What happens when a gypsy and a cowboy meet, fall in love, and get married? A lifetime of laughter and joy, a few struggles, some heartache along the way, and a home full of girls along with a menagerie of pets. Our life is nothing other than a beautiful mess, created by our Heavenly Father... whom happens to have a wonderful sense of humor and showcases that in the dailyness of our life. Come along and join in the fun :)
Over the years, I've had many people wonder and comment about why someone like me would take a perfectly good piece of fabric, cut it up into a lot of little pieces, only to sew it all back together again. I suppose it's a perfectly rational question.... but to a quilter, we look at them as though they are visiting our planet from Mars. I mean, seriously??? Look at a quilt, really LOOK AT IT. There's no way you can get something quite like that printed on a piece of fabric. Lord knows, many have tried, but it's never quite the same.
My grandmother, Mamo, began teaching me to sew when I was still toddling around in those hard leather baby shoes that were so common in the 60's. By the time I was 4 years old (and graduated to wearing red keds instead;) she was teaching me to sew on her Singer sewing machine (of which I have the very same machine and sewing cabinet in my living room. A loving reminder of days gone by). I remember her telling me that she was saving pieces of all the clothes she ever made me to make a special quilt... she'd chosen a log cabin pattern for that project. Then, when I was about 13 years old, while we were having a family garage sale, I spied a black old fashioned foot locker sitting at the curb. Nobody could get it unlocked and didn't really want to try, so they set it out for the trash. I was nosey and had nothing better to do, so I spent the rest of the day prying that trunk open. When I FINALLY popped the lock.....BONANZA!!!!! It was the Mother Lode for my vintage loving little heart! Old linens, tea towels, embroidery hoops and floss, all from the 30's-50's. And then, buried on the bottom, underneath the mounds of stamped linen table dressings waiting to be sewn....3 hand pieced quilt tops full of authentic flour sack prints, all pieced by my Mamo before she had children. A Bow Tie, Grandmother's Flower Garden, and Double Wedding Ring. She'd never gotten to quilting them and had forgotten all about them until that afternoon. Those three quilt tops are what spurred my passion for quilts and quilting.
Fast forward about 10 years. I still had every bit of "loot" I'd found in that old musty trunk. I was married and a young farm wife, enjoying making our little house into our home. I wanted to finish those quilt tops, but I wanted to know the proper way to do it so as not to mess them up. Although I'd sewn nearly my entire life, and I'd pieced some simple quilts, tying or machine quilting them in the most basic of ways, I wanted to respect these three treasures and treat them well. I took a beginning quilting class through the community college... what was suppose to be a 6 week class to learn the basics of REAL quilting, turned into a lifetime passion. I honestly didn't think I'd really enjoy it; I really only wanted to be able to finish those tops and thought that would be it, because I HATED to hand sew anything. I loved (still do) making clothing, bags, home decor, but all that is done with a machine, hand sewing seemed tedious to me, not fun. One session of that class and I was completely hooked!
Thankfully God gave me a husband who appreciates craftsmanship and handmade things as much as I do. A husband who also encourages me to express my creativity and to enjoy the process. He was thrilled to watch as I grew in my newfound hobby. After a few years, that hobby turned into a small business and it allowed me to share this art with others through lessons, classes, and fellowship. COMMUNITY....that is what quilting is. Whether it's quilting bees like in days gone by, or simply one generation passing this skill onto another, quilting is the physical essences of memories encapsulated within fabric....and in the end, you can wrap up in those memories to keep warm. Can you think of anything more beautiful than a bed with a stunning quilt, a picnic enjoyed on a quilt tossed on the grass, a blanket fort made with quilts, or even a wedding in the country will quilt covered hay bales as the seating? I can't!
While living in the country, I enjoyed quilting with my friends each month at our quilt guild. I loved it when friends would come to either my shop or home to enjoy working on projects - new or old. And, quilt shows in the summers during the local town celebrations; those were amazing and so full of inspiration! Over the past dozen and a half years, my quilting has dropped down to occasionally finishing a project I'd started years ago and dreaming as I poured over quilt books and magazines. But now our girls are older and they don't require so much undivided attention.... which means that I can once again enjoy quilting. I've started piecing again, working on a Block of The Month kit I ordered over the holidays. Cutting those little patches out of "perfectly fine" beautiful fabric serves as therapy for my heart and soul. As I'm piecing each block, I get lost in the moment, my mind floods with memories, I have the time to just talk with my Lord and pray for friends and family, dream. I look forward to eventually getting moved back to the country and hosting quiltings with my friends, sharing stories, catching up, swapping fabric and recipes, enjoying a meal together, laughing together, even sharing one another's burdens.....COMMUNITY.
