The First of Many Days

School's out and it's time to position ourselves for a long summer.

I dug through the pantry and candy jar this morning and got out all the little bits and pieces of stuff (1/2 bag of mini Oreo's, 1/3 bag of pretzel sticks, some crunched up granola bars, 3 bags of assorted jelly beans and jelly bellies, some left-over sour Skittles, chips, cheese crackers, . . . ) that we have left over from school lunches. I grabbed my big, metal mixing bowl, dumped bag after bag of "stuff" into it, mixed it gently, then dumped it into a Jumbo Ziplic bag.

Voila! Sweet, salty, cheesy and sour snack mix for the summer months and a much cleaner, neater pantry and candy jar, to boot.

While cleaning out the boys' room last week, I used two large decorative bins I purchased at Wal-Mart to use under the bottom bunkbed for sorting toys which, unfortunately, didn't fit when I got them home from the store, to pack away items that we wanted to keep but was unruly in the boys' closet. One whole bin is full of foam shapes and projects. The other has other crafts items that I've purchased over the years for the kids. I've probably invested $200 in crafts stuff for my children.

For some reason, I couldn't get an idea out of my mind last night. I even dreamed about it. We have a foamie blue cross that we bought a couple of years ago for Dane to decorate and give to Grandpa as a Christmas present, but nothing ever became of it. Neither Dane nor I had a vision for the blue cross. Then, I saw a brochure at Michael's with foamie faux stained-glass. We already had EVERYTHING we needed, so I described it to Dane this morning. We got out the cross and all the foam shapes and he designed a beautiful stained-glass cross for Grandpa. If we get some puffy paint from the Craft's Store, coat the cross in it, then insert the foamie pieces per his design, it'll look like the black metal that goes around the edges of stained-glass pieces. We just have to get to the store now and get the puff paint.

Yep! We're off to a great start. Cleaning and crafting, getting ready for Christmas.

I love summer.

Zesty!

If you haven't yet tried Pringles Extreme blazin' buffalo wings potato chips, you're missing out. Just have a glass of milk close by when you take the plunge.

Says Deanna the other day while looking at the assortment of cans of Pringles in the pantry: "Wow! Dad did really good. He got all our favorites."

Me: "Glad you're giving Daddy credit, but I bought the Pringles."

They were 5 cans for $3 or something. A great deal.

Summer Plans

Tomorrow is the last day of school. Last year, the final week of school was so chaotic that I decided to make myself a list this year to help prepare for each day. It went something like this:

Monday: Deanna - last PE, school uniform, bring PE clothes, change of clothes, watergun, beach towel, regular lunch. Dane - pool party, wear bathing suit and t-shirt with sensible shoes to walk to the pool, beach towel, change of clothes, 2-ltr. root beer, water bottle, picnic lunch. Daelyn: uniform, regular lunch.

Tuesday: Deanna - school uniform, regular lunch. Dane - school uniform, regular lunch. Daelyn - last PE, wear PE clothes and water shoes, take change of clothes, watergun, beach towel, and regular lunch.

Wednesday: Deanna - school uniform, regular lunch. Dane - last PE, school uniform, bring PE clothes, change of clothes, watergun, beach towel, regular lunch. Daelyn - end-of-year party, wear bathing suit and t-shirt with water shoes, beach towel, change of clothes, water bottle.

And so forth.

Between last PE's (with slip-and-slides and watergun fights), end-of-year parties, field trips (Dane's on one today), and the outdoor cook-out the 8th grade is sponsoring today for lunch, it's all a little overwhelming. Last year, I only had two children in school, but the list helped this year tremendously. Tomorrow, they get out at 11:50 (11:45 for the Kindergarteners so their parents can pick them up before mass pandemonium) and Don and I will take the kids out to lunch to celebrate the beginning of summer.

I decided I couldn't handle another summer like last year. We had way too many trips planned almost back-to-back, and the summer was more exhausting than the school year. This summer, we're going to take it slower, go out to the Lake some, spend a lot of time with friends, and try and spend one day each week doing school work. Deanna has a summer reading list and Daelyn has 1st. grade preparation work, so we'll throw some in for Dane and have a weekly school session. Perhaps we can also devote one day a week to crafts.

