Lemonade out of Thanksgiving Lemons
We spent the Thanksgiving holiday with my mother this year. It is the first year that we haven’t had Thanksgiving in our home with a bunch of guests. I love cooking for the Thanksgiving meal, but this year we decided not to cook at all and just enjoy fellowship together before mom and Deanna left for their “Exodus” trip.
Mom ordered Thanksgiving dinner from Wal-Mart. It was advertised as an “Oven-Roasted Turkey Dinner”. Sounded delicious. She would pick it up Wednesday at about 11 a.m. for dinner at 1 p.m. We had to have our dinner a day early because mom and Deanna were leaving for Cairo on Thanksgiving Day at about 9:45 a.m.
We drove to El Paso on Monday morning. I’d scheduled Dentist appointments for all of us that afternoon so that we could kill 2 birds with one stone. What a miserable day! We were crowded driving down because the truck (unlike our huge van we used to have) really seated only 6 and we were 7. Adrian drove so that he could get some practice in and when we got to El Paso, I was so stressed out with him at the wheel that Ralph and Terence both had to tell me to “chill”.
We spent 5 hours at the Dentist’s office getting our teeth cleaned and checked. It went fairly well. Adrian had 1 cavity, Terence had 3, Deanna (for the first time ever) had none, Leilani had 4 and I needed to schedule a root canal. Just what I needed!!! A root canal!! I guess we would be back in about two weeks anyway to pick up Deanna, so I scheduled our mouth work then.
Ralph and Adrian drove back home and the rest of us stayed at Mom’s house. Ralph had to be at work on Tuesday and Wednesday because it was going to be some of the busiest days for the store. Adrian volunteered to take care of the dogs while we were gone and try to keep them in the yard. They would be back late Wednesday night so that they could see Deanna off at the airport.
Tuesday Mom (Grandma) put us to work around her house. She remodeled her bedroom and had a new roof put on. We packed up several boxes of books, dusted shelves, moved some furniture, etc. She also had 15 tons of rock and dirt delivered. It was going to be the foundation for a new shed she would put up after she got home. Our job was to move it and spread it evenly over the area where the shed would sit. I think we got 5 tons moved before we gave up, exhausted. I suggested that she rent a bobcat to move the rest.
Wednesday morning we helped Mom put all of the furniture back into her bedroom and hang up the curtains. The room looked 100% better than I’ve ever seen it.
At 11 a.m. we went to Wal-Mart to pick up the dinner we had ordered. The deli associate took our name and went into the back to get the stuff. He brought out a box. Our mouths were watering in anticipation of a fully prepared, ready-to-eat dinner. Imagine our surprise when we opened the box he brought to us and saw a FROZEN turkey and side dishes! Totally not what we expected! We didn’t have time to thaw and heat the turkey before nightfall. None of the advertisements on the counter specified that it would b frozen and not ready-to-eat. We decided not to take the dinner. Our complaint tot the manager got us a gift card, but not more time to prepare a meal.
We did the best we could with an alternative: rotisserie chicken from the deli, boxed stuffing, boxed potatoes, canned cranberry sauce, deli broccoli salad and a homemade cherry pie (that I would make). We bought the items we needed, checked out and when back to the house to prepare the same.
The stuffing turned out great; the kids like the boxed potatoes, rotisserie chicken was not turkey, but alright; broccoli salad was not popular, but I thought it was delicious; and overall the dinner was pretty good.
I set about making the cherry pie. We had frozen cherries left over from our cherry picking trip to Cloudcroft. They were just right so I didn’t add too much sugar. I cooked them over microwave heat (my mom never used the stovetop except for a catchall) and then added some cornstarch to thicken the juices and heated it again. I poured it into the prepared pie crust and put it into the oven to cook for about 20 minutes.
When the timer went off, we could tell that the pie was ready because of the wonderful smell. I reached into the oven with my oven-mitted hands and pulled out the pie plate. It tilted a little and the pie started to slide…I grabbed for it and the pie plate slipped…AHHHHH! The pie slid out of the plate and the plate slid out of my hands. There it went – upside down onto the dirty kitchen floor.
I just looked at it. It would have been a perfect pie!! We’d gotten ice cream to go with it and everything! I looked up at my mom. She started laughing…and laughing… and laughing. Tears started running down her face! There was no help for it. I started laughing, too. The only ones that were going to get a taste of this pie were Ginger and Berkley (the dogs) who were eagerly waiting for it to cool enough to eat up off of the floor.
