It's funny. When you are a kid you see things so strangely.
I remember well my Grandma and Grandpa Francis (my mom's parents... and yeah, I
married a guy whose last name is the same as my mother's maiden name.) moved from Toronto,
Canada to Winston-Salem, North Carolina
where I had then lived my whole life. But I was only about 6 at the time. I
didn't understand the reasons they came. Not until I was married and had children
of my own did my mom finally tell me the story of the events surrounding that
move. But for me it was terrific! At that time my dad's parents lived only
about 45 minutes from our home and we visited them often. They kept us for the
weekend and they were at all my birthday parties. We spent every Thanksgiving
together and Christmas day was always celebrated at their home with tons of
Aunts, Uncles, and Cousins. But my "Canada Grandparents" were seen
much less frequently. My mom was close with her parents so she flew up there
with us as often as she could and they came down when they could but this was
exciting. They would be living about 15 minutes from our house! Those few years
changed my relationship with them forever. They became our regular baby
sitters. I remember nearly every week Grandpa and Grandma would come over to
our house and while my parents went out we would hang out with Grandpa and
Grandma. I have this image etched in my brain of Grandpa pacing up and down in
my brother's room; rubbing his forehead and telling the most imaginative
stories I had ever heard! We would beg for story after story. But my Grandma
was always so proper and quiet. She scolded softly and was always passive about
Grandpa's wild and sometimes hard to believe stories. Grandpa would tell us
something outlandish and pass it off as truth. We would stare at him bug-eyed
and finally turn to Grandma who was pretending not to be listening and whine,
"Is that true Grandma?" She would only shake her head and say,
"Fred!" and he would just laugh! We would think we were sure then
that he was fooling us but we were never quite sure.

Only weeks after they moved to our town my mom and Grandma went out to get me
my birthday present. I was turning 6 and the only thing I could think about was
having a real live kitty of my own. I'd been asking for one since I was 2 but
my mom didn't want to have an animal to care for and so it was decided that I
would have to wait until I was old enough to help with the care. I think
Grandma had something to do with my parents decision to go ahead and get me
that cat for my 6th birthday even though I was still really too little to help
much with it's care. Mom says that Grandma picked Princess out first. She
picked up that poor depresses young cat whose kittens had been taken from her
and drowned only hours after she delivered them and then found herself unceremoniously
dumped at the Animal Shelter. Grandma knew she was the one and mom agreed. When
Grandma picked her up she just snuggled in as if she knew she were home. In
time she grew to be elegant and prissy. Grandma loved that cat and Princess
loved her. When she would come to the house Princess would curl up in her lap
and sit there all evening. Grandma would coo, “Pretty Pussy” in her ear and pet
her gently. I remember thinking that was the funniest thing to call a cat. But
Grandma was always proper; a European type of proper. She always used the kings
English and had impeccable manners. She served tea imported from Britain at tea
time every afternoon with milk and sugar. She knew were every fork went and
what it was for. She cut her food daintily and ate small bits. She was always
scolding us during meal time, “I know your mother taught you to eat better than
this.” And she was always appalled at my pickiness.

And I resented this. Why was she always needing to scold? Why
was she always so perfect? Why did she always seem so careful about everything?
I thought of her as a bit of a kill joy. I gave her a hard time when she baby
sat us but her patience seemed endless. She just quietly scolded and somehow we
always knew we must mind. I’m sure my enthusiasm and lack of self-control
always perplexed her. She couldn’t see how a child should be allowed to get
away with that kind of thing. But the modern American child was different.

She loved me; I knew that. I can still feel her kiss on my
cheeks and the feel of her cheek when I kissed it; her tall, regal way of
walking. She was always a perfect twin of the Queen of England. They looked
alike as young women and when they got old they still looked remarkably alike! They
were nearly the same age too. I always associated my grandmother with England even though her parents immigrated
from England to Canada before
she was born. But her distinctively English upbringing strongly impacted her
and her home was very British as well.

But I was not. I was flamboyant and recklessly emotional. I
thought she didn’t approve of me but my mother always assured me that she did. I
just didn’t pay attention to all the ways she was showing me love and didn’t see
how dear I was to her. We were different, she and I. But I didn’t know how to
appreciate it. When they went back to Canada after only a few years we
missed them greatly. But we had so many memories that I cherish now!

When I got married they were so happy for me. They came to
visit a few weeks before the wedding and we all went on vacation together. Grandma
was loving and supportive and expressed how nice a young man Todd seemed. He
cared for her as if she was his own Grandmother and happened to be there at a moment
when she was unable to climb the stairs and easily lifted her up those few
steps and the moment became immortalized as Todd’s grand entrance to the family
from then on.

