Remarkable...

When they're young, children think so much is remarkable. They insistently call our attention to things which we gaze at and think, "WHAT is so amazing about that???"

As parents, much less that happens seems remarkable and worth commenting about to others. Our parents call to check up on us and we think, "Oh Mom--get a life."

Then we become grandparents, and things our children cannot fathom as important are suddenly remarkable again, and we want to be updated and sought for advice.

I am in the middle season--caught in the middle between my children who want focused attention and praise for everything they do, and my mother who wants to know everything they do. I feel like the squished middle part of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich!

Today I needed a break from my children calling me, so I sent them away to their friends' house. Then my dear friend who just became a grandma cried on my shoulder because her son never calls to update her about her grandchild. And, well...I think I'm beginning to understand my mother better now.

"Thy father and thy mother shall be glad, and she that bare thee shall rejoice." ~Proverbs 23:25

A Time to Dance...

It's been four years and nine months since a friend's college-aged son received confirmation that his neuroblastoma (a type of childhood cancer that affects developing nerve cells) was back. Through their journal at CaringBridge.org the events of Erik Ludwinski's life, struggle, and the family's faith have been beautifully expressed, encouraging thousands. Last week Erik passed into Heaven, and his family continues to share their faith and joy even in the midst of their painful grieving. They exhibit a beautiful example of Ecclesiastes 3:4b:

"There is a time to mourn and a time to dance."

A time to mourn...AND a time to dance...

Some would say it's impossible, or perhaps shameful, to both mourn and dance at the same time. But then others would say it's shameful to spend time crying over something one cannot change. I believe there is no shame in crying when a loved one dies, nor rejoicing when a loved one enters their restful reward, but rather the shame is in not expressing how much we miss our loved ones, or the selfless joy we feel for their gain. Where death is concerned, the two emotions ARE very naturally entwined...don't you think?

That's my "soapbox speech" for today. I mourn with Erik's family, pray for their comfort, and rejoice with them over Erik's fortune. He ran a good race. His funeral this Saturday will be a celebration of the life he lived before us here, as well as the infinitely better life he's recently begun.

On a more personal note, it's been eight weeks since my little left pinky toe rammed (at about Mach 10) into the wall that sticks out in our hallway as I hurried by on my way to dress in warm layers for our son's ice skating b-day party. I was sure I heard it crack, but x-rays eventually confirmed my FM doc's tuning fork diagnosis that it was only a sprained metatarsal. The skin was split open, and despite icing that first night, most of my foot was swollen and green the next morning. So much for ice skating...downhill and x-country skiing...and dance class this winter.

The prescribed treatment was alternating 20-min ice water and tepid epsom salts soaks morning and night, and for pain, liberally applying peppermint essential oil everywhere on the wound except where the skin split. Within a week my gait was almost normal, but I waited two weeks before trying to dance again.

Two weeks wasn't enough...

You know, what really surprised me is that I missed dancing! I mean, it's really not been my forte. I've never done anything like this before, and I've gained SO much more appreciation and respect for what my kids go through and how naturally talented they are now that I know how unnatural dance is for me. (The week before I injured myself, my dance instructor commented on how serious and frustrated I looked in the mirrors all the time, and explained, "It shouldn't be like that. This should be fun for you, too!" To which I replied, "I am having fun [when I'm practicing on my own at home!]...but I usually feel like crying by the end of every class.") But once I couldn't dance, I discovered I almost couldn't NOT dance anymore! I danced all over the kitchen, back and forth from the stove to the table with hot food, making up new turns I haven't been taught or even shown yet...and it WAS so FUN!

I went back to class too early, and in an effort to keep my feet dry I wore shoes that were too tight in the toes, and needless to say, I suffered a big setback. It's been six weeks now since I last reinjured my foot, and just last week it was well enough to endure massage and adjustment. I still can't wear my dance shoes, but was allowed on the floor in stocking feet yesterday. I'm still limited, but it felt SO GOOD to move and stretch, leap and turn again! My foot swelled slightly after class and I had to ice it again last night, but I danced with freedom and joy rather than burden, and that made all the difference.

Praise God! There is, indeed, a time to dance.

On Being Rare

Twelve years ago my nurse calmly but forthrightly expressed the weight of the situation: "We haven't seen one of those in this hospital for as long as I've been here--at least 30 years..."

One year ago my medical doc called to announce: "We haven't seen a test result like this for...a very long time. This needs to be dealt with now!"

