Summer's End

       We had a busy summer, mostly at home. We traveled in early June to North Myrtle Beach. Nine in a big van over 3000 miles total is an undertaking. We took our friend, Mary Pat's para from school, and she was great help. I believe she earned sainthood with that trip. The wife of one of Bruce's officemate's says that these types of travels are "trips." Vacations for Moms are something else. God bless you if you are able to combine both into one. I can't yet; but I have hopes. Regardless, it was my family's vacation and they had a ball.

       Mary Pat loved the ocean, as did the other children. They were either in the ocean or the great pool at the condo most of the time. I got to see my brother, Chip and family--it had been years. That really was my highlight.

I made my brother a Dobos Torte!

       In May I put in a bona fide flower garden. I have never done that. I've gardened small plots, and long ago. But since moving here and adding six more children to our family, the only garden was the proverbial cabbage patch. I'm really loving my garden. My friend Alex visited earlier in the year. She designs luxurious gardens in England. I was brave enough to send photos of my garden to her. She was sweet about it. 

       It really is a work in progress. I saw that early and  intensive watering and weeding and fertilizing were critical to the establishment of beautiful blooms and healthy growth. Next year will be fun, to see what the perennials come back like, and which annuals I'll plant. I loved a orange-red impatiens planted next to white. My hostas did well, as did my hydrangeas and coleus. The celosia did a little too well, and I'll be transplanting them. I even put in a garden over a septic tank, and spread about a ton of rock in front of the house around a dozen boxwoods that I put in. 

       Since then, school has started up in full swing and I'm doing the Mom-grad-student-part-time-jobs-six-in-school crazy shuffle. My friend is a psychotherapist and I'm lucky to have her in my life. She is a visionary. She has started conferences and boards and community-supported-agriculture groups, and more. She always has ideas and drive for the future. She personally studied under Ira Progoff, a journaling expert back in the '70s and became his first female leader of conferences. She coached a few of us recently on this type of method and I've been really enjoying it. I won't go into it here, but it really helps one to get in t ouch with oneself, and work out feelings and events. My amazing friend just turned 81-years-young. She inspires me. 

       "Renata" will continue to be worked on offline. Perhaps one day you'll see it on Amazon. We'll see. Kids and gardens take a lot of time these days! 

Breaking Ice

       
       Large animals drink a lot of water. On our place in Maryland it was not as evident, because we had a well. But here on the Abbey Farm there are two automatic horse waterers hooked up to city water, and a pond, each in different pastures. The more the horses can drink from the pond, the less the cost. We do rotate pastures though, and once or twice a winter the waterers need to be thawed, and it's a chore. So far this winter--so good; however, the pond recently froze over, the four horses were not easily moved, so I went out and broke a hole in the pond yesterday. It took throwing a very large rock down hard, repeatedly, to open a five foot by one foot trench. The horses came down and drank. I could only imagine the brain-freeze!

       They were happy and followed me back up the hill for hay. It was opening the bale that I realized I'd done something to my back. Something more, that is. It always hurts these days, but I must have pinched a disc. I hobbled to the pony barn and threw some hay out for them as well. I must have looked like the old Dowager Countess trying to throw the hay out the back of the barn, but our animals need us in the winter and I would not let them down. I think I'll invest in a chic, silver-topped cane, though.

       So now I sit with a homemade mocha (I added cardamom, a bit of cinnamon and vanilla--it's delicious!) and write. It is gorgeous outside. All of the children are back to school today and though the list of things that should be done is endless, I really can only sit and wait for my back to heal.

       Mary Pat's caseworker just called on the phone and told me that she looks on times like mine as mandates to rest. Sad as it is that we need to be sick or injured in order to take time, it reminds me that it is important to enjoy down-time when one can enjoy it the most. But I won't lament further. I'm secretly enjoying the day. And my time to write. It's been a long time since posting any of my Renata story. Here's the next chapter. Brew some coffee or heat up some chocolate to drink. And remember to try a pinch of cardamom!

Vicariously

   
        When I was younger and looking ahead to the future, the year 2000 seemed so far away. It does once again, though now in retrospect. When I foxhunted with the Elkridge-Harford Hunt Club there was an "elderly" 69 year-old lady who kept up with the younger folk, galloping and jumping. I decided back then that I wanted to be like her. Other older adults whom I cared for as a nurse, who didn't exercise, who didn't seem to care for themselves, perplexed me.

