As I’ve mentioned before, some of my deepest thinking comes while gardening. (Deep thinking being a relative term for me, of course.)

I realized something today while watering my tomatoes.

I never really did enjoy gardening.

And yet, I was stunned to realize, gardening has become a small passion of mine. How did that happen?  What compels me?

It is a skill I’ve needed to learn for the benefit of my family. It involves a knowledge bank that is free and readily accessible to me. It is something that I can do which will greatly improve the lives of my children, and so I do it. In spite of the fact that I would never list gardening as my favorite hobby, God has been kind enough to pass along the passion and the enjoyment after the fact. He’s expanded that to natural medicine and the use of herbs for pleasure, taste, and healing. He’s such a great bonus giver, that along with fresh air and sunshine, and healthy foods to eat, He’s blessed us with only one trip to the doctor in the past year. That’s some cream to skim off the top for a family of ten.

If I worked only within my passions, I’d never have these blessings.

There is another area of my life that almost elicits stunned disbelief when I consider it.

Children were never my passion. And now, I have eight of them. I’m passionate about their father (wink); and there is nothing physical that I am invested in more than them.  Let me TELL you I’m passionate about them.  My heart is divided 9 ways!

What is your greatest earthly passion?  Try and imagine your life without that *thing* (or person, or place, or activity.) If you break out in a cold sweat at the thought of losing *that,* it is most definitely your passion.

Nothing makes me sweat colder nor my muscles grow weaker than the thought of spiritually losing one of my kids.

Would you believe that once upon a time I did not like kids? Not at any age really. I did not like holding a small, damp, cheerio attracting person. I did not like their smell, nor the stains they left on my clothes in the nursery. I did not like them at any age…not at least until they could carry on conversations without an accompanying attitude.

Oh, how God has changed my passions. I’d go so far as to say that He replaced some and planted new ones. “Give me a houseful of children, God. Give me some that really need your touch through me.”

Many say that as Christians we should only work within our passions.

I think we should ask God what He wants us to be passionate about; then allow Him to build those passions within us regardless of our presumptions.

I can think of so many things that I had no interest in which He has now made me passionate for: Teaching: He gave me these children, then showed me that I need to capture their hearts, to train them. I’m no teacher…but He has equipped. Scrapbooking: (I resisted for years, but saw a need to record love and faithfulness from the last generation to the next, and even further on down the line.) Knitting, sewing, creating: (I was the least crafty child you ever knew. My mother thought I was hopeless. Truly. Now, I see how it blesses my children. I stay away from trendy or transient crafts - whatever I do, whatever I spend my time on - it needs to benefit my family in some way. If I knit a sweater - it needs to say “I love you” with every warm stitch.)

Many of these are small things, small passions, but they have great benefit and great potential for blessing.

As God has redefined my passions, He has also refined them. There are still residual vestiges of the things I once thought important: I read so that I may learn more about Him. I write in order to  pass what I have learned along to others.

I praise Him for not allowing my concepts of my passions affect the “me” He is in the process of creating. I thank Him for loving me enough to work in me, to see me as worthy of development.

“The Christian way is different:  harder, and easier.  Christ says ‘Give me All.  I don’t want so much of your time and so much of your money and so much of your work:  I want You.  I have not come to torment your natural self, but to kill it. …Hand over the whole natural self, all the desires which you think innocent as well as the ones you think wicked - the whole outfit.  I will give you a new self instead.  In fact, I will give you Myself:  my own will shall become yours.’”

“The real problem of the Christian life comes where people do not usually look for it.  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.  And so on, all day.  Standing back from all your natural fussings and frettings; coming in out of the wind.”

Mere Christianity ~ C.S. Lewis

P.S. Here’s one of my little passions.  Mariam Annaliese at 8 months.

Look at these CUTE baby legs and gratuitous size 1 sandals!

Yesterday I sat at the BMV with my eldest son Jake, waiting while he took the test to get his driver’s learning permit.  He and I are in the process of deciding which local college will be the best place to work toward his dual-credits for Chemistry.

When he was a tiny baby, I cried when I thought that someday his soft baby cheeks would sprout facial hair and that his precious wee feet would look like they belonged to a giant wood troll.  (Those were the post-partum days when I cried over everything, tho.)

