Three-Day Thanksgiving

I suppose you could say it all started on Wednesday evening, making it four days, but then the title wouldn't alliterate.

I'm still trying to decide if it was all worth it: cramming ourselves and 11 other family members into an already-packed photography studio; waiting nearly an hour for our turn; going through about 50 poses in different groupings; cramming crackers and candy into the mouths of the 7 children ages 6 and under to keep them happy; throwing balls and waving feathers in their faces and pretty much acting like total idiots to get them to smile; going through the agonizing process of choosing among over 200 pictures to find one where everyone is at least looking at the camera and not screaming. The end result, for us, was a pretty decent extended family picture, and a shot of our immediate family to hang on the wall. And, thanks to my sister purchasing a bunch of photos for their Christmas cards, we got a couple of freebies of the kiddos thrown in. Was it worth it? Yes. Do I want to repeat the 3-hour process anytime soon? Not on your life.

On Thanksgiving Day, my parents, my 2 sisters and their families, plus my BIL's brother, made the trek to our house for a day which I can only call a smashing success. About 5 minutes after their arrival, a huge, gorgeous, homemade blueberry pie Dad had baked just hours earlier came crashing down from the top of the fridge and ended up all over the kitchen. Danny and I shooed the kiddos out of there and got the mess cleaned up pretty quickly; if there wouldn't have been glass shards sticking up through the pie, I believe I would have shoved a handful of it into my mouth. It looked and smelled that good. Fortunately, I had been coerced into making another dessert; the traditional pumpkin torte that has accompanied every Thanksgiving dinner on my mom's side since . . . the invention of pumpkin torte, I guess. So don't feel too sorry for us; we still had dessert!

We moved on to our Thanksgiving feast (which did NOT include tofurkey): 9 adults and 3 one-year-olds sat at the large table in the dining room, while the 4 bigger kids sat at a small folding table in the kitchen. Unfortunately, a few minutes after they sat down, we discovered that one of the legs wasn't quite locked in, as it collapsed and all their plates, fully loaded, slid off the table one by one. At that point, I was thankful indeed for linoleum floors.

But the messes weren't quite over. Later during that same meal, someone managed to flip a veggie tray (with large container of dip) upside-down onto the other dishes on the table. That one didn't seem quite as bad as the others - there are worse things, after all, than eating deviled eggs with veggie dip smashed into them. After that, I think everyone was a little afraid to move for a while. But we eventually headed down to the basement (more room there!) to open gifts, since my sister Sarah and her family will be in California for Christmas. It was sort of a fun/ messy/ Christmas/ Thanksgiving day all wrapped up together.

Friday, we went for our traditional Thanksgiving weekend tree-hunt. We drove to Sickles Christmas Tree Farm and found our tree in record time. It was a good morning - we only lost Malachi twice. We had decided to put the tree "up" a little this year because of his age and affinity for grabbing anything in his reach, so we ended up cutting down a 5-footer. We brought it home and spent a lovely afternoon decorating it with Rachel and Zekers. I LOVE that they are old enough to help with Christmas decorating; I have such great memories of helping decorate the tree as a kid.

We went to Pizza Hut for dinner, since Danny was suffering from some major depression due to the disappointment of not going to Red and Ruth's pizza on our way home from the tree farm. (It was not even 11:00 and no one was hungry - except him.) Then we came back and watched Elf - another important family tradition.

Saturday, we slept in (maybe the best part of the whole weekend), and then drove to Danny's family Thanksgiving with his parents, and his sister and her family. We also got to spend some time with his grandmother who now lives in AZ. We ate the traditional Wright family manacotti, which, over the years, has come to be called "mama-cotti", and I even brought my first-ever attempt at red-beet eggs. Mmmmm.

