Talented Friends and Family Pictures

I have been blessed with talented friends.

I've got friends who can create art and jewelry, dance ballet, organize parties, write, cook, bake, design, decorate, and run triathalons and half-marathons.

Friends who taught me, through my tears of frustration, how to nurse my firstborn. 

Literally. 

(That took our friendship to a whole new level!)

Friends who are such amazing encouragers that they encouraged my booty 

right up off of the couch where it had been parked in PJ pants

for three days in a heap of used Kleenex.

And I've got three friends to whom the camera is a natural extension of their bodies. 

Three!

One of those friends, Jennifer Wampler, came over last week with her beautiful family and graciously took pictures of us.

Jennifer is a homeschooling mommy who is starting up

her photography business on the side. 

She arrived dressed in the cutest outfit. 

Within 15 minutes, she was laying on her stomach in my backyard snapping pictures of my family. 

The beads of her necklace were intertwined with leaves and grass. 

Her boots were caked with mud.

And because she was willing to get so dirty,

Jennifer really captured the heart of my family.

I got choked up when I saw these...

What?  I could have sworn he was just born last week! 

Laughing at the nearby neighborhood kids.

Kissing these cheeks is like diving into a bowl of freshly risen bread dough.

There is nothing sweeter.

Be still my heart.

Daddy helping Matthew walk across a log.

Matthew with his dirty little fingers after tossing rocks in the pond.

Thank you, Jennifer.

And thank You, God, for blessing me and surrounding me with such amazing women.

You know how much I need (and love!) every one of these ladies.

Rocket Excitement!

I married a man who has hobbies.

Lots of hobbies.

Chris enjoys backpacking, landscaping, building and playing with radio-controlled cars, building and flying model airplanes, riding BMX bikes, racing slot cars...  I could go on!

But the wonderful thing about each of these hobbies is that kids love this stuff, too.

So naturally, when kids are at our house, which they always are, they flock to my husband.

Like the pied-piper.

(It blesses my heart!)

Several years ago, I gave Chris a model rocket for his birthday.

This isn't a pip-squeak little rocket.

If we were to use the largest "engines" that can fit the rocket, we'd have to get FAA clearance prior to launching it.

COOL.

Chris built a "launch pad" and a "launching center" complete with buttons and beeps and blinking lights. The two are connected by about 20 feet of wire.

Several Saturdays ago, we had an impromptu rocket launching party.  We met at a local soccer field and let the kids take turn launching the rockets.

When we first arrived, we were greeted by a very noble guest:

A bald eagle.

The pied-piper with the kids.

Racing to the launching center.

First up:  the little one.

These rockets deploy parachutes as they
descend so they don't become "lawn darts".

Our friend, Corey (shielding his face from the sun in the picture below),

was the first launcher.

After a failed launch, Chris had to make a few small adjustments.

The kids decided to just read the directions...

You know, when all else fails...

Doo-beee-do.

Joseph passes the time with the oldest toy of all:  rocks.

Wait! 

We have lift-off!

Corey makes a successful recovery.

The Decaffinator! 

(Yes, it's made of styrofoam cups.)

Our next launcher:  Jack!

Jack good-naturedly receiving launching instructions from the girls.

We girls know it all, you know.

And...

Blast Off!

Great launch, Jack!

Next up:  Joshua!

Joshua's expression is my favorite.

This is exactly how I look when I open a can of biscuits.

He had a successful launch!

My boy Timothy was up next. 

This "pose" is the result of having a mother
who wants to take your picture all the time.

The Big Dawg rocket.

The one that needs FAA clearance if you use the big engines.

BUT IT WOULDN'T LAUNCH! 

We'll try again next time!

Since there are approximately only two male species who read this blog, I just have to post this next picture.

This is my precious friend, Anjie.  One of the male readers happens to be her husband, Kevin.

Anjie had been holding her wiggly one-year-old boy, Judah, for approximately an hour and a half.

Anjie has three other boys.

That's a total of four kids.

Please raise your hand if you wished your rear view looked this good after having four kids.

(Love you, Anjie!!!)



Snow Days

I love almost everything about snow days.

The sunrises...

The brisk air that burns your lungs...

The handsome hubby clearing snow...

(while I observe from the comfort of my toasty warm kitchen)

And, to the utter delight of the two little boys

standing with me witnessing this...

 not only did Chris "pop a wheelie" with that left-front tire,

 ...he deposited the cleared snow in

the yard for the boys to play with!

