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I woke up on this particular morning only to smash-stomp down on two G.I. Joe men who had camped out on my bedside floor. After my mumbling obscenities, all internally housed mind you, I stammered over to the not 1, but 3 laundry baskets full of tousled clean clothes in search for a hoodie sweatshirt. Mornings in our house of "we need to save money on our heat bill" are freakin' cold. Whilst sifting for my favorite gray paint stained hoodie with the broken zipper {the one which I procured back in 1998 from my first year of teaching elementary school's end-of-the-school-year last chance at lost & found items}, I chided myself for not having a better toy management system implemented and running in our home. Yes, much like visions of sugarplums dancing, amid my self rebuking, I envisioned the boys' toy room glossy and pressed into the pages of Pottery Barn Kids' magazine. Yes, each boy had their signature color lounge chairs with their names crisply embroidered. Ceiling to floor wall systems were in place complete with color coordinated buckets labeled in vinyl letters with each supply situated in its appropriate spot. Toys were housed in huge willow & wicker baskets with chalk board name tags just so. And, don't forget the rug and absolute out-of-your-Pinterest-world paint job. For my visual readers, something like this.
Groveling in my pity of "I have no time, and that money should go towards our wonderful & quite hefty liberal arts private college loans instead", my eye caught a glimpse something atop my nightstand that most certainly did not belong. Unbeknownst to me, I slept with a grenade 2 feet from my head. I have no doubt it was Casey's doings. He's into like shape grouping. We worked on cylinders this particular week. Guilty soldier.
Yes, my day was moving at a swift and remarkably happy pace thus far. Ahem. I fought back visions of a clean home sterile and void of all ridiculous noise making contraptions, Nerf guns, Hot Wheels cars, Legos under foot, and Army men too. It wasn't until I was soundly through my 2nd full cup of coffee that my mindset was back to the quasi-stable camp of "They're 6 & 7 years old. Deal with it, Meghan."
Every morning before we begin our school day, I have prayer time with each boy individually. I keep a written journal of their verbal requests for prayer. Once logged, I wrap my arms around them, and pray over them with the words from their heart.
The grenade 2 feet away from my head & all night long was a joy bomb just waiting to explode. Rupturing goodness and eternity from this day forward. Casey McGill asked Jesus Christ to live in his heart during our prayer time this morning. Through our family devotions, prayer time together and involvement in church, the Lord had been working on this little guy. Casey felt it. He understood the sacrifice Jesus made, the reasons why and the commitment. I had the pleasure of leading my emotionally charged little lefty to the Lord.
My internally packed oldest, the quiet observer and resolute one, had Jesus on his heart well before his little brother. His path to salvation had been walked for longer. Footprints had been repeated back & forth and back & forth again in his mind. Eli needed time. He needed the space to soak Jesus in. His comprehension was secure in Jesus' love & sacrifice, but his heart needed to catch up with the cause. Two days after his younger brother's act of obedience, Eli Garrett accepted Jesus' invitation for forever. I had the privilege to lead my son to a life in Heaven and a commitment to forever walk in His ways.
We celebrated as a family. Hugs & high fives. Long talks about the responsibility and joy that now resides in their place on this Earth. Kenny even made sure to contact our pastor for guidance on moving forward with our sons' commitment to Christ. Kenny and I rejoice and have committed to the work in strengthening and supporting their walk as His forever. We know in the 6 & 7 years of their life on this Earth little adversity has been thrown their way. We understand their walk as His child will be constantly tested. But, we know their decision on these respective days are nothing short of a joy bomb. Heaven gained our boys.
As a mother, it is guaranteed you will have asylum type moments of CAP LOCKED $%&*# when the job before you is garbled and the look book of child rearing is taunting and unattainable too. No Pottery Barn Kids' organization wall unit can house the live out of the love you have been blessed to give life to. I love how God so frequently reminds me of this with G.I. Joes underfoot. I love how He moves in & out of our conscience and into our material world. He ties & binds it all. He reminds us that the journey is not meant for neat & clean. It's meant for more. Of yourself. Of others. Of Him. And, He knows just when to the pull the pin on the joy bomb of our hearts for His forever.
