L'chaim

Summertime is

2007-07-23T14:11:00.000-05:00

-Shaved ice
-Steamy pavement during a rain
-Ultimate Frisbee at dusk with a light-up disk
-Strawberries and whipped cream
-Catching fireflies on the golf course
-Dancing under the lightning-streaked sky during a thunderstorm
-Car washes
-Church softball games
-Broadway musicals
-An endless supply of homegrown tomatoes
-Napping in a cool, dark closet
-Long afternoons at the pool with little brothers
-Porch-swing conversations with childhood friends
-Scalded feet

Growing up with sisters II

2006-07-25T08:57:00.000-05:00

My youngest sister got an American Girl doll yesterday. The event was made much of in the family, as our childhood was filled with dolls and this would be the final new one to enter the family.

The discarded catalogue lay on the coffee table, and Nathan picked it up. "I want one too," he said. He began flipping through the catalogue, commenting as he went: "I like this one." "Aww, this one is so cute." "That's my favorite."

Let all worriers be informed that he and his brother pass most of their hours pretending to be karate champions or playing Star Wars. I like to call it well balanced.

Growing up with sisters

2006-05-28T21:48:00.000-05:00

"Courtney, how do boys get skinny?" my five-year-old brother asked me. "Do they exercise a lot?"

"Well, yes. But why do you want to know?" He looked down and was silent.

I guessed: "Do you want to be skinny?"

Very ashamed, he replied, "Yes. I want my tummy to be so flat it looks like it was smooshed."

Oh dear.

Four teenagers

2006-05-27T21:23:00.000-05:00

When we were little, the summers were vast expanses of emptiness. The glittering void stretched farther than our childhood eyes could see.

Then we grew, and each summer adopted its own distinction. Two years ago we passed through The Summer of the Cows, in which the neighborhood families journeyed to islands all over the world, leaving the neighborhood empty for a time. This summer is The Summer of the Teenage Sisterhood.

Yes, my friends, this summer holds the remarkable distinction of being the only summer in all of history when all four of the "C" girls will be teenagers (13, 15, 17, and 19, respectively).

In the week since I've been back from college, we’ve been playing music and swimming and driving around town with the windows rolled down and the music turned up. We’ve gone to the theaters and to a water park. We’ve helped a sister graduate and watched her last high-school play. We’ve played sports and had a tea meeting with the neighborhood girls. We’ve welcomed friends returning from college and watched other friends graduate. We’ve played with little brothers and visited with grandparents. We’ve fought, and we’ve laughed. In short, we’ve done an awful lot of living in a week.

Upcoming, we have a trip to Europe, violin camps, children's camps, Broadway at Dallas Summer Musicals, a possible visit to WA to see our grandparents, and, sandwiched in between all that, plenty of crazy teenage moments.

Let the summer begin!

Don't forget to say "please"

2006-05-10T20:17:00.000-05:00

I’m back at school for another two weeks, and, while I’m tempted just to rest and try to hide from the phantoms lurking all over this empty campus, I would hate for these weeks in my life to be wasted.

So today, I learned to drive a stick shift. Spork was a patient teacher, but I figured the trick out all on my own: the car needs words of encouragement. When it sounds like it’s going to jerk, just start talking to it. That works every time.

What should I learn tomorrow?

Filling the gap

2006-04-25T20:10:00.000-05:00

I can't stand having a gap in my "archives" listing. So this post will fill the April gap.

In April, I was finishing up projects and preparing for Hummel's test. I was longing to go home and rather tired of school. And that's about it.

There. Gap filled

The rains came down, and the floods came up

2006-03-19T22:44:00.000-06:00

The rains began on Saturday. During the church potluck, the hammering on the metal roof, the frequent discoveries of new leaks, and the water splashing onto the tables added to the normal potluck craziness.

By afternoon, the green belt behind our house had flooded and the water was rising. We crowded to the windows to watch balls, trash, toys, and sticks rush past. An armadillo waddled around on our back porch, and three ducks swam through the trees.

When the trampoline floated off, Nathan ran crying into his bedroom and slammed the door.

The water continued rising till it nearly reached our fence. Then, after dropping eight inches on Dallas, the rain stopped.