When everything was cleaned up, we served the ice cream; pie a la mode without the pie. We enjoyed every mouthful, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter when any of us thought about the pie. At least we could say that it was a perfect pie and that it would have been delicious. You know, like “the fish that got away”. (I began to wonder if God knew it wasn’t going to be so good and had saved us the trouble of trying to pretend. Maybe I should be thankful that we didn’t have to eat it.)
When Ralph arrived later that night, at about 11 p.m. and hungry as a horse, I told him about the “pie incident.” This time the tears couldn’t be stopped. I really was disappointed about the “pie that got away” and the Thanksgiving dinner that wasn’t really (in my mind) a real Thanksgiving dinner. I was thinking about past Thanksgivings with our decorated table, fine china, cooking with other family or friends all day, a big table with every place filled, several deserts and appetizers, a gourmet meal, etc.
In spite of all this, we had a lot for which to be thankful. We were all together as a family. We had all really enjoyed each other’s company. We had made some really hard-to-forget memories. We had all be able to hug and kiss Deanna good-bye before her trip and my Mom had received the help around the house that she had needed. I am thankful for these blessings.
I suppose that after all had been said and done, it had been what God had wanted it to be: a sacrifice. I had wanted Thanksgiving to be what I had imagined it to be – what would make me feel good. He had wanted it to be an act of giving. He had wanted me to give up my expectations and my ideas of the perfect Thanksgiving and make is something that would be a blessing – not to myself but to my mother and Deanna. I guess that’s what makes Him God: He sees beyond our plan and beyond our needs and orchestrates something for Himself.
Can I be okay with that? Can I be thankful for the blessings that He gave even if they weren’t what I wanted or expected? Can I be satisfied that I was a part of His blessing and not the center of it? Yes. I guess I’m okay with that.
Rom 11:33 Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!
Psa 10:5 His ways prosper at all times; your judgments are on high, out of his sight; as for all his foes, he puffs at them.
Psa 50:23 The one who offers thanksgiving as his sacrifice glorifies me; to one who orders his way rightly I will show the salvation of God!"
Phi 4:6 - 7 do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
May we all remember that God must be glorified. May we be okay with His plans in our lives. May God continue to bless us by including us in His plans even if they aren’t what we expected.
Reflections from The Little House in the Tumbleweeds.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Saturday, November 25, 2006
The Material World
The Material World
The mall is a great place. A place I don’t belong. I walk into JC Penney’s and catch my breath at all the beautiful colors and styles. I see the SALE signs above the racks and somehow I expect the price tag to reflect my idea of a sale. It never works out that way. In stead, the sign says “priced as marked” and when I look at the marked prices, I get sick. I don’t know who told The Boss that $9.99 for a flimsy t-shirt was a sale, but whoever they are, they need some serious reprogramming!!
Deanna was thrilled when I gave her her money. She had been planning meticulously how to spend it for the last couple of weeks.
“Mom, can I buy some clothes here?” she asked, unsure of exactly what to do.
We had driven into El Paso because the boys needed some school project items. They had wanted to go to the mall before we went home. So, that’s where we were – standing in the mall watching thousands of people buzzing around us and trying not to get dizzy.
“We can look. You might find a few things on sale.” I tried to be positive.
We went to Dillard’s. I looked at the “Clearance” racks and she looked in the Teen section. I found nothing, but she found a cute shirt that didn’t have a derogatory sentence on it. We hung on to it while we browsed the rest of the racks. There seemed to be a lot of black and several of the shirts had skulls on them. Most things looked like something a hooker would wear and others looked like something from “Night of the Living Dead”. The longer we looked, the more uncomfortable I became.
The shirt she had picked out had not tag and she took it up to the counter. Seconds later she was back.
“I’m not paying $21.00 for a t-shirt! They’re crazy! Let’s go to Wal-Mart,” she said as we headed out of Dillard’s.
As we walked through the wide corridors, I paid a little closer attention to the stores on each side. I was also aware of all of the teens milling about. Many of the girls looked like they could be one of the models I saw in the poster plastered along one of the walls. I wish I could say that that was a compliment , but I don’t really mean it that way. I mean that the teens flowing non-stop on either side were trying to live up to the image that the advertisers were pushing on them: bare bellies, too much cleavage, low cut jeans, skin tight pants across the rear, body piercings, colored hair, heavy make-up, etc.
Suddenly, I was aware of being bombarded with the expectations of this materials oriented world. Stuff displayed everywhere and “pushers” everywhere selling their wares: treasures designed to satisfy that world. Everyone seemed to be caught up in this river of materialism and was being swept along with the current, which was driven by advertisers praying upon the flesh of their victims. Not that I’m bashing free enterprise here, but I was beginning to feel like fodder for the vultures.
