Celebrating Fall

You can call it celebrating Halloween if you'd like--I'm not offended. But I don't consider October 31 to be the huge holiday that it seems to have become. To me, Halloween is just merely one day in my family's celebration of fall.

This celebration starts in early September and goes through Thanksgiving when my mind turns to celebrating Christmas. Pulling out a stack of fall-themed children's books is the first hint that I've had enough with the heat of summer. Then comes decorating the house as I long for the beauty of fall days spent outdoors.

With the first hints of cooler weather, Wyatt's mini Christmas tree sheds its summer sunflower garland and adorns itself with mottled red, orange, and yellow leaves, dried mini corn with the husks still attached, and a plush turkey that rests precariously on top. On the end tables, toddler-sized plush Pilgrims and Indians surround an overflowing cornucopia for little hands to sneakily touch when mommy isn't looking.

Then come the vases full of little-boy-picked yellow daisies that grow wild at the edge of our hay fields. And the tulip-poplar leaf piles that make the perfect crunching sound for jumping in (and that my poor husband has finally learned to mow around).
With Wyatt growing up, this year, we added some new aspects to our celebration of the season: Pumpkin decorating at the library.
Visiting a pumpkin patch with some friends from church.And attending our church's Fall Festival (yes, that's my little daredevil atop the huge inflatable slide).
As we celebrate the transition from summer to fall and from fall to winter, I am reminded that God alone effects all these changes in the world around me--breathtaking, beautiful changes to prepare the earth for the blossoms of spring to come:

"He changes times and seasons; he sets up kings and deposes them. He gives wisdom to the wise and knowledge to the discerning" (Daniel 2:21).

Calgon, Take Me Away !!

Today was one of those days where I wished God had granted me the ability to split myself into two separate mommies. Not forever, but just for a few moments each day, having my own clone would come in handy.

My mom always comes along to help me out with the 3 children on doctor-visit days. But somehow, the twins' one-year-checkup didn't make it on her calendar, so I flew solo this morning.

The stress headache started the moment I hit the interstate and found 9:30 am traffic at a total standstill. As usual when the wheels stop turning, Amelia loudly let her displeasure be known.

75 minutes after we left home (for a 40 minute trip), we wheeled into the parking lot...late. And then the fun really began.

Back in the room, I undressed two squirmy munchkins so the nurse could weigh and measure them. No surprises there--all three of my children are going to be taller than their 5'3" mommy. Emerson is continuing to measure in the 90th percentile for height, and even Amelia is measuring in the 74th percentile for height.

As the twins impatiently waited on the paper-clad examination table for the doctor, Wyatt discovered they had a window view of a train track. So he, too, joined them on the table for a paper-shredding good time.

Then, "I need to pee pee, mommy."

Oh no. Not now. "Can you wait a few minutes?"

"I need to pee pee."

I took that as a "no."

What could I do? The twins were merely clad in diapers. And I could just envision the stares of the other mothers with their cute, single babies dressed to the nines for a simple doctor visit. So, I did the only thing I knew how--I strapped two naked babies back in their stroller, told the nurse my predicament, and marched Wyatt down the hall to the potty while the babies sat alone in the exam room.

Minutes later when it was time for the shots, I comforted one baby in my left arm while holding still the other baby's flailing hands with my right arm. By this time, my headache was full-blown and I fussed a bit at Wyatt's incessant mouth and at the twins' squirminess as I tried to redress them.

It seemed longer than an hour and a half when I dropped into the lobby chair to wait the required 15 minutes after the shots. Then Wyatt upped the ante once again: "My hiney hurts."

My lips tightened into a line and my brow furrowed in irritation. Why couldn't he have done all his business 20 minutes ago!? I'm still not sure how a double stroller fit in that one-person bathroom, but it did.

By the time everybody was loaded back into the safety of the car seats, my head was throbbing. My neck hurt. I wanted to go home. But I went, instead, to the mall to meet my parents for lunch....and to let the children run off some steam at the playground.

