He swims

My dad earned one of his Boy Scout merit badges in swimming and life guarding and life guarded for Scout activities. My mom is a swimmer, Seth learned to swim at an early age and became a certified SCUBA diver during his time in the Navy, and I also took swim lessons. We all wanted the boys to learn to swim but in our area we don't have much access to lessons. So this past summer, the boys and I traveled to my parents' place so that they could take swim lessons at a local Y. They each had 6 lessons but because of the schedule and the thunderstorms that roll through Florida most summer days (the pool closed when lightning was in the area), we weren't able to fit them all in. So we finished them when we returned to Florida for our Christmas visit. 

Kieran really enjoyed the lessons. He quickly learned to float on his back and was eager to learn to go underwater when we picked up the lessons again. He had been practicing putting his face in the water during bath time. Seth has worked a lot with him on getting him comfortable in the water during his baths over the past seven years (from overcoming his fear of being in the water to getting used to having water on his face to getting him to put his head back and lay down in the tub), and it's really paid off. He loves being in the pool now. And we're so proud of how much he picked up at the lessons. I only wish we had easy access to a pool so we could continue his progress. 

One of the interesting things his instructor mentioned was that she had never had a student who could hear underwater as well as he could. She could be a few feet away talking in her normal voice and he could clearly hear her when he was backfloating with his ears in the water. She mentioned that he had told her, "You don't have to shout, I can hear you." I tend to think of the hyperacusis that accompanies Williams syndrome when he has trouble with the sound of, say, weed wackers and needs to put his ear protection on or when he can hear a lawn mower being used several streets over or comments on the hum a computer is making in the background. I hadn't thought of it in relation to hearing well while under water. Or in relation to hearing overly well in general (there are often times I need to tell him something several times before he responds -- selective hearing, perhaps?).

His hyper-sensitivity to sound came up today, as well, when we went to the beach. We had been a few times the past few days and he hadn't wanted to be near the water. I didn't know why until today when, on the way to the beach, he put on the ear protectors he had brought. I asked him why and he said he wanted to wear them because the sound of the waves was too loud.

Cael, on the other hand, loved jumping in the waves.

And they both had fun working on a sand castle with Seth.

Heartbreak in the classroom

A guest post from mom, who is currently teaching fourth grade in a public school (she's retiring in a few months!) . . . .

As a reflection of a microcosm of our culture, I thought I’d share a little of what I see in my students this year.

One student cries when she has to go home and makes sure she gives me at least 7 hugs before she leaves me each day. She’s been diagnosed with PSTD resulting from domestic violence and now lives with her grandmother.

Today, while waiting in line, one student told me that his head felt heavy. When I asked him why, he matter-of-factly told me that the cops took his father away last night. He was waiting for the cops to come to school to talk to him. He had been taking a reading test and was having trouble concentrating. When we returned to the classroom, a call came from the office asking me to send that student to the office.

One student regularly acts up in an underhanded, passive-aggressive manner. It escalated a couple of weeks back. I found out that he had been planning on seeing his parents. He’s living with his grandparents. But the mother did something she shouldn’t have, so the visit fell through.

One student, for two weeks straight, cried at everything she couldn’t do or at every little change. Her mother was moving with her and the two siblings to a school just over the bay. The girl knew she’d be leaving her friends and comfort zone and couldn’t handle it.

On the playground today, one girl told me she didn’t know why her stepmother was staying at her house. When I asked why, she said that the stepmother said she didn’t really like the girl’s father. But she needed papers to be able to stay in the U.S. and had to marry someone to get them.

In the same time frame, another girl told me she was going to visit her mother up north over the Thanksgiving break. She lives with her brother and father here. The mother is dying of cancer. There is no room in Indiana for them to stay because in the same house are the mother, her boyfriend, another daughter and her boyfriend, the daughter’s two children, and the grandparents.

I could go on, but it breaks my heart. Christ’s way of building functional relationships and functional families is the best way to live. What I see daily is the result of those who have chosen to live their own lives apart from Him.