Flipping open my cell phone (I guess I’m not immune), I dialed Terence’s number. “Hey, guys! We’ll meet you at the truck in 10 minutes. Are you about done?” I couldn’t wait to get out of there.
At Wal-Mart, Deanna and I didn’t have any better luck. We both decided that this was a bad day to shop for clothes and agreed to put if off for another day. The mall experience had spoiled it for both of us.
In a town without a mall or even a Wal-Mart, it had been easy to forget that we live in an extremely carnal world. So many of us (collectively) are searching for those tangible things that will make us happy or acceptable. We are inundated with Big Businesses telling us what we should look like and what needs we have that only their product will fulfill. There is so much of it that we fall into the River and get swept away; buying this and that to satisfy our flesh while tumbling to our destruction of the rocks of Disappointment and Emptiness.
As Christians, we are not immune to their wiles and deceptions. But, as Christians, we have Truth and Hope with which to combat their hypnosis. We have Christ, the Author and Finisher of our faith, the Water for our souls, the Treasure that is from Above. Thank God that I don’t have to search this world for the things that will fill my emptinesses; I have only to call upon Him and He reminds me of my place beside Him in the Upper Heavenlies with the Treasures that He has laid up for me. In comparison, the World’s temptations and materials seem so much less satisfying.
1Jo 2:15 - 17 Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world--the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and pride in possessions--is not from the Father but is from the world. And the world is passing away along with its desires, but whoever does the will of God abides forever.
May we seek His Kingdom above the World’s temptations. May we have the wisdom to know when we are being tempted.
Reflections from the Little House in the Tumbleweeds.
The mall is a great place. A place I don’t belong. I walk into JC Penney’s and catch my breath at all the beautiful colors and styles. I see the SALE signs above the racks and somehow I expect the price tag to reflect my idea of a sale. It never works out that way. In stead, the sign says “priced as marked” and when I look at the marked prices, I get sick. I don’t know who told The Boss that $9.99 for a flimsy t-shirt was a sale, but whoever they are, they need some serious reprogramming!!
Deanna was thrilled when I gave her her money. She had been planning meticulously how to spend it for the last couple of weeks.
“Mom, can I buy some clothes here?” she asked, unsure of exactly what to do.
We had driven into El Paso because the boys needed some school project items. They had wanted to go to the mall before we went home. So, that’s where we were – standing in the mall watching thousands of people buzzing around us and trying not to get dizzy.
“We can look. You might find a few things on sale.” I tried to be positive.
We went to Dillard’s. I looked at the “Clearance” racks and she looked in the Teen section. I found nothing, but she found a cute shirt that didn’t have a derogatory sentence on it. We hung on to it while we browsed the rest of the racks. There seemed to be a lot of black and several of the shirts had skulls on them. Most things looked like something a hooker would wear and others looked like something from “Night of the Living Dead”. The longer we looked, the more uncomfortable I became.
The shirt she had picked out had not tag and she took it up to the counter. Seconds later she was back.
“I’m not paying $21.00 for a t-shirt! They’re crazy! Let’s go to Wal-Mart,” she said as we headed out of Dillard’s.
As we walked through the wide corridors, I paid a little closer attention to the stores on each side. I was also aware of all of the teens milling about. Many of the girls looked like they could be one of the models I saw in the poster plastered along one of the walls. I wish I could say that that was a compliment , but I don’t really mean it that way. I mean that the teens flowing non-stop on either side were trying to live up to the image that the advertisers were pushing on them: bare bellies, too much cleavage, low cut jeans, skin tight pants across the rear, body piercings, colored hair, heavy make-up, etc.
Suddenly, I was aware of being bombarded with the expectations of this materials oriented world. Stuff displayed everywhere and “pushers” everywhere selling their wares: treasures designed to satisfy that world. Everyone seemed to be caught up in this river of materialism and was being swept along with the current, which was driven by advertisers praying upon the flesh of their victims. Not that I’m bashing free enterprise here, but I was beginning to feel like fodder for the vultures.
Flipping open my cell phone (I guess I’m not immune), I dialed Terence’s number. “Hey, guys! We’ll meet you at the truck in 10 minutes. Are you about done?” I couldn’t wait to get out of there.
At Wal-Mart, Deanna and I didn’t have any better luck. We both decided that this was a bad day to shop for clothes and agreed to put if off for another day. The mall experience had spoiled it for both of us.