And what a joy it was. Really. Truly. Joyful.
Listening to Amelia and Emerson squeal with delight as they crawled through the tunnels; listening to Wyatt bark like a dog as he jumped off the top of the alligator--my headache just disappeared. Yes, I was still exhausted. But I was able to enjoy my children playing together.
And I got to watch as Emerson took his first two steps and as Amelia started to really walk. She took 18 steps to her Grandmama and has been doing the Frankenstein walk the rest of the day.Happy giggles and laughter--the best medicine for this mommy.

Surprise in the Mailbox

Every semester in my freshman composition classes, I have students write an essay about the culture of American advertising. While the magazine advertisements constantly change, they all still seek to manipulate consumers into buying not merely the product or service, but also the dream or desire portrayed in the ad.

I tell my students I've seen it all...but that doesn't mean my jaw still doesn't drop in outrage when I see an ad laced with sexual imagery that has been placed in a magazine for teenage girls.

And this week, it happened again, although this jaw-dropping moment came courtesy of a weekly circular placed in my own mailbox rather than of a student's paper.

Tucked inconspicuously between the Dollar Tree and Winn Dixie circulars was an over sized ad for Halloween costumes..an ad that just so happened to unfold like a Playboy centerfold. But this fold-out didn't show merely one scantily clad woman. Instead, it was covered with row upon row of 2" rectangle photos containing women who were modeling the various costumes one could buy.

Sexy Witch. Sexy Bar Maid. Sexy Indian Princess. Sexy Nurse. Sexy Woman Firefighter. Sexy Woman Gangster.

Sexy Little Bo Peep!?

The outfits for children were cute. Most of the outfits for men were not worthy of comment. But for women, there was not one outfit that wasn't skin-tight or that didn't have a plunging neckline and a skirt well-suited for the days preceding Noah's flood!

Honestly, if it weren't for the children and men pictured in the ad, too, I might have thought I had just received an advertisement from a sex fantasies shop where a wife could buy sexy little outfits to fulfill her husband's dreams behind closed doors!

But there's obviously nothing private about going to a costume party in one of these costumes.

I know I've been out of the loop for the last year while raising the twins, but I don't think I've had my head buried that deep in a hole.

When did this happen? When did Halloween become equated with demeaning women by flaunting their anatomy about in jest?

Or is this another stab at female empowerment? If so, then where are the costumes that empower me as a woman to keep my secrets that God says are for my husband's eyes only?

Yes, the costumes appall me. But I'm more appalled that I've heard nobody say anything about this trend! And I'm even more appalled that just this week, I've seen Halloween party photos of women I know, women who didn't balk at this sexy dress code.

Oh for a little modesty. For a little more respect for our husbands, letting some parts of our female bodies belong to our men and to them only.

I Made It !!!

"Behold, children are a gift of the LORD, The fruit of the womb is a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, So are the children of one's youth. How blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them; They will not be ashamed When they speak with their enemies in the gate" (Psalm 127:3-5).

Although we celebrated on Sunday, today is Amelia and Emerson's first birthday. The biggest deal about any party in our family isn't activities or location--it's all about the cake. And like my mother before me, I make the cake, myself, as a way to express my love. But this time, I was crazy enough to undertake the behemoth task of transforming two sheet cakes into two 3-D block cakes myself, a task that has permanently cured me of any desire to be a professional cake decorator.

Looking back, many of the last 365 days haven't felt "blessed" while I lived through the chaos that is raising twin babies and a two-year-old. But I know in my heart that each day has been a blessing because I was allowed the chance to live and watch my little babies grow into little people. One year ago today, I didn't know if I would get that chance.

My quiver is full...and when all three arrows are placed inside, it's too heavy to carry anymore.

When I look past the diapers, the crying, the poo, the laundry, the arguments, the lack of sleep and the rock-eating, I know for sure--I am blessed.

Determining True Value

Any silence for more than a few minutes sets my mommy radar to flashing. I've learned the hard way. Usually, silence means somebody is eating something she shouldn't or going somewhere he knows I've already labelled as forbidden.

With twins clawing at my legs, I peek around the corner, sure Wyatt is getting into mischief in the green barn. Instead, I find him skipping from one spot to another in the grass, stooping down at seemingly random intervals to pluck another onion flower and add it to his growing handful. His face reflects the seriousness of his task.

