the last days of June

As June draws to a close, I feel a bit as though I'm in a desert. I am hungry, thirsty, and tired. My supplies are dwindling, and my eyes search the horizon for a sign of nourishment. Surely things will turn around...soon, soon.

The scene inside our chest freezer is bleak. We've eaten the ten chickens I bought from a friend last summer. Our 3/8 of a side of beef is gone - aside from a few organ meats I haven't been able to cope with just yet.

Outside, our garden is struggling. Some plants are doing well, but others long for sun and warmth, as do I. June has been cool and rainy here, and my tomato plants do not appreciate that fact. By and large, the garden is hanging in there, but there's not much that's ready for picking - yet.

I've spent my grocery budget for the month. Every penny. Last week I was scraping to buy produce. I wanted to buy a head of cauliflower, but couldn't quite manage it. I'd spent that money on strawberries, so I had to settle for something less expensive. Our fresh vegetable purchases last week consisted lettuce and a single cucumber. (We also had a stash of carrots.)

Yes, things are bleak. For the last few weeks, meals have been extra frugal, and often meatless, unfortunately. Thankfully, I still have some shredded, cooked chicken in the freezer, which I pull out for this and that. But all in all, the end of June is fairly stark.

Ah...but July is coming. July, when I will purchase a new batch (ten in all) of fresh, pastured chickens. July, when I'll get the call that our new order of grass-fed beef is ready to pick up. July, when the CSA program we're signed up for will begin. July, when summer will likely begin to feel like summer - for more than one or two days a week.

With any luck, July shall bring berries and vegetables, pastured meat, warmer temperatures, and sunshine.

So for now, we're buckling down and getting by. But July...ah, July. In July, we shall eat like kings.

a croc (or two)

Yes, my daughter now has her very own pair of crocs. Her brothers have them, and she greatly enjoys trying theirs on. So now, she has her own. In pink, lest she become confused as to whose are whose.

a thankless job

It has been said that motherhood is a "thankless job." In fact, I've been known to say it myself. And in many ways, it clearly is. With the notable exception of Mother's Day, we mothers largely launder clothes (and other assorted items), serve meals, tend scrapes, wipe noses, clean up messes, fix snacks, plan play dates,pack bags, chauffeur, and perform many other tasks for our families, without a single "thank you" from my children.

At least that's the way it often seems in my house. And as a woman whose main love language is "words of affirmation," it does bother me at times. It's not that I need to hear "You are fantastic!" Yet, a simple "I appreciate that" would be nice on occasion. I do hear it every blue moon, but by and large I go about my tasks as a mama apparently unappreciated.

But here's the thing: there's so much more to this motherhood thing than the thank yous. There are the impulsive hugs given with chubby little arms. There are the sticky grins, the healthy doctor visits, the emptied plates. There are the steps toward independence, and the times a child wants nothing more than to snuggle on his mama's lap. There are the successes, and the days when you see them learning to cope with their child-sized failures.

And there's the knowledge that God has willingly chosen you to be this child's mother. Even with all your issues, baggage, weaknesses, and vices. There's the knowing that you're doing your best.

And that even when your best not nearly good enough, you have been given all that you need to make it as a godly mother (2 Peter 1:3). His grace is sufficient!

One day, Lord willing, I'll hear the words "Well done," from the only One whose opinion ultimately matters.

the dawn of summer

Today is the first official day of summer.

And it even feels like it! High of 83* F, sunny, beautiful.

We had to get outside and soak up the rays for the pure joy of it, and the Vitamin D didn't hurt, either.

Summer, we bid you welcome!

my dad

My dad is steadfast. He was always there for us growing up, even when he was away from home. He was a constant in our lives, and we knew we could count on him.

My dad is a hard worker. He always worked to support our family, even under stressful circumstances. He went back to school, changed careers, and took on more responsibilities.

My dad is funny. He tells jokes, sees the lighter side of things, and occasionally refers to eggs as "cackleberries," and milk as "moo juice."

My dad can talk to people. He is friendly and kind to waitresses. He can carry on a conversation with anyone, from any walk of life. He's interested, and it shows.

My dad is committed. He's been married to my mama for more than three and a half decades now. I've never known him to be anything other than totally committed to his wife. It's obvious that he still digs her!

My dad took us to church. He pursued a fellowship of believers which would be authentic, and obedient to Jesus Christ. He drove us faithfully, whether we felt like it or not. He taught us what it meant to believe and obey.

I appreciate you, Dad! Thank you for all you've done for your family!

the 14th

Fourteen years ago I married my best friend. I can't imagine sharing my life with anyone else. I love you, Jeffery!

Owen-isms

Out of the mouth of my 3-year-old...

1) Me, casually calling from another room: "Hey Owen, what are you up to?"
Owen, crossly: "I not up to anything!"

2) Me: "Owen, are you ready to clear your place?"
Owen: "Yes."
(Five minutes later)
Me: "Owen I notice that you're not clearing your place."
Owen, standing up indignantly from his seat: "I am! I clearing my place!"
(Five minutes later)
Me: "Owen, your place..."
Owen, standing up again: "I am!"
(He stomps noisily while clearing his place.)
Me: "If you say so..."

3) To his brothers: "I trying to talk! You interrupting me!"

4) Also to his brothers, at random times whether he's being spoken to or not: "HEY! Don't say that to me!"

5) Pointing to anything purple: "This is pink!"