God has been gracious, however, and the intervening years have been wonderful.  The growth has been so gradual that it hasn’t hurt this mama as much as she feared. It has been good, instead, and I look forward to who he will further become in Christ. It is deeply fulfilling to watch your young son grow into a man.  It probably helps that I usually have a baby on my hip…that seems to lessen the sting as the oldest ones grow more independent.

Our Nicholas turned 14 on Thursday.  He’s growing too, stretched out tall like silly putty in a toddler’s hands.  That boy needs to eat more.  I realize that I finally sound like a real-live mama of a growing boy.  “Eat, Eat, Eat!”

I am SO thankful to the Lord for my sons.  They are strong, and personable, and helpful.  They are not perfect; but we do not ask them to be.  That would surely be embarrassing to us, their imperfect parents!

They are NOTHING alike, but they are the best of friends.  They drive each other regularly to the brink of insanity, as a good brother should; but when one is away the other brother is lost.  Our Heavenly Father knew what He was doing when he placed these two boys in our home, just one day shy of two years apart.  These years of young adult hood are GOOD.  They are nothing like I have been warned about….well…except the part about how much a house full of teenagers can eat and STILL not gain weight. 

This is such an interesting time of life.  At times I despair that I can possibly handle it all.  (I regularly announce to my husband that “I can not do this.”  He nods.  He knows that with Christ we can.)  Along with a driver’s permit and a 14 year old, there is a 6 year old learning to read, two toddlers learning self control, a 9 year old learning to knit, a 12 year old becoming a young woman, and a baby girl learning to eat solids.  There are aging parents who have fears of aging and illness and inability.  They, too, need tangible help.

Every age that I am involved is on a time-restriction.  There is such urgency.  Our older parents won’t be here forever.  Our young men won’t be home for long - so any investments need to be made now.  They need conversation and explanations of how life works.  We all know that “babies don’t keep,” and I wouldn’t miss her for the world.  It simply wouldn’t do for a single one for fall through the cracks of my days.  Each one is deeply loved; each one is of primary importance and worth.

So now, during these busy days, I continually challenge myself to turn to Christ alone for strength, for perspective, for wisdom on how to spend my time.  I rest my mind in Him, and He gives what I need.  He urges me to go on, to continue walking in the light that He gives and to grow up in Him.

That, and…I sneak a little chocolate when no one is looking.

Love to you, in the name of Christ ~

Holly

My 2.5 year old Benjamin had great success on the potty yesterday.  He’s doing so well, so young.  He is dry almost all of the time, with scarcely any wet accidents.  Getting him to SIT on the potty long enough to produce anything solid has been something of a challenge though, until yesterday, when he came through in a BIG way.

Oh, he was so proud of himself.  Come to think of it, I was quite proud of him too.  With his first success I was already mentally washing my hands of the entire “rinsing-toddler-messes-that-make-your stomach-retch” thing…(I confess that he wears Fuzzi-Bunz for naps and bedtime. My friend Shelly gave me some that her son no longer used.)

Once “freshened up,” Ben drew himself up to full height.  He looked me straight in the eye so that I would not mistake him.

He hasn’t been speaking complete sentences until the last few weeks, but apparently THIS was communication that was worth the effort.

He struggled.

His mind smoked with the effort.

He said, firmly:

“BEN….NO….*TINY*….Treat.”  (He made hand gestures indicating something pitifully small…)

“BEN….BIIIIIIG….Treat!”  (And he opened his hands a foot wide, and grinned.)

I ask you, Mamas.  What do you do with that?

Alas…

The bathroom is no more.

Today, my husband and my sons tore into our bathroom….the bathroom with our ONLY tub/shower for TEN people.

One of the things about buying a home for $16,500 is that it needs a lot of work.  In our case, the main bathroom was slouching toward the abyss.  The floor was spongy, the ceiling had a large hole/leak combo thingy going on.  (It’s a great house…some rooms just need a lot of work.  But hey, it is PAID for AND it cost less than a car!)

Progression…this photo was taken today around noon.  Um…if you were planning on stopping by to surprise us, and were going to spend a couple of nights with us…you *might* want to re-think that.  Give us a little while…

And this is what the room-formerly-known-as-the-bathroom looked like by supper.  Tomorrow it begins reconstruction.  This is not “remodeling,” folks.  This is gutting.  Yes, it’s nasty, but the house is 98 years old (Built in 1910.)  I can’t wait to see how the guys will transform it!

