"Mama, th-th-this tree only has one leg. Looook, Mama, just th-th-this one leg here" says two year old Catherine pointing in concern to the skinny trunk of our dear little tree we cut up north in our woods this past Sunday.
Saturday, November 29
Tree
"Mama, th-th-this tree only has one leg. Looook, Mama, just th-th-this one leg here" says two year old Catherine pointing in concern to the skinny trunk of our dear little tree we cut up north in our woods this past Sunday.
Some Frost for the day
Friday, November 28
Wednesday, November 26
Thankful, thankful, thankful...
I am so thankful for
a husband who seeks to honor God in every area of his life,
for ten legs vying for space under the down comforter early in the morning,
for a big kitchen for friends to gather in,
God's provision for our family in spite of a faulty economy,
for healthy babies and healthy kidneys,
for my husband's affections,
for warm chocolate chip cookies and a glass of farm milk
for God's peace,
I am thankful for stories with the kiddos,
for their out of nowhere questions,
hearing the kids hoping for another sibling and loving their world view,
for a daughter who is silly, crafty, creative and beautiful
for a son who can fashion a sword or bow and arrow out of just about anything and his sweet squeaky voice,
for a son who is wild at heart, the hardest worker I know, who gives the best kisses
for a daughter who talks beyond her years and is hilarious nearly every moment of the day
for a son who pops his thumb in, cuddles up and says "Maaa!" when sleepy and hungry
for a full table at Thanksgiving
I am thankful for God's grace,
for my sisters,
for cornbread stuffing,
fresh chicken eggs,
a cup of Earl Grey and an open Bible by the woodstove early in the morning
for the honor of giving.
What are you thankful for? Leave your list or a link to your blog in the comments if you'd like to join in!
a husband who seeks to honor God in every area of his life,
for ten legs vying for space under the down comforter early in the morning,
for a big kitchen for friends to gather in,
God's provision for our family in spite of a faulty economy,
for healthy babies and healthy kidneys,
for my husband's affections,
for warm chocolate chip cookies and a glass of farm milk
for God's peace,
I am thankful for stories with the kiddos,
for their out of nowhere questions,
hearing the kids hoping for another sibling and loving their world view,
for a daughter who is silly, crafty, creative and beautiful
for a son who can fashion a sword or bow and arrow out of just about anything and his sweet squeaky voice,
for a son who is wild at heart, the hardest worker I know, who gives the best kisses
for a daughter who talks beyond her years and is hilarious nearly every moment of the day
for a son who pops his thumb in, cuddles up and says "Maaa!" when sleepy and hungry
for a full table at Thanksgiving
I am thankful for God's grace,
for my sisters,
for cornbread stuffing,
fresh chicken eggs,
a cup of Earl Grey and an open Bible by the woodstove early in the morning
for the honor of giving.
What are you thankful for? Leave your list or a link to your blog in the comments if you'd like to join in!
Friday, November 21
The Mother Letter Project
A thoughtful husband is creating Christmas for his wife. Here is my contribution:
Why has the tradition of passing wisdom from generation to generation, from grandmother to mother to granddaughter seem to simply have vanished? I've asked myself this question many times over my years as a Mama. During those nights when the first baby and I were struggling to breastfeed with sore nipples, when the siblings quarrel and I cannot convince them to stop, or that time when we were told our third child might only live a few months. My great grandmother buried a few of her children and resiliently carried on, birthing more, living fully, joyfully. Where was all that wisdom left, lost?
For years I wished and wanted and waited for the wisdom collected by the women who have done all this before. Surely, I thought, someone would see how alone I was in this title of mother and offer the strength of their wisdom. And as the years passed, little by little I found and collected nuggets, by God's grace, thankful in retrospect for the experiences that wrought each one.
I'm still young by most standards. Five children create the joyful mayhem of our home and I do hope for more voices to join the chorus. Folks often ask me if it is hard or difficult being a mother. "Just busy", I usually say. Endlessly, joyfully busy. Too quickly the time passes...
Young mothers, new mothers, mothers of many and mothers of one often find welcome in our home, amidst laundry to be folded, bread to be baked, school lessons to be taught, and a floor that is almost perpetually crunchy. And though I'm quiet by nature I talk. We talk. Telling the secrets of breastfeeding, the trust that comes in times of suffering, of hope (our third child is four and well!), of peace tactics and negotiations with toddlers, of recipes and husbands. "Ha! Ha!", I think, "the end to missing wisdom has come", as we discuss birth positions and politics and God and diaper rash in rapid sentences between baby burps and multiplication tables.
