Big Rocks and Bucket Lists (Megan)

Big Rocks and Bucket Lists

Look at this stuff, isn't it neat? 

Wouldn't you think my collection's complete? 

Wouldn't you think I'm the girl, 

The girl who has everythin'? 

Look at this trove, treasures untold 

How many wonders can one cavern hold? 

Looking around here, you think, "Sure, she's got everythin'" 

I've got gadgets and gizmos a-plenty 

I've got whozits and whatzits galore 

You want thingamabobs? I've got twenty! 

But who cares? No big deal 

I want more (Ariel) 

The scene is as timeless as sun-kissed children and cheap beach toys… A weary mother lures her sandy, little urchin away from the waves with a bright bucket. Mother tells the child that she can fill the pretty bucket with as many treasures as she wants – as long as she can carry them home by herself.  Greedy fingers scoop up a wriggling sand crab and plop it in the bottom of the bucket. The girl sees that the habitat could be improved with a scoop of sand and water and some exotic seaweed. Soon she’s lost in the wonder of her expedition. Every corner of her bucket is packed with the most beautiful shells and shiniest rocks on the whole beach. The bucket’s handle snaps. With salty tears rolling down her sunburned cheeks, the little girl trails behind her mother, snatching at sand and shells - shoving them haphazardly into the bucket, which seems surprisingly smaller now. She ignores her mother’s third call, frustrated and unwilling to leave a single treasure behind.  

My Homesteading students know by now to “expect the unexpected” in our classes, but I actually surprised them a couple of weeks ago when I handed out 20 jars of rocks. Each jar was the same size as the others, and it contained 3 big rocks, a handful of decorative pebbles, and colorful sand. I explained to the students that the jar represented their time and that the contents represented all of the activities that fill up their days. The big rocks were the most important things in their lives – like their faith, their relationships, and their general well-being. The pretty pebbles represented all of the urgent, but less important, things that fill up their days – things that have deadlines and immediate consequences if they are ignored. The sand represented everything else – the legitimately fun and good stuff and also the sneaky time-wasters in their days. I taped Micah 6:8 to the jars, along with a favorite quote from C.S. Lewis’s book, Mere Christianity, “It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice, taking that other point of view, letting that other larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in...” (154).  

Next, I showed my students an empty jar to which I added some sand and a handful of pebbles. We all knew there was there was no way those big rocks were going to fit inside with all the other stuff taking up so much space. However, when I put the big rocks in first, the pebbles tumbled neatly into all the empty spaces, and there was extra room for a whole lot of colorful sand.  

If only I had a sand dollar for every time I’ve acted like the girl with her snapped bucket and spilled treasures… 

Each semester I start out with a neatly-packed bucket. There seem to be enough hours in the day for tasks and studies and sports and everything else that fills up a large family’s calendar. We start strong, and I feel confident and empowered as I check off all the boxes. It happens like clockwork… a week or two into the new school year, some shiny little extracurricular options and Sign-Up Genius notices and business opportunities catch my eye… I start packing a handful of extras into my bucket here and there.  My handle snaps.  

A few weeks ago, this looked like me falling into a multitasking frenzy.  Somehow it seemed reasonable to pack our “fall break” with a cleaning spree, two farmer’s markets, a few family gatherings, and three birthdays.  In the midst of the mess and chaos, my dishwasher, dryer and microwave all quit on me in quick succession, and, when I wasn’t baking dozens of loaves of sourdough or washing sinks full of dishes by hand, I was running a chicken hospital in my garage, canning a mountain of jalapenos into Christmas jelly, working at the horse farm with my son, teaching three homesteading classes, driving kids to sporting events and appointments, keeping up with church commitments, and attempting to educate my five youngest kids. Somehow, I made it through my last market before collapsing and sleeping 12 hours straight. 

For about a month, I had been choosing to ignore the knowing, side-glances from my own “big rocks” jar, which now stared at me smugly from the windowsill. I knew it was high time to reevaluate my priorities and leave some pebbles and sand by the wayside.  

It seems strange that, whenever I feel like I’ve hit my limit in this season of life, I start looking back longingly on the sleep-deprived years of nursing babies and toddlers and monotonous routines. Ironically, these were the very years that I was tempted to wish away at the time!  Looking back now, as a mother of several grown children and a handful of half-grown and small ones, and as a grandmother of three babies, I have a unique vantage point. From this place, I can recognize the hidden blessing of those years, decades ago, when I was stuck at home without a car or a cell phone. Twenty-something-year- old me knew that my “big rocks” for the day were to “simply” keep my children loved and cleaned and fed.  

