Monthly Archives: December 2014

1 day: the Christmas card dilemma

We have very simple Team Stevens Christmas traditions. Tonight, my kiddos will open new pajamas, and receive another bird ornament to add to their collection. Every year, our children get bird ornaments of their favorite birds. Someday when they have homes of their own, they will have a tree decorated beautifully with their bird ornaments from us and the Hallmark ornaments lovingly mailed each year from their grandparents.

The bird tradition started quite by accident when the boys were very tiny, and it actually started because of one of Sawyer’s godmothers gave him the most beautiful cardinal ornament that year for Christmas. Reed was so enamored with it we decided to try to find an ornament for him as well, but of his favorite bird, the blue jay. Every year since then, each child receives their chosen bird as an ornament.

My last elf workshop project this Christmas was to make their ornaments. Some years are store bought, but earlier this summer I found these adorable patterns and knew these were exactly the perfect gift.

Notice I still make or buy Reed an ornament each year. I just cannot bring myself to not do it. My heart would ache too much. I face the same dilemma when making Christmas cards. How do we take a picture knowing that he cannot be there? Some of our friends who have lost children simply choose not to send cards because they cannot bear to not put their child’s name on the letter or card. If I have said it once, I have said it a thousand times: the saddest day will be the day when no one says Reed’s name again.

We have the best friends in the whole world, and while that fear has a small flame flickering, my heart knows that all of the people in our lives would extinguish that fire with showers of love. And if we really keep our eyes open, the veil between heaven and earth is lifted just for a moment, and we have a God whisper right in our mist.

We wanted to do something kind to give back for all the kindnesses given to us in 2008. So we had these cards made to tell of just one of the encounters our family has had when heaven didn’t feel so far away.

The cardinal is a beautiful bird with a gorgeous red plumage and an equally inviting song. There is an old legend that says that the cardinal was once a white bird, in fact as white as snow. The cardinal came to the cross on Calvary’s hill and sang to Jesus at the base of his cross. The cardinal sang with all its might to his Maker and Master. During his song, Jesus’ blood dripped onto his feathers, and henceforth the male cardinal has been his brilliant red color.

As many of you know, our children have received every year a bird Christmas ornament. Each of the children receives a different bird that has some significance to their lives. Reed received the blue jay because he loved to watch the blue jays eat sunflowers outside his bedroom window. Sawyer has the cardinal because he received a gift from his godparents that had a cardinal on it, and he loved it. Erin has the chickadee, because Kandy was so excited to have a little “chick” in the house. Cloie gets the American goldfinch because while pregnant with her a goldfinch came to the family’s feeders for the first time. Each of the children’s birds had visited our feeders except for the cardinal. No matter how many different ways we tried, we just couldn’t get a cardinal to our backyard.

So then the most unspeakable horror happened to our family. We were deep in the midst of our grief when the most improbable and impossible thing occurs. On exactly one month following Reed’s death, a male cardinal landed in our backyard tree (with no feeders filled) and he started singing the most beautiful song our ears could hear. But it took the faith of a young man to realize what miracle has happened. Sawyer realized that it is a message from Reed to tell us that he is doing just fine in Jesus’ arms. See Reed knew exactly which bird to have Jesus send to get our attention. He also knew how deeply hurt Sawyer was at that point in our journey and he knew which bird would be the one, that above all other birds, Sawyer needed to see. (It probably didn’t hurt that he sent a bird that was his favorite color.) Well, some may call it coincidence, but we choose to

Believe in Miracles!

Thank you for being a special part of our family this year!

Ever since that first appearance, the cardinal has become our family’s connection to heaven. He also seems to appear when our friends and family need him as well. We have countless stories, some we have told and others we have not, where the cardinal has visited us when we needed it the most. Each one buoying our spirits and regenerating our hope in God eternal!

It took us a while to decide what we wanted to do for the picture this year for our family Christmas card. Faith – Family – Football is more than a motto. Truly the way we live our lives; so in honor of Sawyer’s last year of competitive football as a player, we chose his current and former #74 jerseys.

The best laid plans are often waylaid by weather on the prairie. Once we made up our minds, we had to wait for a semi-decent day to take the picture. We waited and waited . . . for what seemed like weeks. When the moment arose, we had to sneak away from unexpected company to snap a few shots before the last of the remaining sunlight faded away.

Then it happened . . . heaven’s veil was lifted yet again.

Stepping out into Reed’s garden, we decided that was the best we could do to include him. We would take the picture on hallowed ground where Reed once had grand adventures with his siblings. When we set up to snap some fun pics of our favorite player and his fans, the plumage of red feathers came zipping by. Their faces were priceless! Mom, did you just see that? The tears streaming down my face was all the answer they needed. I continued to shoot their pictures while the cardinal zipped in and out of where they were standing. Just like that, we were bathed in the wonder and amazement of God’s creation and love.

We needn’t have worried at all! He is always here, mostly in our hearts and memories and on a few very beautiful, God-breathed moments in our midst.

A friend sent me this picture. I wish I could find the original source to credit the photographer.

Even all these years later, we are still choosing to believe in miracles!

May the Miracle of Christmas capture your heart now and forever!

With love from all of Team Stevens

2 days: Kandy did you know?