.mac :)
There are people out ahead of us. We watch them. Intently & with eyes steady, we see who they are. We interpret their insides from the out hoping to find a little more of the who we want to be. The ones before us teach oftentimes without even saying a word. Eyes make individuals out of us all.
Observance occupies our souls like heartbeats. Our emotions sidle in along the pump-thumping of what's before us too. Senses soak in the sights procured; the us of us becomes rounded by our everywhere.
Stamped are we with the time given and the teachings too. Lessons formal and unplanned. The classroom of our journey never lets out for recess. Who we see and how we see it presses in on the rhythm of our hearts. Beats repeat as do the ones ahead of us.
Blessed are the ones who see love and grace. Who watch intentional. Who feel safe and encouraged. The strength of their individual is imprinted and returned out for the next ones to come. There are people out ahead of us. We watch them. Intently & with eyes steady, we see who they are. We interpret their insides from the out hoping to find a little more of the who we want to be.
.mac
{week 47: my 2 in 52}
This life is one wave after another, Eli. It's rockin' the boat. It's diving in when you're just not sure of the water's temperature. It's moving. Forward. Backward. Forward again. Even the calmest waters have the consistency of rhythm; there is a current deep within us all. Ripples run through us. It's His master plan. The ripples. The ever churning swirls beneath. He put them in us all. To be stirred. To create a noise and to make a splash. Be purposeful in your endeavors. Don't shy away from the unknown. Stay not in the boat out of fear. Yes, it's true. We are designed to sink. Without physical motion in concordance with an astute awareness of our surroundings as well as our breaths, we will plunge deep. Be purposeful. Aware. Ready. Ready for the awesomeness of the ride. The peaks and the pits. The wind and the water around you. The weightlessness inside the movement. Freedom. Hold on all while you're letting go. He forever will be your life jacket.
Make waves, Eli Garrett.
Make waves.
Mama :)
Places and people. Dang, God is good. The above is an image of a place the boys and I adore. We frequented our little heaven hideaway on the regular and in all seasons too mind you. Just a 10 minute stint from our old home, this was a place of freedom and natural bliss. I've written about this spot here and here and here and here. Yes, this spot has a history of happy.
This place is not perfect. It's a public state park. Hence, from time to time, you may spot an individual with a house arrest ankle cuff monitor. You will most definitely feel, at times, that you are literally inside a tattoo catalog browsing for your next ink. On several occasions, I have stepped in as an unbeknownst volunteer lifeguard/stand-in attentive mom to the handfuls of little ones left in the water with 1 00% accident proof will protect you from anything arm floaties. Yes, this place may just be considered a nose-in-the-air to those with country club pool passes. But, not for us. We like it. Maybe it's because it brings me the same kinda feeling that the place I adored when I was I little girl gave me.
{Summer 2011}
But, the place is just for starters. The people that were a part of our hideaway are perhaps what made it most magical. We.miss.these.people. Above is the last trip we made to our lake before moving 2.5 hours away. Arlene and her kiddos, Brayden & McKenzie, were our rock steadys. They lived just a street over from us. She and her husband, E.K., have a huge chapter written in our lives on Hillcrest Road. Arlene and I were all the time heading out on adventures. This post is just tiny example of the impromptu goodness we had being neighbors and great friends. My boys miss their Brayden. His silly antics and his happy heart. I miss Arlene. Her huge ticker and her hilarious ideas for fun are irreplaceable. The green ball. Christmas night dinners. Easter egg hunts. Devotion times. The back porch. Yes, I miss her. Then there's Sarah. She and her little ones, Garyn & Ansley. I've written about her here when the most wonderful thing had happened for their family. And, again here as a memory of great times together. Sarah's heart is precious. The boys love Garyn & his world renown Wii games. Sarah, Arlene and I were a trio of good deal finding. The first Saturday of the month it was guaranteed that we were together and creating a great ruckus of fun for 1/2 off weekend at the ever infamous Goodwill. Don't believe me? Check out our good times for yourself. And, on the topic of together, who can forget the Batstreet Boys?
{Summer 2012}
Last summer, the boys and I made a trip back to our magical. We were fortunate enough to have all in tow for another great memory to mark in our record books. Silly things like time and miles stand in the way of what used to be our regular routine. I'm thankful for trips back. I'm thankful for friendships that make you better. For out loud laughter that secures you in times when a smile is so very missed. It's these memories that let you know you are loved by a heavenly Father who's in the spoiling business.
