Wordless Wednesday - Doors of the U.K.

"Behold! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me." Revelation 3:20

Remind me to never complain about a delayed flight

Remember how yesterday I was telling you about all the responsibilities Kate graciously handled while B and I were away? And about how Maggie was so sick the night before we left to come home? Kate wasn’t the only one to not sleep that night. I didn’t sleep a wink either. Worry doesn’t even begin to explain this mama’s inner struggle.

The next morning, I was up early, showered, and ready to go before anyone else in our group, of that I am certain. When you don’t sleep the night before, you pretty much can’t wait for the morning to come.

And I figured, silly I know, that if I got up early and got myself ready, that we could get on the plane just that much sooner and head home to where I really needed to be.

I know. I know. Those darn planes don’t leave a minute before they’re ready to leave. And for some reason, ours decided it didn’t want to leave on time. It wanted to sit a spell before we took off.

Apparently “a spell” is exactly two hours because that is the amount of time our flight was delayed. Two hours!

Now, Heathrow airport is a haven for duty free shoppers but since 1) I don’t like to shop and 2) I’ve never been one to stock up on liquor and cigarettes and 3) I’ve never been able to think of “duty free” as anything more than a scam, I basically sat in the airport biting my nails and getting mad at the gate agent for not letting us on the plane RIGHT NOW! DON’T-YOU-KNOW-MY-DAUGHTER-IS-SICK?!

Apparently they didn’t care.

Finally, FINALLY, they called us to our gate, and we waited to board our plane. As we stood in line, my phone rang. Weird. My phone had not rung the entire trip, and now, just as we were about to board the plane, my phone was ringing.

I had a sick feeling this was about Maggie.

“Hello?”

“Mom?!” I can hear the panic in Kate’s voice. I begin to think the worst about Maggie.

“Yes? What’s wrong?”

“Mom, it’s been raining all night and we’re starting to flood!”

Now this is NOT what I was expecting at all. First of all, our basement is double, triple, quadrupally (is that a word?) protected from flooding, and only because we have flooded so many times in the past. Three, to be exact.

Let’s just say that Allstate and us aren’t such good neighbors anymore.

Even though we have four sump pumps (that’s right, four) and a back-up generator for when the power goes out, we still sometimes need to use an ejector pump in the laundry tub where all the yucky water from our sewers comes up.

And that was the case that Saturday morning. Even though the power hadn’t gone out, the water was still coming up through the laundry tub. I guess seven inches of rain will do that.

Poor Kate, who had not slept all night long because of worry over her sister and now the soaking downpour we were getting, was up to her armpits in sewer water. And she was worried sick that our basement would flood yet again.

Unless you’ve been through it, you have no idea how traumatic a flood can be.

Thankfully, B was able to calmly (a miracle in itself!) talk her through how to find the ejector pump, how to hook up the hose and then open the window to put the hose out, and finally, how to plug in the whole contraption (dry your hands and feet first!). Kate, miraculously, was able to follow B’s instructions and get the pump working, saving our basement from certain catastrophe.

Let me tell you, I could not get home fast enough. After all the trials my poor daughter had encountered that week, this topped them all. Handling a flood is a terrible thing, even for an adult, but for an 18-year-old just on the cusp of adulthood, this was a bit much.

People have asked me if I was proud of my daughter for all she handled while we were gone. Proud doesn’t even begin to cover it. I am amazed by her strength. I am in awe of her grace. I am thankful for her cheerful attitude.

She taught me so much.

And let me just say an obvious word about God’s timing. If our plane had been on time that morning we would have been already in the air by the time Kate found our overflowing laundry tub. She would have had no idea what to do, and would have probably done her best to bail water as quickly as she could. But in the end, she would have felt guilty if our basement would have flooded, somehow taking on the responsibility for the flood herself.

Thanks be to God for delayed flights, that’s all I have to say.

I was reminded that morning that there is always a reason for those delays. None of the people on our flight knew that the delay was just for us (*wink, wink*), but I know. I am so thankful that Kate was able to get through to us, and I am so thankful that God’s timing was perfect.

And I'm so thankful that my daughter is ready for anything.

Is She Ready?

My oldest, Kate, leaves for college today. Early, I know, but she’s taking a 2-hour course in the wilderness of the north woods of Wisconsin, so she leaves this afternoon.

Me. A mother with a child in college. How did that happen?

How did I go from changing her diapers, singing little churchy songs with her, teaching her the ABCs, and sending her off to kindergarten to . . . this?

I know how it happened, of course. Through lots of years of hard work (on her part and mine), through lots of life lessons, through some tears, and through lots of laughter we pushed and pulled and gave and took to get to this day. Teamwork, that’s what it was.

But today the question I ask is not so much how did this happen? but is she ready?

I wonder, as I’m falling asleep at night, if I’ve remembered to tell her everything I need to tell her. About not taking Motrin on an empty stomach . . . or about how many cups are in a pint . . . or about how some friends will come and go and that’s o.k. even though it’s hard . . . or about boys.

(Scratch that last one. I have never known and still do not, after 25 years of marriage, know much about boys. She’ll have to figure that one out on her own.)

But, really, I often find myself these days wondering is she ready?

The squirrely kid who wore sweatpants and athletic shirts and who barely combed her hair through her entire 7th grade year. The girl so smart she can manage AP Calculus but who can’t find her way across town without a map. The girl who loses track of time because she’s engrossed in a book. My absentminded professor.

Is she ready?

Yes, she is. You know how I know?

Last week. That’s how I know.

Last week, B and I took a little trip across the pond. (Have you heard? *wink, wink*) Before we left, we gave her a few instructions that were, basically this: Go to work. Feed the dog. Take care of the house.

There might have been a couple of other things on the list, too, like Make-sure-you-get-your-car-out-of-the-driveway-before-the-guys-come-to-seal-the-blacktop-on-Thursday. Big deal. We knew she could handle that.

But some things came up that weren’t on the list, and these are how I know she’s ready.

First came the air conditioning. A few days into our trip I decided to splurge and call home to see how Kate was doing. (Believe me, at $1.29 a minute, this is indeed a splurge.) She was fine. A little lonely, but we knew that would be the case. Toward the end of our call she happened to mention that it was really hot in the house because one of our a/c units didn’t seem to be working.

What?! Panic sets in from Scotland.

As we talked, we figured out that it could possibly be the batteries in the thermostat, so Kate went to buy some batteries (I’m notorious for never having batteries on hand—drives my husband crazy), and called us back. All was well. She managed to remove the thermostat from the wall, replace the batteries, and put the thermostat back on the wall. It worked.

Small test compared to what was to come.