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The greatest aspect of being a teacher is the opportunity to be a student for life, fostering the love of learning for every child in my classroom. I consider myself to not be an expert in any area because there is always, ALWAYS more to discover. Our journey to joy, our theme word for the year, has been no exception. At times, it felt like Jesus’ spittle had been rubbed on my eyes, giving them clear vision to uncover joy in some of the most amazing, and often unexpected, places.

My quiet time with God, the way I strive to start each day, held a deep well spring of joy hidden in verses I had previously overlooked. Or maybe it was God’s way of gently leading me to see what was right in front of my nose all along. Sometimes, I just want to pinch myself, the truth revealed being that exhilarating.

No secret that I celebrate the little stuff, these discoveries sometimes leave me wanting to dance, other times cry, and many times just plain speechless. Since I started this twenty-five day countdown, I vowed to be present this holiday season, my mantra was to not sweat the little stuff because I am recovering worrier, often taking on way more than I should and missing out of the little moments of life. In that vow, several times there were two days of blogs posted on the same day, but this is the first advent in a long time where I was not frazzled.

It is amazing how much more energy my spirit has had to learn when I am not running around like a crazy woman. Sometimes my sweetie looks at a gizmo or gadget and says, “Now, why didn’t I come up with this?” The take your breath away moments I have had this Christmas were equally awe-inspiring and baffling because I couldn’t believe I had never thought of them before.

All were dichotomous in the way that there was always more than meets the eye.

The baby who was born to die . . . so we could live

Our youth pastor breathed these words in a closing prayer the Sunday of our pageant. I stood by my pew with tears streaming down. Tender is the heart of a mother who has lost a child. Easter is my favorite holiday; so, I know the ultimate ending (on earth) for the sweet baby in the manger. God, in flesh, pure royalty chose to come to a world full of every possible evil to be born of humble heritage, knowing, KNOWING, he was coming to die. Although I am certain, she knew the prophesies, did Mary really know the implications of being the mother of God and what his calling on earth would be. My heart broke for hers all these years later because I remember holding that sweet little boy for the first time, laughing because his given name was present in his tiny red curls. Reed means red-haired. I could have never imagined that like Mary, I would outlive my child. Yet, because of her son someday I will see my son again. And for that, I can never be more thankful.

The first visitors were shepherds

Well, most everyone knows that. Next to tent makers and fisherman and farmers, shepherds are a pretty popular profession in the Bible. They are present in many different books of God’s word. But what most people (including me) don’t understand is that while there were plenty of them, theirs was not the most revered occupation. Later in life, Jesus even used them in some of his very own parables. What I didn’t understand was the solitary (in the field) lifestyle of the shepherd often prevented them from participating in ritual cleansings required by their faith. To many, they were lowly and unclean. No wonder, Goliath laughed at David, not only was he small in stature, but he would not have been respected by his own people either. Yet, when the King of Kings was born the first people to be told of the great news were the shepherds. Not having entertained the thought previously, I was humbled to think this is exactly what my Jesus is all about. The outcast, the reject, the lowly, the forgotten, the unclean, the huddled masses were exactly his favorites. He didn’t see shame or neglect or regret, only radiating love. From his first breath, the people the world chose to despise, were loved, loved enough to receive the first formal birth announcement.

Anniversary of his birth

Every year, Christmas is touted as the most wonderful time of the year. For many it is, but for millions of others it isolating, lonely, persecuting, or dreadful. I love Christmas (albeit not as much as I love Easter). Yet as a child, I along with every kid I knew well anxiously awaited its arrival. Wishing and dreaming of a morning filled with surprises was the highlight of the year. As parents, we have continued some of the same traditions for our children. Candles in the window, an Irish tradition, alert Mary and Joseph that there would be room in our home. Next to the tree, sits an empty manger waiting to be filled with a stand-in baby. My devotional the other day filled me with more awe than any other in a long time. In Mary and Joseph’s time, many knew the Messiah would one day come. His birth had been foretold in many different ways and through various prophets. The Israelites knew God to be a God of his promises. The exact time was not known, and yet, they waited in anxious expectation for his arrival. They waited for God’s promise to be revealed, much like children wait for Christmas packages. While today, we celebrate the anniversary of his birth, there is one component I had been missing all along. Like God’s people two thousand years ago, we are awaiting his return. He promised he would come. It has been so much easier to keep my vow to not worry over details when I used the perspective that what I am truly celebrating each year is exactly what Simeon waited for his whole life. He waited for the Messiah to come and each year on the anniversary of his birth, I am anxiously awaiting his return.

Learning is a lifelong journey. And God truly knows this girl has a lot more to discover. May this Christmas be the one God reveals great lessons to your soul.

3 days: A Christmas bloom where you are planted

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As I sit typing this blog, it is a very, gray and dreary day on the prairie. Hovering right above freezing, early fog and light rain have been the highlight for today’s weather. I don’t even know if rain is the right word. Spitting is what my Papa would have called it. My childhood home lies closer to Mexico while I currently live closer to Canada. On days like today, I hoping for sunshine and not at all, dreaming of a White Christmas, especially when the lawn has big muddy patches from our ninety-something pound dog.