Spoiling business is just exactly the case. I am thankful for these people. For this place. For the memories that minimize the miles between us. {missed}. Most certainly.
.mac :)
Passion. Life's "that's it" for each of us has ever the playful heart. Peek-a-boo like, your inner mojo can be hidden. Impatient & anxious, it rests behind cubby holes and inside cluttered closets. It pokes out from under crumpled rock piles as you go along the mundane. You know, the mind management otherwise known as your space here on Earth. For those acutely aware of time & journey, unveiling tiny tidbits of their most masterful is like magic. Early on, these are the little ones who are lost in story. The ones buried in blocks or mystified with eyes behind microscopes fervently flipping the pages of books for the simple sake of knowledge. They're the ones ones shooting ghost ball jump shots or making last second touchdown catches in living rooms. The kiddos cloaked in constant costume. It's there for them. And, they know it. They feel it. It's as if they can't live without it. It. Their passion perfectly placed for soaring in the who God keenly created them to be. It pulses out of them. These are the magical ones. The special. The ones who innately know their it.
I'd like to think many of us knew our magical at an early age. God spoils us like that. I blame the methodical mindset of maturity for the suffocation of passion. Life's hustle simply flattens us. Schedules and scores squelch out the joy in the God given great for many of us. Lucky are the ones still cloaked in costume and mystified by the magnified of the lens.
{Casey reading to Eli his first published book.}
I was one of the lucky for awhile. A stuffed animal owl and eagle were my wildlife rescues in my very own television show about endangered species. It aired at least 3 times a week in my back yard. I was the sequined bodice lead majorette in countless Macy's Thanksgiving Day parades. I performed in sold out stages across America as a Rockette. I wrote television jingles and screenplays too. With the two button duo press, I recorded and directed radio shows on my cassette recorder with my brother and the neighborhood kids. I wrote journals full of soap opera scripts. I advertised markdown sales for TG&Y. I choreographed a multitude of dance routines to the sounds of the Judds, Madonna, Tiffany and Debbie Gibson.
{A collection of the boys' writing journals.}
But then things like formal lessons of "You have to learn with the right hand to twirl the baton not the left" and "Don't you think you would like to play basketball better?" found their way into my heart. My it changed. I slid into a world of the succumb. Breathes became more shallow and life's color turned to sepia for a bit. Confidence lessened and insecurities increased in this left handed little girl.
{Eli reading to Casey his fourth published book}
But, God's got a way of giving back to you what is rightfully yours. I took a detour from my inner me. It's not that I didn't excel in my off road excursion. I did. It's just my heart had inner most happy elsewhere. And, when that innermost sidled back into its comfy spot on the couch of me? The pillow cushions possessed the warmth of its presence long ago as if it had never left.
I create. That's my it. It's like breathing to me. I love expressing emotions. I move. I write. Rules like "you have to twirl with your right hand" run a pesky parallel to "you can't write a sentence without this grammatical rule in tact". My it does not exist for red markings or measure ups.
And, the more I reunite with the little girl ever present in her back yard studio/stage of dreams, the more of the best me I become. For myself. For my family. For others.
{I began writing journals with them when they were 3 years old.}
My innate sense of creating is a strength. God wouldn't have given it to me if it wasn't. The gift of writing is a joy that I can't help but share. Only this time it's not scripts for back yard radio shows, for the latest sale on TG&Y's storefront window or for soap opera screenplays. It's for my boys. I am using my it to teach them. To teach them that words have a profound purpose on paper. With eyes as their staircase, words wind upward into corners of minds and down deep into souls. They open up new worlds, mold hearts and make more of people in wonderful ways. For better. For happier. For good.
I write this post for confidence's sake. I write it as a reminder too. We all have a passion. It's inside each of us and naturally born. Find it. Don't forget it if you're like me and lost it for a time. Don't hide it. As parents, don't stifle it in your children. Savor it in yourselves and your little ones growing. Celebrate who they are with a resounding joy that banishes all preset rules and fancy mainstream ways of saying "you can't".
Impatient & anxious, it rests behind cubby holes and inside cluttered closets. It pokes out from under crumpled rock piles as you go along the mundane.
