It’s not about the fish

Today I am feeling very Minnesotan. I overcame set aside my fear of walking on our frozen lake, and I joined Michael and the girls on this season’s first ice fishing adventure. The girls are veteran ice fishermen fishing chics, having gone out last winter and the winter before as well.  Anyway, here’s the proof that I really was out there.

I went today, for my first time, because I wanted to take pictures and because Michael really, really wanted me to go. He and his buddies recently joined forces to buy the ice house from another buddy who moved away. I haven’t seen Michael this excited since he put the sailboat in the water for the first time!

Trudging through the deep snow to cross to the middle of the lake where our shared ice house sits was especially strange because that’s usually the same part of the lake where we sail our boat in the summer! Only the shoreline doesn’t usually look like this.

“Should we really be doing this?” I kept asking myself. How odd for me to now walk on water, albeit deeply frozen and covered with knee-deep snow in some places.  How odd for me to follow Michael and my children who wore snowpants in lieu of life jackets and rode in a sledding tube instead of a sailboat. 

But the difficulty of maneuvering through the deep snow helped me not think so much about the icy waters below me, and it helped me file those “worse case scenarios” far back in my mind.

Welcome to our home sweet home on the lake!

The ice house culture, I have learned, is really not so much about catching fish. It’s more of a 10-year-old boy’s mentality of escaping to a secret tree house or fort where moms and sisters do not dare to tread. It’s about having a place where normal household rules and expectations do not apply.

It’s about eating too many snacks too close to mealtime, and no one nagging you.

It’s about hanging out with your closest buddies.

It’s about being outside in the fresh cold air.

And the fishing part? Well that  just makes it sound more official, dontcha know?

Today it was good that we packed goldfish crackers as a snack, because those were the only fish we saw. But that didn’t matter. I experienced ice fishing as firsthand as I legally could without a fishing license. I was really intrigued to peer down into the hole and see the lake water.

The sunlight makes such an eery glow in the icy waters.

Lunchtime drew near, so we headed back across the lake toward the marina where our truck was parked.

En route, we crossed paths with the marina owner, who was busy plowing the snow to make the road to one of the villages of ice houses.

 The ice is about 12-inches thick right now, but soon folks will be driving their trucks out to their ice houses. And the next time Michael takes the girls fishing, he will probably drive right up to the ice house. Oh, this mama does not like the thought of her precious babies driving on ice!

But at least all that ice fishing helps them sleep well!

The Christmas Story

Our whole family participated in the children’s Christmas program at our church last Sunday. It was a lot of work and a lot of fun, but we are all glad it is over! Whew!

Linnea played the part of the youngest daughter in the family. She had seven lines, and she was quite a convincing little actress! I played the part of the mom. A real stretch, I know. I was glad I only had three lines!

Laurel performed several songs as part of the children’s choir.

And Michael performed three songs as a caroler and as part of a trio.

You can check out more photos of the dress rehearsal simply by hopping over to our church’s blog. Enjoy!

Home for Christmas

Home. They say it’s where your story begins. And they say there’s really no place like it.

Last month we visited the only place that I called “home” the first 22 years of my life. It’s the red-brick house my parents brought me home to as a newborn. In the pink bedroom, I shared a bed with all my dolls and listened to the whippoorwills and lonesome train whistles crying in the distance. In the cozy den, I listened to Mama play John Denver songs on the piano. In the backyard, I learned to swing and ride a bike and dig in the dirt. In the front yard, I played cars and trucks and cowboys and Indians with my brother. On the front porch, Daddy let me sit on the bucket as he cranked homemade ice cream on hot summer evenings. In the paved car port, I roller-skated with my headphones blaring Madonna tunes. In the kitchen, Mama let me lick the chocolate icing off the beaters, and Daddy shared his Dr. Pepper breaks with me. And through the big picture window, I often gazed dreamily, wondering about the future and waiting for the next package or the next visitor or the next season or just the next bus ride to school.

So last week, as we drove slowly down West 27th Street, I gazed dreamily at that red-brick house perched on two-and-a-half wooded acres bordering Lake Keystone. It had changed. In the front yard, many of the blackjack oak trees my brother and I played under were gone. Only their stumps remained. In the backyard, someone else’s swing set was placed closer to the patio than mine had been. And all around the house, new windows with white trim had replaced the old ones with brown trim. Even the big picture window overlooking the front yard was new and improved.

