Ready

I'm ready to see my little boy after a week at camp.
It's too quiet here. What was good for a day or two
--uninterrupted hours to myself, to write, to work, to clean--
no longer appeals. I long for his voice asking me
questions, giggling, singing when he thinks I'm not listening.
I can't wait to hear about his experiences. Intriguing
and amusing he is, in his story telling. The words he
uses seem, at times, too big for a nine-year-old.
Like when I asked him if he'd be taking his
everyday Bible, he said, "Nah, it's too cumbersome."


I'm ready to see my big boy again, too.
My young man who turns 20 on Monday.
(Really, Lord? Will I really have three children
at least 20 years old?)
I'm ready to hear how God spoke to him, and
through him, into the young lives of hurting,
hungry kids in a remote log cabin atop a
wooded hill in a state we call "P-A." I'm ready
to hear him jam out on the drums again in
the basement, to hear him sing praises in
the shower.

I'm ready to see his girlfriend again. These
ladies my sons hold dear , I hold dear. It's
a rather unexpected thing for me. Always
wondered if I would understand what it means
to love like family someone my child falls
in love with. But I get it now.

I'm ready to witness the moment they behold
each other again after eight long weeks. If I
feel like a balloon about to burst with joy and
relief, how must they be feeling?
She was in Zambia for five of those weeks,
without no telecommunication.

She texted me from DC
when her first of two remaining flights
landed back
"home". She would've called him first,
of course, but Steve gets almost no cell
service where he is. She had not talked
to him yet. She said she's dying to see him
Saturday night. She was about to board the
next flight to Texas
for a mission team debriefing
so our texts were of the hyper-
informational type and then "See you soon!"

But I twisted her message in a very cruel
tease that only a son's mother can pull off.
During a Facebook chat a couple hours later,
I said to Steve, "I have some news from her.
"She decided to stay in Africa another month."
There was a pregnant pause. Then he wrote,
"Really? Why?"
And I said, "She fell in love with someone else.
A black drummer."

"Ha ha," he replied.

"'I had you going, didn't I?"

"um, well, I could see her staying another
month in Africa, but was trying to
figure out how that'd
work with school. The whole black drummer
thing, though? No. LOL."

We both know she is
way too smitten with my son to march to
the beat of a different drummer. Sometimes
I think her heart beats in time with his.

I am ready to go on vacation. We're heading
to the beach as a family next week. All of us,
including the white drummer boy and his girl,
minus our oldest and his bride-to-be. I am
sorry we can't all be together. Sunbathing
on southern sand. Soaking up views of the
grey-green Atlantic from
our balcony.

Ahh, summertime on the East Coast.

Miscellany Monday with Gratitude

Linking up at a blog called "lowercase letters" for Miscellany Monday. I am not only listing 8 randoms today, I am also grateful for all of them. (I'm having trouble getting the cute button to work. Sorry, Carissa.)


One. Going Green in a Smoothie Kind of Way.
I made this one today from things that had to be used up: Peach-Ginger Smoothie
1 cup canned peaches
1 fresh peach
1 tablespoon fresh grated ginger
1 handful of ice
2 handfuls of fresh spinach
1 slice of cucumber & 1 slice of nectarine for garnish, because I just love garnishes.
Two. New-to-Us Patio Furniture. Free.
My husband has a wonderful, kind, friendly, and generous friend named Curtis. When Curtis and his wife bought a new table and chairs for themselves, Curtis offered us the old set. Can I tell you it's an answer to prayer? Not only is it classy and in good shape, it has an umbrella and doubles the amount of seating on our deck. Now we can have a large group over without dragging camp chairs and kitchen chairs from hither and yon. THREE. Fresh herbs.
I simply marvel that God makes so many different gorgeous variations on the shape and shade of leaves. The beauty of basil.
FOUR. Having my whole family--everyone--finally, on board with better eating resolve. For health. For taste. For wedding. It's a joy to make things like this Caribbean Chicken Salad and have everyone appreciate it.

FIVE. Bright red petunias that ask for a little water and lots of sunshine and return the favor with daily cheer.

SIX. Almost 33 child-free hours, just my silver-haired sweetie and me.
From noon on Saturday when Sarah took Joel to camp, while Steve was in PA and Ben was in NJ,
we had a glorious, wonderfully quiet, relaxed nest. He cut the grass and called it a day. I washed about 347 dishes and utensils by hand because the dishwasher wasn't acting right and all the "clean" dishes came out with dried-on gunk, so I scrubbed them manually, and called it a day. We just chilled, and for dinner brought home a Maryland crab cake platter and a cheesesteak sub. (Okay, so the better-eating resolve is kind of evolving! Sometimes an indulgence is merited, as in the name of celebrating a no-kids-home weekend.)