One month ago my functional medicine doc paused to think aloud: "Most of my patients just get well..."

Way to fall through the cracks, Lattice!

But then today:

"You've accomplished something worth being proud of. Most of my patients don't get this far. They don't stick with treatment long enough."

I am not most. I fall through the cracks on a regular basis. I am rare. Odd. Weird. Eccentric. Peculiar. Different. Unique. Special.

But then, aren't we all?!

"For you are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a mighty nation, a peculiar people, that you should show forth the praises of Him Who has called you out of darkness into His marvelous light." --1 Peter 2:9

Set apart... S-E-P-A-R-A-T-E-D!

And called... C-A-L-L-E-D!

Into His marvelous Light... Into HIS Light! HIS Truth!

For the purpose of showing forth our praise of Him... WOW!!!

This past year has been a long journey through unknowns with unsure footing, but praise God, I am feeling better! And I'm pretty sure that light I see is the joy that's waiting on the far side of this pain... ;~)

The Hole in the Sky

She woke to the luxurious smells of organic decaf mixing with the crisp cool air swirling in through the window, which was raised open six inches to welcome the humidity-free freshening. The soft thrumming of a helicopter hidden in the still-darkness (at least that's the impression she had of the sound's origin in those first waking moments) wafted in with it. How strange...

The strangeness captured her attention, and as she mulled it, she gained inspiration. Time to blog again!

Our summer arrived in late-August this year, and didn't stay long. We made the most of it by delaying school an extra two weeks to devote as much time as possible to soaking up Vitamin D and swimming at the lake. I hope we'll remember and take solace in what we were thinking come next April 30th, when our battle with spring fever is raging as we face those last two weeks of school...

Even though school's starting a little late, I'm still not quite organized. Monday I pulled a late-nighter to catch up on housework and prep work, and was kept company by the made-for-TV movie The Ranger, the Cook, and the Hole in the Sky.

And for some reason, this time I "got" it! Our family views this video a few times a year, but I've never before understood the meaning of the phrase "the hole in the sky." Perhaps I just needed to view it by myself in peace and quiet. Perhaps all the planets were finally in alignment. Or perhaps it was God's perfect timing? I mean, He's leading us down a strange new path with regard to school this year, and we'd just studied diffusion in Biology that day...

To me, the elusive "hole in the sky" is now an illustration of our memories diffusing into history. As we tread forward, they waft in our wake like the breeze through my window, spreading out behind us like a fragrance, thinning as they expand backward into the vast open space we call the past, floating gently away... Yet we cling to their essence and it lingers, often teaching, perhaps more valuable in diluted, objective form.

In the movie, a young USFS ranger reflects on his memories of the summer of 1919. Will you indulge me as I take a few moments to reflect on my memories of our short summer of 2009?

As I review photos, I see this has perhaps been our Summer of Welding. I think 900 photos of welding flash may have done my camera in, but through photo journaling I've learned a lot more about my husband's trade, his skill, and the mightiness of God--and got some great shots!

We researched and enjoyed our first garden--raised bed, organic, prolific for its size, and free of deer and rabbits thanks to my husband's "stinky shirt" invention.

Somehow we also managed to indulge in more play time with extended family this summer, swim and ChiRun in a downpour, help our kids begin babysitting and lawn mowing businesses, teach them to dive, and spend four days camping with friends on the North Shore of Lake Superior (boy, was that water cold!).

In August we pickled our own green beans; hiked in to a small lake where, for the first time in years, we gorged on thimble berries and gobbled fresh wild-caught rainbow trout roasted over a campfire; and FINALLY got our boat running!

A birthday arrived again this August as well. Do you remember The Paris Party? This year it was a Swimming-Supper-Spa Slumber Party, and prob'ly the most fun of any party I've hosted to date. We had so much fun planned that it ultimately took two days to accomplish it all. NOW I think I understand better why God tells us we need to set aside a whole week for Passover, the Feast of Tabernacles, and other holidays He talks about in Leviticus (and beyond)! He's got cool stuff planned!

Remembering the china from last year, the birthday girl combined information she gleaned from a summer community ed class and Sarah Masters Buckey's novel, Gangsters at the Grand Atlantic, to plan an elaborate 5-course meal, then designed and arranged her own absolutely elegant table setting:

The action included swimming, burying cold guests in warm sand, trying out the lifeguard chairs/duties, and log roll races down the beach into the lake.

