I opened the door of my bedroom on Friday morning to the smell of turkey working holiday magic in the hallway. Heather and I had stuffed and salted the bird and tucked him in the oven the night before for our Friday evening Thanksgiving celebration, and now the smell confirmed that the slow roast was indeed in process.
We had invited many friends and families to our celebratory feast, but it was hard to find people who were willing and free. By the time the doorbell was ringing and the turkey was coming out of the oven, our numbers had settled at five children and five adults. Before we could eat, there was that jolly moment of steam and sizzle: I pulled the turkey out of the oven, temperature checked and approved, to unstuff and carve (I felt like Dad as I sliced into the breast, dug out stuffing, popped off the leg and fingered the dark meat onto the platter, but no one came to reach over my shoulder and snitch bits of crunchy skin). Taline poured the drippings from the turkey so Heather could make the gravy, and then washed whatever dishes she could find. We found serving dishes and spoons, reheated the sweet potatoes when Denise arrived with them in tow, sliced Karen's cornbread, and tasted and re-tasted spoonfuls of potatoes and gravy.
The kids (4 and under) ate in the kitchen and then went to the playroom to frolic (under the watchful eye of Zoey, a 10-year-old neighbor who came over to help with the little ones)vwhile the five women joined around the white linen and china in the dining room. We hailed from the US, Germany, and Brazil, but all alike reveled in moist turkey, savory stuffing, creamy sweet potatoes with crunchy brown sugar-pecan topping, cranberry chutney, gravy, mashed potatoes, green salad, cornbread. We got better acquainted with one another and shared stories of God's faithfulness and lingered while the candles burned low.
Then, all at once, the children emerged, people started looking at watches, and we knew it must be time for pie! The kitchen was a hub of activity as we looked for counter space to pile with more dishes and packaged leftovers for freezer, fridge, and for sending home with our friends. When the coffee was ready, Heather dished narrow slices of apple and pumpkin pie for each of us and topped them with freshly whipped cream.
Heather read Psalm 100 as the prelude to our dessert, and it was the perfect last bite for the day. Karen and Taline left to catch their buses, and Heather offered to take Denise and her two children home so they wouldn't have to take the long U-Bahn trip home when it was already late for the little ones. I tucked our own little ones into bed; it was almost 10 by the time their lights were off, and I think they were all quite ready for sleep. In the kitchen again, I turned on Andrew Peterson and enjoyed making sense out of the chaos there, setting all to rights. Heather returned home and joined me, and when the dishwasher was running and the crystal glasses turned upside down to dry on a dishtowel and the table was shiny and empty, we, too, were ready for bed.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Deutsch
What is it about a dimpled little boy coming towards you at full tilt, a small plastic goblet in his hand, pinky extended as he crows, "Tea! Tea! Tea!" and holds the cup out to you? Even a girl who is tired from trying to make her very English brain work in German can smile at that.
Today was the second day of German class, and while it's easy for me to keep up with the teacher and comprehend what she is saying since I've had lots of opportunities to get familiar with the language (and I am starting with the most basic course), it does require some effort to sit in a room and hear only German for four hours. I do think it is fascinating to get to know my sixteen classmates who hail from France, Italy, Kosovo, Lithuania, Australia, Turkey, Portugal/Angola, Japan, Poland, Kenya, Senegal, Chile, America, the Philippines, Iran, and Pakistan. (Don't be too amazed that I can rattle off this list after only two days together. You don't know how many times we've asked and answered the questions, "Wie heisst du?" and "Wo kommst du?")
At home this afternoon, I left behind the cultural experiences and got into more familiar (and definitely very American) territory: baking pies for Thanksgiving! With flecks of snow in the cold air outside our big window and Twila Paris singing to us in our cozy kitchen, and many willing baker's helpers, Heather and I enjoyed mixing and rolling and slicing, and now four pies -- two pumpkin and two apple -- are looking luscious on our counter.
Besides eating pies, I am also looking forward to Christmas markets, and mailing a large and delightful box of Christmas cheer home, and those moments when three children converge on me at once in an all-around snuggle, and coffee with Emily at a charming cafe tomorrow afternoon, and a Brazilian brunch on Sunday with friends from my small group. My list of thankfuls this year is not going to be easy to contain. "Praise the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits."