Nowadays I have too many distractions and tempting options!  I can procrastinate or overcommit, and life goes on without a crisis. For a time… 

This past week I resolved to slow down and stick to my “big rocks,” and I was amazed by the sense of calm and wellbeing that spread through every room and member of my home. I focused on the basics, said “no” to the extras, and discovered that I had enough energy and time leftover to linger over animal books with my 7-year-old, have an unrushed conversation with my young adult son, make my husband’s favorite dinner from scratch, laugh over Facetime with my granddaughter, sip tea and scribble down these random musings…  

Sorry to be a downer, Ariel, but there is NO PART OF MY WORLD MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN YOUR OCEAN, and those sparkly trinkets you’ve been collecting are highly overrated.   

If there’s anything this momma has learned over time and will emphatically tell her students, it’s this… I. WANT. LESS. (Megan)

 

Alexander and the Mixed-Up, Unpredictable, Pretty Awesome Day

(a spin on the original story, a correction of negative paradigms)

        Alexander woke up, rubbed his eyes, and felt something sticky in his hair.

        “Whoa, there’s the piece of gum I lost last night,” he thought. “Good thing I didn’t choke on it when I was sleeping!” He ran downstairs and asked his mom to do her magic peanut butter trick and help him get it out. They laughed together, while he ate his cereal and checked out the cool toy his brother found in the bottom of the box. Maybe he’d get the prize next time! Alexander could tell that this was going to be a Mixed up, Unpredictable, Pretty Awesome day. He raced his brother to the car for school pickup and just missed claiming shotgun by a second.

        “Ha! I’m faster than I was last time!” he thought. He stretched out in the very back seat, happy that he would get the first look at the sports cars as they passed.

        "Hey, check out that Corvette!” he yelled.

        Alexander knew he wasn’t as good as his buddy Paul in art class, but he did his best anyway. He even made his teacher laugh when he showed her the back of his paper and said that he had drawn an invisible castle. Pretty clever, huh?

        Next came singing. Alexander loved to sing and could be heard loud and clear when his favorite song from Forrest Frank came on the radio. “I'm 'bout to have a good day! No matter what they saaay…”

        He was still thinking about the lyrics when it was his turn to count.

        "14, 15, 17..." Somehow, he missed the number 16. Ha! Oh well. Not a big deal...

        When lunchtime rolled around, Alexander noticed that his buddy Paul was sitting by himself and looking upset.

        When Alexander asked him what the trouble was, Paul just sniffed and said, “Why would you care? You aren’t my best friend anymore…” 

        Alexander’s face felt hot, and he was tempted to tell Paul to go sit on a tack. Instead, he took a deep breath, put his arm around his shoulder, and listened to Paul’s story about a sad visit to the vet. Paul's family had to say goodbye to his old, golden retriever, Buck. Alexander told Paul he was really sorry, and the two of them shared Paul’s jelly roll since Alexander’s mom had forgotten to pack him a dessert. 

        “That’s what best friends are for!” said Paul with a grin.

        The day kept getting more and more crazy. Poor Alexander found out he had a cavity from chewing gum in bed, but his mom surprised him with a cool electric toothbrush to cheer him up. When they stopped at the store to buy shoes, Alexander was kind of bummed that the ones he liked were out of stock. Then he saw the coolest sneakers EVER! His mom said he could have them because they were on clearance! Alexander couldn’t wait to show his dad, so they stopped by the office on the way home. He was careful not to play with the copy machine or fool around with his dad’s work phone.

        Alexander wasn’t crazy about the kissy TV show his sister was watching when they got home or the lima beans his mom served him for dinner, so he decided to build a castle with them on his plate – a lima bean castle.

        “I might draw this in art class tomorrow!” 

        After dinner, his mom said it was time for bed and handed him his weird railroad track PJ’s. Ugh. He started to remind her that these were his least favorite, but then he saw the mountain of clothes she had to fold and decided not to complain. He could just pretend he was boarding the Polar Express, right? Hey, he could even plug in his Christmas night light because his Mickey Mouse one had burned out. Alexander laid down in his cozy bed, spat out his gum, and smiled as he remembered all the adventures he had had during that Mixed up, Unpredictable, Pretty Awesome day! He could hardly wait to see what would happen tomorrow. 

Firefly Memories (Megan)

For my Mama who taught me how to “make a memory.” Someday we will catch them all together.

