Get a Clu!

One of the best things about working with Legacy of Hope is the amazing people I get to meet.

Like Marty Barnes.

Marty is the proud mama of a little girl with special needs and Marty works tirelessly to bring valuable information and resources to fellow parents. She has started a fantastic campaign this year, something I would love to ultimately see go national.

It's called Clu.

From the word 'Inclusion'. You know, to 'include' people.

So check this out~~there are lots of kiddos out there for whom Halloween is not much fun. Because of dietary allergies, feeding tubes or other needs, these kids can't partake of the usual sugary Halloween fare. If they go trick-or-treating and get sacks full of candy, they've got to leave all those treats alone.

Doesn't sound like much fun, does it?

So Marty came up with this incredible idea to ask folks to have non-edible goodies for these kids. She's launching the program here in Central Texas in the Austin area. Participants simply print out the 'Clu' sign for their front doors and they can also register their address on the website so that families with kids on restricted diets can find some Halloween fun! While the registry is only available to the ATX are this year, I just know this thing is going to grow. So please, please, if you're an Octamom reader residing in the area, please make an extra pitstop to HEB and pick up some non-edible goodies and put the Clu sign up on your door tonight. Click here to go to the website. And even if you're not in the area, please give the Clu Campaign a 'Like' on their Facebook page, won't you?

Clu. What a great idea, Mizz Marty.

And hey? All my precious readers out there~~get a 'Clu'!

Sunday Selah

Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much.

Luke 16:10

We were actually pretty stunned.

JT and I. My running partner.

We ran the Chosen Marathon/Half-Marathon yesterday, an event that raises money for international adoption. The funds raised through the race are given to families who are in the process of adopting internationally to help offset the astronomical costs involved. We ran it last year, before JT and her husband AT brought their adopted son home from Ethiopia. And we ran again this year, celebrating that their son is now a part of all our lives.

Back to the stunned part.

Training for last year's race, we used a 10 week, arduous schedule. I carefully printed off the schedule, marking each training event with a little check as I completed it, keeping track of mileage and times and days. Last year's race was tough. We were well-conditioned, but we hadn't run the course before. The weather was warm and muggy. We were still figuring out our hydration and nutrition.

But we finished with a good time.

Training for the race this year was more difficult. We used the same schedule, a familiar cadence keeper to our goal. But this summer was much, much hotter. We pushed jogging strollers for several of the training days with squirmy preschoolers, making the hills even harder. Some of our longest runs we had to complete without each other, travel schedules and failed transmissions upsetting our calendars. There were a few boxes on our training schedules that just didn't get checked. There was the longest run before the race when I was running sick and our time was terrible. There were the challenges of JT's newly bigger family, kids in more activities, commitments and events squeezing our training into little boxes of time. Our goal this year was just to finish, to enjoy the run, to celebrate adoptive families.

So we were stunned. Stunned when we chopped several minutes off of last year's time. Stunned when we realized that we had run much faster than last year, felt better and each still had energy to go on to have full days yesterday. Stunned. I suppose in some ways we felt we hadn't 'earned' it this year, hadn't checked off all those little training boxes with the same kind of perfection as last year.

But we had race grace.

We weren't just training this year. We were building on the experience of previous years, of the years we've run together and the years before we knew each other. We were building on the experience of having done this very difficult race course the year before. We were building on the disciplines and challenges and nutrition and hydration wisdom we had learned.

Kind of like life.

Kind of like faith.

There are challenges and seasons that, looking at it on the map, seem overwhelming, particularly when we aren't sure we're up for it. We have seasons of daily Bible reading, powerful prayer, perfect church attendance. We feel that we've earned the strides we make. But then there are those seasons that we try but we feel we fall short.

But the beauty of diligence and consistency, outside of perfection, the daily attempt, the continued training, even when the schedule doesn't seem to qualify you for teacher's pet, is that it builds. It still builds. It's the little efforts, the short runs, the training that isn't so gorgeous and the day when all seems right~it all still builds.

I got a taste of that kind of grace yesterday. And while last year's race was a wonderful experience, there is something about this year's that has a special blush to it. Our delight was greater, our giggy-ness higher. We knew full well that this year's training felt tougher, looked uglier...and yet, we received race grace.

What joy to know that's the way the finish line will feel when we reach eternity.

Selah.

JPEG of the Week

~I ran a 1/2 marathon with Wonder Woman this morning~

~and tonight she's out on a date with Bat Man~

~fighting crime, I suppose~

~and a sore knee~

Prepping...

