It's a love/hate relationship.

It's a love hate relationship.


I want to just completely love it. Though I hate it so...


I guess I should say...it's complicated.  


I lazily walked downstairs the other morning, early anticipating my first cup of delicious coffee, when I began to smell a burning of sorts...


...had I left my curling iron on?


...was the coffee pot malfunctioning?


...had Stuart set flames to something? (Yes, these are things that were all running through my head).


Then, at last I located the smell coming from the laundry room.  Quickly, I rushed in, certainly sure I would find my new dark denim jeans had gone up in flames.  Luckily (or not...), it was coming from the washing machine.  Yep.  Look's like the 'ol $100 washing machine from CraigsList finally bit the dust.  Sometime during the night, the pump had burnt up.  And so it sat.  Full of water and soaking clothes.


That's always a fun way to start the day.


That was a lie.


That is not a fun way to start the day at all.


I left Stuart to deal with the problem while I went on my merry way of work and errands.  About lunch time, I got a phone calling saying..."That's it.  We're getting a new one."


You see, this was our third CraigsList washing machine.  And it's our third one that has broken.


I guess my poor husband had just had enough.




But, "poor" is exactly the reason why we kept purchasing these gems from CraigsList.  And when we went to our local store to price out our options, I almost had a breakdown.


$1200!!!! FOR A WASHING MACHINE!!!!  You've gotta be kidding me.

Now, if you know me at all by now my dear reader...you know there is no way in heck I would actually spend $1200 on a washing machine.  Ain't gunna happen.  Girlfriend would be scrubbin' the clothes in the river before that would happen.



Eventually, we settled on a less expensive model that promised lower water and energy usage and had an extra "freshwater rinse cycle" - ideal for our cloth diapers.  Score.


Now, here's where the complicated relationship begins.

I love.  Love.  LOVE.  having my very first new appliance in the history of my existence.  I love that is sits like a shiny little pearl in my laundry room.  I love that it is as quiet as a mouse while it spins as fast as a jet-engine.  I love that smells nice.  I love that it washes my clothes much better than before!  I love that it doesn't shake and rattle around like our old one.  I love that I don't have to hold the lid open with a wooden spoon.  I love having something pretty, functional, and nice.


But I hate.  Hate.  HATE.  having to spend our hard-earned-hard-saved money on stupid things like washing machines.


I was trying to save up for another baby...hello!  I had plans...BIG plans for that money!  I had places to go!  People to see!  


The poor lady at the appliance store had to pry it from my cold, dead fingers.


When my parents came to help us unload and install it, they arrived to find me sitting on the couch...staring off into space...my eyes full of tears.


I try to be so responsible with our money...*sniffle*...and then something like this always comes up unexpected...*sniffle*...and then it's just gone....


My Mom hugged me and laughed.  She knows exactly what I meant.

Isn't it wonderful how God can use little things like broken washing machines to teach us lessons?


In humility.


In trusting in His plan, not ours.


And in not making idols of our savings account.


Or future babies.


Or clean laundry. 


Money ain't no thing, sister.  You can't take it with ya when you go.  Just like my dear husband said..."It's just money."  I guess sometimes, I just need to be reminded that He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together!  For which I am thankful.


Just like I am thankful for my beautiful, sparkling, new appliance that shall efficiently wash my dirty laundry for me.


(Though it's not nearly as beautiful as a new baby...I'm just sayin').

Pears, peace, and The Pundit's Folly.

God is good.


As I was near a hormonal breakdown over these last few days, he heard my cry.


And so he sent me these:

Sigh.


He knew exactly what I needed.


Pears are therapy.


As I sat picking out the ripe ones yesterday to prepare them for dehydration, I just felt this overwhelming peace that I have been missing.  I slowly washed each one, carefully cutting out the bruises.  Then, I cut them carefully into thin slivers, and placed them on the dehydrating sheet.  Nothing fancy.  Nothing formal.  Just me, a paring knife, a box of pears, and a little baby burying her head into the back of my knees.


Have you ever heard the old story about a mother telling her daughter to pick all the seeds out of a watermelon?  To ease her mind?


