the worst of circumstances.   I truly believed and still do that no matter the emotional environment he deserved reverence and  pleasure after all his hard work.   Somewhere I lost or more likely never understood the sanctity, the preciousness, of the act.  In all my reading, I never found what it might be like after "he" changed and gave me the choice to be me.  In serving, in my mission to be a good wife, the "just do it" syndrome, it all turned into works and not grace, because I let bitterness and insecurity drive me away from my Saviour.  I'm sure Satan revels in his deceptive win over me.  I had become hard, frozen, unemotional, dispassionate and didn't even realize it until I was given "permission" to feel.  So, now I have this man who has turned his life upside down and I don't even know what to do with or for him.   This is so different than I always imagined it would be.  It should be blissful, but my defense has made me solitary, stoic even.                                                                                                                                                 
     In almost 22 years of marriage, I don't think I've ever been able or had the opportunity to combine the physical and spiritual for the magnificent union that it's intended to be.  We have no more babies to make, so this narrows down to a man and a woman finding each other in the chaos of daily living.   This is the wall I speak of tearing down; I/we can't afford to wait for it to fall;  I have to tear down everything that gets in our way, so now I'm searching and trying to be ready in every physical, mental, and Biblical way for the supernatural healing that is bound to happen.                                                                                                                                  
  

Sunday, what to do with this gift?

     A couple of the kids requested to make it to church this Sunday.  As it stands, there are 10 of us and our new minivan only holds 8.  I thought I could at the very least let the older ones go together.  However, I forgot AGAIN in all the goings on of the week that Miranda, now 16, does have a job and they keep having her work on Sunday morning (but don't give enough hours for her to purchase her first car).   I wish she didn't work on Sundays at all.  For years I was really legalistic about Sundays altogether.  Then I read that if we want to hold up the law of Sunday rest, then we must be willing to hold to the punishment.  And I don't care to stone anyone, but child molesters, to death.                                                               
     I can't say that it always requires such a good excuse for us to miss "congregating"; with our odd rhythms, spontaneous trips, funky illnesses, and many moves.... we are hardly regular attendees.  The people who are "regular" may not understand the regard I hold for Sunday, a gift to man from the creator.   My God gives me a day to just rest, play, and contemplate without an ounce of guilt.  (I am still apt to feel guilty if I do anything else.)  I have an aunt who is a pastor's wife and they have sandwiches for Sunday lunch with no apologies.            
     Used to on a Sunday, I wouldn't even consider going to eat, getting gas, or grabbing some essentials.  I still try very hard not to.  As grace reveals itself to a soul, something above the law is given.  It's not just about going to church, avoiding purchases, or meditating.  It's a time to reap what the hard work of the week has issued.  It's a time to be thankful and enjoy what we love.                                                             
      Things can be pretty haphazard here, so Sunday is a good time for us to get in that family prayer, some extra minutes in the Bible, some Christian music listening and especially singing, some talks that get missed during the week, some sitting and snuggling together that doesn't require a TV, some games that have been passed up on, some alone time to praise God for the things that did happen AND for the close calls that didn't in the last week, and some time to ask Him to guide us into the unknown of the coming week.                                 
     Not everyone is home on a Sunday, but if it's their heart's desire to be so, then God is already working out the timing. I love Sundays and a husband who travels some of them so that I have this time to be restored and gear up for the battles of the next 6 days.

Standing in the Gap

     If we aren't standing in the gap somewhere for someone we aren't of much use to this world.  I can barely hold my eyes open and this ringing/pressure in my ears has got me much more loopy than I normally am, but I think I'll sleep better if I get a few things down in writing.                                    
     Today started off with some people, namely good coaches, who carted our children to their games and included them in their own family fun, while Miranda took the car to work and McKala to "her" game.  Manuel and Sebastian's Mom took them for the afternoon and this left me here with my least ones - Macklynn and Madalynn.  There were much needed one on one hours of painting, ice cream eating, game playing, bubble bathing, and .... bathroom flooding.   I was enjoying the pleasures of everyone's day and then.....                             
      The prospect that has been lying in wait came closer to fruition.  Manuel (3) and Sebastian (2) may have their young years in our care, due much to the doozy of a time they and their Mom have had.  Later I was particularly struck by the humanity of it all when I bent down to hug Sebastian, after I reprimanded and gave him "the eye" while he was having a tantrum, and could feel his short breaths in my ear, a little man fighting his inner man to purposefully gain control of his cries.  They and we have accomplished and grown together so much in this 2 1/2 weeks.                                                       
      I know that we, and I do mean "we" because it will take us all, CAN do this.   We CAN do all things through Christ, but am "I" WORTHY to take hold of something that is the masterpiece of a another person?  The sincere trust is terribly humbling and drawing tears as I write.  Funny that Mike had a vasectomy last spring because of the difficulty of my 6th and 7th pregnancies (and that through the last months, I finally had it resolved in my mind) to find that God might see fit to give us the keys to 2 more of his souls (3 really, including my young mother friend).   Understand, I wasn't looking for this.   I was just there and always felt led to keep track of them, hoping for best, but things keep crashing around them .... picking up, learning new things the hard way can seem almost impossible to people who have never had what so many of us take for granted.

I can hardly ever say that I am officially in a bad mood (for reasons I might not have even fully comtemplated), but today was the day.   8 sick children sick in differing degrees, who keep turning their new Skype on me (who is wearing a huge shirt around with no trace of feminity about me and carrying around a sock for my nose because all the paper goods are obsconded everywhere I look) for their Daddy to see, will do that.  It started to turn around for me when I went on the front porch to make a call and discovered that the temperature is comfortable and the sun beaming.  I got a kick out of watching the guinea eat under the bird feeder with the "regular" birds.  Warm tea I thought would help, but not nearly as much as the smell of sausage balls and cupcakes the girls were cooking when I opened the door.   Even better was the hug I was giving Manuel after a punishment he got and felt Macklynn (who is normally quite rambunctious) hugging "me" and patting my back.  The trip I will take in a few to take one to a victory party and the other to practice might seem mundane to some, but to those Moms who have little ones and no one to stay home with them, just the ride, I know, seems an excursion of pleasure.  Oh, and I'll be getting some tissues on my venture out. :)

was thinking this might be a "regular" day 'til Melody alerted me that the pig was crossing the road. What is it with us and escapees? They eat better than we do some weeks ;)