My intern is getting married. She wants to stay married and has thanked me for offering a model of what marriage can be like. Her father wants nothing to do with her. Her mother and grandmother have raised her. The hurt of not having two parents in a loving relationship has made her want to succeed in her own relationship. I have given her hope that this can happen.

            

"If anyone causes one of these little ones--those who believe in me--to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea.” Matthew 18:6 

About That Fair Trade Sale . . .

Several years ago, we began attending a new church. And, of course, with that comes new friends . . . on Facebook. Shortly after we started attending, one of my new church friends started posting something called (at that time) the “International Fair Trade Expo.” I really had no idea what it was about and ignored the first few posts about it. It seemed like another craft-type fair, and if you know me well, you know that I’m not really a craft-type person. After awhile, and I don’t remember exactly how (either through talking to my friend or from an announcement at church and subsequent personal research), I found out what the (now-called) International Fair Trade Sale is all about. And this is what I learned.

Call me naive, but I had no idea that 30 million people live in slavery today. They are slaves to property owners, to mine owners, to traffickers. They live in poverty so deep that they (the whole family--from children the ages of my boys to parents) jump at the chance to make $1.00 a day, risking their lives by crushing rocks in a quarry or mining for gold in South America. Instead of attending school because they have no money to pay for books or uniforms, children work alongside their parents in dangerous and toxic environments. They are at the mercy (or lack thereof) of the owners of these places, who pay wages on a whim and withhold them at their pleasure, using threats (and acts) of violence to keep their workers in line. 

Call me sheltered, but it never even crossed my mind that young girls, 9 and 10 years old, are sold today by their parents who can't afford to feed them and are offered the promise of a better life by traffickers. Instead of the promised better life, these girls (and boys) are taken far from their homes in Nepal and made to work in brothels in cities in India, selling their little bodies for someone else's pleasure. They receive little pay but constant oppression and degradation. 

Call me a typical American focused on my own problems, but I never thought about what the wars in the various African countries did to those who are trying to escape them. The refugee camps that hold them are cesspools of despair where unimaginable (for you and me) things happen and those in them are forced to beg for what they needed . . . or to sell themselves to feed their families. 

Call me blind, but before Kieran came along, I didn't give much thought to how people with disabilities were treated around the world. We have been thankful for a supportive family and access to some of the best doctors in the country. Elsewhere, people with disabilities are often marginalized and lack access to good care. In Kenya, an estimated 85% of deaf people are unemployed because employers are unwilling to learn how to communicate with those who can’t hear. Throughout Africa (and the rest of the world), children with special needs are hidden away because of the shame and stigma that accompanies disability. Often, the father will leave the mother of a disabled child, unwilling to live with a societal “outcast” or unable to provide the necessary care. When that happens, the mother is left without a way to support herself and her child because her care for her child is so constant she can’t leave to find work. She has no way to provide food for her family, let alone the necessary therapies and doctor visits that would improve their quality of life. Individuals with disabilities are often considered outcasts, subject to abuse, ostracized from their community, and unable to find meaningful work.

I feel so much despair when I hear these stories. And so overwhelmed with the numbers of people who need help and hope. And, yet, I'm motivated to do something by passages from the Bible such as these: 

But if anyone has the world's goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God's love abide in him? Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth. (1 John 3:17-18)

Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world. (James 1: 27)

Whoever oppresses a poor man insults his Maker, but he who is generous to the needy honors him. (Proverbs 14:31)

In all things I have shown you that by working hard in this way we must help the weak and remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he himself said, ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.’” (Acts 20:35)

Only, they asked us to remember the poor, the very thing I was eager to do. (Galatians 2:10)

Blessed is the one who considers the poor! (Psalm 41:1)

Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. (Proverbs 31:8)

“Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’ “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’ “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’" (Matthew 25:34-40)

Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow. (Isaiah 1:17)

Jewelry made by a mother of
a child with disabilities. While
the mother works, the child
receives therapy and education
at an adjacent school. 

And I remind myself that each one of these people -- each one of the numbers and statistics -- is an image-bearer of the Creator. Each child in the mines, each girl trapped in the sex trade, each boy with a disability bears the image of the God of the universe and is precious and in need of a restored relationship with their Creator. And, in some cases, those who have received the gift of eternal life by repenting of their sin and believing that Jesus died and rose from the dead to take the punishment for their sin are brothers and sisters in Christ.

