Brotherly Love

Pinching.

Poking.

Prodding.

Picture.



What would you do when your child hands you this sketch during the church service's sign of peace?


This morning as I dump out and organize a weekend's worth of papers from my purse, I can laugh. Call it Pew-Side Pestering or...
Brotherly Love.

How does one cope with fidgeting siblings....

Crafting Disease

For years my husband has teased me about my creativity. He says,
"It's a disease."

Once I start, I can't stop – only a deadline halts the flow. As soon as I finish one project, the next one begins to roll –
like tobacco
into a cigarette
for a chain smoker...

I wonder:
Does that make me –
a chain crafter?


Saturday morning I was coming off "my high" having created the "Nook-
in-
a-
Bag."

When I asked Aaron for his opinion of its contents, this 11-year-old gave me a dead-pan stare. I coaxed, "What? Do you think I'm nuts?"

"Only mostly," my son spouted. I laughed, "Well, you're honest." Mentally, I vowed: "Enough!"

Coach Dan and Aaron dropped off Isaac at school to catch the bus for his eighth-grade basketball tournament, picked up a sixth-grade teammate and drove to their own tournament.

That left Noah with me.

I pleaded once more:

"Look! I got you these spiffy clothes for the wedding.

"Your cousins will be there. I'd love to have somebody go with me. Don't you want to be my date?"

My first-grader glared, "I'M going to GRANDMA's."

So to Grandma's we went, before I headed to the wedding alone.

During the hour drive, I confronted my disease. I'd spent many hours lavishly crafting an afghan, coordinating pillows and gift bag for my cousin and his bride. Five years ago at his sister's wedding, I played "photographer" shooting rolls of film to capture casual scenes – my "extra" gift to her and the groom. Since then, his sister had outfitted herself as their family photographer. SO! For the rest of today I would "sit back" as an inconspicuous wedding guest.

At the church, the usher offered me both his elbow and seating info: "I've been instructed to sit you with your sister."

"Great. Take me to her," I smiled looking at one sister and her family in the back. The usher grinned, "She's in the third pew."

"OH!" I looked upfront at another sister and her daughter. So much for my plans to "sit back." I sat down next to them and said, "Nothing like an up-close view." Brenda said, "They needed people to fill into the front."

Soon our cousin – the groom – took his place standing just feet from us. For a flannel-and-jeans guy, he glowed in a black suit. Brenda whispered, "You should get a picture."

I hesitated. Hadn't I promised myself to "sit back?"

Well... maybe just one. I mean how often is Trevor decked out? I pulled out my camera and shot one. I couldn't resist snapping another of his brother – dressed as the best man. Hey, I can't forget the bride.


The
creativity
began
to
flow.

I had a great spot sitting behind his parents.


Why not capture them in the foreground watching their middle child's marriage?
Soon I was

seeing interesting
angles,

wondering about
bright exposures,

snapping the
reception line,

driving back
for an outdoor shot
of the church,

capturing the dinner,


watching

the magic

of the dance

and

70-frames later...

falling

victim to

my Crafting Disease.

I wonder: Is there a "Craft Patch?" Maybe then – like a smoker using a nicotine one – I could kick this habit.

Nook-in-a-Bag

You've heard of Bed-in-a-Bag?

Last night I created something new. While trying to gift wrap creations for my cousin's wedding, I discovered it would take at least three big boxes to cover the works. Too bulky.

I decided upon a giant gift bag instead. With no time to shop at 9 pm, I went to work crafting fabrics.

Before 11 pm, I had a tote that handled:



two

custom-made

wildlife

pillows

in the wedding couple's
favorite colors and animals...







one

cozy

crocheted

ripple

afghan...






one

Bible

verse

embroidered

pillow...







... plus a couple chenille pillows.

I called the creation:

Nook-in-a-Bag!


Later, the couple can fill the giant tote with laundry or ??? Here's to Happily Ever After!

Absolute Perfect Timing

Every day I trust more in divine timing.

Dan returned from Atlanta last night still suffering sinus trouble. He left for a late-morning clinic appointment with the intent of using Wal-mart's pharmacy should he need to fill a prescription. I asked him to pick up a card for his sister's birthday while he waited.

I forgot to give him a small Norwegian chocolate bar that I'd meant to enclose with the card. An hour later, I left home to run errands. I considered stopping at Wal-Mart to catch him. But an inner voice urged me to attend the other matters first.

"Fine," I thought. "We'll just have to make a special trip to run the card and chocolate over tomorrow."

Forty minutes later, as I approached Wal-Mart's east entry doors, whom did I meet leaving? My hubby with his drugs and a card for his sister. We went to his car. He wrote out a message. After shopping, I made the delivery. Absolute Perfect Timing!

And then the inner voice repeats: "When will you trust Me for ALL?"

Come...

... and
meet
me.












Come –












and

greet

the

day.







The
work –


will
never
end.













But

morning...













... will

soon...










...pass

away.





As such it came to me this morning – prompting me out into the elements – Along Life's Road. Celebrating the 100th post!

Boston Cream Pie

Country
Living
Style.



Why
the
extra
effort –






Stirring
up
homemade
vanilla
bean
pudding...




Baking a yellow cake from scratch

and

whisking up a dark-chocolate-glaze topping?



Because....


Some
things
taste
that
divine.


(Ask three sons
and a father-in-law
of mine.)

My Husband Chose...

... my washer.

"What? You let your husband buy a washer?"

"You bet," I replied to numerous women who'd scorned my recent judgment. I grinned, "I'm just the stay-home mom."

"But you're the one who uses it," they replied. "You're the one who knows what you need."

"That's right," I said. "My job is prompting him into action."

FEAR

After a mid-week evening run to the laundry mat with the boys, I came home flustered. Dan asked why. "Remember Noah and the razor-flushing experiment in the toilet?" I asked. He nodded. I continued, "Let's just say: they tested the limits at the laundry mat – its machinery and my patience. They will not enter that place with me again."

COST

Last weekend, I summed up the situation for Dan. "I spent $40 this week on laundry - and that doesn't include bedding or throw rugs." I added, "The manager thanked me personally for my business. At this rate, we'll spend $200 a month on laundry. That's a car payment."

TRUST

Within the hour, Dan began discussing options. "I'd like a special cycle for delicates," I said. "Otherwise... just get me something that works. You earn the big bucks. Now you can spend them."

I hate wheeling and dealing. Dan thrives on it.

He buckles down, researches products online, reviews customer complaints and raves, considers longevity, features and price and then haggles with local dealers to get the biggest bang for his buck.

Frugality motivates his drive to buy. He discovered all washers last about 10 years. Front loaders cost two-to-three-times more than top-loading ones. Front-loading ones do save on water usage. But we have our own well and don't pay a water-use fee. So, he got a top-loading, stainless-steel-tub washer with multiple cycle options, including ones for delicate and hand-wash. The new washer arrived Thursday and works great – as does this process of marriage building.

Yes, it's true. My Husband Chose My Washer... and another interest-free-payment plan for me to juggle too.