Don't let it.
.mac :)
Some people freak at surprises. Like the kind of freak where they can't decide whether to be ill as a hornet or just tore-up-from-the-floor-up flabbergasted. And me? Well, I like'em. I love to give them and get them. There's something simple in giving a heartblast. That's what I call surprises. And, heartblast is the perfect description too. It's simply lining up your hands and feet with the impromptu flash of love that God settles into your heart.
I've made it a point to teach the boys the joy of heartblasting someone. They have a name for a certain kind of heartblast we love to do. It's called the hit-n-run. It doesn't take any special occasion or celebration, just the notion and the energy to act out of love. With this particular hit-n-run, it was Mom-mom's birthday.
Coming up with what the surprise should be is so fun. For this hit-n-run, we decided to amp Mom-Mom up with all her favorites yummies. Other heartblast surprises aren't always hit-n-runs. We've just showed up on people's doorsteps we have been missing for a visit, dropped off treats for a short stay and even sent goodies in the mail to someone who's on our mind.
The boys get so super stoked for hit-n-runs though. They map out the plan of attack. Who's going to be the setter-upper of the goods? Who's gonna ring the doorbell? Where should Mom park with the car running for a fast getaway?
I hope the boys remember that these acts are just exactly what makes hearts a little happier, moreover smiles a little wider in between the rough patches. I hope they remember it doesn't take lots of money. It just takes that instinctual obedience to scatter joy with a little bit of time & creativity. I hope they remember to share these heartblasts with their wives when they are grown. I hope they don't forget that flower lesson of mine too.
.mac :)
Six years have snuck past us all. That's 2,190 days to be exact. Looking back, I recall words penned for you just four years ago ago on this day. Three years ago, too, with your tiny newborn image. You. A work of art walking. Your presence is of a proper noun sense. Specificity and tenacity mixed with an outright joy meld your stature. Captivating is your smile, moreover your touch. Your blue eyes twinkle when they meet others. Gleaming with a steady, confident connection as if your interaction with them is mandatory for your pulse of life.
You love your b. and your big brother. Staple necessities are they to your everyday. You have an infectious knack for story telling and expression. Your mind maneuvers melodiously in & out of play scripts throughout your day. Your heartstrings are easily moved when injustice or loneliness enters your arena be it through stories in books or on the screen. You sense others and how they feel. An association never to be underestimated; you have a strength in compassion.
Your Mama's lap is your softest spot. It always has been. Your Daddy meets you in that magical place where overwhelming love and outstanding battles of will collide. He is absolutely smitten over you as you are him. Smitten enough to hook horns and snuggle just the same. I would imagine his trump card will be played often throughout your life so to make more of the man you will become. Mama's too as you lack not in determination. Training up greatness is a job neither of us take lightly.
{January 21, 2007-the day before you were born}
For lightly is not the way to live. Casey McGill, you will be a man of courage and of conviction. You will live your life out loud and on center stage. Your humility will be there in the honest twinkle in your eyes and the commitment to reach out to others. Your tenacious spirit will infect so many that cross your path. God has a plan to spread His love and glory through your smile and your actions. Sweet son, hold to Him and be His vessel. You are learning more and more of His place in your life. The wheels of conviction are turning in your soul. Beaming with an anticipation and hope, your Dad and I watch on as we see the excitement in you light up each night before our family devotion time.
Today we celebrate you. We celebrate the gift of life that we take not for granted. We are thankful for the passion and joy you give to the lives around you. Thank you for sharing it with us. Your place in this world has a brilliant purpose. Rock this new year of life out, Casey Face!
Love you,
Mama :)
Homeschooling lends itself to such rich learning. It's the kind of learning that I can get lost in. The kind where time lines are chucked in the trash and concepts like quality & content are just the best river stones you want to rub over and over in your hands. In the fall, the boys and I learned about community. We read books about parts of a community, discovered different types of communities and examined more of how a community is made based on location and job opportunities. As an educator, I have always struggled with pigeon holing learning and memorizing facts. As in, I have a hard time making them narrow cities and communities into areas considered rural, suburban and urban. Perhaps it's because I, myself, am unsure of just what constitutes a suburban town. We live in a town just 30 minutes from a big city in Tennessee, and our town is anything but suburban. Our town is rural with a capital "R".