And that's where the International Fair Trade Sale comes in (see the Mission Statement).

The IFTS gathers items from individuals all over the world -- those who have escaped the sex trade, those with special needs, those who are struggling to break the cycle of deep poverty, those desperate to keep the traffickers at bay -- who have been offered meaningful work and, in exchange for their handicrafts, are paid a fair and living wage. A wage that helps them send their children to school, that keeps them from begging in the streets, that makes the marginalized feel useful, that lets them fulfill their God-given desire to work in a healthy environment to support their families.

A foldable trivet made by a man
from a marginalized tribe
deep in the Nicaraguan
countryside.

So there are recycled saris sewn into quilts and scarves by women in India, jewelry made by rescued girls and boys in Thailand, bags and purses handwoven by women in Guatemala, trivets hand carved by men in Nicaragua, kitchen items from sustainable materials created by individuals in Cameroon, textile products stitched by mothers in Kenya, baskets, pottery, food items . . . and more at the IFTS. And most of the vendors represented at the IFTS are gospel-based mercy missions, which means that they're bringing the hope of the gospel of Jesus Christ to these sweet image-bearers in word and in deed.

A beach tote crocheted from
recycled plastic bags
by a woman in Zambia. 

When I discovered that about the IFTS, I jumped right in. Purchasing items for myself and gifts my family (I do our Christmas (and beyond!) shopping at the sale) is something tangible that I can do right now to fight the hopelessness. I consider it akin to giving a cup of cold water in the name of Jesus to the "least of these."

And encouraging others to come to the sale is something else I can do. I wrote these articles for our local newspaper to help advertise the sale.

Making a Living with Plastic Bags

Local Fair Trade Sale Can Make a Global Difference

What the IFTE is all About

If I can do something to fight trafficking and slavery by purchasing a gift I was going to purchase from somewhere anyway, why wouldn't I?

Photo courtesy of Destiny Rescue 

And now my question to you: did you know this was happening today? And, more importantly, now that you do know, what will you do with that knowledge?

Kieran is seven!

Somehow "seven" feels so much older than "six" (or five or four or three or two or one). In fact, when Cael woke up on Kieran's birthday, he looked at Kieran and said, "But, you don't look any bigger. I thought you turned 7 today."

He did, indeed, turn 7. And that seems so much more young boyish -- rather than childish -- to me.

He had his traditional peanut butter pie as his "cake" (he doesn't like cake).

We had a tractor-themed party for him with a few friends and family to help us celebrate.

And, believe or not, we got him a drone for his present. A friend had come over a few months ago for a visit and brought his. Drones are one of those love-hate things for him. The noise bothers his ears, but he's fixated on it. And so, for the past few months, all we've heard about it his steadfast belief that he wanted a drone for his birthday -- and that he would get one. I guess you could say he wore us down. We bought a somewhat-inexpensive one that was supposed to be kid-friendly and he was thrilled when he opened it. "I can't believe I got a drone!" he said. (Any one who has been around him in recent times probably could, in fact, believe he got a drone since that's been his primary topic of conversation lately.) And tonight, Seth helped him learn to fly it (after he got over his initial fright of the noise.)

I love his smile. I love the way he tells me he loves Jesus. I love it when he talks about going to heaven (but, necessarily, when he talks about going there "next week"). I love it when he tries something new and then congratulates himself, "I did it! I survived!" I love it when we're working on school things and I can see his brain chugging and learning and working things out. I love it when he encourages other people with a "Hi!" or a hug. I love it when he talks to the chickens. And I secretly love it when he freaks out when he sees a spider. I love his sense of humor and the way he laughs from deep in his belly without any reservations. I love it when he says, "Game on!" to Seth before a "wrestling" match (which inevitably turns into a tickle-fest). I love it when he throws in a Spanish or German word while he's talking and when he asks about other languages (he's recently started listening to a Hawaiian music CD and asking about Hawaiian words -- but that's a language that's completely out of my league).