Wisdom, anesthesia, and pride

2006-03-14T17:46:00.000-06:00

After nearly five years of pestering me, my wisdom teeth are now gone.

Being put under anesthesia is quite different from being asleep. When I'm sleeping, I have some sense of time and of what is happening during that time. Now, though, three hours of my life are entirely gone, and as hard as I try, I can't seem to conjure them back into memory.

This whole thing has brought me hardly any pain, which means I have nothing to brag about. The reason for this is because my mom, without even asking me, gave me pain medication. Suffering through pain is something to be proud of, but pride is sinful. So I sometimes hack off my pride and ask for pain medication; such a noble act is worthy of much pride, in my opinion. But simply being given medication is just plain humiliating.

In a dry and thirsty land

2006-03-12T23:30:00.000-06:00

I tripped over a rock, and a thorn scratched my bare leg. But I didn’t care. I just wanted water. At midday, the dried up shrubs offered small protection from the hot sun. I heard shouting ahead of me, so I hurried forward, certain that the shouts were from my sisters and friends who were leading the way to the boulder field. I was wrong.

As usual, my family had been reluctant to leave the camping trip and return to civilization. Kelsey didn’t have to be at orchestra practice until 5, so we planned a short stop on a nearby mountain. We’d hike out to a boulder field, climb around for a while, and be back in the suburban by 12:45.

My sisters and I scrambled out of the car. We opted against water bottles. With only an few hours to hike the mile to the rocks, climb to our hearts’ content, and hike back to the car, who had time to lug water around?

A group of boys from the church ran past us girls. My sisters joined them. But I was smart. I didn’t want to be miserably thirsty while I was climbing on the boulders; I would walk quickly and would still be hydrated when I arrived at the cool rocks.

OK, so my brilliant plan wasn’t quite so brilliant. The path held several forks, and my navigational skills have never been anything to brag about. As much as I hurried, I never caught up with my friends. I did near the top of the mountain though. That wasn’t supposed to happen. And I did grow almost unbearably thirsty. That wasn’t supposed to happen either.

The sun grew hotter, and I grew thirstier, but I still hurried on, certain that I would soon find my friends and the water that some of the boys were carrying. When I saw the top of the mountain, I admitted defeat. I had no idea where the others were, had nothing with me but the clothes I was wearing, and wanted nothing more than a sip of water.

I looked at the sun, and I guessed 12:30. Fifteen minutes to find my way back down the mountain, and heat and dehydration were rapidly zapping my energy. I started down the path, hoping that I was choosing the right forks when I came to them. The thought of the bottle of car-warmed water waiting for me prodded me forward. I took another look at the sun and began doubting my sun-reading skills. Surely it wasn’t already 1:00.

A few minutes later, I saw my dad and another friend running up the path. Their faces cleared when they saw me. I asked the time, and my dad said 1:08. Soon, we were back at the car. My sisters all rushed at me, apologizing profusely for leaving me behind. I just asked for water.

Kelsey was late for orchestra, but we figured she could just tell them that her sister was lost on an Oklahoma mountain without any water. Who wouldn’t be sympathetic?

Valentine's Day

2006-02-20T23:25:00.000-06:00

Don't I have a wonderful dad?

For the graduates

2006-01-12T22:37:00.000-06:00

"You're going to be middle-aged soon. It begins the day you graduate."
-- Dr. Watson

The pull of time

2006-01-07T21:14:00.000-06:00

Tonight is my last night at home, and the competitive, yet happy, shouts of neighbor children are piercing through the open window, a father’s deep voice occasionally overpowering them. An evening breeze is also penetrating, warm and spring-like.

I felt like a young girl again today. Warm weather tends to do that to me. My childhood friend and I spent the day together, laughing over our idyllic memories and talking about the future. Of course, a day dedicated to the old days would not be complete without a trip to the bookstore. So we made one.

I’ve said goodbye to her now though. And to Jenny. Tomorrow, Jenny and I will both go back to our respective schools.

I felt like a child today, but, facing the end of my first half of college, the adult world is feeling closer than ever. I’m not sure I’m ready for it. For the neighborhood to be spread across the globe. For young men to disrupt the friendship of the four sisters. For summers to pass in offices instead of at the pool. For spring days to be seen only through a pane of glass.