Well, these pears were those watermelon seeds.

The sky was overcast, but warm, and the smell of those ripe, deliciously juicy pears just took my mind to fall.  To a time of coziness and comfort.  And that's exactly what I needed.

When I asked our landlord/neighbor if I could purchase a few box of pears during harvest, he lovingly told us that we could glean as many as we liked after they were finished picking.  So J-Money, Stuart, G-Baby, and I waddled through the orchard, our hands full of pears from the ground and upper limbs.  I don't think Lee knows how much gleaning means to this little 'ol heart of mine.  I surely do not mind cutting around the bruises of the imperfect fruit.


As I continually chase the chores to be accomplished on the homestead this time of year, I am reminded of a most wonderful excerpt from a favorite book of mine: The Pundit's Folly.


     You have made us for yourself
     and our hearts are restless
     until they find their rest in you.


There is nowhere else to go, no other foundation from which we can drink to quench our thirst.  God alone can do that.


Be it momentary joy, I will no more find a continued peace of mind in this box of pears than I will in a clean house.  These chores, albeit important and glorifying, shall pass.  The joy that they bring shall fade.  As Scottish poet Robert Burns penned:


     But pleasures are like poppies spread
     You seize the flower, the bloom is shed
     Or like the snow falls in the river
     A moment white, then melts for ever...
     Or like the rainbow's lovely form
     Evanishing amid the storm.


I suppose I have spent far too much time hoping I could find satisfaction in accomplishing tasks and chores, when really, true rest and contentment can only be found in the Lord.  And it is only through Him I can find the peace I so deeply desire.


Although sometimes, truly, I do believe he sends that peace in a box of pears.


Because He knows what I need before I even ask.


Even if that need is a fruit.


And Amen.

Grilled & Stuffed Portabellas. And the river.

So J-Money was here over the long weekend...and what a wonderful weekend it was.  We spend time talking about theology, music, food, and family.


We also spent time down by the river.  For those of you who don't know about our area, our lil ol town is situated right on a river.  And there is nothing better than heading down to the rocky beach for some summer fun. 

G-Baby had fun sitting with the little fish in the water.  And chewing on rocks.

I watched the boys jump in....nervous that they would hit their heads and forever suffer from spinal injuries...

...I for one, chose to just wade in to my knees and/or ankles.  This greatly decreases the chances of spinal injuries.  Unless I were to slip, in which case, I would probably be more concerned about my D70 getting wet then I would my head.  That's how much I love my camera.

What a glorious end-of-summer day.  Does it get any more beautiful?  No.  It doesn't.  I will answer that for you.


Aren't you glad you have me here? 

Stu + our baby = melted heart.


I love when Jerry comes into town because it means that we get to get to do fun things, plus enjoy extra delicious food and drink.  He loves good food.  So I cook it.


Upon his request for a portabella mushroom dish, I made this recipe on a whim.  It was delicious, and a perfect ode to our last few days of grilling weather.

Grilled & Stuffed Portabella Mushrooms
You will need:
 - 8 portabella mushrooms
 - 3 tablespoons olive oil
 - Pinch of sea salt


 - 1 cup quinoa (soaked is best)
 - 1/2 cup lentils (soaked is best)
 - 3 cups water


 - 2 carrots, minced
 - 3 green onions, minced (or one small onion, minced)
 - 2 cups kale, minced
 - 1 clove garlic, minced
 - 2 tablespoons butter
 - 2 cups white wine/1 cup vegetable stock (or any combination thereof)
 - 1 to 2 teaspoons each oregano, thyme, rosemary, basic (or any combination of your favorite herbs!)
 - Goat cheese, for topping


Step One:  Place the quinoa, lentils, and water together in a saucepan.  Bring to a boil, then cover and reduce heat & simmer until quinoa and lentils are tender.  Roughly fifteen minutes.

Step Two:  While the quinoa & lentils are cooking, melt the butter in a skillet.  Then, add the carrots, onions, and garlic.  Saute until tender, maybe five minutes or so. 