Don’t panic - We won’t leave the tub and toilet there.  And I promise to refrain from planting flowers in them.

I am wondering…just what does it do to a toddler when he *finally* masters success on the potty…and the next day his daddy rips the porcelain throne from its spot and flings it out onto the driveway?

Ah, yes.  Well.  We have our answer, don’t we?  (Don’t YOU use your chain-saw nekkid?)  He was trying to help Daddy cut out floor-boards.

As much as we prefer to remodel a home WITHOUT living in it, see what we would miss?  :)  Tonight, the children bathed by running through the sprinkler.  Hopefully, the new tub, toilet, and the rest of the bathroom will be in by Monday evening.

Have a great week!

Love, Holly

My lack of blogging is hard on my husband.  Poor man.

Every day before work, every night when he comes home, he is subjected to my “speeches.”  Without you, my blogging friends, I run *everything* by him.  “What does he think of this?  or that?  What about the spectacular or novel idea.  Maybe *this* is how the world works.”

Then I stand back and wait for his comments.  You know…like you all usually do for me.  I’ve come to count on feedback.

Most often, he just gives me this look that says, “Are you through?  Is that all?” or better yet, “Yes dear.  I’ve known that for years.”

I love him so much!

I’ve promised a few relatives an update on the Fiftieth anniversary celebrations.  Here goes.

My parents and my aunt and uncle celebrated their fiftieth on June 8th.  My mom and her sister are identical twins, and they were married to their grooms in a double wedding ceremony.

It was a very special celebration.  I saw people that I haven’t seen since I was a teenager, and got to visit with several cousins.  Everything went beautifully, everything had special meaning.  Although much of the planning and legwork was done by me, it was wonderful to work with my brother and my sister to pull off a very honorable and beautiful day for our parents and aunt and uncle.  It is a special memory and I don’t regret a minute of it.  I’m finishing up with printing photos and writing newspaper wrap-ups…and drinking up all of the leftover frozen punch. (That’s my mom and dad on the left.)

Jeff’s parent’s celebration was on June 21st. It, too, went very well.

(Isn’t that a beautiful cake? My sister in law Angie has impeccable taste.)

Here’s a picture of Jeff’s parents with their four sons and spouses and grandchildren. Can you find me and mine? No, mine aren’t the only barefoot children.

We traveled 17 hours to get to the Johnson celebration. Iowa was flooded so we had to detour. Jeff’s brother, Donnie, and his wife, traveled all the way from Hungary, though, so they win the “distance” award. (They are missionaries there, but are in the process of relocating back to the US.)
Jeff’s brother, Rod, and his wife Kathy, are missionaries with a Hispanic population north of Chicago. Jeff’s brother, Gene, and his wife Angie housed our entire family…graciously, and with apparent ease no less. That is no easy task, my friends! All of our children played and played and played. Can you believe that 13 children, ages 15 and under, spent a week together without any arguments or disagreements?

God was so good to us. The Johnson celebration was beautiful as well. Faithful marriages, loving people were honored and many happy memories were made with many relatives. We love them all.

We finally made it home, stuffed to the brim with food, love, laughter, and reminiscing. We were exhausted (and I do mean…..!!!!!) but it was oh, so good. We are grateful and thankful to the Lord for His provision, His care, and His blessings beyond that. It was good to grow together as families, to appreciate each other, to let the past be the past and to just get to know each other even better. It was a little taste of Heaven.

And now, back to attempting to complete some cleaning and projects that have needed done for quite some time. I’ll try to check in every so often - to update our relatives, but maybe to spare my poor husband some “speechifying.” I miss blogging, but am enjoying my productivity.

Love to you, my friends!

Holly

I’m going to be parking this blog for most of the summer. Although I love to write (and still will), there are just a lot of things I want to teach and do with the kids this summer. I’ll plan to be back when school resumes.

Thanks for reading here. It’s hard for me to believe that this fall I will have been blogging on my own for two years! (And for almost 3.5 years, total!) Here at Seeking Faithfulness, I’ve posted around 400 posts - and never have enough time to say or link as much as I’d like. I may update once in awhile - post some pictures, etc.  Thank you for putting up with me for so long.

