In Honor Of Asher; In Honor Of Eggs

Christmas Sugar Cookies

1 1/2 cups fleischmann’s unsalted margarine

2 cups white sugar

4 eggs (!)

1 tsp. vanilla

5 cups flour

2 tsp. baking powder

1 tsp. salt

Combine sugar, margarine and eggs. Beat well. Mix in all other ingredients thoroughly. Chill at least one hour.

Roll out 1/2 inch or form into walnut size balls and flatten to 1/2 inch.  Bake at just under 400 degrees for seven minutes on cool cookie sheets. Keep dough in refrigerator when not in direct use (in between batches, etc.)

Frost and decorate.

Frosting

4 cups powdered sugar

1/2 cup Fleishman’s unsalted margarine

5 TB water, rice milk or soy milk

1 tsp. vanilla

sprinkles, chocolate chips, etc.

When cookies cool- frost and decorate. Frosting will “glaze” slightly and cookies will stack nicely.

Yummy!

The things they say

After our annual visit to main street to delight in “winter wonderland”– we hurry home. Cold and exhilarated. Children still reveling in delight of horse and carriage ride. Tall son even got to sit on the top driver seat…

Questions move toward life matters. Children knew that Daddy had a major paper due the same weekend as Uncle Colin’s wedding.. Children inquire about the paper. Ask happy questions. We share that the class is now completed.

Asher comments with a sigh from the back seat.

“Huh… I am hardly in the grades!” Meaning he has sooo far to go. He is only in first. First grade that is.  It is hard to capture the utter expressiveness and perceptiveness of it all. He knows he has a far path ahead of him and he is taking it on seriously. He has the privelage of being third. He sees those in front and he sees those behind.

One time he asked me seriously, “Why does Micah have to be the biggest and the strongest?” This was hard for him. It was. It is.

The things they say.

Boys- the pre-teen years??

Son 9… heading toward 10. Heading there fast. Tall son. Hungry son!

Have those years begun? The hungry years we hear so much about? Boys and their appetites people say and nod their heads sagely, gape in wonder- recollecting that he ate that much!!!! when he was —- fill in the blank.

Tall son wanders the kitchen. Searches the cupboard. Mutters… “I put something on the cupboard door– a note.” I listen- busy with little ones. Move on to the next thing.

Later, I find myself in the kitchen. Note right at my eye level.  I laugh.

If I had the photo function on my computer working- I would upload a picture. Classic. Priceless. Spelling errors and all. (And yes- we are working on spelling-…every… day. Much improved- by the way!) The note was written in green.

Shortage of  Food!

Be very Carful!

I would like to declare here and now that this is just the beginning of boys, food, and the teen years. I texted this delight to my husband. This was his response: “Take all the money from diapers and move it into groceries.” I laughed. The man makes me laugh. He has made me laugh from our very first encounter. You remember, don’t you honey, when you were trying to help me with the boxes in the back of Friday’s– and were precariously climbing the ladder- warning of bodily injury at any minute: boxes, body, ladder, and all…

That diaper remark is very appropriate:- for those who do not know- when our third son was born- we had three in diapers. That is our record. Three in diapers. Right now- we are at  just one…just one little bean (a boy, by the way) in diapers.

Over here- I am getting ready. Learning to prepare large quantities of hearty, nourishing meals…

Pre-teen years: here we come!

Boys

I don’t often revel in the realization that I am the mother of five sons. That my household is a bustling dome of male energy. I have pondered a little more lately-

a little more

as:

my youngest brother married. How different is a son’s marriage from a daughter’s…? I wonder. I ponder. Five sons.

I have listened- askance at tales of the teenage male appetite. Making notes and getting ready.

I haven’t pondered-nearly enough- how to raise them up to godly manhood. Strong saplings, steady pillars, straight arrows.

Sometimes… the noise!!!! I have no other words. Mothers of sons- you nod. You know.

But-

I am beginning the reflections on boyhood and so

with that- I will share a funny tale or two…

(to be continued)

Joshua

Little One
 
He runs.
 
Little feet
 
They patter.
 
Little One
 
is
 
speeding
 
like
 
a raceway car.
 
Zipping,
 
Flying
 
like 
 
a bird in motion.
 
Always
 
going somewhere
 
with a
 
Purpose.
 
Little One
 
He runs
 
with happy joy
 
from room to
 
room
 
sometimes stopping
 
to find himself in
 
mischief.
 
Sometimes
 
Stopping
 
at the window
 
to gently touch
 
his own
 
reflection.
 
He is
 
quiet
 
now
 
a minute
 
caught
 
in
 
his own
 
wonder.
 
But then-
 
off he runs.
 
Little Joy
 
you fill our home
 
with
 
laughter.
 

Coping

New Technique for
Coping
with strife
in the home
under times of great
stress
 
Rather than choose to yell back, have a fit, enter into the flesh…
Run. Fall on face.
Right there-
Right in the middle of the floor
Right in the middle of the strife
 
Pray aloud.
Cry for God to intercede and help.
For Wisdom.
For Wisdom.
For Wisdom.
 

Psalm 121:1-2 (ESV)

I lift up my eyes to the hills.
From where does my help come?
My help comes from the LORD,
who made heaven and earth.

The Delight of A Son and the Power of Music Part 3

The Delight of a Son and the Power of Music part 3  
 
Rushing…
Pushing…
Mind racing…
 
We are getting ready for a whirlwind trip to Pennsylvania for a very important event:
the precious wedding of a dear youngest brother in flesh and in Spirit.
 
I am not walking in peace.
 
I scurry into the bathroom, gathering toothbrush, toothpaste, hair band… checking trash- still not picked up…
inspecting chore hurriedly…
 
Suddenly:
Stopped. Arrested.
Held Captive.
 
Worship music is flowing from within our boys’ room.
Sovereign Grace worship songs to be exact.
Cross centered, God-exalting, Mind renewing, Spirit refreshing.
 
“How Majestic” from Worship God Live
and
“For You are Holy” from Awesome God
 
Truth is flowing.
 
Immediate adjustment needed.
I pause. I rest.
 
I enter in to
encourage
dear first-born son
who chose to
fill his room and heart
with worship
while diligently
working thru his
morning school
and
helping me
at every
call
I cry
to him.
 
Captured. My heart is held in His Peace.
He IS the Way, the Truth, the Life.
Keep me in this place
in my heart
while all the world
swirls
and
even yells
around me.
I praise You.