The bundled up munchkins.

It took over 15 minutes to dress them.

(Timothy has a cold.  Forgive his little expressionless face.)

Yep.  I love just about everything about snow days.

Except this.



In the Air over Dallas...Home from Meme's Funeral

6:00 PM, January 4

I'm somewhere over Oklahoma right now, flying home from Meme's funeral. 

The first leg of my flight brought me from San Antonio to Dallas, and I deliberately chose a window seat on the left side of the plane so I could smash my nose against the glass and watch the sun set as we flew north. 

It's nearly dark now, and the lights below illuminate the arteries, veins, and capillaries of city streets and highways.  Trains and cars look like toys from up here.  I can see the orderly streets of a subdivision, each little home the same distance from its mailbox, from its neighbor.

The sunset is blood orange red streaked with hues of purple, powder blue, and gunmetal gray. 

A few hours ago, as we were leaving San Antonio's dense fog and persistent mist -- the kind that makes you have to aggravatingly fiddle with the windshield wiper setting -- I anticipated rising above the thickly quilted mass of clouds.  (Now there's a metaphor worth exploring.)  Patches of blue sky began to appear, and all at once, the plane was surrounded by clear skies, the gorgeous undulations of the clouds lay beneath us, covered in a uniform fish scale pattern with occasional peaks of condensation, stiff like a well-whipped meringue, rising and straining to see over their peers. 

And I wonder, if I were to skydive through the billowy puffs, would bits of cloud become trapped in my parachute?

Now the sunset is a rouge swept gracefully on the cheeks of the horizon. 

My seatmate is an adorable eight-year old named Daniel.  We are having deep discussions about the pros and cons of swimming in Lake Michigan (he's from Chicago), and he just reached into his bag and brought out two Toy Story "fruit snacks" for us to share.  I think he's a bit perplexed when there's a pause in our conversation and I go back to scribbling feverishly in my journal. 

My camera is packed away in my carry-on which is in the overhead bin. I want to get it so badly to take a picture of the sunset from up here. If I didn't have to step over Daniel and the man seated next to him to get to the aisle, and then raise my arms over my head to retrieve my heavy bag while my shirt would undoubtedly lift up to reveal my belly while 227 people are staring at me while I try not to crush any one's cranium with my suitcase, I just may have gotten it.

So, please use your imagination to visualize a gorgeous sunset from 30,000 feet.

Meme was 90 years old when she flew for the first time.  Childish wonder from the experience made her glow.  No matter how many times I take to the friendly skies, I hope I never lose the amazement that I am soaring through the air, encroaching on the landscape which, before the Wright brothers, only angels inhabited.

It helps me settle a little deeper into my mental nest of trying to understand, fathom, and comprehend and the enormity of God.

And yet I know He is unfathomably huge, something my finite brain will never wrap it's arms around. 

------------

Meme's funeral was yesterday, and we (my family and I) were blessed at how many people came out to pay tribute to her life with their presence. 

A collection of photos of Meme that were at the funeral.

 The flowers were absolutely amazing:  peonies, heather, snapdragons, purple irises, roses, and ferns. 

My Meme was a character. 

Here's a picture of her standing by the real "Dukes of Hazzard" car.

I love this one.  I have no idea what she's doing here, but this sums up her wild, feisty personality.

The "marching on" of life is so interesting. 

Through the death of my grandmother, and the congregation of my family,

I got to meet my niece, Charlotte.

Look at that gorgeous face.

Those rosebud lips!

Those eyes!

(That's my dear Aunt Jeanie holding her.)

Here's my brother, Travis, my sister-in-law, Laura, and Charlotte.

Travis' job is in Saudi Arabia.

I don't get to see them much.

(Since we were just in Texas for Christmas,

I made a quick 24-hour trip back home for the funeral, alone.

But I wish Chris and the boys were in this photo with me.)

My sister, Maggie, me, Mom, Travis, Laura, and Charlotte.

My cousin, Nathan, and his wife Erin.

My Aunt Theresa, her husband, Bill, and Nathan and Erin.

Aunt Ginny in action! 

Meme lived a long, healthy life.  We shared great memories of her and had our hearts filled with "Meme-isms."  I floated home on them.

And it feels great to be home.

I hope to get a recipe out soon.  I have sorely missed my little kitchen.

Thanks for being so sweet and patient,

Love,

Ginny