Just One Day

August 7, 2010

Exhausted from yesterday’s heat, I oversleep and scurry to be ready to work by eight. I throw on some old clothes and get ready for a day of lawn work with Matt. The grass is wet, so Matt says we’ll wait an hour before mowing. I chop up a freshly picked apple from our tree and spoon on some yogurt before heading out to our new porch swing and enjoying the coolness of the morning. The new porch swing is nice, calming. I think about college, about how to ship all my stuff to the school, about my life. I thank God for the peace He has given me.

The dogs run around with typical morning madness as I take care of laundry and do odd jobs. I tell Farley that just being outside really isn’t worth getting so happy about, but he just laughs at me as he flies by. I think that maybe there is something to just being happy about the little things. I smile as Farley plows into Buddy and they play tug of war with tails. I will miss them.

Matt is ready to go, so I head out to his rig as we get ready for a long day. I grab the water jug and bring it inside for a refill. A little ice, a bunch of water, ready to go. I’m on my way out the door when I remember to grab my sunhat. Oh yeah, earplugs too. I dash outside and we’re off. August is dry, and I don’t figure that there will be a lot of mowing this week. We pull up at the first home and Matt drives off with his ride-on while I grab the push-mower and check the gas before starting in. It is only in the eighties, but the work is hard and we persistently work on emptying the water jug during the morning. I am right, and we only have a handful of lawns to do this week. The grass is brown and unhappy with the high temperatures and little rain.

Matt and I come home early so Farley can make his vet appointment. Matt takes off with a thoroughly ecstatic Farley and I help Mom in the pantry. It is a disaster, filled with freshly dug potatoes and too many empty crates. By the time Rachel announces lunch I am thoroughly starved. Matt is back from the vet’s, and we all gather. A brief prayer of thanks, a request for rain, and we quickly empty the pot of rice. Matt brings up a new work opportunity and we all discuss it with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Dad encourages Matt to go for it, and expand the lawn business as necessary. Matt says he is going to look in to it.

We move from the table into the livingroom, having filled in the last corners with a big red watermelon, always perfect on hot, busy days. We sprawl on the chairs as Dad pulls out the devotional book written by his father, and he reads to us. It is a tradition, a ritual, a time of togetherness and union. It is family devotions, a time for the family to come together to worship God as one. Next is prayer requests, and, as usual, we end up discussing the events of the afternoon and who is doing what. Tim cracks a joke and we all laugh heartily. Matt expands on it, Mom adds something, and we’re all laughing. We settle down and present various prayer requests. It is my day of the week to pray. We pray for cooler weather, for Matt and I as we head off to college in just a few weeks, for Dad’s health. This brief time over, Mom heads to her office and Dad leaves for his.

A quick glass of water and I’m back out with Matt for the afternoon. It is hot, but the breeze keeps it bearable. We listen to Fernando Ortega and hum along. Then I’m back with a mower and earplugs. My thoughts go every which way as I go back and forth, back and forth. I think about an interesting movie idea, my roommates, what the weather will be like at college. I pop another piece of strong gum in my mouth to combat the sore throat I’ve had the last few days.

We do our last lawn and head for home. Matt says we should try to get an odd job done at a new customer’s, so we unload the mowers from the trailer and reload it with ladders and a chain saw before heading out again. Matt says the people want stray dead limbs cut from their trees. Matt heads up with the chain saw, and we are hard at work for over an hour. There is an odd guy next door with no shirt, but plenty of tattoos to make up for it. He casts his fishing rod repeatedly into mirky water as he mouths words to the i-pod he is listening too. I shrug.

We finally finish the job only a few scratches the worse, and head home. We are both exhausted. It is past supper, but everything is still out on the counters. Mom makes a sandwich for Matt and I throw together one for myself. It tastes amazing. Matt chats with Mom about expanding the lawn business and quotes figures. We soon head out to unload all the brush from the trailer and put the mowers back in. I head inside for a much-needed bath.

Later, I sit in my room at my desk and write letters to relatives. They are long overdue, and I try to remember why I haven’t gotten to them sooner. I fuss with the printer, finally succeed in extracting my letters, and post them. I hang around Matt’s room as he works on a special wood-working project. And then, to bed.