Next was the flat tire. One day, Kate was just pulling into the driveway when our neighbor came over and said, “Kate, did you know you have a flat tire?” The email we got was hysterical.

“Mom! Dad! What do I do?!”

We instructed her, via email, how to call AAA to get someone to come change her tire (Just as an aside, can I just say that at least once a year we get our money out of our AAA dues? It really is a good investment.), and then told her she would need to go to the tire store to have the flat tire fixed.

She did this too, without any problem or complaint. Unfortunately the tire was shredded, so she waited for us to get home to buy a new one, but that was O.K.

Next test, sick sister.

The day before we were to get home, Maggie was scheduled to come home from camp. We knew they would be home alone for about 24 hours, but we knew they would be fine.

What we didn’t count on was Maggie being sick. I really should have thought this one through because Maggie is sick every year when she comes home from camp. She’s allergic to horses, and there are lots and lots of horses at this camp. Even though she stays far away from the horses, and even though she takes medication for asthma and allergies while she’s there, she still gets sick. Every year. Without fail.

This year she picked up a little cold toward the end of camp, and that just made her asthma and allergies even worse so that by the time she got home she could barely breathe. I talked to her on our last night in England and heard this little voice saying, “Mommy? I don’t feel well at all.”

Can you just hear my heart breaking?

I could hear in Maggie’s voice that she was having a lot of trouble breathing, so I offered a few suggestions, none of which were very helpful. We then talked to Kate and tried to help her decide whether or not she needed to take her sister to the hospital for a nebulizer treatment. It was horrible, being on the other side of the Atlantic, not knowing how to help your sick child or her sister who had never had to take anyone to the doctor before.

But here’s the thing. Kate just listened to our instructions. She didn’t panic. She didn’t cry. She just listened and wrote down what we said and then I’m sure she prayed.

Thank goodness for my friend, Amy, who came over later that night with cold tablets for Maggie which helped clear up some of her congestion and, more importantly, helped her sleep that night.

But Kate? She didn’t sleep much at all. She assumed my role and listened for her sister’s breathing through the wall, hoping and praying she wouldn’t have to take her to the doctor the next morning.

Is she ready? Oh, yes, she’s ready. Kate assumed more responsibility last week than any of us expected her to have and certainly more than she had ever had in her life. And she handled every test that came her way with such grace, such great ability, that (don’t tell her this) I was actually a little surprised.

She passed each test with flying colors.

Thankfully, Maggie was better the next day because Kate was about to handle yet one more test.

I’ll tell you about that tomorrow because it deserves a post of its own.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation - Part 4

If you're here looking for a Fabulous Friday Food post, come back next week. I'm sure I'll have started cooking again by then. . . . Maybe.

Well now. It seems the sistahs were none too happy about the pictures I posted of them yesterday. Haven't they yet learned that this blog is not about being perfect in any way? I mean, seriously, whose backside got posted here a few weeks back? Hmmmmm?

Anyway, my sisters are beautiful women, and just to prove it, I thought I'd post another picture of them. This is one of my favorites of the entire trip (although it would have been better if my mom was in it too).



Happy, girls?

*ahem*

Back to the day trip. Remember the Cotswolds? And remember how I told you there was a surprise at the end of the day?

Surprise! Welcome to Oxford!

Now, Oxford is one of my favorite places because I spent a summer--waaaaay back in 1984--studying in Oxford when I was in college. (Before you get too impressed, you have to know that I stayed at some rinky-dink college on the outskirts of town and was taught by professors from my college . . . who were wonderful . . . just not Oxford dons. Just to be clear.)

I have some really, really fond memories of Oxford, starting with the bicycles.



Oxford is a city for bikers. No, not biker chicks, although if my husband had his way I would become one of those too, but just plain old bikers. The kind with the wicker basket on the front. It's the best way to get around this town, and as a college student I rented a bike for a month and used it every day to explore the little streets and alleyways of this gorgeous place.

My only regret is that I wasn't more adventurous. I wish I would have had the courage to explore a little more outside of town. Oh well. Next time I'm a college student studying for 6 weeks in Oxford I'll remember to do that.

We started our tour in the middle of town, next to this statue dedicated to three martyrs whose names I don't remember. Details, details.



We walked all over the place, looking at beautiful buildings like the Bodleian Library . . .



The University Church tower . . .



Some really old windows in the divinity school . . .



Some really scary faces . . .



And, of course, pubs . . .



Richard explained that sometimes the old decorative pieces on the facades of the buildings just decay and fall off, which then need to be replaced. Here's one that was recently made to resemble Aslan from the C.S. Lewis books. Lewis lived, wrote, and taught in Oxford.



Toward the end of our tour we got to go inside Trinity College. Who knew that inside the walls of each individual college lies this much beauty?



Dorm rooms with flower boxes--can you just imagine?!





We did a lot of walking on the day of our excursion outside of London, but it was so worth it. On the way back to the train station we saw this sign, and I couldn't resist taking a picture of it. Kind of sums things up nicely, I think.



No, we didn't stop, but it was tempting.

I may have more to say about our trip next week, but I'm off this weekend. Kate is leaving for college on Monday, and she has a friend coming to spend the weekend, so we'll be enjoying the girls this weekend.

Enjoy your weekend . . . Darling!

How I Spent My Summer Vacation - Part 3

Hold on to your hats . . . this one is going to blow you away. Plus, you said you wanted pictures, and I aim to please my readers, so pictures you shall have.

Before we left, I asked everyone what one or two things they would most like to do or see on this trip, and my dad said he wanted to see the countryside. He was a farmer, after all, and if he couldn't get onto a real British farm (believe me, we tried), he at least wanted to see what their farmland looked like.

I found a tour that seemed to fit the bill for all of us, and so we headed out to the Cotswolds. But there was a bonus at the end of the tour, too. You'll see . . .

First, we took a train about an hour outside of London where we immediately hopped on a coach ("bus" in Brit-speak).




(Exciting bunch, aren't they? Guess the theatre was too much for them the night before.)

About 30 minutes later we arrived in the lovely little village of Minster Lovell, a tiny little Costwold hamlet that anyone in their right mind would sell everything they have just to live here. It's that lovely.

Breathtakingly lovely.



Heartbreakingly lovely.



*sigh*

Sorry. What was I thinking? Oh, yes, you would indeed have to sell everything you have to live here--it's that expensive. Our tour guide, Richard (who, by the way, was outstanding and made our day even more special), explained that the "cottages" you see lining the streets actually sell like mansions in the near-1 million pound range.



One can dream, can't she?