And, I guess, what I want the boys to gather most from my time as their teacher is knowledge not facts. I want them to have a devout curiosity for learning and observing. I know that facts are important, moreover, that they are a necessary part of making life easier. We are on that too. Fact families are drilled. Reciprocal processes are enforced. Time tables are tested. But, before all of that, I gotta know that they know the process and the why behind it. Teaching Eli his multiplication tables in 1st grade was so much easier to facilitate as he was the one who observed that addition could be grouped and counted. Once he had this discovery, it was simply the best next step to show him grouping and multiplication. I cared not that he was 6 or in 1st grade. He was ready because it made sense to him to learn a better way. This is the joy of learning; this is the reason I love being their Mrs. Cobble.
For our community project, the boys and I decided to define our community. We simply talked this out on our daily routines and routes that we drive. What made their space theirs? Eli was the first to state that cardinal directions were important for knowing where things were located. Yeah, Casey and I could care less about which way was up. So, cardinal directions were included for E-man. Casey wanted the places we visit and use as a part of the project. Particularly, the eating establishments we frequent. The boy is sure to be in the entertainment/social job field, I have no doubt. They both wanted to have the elapsed time included to places they love to go nearby {Mom-Mom & Larro's house, Nana & Papaw's house, and Knoxville's sun sphere.} We don't visit the sun sphere often, but they love to locate it when we are traveling west to see family in my hometown. Plus, they love knowing that on our return home, there's just 32 minutes to our front door once they spot that sparkly copper ball in the sky.
They work brilliantly together on these collaborative projects. The boys are so astutely aware of the other's strengths. The same holds true for when they tackled this art piece. Like bookends, they see a project through with nothing more than guidance, supply lugging and a few re-directions from me in between.
The boys made a list of the roads most traveled in their community, places that were necessary to their community {our bank, our church, police department, our grocery, our local hospital, the trash dump, nearby schools, etc.} It was important to Casey that the community center shaped like an octagon was included as that's where he attends gymnastics.
Eli wanted the rail road documented. We, by no means, live as close to the tracks as we used in our old home, but for Eli, either be it for nostalgia's sake or for the sake of proper documentation, the railroad was included. As were the barns. The boys have it on full authority that from our house to the turn off to Mom-Mom & Larro's, there are 69 barns. We counted, remember? Smoky Mountains were in there too, in addition to the surrounding counties and their names.
They drew with pencil and then used multi-mediums for final construction. Acrylic paints, oil pastels, colored pencils and crayons did the job just right. For further depth & detail, they went through magazines and cut out cool words/images that had meaning to our community. Casey found a patriot in one magazine and could hardly wait to paste it on Daddy's football field they drew behind the high school.
Next, it was time to label. The boys gave me their list with which I typed & printed only to give back to them. They took turns typing each piece of their community on the computer.
Efficient Eli had the brilliant idea to highlight each word to signify its completion. Where does he get this?
I was most impressed with both boys' ability to type. Initially, I thought they would tire of this mundane process, and that I would be the one to finish the job. Nope. With efficiency, these 2 knocked out their list completely on their own.
Ahh, cutting and gluing. So not my strong suit. I would like to blame that on having right-handed scissors for the first 3 years of my left-handed education. I find it funny that much of my profession as a designer is cutting. E & C plowed through the snips chatting the entire time.
I really was quite concerned the gluing process would end in torn typed pieces to which would lead to major melt downs and disgruntled-ness. Wrong again. These 2 had about 40 labels to adhere to their canvas. Only one was torn. Wow.
The water/Mod Podge glue solution was like magic potion to them. The delight they took in using angled sponges attached to sticks was such a treat to watch. Casey got all over-gluey as he was "Bob Ross'n" with his play-play verbal description of what he was doing each step of the way. Eli, the dictator, was quick to snap him back into proficiency in the world of adhering.
I mentioned in my end-of-the-month November review post that I had big plans for their community finished project. I framed their masterpiece and placed it in our kitchen in between the Dan Gibson painting I purchased from a local craft festival I attended this fall and the self portrait art pieces the boys did of themselves when they were just 5 and 3. I have enough space to the left of their portraits for a narrow piece of art. I would like it to be a piece Kenny & I create together. My mind isn't concrete just yet on what that piece will be, but I look forward to watching the beauty of our piece unfold when just the right idea hits.
