I finally figured out a way around the horrible gripe-fest that happens every time I utter the phrase “clean your room.” I took the “begin with the end in mind” view, and we sat down and imagined our rooms totally clean. Then we wrote down, in checklist form – my kids are BIG on checklists – all the things that needed to happen for their rooms to end up clean. And oh.my.word. It worked! They cleaned. I didn’t have to yell, order, or deal with bellyaching. And they happily checked off their little lists which are now hung in their closets for all future cleaning sessions. Wahoo!

Got to go to the Amish Barbecue today. It’s just plain YUMMY. And I almost never get to go in October, so it was a special treat. And we saw family and friends there. Good times.

Took the kiddos for haircuts. And they got donuts while we were there (there were free leftovers, so we got a treat).

Hung with the family. Picked green beans with Eric. Erin and Megan helped for a while. We found 2 toads hiding in the beans. I still cannot believe that Erin is totally into toads and slugs and things. She is much less prissy than her girly-ness might make you think. 🙂

Made a light supper and then made banana bread. Earlier, I had found the applesauce-in-the-shape-of-an-apple rottenness that the fruit flies have been swarming around. It fell and splatted on my back porch, but that is better than my kitchen floor. Unfortunately, the flies immediately flew to the four bananas sitting next to the apples that remained (that we also threw away), so I had no choice but to make banana bread.

Well, and even the fruit-fly defeating banana bread took a back seat to the poop fest that Timmy had managed at some point while the beans were being picked. Had to stop and clean the toilet that had poop ALL over it. Just gross. And attracting flies there, too.

But I got it clean. And made banana bread. And now we’ll have to suffer through eating it, too. Rough life, I lead. For sure. 😉

Alex lost a tooth this morning. Pulled it out himself. He put it under his pillow with a note asking why the tooth fairy took a couple of days to get his last one. Um…how do you write a note that explains that “mommy just forgot.” I did get a note done, though. And it is near his pillow along with today’s tooth money. No forgetting today!

And then there were baths and bedtime prayers and cartwheels and headstands done in super-clean bedrooms, and now all 4 crazies are sleeping. And I’m about ready to join them.

It was a good day, today.

I was picking beans yesterday by myself. It was a gorgeous morning, chilly at first and then the sun got hot. It was a second picking of our second planting of beans, and I had two large bowls I could fill. I got to work.

The funny thing about picking beans is that, when you first move the leaves, you don’t see any beans. They blend in. Under the leafy roof is a house of stems, branches and vegetables that mimic each other, hide each other. At first glance there are no beans at all.

And then, something shifts. The light maybe. An adjustment of the eyes. And there they are. They stand out. They appear. As you move more leaves, more stems, they show up. A handful, a dozen beans that had been there the whole time. You just couldn’t see them.

I filled both bowls to overflowing. Had to go back with a third bowl, actually. There were a lot of beans. And bean picking is hard work. You lean over, kneel down. Your back hurts. It pulls at your leg muscles. And it takes a while to do. Two rows took me most of two hours.

So while I picked, I thought. About beans. And about people.

See, when my back hurt, I stood up and stretched. If I’d wanted to give up and leave the rest of the beans to rot in the garden, I could have (I didn’t, thus the third bowl). The point is, it was basically up to me.

But I know, in my head, that someone on this planet, today, was doing something, serving someone, picking something because they HAD to. And they couldn’t stretch when their muscles ached and rebelled. They couldn’t stop. There was a quota to meet–of produce picked or jeans sewn or men served. And if they didn’t do enough, they were yelled at. If they couldn’t get enough done, they might be beaten.

So I wondered, as I picked, what that would feel like. So I tried it. When my back hurt, I picked another plant, a few more beans, just to see what it felt like. It wasn’t even remotely slavery. It wasn’t unjust or even a semblance of the pain that men or women or children endured, just today. But I thought of them. And that is new to me.

