Doing Life Together

Pigeon Spikes…by Linda Carlblom

Posted on November 4, 2014 by Linda Carlblom

I sometimes think I need to install pigeon spikes on every level surface in my house. You know those metal spiky things people mount on their roofs to keep the pigeons from landing? I need them on every counter top, ironing board, bathroom vanity, kitchen table, and coffee table. You name it, I’ll spike it. Why? To keep those surfaces from collecting every little (or big) thing we carry into the house.

Our flat surfaces tend to become unloading zones. (Did I hear an amen?) I’m just as guilty as the other two members living under our roof. I bring the mail in and lay it on the kitchen counter. Sometimes I go through it right away and sometimes I don’t. Even when I go through it, I leave parts of it laying out for my husband to look through. When I pay bills, I put the stubs in a pile to file away later. The only problem is that “later” never comes until tax time when I’m scrambling to find receipts and proof of payments.

Then there’s all those receipts that my husband needs to keep for his business. He’s self employed and needs a paper trail for tax purposes. Not to mention that he’s a computer consultant and has computers and their parts scattered around various surfaces throughout the house. It’s all necessary stuff. But still, I can’t help but think some pigeon spikes might be helpful.

Our college-aged daughter is pretty good about keeping her mess in her own room. But she could seriously use some spikes in there as well. On the floor, mostly.

This is a picture of our kitchen counters. You may think it doesn’t look that bad. After all, there’s still countertop showing through. But this is what it looked like this evening after I’d already cleared a bunch of stuff off it earlier in the day. Trust me. It was waaaay worse before that. And don’t even ask about the whipped cream or the Whoppers.

All that said, I look around our home and I smile. While it’s nice to have an orderly home with everything in its place, I sorta like seeing our life splayed out in all its glory. There’s a certain beauty in seeing people live comfortably, without fear of judgment from others. Home should be a place of refuge, where we can relax and let our hair (or mail pile) down.

So I guess I’ll just wait on those pigeon spikes. I’d have to clear a place to put them anyway.

How do you handle the clutter of everyday life in your home? Give me your best decluttering tips in the comments below.

Linda

Posted in Decluttering, Family Life, Uncategorized | Tagged Clutter, house cleaning, Organization, pigeon spikes, unloading zones | 4 Comments

God’s Ways Are Not Our Ways by Donna Goodrich

Posted on October 27, 2014 by dgood648

For Elmer’s Sake

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. (Isaiah 55:8)

“Lord, why have you let Mother linger so long? You know she’s ready to go.”

It was two o’clock in the morning in December 1982. Sitting in the tiny, smoke-filled waiting room of the Intensive Care Unit, I thought back over the events of the last eighteen months: my mother’s cancer surgery, the chemo treatments, my eight trips between Arizona and Michigan, and the final surgery which led to the coma in which she now lay.

The week before, the doctor had told me “24 to 48 hours” and I had summoned my brothers and sister who had come, along with some of their children, to be by Mother’s bedside. Day after day we waited and watched. “She quit breathing,” someone would say and we’d rush to the cafeteria to get a family member. But by the time we returned, the breathing had begun again.

Exhausted, and needing to return home for a statewide Christian writers seminar I was leading, I often found myself alone in this little waiting room, praying and questioning God.

On this particular night, however, I was not alone for long. A man in his middle sixties made his way into the room, dragging his IV stand beside him. “How are you doing?” I asked him.

“Not too good,” he answered in a low voice. “My doctor told me today I have only six months to live.”

We chatted for awhile. Then he asked why I was there and I told him about my mother.

“How did she handle it when they told her?” he asked me.

I shared with him about her Christian faith which had kept her all through the years, and also that many people had been praying for her.

“I used to pray,” he admitted, “but I don’t anymore. It’s too late.”

“It’s never too late,” I told him. Reaching into my purse, I took out my New Testament and turned to John 3:16.

“Listen to this verse,” I told him. I read the words, putting his name in the appropriate places: “For God so loved Elmer, that he gave his only begotten Son, that [if] Elmer believes in him Elmer shall not perish, but have everlasting life.”

Elmer read the verse again, then he looked up and asked, “Does that mean there’s still a chance for me?”

