Mrs. Blackwell's Cookies

The other day I made lemon cream cheese cookies. They are my favorites ... Especially after being frozen for a while. They are light and delicious and full of nostalgia. You see, they are Mrs. Blackwell's cookies, and I'm pretty sure they taste like love.

When Heather and I were little we would often go with our parents to visit Mr. and Mrs. Blackwell. We'd sit in the living room visiting and playing with some old, big wooden trucks they had in a toybox, and, after some time, Mrs. Blackwell would head into the kitchen and come back with a plate of cookies. Sometimes, if it was a surprise visit, they'd still be cold as she had just pulled them out from the freezer. When we went Christmas caroling or trick-or-treating we might even get to bring some cookies home - that was extra special.

I think often of Mrs. Blackwell's cookies. Sometimes it's because I'm craving them (they really were delicious!), but more often it's because I'm craving that cozy living room and the much loved company. Those cookies to me represent love and welcome and hospitality. They bring me back to sitting on the floor surrounded by a roomfull of love. I can almost hear Mr. Blackwell talking about the cows or sharing a story about his sons ... Mrs. Blackwell updating us on what "those grandsons" were up to and asking Heather and I if we had any songs to sing them.

And the best part? I think *literally anyone* could have walked into the Blackwell's living room and been surrounded by the same quiet conversation, easily offered love, and probably fed a cookie or two as well. That's just who they were ... And they were wonderful.

I'm confident that always having cookies ready to serve was an intentional plan Mrs. Blackwell had, and I'm sure it wasn't always quite as effortless as it seemed. Wise women are like that, you know. However, I'm not sure she could have known how much of an impact she was making on a young me. I'm not sure she knew that years in the future If be making her cookies and telling my daughters all about her while I slipped a tupperware container full of cookies into the freezer for later.

 I'm not even sure she, or my parents, could have predicted that the Blackwell living room would still be a huge influence on my idea of hospitality. But, they just might have had some suspicions because it was a scene that was set repeatedly - one I wish I could have fully appreciated in the moment as much as I do now. 

 

I learn a lot from my memories of Mr. And Mrs. Blackwell. While I don't often have a container of homeade cookies ready to serve and my living room is currently louder and more chaotic than theirs ever was, we always have snacks and we're always up for a good conversation (especially if you can multi task and play baby dolls at the same time - ha). 

Mrs. Blackwell's cookies were delicious and I'm thankful my momma passed me the recipe, but her demonstration of love? That I pray I can duplicate as closely as possible. 

Drama Momma

I sometimes (jokingky) tell my school kids to "Save the drama for your momma" ... But as it turns out, I was not prepared to be the Momma the drama is saved for 🤷🏼‍♀️.

Lydia: "I'm just devastated! How will I ever be a professional bug catcher when I grow up if I can't even find one bug?!" (Fake)cried as she came through the door from using her new bug catcher in the back yard.

Me: ...do you want to be a professional bug catcher when you grow up?

Lydia: "No! Of course not! But what if I did?!" 

              - - - - - - - - - 1 hour later - - - - - - - - -

Lydia: "It's so romantic! It's so beautiful I could just cry! Isn't it wonderful?!"  She declared to absolutely no one (or rather, everyone) about the magnetic block tower she had built. 

           - - - - - - - - - 20 minutes later - - - - - - - - -

Me: Hey, can you put your trash in the trashcan instead of on the table?

Lydia: *loud sigh* "I don't think so. Can you help me?" *Increasingly sad sounding* "I'm just so helpless. It's all just so ..... hopeless!" *Begins fake sobbing*

                             😳😳😳😳😳

I cannot tell you how many times I have to look to see if she's *actually* falling apart about something (like when out of nowhere she broken beartedly sobbed because "My class never even got to go to the pumokin patch" - which was something I thought we had dealt with months ago ....💔) OR if she is pulling my leg (like when she called me into the room panic crying about a spider and then grinned and laughed when I came in frantically 😒) OR if she is overreacting to something small (like when the bug catcher "broke" insighting heart broken sobs only to end in "oh, nevermind, I got the lid on right now" before I could cross the living room🙄).

No lie: all six of those examples occured in the same afternoon  Ya'll, this child of mine is going places ... I'm just not always sure exactly where those places are going to be. 😅 

Apparently, 5 years old might be an age full of drama 'round here. She feels big, she lives loud, and she certainly keeps us on our toes. I'm just here for the ride, soaking up all the moments and trying to figure out how to get us all through these hot-mess drama driven instances in one piece😂.

I don't want to stifle or change any part of her ... But here's hoping we can tailor the drama bit at least a little. Lots of people have survived raising girls, so I'm pretty certain it can be done ... but I sure do find myself praying about it often 😉.

                                    video

Decision Makers

"When there is no clear right answer, everything you do is wrong." 