The menu included:

• Course 1 (soup) ~ Apple Compote (a warm fruit soup)
• Course 2 (fish) ~ GoldFISH crackers and sliced cheese (to some guests' relief, the birthday girl only likes walleye, and we didn't have any), with an abundance of chilled sparkling apple juice for beverage (it was on sale)
• Course 3 (salad) ~ Fresh garden veggie tray, and fresh fruit platter with fruit dip
• Course 4 (entree) ~ Frozen cheese pizzas enhanced with each guest's creative design of turkey pepperoni and more cheese
• Course 5 (dessert) ~ Triple-tiered strawberry angel food cake stuffed with hidden Hershey's Hugs, glued together with Cool Whip...with full aerosol cans of real whipped cream on the side. (Yes, it was indulgent. Yes, it was decadent. And yes, I have some AMAZING blackmail pix archived for "someday!")

The slumber party activities included a freezing cold foot spa (the water heater died for awhile right after everyone got their five-minute post-swimming/pre-supper showers), viewing The Spiderwick Chronicles and Peter Pan, rearranging the birthday girl's bedroom, and munching cold pizza and a new nearly-patented secret snack creation currently called "Peppzoni." We forgot the pillow fight, but oh well...next year.

After an elegant but simpler breakfast of bagels and strawberries, we enjoyed a chocolate facial spa (check out these recipes/suggestions), complete with Lindt white chocolate truffles and, while-U-wait, more foot spa, fish crackers, and juice. As soon as all the gigglers were glowing from head to foot, they wanted to head back to the lake. Goodbye glowing faces! Easy come, easy go, I guess. Ah, c'est la vie...

Beauty. Birthdays. Beans. My summer diffuses through a hole in the sky.

At this time I have a strong sense--stronger than ever before--of being right in God's will and timing for our school year. Perhaps that's all that really matters here today.

Indeed, You have made my days as handbreadths,

And my age is as nothing before you;

Certainly every man at his best state is but vapor.

Selah

--Psalm 39:5

My Face Shall Not Be Seen

If your eyes are like mine, this picture is hard to look at straight on. In the past, I've foolhardily ignored all warnings and captured glorious shots by aiming my camera straight at the sun. I love to photograph my husband while he's welding, so whether intentional or not, I've also captured a lot of welding flashes (if you'd like to see my best shots, find me on Facebook). But this is the closest I've ever come to photographing an illustration of glory too bright to gaze on.

And [Moses] said, "Please show me your glory."

Then [God] said, "I will make all My goodness pass before you, and I will proclaim the name of the Lord before you. I will give grace, and I will have compassion...But you cannot see My face; for no man shall see me and live...Here is a place by Me, and you shall stand on the rock...It shall be, while My glory passes by...I will put you in the cleft of the rock, and will cover you with My hand while I pass by. Then I will take away my hand, and you shall see My back; but My face shall not be seen." --Exodus 33:18-23

...while My glory passes by...I will put you in the cleft of the rock, and will cover you with My hand...while I pass by.

We often echo the cry of Moses, "God, let me see You," and experience disillusionment when He doesn't show Himself. What the...? If He's real, where is He? Why doesn't He "pass by" here? Why does Moses get a miraculous encounter and we don't?

Well, let's see. To be fair and scientific, are we comparing apples to apples? Are our motivations and attitudes the same as Moses'?

In general, in a word...no.

Why did Moses want to see God? In our search for evidence, our insistence on proof, we often say, "I'll believe it when I see it." The one belief we truly buy into is that we can't know something for sure unless we've experienced it for ourselves. But in the Bible God calls that leaning on our own understanding, and warns us, "Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths." --Proverbs 3:5,6

Moses knew the Lord even though he hadn't seen His face. Early in Exodus, Moses stepped out in faith just a little. God met him where he was, and revealed Himself a little. As Moses became more familiar with God, God revealed more and more--more about Who He is, what He can do, how we can live successfully, etc. And over time, Moses' faith grew. The cycle continued, and their relationship deepened. Moses learned that he could trust God. By chapter 33 of the Exodus, Moses didn't want to go anywhere without God! In fact, he didn't want to go anywhere unless God led the way! So by the time Moses asked to see God's face, he was not motivated by a need for proof; rather, he was motivated by a longing to see the Lord, Whom he loved so much.