Time can’t be stopped though. And sometimes, I’m excited about the changes it brings. Still, I find comfort in remembering that I do not belong to time. In eternity, time’s unrelenting pull will break, and I’ll be free to live the timeless life that I was created for.

The game in the Zachary yard is over now, and the neighborhood is quiet -- all but the wind chimes and the sound of last year’s leaves blowing down the street. Pajama-clad little brothers are happy playing downstairs with their big sister, and the chatter of two other sisters drifts from down the hall. I remember a psalm I read recently: “Peace be within thy walls.” That’s certainly true tonight.

Tonight is my last night at home. Tomorrow I’ll return to school, and I’ll greet the last semester of my sophomore year. But I still have two wonderful years of college left. I’m not grown up yet. Perhaps I’ll just fully live each moment and leave the future to worry about itself.

The foxes have holes

2005-12-20T12:18:00.000-06:00

The bedroom had to remain unchanged for the first year. That was the rule my mom gave my sister when I left for college in August 2004. Upon my departure to my sophomore year, then, Cara lost no time in completely changing the room, consequently getting rid of the bunk beds we had shared for 15 years.

The trundle bed served me just fine on weekend trips home, but for a three-week break, I wanted something more permanent. So I set to work, first making room in the closet for my belongings and then moving my children shelves. The room that Cara once lamented was looking alarmingly like a library now holds only one bookshelf. In the bookshelf’s vacancy, I set up my bed.

My bed is a cozy little spot

Deep calling to deep

2005-11-13T19:46:00.000-06:00

I've been missing the ocean lately. Somehow, we were created to long for the deep, I think.

The view from my grandparents' back deck

Sleep, it is a gentle thing

2005-11-10T18:44:00.000-06:00

“Just a few minutes,” I thought to myself. “I’ll only sleep long enough to trick my body into feeling rested.” Giving myself 30 minutes, I set the alarm for 2:10 a.m. Michaela lay down as well. A short rest would help what we knew was going to be a long night.

Neither of us heard the alarm. When we woke up at 6:30, the sun was beginning to rise and our work was still undone. We weren’t even able to fully enjoy our unexpected five hours of sleep, since we weren’t ready for bed and the light burned brightly. Michaela wasn’t even under her covers.

I sat at my desk and looked at all the work I had hoped to have finished by morning – two newspaper stories written, five edited, seven Composition 1 papers graded. “It’s going to be a great day,” I remarked to Michaela, not at all sarcastically. Sitting down to finish her 40 pages of anthology reading, she agreed.

Thus spoke Ludwhig

2005-11-03T12:21:00.000-06:00

Said the chocolate king of the ever-increasing automatic door buttons,

"The downfall of chivalry in the present age: They're replacing us with buttons."

Life

2005-11-01T00:34:00.000-06:00

The recent graduates have presented a rather dismal view of post-college life.

Here's the adolecent C.S. Lewis's life philosophy:

"Term, holidays, term, holidays, till we leave school, and then work, work, work till we die."

Home for Fall Break

2005-10-24T19:26:00.000-05:00

Please excuse another little brother quote, but being home provides an abundance of them. There’s something about a four-year-old’s way of viewing the world. Somehow, it puts things in a new, fresh light. Here’s Nathan’s bit of wisdom from yesterday:

“It’d be hard to be a mommy and daddy without any kids,” the little guy mused. “It’d be like there were lost parents.”

Intellectuals

2005-10-06T18:27:00.000-05:00

Most people in the library are reading books. Passers-by, however, would have observed some abnormal behavior from two sophomores today.

Eyes intent, stance focused, my roommate and I were ... counting. "one, two, three, four ... 42, 43, 44, 45 ... 99, 100!" Yes, counting. Counting words, counting sentences, counting syllables. For our teaching of reading class, we were to determine the readability of eight different books. I wish we could have caught it on film.

My rose bush

2005-09-27T12:48:00.000-05:00

Poor roses

I've come to the conclusion that my gardening skills are quite deficient.

After open dorms

2005-09-18T00:27:00.000-05:00

Fjord makes an overly zealous resident assistant

A change of plans

2005-09-10T01:07:00.000-05:00

I was a bit apprehensive about birding with four other 19 and 20-year-olds. As it turns out, my apprehensions were not ill-founded. We were up against tremendous odds.