And here I am, in a silent, black house, in my silent, black room. It is late, far too late to be up after such a day, but I am distracted about college and have a lot on my mind. My room is cluttered with items I need to ship to the school soon. I am flying down at the end of the month and need all my stuff to be there when I arrive. But that means I have to live without it until I get there...how to organize this? There are several large boxes pushed up against my dresser, waiting to be filled. The dresser top is crowded with bags from Meijers. My hope chest is piled with work clothes and new clothes and clothes to be packed and clothes to be washed. I have too many shoes to fit my small closet and need to de-junk.
My eye flits from one to another and my thoughts whir. I want to do everything right now, have it all under control tonight. But I can’t do that, and I give my worries to God for the hundredth time today, asking for wisdom and peace. There is so much to be done this month; everything, really. I remind myself that I don’t need to do it right now.
So now I’m going to shut this down. It is later than late. I think of God: El Shaddai, the God who is enough. And I know this to be true. I cling to this promise as I close my eyes. I grab a cough drop off my hopechest and pull the blankets up around my head. I wait for sleep.

April Child

July 25, 2010

Eighteen years old.

Most people can look back at a specific season in their life when their view of the world shifted from child to adult. I remember that time in my life with a greater clarity than I sometimes wish.

I was fourteen. Up to that day, my life had been filled with few things more serious than chores and sibling squabbles. I had watched my Dad suffering through a debilitating illness, but my parents had protected me in such a way that I didn’t understand the full import of an undiagnosed disease that slowly but surely encroached on my Dad’s ability to physically function.

The air was thick with anticipation that particular Saturday. My Mom had scrimped and saved, made lists and meticulously prepared for a special day with some dear ones. I played with friends, and, for the most part, my child eyes couldn’t see the tensions. But then, it all happened. After a long day of giving to these people, my exhausted Mom stood up to briefly announce a few things. Someone started talking, and suddenly I was staring as I watched my parents character, life work, ministry, way of life, and morals verbally torn to shreds. Does it make sense? No. It didn’t then and it doesn’t now. But as I watched this cruel drama unfold before my eyes, I knew that the place for little girl was gone. I had to be strong for those around me now. And I would be.

Did the vicious words spewed at my Mom and Dad end that night, and everyone make up in the morning? Unfortunately, no. For the next six months we were barraged by e-mails that continued to defame everything about my parents.

So where was I? I was in a home with a sixteen year old brother who was holding down multiple jobs, an eleven year old sister who was grappling with things far too mature for her, two little brothers who just wanted to be kids, a Mom who was spending hours on the Internet every day trying to figure out why her husband was fading before her very eyes, and a Dad who was doggedly determined to make every day count as he continued with his research. Yet something almost miraculous was happening. As we suffered pain from within and without, the five of us kids and our parents slowly drew together in a knot that, with every nasty e-mail, grew that much tighter.

The Christmas season came. We all tried so hard to be happy. We decorated the tree, made special treats, taped Christmas cards on the fridge. We tried to ignore the cards that didn’t come.

Christmas Eve, I somewhat absently wandered my way toward the kitchen and stopped short. My little sister, always sweet and giving, was sitting by Dad’s bed. Slowly she spooned blueberries into his mouth. They laughed and chatted. But my father was so exhausted and his illness had encroached so far that he was too tired to even feed himself. I cried.

The next morning we all laughed and passed presents and exclaimed over gifts. Inside we all wondered if this would be Dad’s last Christmas with us. A stranger knocked on the door, saying that she had heard of Dad’s illness and just wanted to tell us she was praying for us. As she walked out the door, she pressed a hundred-dollar bill into my Mom’s hand. We cried.

And that day, as I thought of that money from a stranger, the last six months, my Dad’s illness, and the cruelty we had experienced at the hands of people we should have been able to rely on, I would be lying to say that I didn’t feel angry. Angry that these people whom my parents had given to for so many years would turn around and treat us like this. Angry that they would do it at such a time when our future was so uncertain.

A few weeks later my Dad visited a specialist and, long story short, my Dad can now function pretty normally. He receives monthly treatments at a local hospital, and though the future of his treatments is unclear, right now we just continue to thank God for every day.

After Christmas, Mom and Dad reluctantly decided that reconciliation was hopeless until the individuals involved got their lives right with God, so we stopped responding to the e-mails and focused on building a new life. My Dad gained back the almost twenty pounds he’d lost during his ordeal and we all enjoyed a home that slowly shifted out of survival mode. We created a new normal, a beautiful normal.

But life for me has never been the same after that season in my life. The lessons I learned during that time have been seared into my memory. And though I would never wish that experience on anyone, it has opened my eyes to truths that most people don’t learn until they’re fifty. And I thought I’d share them with you.

First, the family and friends that surround you aren’t play things. You can’t scream at them one minute and then give them a hug the next and expect all to be unchanged. Words can damage, even devastate, and it can take a long time to heal that damage. Give your best to those that love you.

