Saying Goodbye

The final wedding preparation lists have just been completed and posted on the fridge. Everything from putting toothpicks in the appetizers to manning the bonfire has been put on lists and assigned to a variety of friends and family in hopes that the wedding day will be fun and without stress.

Yet one detail remains undone: the finishing of the book.

Before Meredith was born, I began writing to her in a journal. The book actually began before I was married or even engaged. The entries were written in hopes that one day I would be a wife and eventually a mother. As I decided to read the book one last time before giving it to Meredith in just a few days, the first line reminded me of how long I had been writing to my hoped-for first child:

"Dear Baby: Yesterday I received this book from Timmy for my eighteenth birthday."

The entry was dated December 13, 1983. I laughed and cried as I read the entries that spanned almost three decades. Almost forgotten memories came into clear focus as I read about our wedding in 1984 and Meredith's birth in 1987. The pages reminded me of how much joy Meredith brought to us each day as well as how concerned we were, as first time parents, about every aspect of parenting.

One entry in particular revealed how completely distraught we were the first time we faced a big parenting dilemma. It tells how Timmy and I spent two hours late one night discussing what to do with what appeared to be a streak of dishonesty that had surfaced in our sweet little toddler. The morning following the worrisome conversation, Meredith, barely three, proceeded to confirm our fear in what we still refer to today as the "vitamin episode."

She was given her daily Flintstone (deliciously sweet) vitamin but it fell on the floor so I told her to throw it away and I gave her a clean one instead. When she returned from what I assumed was a trip to the trash can and I asked her if she threw the dirty vitamin away, she responded yes. However, as she spoke I could see her tongue was colored from both grape and orange vitamins! Timmy and I were stunned, speechless, and paralyzed by her obvious lie. And so very heart-broken! Why would this sweet little girl ever lie to us, her adoring parents?! The story concludes with Meredith being disciplined by her very sorrowful daddy.

Contrasting our concern over the development of Meredith's character was an entry and picture of a special memory of Meredith's compassion when she was a big, four year old sister. We had taken Meredith and her one year old brother, Elliott, to the city fair called the "Chesapeake Jubilee." They were eager to ride the kids' dinosaur roller coaster and were seated beside each other in the picture.

As the ride started, all the children began laughing and screaming in delight. All the children - except Elliott - whose face quickly turned red as he began to cry. At first Meredith didn't notice he was crying but as the ride circled around, Timmy and I motioned for her to look at Elliott. Once she realized Elliott was crying, we could almost hear her as she said to him, "It's fun! We're having fun!" Her words weren't convincing though and he cried all the harder.

Meredith must have thought the loud sounds of children screaming were frightening him so her next attempt to comfort Elliott was to cover his ears with her four year old, big sister hands. Still, he cried.

Not knowing what else to do, Meredith pulled Elliott's head to her chest, covered his ears, and joined him in crying too!

The roller coaster worker finally realized Elliott was sad and he stopped the ride and took him off. Meredith quickly cheered up as the ride began again and she screamed and laughed with the other children. Timmy and I were so touched by her protective love of her little brother.

The origin of the all important "half birthday" was discovered in my reading as well. For as long as I can remember, Meredith has always announced her "half birthdays" as if they were the real thing! Well, it appears the tradition began when she was five and a half. The entry suggests that she told so many people that her half birthday was coming soon, that even my dear friend Lisa (who had a daughter Meredith's age) called first thing in the morning of Meredith's half birthday to send her well-wishes.

The stories go on and on. From sad times to happy. Through years where we worried about her and the influence of peers on her life to the years when she settled into the joyful young woman she is today.

As the Lord sent more children into our family, I began only writing to each of them in their books about once a year. I didn't write in Meredith's book early this year when I wrote in the other childrens' books. I think I knew in my heart that it would be the last time I would write to her. The last entry in Meredith's book was written February 1, 2009 and begins, "I wonder which entry will be my last. Oh how I'm treasuring these precious days with you. Surely the Lord has been preparing my heart for what will become the end of our sweet girl spreading joy, creativity, and enthusiasm in our family each day."