Today was the second day of German class, and while it's easy for me to keep up with the teacher and comprehend what she is saying since I've had lots of opportunities to get familiar with the language (and I am starting with the most basic course), it does require some effort to sit in a room and hear only German for four hours. I do think it is fascinating to get to know my sixteen classmates who hail from France, Italy, Kosovo, Lithuania, Australia, Turkey, Portugal/Angola, Japan, Poland, Kenya, Senegal, Chile, America, the Philippines, Iran, and Pakistan. (Don't be too amazed that I can rattle off this list after only two days together. You don't know how many times we've asked and answered the questions, "Wie heisst du?" and "Wo kommst du?")
At home this afternoon, I left behind the cultural experiences and got into more familiar (and definitely very American) territory: baking pies for Thanksgiving! With flecks of snow in the cold air outside our big window and Twila Paris singing to us in our cozy kitchen, and many willing baker's helpers, Heather and I enjoyed mixing and rolling and slicing, and now four pies -- two pumpkin and two apple -- are looking luscious on our counter.
Besides eating pies, I am also looking forward to Christmas markets, and mailing a large and delightful box of Christmas cheer home, and those moments when three children converge on me at once in an all-around snuggle, and coffee with Emily at a charming cafe tomorrow afternoon, and a Brazilian brunch on Sunday with friends from my small group. My list of thankfuls this year is not going to be easy to contain. "Praise the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits."
Friday, November 19, 2010
Berlin to Cinque Terre and Back
My mind is clearing from an afternoon nap; outside the sky's relentless grey holds steady. Heather and Claire are out for swimming lessons and grocery shopping, and it's naptime for the other children, that sweet space of midday solitude. There is no whiff of loneliness in the silence of naptime, because slumbering companionship lurks in the corners, and you know that soon the house will be joyously awake again. The rarity of the quiet time makes it a jewel you are unlikely to resent or fritter away.
After tucking Lilah into her crib, I sat at the kitchen table while the last of Heather's pumpkin bread and muffins baked, the swish of the dishwasher a productive and companionable backdrop along with Sara Groves and the smell of spicy fall baking. I finished a chocolate bar and "Dancing at the Rascal Fair" (a novel of homesteading in Montana; the characters linger in my mind, at the end of all their dreams and decisions and daily routine a tinge of melancholy, a hint of rainbow).
My own tinge of melancholy came at six o'clock this morning when I hugged Mom goodbye at the Tegel airport. You look forward to something and then you're living it and then it is over, a memory. Well, these special ten days with my mom are worth remembering and giving thanks to God for. She joined my routine here for a few days -- we did some sightseeing in Berlin, went on a family outing to a charming cafe and a little farm, walked to the grocery store, ran my route along the canal, ate family meals around the cozy kitchen table, sat on the floor with the kids playing and snuggling and laughing, discussed and shared ideas with Heather. On Saturday night we went to my small group together and were both richly blessed by the worship, Pedro's words of insight from Matthew 5, an open-hearted prayer time, and fellowship over a meal.
Then on Sunday morning, Heather drove us to the airport so we could catch our plane to Milan. From there, we rented a car and drove through low, leaky clouds across flat, industrial Italy to the coast, where we began our journey along the countless tunnels and bridges cutting a path through the mountainous terrain that is home to the Cinque Terre. As we approached, we exited off the Autostrada and began winding our way along one-lane roads that hugged the contours of the hills and valleys instead of cutting through and jumping across. Up and down, back and forth, slowing to read the blue signs marking forks in the road, we slowly made our way to Corniglia.
Daily trips to the tiny grocery store next door were a highlight, and we feasted on pesto, pasta, pancetta, eggplant, onions, tomatoes, crusty bread, olive oil, Pecorino cheese, garbanzo beans. As we walked, or in bed at night, we prayed together. Dusk falls early in November, chasing us back to our room to cook dinner, knit, and read in bed. Early on Thursday morning (as in 2:00AM early), we roused ourselves, loaded the rental car in the empty piazza, and set out along the windy trail of road leading back out of the Cinque Terre region. We enjoyed one more day in Berlin together, playing with the kids, walking to the store, and having tea at the cafe across the street before Mom's departure early this morning. May I begin with Thanksgiving a week early: thank you, Father, for these special days together and for sweet friendship with my mother.