We spent the weekend, cleaning house and working at the Elf Workshop. Having a daughter who plays high school basketball limits how far we can travel during the season. So it will be just us home for Christmas. We are planning a low key day, and we even gave our kids the freedom to choose what they would like for Christmas Eve and Day meals. Chicken Enchiladas and Poor Man’s Lobster were rather interesting choices, but nonetheless, we will be together celebrating the anniversary of Jesus’ birth. Next to him, my children and a love of learning and imagination are the best gifts I have ever received.

Dreary days like today drain me, but I am pulling myself together because it is baking night. No one in this house has any Belgian DNA in their cells, but we live among Belgians and have adopted their customs. Among the delicacies on the bakers’ agendas for this evening are these delightfully, crisp little waffle-like cookies known as Belgian cookies. We will be using a specially designed waffle iron (though I personally prefer the native name of lukkenyzer), which was fashioned, patented, and manufactured down the road in Ghent . . . Minnesota by “The Belgian” (who lived in the house that one of my best friend’s dad grew up in). I have very special memories of learning how to make these cookies from another bus family, whom Reed adored. So in a small way, he’ll be here with us.

In addition to looking forward to tonight’s family baking extravaganza, I found a little bright spot earlier when I looked up from my dining room table to discover the Christmas cactus, given to me for directing the children’s pageant, was starting to bloom. It reminded me of another dreary time this summer when I found a blossom in the most unusual of places. The sweet friend who sent the pictures of my kiddos making the fairy gardens a few days ago was the same friend who owned an amazing herb farm down the road. Reed loved her lemon balm, and one year chose that plant as his special addition to his garden space. I think it must be propagated on the wings of angels, because it has sprung up in the most unlikely of places all over our yard.

I was having a really bad day following the Girl Awesome’s sports injury this spring. Some people had said some really awful things to her. My heart broke for her, which brought up all the hard things our family has been through in the almost seven years since our worst day. I spent most of that day in bed crying and talking to God. Eventually I needed to get back to living. After dishes, the most pressing thing on my agenda was taking out the trash. (I know – I live the glamorous life.) A little glimpse of green caught my eye on the way to garbage can. Embedded in the rocks (where no plants have been in over ten years) was the tiniest lemon balm plant poking through the rock bed.

A different kind of tears filled my eyes as a chuckle so tender and quiet alit from my heart. I knew exactly what God (with maybe a little help from a redheaded boy) was trying to tell me. If I can make a plant grow in the most inhospitable of environments, I can take care of your troubles too.

There is always hope. Revolutionary, day-changing, love-filled hope!

Tonight we will bake and forget our dreary day! We will laugh and sneak batter and eat way too many cookies and dance like crazy people (a baking necessity), but most of all we will bloom where we are planted.

If you are in the neighborhood, stop in. There is always room at the table.

4 days: I should have been a quarterback

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This may or may not come as a shock to most readers: one season I played tackle football. It was the fall of my junior year in college for an all-girls league in intramurals. Our coaches were our classmates who just happened to be on our alma mater’s gridiron team. If my participation on a football team isn’t a surprise, the position I played probably will be. I was a lineman, or is that linewoman? The offensive line is somewhat of a family tradition as both my husband and I played there as did our sons. My specific role was center, snapping the ball to the quarterback and blocking defenders. I liked the grit of the action on the line, even though the coaches originally pegged me as a receiver. Pshaw!

The advent of football season sparks another season around here. In my mind, I refer to it as “Elf Workshop Season”, when I really get down to business in the creation of gifts for friends, family, and my children’s teachers. Just like I reinforce to all my children, “Champions are made in the off-season.” I spend the months leading up to August, planning (which is code for reading magazines and spending hours on Pinterest) and gathering supplies. Making lists and checking them twice, I am in top crafting shape when the lines are chalked onto the football field. Of course, my family might have a very different version of my season because they inevitably get invited roped into being assistant elves. They haven’t gone through rigorous training as dedicated to their sport as I have done, but let’s face it, I can’t afford to get picky. I do have a deadline after all!

To reach that finale, I keep a pretty detailed agenda of what needs to be accomplished when. Yesterday morning was no exception. I got up early to embroider a blanket. Okay, I actually just push a button and the machine does all the work, but there is a fair amount of prep work upfront. At some point, I said, “I love this season. I really enjoy making gifts for those I love. But in reality, I should have been a quarterback, because I would have stunk at being a receiver.” In only the way he can, my sweetie just smiled and nodded with a glimmer of understanding twinkling in his eyes.

As much as I would love, Love, LOVE to have a session of Show-N-Tell of all of this season’s final line of presents, I won’t spoil the fun for the gift recipients. I am providing below a sneak peek of one the recipes we made for teachers and school staff. This recipe is one my children have enjoyed as gifts and for breakfast at their adopted grandma’s house. It is delish! Enjoy!

Homemade Granola

Combine:

8 cups oatmeal and 6 cups rolled wheat. (We use 14 cups of oats.)

1-1/2 cups chopped dates

2-1/2 – 3 cups of raw, large-flake raw coconut – no sugar added.

1-1/2 cups chopped almonds

1/2 cup or more of dried sunflower seeds.