As we prepare for the wedding, I recently told someone that I'm not worried that Timmy and I will wipe a tear from the corner of our eye during the ceremony. I'm worried that we'll break down and sob uncontrollably!! Meredith has become such a good friend to us during these last few years. She spreads energy and enthusiasm into our lives every day. She's always working on a new business idea and loves the lines from newly-vacuumed carpet just as much as I do.

From a practical standpoint, she has been a remarkable sounding board for just about every financial decision we make and she has brought balance to us in so many other areas. She has enough of the Alexanders in her to speak the truth even if it hurts for us to hear it. But she has a good amount of my side of the family so she can say it kindly. Besides the fact that she is our daughter, we will miss her as a good friend who is moving far, far away.

Because we've been preoccupied with wedding planning for so long, it wasn't until a few months ago that I realized for the first time that Christmas is just a couple of weeks after the wedding. I imagined for the first time what Christmas would be like without Meredith being there. As the realization hit me, I said to Timmy, "Did you realize that Meredith isn't going to be with us this Christmas?! Do you remember our first Christmas with her when she was just a couple of weeks old? Do you remember the next Christmas when she learned to walk on Christmas Eve? Do you remember all those presents we bought her and how excited she was? Remember when she was a toddler and I'd put those pink, spongy curlers in her hair at night on Christmas Eve so it would be pretty the next day?" My emotions were escalating and I went on to say, "Meredith is what made Christmas so fun. She's the reason we really started celebrating Christmas! She was what Christmas was all about!" Bringing me out of my teary-eyed, memory-filled state was Timmy's reply, "And imagine, all these years I thought we were celebrating Christmas because of Jesus!"

A voice of reason speaks out in the midst of the emotionally charged ramblings of a mother.

What an incredible blessing it has been to enjoy almost twenty-three years with the sweet girl that I began writing to when I was but a teenager. What a treasure the baby, now young woman, named Meredith Ivy has been to me all these years.

Every day I tell myself to write the closing entry in Meredith's book but then I decide that it's not a good day to say good-bye. "Tomorrow I'll be ready," I conclude. "Maybe tomorrow."

Sheridan's Flower Girl Dress

Ever since Meredith first learned, almost 4 years ago, that she would finally have the sister she had prayed for, she has said that she wanted Sheridan to be her flower girl, should Meredith marry one day.

What a special blessing that Meredith's wedding is occurring when Sheridan is at the perfect age to be absolutely thrilled to be a flower girl. Although normally quiet in public, Sheridan will tell complete strangers that she's going to be a flower girl. When she discusses the upcoming wedding, she usually says, "At Meredith and my wedding...." We have to remind her that really just Meredith is marrying Stephen and that she will continue to live with us for a long time!

As I began to search for a flower girl dress for Sheridan, I found that the ones I most liked were way out of our wedding budget so I began to study them closely and wonder if I might be able to make one myself. While pricing fabric, lace, sequins, pearls, and ribbon, I quickly understood why the dresses I liked were so expensive.

Inspired by Meredith's wedding dress story, I wondered if I might find a wedding dress at a thrift store and be able to use the fabric and laces to make an inexpensive replica of the flower girl dresses that looked so special online.

If anyone ever followed me around a thrift store, they would surely assume I was not completely sane as I often, when finding just the exact thing I was hoping for, thank the Lord out loud as if He were standing right next to me. Such was the case when I found the most beautifully embellished, satin wedding dress that could be used for creating a flower girl dress for Sheridan. It was $34.99 - not too big of an expense should the project be a flop.

