one man's trash....

It started when he was about 2 or 3. Somehow, no matter where we were, Jack had a stick in his hand. He found big sticks, little sticks, straight sticks and curvy sticks.  He brought them home and put them in a pile in my front entry (which really is used more for collecting outside playthings). His stick collection grew and grew until finally it was so big I could hardly open the front door. About a year ago I discretely moved it outside in our flower bed (read: weed and root bed). By then he had moved on to collecting rocks and leaves. I always thought I would take a picture of that stick collection, but I never did and the maintenance men came and hauled it all away. (I guess it was unsightly or something.)

Jack was devastated when he found out. It didn't stifle is affinity with collecting things, though. He has just moved on to something else: trash.

He calls it treasure though. He finds bottle caps, old cups, broken pieces of string, various shapes and sizes of lids, and containers. Oh, how he loves containers of stuff. Inevitable all this trash ends up in my house, taped together in some sort of creative conglomerate, or put into an organizer (which also is garbage).  One afternoon this summer, he took a mini muffin container and in each compartment he had a treasure: a broken marble, a pine cone, a little yellow flower, a piece of string, a penny.  He carried his treasure box around for days. Lately he taped trash onto a box and called it a robot: broken hangers and beaded necklaces dangled from it, tiny lids were its eyes and a scrap of paper his mouth.  The other day he found an old plastic cup on which he taped various things, including a dried up glue stick, and called it a rocket ship. They are now all sitting at the kid's craft table:

I often want to tell him that it is trash, to get rid of it, and to throw it away. Every once in a which I check myself.  This is my sweet little boy who is finding joy in something simple. Perhaps, instead of correcting him, I need to take a lesson from him. To create things from insignificant pieces of the world around me. To not let others determine what I find valuable. To see little things as treasures. To find and store up little things and to love them.

full of hot air

Over a year ago we found out about the annual Adirondack Hot Air Balloon festival. We put it on our calendars right away and totally wanted to go. (Who doesn't love hot air balloons?) Last year we had some things come up so we decided to wait until this year. So on Friday we got the kids out of school early and drove down to Queensbury, NY for the festival. The weather seemed perfect. It was warm and perfectly clear skies. The launch was scheduled for 5 p.m. At 5 we looked around and wondered where all the balloons were. We were really confused. For about an hour we wandered around, wondering what was going on. I guess the wind (which wasn't blowing very hard) made the conditions less than ideal for balloon launching. But at about 6:30 the breeze died down just enough that several balloon owners decided to go for it. There were a lot that were blown up, and while most stayed tethered to the ground, about 20 or so decided to launch.

(I had to take this shadow picture. When I was a baby, my family went to a hot air balloon festival. When the newspaper covered the story, they included a picture of an unidentified family's shadow in the foreground of a bunch of balloons. My mom swears it was our family.)

It was really fun to see the process: blowing it up on it's side, standing it up, lighting the fire, etc.  The balloons are really big up close, but as soon as it is up in the air, it doesn't look as big anymore.

We left at sunset and went out to eat. We were considering staying the night, but we drove home instead. I'd love to go to another one sometime.

on change

An unrelated picture of the kids eating dinner at the farmer's market

I've taken up listening to music on the radio while I am driving around. Usually I listen to ESPN, but I don't really follow baseball so there isn't much to listen to in the summer. Anyway, it makes me happy to hear fun, singable music. All growing up I listened to country music, but the country radio stations here just don't do much for me so I've been listening to "pop" or whatever you call it.  I actually really like some of it, which surprised me, and even Jack has been known to get his groove on in the back seat.

Not everything on the radio is good, though. The other day I heard a song that made me sick. I don't know who sings it or what it is called, and I don't remember the exact words, but I remember the message. This is what I am. You must embrace everything about me because I am not changing. I cannot change.

I felt sick. I quickly changed the station as a very distinct, spiritual thought came to mind: 

That is a big, fat lie.

Lest  you misunderstand me, let me be clear. I strongly believe we should love others regardless of their choices and weaknesses. I believe that there is One Judge, and that it is our job to be loving and kind and merciful. We do not know the trials that others are asked to pass through. Jesus Christ taught us  "Judge Not" and "He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone."  I am not condoning putting people down and treating others with derision because of their lifestyle. 

The lie is that we cannot change. The wonderful message of the gospel of Jesus Christ is that WE CAN CHANGE. If we turn to Christ, He can take our weaknesses, our struggles, and our temptations and help us become better people.


"I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them."

 Christianity is full of weak people. Some of us are judgmental. Some are addicted to pornography. Some of have a temper. Some have negative thought patterns. Some are materialistic.  And a million other things. Despite the charge to "be ye therefore perfect", we are not there yet. But we can turn to Christ and through His grace and power we can overcome our weaknesses. This doesn't mean that we should all be the same.  A symphony wouldn't sound as beautiful if it was made up of only violins. As we turn to Christ, our own gifts and talents and strengths are tuned and refined.

In a moment of frustration with myself a few weeks ago, I made a side comment to Dave that I thought I was broken. Immediately the scripture came to mind, "They that are whole have no need of the physician, but they that are sick."  Christ wants us to come to Him. He wants to heal us and change us. 

It is not an easy process to change. In fact, right now I am working on changing some things and it is hard and frustrating. CS Lewis said, “Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of - throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.” 


Don't buy into the lie. The truth is so much better.



*If you haven't read the Book of Mormon and want to, go HERE. It's a great book.

my sweater

Yesterday I pulled out a sweater out of my drawer and pulled it over my head.

A couple weeks ago, Dave made me promise that I wouldn't complain about the changing weather, but that we would just enjoy the wonderful-ness that is Vermont in the fall.  I love the fall, don't get me wrong. It's the long winter that follows it that causes me to dig my heels in the (beach) sand.

I thought I would be sad when I cracked open that bottom drawer. I thought I would sigh and mourn the end of carefree summer days of running outside barefoot and walks to the park and trips to the beach.  But I didn't feel sad at all. Somehow pulling on my sweater made me think of wearing boots and scarves and watching football and eating apple cider donuts. It made me think of drives through the mountains and trips to the pumpkin patch and the apple orchard. I smiled at the thought of sewing Halloween costumes and another awesome Thanksgiving with our friends.

Fall is so, so good in this corner of the world. (I don't think I'm going to have a hard time keeping that promise, Dave. )

fair days

The afternoon of the first day of school we went to the fair with some of our best friends. It was all sorts of fun. The kids got ride bracelets this year and I made Jack go on the ferris wheel even though he was kicking and crying that he didn't want to. (Literally.) He ended up liking it, so he didn't think twice when I had him go on Wild Mouse next. He said he liked it, but he mostly looked shell-shocked through the whole ride. He wasn't very adventurous after that.  Ana on the other hand, loved all the rides.  It was a bunch of fun. Since Dave missed out, he and I went a few days later for lunch.

This was a kiddy ride. I think she was trying to act cool, but she really loved it.

The nice little train was right about his speed.

For more pictures by my awesome friend Heather, go HERE.