Blend:

1-1/2 cup brown sugar

1/2 cup honey

1-1/2 cup oil

2/3 cup powdered dry milk

2 tsp. salt

Add this blended mixture to the dry ingredients and mix well. Spread out in three cookie sheets with edges on them. *Bake at 250 degrees for 40 minutes. Stir granola. Lower oven to 200 degrees and bake for 1 hour 15 min to 1 hour 40 minutes. (Here, again, you just have to judge how dark it is getting.) Stir every 20 minutes and don’t cook too brown. (When done, add 1 or more cups of dried cranberries/raisins.) Store in air-tight containers. Makes about 4 quarts.

*We have a very large enamelware bowl that we use to both mix the granola and bake the whole recipe.For that type of pan, we bake at 250 degrees for two hours, stirring every 20 minutes.

5 days: the most wacky time of the year

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I promise this blog is not about the ridiculously crazed people in line in the final countdown to Christmas. I could write a book about that insanity. Since I make many of my gifts, I always forget not everyone does, and I end up at the store for a jug of milk, flabbergasted by the ensuing chaos. In the past couple of days, I have been reminded of just how special family traditions are . . . even the whack-a-doodle ones.

My childhood Christmases were all pretty special. (Okay, not getting the one doll I wanted left quite an impression, but I think I’m getting over it.) Like most families, we had traditions which we typically recreated each year. Looking for the magic bell, eating sausage biscuit balls Christmas morning, visiting the miniature Christmas village in Pensacola, driving around looking at Christmas lights, and of course, enjoying dinners with families where my cousins and I always pretended the kids table was in France while the adults were back in plain ol’ Florida. All are times I cherish.

Of course, if I were completely honest, one of my favorite memories which did not become a tradition was the year my maternal grandmother, Nanny, started the neighbor’s house on fire. This wasn’t some kind of Hatfield and McCoy feud, although that would make for a much more interesting story. (Similar to my brother’s wedding when both my dad and I had stitches. On the sly, we created great cover stories of a Wild West style fight and a snake bite which were infinitely better than skin tag removal and the attic stairs dropping on your head.) Meanwhile back in my memories, the reason for the neighbor’s carport fire was a little known tradition of lighting fireworks on Christmas Eve. A little flash, boom, and pzzzzoom, followed by a very unlikely landing made for one remarkable evening. The Floridian hallmark was one we kept for a while; starting fires on other people’s homes was not a repeat event. For the record, the fire lasted only a minute and did not cause any serious damage to life or property. The part that made it so memorable was I had never seen my grandmother run – ever. Much like her dancing, her running was a sight to behold. Just writing this has caused the biggest smirk to appear on my face, and if she were still with us, she would be smirking too!

Another childhood tradition was just recently re-introduced to my own children. Last night we put up our trees. At some point, I began to wax nostalgic and blurted out, “This just isn’t right.” My loving and ever attentive family asked what had caused my dismay. (Okay, that didn’t really happen, but a girl can dream.) I eventually just kept on talking about how when I was a child we always, ALWAYS I tell you, listened to our favorite Christmas record when decorating the tree. Bing Crosby’s White Christmas, it was not. A little convincing on my part, but eventually we plopped in the “The Monster Christmas Mash” cd. It is okay you can say it. Monster Christmas Mash? What in the mayonnaise? The Boy Wonder just looked at me as if I had grown an extra head. He should never, I mean NEVER play poker, because “Mother, what in heaven’s name do monsters have to do with Christmas?” was written all over his face. The jazzy, blues, and funk style tunes did not do much to convince him or the Girl Awesome, neither did the great storyline of monsters learning the true meaning of Christmas (and I don’t mean the commercial one). At one point, they asked me if their grandparents were on drugs the day we purchased the LP at the Montgomery Ward’s. But thank goodness for the miracle of little girls, because Sally was singing along with me while simultaneously giggling at the thought of the Creep Castle chorus marching band AND dissection society.

I embrace my inner kookiness, but I am guessing others have completely weirdo traditions in their families as well. Monster Christmas may be unique to my family (as I am guessing even in the 70’s it was probably not a big seller.) But I equally certain that the other tradition we revisited Friday night is one in which many partake. We had the opportunity to give back in a most splendid way through the board that several Stevens sit on. At a local memory care facility, we created a shopping experience for residents so that they could shop for their families. Our group also had wrapping stations for the gifts. Truly a blessing to all of us present! Such a magical way to spend a Friday afternoon! I sincerely hope that we created a new tradition, but that isn’t exactly the one I was referring to earlier. We are big believers in leaving a place cleaner than when we arrived; thus, we picked up any mess we had made as the staff was preparing the table for supper. About the same time, the Boy Wonder’s eyes and mine fell upon a stack of the leftover gift wrapping tubes. A quick exchange of eyebrows told me he was thinking exactly what I was. Without much fanfare, we offered to take the cardboard tubes off their hands. The leader of our board, who also raised sons, knew precisely what we were up to. “You short a few swords at your house?” was spoken through a sheepish smile.

She gets us. She really gets us. The best part of wrapping presents is getting rid of the paper . . . off the roll so you can sneak up and whack your brother. Absolutely the best part!

Traditions are the fabric that makes families unique. Some are worth repeating, just as some are okay to let go. Others are even worth passing down through the generations. Monster Christmas Mash might not make it to another generation, but wrapping paper tube swords will definitely make the cut.