Since the dress was a women's size 12, there was plenty of fabric to work with. I figured it would be easier to keep the hem line and other tailored angles in tact, so I cut the various pieces of the gown down to the size of one of Sheridan's sundresses that I used as a guideline. The wedding dress had such beautiful details in the covered buttons and exquisite sequins, lace, and beads so I tried to preserve them when reconstructing the dress.

The final stitches were made today as I tried to figure out how to "bustle" the train so Sheridan can run around at the reception.
I'm not known for quality sewing skills so I'm sure Sheridan will be leaving a trail of pearls behind which were not securely reattached during the reconstruction. I just hope she'll fair better than Oliver, Sullivan, and Harrison who went with Meredith to our area's annual Civil War Ball a couple of years ago. They left in Civil War Soldier costumes made lovingly (not skillfully) by their mother and returned as those wounded in battle with rips in shoulder seams and, worst of all, splits clear through in rear pants seams!

A Tribute to the Family Truckster

2004

As we approach the one year anniversary this Saturday of moving to this old, abandoned farm I am amazed by God's goodness in not only providing for us, but also helping us to like it - actually LOVE it here.

When I look around the farm and observe the ways things have changed, I realize that the biggest changes haven't been in the way things look but rather in how we view them. The old house still has only one tiny bathroom and no air conditioning but we seldom ever talk about it.

Instead, we talk about the cool breeze that often blows in the windows as night falls. We comment on how nice it is when the wind shifts and the flies aren't as omnipresent. And we get way too excited when we're able to eat supper before 8pm and have an hour or two to enjoy the evening before going to bed. We eagerly await evidence each month that the older boys have been successful in their newly acquired skill of artificially inseminating the cows and we cheer when one of the younger boys invents a way to mount a basket on his bike to transport bottles to the calf pen.

Probably one of the most obvious differences in the way we view things would be in regard to our material possessions - especially vehicles.

About five years ago I met, for the first time in my life, someone who drove a vehicle over 100,000 miles. She told me their minivan actually had 200,000 miles on it and I remember how I tried to hide my shock and disbelief. Trying to use the new friendship as a chance to broaden my horizons, I asked her how she knew when it was time to sell it if not at what I considered the drop-dead number of 100,000 miles. Can you believe she had a well-thought out formula?! She said that when a vehicle costs half as much to repair each month as it would to make payments on another vehicle, it was time to replace it. I couldn't have been any more amazed by her incredible wealth of knowledge.

All my married life, when a car hit the 100K mile marker, it was quickly off-loaded. Although we stopped getting loans for cars about 15 years ago when we went through Larry Burkett's budgeting series, we held fast to the rule of unloading cars before they reached the milestone of what we assumed would be certain and complete disaster.

But as farming has changed what we consider acceptable housing accommodations, we have entered a new era with our vehicles as well. With the exception of regular oil changes, we've thrown caution to the wind as we watched the odometer turn endlessly. Well, we had hoped it would turn endlessly.

Yesterday, our faithful family van of nearly 10 years left on a flatbed amidst the memory-filled send-off for which it was so deserving. Having brought babies home from the hospital, taking us on family vacations, and teaching some of the older kids to drive, our beloved van served us for more than 250,000 miles.
When we originally bought the van, I felt we MUST have a 12 passenger vehicle to carry our then, 5 children comfortably. There was positively not enough room for our party of 7 in a minivan - or so we thought. The dealer told us that the van had been traded in from the government and had been in service in the D.C. area. Because the van was completely black with privacy-blackened windows and the only sign of wear was on the floor and frame of the back doors, we wondered if it had been used in the coroner's office where caskets may have made the excessive wear marks.

As excited as I was to have a big, family van, it bothered me when in the wake of the 9/11 tragedy, people looked suspicious or even frightened as we drove by in the sinister-looking vehicle.

I asked Timmy if we could please paint the bottom quarter of the body with an alternating, complementary color so it wouldn't look so ominous. He flatly refused, reminding me that it would be a complete waste of money. In the mean time, he put a sad, noticeable "ding" (graciously described) near the passenger's side front tire on the once-perfect body.