After tucking Lilah into her crib, I sat at the kitchen table while the last of Heather's pumpkin bread and muffins baked, the swish of the dishwasher a productive and companionable backdrop along with Sara Groves and the smell of spicy fall baking. I finished a chocolate bar and "Dancing at the Rascal Fair" (a novel of homesteading in Montana; the characters linger in my mind, at the end of all their dreams and decisions and daily routine a tinge of melancholy, a hint of rainbow).
My own tinge of melancholy came at six o'clock this morning when I hugged Mom goodbye at the Tegel airport. You look forward to something and then you're living it and then it is over, a memory. Well, these special ten days with my mom are worth remembering and giving thanks to God for. She joined my routine here for a few days -- we did some sightseeing in Berlin, went on a family outing to a charming cafe and a little farm, walked to the grocery store, ran my route along the canal, ate family meals around the cozy kitchen table, sat on the floor with the kids playing and snuggling and laughing, discussed and shared ideas with Heather. On Saturday night we went to my small group together and were both richly blessed by the worship, Pedro's words of insight from Matthew 5, an open-hearted prayer time, and fellowship over a meal.
Then on Sunday morning, Heather drove us to the airport so we could catch our plane to Milan. From there, we rented a car and drove through low, leaky clouds across flat, industrial Italy to the coast, where we began our journey along the countless tunnels and bridges cutting a path through the mountainous terrain that is home to the Cinque Terre. As we approached, we exited off the Autostrada and began winding our way along one-lane roads that hugged the contours of the hills and valleys instead of cutting through and jumping across. Up and down, back and forth, slowing to read the blue signs marking forks in the road, we slowly made our way to Corniglia.
We had three full days to enjoy having no particular agenda but no lack of new things to explore, either.
We climbed thousands of stairs,
explored all five villages by trail and train,
enjoyed the views by rain,
and reveled in a sunny day on the Mediterranean coast.
Monday, November 8, 2010
November Monday
The sky was grey, but it was too dark for me to see that yet. The bus rumbled by. It was six o'clock, and I was just waking up on a Monday morning. Then I heard noises from the next room.
Lilah's voice, whining and pouting: "No, I don't want to stay in bed!" Footsteps. Claire appeared, a shadow in my doorway.
"Julie, Lilah won't stay in bed. Can we get up now and play in our room?" I got out of bed and sent them both back into their beds for another half hour, and snuggled back under my covers too. At 6:30 I got up and dressed and then told the girls they could get up and play in their room. Then I went down to the kitchen to make a cup of tea; while I was boiling the water I heard a commotion down the hall. It was Lilah again, screaming, "No! No! No!" I didn't hurry; I knew Claire was tormenting Lilah and Lilah was responding like a self-absorbed victim and I didn't know what I was going to say to them. I beseeched the Lord for wisdom, trusted that He would put the words in my mouth, and headed towards the ugly noise.
When I entered the room, they both became still and silent. I took a hand in each of mine and asked the girls what was going on. No answer. Finally, Lilah said that Claire was bothering her, and Claire reluctantly confessed that she had been trying to catch Lilah. We have had so many discussions about appropriate ways to interact with each other: Think about what might make the other one happy. If Lilah makes a request, listen to her. If you are unhappy with what Claire is doing, ask her to stop in a sweet voice and then you can come to Julie if you need to. I knew they knew that what they had been doing was wrong. So I punished both of them, and hugged them in their pink pajamas, and prayed for God's ways to sink into their hearts.
Then I was hoping to have a few minutes in my room to read the Word and journal. Lilah wanted to stay with me, and I told her she could but she would have to be quiet. She skipped into my room ahead of me and knocked over a water bottle I had set on the floor by my chair. Claire wanted Lilah to stay with her and wanted to know why I wouldn't make Lilah stay in the bedroom with Claire. Lilah wanted a doll; Claire didn't want her to have it. Lilah read a book on my footstool, full of questions and comments. Claire came in and sat beside me, watching me write in my journal with intense fascination. I told her I was writing to God, kind of like praying. "Does everyone ask God to forgive them?" she asked me.
"No," I answered.
"Why not?"
"Well, some people don't think they have done anything wrong. Or they don't want to have to obey God; instead they want to do what they want to do."
"But some people ask God to forgive them."