In a town without a mall or even a Wal-Mart, it had been easy to forget that we live in an extremely carnal world. So many of us (collectively) are searching for those tangible things that will make us happy or acceptable. We are inundated with Big Businesses telling us what we should look like and what needs we have that only their product will fulfill. There is so much of it that we fall into the River and get swept away; buying this and that to satisfy our flesh while tumbling to our destruction of the rocks of Disappointment and Emptiness.
As Christians, we are not immune to their wiles and deceptions. But, as Christians, we have Truth and Hope with which to combat their hypnosis. We have Christ, the Author and Finisher of our faith, the Water for our souls, the Treasure that is from Above. Thank God that I don’t have to search this world for the things that will fill my emptinesses; I have only to call upon Him and He reminds me of my place beside Him in the Upper Heavenlies with the Treasures that He has laid up for me. In comparison, the World’s temptations and materials seem so much less satisfying.
1Jo 2:15 - 17 Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world--the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and pride in possessions--is not from the Father but is from the world. And the world is passing away along with its desires, but whoever does the will of God abides forever.
May we seek His Kingdom above the World’s temptations. May we have the wisdom to know when we are being tempted.
Reflections from the Little House in the Tumbleweeds.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
The Breakdown
The Breakdown
“Dear God…help all mothers everywhere. We need so much help, with the little sensitive, loving hearts and minds that look to us for guidance and love and understanding.”
Anne of Ingleside
By L.M. Montgomery
Leaning over Terence’s shoulder, I was reading his narrative essay for the week. He’d done quite a good job with his descriptions of a fantastic landscape and the mythical creatures that inhabited it.
“Mom!!” I heard panic in the voice coming from outside the back door. I knew someone had been hurt and I rushed toward the door. As I opened it, Leilani ran toward me holding her wrist and screaming, “I cut my hand!!! Mom!! I cut my hand!”
My heart was in my mouth as I saw her hysterical face. Putting my arms around her I guided her toward the kitchen sink where we could wash it. I was trying to keep my voice calm and my actions matter-of-fact, but at Deanna’s “You both need to just calm down!” I could tell I wasn’t succeeding.
Leilani took her hand away from the cut, which was right under the heel of the hand on the wrist, and blood started running everywhere. For the first time ever, I didn’t feel so good and I could feel myself turning pale. Grabbing a washcloth, I put it against the cut, raised her arm above her head and squeezed until she said, “Ow, it hurts!”
“What happened exactly?” asked Deanna. She was trying to keep Leilani’s mind off of the blood and focused on something else to stay calm.
“I was climbing out of the tree and there was a little broken branch sticking out. When I swung down, it cut my hand!” Leilani was trying to speak clearly and think about the story instead of her cut. I think she was doing better than I.
Leilani had tears running down her cheeks and her lips were a bit blue against the pale white face where the freckles were standing out like little brown spots made with a marker. She looked up at me suddenly and said, “I have to go to the bathroom!” as she crossed her legs.
I guided her to the toilet still holding her wrist in my hand. My legs felt weak and I had to sit down. Deanna was there with a glass of water for Leilani, but I had to take a few sips myself. Mikayla brought 2 washcloths: one for me and one for Leilani. I put it against my face and tried to think of something else to keep from getting nauseous.
The thought that Leilani might really be badly hurt kept me from passing out completely. The thought that she could be so badly hurt was what was making me feel faint in the first place. This was my baby!
After a few moments, I dared to look under the cloth around her wrist. Thank goodness the bleeding had stopped completely and the cut was not as bad as I had thought at first. Now, I was faint with relief. My hands tingled and my legs felt like jelly.
Deanna looked at me and said, “Mom! Everything is going to be okay. Just take a deep breath. Here, have another sip!” and she handed me the glass of water.
“I think we need to lie down.” I said weakly. “Deanna, if you could get some BandAids and some antibiotic ointment for Leilani, I would really appreciate it.”
Leilani and I got up off the bathroom floor slowly. I had to take several deep breaths and so did she. In spite of it not being so bad, the cut still hurt. We went into the kitchen and let the luke warm water wash over the cut for about 5 minutes. She and I were both a little wet when we turned off the tap.
With relief on my part, we both collapsed into my bed and waited for our “nurse” (Deanna) to doctor Leilani’s cut. I was just glad to lie down and rest. I felt like I’d just been wrung dry by some great pair of hands. I couldn’t believe that I had reacted that way!