Anyway, back to Richard. He took us walking through the street of this village (I really think there was only one street), telling us about the thatched roofs of the cottages and explaining how the muckity mucks of London come there on the weekends (think the Hamptons) when we reached a farmer's field.

Dad was a happy man!



We walked through a gate (at this point, Richard told us how the name "kissing gate" got its name, but it's too long to go into here. Google it.) and into the field. Yes, in England there are thousands of miles of public walkways, so you can just wander into farmer's fields whenever you want.

Farmer's horses greeted us.



We walked a little further, trying unsuccessfully to avoid the cowpies, until we saw a church in the distance.



Richard explained that in Medieval times, these villages were centered around the church (a.k.a. the "Minster") and the Manor House. All of the little cottages were built for the servants of the Manor.

Give me a bucket and a broom, I'm movin' in!

We walked a little further, through another gate, where we came upon this pond.



Words cannot describe it. *Ahhhhhh*

We walked around the pond when suddenly, right before us, stood this sight. . . .



I swear, it looked like something from the set of a movie, just plopped right there, on the edge of a tiny river, for our enjoyment. Apparently it's also there for the enjoyment of the residents of Minster Lovell, too, because families with children were hanging out near the ruins, eating picnics and playing near the water. Too cute, I'm telling you. Too . . . English!

Anyway, we wandered around the ruins for a while, Richard telling us interesting stories about the family who lived there. This was the Manor House, the place that employed people like me who lived in the little cottages in the village.





I honestly cannot imagine how much it would cost to keep that place in operation today. Probably why they had to let it go to ruin (get it?!).

Next to the Manor House was the church, which is still being used today, thankfully.



Isn't it lovely?

So after that breathtaking little stroll, we wandered back down the street (remember, there seems to be only one) to our coach.

I snapped this one as I was walking past someone's kitchen window.



Our coach then took us just a few minutes away to another village called Burford where we had exactly one hour to either walk around and see the place or sit down and eat lunch. Some in our group just needed to sit, but you can probably guess what B and I did. We walked.

Richard had mentioned that Burford had a beautiful church, a fine example of Medieval church architecture, so B and I decided to head down there for a little look-see.



The church was beautiful, but once you've seen one medieval church, you've pretty much seen them all.



We had fun looking around, but the best part, for us, was when we checked out their bookshelves. There we saw books by authors we actually recognized and some we even knew!

Here is "The Big Picture Story Bible" by our friend, David Helm . . . right there! . . . on a bookshelf! . . . in Burford, England!



And here's "Disciplines of a Godly Man" by our former pastor, Kent Hughes. Just sittin' there, waiting to be read . . . in England!



I don't know why, but I got such a kick out of seeing those books by people we actually KNOW sitting on a shelf in England. There is just something too cool about that. (The only thing cooler would be seeing one of MY books sitting on a shelf in England. Ha!)

We left the church and quickly toured Burford's High Street, grabbing some pastries to take back on the bus with us for lunch.

All-in-all, we LOVED the Costwolds. Even though this was my sixth time in England, this was a region I had never before seen. Not that I hadn't wanted to go there before, it's just that there are so many wonderful places to see and things to do in England that you just can't see or do it all.

Here's one thing I know, though . . . I will be back. This is an area that deserves much more of my attention.

Once again I've gotten long-winded, and I'm probably boring you to death, so I'll stop my rambling now. You'll have to come back tomorrow to find out the surprise at the end of our day trip. It's worth a blog post of its own anyway.

Now, I'd love to know . . . of all the places I've posted about so far, which would you most like to see in person? Leave me a comment and let me know.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation - Part 2

It was with deep sadness that we left our little B&B in Scotland and travelled across the Firth of Forth (don't you just love that? The Firth of Forth. Just slips over the tongue, doesn't it?) to catch a train to London.

But first, a trip to the loo in the train station where we encountered our first pay toilet, heretofore to be known as "the 30p pee."



You should have seen us scrambling for change.

Anyway, after a perfectly hellacious 5 hour train ride (now that's a post for another day) we arrived in London and made our way to our hotel in the Victoria neighborhood.

Now, Victoria is not a neighborhood I would normally stay in in London. I prefer Kensington with its gorgeous homes and quiet streets, but God really had other things in store last February when I put in my pie-in-the-sky Priceline bid and actually won it. In Victoria.

And you know what? God was right! For this trip, Victoria was exactly where we needed to be--just a couple of Tube stops from everything, close to restaurants, and just down the street from the theatre.

Here's a picture of our room, just in case you're into that sort of thing, which I'm not, but I'll post it for you curious ones.


If it seems like a large room to you, especially by London standards, it is. (And no, that's not a bottle of vodka sitting on the desk over there--it's water. Fancy water.) Enough about that--let's get to the good stuff.

Hampton Court. (One of King Henry VIII's palaces.)

I had not been here since college which was, well, a while ago, and I didn't remember much about the place except for the Great Hall. I'm so glad we spent part of a day here because the place is beautiful . . . and historic . . . and massive. And it has a hedge maze which we didn't get to see on this trip, but that's why there will always be a next time.








Oh, Henry!



The Victoria and Albert Museum. This is one of those places that I've always intended to visit, but for one reason or another it just didn't happen. But this time it did, and I am so glad. What a beautiful museum!

Even before we stepped inside the doors we got a sense of how important this place is. I mean, it didn't even fall down during the blitz! They kept the bomb marks on the outside of the building to prove it.



Famous sculptures everywhere. I know I've seen this one in a textbook somewhere, but even if I haven't I think he's awfully cute.



We mainly went to the V&A to see their wonderful collection of historic textiles, specifically historic samplers which my sister, Jenn, is really into. It's kind of her hobby.

You can go into this big room that looks like a library and pull out these frames that hold all sorts of old ("antique" just doesn't seem to begin to cover it. Is it an antique if it's over 600 years old?) fabric samples.



The biggest thrill, though, was finding the many cross-stitched samplers that they had because, like I said, my sisters' into that kind of thing. Here she is examining the work of some 7-year-old girl. Amateur.



And here's a close-up of another sampler that I thought was lovely. You can see by the advanced stitches here that this girl was probably something like nine when she stitched this one.



The biggest thrill for me that day was seeing the handwork of Mary Queen of Scots. This was exciting to me because last spring I read "The Other Queen" by Philippa Gregory which was about Mary Queen of Scots, and in the book it talks a lot about how she loved to stitch. And then I stumble upon some of her handiwork. Her actual fingers stitched these pieces!



. . . in the 1500s!!!



I don't know, something about history and historical fiction coming together in one place just made me have to sit down for a while and ponder.