This only further compounded my desire to have the semi-paint job (along with the now necessary body work). One day, in an insane moment of babbling, I told Timmy that what we needed was someone to lightly tap that passenger side so their insurance would pay for the repair and we could chip in for the difference of the two-tone paint job. Timmy, understandably, scolded me for even thinking such a fool thought.

Not long after that, we were making a right turn, properly signaled, and the man behind us was answering a call on his cell phone and glided right into the passenger side right tire area of our van. Please don't judge too harshly, but after I thanked the Lord profusely for his divine protection, I chose my new paint color.

As the years wore on, and we used the van for our tractor service, hauling gas cans, weed blades, and the like, along with farm use that became part of our new life, the van degenerated into a work van instead of a nice family van. When we'd load up for a family excursion, the girls would often have to sit on a towel to keep their clothes from getting dirty from the animals that had also been recently transported.

One memory that came to mind yesterday as the van was being hauled away was when Meredith and I left for the day to celebrate her 21st birthday. As always, the day included plenty of shopping and a meal at a girl-friendly restaurant. Not able to finish all of our lunch, we wrapped it up and put it in the van to store safely during the cold December day. However, we noticed something unusual at some point in regard to our left-overs. There was a nibbling, crunchy sound coming from our bags. The boys had forewarned us although we thought it was just brotherly teasing. There was a mouse, who somehow had gained entry during a routine pick up of animal feed, that was comfortably living in the van and on this day was eating our left-overs nonchalantly situated between Meredith and me as if he were one of the girls!

Fearing what we'd do if he jumped on us while we were driving, we opted to run the remainder of our shopping errands while leaving the van doors wide open in the parking lot - hoping he'd jump out and preferring to be robbed rather than attacked by a mouse. The picture in my mind's eye of the van sitting in the parking lot unaccompanied with doors wide open will forever be part of my van memories.

Poor Elliott, our mildest, most cautious driver was at the wheel when the van breathed its last. With a gurgle and some steam, it gave up the fight. Once we realized the extent of the damage, I remembered my seasoned, clunker-wise church friend's advice and tailoring it just a bit, we decided it wasn't worth repairing a vehicle when the expenses exceeded three times the value. So we bid our van farewell.

Offering the brightest ray of sunshine in our sorrow is the perky Dodge Durango that reluctantly became the family vehicle about two years ago when gas prices were high, causing us to leave our trusty van home most of the time. Boasting a whopping 256,000 miles, this car has been a most unusual vehicle for a family of eight. Because it only seats seven, the last 3 people sitting on a small bench seat have to "double-buckle" as we call it. Our years with the Durango are indelibly imprinted on our minds. (Whether for good or bad depends on which seat one has spent the last two years occupying.)

Because it is so small and really not intended to carry passengers of which 3 are at least six feet tall and one is in a large, clunky carseat, we feel the stares of passersby boring into our backs when we unload and unload and unload the passengers contained in the tiny SUV. To combat the recurrence of this uncomfortable incident, we instituted a command upon arrival at our destination: "Dismount and STEP AWAY from the vehicle!" That way, people don't know where we've all come from. It works well.

For one and a half years we all piled into the little Durango to attend church in Wake Forest - 2 hours away. Amazingly, there was very little discussion about discomfort. We had each other, we had our health, and we made many memories as we'd stop on the way home for 2 half gallons of ice cream each week and dish it out using our standard auto inventory of bowls and spoons that are in any Alexander-occupied vehicle.

I look back at that girl who just HAD to have a 12 passenger van and wonder what her problem was! The good life is lived in small cars just as easily as big ones. Cars with a bit of hay and animal feed ride just as well as those that don't. What matters is making the most of these fleeting days I have with these dear friends I call my husband and children. Any vehicle is suitable for memory-making and as long as it doesn't include any fury little creatures who nibble on my left-overs, I hope to find contentment in whatever the Lord provides.

