I did not have this yarn just lying around. I bought some yarn last year at Michael's, you know, when it was super cheap. But I didn't buy enough to finish my blanket, so I went to Wal-mart to buy more. Well, Wal-mart didn't have matching yarn, so I got this that was enough shades darker I thought it might look okay. Like I did it on purpose. But when I got home, this dark teal wasn't even in the same family as my other yarn. So I made a completely different blanket! As you can see, it turned out very patchwork-y, which was not my original intent.
You've seen the list, where kids were asked questions about marriage and etc. Their answers are hilarious. My kid is 6, so I thought to get his take on these questions. Here are his answers:
How do you decide who to marry?
By asking them questions like, “Are you a Christian? If you’re not, then do this…”
What is the right age to get married?
I don't know, 29 I guess
How can a stranger tell if two people are married?
If they have a wedding ring on
What do most people do on a date?
Go out to eat--and I know this from you and Daddy!
What would you do on a first date that was turning bad?
When is it okay to kiss someone?
We have been homeschooling now for two years, if you don't count preschool. In that time, we have taken many field trips: to the zoo, the McWane Science Center, the Museum of Flight. But today was the first time we have taken a "field trip" with our cover school. Can you guess what we did?
This post could very easily be an in-depth look at how motherhood is alike and dissimilar in various cultures. I have witnessed firsthand what motherhood looks like in four different countries, and I could expound in great detail upon the remarkable way the maternal instinct kicks in across the globe.
But I won't. Not today. :-) Today, I will simply share pictures and a few thoughts about a new necklace I recently acquired.
Today was the first nice day since Christmas, but we got out there and the wind was so cold that after 6 laps, we went home. But I did manage to snap a few pics to commemorate the occasion! I walked next to him the first two times around, then when he was a little more stable, I let go to take pictures. I had no sooner taken this picture than he ran into the mud and got stuck.
She lays her bow upon the strings and slowly drew across them, pouring forth a glorious melody that made the songbird perched outside still his tune. I want to lay aside my own pathetic music and just sit, bathed in the aural beauty surrounding me. I close my eyes and as the notes wash over me, I imagine myself swimming in butter, floating in warm chocolate, the melted liquidness of her song enveloping my entire being. The conductor clapped his hands, breaking my reverie. I look around embarrassed, hoping no one saw my brief mental trip to Butter-and-Chocolate Land.
As I sit here remembering the amazing-ness of a master violinist, I am reminded of a poem I once heard. Maybe I had to memorize it in high school, but that was so long ago I don't remember. Read it slowly, with feeling, or better yet, close your eyes and have someone else read it to you (with feeling). Lord Byron could have been listening to the same exact thing I was last night when he wrote this almost 200 years ago. Isn't it cool how a poem written in the 1800s matches what I felt last night?
She Walks in Beauty
by Lord Byron
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
Saturday it was 75 degrees outside, and five days later, it looks like this:
I have words inside that want to come out, but when I hover over the keyboard, my fingers are still. I open my mouth to dictate to myself, and a silent breath is all I have. Maybe it's because I just ate some warm chocolate chip cookies, and now my eyelids droop in hopes of a nap. Perhaps my son's blabbering about how grandiose his math problem will be keeps my own vivid thoughts behind a curtain. Whatever it is, my head and heart hurt with an overburdening of feelings.
I want to write about modesty. I've read two blog posts and had a conversation about one of them with my husband. I've touched on it before, but only slightly. I hesitate to even mention modesty, because I have a lot of friends and family who do not believe the same way that I do. I know even one sentence of such a subject will draw the ire of more than one reader. But do I write so I will be liked? Or do I write to remind myself of how God wants me to live (and in the process, maybe show others, also)?
I want to write about maturity, and being an influence on others, and why teaching the next generation is so important. Many people who don't know me think I am still a teenager. Looking at most teens nowadays, I want to take that as an insult. Looking back at my own life, however, I remember that even when I was a teen I was more mature than the teens now. People looked up to me and copied my way of life. Even so, I feel so inadequate as a young woman, and I would love to be in a Sunday School class where older women took younger women and discipled us. But then I would have to write all about how old people freak me out, and the last thing I want to do is sit in a room full of them for an hour. I would go into all the psychological reasons, and at the end, I would probably conclude that I can't wait to be old myself (although having not written all that out yet, I most certainly can wait).
I want to write about how encouraging it is to go on facebook and see a friend's status asking a biblical question, encouraging friends to post the results of our study into the same matter. How that, even though we are separated by space and even time, we can fellowship together and learn from each others' comments.
But I won't write about any of that today, because even though I have been at this for half an hour, my eyes are still tired and my son is still loud. My head still hurts, and my fingers are still searching. Instead of pouring out my thoughts, I will let them rest for now, gathering more dust and settling in a little farther. One day I will open the window to my brain and all manner of delicious thoughts will come flying out and it will be all I can do to capture them on paper before they paint the sky with their gossamer wings and disappear over the horizon. Today, let it suffice to say, I have thoughts, and they are probably profound. But let them be profound another day.
I had five balls of this yarn, but I only ended up using three of them. The stitch I used was chain 3 and 2 double crochet in the same spot, then skip 3 and connect it. Or something like that. That's what I did for the border on the sides; the top and bottom were curvy from the first line.
One of my resolutions is to write a devotional book for elementary kids every month. I wrote Proverbs last month (December) so that my son could start the year doing a chapter a day. I hole-punched the papers and stuck them in a binder.
Who am I, you ask?
In 2006 I had a stroke, and every day my husband encourages me to use my remaining brain cells to the best of my ability. I love to organize, make crafts, and go on adventures (safe ones). I hope that through my blog posts, you will be encouraged to accept and make the best of challenges God throws at your life.