I adore their finished product. I love it even more that it helps to define the composition of our home. I look at it everyday with pride as this piece is yet another symbol of the boys together and immersed in creating and collecting knowledge under their roof of home. Together. Immersed in collecting and sharing knowledge to create good in your space. Sounds like the perfect community to me.
.mac :)
Christmas is for our hearts. It's that joyous hiatus from hurry that settles with us for a time. The pause is there to remind us of just why we are here. As I spend my time documenting this day in our family's history, I can't help but look back at the way my very own Christmas has changed from little girl until now. My steadfast & sturdy memories of 12/25 have weaved a tapestry with many colored threads of different. And, this variety show of holiday celebration only makes sense. For time and space change. People do too. They come and go from your life right along with the magic & wonder of a child's heart. Maturity leaves a new kind of Christmas at your doorstep. Likewise, does marriage. And, the role of parent places you smack dab in the middle of your makings of what magic looks like for your own.
If you're not careful you can tinsel out with the traditions of typical just for to-doing's sake. Traditions are tricky you know. They are so very sought after yet, if not careful, can be the sponge that soaks the spirit of what makes Christmas so special. I'm glad that Kenny and I, along with our families, have worked to keep Christmas simple and given our best to honor the sincerity of the season.
Once the boys came along, we made it a point to see both sides of the family {which can be a carnival ride in itself as each of our families are scattered and separated for many different reasons}. But, Christmas Day was ours. This day was set aside for jammies and toy untangling. It was our day to rest in the joy of Jesus and the happiness of each other. The boys were amped to say the least to put out Santa's key on our front door, don't you think?
Christmas Eve was spent attending our church service and then maxing out in the moments of wide open home. Kenny was deejay. The boys were off the chain playing and super excited for Santa. And, I was completely content with reading not one Santa story. I danced to the tunes that filled our home, drank wine and watched on as the boys made the most out of pretend. At one point, they were shirtless in "muddy army trenches" fighting the Chinese. Not kidding.
Reindeer food, carrots, a sampling of our baked goodies and a good ole mug of cow's best was set out for Mr. Claus. Eli felt compelled to leave Santa just one more note even though he had already sent him a detailed 2 page letter back in early December.
Our morning began at 7:30 AM. The boys' elf, George, had made his trip back to the North Pole with Santa, but was kind enough to leave behind a note.
Kenny was just as excited as the boys were to see what all Santa had left. This is one of my favorite images captured from the morning's festivities. The security and contentment this photograph leaves my heart with is more precious than gold.
It was an artillery kinda Christmas for the boys. Their number one requests were a SWAT team and Marine Combat dress up kit. These kits came complete with leg holsters, grenades, knives, goggles, pistols and safety helmets with pseudo radio headsets.
Eli received his very first "official" gun from Santa as well. A Marine AirSoft gun to be exact. I love the look on his face as he is showing me just exactly what this is.
A Navy Seal boat and Marine boat were unloaded from Santa's sack as well. These boats came with all of the cool doo-dad accessories that only heighten real life play.
Cool Dads try out the toys you know.
Santa did work on the delish plate left for him. Knocked back a cold one and stuffed his reindeer with the antler goody goodness too.
Our Christmas Day didn't stray too far from what you see in this final image above. Seventy umpteen bajillion Nerf bullets found their way into any corner or house crevice they could. Bed blankets were used as barracks for reloading. I took off for a 3 mile run to break free from the testosterone temple for just a bit. Kenny implemented his mad culinary skills to produce our Christmas dinner's main dish: fried chicken. I accompanied him to complete the plate with mashed potatoes, rolls, a colorful salad and corn. Great friends stopped in that evening for a surprise visit too. Our merry was most magical. I am thankful for the slowness of our day celebrating the birth of our Savior and the simplicity of family together. As time and space will inevitably change for our family of 4, I won't forget the merry & magical of this year's 12/25. Tucked into my heart's treasure trove, it most certainly is. Seventy umpteen bajillion Nerf bullets & all.
.mac :)
{week 18: my 2 in 52}
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