Mother, be encouraged. God equips all those He calls. Be the encouragement. Pass on to the next a hearty plateful of wisdom.
Blessings,
Hannah
Join in! Read about the Mother Letter project here!
Why has the tradition of passing wisdom from generation to generation, from grandmother to mother to granddaughter seem to simply have vanished? I've asked myself this question many times over my years as a Mama. During those nights when the first baby and I were struggling to breastfeed with sore nipples, when the siblings quarrel and I cannot convince them to stop, or that time when we were told our third child might only live a few months. My great grandmother buried a few of her children and resiliently carried on, birthing more, living fully, joyfully. Where was all that wisdom left, lost?
For years I wished and wanted and waited for the wisdom collected by the women who have done all this before. Surely, I thought, someone would see how alone I was in this title of mother and offer the strength of their wisdom. And as the years passed, little by little I found and collected nuggets, by God's grace, thankful in retrospect for the experiences that wrought each one.
I'm still young by most standards. Five children create the joyful mayhem of our home and I do hope for more voices to join the chorus. Folks often ask me if it is hard or difficult being a mother. "Just busy", I usually say. Endlessly, joyfully busy. Too quickly the time passes...
Young mothers, new mothers, mothers of many and mothers of one often find welcome in our home, amidst laundry to be folded, bread to be baked, school lessons to be taught, and a floor that is almost perpetually crunchy. And though I'm quiet by nature I talk. We talk. Telling the secrets of breastfeeding, the trust that comes in times of suffering, of hope (our third child is four and well!), of peace tactics and negotiations with toddlers, of recipes and husbands. "Ha! Ha!", I think, "the end to missing wisdom has come", as we discuss birth positions and politics and God and diaper rash in rapid sentences between baby burps and multiplication tables.
Mother, be encouraged. God equips all those He calls. Be the encouragement. Pass on to the next a hearty plateful of wisdom.
Blessings,
Hannah
Join in! Read about the Mother Letter project here!
Thursday, November 20
The snow began blowing yesterday, then resigned itself to falling in slow white clusters heavy upon the earth. This morning we all bundled up to take Papa in to work and then bring sweet wiggly Chaser to his six month appointment with our pediatrician.
A few errands while Papa worked included picking up a box of fabric from a new friend, stopping at a favorite discount grocery store where we loaded up on bags of organic veggies for less than a dollar each, and a quick run to a thrift store where I exercised self control and bought nothing.
Burritos, yogurt, and scalloped potatoes made up our curious but delicious leftover lunch before whisking the littlest ones off to a nap and settling two of the oldest down with lessons. Papa, Christopher and I bundled up and took the truck to move wood from the stacks at the back of our property to the porch. Christopher is such a hard worker. I absolutely love hearing his little man grunts as he tossed pieces of firewood up into the truck.
The cold sank into my barn boots by the end of the second load, hurrying me inside for the woodstove to thaw fingers and toes. I love New York state but I have a strong dislike for its politics and winters. But here God has us for now.
After lessons, Douglas and Christopher filled up the wood piles in the kitchen and living room. Tonight I am sitting by a very creatively stacked woodpile and am so thankful for my hardworking boys. The fingers flying away on a Christmas knitting project are warm.
Blessings,
Hannah
Wednesday, November 19
Something to meditate on...
"The need you see today is the call of God on your life for today."
Pastor Bill Wilson
Tuesday, November 18
Sewing lessons
Saturday mornings are a little bit happier around here, now that Grammie has been coming over to spend some time teaching Kaelin how to sew for 4H. It is one of Kaelin's favorite parts of the week, spending time learning to handstitch and learning the different parts of the sewing machine that my Mom has had since she was pregnant with my older sister.
Saturday, November 15
Thursday, November 13
Early storm and the life of a tree
A few weeks ago we had a heavy rain followed by a quick freeze and snowstorm (all in an eight hour period) resulting in a lot of broken branches and the halfway demolition of this sugar maple in our yard.
Sad, sad, sad. . .I am a softy. I love old farm trees lining the sides if country roads, sap for syrup, shade in the August heat. So, yes, the dying of our old maples hurts. This is the second falling of a major bough this year and I am already planning on a replanting in spring of trees along the road. It is my only consolation.