“That’s exactly what it means,” I answered. I explained the gospel message simply and then asked if he would like to pray. He bowed his head and repeated the words I said to him. When we finished, he said, simply, “Thank you,” and left the room.

The next day while walking down the hall I looked up and saw Elmer coming toward me.

His head erect, he shook my hand and said, “It’s okay. I’m not afraid to die now.”

Then I knew why God had let my mother linger for so long. It was for Elmer’s sake.

Posted in Uncategorized | 8 Comments

6 Ways to Earn my Vote . . . by Andrea R Huelsenbeck

Posted on October 24, 2014 by Andrea R Huelsenbeck

Artwork by Laura Strickland www.mycutegraphics.com

Artwork by Laura Strickland http://www.mycutegraphics.com

The phone rang for the sixth time that evening. “Your turn,” my husband said.

Sighing, I extricated myself from the love seat where Greg and I sat watching TV, and picked up the phone. I didn’t need to say a word. The robocall started, and I set the receiver down again.

In recent months, my home phone has bombarded me with political calls. Some were prerecorded; others were made by campaign workers; one was actually a live call from a local candidate. In addition, my doorbell rang on three or four occasions, pressed by campaigners and actual candidates for city office. All this attention, rather than flattering me, frustrated and annoyed me.

I wondered if I was going to have to get rid of my land line in order to get some peace. Or maybe I should call the voter registration people and change my party affiliation to Independent.

I conducted an informal survey on Facebook in which I asked three questions:

Have you been getting a lot of recorded political phone messages?
Have you received any on your cell phone?
Do the phone calls influence how you will vote?

My Facebook friends’ replies fell along these lines: yes, yes, and no.

I think the final answer is highly significant. Some responders clarified that they do their due diligence before the election, checking legislative records of incumbents, looking for articles online that were not written by staff of the candidates or an opposing party. (I do that, too.)

Granted, my Facebook friends are highly intelligent people. But is there anyone in this country who votes for candidates on the basis of robocalls?

One day I listened to a tele-campaigner go through her spiel. She didn’t stop for breath until she said, “Can we count on your support?” I answered, “No. And I’d appreciate it if you’d tell (the candidate) that I am not voting for her because this is the fourth time this week that her campaigners have interrupted me while I was cooking dinner. In fact, I am no longer planning to vote for any (name of party) candidate because I am tired of being harassed.”

Amazingly, the calls stopped.

Until after the primary.

I can’t help wondering if it is even cost-effective to conduct a campaign through phone bombing. Maybe money is no object. A statistic I picked up on Facebook said that 5% of Americans are millionaires—as compared to 50% in the Senate and the House. How can our legislators represent us when they don’t live with our daily challenges? They are not typical Americans.

And why should people have to be rich to run for office? We live in the electronic age. We have access to the World Wide Web. (I know there is a lot of misinformation out there, so voters must beware.) But surely there are more effective (and less expensive) ways to get your message out there than by telephone. Or those horrible campaign flyers. I’m at the point now where I take them from my mailbox directly to the recycling bin.

I also like open forums where anyone can ask the candidates a question. Average people don’t consult the politicians’ talking points. They will ask different questions than reporters or professional interviewers. Of course, candidates in that situation often answer a different question than was asked. But that’s revealing in its own way, isn’t it?

If a politician ever asked me how to win my vote, this is what I would say:

Be a person of exemplary character. Live your entire life in an ethical manner. Have a mission to make life better for your constituents.
Be intelligent and educated. Know what you’re talking about. Have solutions—tell me your ideas instead of trashing your opponents.
Don’t run for personal gain.
Do let me know when you will be in my neighborhood to meet me. It should be at a neutral location, like a community center or a restaurant. This is your only reason to send me a post card.
Don’t show up at my door without an invitation.
Don’t call me. Don’t have your lackeys call me. And don’t try to make me listen to a recorded message.

How do you feel about political robocalls? Please weigh in below.

Posted in Elections | Tagged Doing Life Together, Election campaigns, Elections, Political campaigns, Political candidates, Robocalls, Voting | 3 Comments

Can Muslim and Christian Neighbors be Friends? by Betty Mason Arthurs

Posted on October 21, 2014 by Betty Mason Arthurs

Can Muslim and Christian neighbors be friends? I never thought such an opportunity would come to me.