I should be heading to bed.

Let me rephrase.

I should have headed to bed. A while ago. Because tomorrow is the Chosen Marathon.

And JT and I are running it again. Which means I should get some sleep. And I will.

But Mike is making sure the Rangers know they have his support. And in another room, 1 of 8 is singing show tunes at the top of her amazing voice as several of the kids are watching 'Funny Girl'.

You should hear 1 of 8 when she channels her inner Babs Streisand. It truly is spectacular.

It's just not the most relaxing environment in which to wind down before a big race.

But that's okay. At least my memory will have been recently jogged so I can regale JT with 'Don't Rain on My Parade' as we run. I'm sure she'll appreciate that....

Screaming TV

I believe in transparency. Honesty. Vulnerability.

So you need to know...we are not usually baseball people. Two of Mike's dearest friends are. 5 of 8's best friend is. We are not.

Usually.

But tonight, Mike is screaming at the television.

And he has all kinds of advise for the Rangers. And concern. And care.

We're rooting.

Rooting for the Rangers, we are.

To Treat or Not to Treat...

As we head toward the 'Big Night' around here, that of candy and costumes and sugar highs, I thought I would repost some thoughts about Halloween, its history and how that all plays into our family traditions. This is from 2009...

I have a hunch that you just haven't seen enough '7 of 8 as Snow White' yet...
I'm very thoughtful...

So here you go...

We've had an ambivalent relationship with Halloween through the years. For quite a while, 1 of 8 had a strong conviction as a child that she shouldn't participate. We honored that conviction on her part, but didn't put it on the other kids. A great compromise was going to our church's Harvest Party, that allowed 2 and 3 of 8 to dress up and allowed 1 of 8 to gather candy without doing the Halloween 'thing'.

We moved to a different neighborhood when 4 of 8 was an infant and discovered our first Halloween in that house was a full-out neighbor experience. All the neighbors were out, visiting, laughing, enjoying the evening. So, through the years, we came to see the annual trick-or-treating as a way to connect with those living around us, a springboard to further contact and conversations. We always made our Halloween fun and light, carving our pumpkins with Christian symbols, telling each trick-or-treater 'God bless you'...and very much meaning it.

I do understand why families choose to not celebrate Halloween. Our culture has turned it into such a scary and demonic event, taking it far from its original Christian roots of honoring the memory of the dead. And we have had our seasons of turning our back on the event, choosing to keep the porch lights off.

And we've let the kids vote their conscience as well, sometimes choosing to trick-or-treat, sometimes not.

But ultimately, for us, all through the years, depending on where we have lived, what the tenor of the neighborhood has been, we have found it to be a night to reclaim goodness and being neighborly. Doors are opened, children are greeted and treated, hands are shaken and friendships are made.

And however the world has chosen to twist the night for evil, good wins. Good wins.

Daddy Daughter Dance

You gotta appreciate people who come up with great ideas and see it through.

Such was the case this past weekend, because there was a family that suggested that the dance company where many of our children dance should hold a Daddy Daughter dance.

It wasn't us who made the suggestion and made the plans and put the whole thing together. Nope. We just helped populate the event.

That's our gift. Populating events.

Mike attended with four of our girls in tow and then was delighted to have one of 2 of 8's dearest friends along as well. 4 of 8 was my photographer to record all the happenings...

That girl seems particularly gifted at taking pics of herself and others while holding the camera at arm's length.

And she even managed to snap a shot of Mike dancing with 6 of 8...

And this one of Mike competing in the Daddy Dance Competition...

That's the man I fell in love with, ladies and gentlemen.

Mike took second in the competition, I'm told. We will celebrate his silver finish.

For the record, 4 of 8 is looking waaaaay too grown-up to her daddy and me...

And 1 and 2 of 8 have been highly offended when they've been out with their baby sister 4 and people have thought 4 was older. Than the 21 year old. And the almost 18 year old.

Here's 7 of 8 bustin' a move...

It's hard to believe that 2 and 4 of 8 can be this grown-up already. I think back to the days they shared a room~~well, they still share a room~~but they shared a room stuffed with Barbies and baby dolls and stuffed animals. And now they share a room stuffed with clothes and shoes and they share and trade favorite outfits and eye shadow.

Here's 2 and 7...

And 2, 7 and KZ, another one of 'our girls'~~love her!

Now, this was not a Mother/Son event. So 5 of 8 and the other guy in company got to go to a cool movie with their moms...