"Yes," I told her.
"Like you!"
"Well, yes," I answered again.
"Do you always ask God to forgive you?" Claire asked me.
"Well, yes."
"Why?"
"Because I want to please God; because I like it when everything is good between us."
The girls played, chattered, and finally (after many reminders from me that they were free to be in my room or in theirs, but if they chose my room they needed to be quiet) scampered across the hall to their room. Then there was a shriek. Claire announced the nature of the dismal tragedy: "Uh-oh! Julie! There's an animal in our room!" Lilah whimpered and shrieked again.
"It's okay," I called out. "It's just an insect."
Then I heard them talking to it, claiming it as their little baby, and giggling about how it tickled them when it walked on their hands. Claire came in with the large beetle on her hand and proudly displayed it to me, then confessed, "I don't know what to do with it." So I led her to the window and we put it outside.
"When are we eating breakfast? Can we get dressed now?" Claire asked.
I still hadn't read from the Bible, so I told her I would be ready in about five minutes. She decided to get dressed on her own. But as I was closing my journal and reaching for the Bible, my elbow knocked my mug of tea, sloshing the last bit all over my hip, chair, and the floor. I wiped up, changed my clothes, and told Claire, who had asked again, that I would be ready to help them finish dressing and feed them breakfast very soon. I asked her to be quiet in the hall since Cole was still sleeping, but when I went into the bathroom to wash my face and fix my hair (while quoting a Psalm, since I still hadn't read the Bible), I heard him chattering in his crib. So, I finished getting ready in a hurry (without getting very far on the Psalm), got Cole up, and finally went to the girls. They were soon dressed, and we went to the kitchen to memorize Psalms and eat toast with honey.
Cole still hadn't finished eating, but the girls were done so I took them to the bathroom to fix their hair. Just as we were finishing up, I heard noises in the kitchen; it sounded like the high chair scooting across the floor. I ran down the hall and saw Cole, down from his high chair, coming out the kitchen door in his bib and sticky hands, holding his empty bowl. I could hardly blame him for feeling the need to take his care into his own hands, as he had been rather abandoned. I washed him and took off his bib and loaded the last dishes in the dishwasher.
Then I went to the playroom to find the girls. "Time to go potty and then put your shoes on!" I told the them.
"Oh, we were just starting to play something really fun!" Claire told me. "Why is it always time to go when we start to play something?" I didn't mention that they hadn't exactly taken advantage of their opportunities for free play that morning.
We got to Kita right at 9:00 after a rainy drive in the morning traffic. I remembered on the way that Lilah had sport (gym) today and I was supposed to send gym clothes with her; oh well. Cole and I came home and started some laundry and headed out again into the drizzle to pick up a few things at the grocery store. It wasn't pouring down rain, so it was nice to be outside. At home, I put away the groceries and made some pumpkin chocolate chip cookies for my friend Emily who is coming over tonight and for Heather's homecoming tomorrow. The pumpkin chocolate chip cookies I've had before were soft and chewy . . . these ones spread to lacy wafers in the oven, and when I tried to slide them off the cookie sheet, the edges shattered and sent crumbs skittering across the counter, but they were so soft that they folded in half when I lifted them. (Warning: There are hazards in the wonderful world of Internet baking.) I baked the rest of the dough in a pan and hoped they would be more successful as bars. Cole didn't want to eat his lunch, but his verdict on the cookies was "nummy, nummy" and "noo noo noo" (more; said in a desperate tone of voice with eyebrows puckered into a beseeching peak and fingertips coming together over and over in the sign for "more").
Matthew West sang to my as I worked in the kitchen this morning
Lilah's voice, whining and pouting: "No, I don't want to stay in bed!" Footsteps. Claire appeared, a shadow in my doorway.
"Julie, Lilah won't stay in bed. Can we get up now and play in our room?" I got out of bed and sent them both back into their beds for another half hour, and snuggled back under my covers too. At 6:30 I got up and dressed and then told the girls they could get up and play in their room. Then I went down to the kitchen to make a cup of tea; while I was boiling the water I heard a commotion down the hall. It was Lilah again, screaming, "No! No! No!" I didn't hurry; I knew Claire was tormenting Lilah and Lilah was responding like a self-absorbed victim and I didn't know what I was going to say to them. I beseeched the Lord for wisdom, trusted that He would put the words in my mouth, and headed towards the ugly noise.