En garde, peeps! En garde!

6 days: that Christmas letter

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Not every family sends Christmas cards, and I get it on many different levels. I even have some friends that attempt New Year’s cards which eventually arrive in the mailbox around Valentine’s Day. It counts in my book because the year is still relatively new. Trust me, no judgment here as we sometimes have Blizzards from Dairy Queen for supper. NO. JUDGEMENT.

Having had pen pals as a teenager, I am still a big fan of real postal service mail, especially Christmas cards and newsletters. I enjoy reading each and every one. My aunt who passed away a few years back would tell me how much she loved receiving my card. Much before I knew I had a writer’s voice, she knew. In her gentle way, she would tell me to keep writing because my newsletter was her favorite each year. She loved watching my children grow in all the pictures, much the same as I do annually with the cards arriving in my mailbox.

Of course, every family has that friend or relative who shares a little too much. My sweetie and I would savor those letters. Waiting until the kiddos were snuggled in bed, we would giggle and snort through the retelling of a bad case of gout or my personal favorite: toe fungus. When I referred to the difficult blog I had recently read regarding Christmas cards and not sending them to grieving people, I originally thought the title was admonishing card senders for fabricating Norman Rockwell like families. Intrigued by the article, I read it in its entirety even though I could not identify with everything that author said.

I originally thought the article would be about not trying to portray your family as perfect, and instead I accidentally stumbled into an article about helping (or from the author’s viewpoint, hurting) families grieving the loss of a child. The concept of being real (okay, maybe not sharing about toe fungus) is refreshingly honest to me. Personally, I think that is the part of all of my talks, speeches, and blogs that resonates with people. I struggle, but more importantly, I share my struggles. If that is not your style, again: no judgment here.

I am far from perfect (and so too are all the people that share a home with me). We all have our moments, yet somehow we scrape our broken pieces back together and keep going. Isn’t that what Christmas is all about? A perfect baby came so we didn’t have to even try to be perfect. He came to give us the hope that would become the glue, putting all the brokenness we experience in perspective. For that, I am truly thankful because I know we don’t have to be (or even pretend to be) perfect for God’s love to reach us.

So in the spirit of being real, I am sharing my sister-in-law’s absolute favorite Christmas picture of my kids, which was taken quite a few years ago. By a few year’s I mean longer than Sally Gal has been alive. So enjoy . . . my perfectly imperfect family!

The real Team Stevens

7 days: and just like that

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Yesterday’s post wasn’t meant to be marching orders, but somehow God knew I was going to have a rough night. During the day when my emotions get the best of me, I lay down for a nap to ease my racing thoughts. Generally, naps are a miracle tonic for me providing refreshment, rejuvenation, and a calmer spirit. When people quip about how much I do in a day exhausts them, I always say the secret to my success is taking naps.

Last night had a combination of things go wrong, but the fact that I drank a Coke at eight o’clock probably did not help anything. For me, nighttime is the enemy’s playground. All my worst fears play out as nightmares and my old (looking for joy has really helped curbed this) habit of worrying until I made myself physically sick generally happen under the cloak of darkness. Sadness, fear, worry, doubt, guilt, and second guessing all sneak out from the under the bed or hide behind the closet doors, waiting to pounce once the sun goes down.

In the days following the crash, nightmares would have seemed like child’s play compared to the almost hallucinogenic night terrors we endured every night. I don’t believe in self-medicating, but if there had been some type of coma inducing sleep medicine we could have taken as a family, I would have signed on the dotted line. Personally, I clung to the shortest Bible verse in existence. Jesus wept. John 11:35 (NIV) There were only two things that made sense – we are strong and we will get through this.

Time and time again, friends, family, and sometimes strangers beat the drum to help us rally through tough moments. After turning out the lights last night, the familiar rhythmic beat of love started pounding. Lying in bed, the familiar ding and flashing blue light told me a text message had come in. For more than an hour, I poured my heart out to a friend who knew I needed someone to listen. Her gentle message was one of hope and encouragement not only for me, but also for one of my peeps.

The remainder of the night was spent in fits and spurts of sleep alternated with dichotomous thoughts of staying in bed or just getting up and doing something. It wasn’t sadness and despair, but simply a lot of ruminating thoughts I needed to accomplish. While too much caffeine was also a contributor, I think I just needed time to reflect and talk to God.

After my morning routine, I decided to check my emails, and just like that, God once again nudged someone to reach out and touch my heart. A dear friend who moved to half way around the world wanted me to know that Reed’s light mattered. She had recently reminded me of this in an another message, but this morning I woke up to three pictures she had stumbled across of a magical day that we had spent at her place. In the blink of an eye, I was transported back to the day of gentle blowing breezes, the river light-heartedly lapping at its banks, sunlight dappling through spring green leaves, and air punctuated by a million questions from my children.

Bliss! Pure bliss was the gift she gave me today. Her three snapshots were my modern day gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Reed’s light is shining through her heart too! What a wonderful reminder that God’s word is emphatically true. . .

Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning. Psalm 30:5

The day we made fairy gardens was one of the most magical days!

On this last photo, I can almost hear my Granddaddy whisper from heaven, “Sister, get her hair out of her eyes.”

