::Beautiful Response::

I want to share a god-filled response I received to my last post.

It was written by Jay Younts at Shepherd Press Blog.
His words were, indeed, a blessing to me, as I hope they will be to you.

::To say the right thing::

The girl on the bus pointed at her birthmark--the one just below her left eye--and told her she looked stupid.

The soft confession came from my little girl, who was staring at the floor. A groan escaped me and I grabbed my daughter close. And I did exactly what I shouldn't have: I cried. Will it get easier to be strong? Will it get easier to say the right thing in response to pain?

::Where we're going this weekend::

*UPDATE*

We had such a wonderful time. There is a feeling of warmth that envelops me when I step into the central lounge. It took me aback as forcefully as it did the first time. My senses never managed to get their fill. Throughout the weekend Aidan and I kept returning, just to curl up on a couch and bask in the comfort of the wood, fire and beauty. The space took on an extra warmth because the Christmas boughs and sparkling lights were still strewn across every balcony from the holidays. Apparently, they were set to come down this coming week. I am so glad we didn't miss them.
Also, perhaps because I am now a mother, I was very aware of the large number of kids that were frolicking about. More often than not their small feet were fitted with fuzzy slippers, or they were still in their crinkled pj's. It was such a good thing to see. And it took the snobbery out of the air. In the evening, as I was tucked against Aidan, wearing my sweatpants and cradling a Latte, I overheard a lady speaking to her girlfriends; "Oh, let's go get into our comfortable clothes and come back. We can have a pyjama party!"
Sequels, are often a disappointment, but this stay surpassed our last experience by far. The sparkling excitement of the honeymoon visit was replaced by a deep-rooted comfort and joy, both in the familiar surrounding we felt we fit in, and in a blessed marriage that has twined us seven years closer together.

Montebello!
Hey, it's been 7 years. . .

::Beckta::

We did it.
We went and spent more money on a single dinner than we have since our honeymoon.
Oh, but it was worth it! I can still taste it.
The thing about really good food joints is that each bite is intense. Your mouth dances. So, while the plate arrives, and you stare at the tiny, albeit pretty, cluster of food, it is hard to imagine it will fill or satisfy. But it does. There was much groaning, on my part. And much reluctance to finish the last bite and put an end to the experience.

*Beckta*
An award winning establishment. In Frommer's words;

Here is proof that residents of the capital are eager to embrace cooking that transcends the routine beef and spaghetti houses that dominated the Ottawa dining scene not long ago.
. . . All that unfairly ignores the service, by a coed team of such polished skill that they surely have undergone rigorous training -- there is no such group in town to equal them.

Here's what we ate, {and I did not hesitate to ask for a detailed explanation of the mysterious descriptions}:

Gnudi: Naked ravioli/ ravioli without the pasta pocket.
Gastrique: Thick sauce made by reduction.
Miso: Thick paste used for sauces or spreads.


Grana Padano: A hard cheese, much like Parmesan.

When we arrived, the hostess took our coats. When we approached our table, she pulled it away from the seat so I could slip in. She pushed it back. She then pulled out Aidan's chair. Aidan's eyes were wide. He knew right then and there the final bill would be astronomical.

We were immediately approached by an immaculate server with a British accent who held one arm behind his back and bowed slightly when he spoke. He departed with our drink orders only to be replaced by a separate server whose only job, as far as I observed, was to offer bread. How do I explain the bread? The choices were french white, whole grain or rosemary. We chose rosemary every time. The crust was crunchy and the flesh was dense and tangy and amazing. A tiny tray of butter was provided; two rosebuds of whipped deliciousness, one of which was caramelized! It was nutty and sweet and I wanted to scoop the leftovers into my wallet for later. I settled for eavesdropping in on the neighbouring diner who asked how it was made.

Caramelized Butter: Warm the butter to liquid and hold the temperature steady, stirring constantly until it turns a golden brown. Move the pan to rest in an ice bath and, once thickened, whip the butter. Yeah-- sounds super easy. The woman who had asked turned to me, "There, now you will have to make it at home!" I replied, "Actually, what I will do is end up with a lot of burnt butter."

Another fabulous tidbit: The chef offers every diner a supplementary amuse-bouche at the beginning and end of the meal. Or first "taste from the kitchen" was a salmon mouse. As we were paying the bill, four spoons arrived yielding a creamy pudding and strawberry reduction on merengue. Bonus!