We both realized, too, that it is a lot easier to talk - or take part in any activity, for that matter - when your kids are with their older cousins (8 & 12)! They went out in the garage and then moved to the back room, and we barely saw or heard from them the whole time, with the exception of Malachi, of course. Quinn and Ian do such a great job of playing with their younger cousins and the kiddos just think they are the best thing ever. I wouldn't trade all of our 7 busy little munchkins for the world - they are adorable and sweet and I love them all so much. But that's not to say I won't also enjoy things when they are all a little older, too! And I'm looking forward to the day when Rachel and Zekers are old enough to take the littler ones and entertain them, the way their older cousins help to entertain them now.

And this morning, we are celebrating the aftermath of the Thanksgiving festivities by washing loads of sheets, pillowcases and PJ's. About 11:00 last night, Kari Bou's stomach decided it had had enough, and she was up throughout the night, poor thing. We've really got to work on her rushing-to-the-toilet skills.

Well, anyway, as I sit here instead of sitting in church, I keep returning to the thought that I am grateful, once again. Grateful for the chance to be together with not just one family, but two! Grateful for my family, and that I finally have 2 brothers, and for the happy noise that comes from a houseful of children. Grateful that God saw fit to merge Danny and I together, and that his family has taken me in as one of their own. We are truly blessed.

Thank You

It's been a different kind of November.

Maybe it's because for the past 10 weeks I've had the opportunity to study the life of Christ with a group of sisters from our church. Maybe it's because so many of the songs we raise in the morning worship service center around the cross. Maybe it's because with Danny gone, I did a whole lot more praying than usual!

During a season that celebrates the birth of sweet baby Jesus, God has been repeatedly redirecting my thoughts to the cross. The reason for the baby. And it all just seems wrong.

When my 4 sweet babies entered the world, they were delivered by our skilled OB doctor, washed, wrapped in clean blankets and placed in bassinets, while I ordered restaurant-quality food from a menu. When God's perfect Son entered the world, he was delivered by a man who hadn't yet married his mother; wrapped in rags and laid in a feeding trough for animals. And the ones who spread the word about His birth? A bunch of dirty shepherds, considered to have one of the lowliest jobs available.

He was raised in a town that people sneered and looked down their noses at. Nothing good ever comes from NAZARETH.During the three years of His earthly ministry, He traveled around with no place on this planet to call "home". He called to Himself uneducated men and outcasts of society - fishermen and tax collectors. And when it came time for Him to die, He suffered the most gruesome and humiliating form of death imaginable - an execution reserved only for the worst criminals and denied Roman citizens: crucifixion. For six hours He hung suspended between heaven and earth, naked and torn apart, barely recognizable as a human being.

And then . . . after all of this, the sins of the world - my sins - were heaped upon His wounded shoulders. And His own Father, with whom He spent hours and often whole nights on the mountain, and whom He loved with a love we'll never even begin to understand this side of eternity, His own Father turned His back on Him.

He made Him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him. (2 Cor. 5:21)

God has poured out blessings on me these past week by revealing to me, slowly but steadily, the depth of the depravity of my own heart. For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh . .. (I Cor. 7:18) At first I was crushed by the weight of it all; but then, THEN! as I grew, and continue to grow, more aware of my own sin, God reveals the depth of His GRACE, in a way I've never known before. It is impossible to appreciate the fulness of the grace of God without appreciating the gravity of my own sinful heart. How much has been forgiven!

Thursday morning I sat there and all I could say was "Thank You Jesus." And I felt so silly, because after all He's done for me, all I can do is sit there and say "Thank you." It felt like the lamest thing, and all day long I thought about how I wished there was more I could say to express the gratitude in my heart.

And then I went to worship team practice, not really wanting to go, because I felt too exhausted to give any effort to anything. And we went over a new song called "Jesus, Thank You." I thought to myself, that's kind of funny - here I am, right back with these same "lame" words.

It wasn't until Sunday morning as we led the church in singing this song, that I actually felt the Holy Spirit saying to me, I am glorified through your thank-yous. But it isn't enough, Lord! It is enough. Only say it with your MOUTH and with your LIFE.