I wonder if seeing people is very much like seeing green beans. At first, it can be easy to miss them. They hide in the everyday open all around me. I’m busy. I have a job to finish. Their problems don’t impact my life. My own back hurts, so I overlook them. And then, by some act of grace, something changes. The light shifts. The leaves move. And I notice.

And I cannot un-notice people. I want to, to be totally honest. But I can’t. There they are. Maybe a handful. Maybe a dozen. Maybe only one. But like the green beans, they are real, and they were always there. I just didn’t have the eyes to see them.

I’m way behind in the journey towards really seeing people. I know that. My sad little excuse for a social experiment in the bean patch won’t feed a starving child or free someone from their slavery. But it’s a start.

And wonder if the first step toward the doing someTHING is really about seeing someONE for the very first time. And then choosing to keep on seeing them and choosing not to turn away.

So we actually took a vacation this year. We went to Harbor Island, SC and stayed with my in-laws in a house on the beach. Like ON the beach. The water came up to the retaining walls at high tide. Super cool. And not only was the location awesome…we drove to the beach with four kids, aged 7, 7, 5 & 3. So…in honor of surviving our first real family vacation, here are some of my random thoughts on the week.

1. Car trips with small children.

This went SO much better than I’d imagined it would go. I pushed down vague images of meltdowns and tried to prepare. I took lots of little things which came out along the way and not all at once. We bought new movies to watch. LOTS of library books. I found a lego idea that worked really well, and I used dry-erase sleeves to create reusable packets of mazes, hidden pictures and games (like tic-tac-toe). There was boredom, but they handled the 12-hour drive like champs. Okay, at one point, I did order Timmy to nap, but even he rode pretty easily. I was very, very impressed. And grateful.

2. Beach Stuff

It was fun to hear people’s reactions/advice to the news that we were going to the beach. “Are you driving?” Yep. “You’re driving at night, right?” Nope. “Make sure you have your camera for the first time they see the ocean.” Check.

When we did finally arrive (the in-laws were already there and checked in), we wen’t pretty much straight to the ocean. Timmy ran through the whole house, down the path, and to the water, repeating, “This is the best day of my life!” It was pretty awesome. We did get wet in our clothes. Timmy was not at all sure about the water creeping up on his feet at first. Megan went it immediately. And we did get pictures.

There were morning walks to look for shells almost every day, and evening beach walks, too. Crabs, washed-up jellyfish, and miscellaneous slimy things were revolting and attracting all at once. The dolphins swam offshore every day, pods of 4-6 of them, following the shrimping boats. They were so cool to watch.

We swam in the ocean most mornings as the tide came in, lunched and rested, and then swam in the community pool in the late afternoons. Timmy finally got the nerve to actually jump into the water, and he could keep his head above the 3 ft. depth, so he jumped over and over and over. At one point, I saw, out of the corner or my eye, a child flip into the pool, splashing back-first. I spun to Eric, “Please tell me that was NOT one of ours.” Oh yeah. It was Megan. Of course it was. She was forbidden to do that again. 🙂

Thankfully, Timmy potty-trained this summer so he could swim in the big pool. All babies with swim diapers had to stay in the wading pool, which would NOT have been fun. I was glad to be done with such things. And the big kids went with their dad and grandma into the deeper water and gained a TON of confidence. He showed them how to let themselves get to the bottom and push themselves back up. They all swam from deeper water to me and back and forth across the deeper water. They even got in the deepest waters and found they could handle themselves (with daddy’s supervision). It was fun.

We went to Hunting Island one day, a fun state park with a neat old lighthouse. The beach there had pretty big waves, so we didn’t swim. Megan was smart enough to know she couldn’t handle the climb to the lighthouse. I thought maybe I could. Um…not so much. Didn’t even make the second landing. Oh well. The other 3 went with Daddy and Grandpa to the top (181 steps) in about 4 minutes and ran straight to the rail and looked down. I just pretended I was okay with that.

We found keychains at the shop there, one for each kid. With their name on it. Eric said we won the Name-Your-Child award for that one. 🙂 And we watched South Carolina cardinals fight over crumbs. They looked scruffy, dull-colored, and small compared to our Ohio corn-fed cardinals. But it was cool to watch anyway.