So all in all, a successful evening. 1 of 8 got to do her college age thing, Mike danced with our other four girls, I got to catch a great flick with a dear friend, her son and 5 of 8.

Oh.

And 3 of 8 got to babysit 8 of 8. Which is always an adventure.

A fun evening for all.  Except for maybe 3 of 8.

We'll make it up to him....

Preview

We have some very excited kids around here, given that the clock is ticking toward our neighborhood party in just a week.

I love our neighborhood.

The folks on our street gather for some good food and fun conversation. And as the sun sets, the kiddos begin their house to house routine, asking for candy and relishing in dress-up.

So the twins just HAD to make sure their looks were working as we head toward the big night.

For clarity, please note that 7 of 8 is a princess and 8 of 8 is Mario of video game fame. We didn't want you to be confused as to who is who.

Sunday Selah

Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?

Matthew 6:26

I've been spending some serious quality time in my garage.

And cabinets.

And closets.

And toy room

I'm trying to clean-out and declutter.

Oh.My.

I read all the websites and blogs dedicated to getting oneself organized. I study the IKEA catalog as if it will help me perform brain surgery. I cull, toss, sort, categorize, strategize, measure and try.

Oh, do I try.

But there's not a lot of household organization tips out there when you're managing a household of ten.

And then there's the part where I'm sentimental/creative/frugal/distracted. You know, your basic recipe for Clutter Cake.

I'll hang on to the strangest things, believing I'll one day re~purpose them. And the kicker is, I often do. Which makes it harder to toss stuff. When you actually do creatively re-use things in a new and fresh way.

Mike always says I use every part of the buffalo.

But there's also a scent of fear to some of it. Fear that I'll lose the memory the object reminds me of. Fear I'll need the item again and instead of looking like a super-prepared girl scout, I'll actually have to go hunt a new one down at the store. Fear that I'm not being a good steward. Fear that I won't be honoring the finances that went into the object.

Fear. Fear. Fear.

I think we often think of materialism in this country as an expression of greed. And I'm sure that's true in some cases. But when I find myself carefully boxing up and hanging on to a collection of worn-out soccer cleats in case financial times are tough when 7 or 8 of 8 is ready to play soccer and needs a pair of size 13 1/2 cleats, it's not about wanting to have the biggest worn-out soccer cleat collection in the county.

It's about fear.

That line where good stewardship and planning crosses over into not trusting that the Lord can show up with soccer cleats whenever we need them. That fear that if I don't hang onto a sentimental object, He's not keeping up with the scrapbook of my life. That fear that if I don't have the widest range of toys available to my children at any given whim, I am somehow shortchanging their childhoods, instead of trusting Him to give them exactly what they need when they need it.

So I'm continuing my decluttering. But it seems the first thing I need to toss out, not donate, not hand-down, not re-puropose, is this little tacky object called fear.

Selah.

JPEG of the Week

~someone [2 of 8] was just a little excited by our SYTYCD adventure last night...~

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SYTYCD

Guess where I am? JT has given me an early birthday present....

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Sweet Silver Success!

The Bead.

The Bead that cost several hundred dollars.

I now own it.

Again.

I owned it before it made its way into 8 of 8's ear canal.

But I now feel that I have even deeper claims of ownership to it.

This squirrelly little disc of silver has proven quite precious. 8 of 8 handled the procedure well, probably relishing that he was giving his ENT a fit even as he slumbered. She first attempted to remove it with a set of teeny tiny forceps. But he had wedged it so well and at such an odd angle that she ultimately had to fashion a tiny suction cup custom made to the size of the bead to force it from his ear.

I just choose to think that 8 of 8 likes to have people expand their horizons....

Gearing Up

I had planned on posting the progress of my extreme home makeover this week.

Well, 'extreme' may be a bit extreme.

I'm painting. Have been painting. Have painted.

But getting 8 of 8 ready for his little bead removal procedure tomorrow is keeping me hopping. There is much to do before I sleep. And I'm not going to get much sleep.

We have to report to the hospital at 6:30 a.m. Maybe this is punishment for letting my kid find a random bead hiding in our shag carpet and him shoving it in his ear.

Perhaps.

But there will be pictures of wall colors and rearranged rooms and laundry room redos. There will. Really.

But first I have to got retrieve the bead that will soon be featured in my newest pricey piece of jewelry...

We'd love your prayers for tomorrow.

Honor

We had such a great service at church on Sunday.

It was Firefighter Appreciation, an opportunity to thank the brave men and women who recently fought the horrific fires in our region. Our church family was able to thank them, honor them and let them know how much their dedication and service to our community has meant.