And since this post is getting veeeeery long, I'm sure you'll need to sit and ponder a while, so I'm going to end our history lesson/travel post for today. Be sure to come back tomorrow, though, when I'll tell you about one of my very favorite days of our trip.

I can't wait!!

Travel Tuesday - How I Spent My Summer Vacation

Some people like beaches.

Some people like historical tours.

Some people like cruises.

Some people like lake houses.

But my family? We like golf. Is that weird? (Wait. Don't answer that.)

Last week, my parents, my two sisters and their husbands, and B and I spent time in St. Andrews, Scotland at the British Open golf tournament, and did we ever have fun. Five years ago, four of us went, but this time all eight of us made the trip. Not all of us are golfers, and not all of us were interested in the Open, but we all spent some time enjoying the atmosphere and the tournament.

Here's B and our brother-in-law, Tom, pretending that they just played the famous 17th hole. Looks to me like they lost their ball in the rough.



And check out that bunker on 17! You could get lost down there. (That's my mom and dad--the benefactors of all this fun.)



Today I got an email from my college roommate who said, "I think that if I were vacationing in Scotland on my second day in the gallery I’d be thinking more about all the other stuff in Scotland that I’d like to see and was missing while I was watching golf."

Well, Jen, you'll be happy to know that we did NOT spend all of our time watching golf (the tournament itself was kind of a snoozer this year anyway because the guy who won, a South African, was the leader the entire time. It's not as much fun to watch when it's not even close and you pretty much know who's going to win going into the last day. Zzzzzzz.).

We did manage to spend one day in Edinburgh, a city that I love every time I've been there.

This is Edinburgh's famous castle.



And here's a beautiful view of Arthur's Seat, Edinburgh's famous peak in Holyrood Park.



After four days, we said goodbye to Scotland and headed for England, specifically to London, where many adventures were had by all. You'll have to come back tomorrow for the London portion of our trip because my old pal jet lag is kicking me in the gut and it's time for me to sleep.

I'm Back!! . . . and we have a winner, too.

Hey friends! We're back.

From where? you ask. . . .

Well, since most of you already seemed to know where we went, this won't be any grand "reveal" or anything. We're back from Scotland and London.

But didn't you already go to London this year, Shelly?

Why, yes. Yes I did.

That was a special trip with Abby, my middle daughter, for her 16th birthday. It just so happened that a couple of other big events happened this year too. My parents are celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary in August. B and I also celebrated our 25th in June. And my sister, Jenn, and her husband, Tom, are celebrating their 25th anniversary in November.

(Just in case you're keeping score, yes, my mom did indeed plan two weddings in one year back in 1985. She's still sufferning from it.)

And finally, just to be completely transparent here, my sister, Jodi, and her husband, Matt, just celebrated four years of wedded bliss.

That makes 104 years of marriage among the four couples in our family. And, to me, that is something to celebrate. Thankfully, my parents agreed and generously took all eight of us to Scotland for the British Open. (Those few of you who follow golf will know that going to the British Open is a pretty special thing.) After a few days in Scotland, we then headed to London--you could say this was a schizophrenic vacation because the two halves could not have been more different.

More about that later. I need to end this post because I'm probably not making a whole lot of sense since jet lag has hit me like a WWE Smackdown. Why is it the second day back is so much worse than the first?

And also because I need to take Kate dorm shopping since she leaves for school in a week. Yikes!

Strangely, that last sentence leads me to the winner of my giveaway. I loved all of your comments and suggestions and will try to get to them all, in some way or another, in the next few weeks. Thanks so much for helping a girl out!

But the comment that seemed to resonate with me the most, probably because of what I'm facing sooner that I'd like to admit, was Kay's comment about "loosening the strings" or something along those lines. Kay and I have kids who are just about the same ages, so we're kindred spirits in the "letting go" arena. She's already let one of hers fly the coop, though, so I'm sure she could teach me a thing or two about that rather than the other way around.

Anyway, I'll probably be musing about the "letting go" theme next week since it's going to come around soon--veeeerry soon.

In the meantime, Kay, I need your address to send you my gift from England, so email me with that. I got you a lovely packet of note cards from the Victoria and Albert Museum. Hope you enjoy them!

Be back tomorrow with a Travel Tuesday post!

Guess Where (and a giveaway!)

Hi there!

As you can see, there's not too much going on on the old blog this week. Rather than sit in the sweltering heat and humidity that they call a Chicago summer, I'm on another adventure--collecting stories and taking pictures for some new Travel Tuesday posts. I have a feeling after this trip, I'll have weeks upon weeks of TT posts for all of you, and I sure hope you enjoy them as much as I do.

There will also not be a Fabulous Friday Food post for this week, but come back next week for lots of excitement. We may continue that discussion on the "Big Question" that we started last week. We will definitely have some travel news. And some Friday Food.

What else would you like to discuss? Oh, and would you like the FFF posts to include a Mr. Linky so we can share recipes? Let me know in the comments section. You might want to try guessing where in the world I've gone this time (but if you already know, don't tell!).

The best comment or idea for future blog posts (in my opinion) will be chosen to win something from my trip. (But because I'm writing this before I leave I don't know what that is yet.) I'll announce the winner next Monday.

So be creative and have fun discussing amongst yourselves. I can't wait to see what you come up with!

PRAISE YOU IN THIS STORM

Hi friends! I'm so happy to welcome Lisa Spence to my blog today. I think she's the first guest-poster I've ever had, and I am so happy that she's sharing this story today. Lisa is a wife, a mom to three boys, and a Southerner, so you know I'm jealous. You can visit Lisa at her blog, "Lisa Writes . . .".


On April 24, 2010 an EF3 tornado ripped through my town, leaving behind a swath of destruction and devastation eighteen miles long and ¾ mile wide. The Lord was merciful to us as there was no loss of life yet still, now, over two months later we find ourselves reeling from the shock and the sense of the surreal. Seeing the altered landscape still surprises and saddens me. Here? Us? Unbelievable. Of course, I have to think to myself, who really expects such a disaster to come to their community?

We still tell our stories, where we were, what we heard, how we reacted. Just last week my husband and I chatted with a friend whom we hadn’t seen in a long while. His home was hit and he described to us lying facedown on the linoleum, spread eagle, certain his end had come. It didn’t, obviously, and he is thankful.

One organization sold tee shirts to raise money for disaster relief. The design graphic features, appropriately enough, a tornado and the date, as well as the words “I will praise You in this storm.” Most of us know that to be the title of a popular song on Christian radio, yet it is also a statement of humble trust.