SEVEN. Cake Balls. I'd never heard of them until Kelly at Through the Water, wrote a "controversial" post. So cute that her choice of a "controversial post" was about cake mixes vs. made-from-scratch cakes, and how some people get cranky at the mere mention of cake mixes!

I was going to make a 13x9 of Steve's favorite yellow cake with chocolate frosting so he could enjoy a mini-birthday party with friends at camp. But, since I had other things also baking (I was in a mood) the cake got a bit overdone. Not badly, but it turned out "not pretty." While it cooled, I read blogs. Lo and behold, the solution to my problem was literally at my fingertips! Cake Balls are simple, messy, and the perfect way to delishify a flop.

Cake Balls:
-Crumble up a baked boxed cake
-Add a can of frosting.
-Mash it all up together in your hands and form balls.
-Freeze the balls. I read you can freeze them for 15 minutes to six hours. I froze them for four while I did other things. They were perfect to work with--no crumbling.
-Melt 3 large Hershey bars in the microwave with a little bit of milk. The milk gives you a good sheen.
-Roll each ball in melted chocolate. (Work quickly. The chocolate hardens fast.)
-Refrigerate on a tray for 15 minutes. Serve or seal as you desire.
-Enjoy the taste and the compliments!


( Did I mention these are messy? At first I felt like quitting, but then I realized there was no turning back and just declared it an adventure. I can get through almost anything if it's called an adventure.) Besides, Joel was having a blast with the camera.

I didn't get a shot of the finished product. But I can say that they passed the test kitchen's approval! And they were a big hit with the counselors.

EIGHT. My son (the supposedly wise camp counselor) spent his time off Saturday jumping off a 30-foot cliff into water below! I found out from his Facebook status, and let me tell you, it made my palms sweat and my heart race. Had he told me ahead of time, I probably would've retched. I thank God He didn't let Steve die or be paralyzed for life.

"Father God, we Just Thank You, Father God...Be With Us"

My 19-year-old son, Steve, is a camp counselor three hours from home and pretty busy except for a two-hour-a-day break. Imagine my delight to see something new on his blog this morning. He took time to write something funny yet thought-provoking that makes me ponder prayer again.

Ever heard someone pray--or been the one praying-- in such a way that is unclear, unnatural, and sometimes even unbiblical?

Check out Steve's thoughts on the matter in Praying Platitudes.

Hello, Projects; Farewell, Stephen

If I don't make the time to do my projects, they won't happen. So I have designated this coming week (today through next Friday) my Personal Project Week. In seven days, I want to accomplish the following three things:

1. Paint a Welcome sign which sits in my front garden. It's all white and features a hummingbird and flowers. She needs paint, and I have an itch to apply some.



2. Paint the pair of thrift-store lamps I've had for over a month. I was so happy to find a PAIR with nice shades which need no makeover themselves. These lamps are tall enough for good reading in the family room. (Diddn't take a photo.)

3. Deep clean my living room. Woo-hoo. Don't be jealous of the glamorous life I live. I have been procrastinating for a very long time, and I'm sure the job won't take more than two hours at most.


Perhaps if I have enough projects to keep me busy, I won't think so much of how hard it will probably be, once again, to say farewell to my second son who is going away for a summer camp job. He leaves Sunday and gets back in August. I am actually hurting more for him and his sweetheart this time around, because they have an amazing relationship. She will be going to Zambia for a month, beginning in early July, so at least they will have respective missions to focus on whilst parted one from the other. I am just not looking forward to Sunday and the pain of separation--my own or theirs. But how grateful I am that they are each investing in God's kingdom this summer in concentrated ways, not wasting their youth and vitality on idle activities.

A Simple Woman's Daybook 8.13.10

Another entry in A Simple Woman's Daybook.

Outside my window...
The temperature has finally fallen to a comfortable 74 degrees. The night is black, like one huge pupil in the cosmos. From the woods behind us comes the familiar strains of a symphony of God's
critters. If you listen closely, it sure sounds like the woodpecker tapping on drums, frogs croaking on the tuba, insects shaking maracas, and some other unidentified musician whistling on the piccolos. Every night I get free admission to their concert under the stars, but they aren't playing for me. They are playing for God alone.