In any case, I can't wait until the children are home all day. Last night at dinner, Deanna prayed that they would all get along well this summer and not fight. Amen to that. She'll go to her grandparents for a week, as will Dane, giving them some time to themselves without their siblings around. And we'll spend a week at the beach and a week in Vacation Bible School.

I have some goals this summer, most of them geared towards projects on the house and building relationships between my children and their classmates. Early preparations for Christmas and trying to sell some of Deanna's jewelry and my soaps are also on the burners.

But, mostly, I want to be a family and build our relationships with each other. I want to spend time with each child doing the things they love to do - maybe taking Dane to a professional baseball game and going horseback riding with Deanna. I hope we can manage to not lose our focus. It wouldn't hurt to become more disciplined and for the children to start to take on more cleaning and cooking chores. The summer is a good time for teaching.

But, most of all, I hope we can spend this summer honoring the Lord in all we do. And focus on the most important task of all - loving each other.

Come on, summer. We have high expectations for you.

Brain Damage

After almost 13 years of marriage, I'm beginning to rub off on Don, poor man.

I explained to him when I was pregnant with Deanna that pregnancy hormone (beta hCG, for those of you who know) kills brain cells. For some reason, when you're pregnant, you forget major things, like to turn the water off in the sink after brushing your teeth and before leaving the room and closing the driver's door on the car after exiting it. Don would just shake his head at me.

And the memory loss isn't limited to while you're pregnant. This morning, Deanna asked me if she could leave her hair down for school or if she had to put it up. I know she gets tired of "doing her hair" every single day, but that's what happens when you have long hair.

"Honey, I know it's easier to leave it down, but it's really hot, and if you leave it down, it's just gonna get in your hair."

Long pause. "Mom," she started, hesitatingly, "it IS my hair."

I stopped slathering mustard on the sandwich I was making, thought for a minute, then began to laugh. The boys had paused with their forks halfway to their mouths, unsure if this was funny or if Mom was just losing it. Perhaps I understood something that they were too young to get and my sentence made perfect sense. My laughter convinced them that, yes, Mom was losing it.

A couple of years ago, I purchased plastic boxes to put under the Parson's bench in the mudroom for the children's shoes, since they always seemed to end up in that general vicinity. I used a Sharpie and put each child's name on their box, then informed them that any shoes left in the kitchen area had to go in their box.

They seldom make it into the boxes, so I've started charging Dane $.50 everytime I find a pair of shoes out of the box or his closet. He has to pay me $.25 for his bookbag if I find it anywhere but on its hook. Deanna's pretty good about her shoes. Unless they're wet and she leaves them in her box to dry, she puts her shoes in her bedroom. Daelyn leaves his everywhere. I'll have to clamp down on him next, but right now Dane's the one in intensive training.

So, Sunday, we're all sitting around the kitchen table eating lunch after church. Don was commenting about the children's seeming inability to pick up behind themselves.

Says Don, "You don't even seem to be able to manage to puttin' your shoes in the box Mommy bought for you."

"Puttin'?" says I, with one eyebrow raised. Deanna choked and came dangerously close to nose-squirting. The boys cracked up. Don, who NEVER laughs outloud, threw his head back and opened his mouth as if to let loose with a whopper. Instead, he silently laughed, which tickled us all the more. He was really laughing - not with sound, but with his body positioning and his mouth. Finally, he regained his composure, looked over at me, and shook his head.

"See," I told him, "I'm rubbing off on you. That's the kind of thing I'd say."

At least we provide cheap entertainment for our children.

Insignificant

Over the last two days, I've sat at the computer several times to write and . . . nothing.

Where are all the cute little things Daelyn usually says. Where are all the funny stories about Deanna? What's happened to all of Dane's interesting escapades? Not even a scrap about Donovan sprung to mind!

You see, Turtle-y went away. Several times a day, I check under the gardenias. No turtle. I even crawled under the deck yesterday, in hopes that I might find him there. Nope. He definitely left home.

He's a turtle! How attached can you get to a carnivorous, walking shell?

Apparently, very. I guess my mothering instincts have not yet been exhausted with only 3 children, so they've turned them on Donovan and, now, a little green turtle with yellow spots on his head and a large lump on the right side of his neck.