And God loved Moses, understood the longing behind the impossible request, and made a compassionate choice. A cleft is a place where the rock is cracked open a little, making a small shelter, a shallow cave. God tucked Moses into the cleft of a rock, and further shielded him from harm by covering him with His hand, just as my husband's elbow shields us from the intense brightness of the welding arc in the second photo above.

You know what? The Bible says Jesus is a Rock:

• Then He looked at them and said, "What then is this that is written: 'The stone which the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone.' ?" --Luke 20:17

• "Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock." --Matthew 7:24

• "Therefore it is also contained in Scripture, 'Behold I lay in Zion a chief cornerstone, elect, precious, and He who believes on Him will by no means be put to shame.' " --1 Peter 2:6

What if, when we cry out, "Please God, I need help! If You're real and You're there, please show me Your glory! Please save me!", God chooses to hide us in Jesus the Rock just like He hid Moses in that cleft? He says He will save us from harm, and that Jesus covers us, or shields us, from the punishment we deserve for our sins. What if it is through Jesus that He hides and covers us...while He passes by?!

Often after we walk through a time of fiery trial, we can tell He's been there (...you shall see My back). Perhaps it is because His glory is too great that we cannot see Him in the midst of our trouble, but can see His hand on our lives afterward. Perhaps that's also why, in Ps 94:22, King David (the shepherd boy who killed Goliath, had to flee and hide in caves from King Saul, and later fought numerous battles as king of Israel) wrote “…My God is my Rock. I go to Him for safety.”

How can we go to God when we need a safe place from someone who is hurting us, or when we are afraid, or other times when we need Him?

"Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication (asking in earnest humility), with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." --Philippians 4:6-7

Because it would be unloving, God cannot show us His face; but He can and does reveal Himself to us. He can and does save us. How exciting! Salvation excited King David, too. In his very next song, Psalm 95, he wrote: “Come, let us sing with joy to the Lord. Let us give a loud shout to the Rock who saves us. Let us come to him and give him thanks. Let us praise him with music and song.”

Though His face shall not be seen, He IS! May His glory be revealed to you!

Visual Migraine Simulated

Not that I've researched them thoroughly, but as I sit here having my second visual migraine in three days, I thought I'd share:

http://www.knownjohnson.com/?p=73

Mine happen in black and white and start more peripherally.  Still, like sneezing in rush-hour traffic, not the thing you want to experience while driving.

Lucrative Fender Benders & Driving 55

This blog entry could be called a lot of things, but I've had this particular title picked out for almost a month now. My second choice might be "Jeremiah 29:11, part 2." To reiterate, "For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you..."

Today, without apology, I am going to write long. This is the first day I've had free to blog since May 1st, and I need to process. This might be more of a blessing for me than you, but of course you're welcome to participate. Or not.

We're not risk takers. We don't pay interest, investing's not our thing, and we're not entrepreneurs. Business ventures don't give us a rush, and we never want to own our own. But there comes a time in every man's life when he's got to go after that thing for which he feels he was created. Hopefully, this is that time. Hopefully, our little purchase will help keep the economy going. Hopefully, we really are onto God's plan and not just deceiving ourselves, thinking it's His time for this dream because we want it too much. I'm excited to watch my husband fly.

The month of May is always crazy around here. Besides the spring cleaning, end-of-school year activities, graduations and weddings, we also have fishin' opener, sucker spearin', a big family birthday bash, and the end-of-year dance recital that completely consumes about a week. It's fun, but there's no margin for mishap or more activities.

Or so we thought. This year we were stretched, and managed to negotiate both mishap AND more! This year, when spring finally broke winter and we went through our normal "spring restlessness routines"--the restlessness that makes our good friend want to put his house up for sale, makes me feel like traveling, and makes my husband want to buy a portable welding rig so he can practice and test for pipeline work--we decided that of those three desires, which are annually as dependable as the changing of the season, the rig was the desire that had a decent chance of being lucrative (there're two new pipelines going through our state this year). So my husband updated his research; then we prayed, and got on eBay.

As it turned out, we got to travel and buy a welding rig. To make a long story short, in early May we found the welder.  It was more inclusive (and expensive) than we were expecting, and it was on the east end of Long Island, which was a long way away through places we never want to go. After much pondering, prayer, and nearly puking (remember, I'm making this short), by mid-May we'd reached an agreement with the seller. Besides agreeing on the price and payment method, he agreed to haul the equipment out of the metropolis and into Pennsylvania. We were scheduled to leave the Sunday evening of Memorial Day weekend, meet the seller Tuesday morning in PA, and be back in time for dance recital practice Wednesday afternoon. Theoretically, according to Mapquest, we had 38 hours to drive roundtrip. We had 65 hours to do it in, which meant we should be able to stop for at least eight hours of sleep each night.