I am thinking...
about the brevity of life. The incredible sadness I felt when talking to my neighbor who lost his wife back in May. He stopped by to return a lasagna pan from mid-June and was telling us that he and his boys just got back from a cruise, trying to make new memories doing things Mom would not have done. She got seasick looking at boats. "Do you know how hard it is to find a way to tell people on the cruise, when they bring it up, "So what are you folks doing here?" and you stammer to explain, '"We're taking this cruise because my wife just died.'" But then he said, "The next day, one of the ladies from dinner said, in a most sensitive, caring way, 'Tell me about your wife'--and that was a God moment."

I am thankful for...
the young lady in Ben's life. Her name is Deirdra. She is a godly, sweet person, and easy to love.

From the kitchen...
I hear Stephen's keys jingling. He just came home from a jam session, carrying his djembe and cajone. I keep wanting to call him Al. Al Cajone.


I am wearing...
brown pants and a brown shirt with swirls on it. I look like a King-size Snickers bar.

I am creating...
nothing, really. Quite uncreative at the moment.

I am going...
to learn to love being a football mom if it kills me. And it very well could.

I am reading...
a Psalm a day
a Proverb a day
a chapter from Ezekiel a day (arduous reading, in my opinion)
a couple chapters of Hebrews every day, and
a missionary bio of Wm. Carey.

I am hoping...
to have walked 26 miles between Aug 6 and 26.

I am hearing...
Joel say (over and over) "Better not lay a finger on my Butterfinger."

Around the house...
scream projects I've meant to get to this summer.

One of my favorite things...
is flying. I get to fly to Kansas to celebrate my and my friend Barb's week-apart birthdays!!!! We've been friends for (achoo!) 38 years. Also I get to meet Laurie of Tulip in the Thicket in Kansas for the first time (though she already feels like a sister to me through bloggyville). I also get to meet Rachel from Home Sanctuary at the Dallas/Fort Worth airport. She's going to bring me Texas BBQ during my lunchtime layover on the way back.

A few plans for the rest of the week...
Saturday is unplanned. Yay!! Sunday we are celebrating my nephew Danny's master's degree in Special Ed/Severe Disabilities. He got a perfect score on his exam! Nearly the whole Zubrowski clan is descending on Danny and Lisa for a cookout.

A picture thought I am sharing...

for the sole purpose of self-abasement is this one...because how tempting to post only the ones that might elicit "what a great picture of you!" You can imagine who is cracking up while I'm in the middle of telling him to put the camera away now, that's enough pictures, don't you think? He was twisting the lens in his little hand like a true professional , just for the fun of it, while gathering a host of stares at PF Chang's.

Could I be any more photogenic if I tried?

Happy Birthday, Steve! 19 on the 8th

My thirdborn is 19 today.

Here are 19 things I love, admire, and appreciate about him.

1. He has a passion for the Lord Jesus.
2. He loves to serve the Body of Christ.
3. He shows that love in myriad ways (see #4-18).
4. He walks and talks daily with God through His Word, the Bible .
5. He loves to read theology but not for the sake of head knowledge, but to help him
keep watch over his heart.
6. He always has a reason for the Hope that is in him. (If he'd been a girl, which I was sure while carrying him--no sonograms to prove otherwise, just a hunch--I was going to name him Hope.)
7. He can articulate himself well in speaking, in writing, and in nonverbal communication.
8. He prays diligently for people.
9. He is discerning.
10 He doesn't take himself too seriously, a noticeable trait through his often self-deprecating humor.
11. He uses his musical gifts on the drums at church and at camp.
12. He takes jobs no one else wants, especially guys--like teaching preschool phys ed.
13. He does what is asked of him, but usually takes the initiative.
14. He takes good care of his possessions.
15. He is a careful manager of his own finances.
16. He treats everyone with respect.
17. He puts people at ease with his smile and conversation.
18. He's a good listener.
19. He's a precious human being.

Stephen, I am so glad you're ours. And I'm so glad you're home from camp. I have missed you, son. Happy birthday .To God be the glory for these wonderful 19 years.

Baby on the Way?

Sarah and her friend Hannah got to spend the afternoon together. Had lunch, shopped, gabbed, you know. And they played a practical joke.

On Stephen.