Why couldn’t I have been calm? Why did I get so weak in the knees? I’m usually not given to “vapors” at the sight of blood. What happened? Going over it all in my mind, I felt like a failure. Where was the strong, calm, in-control mother that I had envisioned myself to be?
Just as I got snuggled down into my down comforter with Leilani tucked against my shoulder and Mikayla lying next to Leilani, Ralph came in the room. Leilani had insisted on calling him to tell him what had happened. He took a look at the wrapping that Deanna had put on it and declared it a success. He told Leilani that he was proud of her for coming in and getting help like she did and letting her sister fix it up.
Later that evening I broke down and cried. Ralph comforted me and told me that I wasn’t a failure as a mom. God had orchestrated an opportunity for our daughters to shine: for Deanna to help and be the level-headed nurse, for Mikayla to be the comforter and Leilani to be the brave wounded soldier. They were given the opportunity to feel like they were a needed part of something bigger than themselves. They rose to the occasion and helped bring it to a successful conclusion.
I’m still trying to figure out how I’m not a failure and I’m still asking God to show me how to trust Him as my children grow into young men and young women. I am realizing one thing: this thing called Parenting is quite a journey; one in which it seems that destination is not as important as the road we travel.
Psa 18:6 In my distress I called upon the LORD; to my God I cried for help. From his temple he heard my voice, and my cry to him reached his ears.
Psa 22:19 But you, O LORD, do not be far off! O you my help, come quickly to my aid!
Psa 40:16 - 17 But may all who seek you rejoice and be glad in you; may those who love your salvation say continually, "Great is the LORD!" As for me, I am poor and needy, but the Lord takes thought for me. You are my help and my deliverer; do not delay, O my God!
Echoing Anne’s prayer, I add to it: Psa 20:2 May he send you help from the sanctuary and give you support from Zion! May Our Lord continue to help us as we parent our children.
“Dear God…help all mothers everywhere. We need so much help, with the little sensitive, loving hearts and minds that look to us for guidance and love and understanding.”
Anne of Ingleside
By L.M. Montgomery
Leaning over Terence’s shoulder, I was reading his narrative essay for the week. He’d done quite a good job with his descriptions of a fantastic landscape and the mythical creatures that inhabited it.
“Mom!!” I heard panic in the voice coming from outside the back door. I knew someone had been hurt and I rushed toward the door. As I opened it, Leilani ran toward me holding her wrist and screaming, “I cut my hand!!! Mom!! I cut my hand!”
My heart was in my mouth as I saw her hysterical face. Putting my arms around her I guided her toward the kitchen sink where we could wash it. I was trying to keep my voice calm and my actions matter-of-fact, but at Deanna’s “You both need to just calm down!” I could tell I wasn’t succeeding.
Leilani took her hand away from the cut, which was right under the heel of the hand on the wrist, and blood started running everywhere. For the first time ever, I didn’t feel so good and I could feel myself turning pale. Grabbing a washcloth, I put it against the cut, raised her arm above her head and squeezed until she said, “Ow, it hurts!”
“What happened exactly?” asked Deanna. She was trying to keep Leilani’s mind off of the blood and focused on something else to stay calm.
“I was climbing out of the tree and there was a little broken branch sticking out. When I swung down, it cut my hand!” Leilani was trying to speak clearly and think about the story instead of her cut. I think she was doing better than I.
Leilani had tears running down her cheeks and her lips were a bit blue against the pale white face where the freckles were standing out like little brown spots made with a marker. She looked up at me suddenly and said, “I have to go to the bathroom!” as she crossed her legs.
I guided her to the toilet still holding her wrist in my hand. My legs felt weak and I had to sit down. Deanna was there with a glass of water for Leilani, but I had to take a few sips myself. Mikayla brought 2 washcloths: one for me and one for Leilani. I put it against my face and tried to think of something else to keep from getting nauseous.
The thought that Leilani might really be badly hurt kept me from passing out completely. The thought that she could be so badly hurt was what was making me feel faint in the first place. This was my baby!
After a few moments, I dared to look under the cloth around her wrist. Thank goodness the bleeding had stopped completely and the cut was not as bad as I had thought at first. Now, I was faint with relief. My hands tingled and my legs felt like jelly.
Deanna looked at me and said, “Mom! Everything is going to be okay. Just take a deep breath. Here, have another sip!” and she handed me the glass of water.
“I think we need to lie down.” I said weakly. “Deanna, if you could get some BandAids and some antibiotic ointment for Leilani, I would really appreciate it.”