       In the last few years I have been diagnosed with osteoarthritis and--far off from 69--I am unable to foxhunt anymore. Cantering a horse can be painful, much less galloping and jumping, and so  along with golf and skiing, hunting is added to the "I used to..." list. It's really easy to become self-absorbed and sad about it. When the feeling hits hard I watch Go-Pro videos of others' foxhunts. But one great thing about having children is that we truly can live vicariously through them.

       I am doing that right now as I write, warm and dry in a small ski lodge. Snow Creek must be the tiniest ski resort anywhere with three runs and a vertical drop of, like, 300 feet. But we're talking the Kansas/Missouri border! So it is a wonderland, a paradise for kids and mid-westerners who haven't the time nor means to travel farther. I might have once joked that more time is spent riding the lifts, with only about 30 seconds to ski down to the bottom of the longest slope, but how misplaced that humor would have been. I'm looking up now as people schuss and pizza and jump and wipe-out and laugh. There is challenge and there is joy on this hill. 

       I just met a beautiful couple in their seventies and eighties. There was a twinge of sadness: I had wanted to be like them. But the feeling was quickly replaced when I saw their joy in life. It made me joyful, too. They let me take their photo.

       As the morning goes on I've watched Stephania (who is visiting again from Columbia!), Gus, and two of my friend's girls take lessons and hit the slopes. 

       The tentative, jerky first forays have transitioned into more courageous, smooth runs. And wipe-outs. Gus is snowboarding for the first time. He just came back from the longest run at the slopes. While brushing snow off his helmet and from inside his coat, he told me with a huge smile about how he fell, rolled and landed back on his feet to continue down the hill. I remember well. And I've let loose the feelings of yearning to be right there with them. Watching is good. Listening to their first-hand accounts is exciting.

       Bruce likes to say, "Enough is a feast." It is enough to watch, to remember, to take part even through the window, in their fun and excitement. And so, today I participate in a feast...of abandon and the joy of living vicariously.

Nostalgia

     
       We watched the movie, Midnight in Paris, and I was struck with the realization that the nostalgic desire for a bygone era is not limited to modern people. The main character, who has had a chance to travel back in time, meets a lady who longs for an even earlier age. 

       In November my daughters and I had a lovely evening at the World War I Museum in Kansas City. We went to meet and listen to Sir Alastair Bruce, the official historian to the Queen of England and the historical advisor to the popular British series, Downton Abbey. We were so excited; we love history so much, that we were almost giddy to meet Sir Alastair Bruce. He was gracious and kind and best of all, so genuine that one would think he was an old friend. A gentleman, he asked if he could place his hands on our shoulders for a photo. He introduced himself as "Alastair."

       Susanna asked if he would allow her to "...do the teenager thing and take a selfie?" He graciously and enthusiastically obliged, later answering her tweet as to what a great shot it was!

       What a kind man. His lecture was fascinating and entertaining. My four oldest daughters and I have always loved historical dramas. Perhaps because most Americans have ancestral roots from other countries, we love pieces set in the UK and continental Europe. For example, I love to watch the British mini-series North and South, because my father's family were cotton millers from the Scottish border and Northern England in Carlisle. Alastair Bruce discussed the changes in aristocracy and landholding between the late 1700s through World War I. Due to great taxing of the large, old country houses, many were no longer financially viable and were literally blown up. Thankfully, Highclere Castle and others were preserved. Highclere is the setting for Downton Abbey. Another great house, Chatsworth, home of the Duke of Devonshire, is used as Mr. Darcy's Pemberly in the most recent Pride and Prejudice movie. Netflix has some great documentaries on these houses.

       I found myself saying to the Geek Squad guy who came and straightened out our router (they really do visit in little orange and black painted cars) that I must have been meant to live 50 to 100 years earlier. Technology, though miraculous, is frustrating and complicating far too often. To my children's chagrin I really do remember playing outside all day and using my imagination well. I truly did ride my horse, or someone else's, for hours and hours in wind, rain and snow. It was a beautiful childhood. Will my children say that all of the gaming and TV viewing was "beautiful" one day?

       The character from Midnight in Paris does find contentment in the present. He uses his nostalgia of the past to share with a new friend, and to write novels. I am glad that I can share my love of history with my daughters, to sit with a pot of tea and watch a beautifully filmed show. And of course, to write.

A Flashing Cursor and Poised Hands

     I recently ordered a book I remembered reading as a teenager. Lionors: King Arthur's Uncrowned Queen by Barbara Ferry Johnson, tells the tale of King Arthur's truest love. There is a poem at the end of the book which I remembered. It came within two days, thanks to Amazon Prime. I have not reread it yet, but I recall a pond and an island on it where they played as children.