All those alterations seem subtle, though, when I consider how my view of home has changed since moving away from Oklahoma 12 years ago. Often, I’ve been confused. Is home where I grew up? Is home where my family is? Is home where I live now? Is home where my children grow up? Is home where everyone knows my name? Is home where I celebrate Christmas? Where is home exactly?

As a stay-at-home, homeschooling mom, I spend a lot of time at our home here in Minnesota. Linnea and Laurel do, too. For us, home is more than a house to sleep in. It’s a comfortable place to grow and learn and worship and play and eat and rest and entertain. And I love it here; I really do. I love the memories we are making as our daughters twirl around these rooms on their tiptoes, making music with piano keys, guitar strings, made-up songs and girly giggles. I am so blessed to be home with them, teaching them and making this a soft place for Michael to land when his work day ends.

Yet my heart still longs for home. I am still wondering about the future and waiting for what’s next. These days the Bible is the big picture window through which I gaze heavenward. The Bible says none of us are truly home anywhere on this earth because God has called us heavenward in Christ Jesus.

“But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ…” -Philippians 3:20

Heaven is home. Jesus is from there, and He’s back there now preparing a place for us, just as He says in John 14:1-3:

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.”

Home is where Jesus is. And He’s busy preparing a place for me because my citizenship is in heaven. I’m just passing through Minnesota. How should I respond to that truth? Shouldn’t I set my mind on things above? Shouldn’t I prepare room in my heart for Jesus? Shouldn’t I trust Him with all of my heart?

Someday we’ll be together in heaven. But in the meantime, if Jesus is in my heart, then my heart is at home no matter where this earthly body roams. And no matter where you roam, we pray your heart may also be home in Christ Jesus this Christmas!

Merry Christmas!

No Ho-Ho-Ho

This is probably going to really offend some folks, but I have a confession to make. I’m not a fan of Santa Claus. 

I know. I know. Please don’t get me wrong; I like the true story of Saint Nicholas. But the whole jolly ole’ man in a red suit, North Pole toy factory, elf thing, I just don’t care for it much. And it’s not because I didn’t grow up with Santa. My parents did Santa. It was a serious tradition in our house. They even jingled bells on Christmas Eve to convince my brother and me it was time for bed because Santa was landing on the roof!  

I remember believing in the magical ideas and feeling very excited about Santa as a small child, so much so that I didn’t understand the true, miraculous Christmas story. I sang “Away in a Manger” with my Kindergarten class at school, and I had no idea who or what I was singing about. Sad, isn’t it?

But that is just why I don’t like Santa. The Santa tradition can completely distract us from the true meaning of Christmas — Jesus’s miraculous birth. Plus, Santa himself takes on some creepy characteristics, sneaking into homes, watching to see whether you’re naughty or nice, judging you on your behavior, and encouraging greediness. (My kids don’t need any help with that!)

This piece on Santa Claus, written by Noel Piper, articulates my thoughts almost exactly, plus some aspects of Santa I’d never before considered.

http://www.desiringgod.org/Blog/2141_thinking_about_santa/

What do you think? Are you a die-hard Santa fan? Or do you think he’s a distraction from the true meaning of Christmas?

Getting in the Christmas Spirit

We’ve been getting in the Christmas spirit around here. Since returning from our action-packed trip south in November (which I promise to post about later), we have:

played outside in the lightly falling snow,

rode a tractor-drawn wagon to hunt for a tree,

found the perfect tree,

smiled about finding the perfect tree,

lighted the perfect tree,

trimmed the perfect tree,

posed for a photo in front of the tree despite questionable nap hair,

hunted for candy canes,

sipped hot chocolate,

guzzled hot chocolate,

served hot chocolate,

taken a horse-drawn wagon ride, which would have been a sleigh ride if it had been AFTER the blizzard,

gotten all dressed up  to go see Cinderella live at the Children’s Theatre in Minneapolis,

endured our first blizzard of the season (sorry, it was way too cold to document with a photograph)

performed “Away in a Manger” on piano at the local nursing home,

and sung “Away in a Manger” for the local nursing home residents.

Whew! It’s no wonder we’re tired!

It’s a Boot Scootin’ Birthday!

This weekend we are celebrating the birthday of our little cowgirl!

We celebrated with peanuts, pretzels and homemade horse cupcakes corraled in a white picket fence.

We celebrated with cowgirl friends.

We celebrated with the cowgirl lil’ sister.

We celebrated with games.

We celebrated with horse-themed presents.

We celebrated with candles and singing.