We moved to a new neighborhood in the Phoenix area twelve years ago. As my husband and I settled into the new place, John said, “I met our next door neighbor today. I think he’s from the Middle East.”

“What’s his name? Does he have a wife? Any children?” I asked.

“I didn’t ask any questions. He’s nice though. He wore a business suit and told me he works for a large company in town. He travels a lot.”

I’d been too busy to meet anyone. I was going crazy with so many boxes to unpack and stuff to organize. But now I was curious about this neighbor. The next day, through a front window, I saw a woman, dressed in a long skirt and long-sleeved shirt with a colorful scarf wrapped around her head, walk to her mail box. Is that my neighbor?

One morning I babysat my grandson, pulling him around the block in a wagon. My new neighbor flew out of her house, ran up to us with her scarf billowing in the breeze and exclaimed, “Is this your boy? How are you? I’m Ann, welcome to the neighborhood!” Yes, she did say it all in one breath with a huge smile on her face. She knelt down and cooed at Preston. “Oh, aren’t you cute. What’s your name?”

We chatted for a few moments and I found out she taught special needs children and had two sons, one at medical school and a pre-teen. She left to run some errands and called back to me, “Let’s have tea sometime.”

There were many tea times over the years. Ann loved to talk and I was fascinated by her life story and found out how much we had in common:

She and I both loved cats and I do mean LOVED cats. She owned Ginger and I was owned by…Clifford.

We loved children and agreed they were the most precious beings God ever created.

We both privately prayed…a lot. Her favorite saying was, “Thanks be to God.” To which I responded, “Amen.” And we both laughed, honoring our different faiths.

We had the same crazy sense of humor, laughing like a couple of teen girls over the foibles of life.

We both struggle with chronic disease, which means we laugh more over our mishaps with the medical profession.

I think we bonded, as only neighbors can, when we searched the neighborhood for her twelve-year-old son’s cockatiel. The bird had escaped while Jim was at school. Walking down the street and peeking into backyards calling, “Baby, Baby!” may create a police confrontation but for sure create a friendship. Baby flew home hours later when she heard her garage door open, and later I held her while Jim clipped her wings.

Jim and my oldest grandson, Kyle, also twelve years, became good friends. In the summer they fished together for hours at the small pond down the street. Ann’s husband traveled a lot for business so we didn’t see him often.

Ann, as a child, came to America from Europe with her parents. She was raised back East and her religious background was Catholic. She became a Muslim in college, married a Muslim and lived in his country in the Middle East for a short time. For over twenty years they had made their home in America.

“Isn’t this a Christian nation? Why is the tree at school now called a Giving Tree and not a Christmas tree? Why don’t they sing Christmas carols anymore?” Ann called me on the phone with questions. I became her resource for religious questions in the mysterious world of Christian faith and America, not an easy task.

Within two years my husband and I moved to a smaller house when John retired. Ann and I stayed in touch even though she and her family moved out of the country for a year. We were happy for the internet and Facebook. Her text messages were laced with humor and love.

Ann and I are still having tea and scones since we live only ten miles apart. Off and on we meet at our favorite restaurant and regale one another with our funny tales of life. I am blessed that Ann is my dear friend.

Yes, a Christian and Muslim can be life-long friends.

The Bible says,
“…The Lord does not look at the things people look at.
People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”
1 Samuel 16:7 (NIV)

I’d love to hear about your friendships and neighbors. What do you do to keep friendship alive and well in your life?

Posted in Friendship, Uncategorized | Tagged friendships, Muslim, neighbors, teatimes | 5 Comments

40 Things Stay-at-Home Moms of Grown Kids Do…by Linda Carlblom

Posted on October 17, 2014 by Linda Carlblom

Here I am wearing my most frequent fashion accessory–a dish towel.

I’ve been a homemaker and stay-at-home mom since I became pregnant with my last child. Back then, it seemed easy to see why it was important to be home caring for her and her two older siblings. I mean, someone had to do it, and it may as well be one of their parents. Besides, I always dreamed of being a stay-at-home mommy. Isn’t that what all those years of playing with my dolls prepared me for? And my husband is a driven, hard-working man. So the traditional roles fit us very well. Staying home was a gift, a luxury if you will, to me, but it’s also a gift/luxury I give to my husband and family.