       We have a lovely pond on the Abbey Farm. I've spent some time there the last two afternoons; the weather sunny with a crisp chill in the breeze. It really is some of my favorite weather. I told Marie, who accompanied me one day, that we go on vacations to experience this. Though we only had an hour, I decided to make it a memorable one. I tried to be as fully present as I could. So I didn't have a week--couldn't I gain some benefit from an idyllic 60 minutes? I have decided that the answer is yes. I am convinced that living fully in the present, and having a grateful attitude are key to aging happily.

Marie, pencil in hand, I am sure

       I move furniture when I don't want to do dishes and laundry. I changed around the small room where I have my desk and a sofa. I put things up on the walls that have been put away for years. I even hung my saddle, and it smells so very good in there now. I look up at my meager-yet-meaningful ribbons, my bits, my polo mallets, a picture of me foxhunting...I can't do any of those things anymore. But instead of sadness, I have intensely beautiful memories and gratitude. I call it the sitting room now. Maybe I've watched and re-watched too many Downton Abbey episodes!

1987

1991

     

1996

        

   

A Single-Subject Spiral, and a Sharpened Pencil

       I mentioned my screenplay. Screenplay writing is formulaic. Even so, talent is a must and I claim none. When I was a little girl, my friend Bev and I wrote novellas. We'd exchange them and giggle. They were almost always love stories. A single-subject spiral notebook and sharpened pencil are still two of my favorite things. Other writers understand the hypnotic attraction.

       I still see my story as a movie. Novel writing is much harder. My daughter Marie has written a few and I urge her to publish. She's gifted.

       I decided to try and write my story. I'll start here. It is inspired by one of my favorite people and her gift of giving. The character in the novel is not the same, however, in that events are purely fictitious. A name here and there, a line, a setting--but the rest is from my imagination.

       It is the story of the people influenced by a woman named Renata. Renata means rebirth. Some say that for all women, their genius--their greatest gift--is life-giving. Whether we have children or not, we have the ability to inspire, to support, to love in a very unique and special way.

 

Everything But The...

       Sometimes I feel I've tried everything but the kitchen sink. Actually, in respect to raising kids and home management, I probably have.  My stick-to-it-iveness is the problem. Or maybe it's that in a very large family no day is like the one before; there are schedules and sports and appointments. For years, there was a new baby every 14-20 months. I wondered when things would return to normal.

       Then I realized that normal for us was the state of flux. I've read so many books on organization. I wrote a blog post about some of them. Each has something very helpful, though it is unrealistic to expect just one to fit our family long term. I still like referring to them. Life just keeps changing. Marie and Susanna have moved into an apartment together, we have no foreign exchange students and so we "only" have 6 children at home. They are all school-aged, which is wonderful. For the first time in literally decades I was home alone some days of the week this past school year.

       The children are on summer break now. In times past we organized home "camp" days but this summer they range in age from almost 13 down to 6 and the older boys aren't excited about "Pirate Day," or "Astronaut Day." We still do a lot of learning serendipitously, though. We've been playing with the animals more, and their chores involve feeding and watering them, moving the ponies from stall to coral, and collecting eggs from the chickens. It used to be that I had to limit television. Now it is limiting computer and X-box time.

       Yesterday they played for hours outside, the weather cool. It was so much fun to see them running around with backpacks and plastic Nerf guns, working as a team. Ben would stop to roll around on the grass with some dog or cat. Max and Gus moved stealthily into the barn to avoid enemy wasps. Thankfully, no stings.

       They also love swimming in the pond (all swim well), paddle-boating and canoe-ing. Red is a great color for the canoe because I can locate them easily on the pond. Gus loves it especially. We have taught them boat safety, and our pond is small.

       There are still days where they claim boredom; those are the days I send them outside. "What do you think children have done all the thousands of years before air conditioning and computers??" "Aw, Mom, that was the olden days--kids do different things now!" Watching them play Army yesterday reminded me of playing with my brothers forty-five years ago. It doesn't have to be so different. Many families have stricter rules and even no computer time or X-Boxes. I respect that.

       Instead of feeling like I've failed at a given tasj, I remind myself to take from it what I can and move on. That's not to say I don't get down about it sometimes.  I tell myself, like Dori from "Finding Nemo" repeated: "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming." Jesus told the disciples that if a town didn't welcome them to kick the dust off their feet, to keep doing what they were meant to do. Disappointment and negativity can render one ineffective and hopeless.

       Not today! Today I had the kids formulate a contract of turns on technology and initial it. They abided. Some broke off to play piano, clarinet and guitar, and the others went to the pond.