Penny Pumpkins

In preparation for our upcoming events, I (Joy) planned to purchase some pumpkins to help with the decorating effort. I knew we couldn't afford to buy full price pumpkins so I eagerly awaited the passing of October 31st when I hoped they would be reduced.

On Sunday, November 1st, I noticed pumpkins at Walmart that had been reduced to just $1. "Just as I had hoped!" I thought. I mentioned to Timmy that we should probably buy them right away. However, he nonchalantly suggested we wait a while. I was agitated on the inside but reminded myself that usually when Timmy says or does something that doesn't make sense to me, I usually don't regret having followed his lead. So I chose to not voice my disapproval that we weren't scarfing up the bargain pumpkins.

However, as the days passed, I began to search for pumpkins at other places, only to find that everyone was sold out. No pumpkins anywhere. I wondered how I would decorate without pumpkins. How could I make our place look warm and welcoming with just a bale of hay?! I began to regret my silence just a few days earlier when I was perched directly in front of plenty of pumpkins that were just $1.

As the week drew near to the end, I decided to call the Walmart where I had spied the $1 pumpkins. The sales associate said the pumpkins were still there but the manager told them to throw them all away that day. Much to my disappointment, we were scheduled to be processing almost 100 chickens that day so it would be impossible for me to leave for the one and one half hour round trip to buy pumpkins. My thoughts went from, "God must have not wanted pumpkins this year" to "That sure didn't do me any good to be silent when I should have told Timmy we needed to get those pumpkins right that minute!".

After processing, I decided to call the Walmart one more time and ask if they disposed of the pumpkins as planned that day. What a lesson God had for me in following my husband's lead. The manager decided to further reduce the pumpkins to just one penny each! Imagine my delight as my good husband drove me to the Walmart 45 minutes away after an exhausting day of processing chickens to purchase 78 pumpkins that only cost 78 cents. I hope the reminder to follow my husband's lead won't fade when the pumpkins make their way to the pigs and cows after Thanksgiving is over. May I long remember that God often works through our husbands in ways that are not discernable to us as wives, working out the details both great and small for our ultimate good and His glory.

I'm so glad to see that God did want pumpkins this year!

In Acceptance Lies Peace - The Rest of the Story

Since farm life is moving at a breakneck pace while we prepare for two upcoming events, I (Joy) am thankful to have found a few extra minutes today to record God's goodness to us. I'm so eager to share the wonderful things God has done since my "In Acceptance Lies Peace" post.

Although my previous post claimed victory over the desire to have a home with a decent and inhabited-looking exterior, I have to say that thoughts of a painted roof never completely left my mind. I continued to imagine creative ways in which we could afford to have the roof painted in spite of the fact that Timmy said I couldn't paint it myself and he didn't have time for the decorative project.

My final attempt to finance the job was in offering the money I would be receiving for my returned ice cream machine that had recently been shipped back to the manufacturer. In causual conversation I mentioned my offer to Tim but he quickly said that I needed to get used to the roof because it would not be painted any time soon - even if I contributed the ice cream machine money.

Meredith later told me that she was sorry that Dad said no. But I quickly replied, "As soon as Daddy told me 'no', I said a prayer to the Lord. I told Him, 'You know how I feel about living in this old, dirty-looking house. You know that I think a painted roof would make it look lived in and cared for. I'm done talking to Timmy about it. God, if You want the roof painted, will You paint it?'" It was a simple, quick prayer to the Lord but it gave me complete peace once again and my family wasn't doomed to live with a cranky, discontented mother as was the case the last time.

