View from the Prairie Box

Hey blogging friends! I apologize for the pathetic, infrequent blogging. I’ve been terribly uninspired to post personal information. In fact, I’ve been teetering on the verge of deleting the blog (don’t worry, won’t happen!) or just never updating it again. After some encouragement from my favorite webmaster, I decided to keep plugging along, recording personal thoughts on the WWW for who knows what reason.

I feel like I’m just emerging from a haze of activity which has kept me busy and focused for weeks. After Charity’s wedding in mid-May, we celebrated Memorial Day weekend with picnics and barbeques. Then a good friend from St. Louis flew up last weekend (Hi, Lorin! It was so fun to have you here!). And finally, I held my first ever garage sale last weekend. I learned that garage sales require more energy than weddings, social engagements and visiting friends combined. Running the sale with my buddy Julie was definitely the way to go… I can hardly imagine how lame it would’ve been to sit by my lonesome for two days, selling off the mounds of junk I’ve been hoarding for way too long. There was a moment on Friday when I questioned our collective sanity: What were we thinking to have a garage sale while watching three children under two years of age??? And then there was the rain, too, but Saturday turned out to be a nicer day for many reasons (husbands were around to watch the wee ones and we had intermittent periods of sunshine), so the sale went well afterall. It won’t be an annual event, however. I need time to garner that much junk again.

In late spring our catalpa trees produce lovely blossoms that eventually litter our yard in the most beautiful fashion. Considering the timing of the flowering, and the way the blooms eventually drop onto our grass, I call the catalpas wedding trees. When the weather is hot, the flowers will last only a few days and you have to keep an eye out for them, otherwise you’ll miss this pretty stage. But this year it’s been unseasonably cool (says me in my non-weather forecaster opinion) and the trees have held their blossoms for longer than normal. Recent storms ended up strewing flowers about the yard, resembling the aftermath of some wedding celebration. I think the wedding trees are particularly fitting around here where we’re enjoying the unions of many dear friends.

I highly recommend:

• Eating Dark Chocolate M&M’s… if you can find them (or if, like me, you have fabulous friends who will buy them for you).
• Letting others help you complete a project. My father-in-law tilled our weed patch on Sunday and now we’re having sod installed. The patch has been an unsightly mess for many years now and it feels really great to be checking off a task from our homeowner’s list.
• Watching Firefly, especially before the movie comes out in September. I found myself drifting off to sleep last night dreaming of the show’s unique characters. This series lasted for only one season and has quite the cult following now. Kudos to Joss Whedon. (Further recommendation: watching Firefly with friends while eating aforementioned M&Ms.)
• Growing roses and peonies. My living room smells beautiful and looks somewhat prettier with these cut flowers blooming in vases. Mmmm.

As we walked through the cosmetic aisles at Dillards today, I told Livia, “Yes, all these things can make you look prettier, but you don’t really need them.”

I don’t want my daughter to fight the same battle I fight: the Comparison Wars. I hate the fact that I compare myself to other women. I hate the internal dialogue that still exists despite the beautiful words that flow from my husband’s lips. I hate the way that I don’t practice what I preach.

You see, I absolutely believe that God created each of us in His image. And each one of us is stunning in her own unique fashion. I really do love it that some women are “larger-boned” and very womanly in their curves, and that others are slender with nary an extra ounce of fat. I am delighted when I see a woman with curly red hair who embraces it and doesn’t constantly complain that it isn’t blond and straight. I am oddly proud of the professional basketball player I saw on television yesterday who wore three inch heels despite being amazingly tall at 6 feet, 6 inches.

I want to shout from the rooftops: Women of the world, be PROUD of who you are!!!

But still the whisper creeps in, only audible to my own ears, only pressing on my own soul… It tells me that I need to wear trendier clothes, to lose fat and gain muscle, to buy undergarments that either give me more oomph or slim down the oomph I already have, and chiefly, to look very much like models in magazines and celebrities on tv.

Ugh.

God, give me strength to conquer the sin that tells me I’m not enough in the skin I’m in. I want to practice what I believe. I want Livia to be stronger than I am.