Think on it. Storms come. Maybe we find ourselves facedown on the linoleum as 140 mile an hour winds crash through our home. Or maybe we are on the receiving end of a telephone call bearing bad news. Maybe our teenager rebels. Our job gets cut. Our church splits. Storms, all, and, in some form or another, they come to us all.

Storms of life are inevitable. The Bible is clear that troubles, trials, sufferings and persecutions are part and parcel of the life of the believer. Anyone who tells you otherwise is lying. The storms will come. I was just reading the introduction to a new Bible study book in which the author declared that the truth of the gospel is not about hope that our circumstances will change. It is about hope that “God has done something on the cross that changes how we think about our circumstances!” I like that. Life is hard. Tornadoes hit. Things change. Yet…I can praise Him. Why? Because of the hope I have in Him.

God is sovereign. He sees, He knows, He plans, He holds all things together, He works all things together for our good and His glory. All things. Nothing surprises Him. He is sovereign and He is good. He demonstrates His goodness to us on the cross where Jesus died to purchase redemption and the forgiveness of sin through His blood, lavishing on us the riches of His grace! Indeed, what can separate us from that kind of love? Nothing! We who belong to Him can praise Him in the storm because He is sovereign and because He is good and because He has promised that nothing will separate us from His love.

Are you in the middle of a storm? Are you facedown on the linoleum, so to speak, fearing for your life and struggling to believe that God is anywhere near? Look to the cross, sister, friend. Look to Christ. See His grace and His mercy and believe in His promise to save. Your circumstance, no matter how devastating, does not separate you from the love He has for you in Christ. Remember the gospel. Remember Jesus’ promise to save sinners. Hope in Him and praise Him in the storm. He is good! He is sovereign! He saves!

Fabulous Friday Food - Aunt Mary's No-Bake Blueberry PIe

Last week I intended to make traditional blueberry pie. After all, Mom and Dad were coming, and what could be better than blueberry pie?

Have I ever mentioned that I'm not that good at making pie?

Well, I'm not. And the thought of ruining several cups of perfectly good blueberries was not appealing to me, when along came my friend, Jennifer, who shared her Aunt Mary's Blueberry Pie recipe with me.

I'll be honest. I was skeptical about this pie recipe. I had never had a blueberry pie that did not require time in the oven, and I wasn't so sure about the filling stuff. It just seemed too easy.

But I tried it and I gotta say it was good!

So today, in honor of summer and it being too hot to start the oven and in special reverence of blueberries, I give you Jennifer's Aunt Mary's recipe for no-bake blueberry pie. Mmmmmm.

First things first . . . sugar, flour, water, butter . . . cooked in a pan until thickened.



Add some vanilla.



Stir in 3 cups of fresh blueberries.



Put the whole mess into a pie shell. (Jennifer was right--the shortbread pie shells are yummy!)



Refrigerate it for at least 2 hours.



Slice and enjoy!



It really is as simple as that. No rolling out dough for pie crust. No turning on the oven. No bubbling over mess in the bottom of your oven. Just easy peasy.

So if it's hot where you are this weekend, why don't you try this one?

Aunt Mary's No-Bake Blueberry Pie

3/4 C. sugar
3 T. flour
6 T. butter
1 C. water
1 t. vanilla
3 C. fresh blueberries
1 pre-baked pie shell (I used Keebler's shortbread crust)

Mix the sugar, flour, butter, and water in a sauce pan over medium heat until thickened and bubbly. Stir constantly. once it gets going so it doesn't stick to the bottom of the pan. As Jen said, "For a while, you'll think it's not getting thick, but if you stir well, your moment will come."

Take the custard off the stove once it's thick and stir in the vanilla. Add blueberries (I let the mixture cool for a couple of minutes first). Pour mixture into pie shell.

Chill for at least 2 hours. Serve with sweetened whipped cream.

Enjoy!

Answering the Big Question

I’ve heard that roughly 75 trains travel noisily through our sleepy little town every day. That is 75 chances to get stopped while crossing the tracks on a daily basis, and on some days, it feels like I get stopped all 75 times.

Yesterday I got stopped by a train yet again. A very sloooooow train. Just as that train was finishing up, and I thought I’d be able to scurry over the tracks (I was, after all, only the third car in line), another even sloooooooower train came along.

I was stuck.

I put my car into Park (that’s the P on the Prindle—those letters next to your gear shiftythingamabobby?—when Kate was little she called it the Prindle for, you know, PRNDL! Isn’t she so cute? *Ahem, back to my story*), and there I sat, flipping around the stations on the radio with nothing else to do.

I get tired of music sometimes, and one of the stations offered a guy who was preaching, so I thought I’d listen for a minute while I waited. He started out his sermon by telling a story of a flight he took from Hong Kong to Beijing, China. What he thought was going to be a boring, two-hour flight during which he would probably read because he thought he wouldn’t be able to communicate in Chinese with the person next to him, turned out to be a fascinating discussion.

He described his seatmate: a young Chinese woman, very well dressed, with a British accent. He was surprised, needless to say, but quickly found out that she was one of the lucky few—the 1% of Chinese children who show promise and are allowed to receive a higher education. This woman had been educated in London and now worked for a multi-million dollar international firm.

She then asked what he did, so he had the opportunity to tell her that he was a pastor. After they got acquainted for a few minutes, she looked at him with all sincerity, telling him that she meant no offense whatsoever, but why did he believe that the God he served was the one true God? And, also, why isn’t his (the preacher’s) God just equal to other gods like Buddha or Mohammed?

Wow!

At this point, I didn’t want the train to go past and allow me to drive on. I just wanted to sit where I was and listen to this guy’s answer. (Thankfully (?) the train was one of those reeeeaaaallly slow ones, so I didn’t have to worry.)

As I listened to the pastor make his point, I started to wonder: am I prepared to give an answer to people who ask the “big” questions? Here’s this woman, raised in a completely God-less society, told her entire life that there is no God, asking what if? . . . . And he has just a few short minutes to tell her why he believes what he believes.

I found myself riveted to the sermon, wondering what the pastor’s answer would be. I mean, I’ve been attending church for a pretty long time now, and I think I know what my answer would be, but in that situation I would probably mumble and bumble my way through. My nerves would get the best of me, and I would find myself muted, unable to deliver.

My big moment for God would come to an end before it even started.

And I kept wondering: how would I do in that situation? What would I say?

I had this terrible feeling that I would let God down.

Words of Scripture flooded my mind: “Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.” (I Peter 3:15) This is, for me, one of those really convicting passages of Scripture. Sure, God, one day I’ll have that all worked out and I’ll be ready.

But you know what? Today is that day. Today I need to be prepared. The verse doesn’t say “someday get your act together so you can tell others.” It says to ALWAYS be prepared.