To start out, we had one pair of binoculars between the five of us – not an ideal situation. Then, few of us knew much about birds, and some knew nothing at all. To make matters worse, the formerly peaceful iron bridge road was filled with semi-trucks and construction.

Although at first depressed over the sad state of affairs, we soon managed to improve things by changing the tone of the outing. Andrew and Ludwhig ran off to find some way to get on the railroad tracks, and Michaela, Fjord, and I walked down the road talking.

We came to gate 29, and we decided to enter. The beauty on the other side had been left untouched. We walked on and on, reluctant to turn back.

When we turned around to leave, Andrew and Ludwhig came charging down the road, armed with branches. The boys kept Michaela and me puzzling for the rest of the trip over the strange behaviors of males. They hit rocks with sticks and balanced on oil pipes. They foraged through the woods, sticks in hand, ready to fight off any dangers that might appear. They found an old pipe and used it as their victory horn.

We slowed down a bit to enjoy the sunset over the lake. Then we walked through the darkness.

Before going back to campus, we decided to stop at Sonic. We should have seen the earlier directional difficulties as a foreshadowing, though. It took us several tries to get there.

So the evening was a success after all. We didn’t do much birding, but we had a great time being together in God’s creation. Life is good.

Another year

2005-09-02T16:07:00.000-05:00

19. That sounds so old.

It seems I'm always too happy where I am to want to move on.

The Body of Christ II

2005-08-28T17:51:00.000-05:00

The 17-year-old brother of our five guests walked out of the service today. The next time I saw him, a crowd of praying people surrounded him, and he and his younger brother were sobbing. Their father, a leukemia survivor, was back in the hospital and was not expected to live.

An elder interrupted communion to give the announcement, and few eyes were dry. Prayers were said, scripture read. In the back, a steady stream of people were hugging and crying with Corey and Chandler. Corey, the eldest, came to the pulpit and shared that their trust was in God, not in doctors or medicine. We spent the remainder of the meeting in prayer. The young people declared their intention to abandon the Rangers’ game and spend the afternoon praying instead, and a brief discussion ensued about whether or not to continue with Sunday school.

Sunday school was stiff and contrived when Corey received another phone call. The doctors suspected pneumonia, which would mean that his father would be in the hospital for several months but had a larger chance for surviving.

We rejoiced with the family then, purposing to help them through the difficult times ahead. That’s what the Body of Christ does. We rejoice with each other, just like my friends rejoiced with me last night. We also grieve with each other. We serve and aid each other. We know each other, and we challenge each other’s faults and weaknesses. Then, Christ is glorified.

The Body of Christ I

2005-08-27T17:49:00.000-05:00

“Courtney!” My little brother’s eyes twinkled with barely contained excitement. “Come downstairs; they have a surprise for you.” I obeyed him and found our living room filled with neighbors. Since my nineteenth birthday falls after I leave for school, they had come over to celebrate early.

Little boys, older girls, mothers, and fathers -- all came. Little boys eagerly gathered around, sneaking extra brownies and showing off their newfound talents: “I can make you have eleven fingers.” Fathers expressed friendly interest: “Now, are you taking classes for your new major?” Mothers exclaimed over the quick passage of time: “I can’t believe you will be 19! I remember when you were all so little.” Older girls smiled and laughed, secure in the safety of old friendships.

Through it all, I reflected on the Lord’s blessings in my life. They truly are poured, shaken together, and running over.

On top of things, at last

2005-08-26T21:02:00.000-05:00

The guests have left.
The house is clean.
Seven loads of laundry have been washed, dried, folded, and put away.
The baby is asleep in bed.
The boys, decked in pajamas, and their father are picking up my mom from the airport.
My room is nearly packed and ready for my sister to confiscate.

For once, I'm feeling quite in control of life.

A brief update

2005-08-24T16:08:00.000-05:00

My two youngest sisters have departed to join my mom at our grandparents' house.

Five other kids now fill their places, though.

Our church friends, the parents of seven children, went on a spur-of-the-moment cruise, so now their five youngest are spending the week with us. My mom can't believe we agreed to let all of them stay here, and I tend to share in her disbelief. The two older girls are helpful, but six kids -- all under six-years-old-- in one home is a bit wild.

Come Sunday, I think I'll be ready for a bit of peaceful college life.