My youngest child is now almost nineteen. I suppose many women would start thinking of a second (or even first) career. But somehow, my husband and I still like my being home. We’re blessed that his income takes care of our financial needs. If it didn’t, maybe we’d make a different choice. My being home makes our life so much easier for us both.

But the inevitable question always comes from people who don’t get it. So what do you do all day? Here’s the short list.

Keep the house clean (a full-time job in itself).
Make meals.
Grocery shop.
Do laundry. This includes gathering, washing, drying, folding, and putting them away.
Keep up with the dishes.
Mow the lawn.
Pay the bills.
Sort through mail.
Empty trash and recycling.
Keep in touch with friends and family on behalf of both of us.
Post family news and pictures on Facebook.
Change sheets.
Buy household items that are wearing out or need replacing.
Take elderly parents to the doctor.
Babysit grandkids.
Plan Sunday school lessons and other church events.
Send notes of encouragement on behalf of us both.
Plant flowers.
Run various and sundry errands.
Take the car for maintenance.
Wait for repairmen.
Take the dog to the vet.
Plan family gatherings.
Do our banking.
Do the billing for my husband’s company.
Take my daughter for coffee.
Have lunch with my son.
Buy birthday, Christmas, and any other gifts.
Wrap said gifts.
Decorate for holidays.
Orchestrate social events.
Clean out excess stuff for donation.
Scrounge up paperwork for tax preparation or changes of insurance, etc.
Research stuff we might want to buy, or places we might want to go, or things we might want to do.
Take forgotten items to family members after they’ve already left for school or work.
Clean out the refrigerator.
Order and pick up prescriptions.
Make appointments.
Water plants.
Field phone calls. All. Day. Long. Usually telemarketers.

Obviously, I don’t do all these things every day, but they’re all things that take up my time. And that means they’re things my husband doesn’t have to do. If I was working outside the home, we’d have to do them all in the evening or on the weekend. I so admire women who juggle all these things after work and on their days off. I’ve done that too, and I know it’s far from easy. The luxury of having me at home even though I don’t have kids to care for is that I can do these things during the day throughout the week, so we have our evenings free to enjoy each other and our friends. We can play on the weekend instead of spending it doing chores. It reduces stress for us both and gives us more quality time together.

To us, that’s worth far more than a paycheck.

Are you a homemaker/stay-at-home mom of grown kids? How did you decide to stay home after the kids grew up? How do you spend your time? I’d love to hear from you in the comments.

Posted in Family Life, Life Transitions, Uncategorized | Tagged chores, empty nest, full-time mom, homemaker, Stay-at-home mom, what do you do all day | 12 Comments

The Day I Became a Friend of the King of Tonga…Judy Robertson

Posted on October 10, 2014 by Judy Robertson

The Day I Became a Friend of the King of Tonga

Bats! Skinned bats’ wings poked out of hand-woven grass baskets. Their tiny fox-like heads and beady eyes stared at me although they were dead and prepared for cooking. Bats are an island delicacy and would, no doubt, be part of the fare.

I sat awaiting my meeting with King Taufa’ahau Tupou IV of Tonga in a covered area next to the Royal kitchen. My gracious Tongan hostess had cinched a Tongan ta’ovala tightly over my dress so I’d be appropriately dressed for the King. However, the finely woven Pandamus leaf mat, which extended from my midsection to knees, made it hard to breathe. I sat straight as a board, sweat beading on my forehead.

The king’s chef busily prepared a sumptuous feast for his majesty and distinguished guests, which, I presumed, included the beady eyed fox-bats. And for that I’m glad I wasn’t invited. He could see me through a window and spoke to me, admiring my traditional dress. “You look beautiful, like a Tongan woman.” Amazing! I felt anything but beautiful, damp with sweat and hair done without benefit of hair dryer or curling iron!

We came to the Tongan islands representing South Seas Christian Ministries (SSCM), in August, 1998, leading a team of 12 young adults and five leaders for an outreach. The king lived 300 miles away on the main island of Tongatapu.

After settling into our hosts’ home we discovered a big celebration would occur during the next three days. The king himself would be on our island. We would see him in person, this monarch we’d only seen in pictures and all of us were excited.