8 days: the shepherds were told to go

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It’s a really great “job” I have, sitting on a philanthropic and community-minded board. Three times today, I had the opportunity to go spend give back funds for others in our community. It is such a wonderful feeling to give, and I love being a part of this organization. Joy, utter joy, is the best way to describe what it is like to give expecting nothing in return.

In the midst of all this elation filled giving, I received a text message from my sister. Her inquiry was as honest and heartfelt as I had fielded in a while. Recently a dear friend of hers lost her husband in a very tragic way. My heart still hurts for them. My baby sister wanted to know if it was okay to send a Christmas card. Ironically, I had read a blog yesterday about that very topic. My personal experience was so much different than the author’s I struggled just to get through it. Many of the cards and well wishes we received that first Christmas did exactly what the author requested; they acknowledged the hurt we were pushing through.

My first suggestion was to definitely send a card, but to make sure to send a note expressing that you are thinking of her and that you understand how difficult this first Christmas is going to be. All the firsts will be. But to be honest, I found the second year much more challenging than the first. The reality of the empty (chair, stocking, Easter basket, or backpack) of the second year was, for me, much more despair-inducing because the hole was always going to be there. Reed wasn’t coming back, and as a doer, I needed to do something to fill that hole.

The morning after the crash with one son gone and one son fighting for his life in intensive care, my best friend asked me one question. Do I need to go get you some yarn and knitting needles? Like I said, I am a doer. It takes a very special friend to recognize your need “to do something” to help you heal, which ties in to the second suggestion I made to my sister today.

Through my flying fingers, I suggested acknowledge the hurt, but more importantly, DO SOMETHING in her honor of her friend who had passed. An act of kindness or a gift in memory reminds the world the person we loved was here. They mattered. They made a difference. Their light shone brightly while they were here. We had a few of those kinds of cards too. These cards, like soothing balm, told us they were praying for us, they gave to a child in need, they were lighting a candle in our son’s memory or my personal favorite they shared a Reed story.

The healing began through those acts of kindness, no matter how big or small. For a doer like me, the leap to paying it forward wasn’t a hard one to make. Sitting on a board that has a mission of pouring back into its community wasn’t a stretch either. My son loved to give to others, and every time we do, in his name or in private, his light continues to shine . . . like a beacon peeking out from the holes in our hearts.

Cheetahs – Reed’s favorite animal. Given as part of the Reed Stevens Memorial Legacy Program at Avera McKennon hospital to any surviving sibling of a child who passes away at the same hospital Reed did.

9 days: the Christmas letter (the year of upcycled joy)

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For the last year, our family chose to participate in the Fellowship of Christian Athletes “One Word” theme to bring us closer to God and to each other. http://www.fca.org/themagazine/just-one-word/#.VI8-W-l0zIU After looking in, looking up, and looking out, we had a family meeting early in the New Year and chose “JOY” to be our theme. As Erin put it best, “I like joy because it has been a long time since that was a word we used regularly.” I will confess that when you choose a word, be prepared for all kinds of spiritual warfare, hoping to tear down the walls of faith being built with God. Many, many tears have fallen. We are still imperfect people with huge holes in our hearts, but we soldier on. There are dark days, moments of despair, but we know the end of the story. Love wins! Shine your light, because love definitely wins!

About the same time we chose our word, a dear friend and I were joking about all the “upcycled” businesses springing up everywhere. Our teasing focused on the fact that we have been up-cyclers our whole lives – giving new life to ordinary and cast-away items. We had no idea how avant garde we had been all these years. While there were unjoyful moments this year, we chose to focus on the joy of God’s blessings in the midst of trials. Becoming much more than a theme, looking for joy became a habit. I found more comfort in the Scriptures and would break into huge smiles when I stumbled upon joy hidden in a verse that I had previously overlooked.

We are not “should-ers”. You know those people who say, “You should do this or that.” We are simply a family who loves God and really tries very hard to love all of God’s people. If your family tries the one word theme, we hope it is as big of a blessing to you as it has been to us. If you don’t, we still love you too! We thank God for your presence in our lives, and we are wishing you a Christmas focused on one present. The babe who came wrapped in swaddling clothes to dwell among us to live knowing he would die. What greater joy could we have than a love that deep?

Here are some highlights of our year!

January was mostly about basketball games. Saturday mornings, Cloie had basketball clinics and the rest of our bleacher time was cheering on the Lakers. Erin started out the season playing B and varsity, and ended the season playing only varsity. Daniel did sneak away from the bleacher seats for the annual cousins’ ice fishing weekend. He had a blast and brought home some great fish.

February is always a bittersweet month. To be honest, we seem to just endure February. We remember our saddest day wishing Reed was still with us, but celebrate the birth of Sawyer, who turned seventeen. Cloie had the honor of singing the National Anthem at both the men’s and women’s SMSU basketball games for Cancer Night.

Top Math Student for Math League!

March held one of my most favorite memories as well as other memorable moments. The kids and I took off for a day for some F.U.N. Totally non-scripted and unplugged, we went to Sioux Falls to just hang out. Because are kids are very involved, we don’t have many moments like these anymore. I snuck in a girls day with Erin and friend to see the NAIA women’s basketball play-offs. Also, one of my blog posts really touched a nerve, and over 25,000 people read it in two days. I conquered my fear of flying travelling to meet my friend, Bug, for a week long cruise. Erin earned her first varsity letter for basketball and earned most improved player.