In short, we love him. And, in the day-to-day sameness of raising children (one of whom is now SEVEN!), I want to remember that love more and more. Happy 7th birthday, buddy!

You know you live in a Holler when . . .

. . . it's been raining all day and your son says, "Hey, that means we can take a bath in the BIG bathtub!"

We have a garden tub with jets in our bathroom that the boys like to get in. But it takes so much water to fill it that we only let them in it when the cistern is full and overflowing from a lot of rain and we have water to spare. With over an inch of rain (and therefore over 500 gallons of water), today was such a day. Except that bedtime came before they could take their bath. Maybe tomorrow . . . if it's still raining . . . .

The Piano Player

If you've been around here for awhile, you may remember that many years ago, shortly after receiving Kieran's diagnosis, we bought a piano with the thought that it would be a good instrument for Kieran to play. (Here's the original post.)

He's been tooling around on it over the years, and I occasionally sit down with him and play it. He eventually started finding octaves and then chords. And just recently has started putting notes together in his own little song, which today he told me was called, "The United States of America."

I don't want to turn into one of those homeschool moms who thinks that everything their child does is just the best because they have no one else to compare their kid to and don't realize that, in fact, other children are doing the same exact thing because it's what children do without being called The Next Child Prodigy, but I am encouraged that he's doing more than just pound on the keys and is developing somewhat of a feel for rhythm.

 

Maybe it's time to start actual lessons with him. Who knows . . . maybe he will turn into the next great Disney piano player . . . .

  

A Joyful Follower

A guest post by my mom . . . .

Very often as your dad and I pray together, we are reminded of all of the hidden blessings – ways that God pours out His gifts and grace on us – about which we don’t even know. We have known God through Christ nearly all of our lives. We have been blessed to follow His commands, adopt His value system, and be placed under the shadow of His wings.

But today, as I sat and listened to a coworker pour out her heart to me, I realized once again how blessed I really am. This young girl is carrying some heavy burdens and has had a much rockier start in life than I could ever imagine. As a result, there are many tears and almost unanswerable problems with which she deals on a daily basis at home. My heart aches for her, and while I know Christ offers a better way of life (spoken of in Hebrews over and over), I also know that living contrary to God’s way of life brings some pretty heavy-duty baggage.

In today’s society, so many have chosen to redefine marriage as living together, have chosen to use drugs or alcohol for pain relievers, have chosen to chase after happiness by living for the moment. And as a result, when life comes crashing down, there is no safety net, no sure foundation.

How am I blessed? We were graced with a strong biblical view of the world. We go home from work to peace. We were gifted with two beautiful daughters who chose to follow Christ. We were given two strong sons-in-law and four precious grandsons who will be raised to emulate Christ. We’ve been protected in so many ways from terrible consequences which would have come from making unwise choices. How we thank and praise God for giving us forgiveness of sins, a loving relationship with Him, and a promise of an even better future when we meet Him face-to-face.

In our home, we have a plaque which reads: “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.” Joshua 24:13. This is not a burdensome task. It is truly a joy to follow Him. We love Him because He first loved us!

The Honeymoon

Part 1 -- The Hayride

Part 2 -- The Interview with Seth
Part 3 -- The Interim
Part 4 -- The Rook Party
Part 5 -- The Meeting
Part 6 -- The Sign
Part 7 -- The Phone Call
Part 8 -- The Dinner Party
Part 9 -- The History Channel
Part 10 -- The Trip to England
Part 11 -- The Homecoming
Part 12 -- The Interview with Seth (part 2)
Part 13 -- The EE Questions
Part 14 -- The April Phase
Part 15 -- The Birthday
Part 16 -- The Engagement
Part 17 -- The Memorial Day Picnic
Part 18 -- The Official Engagement
Part 19 -- The Date
Part 20 -- The Family Participation
Part 21 -- The Wedding Dress
Part 22 -- The Bridesmaid Dresses

Part 23 -- The Wedding Ring
Part 24 -- The Bridal Showers
Part 25 -- The Week Before
Part 26 -- The Rehearsal
Part 27 -- The Wedding Photos

Part 28 -- The Wedding

Part 29 -- The Reception

Appendix -- The Marriage Advice

Since we celebrated our 13th anniversary the other day, I thought I'd drag out our honeymoon photo album and post a few pictures from that era of history. 