When I entered the room, they both became still and silent. I took a hand in each of mine and asked the girls what was going on. No answer. Finally, Lilah said that Claire was bothering her, and Claire reluctantly confessed that she had been trying to catch Lilah. We have had so many discussions about appropriate ways to interact with each other: Think about what might make the other one happy. If Lilah makes a request, listen to her. If you are unhappy with what Claire is doing, ask her to stop in a sweet voice and then you can come to Julie if you need to. I knew they knew that what they had been doing was wrong. So I punished both of them, and hugged them in their pink pajamas, and prayed for God's ways to sink into their hearts.
Then I was hoping to have a few minutes in my room to read the Word and journal. Lilah wanted to stay with me, and I told her she could but she would have to be quiet. She skipped into my room ahead of me and knocked over a water bottle I had set on the floor by my chair. Claire wanted Lilah to stay with her and wanted to know why I wouldn't make Lilah stay in the bedroom with Claire. Lilah wanted a doll; Claire didn't want her to have it. Lilah read a book on my footstool, full of questions and comments. Claire came in and sat beside me, watching me write in my journal with intense fascination. I told her I was writing to God, kind of like praying. "Does everyone ask God to forgive them?" she asked me.
"No," I answered.
"Why not?"
"Well, some people don't think they have done anything wrong. Or they don't want to have to obey God; instead they want to do what they want to do."
"But some people ask God to forgive them."
"Yes," I told her.
"Like you!"
"Well, yes," I answered again.
"Do you always ask God to forgive you?" Claire asked me.
"Well, yes."
"Why?"
"Because I want to please God; because I like it when everything is good between us."
The girls played, chattered, and finally (after many reminders from me that they were free to be in my room or in theirs, but if they chose my room they needed to be quiet) scampered across the hall to their room. Then there was a shriek. Claire announced the nature of the dismal tragedy: "Uh-oh! Julie! There's an animal in our room!" Lilah whimpered and shrieked again.
"It's okay," I called out. "It's just an insect."
Then I heard them talking to it, claiming it as their little baby, and giggling about how it tickled them when it walked on their hands. Claire came in with the large beetle on her hand and proudly displayed it to me, then confessed, "I don't know what to do with it." So I led her to the window and we put it outside.
"When are we eating breakfast? Can we get dressed now?" Claire asked.
I still hadn't read from the Bible, so I told her I would be ready in about five minutes. She decided to get dressed on her own. But as I was closing my journal and reaching for the Bible, my elbow knocked my mug of tea, sloshing the last bit all over my hip, chair, and the floor. I wiped up, changed my clothes, and told Claire, who had asked again, that I would be ready to help them finish dressing and feed them breakfast very soon. I asked her to be quiet in the hall since Cole was still sleeping, but when I went into the bathroom to wash my face and fix my hair (while quoting a Psalm, since I still hadn't read the Bible), I heard him chattering in his crib. So, I finished getting ready in a hurry (without getting very far on the Psalm), got Cole up, and finally went to the girls. They were soon dressed, and we went to the kitchen to memorize Psalms and eat toast with honey.
Cole still hadn't finished eating, but the girls were done so I took them to the bathroom to fix their hair. Just as we were finishing up, I heard noises in the kitchen; it sounded like the high chair scooting across the floor. I ran down the hall and saw Cole, down from his high chair, coming out the kitchen door in his bib and sticky hands, holding his empty bowl. I could hardly blame him for feeling the need to take his care into his own hands, as he had been rather abandoned. I washed him and took off his bib and loaded the last dishes in the dishwasher.
Then I went to the playroom to find the girls. "Time to go potty and then put your shoes on!" I told the them.
"Oh, we were just starting to play something really fun!" Claire told me. "Why is it always time to go when we start to play something?" I didn't mention that they hadn't exactly taken advantage of their opportunities for free play that morning.