So, for those who've asked and wondered why anyone would cut up a perfectly good piece of fabric, the answer is Friendship, Community, Heritage, Memories....most of all, because it's FUN :)
In Asian culture, I've read, they repair broken pottery with gold so that the cracks and chips can be seen for generations to come. Why on earth would they do that? I mean, aren't we suppose to cover up, sweep away even, anything that breaks? What about Jesus Christ, our beloved Savior? When He appeared in the upper room after He'd died and was resurrected, one precious disciple had a tough time believing Him to be real so He showed him the holes in His hands and feet, and told him to touch them, even the hole in His side, so that Thomas could believe. Brokenness.... shattered hearts and lives. Are we alone in our brokenness? Can God use us in our brokenness?
I don't know about ya'll, but I struggle at times with my own brokenness and sense of worth. I wonder what God can find among the shards of my spirit to actually use for His glory. Why would He want to even bother with something as messy as me? How can there be any value in a spirit that looks much like the dinner plate I've dropped on the kitchen floor.... a million pieces scattered across the room, and the one piece left that you might be able to even recognize as what it actually was, is chipped in more than one place. So I do what I guess everyone does.... scoop it all up, get the glue out and piece it all back together; knowing that even with my best attempt and using invisible glue, it is never going to be the same. The cracks run like veins on a 95 year old's hands, there are a few pieces missing, leaving holes, and the surface is now rough.... it's no longer pretty by any definition. But unlike a dinner plate, we are able to hide our cracks and chips; tucking them down deep inside and hoping nobody sees. Which brings me back to wondering about the tradition of repairing chips and cracks with gold, once again. Why?
Well, these worn, cracked and broken pottery pieces with the veins of gold running through take on a different kind of beauty. The gold holding them together has intrinsic value which infuses value into the pottery as well. The pottery can once again be used as it was intended to be. And, beyond that, as you look upon it, you begin to see a beauty that wasn't there before. It's as if by it's very brokenness it's actually become more beautiful. It's not hidden away in some cupboard up high, only to be forgotten; rather, it's used daily and on display for all to see. How can that apply to us?
When we are young, and the chips and cracks begin to appear in our spirit, we tuck them away so nobody can see them. But in the dark, hidden place in our soul, they become more fragile and begin to chip and crack some more. We look around and see everyone else living perfectly lovely lives, with no cracks or chips in their spirit.... then we begin to feel very alone. Oh, we don't show it, of course. We always smile and do the polite and appropriate things, but those cracks are growing all along. Why would God allow you to be shattered and nobody else? Suddenly one day, someone else gives you a glimpse of their own brokenness, and oddly enough it makes you feel better, more real. Hmmmmm..... can God use brokenness to minister to the needs of others? You ponder this and pray..
We live in a society now that seems to be dictated by Pinterest, or so it appears, and that leaves many of us to feel lacking in many ways. We socialize more on Facebook and Snapchat than we do face to face across the kitchen table. As wonderful as it is to be involved in our friends and families lives on a daily basis through their posts, as well as our own, we've lost a genuine vulnerability and realness. We no longer feel comfortable if a friend pops over to visit and catches us with a messy house, we post the cute things our kids do, not the heartbreak they may cause, we lose ourselves in "the picture" rather than the realness of relationship. We post prayer requests for the flu, but keep the really hard problems to ourselves.... The thing is, our really hard problems and how we are dealing with them, is our greatest witness for God's glory, BUT we have to be willing to show our hidden broken and not keep it all tucked away. Ask yourself, when someone was genuinely real with you, didn't you walk away loving them all that much more AND no longer feeling alone in your own broken? I know I have on many occasion.