       Then we made cookies. A double batch in my giant new Kitchen-Aid mixer. Marie and Susanna are excited to inherit my old tilt one. Over the years they helped mix thousands of cakes and cookies with it. Before they were born I used it to bake wedding cakes and birthday cakes and our family's favorite Dobos Torte. Unless you have a Hobart or a commercial mixer, I think a Kitchen-Aid mixer is the best small appliance. My KSM-90 is still going strong after 28 years. I hope my new larger capacity mixer will, also.

       So here's the recipe. "Everything But The...Kitchen Sink Cookies." If you don't have a Kitchen-Aid, it will be quite the upper body workout. I doubled the recipe, but that won't work in a 4 or 5 qt. bowl. You'd need this baby (or a Hobart--lucky you!):

Everything But The Kitchen Sink Cookies 

Beat together:

1 cup butter, softened

1/2 cup white sugar

1 cup dark brown sugar

1 1/2 tsp pure vanilla

Beat in:

2 eggs

Stir dry ingredients together, and mix in slowly:

1/2 cup coconut flour

1/2 cup unbleached white flour (I like King Arthur Brand)

1 tsp baking soda

1 tsp salt

Stir in very slowly:

2 cups old-fashioned rolled oats

1 cup organic dried coconut (or whatever you have)

1/2 cup chopped pecans

1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips

When well combined, drop by tablespoonful onto an ungreased cookie sheet and bake til golden in a 350 degree oven (about 10 minutes). Cool on baking rack.

You can add other ingredients. A basic oatmeal cookie is one cup flour and three cups oats. I have purchased gluten free oats before and ground some to make the 1 cup of flour. I've added crispy rice cereal, granola, different types of chocolate chips and different nuts. You could even add cinnamon or some almond extract. Today I thought dried cherries would be good, but I didn't have any on hand.

       Have fun with the recipe. If I struck a cord with you, if you are also an organizational book junky yet have failed to find just he right system, perhaps we're ok the way we are. Just be sure to take one day at a time and to kick the dust off your feet from the methods that don't work. Keep moving on and doing what you do best.

Creator, Through The Created

   
  I've mentioned that I teach a college Nutrition class. We hosted two speakers in the last week, both farmers. One farms thousands of acres and the other, hundreds. Both are successful men with wonderful families; both are open about their faith in God and how it drives their worldview and business practices. Both are ethical, intelligent and caring. One farms conventionally and the other organically. The students have so much to think about!

     What struck me was that each spoke about God openly. Each stayed after to offer sage wisdom and advice to students. They cared. Neither man was asked to speak about his beliefs or faith, and yet it was clear that in farming the land they came to know God more deeply. I have friends who are interested in crystals, some in art, some in the oceans, some in saving women from human trafficking, some interested in climate change. From the perspective of a Christian, I believe that the Creator is drawing them to him through nature--through his creation. They may see him differently, or they may not yet acknowledge him. Christians are human and imperfect but their God offers choice. He sings a love song which is heard and experienced through the senses in many ways. And he awaits his beloved.

Seeing Through Busy

          Every one of my friends will say that their life is busy. I remember seeing a commercial from the 1950s which predicted that all of the new electric appliances would give women so much more leisure time! I do not think they understood the "Size of a Woman's Purse" philosophy. I don't know if I made that up, but I do know that whatever the size of my purse--it is filled to the brim. The same with "extra time." It gets filled. It is too cliché to say that many of us don't know how to say "no." We want what is best for our loved ones, our family, our husbands and our community. Our cup fills, and runneth over.

          I have not posted for a very long time. Life has been busy. Our two oldest are now married! The next two are in college and all the rest are in school this year. So did I make more leisure time? Did I dive into housework? Neither. I took on three jobs and started my graduate degree. As I write this it seems nuts, but every decision at the time was a right one. Each job is very part-time. It is the masters in nursing education which takes the most time, but I have loved it. I think it would be fun to be independently wealthy and become a full-time student. I love learning so much. I also love inspiring students to learn when I tutor, teach a nutrition course and teach clinicals. And I love being a home health and hospice nurse on the weekends. So much good stuff!

          It is running over in good and not so good ways. I now remember what a conflict it is juggling home and work. We had another lovely young lady live with us last year. Stephania is back in Columbia and we miss her terribly. She was truly one of the finest young people I have ever known. She helped our family immensely. I have decided that I am taking a few months off my graduate studies to dive back into my most important role: Mom.  It is only a delay in my studies, and I know I won't regret the time with my family. The best of Moms take care of themselves, but they figure out how to give their best to their families. It is not always clear-cut, and sometimes it is difficult; but it is a great goal.