I was struck with how much our support meant to our firefighters and also with how much some of them seem to still be struggling with their experiences. They seem to keenly feel the burden of the number of homes that were lost. Two people lost their lives as the fire churned through 34000 acres of Central Texas forest, one of them a firefighter. These firemen saw the communities where they live decimated and several of them lost their homes as well. There were tears shed by strong men on Sunday. And we wept with them and cheered them on.

I so appreciate our pastor's heart to honor our community servants and armed services people. I often think about how much I appreciate these amazing public servants, but am stymied as to how to show that. Services like Sunday give us an opportunity to show the support we feel.

And there's something so precious about showing honor to those who traffic in honor.

Stuck

I'm meeting some really wonderful, helpful people in my community.

All because of a little bead. Which has taken up residence. In 8 of 8's ear.

8 of 8 let me know Saturday night, right before bed, that he had pushed a bead into his ear. Way down into his ear.

Way.

We headed to Urgent Care yesterday. To no avail. That bead was going to require an ENT (Ear/Nose/Throat specialist).

So we met with a wonderful ENT today. Who took a quick peek into 8 of 8's ear. And then looked at me. And apologized. And told me what I was expecting.

"This one's going to take a little surgery."

Sigh.

It is one of the things I appreciate about 8 of 8's personality. When he's in, he's all in.

So having met the helpful folks at our local Urgent Care yesterday and having met this wonderful ENT and her crew today, we're going to get to meet a whole other cast of medical characters later this week. When 8 of 8 will get to have that bead removed with the advantage of some anesthesia. And a healthy dose of deductible.

I'll tell you this...I'm having that bead made into a nice piece of jewelry.

Sunday Selah

He will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will expose the motives of the heart.

I Cor. 4:5

We made a little pit stop before church this morning.

At our local Urgent Care center.

8 of 8 had let me know that he had chosen to put a bead in his ear. So I looked. And he had.

And not just any bead.

But a really big, honking shiny bead. Which he had managed to lodge tightly in his ear canal. Just for fun. Apparently.

We went into the Urgent Care waiting room, signed in, paid our copay and waited to be seen. A sweet physician's assistant peered into 8 of 8's ear, confirmed the placement of said shiny bead and proceeded to try to bring that bead into the light.

Unsuccessfully.

She then tried to put a little numbing agent in 8 of 8's ear to make him a little more comfortable while digging deep in his ear canal.

All to no avail.

That bead is stuck, stuck, stuck.

We're going to have to go see an ENT, who will hopefully have a broader range of tiny tools and techniques to remove the bead from its post near that timpanic membrane. Lovely.

8 of 8 is telling everyone he sees about the bead in his ear. He is fully in agreement that putting that shiny orb in his ear was not a great idea. He confirms that having to go to the Urgent Care center wasn't much fun. He knows there will be another doctor visit in his future.

But the bead remains.

I think about some of the sins in my life, the ones that I will own up to having, but that I keep just out of reach from the Great Physician truly plucking out. I'll talk about that bead of sin, own up that it doesn't play a positive role in my life, admit that it impedes my hearing when it comes to spiritual things.

But the bead remains.

8 of 8 is not really uncomfortable with that bead stuck in his ear. It really only hurt when they were trying to get it out of his ear. It muffles his hearing, but he doesn't seem to mind. He probably would be happy to just leave it where it is, honest that it's there but not willing to undergo the discomfort of removing it.

Me too. There are things that I call confession because I don't mind letting anyone know they're there. But I'm not willing to go through the discomfort of removing it from my life. I could hear from the Lord better if I would let those beads be pulled into the light. And He patiently waits for me to submit to His healing bead removal.

Selah.

JPEG of the Week

~Dreaming of Paris today...~

~Paris in the Fall~

Cooler Climes

Don't get me wrong.

I love living in an area which is usually warmer than most.

But this has been one long, long, long summer.

With no rain. And lots of 100 degree days.

But this morning, when JT and I hit the road for a training run, it was 53 degrees. Granted, it was pitch black. 'Cuz it was early, early. But it was nice and cool. And we experienced that odd sensation of being slightly chilled as we hit mile 8 and the wind picked up a bit.

We were actually chilled.

Amazing.

Why is it that energy levels come up when temps go down? Something about keeping balance in the universe, I suppose.

So to compensate for the temperature drop, we're heading down to JT's here in a bit for a dip in the hot tub. Because we loved being a little chilled this morning on our run. But we don't want to forget what 102 degrees feels like either....