As I listened to the pastor’s answer to the Chinese woman’s question, I felt slightly relieved. What I had thought in my mind that I would say was pretty much what he said. But it didn’t make me feel a whole lot better because I kept wondering . . . would I be ready for the big questions?

I’m not going to tell you his answer just yet. We’ll talk some more about it in a week or so.

Until then, here’s what I want to know: If you are a Christian, how would you answer the Chinese woman who sincerely wants to know why our God is true? And if you are not a Christian, have you ever asked that question yourself?

Off to Camp

I don’t know of a mom who really ever likes to send her kid off to camp. Oh, sure, we joke about how we’ll enjoy our peace and quiet for two weeks or how we’ve been counting down the days until our little Johnny or Janie is gone. We like (and need!) our breaks.

But to me, that’s just joking. No mom in her right mind ever feels normal again until little Johnny or Janie is back home, tucked into his or her bed at night, and we breathe a sigh of relief.

This morning I put Maggie on a bus to camp, a bittersweet proposition at best. I know she will have a great time stomping around in the woods, eating I-won’t-know-what, maybe even getting her clothes really wet and loving it. She’ll make new friends, some that will last a lifetime. And she’ll learn a little more about the One who created the big, beautiful world she’s stomping around in.

But there’s a part of me—a big part of me—that just doesn’t feel settled when my kids are away. I think that’s entirely normal. They are, after all, a part of us, and when they’re gone it feels like a part of us is missing.

(Just as an aside and because I’m soon sending one off to college, I wonder if that feeling ever goes away.)

This morning as I was sending Maggie off, putting her on a bus to begin adventures of her own, I was more excited for her than I was sad for me, but that hasn’t always been the case. I remembered, as I watched one sobbing, red-eyed mother put her sobbing, red-eyed son on the bus, that the first time I sent a child to camp I was in her shoes. I was scared. I was nervous. I didn’t want to let go.

And I cried. Oh boy, did I cry. Not so much in front of her like this mom did this morning, but after I got home and throughout much of that first day, I cried.

Now, almost 10 years later, I want to hug that precious mom who loves her boy so much and tell her it will be alright.

It will be alright because time has to move on. Your boy has to grow, and this may be the first step toward a secure and positive future for him.

It will be alright because he will change, and the changes you’ll see in him will be good.

And it will be alright because no matter what happens to him, he is in the care of the One who made him and who loves him more than you and your breaking heart do.

It’s camp time of year. I could say a lot about that, but I won’t right now. For now I’ll just say to that mom who has a hard time letting go, just do it. You’ll be better for it, and so will he.

Good Reads

I read some awfully good posts this week and wanted to share them with you.

Ann Voskamp is a really deep writer with some really deep thoughts. I could really relate to this post this week.

Kristin's journey has tugged at my heartstrings, and this post sure spoke to me. Is Jesus enough for me? I sure hope so, but it's a good question to ask ourselves every now and then.

I want to be this kind of powerful.

And Kelly. Oh, Kelly. The woman just speaks to me (plus she's got great taste in music). This post is absolutely beautiful. Just to give you a preview, she says, "Parenthood is hard and beautiful. Scary and rewarding. Sad and happy. All at once." Never were truer words spoken.

I'm off to soak my feet. Somehow in the blueberry patch I picked up some little critters (chiggers, to be exact), and I am in some serious discomfort. Enjoy your weekend!

Fabulous Friday Food - Blueberries!!!

My lips are blue, my freezer is full, and I am one happy girl because today we picked blueberries.

Today was one of the days I look forward to all year long. In the middle of winter, I dream of this day. As summer approaches, I begin to arrange my schedule around this day. In the fall, we enjoy the fruits of today's labor.

Today was a very good day.

Last year, you may recall, was a complete and total bust in the blueberry picking arena. When I got to the blueberry farm it was closed. And I was sad. Or, maybe more like mad. Whatever. It was horrible.

I've pushed it into my subconscience for so long that I can't even remember. Sort of.

But let's put bygones aside and rejoice in the moment, shall we? Because today has been a very good day.

Blueberries make everything alright.

And not to make you jealous or anything, I (O.K. well, we--Kate, Maggie, and I) picked 15 pounds of blueberries. I have gobs (is that a legitimate word?) of them in my freezer now.

Have I mentioned that I'm happy?

In honor of my fantastic blue spoils, I'm going to share my famous blueberry coffee cake recipe. I think I've given this recipe out to more people than any of my other recipes, and since Amy asked me for it this morning, I thought I might as well share it here.

Make it for your family this weekend, how 'bout?!

So here's what you do. First, gather your ingredients. In a small bowl, mix together the sour cream and baking soda (I'll show you what happens to that mixture in a minute).

Cream the butter and sugar together.

Add the eggs and vanilla.

Add the flour and baking powder (not soda--that's mixed with the sour cream, remember?).

Now, looky here. See the sour cream and baking soda that you mixed together a few minutes ago? It's all fluffy now. Fun, huh?

Add the sour cream mixture to the batter in the bowl.

In a separate bowl, mix together some brown sugar, cinnamon, butter, and flour with a pastry blender.

When it's mixed, it should look like this.

Now you have three components to your coffee cake: batter, blueberries, and topping.

Take half the batter and spread it in the bottom of a 9 x 13 inch pan. Sprinkle the blueberries over the top of the batter, then about 1/3 of the topping mixture.

Add the rest of the batter (it works best if you spread it with an offset spatula) and then sprinkle with the rest of the topping. When you're done, it should look like this:

Bake at 325 for 1 hour. You might want to wait a couple of minutes (or more) before you slice it . . . if you can.

For those of you who like exact measurements, here's the "real" recipe.

Blueberry Coffee Cake

2 Cups fresh or frozen blueberries

1 Cup sour cream

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 Cup butter

3/4 Cup sugar

3 eggs

1 t. vanilla

2 Cups flour

1 1/2 t. baking powder

Topping:

1 Cup brown sugar

4 T. cold butter

1/4 C. flour

2 T. cinnamon (or less if you don't like cinnamon that much)

1. Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Wash and drain blueberries.

2. In a small bowl, combine sour cream and baking soda and set aside

3. In a mixing bowl, cream butter and sugar. Add eggs and vanilla; mix well. Add flour and baking powder, mixing well. Add sour cream mixture to batter.

4. Combine topping ingredients with a pastry blender until well blended.

5. Spread half the batter in the bottom of a 9 x 13 inch pan. Top with blueberries and 1/3 of topping mixture. Spread rest of batter on top, then remaining topping ingredients.