Sunday our SSCM team attended the Wesleyan Methodist Church where his majesty and the princess attended. This island royalty sat across from us in beautifully carved chairs set apart from the congregation. We were escorted up front where a choir would generally sit, as honored guests. We couldn’t help staring. But no one could tell where the king cast his gaze since he wore very dark glasses.

After the service I mentioned to the pastor, Mosesi, my desire to give my book, No Regrets, to the king. Mosesi contacted the king’s secretary and the next day I was introduced to her.

After looking the book over and reading my personal note inscribed on the inside front cover, she suggested I give it to the king personally. “Although his majesty is quite busy with heads of state from all the Asian Pacific Parliament,” she told me, “I’ll try to set up an audience for you.” If the secretary could arrange it, the meeting would be on Thursday right before he left the island. It was an answer to my prayer, this rare audience with the king. I’m no dignitary, in fact I’m considered a “commoner” in Tonga.

On Wednesday, I planned to visit a village across the harbor with a SSCM team member, Joyce. Strangely, we couldn’t hire a “water taxi” even though we tried several fishing boats. Hot and thirsty, we walked to a sandwich shop, disappointed we’d been unable to reach our destination. We sat instead, enjoying a rare iced soft drink in the Bounty Bar.

Just as a waitress served our sandwich the proprietor announced; “Is there a Judy Robertson here? There’s an urgent phone call.”

On the phone I recognized the high pitched voice of Leisl, the leader of our SSCM team, “Judy, the king’s messenger has been looking all over Vava’u for you. You have an appointment with the king at 2:00 pm. Today!”

“Today? Oh my gosh! Thanks for finding me, Leisl.” Butterflies looped in my stomach. “Joyce, I’ve got an hour to get ready. The king wants to meet with me today instead of tomorrow!”

The ten minute walk to my Tongan hostess’s home gave me time to collect my thoughts. Lord, this king is only an earthly king but You are the King of Kings. I pray to be Your ambassador. I don’t have a clue what to say.

I told my hostess when she came into the house, “Tina, I have a meeting with the king at 2:00!”

Her eyes misted and she began singing, “God is so good, God is so good, God is so good He’s so good to me.” She hugged me and said, “You can wear my ta’ovala.”

The trickle of water from the shower barely rinsed the soap off me and my hair. Then my hair dryer refused to work. I slicked back my hair the best I could…it’s not my hair or my looks that’s important, it’s what I say to the king.

Tina brought in her prized ta’ovala and tied it tightly around my waist. She topped off my attire with another prized possession; a belt made of her sister’s hair.

Mosesi drove me to the king’s palace, let me out and pointed to the outdoor receiving area. I walked slowly over the grassy hill and sat on what appeared to be a chair for guests. It was graced with beautiful Tongan tapa cloth. Its natural background emphasized the dark brown designs hand painted on it. Suddenly a Tongan woman appeared motioning for me to move to the grass mat on the ground. “Only for the princess,” she motioned to the chair I sat on. Embarrassed, I sat on the mat with legs folded tailor-fashion, humbled, below the princess’ chair in the proper place for the “commoners.”

Soon, a uniformed guard escorted me to the front of the palace where the king, dressed in official royal garb, sat on the verandah facing the emerald blue Vava’u harbor. King Taufa’ahau Tupou IV stood and greeted me. I felt honored and at the same time mumbled a silent prayer; Lord, what do I say to this earthly king? Please give me words.

I handed him my book with my greetings scrawled inside. He said, “I am so glad to meet the author of this kind of book,” he said. “I am excited to read about this subject.”

Talking about the book put me at ease and we went on to other subjects of interest to the king, his travels, improvement to his islands, food and his exercise regime.

I felt strange talking small talk with this man who was used to visiting with all sorts of dignitaries. Why does he feel so comfortable chatting with me? I felt quite relaxed, too, visiting with this king even though we came from such opposite positions in life.

“Your majesty, my husband and I visited eleven of your beautiful islands. We’ve come for twelve years with teams from America to offer Bible camps for the children and assistance for the pastors and lay people. Is there any other way we can help in your islands?” King Taufa’ahau shook his head, no.

Our visit lasted one hour. His majesty, who just turned 80 the month before, was gracious to me and wished me well as our visit ended. In that brief hour I became a friend of the king of Tonga. Walking away from the palace down the dirt road, I realized the king didn’t want anything from me, he only wanted my presence.