Snapshots of the day

2005-08-19T23:51:00.000-05:00

8:30: The house is alive and busy with a wild scramble to get Nathan to school and Hayden to a parent visit. I plop William and Hayden in the tub and quickly scrub them. Then we head to the busy kitchen. Pancakes on the griddle, cereal and milk on the counter, formula flying around the bottle, a hungry baby screaming in his highchair, a sister packing a lunch for Nathan and a diaper bag for Hayden – the kitchen is a whirl of activity.

12:30: After a morning of practicing music and swimming laps, the four sisters and their younger brother head to the ice cream shop. William’s eyes light up when we hand him a cone brimming with cookie dough ice cream. His mouth opens wide, his tongue stretches out for the first lick, and … plop. Tears fall. A classic childhood moment. Fortunately, the employee is understanding, and William’s tears are soon dried.

3:00: I return from grocery shopping with William. The house is full of its afternoon craziness. Two neighbors are dancing in the living room with Kylee and Kelsey. Hayden’s nap protests have filled the house long enough; we give in. My friend realizes that I leave for college in just one week, so she comes over to discuss books, scripture, and the Christian life. Nathan and his friend return from next door, and William joins them in running laps through the kitchen and living room.

I always tell people that we have six kids in our family. Seven, counting the baby. But really, when we have that few, our home feels empty. Right now, we have 11.

6:30: Dinnertime. It must be confessed that a few tortillas fly from my sister to my dad; it’s just much faster to pass them through the air.

7:30: I take William, the baby, and the dog on a walk. The breeze isn’t too hot and the cicadas are silent. The mingled chorus of crickets and sprinklers, however, reminds me that summer is still here. I walk barefoot on the warm pavement, greeting neighbors and smiling at a three-year-old’s prattle (Our dog can jump down from a retaining wall without crying. Did you know that?).

8:30: The boys have donned pajamas. After bedtime stories, we pray together, two brown heads resting on my lap. Goodnight songs and kisses, then bedtime.

11:30: Stillness. The little ones have long been asleep, and six teenage girls claim the house as theirs. The noises that only surface in the quiet hours finally venture out. A few echoing voices float from assorted rooms.

I sigh and rejoice in the simple things – the tears and the laughter, the small calamities and the pure joys, the chaos and the peace – that make up life.

Busy, busy, busy

2005-08-19T14:45:00.000-05:00

My last big hurrah before school starts has begun. My mom left to visit her parents on Tuesday, and two of my sisters will join her on Monday. Those of us left at home are staying pretty occupied with cooking, cleaning, watching the little ones, chauffeuring siblings, and doing anything else that needs doing. A lot goes into this running a household stuff.

La familia

2005-08-16T17:04:00.000-05:00

Looking over my blog, I've realized that most of my posts are about my family. This does make sense; they occupy a large portion of my thoughts and my time. I want to cherish each moment I have with them before I head back to school.

A picture is worth a thousand words, some say. So, here are some pictures:

My parents

Four soon-to-be-separated sisters

The crazy little brothers

The much-loved baby

The future nears

2005-08-05T18:02:00.000-05:00

My parents’ schedules left the seven of us to ourselves last night. We girls quickly began the scramble to put the three little ones to bed. I bathed Hayden, Kelsey dressed the boys, I read to them, and they were all put up. Then it was our time.

We passed the remainder of the evening (and early morning, I suppose) playing games, looking at wedding dresses, watching movies, eating grapes and popcorn, laughing, and simply enjoying each other’s company.

A sense of urgency permeates these last few weeks. We soak up each moment we have together, revisiting old memories and exploring future dreams. We’re all together for now, but how much longer do we have? Soon I’ll go back to school. Then, next year, Cara will go to college. What will life be like then? I don’t like the unknown.

The faith of a child

2005-07-22T22:15:00.000-05:00

Tonight at dinner the topic turned to theology. Not deep Dallas Theological Seminary theology. Four-year-old boy theology. Nathan’s friend joined us for dinner, and the two enjoyed flaunting their knowledge of the Bible and of God.

The first topic was God’s size in relation to tortillas. Hudson announced that his tortilla was the longest, and Nathan informed his playmate that God was longer. This led to some confusion as to whether God actually is a tortilla or is merely bigger than a tortilla.

