::Dan & Michelle's Wedding::

::AY TWO::

We were served a wonderful pancake breakfast in the morning. Twelve kids crammed around a wooden table. While we were loading the van yet again Caelah leaned her head into my side and mumbled; "I don't have to go, do I?..." Yes, my sweetheart, you do. There are oceans ahead and many more cousins to play with. I adore my Aunt Jane and found it hard to say goodbye. She has a deep soul, and a very honest tongue. When we arrived the day before she had put her arm around my waist and asked me to take off my sunglasses; "Jo? It is you! If you don't mind me saying so, there is a lot less of you this time. I hardly recognized you." Thank you, Aunt Jane, I think.

We had no trouble over the border and pulled up to our hotel with enough time for a quick change into wedding clothes. When we first opened the door to the van it felt like being whacked across the face with a hot skillet. The heat was intense. {Little did we know but we would perspire 24-7 from here to home}. It occurred to me that I faced a wardrobe dilemma: Cover up? Or cook? In heat such as this one wants to wear as little as possible but for me this would mean painful sunburn. Optimistically, I figured I could begin cultivating the art of staying cool yet protected. . . Who was a kidding? Cool was never an option. So I decided to cover up. The cost: several sweat-marred shirts and a lasting antipathy towards travel in the Southerly direction from May-September.

The wedding ceremony was very short which was convenient for a family full of restless kids. But it was also very small. This only served to highlight by boys' crazy behaviour. In the fifteen minutes it took to give the bride and groom a hug in the receiving line they literally bounced off walls, rolled on the ground, and chased one another in tight circles around people groupings. And I simply didn't have the will nor the energy to put a stop to it. I just hoped for a little grace, and grace is what I got. I overheard one woman say; "Kids will be kids." Indeed.

The reception was held at a golf course with a view. Once the heat subsided we spent a bit of time out on the balcony looking at the lovely eco-disaster of a golf green. We held an impromptu photo shoot out there. I spotted a wedding party gathered on one of the hills. The girls were wearing awful kelly-green dresses. I figure they must resent the bride for making them wear a colour that looks horrible on everyone and everything but a pool table. I bumped into them in the washroom an hour later. Their foreheads were shiny with sweat and their makeup was running down their cheeks. Now they were clover-green and soggy. Poor, girls.

Back inside a kid's table had mercifully been provided. It was mostly well though-out, apart from the bouncy balls which were soon ricocheting past the faces of the wedding party. Annorah spent lots of time under our table. We were hoping she would sleep but she found our shoes too fascinating.

The three brothers didn't get to see much of each other that evening. Evan and Stasia were placed across the room at the front. And Colin was seated way at the back of the room at the "singles" table--as Aidan called it. But once we got back to the hotel, and all were asleep on beds and floors and in closets, Aidan snuck out to hang out in their room.

::The Little Van That Could & The Very Full House ::

::AY ONE::


There is a phenomenon whereby a finite space seems to be able to hold an infinite amount. {Like the magical tents in Harry Potter}. Our little van just kept on accommodating more and more of our stuff. Aidan would come back into the house shaking his head, but I would have yet another mound waiting for him. Out he would go, only to return again shaking his head. In this way we--oh, let's be honest-- I was able to bring FAR more than I had any right to do. Of course, while the van's frame seemed happy to oblige, its shocks told a different story. During our first half hour on the road, anytime we hit a bump, Aidan would groan; "Poor van!"


The actual layout of children and stuff took some careful thought. Isaiah could not be trusted beside Annorah. Only a week earlier he had fed her a grape that nearly killed her. And Gabriel and Elijah were best kept separate for other reasons, yet similarly, with their better health--and ours-- in mind. No child had any leg room. The back seat was shoved up against the middle seat to provide more trunk space. And Elijah in the middle had to prop up his feet on three weeks worth of clothes, a stroller and a beach blanket.

As we drove, for fun, I began to keep track of pee breaks. Better to make a game of it than get angry at the natural functions of my kids' bladders. Day 1 yielded five breaks. But that was spread over 9 hours. Day 18 took the record with 6 breaks in 2.5 hours. What?! Drinks were confiscated after that.

