Making Memories

 

 

Wake up to sunshine

Two hours to…

Feed girls

Pack lunches

Gather snacks

Scrounge warm layers

Fill thermos with hot chocolate

Find sleds

Hit the road

Two hours to…

Drive up to Mt Hood’

Pile on the layers

Hike to the hill

One glorious hour of…

Sled rides

Throwing snowballs

Watching spectacular crashes

Enjoying the beauty of the day

Before…

Samara was “fwozen”

Noelle was bleeding (and screaming) from a rogue sled accident

Samara had to go potty

Noelle was hungry

So…

We hauled everyone back to the car

Strapped crying kids into seatbelts

Filled sippy cups with diluted hot chocolate

Rubbed cold toes and hands

Handed out blankies and

Sighed as tuckered out little girls fell into sweet sleep

Two hours…

To drive home

One hour…

To clean up and put everything away

Memories…

That will last forever

I love this stuff

Holidays

Just a fun old fashioned family Christmas…

for more pictures see the pictures and videos page.

The Purpose of Beauty

It’s the thoughts of my wife that push me most to find an answer.  It’s the softness of her soul; the creativity of her humor and the purity of her gaze.  Things that I know few others will ever see.  Things that contain such beauty that I think it an absolute shame that others don’t also see.  Like a flower that blooms in absolute perfection that then withers without so much as entertaining one eye or a sunset of stunning colors exploding in the sky that no one beholds.  Like the quiet majesty of a mountain so remote that no climber will ever touch its summit or the intricacies of the smallest snowflake that falls on a mountain side that will melt with no one taking notice.  These thoughts of my wife, along with the thoughts of these other things; things that posses such beauty, push me for an answer.  What is the purpose of it?  What is the purpose of beauty?

As I know there is a Creator, so I believe that beauty was a created thing.  So why, I now ask, was it created if it wasn’t to be enjoyed by all?  After all, we have all seen beauty.  At one time or another, we have all been captured by beauty, caught simply reveling in its perfection.  And as beauty capture us, we try in our own way to capture it right back.  A flower picked and put in a vase.  A photograph taken and displayed on a wall.  A song sung, or a story told that has moved us to tears and was recorded.  These are all ways that we try to hold onto beauty and surround ourselves with it.

When we see things of beauty, often our first reaction is to share it with somebody else.  It is the nudge at your husband’s side, or accordion of pictures each grandparent shamelessly seems to have.  We assume the pinnacle of such sharing to be something that reaches the widest audience.  TV, radio, books, magazines; can all be attempts to translate and transmit beauty.  And in being translated and transmitted, it seems that beauty is used to endorse certain things. And in doing so; in being used or in hiring itself out, we see how beauty can become commercialized or twisted.  So when did the twisting happen?  And returning to the original question, what is the purpose of beauty?

Oh, the purpose of beauty IS to be enjoyed; to be reveled in; to hold captive.  But what I’ve learned recently is that the central purpose of beauty is not particularly for our enjoyment.  The principle reason that beauty exists is not for the created; but for the Creator.  Beauty was not created for the pleasure of the widest audience, but for an audience of One.  It is for Him to enjoy, to revel in and to be held captive.  That we also enjoy these things simply shows; that it is in His image that we were fashioned.  So the beauty of the intricate snowflake, the remote majestic mountain, the sunset and the flower, all have indeed been enjoyed as they were created to be; though not by human eyes.  And in the same way, the softness of her soul, the creativity of her humor, and the purity of her gaze are also fulfilling their created purpose for her Creator.  And I am truly blessed that He lets me share with Him the view; to revel in and be held captive.

“…for thou hast created all things, and for thy pleasure they are and were created.”  Rev. 4:11

Secret Recipe

When I first saw it sitting there upon my plate
I knew I wouldn’t like it though my parents said “its great.”
I’ll eat pasta, I’ll eat bread, anything else will do
Please don’t make me try it, I don’t like things that are new

But it didn’t leave, it didn’t go, it just sat in front of me
A lump of goo gone cold made of rice and broccoli.
On my fork, here it came my Daddy’s special “yes bite”
There was nothing left to do but dig in for a long fight.

I reasoned, I explained, I turned my head, I cried
But nothing seemed to change, no matter how hard I tried
“Green eggs and Ham” is what they said trying to get me to open wide
“Sam I am” is what they called me trying to break my pride

They all left, the table cleared, and I sat there by myself
I stared at the goo, and it at me as they started watching “Elf”
Then finally at long last we had a big break through
Mommy said that I could go, if for breakfast I’d eat this goo

Free at last, free at last, my excitement made me spin
I grabbed my dolls, I grabbed my books and finding a chair jumped in
The next morning as the light peeked in, I came up with a plan
I’d tell Mom lunch was better for eating goo that came from a pan

But she didn’t budge, she didn’t buy it, I wasn’t off the hook
The goo was on my breakfast plate and I really couldn’t look
My eyes got red, they filled with tears, I tried to plead my case
Soon the room was empty and my future I glumly faced

How much longer could this go on? It’s time this came to an end
Maybe if I cry loud enough, they’ll give up, they’ll cave in and I’ll win
Three hours later, it’s 11’oclock and I still haven’t taken one bite
I’ve cried, I’ve reasoned, I’ve negotiated and I’m tired of this fight

Then in one last try my Daddy comes walking in
He reaches in the cupboard, and I begin to grin
In his hand is maple syrup, sugary, thick and golden brown
As he gets to my plate, a few delicious drops he puts down

The fork, the goo, and the plate too was covered with sugar so sticky
With tastes so strong, I couldn’t be wrong, it really wasn’t that icky
So remember all you people; grandmas and grandpas, moms and dads
Maple syrup is my secret for anything that might taste bad!

finding the perfect tree

Mommy's helper

decorating fun

bath buddies

Home…?

In all of our traveling back and forth it used to be that “home” was where ever we were not.  If we were in Brazil, when we spoke of “home” we understood that we were speaking of our life in the US.  And like wise, when ever we spoke of “home” while in the US, we knew we were speaking of our life in Brazil.  But over the past several years a funny thing has started happening… though it is often accompanied by a very lengthy delay; “home” has started feeling like where ever we are currently at.

When we were in Brazil, about a year into our stay there, Brazil truly did begin to feel like home.  But then just a few weeks ago I commented to Marla that finally Newberg was starting to feel like home once again.  Perhaps it is the consistency of finally having a routine, or perhaps it is getting comfortable with where we are at. What ever the cause, for the first time in a long time, it finally feels like we are home.

Of course having a “home” and actually being there, brings with it all kinds of warm fuzzies, especially around the holidays.  Family traditions, cold weather, hot cocoa and Christmas trees all seem better when we are back in the United States.  And believe you me; we are sure going to enjoy it all while we are here.

But there, nagging in the back of our minds through all of the holiday cheer, are the one-way plane tickets that we purchased to Brazil.  It seems we are eternally leaving home.  It used to be that such trips always brought us back “home.”  Now it feels as if they continually take us from “home.”  These trips are getting increasingly harder to take.  To read more click the link “home…“