Sometimes, stooping isn't sufficient, and blue jean knees kneel on wet earth to give him a better grasp of another slender stem.

I understand his serious contemplation. These are springtime flowers who are not supposed to be peeking their heads through the soil until next year. A humid, hot, and wet October has seemingly confused even God's creation as to what season it is.

Suddenly, Wyatt's head pops up and he barrels towards the house, obviously content with the size of his small bouquet.

"Mommy! I brought you some flowers!! I brought you flowers, mommy!! You put them in a vase?"

That excited face. How could this mother not smile in returned excitement?

He watches me put the flowers in an old cup, making certain that I'm not discarding his offering. And as I sit the "vase" atop the back bench, he comes closer to hug me and raise his face for a kiss. "I love you mommy." Then, off he runs to find more flowers.

To him, these are not just worthless onion flowers that most city folk would seek to eliminate from their lawns with weed killer. In his eyes, he's just brought me a handful of precious jewels.

And in a way, he has.

The value isn't in the object itself but in his giving heart and sacrificial attitude. The knees bent, giving his full attention to the task as he labours to offer the best he can find.

It's a lesson my Father has been trying to teach me this past week as I've been putting together the packets to hand out to the needy at red lights--the monetary value of the sacrifice isn't the point. Neither are any other tangible results that I will probably never see from my sacrifice.

It's the heart and attitude that matter the most. It's my knees bent in prayer, my heart bent in submissive obedience to His Word.

It's my love for God as the answer to the "why" of my everyday actions.

Loving the Unwanted

Even before he was born, I didn't want him.

His mother kept him hidden at the neighbor's workshop, far away from the love of human hands. She was barely social herself, wandering in and out of our lives, sometimes disappearing for days at a time before materializing on the back steps. Just another pregnant unwanted one that someone had made my problem instead of theirs. And as expected, her son was wild, untouchable, unlovable.

With a 6-month-old son, myself, I didn't have any time to spare on a cat like that.

And so when we moved up to the family farm, I left him, his two siblings, and his mother to swipe a meal from other neighborhood food bowls.

But a month later, I still felt remorse for leaving them to struggle, so I returned to catch the mother and bring her to our new home. And he was there--one son sticking close to his mother's side. Lanky. Colored like an orange and cream dreamsicle. Too many ribs showing.

Just one month of August heat and irregular meals had taken its toll in another way, too. This time, he accepted a hand of kindness stroking his head and back. This time, he purred as he ate. Hunger had made him docile, even clingy.

I promised to return for him next. And I did.

Only then did we name him Jonah, after the reluctant Biblical prophet, because he was quite reluctant to stay in a cage during the 30 minute ride to a better life.

Now? I can't imagine my son without this cat. They're inseparable. We laughingly refer to Jonah as our cat-dog because he acts more canine than feline. If I "lose" Wyatt, I look for the pumpkin-colored splotch on the green landscape of our backyard.

I've seen Wyatt cover this poor cat with rocks and leaves, try to open the cat's mouth and insert some cat food because "he need some food." And still, Jonah sticks closer than a brother.

The cat I did not want has turned into a most faithful companion for a little boy who needs just that kind of friend.

Jonah is just one of the many things has God sent to my life that I didn't think I needed at the time. But now? I can't imagine life without any of them: My husband. The twins. Living a stone's throw from my mother in law.

I am thankful God knows my every need far in advance of my knowing it myself.

Autumn's Arrival

This past weekend, autumn finally arrived to south Louisiana. My house smelled the burn of dust on heaters unused since last year. The bed rested again beneath the heat of an electric blanket. And my mother's potted plants moved to their winter resting place. With what our friends in the midwest and north have been experiencing, a frost could be right around the corner.

But today, we did not think of the winter to come, of the preparations that still need to be made. We simply enjoyed the wonders of autumn God had displayed before us. We supped at His table and were filled by his beautiful creation. The beauty.

Of running in the warm afternoon sun without breaking a sweat. Of moss hanging from the evergreen tree.Of the first chrysanthemum blossom opening its petals.Of summer's promised fruit turning from solid green to hues of orange. Of seeds forming new life within for the spring to come."He has made everything beautiful in its time." Ecclesiastes 3:11