The conclusion reached that no, God is not a tortilla and that yes, He is bigger than one, the boys ventured onto the subject of creation. Hudson described a numbering system that God used when creating the earth, the idea probably stemming from hearing of the seven days of creation. Nathan, then, proudly boasted of his superior knowledge of the subject: “No, He just spoke, and it … made.”

On the subject of Nathan, I have been reading to him from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. I love to watch a little one experience something great for the first time. The plot, of course, is enthralling. The writing, too, is leagues above most children’s stories. While reading descriptions of the children’s feelings when first hearing Aslan’s name or of spring coming to Narnia, I like sneaking peaks at my little brother and seeing the far-off Narnia look in his eyes. He has been introduced to a new world, one that he will become very familiar with. Now, he only grasps the basic elements of the plot. Each time he reads it, however, he will understand more and more, enjoy it on a deeper level.

Perhaps this is why I chose early childhood education. I want to introduce children to greatness and truth while they are still young so that they will seek after it for their entire lives.

That's my sister

2005-07-06T13:20:00.000-05:00

Apparently, my not-yet-15-year-old sister can strike fear into the hearts of teenage boys. While resting from setting up for the Fourth of July, Kelsey was swinging on a tire swing. Meanwhile, a group of 15 to 20-year-old boys was lounging around. I heard the following conversation:

“What would happen if I gave Kelsey a scare?”

“Man, don’t try it. She would come down on you and whoop you.”

“Seriously, Kelsey could kick your butt.”

“I mean, you can’t get away from her. She swims fast; she runs fast; she rides her bike well …”

“I know; Kelsey’s just crazy!”

The conversation continued in this vein for several minutes. I listened, much amused, as the boys reminisced over various encounters with the wrath of Kelsey, lauding her tremendous fighting abilities and warning those boys who would be foolish enough to incur said abilities upon themselves. One of the group closed the conversation by saying, “Yeah, Kelsey could beat you up. And it would be fun to see her do it.”

I feel very safe now.

My fearsome sister

A summer storm

2005-07-01T16:04:00.000-05:00

This month foreshadows a summer much hotter than last year’s. The humidity is already oppressive, and the drought that usually hits in July or August has stretched its fingers into June this year as well. Today’s thunderstorm, then, was a welcome relief.

The house grew dark, and we knew it was coming. My sister and brother and I went outside and watched. The trees lost their mellow summertime color and adopted an electric green hue. The wind was strong. It tangled up the greenbelt and threatened the lives of the smallest trees.

My sister and I stretched ourselves on the warm patio pavement and watched the battle raging in the sky. Light and dark warred against each other while flashes of lighting split the sky in two. The stormy gray overpowered the few spots of light, sweeping over them with intense power. Soon, only a small blot of white was left. The dark attacked it, surrounding it on all sides. And it was gone.

Several doves sped past, and a swift or two struggled high, high up amid the swirling mass of gray.

All was wild and untamed. The greenbelt churned, the clouds whorled, the wind bellowed, and, in the Northeast, the thunder crashed.

Then the rain came. Huge, frothing drops. Slowly at first, then faster, then in torrents. We stood and watched. Then we ran. We ran around the backyard, then through the gate and into the field. We circled the field, swinging around trees and leaping across ditches, joining the wild, untamed nature in reckless praise of our Father’s creation. A crash of thunder streaked across the sky, starting as a distant rumble in the North, growing to a roar, and culminating in an explosion above our heads. And we rejoiced.

The storm was short, but it cleared away the humidity and cleansed the stagnate air. Now the birds are back.

Child development

2005-06-28T19:36:00.000-05:00

Mrs. Mills neglected to educate her students on an essential bit of information in child development class: three-year-olds are not yet capable of learning the game “Mother, may I?”

I took my brothers to the back patio this afternoon to teach them that time-honored game. Nathan caught on quickly; he usually does. William, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to grasp the concept very well.

“William, take four hops toward me,” I commanded. He proceeded. “Oh no, William,” I quickly stopped him. “Don’t forget to say it.” He grinned and quickly said the required words. Permission granted to him, William began hoping. “One, two, three, four.” Unfortunately, William’s efforts had taken him nowhere. He had forgotten to hop FORWARD.