Step Three:  Pour in the white wine and vegetable stock and bring to a simmer.  Allow the liquid to simmer for ten minutes or so, until it is reduced by half. 

Step Four:  Once the liquid has reduced, throw in your kale & herbs.  Then, mix this together with your quinoa & lentils to create a pilaf of sorts, if-you-will.

Season to taste with salt and pepper.  Congratulations, my friend.  You have now completed the "stuffing" for the stuffed mushrooms.

Step Five:  Fire up the grill baby.  Then, rub the cleaned (and de-stemmed) portabella mushrooms with some olive oil and a pinch of sea salt.  Grill for two minutes per side, until just beginning to release some liquid.

Step Six:  Scoop a generous spoonful of the quinoa pilaf onto the bottom (gill-side) of each mushroom.  Top with goat cheese and freshly ground pepper.  As usual, the goat cheese is not an option.  It is a requirement.  Thank you for cooperating.


Serve.  Eat.  Enjoy. 


We topped this vegetarian meal off with freshly grilled corn and peaches & cream.


Yes, I'm still eating peaches & cream.  I can't stop.


It's not too late to get in more deliciously fresh summer meals - don't give up yet!  We must hold out hope that our tomatoes still have a few weeks to ripen - don't quit on me now, people!


Sorry.  I tend to be dramatic when it comes to tomatoes.


Help.

This post part of Real Food Wednesdays and Pennywise Platter.

Reassurance.

My husband, my Stuart dearest, asked me the other day why women (ie: me) need to be reassured.  Constantly.


"Do I look okay?"


Yes.


"Are you sure?"


I guess so.


-15 minutes later-


"Honey, are you sure these pants look okay?"


No.  They make you look huge.  Go change.


Originally, the conversation began by me asking Stuart if he cared who put away his clothes.  You see, we used to do it together - sort of like a team bonding experience.  We would shout "Go team Elliott!" Then, we'd race up the stairs, give each other a high five, and begin the bonding experience of sorting laundry.  But since I've had extra time at home lately, and Stu has been extra busy at school, I've began to put away his laundry for him.  It was no big deal, really.  I already washed it and folded it...so the only thing left to do was to separate "His" from "Hers" from "Georgia's" and tuck it away in the dresser.  And after a few weeks of this extra care I'd shown his clothing, he hadn't said anything about it...


...and because I am an emotional brain-fart, I asked him.


Honey, do you even care who puts away your clothes?  Does it help you if I do it? Or would you even care if I just left it on the bed for you to do?


He laughed.  Of course he appreciated it.  Of course he was grateful to have a wife who makes sure that his underwear are clean, folded into the shape of a swan, and displayed on the dresser in true fabric-origami fashion.  I mean, hello!  Who wouldn't?  


But he asked me, "Why do women need to be so reassured all the time?  Guys don't need that."


To which I replied:


Because some days, we spend the whole day at home just feeding and cleaning our children.

Because we scrub out dirty diaper pails after shaking turds out into the toilet.  And then we forget to bring it back to the laundry room.  Hence, the lone, dirty diaper.


Because we plan out menus to maximize efficiency and make sure there is healthy food in the fridge.


Because sometimes we forget to shave our legs because we've been busy gardening.


Because we cook dinner at night - happy to have a warm meal to serve you.


Because we scrub poop stains out of the carpet.

Because we do dishes.  A lot of dishes.

Because we sweep up dog hair 53 times per day.


Because we make sure the home is clean and fresh for fellowship & guests.

Because I've picked up this tupperware 14 times today already and she just keeps pulling it out.  (Quit judging my cupboard.  I mean it.)


Because we do things a man wouldn't think of...like washing out our stinky garbage can.


Because we make sure bills are paid on time.

Because we'll spend the whole day cleaning the house, only to go to bed with the room looking like this.


Because we run errands, perfectly timed between naps and feedings.


And because on a daily basis we are covered in urine, fecal matter, drool, vomit, and Lord only knows what else.


And I'll be danged if sometimes it just doesn't seem like the most under appreciated job in the world.