We also went to a kazoo factory. Everyone took bets that I’d break first and order all the buzzing to stop. But I didn’t! Timmy did. He was not a fan of the carful of kazoos on the way home. But if you are ever in Beaufort, SC, the kazoo tour was absolutely worth the $5 a person to go. Fun and educational. And we each made our own kazoo. Very cool!

Other highlights. I read two books in two days, or so. I found a 550-piece puzzle on clearance and took it along to do while we were there. And it worked really well. Small enough to not take the whole time; big enough to be a challenge. There was a bunk bed in   the kids room. Erin made sure there was a plan and schedule as to who would sleep where on which nights. It was a big deal to be on the top bunk!

We came home on Thursday. It took 13 hours to get home, but we took longer meal times, actually stopping to eat. And we knew where we were going, so getting home after dark wasn’t such a big deal. But it was our first real vacation…and I think it was a surprising success.

Guess I should start planning the next one… 😉

So far today I have gotten about every third thing wrong.

So far this week, 3 of my children have had stomach aches, 2 had fevers, one barfed.

So far, Timmy has had only one potty accident in over a week. I’m trying not to jinx it by hoping we’re over the potty-training hump.

So far today, I’ve laughed out loud at my very funny children and been so frustrated at my computer that I nearly cried.

Today, I finally got a first picking of black raspberries. Between the lack of rain and the cicadas, there may not as many good ones as last year. So sad.

So far this week, I’ve refused every board game request my children have made, but I did play baseball with the twins (parents vs. players as a final practice). I even got 3 hits.

So far today, I’ve been testy more than I wasn’t and still haven’t put away all of the groceries I bought yesterday. The kitchen is dirty from last night’s dinner. And I forgot to make the Jell-o I had planned for tonight’s dinner.

So far today, we had a really great swimming lesson with a new teacher. Except for the one who’d been barfing. She stayed with Grandma.

So far today I talked to my mom on the phone, but haven’t yet called back to confirm Meg’s dentist appointment on Thursday.

Today, I spent more time reading my book (I was almost done with the story) than reading my Bible.

Today, I remembered that God’s love for me isn’t measured in the number of black raspberries I pick or how well my computer works. I enjoyed the giant orange day lilies peeking out from under the berry canes. I saw a big brown toad.

Today, God hasn’t been one single bit concerned with what I did or did not get done. My grumpiness doesn’t scare Him off, and He rejoices over the few moments I remember His presence. He fills my days with good things and people I love (and who love me) and all the grace that a run-of-the-mill, overwhelming summer day requires.

And because of His grace, I will choose to stop whining and go play Uno. And maybe I’ll even clean the kitchen. Maybe.

Today I talked to a mom who was struggling. It was a hidden grief. But it was still there, simmering under the surface. And as we talked about our children, we crossed the line of her grief.

And I said entirely the wrong thing.

I’ve read a lot of blogs and articles recently about ‘what not to say’ to someone dealing with great pain. Loss of a child. An illness. Infertility. A shift in expectation or hope. A loss of job or financial security. Miscarriage. Uncertainty. Repeatedly, I’ve read about all the “horrible” things that people said in times of grief or trouble. Well-meaning people saying exactly the wrong thing.

And today, it was me.

I meant it to be encouraging…what I said. But not knowing the whole story, my “maybe someday” was like a knife in her heart, because that “maybe someday” simply cannot be. It wasn’t that I caused her pain. It was that, instead of bearing her pain with her, affirming her and her parenting and the trauma of losing a dream for her child, I tried to make it better.

And I failed.

We talked later. We finished the conversation positively, openly, and her honesty allowed me a glimpse into a life that, for right now, I am not called to live. I am grateful to her. We talked the good and the bad. She graciously celebrated my children’s success even as she mourns that her child’s path will be much different.

I was humbled. And apologetic. And hopefully, I am better equipped for the next time. The next time that a mom crosses my path, bearing an unseen grief. On that day, I will try to remember today’s mistake. Guard my tongue. Come alongside, if only for a moment.

