Glimmers

 I'm not sure why, but this week has been very hard emotionally.  Even though today hasn't been a bad, I just don't want to write tonight.  I'm too overwhelmed, feeling much too hopeless.

 But there are glimmers of hope.  A visit with a sister who lives far away, good conversation over wings and nachos, a beautiful fall bouquet tucked inside a small orange pumpkin, and a little boy buying chocolate (good chocolate) for his mama to make up for a week of whining, disobedience and willfulness.  His thoughtfulness and self-sacrifice touched his mama's heart.  He spent all of his money on me, kept nothing back for himself.  It was a gift that cost him.  My hard heart melted(it's been a looong week) causing me to fish through my change.  His face lit up with joy when I handed him the twoonie and sent him off to buy a chocolate bar to share with his brother.  Such a sweet little boy when he wants to be.  He has promised to be better this week after a long talk with his father.  Hopefully he won't forget.

Pie Making

 My mentor came over today.  She's a lovely lady in her mid-sixties, married for over 40 years, grandmother to children older than mine.  She's quiet and wise, not at all impetuous like me.  I'm hoping that some of her calmness will rub off on me.  Today she came to help make pies.  I really wanted to bake pies for Thanksgiving, but with my lack of energy knew that help was needed.

 I asked and she agreed, so we met together today to bake over cups of coffee and hot apple cider.  I made crust while she peeled apples.  Then as I mixed the filling together, she rolled out dough with Kian.  Rachel was so patient with him, teaching him how to fold the crust over and place it in the dish.  I learned a lot too, just by watching.  These pies aren't just yummy, they're beautiful too, decorated with pricks shaped like flowers, letters, and birds.  Oh these pies were works of art!  Having had a slice for dessert, I can also attest to the deliciousness too.  Don't you wish you were coming to my house for Thanksgiving dinner? :)

Storm Furies

 She breaks my heart.

 This little golden girl of mine, all sun-streaked hair and the faded glow of sun-kissed skin, now descends into torment.  Wails split the air, fists fly, limbs fail in all directions as she wrestles with her own personal demons.  Why does one so small have to struggle with something so big?

 I feel so powerless standing there.  How do I help this little one?  I try to speak truth, try to pray, try to hold, to love in the face of this storm.  But it rages on, undaunted by my efforts.  She screams that she is the worst person ever, that she hates herself.  My heart splinters, shreds, disintegrates.

 For this is a storm I know all too well.  I wrestled with these demons for far too long and am only now finding healing and victory.  This isn't what I want for her.  This isn't my dream for freedom and hope.  Understanding helps, it mutes my frustration only to funnel it back at myself.  I hurt for her hurt, for my hurt, for this broken world that writes pain in our DNA.  I didn't ask to be broken.  Neither did she.  Nor did so many others left broken, bruised, wounded, rejected by events that happened even before their births.  It's not right. It's not fair.

 The storm ends.  She comes, with tear-stained face, asking why can't she be good?  Wondering why this obedience is so hard, imagining that this experience is unique to her.  Another man, almost two thousand years ago, said the same thing wrestling with his brokenness and the grace of Christ.  So I told the story of a man named Saul, of his journey from darkness to light and the grace in between.  Words about how it's our faith that brings rightness with God, not our works, how desperately we need grace.  Stories about how once I wrestled with sin, how I still wrestle with sin and how God makes it right.  She asked how long? How long does this take?  It's been so long(a year) and still she struggles.  She didn't like my answer, that we have to wait until glory, but the storm was done.  Peace had come, finally, for now.

 I weep for my girl and for myself. I weep for all who suffer from the torments of sin, striving to be better, but caught.  And I am so thankful for that man who was redeemed, caught in a blinding light, then  released again to see.  He wrote letters of truth, so that we who have come since can find hope and healing in the news of God's great grace rather than getting stuck in the sinking sand of legalism and works.

 May all of our brokenness be redeemed and may we walk in freedom.

Today I'm joining with Emily as we celebrate God's grace.

Obedience

 For some reason, my darling angels have minds of their own.  Aris and Kian have both had very strong personalities since in utero.  Zane was mostly placid his first year of life, but has since demonstrated a very strong and vocal will.  Parenting such strong-willed, spirited and intelligent children sometimes feels like a losing battle.  Unfortunately, I can't even say that I try my best.  There are days when I do a great job of mothering, but there are other days when I'm tired, sick, frustrated, depressed or otherwise at the end of my rope.  On those days I either give up or get upset.  Neither of those option influence my children well.