We saw her only once after my marriage and she then became
too weak to travel. Grandpa visited and we’ve seen him since a time or two. But
Grandma started calling me about a year ago. I had always been bad about
keeping in touch. I’d send her a family picture ever year or so but I didn’t
write like I meant to or call. But she made a point of getting my number from
my mom and calling me up and just chatting for a bit. We would have a lovely
chat every few months and she was so loving and encouraging. Last Christmas I
made up a Kodak photo book of all the photos I had taken of our family over the
past year and had it sent to her. When she called me to say she’d gotten it she
was all choked up. I never had seen my Grandma cry. I’d never heard tears in
her voice but she said, “This is just so special to me. I can see them growing,
and doing the things they love to do. I can see your family and it’s so
wonderful!” It made my year. Every time I thought of her sitting in her nursing
home bed looking at those pictures and being able to turn the pages and see our
life here, hundreds of miles away, I would just smile; glad to feel that she
was apart of my family even from Canada.

But last week my mom was called to Canada. Grandma
was ill and the family was needing to come. I held my breath. It couldn’t have
been more that 2 months ago when I talked to her last. She sounded good. Sharp
as ever. But then she never complained. She never wanted to bother the nurse or
be of any trouble. Mom headed up there promising to stay in touch. I could do
nothing. I couldn’t even call. Our phone can’t call Canada now so I waited and hoped
she wouldn’t die. Not yet. She is the youngest of 5 girls. All her older
sisters lived well into their 90’s. Several of them are still alive. She could
do that too, right? After an agonizing week my mom and Aunt and Uncle helplessly tried to understand
what was going on but finally were told to just go home and come back when they
knew more. Mom took Grandpa back to his apartment and my aunt and her husband
drove back to their home in Toronto.
Only to be informed this morning that she had passed away during the night. They
are doing an autopsy to determine what actually caused her death.

So here I sit. Staring at a roomful of little children
needing me but only seeing memories of my grandmother playing across my brain. I
should have been prepared for this but… somehow I’m not. I want to be up there
now. To hold my Grandpa’s hand. To sing my grandma’s favorite hymns with the
others who loved her. To see my cousins again. But I can’t. I have to grieve
alone and remember her myself. On top of everything else I’m juggling now I
have this loss. Oh, God! Give me the strength
to carry it all!

Ok, there are lots of you who expressed alarm at the number of classes I was taking on this semester... well... you were right! I AM CRAZY!!!!!! I think I'm gonna loose my mind with the stress! And guess what? I can't give a decent speech to save my life! And the funny thing is, I've give speeches in public before in front of hundreds of people but none of that prepared me for the paralizing panic of being in front of only about 15 people who are all trying to do better than me and a teacher with a notebook grading me!!! It truly was horrific.... and to make matters worse I have to give another speech on Tuesday and I'm already feeling weak in the knees just thinking about it! I wasn't nervous at all before my last (horrific) speech and still bombed it! AHHHHHHHHH!!

But watching The Office the other night we got to the episode of "Dwight's Speech". Ok. I think I peed my pants laughing at that one! Hits a little close to home?....

Ehm, moving right along, my laundry pile has, again, grown taller than me and added a "friend" this time! Yep, it's trade out season; ya, know, when the Winter clothes get pulled out of the garage and added to the laundry pile of Summer clothes. So, yeah.... my least favorite thing about Fall!

Well, that and sinus infections.... Why do the kids get to just have a simple cold and I get the whole infection thing and have to go to the doctor?? My head hurts!

Adding insult to injury, my camera was murdered!  Yes, I have a suspect and have no idea how to impress the awfulness of her crime upon her. But I am now praying for and studying my options for a new model. Any thoughts, my dear photogs?

Why did homeschooling seem so easy for my mother? How in the world was she so organized and consistent?? Again, AHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Please, Semester, Go quickly!! I need a break!!!!!!!!!!!!

Just a moment ago this is the scene that was played out before me as I sat on the couch trying to read a book to Tegan...

Tyler:

Tacey:

Trina:

Tacey:

The Bear across the room (with it's tummy being pressed endlessly by Tyler now [who apparently has forgotten the snake]):

Tacey:

Trenton:

Mommy:

Trenton:

Trina:

Tacey (still at the top of her lungs):

Mommy (calmly attempting to return order):

Trina:

Tacey:

Mommy: (a princess? in a wedding? and why did she ask if she knew she wanted to be the princess?)

Trina:

Trenton:

Trina, Tacey, and Tyler:

I guess the snake and dress crisis has been averted for the moment. *sigh* wow.

---

And then just the other day I overheard this conversation.... (for a little background: Tacey [age 6] was given a rather large child sized ceramic tea set from one of her Grandma's. I insisted for a while that it stay at Grandma's to avoid being broken to pieces in a mater of days but eventually Tacey reassured me that she could handle caring for it and protecting it from her baby sisters and Grandma assured me that it was inexpensive and she wouldn't be offended if she broke them all. So they came to our house about a week ago..... ok, now this will make more sense...)