And celebrate. Her children. My children. The beauty of ashes and the value of suffering. Because every child is valuable, no matter how difficult their path. And every mom has her moments of grief. And sometimes we will each be the one who says entirely the wrong thing.

But hopefully next time, it won’t be me.

Because all of these things happened in my world recently…

I had to rummage through the garbage today looking for a receipt. Then I prayed about finding it. Then I found it. Nowhere near the garbage. Shoulda prayed first. 😉

For the first time in ages, I pulled out the carpet cleaner. Because our carpet is less than six months old and has been peed on multiple times. *sigh*

I am slogging through War and Peace. Very, very slowly. To be honest, it’s just not that interesting of a story. I keep thinking, “And why should I care to be reading about this stuff?”

Megan just announced to me, “I need my white bunny, but it’s in the boys’ room. I need her because she’s the one who fell in love with my kangaroo, who’s really a brown bunny. So I need her back.” Got it.

Spent the weekend at my parents where we celebrated my dad’s birthday, ate at the Fire Dept.’s pancake breakfast, chatted with people we grew up knowing (Mr. V, Mr. Carr, Darceil – who is still the high school secretary, the Franks, and numerous others), Karen and I had way more fun trying to fill crappy water balloons than the kids actually had playing with them, and drove all around Xenia with my mom and sister, laughing at nothing and having a wonderful time. Good times!

I had $40 of “free” money from Kohl’s that I actually managed to spend before it expired. I was so proud of myself. 🙂

Was planning to visit a good friend later this month and missed my window for buying plane tickets. One day they were under $300. The next, they were $400-$500. Bummed I probably won’t be able to go, unless I drive 11 hours by myself. I could do it, but not sure it’s the wisest thing. 🙁

And that is about all the randomness I can remember right now.

I saw the picture of a little boy whose life ended in water, a failed attempt by his refugee family to find a place of openness. He was the same size as my Timmy. And I cried for him, for orphans in Africa, for little boys and girls in the States who will not get dinner tonight.

And I just don’t know how to help them.

I see stories about sex traffickers, wild tales of ‘almost’ abductions. But underneath the fear-mongering Facebook “accounts,” there are real women, real men, real little children who, tonight, will be stolen, raped, used, traded, and left feeling less-than, damaged, unloved, unlovable.

And I don’t know how to save them.

I read the headlines about a woman refusing to issue marriage licenses. She’s in jail over it. Part of me thinks that, if she’s in government, she should do her job or quit her job if she can’t. But part of me wonders why she should have to make that choice. Why can’t she do her job AND disagree with our new legal reality.

And I just don’t know how to respond.

I see the posts attacking anyone who posts or says anywhere something that ‘offends’ on gender issues. I see the story of one child whose use of a locker room is causing dozens of children distress. None of them are happy. I see coming the reality that pastors and churches will be forced to choose between saying “we approve” and losing tax exempt status and christian universities will be threatened with the loss of accreditation for refusing to hire gay faculty.

And I don’t know how to show compassion AND tell the truth. I don’t know how to balance the rights of every person who are ALL made in God’s image. I just don’t know.

I have friends and family members who are cops. And I have friends who are black. And what about Hispanics? Somalis? Immigrants? Amish? Muslim?

I don’t know why it has to be one or the other. Why can’t it be both…and? Why can’t it be ALL and YES?

I see my kids who have so much and who are oblivious to the depth of needs around them. I see all that my family has been blessed with. I know there are margins, fringes, where people need to know that Jesus loves them.

I just don’t know how to go there, give more, find my path.

I just don’t know. I don’t know the answers. I don’t know how to love people. I don’t know how to fix it. I have no answers, but I’m willing to dialogue. I have no solutions, but I will listen to the stories. I cannot stop the disagreements. And I cannot agree with lies. I abhor poor arguments and inconsistent logic. But I want to learn to see people, not statements.

And I want to see Jesus, be like Jesus, bring more of Jesus.

I just don’t know how.