I missed him terribly and worried myself sick. I just couldn't understand where he could be. He doesn't really move very fast. Did we do something wrong? Was there a need of his that we failed to meet? Was he thirsty and out looking for water? Didn't I serve up enough raw hamburger for his taste? Don said he was probably hungry and I hadn't fed him enough. Just how much do turtles eat? Maybe he needed more variety. The scrambled eggs I threw in occasionally just didn't do the trick.

Don told me I should have caught some flies and fed them to him. I drew the line at flies. There are some things a human mother JUST DOESN'T DO - even me. And I highly suspected Don's comments were tongue-in-cheek.

In all honesty, as pitiful as this all sounds, I really did think all these thoughts. He seemed so happy and always returned home from his daily excursions until, suddenly, he just disappeared. It occurred to me late yesterday that maybe he had gone back to Grandma's house. Dane found that suggestion very interesting.

For days now, I've been mooning around the house, avoiding posting to my Blog, and looking out across the lawns, hoping to see a green spot moving. Deanna was shocked by my level of disappointment. She kept saying, "Mom, he's just a turtle. He's a wild animal!" Maybe she'll begin to understand a little bit about how, by comparison, I love her, flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone. She's a very perceptive child and she's paid attention to my reactions to this situation. How much more must I love their daddy and them when I'm struggling over the loss of a little turtle that's only been hanging around for 2 weeks.

I was making the children's lunches this morning and doing Deanna's practice spelling test while the children ate breakfast and Don put on his tennis shoes, when there was a knock on the kitchen door.

"I'm in my pajamas," I yelled to Don. "Somebody else answer the door." I ran around the corner into the dining room where I could listen to the conversation with the neighbor.

I heard our next door neighbor tells the boys, "There's a turtle over in our yard. Would you like him?"

"TURTLE-Y," I shrieked and ran back into the kitchen. Deanna's eyes got big around - not with surprise that we may have found our turtle, but that I ran into the kitchen in my pajamas. The boys were just running out the back door, heading for the neighbor's yard. I sat down on the bench, facing the window, and watched as our neighbor led them around to the front of his house. They were gone a long time, but Dane finally reappeared carrying OUR LITTLE TURTLE. He looked up at the windows, caught sight of me, and grinned.

"It's Turtle-y, Mom," he yelled. I smiled back, then opened the window and yelled to him,

"Put him back under the gardenias and give him some water. I'll cut up some hamburger meat."

When Dane came inside, he told me that Turtle-y was next to their garden hose. Dane thinks he was looking for his water pan and couldn't find it. We're all convinced that he got lost and was trying to find his way home, but wasn't sure where we were. I don't think turtles have a very good homing instinct.

Dane filled up his water pan and Turtle-y immediately ran to it, stuck his head out, and had a very long drink. I began slicing thin pieces off the frozen 3lb. block of hamburger meat and putting them on a plate, which I delivered to our Prodigal. He was just finishing his drink and began his feast while we all watched. I was very happy to see him home again, needless to say.

He must be a male, because it occurred to me that he's going to break my heart over and over again. I'm sure he will disappear many more times, and at some point, won't reappear. And I'll be sad . . . for a while. But I'll get over it. After all, he is a wild animal.

For now, though, he's home. And his little gardenia house seems full of life again.

Not a Bad Place to Be

I guess today is a day for updates. Eventually, I'll get some new material and get off the same stale old topics.

I wrote about Turtle-y a few days ago. He escaped on Saturday but reappeared again before dark that evening. We've continued to feed and water him under the gardenias.

Yesterday, after talking with my Mom while driving to my sister's, I suggested to the children that we move him from under the gardenias to under the deck. We thought it'd be cooler there for him and he could wander out into the grass, if he wanted. So, after school, Dane and I moved his water pan, refilled it, and move Turtle-y. Later, we checked on him under the deck, but he was nowhere to be found. I thought for sure he had left home.

Deanna wanted to play in the hose, it was so warm out, so I agreed. She and Daelyn donned their bathing suits and headed out to the backyard. I heard Deanna shriek from the faucet.

"Turtle-y, I almost stepped on you! What are you doing over here?" I ran to look and there he was, on the cement next to the faucet.

Dane and I discussed whether or not to return him to his spot under the deck. We decided to leave him alone, thinking that perhaps he was exploring his new surroundings.

After dinner, I couldn't stand it any longer. I went looking for him. On a hunch, I checked the gardenia garden. Sure enough, he was under the gardenias, dug into the cool dirt below the pine bark mulch.