They bought some of that temporary paint that car dealerships use to spray prices and info on windshields. Then they drove to Steve's workplace and wrote in big letters on the windshield of his Jeep:


IT"S A BOY! DUE DATE _____
DADDY-TO-BE on BOARD:)
HONK IF YOU LOVE BABIES

From work to the gas station (a three-minute drive as the crow flies, but 10 considering the heavy intersection that he works near) he heard lots of people honking, smiling, waving.

He couldn't find a squeegee fast enough.

I mean, he wants to be a dad and all...someday...but let's not rush it. He's 18 and has no prospects that I know of.

Ah, Sarah. You and Hannah made my day . I only wish I'd gotten a picture!

My Son, the Preacher

While you're praying this week, please remember our son, Stephen. He will be giving one of the "mini-sermons" (ten minutes long) at our Good Friday service. He was so honored to have been asked by one of the pastors, a decision that is team-made, I believe. (Our church is large and consists of four pastors on staff.)

We have sensed for awhile, adn it's been confirmed by a half dozen different people, that Stephen has pastoral giftings, among others. I can hardly write this without tears, because I see the faithfulness of God to me in asking for a 4th-generation evangelist to be in our family when I started having children.

As you well know, anytime you bring someone closer to God, or attempt it yourself, Satan tries to get the upper hand. Please pray that Stephen stays healthy, as Joel was sick today and yesterday. Please pray for clarity of thought and speech. Please pray that Stephen would put on the whole armor of God to stand against the firey darts that would attempt to mess with his mind in a condemning way. Please pray for God's anointing on Stephen as he prepares and delivers. Pray however you want!

And would you please, if you're reading this, leave me a comment? I am tempted to think I' am writing this in a vacuum and that I'm part of a tiny army of prayer warriors. I know it isn't so, but I would love to hear from my fellow soldiers. Thanks!

Birthday Blessings to a Blessing of a Son

Dear Stephen,

You are 18 years old today.

I can hardly believe I just wrote that.
Eighteen years.

This morning I was remembering the evening in late December of 1990, in an "upper room" of the Greater Baltimore Crisis Pregnancy Center. I was a volunteer counselor; it was my calling to minister hope and peace to women who found themselves in (or got themselves into) seemingless hopeless situations. Yet, here I was, happily married, mother of two toddlers, at Christmastime, terrified and waiting for a pregnancy test to run.

One of my coworkers, Candace Grasso, sat across the table from me and took both of my hands in hers as I wept and told her my fears. Three kids in four years? What would people think? How could I possibly handle three? Why would God choose me to mother a third child when I felt so lousy to the two already in my lap? Postpartum depression nearly killed me after Sarah was born. I can't go though that again! I can't do that to another child! How would he turn out with a mother like me? I had neither hope nor peace in that moment.


Candace listened. I don't remember anything she said except this: "Zo, all you see is the here and now. Just think: this child could grow up to be the next D.L Moody or Billy Graham."

And then a miracle took place in my heart. Candace read the test result. "Praise the Lord, Zo. It's positive." All the fear and dread was suddenly replaced with hope and peace. I can't explain how it happened, but in a flash, I was filled with an eager anticipation to meet you, my third child. However, unlike what Candace said, I didn't think you'd be a "he" but a "she" and I would name you Hope. (Guess I got that wrong.)

I could not fathom how easy you'd be to raise. You were a very happy, easygoing baby. Not a crier, not sickly except for repeated ear infections. You slept well, ate well, played well. You smiled all the time. Basically every mother's dream, especially after the nightmare of a colicky child and depression. You could memorize anything, including the first book I read a hundred times to you. Remember Bobby's Zoo? You can still quote it! We'd all get the chuckles hearing you race through it. You loved to sing with Sarah. The two songs I remember you singing most were "Jesush Yuvs Me" and "The Fwoot of God'sh Shpirit." Jesus called you His child at such an early age that you've been deeply convinced all your life of His love--and have borne much fwoot from that conviction.

Fast forward to this morning. It's 7:30 a.m. and I open my Bible study book, Believing God. The title of the day's text is "One Believing Man." It is a brief biography of none other than Dwight L. Moody. As he set sail for America from England, Moody received a verbal blessing from a London evangelist named Henry Varley. Varley told Moody, "The world has yet to see what God will do with and for and through and in and by the man who is fully and wholly consecrated to him."

Fully and wholly consecrated. That sure does describe you, Stephen. I have never known a teenager with the thirst for God's Word that you possess. It's uncanny the way you soak up scripture. By your bed is always the Bible, and resting on top of it is a book of theology, doctrine, or discipleship.