Second, you don’t know when you’ll see someone for the last time. I hear people talk about this neighbor they aren’t talking to, or that aunt who they haven’t seen in ten years. That is so foolish. There is a last day for everyone, like it or not. So act like it.

And I guess the last thing I would say is this: children seem to have a virtually infinite ability to break their parents' hearts. Don’t underestimate the power you have in their lives. The Bible has a lot to say about how children should treat their parents. You might want to figure out your responsibilities before you run out of time.

And there are little things I've learned along the way too. Things like: all really does work together for good. God took the evil we experienced at the hands of others and created beauty.

As I face a big year of change in my life, and stare at what seem to be insurmountable hurdles, I remember all the hard times that I've been through in the past. I can honestly say that I never felt forsaken for one minute. God was with me all the way. And you know what? That's all I really need.

Busy in the Kitchen

April 30, 2010

With an abundance of rhubarb and eggs, we've been making mounds of dishes with all the baking going on! I love spending time in the kitchen, so this has been no hardship for me! I thought I'd share some of what we've been busy with. (Sorry folks, no recipes...Mulberry Lane Farm secrets!!)

My Last Piano Recital

April 30, 2010

Here's a few picture for you all from my recital! I don't have any of the actual performance (which probably would have been pretty boring anyway), but here are a few from afterwards.

All in all, the actual performance went well and I was happy that all my hard work paid off. I gave a little dedication speech to my teacher and parents (which probably took ten years off my life, I was so nervous!). All in all, it was a very bittersweet day, and one to remember. It is hard to believe that I have finished high-school and that college is only a few months away! God is faithful, and I am trusting Him to guide in all the changes ahead.

I'll try to post some pictures of what we've been up to on the farm soon.... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Memories of the Beach

April 10, 2010

I guess the middle of April isn't technically a "beachy" time of year, but it's great for memories!

We went to New Hampshire in August last year, and enjoyed a beautiful day at the beach. It was the first time most of us kids could remember going to the ocean, and we all loved it. But instead of boring you with details I'll skip right to the fun part: pictures!

A Walk with Farley

April 7, 2010

I just went for a lovely walk with Matt's golden retriever, Farley. Farz is so well behaved and is such a happy walking companion!

On my walk, I was pleasantly surprised to find this square of flowers in the middle of a swath of weeds and grass. Matt and I planted these flowers about eight or nine years ago near a little bridge that crosses over a drainage ditch. I had forgotten all about them until today. They have evidently held their own!

Look Out Below!

April 6, 2010

I suppose there are lots of people out there who can do perfectly ordinary things like crawling around in their attic, sitting on a windowsill, swinging on a tire swing, or working on their roof without risking their lives. I, unfortunately, am not one of these people. Gravity just has it out for me.

I guess I should have taken it as an omen when my very first experience with heights, at a mere two and half years, ended in my very first experience of falling from heights. I don't remember the actual event, but I've had it related to me several times since. Apparently, my big brothers were working in our attic, and I took an opportune moment when my mother was distracted to climb up the ladder and explore the big wide world up there. I was crawling around quite innocently (and probably quite blissfully) on the thin board that made up the ceiling for our living room below. I suppose it was inevitable that I would end up on the living room floor moments later. To all accounts I just fell right through the attic floor, and landing standing on my feet and blinking at the interesting experience I had just had. My mother wasn't quite so interested. She was staring in shock that her daughter had just fallen through the roof and had survived the experience. My sister also wasn't quite so interested, as I had just narrowly escaped landing on her full-sized, very expensive, rented harp!

It wasn't too many months later that gravity again betrayed me. It was a beautiful Sunday morning, and Dad was taking turns pushing us kids on the tireswing we had tied to a huge oak tree. I remember I had a hard time reaching around the tire to hang on, but I was thoroughly enjoying the relaxing, slow pace of the tire swing when there was a rude bump and I was entangled in a tireswing on the ground! The rope had come untied from the tire and I remember being quite shocked at the turn of events! I seem to remember creating a royal racket as Dad carried me inside to be soothed by my mother.
I'm still a little dubious about tire swings. I have a deeply ingrained doubt of their fidelity.

It was several years later that I was enjoying a beautiful summer afternoon, munching on a cookie while I sat on the windowsill enjoying the breeze and listening to my Dad read the Bible to the family. I must not have been paying attention because all the sudden I had broken the window screen, and, to add insult to injury (or in this case, injury to insult), I tumbled on to the rock pile a few feet below! I doubt the rock pile did any favors to my body, but the overriding sensation I remember feeling at the time was profound embarrassment!

