His Own

Singing:


We


gather


together









to

ask

the

Lord's

blessing.







He chastens


and hastens


His will


to make known.





The

wicked

oppressing

now cease

from

distressing.






Sing

praises

to

His

name






He

forgets

not

His

Own.





Celebrating new life – baptizing my sister and her husband's second son born nearly six weeks ago!

Flop Cat

When




the









hunting



dog









is




away,














the










Flop



Cat











will
















run











explore



and



play.

Cushy

"Have you got a blanket or something for Moose," Dan asked last night after 7 PM.

He'd been shopping for his annual grouse-
hunting trip: three guys and two dogs camping on a long weekend.

"What were you thinking of?" I bantered, wondering why he hadn't made this request days ago.

"Something cushy for the long ride," he said. The crew was traveling within an hour of Canada.

"What time are you leaving?" I asked. He said, "Early – before 8 AM."

I took a deep breath, released it and said, "I'm thinking."

Down into the furnace room, I strode, scrounged in a few Rubbermaid totes, came up with a piece of heavy blue fabric and promptly laundered it. Meanwhile, I measured Moose's pet carrier and located two giant bags of polyester fiberfill.

Yes, I had on hand: materials for a homemade pet bed.

As soon as the fabric was out of the dryer, I folded it in half, measured a length, cut, stitched and stuffed the giant pillow. I recruited Dan to hold the pillow level while I closed and top stitched the finished product.

"Satisfied?" I asked handing it to him before 10 PM.

"Let's hope Moose doesn't tear it apart," Dan said squeezing the fluff.

"It's said 'hypoallergenic fiberfill' right on the bag," I explained, "So he shouldn't haven't any trouble with his allergies."

This morning Moose ran from his kennel to Grandma's little wagon. He wanted to jump in the front seat to ride with his master.

Unfortunately, Dan had to lift a reluctant Moose up into the truck's backend to try out his new bed in the pet carrier.

Moose wasn't pleased being caged. I told Dan so.

"He should just be happy that he gets to hunt," Dan spouted. I added,"And that his ride will be Cushy!

Paycheck

Eyes watching.

Ears listening.

Voices quiet.

Bodies still.



You have two choices:

1. Sit in the chair over there until you get control

or

2. Follow directions and join the group for a story.

Great!

Now get your jacket.
Line up by the door.
Wait for the teacher.
Tip toe down the hall.
And we'll go to the playground.


Careful on the slide. Take turns. Ye-ow-ch! You shocked me.

Did you hear that "snap" when you touched me?

What? You want to "snap" me again?

Okay. I'll wait here at the bottom of the slide.

Who's on deck? Ye-ow-ch! You "snapped" me again!


And for this I get paid!

Here's to my first "working class" Paycheck (minus taxes, Social Security and Medicare) in a dozen years.

Aglow

I

s
a
w

t
h
e
m









a
l
l








A
G
L
O
W




Let autumn begin!

Progress

No more cement

"jail-cell" floors

for the boys.

This afternoon

Dan and I began

laying laminate

in Isaac's bedroom.


Aaron's is next – hopefully before the snow flies.


The laminate

meets the new

ceramic tile

laid and grouted

in August.



Small steps
make big strides.


Here's to sharing Progress.

Much Ado About Nothing

"If you mean by 'taking on'...
marriage...
nothing was further from my mind," replied Lisa.

"I could only marry for love, and love is only possible between equals."

"And you haven't met yours yet, I take it," teased her father. "Yes, now that I come to think of it whoever tames your wild heart will need to have a strong hand as well as a loving one."

Lisa glared. Shades of Beatrice and Benedick again. Wasn't it Beatrice, who upon learning that Benedick really loved her, had said, "And, Benedick, love on; I will requite thee; Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand." She was about to question her father along those lines when he said,

"You're right, of course, love is only possible between equals. There's nothing new about that as anyone who has been happily married and believes in marriage will tell you. But be careful, Lisa, that your love of freedom and independence doesn't prevent you from recognizing your equal when he comes along. I wouldn't like you to miss him as Beatrice almost missed Benedick."


I read those lines two days before Dan and I celebrated our 16th wedding anniversary. The proverbial light bulb went on.

For years and through our differences, Dan had pressed me to understand why I chose to marry him. I couldn't explain.

Yet here amidst the pages of an old Harlequin, I grasped the Shakespearian reason for my attraction to him – an equal in heart, mind and spirit. (Not a copy or a mirror image. More like a strong balancing act.) And for that reason, I willing conceded my desires as an independent career woman to become his wife, mother to our three boys and keeper of our home.

Holding the family checkbook and paying the bills, I discovered a "delinquent" discrepancy on our garbage statement in June. I drafted a chastising letter to the owner noting the trouble and sent it with my current payment. He phoned to apologize for the misunderstanding. And I felt a bit sheepish for having made a big deal about a little thing. In September, I received my current statement which also had "past due" charges highlighted.

I called the accounting department about the check I'd sent but which hadn't cleared. The owner returned my telephone call. He apologized for losing the check I'd enclosed in the envelope with that letter. I agreed to write off that check and send the balance for both service periods.

The following week, I received in a tiny note card in the mail thanking me for my business and apologizing for the hassle with my account with "dinner and a movie" on the company.

Tonight Dan and I used the restaurant voucher and movie passes to celebrate our sixteen years "between equals" (like Beatrice and Benedick) as a result of our garbage account trouble that I confessed to having made "Much Ado About Nothing."

Sometimes I wonder why Dan chose me.

September's Sedum

Along

our

sidewalk,

sedum

grows.







Its
buds
glow
in
the
morning
light.








Its
leaves
cup
the
dew.