I'll never forget many years ago when our girls were young. We struggled every Sunday morning to get out of the house and to church even remotely on time. It was usually a screamfest as 8 little shoes needed to be found and put on, hair and teeth brushed, and don't forget the BIG BOWS that needed to adorn each of their sweet little heads. By the time we got everyone strapped into their seats in the van, there were six frowning faces, some may have even been tear streaked, and needless to say our hearts were not set on worship. But then we'd hit the driveway into the church parking lot and it was like a switch.... everyone put on their smiles and cheerful "church voices". I kid you not! As a mom and as a christian, I felt like a failure and a fake. And, I felt alone in all this, because I knew that we were the only ones who endured Sunday mornings like this. Then one day, I happened to be visiting with our pastor's wife; I don't even know what we were actually chatting about, but somehow or another the subject of Sunday mornings came up and she began to recall how it was for her when her two kids were little. Her memories sounded much like my current life! You have no idea what that did for me! No, it wasn't a "misery loves company" sort of thing... it was a healing thing. Knowing that someone else shared a similar "failure", as I saw it in myself, helped me to not only realize I wasn't alone, but also that this was only a season in life. She showed me a real struggle she had and it helped me with a hidden struggle I was carrying. God used her hidden broken to minister to me. This was the first time in my life that I can remember someone showing me their hidden broken, and since that day I've determined to allow God to use my hidden broken to minister to others.
It's not easy to be "real" with others. I crop the pictures I post to eliminate the mess behind the cute child, I know how to hold my camera to make me look thinner, I post the good things we eat rather than all the times we hit drive-thru, I post "Starbucks STAT" rather than the ugly rant I was just on with my family..... but maybe, just maybe, if I'm more real, leaving myself open and vulnerable by showing my hidden broken, God could minister to others through my broken, just as He has ministered to me through theirs. I look at those dear to my heart and see nothing but beauty BECAUSE of their broken and healed spirits. I see their struggles and love them all that much more BECAUSE I see strength in their weakness. I see their broken paths through life and cherish them all that much more BECAUSE I see God's redemption through their willing and repentive spirit. Yes, God uses our hidden broken to minister to others, and through that ministry He repairs our cracks and chips with threads of gold. A mended spirit and heart is a true masterpiece.
And, for my dear mom..... no, there's no major problem over here; I'm going through a study with Ann Voskamp called The Broken Way and it's gotten me to pondering something I've thought about for a long, long time :)
There are some days you just need extra encouragement and a reminder of whom you belong to... Who's name you bear. This afternoon was one of those times for me... for us. Driving to the grocery store and pondering something we've been facing for several years; my heart hurting for my husband and daughters over broken promises and broken relationships that we didn't break and want so badly to see restoration with those involved. Searching for an answer and a solution, not willing to give up our dream, trying to figure out "why" yet knowing there is no way to fix it even if we knew the "why", thankful for the knowledge that regardless of everything we are a strong family of 6 that loves each other and pulls together to face everything thrown at us, even when it's meant to destroy us.... AND THEN, God stepped in and gave me, once again, my fight song. The song He ALWAYS sends me when I'm facing my own personal giants and my steps begin to feel like they falter. The song that reminds me I'm not alone. I'm loved and protected by an amazing Heavenly Father, who "knows the plans He has for me" and I can rest assured that He will never fail us. A gentle yet powerful reminder
See those two up there? Yeah, those two goofy girls; my two T1D kiddos. They share much more than just looking a lot alike, sense of sarcasm, and T1D....They share my heart, my sleep deprivation, my exhaustion, my sense of humor, just to get the list going. That picture was taken shortly before we all headed off to bed on Thursday night. Who would've guessed what the night was going to throw our way.