I mean it when I say that I’m so honored that you visit me here. There are a LOT of blogs, so for you to take time out of your busy day to share it with me just amazes me! I don’t deserve it…but I hope that you’ll come back and visit.

Right now I’m not accepting any advertising - but if you are here looking and want to advertise in a couple of months, just e-mail me at seekingfaithfulness@hotmail.com

I am still taking orders for my Huggable Memories bears. That little business venture has been a lot of fun! Below are some pictures of three bears I made for a blog reader. They are made out of two pairs of Osh Kosh B’Gosh overalls that her Grandfather used to wear. She gave them as a gift to her mother and her sister and herself to remember their Grandpa by. I loved stitching these little guys…with their Osh Kosh patches and pockets and metal buttons….and hoped against hope that they would bring happy memories to a special family of their beloved Grandpa. So - e-mail me at seekingfaithfulness@hotmail.com if you need a memory stitched into a bear (or if you just want to chat.) I can do that!

Have a great summer - Each one of you is special to me!  See you soon!

Holly

WordPress does not allow flash, so I am posting my Father’s Day tribute to my husband over at my new site.  The site is still greatly “in the works,” so you’ll need to overlook a few things…

This is early, because we’re driving 14 hours on Sunday, to be with my husband’s family.  His folks are celebrating THEIR Fiftieth anniversary.  Can’t think of a better way to spend Father’s Day than to spend 14 hours crammed in a van full of kids…Can you, honey? 

C’mon over to my other site!

His sister came and tattled. Tattling isn’t good, but I had to agree that his “sassiness” needed correction.

The “crisis” came just as most crisis come around here…a mile a minute, just before supper, and in the midst of a million other things.

I was frazzled, rattled, and ready to be “done” with miles yet to go before calling it a day. I. Felt. Impatient.

I meant to deal with the *sin* swiftly, firmly, and probably would try to “put the fear of God” into this little guy. Of course I wasn’t in the proper frame of mind to discipline nor correct - but I won’t admit that. I’m the mama. I’m in charge, and I’m almost always right, you know. Besides. I have a zero tolerance policy for sassiness.

I put my hand on the back my six year old son’s neck. My fingers slid over to his shoulder. I was standing over him, hoping to clear this up quickly. For some reason, I did not grab his shoulder firmly, as I sometimes do, and my fingers brushed up against a lymph node on his neck.

That bump stopped me, took me back in time. He has always had this lymph node that stands out on his neck. When he was an infant who struggled so severely with wheat intolerance, the node was perpetually swollen, huge. Even now, though he seems strong and healthy, this lymph node will swell when his body is fighting something.

I remembered the fragility of my infant, the preciousness of life, and how much this boy meant to me. All of that, in an instant. God humbled me, and changed my approach.

He said, “Yes. He needs correction. Firm correction. But do it in a nicer way.”

So I did. I got down on my knees and got his attention. I looked right in his eyes and would not let him look away. My voice was firm, but quiet.

“Josiah. This morning you told me that you loved me. Do you really?”

He nodded, “Yes.”

“If you love me, you must obey me. When I call you, you must come. No attitude. No sassiness. Do you understand?”

Again, wide eyed, thinking through this “If you love me you obey me,” business.

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

I really think he did understand. I hugged him and we both felt so good.

So while I mess up and fail as a parent many times a day, and while I will still mess up tomorrow (but hopefully less than today), this time I got the message. “This child I’ve loaned you is precious. Disciple him because you love him, because you want him to love me.”

Give me ears to hear you, Jesus, everyday, regarding how I am to raise each individual child. Grant me tenderness mixed with wisdom, that I may also obey you out of love.

I got a little grief from some of you who garden in hot climates like Texas and Florida.

An FYI -  It has been in the 90s last week and this week.  Sunday, when we celebrated my parent’s 50th wedding anniversary, it was 96 degrees, with HIGH humidity.  We have cypress swamps here, for cryin’ out loud.  We pretend that we are the south.

When we moved in last year in August, the temps were solidly in the 100s, and stayed that way through September.  (I’m not bitter, or anything…just because the house needed severe remodeling and was filthy and I was 6 months pregnant and all nine of us slept in one bed room to stay cool and we only had a couple of window units, and the week we moved in the water pumps were broken for the town so water was restricted and the city pool was closed and there was no way to cool off…nope.  Not bitter.  But I’ll never forget that *special* time, either.)