“Therefore I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the wilderness and speak tenderly to her.”

Hosea 2:14

“Seila, wake up. It’s time.” The soothing voice of Ro’i coaxed the sleeping girl from her labyrinth of dreams. It was the voice of a Good Shepherd – emanating tenderness when crooning over lambs and thundering violence when frightening away predators. Seila blinked through her fog of confusion and sat up slowly. She vaguely wondered why she was sleeping on a pillow of moss. Where was she? Tumbling questions swirled through the thick haze of her semi-consciousness. These questions should have unsettled and frightened her, but when she locked eyes with Ro’i, her heart calmed.  Steadied by his tender gaze, she trusted him and knew she would follow wherever he led her.

Fireflies. They had been catching fireflies.  The flickering jar between them reminded her. Mesmerized by the darting diamonds, Seila admired the sparkling insects and wondered how long their lights would last. The familiar, weighty sadness returned. Ro’i wrapped Seila’s white-knuckled fists in his strong, calloused hands. She had been unaware of her death grip until he gently peeled open her fingers, revealing a crushed firefly in her palm. Seila grimaced as he plucked it up and placed it tenderly in his jar with the others. Remarkably, the insect began to twitch and revive, and soon it was darting and gleaming with the rest.

“This is the last one,” he whispered, “Now we must go.”

***

Seila awoke to the wet nuzzling of a lamb’s nose. Turtledove was nudging her affectionately and alerting her to the approaching sound of music and laughter. Planting a kiss between his velvet ears, she sprang from bed and ran to the window. It was barely light, but the neighbors were already stirring with anticipation as they strained to see the approaching horses and soldiers. Father’s army was returning, and Seila’s heart leaped to realize that this fanfare meant victory! Certainly, her father had prevailed over the Ammonites. How startled she had been a week ago, when the elders of Gilead appeared on their doorstep and summoned her father to lead this raid. The army had exhausted their resources and were forced to grovel before the only man with enough prowess to lead them to victory. The man they had once shunned and shamefully driven from his father’s house, was rising as their conquering general. Jephthah couldn’t help but gloat as he eagerly accepted his commission.

Wrapping herself in a woolen shawl, Seila dashed for the door. She was impeded by the furry form of Turtledove, who bleated longingly for the crisp morning air and the company of his mistress.

“No, Dove. Stay here. You’ll be trampled by the horses!”

The sheep made one more attempt to push past his mistress, but she gave him a tender whack with the timbrel in her hand, followed by loving caresses and reassurances that she’d be right back.

Seila’s beautiful voice rose above the cacophony of chattering neighbors as she ran toward the form of her father, serenading him with her victory song. When Jephthah lifted his gaze to behold his daughter, the color rushed from his face. His eyes, which had recently been dancing with the merriment of accolades and victory wine, flooded with tears. Not the tears of fatherly recognition and affection, but tears of repulsion and terror.

“Yahweh, no!” he wailed, tearing his cloak and convulsing with heart- wrenching sobs. “Get out of my sight!”

Seila’s legs gave out from under her, the sunrise blackened, and she lost consciousness. When she awoke, she felt trapped in a nightmare. The mysterious whispering and the disapproving shakes of the servants’ heads, convinced her that something was terribly wrong. Where was Father? Seconds later, she saw him approaching – a specter of grief.  Her own father, the fearless conqueror of the Ammonites, was weeping like a frightened child and blubbering incoherent words about a vow.

“I wasn’t thinking, Seila.  I feared defeat, so I bargained with Yahweh. Before an army of witnesses, I vowed that, if He gave the Ammonites into my hands, I would offer as a burnt sacrifice whatever came out of the door of my house to meet me. I expected one of your foolish lambs or perhaps a servant. Never, never did I imagine it would be you, Seila, my only daughter.” His words were choked by agonizing sobs.

Fear engulfed Seila’s heart, but her voice remained steady.

 “What will you do to make this right, Father?”

Jephthah rose in a fury. “What do you mean by, ‘make it right,’ I have no choice but to fulfill my vows to God. Were I to take back my promise, I would be the laughingstock of Gilead – proving to them that I am nothing but the worthless son of a prostitute. Not a conquering general worthy of their tribute.  How could you ask me to do that?”

Seila’s death sentence could not be revoked. With icy resignation, she pushed her father aside, choking back her blinding tears of rage.

Her voice quavered this time as she offered her last appeal, 

“Do you not remember that I am to be married next month? What will Asher think of your rash vow?”