Searching for the rig and making a 3-day trip to Pennsylvania added the "more" to our busy May. The mishap came the Friday before we left. Or more exactly, it came late on the Friday afternoon--the TGIF of TGIF's!--the Friday afternoon of Memorial Day weekend... 

It started at 2:55pm, when I lost my cell phone. It's missing captured my attention as I was gathering my normal "errand paraphernalia" to head out the door to an extra dance practice. It was time to go...now...but I spent an extra ten minutes looking for that phone. Finally we left without it, pulling onto the highway into heavy holiday traffic just as the school buses were leaving the school. We still had 25 minutes to travel 15 miles (including in-town driving), so time was tight but we could make it. Halfway there, the bus in front of us braked to turn onto a country road.  The three or four vehicles directly behind it braked also, including the guy pulling his boat directly in front of us.

You understand the domino effect, right? And if you're of driving age, you've prob'ly experienced the domino effect in heavy traffic. The longer the line of braking vehicles, the less response time the next driver has? The stop came up fast and I had to brake hard, but I managed to stop a full car's length behind the boat motor's propellor. And I thank God! Because as I checked my rear-view mirror to see how the traffic behind me was handling the domino effect, I'm pretty sure my mouth hung open as I watched in surreal wonder the bright yellow bullet racing up.....uP.....UP!...and just barely beginning to slow right before it plowed into the back of our vehicle! No screeching brakes, not even a terribly loud crash--just a good solid thump. It's just a guess, but I think it hit us at about 40 mph. It pushed us forward about half the distance to the boat, then our daughter had time to yell from the very back seat an incredulous, "Did we just get hit?!" before it hit us a glancing blow on the rear right again so that we were pushed up to just shy of the boat's propellor. A second later I giggled with relief as that boat pulled away unscarred, its driver completely oblivious to the dramatic close-call that had just taken place... It was 3:20pm.

No one was injured (except perhaps an unseen angel?). No airbags went off. The other car had a lot of damage and a big hole in the radiator from our receiver hitch, but our vehicle was still drivable--just a sagging bumper and a few clinging flecks of sunny yellow paint.  Thankfully, the other driver, a sweet teen who was flustered but sincerely concerned about our welfare, had her cell phone, and the highway patrol arrived shortly. An hour after the accident, we arrived at practice. Everyone else was still there, and the other moms loved on us and kept my kids for another round of practice while I drove to the insurance office.

The next day the body shops were closed and we were busy getting ready for the family birthday party and our trip to PA. We looked up, down, inside, and out for my cell phone, calling it several more times, but it was nowhere. Nowhere...how could that be? I could still remember places I'd "last seen it," and called the businesses in case I'd left it there. We had a second phone we could use on our trip, but that wasn't our favorite plan. Besides, again, this was surreal. We purchased cell phones primarily so we'd have them for emergencies, and the one time I had an emergency, I couldn't find my phone.  And it was because I couldn't find my phone that I had the emergency! If it'd been with my other errand paraphernalia where it "always is," I wouldn't have been in front of that teenager, behind that bus or that boat!

On Sunday afternoon just before we hosted the party, our daughter solved the Missing Phone Mystery. It was...ahem...in a bag of potato chips?! 

Okay, yes--I'm caught and would be wise to confess: On the way home from my first batch of errands Friday, I snuck a grab bag of Lay's original potato chips. Potato chips have been my vice since I was eight, and they're a habit I've finally almost completely kicked. They are not at all a part of my functional medicine doctor's current plan for restoring function to a severely ailing part of my anatomy. However, it was lunchtime and I was desperately hungry, short on time, and chips were the best snack I could come up with since I had to stop for fuel and there was zero time for a second stop at a grocery store. No one was along for those errands--I was picking up surprise gifts to give our kids at the end of the recital--and when I got home I threw the bag of chips into the bag of surprises and went straight to my room. In my room, I ate a few--only a few!--while I quickly wrapped the surprises. Since everything about this errand was sneaky, my door was locked. That doesn't mean I was left alone, though. When someone pounded on my door for some emergency need, it frazzled me so much that I quickly threw everything on my bed into hiding...absentmindedly hiding my phone in the potato chip bag, then hiding the evidence of my guilt in the snack cupboard when no one was looking... On Sunday afternoon, just before our late birthday party luncheon, our daughter was famished, and, like-mother-like-daughter (thank God!), went for the chips.