Babies truly can learn sign language. Yesterday I asked Livia if she was “done” with lunch; she then repeated me and signed “finished” with her little hands. It was awesome! I’m not sure if I was more excited about her saying “done” or about her signing it, but you combine the two and what you get is a happily freaked-out mama.

Then, this morning she said “all done” completely on her own, without prompting from me, and waved her hands around in the air again. When Jeremy left for work she squeezed her left fingers together in a wave. She waved once before about a month ago but hadn’t done it since, so I was thrilled to see her do it again.

We’re having Livia evaluated for her motor skills next week as she’s a little delayed in the pulling up/crawling arenas. She’s obviously one sharp cookie, though, and I’m grateful to see how bright her mind is. Her physical movement is coming along, however… This morning she stretched and reached out for a toy on the kitchen floor, then smacked her face on the linoleum when she lost her balance. She has a little pink welt as a thank-you for her efforts. No wonder she doesn’t want to move—look at the consequences! ;)

7:00:00 – Alarm clock alarms.
7:00:05 – Jeremy turns alarm off. I imagine we’ll skip the early service and catch the late one.
7:09:00 – Baby begins to babble across the hall.
7:09:05 – We’re going to the 8:15 afterall.

Would you like to own an entire set of Babysitter’s Club books? Or perhaps you’ve been looking for just the right console television for your family room. If so, run, don’t walk, to the Zion Church Rummage Sale at 9th & D Streets here in Lincoln. The sale runs Thursday and Friday, 9am – 3pm (or so).

Despite the fact that I need to clean out my own basement and thus shouldn’t be bringing home any more “treasures,” I still came home from the sale with a several children’s books (including a hardback copy of The Velveteen Rabbit), a toddler snowsuit and a large basket for holding Livia’s books in the living room. $6 total — not too shabby!

The bridesmaids were tired (pronounced “TI-ERD” for more emphasis). Saturday was one long day and we girls were worn out from strapless dresses and strappy dress shoes, cold wind and chilly temps, sunburn and warm temps, little hydration due to port-a-potty fears, and lots of high emotion, mostly love for our dear friend getting married. It was one long, beautiful day. And by day’s end we were in desperate need of a hot tub.

This is where grace comes into the picture. A particular family, dwelling on a particular acreage south of town, graciously opened up one particular hot tub to a particular group of wedding-weary girls. The hot water initially burned our frozen toes, then warmed our bodies and spirits—and we stayed in the glorious hot tub for much longer than originally intended. But the grace didn’t end there. This particular family came home while the seven of us girls, beet red from the toasty warmth, were pretty much causing the deck to be flooded. A moment later, our host came out to greet us and then offered us drinks. Let me reiterate: We were lounging in his hot tub, using the restroom in his house, and then he offers us beverages to make us more comfortable? What graciousness! I want to say, who does something like that? But obviously, I know exactly who. Our beloved pastor Stu.

There was another moment of gracious behavior this weekend that startled me somewhat. I shouldn’t have been surprised by this one, however—I’ve grown up with it all my life. Though the wedding ceremony and reception were completed by Saturday afternoon, the festivities continued long after Charity and Andy left for their honeymoon. And for the available bridesmaids (and their families) still in town Sunday night, my parents grilled a summer feast, and lovingly served it to us. By Sunday evening all traces of extroversion had vanished from my being and I was a (barely) walking/talking zombie. But God bless my folks who whipped up grilled chicken and asparagus, corn on the cob and baked potatoes, salad greens and, to top it all off, COFFEE ice cream for us. Like the hot tub, the food warmed our bodies and spirits.

Graciousness. Hospitality. Love shown through very tangible acts. Joy given when it required the giver to go out of their way, to reach out beyond selfishness. Stu and Kelli were probably exhausted from the day’s events—actually, I’m certain Kelli, the wedding coordinator, was absolutely worn out. And my parents had to have been tired from the long weekend. But still, GRACE. Isn’t that cool?

Our girl, she is MARRIED!

I’m gonna go put my feet up and rest a bit. It’s been a beautiful day. Praise God.