Much of my driving experience on Day 1 was defined by "Serena," the GPS lady. Aidan paid way more attention to her than me. First, Aidan played around with the vehicle icon. We went from a being represented by a blue sports car to a yellow school bus. Much more appropriate. Then Aidan grew dissatisfied with Serena's British accent and tried Samantha-the-American. He settled on Serena in the end. Everyone loves Queen's English, right?


Serena messed with our heads a few times. She once told us to fly down a side road that looked like a gorge of death, rather than to take the nicely paved road a few meters earlier. Bad, Serena. And everyone knows the Brits don't say their 'r's in the middle of their words, but Serena never got the memo, so she was pronouncing streets in the oddest way. They nearly sounded like gibberish. Kinda like when Steve Martin, as Inspector Clouseau, tries to pronounce 'Hamburger' in The Pink Panther. Funny.

We arrived at our cousins' home around 4:30 in the afternoon. We had been warned that parking would be interesting, as our Great Aunt Jane & Uncle Albert had arrived a few weeks earlier with their behemoth RV. Road parking was not an option as the neighbourhood was plagued by particularly officious ticket-hornets. So up onto the grass we went.


What a delightful family. Seven strawberry blond heads, all willing to let us invade their home. In no time at all our kids were all swept away to various activities, including throwing gravel into each others hair and sneaking into the front yard despite strict orders not to. For awhile Caelah was running around calling after 'Benji,' though none of us had any idea who that might be. Oh, Benita. And Gabriel, always on the lookout for a shortcut, referred to every child as 'that boy'.


We tucked our dirty, gravel-haired bambinos into the tent trailer--our room for the night-- and spent an hour or so warding off curious strawberry-headed spies who wanted to peek into the windows at their cousins. That evening the adults snacked on BBQ fish and spoke deeply about faith. We challenged one another on why we believe what we believe. It was done graciously and well. I crept into my trailer bed ready for sleep, but unable to for a very long time as coffee buzzed through my veins and a train whistle blasted very nearby.

::Home!::

::Tiny Moments::

omorrow we leave for our very first big family trip. This heralds in me an excitement for the years ahead. Lord willing our family will fill many albums with photos of the experiences we share. I have set aside the camera for months now. That saddens me. I think I got so caught up in the daily grind that the beauty of capturing the everyday was lost on me for a time. I hope that I come home with a fresh eagerness to really see the tiny moments that make up a childhood.

::Flaming Dishcloth::

t says something about life around here when I scooped up a flaming dishcloth which had been set alight by the gas stove, flicked it onto the porch. Beat it with a block of wood than promptly returned to stirring the onions in the pan. "What happened, mommy?"

"Oh, nothing."

::Waterhouse::

omen are beautiful creations, but some artists capture that beauty better than others. I have been exploring art a little of late and came across John Waterhouse. I am familiar with the painting of Psyche Entering Cupid's Garden, above. It has been hanging on my wall for years. But he has painted so many more stunning works--mostly of women. He must have esteemed them, to capture them as he did. I hope to read some biographies on his life in future, but have only learned, thus far, that he was inspired by myth and classical history.

I think I am drawn to paintings from this era because of the way women are portrayed. They look so. . . healthy. And they appear so essentially feminine. Rounded curved, long hair, rosy cheeks. In my current frenzy to harness my body and drop weight, it does my heart good to see the beauty in the softer, less sculpted female body.

::Galilee Lane::

aelah and I have become volunteers at our local hospital. When I first arrived for an interview I expected to be asked why I wanted my little girl to be involved in this with me. Instead Michelle-- the woman who is head coordinator of events in the seniors wing, told me a story. When she was very small her family took her with them to perform a play at a seniors home nearby. She was so terrified by the creaking wheelchairs and the strange smells that she refused to perform. Her wise mother asked her instead to hand out programs. And by the time she was done walking among the seniors--programs in her tiny hands-- she had "one hundred new best friends."

That, in a nutshell, is my hope for my children. I want them to be filled with love and compassion for the men and women who are now caught in the falling arc of their strength and beauty. I want them to love the weakest of people and never be too proud to do so.