As exciting as it was to be in the presence of this earthly king, even more exciting is that I have met the King of Kings. He too, doesn’t want anything from me, He only wants my presence. And not for only an hour here on earth….but for eternity.

And He calls me His friend, too. Imagine!

Posted in Celebrations, Faith, Friendship, Travel, Uncategorized | Tagged ceremonies, faith, thankfulness, travel | 4 Comments

Landing in Paradise . . . by Andrea R. Huelsenbeck

Posted on October 8, 2014 by Andrea R Huelsenbeck

A green, rocky jewel surrounded by sparkling blue was my first glimpse. As we flew closer, my heart pounded. My dream was coming true.

About two weeks after my mother passed away in 2004, I attended the famous Maui Writers Conference. My trip was planned long before the stroke that took my mother’s life. Part of me felt guilty for doing something so self-serving when I was still in mourning. Another part of me was ready to work—and to be blessed by beauty.

The Maui Airport was very open—meaning that there was no window glass. The breeze was free to blow right through the building. How exotic! I boarded a shuttle bus that would take me to pick up my rental car.

I had reserved the least expensive compact car. The agent cheerfully asked me if I would like to upgrade to a Mustang convertible for just $10 a day more. Quick calculations told me that would be adding $60 to my rental bill—much more than my budget would allow. I politely declined.

“We’re all out of Sentras,” the agent told me. My heart dropped. All the starving writers who were attending the conference probably reserved one. Why did they overbook? “But we will upgrade you to a Mustang for no additional charge.”

Wow. I felt as though I’d just won the lottery. I had never driven a convertible before. I’d only ridden in one twice in my entire life. Here I was, 51 years old, in Hawaii, driving a red Mustang convertible with the top down. It doesn’t get any better than this.

My rental car, in the hotel parking lot.

To save money, I had opted not to stay at the same hotel as the conference, but one several miles away. Also to save money, I declined a room with a view of the ocean and took one across the street from the beach. I had the directions all mapped out—basically a straight shot from the airport, with a left turn once I hit the Pacific.

When I saw the ocean, it took my breath away, and I almost missed my turn. I grew up in New Jersey near the shore, but I wasn’t prepared for the brilliant aquamarine of the waters around Hawaii. Add the hula of the palm trees—magic. Wow.

Bird of Paradise

The hotel sprawled across multiple acres of gardens. It was old, but charming. It was motel style, with rooms opening to the outside rather than to a hallway. The lobby had walls that folded up, so that during business hours it was completely open to the outdoors. My room looked just like the photograph online, neat and clean, spacious, and with a little balcony overlooking the grounds, shaded by tall palm trees. It even had a little refrigerator and a microwave. The bathroom had a high, glassless window up in the eaves.

Plumeria

Hibiscus

I took a walk around the grounds. Flowers bloomed everywhere—anthurium, hibiscus,bird of paradise, and plumeria bushes. What fragrance! The pool was the shape of the island of Maui.

I crossed the street and walked along the beach. Windsurfers dotted the bay. A totem pole stood like an exclamation point in the sand. The waterline here was very rocky—this was not a swimming beach.

The conference was a wonderful experience. I attended workshops, met famous authors, and pitched my novel to agents. But the most memorable part of the trip was landing in beautiful surroundings which so soothed my aching heart.

This piece is a response to a writing prompt from Jeff Goins’ 500 Word Challenge.

What was one of your most memorable days? Click the “Comment” link below to share or to see what others have written.

Posted in Travel | Tagged Hawaii, Maui, travel, writers conference | 8 Comments

Preserving Family Stories . . . by Andrea R Huelsenbeck

Posted on September 30, 2014 by Andrea R Huelsenbeck

Why does Vivian’s house have a false alarm?

The autumn our daughter Carly was two and a half, we admired the fallen leaves together. “But, Mommy,” she asked, looking up at bare branches, “how do the leaves get back on the trees?”

Our old house in New Jersey had a smoke alarm in every room. The one in our son Matt’s bedroom was directly over his crib. He loved that smoke alarm. A little red light on it blinked once a minute to show the alarm was operational. As an infant, Matt lay on his back, watching for the red light, gleefully waving his arms and legs every time it blinked.