Leilani and I got up off the bathroom floor slowly. I had to take several deep breaths and so did she. In spite of it not being so bad, the cut still hurt. We went into the kitchen and let the luke warm water wash over the cut for about 5 minutes. She and I were both a little wet when we turned off the tap.
With relief on my part, we both collapsed into my bed and waited for our “nurse” (Deanna) to doctor Leilani’s cut. I was just glad to lie down and rest. I felt like I’d just been wrung dry by some great pair of hands. I couldn’t believe that I had reacted that way!
Why couldn’t I have been calm? Why did I get so weak in the knees? I’m usually not given to “vapors” at the sight of blood. What happened? Going over it all in my mind, I felt like a failure. Where was the strong, calm, in-control mother that I had envisioned myself to be?
Just as I got snuggled down into my down comforter with Leilani tucked against my shoulder and Mikayla lying next to Leilani, Ralph came in the room. Leilani had insisted on calling him to tell him what had happened. He took a look at the wrapping that Deanna had put on it and declared it a success. He told Leilani that he was proud of her for coming in and getting help like she did and letting her sister fix it up.
Later that evening I broke down and cried. Ralph comforted me and told me that I wasn’t a failure as a mom. God had orchestrated an opportunity for our daughters to shine: for Deanna to help and be the level-headed nurse, for Mikayla to be the comforter and Leilani to be the brave wounded soldier. They were given the opportunity to feel like they were a needed part of something bigger than themselves. They rose to the occasion and helped bring it to a successful conclusion.
I’m still trying to figure out how I’m not a failure and I’m still asking God to show me how to trust Him as my children grow into young men and young women. I am realizing one thing: this thing called Parenting is quite a journey; one in which it seems that destination is not as important as the road we travel.
Psa 18:6 In my distress I called upon the LORD; to my God I cried for help. From his temple he heard my voice, and my cry to him reached his ears.
Psa 22:19 But you, O LORD, do not be far off! O you my help, come quickly to my aid!
Psa 40:16 - 17 But may all who seek you rejoice and be glad in you; may those who love your salvation say continually, "Great is the LORD!" As for me, I am poor and needy, but the Lord takes thought for me. You are my help and my deliverer; do not delay, O my God!
Echoing Anne’s prayer, I add to it: Psa 20:2 May he send you help from the sanctuary and give you support from Zion! May Our Lord continue to help us as we parent our children.
Saturday, November 11, 2006
The Beauty
The Beauty
“You see, every little girl and little boy is asking one fundamental question. Little girls want to know: Am I lovely?”
Captivating
by John & Stasi Eldrige
Deanna has always been a tomboy. She was the one who climbed trees, played in the mud, wore slacks, scorned dresses, fought the boys and fearlessly took on dares by her older brothers. For as long as I can remember, she has been competing with her brothers in everything…until recently. There was a day (I’m not sure exactly when) when she discovered that she had within her heart a beauty, a lovely young woman, that wanted to come out.
“Mom. Next time we go to El Paso, I want to find a dress. Dad wanted me to get a dress when he and I went together, but he doesn’t know the kind of thing I want. He kept picking out the “school girl” type dresses. I want a really pretty one,” she told me privately. “But you can’t tell him anything. I want to surprise him.”
I agreed and we went to Ross on our next trip. We didn’t have much time to spend and we didn’t find anything that time. She is fairly picky in what she wants with most things and this was no exception. She swore me to secrecy and we agreed to come again next time.
For the next couple of weeks she planned every detail: how she would curl her hair, what kind of hose she wanted, what kind of make up she wanted to have, how high the heels of the shoes would be, etc. She would talk these ideas over with me at every private opportunity and fantasize about how surprised her father and her friends at church would be. Her greatest goal was to be so different that no one would recognize her.
Our next trip came and we piled in the car. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to tell her sisters about her scheme, but she didn’t really have a choice since they had to come with us. During the drive down, she decided that they needed to know her plans and how important it was to for them to keep it a secret.
“Now, girls,” she spoke in her most serious tone, “I’m going to tell you something and you can’t tell anyone: not your friends, not anyone at church, and especially not Dad or the boys. I’m serious.”
They agreed and she told them about wanting to buy a pretty dress and dress up Sunday morning and shock everyone. They were just as excited about the scheme and wanted to get dresses, too.
We stopped at Ross and spent 3 hours picking out and trying on dresses. The dressing room attendants got to know them by name and were helping me to critique the outfits as the girls came out wearing them. Really, I had more fun watching them try things on than I ever did trying on anything myself.