On Wednesday we took Ethel, Daniel, Barry & Catharine for a walk in the sunshine. For some of them this was the first time in months they had breathed fresh outside air. Michelle handed out hats. "Here, Ethel, this one won't mess of your pretty hair. Oh, that really suits you!" Ethel--curlers still tightly wound in her hair-- truly delighted in the outing. She took such pleasure in the huge trees along the Galilee laneway. My job was to push Catharine. A tiny woman who knew everything there was to know about the area. And Catharine soaked up the sunshine. "My blood is thin, I keep my house at 70 degrees. The sun feels good!"

Caelah trotted along beside us all, answering Barry's questions with increasing boldness. It was Caelah's job to keep the door button pressed down so the elevator doors would stop closing on us as we tried to organize the wheelchairs into the small space. "Why can't I push?" she asked as we adults lost our breath struggling up the ramps. Michelle and I talked strategy. Do we wheel the chairs down the steep ramp facing forward or backwards? My usher's experience taught me always to go backwards. But Michelle argued that "we don't have eyes in the back of our heads" and if we were to trip, we would suddenly find ourselves underneath a very heavy wheelchair. We faced forward.

Caelah and I have many days of service in this place ahead of us. We may bake pies or cookies. We might help lead a craft and sing some songs. Whatever we do the fresh young faces of my children will be a a most welcome addition. Michelle repeated several times; "It is so good to see young ones in the place."

::God Books::

My elder once told me that he and his wife instituted a family rule that only God books were to be read on Sundays. At the time, I thought that was rigid and unnecessary. But I have come to desire more excellent ways, whether they are required or not. I have been created a booklist for myself. I will not share it in its entirety, as it will only lead to disagreement. But these are books I have always wanted to read. Or feel I should read in order to dialogue with friends and neighbours in a new way. Some of my picks are:

"How Should We Then Live?" Francis Schaeffer
"Confessions" Augustine
"Through the Gates of Splendor" Elisabeth Elliot
"The Pursuit of God" Tozer
"The Holiness of God" Sproul
"The God Who is There" Schaeffer
"The Practice of the Presence of God" Brother Lawrence
"Chosen by God" Sproul
"Life Together" Bonhoeffer

The usual suspects. But there are many others. . .

I would like for you all to leave me a list of your top five God books--and yes, the Bible goes without saying.

I will add them to the list.

::Magnolia::

simply adore my magnolia. If ever I question my green thumb, I only need look at this plant and my doubt will vanish. Two years ago it was dead. Seemingly. And I managed to coax it back to life. It was given as a housewarming present from my mom, and will forever be tied to new beginnings here for our family. I hope it continues to thrive along with the rest of us in this place.

::Unusual::

"ou are so-- unusual," she articulated in her lilting Middle-eastern accent. I love the precision that comes when one does not have a grasp of the colloquial terms, such as "weird" or "crazy." Because 'unusual' is precisely what she meant. And I received the word gladly.

As Christians we have a relationship with the word 'unusual'. Or, we ought to. We are told that we are to be unlike the world, and in this way will be viewed as strange or foolish. As citizens of the 21st century we have an alternate relationship with the word 'unusual' as uniqueness is lauded as an end in itself: comfortable self-identity and self-esteem carved out by expressing every inner whim loudly and relishing the quirkiness of ones own personality without making any excuses for it.

I walk the razor's edge of this two-faceted relationship. The woman who called me 'unusual' went on to say that she was inspired by my willingness to grasp life as fully as I can despite the challenges of a large family. I know that this willingness is fundamentally born from my relationship to God. He has given us this one life. He has filled it with beauty and blessing. I have always felt that fear and worry have no place here, but rather passion for the world He has given and the people in it. This is a God-given 'unusual'.

However, I am also very aware of a deep-rooted pride in being the individual that I am. Comfortable with who I am? Not necessarily. That depends on the day. Pleased to stand out as a unique individual? Yes. Very. Our society is made up of nearly autonomous little gods who celebrate themselves--going to great lengths to turn heads. This desire is as old as time itself. Didn't Lucifer fall from heaven in an obsessive desire to be the One? To be God himself? The twinge of satisfaction I feel when I am identified as 'unusual' is not pure, but tainted with pride.

The challenge is to accept that God sees each one of us as uniquely precious. In this way He intimately encourages us in our gifts and guides us away from sin. But an over-enthusiasm in ourselves will only lead to self-idolatry and inhibit the selfless love we are meant to give to everyone around us.