F.U.N. Day!

Basketball is a big part of Erin’s world.

April began the inundation of college letters. While we were proud of his hard work, we were definitely not ready to start thinking about him going away. As junior parents, we were actively involved in helping plan the After Prom party.

May was the month when our joy was definitely tested. After a great weekend of AAU basketball, Erin was at practice for her second team when she was injured. The results proved to be a partial tear of her ACL, grounding her for a minimum of six months no playing at all. Her goal was to get back to playing by the start of season in November. The junior prom was also this month, and along with all the prayers for Erin we saw one of the most amazing things I have ever witnessed when a relative stranger allowed Sawyer to drive his Corvette to the prom. Daniel and I celebrated our 21^st wedding anniversary. We also snuck in a trip to North Dakota to see our family there. Two college visits also took place.

Sawyer and the most amazing loan ever!

June was the beginning of a whirlwind for us as we finally took the plunge to redo our kitchen and upstairs. Apparently, we hadn’t learned our lesson with the basement remodel a few years ago. Sawyer attended Boys State, walking in the footsteps of his Dad. Father’s Day and Reed’s 19^th birthday were the same day; so, we remembered both together. Erin turned fifteen the next day, and the best present she received was the news that she definitively did not require surgery. The end of the month Daniel and I went away for our first ever motorcycle trip with friends while the kids stayed with our former nanny and her children. Cloie loved every minute of having “cousins” at her house!

Birthday trip to Sioux Falls. Girls with Peep!

This was midway through the great beard experiment of the year!

July snuck up on us as we were focused on all the decisions for the remodel and on trying to squeeze in time together as a family. Cloie was invited to sing the National Anthem for the American Legion baseball team.

August was probably our busiest month yet. First we had the fair, where the kids showed pigeons as well as general exhibits. Erin earned her first ever trip to the State Fair. At the closing of the fair, Sawyer and I flew down South for him to attend the National Flight Academy held at Pensacola Naval Air Station. While he was at camp, I enjoyed visiting with my Mama Cloie and my parents. It was a blast to have my parents all to myself. We concluded our trip with a visit with my Uncle Rendell and a high school friend and his family. When we returned home, he started fall football camp the next day. Two days later, Cloie and I loaded up to go on a girl’s trip to Chicago so she could follow in the footsteps of her big sister going to the American Girl store. We returned home a little earlier than planned for Clo to enter the hometown pageant, where she won the title of Lyon County Queen. After months and months of training, Daniel took and passed on the first try (which is rare) the Business Analyst Professional test. School started, football began, we had to move into our camper due to construction, volleyball began for Cloie, more therapy for Erin, and we ended the month, with a 3 day trip to the cities for me and Erin to attend the State Fair, where she earned a blue ribbon on her homemade laundry soap.

Hamming it up with fair ribbons!

Sawyer’s call name at Flight Academy

Breakfast in Chicago

September was all about construction, construction, and more construction. We put in long hours because we were doing all the work ourselves. Thank goodness a few friends took pity on us in the months that followed by feeding us a few times and pitching in with the painting. The month ended with a trip to replenish cheetahs at Avera McKennan hospital for the Reed Stevens Memorial Legacy program there. The cheetahs are given to the surviving siblings of any child who passes away at the same hospital as Reed did. A Laker football win melted my heart when I snapped a picture of our #74 sandwiched between what were Reed and Jesse’s football numbers on the sidelines.

Best sideline scene ever!

October was another fun filled month of construction. The homecoming dance was the first weekend. Erin was cleared to ease back into playing, but will play with a brace indefinitely. Other weekends were spent taking senior pictures, apple picking, and practicing football and cheerleading for our beloved Pumas. Sawyer once again coached his Special Olympics team at the state tournament. They brought home bronze medals this year. Cloie and I were once again involved in the cheer team. Halloween was spent with our big idea of a created family. There were kids, teenagers, college students galore! Our girls continued our family’s mission to “adopt” college students. Each girl picked a favorite student whom we could not adore more.

November was another whirlwind. More construction and let me tell you, we are wearing thin of the details. Another bittersweet moment as we closed a door on Sawyer’s football career. Another mom and I were on the decorating committee. Our personal goal was to make the banquet one our boys would always remember. I think our hours of planning paid off. The highlight of my evening was when Coach Sawyer awarded a football letter to one of his players. A little hunting trip was sandwiched in for Daniel and the big kids, followed by another college visit for Sawyer. I attended women’s retreat for our church, and then next weekend, Cloie hit the big league, singing the National Anthem for the professional hockey team, Sioux Falls stampede. Basketball officially started for Erin, and she had her first varsity start. We had a wonderful impromptu visit from ND family for a weekend with lots of good food and pinochle. Thanksgiving was spent at home, and it was a beautiful peaceful day.

Hitting the big times! Singing the anthem for the Sioux Falls Stampede!