Paint Swatch

My desk is littered with bits of paper known as paint swatches.

This is confusing ground. This choosing of paint. And I seem to have that unique un-ability to visualize how a color will look on my walls.

It always seems like a shock and a surprise when I get that roller to the wall. And pigment is placed.

Because it never seems to look like the paint swatch I chose. Although when I put the paint swatch on the painted wall, it seems to match.

Confusing.

I've just covered my dining room in Sherwin Williams Quiver Tan. The swatch is there at the top.

Most of the family loves it. 1 of 8 is not impressed. At all.

Now I have to figure out what to do on the wall that are adjacent to the Quiver Tan walls.

There's Sherwin Williams Wool Skein...

Or Universal Khaki...

Or maybe I should just lean back into the Builder Beige that covers every surface of this house...at least until my hand can unclinch from its state of Holding Paint Brush For Too Long hand...

Sweet Sound

I'm listening to a sweet sound.

I'm holed up back in my bedroom, doing research, answering emails, studying, writing.

But out in the family room, just beyond my door, I can hear it.

That sweet, sweet sound.

It's my four oldest children and a friend.

They are talking. Conversing. Laughing.

Telling stories, reflecting, sharing.

Enjoying each other's company and exchanging dialog.

My kids. Talking as friends.

It's beautiful. Eavesdropping. Eavesdropping on a goal of parenting, that hope that after growing up in your home, your children will find friendship with each other.

What a blessing.

What a sweet sound.

Brain Games

So instead of posting a well-written, pithy, sardonic post tonight, I'm just revealing that I'm vegging in front of the cable tonight after a wonderful but long day speaking and teaching.

I'm watching Brain Games on National Geographic Channel. And it's fascinating. And incredible.

And we are fearfully and wonderfully made.

And I'm calling this a science/neuro-biology lesson.

Go. Watch.

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Football Fashion

Mike has revealed something to me~something I didn't know about him until now.

He has definite opinions about football fashion.

Apparently, Oklahoma State now has many combinations of pants, jerseys and helmets they can change out from week to week for a fresh look. Not just an 'away' ensemble and a 'home' look. Oh no. Mike has heard rumor that there are 30 possible combinations in the Cowboy Collection.

I had no idea.

No idea that football was boasting runway couture.

And no idea that Mike would notice. And appreciate the various combinations. And comment on it.

Live and learn.

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Sunday Selah

Therefore I do not run like someone running aimlessly; I do not fight like a boxer beating the air.

I Cor. 9:26

Running.

I love it.

Running.

I hate it.

You might have noticed; I'm a little conflicted on it.

I love running the days that I run and the miles click by, I find my pace and I feel accomplished and complete when I hit my goal.

I hate running the days that the thermometer is oppressive and I'm tired and the course seems far longer than usual and I don't make my goal.

I love running when I can post big mileage.

I hate running when even cranking out just a handful of miles takes all I've got and isn't pretty.

Training for this latest race has been tough. I don't really know why. By this point in the training, I'm usually on top of the world, feeling strong, hitting my goals. But for some reason, this go-around, it's been a lot harder. A lot. The weather has been far hotter than usual. My schedule is crazy busy. And running is just plain hard.

But I'm learning something.

It's those days that I run, even when it's hot, even when I absolutely don't feel like it, that are the biggest victory. It's not the days I post the biggest mileage or the best times that make up the full portrait. It's those ugly, hard, short, non-impressive routes. They are the ones that make up the frame work and the support for the more glitzy, feel-good days,

I think the race of our faith is similar.

We all oohh and ahhh when we see someone operating in impressive faith. We marvel at their ease in their run, admire their spiritual conditioning.

But we're not even seeing half the story.

Because any kind of mileage on the road of faith has its times of fatigue and heat and challenge and mental blocks. It's what someone does with those days that makes the longer run possible. It's when we run alone, run through challenges of cold loneliness and hot judgement. It's when we don't feel like doing the right thing, but we do it anyway. It's when our flesh is hollering for a party but our spirits choose purity.

Those are the running days that are hard.

And they are the ones that count.

The pretty running days, they're just the reward of hard spiritual training.

And so I'll keep on, lacing up my running shoes on both my feet and my heart. Even when it's hard. Even when I want to stop.

Running.

I love it.

And I'm learning to love the days I hate it.

Just like the race of faith.

Selah.

JPEG of the Week

~Cousins~

~my oldest niece CV and 4 of 8~