      

Timeshare Worth It After All?

     We had a wonderful Christmas. Our oldest daughter Emily and son-in-law Jason drove up from Alabama. All of our children were at home under one roof. There is just nothing better. Not even expensive trips and cruises. Home is where it's at, in my book.

     That is not to say that vacations aren't fun. Or good for you. Traveling is not essential, in fact in most cases it's a luxury--but sometimes a break is in order.  Relaxation and recharging of batteries.

     We made plans to go to Branson, Missouri after Christmas.  I was really conflicted about going. I'm on a once a day milking schedule with Betsy the cow and though my friend Christy and her family offered to take care of the place while we were gone, up until the last minute I thought I might let the family go without me. Pongo, our month old Angus/Hereford bull calf,  had just bloated. Bloat in cattle can be life threatening. I figured I would stay home with Mary Pat and have a bit of a "staycation." But that didn't feel right either. And Pongo miraculously got better.

     We bought Timeshare for a reason--to force us to go on vacation. So I went. And I was reminded of some important things...

1.  I love my family, even if we're not perfect, even if the lady in the room below complained that we woke her baby up with the noise and something falling off her wall. My children can be rowdy, but in truth, each year do better with traveling.

2.  I love my husband, even when we fall into bed exhausted and cranky, wondering why we drove so far, far away to experience stress on yet a new and unique level. He took the children to museums and movies. He dealt with drama, he put up with me. He is an amazing person.

3.  Branson, MO really is fun, even (maybe especially) when you take ten children, a couple of whom aren't yours.

4.  Expensive lunches can be worth it if the waiters throw bread at you (Lambert's Cafe). Lots of stops on long car trips are not all bad.

5. A break from home and farm chores helped me relax, think and put things in perspective.

6.  Friends you can count on to feed scores of livestock and milk your Jersey cow are priceless, the kind who devise a way to throw a blanket over a normally placid indoor-weinerdog-turned-snapping-killerdog to get it outside for a potty break.

7.  And finally, I love coming back home. There is no sad feeling that vacation is over...I can't wait to drive up the lane.

                               

                                                        "Home is where the heart is."

           
                                                               With our loved ones.

 

"A family is holy not because it is perfect but because God's grace is at work in it, helping it to set out anew everyday on the way of love."

- U.S. Catholic Bishops, Follow the Way of Love There are all sorts of families. Spiritual, adopted, nuclear, extended. Draw strength from yours. Give of yourself to them. To another. On vacation, at work, at home. Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year!

From a Glass of Milk

Community. We had friends over for dinner last night. They have six girls close in age to our six youngest. Our active, noisy kids, who seem to fuss a good bit with each other played amazingly well together. Most of mine are boys and we loved how the girls and boys all ran around the farm, petting animals and not having issues with "they only have girl toys" or "they only have boy toys." Thirteen children ran around and parents shared great conversation and a thrown-together meal for all.

Our friends are so connected in our community. Veritably everyone I talked about the husband piped up, "Oh, he's my cousin," or some relation. We laughed but it's something that makes our community special. Sure, some relationships may erode or fade over time and people may act like strangers, but on the positive side, there is an accountability factor. Would that we felt that with all of our neighbors. A connectedness even deeper than blood. Something more spiritual. As Christians might call it, "being part of a body."

We laughed some more, we shared fresh milk from my cow Betsy and talked about earlier times. About a connection with the land and soil. We talked about how Betsy's milk changes flavor slightly, depending on what she has eaten. A Jersey, she has a rich, creamy milk (the cream is amazing, really) with a yellowish color you don't see in the supermarket from the beta-carotenes and vitamins she consumes in our pasture grass and her alfalfa. There are probiotics in her milk that are so healthy for our immune systems. And it all comes from the soil we live on, the rain that falls on us and the sun that shines down over us.

We can live on sterilized, fortified products--and antibiotics and lists of medications. Those can be life-saving and good. But in an unbalanced relationship, they can be unhealthy for the body. Somehow, drinking this natural milk, eating local organic beef and vegetables and even local honey feels healthy. It feels like living in relationship with the land I'm living on. In a similar way, living connected to the people around me--not stuck in front of the television or gaming device or computer--working with them, volunteering, truly caring for them, living in community with them is lifeblood to the body. One gives and thereby receives.

Man was not created to be alone, but to live in community. There is a place for solitude, retreat, and cloistered communities. There are certainly different gifts and temperaments. But we were made for each other. We are healthiest when in communion with each other. I pray that you are able to find your place in the body that comprises all of us, locally and globally. Start right where you are. Prayer is the most powerful connection and effective means.Give thanks for what you do have, not lament what is missing.  Find God right where you are and share His love.