By the time we were through, we had several dresses that fit the profile: good fit, pretty and inexpensive. Now I had to get permission from Dad to spend the money on them. Perfect. Mikayla and Leilani had given me the ideal excuse to make the request without giving away Deanna’s surprise. Of course, he said to go ahead and get them because they really needed some nice things for church. Deanna was SO excited as we checked out.
We were sleeping over at my mother’s house and the girls insisted on doing a fashion show for Grandma. Deanna’s dress was a hit as were the other girl’s outfits.
The next week Deanna prepared herself. She invited a friend over to share in her conspiracy and they spent several hours discussing it and imagining the reactions of various people.
“Mom! Can you put curlers in my hair tonight?” she asked anxiously that Saturday evening.
“I’ll do it while we watch a movie,” I told her.
“But won’t Dad be home?” she wanted to make sure that he knew nothing of her plans.
“I have a feeling that he will be late coming home tonight.” He had told me that he would be home at 9 p.m. but it was already 9:15 p.m. and I knew him well enough to know that he’d probably been caught up in some management issues.
The curlers went in, the plans for the next morning were set and we were ready to carry them out the next day.
While Dad made Sunday morning breakfast (pancakes, maple syrup, fruit and coffee), Deanna, Nicole and I worked on her hair and make up. She looked absolutely beautiful! She went to put on her dress, hose and shoes while I fixed my own hair and make up.
Now was the moment. She walked into the kitchen where Dad was cooking.
“Hi, Dad. What do you think?” she asked him. This was the moment of truth. This was the moment when she would know if she was really lovely; if she was truly pretty; if she was indeed The Beauty she had been imagining for the last month.
Ralph looked at her and then looked again. His jaw dropped. His eyes widened. Deanna was thrilled.
“You look beautiful!” he told her. “I’ll have to be very careful to protect you from the boys from now on. Wow!” He would repeat these words several times that day.
Her dreams had been fulfilled. She knew in her heart that she was indeed lovely. Her father had confirmed it without a doubt.
At church, she was the most beautiful girl in the youth group. Even her brothers were impressed with her loveliness. Not only that, but her father recruited his “Band of Brothers” to share in this moment in her life. He told them about seeing her enter the kitchen dressed up and asked them to join him in confirming her beauty, which they did gladly. I watched as the Pastor came up and told her how beautiful she was and how proud he was of her for dressing up like she did.
Something wonderful had happened in Deanna’s heart that morning. Her “question” had been answered with a resounding “Yes!” and her womanhood had been recognized. In the moment that her father had told her she was beautiful and that he was glad she was a beauty, she had grown into a young woman.
There will be other times that Deanna will ask that question and other times that it will be answered; but this is the foundation that had been laid – “Yes!” Some day, maybe tomorrow or maybe 10 years from now, she will ask that question of God. She will hear His answer: “Yes!”
I learned something important, too: as her mother, I can only help her to unveil her beauty; her father is the one who defines it and makes it real. As a picture of her Heavenly Father, her earthly father did a great job for this beauty.
Gen 2:23 And Adam said, This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh: she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man.
Psa 45:11 So shall the king greatly desire thy beauty: for he is thy Lord; and worship thou him.
May we, as mothers, help our daughters to reveal the beauty that they have within them – not just physically but within their characters. May their fathers take every opportunity to make the beauty that is revealed REAL.
Reflections from the Little House in the Tumbleweeds.
“You see, every little girl and little boy is asking one fundamental question. Little girls want to know: Am I lovely?”
Captivating
by John & Stasi Eldrige
Deanna has always been a tomboy. She was the one who climbed trees, played in the mud, wore slacks, scorned dresses, fought the boys and fearlessly took on dares by her older brothers. For as long as I can remember, she has been competing with her brothers in everything…until recently. There was a day (I’m not sure exactly when) when she discovered that she had within her heart a beauty, a lovely young woman, that wanted to come out.
“Mom. Next time we go to El Paso, I want to find a dress. Dad wanted me to get a dress when he and I went together, but he doesn’t know the kind of thing I want. He kept picking out the “school girl” type dresses. I want a really pretty one,” she told me privately. “But you can’t tell him anything. I want to surprise him.”
I agreed and we went to Ross on our next trip. We didn’t have much time to spend and we didn’t find anything that time. She is fairly picky in what she wants with most things and this was no exception. She swore me to secrecy and we agreed to come again next time.
For the next couple of weeks she planned every detail: how she would curl her hair, what kind of hose she wanted, what kind of make up she wanted to have, how high the heels of the shoes would be, etc. She would talk these ideas over with me at every private opportunity and fantasize about how surprised her father and her friends at church would be. Her greatest goal was to be so different that no one would recognize her.