Since I did most of the wedding planning, Seth took on the responsibility of planning the honeymoon (with my help, since he's a "fly by the seat of my pants" kind of guy and I didn't think that would work out well on a honeymoon). We've both traveled quite a bit so we wanted to visit a place that neither of us had been before. Seth decided that it would be fun to go out West (or at least west of where we were currently living). We settled on a week in Lava Hot Springs, Grand Tetons, and Yellowstone.

The day after we were married, we took a flight into Bozeman, MT, rented a car, and drove down to Lava Hot Springs, Idaho. We had heard that the hot springs there were world famous, and we wanted to see them. We stayed in Greystone Manor, a B&B that had been converted from an old church. 

Note that this was in the era before selfies and selfie sticks.
We had a real live person take this picture of us.
AND it was also in the era of 35mm cameras,
where we couldn't immediately see how it turned out and try for another if it didn't.
Thankfully, the person taking this was OK with the camera. 

After we settled into the room, we drove down the street to find the world-famous hot springs. And the only thing we found was this sign and, through some gates, what looked like a small area surrounded by concrete.

It wasn't what either of us had envisioned (I'm not sure what we had envisioned since neither of us had been to hot springs before), so we decided it wasn't worth our time to visit.

Instead, we finished out our time at Greystone Manor by enjoying the heart-shaped pancakes with coconut syrup the lady of the manor made for our breakfast.
Then we moved on to Jackson Hole, WY.

We hiked up a little trail to the top of the mountain to get a good look down into the valley where Jackson Hole is located. 

We arranged to stay at a guest house of a friend of a friend. And when we arrived, we found the place was infested with earwigs. Seriously. They were everywhere. But, there were no other available places to stay, so we moved into Earwig Palace, nestled in the valley of the Grand Tetons. And worked hard not to think about them crawling in our cooler of food and around the bed and over the floor.

Our favorite memory, besides hiking through the Grand Tetons, was eating at the Gun Barrel Steak and Game House. We loved the buffalo and vowed to find a place that served buffalo for every anniversary thereafter. (We kept that up for the next year. This year, we had steak on a dinner cruise, which was also very nice, but not nearly as tasty as the buffalo.)

We were proud that we got to check off three states from the list in one trip -- Idaho, Wyoming, and Montana.

Then we started out on our way to Yellowstone, driving along the mountain chain. 

In front of the Grand Tetons

On a hike in the Tetons, courtesy of a timer on the camera

Sampling some of the fresh, mountain water.
(He didn't die or get dysentery.)

Having fun with the food storage bins that kept the bears away from the food.

After driving through the Tetons, we headed into Yellowstone and toured the park from there.

Of course, we stopped by Old Faithful and waited for it to erupt,
which it did, right on schedule!

We really enjoyed seeing all the hot springs. 

The Upper Falls

Somehow, we got the brilliant idea
that we would hike down to see the Lower Falls.
We didn't realize there were 350 steps involved.

After taking in the view from the bottom of the trail,
we realized we would need to hike back up all 383 steps.
There were a lot of steps.
A lot.
A. lot.

We tried to do what all the brochures say to do: stay out of their way.

A wildfire had gone through at some point previously. 

Our last stop was Mammoth Hot Springs. 

We had a great time traveling around together and a very difficult time coming back home and adjusting to real life (i.e., leaving each other to go our separate ways to work). I'm all for the ancient Israelite custom of the newly married man staying with his wife for a year before going off to war (or work, as the case may be). If a presidential candidate had that as a platform, I would totally vote for them. Totally.

School is in session

We did a lot this summer. I should probably blog it. But the time has come for school to begin again. Cael started last Monday in a kindergarten-readiness program at the school he attended last year. Although he's just four, his teacher asked at the end of last year if he would want to move up to the K class. He was thrilled to have that privilege and has been talking all summer about "when I start Kindergarten." 

He was concerned his first day because his teacher, unbeknownst to him, had switched the tables around, and he thought his assigned chair was still at the preschool table. He perked up when he learned that he and his two friends, Logan and Coleman, were all big kindergartners. He likes his class and his teachers and learning. 