6. Bake at 325 for 1 hour or until toothpick comes out clean.

I hope you enjoy this one. I know your family will.

For a printable version of this recipe, click here.

Now tell me, what fabulous foods are you making this weekend?

Road Trip, Part 2 -- All this . . . and Jason Castro too!

Ever wonder where you can get Emu oil? (Apparently it's good for arthritis.)

How about an artistic armadillo for your yard?

Or some long horns?

Or any manner of Texas items?

Need a little something for your man cave? (I know someone who does!)

All of this and more . . . so much more . . . can be found in Canton, Texas, the home of the world's oldest and largest flea market. Canton is one of the reasons we got in the car last week and drove 15 hours both ways. Yes, 30 hours in the car for a flea market!

But it was worth it, friends. I'm here to tell you, it was so worth it.

Just look at this pie!

Worth it?! I'll say.

Canton is a treasure trove of flea market finds. Some funky and weird (see the armadillo above), some pure Texas, some just plain tacky. But in the midst of all this funky weirdness, there are treasures to be found and adventures to be had.

I can't count the number of times I've been to Canton, but one particularly memorable trip involved four of my girlfriends, a trailer, and a sale back up here in Illinois. We were young then.

Since I've just remodeled a bathroom, I decided that I needed something from Canton to fill it, so that was my focus. Along the way I got sidetracked . . .

. . . by fake pomegranates in a cool wooden bowl.

. . . by more fake fruit and apothecary jars with little birds on top.


. . . and by more apothecary jars and candles.

But I did find what I was looking for--a cabinet for our "new" bathroom (ignore the fact that I don't have a toilet paper holder yet) . . .

. . . and some pretty glass jars to go in it.

Oh, and I also found a vintage mirror that is going to look perfect over the sink once I paint it black (the mirror, not the sink).

What I didn't find was a hairdresser. That Texas humidity is just like everything else there--BIG! (Nope, no pride left at all, folks.)

Speaking of hair . . . here comes the highlight of my day. Do you know who this is??

Yes, my friends, it's Jason Castro, my all-time favorite American Idol contestant EVER! You can imagine the squeals of excitement when, just as I was deciding whether to buy that mirror pictured above, my niece, Kira, says, "Aunt Shelly, turn around!"

I whipped around to see Jason. Cutie patootie of American Idol fame. Buying a lamp! Jason Castro buys lamps! With his wife (!) no less.

We whispered frantically, debating whether or not I should ask him for a picture, but in the end we decided to leave him to his shopping. After all, shopping is serious stuff at Canton.

And that lamp looks a little heavy for wee Jason (he's so tiny!).

I guess I'll just have to settle for a quickly-taken picture and a close-up of the same.

So there. Canton. I hope you've enjoyed your stroll through one of my favorite fun places. And if you're ever in the Dallas area around the first weekend of the year, you should check it out.

You might just see Jason!

I Used to Have Dignity

Not anymore. Not since everyone in the Walgreens, the Target, and the meat market got a glimpse of this today.



It didn't even help that my shirt may have been covering my indiscretion just a little.



Nope. Really didn't help at all.

You can bet we had a great time with this one at dinner tonight.

Maggie: Looks like the Grand Canyon!

B: More like the Royal Gorge!

Kate: Good thing you weren't wearing a thong!

I love my family. I really do.

Now, I know what you're thinking. Oh no, she didn't . . . *fill in the blank*.

. . . flash her tidy whiteys all over town today.

. . . share that with everyone on her blog.

Oh yes I did. I most certainly did.

P.S. Just so we're perfectly clear here: I had NO IDEA this had happened until I got home and Maggie screamed. Just so we're clear.

Road Trip, Part 1: Driving through Missouri - What Could Be More Fun?

A few weeks back, I toyed, out loud, with the idea of a road trip to Texas to visit my sisters. Kate immediately jumped on that idea since she’s pretty much “stuck” here working all summer until she leaves for school in August.

I think it was Kate who came up with the idea of heading down there for First Monday Canton, the country’s largest and oldest flea market. Yep, I’m blaming Kate.

And while I’m at it, I’ll blame B, too, because he encouraged us to go by telling me that it could very well be the last time I get to take a road trip with Kate. Thanks, honey, for that reminder.

So, this past weekend those of us who were home and available (meaning that B and Abby did not come with us) packed up and headed to Texas. I was a little worried about going to a flea market in July in Texas of all places—I mean, heat stroke is a definite possibility—but we decided to be brave and headed out anyway.

I’ve always loved a road trip, and we’ve taken many of them over the past 25 years. B and I took our first driving trip together, I think, the summer we were married when we went out East for the wedding of some of our good friends. After the wedding weekend, we spent time in Washington D.C., Annapolis (great city!), and the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Good times.

Over the years we’ve taken lots of trips to Wisconsin and South Carolina, and one very memorable two-week road trip to Yellowstone and Colorado.

But the one road trip I can pretty much count on taking place once a year or so is to Texas. I think I’ve pretty much worn a track in Route 44 through Missouri, I’ve taken that trip so many times. And I think we’ve visited pretty much every bathroom on Route 69 in Oklahoma (we have three daughters, after all!). I can’t even begin to count how many times I’ve made that trip between Chicago and Dallas . . . and I can’t even begin to tell you how much I’ve grown to hate and dread that trip.

It’s long. It’s boring. And have I mentioned that it’s boring? Oh, so boring.

Which makes it all the more special that I put on my big girl panties and made the long trek down there last weekend with two of my daughters. Because I knew we’d make some memories.

Life does not disappoint. Memories were made. Fun was had. Emotional breakdowns did occur. But all-in-all, I’m so glad we did it.

A few highlights of the drive through Missouri. . . .

Did you know that Missouri boasts the “World’s Biggest Rocking Chair”? I kept wondering if that was for the “World’s Biggest Butt.” But that’s just me. My mind goes strange places sometimes.

And if that isn’t enough excitement, you can also see the Vacuum Cleaner Museum. Seriously! Check it out--it's there.

Of course, there’s the Precious Moments Chapel and Reptile Land. And don’t even get me started on Ozark Land (complete with buck knives) which, as everyone knows, is “Worth Stoppin’ For!”

Those Missourians really know how to party.

On our way down, we broke up our trip into two days because of, well, a restaurant. If you’ve ever driven through Springfield, MO, you have definitely seen the billboards for the place with the “Throwed Rolls” called Lamberts.



Many years ago (I think it was one of the many trips I took with my mom when my kids were little), after seeing those billboards about a thousand times, we decided to stop at Lamberts for dinner on our way through Springfield, and ever since then it’s been our go-to place for really greasy, down home, Southern-style meals on the road.