December has been a peaceful month. Erin and I along with a friend from church directed the children’s Christmas pageant. It was a blast to teach them the true meaning behind Advent. Cloie began travelling basketball and had her first tournament. We took Sawyer to another college visit. He hasn’t officially made his choice yet, but we know he has one school he really loves. That seems to be exactly what all our friends told us to expect. Cloie turned ten the same day as our pageant. We went out for lunch, and then we had a few family friends over for supper. It was a blessing to celebrate all together. We will be home for Christmas, and my parents will come for a few days. Then other friends will come for New Year’s where we will party like Newfoundlanders (where New Year’s is 9:30 our time) with all the little ones!

The Newfoundlanders!

Joy is found when you really look for it. Often for our family it is the little moments where joy shines the brightest. May the JOY of God’s love find you wherever you are today!

10 days: the gift of a memory

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If you haven’t picked up on my reluctance to let this year fly by, then apparently I’m hiding my anxiety pretty well. This is the Boy Wonder’s senior year of high school, and I am going into this whole thing kicking and screaming. Twice yesterday I was asked about Christmas wish lists for my family. Even though my house would make me a liar, I am not a stuff girl (I just happen to live with a group of stuff people). The greatest gifts I’ve ever been given are a love for Jesus (but more importantly his love first), the love of learning, my kids, a great husband, time spent with family, laughter, a few family heirlooms, and I am not going to lie sweet tea and coconut body butter. What I really wanted to ask for was a way to turn back time to relive all the moments with my sweet little babies because I am not ready to launch one out of the nest.

When my trepidation meter is approaching a six or a seven on the Richter scale, God usually uses a friend to reel me back into the reality of he already has a plan for my good. So it was yesterday when with trembling hands, I began to thumb through old pictures because a yearbook deadline was approaching. Our school’s annual has a tradition of posting letters of encouragement and baby pictures for the senior class. Did I mention kicking and screaming? Anyways, the deadline for this whole shebang is tomorrow. As I was looking through the ones I felt wouldn’t have me shunned by a soon-to-be-eighteen year old (Yes all the embarrassing pictures did NOT make the cut). I looked really close at one of the pictures, and my eyes filled with tears . . . from laughing.

Here are a few things that I need to explain before any of this story will make sense. My sweetie and I are not rules people. Translation: As parents, we feel that we should have some basic principles like respect and love that guide what we teach our children. We have high expectations and hold our children accountable, but outside of that we believe our children should live life exploring the world around them. Creativity, imagination, exploration, individuality, and energy, are all embraced here. Yes, the occasional mess is a result, but messes and mistakes are how you learn to be kind to those who are struggling.

One time we had some friends who came to visit. They were rules people. Their children had to sit quietly and do what the parents encouraged for play time (which was typically quiet activities). After staying with us for an entire weekend, their parting words to our one year old daughter was “Good Luck, Erin, you are going to need it!” I don’t do judging others, and I abhor “the mommy wars”. I am certain their children grew to be fine young people, but I voted myself off their island and moved on.

As we grew up with our children, our friends changed over the years too. I think it is a natural evolution of friendship. Many of your friends are parents of kids your kids have as friends, teammates, or classmates. Face it people: these are the peeps you see most often. There exists a small number of people who have journeyed along with us from toddlerhood to now, and they can testify (although much like I don’t like people seeing my storage room, I sincerely hope they refrain from doing so) to the energetic household we had. Oh, who am I kidding, we still live in.

This is where the picture I found comes into play. When we moved into our home Sawyer was only six months old. I was working full time at the university. We didn’t get all the safety measures in place like we had hoped because we were reminded yet again, despite our love of capes, we are not superhuman. It took three months or so just to get all the boxes unpacked. I needed to shower before work; so I took the necessary precautions: locked the outside doors, blocked the steps, grabbed the baby monitor, and took the quickest shower known to humankind.

When I opened the shower curtain, I saw my twenty-nine month old holding these:

Yes, that would be our carving set.

I startled him with a blood curdling scream. Grabbing a towel, I asked Reed what was he doing with the carving fork and knife. In his defense, he was a huge fan of Bob the Builder back in the day. He answered honestly, “Fixing Sawyer.” Not exactly superhuman, but I daresay, I impressed myself with the manner of swiftness I used to scream once more, deftly nab the cutlery, skid still soaking wet across the bathroom floor, race down the hallway to find Baby Sawyer happily sitting on the floor playing with his toys. With laser vision, I discovered one tiny pin prick on his forehead directly above his right eye.

Picture taken one day after “the incident”.

Let me tell you. The existence of a benevolent God above was more than a Sunday School lesson at that moment. Rules or no rules! Those safety latches were put on before we went to bed that night. This is not the kind of exploration we had in mind – E.V.E.R!

Even though, I cannot get a time machine for Christmas . . . yet. I am really thankful for the gift of a memory, long since forgotten, but provided just when I needed it. I couldn’t ask for a better present than that. Unless of course, anyone knows a way to slow down time.

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Monthly Archives: December 2014

1 day: the Christmas card dilemma

2 days: Kandy did you know?

3 days: A Christmas bloom where you are planted

4 days: I should have been a quarterback

5 days: the most wacky time of the year

6 days: that Christmas letter

7 days: and just like that

8 days: the shepherds were told to go

10 days: the gift of a memory