I was thrilled by the whole experience.
The cherry on top was a long skate on the canal with my husband, sweetened further by a Beaver Tail, of course.

::Seven Years::

{Visual Forces}

Aidan and I have been married seven years, as of yesterday. It really is a beautiful number. I wonder if I have adopted a love for it because God seems to hold it in such high regard in the scriptures? I don't know. But we have danced our way through these precious days. There have been so few hardships and so many blessings placed at our feet. A glorious beginning to our lives together.

I have heard that those early years are usually the hard ones, as a couple settles into one another. Really? I can't help but view these as the easy years. Or, rather, the lightness-of-heart years. Young children bursting with newness and need for us. Fresh beginnings and a forgiving places to land our mistakes and re-try, re-learn, push forward. Youth. Energy. Eagerness to get up and go. Grabbing the world and shaking out it's treasures.

I look ahead, and refuse to put on those rose-coloured glasses. There are darker times to come. There will be grown children, pushing against their parameters. Why don't they need me anymore? There will be loss and hurt, as people depart or break away. There will be restlessness and unreasonable desires and discontent. There will be a battle between us and our bodies. Beauty fading; aches surfacing. God will teach us things we don't want to learn, and it will hurt.

But today is our day of blessing.

You have placed me in green pastures.
You lead me beside quiet waters.

And David has more words.
Words for those later, harder years aswell. Words that remind us that even our dark days are flooded with the light of hope:

Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.

Amen.

The Smell

My nose is haunted.

For days now I draw near to the kids toy room and I smell it. It's a rotting food smell. Banana? Curdled milk? Worse? "Have you guys hidden a snack somewhere in here?" They look innocent/clueless. If I didn't know better I would say we had a lump of blue cheese sitting on the window sill, but we are not in the habit of storing our cheese that way.
Aidan and I have moved the couches, scoured the toy room, crawled on our hands and knees sniffing the textiles. No success. The smell is ever-present, but apparently sourceless.
In my state of heightened nasal sensitivity, I am suffering this very cruel affliction with little grace.

::Five::

We are expecting our fifth baby.
Our last baby.

I want to share with you some of the honest, and unexpected feelings I have been experiencing with this pregnancy. When I found out a few weeks ago, I was deeply disturbed by the predominance of fear in my heart. I have never before seen that beautiful '+' and felt tension well up inside of me. It's too soon! I don't know if my body can take it! Though this initial reaction ruffled me, I was even more disturbed by the fear that persisted and plagued me in the weeks following. I would test my heart, waiting to feel that jolt of joy that came so readily with my other children, but I wouldn't find it. This was not a good way to live. This had to end. So I stopped waiting and did something about it. I began to pray in a new way.

Since Isaiah's birth, I have been seeking God's face for an answer. Father, is our family complete? Or do you have another child for us? I was in mourning over the possible closing of this chapter of our lives, but unwilling to close it medically before gaining some peace about it. And then the answer came. Yes, there is another. And the beauty of God's response was lost on me for a time while I gave my fears a stage.

I have woken from my stupor to praise him. Your answer came. I will praise you for your 'yes'. And should your 'yes' become a 'no' I will praise you still. There is no room for fear in the life of a Daughter. Should the unthinkable happen, I will not say my God is not a good God.

So, please join our family in rejoicing over this little one. I was given the opportunity to see him this week. Beautiful tiny ten week old baby. I got to hear his tiny heart.
I fell in love and out of fear.

Five.

::Beloved Trappings::

There are times when I feel I am being stripped of all of my beloved trappings. I can never point back in time to the precise moment it all begins to fall away, I simply wake up and feel bare.
I am living in that place right now.

No pictures. No posts. No paintbrush.

My camera didn't break. My computer is up and running. I haven't been robbed of my art supplies. I have simply been robbed of any desire to put them to use.

Why?

I suspect it's God's way of holding my chin in His hands and turning my gaze towards Him.
Stare into my face for awhile and know me.
When the things that keep me playfully distracted are no longer palatable, and I'm twiddling my thumbs and staring up into the sky, it's Him I will ponder. I will ask; now that I see the core of me, it's looking pretty bleak. What do you want me to put on?
Maybe He will show me how to search for Him in the scriptures EVERY DAY. Maybe He will show me how to truly be attentive to my children every time they call. Maybe He will take my breath away with moments of revealed wonders.
But will I be listening?
Lens cap is on. Monitor is dark. Paints are dry.
I am listening.