Its
blossoms
burst
open
with

silky

petals








and

sweet

nectar


for
life
anew.

By the Light

of

the

(almost)

Full

Harvest

Moon.

Prophetic

Noah came home from school Tuesday and announced, "You need to get a job, Mom."

Three hours later at Aaron's football game, I was offered one that seemed tailored for me. I agreed to come for "on-the-job" training this morning to make an informed decision. Within those three hours, I understood: Why me?

This part-time position on Tuesday and Thursday mornings involves working at our local preschool as the teacher's assistant in a class of 12 that has three "high-maintenance" boys – reminiscent of our three strong-willed ones. Not many people tolerate loud, boisterous voices and know how to channel this kind of energy into teaching little ones to tame themselves and cooperate in a group setting.

I admitted that this job was not one for which I'd have applied, but was a challenge I'd accept – trusting God's greater plan.

You see, on Monday I received my credit card statement with the final bills from last month's 12-day Scandinavian adventure. Months ago, God provided a way to make this grand excursion happen starting with a 19-month zero-percent financial plan and providing other monetary resources along the way. I had my own ideas how to wrap up the final part, but felt an overwhelming sense "to let go and trust God to provide."

With the statement's arrival, I knew how much money I'd need before May 2009. As I figured this part-time teaching position's hourly wage over the next eight months, I found that the total would nearly covered my debt. The job's morning hours would allow me to see our boys off to school and still be available to help them afterwards. Their days off would also be my free ones. The position requires no planning, just assisting the teacher. And my drive to work? Two miles.

Since Noah began kindergarten two years ago, my family has urged me to get back into the workforce. So I was not surprised by Noah's reply when I asked him, "Why do you think I need to get a job?"

At Noah's age, Isaac and Aaron had replied the same way:

"Because I want to go to daycare like other kids."

What DID surprise me was how the seed Noah planted grew into an almost instantaneous offer – one that seemed Prophetic.

Zinnias and Sunflowers

Before

I

left










her

garden

today,







my

neighbor

lady

cut





me

a

fresh

bouquet –







one

of

Zinnias

and

Sunflowers!

On the Loose

WITH MOOSE!

I'd
promised
Moose
a long
walk
this
morning.


He took me up on my offer.

Halfway home
on our
four-mile
hike, he
picked up
a critter's
scent
and bolted.

I knew I was in for a LONG wait.

I photo-
graphed flowers, drew words in the gravel, paced back and forth for a quarter mile, hollered after this hunting dog and wondered why this escapade wouldn't end.

Then I glimpsed something furry peeking out and scuttling back into the grassy roadside.

I hollered "Moo-oose!" again. But, it wasn't him. The furball scampered up a tree.

Who was more surprised –

the coon or me?

I snapped his picture, looked down and...

saw Moose loping my way. Oh, oh!

Before Moose realized what he'd stumbled upon, I snapped on his leash and gazed up –
in awe.

The coon was nowhere to be seen. It was his turn On the Loose eluding me with Moose!

Classifieds

Adopting out kittens has become one of my favorite jobs.

"It's my fun," I told my husband who grimaced at my week-long ad in the local newspaper. "I like to see who comes."

On Sunday, Annie and La Blanc went home with Anne (who's name is sometimes pronounce Annie. "It must be a sign she's yours," I explained to the woman) and her two daughters.

On Labor Day, Mr. Biggelsworth was chosen by a woman (also named Wendy) for her toddler. I encouraged her to teach the little girl to "let the kitten come to her" instead of picking him up and risking scratches.

The rest of the week, our telephone was silent. When the ad agent called Wednesday asking if I wanted to extend my ad at a discounted rate, I hesitated with three kittens left.

"What's the latest I can let you know?" I asked and she replied, "Noon on Friday."

"We've still got coverage in Friday's shopper?" I asked. She agreed. Aaron started fishing for prospects. He came home from school Friday and explained, "I talked to all the girls in my class about the kittens."

He named off various ones whose family members had allergies. Others had cats already. Aaron advised, "Take a photo of the last three. I'll bring it to school Monday. Once they see our cute kitties, they won't be able to resist!"

He didn't get the chance. Saturday at 9:06 AM, I woke up to a ringing phone: "I'm calling about your ad for kittens. Do you have any left?"

"Three males," I said. The gal planned to garage sale all the way to our area and call me for directions when she got close. I hadn't heard back from her when another call came in at noon. This woman came right away. She and her daughter put the last three kittens in their pet carrier.

"We can't let one of them be lonely," the woman said. Besides, we need mousers."

Their 80-acre hobby farm was being over-run by chipmunks and other rodents.

An hour later, the 9 AM caller rang asking for directions. I said, "I'm sorry. I didn't hear back from you and a woman just took the last three."



"Oh!" the gal said. "That's all right. I'll keep on looking – "

Looking in the Classifieds.


With that final adoption, I felt free to leave home and attend an evening BBQ party with my hubby who grimaced no longer. And... I discovered Part 2 of Tickles' secret: Blessed are those with patience and faith for they will find their heart's desire!

Impressionism

Today I dabbled – downloading jpgs from our Norway Bound trip onto my computer and organizing them.

Five photographers collected 2,700 images.

As time permits, I'm editing images to burn a CD of the best ones.

Some are repeats.

Others aren't keepers.

Or are they?

I wondered as I looked at this image of the altar at the Stiklestad Church. Although it's not a sharp picture like the one above it, this moving image – in its colorful glory – captured my attention...

reminding me of a painting by our talented Trøndelag relative.


Perhaps our photographer has accidentally found a new niche in Impressionism?

At any rate, I'm doing a double-take on my photo edits.