We ended school with Kieran sometime in May. But, I figured it would be better for him if we kept reviewing what he'd learned over the summer, so he continued with reading and math off and on. My parents spent several weeks with us this summer, and my mom, a teacher by profession, enjoyed working with him on his reading and word families. 

I decided that since we were schooling anyway, I'd go ahead and "officially" start his next school year at the end of July. Our state has some of the best homeschooling laws in the nation and the main requirement is that you get in an equivalent number of days as the public schools, or about 180 days between a calendar year (which, I think, goes from July 1 to June 30). I'm not really tied to the 180 days idea because I think he needs to keep going year-round in order to retain what he's learned, but for record-keeping purposes, we "started" at the end of July. 

I work better when I have a framework ("guidelines," really) to think through and organize my day around, so this is my current schedule on school days. Cael is in preschool on M, W, F mornings, so I use that time with just Kieran to go over reading and math. 

A few weekends ago, since my parents were visiting and could watch the boys, Seth and I went to an all-day homeschool conference for "struggling learners" (I think that's the homeschool equivalent of "special needs"). I mainly attended sessions by Carol Brown (equippingminds.com), whose focus is on helping to improve brain function overall in non-academic ways (working memory, processing, visual memory). She went through several "games" that she plays with the kids she works with to help in those areas. I bought her curriculum and have been using several of the ideas with Kieran. 

For the rest of the academic side, I'm using Five in a Row (suggested by my friend Tina). The idea is that you read one children's book five days in a row and pull out different aspects to talk about each day--a simple unit study of sorts. I'm also using an Ask Me book about plants to cover our "science" base. 

And in a few weeks, we're starting a Spanish class at a co-op. Kieran loves learning different languages, so I thought he might enjoy that class. 

He still receives occupational therapy (45 minutes/week) and speech therapy (2 20-minute sessions per week) through our local elementary school. His OT gave us this set of cards sometime ago. I pulled them out the other day, and we've enjoyed going through them a few at a time. 

I've been reviewing the +1 addition facts for quite awhile before we move on to the next concept in the Math-U-See book. Sometimes, to add a bit of variety, we use Seth's tool catalogs to review number recognition using the prices of the tools. 

Here's to another year of school, by God's grace!

A new layer

Gathering the eggs from the chickens at the end of the day is one of those things that we all find enjoyable, including Seth. The other day, he brought them in and let me know he'd gathered 7. We have 6 currently laying chickens and four that we've been waiting on to reach the point of lay. So having 7 eggs meant that I had missed an egg the night before. Or so I thought. 

Until I looked at the eggs he'd brought in and realized that we did, indeed, have a new layer. When a hen first starts laying, the eggs are smaller. They gradually increase in size until they reach their max size after a few months. 

And one of the eggs was definitely smaller than the others. 

It was even more clear when I cracked them for my morning omelette. 

I'm not quite sure which of the new chicks to congratulate and welcome to hen-hood, however. The barred rock (black and white) and Rhode Island Red (dark red) chickens in this picture are the newer ones. We had given them the leftovers of a pumpkin pie that had accidentally been made without sugar. And Kieran, who LOVES all things pumpkin, refused to eat it, so out it went to the chickens who LOVED it. 

In the past, I've seen a change in the color of their legs when they begin laying -- they tend to go from a brighter yellow to a softer yellow. I haven't seen any major change yet, although I have seen a black and white feather in the nesting boxes, so I'm thinking one of barred rocks may our new contributor. 

(Kieran went out the other day to check on them and decided to play tag with them. "Tag, you're it!" he said to one of them before running the other way. I don't think the chicken quite knew what to do . . . . .)

I had some older cartons of yogurt in the fridge that were still good but that no one was eating, so we shared them with the chickens. They enjoyed them. 

What are we doing with 7 eggs a day? Great question. We don't always get 7 eggs every day -- it varies from 2-7 (not all the chickens lay every day). And everyone in our family likes eggs in some form, so we end up eating our share of them. But when we do have an overabundance, we sell them to colleagues. Seth sells his dozen for $3 to a bodybuilder who offered that price (and said if we had a dozen every day, he would buy them from us). And I sell mine for $2. Because I've always sold them at that price and don't want to raise the rates on my loyal customers. I'm good like that. 