::Next::

So, this blog ain't pretty for nothing.
It's pretty because my eyes are happy looking at it. In truth, almost all of the blogs to which I subscribe are beautiful.
You guys out there are not going to appreciate this, but the ladies just might; if you read subscriptions via Google Reader, check this out:
Since you must be there now look up in the top right corner of your screen. See the "Settings" button? Press that. Now look for the "Goodies" button. Now drag that NEXT button up into your Bookmarks Toolbar and start using it!
You click it and the latest blog post pops up on your screen in all of it's true beauty. No more bland white Reader screen.
Enjoy!

::Being There::

Twenty little people standing at the front of their classroom. Shifting from foot to foot. One wearing a red Santa hat. Many in red and green. Small hands holding an assortment of musical instruments. Mine is looking a little nervous. I can tell he is fighting an inner compulsion to place his thumb in his mouth. He's looking around. Trying to see through the mess of chairs and parents and siblings and coats. The hope and expectation is etched all over his face, making me desperate to get his attention. I am up on my tiptoes. I am waving. I finally call his name.
And then he sees me.
And his face lights up in a way that makes me grin. He grabs the sleeve of the friend next to him. I see his mouth shape the words, "my mom is here." I keep grinning in an attempt to keep back the tears. Because his adoration for me is so striking and beautiful. And his pleasure at my presence is so transparent. I am his mom. And being there is what I do.

::Merry & Bright::

Christmas prettiness

::Advent Calendars::

I have loved this idea ever since I spotted this *"Hats and Mittens Advent Calendar"* by Garnet Hill in Country Living Magazine. Should I knit myself 25 tiny hats and mitts? Or should I do it like Martha and just string together some cute finds:

*"Baby Sock Advent Calendar."*

All of this is just superfluous cuteness. We already have a lovely advent calendar. But can't we have countdowns all over the house?

::Monday Twins::

On Mondays, I am the mother of twins.
For about two months now I have been taking Elyssa as my own while her Mom gets a good work day in. And for that one day I get to hug and cuddle, care for and FEED two little ones very close in age. This means twice the fun; twice the challenge. When one cries, the other cries. When one wants up, the other wants up. When one eats, the other must eat. . .
And so the spoon goes in one mouth, then the other.
{And, yes, they seem suspiciously prone to being sick at the same time.}

::Been Crafting::

I've been crafting. . .
See what I have been up to *HERE*

::Wine Tags::

Yesterday we hosted the annual St. Nick's gift exchange at our home. Forty family members milling around, many of whom came with bottles of wine. Having predicted as much I first went and bought a dozen new wine glasses to add to my three. Next, I conscripted the kids to a craft. I cut 15 lengths of silver wire and hooked one end. I dumped a handful of assorted beads onto a plate and the kids strung the ones they liked onto the wire. I looped the last end and forms these beautiful wine tags! Each ended up completely unique, {which is the point}. And they proved to be incredibly helpful last night. On several occasions I had to scan the counter tops until I found my Red & Green tag.

::Christmas Idea Number Eight::

Wallpaper wrapping paper.
::Idea Number Eight::

::Getting Festive::

Glass Juice Jar filled with Red and Gold ornaments.
Berry Branches hung with tiny Red & Orange ornaments
Chandelier hung with Gold stars

It begins. . .

::Windows & Doors; Shelves & Lights::

We hung our first curtain: A tablecloth I found in Montreal for $14.00, and am now kicking myself over-- why didn't I buy ten?!

Aidan worked on the linen closet. {Currently holding more presents; less linen.} See the beautiful trim work? He did it all himself. We are going to put a door on the closet eventually, but for now I'm still rejoicing over the shelves.

The lovely reclaimed window I first mentioned *here* has finally been given it's place of honour. It has been fitted up above the firewood storage cubby. We have big plans for that space. The window is a good start. {Pictures to come}.

These carriage house lanterns, meant to be outdoor lights, now adorn our upstairs hallway. They were intended for the garage, but proved to be too small. They completely fit the decor of the house. And they give off such a nice light.

And finally, a bedroom door! It has been a long-standing joke to entice guests over for the night with promises of a door on the bedroom next time. . . Well, we've finally hung one on the boys room--no joke. It only took 15 months. This door, along with two others, came to us via the side of the road. {The same house that offered me *these*}. We should invite those folks over for dinner. They've unwittingly saved us a bundle.

Small changes.