A Happy Thanksgiving to you!

Suzy
The Abbey Farm

Seasons of Life

     My friend, Christy (http://artisanfarmsteadliving.blogspot.com), shared a soothing piece of wisdom. We were discussing all of the things we've accomplished or attempted, and how puzzling that each of those experiences was not active in some way in our present lives. For example, in the past I've baked cakes for weddings and for a restaurant. She's crafted and sold handmade dolls. We've each tried various diets (macrobiotic, low-protein, low-carb) but have not settled on "the one way of eating." I've actively foxhunted, ridden competitively and run races, but am not now. Of course, we agreed, you can't do everything. But I have felt that I should be incorporating most things, especially if they were healthy, helpful, or fun. If I'm not doing "it all," shouldn't there at least be some evidence of having done or learned these things?

     I have wondered that at my age, shouldn't I be a lot further along in peaceful, organized self-actualization? Will I finally feel I'm "there" when I'm 80? The last two months have been busy on The Abbey Farm. Christmas, illnesses, two new ponies, a new goat, two new puppies, a teen with a lead part in a play, new renters, and tragically, the death of a precious friend.

     Writing, usually a joy to me, fell by the wayside.

     The comforting piece of wisdom from Christy was this: It is natural that we go through "seasons" in our lives. The phases and experiences are like individual puzzle pieces. They may fit together well at one time or another, but the reality is that at times a piece is dropped off the table. For each season, the puzzle of our life looks a little different. The pieces on the floor are not reminders of failure, but of richness of experience.

     Once upon a time I dreamed with my Mom of owning a Bed and Breakfast together. We took a Mother-Daughter trip to New England in autumn and stayed at a beautiful B&B. We had a memorable time laughing and planning.  Life, however, went in a different direction. Mom passed away a decade later and our plans never materialized.

     I may not be doing everything the way I thought I would at this point, but who is? Life is good. It is busy, it is challenging, and though I may not do it all well, humility and thankfulness are the greatest lessons learned.

     What season are you in? Is it challenging?  I pray that God gives you the grace to trust Him; that however your path goes, it ultimately brings Him great glory, and you salvation. We are all works in progress.

God Bless you,

Suzy
The Abbey Farm

When we bought this farm, it had most recently been used as a Bed and Breakfast. I am now entertaining and working and cooking every day for the people I adore most--my family. I do make plenty of breakfasts. Perhaps I got my B+B afterall. And Mom's looking down from heaven smiling!

Teenagers!

    

     I was recently in touch with one of my childhood friends (thanks to Facebook), and found myself explaining why I would miss yet another High School Reunion. Once upon a time I was Vice President of the Senior Class at Hereford High School. After graduation I helped organize our five and ten year reunions but after that, life got really busy.  It seems the best I can do these days is to try to find old friends and classmates on Facebook and spread the word.

     It’s our thirtieth now. I remember my High School as though it were yesterday. Mine was not a perfect experience, but it was a good one. Good teachers, good friends, good fun; a lot of learning, and not just of the academic sort. Sometimes I was just plain lucky--or had a great Guardian Angel!

     Wouldn’t it be fun to go back in time with all we’ve learned in our adult years? I now give such amazing advice to my High Schoolers! They may not think so, but they’ll see someday. A thought ran through my head the other day while talking to Bobby about his religion class on the drive to school (he is back for a second year!).  The thought was how much I enjoy the teen years. Perhaps it is because of my own experience, or that my job for the first decade and a half out of college was working with teens.  Whichever reason, the teen years are a unique time of experiencing life in a new way, an exciting and potentially confusing way.

     I’ve known teens who had little adult support. Though my teenagers might feel it would be a luxury to have the latest iPhone, computer, Wii, X-Box 360 (all in their bedrooms), and no curfew or dating rules, I’ve seen the downfalls of affluence abuse and neglect, and the absence of parental support and structure.

     “No,” I tell mine, "you can’t meet at the local donut joint at 2am because everyone else is,"  "you can’t date until you’re sixteen, "you can’t be out past 10pm on a non-school night" (a formal might be an exception but then there’s a list of rules there, too).  I need to be asked first if they get a ride home, and need to know that person’s number and home address. I’ve said no to certain events. But we talk it out, and though they may not like a particular decision they understand our rationale, and they know it is out of love.

     "Rules without Relationship=Rebellion." The relationship, the love, has got to be there.