 About a month ago, we attended our new LifeGroup for the first time.  Afterwards, one of the women commented on how well behaved my children were.  I was slightly shocked, because all though they were on mostly good behaviour, they weren't perfect.  But for four weeks running, they've done very very well.  Last week the same lady complimented me on my parenting.  I'm not sure what I'm managing to do right, but it's encouraging!

 Kian seems to be even more spirited than his sister, which is saying something.  Thankfully he's my third and I have a lot more confidence and knowledge as well as practice in child-rearing.  I stress a lot less over him than I did the others.  For months we worked with him in an attempt to get him to use his nice asking words and to follow commands, especially while walking.  Recently, he's been walking more and today he walked to and from the school both trips.  I was so proud of him!  But while we were walking, I noticed how well he stops at his boundaries, holds my hand while crossing the street, and didn't jump in the puddles with his shoes on.  It was so encouraging!  What was even more encouraging was that he kept asking me if he could do things with his polite words!  It was such a joy to here " May I  yook at puddle?  May I wok over here?"  Finally our hard work is paying off!   He's also learning empathy.  This comes in handy when we're trying to get him to apologize for being mean to someone.  This happens often.  But Kian is learning to apologize even when it's scary or his feelings were hurt too.  I am so thankful for the personal growth we've seen in him and in the rest of our children.  It's encouraging!  

Curried Indian Dal Soup

 Well, I cooked today.  I also had a child home from school again and then a plethora of people arrived all at once.  That was fun.  I took advantage of the chaos to slip upstairs and change out of my jammies.  I think they appreciated that!  I certainly appreciated them.  From my mom bringing over a casserole after picking up Steve's birthday present for me, to the coffee and honey cruller that T brought over, to my mother-in-love's wise counsel, to Veronica's great hugs, they all enriched my day.  I am very blessed to have such a wonderful community of women to do life with.

 But the best part was that I cooked!  By cooked, I mean made a good, labour intensive meal.  It started with a soup.  We're trying to eat meatless a couple days a week.  This works better some weeks than others, but it's a start.  I've been wanting to make a "Curried Indian Dal Soup" from 300 Sensational Soups by Carla Snyder and Meredith Deeds.  Last week I managed to toast and grind the spices, but hadn't gotten around to making the soup.  I was feeling much better today so I made soup.  It turned out very well.  Unfortunately, the soup doesn't look appetizing, but it tasted delicious.  However, cinnamon and cardamon are not spices we're used to in soups, so the wee people weren't as thrilled.  Steve and I both enjoyed it though.

 For some reason I felt especially ambitious, so decided to add a side dish.  In keeping with the Indian theme, I made "Vegetable Bhajis" from Jamie's Food Revolution.  This is one of my favourite cookbooks. Jamie wrote this one for those who are scared of cooking.  Thus the recipes are explained in great detail with very helpful photographs.  There's just something about Jamie Oliver that makes me want to try everything he suggests.  Normally, I would pass up making the bhajis(fritters? Aris calls them latkes) as they looked too complicated but after making them the first time I realized how amazingly easy and delicious they are.  Having a food processor helps too.  Surprisingly my children loved these.  They also enjoyed the Indian sweets Steve picked up at the local Indian grocery on his way home from work.

 Steve was feeling miserable, so I sent him to bed.  Unfortunately, I crashed hardcore about half an hour later.  This sucked because I really wanted to go to yoga.  *sigh*   But I am thankful for my delightful cookbooks, for having the energy to cook and that my darlings ate something!  Oh, they all devoured my homemade whole-wheat bread.  At least they're eating something.  *shakes head*

 p.s. if anyone wants the recipes, please let me know. i can either email you, or post it on the blog.  if you live close by and want to either borrow my cookbooks, have a cooking lesson or have me cook for you, do you have chocolate? if so, we'll talk. :)  if you live far away and i'm coming to visit you, i can pack my cookbooks for your reading pleasure.  after all, i read yours when i visit. :)

Steve's birthday

 I don't want to write today.   In fact, I'm really really grumpy and angry right now.  What I want to do is eat salty junk food until I feel gross.  But then I remembered what today is.  Today is my wonderful husband's birthday. So rather than be grumpy, I'm going to write about him.

 *sigh* Just as I typed that last sentence, he plugged in his iPhone which meant that another screen superimposed itself over my blogger screen. *sigh*

 So, back to the super-awesomeness....No, Steve is amazing.  I am blessed beyond words to be married to such a faithful guy.  He truly is faithful.  Steve doesn't give up.  He keeps going even when he's tired, sick, grouchy or burnt-out.  If he is supposed to be somewhere, he'll be there.  He's reliable.  He's steadfast.  During this difficult year, Steve's faith hasn't wavered.  While I'm all over the map emotionally speaking, he keeps pointing me back to God. Steve continually reminds me of God's character, provision and goodness even in the midst of trying circumstances. Steve never gives up.