So, “Indiana Heat” might not be true “Southern Heat,” and no, we don’t regularly match Arizona heat, …but my lettuce sure is bolting. 

What are your temps like?

I have a new enemy.

It is the dreaded cabbage worm.

On Wednesday of last week, my broccoli, cabbage and cauliflour were thriving.  By Saturday, I noticed that my cruciferous veggies were looking a little, well…holey.

My mother gave me some pesticide to take care of the problem…but it is my goal to grow our foods organically.  I always have in the past, using a mixture of vinegar and hot sauce to keep the garden pests away.

We relocated last year, from zone 5b to zone 6b. (Michigan to Southern Indiana.) I’m learning some new sensitivities regarding gardening. The crops I’m accustomed to don’t do so well here.  I had this dream that I could have year round lettuce because of an extended growing season.  I didn’t realize that my spinach and lettuce would bolt by June.  Yes, I can replant in the fall, and I will…but now I understand the southern fascination with turnip greens.  They are hardier.

I knew my Michigan pests.  I’m just getting to know the “new” army that wishes to devour my hard work in the Indiana heat.  I need to reformulate my herbal sprays to make them hardier.

Until then, I think we’ve come up with a mutually satisfying solution…satisfying for the goitrogens, fulfilling for the kids as well.

I pay the 6 and 9 year old 2 pennies per worm that they can find, remove, and annihilate.  (I won’t tell you *how* they kill them.  They are still refining their methods.)  They made two bucks the first night.  It’s kind of like searching for hidden pictures.

Since I’m rambling about gardens, I thought I’d give you a list of all of the things I have planted in small beds around my house.  Since it is our first year here, and because the soil is not yet built up, AND because I’m still learning what really thrives in what location, the garden leaves a lot to be desired.  It is still worth it, it is still rewarding, cabbage worms and all.

Here’s what I have tucked along fences and sheds and stumps:  25 cabbage/broccoli/cauliflour plants, 20 tomatoes, 4 peppers, 2 watermelon hills, 1 zucchini hill, 2 cantaloupe hills, 10 cucumber vines (most tomatoes and all cukes are going to be tied upright to fences to save space), sunflowers, spinach, romaine, crimson wave and black seeded simpson lettuces, beets, tri-colored swiss chard and onions.  It’s not nearly enough for a big family, but it is a beginning!

I also have a nice array of herbs.  I have a good friend who has blessed me with herb starts from her garden, with only a minimum of begging from me.  :)  I have thyme, St. John’s wort, lemon balm, comfrey, mullein, chamomile, parsley, basil, peppermint, spearmint, chocolate mint, lemon verbena and dill.  I’ve practiced making several herbal oil infusions, salves, poultices and teas.  I’ve been able to treat some interesting arrays of bug bites, rashes, and eczema through the methods I’ve learned through TN Farm Girl’s Medicinal Herb course.

And now, time for me to get off of the computer and back to weeding and tying up tomatoes. 

Happy Gardening!

I think that one of the most ill-used phrases in the Christian world is this:

“God is a God of order.”

It can be said in a way that is a huge cop-out.  We can say it to mean…”surely God wouldn’t ask me to do that.  He is a God of order and he knows that if I take on that role my life will be crazy.”  I’ve heard it used to give a reason for everything from why we need to keep clean cupboards to why we can’t give more of ourselves to our husbands and children.

I’m SURE that there are times God allows the order to be kicked right OUT of our lives, so that we will come to the end of ourselves and realize our complete dependence upon Him.

The way we should see it is that God makes order out of chaos - and often He uses us in that endeavor.  Sometimes it gets downright messy following Jesus, though.  It’s not always an easy path, with tidy picket fences and geraniums spaced just so.  Christ brings reconciliation and healing; He is the ultimate restorer of order in our universe…but it isn’t always instantaneous.  There is peace and joy and order in Christ; but the trenches are full of plenty of muck, sweat and tears throughout the journey home.

If we use this phrase to avoid or to seek to control every potentially chaotic situation, we will live quiet, small, powerless lives–never affecting lives nor effecting change.

Does Christ call us to order in this life, or to obedience?