     Multiply all that by the number of teens we’ve raised/are raising and it can be challenging, but rewarding. There are six more coming along in our household. I'd better like it, I guess, because Bruce and I will be doing it until we're nearly 70. Crazy? Maybe. Paradoxically awesome? I think so.

     Hence, there is little time for my reunion. I will miss catching up, but like a wedding, I’d probably still come away wishing for more time with each person. To my old classmates and friends who read this: "I am sad, and I will really miss you, but perhaps I’ll get there for the Grey-Hair-and-Cane Reunion.” I sure hope so. Life is precious. Teen years are no exception.

God bless,

Suzy

The Abbey Farm

PS: Thanks, Shari!

Saint Who?

    
     I never used to pay attention to why cities like St. Paul, San Francisco, St. Augustine and St. Joseph were named after saints.  I was raised Episcopalian and was used to the surname; I guess I realized these people were remembered for something. People of all Christian faiths acknowlege certain early Church Fathers such as Augustine of Hippo and early martyrs like Stephen. When Marie and Susanna were homeschooled we used a great history text that detailed the European settling of the New World, and the different styles of the Spanish and French and others. I had not studied in such detail in public school.

     We can all acknowledge documented historical events. Of course we may interpret them somewhat differently, but it is fascinating study. Sometimes I've felt that my own geneological research, while interesting, is moderately futile. Twenty generations back and we all have close to a million ancestors--so why would one thin line of them mean anything more than another? I lost my drive for geneology, but not for history in general. As I studied them, I realized what incredible, spiritually inspiring people the saints were.

      Each city named after a saint has a good reason for it. I do not understand how people deny the Christian foundations of our country. There was tragedy involved in some cases of "religious" settling. There was horror in the case of many Native American Tribes. Man is fallible. Good intentions may not always produce the results that I think God would have wanted. Man, throughout history,  is sadly inhumane to man. So instead of focusing on the evil, I find it better to focus on what was learned and most especially what was good. The lives of saints are such stuff. Recently up for sainthood is Mother Teresa. No one would deny that hers was a heroic life. Try Googling some lesser names like these: Maximilian Kolbe and Edith Stein, both of whom died in concentration camps in the Holocaust. Just incredible people.

     Four years ago on July 20th,  an obscure saint became known to me. Mary Pat was prep'd in the OR, ready to have a gastrostomy tube, or "GT" inserted at five months old. A GT enters directly into the stomach through a stoma created in the abdomen, and is used for feeding. Mary Pat could not nurse. She could not suck from a bottle. All those months since she was out of the NICU we'd been managing a Nasogastric tube or "NG". That's the feeding tube that goes up into the nose and curves down the back of the pharynx, through the throat and espophagus and into the stomach. The mucous membranes are very sensitive and tender, especially in the pharynx. Insertion is at best uncomfortable to a cognizant adult. Most people describe it as intensely irritating or painful. During insertion there is a good chance of putting the tube into the lungs, rather than the stomach. As a nurse I'd inserted NG tubes so I felt at an advantage. But those were adults. And this was my tiny baby struggling for life. I prayed so hard to God to let her suck from a bottle. I pumped for six months to provide her with the best nutrition possible. I ached to nurse her, but the chance of her taking a bottle would be a miracle to me. It wasn't to be. Every time she needed the NG reinserted she screamed and cried and turned blue. I prayed and tried to be so cool and clinical. Being an RN did not make it any easier.

      Mary Pat additionally needed a procedure to tighten the top of her stomach.  She had such bad gastric reflux that one day she stopped breathing and had to be life-flighted back to the hospital. She had an apnea monitor at night which I needed to attach to leads on her chest. False alarms in the middle of the night were not uncommon.  I prayed that Mary Pat would not need any of this, but the answer I wanted did not come. We checked into the hospital and dressed Mary Pat in her tiny gown. The nurse took her and I cried as I had before her other surgeries. Mary Pat had additional difficulty with each of her surgeries when intubated, because of her cleft palate, jaw surgery and anatomy.         Dr. St. Peter was her surgeon. He was very kind and comforting. He spoke with us before the surgery and was just the confident, calming presence that I needed. Bruce and I settled in for the wait. My reading led me to the "Saint of the Day." A Feast Day is usually celebrated on the date of death of the saint...the day they entered the hereafter with Christ. This day was the feast day of St. Apollinaris.