Sunday, also known as "the day before the boy swallowed the coin", was wet and chilly. We all bundled up after a big pancake breakfast and headed out of doors, Papa with his chain saws and wee ones with their mittens and hoods.
Most of the tree is stacked now and piled to dry for next years firewood. It seems the long day of dampness and work was a bit too much for our peanuts who were getting over colds. We are now hunkered down with quilts and tea and echinacea and good, long movies while the flu runs it's course. Hopefully that course bypasses me! I'm off to the library to restock the movie supply.
Have a peaceful night,
Hannah
Tuesday, November 11
Wow!
Yesterday afternoon I heard Christopher give a funny little "cough, cough" when he was "napping" and a few moments later he came running with tears streaming down. "Mama I swallowed my coin!" 
The pediatrician's office said not to worry, that it was no biggie since his breathing was fine. A little while later I saw more sweet and sad Christopher tears as he pointed to his chest and said, "Mama, I can feeeeeeel it. It is right here and it hurts."
Off to the pediatrician's. Then off to x-ray. Yup - there it was.
And two hours later another x-ray. And five hours later another chest x-ray, this time at the ER in a bigger city with a pediatric GI. It sure was stuck. No doubt about it, Christopher's coin was lodged right at the sphincter between his esophagus and stomach. So we hung out awhile in the overflowing ER while first year residents took photos of his x-ray with their cell phones and mentally unstable patients taught Christopher a few new words and doctors made casts in the hallway in a bucket because there was no room in the inn.
We got parked on a stretcher in the hall, the four of us, and I counted that as lucky. So much for HIPA. We all knew each other's woes and causes and names and ages.
Christopher looked at me calmly and said, "Mom, are they gonna cut me open?"
"Oh, no, honey!" I exclaimed, wrapping my arms around his cute little four year old self trying to be brave.
"Well, that's good," he said, " 'cause if they cut through me, then they have to cut through God too."
He looked up at me with a twinkle in his eye.
"Why's that?" I asked.
"Cause He's in me, Mom..." in that cute, frustrated, "duhhhhh" voice.
Me: "You asked Him to be in you?"
"Uh, yes...." with silly raised eyebrows and in that same "adorable, pinch my round cheeks because I am four" tone.
Love it.
We waited and waited, caught up with a high school classmate halfway through his pediatric residency, then waited some more before finding out Christopher would be admitted and surgery would be first thing in the morning.
"Because the coin was stuck so far down", one giddy first year resident told us, "they can't use the rigid pipe and ram it down his throat to get it". I kid not. Those were his words. They need to teach tact along with A&P, I recommend.
I bundled up Chase and kissed my two men staying behind. We prayed.
Yes, we look pretty scary at 1 am in the ER, but Sean looks scarier. I told him if I ran into him in the parking garage with his hunting scruff, I'd be scared. I love him and the hunting scruff has gotten two deer already so we're good.
I am sure that our red eyes, his scruff, the fact that we home school, have no insurance, and selectively vaccinate had nothing to do with the few raised eyebrows we got. "At least', I told Sean, "I'm devoid of the dreadful homeschooling denim jumper."
I sing when I'm nervous and hate dark parking garages so I sang my way to the van, mentally calculating how much everything would cost, glad we have savings, frustrated that the coin was stuck, frustrated that we'd have to cancel a long standing, difficult to reschedule appointment with Christopher's pediatric urologist in Albany the next day, trying to figure out childcare for kiddos during the upcoming surgery....
As I pulled out, I glanced at the vehicle next to me and screeched to a halt, grabbing my camera:
After three hours of sleep, my Mom came over to kid sit and my cell phone rang. "It's gone, mommy!!"
One last x-ray showed that finally the coin had gotten through!
We praise God because all through the whole ordeal Christopher was a gem. Normally terrified of blood and pain and anything outside his normal, he sat still and watched as the nurse gave him an IV, laid still for all the x-rays, kept his hospital bracelet on, and let me leave without panicking. This morning as the IV was taken out, he sat calmly, telling the nurse how to do it right.
I picked up my men at the hospital and we headed to Albany for Christopher's ultrasound and urology appointment.
Christopher's last ultrasound in April wasn't so good. My stomach started fluttering again during the long drive, wondering what more the day's ultrasound would show of his kidney damage and what his urologist would recommend and all these hopes for no more painful procedures that we have for Christopher. Seriously, there isn't too much worse than a scared child in pain, especially when the child is yours and there is nothing you can do about it.