You love being at the church. Love it to the point I could say, "Zeal for his Father's house consumes him." A few weeks ago you went to men's reading group at 8:30 a.m., and at 11:30 you weren't yet home. I called you and asked why you were still there. You were cleaning bathrooms. To me that is the penultimate mark of humility: cleaning public toilets. Nothing is beneath you because you realize your lowliness in the the presence of a holy God.

I have seen this past year a mindboggling array of ways God has used you: as a drummer who truly worships with joy, as a camp counselor to 4 and 5 year olds, as a children's church helper, as an encouraging blog writer, as an employee at a Christian bookstore , as a computer problem-fixer, as a godly older brother to Joel and younger brother to Ben and Sarah, as a sound techie, as a student who proclaims his faith on campus, as an example to men more than twice his age, as a son who gives wisdom, peace, and hope to his parents.

This year I have heard, over and over, confirmation of what God spoke to me through Candace while you were being formed. The confirmation runs along the lines of your having the heart of a pastor and preacher. Just think...DL Moody...Billy Graham.

Those were two of the greatest evangelists who ever lived.

And I think of you as the third, on the cusp of a widespread ministry.



For reasons I'll only discover in heaven why I was chosen to mother you, I am deeply humble.
Blessings to you, my Third child. You are, by America's definition, a man now. By God's, you were a man years ago.

Truly, "the world has yet to see what God will do with and for and through and in and by the man who is fully and wholly consecrated to Him."



All my love,
Mom

Chime in, Ladies

Here's your chance to help a young man in a practical way with nothing more than your two cents. We love to give advice, don't we--tell people our opinions and how we feel? This is an open opportunity for you.

My son, Stephen, has just written two posts. Read the first one first ("Modesty and Deference Admired") to get the "theoretical" and then his "Paradoxical Preference" where you get to chime in on ways a man shows his care for you. It would help that he hears from a variety of women, not just his mom. I am only one person with one set of preferences; he needs a variety.

May I also say I do believe Stephen will never lack for young women standing in line to be his wife? I mean, come on! The guy made a Greek Christmas dinner for us, plays Sorry with his little brother, knows how to clean house, sponsors and writes to a Compassion child, and writes sweet things in cards for dear ole Mom. That's just skimming the proverbial surface. Stop me before I launch an all-out brag fest.

Please Pray for "Collegers"

Joel calls people in college "collegers." After all, people in teenage years are called "teenagers." Makes sense to me.

If you know anyone in college right now, please pray for them. If you don't, please pray for my own three children. They have three weeks left.

Ben is feeling sick and run-d0wn and has a 10-page paper due Thursday. Last night I told him I was praying for him and he said, "Thanks. I need all the prayer I can get." He works 25 hours a week. I'm happy to announce that he got elected Vice President of Beta Alpha Psi at his college.
(It's an honors society for accounting majors.) The downside to that is that it's not just a figurehead position; he is actually supposed to recruit special guest speakers. Not exactly a high priority for someone who can't see a straight path from here through finals.

Sarah is spending most of her waking hours absorbed in schoolwork, and has a 16 hour-a-week job. For her, the biggest chunk is over; she had to put in 30 hours of field placement at a local elementary school and 10 at a nursing home. She may be able to get out of finals because of her grades; please pray that's the case. It would be such a reward for her diligence. Her mind is racing ahead to June when she'll be leaving for summer camp.

Stephen is finding himself facing harder work at school and tonight mumbled something about wanting "out of this major" (computer science). He is on a full merit scholarship and wants to maintain his 4.0, but this programming class has him stressed. Not only is he a student, he works about 15 hours a week and is a drummer for two different worship bands at church. He never complains about any of it; he simply wants to do well at everything.

They are all three having to cast their burdens on the Lord. I ask for:
-grace to finish projects in less than expected time
-improved health for the boys
-that Sarah doesn't have to take some of her finals
-safety on the road when their minds are elsewhere
-good sleep, even when it's less than they want
-me to be understanding (I've been trying to do extra little things to lighten their loads)
-that they wouldn't neglect quiet times w/ the Lord for refreshing
-gratitude for their education
-moral purity and spiritual strength on godless campuses
-that they wouldn't find their identity in their GPA like I did at 19 and 20, but remember it's secure in Christ alone
-anything else you can think of

11:35 pm and the Sheriff's office calls

Saturday night I was waiting for Sarah and Stephen to get home from a local restaurant where they had gone with some friends after worship practice.

