Friday = Pizza Night

Spinach, mushroom, and garlic pizza made with artichoke marinara and goat cheese. Coffee milkshakes for dessert, grown-up with liqueur for the parents. Yea for pizza night!

I’ll write something real, soon. Such as:

Books I read in 2011 that made my mind grow.

What homeschool is like, settled in by one year, and what resources/methods we’ve come to value.

How I’ve come to interpret “the folly of children.” Contains social commentary and personal reflection.

Submission. I love it. It makes me… strong. Social nonsense that’s becoming daily joy.

Happy weekend, y’all!

This is for Erika, because she needs a current photo.

But it’s also for me, because I love a Noah-photo-fix.

Lunch at the zoo…

…

… Don’t worry, he really did eat.

I call this one, eligible for marriage in adulthood-6 years.

Thinky/Frowny face!

Patio lessons are cool.

A little cheese to round-out the photo post.

Blurry, but still fun.

New past-time.

Love ya, Sweetie!

Curried Pumpkin Coconut Soup

Fast. Affordable. Delicious. Seasonal!

- 1 small onion, diced

- 1Tbsp coconut oil (for sauteing. I’ve loved coconut oil since discovering it recently; use whatever you have.)

- 1-2 Tbsp curry powder, depending on taste

- 1 can organic pumpkin puree

- 1 can coconut milk

Saute the onion in the oil until soft. Add curry powder. Add pumpkin, plus one can of water. Stir in the coconut milk. Salt and pepper. Simmer until you’re happy — it won’t take long at all. Blitz with an immersion blender. :)

Taken from Food In Jars blog.

Love, Respect, and Disenchantment

Change being gradual and all, I’m not sure when this happened — but I’ve noticed that I relate to my husband  differently than I used to. I’ve enjoyed him forever. Now, though, it’s easier to trust him. To respect him, I s’pose. When there’s a problem (whether against him or us), I’m more calm. When something comes against him, I know he’ll use sound judgment to fight it. I’m happy to be beside him, and I know he needs my help; but I’m not distracted with trying to feed my words to him, or “get him” to choose a certain course of action. I’m still me: I still want him to agree with me and see my logic as brilliant! Frankly. But I’m less restless, as long as I know he cares. Meanwhile, he has become better at loving and assuring me. Patience, apparently for us, is a learned and welcome virtue. (Eight years, baby!)

That said. Everybody feels stuck sometimes, right? Being stuck is human and worldly, in a disharmonious combo. We feel stuck. A long time ago, Jared decided to study science. He liked it, and he imagined it would offer a livable career. He graduated. He reasoned that a scientist with a 4-year degree was called a Lab Tech, whereas he sought a job with career possibility.  So he got a Ph.D. As an aside, he married me in there.  Along the way, we had two children, and I became a stay-at-home, now home-schooling, mom. Of all the things we reflect on, that’s what we don’t regret. Good decision. Taking care of your kids is solid. However. Now, as is the normal course, he’s in a post-doc. It’s not working out. My fellow still likes science; but he hates where it’s taken him. What does one do?

Education can be an idol. (There, I said it.) It can be a healthy tool for equipping. It can also be an idol, stealing sacrifice and worship without giving back. I think God will redeem this, and I think He has work for Jared to do. Meanwhile, idols seek to destroy the things God has instituted: Sabbath rest, covenant relationship, caring for family, reaching into community. Jared is doing a great job with what he has. But there’s a definite tension between what he wants and what his path wants. He’s known it, and tried to find around it, for years. Still looking (and waiting for some specific things), so I’ll keep you posted.

We have friends who might be at a crossroads. The Mrs. has a new degree, but doesn’t love her new job. If she were to have a baby, she would find it difficult to stay home, because they currently need her income. The Mr. has a job offer that would relocate them, but also afford the Mrs. to be home. My advise: don’t even turn back. Love your friends, say goodbye, and go build up your household. Cleave to each other. If you have the inkling to become parents, let it work! You don’t need any apology to build up your family, to love your spouse and your future kids.

This is so unpopular. But I have girlfriends in different places. Melissa wanted a higher degree, and was advised against accruing student debt since it collided with her vision of marriage and family. She took the advise, and now enjoys building up her small family. Camille stays home with her child and loves it, but feels occasionally sheepish that her husband is paying her student loans. Margie works while she’d rather be raising her baby, because she sees it as fiscally responsible. Tabitha and Celeste love the careers they’ve built as well as their children. They find ways to juggle the demands, and count the compromise.  (Names have been changed to protect the innocent. And I’d like to remain among the innocent! Opening thoughts like these makes me nervous.)

I don’t know how to sum up prettily. I guess to say that advanced education is often gloried, but it can be an illusion. At this point, Jared would trade his diploma in for the ability to enjoy his work and his family. He’s a hard-working guy, but too much has been sacrificed. So many men and women emerge with great careers and sunken families. The choices we make today truly do matter.

A Quiet Note

I’m not in a writing mood. But here’s what I have to say:

I had a wonderful date night with Noah yesterday. We went to a children’s play, out for a piece of cake, and then took a stroll with a steamed milk and a latte in paper cups. I think I’d like to do this forever, even when his milk morphs into a second latte. He opened doors for me. I listened to his thoughts without distraction. What a guy.

On Thursday afternoon, there was a downpour of rain in part of Houston, and a dry lightening storm in another part. Friends of ours were in the lightening storm. It struck their house, which caused a fire, which brought significant damage to property. Their baby boy turned one that day, and Eileen had been gearing up for his weekend party. She held the celebration, hosted by a friend instead, and that’s where today her father-in-law asked if I had driven by the house yet. No. I had thought about it. I decided it would be rather an invasion of privacy. One’s personal, sentimental, messy items, devoured and spit out by fire for all to see. They had enough help at the time, so I would merely be a spectator. Now, after the fact, it just sounds ugly and painful. Why would I want to see that? Because they’re my friends, and this is real. I should go.

“It’s just stuff.” True. Husband and wife and child (and visiting mother, God bless her) and healthy and whole. They’re surrounded by the community they’ve so many times embraced, often in that very house. Still. This summer, I had zoomed in on the “En Gedi” of Song of Songs’ chapter one. I carried the thought into my kitchen: Does it smell of welcome when my husband comes home after working a late night? It inspired my mothering: Are my children peaceable, because I’ve invested in them well during the day? My thoughts rested on my bedroom and living room: Are things tidy and warm, or chaotic? Is my attitude generous, or am I haughty today? En Gedi is important. It was historically a military place of haven. And it should/can, as a home-base, be a place of rest, relaxation, rejuvenation. “The wise woman builds her house” (Prov. 14:1). Eileen did that. Her home was filled with heirloom photos calling remembrance to a lineage of faithful marriages. She brought to her walls photos of places she and her husband loved, places they had built memories that spoke of peace and purpose. Her kitchen was filled with tools she used to cook for not just her family, but the countless people they hosted and blessed. My baby shower was hosted in her home, as was another dear friend’s… while Eileen waited for her own pregnancy.

Of course it was just stuff. To say otherwise is to leave your heart there among the dust and rubble. But it was a place of rest, also. Thankfully, peace in a place reflects only the Giver from whom that fruit flows, who is very much alive in my Eileen. I’m sorry, dear friend, that you lost your Place. I’m eager for the building of your New One. In the meanwhile, I praise God that He’s proven Himself personally and mightily, that your marriage is real, that your baby is one, that lightening struck during daylight, that you have a great cloud of witnesses with able arms, and that the Redeemer is steady as ever. If it sounds like a good idea, if he and you would enjoy it, I might like to replace James’ lamb.