Be unusual. Just don't love it too much.

::Cox & Cox::

::Jigsaw Tree::


::Seedling Press::

::Butterfly STamps::

::Cox & Cox::

::My Children::

My cousin Maryanne regularly dwells on the beautiful uniqueness of each of her four children. It has been a long time since I have done the same.

::Caelah::


She catches any and all hypocrisy and presents us with her findings. She mulls over any scrap of information she comes across until she understands it to her satisfaction. She asks the hard questions, fully expecting to be satisfied with the truths we offer. She clings tenaciously to her convictions. She is aggravatingly hard to sway but I am secretly thrilled because I have often regretted the inconstancy of my own character. She is at once boldly herself, yet timid in the face of too many faces.

She exudes creativity and joy. Her greatest pride in me is my artistic ability. She watches me closely and emulates. She is classically feminine: prancing about the house in tutus and relishing the diameter of her twirling skirts as she pirouettes. She leads her brothers, with increasingly less co-operation on their part, in rounds of imaginary play. She LOVES to laugh. She has a rolling, inhibit-less laugh. She comes by it honestly.

Anecdote: After a particularly chilly morning run I sneaked up on Aidan and placed my freezing hands on his bare back. We proceeded to play tag for fifteen minutes around the house, tearing around the island and eliciting uproarious laughter from our children. At that time Caelah had asked us why Aidan and I touch each other so much. I explained that touching is a by-product of loving someone so very much. That evening Caelah watched Aidan and I very closely as she headed up to bed. She wanted to know why we stay up long after they all go to bed. I was not entirely forthright in saying that we simply liked keeping one another company. But she saw through it. "I know what you do. You kiss and kiss and kiss." And when we had a good laugh she added slyly, "I am pretty good at figuring these things out."

Favourite Words: "Right, Mom?"

::Elijah::


A deep well, this one. All at once the most complicated and most misunderstood. This boy has a reputation. The boy with the twinkle in his eye. The one looking for trouble. Yes, he is very quick to irritate and pester. And yet he is quicker still to defend and plead on another's behalf. It seems he has a very strong sense of justice. Like many troublemakers, he understands the 'law' and so breaks it artfully and willfully in his sin. And yet his awareness of right and wrong is so acute that he feels compelled to champion anyone dealt an unfair hand. If he is wrongly disciplined, which happens frequently, as he is most often the guilty party, he descends into the pits of despair. When rightly disciplined we must push beyond his resistance to the wonderful place that lies beyond: his warm well of a heart.

He works with his hands to produce the most intricate creations and is simply bursting with pride upon discovering they function exactly as he had intended them to. I foresee him to be an invaluable help to me in my ineptitude with all things mechanical. This gift is both the element that draws him to his brothers, as they watch amazed and become students. Yet it can quickly dissolve into war as his carefully constructed masterpieces risk destruction at the hands of littler hands. I look forward to older days of tree houses and teamwork. What will be created with three sets of boy hands and loads of time?

Favourite Saying: "But, but, but. . ."

::Gabriel::


The talker. This one is very rarely quiet. He was late to speak and is more than making up for it. My heart is often burdened for this one. He is classically stuck in his middleness. I tend to be pulled to the oldest and youngest and Gabriel gets neglected. This may be the reason for the tendency to whine. He is quick to cry and slow to quiet. I must intentionally seek him out and give myself wholly to him for a time. He thrives when I do.

Whatever the reason, the conditions of his young life have nurtured him into a lover of people. He sidles up to any and all only to share the contents of his mind fully and at length. He relishes the listening ear and takes full advantage of any quiet moment or idle stranger or family pet. And when no other soul can be found he is content to talk to himself. He find himself to be a very good audience.

Favourite Words: "Why?"

::Isaiah::

Isaiah must be fully engaged by me or he will make good use of his free time creating a mess of epic proportions. I have never had a more destructive child. Isaiah can draw across three walls, empty my wallet across the floor and play in the toilet before I have had my morning coffee. Seriously. And this is a daily occurrence. He seems to have no interest in toys. He wants to get into the interesting stuff.