The phone rings. At 11:35 pm that terrifies me. I check the caller ID and hope it's not about my children or parents. I don't recognize the number, but I pick up.

"This is the +++County Sheriff's Department. " says a concerned woman on the line.
My heart races. My throat tightens.
"Is there a Zoanna at this number?"
"Speaking."
She asks if I own a certain vehicle and I say,
"Yes. Have my kids been in an accident?!!"
"No, ma'am, everything's fine. Were they just at {a local restaurant}?"
"Yes."
I think of the intersection there. Someone we know was in a serious accident at that same spot last month.
"Officers are there now. They didn't pay their tab."

I am trying to process. My mind is reeling. You're kidding. They're hyper-responsible. They wouldn't not pay. Cops are called when a 20-buck tab isn't paid? Really?!!

"Really?! That's hard to believe. Maybe they got confused as to which one of them was gonna pay, and neither one did. That's bizarre. Let me call my son, he's probably not the one driving right now."

The sheriff's dept asks if they can call him directly and have him call me after they've spoken. I agree.
Still confused and nervous, but relieved and sure everything's going to work out, I wake Paul up to tell him. He asks a few pertinent questions and waits for more info.

A conversation with Stephen assures me he paid and so did all his friends and Sarah. When I called, he and Sarah had just stopped at Walgreen's on the way home.

The cops call Stephen while Sarah is in the store. Stephen has a pseudo-panic attack, rushes into the store, grabs Sarah at the register and says, kinda loud and shaky-voiced, "Come on! We gotta go. The sheriff's office just called and they want to see us back there!"

(Can you just imagine what the cashier and general public in line are thinking? Their minds must read like headlines: Clean-Cut County Kids Busted for Shrifting Restaurant out of Half-Price Appetizers." )

They head back to the restaurant . The cop is "no-nonsense," according to Sarah. (That's good. I'm not fond of the nonsense type.) The manager is with him. Receipts prove it wasn't them. The tab in question was a bar tab, not a food tab anyway. The waitress apologizes. They can go.

They arrive home later and give play-by-play. Sarah says that while their group was leaving,
a guy had barged through him and left in a hurry. She thought he was rude, but that was it; she wasn't suspicious of him.

But someone who had walked out at approximately the same time as they had, left without paying. My kids' waitress had already gone home for the night before they left, so the waitress who cleaned up wasn't privy to the fact that they had squared up.

Tag numbers were collected. Our van's was among them. Car owners were questioned. I got dragged into the investigation via phone.

Older brother Ben is bothered that Sarah and Stephen would "put up with that stuff" (false accusation), drive "all the way back" (10 minutes) when the waitress could have figured out that they had been in the restaurant part, not the bar, yada yada, and that driving back there at midnight was actually dangerous. (Sarah says, "Ben, you have to cooperate. You don't tell a cop, 'Look.') I remind him that Jesus was falsely accused and didn't open his mouth but went all the way to his death for his accusers. Ben asks me if I live my whole life thinking that way and I say, "I should."

Paul agrees everyone did the right thing except the restaurant manager. He is upset that the manager didn't apologize . I remember my own dad getting upset when I was falsely accused and had to deal with a cop. It was one of the few times I saw my dad visibly angry. Paul reacts the same way when his kids are involved. He believes we should contact corporate headquarters and express our dismay over the lack of courtesy from management.

"We should at least get a gift card out of it," Paul says, and goes back to bed.

I agree.

While you're suggesting books...

Stephen wants some recommendations for his Winter Break. He has different genres he wants to read. Maybe you could suggest something in one or two categories?

Please drop over to his blog and put in your proverbial two cents.

Metaphorical Scissors

I love this post, which my son Stephen just wrote on his blog. Especially the phrase "metaphorical scissors."

Will my children ever stop bringing conviction--and pleasure--to their mom's heart?

My Son, the New Blogger

My third child, Stephen, has joined my daughter among the ranks of bloggers. I think you'll enjoy his praise-filled, Christocentric posts. Call me biased, but even if I weren't his mother, I'd take note that he is no average 17-year-old. His thoughts and writing style far exceed the twaddle from the keyboard of most young men.

Take a look, and drop a comment in his box. He has an introductory post and then one on the beauty of language. (And, no, he didn't approach me for the topic. He's a natural wordsmith.)