My crowning moment as a faller (faller: someone who falls from heights on a regular basis) happened two years ago. I had spent an entire summer working on our house with Dad, and I had survived with only minor incidents. But my luck was bound to run out, and so it did. I was putting insulation in the roof, in between all the rafters. To avoid having to walking across the roof balanced on two-inch rafters, Dad and I had laid thin boards as kind of a pathway across the roof. I was pretty confident in out little road, as we had been using it for weeks. I was in somewhat of a hurry this particular day as we had rain coming in and we wanted to get things closed up for the night and I had a lot to do. I was crossing from one board to the next when the board slid a few feet on the tilt of our roof, and suddenly there was chaos. I was sitting on a rafter, with my feet dangling into our laundry room. My mother, unfortunately for her, had been doing laundry directly below me when the ceiling suddenly exploded above her, and she was screaming like there was no tomorrow. All I remember thinking at the time was, "Man, now I've really done it!"

You know, it just occurred to me that in light of all these incidents, it's probably a good thing I've never been in an airplane....

The Growing Things

April 5, 2010

So much is coming alive here on our little farm. A few weeks of warm days and mild spring rains have worked wonders.

Spring

March 19, 2010

Think about it....

March 19, 2010

There is a sailor in a lifeboat with three companions. The sun is beating down on them. The sailor is the only one who managed to bring water with him. He knows where the nearest land is, and within three days he knows he'll be there. But his companions are asking for the sailor's water. The sailor looks at his companions and back at the barrel of water. After all, he had to work really hard to bring that barrel with him. There's enough to go around for at least a week, but still. Maybe he'll get lost and need it all himself.

Question: Does the sailor have a responsibility to share the water? If his companions die, which they almost surely will without his generosity, will he be responsible? Or does he have the right to keep the water to himself because he owns it?

There is a doctor who makes a six figure income. He went to school for years, spending hours and hours of late nights to graduate at the top of his class. His bank account is rapidly expanding, his house is the most glamorous for miles around. There is a boy on the other side of the world, who is lying in bed. He is dying because the local clinic doesn't accept non-paying patients. The medicine he needs costs twenty American dollars.

Question: The doctor knows there are hundreds of children in other countries who are dying because of basic medical needs. Does he have the responsibility to share his wealth with the needy? Or does he have the right to keep his money because he earned it?

Hungry?

March 18, 2010

At lunch today, as we all sat around the table enjoying a hot batch of cinnamon rolls, Rachel and I were discussing all the cooking we do. Rachel laughingly said that we should put a sign on the front door saying "Dieters beware: Resistance is futile"! And I have to admit, over the past six years, Rachel and I have tried hundreds of recipes and ideas, making us quite a formidable pair in the kitchen (if I do say so myself!).

I didn't always love to cook, and I certainly wasn't very good at it when I started at a mere ten years old. My older sister, eight years my senior, was leaving for college, and I was soon to be the oldest girl at home. I had a few months of intermittently putting together a meal for the family, and then my sister left and it was up to me! Mom helped out for a few months until I was more experienced. For a few years, we didn't have a whole lot of variety when it came to meals. But then, Rachel started to get interested in cooking, and began making more elaborate desserts. The combination of her enthusiasm and a really great online recipe site started us off, and we're still experimenting and loving it! Just two days ago we made our own graham crackers for a pie, something we weren't sure about, but it turned out absolutely terrific.

Rachel and I usually do our baking together...she is really the one that convinces me to try new stuff. I usually stare at a recipe and imagine a soggy mass of failure, and she tells me to just make it. Most of the time, her optimism is right. We definitely have our own territory, though, with recipes that are our particular specialty. Rachel is terrific at pizza, stew, and lemon squares, while I love to make anything with jello, coolwhip, or lots of fluffy eggwhites! It's a good thing Rachel is around, as she's saved many a meal from disater! When the timer is beeping, the stew is boiling over, the fridge is standing open, and the dogs are fighting on the kitchen floor, it is great to be able to shove the bowl of biscuit batter in to Rachel's surprised lap and tell her to "take care of this" as I run by. After all, what are sisters for?

We've made various "professional" cakes over the years, with varying degrees of success. We delved in to the world of fondant, food coloring, and that impossible icing consistency. I think this was our greatest triumph.

So swing around some time, and if you're really good and work hard enough (ha ha), you just never know what'll come out of the kitchen at lunchtime! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back Then....

March 16, 2010

Spring has settled in here on our little farm, provoking thoughts of birth, new life, and beginnings.