 Steve is also a great dad.  Our routine has changed now that he busses to work, but for years, he fed the children breakfast every morning.  He's also very involved with the bedtime routine, and has gotten up with the children during the night.  Not once, but almost always.  For this alone, he deserves some kind of medal.

 Steve loves his children.  He enjoys spending time with them, so much so that his saturdays are almost exclusively spent with his boys as Aris is often gone then.  He takes Aris out on dates.  They have an explosive relationship, but he hasn't given up.

 Steve is also doctor-daddy around here.  He fixes all wounds, bandages all cuts, and is the dispenser of medicine.  Certain of our children are convinced that only Daddy could possibly know how to clean a scrape and put on a bandaid.

 I could write a lot more about how wonderful my husband is.  He is generous, loves children, has a great sense of humour, and is a very creative cook.  Plus, he typically makes the coffee.  But I'll spare you the novel and instead just end by wishing him a happy birthday.  I love you, Steve! Happy Birthday!

A 10k Surprise

Yes, I walked 10 kilometres today.  For any Americans reading this, that's just over 5 miles.  I think.  I wasn't planning on walking that far today.  When I got out of bed, I thought that the most I'd walk would be five km.  I knew today was Ride day and I knew that I'd be walking with Aris while she rode her bike.  What I didn't anticipate was how far she'd go.

 Aris doesn't ride her bike that much.  In fact, she has her training wheels on.  She hasn't been taking them off, and her bike is more for pleasure than for actual speed.  Littler kids were whizzing past her up hills as she patiently meandered up them.  If you know my daughter, you can imagine how she'd do this, singing to herself as she peddled.  Unfortunately, I didn't get any pictures of her, but she was very cute in her colourful gerber daisy raincoat, pink my little pony bike and matching helmet.  She even has a pink basket on her bike.  This was used to hold her chips later after we stopped at the rest stop.  She couldn't feed herself while biking, so for awhile I'd deposit chips in her mouth at intervals.  She reminded me of a baby bird or the giant dragon from  "How to Train Your Dragon".  Except of course, she was cuter. :)

 Because Aris is not a cyclist, I wasn't expecting much.  Last year the kids just rode their bikes around the very large driveway.  I thought maybe we'd do the same or go on the road a bit.  This morning, Aris asked to bike the course so I agreed.  Why not?  She struggles with fear issues and if she was brave enough to attempt it, I was not going to stop her.  So off we went.  She went down hills, and up hills, by herself and surrounded by masses of other cyclists, all going faster than she was.  Most of them encouraged her as they passed her.   Since a cyclist had almost taken her out at the starting line, I was nervous when they passed her, but she did fine.  At one point, she got off her bike and started dancing while waiting for her Zaida(paternal grandfather) and I to catch up.

 It was around the 5 k mark that I started to get worried.  It was obvious that we were in for the long haul now.  Even if we turned around, we'd still be doing 10k.  I'm not sure what I've shared this week, but I have chronic fatigue and have had a very bad week health-wise.  As in, I could barely climb the stairs this week.  As I hit Westmount and Northfield, I called my parents and asked them to pray.  They prayed for supernatural strength, for energy and for protection.  Well, God answered their prayers! I walked the full 10k, got Aris food afterwards and could still speak.  I wasn't dizzy or lightheaded or unable to put a sentence together!  I couldn't say apple cider properly, but that wasn't a big deal.  :) I still managed to drink about 3 glasses of it.  Being able to walk that distance was nothing short of a miracle.  I'm still amazed.  I came home and slept for several hours afterwards, but it was good.

 I'm thankful for an amazing day.  I'm also thankful to all of the volunteers who did such a great job cheering, making food, serving food, setting up the course, sweep riding, encouraging, taking pictures, taking down the course and everything else.   It was a lot of fun to walk with Aris and her grandfather.  He shared stories of when he raced in double marathons(or more) in South Africa.  I learned more about his family as well as his wife's family.  It was a blessings to learn these stories, so I will be able to share them with Aris.  The only downside was that I walked 10k and didn't raise any money. *sigh*  The coolest thing I saw today was the riders who participated on horseback!  They had even painted the Ride logos on their horses.  It was an awesome day for a great cause.  Thank you very much to everyone who supported us.  Aris raised $165, my family raised over $400 and our team raised $620!  So far the Canadian Ride raised $503, 404!  This money will go towards helping the vulnerable, the exploited and the displaced.