08.08.08 God Gave Us Gold and He's 17 Today

Dear Stephen,

While some young people are in Beijing this week striving for gold at the Olympics, I am at home thanking God for the gold He gave us they day you were born. I'm sad that you won't be here for your birthday (I really miss you), but I know your life is being greatly enriched at The Clash right now.

I'd love to list 17 ways your life blesses me, but your laptop battery might not hold up! So...here are just four things I want to say to you today.

1. You have a great sense of humor. I love it. I love your laugh, your quick wit, your ability to recite entire Brian Regan routines. Your practical joking showed up before you were even born: you toyed with your due date, sending us to the hospital on July 31st, August 2nd, and August 6th, and each time the doctors sent me home (mad!). When you finally came out, you were male, not female as I had unscientifically predicted. We didn't have a boy's name picked out and had to pray about one.

2. You live up to your name. Whenever I would pray for a name for you in those first 48 hours, I got the sense that its meaning would have something to do with your head. Every time I patted your soft little crown with the single blonde curl at the nape, I was getting images of kings, princes, and headship. Finally, our then-pastor Chuck Jennings suggested the name Stephen--"it means 'crown'," he said-- I knew instantly it was meant for you. We chose your middle name, Josiah, after the boy king in Israel. Little did I know that you'd grow up to be the head of your class, graduating summa cum laude at age 16. You have led well in so many areas--serving at home, becoming a prayer group leader at school in your junior year (a nomination typically reserved for seniors), being chosen to give the Senior Address, and in countless other ways. To quote Pappaw, you're a "prince of a fellow."

3. You are such a gentleman. I love the way you hold the car door for me, carry groceries in from the car without being asked, use good table manners, and make eye contact with people who are speaking to you. Those trademarks don't go unnoticed by parents, peers, and your pipsqueak brother. You have made Joel LOVE to hold heavy doors for total strangers in public.

4. Your passion for God is immeasurable. I haven't seen anything like it in any young man for as long as I can remember. You worship on your drums. You read the Bible early in the morning and late at night. You wrote your senior thesis on theologian John Owen. Son, do you realize how uncommon, how uncharacteristic, how unique that is? (Bet you read that as "un-neek," didn't you? Gotcha!) The very fact that you'd spend more than half your graduation money to attend a worldview conference in the summer tells your dad and me just how committed you are to growing in holiness.

I love you so much. You are a treasure, from the top of your golden head to the soles of your basketball-playing feet. It's an honor, privilege, and humongous joy to be your mother. Happy birthday, Stephen. We'll take you out for a nice dinner when you get home, and let you tell us all about your incredible experience this week.

Happy birthday again. You won't hear me say "I'm proud of you" because you know Joel will scold me, "Don't say that, Mom. Being proud's a sin." Rather, now that it's a family joke, I'll say, "I'm pleased with you." Very much pleased. And so is your dad.

Love,

Mom

P.S. When I see you in this picture with a little girl in Mexico, it makes me imagine how much joy you'll have when you're a father. You have admitted to looking forward to that; I pray that someday (not too too soon, of course!) that our God fulfills this desire. I'll gladly take a bunch of little Stephens and Stephanies someday.

Ten Graduation Memories

It's a beautiful thing when an event you've anticipated and planned for a long time actually turns out better than all your hopes. Such was Stephen's graduation.

My top 10 memories before, during, and after the Big Event.

1. Photographing Stephen on our deck. He's so patient and cooperative.

2. Decorating the auditorium for the grads: Isaiah, Jaimie, and Stephen. Jaimie's mother, Lisa was a wonderful helper who offered her service to me for seven hours! That was twice as long as I thought the whole thing would take. Lisa was the only one who didn't laugh when I fell off a chair while stretching to attach a sunflower at the nearly 9-foot peak. I was bruised and sore for three days after, which wasn't as long as my kids joked about it. Such a graceful moment.

3. Help from underclassmen, namely Shannan, Sherri, and Katie. They stuck with me through my indecisiveness. They fetched things for me when my achey feet were about to give out. They stayed lighthearted when I was feeling like wiggin' out over the enth detail. What I appreciated most was their candid feedback when I made various suggestions about decorating the podium. Everything we tried was looking frou-frou or partyish. In the end, we all agreed nothing looked as good as leaving it alone.

4. All of the planning that principal Jacob Wilson and director Chris Clancy put into the ceremony. Every word and action appeared to have been carefully selected.

5. Jacob's touching speech. As he took the stage, he was so overcome with emotion that he had to apologize. It was to be the last time he would address graduates at a CDS graduation because he and his family are moving to Ohio.