And thus, she became the hero of the day. Amidst great gratefulness and celebrating, I let her eat the rest the chips in the bag right before lunch. (My little sister will vouch that coming from me, that's kind of a huge reward. When we were young I repeatedly conned her into sneaking down to the small grocery store on the corner to provide me with my habit. Her reward? A chip! Of course, I was saving her from my pain...)

Sunday at 6:00pm we said good-bye to our gracious guests, who took our kids and finished cleaning up the party as we headed east. By now we'd figured out the trip was going to take longer than Mapquest estimated. The truck we were driving is very low geared, and the fastest we could drive was...55 to 58mph.

2,300 miles, at 55 miles per hour...

Well, we had time to get a good look at the country!  ;~)

Just FYI, the roads in northern Illinois leave much to be desired. Avoid them if you can! Some of the toll roads are in better shape, but many are torn up for construction. And the signage around the toll booths, esp in the construction areas, is contradictory and confusing. On the way out we avoided Chicago, but on our return trip we tried cutting through on toll roads. At one interchange a 30mph ramp was blocked off at the bottom and traffic was actually directed OVER the median! And the reason we decided to try Chicago on the way back is because the roads we took to avoid it on the way out, even the major interstates, have lots of unmarked potholes--well, I wouldn't really call them potholes; they're HUGE 1'x2' holes, 8-12" deep!--that you can't see until you're almost in them. We were told the roads in southern Illinois are better.

Just FYI...

Indiana, Ohio, and Pennsylvania were all pleasant...at 55mph. We stayed on the Indiana and Ohio tollways, stopping only at the oases/travel plazas where we didn't have to get off the toll roads. Fuel was reasonable, bathrooms were big and clean. The only food offered was fast, but it doesn't take long to get across those two states.  For those few hours, you could prob'ly survive on snacks you bring along. And since we were traveling at 55mph we didn't have the expected margin for sleep, so all we really needed for sustenance was caffeine. The treats we tried from the fancy chocolate stand seemed "lardy" and granular to us. And though I could not find fingernail clippers for sale at any of the eastbound plazas, I was finally able to purchase a pair at a westbound plaza on the way home.

We wiled away the hours collecting these travel advisory tidbits, enjoying the scenery, and comparing our thoughts on life, family, and the entertaining counsel we received via Dave Ramsey's Financial Peace University CD's. We arrived in Snow Shoe, PA, at midnight Monday night, eased into a truck stop, snuggled in amongst semis, and slept in our truck. Sometime in the middle of the night we were wakened by squealing pigs, but they serenaded us right back to sleep and we were unaware of the semis leaving until we awoke for the day at 6am.

Breakfast with our new New York friends was unhurried and fun, and the welder was just as much a dream in actuality as it appeared to be online.

After a couple hours of going through the equipment and hooking up the trailer, we headed west just as it started raining. We treated ourselves to a late afternoon Campfire Meal at The Cracker Barrel, then pushed hard for home. Chicago traffic is mild at 1am, but let us remind you once more to expect the unexpected--interchange ramps that are closed but unmarked, bumpy medians, and the occasional five-lane toll road with two middle lanes removed. Our memories of these sights, plus a few more Dave Ramsey CD's (there are 11 in all), kept us entertained the rest the way home...at 55mph. We didn't make it back in time for dance practice, but thankfully we have family with servants' hearts who were free to play chauffeur. We made it home Wednesday night in time for supper.

The days have flown since then. Dress rehearsal, getting estimates for the fender bender (which turned out to be quite lucrative!), filling out the state crash report (which is quite sobering), a grad party followed by an end-of-year dance party, two recital performances (the best ever!), our first organic garden (growing slow this year, but we've harvested our first radishes...), community ed classes in babysitting, drama, and manners(!), an end-of-year homeschooling picnic, pipewelding practice (for the whole family), 900 dance and 300 welding photos to sort, finishing up "44 days of finding and seeking" the audience for Alicia's new book, and even an afternoon of fishing at the bridge. Whew! I'm glad SUMMER will officially be here in a few days!