Jephthah shrugged, tears streaming through his tangled beard.

“He will need to forget you, to honor my vow, and entrust his bride to Yahweh. Take some time to grieve, Seila. Bring your friends to comfort you, and return in two months’ time.”

Seila moved through the following days in a trance. She fled to a desolate spot in the hills, a place of solace where her sheep could graze unmolested and she could weep freely. Her companions soon wearied of grieving with her, so she sent them home with her blessing, preferring the company of her bleating lambs.

She never remembered what drove her to the cliff’s edge over the riverbank. Once a sheep of hers had wandered off this precipice, and she had watched in horror as his bones shattered against the rocks. He was sucked under the raging current, never to be seen again.  Delirious with thirst, Seila longed for the coolness of that water. She was vaguely aware that this leap would be a fresh death sentence, but wouldn’t a dive into this icy river be better than facing the flames of Jephthah’s altar?

“Forgive me, Father,” she breathed weakly, before she closed her eyes and leaned into her certain death.

The plunge sucked all of the air from her lungs. Her stomach dropped, her arms flailed, and her screams were drowned by the thundering current that devoured her.

After what seemed like an eternity, a strong arm reached for her, raising her effortlessly to the surface. Why was she not dead? Who was this strange man, gazing down at her, enveloping her in strong arms and lifting her to safety? Seila had no choice but to give in to the sobs that wracked her body. The stranger covered her in his cloak and held her while she gasped and choked out her questions…

Why had her father let his pride cloud his judgment? How could he have flippantly risked the life of his only daughter? Hadn’t she suffered enough, losing her mother and sister, and enduring her father’s hubris and intoxicated fits of despair?  The demands for this final sacrifice were nothing but vengeful.  

The stranger, with the simple name of Ro’i, listened to Seila's half- delirious rantings until the sun set. He didn’t reply with words, just listened with rapt attention and compassion that spilled out the corners of his wrinkled eyes. When Seila ran out of words, they sat together in silence on the grassy hillside. Ro’i opened a satchel and produced a crusty loaf of bread. Silently, he broke it and handed the larger piece to Seila. She drank freely from the animal’s skin that rested on his side. Never had she tasted such wine. Ro’i rose to his feet and clapped his cupped hands toward the sky with a gleam of fun in his eyes. Then he offered Seila a peek through his cracked fingers at the spark of fire he had caught mid-flight.

“I’ve always loved fireflies,” she sighed. Then, tracking a darting light, she clapped her own small hands together and slowly opened them to inspect the gleaming treasure. The insect darted cleverly from its captivity, and for a moment Seila met Ro’i’s gaze and remembered how to laugh.

Days passed easily into weeks, and Ro’i remained the steady companion who cared for her - easing her loneliness by day, and keeping vigil by night so she could rest in safety. Memories poured out from the secret places of Seila’s heart, and her crushing fears lifted. Ro’i’s fatherly tenderness flooded into the empty spaces in her soul – the voids left by her mother and sister’s untimely deaths, her father’s neglect, and the stinging loss of Asher. She had longed to be married and to build a whole family – something she had only ever dreamed of. Roi’s compassion never faltered, and he spoke volumes, not with words, but with the piercing gaze of his eyes – eyes that penetrated Seila’s soul. At the end of each day, he would kneel to wash her dirty, aching feet and tenderly bind her wounds.

Sometimes they would sit together at dusk, and Ro’i would tease Seila about her clumsy attempts at catching fireflies. Each time the elusive light escaped her grasp, he would deftly capture his prey between strong hands and gently add it to his collection.

Two months passed, and Seila’s haunting memories and relentless nightmares began to subside. She woke each morning with a fresh sense of wonder, like a child eager to discover and embrace a beautiful world she was exploring for the first time. Occasionally, the shadows would creep over her, and she would call out for Ro’i. Whenever he heard her cry, he would emerge from the darkness and lean against her, so she could feel his strength and the warmth of his shoulder pressed to hers. In these quiet moments, Seila would shake off the vague sense of foreboding that always lurked in the back of her imagination. Something as elusive as the fireflies was troubling her – a memory she would try to capture long enough to understand, only to watch it flicker out of her grasp. Her soul ached when she realized that these beautiful days with Ro’i couldn’t last forever. She sensed that a strong force stronger than both of them would soon draw her away from him whom her soul loved.