In our old neighborhood, people invited trick-or-treating families into their homes on Halloween. Most children headed straight for the treat bowl. Two-year-old Matt walked right past it, located the home’s interior hallway, and checked for a smoke alarm. Then he’d return and with a satisfied nod, say, “Yep, they have one.” We joked that the next year we’d give him a fireman’s hat and a clipboard and he could be the fire inspector for Halloween.

When we were potty training Matt, my friend Vivian was training her daughter Tara. Matt and I would accompany Tara and Vivian to the bathroom to offer moral support. Once, when Tara was unable to perform, I said, “False alarm.” Later, Matt questioned me over and over again, asking, “Why does Vivian have a false alarm at her house?”

When our daughter Katie was little, she had an imaginary friend. Starlight lived an enchanted life. Starlight had everything Katie wanted. Starlight was permitted to do everything Katie wanted to do. In fact, Starlight was superior to everyone in every way. If Katie had to go to bed at 9:00, she’d protest, “Starlight’s Mommy lets her stay up until 10!” If someone commented on a friend’s pet dog, Katie would say, “Starlight has TWO dogs—and a cat!”

One of my husband’s hobbies is raising tropical fish. He especially loves the technology of water filtration. He read about protein skimmers and designed and built one himself. He then wrote about it in one of the aquarist magazines, which published his plans and his article. We were all very proud of his achievement.

Except for Katie. She sniffed and said, “Starlight’s daddy has a POWER skimmer.”

When I was a little girl in the 1950’s, most mothers stayed home to raise their children, and neighbors watched out for one another. My constant companion was Bonnie Ann, who lived across the street. Whenever anyone said something to her that she didn’t like, Bonnie said, “Mind your own business.”

Once when Bonnie and I were playing outside and planning to go up the street, my mother called out the kitchen window, “Andrea, it’s time for dinner.” Not wanting to go home yet, I pretended I didn’t hear her. As we passed my neighbor’s house, Mrs. Kelly, sweeping her front porch, said, “Andrea, your mother’s calling you.” Taking a page from Bonnie Ann’s book, I answered, “Mind your own business!”

One minute later my mother marched up Park Avenue, grabbed my arm, and led me home. There she lectured me on speaking to adults with respect. Apparently Mrs. Kelly had called my mother and given her an earful about how I’d told her to mind her own business.

Every family has funny stories about kids. Wouldn’t it be a shame if they were forgotten? How much better to preserve, share, and celebrate the anecdotes. Here are some ideas for how to do that:

When something cute or funny happens, write it down in your journal or in the child’s baby book.
Or, better yet, keep a notebook for each kid (the old-fashioned composition books with sewn-in pages are especially good for this purpose) and write down interesting or memory-worthy events.
Keep the notebooks with the children’s books and read them occasionally at story time, snuggling the child on your lap and pointing to each word as you read it. Even toddlers are eager to learn to read when the story is all about them.

Do you have any family stories? Scroll down and leave a reply below to share or to read what others have written.

Posted in Family Life | Tagged children, Doing Life Together, family stories, memoir, sharing life | 3 Comments

The Day Milo Went AWOL . . . by Andrea R Huelsenbeck

Posted on September 26, 2014 by Andrea R Huelsenbeck

California King Snake

As I was readying to leave for work one day many years ago, my daughter Erin, then fifteen years old and the last of our children to leave for school in the morning, breathlessly announced, “There’s a snake in my pants!”

Now, in some homes, a statement like that might be alarming. However, in our house, it was pretty typical.

Firstly, my kids tended to keep their clothes on the floor. Secondly, although we live in Arizona, we are surrounded on all sides by the greater Phoenix metropolitan area—unlikely a wild reptile wriggled in from the desert. It would probably be one of our resident serpents.

You see, my husband, Greg, an elementary school teacher, collected critters.

So my very logical response to Erin was “Who is it?”

“One of the black and white ones.”

Boy, was I ticked. I had recently flown to New Jersey to visit my parents. While I was gone, Greg went to a reptile show and treated himself to two desert California king snakes. I marched to the phone and called Greg’s classroom. “I just want you to know one of your new snakes is loose.”

“Hannah or Milo?” Greg asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Mom, it’s Milo,” said Erin, pointing to Milo’s tank with its screen lid ajar.

“It’s Milo. Someone left his lid open.”