A couple of days later a truck came down our driveway and Timmy went out to greet them. This happens all the time as neighboring farmers stop by occasionally for a quick visit and a chat with Timmy. After a few minutes, Meredith alerted me that Daddy, along with the men from the truck, was walking around the yard and all of them were pointing at the roof. Soon after, Timmy came in the house and told me the men were metal roof painters. Seeing that our roof needed painting and they needed work, they asked Timmy if they could paint our roof. Timmy told me they were mobilizing their trucks and equipment and would be at our house within a few hours. I was so excited I shouted, "God wanted the roof painted!"

I was so overjoyed to have a home that finally looks lived in and not abandoned that I told Timmy I would thank him for the next 30 days straight - and I did (thanks to reminders from Oliver as he'd whisper to me some days, "Did you thank Dad for the roof today?"). Tim insists I missed two days so I've continued the practice as often as it crosses my mind.

As if that weren't enough, to finally have a painted roof, would you believe that the same work crew showed up a couple of weeks ago to see if they could paint the rusty, metal roofs on the barn and outbuildings? Imagine my delight when I discovered that God wanted painted roofs on the outbuildings as well!

With the house roof beautifully painted, we could begin washing the windows - an overwhelming task to say the least. In God's goodness, we were blessed beyond words when a family friend who owns a window- washing business, volunteered to wash all the windows that have been overlooked for generations. I could barely contain my excitement as he finished one room after another, leaving us at the end of the day with windows so beautifully clean. What a wonderful gift! Several weeks later I still can't get over the blessing of the clean windows. Something about the windows being clean has caused my heart to clear a major hurdle in accepting this abandoned house as my home. After the windows were cleaned, I told Timmy, "I think I can live here."

Freshly painted roofs and clean windows - surely small details in the big picture of life, yet they are precious treasures to this city girl suddenly turned farm wife. In acceptance lies peace, but oh how great the delight when the desires of our hearts are graciously lavished on us from the loving hand of our Father.

New Farm Schedule

Since moving to the farm, we've all struggled to find a balance between work and well, work! It seems there are never enough hours in the day to accomplish the many tasks calling out to us. At nearly the point of complete exhaustion, Timmy had an idea for a possible solution. He suggested we all begin our day at 5am and give it our best during the next 8 hours till lunch time at 1pm. We could then all take a break during the heat of the day and be rejuvenated when evening milking rolled around.

The new farm schedule has been working wonderfully although chores often attempt to steal the designated afternoon break time. We're trying to stay flexible though and not get too disappointed when we don't actually get a break till supper at 8pm.

Sometimes the flexibility has involved the 5am wake up time. This morning, for example, alarms could be heard at 5am although not heeded. Timmy knew that after a night like we had last night, sleeping till 6:15 was a much wiser choice.

A huge storm came through in the middle of the night with high winds and torrential down pours. As the storm arrived and we both woke up, I closed windows throughout the house while Timmy surveyed the farm through intermittent flashes of lightening illuminating the farm yard. In an instant he saw Elliott's flock of Thanksgiving turkeys all standing ignorantly on top of their shelter which was made especially to protect the birds from storms such as this. He woke the older boys and all of them headed out into the clapping thunder, high winds, pelting rain, and bright flashes of lightening. They ran to the nearby turkey pasture and quickly tossed all the turkeys under their shelter. Then they ran to check on young broilers and baby chicks - securing brooder boxes and shelters.

No sooner did the boys all come in, change out of their totally drenched clothes and crawl into bed than did Sammie's new puppy begin crying long and loud. Timmy tried to quiet him through the window but it was no use. He told me he was concerned that if the pup continued to wail, it would call in the same predator who had recently killed the rest of Sammie's litter. Upon hearing that, I rose to my feet and headed for the kitchen. I held the fridge door open for what seemed like an eternity trying to find something that might settle the puppy. After spying some leftovers I was willing to part with, I headed outside to find the pup. Frightened and wet, he scampered toward me and gobbled up the plate of food and stayed quiet the rest of the night.

So, the beautiful picture of the sun rising over the corn was NOT taken this morning, but rather on one of the more successful "New Farm Schedule" days.