***

         Seila’s forebodings were realized that morning when Ro’i gently roused her from sleep and pried the dead firefly from her hand. Somehow, she wasn’t the least bit surprised that her shepherd’s touch would bring the poor creature back to life. The sun was beginning to rise as they walked, hand in hand, through the hills and toward a village that looked vaguely familiar to Seila. Perhaps she had been here as a child. Perhaps she had wandered these streets and studied these blank faces in her dreams. Seila hesitated as they approached a rowdy crowd surrounding an altar. The bright flames and shrill voices shocked her senses.  Ro’i led her to an old man, weary and grief stricken. His mouth moved in tearful entreaties – words that made no sense, and Seila shivered in repulsion when he clutched at her robe.  

         “Ro’i, I’m frightened. Take me away from this terrible place,” Seila sobbed.

Ro’i’s expression mirrored Seila’s distress, but he set his face and led her steadily, gently toward the flames. Now Seila was close enough to feel the fire’s heat. Sweaty drops, like blood, trickled down Roi’s cheeks. He turned to Seila and whispered softly, steadily.

“Seila, your days of forgetting are over. Follow me, and we will remember together.” Seila’s heart thundered in her chest and rang in her ears. Before she could think, Ro’i turned and stepped into the flames.

“Yahweh Ro’i! Don’t leave me!” Seila screamed and grabbed his hand. A force, powerful yet gentle, pulled her forward. Seila closed her eyes. She no longer felt the burning flames, but a noxious odor overwhelmed and nauseated her.  She remembered this smell from the lambs her father would sacrifice. Seila stumbled and fell toward the blinking light, choking and searching through stinging eyes for Ro’i.

The arms that caught her on the other side of the pyre were smaller, softer, but just as strong and familiar as Ro’i’s. Blinking away her hot tears, Seila looked up to meet the shining eyes of her mother. Her wondering gaze was interrupted by the sound of laughter and the two little arms that clasped tightly around her waist, lovingly squeezing the breath out of her lungs. Could it be?

“Seila, my sister! I’ve waited so long for you to come home!” the little girl shrieked, “Look what Ro’i gave us!” The little girl revealed her treasure – a familiar jar of sparkling, fluttering diamonds that the shepherd had collected and guarded so tenderly. Seila had never seen anything so beautiful. She laughed and snatched her little sister’s hand.

        “Come on, let’s go find some more!”

My Reflections on Homesteading and Nuclear Warfare (Megan)

~My Reflections on Homesteading and Nuclear Warfare~

    If you had told me seven years ago that I’d ever become a southern chicken momma, I’d have laughed in your face. I never imagined that, over the course of a handful of blistering summers, the South would transform me from a “Type A” New England girl to an Alabaman homesteading queen with a potato garden and a yard full of free ranging chickens, dogs, and stray children. Maybe it was the just the pandemic and peer pressure that started me on the hobby farming course, but I’d like to think that I come by these interests honestly. After all, my maternal great-grandparents were Minnesota farmers. They worked from dawn to dusk and instilled in my mother a fierce work ethic and pension for growing large gardens, baking bread, making soap, and dipping candles. Maybe it was the aromatic bunches of herbs drying in our rafters and the cauldron of sweet beeswax melting on our kitchen woodstove that set me on this homesteading journey. All I know for sure is that some pretty powerful forces have brought me where I am today.

    A few years ago, I discovered the wonders of kombucha and started my own tea brewery and collection of scobies. This naturally led to perfecting my sourdough starter and artisan bread loaves, which were snatched up at local markets. Chickens were the next logical pitstop as I headed slowly but steadily toward homesteading crazy town. I raised several broods and even spent hours watching fluff balls emerge from incubated eggs on my kitchen table. My pace was increasing, and I knew the final stop of my journey would be beekeeping.

    Like several friends in my southern momma circle, I fell for the YouTube videos which showed the magical side of beekeeping. Little imps in overalls helping Memaw harvest honey. There was music and laughter and some frolicking lambs in the background. No one was stung in all of this sticky mirth, and the family hardly knew what to do with all the honey they got!

    I made a plan to put aside a bit of the income I made cleaning horse stalls. Most of my barn money was accounted for, but I was able to start a secret savings of my own. I called it my “birds and bees fund” just to crack up my teenagers. Eventually, with the help of our prolific hens, I earned enough to buy my first beehive off of eBay. I was elated! Gradually a beekeeping suit, hive tool, and smoker were added to my stash, and my husband started looking nervous. I assured him that I had done loads of research and that my bee venture would prove to be as successful as the chickens had been. I preordered my first nucleusof honey bees and waited.