I enlightened him on this necessary element to the motion, and he tried again: “One, two, three, four, five, six …” I arrested his progress and reminded him that the number specified was four.

And this process continued for the duration of the game.

“Mother, may I?” is really an unfair game. The “mother” holds the outcome in her palms. William, therefore, soon found himself the winner of a game and proudly claimed the role of “Papa.”

“Courtney,” he said. He stood for a few minutes, scratching his head and looking around. “Go to the front yard and get a stick and kill that wasp.”

Perhaps Mrs. Mills should be informed of the deficiency in her class content.

Locked out

2005-06-25T09:36:00.000-05:00

It's yet another late night, and once again I opt against bed. Perhaps I might find a few more posts to read. But alas, apparently all my friends have been as negligent in their postings as I have. Strange, though, that ALL of them would have given up blogs for the time being.

And this goes on.

Then, one morning, I have a few minutes to spare. Not wanting to make the trip upstairs to my computer, I settle at my family's and type in the URL. Shock. I have comments! Ludwhig's blog. He has three more posts! Karen's, Michaela's, Lynn's, Joshua's -- the list goes on. In fact, all hosted by blogspot have new material.

My apologies for my absence.

Any ideas why my computer has developed this strange aversion to blogspot?

Soccer games and symphonies

2005-06-11T23:30:00.000-05:00

A perfect day. Soccer in the morning. Good friends and laughter all around. Then, warring against the summer heat, a water fight. Four water hoses, plenty of water bottles, mock indignation, and thinly veiled pleasure.

An evening at the Meyerson with the Dallas Symphony provides an idealistic end. I sit back, surrounded by friends and a host of pleasant thoughts, Tchaikovsky, Bach, and other composers lending the perfect accompaniment. Ahh.

Silence

2005-06-10T08:30:00.000-05:00

I slept with my bedroom's two computers off last night. The silence was almost oppressive at first. Strange, how we become so accustomed to constant noise that we can scarcely bear to go without it. Then I lay still and simply listened. How much we never notice amidst our silence-drowned environment.

Life goes on

2005-06-06T19:00:00.000-05:00

I apologize for my respite from posting. I've never been one to speak when I have nothing to say though.

Life is going well. I finished psychology. British Literature started today, and I enjoyed it. My professor is one I had previously and greatly enjoyed. Hopefully, this class will prove as beneficial.

Graduation hit our little community with a vengeance this year. My childhood friend left for college last week, providing me with an unnecessary reminder of how much I despise goodbyes. My graduation from high school marked the beginning of a long string of departures. Now hardly any year will leave the neighborhood unchanged by another farewell.

Our neighbor, Dr. Hironaga, has been teaching my little brother preschool all year. Today she began summer school with him and her four-year-old son Jason. When Nathan woke up today he hugged me and said, "I finally get to go to school." He had been out of school for about a week. Hopefully, this passion for learning will accompany him throughout life.

My parents are doing well. My sisters are doing well. My brothers are doing well. I'm doing well. And that's life, in a nutshell.

Hypocrisy

2005-05-29T04:01:00.000-05:00

Too few chairs. Two sisters. Angry whispers.
"Can you scoot over?"
"No, because then she won't have enough room."
"But I was here first."
"shhh"

The chorus swells, and I join in.

I'm coming back to the heart of worship
And it's all about You...
I'm sorry, Lord, for the thing I've made it
When it's all about you

"Christians don't tell lies; they just go to church and sing them."
-Keith Green

Oh Father, forgive me.

Brotherly love

2005-05-22T15:25:00.000-05:00

We are trying to teach our boys to love each other. Nathan and William enjoy playing together, but they fight often. Sometimes, we think they are making progress. Other times, however, their sinful natures take over.

After I picked William up from Sunday school today, I took him into the main service room. Three-year-old Benjamin was standing next to his parents, and William, seemingly without cause, ran up to him and knocked him over. I was horrified and embarrassed. I tried to extract an apology from my little brother and then took him to the side to talk to him.

On the way home, I related the story to my family. "William," my mom said. "Why did you do that?" From the back row came an innocent and penitent little voice: "I didn't know he wasn't Natey."

Let brotherly love continue.

An update on life

2005-05-20T18:20:00.000-05:00

Today marked the culmination of my first week of school. A weekend break will be nice. As much as I enjoy four hours of straight note taking...