It's not glamorous.  It's not, by 'worldly standards' of great importance.  Who cares that you have a healthy meal on the table when you can go to Pizza Hut?  Who cares that money is properly managed when there are credit cards?  Who cares how our children our raised?  Aren't we all just trying to "survive" this thing called parenthood?


I've been thinking about this a lot lately, because I do believe that to serve God, a Godly husband, and to raise Godly children is a calling.  God has entrusted me to care for this home, to serve and honor my husband, and to raise up children who love the Lord.  And that is...well....that's a lot of work.  I'm not just trying to survive a half-hearted marriage.  I'm not trying to just raise children who are acceptable just by social standards.  I'm not trying to cut corners or do things the easy way - I'm trying to do my best at the task that has been granted to me.  


This calling is a blessing.  It is a an absolute gift to be able to put my husbands clothes away.  And change my daughter's diapers.  And tirelessly clean my floors.  It will be a gift to teach my children about the Lord and how redemption is found in Christ.  


And so I explained to my dear husband, it's always nice to know that the work you do on a daily basis - be it ever so small by worldly standards - is appreciated.  And it's important to remember that tasks that may seem mundane, tireless, or under appreciated are still an opportunity for us to glorify God.   


Be it training your child.


Or scrubbing the sink.


Or, dangit, putting clothes away for your husband.


And Amen.

Family Camp. Trinity Style.

I'm not even going to try and pretend like it ain't true.  My church family rocks.


Not only was this past weekend filled with fellowship, obstacle courses, and ziplines...


...it was also filled with cute babies, Bananagrams, and wonderful preaching.


First things first.  This danged 'ol Bananagrams game.  Have you ever played it?  I hadn't...prior to this weekend that is.  The object is simple: spell words with your allotted amount of letters.  Try to be the first person who uses all their letters.  That's it.  Pretty simple, right?

Other players had words like 'atmosphere' and 'couture'...

...I had words like 'pee' (ahem, twice), 'mop', and 'cat'.  No big pointers in there, man.  I guess I need to work on my vocabulary.  Don't worry...it was only partially embarrassing.

Karen and Lori, no doubt laughing at the fact that one of my biggest words of the night was 'poop'.

Oh, my.  Oh, my my my.  That little Sylvia.  She melts my heart.  Teri's too, obviously.  Teri has three boys - she needed her some little girl snuggles.

Umm...my husband is remarkably handsome.  I think me loves him.

Speaking of my husband, he climbed a 65' vertical obstacle course.  I like to call this photo, White Man Thighs.

Jess was nice enough to not flash the crowd below his white man thighs (unlike Stuart).  Thank you, Jess.

And speaking of white man thighs, the owner of them (my husband) made me do a zipline with him.  Jumping off a three story platform goes against everything my body normally reminds me to do.  Like to not jump off of buildings and such.

Notice my husbands perfect form right out of the gate.  I, however, am already twisted.  Five feet after leaving the platform.  I obviously have an extreme athletic ability.  Almost like a super human.

And speaking of super humans...I saw Mr. Black curl the weight of multiple teenager girls.  All by himself.  With his sheer strength, he lifted them over this fifteen foot wall.  

A merry time was had by all.

Especially, G baby.  She was such a trooper.

Yes, I am the type of mother that lets my baby lick logs.  What?!

I also let her swim without a diaper on and then let her sit in Sheryl's lap.  I am happy to report there was no leakage...except for lake water.

Dinner time on the porch...

...And hiking time with Fox and Jason.

Hailey loved it when I took her picture.

That was a lie.  I tried to be inconspicuous, but I guess I was still pretty obvious.

'Inconspicuous'...now that's a heck of a Bananagrams word.

Yep.  Still handsome.  Just wanted to make sure.

Great engineering idea #1: Put a train track through a youth camp.

Check.

Sigh.

What a beautiful weekend. 

And even though it involved nursing in a public restroom, a broken car air conditioner, a flat tire, 78 hours of driving and pasteurized egg product...it was absolutely wonderful to be able to spend intimate fellowship time with my fellow brothers and sisters.  

I will spare you the other 15,234,947 photos.  For now.

The end.