I entered this big wide world in Harbison Canyon, California on a hot June day. I have no memories of my birthplace, as we moved to our present home three years later. I do, however, have some pictures!

Creative Chaos

March 2, 2010

With all the web-site construction going on around here, things have been pretty crazy. Everyone is talking about what they are going to make, have made, or are currently hammering out. All the activity centers around Rachel's room, since she is the only one who knows what she's doing and can help all the rest of us. By far the most entertaining of the web-building process is listening to Rachel work with someone she is helping. It usually goes something like this:

"Okay," Rachel says, "now that we're finished with that, let's move on. The background is next, so I'll try something and you can see if you like it." Lots of typing, then,

"What do you think of that?"

At this point, a great deal of "hmmmmm" and "wellllll" follows. Then the pupil says,

"How about something kind of purple?"

"We could try it," Rachel replies, skeptical. More typing, then Rachel hits the refresh button. I love the silence that follows at this point...Rachel in stunned shock and the pupil trying to decide if the blinding effect is cool or weird. I hold in my laughter so I can hear what follows (and so I don't give away my position around the corner). Rachel, having recovered, says,

"Well, what do you want do?" She, of course, is asking what drastic measures should be taken to recover this catastrophic situation. The pupil, however, has other ideas.

"It's kind of neat...shines cool, you know? Hmmm....maybe it should be a little brighter?"

Rachel chokes a little, but trying to be open to creativity, she replies,

"It might work, but you know, I don't think that purple really matches the yellow we already decided on. Maybe we could try something more like..."

"But," the excited pupil interrupts, "This is really kind of neat! It reminds me of something...." Rachel probably wants to say it reminds her of a headache, but she only says, with a hint of desperation creeping into her voice,

"Let's at least try something different before you decide."

The pupil usually hesitates at this point, and then, as if suddenly hit with a brilliant idea, says (and I am absolutely positive they do this every time),

"I know! Let's ask Beka!!"

Rachel, sure that I will be on her side, readily agrees, and before I have a chance to move from my slightly suspicious position (you know, flattened against the wall around the corner), the preoccupied pupil rushes out the door, sees me, and urges me to come and see. I follow and am not sure whether to stare or hastily cover my eyes. I blink rapidly and try to get a feel for what I'm looking at through the fluorescent purple. Rachel kindly clarifies,

"See, this is the text here, and the picture here, and here's the background. What do you think?"

Since I am a brilliant diplomat, not to mention a highly intelligent and gifted speaker, I take a deep breath and say,

"Uh...I'm not really sure."

And, since I am the aforementioned brilliant communicator, this seems to magically make up the pupil's mind.
"Yeah! It's really great, isn't it? I just love it! I'm gonna go show Mom!"

As the pupil makes a hasty retreat to go and show off his handiwork, Rachel gives me a betrayed look. I shrug. After all, what did I say?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Introductions

Feb 27, 2010

Hi! Welcome to my blog. My name is Rebekah, but everybody calls me Beka. I am 17, and I am the oldest girl at home.

I am primarily occupied with finishing my senior year of home-school, which I hope to do in the next few weeks. For all you seniors out there, you have my deepest sympathies; making all these big decisions is not easy! :) I visited Bob Jones University last week and was very impressed by it. I am looking at taking their ‘Family and Consumer Sciences’ this fall. It is a great school and I look forward to my time there.

I love to cook—my specialties being pies and bread. My sister Rachel and I split the cooking duties. Lately I have been spending a lot of my time working on the finishing touches of a big remodeling project we did during January. I am glad to be almost done with that now—I have to admit I much prefer making a meal to painting a wall.

On my free time I enjoy working on model ships. I recently finished ‘Old Ironsides’, a war ship from the 1800’s. I am now working on the ‘U.S.S. Roosevelt’, an aircraft carrier; and am currently puzzling over how to suspend the miniature airplanes over the ship (which I am not sure is possible). Any bright ideas? :)
One of my other hobbies is playing the piano. I am coming up to my seventh recital with my current teacher, Linda. I will be playing ‘Fantisie Impromptu’ by Chopin, by far the most demanding piece I have ever attempted. I have been playing since I was eight.

My favorite things include learning about the military, reading, listening to country music, sleeping, my electric blanket, spring, and home-canned pears.

I am excited about this new blog, and look forward to learning more about making a website. For the next few months I will probably simply use this space to jot down what I am doing, and whatever comes to mind! Once I get to college in the fall I am not sure what I will end up doing with this, but I guess time will tell…