Summer is finally showing itself. Although today's high was only around 95 degrees, the humidity caused my family to head to the neighborhood pool for refuge for the majority of the morning. The little boys are beginning to look like little brown Indians, and the garden is yielding an abundance of sweet, crunchy green beans. Ahhh. Summer.

I've been struck with the importance of introducing children to the finest of the arts while they are still young. As children, my sisters and I spent many Saturdays at the Dallas Museum of Art. Homeschooling granted us ample opportunity to go to the Dallas Symphony or the opera. Today, my parents continue in the tradition of instilling a love of art in their children. Having successfully bequeathed this love to their daughters, they are now working on their sons, ages three and four. I came home from college to find William humming along with Tchaikovsky's Waltz of the Flowers. Yesterday, the boys went to several of the Fort Worth museums.
What a difference from the children in the school I observed last semester. A tuneless song about pizza instead of Tchaikovsky; cheap examples of still life instead of the great works of art. When I become a teacher, I hope I never insult my students with second-rate art. Children can and must learn to appreciate the best.

C.S. Lewis

2005-05-17T02:11:00.000-05:00

"An unliterary man may be defined as one who reads books once only."
-C.S. Lewis-

The studies begin

2005-05-16T03:10:00.000-05:00

My psychology class started today. The teacher opened class with a few words on the classroom, a windowless room stuck in a back corner of the building. This was one of her favorites, she explained. "It's like we're all little moles, buried back in this room." "Oh, no,” I thought. "What have I signed myself up for?"

In one morning, we covered the major psychologists throughout the ages, the various studies in psychology, the experimentation process of psychology, the major terms in psychology, and the biological aspect of psychology. I'm sure it will all stick long-term, too.

So, I'm back at the place where I spent my senior year of high school. It's good to be back. Well, OK, not really. LeTourneau has spoiled me. I'd forgotten about the school where the woman in front of me smells like cigarette smoke, the teachers use cuss words, and the students (many of which are adults) look depressed and lifeless. Oh well, though. By the end of June, I'll be finished with classes and will have nine more credit hours to my name.

Summer Fun

2005-05-15T16:43:00.000-05:00

School is over, and summer is here. In an attempt to stop looking back and begin looking toward the summer ahead of me, here are some things that I like about summertime.

I like homegrown vegetables and gardens filled with wildflowers. I arrived home from school to find tomatoes, green beans, cucumbers, and strawberries growing in our small backyard garden. The wildflower garden is bare, but time and patience should remedy that.

I like cookouts with the neighbors. The dads gather by the grill while the moms place carrots, green peppers, watermelon, chips, and dip on the table indoors. We older girls meet at the trampoline and tree fort in the green belt behind the house, laughing together and teasing our little brothers. Soon, the burgers are ready. A dad calls us up, and we all group together as another dad blesses the food. Time stands still as we eat, talk, play, and catch fireflies.

I like coming home to a cool, dark house after a long morning at the swimming pool. The little boys soon fall asleep, the smell of chlorine thick on their brown bodies. We older girls read or study. No summer would be complete without learning something. Whether we choose to study Spanish, linguistics, history, science, or literature or opt for a skill like cooking or a new musical instrument, we must continue gaining knowledge.

I like afternoons at the lake. I hold on to the tube as it speeds across the water. Mr. Gregory, the boat's driver, swerves back and forth, trying to get the tube out of the wake. I feel it tipping. I lean. Oh, oh, I'm not going to make it. The tube flips over. I tumble out. The water rushes past; my breath is knocked out. I don't know what happened. Is this earth, heaven, some land in between the worlds? I feel strange. Is this what death feels like? Then I come to my senses. I'm floating face down in the water. I come up and see Mr. Gregory turning the boat around. When he comes back, I grab the tube and pull myself on, ready for another try.
This year will be different. I'll have both work and school. I'll still have time for summer though. Yes, I'm glad that summertime is here.

The First Post

2005-05-14T17:46:00.000-05:00

In order to better communicate with my LETU friends, I have joined the ranks of bloggers. I fought long and hard against technology -- just ask my sisters -- , but it finally won. IM, e-mail, Blog -- next thing I know, I'll be a computer science major!