~Joy

Farmhouse Before & After: Family Room

Before:I remember the first time Timmy and I (Joy) visited the farmhouse, I climbed in through an unlocked window and decided, upon seeing the enormous, strange furnace in the middle of the family room, that this house was beyond repair! No amount of decorating could compensate for the large, brown monstrosity taking center stage. However, as the Lord made it evident that this would become our home, I began considering all types of ways to make the furnace less noticeable.The solution, I thought, would be to find some interesting piece to put behind the furnace that would help draw attention away from the old fashioned heater. As we worked around the farm, cleaning up the grounds and outbuildings, I found a half rotted, old chicken house ladder that I fell in love with. I kept it in a special place so no one would accidentally throw it on the burn pile. You can't imagine the criticism I received from the older boys when I began decorating the family room and requested they hang the dilapidated ladder over the furnace! They said, "This time, Mama, you've gone too far! This is a nasty, old chicken house ladder. You can't decorate with it!" However, I insisted that it had been sufficiently sanitized and would be the perfect item to draw attention away from the heater. One of the boys added, "Have you asked Dad if you can bring this in the house?!" I explained that I prefer to do all my decorating without male consultation and asked that they quickly install it before Dad arrived.
I hung an old quilt that Tim's grandmother made, along with some very inexpensive items I found that could withstand the heat once the furnace is in operation. (Hopefully it even works or we're going to be mighty cold this winter!) I don't know about anyone else, but I sure have enjoyed looking at the old ladder instead of the big, old heater!

There are unattractive metal plates called flu covers in many of the rooms. (Before)I was thrilled to find this picture that is serving as a more appealing cover able to withstand heat while looking a bit more fashionable.

I decided to go with a patriotic theme in the family room, using reds, whites, and blues. I was overjoyed when the Lord provided an old, cotton, American flag for only $15 at an antique shop. I recovered the pillows with bargain fabrics and made a new computer table skirt with a navy gingham.

Since I only purchased pillow fabric and bought a couple of new items for the chicken house ladder, this room's redo cost around $50.

Pursuing a Single Focus

Occasionally, when Meredith is preparing an email response to a question, she asks if she can read the letter to me (Joy) for my input. This particular letter below that Meredith recently sent to a friend had such remarkable insight that I asked if I might share it publicly. The perspective, as presented by a 21 year old, is an accurate summation of the "single focus season" in which so many young adults enter. It would behoove us as parents to carefully ponder what might be sacrificed during the years our children spend with an intense, single focus as it possibly might inhibit our children from cultivating their varied, well-balanced, abilities.

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I've given a lot of thought to your college question over the last few days. My first thought is to definitely seek the Lord on this matter! I'm sure you are already doing that. He will be faithful to guide you and make your paths straight (Proverbs 3:5-6).

Secondly, I have been admonished time and time again by several newlywed friends to enjoy these years with my family. While they love being married, they greatly miss their families. Because of this, I strive to treasure my time at home with my family NOW instead of always being sooo very eager for my own husband and family. Whether you leave for college or not, you're in the final stretch with your family the way it is today. As you noted, your siblings will likely pursue college, careers, and/or marriage within the next few years, so it is so important to treasure the days you have together.

My third thought is the most lengthy, but it is what has mostly been on my mind. It is not so much related to you trading four years with your family for a music degree as it is to spending four years away with one focus, (emphasis added) so I hope you don't mind me taking the liberty to share...

When I think of you, I think of someone who is extremely well-rounded. You have a great interest and wealth of knowledge in caring for your goats and other animals. You have an interest in making a profit from your goats' milk. You pursued horse riding lessons and initiated cleaning your horse riding instructor's house in exchange for free lessons. You are a very gifted writer and poet. You are a talented singer. You have invested years and years into becoming a superb pianist. You are obviously on your way to becoming a good voice teacher. You also enjoy gardening and cooking and being hospitable.