Those were the words of a local decision maker (whom I happen to think quite highly of) delivered with the slightest shrug of his shoulders yesterday as he matter of factly attempted to explain the strange situation he finds himself in these days.

It was a simple statement - even one I've heard before - but it struck deep yesterday and reminded me of something we so often "forget": All of our decision makers are only human, too. 

No govenor, no superintendent, no anyone attended a college class titled "What To Do When The Country Attempts To Shut Down Due To A Health Scare." No one offered or attended a training on "How to Educate Students During A National Quarantine". Everyone is just, simply, figuring all of this out as they go.

They are taking the data their shown, the common sense and smarts they have, their prior knowledge, their leadership know-how, and the pressure from a million directions, and making the best decision they can. THEN the information they were given changes and the reccomendation list is tweaked and half the people they are supposed to be leading ignore them and another third throws a fit, and so they rework and the rethink and they reattempt .....People, they are winging it. 

They are winging it to the absolute best of their 

abilities and with their absolute best intentions. They don't know what the beginning of next school year looks like any more than I do and yet while I get to stick my head in the sand and "wait to see" what comes, they are faced daily (or hourly) with plans that need made and decisions that won't wait. They aim to guide and please "the masses" because that is and defines a large part of their job. They (The ones I love) aim to protect our libertys while also trying to ensure our safety. They are taking the panic of many and balancing it with the common sense of few. They are trying so hard to do the right thing without knowing exactly what the right thing is.

And yet, because there is no clear right answer, everything they do is wrong. 

In "times like these" it's easy to become disgruntled and complain against our decision makers. And, while I think it's more than okay (responsible, even?) to question them and challenge them and point out other angles to them respectfully... Please remember to thank them, too. Thank them for doing their best and giving their all. Thank them for the time they are spending thinking things through from every angle. Thank them for the anxiety they are living with and the sleep they are giving up trying to find the right thing. Thank them for being willing to be the decision makers, because it's not a job all of us want.

While you're at it, pray for them. Pray for wisdom in making decisions, the strength to carry out those decisions, and the peace to live with the ones they make (while maybe even getting a little sleep at night).

Goodness knows, while there may be no right answer, I sure am thankful for a few right people who are working hard to help us all move forward towards where we want to be.

Teacher Appreciation

Teacher appreciation week is special because teachers are special. Thank you to the ones who taught and modled me, the ones who are impacting my girls lives, and the ones who work with me every day.

It's not always an easy gig, but it is always a worthwhile gig, and I love it even on the hard days. 

I sure am thankful for those teachers whose examples I've had (and still have!) to learn from -  the ones who show its possible to carry the world with grace and a smile that I can only hope to be half as good as. ♥️

             Teacher 

A thousand decisions to make

With only what you know

A million dreams at stake

Yet limited power you hold.

Countless knowledge to impart

To only few ears that hear

They often don't do as you say

And yet you hold every one dear.

Constant chaos thrown your way

Ofen without any thought

Your reactions keep guarded and tame

Though with exaution your wrought.

Worth every penny and effort

To see smiles you'll cherish for years

Showing that as they grow and change

Their triumphs you'll always cheer.

A noble profession your told

Though you rarely feel like royalty

You love through the highs and the lows,

And push all to their best inbetween. 

Nameless

There are many noteworthy women in the Bible, many with emmulating. You may think of Ruth and Naomi or Esther or Mary or Miriam or countless others. Some are named and much time is spent on them. Others receive much less fanfare, but that doesn't mean they have less to teach us.

In Luke 7:36-50 we meet a woman whose name we never get to know. Infact, not only do we not know her real name, the phrase she is often known by isn't terribly flattering: "The Anointing Sinner".  When you read Lukes account you'll find that this woman, a well known sinner, entered the home of a Pharisee who did not seem to care for her (presumably due to the sinful situation she was living in). She enters the home and proceeds to anoint Jesus feet - washing them with her tears, kissing them, and then pouring perfume on them. Gernerally we focus on the Pharisees less than forgiving response to the woman and Jesus gentle reprimand ... It's definitely an angle with studying. But today I thought about the woman.

The woman was a *known* sinner. People knew her because of her sin. People judged her because of her sin. She had lived in this sin long enough it was a part of her and her life ... Something she hadn't, didn't, maybe couldnt, hide.

And, apparently, she was ready to change.

She was so ready to change she marched into the home of a man who didn't want her there. The home of a man who was probably as known for his "righteous judgements" as she was for her sin. 

She was so ready to make a change that she went into this uncomfortable situation to wash a man's dirty, stinky feet with her tears, dry them with her hair, and pour her perfume on them ... Which doesn't exactly sound like a pleasant task. 

She was so ready to make a change that she decided not to care what others would think of her, not to care that they would likely ridicule and belittle her as she approached Jesus's feet. 

She was was so ready to make a change that she approached Jesus with her love and faith completely unrestrained. 