Our next trip came and we piled in the car. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to tell her sisters about her scheme, but she didn’t really have a choice since they had to come with us. During the drive down, she decided that they needed to know her plans and how important it was to for them to keep it a secret.
“Now, girls,” she spoke in her most serious tone, “I’m going to tell you something and you can’t tell anyone: not your friends, not anyone at church, and especially not Dad or the boys. I’m serious.”
They agreed and she told them about wanting to buy a pretty dress and dress up Sunday morning and shock everyone. They were just as excited about the scheme and wanted to get dresses, too.
We stopped at Ross and spent 3 hours picking out and trying on dresses. The dressing room attendants got to know them by name and were helping me to critique the outfits as the girls came out wearing them. Really, I had more fun watching them try things on than I ever did trying on anything myself.
By the time we were through, we had several dresses that fit the profile: good fit, pretty and inexpensive. Now I had to get permission from Dad to spend the money on them. Perfect. Mikayla and Leilani had given me the ideal excuse to make the request without giving away Deanna’s surprise. Of course, he said to go ahead and get them because they really needed some nice things for church. Deanna was SO excited as we checked out.
We were sleeping over at my mother’s house and the girls insisted on doing a fashion show for Grandma. Deanna’s dress was a hit as were the other girl’s outfits.
The next week Deanna prepared herself. She invited a friend over to share in her conspiracy and they spent several hours discussing it and imagining the reactions of various people.
“Mom! Can you put curlers in my hair tonight?” she asked anxiously that Saturday evening.
“I’ll do it while we watch a movie,” I told her.
“But won’t Dad be home?” she wanted to make sure that he knew nothing of her plans.
“I have a feeling that he will be late coming home tonight.” He had told me that he would be home at 9 p.m. but it was already 9:15 p.m. and I knew him well enough to know that he’d probably been caught up in some management issues.
The curlers went in, the plans for the next morning were set and we were ready to carry them out the next day.
While Dad made Sunday morning breakfast (pancakes, maple syrup, fruit and coffee), Deanna, Nicole and I worked on her hair and make up. She looked absolutely beautiful! She went to put on her dress, hose and shoes while I fixed my own hair and make up.
Now was the moment. She walked into the kitchen where Dad was cooking.
“Hi, Dad. What do you think?” she asked him. This was the moment of truth. This was the moment when she would know if she was really lovely; if she was truly pretty; if she was indeed The Beauty she had been imagining for the last month.
Ralph looked at her and then looked again. His jaw dropped. His eyes widened. Deanna was thrilled.
“You look beautiful!” he told her. “I’ll have to be very careful to protect you from the boys from now on. Wow!” He would repeat these words several times that day.
Her dreams had been fulfilled. She knew in her heart that she was indeed lovely. Her father had confirmed it without a doubt.
At church, she was the most beautiful girl in the youth group. Even her brothers were impressed with her loveliness. Not only that, but her father recruited his “Band of Brothers” to share in this moment in her life. He told them about seeing her enter the kitchen dressed up and asked them to join him in confirming her beauty, which they did gladly. I watched as the Pastor came up and told her how beautiful she was and how proud he was of her for dressing up like she did.
Something wonderful had happened in Deanna’s heart that morning. Her “question” had been answered with a resounding “Yes!” and her womanhood had been recognized. In the moment that her father had told her she was beautiful and that he was glad she was a beauty, she had grown into a young woman.
There will be other times that Deanna will ask that question and other times that it will be answered; but this is the foundation that had been laid – “Yes!” Some day, maybe tomorrow or maybe 10 years from now, she will ask that question of God. She will hear His answer: “Yes!”
I learned something important, too: as her mother, I can only help her to unveil her beauty; her father is the one who defines it and makes it real. As a picture of her Heavenly Father, her earthly father did a great job for this beauty.
Gen 2:23 And Adam said, This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh: she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man.
Psa 45:11 So shall the king greatly desire thy beauty: for he is thy Lord; and worship thou him.
May we, as mothers, help our daughters to reveal the beauty that they have within them – not just physically but within their characters. May their fathers take every opportunity to make the beauty that is revealed REAL.
Reflections from the Little House in the Tumbleweeds.
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This will be a new experience. Hopefully, I'll be able to communicate with all of my family and friends effortlessly. I'm not a really computer literate person, however, if I try, I know that I can achieve great things and bring together a community of family.
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