We celebrated, and we thanked God for seven precious years with our sweet Linnea. May there be happy trails to number eight!

Ariel and Alice

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Once upon a time there were two young sisters. One was called Ariel, and the other was called Alice. Both were invited to a Very Important Date on Saturday evening.

Ariel was a beautiful, healthy little mermaid, swimming around and combing her curly locks of hair with a Dinglehopper. She had quite a lively imagination and quite an appetite for candy!

Dear little Alice also had quite a lively imagination. She was known for her lovely, long blond hair and for daydreaming about talking white rabbits with pocket watches. But sadly, Alice was not as healthy as her sister. And despite getting a seasonal flu shot on Monday, Alice came down with a terrible fever on Friday afternoon. Fortunately, Nurse chased down a tiny bottle of Tamiflu medicine, labeled “Drink Me.” So Alice tasted it. It tasted nice, so she drank it up. You’ll never guess what happened next, so I shall have to tell you. The flu bug began to shrink!

Then Nurse chased down lots of little pink and purple tablets labeled “Eat me.” Alice ate them. They tasted good. And then what do you think happened to her? No, you’ll never guess, so I shall tell you. Her fever shrank! But then it grew back to an abnormal size. So Nurse kept giving Alice more and more tablets to eat. Pretty soon, Alice was feeling rather curious.

By Saturday morning, Alice was still feeling curious but slightly less sick. She got dressed and watched Pirate carve up her giant pumpkin with two missing front teeth. Ariel also watched Pirate carve up her pumpkin with one lonely tooth. Afterwards, Pirate, Ariel and Alice all posed for pictures and then took a long afternoon nap. Meanwhile, Nurse cried and cried and wrote regretfully to her friends hosting the Very Important Date.

Dearest Friends,

Oh, dear! Oh, dear!

We shall be too late!

For your Very Important Date.

We’re all trapped here

In the Pool of Tears.

The key won’t unlock any door;

We’re missing you ever more.

We all have cried and cried,

See you on the other side! 

Sadly,

Alice, Ariel, Nurse and Pirate

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Pumpkin Patch Fun

You might have noticed the snow in the background of one of Linnea’s toothless portraits. It didn’t snow here in our part of the state, but last Friday it did snow in Rochester. We made a day trip there Saturday to visit some dear friends of ours who recently relocated to that area. And we all enjoyed visiting Tweite’s Pumpkin Patch together. The girls picked out these enormous pumpkins!

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Exploring this kid-sized town was great fun!

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And the corn maze was fun, even if it was very mucky from the snowy slush. Linnea is our maze expert, and she helped us find our way out!

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Peeking through the window…

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Our little friend J- joined us. He’s pretty proud of his jeans and boots; and he totally stole our hearts with his dimples and that hat. He is such a sweet little farmer boy!

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This giant double-slide looked like a lot of fun, and it would have been if the girls hadn’t kept bumping into each other and their dad!

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Overall, it was a fun trip. Now we just have to find time to carve those big ole’ pumpkins!

All She Wants for Christmas…

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Linnea is sporting a whole new smile these days. Last Thursday her other front tooth came out, leaving us all singing “All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth.”

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What a gummy grin!

A Dragon Tea Party

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Yesterday we finally had a Dragon Tea Party, which Laurel has been requesting for several months now. We sipped cinnamon plum tea while we nibbled heart-shaped cucumber sandwiches and cheese sandwiches. We ate fiery rings of dragon’s breath (dried cinammon apples) as well as dragon teeth (shortbread cookies) and pink M&Ms leftover from Laurel’s birthday.

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With so much help from Laurel and Linnea, the party required very little no actual planning on my part, and it covered both lunch and storytime. We might have to do a second one with actual, living, breathing guests, but this time around, we were content to have only stuffed dragons present.

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Once we were as stuffed as our guests, we read three dragon books:

  1. No Dragons for Tea by Jean Pendzowil
  2. The Paper Bag Princess by Robert Munsch
  3. and, only because Linnea insisted, Peek-A-Boo Bard by Julie Aigner-Clark

And, after all the dragons awoke from their naps, I let the girls watch Pete’s Dragon. Just because. I loved that movie when I was little.

Oh, and by the way, if you read about our Teddy Bear Stay-Cation this summer, I should mention that we have two more additions to our list of teddy bear books. They are:

  1. Where’s My Teddy by Jez Alborough
  2. We’re Going on a Bear Hunt by Michael Rosen (Laurel’s new favorite)

Happy reading!