So now we wait for the other three chicks to begin their contributions to the Holler Farm . . . hopefully soon. 

Can you see it?

I saw it. This morning, when I let the chickens out of the coop, which protects them from the bobcats and raccoons and coyotes. And in the fact that we even have chickens in the first place. 

I saw it when we went for a walk down the lane. 

I saw it in the abundance of beautifully designed greenery for us to enjoy -- an amazing variety of trees and birds and insects. 

And I saw it in the thorns that grew right alongside the pretty wildflowers. 

I saw it in the poison ivy that we continually tell the boys to watch out for. Cael practices his counting on the leaf clusters we find. "Leaves of three, let them be." 

I saw it in the rocks filled with fossils that line our creek bed and road. 

I saw it in the dead frog we found on the road, a casualty of a fast-moving vehicle. 

I saw it in our Resurrection Lilies. Beautiful flowers that give their pollen to bees that will sting if we bother them. 

I saw it as he struggled to throw rocks into the creek, while his brother tossed with ease. 

I saw it when he cheerfully, and without my asking, vacuumed the floor this morning, and then whined and complained while we went for the walk. 

I saw it in his answer as we discussed the reason for all these things: "But it was Adam and Eve's fault. It's not my fault." 

I saw it in little boy struggling with cancer, in a friend's troubled marriage, in a soldier separated from his family because of war, in emails about helping orphans in Nicaragua and saving babies from death and dismemberment in America. I saw it in the very food we ate -- the chicken we had for supper and the ham we had for lunch. 

And I saw it in myself -- in my impatience with the boys, in my pride, in my selfishness. 

Can you see it? When you look around, do you see a beautiful world originally created by a good, loving God and now scarred and crippled by the Curse brought by sin? The sin of Adam and Eve -- and the sin of me and you. I reminded him that this is our fault -- we disobey the commands of the Creator every day. None of us is without sin. This world that we now live in is the one of our making -- it's the world we said we wanted when we told God we do would do things our way. 

We take life instead of give it. 

We hate instead of love. 

We speak lies instead of truth. 

We are proud instead of humble. 

We are selfish instead of breathing grace. 

We are mean to other image-bearers instead of extending kindness to all. 

We profess our selves to be wise instead of admitting we know next to nothing. 

We kick against every beautiful quality of the sovereign Creator of the universe. And we live with the sad and ugly effects of this all around us:

The thorns that came when God cursed the very ground He had created to give us abundant life;

The plants that give us rashes instead of health as they were originally designed to do;

The animals that died in the Flood (a worldwide result of sin) and whose remains we find as fossils;

The death that was and is the ultimate punishment for our sin;

The accompaniments to death -- the sickness, the disease, the disabilities, the suffering, the pain, the brokenness. 

Sometimes the weight of what I see is overwhelming. And I hate it. I hate seeing what I have done to this world. 

But I love knowing that there is a living, loving, truthful, gracious, kind, all-wise, and good God that I can run to. The very one that created me in His own image. 

And that His Son, the perfect Jesus Christ, clothed Himself with flesh, humbled Himself, and became obedient to the very punishment He subjected His creation to -- the death I deserve. For my sake. 

And that He showed His power over death when He rose from the grave -- an event that was substantiated by over 500 eye-witnesses. 

And that He mercifully grants redemption from this Curse to those who forsake what they've done -- these sins -- and believe in Him and His payment for sin on our behalf. In His kindness -- in allowing us to truly see the effects of our sin --  He leads us to repentance. 

And that He graciously offers the promise of restoration to that original way of life -- the one that clearly reflected His nature -- those who have received the gift of eternal life. 

I'm so thankful for the hope He holds out to His image-bearers -- to all who repent and believe. 

And I'm so thankful that He hears our cries for mercy. 

And I'm so thankful for the promise of that future day when there will be no more tears, no more pain, no more crying. Just joy. And life.  

Can you see it?