     St. Apollinaris was the first bishop of Ravenna in the first to second century. He was a great preacher and many came to know Christ because of him. He was brutally beaten and tortured more than once by the Roman officials but he kept evangelizing and was eventually martyred. St. Apollinaris had been ordained and sent to Ravenna by St. Peter himself. St. Peter! This fact may seem in no way to be connected to Mary Pat, but I knew that in God's great love, He knew about what would happen to Mary Pat, and when St. Peter did ordain St. Apollinaris He knew that centuries later it would give comfort to a frightened mother. Mary Pat was indeed in His hands.

     Dr. St. Peter came out after the surgery to tell us that it had gone well. As we began to breathe a sigh of relief, he informed us that he encountered something serious. Because of the need for that surgery, Dr. St. Peter found a life threatening condition called a diaphragmatic hernia and expertly fixed it. He also found that her large intestine was not where it should be. Part of it was basically unattached and could have led, undetected, to a fatal condition of twisting and strangulation of the bowel. He fixed it. If God had answered my prayer and allowed her to nurse, or even to be fed from the bottle--to be spared of the NG tube and later the G-tube--these conditions could very well have killed her. I learned the beauty in unanswered prayer.

     I have a thirst for wisdom, knowledge and history that will never be quenched in this lifetime. Though eternity may be incomprehensible, thinking about getting to know all those who have gone before us--is a taste of paradise to me...

...as is Mary Pat.


God bless you,

Suzy

The Abbey Farm

What the World Needs Now...

     I've mentioned our tradition of "Highs and Highers" at dinnertime. We go around the table and tell about the best part of our day, and then something that God taught us, or some wisdom we want to share. It works fine for all faiths, those with no religion, even those with no words. Jim usually says, "In my heart!"  Margaret tilts her head when her turn, smiles and just says "Aww!"-- because no matter what she says we always go "Aww!"

     Yesterday, Marie and Susanna had friends over for dinner. The last time one of them was here we had a great lasagne. He'd never, ever had it before. It was actually on the schedule again for dinner and we didn't want him to think it was all we ate. Without too much time to switch gears, Susanna found five frozen pizzas in the freezer, and "Voila"...dinner fit for a Teen! I thought wryly that I'd just posted that morning about homemade pizza on: theabbeyfarmcooks.blogspot.com. Well, there is a place in the world for frozen pizza, too. The block of time which was created by not having to cook was welcome in my busy day. It meant more time for play with the children.

     Dinner was fun. We remarked that we had all skin colors and hair colors at the table...light, Asian, and dark skin...blonde, brunette, red, black and even gray hair. Conversation was fun. I told about my second, chance meeting with the same man outside the Walmart in two weeks. He was taking donations "to decrease heart disease and diabetes." He had books on a table covered with a canopy. Two weeks ago I found out he was from the Seventh Day Adventist Church. We shared aspects of our religions and focused on what we agreed on. We even prayed together before parting. I learned that Seventh Day Adventists believe strongly in taking care of the body and they eat a macrobiotic type of a diet.

     In the last two weeks I learned more about his religion and his way of eating. The latter I incorporated more into my life and have been blown away by the results. I feel so much better eating a diet composed more largely of whole grains, vegetables and legumes. I really don't see myself ever becoming a Vegan, but the simple changes I've made have been very calming (to my usual hyper-anxious state of feeling the need for multiple radars on my head for keeping track of so many little ones). And I have had more energy and less joint pain. I encourage you to read more about a macrobiotic type of diet, as it makes so much sense. The American diet is more and more in the media as to its adverse effects on our bodies and lives. I'm living proof that you don't need to go hog-wild to see positive changes.

     I saw the man again yesterday and I had to stop and thank him for his role in my research and changes in my diet. We talked more about our faiths, and I had to point out that what he believes my Church teaches is not what it actually teaches. I hope he listened. I told him that it's my belief that Satan does exist, and so his prime target is all that God holds dear...Christ, faith in Him, the Sanctity of Life, the family, Christians, the Church. For my friends who disagree, I urge you to read "The Screwtape Letters," by C.S. Lewis. You may not be convinced, but you will understand other Christians better.

     What did Burt Bacharach write? "What the world needs now, is Love, Sweet Love..." So true. Love will come better with understanding. In the end, God will be the judge. I do believe there is an ultimate truth; it is not relative. Circumstances may be relative, but truth is not. Mercy is relative...and that's where God will be just. In the meantime, we're called to be like Him. We may not agree in this life--but we certainly will in the next. Christ's desire is that we are all with Him in eternity. We are called to "...make a defense to any one who calls you to account for the hope that is in you, yet do it with gentleness and reverence..." 1 Peter 3:15.
We do it not out of pride, but love. Sweet love.

God Bless you,

Suzy

The Abbey Farm