Bermuda Photo Album

Bermuda 2011

Moments Today

We went dress shopping today. Sofia and Marc are going to a Father-Daughter Dance on Friday. As we looked at pictures online, I was surprised to have my 8yo "jeans and t-shirt only, please" express an interest in getting a new dress. We had so much fun (and success) shopping.

There were moments when my girl, my Anna, looked like a 3yo discovering the wonder and beauty of being a girl. She found her long hair and all but twirled around. She all but asked the question out loud "Am I lovely?"** And at times, she was the emerging young woman that she is - thoughtful, creative, beautiful - all in one glance.

How blessed and honored I am to be this girl's mother.


**Captivating, Stasi and John Eldredge

I just gotta say

I impressed myself today. I rarely have a day that looks like a parenting or homeschooling magazine article - so when I do, I just gotta share.

Today, the normal part of our day included Anna doing a full days worth of homeschool; Caleb doing a full amount of homeschool work, going to school for an hour and half jazz band clinic, coming home for a short time, and going back to school for a two hour techonology team training; and Sofia having a half day of public school.

After school, Marc took Sofia to Tim Horton's and the library. I picked up Caleb from his tech meeting

We had decided to have apple pie for supper (dessert) and the two older kids wanted to learn to peel apples. What mom says no to that (after checking for insurance cards and bandaids)? Apple peeling lesson and crust making began. Pie got put into the oven.

When Sofia got home from time with Dad, we began a family science time (something that we have decided to do at least one afternoon a week during these winter months). This is the book we are using.

Our first lesson and experiments were about "solutions" and we explored our new information with sugar and water. The part that we will be able to eat is Sugar Crystal Candy that we will watch form over the next week.

When the science was finished and cleaned up, we had one more thing to do. Make ice-cream. Really. Who has apple pie without ice-cream. We had received one of those ice-cream balls for Christmas and Anna has just been dying to try it. So while I finished up dinner and homeschool work from today, the girls made icecream. (It was really good.)

 

In the midst of this, I began our dinner of pork chops, rice, and squash. It all made it to the table at the same time, by the way, and the table was even set with Real plates and silverware.

In the interest of full-disclosure, about 2/3 of the way through dinner, I realized how tired I was and told everyone, nicely, that I was ready for the day to be over. : ) And in the course of getting Sofia a plate who was very disturbed by her ice-cream and pie actually touching, a plate flew out of my hands and shattered all over the floor.

But the kitchen has been cleaned up (thank you Marc and kids), lessons are planned and prepared for tomorrow, and to top it all off I conquered Bouldergeist (SuperMarioGalaxy) and have written (although not beautifully) a blog post.

I think I might have hit all my 2011 goals in the course of today.
See you next year. *grin*

Another Good SnowDay

2010 Wordle Review

 
 (Click through to see a bigger image.)

Three Words

The company that I’ve been keeping in person and online the past couple of years have done this ‘Three Words’ thing for each year. It’s kind of a neat take on resolutions/goal setting. Last year, I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t.

This year, not only could I do it, I did it fairly easily.

For 2011, my three words are

* rooted
* connect
* calendar.

On the First Day of Vacation...

A Story to Celebrate

Each Sunday, our church has a time to share our 'celebrations and concerns'. Our community take a leisurely time sharing, listening, agreeing, celebrating. It is one of my favorite things about our church.

This morning, a man moved from his position as usher in the rear to stand behind his wife. He straightened the lapel on his bright, red blazer as he cleared his throat. With his hand on his wife's shoulder, he shared 'This week we will be celebrating our 55th anniversary'.

We rejoiced with him as he moved back to his place as usher. And that would be enough to celebrate, right?

What caught in my throat, though, was when the usher that was serving beside him stood up and walked forward to meet him in a huge embrace. It was a hug only people who have been through a lot together - the hug of true friends and comrades.

I think both are worthy of celebrating, and both part of a very good story.

April 1990

I just spent the last half hour reading my journal from my very first international trip. In April 1990, I participated in  Mission of Peace, sponsored by the Northeast Jurisdiction of the United Methodist Church, to the Soviet Union. It was my first flight (from Bangor Maine to NYC to Helsinki!), the first reason I needed a passport, my first long trip away from home.

I had spent the previous 8 months raising $3500 to fund the trip. I would spent the year following visiting the many groups around Maine (mostly Methodist Women groups) sharing my experience over 40 times.

Reading my journal was a little disappointing. I was a junior in high school, and even though I like to think better of myself, I really was all about the hormones and drama. On this trip I had my first beer and my first vodka, and liked the way they made me feel. I had a crush on a guy but played the role of 'little sister' to him, listening to all this woes. I was incredibly aware of the dynamics in our group of 40 high school kids. I was struggling with my relationship with God - mostly that I wanted to have fun that I knew would not bring my closer to Him in discipleship. I was worried about leaving  my little sister at home. (That's what I wrote, but I think I probably just missed her.) There were very nice people there, and there were terrible people there. I wasn't afraid except of black marketeers (whom we could get arrested for associating with). I loved, loved, loved the Moscow Circus and wrote that circuses would never be the same for me. (This is true.)

Communism and the USSR was becoming unglued at this time. At one church service we went to we heard speakers from East and West Germany talking about the reunification process. 

One of the most vivid things I remember about my trip (not in my journal) was how the sky was blue in Moscow. After growing up in the cold war, but also paying attention to humanitarian appeals that featured tones of sepia and overcast skies, I was shocked at how vibrant blue the sky was - just like ours in Maine.

I'm not sure what to do with this journal. I don't think I want to read it again, or that I want my family reading it. What does one do with journals like this? There must be some kind of parting ceremony?

December 27, 1994

"'I LOVE YOU!' he said 'i love you' - me, he loves me."

That's part of the journal entry found from the night before we left for our first visit to India.

The setting was in Lewiston, Maine, a cold winter evening. Marc's parents lived across the driveway from his mom's parents. We had just gone down to visit Gram and Gramp and to say good-bye before our trip to India. I was staying with his family because he and his Dad and I were flying out of Portland to meet the rest of our mission team in NY the next morning. 

I had never expected to fall in love when I met Marc. It wasn't what I had scheduled for my junior year of college. I was ready to be an RA and to throw myself into my studies. Infatuations and unmet expectations had stolen a lot of my time and energy during the previous few years. This was going to be my year of focus. 

Marc and I had known each other for four months. We were 'dating' in the pressure filled culture of a Christian college, with people having all sorts of 'how you are really supposed to date' ideas. As we moved along in our relationship we tried to sift through what we thought and believed for ourselves. I think we did pretty well. But let me share that we were well into the conversation about marriage and had not yet shared our first kiss. It was still a thrill, a big deal, when we held hands.

We had been not only conservative in our physical relationship, but in our promises and conversations. Marc was still trying to figure out a call to a season of celibacy, perhaps in a monastic setting. It was pretty clear to me that he was to be my life-companion. We had long, frank conversations about this.


That night, we paused in the driveway on our way back to the main house to look up at the clear star-filled sky. I said something, I have no idea what. All I know is that he said "I love you" and it was one of those orchestral, sky-spinning moments. All of the dreaming of a life together that we had begun to share became even more than a dream, it became a path going somewhere.

I imagine that we hugged, though I don't remember it. But I do remember scrambling into bed that night with my journal, my hands still shaking.

"'I LOVE YOU!' he said 'i love you' - me, he loves me."