I have to be honest. In the time - less than 2 days - since Sunday morning and the wonderful communion service that evening - I have sinned big. In areas that I thought were somewhat under control. How could this happen?? I'm confronted once again with my own weakness and also with His limitless strength and forgiveness.

But may it never be that I would boast, except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me and I to the world (Galatians 6:14).

Random Wright-ness

Some highlights, photos, and rather scattered thoughts from the week in no particular order . . .

This photo is from several weeks ago, when the weather was warm and our trees rained golden leaves for 2 days. I love that it pretty well sums up each child: Rachel, the mother hen; Malachi fighting his way out of her embrace; Karis, acting like a wild animal and unable to sit still even for one photo; Zekers, sitting off by himself with an enigmatic look on his face. I also love that in the midst of fall leaves, there sits a snow shovel. The kiddos somehow thought it made a whole lot more sense to "rake" the yard with a shovel than with an actual rake. I suppose the important thing was that they had fun and didn't hurt anyone.

Rachel lost her fourth tooth at AWANA on Wednesday. I was more than a little relieved; it had been hanging by a thread for days, but she wanted no part of anyone pulling it out before it was "ready". Memories from my own childhood involving a piece of string and a slamming door convinced me to let her have her way on this one. Now she officially looks like a first-grader, sporting a gaping hole at the top of her mouth. Occasionally, when we have a late night and she's tired, I brush her teeth for her before she goes to bed. And whenever this happens, I'm reminded, "Mom, don't brush my hole!" For some reason, this strikes me funny every time, and I haven't yet been able to hide the burst of laughter that follows her frantic request.








This past week everyone decided they wanted to "help" me in the kitchen. Which can be precious, but also a little frustrating. The other night, we had tofu pancakes for dinner. Normally, it takes me about 7 minutes to throw everything into the blender and whip them up. But with all the extra help I received, we managed to mix them up in just under 40 minutes. Being an extremely goal-oriented person, this was an intense exercise in forbearance for me. But, I'm happy to report that I passed with flying colors . . . well, until I tripped over Karis for the 37th time. But that's another story. I do love that they enjoy helping me cook and clean.

Kari Bou had her first sleepover on Friday night. I almost cried - she is getting to be such a big girl, and she was SO excited to be having fun with her very own friends, not just following along behind Zeke and Rachel and their friends. The twin girls she stayed with came over for dinner the next evening and they had a chance to play even more together.

Today, she got to wear her new dress, and it was pretty apparent she felt like a little princess in it. She spent a good part of the evening just twirling.

I overheard Karis earlier this week describing "The Trinity" to Zekers as "God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit all mashed together."

Rachel asked me last week to straighten her hair. Not having a whole lot of time, I just blew it dry. It got pretty straight and went halfway down her back. To tell the truth, it kind of freaked me out seeing her hair so long and straight, so I've refused to do it that way since. Her curly hair is just such a defining part of her - she is, and always will be, my "curly dimpled lunatic."

Inexplicably, I've become a tea-drinker. Even when I'm at Starbucks I usually end up buying a bottle of Tazo green tea. I still enjoy a good cup of coffee, but when I get up in the morning, I have to indulge in a steaming mug of chai or Earl Grey or wild berry tea.

Danny is leaving tomorrow at 4 am and will be gone for 6 days. I find myself thinking back to the days when he worked for an itinerant speaking ministry and traveled for weeks at a time while I held down the fort back at the office. To tell you the truth, those 3 years were the loneliest of my life. That's when I took up guitar; what else was there to do at 12 am when I couldn't sleep? And Larry, our rabbit, wasn't great company. Remembering those years makes me extremely thankful: that Danny doesn't travel all summer anymore; and that I now have 4 beautiful, wonderful kiddos to fill this week with warmth and snuggles and laughter (and fighting and screaming and messiness). But seriously . . . . I'm thankful.

No more random thoughts are coming to mind. Goodnight, everyone!