6. The photo shoot afterwards. The outtakes are far more memorable than the "good" ones by the pro named Tony R. Three people with cameras stood a few yards away taking our pictures. Like a ventriloquist not closing her lips for the performance, I'd tell our family, "Look at Tony and snile. Snile now at Hannah. Now at Eric. Ack to Tony again." My poor mom was so confused'; she didn't know where to look. She didn't know which one was Eric, which one was Tony! Ben scooted out as soon as the pro shoot was over. He was leaving for an Outer Banks vacation with friends., hence the lack of shots with all four of m'babies together.

7. My parents and sister Jill were there. We had perfect seats--second row center, behind short people.

8. Being a "Z" wasn't too bad at this ceremony. There were only three grads!

9. The Mexican food was a big hit, especially with my vegetarian folks. It was

a nod to the wonderful missions

trip the Jr-Sr class had just

taken. After the reception, many volunteers helped

clean up--far more than

I expected. We, the grads'

families, were supposed to have

recruited our own clean-up

crews; I didn't have the courage to \

anyone.I just want them to enjoy it

and not work. I was expecting
to be there till 10 pm. We were out

by 9! Plenty of food, but not too much left over to lug home, which was our collective goal.

10. Best of all? Stephen's valediction. I couldn't have been more pleased. The theme of his speech was "I am the most richly blessed guy I know." He cited the blessing of family, friends, school, and church. He included rich details. He made great eye contact and paused at just the right moments. I could envision him at a pulpit years from now. Just as the New Testament saint Stephen is described, "He, too, has the face of an angel," I said to myself. He was funny, poignant, sincere, poised, articulate. His love for God and His people oozed out of him. Truly my heart was full to overflowing with gratitude for this young man who happens to be our son. .

This is not his speech. It's just a little video Joel took of Stephen with his best friend Eric, who will be a junior next year. He is a godly young man, more mature than most sixteen year olds, whom I foresee leading the high school very well, the way Stephen has. You probably can't understand much of what's being said, but I like to hear their voices and remember them at this age. The six year old's high voice and the sixteen-year-olds' low ones.

For Chesapeake Gals

Graduation is this month, and there are only three grads. The ceremony is out of our hands, but
the logistics of room set-up and food fall on the grads' parents (or more precisely, their moms).

I signed up to handle decorations, which I shouldn't have done. I can do small rooms, but large?
I don't always see Big Pictures very well, but since one of the three moms piped up to handle food arrangements and the other mom stayed quiet, Big Mouth here said, "I can do decorations."

This means deciding:
how many and what size tables
where to place them
colors
what food goes on which tables
gift bag table with balloons
podium
reserved row bows
and probably a whole mess of other stuff I haven't thought of and might not think of till the day before unless I have help.

You know me, I hate cliches, and so I'd like to do something that hasn't been done before. A different arrangement of tables that still allows for easy flow. (I'm not a fan of having a long line of tables pusched together because ppl assume they need to stand in line for food. NOt so, we want to provide lots of the same type of foods at different tables. I liked when Peggy had several round tables in the back of the room and each had the same foods--some snacks, some desserts.
And we want to call attention to the cake table because it's usually neglected and so much is left over. There are only 3 sets of parents, mind you, so whatever we spend has to split just 3 ways, not 14 or 20 or something minor.)

Got any suggestions? We are doinga Mexican theme since the kids will have just gotten back from their missions trip from Rancho 3M.

Also looking for a way to provide a backdrop on stage. Pictures of people on our current stage come back looking like they're in a black hole. Besides, three graduates could look really lonely up there. I am feeling less than peaceful about what I've signed up for. Why can't I just be one of those people who can sit at a table and not volunteer for something that's out of my league?????Will I EVER learn? So I do what I do do well--delegate!

I babble. Please help!

Hallelujah! Big Week Just Got Bigger!

Drumroll for God, please....!


Today Stephen got a full scholarship to our community college! It's worth up to $5000 per year, depending on the size of his course load. It's also renewable each year, provided he maintains a certain GPA.

I was so happy I got teary-eyed. He was beaming, too! "Let me kiss you, Stephen!" (and he did).

Sarah received word that her essay ranked high enough to qualify her as an alternate in the event a scholarship winner declines it for one reason or another. She says she is relieved from the pressure of having to maintain the GPA, even though I am 99% sure she would anyway.

Thanking God for his blessing! All those years of combat training--I mean homeschooling--have literally paid off!