Tacey (to Trina):

Trina (obviously a bit concerned with the responsibility of possibly breaking them):

Tacey:

Trina:

Tacey:

Trina (and now Trenton too):

Tacey:

(So off downstairs they all troop. Curious, I stand listening at the top of the stairs.)

Tacey:

At this point, I'm splitting a gut up at the top of the stairs listening to all this! Tacey seems concerned only with the experiment and so completely unconcerned that all her cups and saucers are breaking!! So this is when I call a halt to this "experiment" and make them get back to school!

Some things are not easy to put into words. Some people are hard to define or reduce to a bunch of descriptors. Sometimes you find someone who at once seems solid, steady, and down-to-earth while at the same time so deeply complex and perplexingly unsearchable. Todd: my lover, my companion, my mate, and my dearest friend is another year older today and as I sit here to write this I find myself halting as I search my heart.

Todd and I have a different relationship from a lot of our friends. We are complete opposites:

• He's a morning person; I'm a night owl.
• He likes country life; I'm the city girl who loves fine dining and good shopping.
• He wants his clothes to be basic and not trendy; I must have the latest styles and trends.
• He never wants to buy new clothes; I can't stand wearing the same thing year after year.
• He likes healthy foods; I want my food to taste yummy, not like cardboard!
• He wants me to serve him to SHOW him love; I want him to constantly TELL me he loves me and I'm wonderful.
• He needs things orderly and well planned; I want to fly by the seat of my pants on everything.
• He likes quiet music that is soothing; I love my music loud and fun.
• He prefers to stay home and socialize little; I love a good party and could go out with friends every night.
• He's logical and private with his feelings; I'm irrational and emotional and everybody knows how I feel.
• He's strong and impassive; I'm willful but malleable.
• He loves roughing it; I like my creature comforts.
• He's methodical; I'm creative and never do anything the same way twice.
• He is fiercely loyal but to only a select few; I have lots of acquaintances and friends on all kinds of levels.

In that strange way that we commonly call 'the principle that opposites attract' I am, at once, in love with and baffled by our differences. I catch myself scratching my head when I can't seem to get inside his head and understand what seems so completely wrong. Sometimes he says to me, "You are assuming that because you don't know what reasoning I used to arrive at what I do or believe that it is wrong. That's not necessarily true. Why don't you just ask me what I'm really thinking and what I believe about that? You might be surprised that I'm really pretty with it." Of course then we have a good laugh about my ignorance but some days I just feel shut out. Does he mean to shut me out? No.  He wants to share with me what he shares with no one else but he doesn't know sometimes that I'm in the dark. I love that deepness! That mystery. It keeps me fascinated and compelled to draw near. To stop and ponder. I love that he's mine. And that he wouldn't have it any other way.

I know I brag a lot about his medical school accomplishments but I am just so proud! But the odd thing is that most people ask more about me and how I'm doing and tend to gloss over his efforts. They don't see what he's carrying. They think he's just going to school and don't have any idea how many other worries he juggles day in and day out. He's not your typical guy in that he just is all work when he's at work and doesn't think about or worry about the home. No, in fact he is the complete opposite. He struggles all day to let the issues at home fade back and focus on his education. He calls to check on me and give direction or help me refocus often throughout a typical day. It's a burden that most men don't feel the need to take on but Todd's focus is family and so what we are doing during the day is of great interest to him and he wants to be apart of it. People think I am handling the home stuff alone while he goes off and pursues his dreams everyday but that's not what it's like. He does all this for us. He wants a job that allows him to provide well for his family but gives him maximum time off to be with his family and play a major roll in their lives. With his giftings he knew this was the only way to go. It wasn't a convenient choice it was just what he knew for him would be the best.

So happy birthday, hubby of mine! You are an inspiration and the love of my life! I can't wait to grow old with you!!

My son, my one and only son turned NINE on August 30th! I can remember being nine. I remember a lot about being nine.... wow. There just aren't enough words to describe my boy. Loyal, hard working, diligent, resourceful, strong leader... These are just a few of the words that describe a boy that is so quickly turning into a man of God. He is working so hard to become an honest man; one that serves the Lord with his whole heart! Trenton got his first Bible with his name inscribed this year and he has faithfully taken it to church and read with it often. He sometimes gathers his sisters around him to read from it and they beg him to keep going and not stop! I know I am kinda going on and on here but I guess a momma and her boy share a special bond. I couldn't do this homeschooling thing without his drive and motivation. I tend to find every reason not to get started on their school each morning and he's reminding me the things he's wanting to learn this year and that Tacey still needs to learn to read. What a help he is with everything from taking out the trash and seeing that it gets out to the street on time on trash day to helping bathe and dress his baby sisters. I'm so proud of my Trenton Lee!

Here are a few highlights from his photoshoot....

*edit* Again, special thanks goes to my dear friend, Michelle, for allowing me to use her camera and making this fun photoshoot day possible! Thanks again, Michelle! We really had a blast!