We got to Kita right at 9:00 after a rainy drive in the morning traffic. I remembered on the way that Lilah had sport (gym) today and I was supposed to send gym clothes with her; oh well. Cole and I came home and started some laundry and headed out again into the drizzle to pick up a few things at the grocery store. It wasn't pouring down rain, so it was nice to be outside. At home, I put away the groceries and made some pumpkin chocolate chip cookies for my friend Emily who is coming over tonight and for Heather's homecoming tomorrow. The pumpkin chocolate chip cookies I've had before were soft and chewy . . . these ones spread to lacy wafers in the oven, and when I tried to slide them off the cookie sheet, the edges shattered and sent crumbs skittering across the counter, but they were so soft that they folded in half when I lifted them. (Warning: There are hazards in the wonderful world of Internet baking.) I baked the rest of the dough in a pan and hoped they would be more successful as bars. Cole didn't want to eat his lunch, but his verdict on the cookies was "nummy, nummy" and "noo noo noo" (more; said in a desperate tone of voice with eyebrows puckered into a beseeching peak and fingertips coming together over and over in the sign for "more").
Matthew West sang to my as I worked in the kitchen this morning
I'm tired and empty, this life is relentlessThere was part of me that related to the song. Yes, it's good to have quiet moments sometimes. But this is the life He has called me to -- God is speaking to me in the tea spills and discipline sessions and conversations about repentance. May I have ears to hear.
It weakens my knees and breaks down my defenses
It's wearing me down and I'm desperate to hear from you.
Stop the world I wanna get out
I need to escape away from this crowd
Just to hear you speak to me.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Pumpkin Day
This morning while I was lying in bed (the girls woke up at 5:00, and I didn't think we really needed to start the day then, so I told them it was not yet morning and snuggled back under my covers to doze and pray and think about the day), I decided that today would be Pumpkin Day.
When the girls came in later (at 6:30, at which time I told them yes, it could now be Morning), they wanted to know if there was church today. "Then what day is it?" Claire asked when I said no. "It's Pumpkin Day!" I told them. I explained that we would go to the pumpkin store, buy a pumpkin or two, come home and chop it open, scoop out and roast the seeds, bake the pumpkin, and make pumpkin muffins. Claire was jumping up and down with excitement, and it always delights me to see how full of wonder the children are, so I was happy too.
After a hearty breakfast of oatmeal with grated apples, we all got dressed and trooped down the stairs to get the stroller and the girls' bikes. It was not very cold out, and though the puddles reminded us that it had been raining, it was dry while we were out, so it was the perfect time to get some fresh air. The Pumpkin Store (aka Alnatura) supplied us with two lovely squash, chosen by Claire and Lilah. At home, I chopped them open and the girls dug into them with spoons and fingers, attempting to clean out the seeds and pulp. Cole glared at me indignantly when I tried to keep him from digging in.
We drank hot fruit punch, ate lunch, and the kids settled in for naps and quiet times. Pumpkin day continued for me: I tossed the seeds with olive oil and salt and shoved them in the oven, then scraped the cooked flesh out of the skin and heaped it into a bowl. After an hour, I went to get Claire so she could help me make the muffins. She is becoming an expert dumper and mixer, and soon the thick batter was scooped into the tins and ready for the oven. She played in the kitchen and snacked on copious quantities of roasted pumpkin seeds while I pureed the rest of the pumpkin and portioned it into bags for the freezer. Lilah joined us, rosy and wispy and sucking her wrist, and we all sampled the muffins.
Then it was time for a break from pumpkin: the dough was ready for our pigs-in-a-blanket dinner. The girls helped me roll the hot dogs into their blankets and put them on the trays. They got out playdough and I got out knitting, and we worked together at the kitchen table. I finally went to get Cole up after three hours had passed, and he tried out the playdough but wasn't so enamored with it. They trickled down the hall to play; I kept knitting, enjoying the music and the fruits of our labors piling up on the counters and scenting the air. I called home to let Dad and Mom know I was praying for them as they embarked on their Marriage Encounter weekend and had a sweet, short chat with them while I cut up some veggies to go with our little piggies.
Everyone enjoyed pigs in a blanket, and Halloween candy, and then they scattered to dress up one more time and give the baby doll one more feeding before bed time while I did the last dishes for the day and munched on a pumpkin muffin.
It was a happy day. I hope tomorrow can live up to Pumpkin Day!