To me, It seems like it would be so sad for you to have to take four years to focus on primarily only *one* thing! If you choose to pursue a scholarship for college, you would graduate in four years with extensive knowledge and experience in the realm of music, but at the cost of shutting down most of your other interests (at least for a few years).

Granted, I do not have the same appreciation for music or pursuing a degree in music like you do, so I can only relate with my love and interest in real estate. If, at 17 or 18, I would have moved in with the most successful real estate salesperson I know-- a woman who does millions and millions of dollars in sales every year-- and spent the following four years "shadowing" her, I would have a wealth of knowledge, four years of hands-on experience, and confidence when I'm selling properties. I would probably have a whole lot more money in my bank account and I would be well prepared to venture on to exciting new endeavors in real estate.

But I wouldn't have much experience working with my family. I would barely know Sheridan. I would have very limited (if any!) experience in bushhogging lots for our tractor service, bookkeeping, selling peanut gift boxes, gutting chickens, milking cows, cooking meals for eight people, the list could go on and on. Personally, for the calling in which I most desire to pursue (a wife and mother), I feel the past four years-- as diverse as they have been-- have prepared me for that so much better than spending four years with the primary goal and focus of pursuing real estate. (emphasis added)

I look forward to seeing how the Lord leads you! I will be in full support of whichever choice you make because I have confidence in your close walk with the Lord and I know He will guide you, whether He leads you to stay home or to go to school.

Farmhouse Before & After: The Bathroom

The only bathroom, with its peeling vinyl floor, rusted tub, and cruddy toilet was our biggest decorating challenge. My first thoughts were of gutting it and starting over again but with limited time and finances it only made sense to work with what we had. God blessed our feeble effort in many ways. The total cost of the bathroom renovation was less than $150 including a newly tiled floor, along with new towels and several other deco items.
When we first began working on the house, I noticed that every time I went outside, I saw a window that I couldn't find when I was inside. It finally occurred to me that the window was in the shower and had been covered with vinyl paneling. Realizing that a small, closet-sized bathroom needed as much light and ventilation as possible, I opted to expose the window in the tub area. Everyone was very reluctant about a window in the actual shower but I assured them it was quite stylish and no different than fancy homes which incorporate glass brick in the bathrooms. I bought some paint especially made for frosting glass and after Tim trimmed out the newly discovered window, I sprayed it so the light could come in without compromising privacy. I also made a small plastic curtain for the window to aid in privacy when the window is open.

Although barely visible now, the mirror had to be carefully chosen to cover some very large holes in the wall that my servant-hearted son, who likes to remain anonymous, cleverly covered to discourage mice from stopping in for visits.

The light fixture was very outdated with frilly, tulip shaped glass bulb covers so I simply replaced the shades with more conservative, amber-tinted cones.

I absolutely love toile fabrics so I searched online and found an antique brown Jamestown/Williamsburg pattern for an accent curtain at the shower entrance.

Because eight of us are sharing the tiny bathroom, I thought it essential to have designated towels. (I, for one, do not like to dry off with "boy" towels as I don't think the boys necessarily come out of the tub completely clean each night!) Meredith did a wonderful job monogramming each of our names on fluffy, chocolate brown towels.
I am especially thankful for the beautiful, new tile floor that extends from the bathroom to the attached laundry room that was a gift of labor from a milk customer. When hearing that we were moving the farm for the benefit of the cows, we were showered with kindness from a multitude of customers. This man, a computer specialist, showed up on his day off equipped with his tiling tools, and he promptly installed the new floor. What a gift of encouragement!

I am also thankful for the sense of peace God continues to give me in regard to accepting this old farmhouse as God's provision for us. Surely it is making some of the less desirable aspects much more tolerable. Yes, peace still abounds in acceptance.

Blackberry Ice Cream!

We are all blessed to have a mother who takes time every night to make us some homemade ice cream.