And we never even get to know her name.

I've sometimes wondered why we aren't told her name. Maybe it's to help us remember that perhaps our individuality isn't as important as our willingness to stand with and serve God. Maybe because after being so well known for her sin, her name not being shared was a blessing of some sort ... She no longer needed to stand out as an individual because she now stands with the servants of God.

She got to "go in peace", saved by her faith. Saved by her willingness to make a change despite everything people thought they knew of her. Saved and able to go on, a changed and new person, ready to serve God.

Oh, how I hope I am always willing to turn to God (and away from my sins) nommatter who is watching or how (un)comfortable I feel. Oh, how I hope I remember my name here on earth doesn't really matter as long as it is written in God's Book of Life. 

Being Careful

PSA: If at any point in time you hear this sweet child of mine yell "It's okay, I'm being careful for you!" ... She is almost certainly doing something ridiculously risky and/or dangerous, hence, creating the need to be careful. 🤦🏼‍♀️

It's also wise to become suspicious if you hear either of my children say "I'm not hiding anything behind my back...", "I'm not doing anything.", "I'm okay!" Or any other variation of these things. 🤷🏼‍♀️

It's one of the things I love about littles ... They wear their hearts on their sleeves and their intentions are written all over their faces. They aren't generally great at being sneaky and that is, more often than not, a wonderful thing.

I always chuckle to myself when the girls are trying to spy or sneak and end up giving themselves away, but I am grateful for their declarations of "I'm being careful" that serve as a warning to let me know I need to figure out (quickly) exactly *why* we are being careful. 

You see, as human nature goes, as my girls grow they will get better at sneaking. Instead of yelling out to tell me they are "being careful" they are liable to grow quieter in those moments when they feel the need to take caution because of a choice they are making   It's not a thing I want to have happen - in fact, I'm prepared to work quite hard against it - but isn't it something we all do?

If we ever feel ourselves "toeing a line" between right and wrong - a good choice and a questionable one - we don't shout "I'm being careful!" But we certainly think it to ourselves.

If we're hanging with the questionable crowd, if we're visiting a questionable place, if we're watching or reading a questionable thing and we know we should reconsider we reassure ourselves with the mantra "I'll be careful". It's like we're saying "it's fine, I can toe this line and come out on the right side of things." And, well, if you really want to know my thoughts on "walking the line", you can read a little about them here.

When we whisper - to ourselves and God in our own heads - "I'm being careful for you" it is no different than a two year old yelling out to her Momma. It's our the instincts we were born with kicking in and shout for help. Sometimes I think our instinct to ask for help may have been shoved down by years of the world working to harden our hearts and that "I'm being careful" is our quiet plea for someone to bail us out ... Or, at least, it should be. 

So, next time you have to say "It's okay, I'm being careful for you." remind yourself that when a two year old says it what it really means is "I'm doing something I probably shouldn't be and may need help at any second." ....and it may very well mean that same thing for you, too.

No Secret Rules

"Mommy," she whispered in quite the conspiratal tone "I'm going to tell you a rule that isn't written in those directions because ...." (her voice dropped to an excited whisper) "it's a secret rule."

....and that, folks, is how my 5 year old *may* try to beat you in just about any game. 

You've been warned. 

Because the thing about those "secret rules"? I can't verify them. I can't reread them to make sure I understand. I can't point them out to someone else to let them have a look. And, I can't be certain (seeing as how I have no record of these secret rules other than my own sometimes faulty memory) ... but I'm fairly sure that sometimes from round to round the "secret rules" change. 

Any time the "secret rules" come in to play, I can't win. I didn't know about them, I'm not prepared for them, I can't predict how or when they will change, and they often seem to be quite a bit one sided. 🤔 

And so, we talk about why it's not fair to have rules that are secrets. We discuss why the game developers write all the rules out for everyone who wants to play to see. I reminder her that people can't follow a rule they don't know about and people can't be prepared for something they didn't know was coming. I point out that the game developers probably wanted everyone to have a fair chance at winning so everyone could play and have fun.

Then we check the (not secret) rules to see what we should do. 

And though those conversations aren't exactly fun in the moment, I know that someday she'll be thankful she can read the rules and understand them. I know that someday she'll be glad she has a fair chance and understanding, figuring out, and winning any game she wants to play.

Right now she's 5 and making up rules is age appropriate and doesn't bother me. But the concept is important for me to help her understand because I pray that someday she'll realize and be thankful for the fact that God also doesnt have any secret rules. I pray she'll realize the importance of sharing His word where He has laid out for us exactly what we need to do to be prepared to win our heavenly crown (with no secret, unwritten extras). That we all have a fair chance of understanding His words, the ability to reread when we need to, an equal opportunity to abide by His laws, and a fair shot at "winning" eternity.

And that, folks, is way more important than any game I play with her now.