This morning, I encouraged Dane to put his water pan back under the gardenias. Apparently, he's chosen a home, to which he returns after field trips, and he needs his water nearby. Dane moved it back and filled it for our new little pet.

I helped out at the school this morning then stopped to check on the little guy after pulling into the driveway at home. He was sitting in the middle of his water pan, enjoying the coolness.

Yep, we've got a new pet. Perhaps we ought to think through a more clever name for him.

Standing Tall

My mother and I took a trip out to see my niece and sister yesterday. I had only been to visit once since Amanda came home, so it was high time to see my family.

Amanda looked great and was sitting on the couch. Her hospital bed is in the living room, over on one side, so there's still lots of room to move around. She told us that she's thinking of getting rid of the hospital bed and moving back into her own bedroom. We were shocked by that news, but she says she's figured out how to get in and out of her sleigh bed and would be much more comfortable in her own room.

Later, she commented that they'll be getting rid of the walker.

"What are you talking about?" Grandma asked. "If you get rid of the walker, how will you walk?"

"I'll just . . . walk," Amanda tried to explain.

"How, honey?"

"I'll just stand up and walk. Besides, the walker hurts my back because I have to bend down to reach it." Amanda is close to 6 feet tall and she has to stoop down to the walker. I can certainly understand how her back would hurt from using it.

"Show me," Grandma challenged, unable to quite grasp what Amanda was saying.

AND THEN SHE DID IT! She pushed herself up from the couch using her hands and arms (seemingly very easily), stood up straight, and began walking across the room. Grandma and I got very quiet.

In the midst of so many miracles, what's one more? But the truth is, we don't take any of this for granted. We both welled up with tears. Watching that girl walk - on her own - less than 4 months after a devastating accident that came so close to taking her life the nurses can't even believe she's still around is just almost too much to take in.

I don't even know why we're still surprised by her progress. That girl has more fight in her that Muhammed Ali. Her gait is a little strange, her hips are still rotated outward, so she sort of thrusts her pelvis forward, then moves her legs to balance, but she's walking, unaided, smoothly, FAR. I get choked up just remembering.

She turned around to head back to the couch and stopped to grin at me. What a beautiful look. And what a beautiful, precious young woman.

My niece, Amanda. The accident survivor.

And surviving, she is. Quite well, if you ask me.

Just Desserts

Today was our Church Picnic. Last year and again this year we decided to hold the picnic on the grounds of the church as opposed to a nearby Retreat Center. There were two rented inflatable water slides for the children, our Folk Group played mostly 70's music on the steps of the church, we had a booth where you could buy a chance to "slime" a staff member, and the church provided smoked chicken to go with our side-dishes.

This year, we had a dessert contest for children and one for adults. I decided to make my Amaretto Cheesecake that I developed a recipe for not long after Don and I were married, since cheesecake was his favorite dessert. I stayed up until 2:30 a.m. baking my cheesecake after Don and I got home from our date last night.

Deanna had talked all weekend about making strawberry shortcake for the contest but, 20 minutes before we were to leave for church, she hadn't started them yet. I should have known better than to assume we could get ANYWHERE on time.

She breezed into the kitchen and began the frantic process of making strawberry shortcakes. I have a pan that makes heart cakes (4) and she used it for the cake part. The strawberries were frozen, but she dutifully microwaved them and sliced them, then liberally sprinkled sugar on them. Wailing for whipped cream while pressing the shortcake dough into the pans, I realized it just wasn't happening. Either she'd have to give up her plan or we'd miss church.

We missed church. When we finally arrived at the picnic, she and I carried our creations into the Fellowship Hall.

"What are these for," a friend asked us.

"For dessert and for judging," I explained.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, but we just finished the judging." I looked wide-eyed at Deanna. She stared back and I could see the lump in her throat.

"Are you going to cry?" I asked her gently. She shook her head vehemently, something she usually does just before she cries. "It'll be okay, honey. Everyone will still get to eat your dessert."

In my most encouraging tone, I talked her over to the dessert tables where we were met by one of the church staffers.

"Are these to be judged?" she asked me.

"Yes, but I understand we've missed the judging," I explained, one eye on Deanna's face to make sure she didn't lose it right there and then.

"Oh, don't be silly," she said. "There are still several judges around. We'll just make out a quick form, call them back, and have your desserts judged in a jiffy."