    At long last an anxious UPS driver showed up on my doorstep and told me in a shaky voice that there seemed to be a problem. “Ma’am, I dunno as much about bees as y’all do, but this don’t look good.” He lifted up the caged box to reveal a heap of distorted bee carcasses which had perished in transit. I agreed that those dried up husks would never make honey. After offering his condolences, the delivery man recommended that I reject the delivery and try again. Sadly, my experience was repeated a second time. Two colonies of massacred bees had arrived on my doorstep. I had to document the carnage with graphic photo evidence so the company would reimburse me. I shook off some feelings of foreboding but refused to give up.

    It was time to swallow my Yankee-bred independence and reached out to a local friend who kept bees. After telling her my sad tale, she immediately connected me with a mutual acquaintance, a bee farmer who offered me 50,000 bees for the same price I had paid for half as many dead ones! Hardly believing my good fortune, I sent my husband to pick up the two “nucs” and added the finishing touches to my hive.

    I’m not quite sure what I was expecting, but the wild buzzing inside the two boxes of mad bees intimidated me. I had not planned for nuclear warfare and pushed down some panic as I took off the netting. A minute later, my husband, who had been observing from a safe distance, hollered and began running to the house with a cloud of bees on his tail. Surely, he was exaggerating a bit? Six little stings couldn’t be all that bad… I was left alone to battle the bees. Gloved hands shaking, I managed to gingerly lift the first frame. It slipped, kamikaze bees pelted me in the face, and my life flashed before my eyes. I had watched the Hunger Games and knew my chances of survival were as slim as those of Katniss when she encountered the swarms of venomous tracker jackers. I begged God to spare my life and to just let the bees vaporize or swarm somewhere else. Sometime in between dropping that first frame and wetting my bee suit, I managed to get a few thousand bees into my hives. Sure, I had been stung and was even then swelling up beyond recognition, but I had prevailed!

    Fast forward a few months of inspecting and feeding my bees, conquering hive beetles with murder sauce, and learning the hard way how to keep bees out of my boots, I was euphoric. I even had a few jars of golden sweetness to show for a summer of hard work. I will admit that I felt a bit uneasy about my clumsy harvesting process and the casualties of so many of my bees. I even thought about coming clean and labeling my honey with the disclaimer that “both bees and beekeepers were harmed in the production of this honey.” Those honey-coated Pinterest posts and YouTube bee videos still haunted me, but the more I’ve talked to my bee keeping friends, the more I’ve realized that my learning curve and mistakes are common to all new beekeepers. One thing is for sure. I have gained a healthy fear and respect for both the honey bees and the formidable southern mommas who subdue them. Before I became an Alabamian hobby farmer, I believed the stereotypes. I discounted all southern ladies as superficial with their manicures and honey-sweet accents and pretty faces. Boy did I underestimate them! If bee keeping has taught me anything it’s that, on the inside, every bee AND every southern homesteading momma is a powerful force to be reckoned with. You might think she’s just full of honey, but if you’re fixing to mess with her home or her babies, y’all better prepare to be stung! And this Yankee girl is proud to call these queen bees her best friends.

AHG: Faith, Service, and Fun! (Shaila)

~AHG- Faith, Service, and Fun~

[1] American Heritage Girls is all about Faith, Service, and Fun! [4] Learning new skills in the process, we excitedly earn badges, which represent what we study and accomplish. [2] In American Heritage Girls, we earn badges on our own and with our troop! [5] At the beginning of every meeting, which we have every other Monday, we start with the most important parts of our evening. [6] We have our flag ceremony. [6] We have a devotion. [6] We have prayer. [3] Excitedly, we head to our classroom, because we know that we will be learning some new skill, spending time with friends during events, and serving others in the process! 

[1] One of the many fun activities that troop members do in American Heritage Girls is earning badges. [5] After they are earned, badges are displayed on a vest. [1] There are eight frontiers which range from Art to Technology! [1] One of the first badges that I earned was the Daughter of the King badge. [4] Revisiting this theme each week, we learned that we are fearfully and wonderfully made. [1] Other badges I have earned include Toys and Games, Outdoor Skills, Our Heritage, Pen and Paper, and Cake Decorating. [2] In Toys and Games we investigated the many different toys and games that have been played by children around the world throughout history. [2]  In Outdoor Skills we learned about fire safety, first aid and compasses. [1] Cake Decorating was a fun badge because my spectacular sister, Siobhan, taught it! [1] I also got to decorate and eat my own cake! [3] Currently, we are doing the Pen and Paper badge. [1] First, I listened to a presentation on papyrus, which was taught by my mom. [1] We have learned a lot of different techniques for creating art with paper! [2] For example, we learned how to make origami cranes, quilled cards, and terrific tissue paper flower bouquets. [4] 

Making the flowers was satisfying because we knew that they would be donated to Meals on Wheels. [6] We made carnations.  We made roses.  We made daisies. [5] When I pull out my vest, I instantly remember all of the memories I’ve made with my American Heritage Girls troop. 