However, engaging this boy is a delight. He snuggles into me as though I were warm winter blanket. And he simply sits. His words have been slow in coming, but I don't mind. These quiet moments will soon be gone and I am not eager to see them go.

Favourite Words: "No."

::Annorah::

It is hard to determine the personality hiding behind a nine month old. But she certainly has a temper. It erupts if I move beyond her range of vision. I must be right by her or she lets us all know she has something to say about that. Partly, I am relived to see the strength of her spirit. Her spunk will give her a foothold in the whirlwind of a larger family.

Favourite Words: In my arms; "Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta" Out of my arms; "Roarrrrrrr!"

::Favourite::

I am often draw into conversations about the number of kids I have, but this one took a different turn. Mike, the portly French-Canadian passport official liked the names I had chosen for my children, and said as much. Between data entry he asked many questions about how we raise them and which of them share my features versus my husband's. We passed what might have been a very tedious 40 minutes in companionable chatter. And then he shot a question out there from left field. I should say that if felt like it came out of left field to me, but in hindsight, I suspect Mike had been steering the conversation to this very moment from the first 'Hello'.

Waving a hand at the stack of passport photos, he asked; "So, which is your favourite?"

He wouldn't look at me when he asked this. Head bent low over his typing fingers.

"Not a chance!" I said. I explained that I know that favouritism exists out there but I simply couldn't grasp how that is possible.

This man looked up with tears falling from his eyes and told me; "It destroys kids. Destroys them." Then he added, "I left my wife because of what favouritism did to our two sons."

Aidan has kept all of our e-mails. Awhile ago I asked him to send me the bundle of them. It was amusing to read over the earliest ones. We were doing our very best to flirt with our words. Much is lost in an e-mail. You simply can't replace face to face interactions. I wanted to share one of our first notes to one another. Note: Aidan lived in the same duplex as I did.

Me to Aidan:

. . . I'm sure you are sitting right next door as I am
writing this. I'm also sure you saw me coming in. This
is so weird. I am typing a message to you, from a few
feet away. It's a strange concept, but I'll get over
it.
I just wrote a really great exam, picked up my history
essay which I got an A on, and I am very- giddy.
That's a good word to describe it.

I just thought of something that could potentially be
embarassing for myself. When I am, say, singing at the
top of my lungs, which I do very often, can you hear
me? Or maybe, when I yell at my brothers? That would
be something. If that's the case, then hey, I will
forever be comfortable in your presence. After that,
nothing I could do could possibly be as embarrassing.

~JO

His response:

Well, it's only 1 wall... Ya, I've heard you... Of course nothing to
cause me to cringe. yet... I'm supprised I haven't had any of you
knocking on our door asking me to shut up sometimes... My roommates
tell me to all the time ;-)

a.

::Julia::

elcome, little Julia.

You are loved.

::One of those mornings::

t has been one of those mornings.

Each of our children have challenged us uniquely and elicited serious rebukes before 8:00 a.m. We woke to the buzzing sound of a razor, shortly followed by the discovery of Gabriel's anti-hawk. You know, the reverse Mohawk look? We did not approve and spent a good part of the early hours of the Sabbath shaving the rest of an unhappy boy's hair off. Another child's theft was uncovered and dealt with at the same time as the second child's tattle-tailing. The youngest family members were crying and squirting juice all over the floor and their siblings. And then Gabriel topped it all off by gashing his lip open on the driveway.

Aidan and I wrote off our Sunday service and Gabriel was taken to the hospital for stitches. He was a trooper. Apparently he was so busy peppering the doctor with questions he forgot to cry. He got a popsicle in the end. What that a reward or a mouth-plug? Shrug.
The boys were rewarded on the way home with a stop at the firestation where a truck was being cleaned. Here's to hoping the day has taken a turn for the btter.

::Annorah::

t has been so long since I stopped to take a picture of my baby girl. It is so true, what they say, about the last children having a much smaller pile of baby photos. But the ones I do take really count. Like this one. . . big sitting-up-girl!

::This Summer::

his summer it looks like we will have plenty of coast time. We are hoping to head to a wedding in Michigan, then continue on to see family in Georgia. On the way home we decided to take the long way back. I want to introduce my kids to a starfish and lighthouses, and the roar of the ocean.

We plan on camping all along the way. Any campground recommendations? Places we must see?