Deanna admitted later she was ready to cry and was only holding back the tears by shear willpower.

She told me just after claiming her certificate and $10 gift card to Breuster's Ice Cream for winning Best Dessert in Show.

I got a humble third place ribbon for my cheesecake.

And my friend, Terri, the church staffer who's the mother of a teenage girl, saved the day for us.

No crying in the shortcake.

The Rest of the Story

I'm sure you must be quite bored by now with baseball news, but I have yet another story in the "Dane pitching" saga.

He had his team pictures today and, on the way from the parking lot, we ran into his coach and walked together.

"I'm putting Dane in as pitcher again the next game," he told me.

"T.J., I don't get it. WHY are you putting him in? He walked two batters." I don't mean to be unkind, but let's be realistic here. I love my son and think he's a wonderful ball player, but I want us to win at least one game this season.

"Patti, didn't you watch him?" he looked funny at me.

"No. I couldn't see his pitches from where I was sitting," I explained.

"Every single one was directly over home plate. Not a one was to the right or left. They were perfect pitches, just a little too high. If he can just learn to pull them down a little, he'll nail it every time." He sounded like a father, bragging about his boy.

"Well, he's done exactly what you recommended. His daddy bought him a pitch-back and I got him a football, and he's throwing the football at the pitch back 50 times per day, per his daddy's instructions."

"And you can tell." He gave me some tips on how I can work a little more with Dane but was very encouraging about his pitching.

I guess so. I had no idea his pitches were so straight. We just need to bring them down a little. T. J. thinks it has something to do with how far he stands from the pitch-back when he practices.

He's getting another try on Tuesday. And his team will be playing his best friend's team. If he's going to walk a player, let's hope it's Tim.

Turtle-y

Deanna appreciates my humor. Unfortunately, I fear she's the ONLY one in this family that appreciates my humor.

Like the situation with turtle-y. Last week, my mother found a turtle in her yard. Not a tiny one, but a nice great-for-a-pet-sized turtle. She couldn't wait to show the kids. Dane and Daelyn became quite the turtle expert, showing all the neighborhood kids how to scratch his neck and head without getting bitten. He seemed quite a friendly turtle, following Mom around the yard as she worked, so Grandpa offered it to the boys.

"But you can only keep it a few days, and then you have to let it go," he told them. They rushed home to ask me.

The boys wanted to put him in a cage on the deck. I vetoed that idea and suggested we make a nice home for turtle under the gardenia bushes on the side of our driveway. The boys agreed. Dane gave him a planter drip-pan full of water and changed it daily. I was pinching raw ground beef off of Don's frozen hamburgers to feed him. Several times a day, different members of the family would traipse out to the gardenias to check on turtle-y, as he came to be called. (Note the verbal aplumb with which we named him.)

We agreed that we would let him go Monday afternoon after school. On Sunday, it occurred to me that there was no need to "let him go". He could "go" anytime he wanted, so I let the boys keep him under the gardenias.

Towards the latter part of the week, twice the boys found him someplace other than the gardenias. Once he was in the yard, once under our van. They carefully replaced him in his little floral home with his pan of water and raw hamburger (which I watched him eat one night - man was that nasty!) This morning, turtle-y was gone. The boys searched and searched, but never found him. While I was sorry for them, I tried to explain that he was a wild animal and HAD to be free to leave when he wanted.

This afternoon, Deanna and I went shopping. As we returned home and were coming in the house, I told her that our little pet had flown the coop.

"Oh, I feel so bad for him. But he couldn't have gotten far. Maybe we should look for him," she added.

"Are you kidding? He's tried twice to escape and the boys keep bringing him back. Last night, he planned it strategically. He waited until all the house lights were out, then made his getaway, quick, so he had hours to travel before the boys checked on him this morning and drug him back. The poor guy was desperate to get away."

Deanna snorted and choked on her root beer float. I have to watch her carefully, though, when we're together. She tends to squirt liquids out her nose.

Baseball

So, Dane pitched on Monday night. He was neither terrible nor wonderful. He walked two batters, then the coach replaced him. But he was happy as a clam. He got to stand on Pitcher's Mound. Him. Dane Doughty. The boy the coach didn't even bother to work with at the beginning of the year because he didn't think his arm was strong enough to ever pitch.