When the girls came in later (at 6:30, at which time I told them yes, it could now be Morning), they wanted to know if there was church today. "Then what day is it?" Claire asked when I said no. "It's Pumpkin Day!" I told them. I explained that we would go to the pumpkin store, buy a pumpkin or two, come home and chop it open, scoop out and roast the seeds, bake the pumpkin, and make pumpkin muffins. Claire was jumping up and down with excitement, and it always delights me to see how full of wonder the children are, so I was happy too.
After a hearty breakfast of oatmeal with grated apples, we all got dressed and trooped down the stairs to get the stroller and the girls' bikes. It was not very cold out, and though the puddles reminded us that it had been raining, it was dry while we were out, so it was the perfect time to get some fresh air. The Pumpkin Store (aka Alnatura) supplied us with two lovely squash, chosen by Claire and Lilah. At home, I chopped them open and the girls dug into them with spoons and fingers, attempting to clean out the seeds and pulp. Cole glared at me indignantly when I tried to keep him from digging in.
We drank hot fruit punch, ate lunch, and the kids settled in for naps and quiet times. Pumpkin day continued for me: I tossed the seeds with olive oil and salt and shoved them in the oven, then scraped the cooked flesh out of the skin and heaped it into a bowl. After an hour, I went to get Claire so she could help me make the muffins. She is becoming an expert dumper and mixer, and soon the thick batter was scooped into the tins and ready for the oven. She played in the kitchen and snacked on copious quantities of roasted pumpkin seeds while I pureed the rest of the pumpkin and portioned it into bags for the freezer. Lilah joined us, rosy and wispy and sucking her wrist, and we all sampled the muffins.
Then it was time for a break from pumpkin: the dough was ready for our pigs-in-a-blanket dinner. The girls helped me roll the hot dogs into their blankets and put them on the trays. They got out playdough and I got out knitting, and we worked together at the kitchen table. I finally went to get Cole up after three hours had passed, and he tried out the playdough but wasn't so enamored with it. They trickled down the hall to play; I kept knitting, enjoying the music and the fruits of our labors piling up on the counters and scenting the air. I called home to let Dad and Mom know I was praying for them as they embarked on their Marriage Encounter weekend and had a sweet, short chat with them while I cut up some veggies to go with our little piggies.
Everyone enjoyed pigs in a blanket, and Halloween candy, and then they scattered to dress up one more time and give the baby doll one more feeding before bed time while I did the last dishes for the day and munched on a pumpkin muffin.
It was a happy day. I hope tomorrow can live up to Pumpkin Day!
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Kennst du Gott?
"Do they know God?" Claire has been asking this question about friends, teachers, and strangers. It's hard to say "no" since we can't see everyone's heart, but often it seems like the answer is most likely no. "Why not?" Claire asks. Why not, indeed. And why don't I ask those questions more often, and seek the answers more fervently?
On a less serious note, on the way home from Kita today Claire and I had this conversation. (I think it stems from conversations we've had about Claire's cough; she wants to know why she has a cough, and Heather has told her that sometimes when the weather gets cold in the Fall people get a little sick. But then, of course, she had another question at the ready: "Does Julie have a cough? Why not?" Well, this week I lost my voice, which apparently counted as a cough in Claire's mind. And so . . .)
C: Does everyone have a cough now?
J: What do you mean, everyone in the world?
C: Does everyone in Germany have a cough?
J: No.
C: Why not?
J: Why would they?
C: Do some people -- are some people too lazy to eat?
J: No - what? - Do you think eating makes people cough?
C: No, but sometimes you choke and the food comes into your mouth.
J: True, but that doesn't really mean you have a cough.
C: (coughs) Oh.
On a less serious note, on the way home from Kita today Claire and I had this conversation. (I think it stems from conversations we've had about Claire's cough; she wants to know why she has a cough, and Heather has told her that sometimes when the weather gets cold in the Fall people get a little sick. But then, of course, she had another question at the ready: "Does Julie have a cough? Why not?" Well, this week I lost my voice, which apparently counted as a cough in Claire's mind. And so . . .)
C: Does everyone have a cough now?
J: What do you mean, everyone in the world?
C: Does everyone in Germany have a cough?
J: No.
C: Why not?
J: Why would they?
C: Do some people -- are some people too lazy to eat?
J: No - what? - Do you think eating makes people cough?
C: No, but sometimes you choke and the food comes into your mouth.
J: True, but that doesn't really mean you have a cough.
C: (coughs) Oh.
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