[1] Another important aspect of  American Heritage Girls is special events. [1] We have done so many spectacular hiking trips, theme parties, camping, High Adventure Camp, and horsemanship! [2] Without a doubt, it has been so much fun to do all of these activities with my amazing troop!  [3] Recently, we went hiking on a trail in Elkmont, which was fun! [2] Since there was a waterfall and pool, we were able to wade in the water which was like a glacier. [1] We also have had themed parties and have exchanged SWAPS.  [5] Since we had never heard of SWAPS, we quickly looked online and learned that they are “Some Whatchamacallits Affectionately Pinned Somewhere.”  [6] We’ve made camper SWAPS.  We’ve made snake SWAPS.  We’ve made Valentine SWAPS.   [4] Practicing our outdoor skills, we also did a High Adventure Camp. [1] That’s a suitable name for this outing because it pretty much sums it up. [3] Nervously we participated in a lot of High Adventure activities, which included swinging from a swing which was pulled up about as high as a tall tree, going on a super high terrifying zipline, and paddle boarding and canoeing on a lake! [1]  Another incredibly fun event was a horse riding clinic for our horsemanship badge! [5] While we learned the different body parts and proper care and grooming of a horse, we also learned how to mount and ride horses.  [1] In the American Heritage Girls troop, I have had so much fun doing the special events that my troop leaders plan. 

[3] Lastly, we as American Heritage Girls participate in service projects to bless our community! The first service project that we did was in Athens. [1] The moms and troop leaders hauled a lot of rocks because we were intending to paint them.  [5] After we painted the rocks, we decorated them with encouraging notes and Bible verses. [6] We made a rock river. [2] During the Easter season, we put candy in Easter eggs. We also made dog toys for a dog shelter, which we accomplished with old t-shirts. [3] Enthusiastically, we assembled baskets for expectant mothers, and we decorated pumpkins for the elderly. [2] During another troop meeting, we colored Meals on Wheels place mats. [4] Participating in a fundraising event with Rita’s, we held up signs telling people about the Gospel. [1] It has been so much fun doing incredibly creative service projects with my American Heritage Girls Troop! 

[2] In conclusion, American Heritage Girls is a fantastic program, which encourages girls to continually grow in their relationship with God! [4] Participating in different service projects, girls learn the many different ways we can serve and bless others. [5] When we get together as a troop, we sing some of the silliest songs I have ever sung! [3] Personally, I like the Button Factory! [6] It is hilarious! [1] I can’t wait to return to American Heritage Girls in the fall, when I will level up to be a Pioneer!

By: Shaila (age 11)

Happy Easter 2022 (Siobhan and Grandma)

~Happy Easter~

We had such a wonderful Easter weekend!! Grandma visited us from NH, and we made so many special memories with her. Keep scrolling to read her letter recapping our weekend :)

Grandma wrote this letter about her Easter visit with us. We had such a wonderful time with her!!

Dear family,

I just got home from 4 nights at Megan’s (and one in DC due to a cancelled flight on the way home!)  Alabama was such a fun visit.  I wanted to spend as much of my 2 travel days in Meg’s home (rather than in airports) so Dad and I got up at 3:00 AM so I could catch the earliest possible flight to Huntsville last Thursday.  (We had gone to bed at 7:00 PM the previous night so we actually got 8 hours of sleep!)

Siobhan picked me up at the airport with several of the kids.  Owen asked one of his siblings, “Is that my grandma?”  Of course, he didn’t remember my previous visit, but all I had to do was sit on the living room floor with a lap full of little cars and we bonded immediately.  His two great loves are cars and books.  He is just as willing to read aloud to someone else as he is to have someone read to him.  His confident flow of totally made-up words is so much fun to listen to as he turns page after page, reading with abandon.  But his regular vocabulary is very intelligible (when he is speaking rather than reading), and somewhat bigger than his grandma’s.  When asked what color something was, he promptly answered, “cyan”.  Hmmm, I thought he must be trying to say something else, but sure enough, Owen identifies a bluish green color as cyan.