I brought my camera, thinking I would ask to take a photo of Christopher and his urologist for the scrapbook, seeing as how we've known him and he's been steadily involved and such a blessing to Christopher's care for the last four years.
But that photo will have to wait until Christopher is six or seven years old! I forgot the camera in the van and Christopher doesn't have to go back for two or three years!!!!
His urologist said, "I don't know what you have been doing, but keep it up! His kidneys actually look better this time around!"
He kept commenting on how our son has been such a rough case and worrisome and how amazed he is at the look of things. Christopher still has one cruddy right kidney and one fairly good left one but they are chugging along doing their stuff. I love it when doctors are happy/amazed.
Absolutely exhausted physically and mentally and blissfully happy, we drove to buy Christopher his promised playmobil and head home.
I thought about the last two days and my lack of faith and how so many times we let our peace be conditional on the circumstances around us instead of the faithfulness of the One in us. This is a subject God has been working me through these last six months, remembering that my peace comes from the within and not from the out.
Sometimes in life we also just need the faith and support of others to help get us through a rough patch. Friends and family all over were praying and we love your prayers. Love em, love em... We love all the calls for support and help that we got. You all are really too nice. I even came home to clean laundry.
Sorry this is rambly and long, I'm still working on those meager three hours of sleep. Off to bed now and the happy spot for my head on my pillow.
Blessings,
Hannah
The pediatrician's office said not to worry, that it was no biggie since his breathing was fine. A little while later I saw more sweet and sad Christopher tears as he pointed to his chest and said, "Mama, I can feeeeeeel it. It is right here and it hurts."
Off to the pediatrician's. Then off to x-ray. Yup - there it was.
And two hours later another x-ray. And five hours later another chest x-ray, this time at the ER in a bigger city with a pediatric GI. It sure was stuck. No doubt about it, Christopher's coin was lodged right at the sphincter between his esophagus and stomach. So we hung out awhile in the overflowing ER while first year residents took photos of his x-ray with their cell phones and mentally unstable patients taught Christopher a few new words and doctors made casts in the hallway in a bucket because there was no room in the inn.
We got parked on a stretcher in the hall, the four of us, and I counted that as lucky. So much for HIPA. We all knew each other's woes and causes and names and ages.Christopher looked at me calmly and said, "Mom, are they gonna cut me open?"
"Oh, no, honey!" I exclaimed, wrapping my arms around his cute little four year old self trying to be brave.
"Well, that's good," he said, " 'cause if they cut through me, then they have to cut through God too."
He looked up at me with a twinkle in his eye.
"Why's that?" I asked.
"Cause He's in me, Mom..." in that cute, frustrated, "duhhhhh" voice.
Me: "You asked Him to be in you?"
"Uh, yes...." with silly raised eyebrows and in that same "adorable, pinch my round cheeks because I am four" tone.
Love it.
We waited and waited, caught up with a high school classmate halfway through his pediatric residency, then waited some more before finding out Christopher would be admitted and surgery would be first thing in the morning.
"Because the coin was stuck so far down", one giddy first year resident told us, "they can't use the rigid pipe and ram it down his throat to get it". I kid not. Those were his words. They need to teach tact along with A&P, I recommend. 
I bundled up Chase and kissed my two men staying behind. We prayed.
Yes, we look pretty scary at 1 am in the ER, but Sean looks scarier. I told him if I ran into him in the parking garage with his hunting scruff, I'd be scared. I love him and the hunting scruff has gotten two deer already so we're good.
I am sure that our red eyes, his scruff, the fact that we home school, have no insurance, and selectively vaccinate had nothing to do with the few raised eyebrows we got. "At least', I told Sean, "I'm devoid of the dreadful homeschooling denim jumper."
I sing when I'm nervous and hate dark parking garages so I sang my way to the van, mentally calculating how much everything would cost, glad we have savings, frustrated that the coin was stuck, frustrated that we'd have to cancel a long standing, difficult to reschedule appointment with Christopher's pediatric urologist in Albany the next day, trying to figure out childcare for kiddos during the upcoming surgery....
As I pulled out, I glanced at the vehicle next to me and screeched to a halt, grabbing my camera:
I'll take a sign however God sends it.