He smiled through the whole pitching experience. I held my breath, winced a few times, and prayed fervently.

But the oddest thing, by far, was last night after his game. Dane, although he played outfield all night, never was really IN the game. No balls ever made it to his neck of the field. He just stood there, poised, ready for the imminent ball that never came. After the game, which was close but a loss for our team (however, it was against one of the top two teams in the league, so we felt pretty good about even scoring against them), the coach gave the players his nightly pep talk. After expressing how pleased he was with every member of the team, he singled Dane out.

"Double D (his nickname for Dane), I talked about you all day today at work. I told everybody about you and how you pitched last night." He went on to talk about how well Dane had pitched and how proud he was of my son.

This seems to happen after every game. He singles Dane out and praises him. I can't quite figure it out. It seems he really likes Dane, which thrills me, but I don't completely understand.

I have to chalk it all up to one thing: we prayed for Dane to make it onto whatever team the Lord wanted him on. And I'm certain the Lord answered that prayer.

He has never enjoyed playing a game as much as he has baseball this season. He practices non-stop and talks baseball constantly. His skills have hugely improved and he's much more secure and confident than I've ever seen him. He's right where God wanted him. . .

. . . pitching occasionally, playing outfield mostly, striking out some. Right where God wants him - and darn happy about it.

Practice Makes Perfect

In early spring, Don and I were trying to decide whether or not to sign Dane up for baseball. His birthday isn't until June 14, so he's still actually 8 and would be in the machine-pitch league. However, since he has a late birthday, the Athletic Director told us that we could apply for a Dispensation so he could play on the Live Pitch with the other boys in his class. Live Pitch teams are chosen using try-outs.

Dane wanted to play and he wanted to be in the 9 and 10-yr. old Live Pitch League. We explained to him that since he would be trying out and the coaches do a schoolyard pick based on the try-outs, he may not make the team with his classmates. He said he wanted to try, anyway.

The day of the try-outs, he had been sick for 2 days and was running a hefty fever. We were told when we signed him up that he HAD to make it to try-outs if he wanted any chance of being on the team coached by his classmates' dads. He drug himself out to the field, me worrying the whole time.

His try-out was okay, but not great. He caught EVERY outfield ball (which was pretty amazing and showed a huge improvement over last year), but didn't get his mitt down close enough to the ground to pick up the grounders for the first few. Finally, he bent lower and got some. Batting was another can of worms. He's a fair batter, but just as he was in position, a coach stopped him, moved him, repositioned his bat, and it really knocked him off his stride. He missed the first 3 pitches but finally connected a couple of times with the ball.

Knowing how bad he felt, I was very pleased, but the coaches had no idea how sick this boy was and the conditions under which he was trying out. We prayed - not that Dane would make the team with his classmates, but that the Lord would put him on the team where He wanted him. Our prayers were answered.

The coach for Dane's classmates' team later told me that Dane got picked in the second round. I just couldn't believe it. Since then, I've asked his coach what he saw in Dane.

"He looked like he was having fun out there," he said. "And I also got the impression from him that he loves to play ball - any position, any time. He just loves the game." He added that he remembered Dane from last year and had been impressed then with Dane's love of ball.

"You see, I've been doing this for a long time. I've gotten pretty good at sizing kids up. Often, the kids that are really good are only in the game for themselves. They don't care about the rest of the team. They're hotdoggers who want all the glory. Dane struck me as the kind of kid that wants to be a part of something and will do exactly what he's told. I can win games with a player who's good and who listens to instructions. And Dane's never disappointed me. He always listens and does exactly what I tell him. He soaks it all in, and I really like that."

It's true. Dane listens carefully to everything the coach says. It's a shame he can't rattle off verbatim the things I tell him about life and chores the way he remembers what Coach says. And this Coach works with Dane. He's teaching him how to bat better. The assistant coach spent a good bit of time talking with me one evening about the length and weight of Dane's bat and advising me as to what kind he needs.

One day I asked the Coach if he'd work with Dane on pitching a little bit.

"I'm sorry. I haven't worked with him, because I didn't think his arm was strong enough to pitch, but I'll be happy to teach him some of the basics," he said.

"It's just that I'd like him to learn the technique, even if he never pitches. If you could teach him HOW to wind up, he could practice at home. He really does love the game and wants to learn every aspect of it."