It was a bit of a bribe for Maggie who really didn’t want to stop overnight—she is a true Wildman and wanted to make the trip in one day, but we told her that she’d get the best meal ever if we stopped overnight. I think her curiosity got the best of her.

Lamberts is a bit of a landmark. It reminds us a little bit of Cracker Barrel, only on steroids. And they make the most amazing rolls which they do actually throw across the room to you, unless you’re like me and drop the roll on the floor.



Thankfully, Lamberts sells their rolls by the dozen, so we took some to the cousins, because, believe it or not, I’ve even taken my nieces there a time or two.



Ah, yes, the road trip. For the sights, the food, and the memories, you just can’t beat a good road trip. The best part? Time together. Time to talk, to laugh, to just be in the same car for 15 hours. It bonds you.

B was right--this very well might have been the last road trip I take with Kate for quite a long time. (Since she's going to college right down the street, the trek to school can't really be considered a road trip.) We had some good conversations, lots of laughs, and, as I said, one rather scary almost-accident that took its emotional toll on me.

But no road trip would be complete without a bump or two, would it? Believe me, the bumps were small on this trip, and I'm so glad we went.

Tomorrow: Road Trip, Part 2: Canton

Fabulous Friday Food - Fettuccine with Peas and Prosciutto

Sometimes I follow a recipe. Sometimes.

But sometimes I have an idea in my head, and I have to scour recipes until I find a couple that I can combine, adding and deleting ingredients as I go.

That's kind of what happened here. I went to the Market one Saturday, saw that someone had fresh peas, and I just had to have them. Immediately I thought I would combine them with some type of pasta and some prosciutto. I probably saw it on Food Network one day, who knows, but I couldn't let the idea go. I bought the peas and we were off to the races.

If you can get your hands on some fresh peas, do so immediately and make this pasta this weekend. It is so good. I probably could have eaten the entire dish in one sitting, but with all the butter and heavy cream, I might not have made it through my front door and I would have been stuck in my house for the rest of my life. And then who would go get more fresh peas?

Seriously, this stuff is so good. It's kind of a combination of Emeril's recipe and Martha's. But, ultimately, it's mine. All mine.

Unless you can find the same combination of ingredients somewhere else.

For now, I'll take the credit.

Now, go get yourself some ingredients. Things like pasta, peas, prosciutto, white wine, heavy cream, garlic, shallot, lemon, olive oil, and maybe a little butter. Oh, and don't forget the parmesan cheese. Must. have. parmesan.


Heat the oil in a skillet and add the garlic and shallot (one or two will do you just fine). And maybe a little butter if you're so inclined.

Next, chop up the prosciutto.

And add it to the garlic and shallots in the pan and cook until sort of crispy.

Add a splash of white wine, maybe 1/4 to 1/2 cup. Pour yourself a glass--it makes cooking so much more fun.

Add the cream, lemon zest, and peas. Maybe a little salt (not too much because the prosciutto is already salty) and pepper at this stage, too.

Cook everything together for 4 to 5 minutes, and you're done!

That wasn't so hard, was it?

Pour the sauce over the cooked fettucini. Top the whole thing with lots and lots of freshly grated parmesan and enjoy all the creamy, fresh, salty goodness.

Now, let me see if I can compose some sort of recipe for you to follow. . . .

Fettucini with Peas and Prosciutto

1 pound Fettucini pasta, cooked and drained

1 T. olive oil

1 T. butter

1 or 2 shallots, minced

1 clove garlic, minced

2-3 oz. Prosciutto, cut into strips

1/4-1/2 C. white wine

1 C. heavy cream

1 1/2 C. fresh peas, shelled

zest of 1 lemon

salt

pepper

1. Cook the pasta while making the sauce. Drain and set aside.

2. In a large skillet, heat olive oil and butter. Add garlic and shallots, cooking until tender. Add the prosciutto and cook until crisp.

3. To the garlic, shallot, and prosciutto, add 1/4 to 1/2 cup white wine; cook about 2-3 minutes, deglazing the pan.

4. Add cream, peas, and lemon zest. Cook 4-5 minutes until sauce thickens. Add salt and pepper to taste.

5. Pour over hot pasta. Top with parmesan cheese.

Now, go get some ingredients and get cooking! And tell me . . . what will you be eating this weekend? Hot dogs? Hamburgers? Watermelon? Pasta? I'd love to know.

Happy 4th of July!

Coming or Going?

That's the question of my summer. Am I coming? Or am I going?

Seems like I'm going to be doing a bit of both in these next few weeks, so if things are a bit sporadic around here, you'll understand why. But the good news is that there will be a lot of great Travel Tuesday posts to fill our time after the summer ends.

In the meantime, some thoughts . . .

1. I don't think parents should put guilt trips on their kids for wanting to spend summers away, but still, I'm missing my middle girl. Eight weeks is a long time to be away from your mama home. Thankfully, according to the postcards we've received, she's not missing us too much. I really would hate it if she got there and was homesick.

2. Kohler, WI is a lovely little town. The kind of place I could settle down in if it weren't north of my never-live-any-farther-north-than-I-do-right-now rule. B and I spent a lovely weekend . . . alone . . . in Kohler last weekend. Which brings me to . . .

3. When you set high expectations of your kids, they'll usually meet them. Mine sure did this past weekend. Thank you, girls!

4. I've been thinking about this a lot lately: why don't I set high expectations of God? I totally believe He's all-powerful and can perform miracles, but I don't look for them. I don't see them every day, so I don't expect them. This frustrates me about myself, and I'm seeing this weakness in my faith more and more through different circumstances.

5. I'm in between books right now, and I hate that feeling. It's like there's something missing in my life when I'm not reading a book. I need to start East of Eden (which I've read before and LOVED) for our book club for August, but in the meantime I need something light. Any suggestions?

6. I live in a house full of bathrooms. In fact, we have four full bathrooms--a real plus when you're raising girls. Why, then, if our home is so bathroom-abundant, do I constantly bemoan the fact that I can't use the downstairs bathroom which is being remodeled right now? Ridiculous. Thankfully, it's almost finished and I'll be able to post pictures next week. I'm loving it, but it's turning out more retro than I originally thought it would. Interesting how that works.

So, I'm heading out tomorrow. You'll definitely get a Fabulous Friday Food post on Friday, but probably not much more this week unless I have some profound thoughts in the car. (Which is entirely likely. I get some of my best ideas while I'm in the car.) But I'm trying to keep your expectations low here. Since I'm coming and going this summer, the most you can probably expect is a quick hello every now and then.

From somewhere. You never know where I'll be coming from . . . or going to. . . .