The twins’ greatest love is basketball.  I have never seen anything like it.  They LOVE watching professional games on TV.  I joined them, trying to show an enthusiasm that is not natural to me when it comes to sports.  I commented on one player who made what looked to me like a valiant effort to push through a crowd of players, as he made his way to his side of the court.  I said, “That’s a great break through”.  One of the twins politely instructed me, “That’s called a drive.”  Another time I saw some letters on the bottom of the screen and decided to comment casually about them.  They were REB and AST.  This time Baxter graciously turned to me saying, “That means rebounds and assists”.

They are not only incredibly knowledgeable about the professional games, but the two of them play basketball constantly.  I asked Ethan if he ever lowers the basketball net that stands at the top of their driveway so the twins can shoot hoops.  He assured me that wasn’t necessary.  Sure enough, throughout my visit, I could find Baxter and Cade out there shooting hoops with the net at its full height, and making their shots!  

Brandan and I had lots of fun outside, but one of my favorite things was to see Brandan’s beautiful art wall.  I was amazed at how creative each of the pieces are.  He made birch trees that look exactly like real bark.  He and Shaila have a wonderful art teacher at co-op.  She teaches such creative techniques and even taught them how to make papyrus that they then used for practicing Egyptian art.  

Brandan gave me a drawing that he calls “The Chicken and the Egg” which was a natural choice of subject since they are raising a box of about 17 half-grown chicks.  They are all different colors – white, reddish brown, black, gold…  In a few more weeks Megan and family will have all the eggs they can eat.  Brandan, Shaila, and the twins were often found with a chick in hand or sitting in the living room with a chick on their shoulder.  

Shaila shares my love for needlework.  Siobhan had given her a kit with 4 separate projects in it – a cross stitched owl, heart, 2 cats, and …….. Oh well, I can only remember three out of four.  She and I started the first project which Shaila finished within a day.  It was beautiful!!  Before I knew it, she had started the second one.  

Siobhan, Shaila and I had a fun outing at Piper and Leaf – a creatively decorated tea shop.  Of course, I ordered the yummiest chai I’ve ever had.  We sat on an old-fashioned couch and admired the shop full of antiques -- old trunks, tea pots, ladies’ hats on a tall rack, old books, countless treasures ….  It was great!

I loved the opportunity to chat with each of the older kids about their plans for the next few years – hobbies, college, careers, marriage …… well, maybe not marriage.  Connor and I had a walk together and a chance to catch up on his interest in landscaping.  He did a beautiful job laying out a bed of bushes and flowers around his front door and does most of the maintenance on their big yard.  He also chose a movie for us to watch together and Aidan taught us a very fun game – Dixit.  Aidan is weighing his options for college and is actively visiting several.  I learned that his interests lie in the fields of literature and history as well as biblical studies.  I am thankful to be better able to pray for him over this next year when colleges are being visited and applications sent.  

Ethan and I had a lovely breakfast out together.  I’m afraid I did most of the talking as I told him all about the projects and study that I am interested in at the moment.  He was a great listener and encourager:)  He also gave me his “take” on where each of his siblings are headed, and was obviously very proud of each of them.  I will be praying for his remaining college years (which will probably include med school).  

Megan planned so many lovely outings for all of us, and a few for just the two of us.  We had a walk through the botanical gardens together.  Meg is a master when it comes to my two favorite things to do – eat yummy food and walk outdoors.  The most wonderful meals just “appeared” after each of our outings.  It was a blessing to share Easter with them.  Stephen led us in such thoughtful devotions at home; I was able to worship with them on Easter Sunday; I even shared in their egg hunt which included my other favorite – chocolate!  

My trip home left a bit to be desired.  The flight from Huntsville to DC was so late that I missed my connecting flight to Manchester.  The airline paid for a night in a Hilton hotel and gave me a $12 food voucher (which I spent on a large chai and a bottle of orange juice).  So, it wasn’t all bad.  I was SO GLAD to get home today and (even though my final flight arrived half an hour early) Dad was waiting for me!!  I was reunited with Parker and Carter today when they got off the school bus.  I could hear Parker calling, “Grandma! Grandma! Grandma!” from the moment he saw me through the bus window until he flew into a big hug as he jumped off the bus.  As Carter made his way off the bus and saw me, he said, “Oh yeah, Grandma, I forgot you were gone:)”

So that is my “excelentic” adventure.

Love you all, 

Mom (Grandma)