Coach worked with him, explained that the real power in pitching isn't from the arm, but the legs. He explained that Dane would have to have the balance and poise of a ballerina. He gave him exercises to do, perching on one leg with the other bent at the knee, toes pointed downward. He told Dane to get in that position, then hold it for a 10-count. Dane's been faithfully practicing.

So faithfully, in fact, that his daddy went out and bought him a Pitch-back. Dane loves it and it really has helped with his placement and aim. Everyday he doesn't have a game, he's out in the backyard practicing.

After his game last Thursday, the coach told the players that there was an optional practice Saturday morning.

"I'll be out here at 10:00, if anyone want to come and practice," he said. Dane was there. Don canceled the fishing trip he was planning with the boys, and took Dane over to the field. The coach decided to do Pitching Practice.

Dane flew through the door around 12:15, running into the kitchen, obviously bubbling over.

"Guess what, Mom, " he shouted out of pure excitement. "I GET TO PITCH AT THE NEXT GAME!"

The coach had been favorably impressed with Dane's progress and promised him a spot on the mound at the game tonight. He may only pitch a part of an inning, depending on how well he does, but he at least will get a chance. Not bad for a boy who started this season never having wound up before.

We're praying he does REALLY well and will get lots more chances. In any case, I couldn't be prouder.

My son - the ball player!

Whoppers

I had lunch with Daelyn's teacher on Wednesday. It was a special luncheon to which I was invited, also, so I traded my day in the classroom with a good friend who helps out on Tuesday. She is also the Kindergarten substitute, so she was teaching while we were eating.

Karin: "Guess what Daelyn told me today?"

Me: "There's no telling with him!"

K: "He was playing in the woods last night at a cookout at a friend's house and he found an old shack in the woods."

M: "Yep. There is an old shack in those woods."

K, quoting Daelyn: " 'I saw a dead person tied up to a chair in the shack.' I asked him what he did about it and he said, 'I told my Mama and she told me not to go near that shack again.' "

Oh, ye of big imagination!

Home again, home again, clickety-click

Amanda comes home tomorrow. I took the kids to see her after school today. Trina's been sick with a cold and was taking a nap, but Amanda was sitting up in bed, watching TV. She motioned to us to come in, so we all tip-toed quietly over to her bed. We were just settling in when a nightmare jerked Trina awake. She smiled at us, then asked Dane to come snuggle her - my snuggly boy. He gave his Aunt Trina some wonderful lovin'.

Amanda is bouncing off the walls. She was unbelievably excited. She's going home tomorrow. She practiced getting in and out of her parents van and in and out of Grandma's chariot. Life will be a little challenging at first at home, I'm sure, but the excitement of familiar surroundings and the improvement she knows goes with being able to go home are all buoying her forward.

It's been a long, hard road, but it's finally leading her home. Thank you, Lord, and make the road smooth - my darling could use a few less bumps.

More Wedding Pictures

My wonderful nephew, the groom from 2 weeks ago, with his lovely new bride.



My unbelievable mother between Haley's two grandmothers. Isn't it incredible to see three women of this age who are all so beautiful?! Hope I have this to look forward to!

Prayerful Issues

Don and I are trying to make a very important decision and could really use prayer. We've spent the last 2 1/2 weeks praying together daily about this issue and asking the Lord to unite us and to give us clear signs as to what He would have us do. We've sought Wise Council and are now in the discussion phase.

We really want to be in the center of God's perfect will for us and our family. We've asked that He clearly block this and that that be our sign or that He swing the doors wide open. So far, there have been no roadblocks.

I'm not willing to say that lack of discernable roadblocks mean this definitely is what the Lord wants. It's so easy to interpret signs the direction you want them to point. But I do think it means that the Lord MIGHT want this to happen.

What complicates things so much more for me is that Don and I are such opposites. Don is VERY slow to make decisions. Although I may think about an issue for a long time, I tend to ponder it in my heart and never mention it until I've made my decision. Then, I'm ready to act immediately. In almost every other way, also, Don and I think at opposite ends of the spectrum. Often it's laughable how differently we think and still love and respect each other so much.

My natural inclination is to do the research involving any issue, pray, seek wise counsel, then act. Don's typical course of action is to pray, pray, pray, ponder, pray, pray, pray, ponder . . . until the issue goes away or resolves itself. It's very difficult for me to have done the research, prayed, sought wise council, and then sit and wait while Don works through his extensive and slow process. But out of love and respect for him, it's necessary that I allow him to work through issues the way he needs to.