Stuff

Last Wednesday the kiddos dressed up for AWANA. They were supposed to go as "something God created." (I told them that meant they didn't even need to dress up, but they weren't going for it.) Karis went as a dinosaur; Zeke dressed in a tiger costume, size 18-24 month, which I bought at a garage sale for Malachi but I can't seem to get Zekers to stop wearing around; and Rachel went as the sky (with stars and clouds). We don't do Halloween (trick-or-treating, etc.), so the chance to dress up was fun for them. Actually, the dressing-up part was nothing out of the ordinary, since they practically live in costumes most days; it was the going out in public part that was different!

Monday, I drove to Wooster to visit my grandma, who has recently had hip surgery. We've been wanting to make the trip for quite a while, and it just hasn't worked out to go on any weekend since this summer. So, my mom and I took the three younger munchkins in the rental car, which we had until Tuesday. I took the picture at the right at a gas station in Dayton, where we met Mom, because I just had to document the occasion. Between the falling gas prices, and going from a van to a little rental car, we filled up (and made the whole trip, both ways, on one tank) for less than $20 - woo hoo!

It was a lot of time in the car for the kiddos; and a nursing home isn't the easiest place to keep 3 kids for long; but the weather was pretty warm, and outside the home was a pretty little pond, where they got to feed the ducks. Malachi was too little to really feed them, but I have rarely seen him so excited. He just stood there and squealed at them.







I'm glad we went, but it was hard seeing Grandma so much more frail and disoriented - certainly not the Grandma I knew in my childhood, and very different even than the Grandma from a year or 2 ago. It's made me think a lot the past few days about life and death and aging. This life is but a breath . . .

About halfway back home, we stopped at the Polaris Mall in Columbus for a much-needed break from the confinement of the car. The kiddos absolutely LOVED the zoo animal play area, and have been begging to go back ever since. I tried explaining to them that it's about a 2-hour drive, to no avail. Malachi even made a new friend, who made him feel all grown up.






One cool thing about the trip was getting to watch the entire sunrise and sunset, both from the car. And even though I'm not sure how much they'll remember, I was glad they got to spend a few hours with their great-grandma and great-aunt. There is no such thing as a perfect family, since all of them are made up of imperfect people. But I'm thankful for both families that God has seen fit to bless us with, and thankful that my kids have the opportunity to spend time with grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins.

Spiritual Entropy

A couple of years ago, I vented on this blog about what had become the bane of my existence: entropy. A couple of days ago, as I was working on our current Bible study, God gave me a new perspective on the concept of entropy.

God, in His sovereignty, can use anything and anyone to communicate truth; sometimes it's as simple as one sentence. In one of the lessons in Week 6 of our study, "Jesus, the One and Only," Beth Moore states that learning to replace fear and worry with faith is a daily process. And I got to thinking that every sin is pretty much that way. How great it would be if I could take my deepest, darkest, most habitual sins, just make the decision to hand them over to God and be rid of them, once and for all.

But that's not how it works. Spiritual entropy (sin nature) shows its ugly face, and sins I've "given over" to Christ show up again and again, day after day. I've found that I have to throw myself on His grace every single day and ask for a renewed sense of joy; a greater faith; and a tighter reign on my tongue. There are sins which I know I will battle every day, and sometimes even on an hourly basis, for the rest of my life. No matter how many times I come clean before Christ. No matter how many tears I shed over lost battles. No matter how much growth takes place. I will fight sin over and over again until the day I'm taken up to be with my Savior.

So in a sense, my spiritual walk is a lot like my physical surroundings. Just as I end up washing the same clothes over and over again; just as I endlessly sweep the same floors and cook hopefully-not-too-much-the-same meals and wipe the same bottoms, I need to continually ask God for strength to serve Him faithfully. "So if you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don't fall . .. " (I Cor. 10:12)

From this point forward, whenever I become frustrated about cleaning messes off the newly-cleaned dining room floor - again - it will be a reminder of my need to surrender my life to Christ - again! Just one more reason to look forward to, and long for, the day when I will be with Christ Jesus, who will do away with entropy of both the physical and spiritual varieties.