“Where is he?”

“In the girls’ room. Erin found him in her jeans.”

“So, just put him back in the tank.”

“I’m not chasing a snake around! I have to go to work.” I knew from previous experience that I can’t pick up a snake. It’s not that they’re slimy. (They aren’t.) It’s just that they behave unpredictably, like standing up vertically. It creeps me out. I can’t deal with it. At least, not when I have a schedule to keep.

I wrote a note and taped it to the front door for then ten-year-old Katie, who would be the first one home after school. She also shared Erin’s bedroom.

Dear Katie,

Milo is loose. He was last seen in your room. Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you. I just don’t want you to be surprised.

Love,

Mommy

I chuckled to think what a potential burglar might think if he read this note. I guess I’ll rob the house next door instead.

When Greg got home from school, Milo was nowhere in sight. Greg offered a reward of $5 to whoever could find the snake. Katie and her friend Amber first sifted through all the clothes, toys and junk lying on the floor of her room. Then, they took all the stuff out of the closet. (When I insisted the girls put their clothes in the closet, of course they just kicked them to the floor of the closet. How convenient for a snake looking for a cozy place to coil up.) They spent two hours looking for Milo with no success.

Then thirteen-year-old Andy walked by and spotted him camouflaged among the miasma. Greg paid Andy the finder’s fee, and ended up paying Katie, too, for her effort.

Greg had to be the one to put Milo back in his tank. The rest of us were too scared. I’m sorry to say, all these years later, I still turn to others to take over when I’m afraid.

Have you ever been afraid of a pet? How did you handle your fear? Click on the Comment link below to leave a comment or see what others have written.

Photo by Gary Nafis. Permission to use the accompanying photo granted by this license.

Posted in Humor, Memoir, Pets | Tagged California King Snake, Doing Life Together, Fears, Pets, Snakes | 5 Comments

Celebrating the Small Stuff…by Linda Carlblom

Posted on September 19, 2014 by Linda Carlblom

At my house, we love to celebrate. We celebrate the usual stuff that most families do, like holidays and birthdays. But we also have been known to celebrate small victories like making it through a tough week (or sometimes even not so tough!), report cards (whether good or bad), a good dental check-up, or that a child finished a test in a difficult subject and now the stress of that is behind her.

It’s easy to get caught up in the busyness of life. We often rush from one thing to the next without a pause to stare wide-eyed at what we accomplished. Some things stand out large in our life picture, like a new book release or a job promotion, or straight A’s. But let’s face it, most of life is made up of smaller, but equally important accomplishments. These small things are what weave the very fabric of our lives. Zechariah 4:10 (NLT) states it this way, “Do not despise these small beginnings, for the LORD rejoices to see the work begin…”

So here are a few ideas to help you get your mind into celebration mode. Look for small things, small beginnings, to celebrate and keep your family’s attitude positive and upbeat. Things like:

The first sprout in your garden. Followed by the first harvest.
The first day of school.
A first tooth, and every tooth that falls out.
A positive note from a teacher.
A difficult report written.
Learning to ride a bike.
A good review at work.
An opportunity to share your faith.
The first day you start an exercise program.
A good mood.
A beautiful sunset.
A clean house.
The first time your baby sleeps through the night.
When your favorite TV show begins a new season.
A finished project.
Then there’s all those crazy, lesser-known holidays just dying to be celebrated. You can find a list of them here.

Now mind you, celebrations don’t have to be big or expensive. They can be as simple as putting on some music and dancing in the living room, packing a picnic and heading to the park, or having a compliment party where everyone takes a turn saying something nice about each person present.

Some of our small celebrations have turned into traditions. After doing yard work in the blazing heat, we always go to Sonic and get a Cream Slush. It refreshes us and gives us something to look forward to as we work. We’ve found ourselves saying as we work on a tough job, “This is going to call for a Cream Slush.” (Our favorite is the strawberry, in case you’re wondering.) It makes something not-so-fun into something fun.

The point is to pay attention to life’s positives. When we take time to stop and notice all our blessings, we’re apt to see more and more of them and it changes the trajectory of our lives. We become thankful and nicer to be around.

And believe me, that is a huge gift not only to our families, but to our own little corners of the world.

Share in the comments what types of things your family celebrates. How do you celebrate them?