I try very hard not to nag. I try very hard not to bring the topic up. I try very hard to keep myself busy with other things. I try very hard to allow him the time he needs.

Often, I fail. I don't mean to make excuses for my shortcomings, but I am human. If Don and I could both learn to meet somewhere in the middle - me spend more time pondering, Don spend a little less - making any decision may be easier for us.

He's such a sweet and darling man, such a great father and wonderful husband. After the timeframe that we agreed to pray and discern, I broached the subject.

"So, honey, what do you think God is saying to us?"

"I DON'T know!" he said in a frustrated, yet somewhat resigned tone. The truth is, I don't know either. The path has NOT been clearly marked for us. And neither of us really believe that this is a situation where one path is the "right" path and one the "wrong" path. It's more of a good, better, best scenario, and we both want the best. We're just not sure which is good and which is best.

Please pray with us. Ask the Lord to light up the runway for us so we can see our way in the dark. Ask him to bond us even tighter together so this decision can be made by two people who function as one. Ask that if hearts need to be changed or softened that they be changed or softened. And ask the Lord, for my sake, to speak clearly to my husband sooner as opposed to later.

If and when we have an answer, I'll let you know. Until then, keep us lifted up.

Thus and Such

It's been an eventful week. Dane's baseball team has had three games. Unfortunately, they're yet to win, which I find surprising since their team has 5 or 6 returning players and they've taken the championship 7 times. No such luck this year.

Dane has played quite well. The first play of the first game was a hit that went straight to him in right field. His quick response and good throw resulted in the first out. He was psyched. In the second game his first-base run began the streak that loaded the bases. Last night, he was on the bench letting some of the other boys play. His game was to start at 7:30, but it never really starts until at least 8:00. He came dragging through the door just before 10.

"I never got to play, Mom," he whined. Shocked by the news, I began asking questions. Turns out, they didn't even finish the first inning. The game was called with a score of 11 - 7 before the first inning was over. No wonder Dane didn't get to play. He never got up to bat and the coach was letting some other boys play outfield. I'm sure Dane would've been put in the game by about the third inning, but they never got that far.

Daelyn started coughing yesterday while doing his homework. It got worse as the day wore on. He coughed all night long and I decided to keep him home from school today. I guess I'll be going to T-ball this afternoon without him. One of my friends and I started a backyard t-ball league for the Kindergarteners and I have to be there this afternoon to work with the children.

This weekend, there is a work party to build a ramp to the front door of my sister's house so Amanda can get in the house when she's able to go home. Alex is coming over to help my brother-in-law and they expect to be able to complete it.

Don has a sleep study tonight to figure out why the man is awake half the night. Night before last, I awoke around 2 am to discover Don was no longer in the bed. Last night he took one of my Ambiens so he could get some sleep. I was able to wake up to my husband this morning - something that RARELY happens around here, and it was wonderful. We're praying they'll be able to diagnose him and solve the problem.

One last little tidbit. The company Don works for has lost the contract at the nuclear plant where Don works. They appealed the decision by the Department of Energy and the final response to the appeal came out this week. It was denied so Don will no longer be working for Washington Group shortly. When he got home from work last night, he told me that he had received a call from the man who was the Project Manager for the England project, Dan Curry. Dan will be in this area in a couple of weeks and asked Don if we could join him for dinner. Don says he wants to thank us once again for the sacrifices we made to complete the project. I raise my eyebrows, wondering how Don can be so naive. Obviously, he's going to offer Don a job. It'll be interesting to see what he's offering and how Don wants to proceed. It's a little scary to think that Don may want to consider a job that would require him to travel without us. I'm just not sure how we'd cope, but, ultimately, it's his decision. I guess we'll see on May 21. Maybe Don's right and he just wants to thank us . . . yet again.

I hadn't yet mentioned, but Nicki, our single friend who moved in with us before Christmas, moved out a couple of weeks ago. She moved back home. We miss her terribly. But we've been so busy we haven't even had a chance to see her since she left.

Summer's just one short month away. I can't wait for peace and quiet, although that might be a pipe dream with the children home all day long every day. At least we won't have to rush for awhile. And that's worth waiting for.