After three hours of sleep, my Mom came over to kid sit and my cell phone rang. "It's gone, mommy!!"
One last x-ray showed that finally the coin had gotten through!
We praise God because all through the whole ordeal Christopher was a gem. Normally terrified of blood and pain and anything outside his normal, he sat still and watched as the nurse gave him an IV, laid still for all the x-rays, kept his hospital bracelet on, and let me leave without panicking. This morning as the IV was taken out, he sat calmly, telling the nurse how to do it right.
I picked up my men at the hospital and we headed to Albany for Christopher's ultrasound and urology appointment.
Christopher's last ultrasound in April wasn't so good. My stomach started fluttering again during the long drive, wondering what more the day's ultrasound would show of his kidney damage and what his urologist would recommend and all these hopes for no more painful procedures that we have for Christopher. Seriously, there isn't too much worse than a scared child in pain, especially when the child is yours and there is nothing you can do about it.
I brought my camera, thinking I would ask to take a photo of Christopher and his urologist for the scrapbook, seeing as how we've known him and he's been steadily involved and such a blessing to Christopher's care for the last four years.
But that photo will have to wait until Christopher is six or seven years old! I forgot the camera in the van and Christopher doesn't have to go back for two or three years!!!!
His urologist said, "I don't know what you have been doing, but keep it up! His kidneys actually look better this time around!"
He kept commenting on how our son has been such a rough case and worrisome and how amazed he is at the look of things. Christopher still has one cruddy right kidney and one fairly good left one but they are chugging along doing their stuff. I love it when doctors are happy/amazed.
Absolutely exhausted physically and mentally and blissfully happy, we drove to buy Christopher his promised playmobil and head home.
I thought about the last two days and my lack of faith and how so many times we let our peace be conditional on the circumstances around us instead of the faithfulness of the One in us. This is a subject God has been working me through these last six months, remembering that my peace comes from the within and not from the out.
Sometimes in life we also just need the faith and support of others to help get us through a rough patch. Friends and family all over were praying and we love your prayers. Love em, love em... We love all the calls for support and help that we got. You all are really too nice. I even came home to clean laundry.
Sorry this is rambly and long, I'm still working on those meager three hours of sleep. Off to bed now and the happy spot for my head on my pillow.
Blessings,
Hannah
Thursday, November 6
Apple Party Day!
For two mornings the children have tagged along behind me as we lugged buckets and wagon and bins and ladder to pick the remainder of fruit from a few of our apple trees, not wanting any to be wasted. This morning the driveway filled with cars and vans, mothers unloading their kiddos and empty baking dishes and containers. Friends!
(rustic apple pie)
Four hours.
Endless (seemingly) bushels of three varieties of country apples.
Eighteen kiddos.
Adoption talk.
Duck and chicken chasing by the small ones.
Container upon container upon container of applesauce.
Seven Rustic Apple Pies.
Birth stories and "top that!" birth weights (10lbs 1 ounce, I believe).
Eight pans of apple crisp.
Shared parenting wisdom.
A very successful first Apple Party Day!
Rustic Apple Pie
mix together 1 cup flour, 1/2 tsp salt, 1/3 cup shortening/butter/lard, and three tbsp of cold water. Roll into a large circle on wax paper.
Peel, core and slice 4-6 large apples and mix with 1/3 cup brown sugar and 1/3 cup flour.
Flip dough onto cookie sheet and place apple mixture in the center. Fold sides of dough up over the apples.
Bake at 425 for 30 minutes.
Yum.
(rustic apple pie)
Four hours.Endless (seemingly) bushels of three varieties of country apples.
Eighteen kiddos.
Adoption talk.
Duck and chicken chasing by the small ones.
Container upon container upon container of applesauce.
Seven Rustic Apple Pies.
Birth stories and "top that!" birth weights (10lbs 1 ounce, I believe).
Eight pans of apple crisp.
Shared parenting wisdom.
A very successful first Apple Party Day!
Rustic Apple Pie
mix together 1 cup flour, 1/2 tsp salt, 1/3 cup shortening/butter/lard, and three tbsp of cold water. Roll into a large circle on wax paper.
Peel, core and slice 4-6 large apples and mix with 1/3 cup brown sugar and 1/3 cup flour.
Flip dough onto cookie sheet and place apple mixture in the center. Fold sides of dough up over the apples.
Bake at 425 for 30 minutes.
Yum.
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