Salt The Walnuts

I looked down at my once-navy shirt, now boasting a white flour band around my middle.

Oh yeah.

I thought back to a couple nights ago as bacon grease popped out of the pan and onto my shirt.

I really ought to use that apron more often.

Violin music floated through the air and I glanced over at one boy who was supposed to be finishing a task. My Procrastinator Professionale. He blinked. I nodded. He grinned.

I wrapped up the pastry dough and stuck it in the freezer. Hopefully I’d remember to take it out before it was too frozen for dinner.

There was a section of Brambly Hedge the other day that especially tickled me -

‘Look, my dear,’ said Mr Apple, ‘if the sea mice can manage to get the salt all the way up to us, I’m sure Dusty can sail downstream to fetch it.’
‘I can’t think of why we’ve run out,’ said Mrs Apple. ‘It’s never happened before. Perhaps I shouldn’t have salted all those walnuts.’
‘Stop worrying,’ said Mr Apple. ‘Look, they’re about to leave.’
(The Complete Brambly Hedge, pg. 193)

You don’t to have read the whole story to get the point here, though it might help to know that Brambly Hedge takes place in the world of rodents and some needed to sail downstream to Purslane and Thrift Saltapple to acquire more salt for their baking endeavors.

But how can the salt have run out? The walnuts, surely those darn walnuts. Shouldn’t have salted them.

Where did those rolls of tape go? Walls. Beds. Cardboard boxes. I should’ve known better.

How can there be no clean laundry? Simply, people kept wearing clothing. And I have not added any more to the washing machine.

How can this child’s shoes be too small? Well, dear me, he grew while I wasn’t looking.

These mice are so relatable.

Where no oxen are, the trough is clean;
But much increase comes by the strength of an ox.
Proverbs 14:4

It turns out that children are messy, keeping a home is hard work, and sometimes, to everyone’s shock and horror, things escape a mom’s mind. The trough could be clean though, think of it – cabinets with no fingerprints, walls with no dents, books with no missing pages. Imagine a day.

Yet those fingerprints came from nosy little babies and toddlers. The wall dent (which one?)? A child’s head, naturally. The books missing pages are often ones that have been read and re-read. Life without these memories would be sterile and void. We’ve all been made better by each season and situation. These little people will grow up to add to the Lord’s world in their own ways. What great increase!

Go ahead, make the effort. Do the things. Salt the walnuts. And don’t forget to pull the dough out of the freezer for dinner.

I Get To

The gingerbread frosting ran down the roof and the candies slid down with it, a clearish-white smudge of sugar that should’ve been much thicker and fluffier.

“Well, I guess that’s how it’s going to be today,” shrugged my 8-year-old.

I smiled. He didn’t know that I had been bemoaning my lot in life the day before. Who knew what the day would hold, and I didn’t really feel like facing it. Maybe a child would be up too early or too late, maybe we’d run out of coffee, an appliance might break, something might spill all over the school books - and hopefully not all of these at once, but hey, some days are just like that. I forced myself to change perspectives.

I have to became I get to.

I get to wash dishes again and enjoy a clean kitchen and full bellies.

I get to do laundry and teach my kids how to do it as well.

I get to be the one they come crying to, to help them solve problems and sort out emotions.

I get to create and add magic to the Christmas season, with traditions and decorations and foods. Some they will love, and some they will not - and we will wind up with some pretty great routines in the end.

I get to watch the wonder in their eyes and their excitement as they learn, even if we don’t get to all the material I’d planned.

I get to work to make a clean, inviting home that we can invite others into, knowing we all will have to clean it again when friends leave.

I get to sit and read story after story, expanding their imaginations and throwing hooks into the past for them to hold onto.

I get to learn how to joyfully accept what comes, and flex with the day and my children.

I get to is far more helpful and edifying than I have to.

And someday, I’ll get to drink my coffee while it’s hot too. But lukewarm is how it’ll be today.

If you need a fun, quick idea - make yourself some whipped cream, spread it in a pan, toss on some sprinkles and freeze it. Cut into shapes and store in the freezer. Plop a couple into coffee or hot chocolate.

Stories || Friday Magnify

“Oh, magnify the Lord with me,
and let us exalt His name together!”
Psalm 34:3

I sat in my comfy chair early one morning, sipping coffee and reading through Judges while waiting or the sun to come up. Outside was dreary, yet I felt the day had so much potential. One kiddo was awake, rolling around in his bed. The baby started stretching and cooing in his crib, and the other two kiddos were still fast asleep. Soon the quiet would become loud with laughter and pattering of feet.

I took a break from writing, for about a year - the days were simply too full. Too tiring, too emotional (and misplaced emotions - or, unchecked emotions - don’t make for good blog posts). I focused on homeschooling and therapy, healing from losing a little human and growing another precious one. Constantly learning all that I could to stay ahead of each child and make sure his needs were being met. It is a marathon, this role of parenting.

Some days, like this one, I wake up and realize that wow! Here we are. All the plodding has amounted to something. I also realize that there are foot- and handprints to clean on the hallway wall, close to the ceiling, from boys who were not interested in bedtime. I realize that I have a pyrotechnic who just proved he can use a lighter well. I realize that at any given moment my sink may not give me water when I need it, because one son enjoys randomly shutting the valves off. I realize that therapy may turn into a dance party and everyone will come unhinged, even the baby.

And I realize that all of these moments come together to make up a pretty good life. God writes the best stories, doesn’t He?

Pizza Night || Friday Magnify

“Oh, magnify the Lord with me,
and let us exalt his name together!”
Psalm 34:3

Just like that, it’s Friday again. Another Friday, another pizza night. Chopping peppers and shredding cheese, rolling out dough and spreading sauce - mundane yet a little miraculous.

Somehow, the food that takes hours to make gets swallowed in minutes and we watch. We watch little people get taller, muscles grow stronger.

Somehow, the conversations that happen in those short minutes help build their foundations and frameworks. Their questions deepen, their observations broaden.

Suddenly, the tasks that can seem almost insultingly simple and repetitive appear nourishing in more ways than one. When did they learn this or that, or arrive at that specific conclusion?

We plod along, meal after meal, knowing it all leads somewhere and enjoying the ride. What a gift to be involved in God’s work of feeding bodies and souls.