Thursday, January 19th: all in all, quite a normal day around here, generally speaking. Gracie needed a pump site change and both girls needed new Dexcom sensors put in. I sent them off to bed with fresh sites, good "in range" numbers, and tummies full of long lasting carbs to get them through the night.... then we all crawled into bed. I checked on the girls around 1ish and they were still doing well, but at 2:34 I wake up to a strange buzzing sound, which I quickly identify as my phone ringing. Through half open eyes and sleepy fogginess, I realize it's Craig calling (He's in Colorado this week)....there must be something wrong for him to be calling in the very middle of the night. I answer to hear him tell me that he just got an urgent alert on his phone and Sarah is crashing on us. I fumble with my phone to flip open Dexcom and sure enough I see 42, I fumble a bit more to turn on my flashlight, make my way to the kitchen to grab a juice box, then downstairs to wake Sarah (no easy task, may I add). Through her own grogginess I get her to drink the juice, complaining the entire time how she hates grape juice and that she's "fine" (yeah, baby girl, you're not fine, trust me). As she's drinking the last of the juice I spot the package of Oreos on her dresser that she'd asked my to get for her when I was at the store earlier (totally a God thing because I buy Oreos about once a year and it's when I'm having the worst day EVER, plus Sarah rarely ever asks for junk food). I give her a couple of oreos as well to "wash away" the taste of the juice she was still complaining about (you need to understand that Sarah only drinks water, coffee, tea, or smoothies). Back upstairs I go and check in on Gracie only to find that she is 255...UGH! Seriously?!?!? I bolus her with insulin to bring her down and crawl back into bed to wait and see what happens. I continue to watch Dexcom and see Sarah coming up decently, thinking "great! Dodged a ball on that one and now I can go back to sleep" Yeah.... NOPE. Within an hour (and I was still awake) I see that she is crashing on me again 45 with two arrows straight down. Back to the kitchen, this time I find apple juice, back downstairs to her room. Wake the sleeping teenager yet again and work at getting her to down the apple juice. She doesn't like that one either (note to self, find out what kind of juice this kid likes). Give her 4 more Oreos. Tuck her back in. Give her another kiss on the top of her head. Pet Annie, who seems genuinely confused why I keep coming in to wake up her mom. Then back upstairs again. Check on Gracie... she's still hanging in the mid 200s but has insulin on board. Crawl back into bed and wait. Only this time Sarah is awake as well and she's beginning to get scared. She's seen this happen over the years with Gracie, but never really gave it much thought. But now.... now it's her and she's faced with the fact that T1D is unescapable.
She begins to text me: "Mom" Me: "yes" Sarah: "I don't want to go into a coma" Those 8 words shatter my heart. We raise our girls to live healthy, productive lives, not focused on their disease and what it can take from them. Her realizing that a low blood sugar, missed because nobody wakes up to check on her, can lead to her going into a coma, or even her death is bittersweet. Heartbreaking and renewing all at the same time. Renewing in the sense of importance and purpose.... Not taking anything for granted. Me: "You aren't going to go into a coma sweetie, because I will stay awake and watch over you. I promise"
By 4am Sarah was up around 120 and appeared stable, Gracie was coming down at 160; I could safely get a few hours of sleep before starting our day. But I did not miss God's hand in all this. First off: we've had trouble with Dexcom working with our phones and Craig and I sometimes go days without getting any readings or alerts at all. The early hours of Friday morning it was working and Craig woke to the low alarm even though he was hundreds of miles away. He was able to wake me up as well. Second, we actually had some Oreos on hand, which we NEVER do. Oreos are great in an emergency because they typically have longer acting results with raised blood sugar, not just your fast spike and immediate crash (the heavy fat in them, I'd guess). Finally the third God moment of the night: Sarah learned that 1- T1D is not something you can wish away and 2- her mom and dad will do all they can to keep her protected, no matter what it takes.
Yesterday, the day after all that, Sarah was still having trouble with crashing blood sugars. Thankfully, Dexcom was working as it was suppose to and I was able to watch her from home while she was at work all day. What is going on? Why is she struggling all of a sudden with severe low blood sugars, even though we've pulled back on her long acting insulin several days ago and upped her insulin to carb ratio? My best guess is that she is beginning to exit her honeymoon phase and that her pancreas is spilling the last little bit of insulin it will ever make (barring a cure of course) in it's one last hurrah. I don't know how long this will go on; a week, maybe a month; but we know that she's heading into the next phase of life with T1D. Thankfully she has a loving God who places his hand of protection on her, his angels around her, and provides her parents with the technology to care for her and her sister in the best way possible.
Psalm 91:4
He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge: his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. (NIV)
The first week of 2017 found me cleaning/organizing/re-arranging my office-studio. A much needed task, to say the least. This is the creative space in our home.... the sewing space, the quilting space, the painting space, the building space, the school space, the work space, the "anything you can imagine" space. All that means that it's the messy space :) But it's also the space that brings me the most joy and sense of purpose; I feel grounded when I'm working away in there. And, I lose all sense of time, which is WONDERFUL!
Obviously, in a space that serves so many purposes as this one does, storage is vital and there's just never enough of it. Books, Fabric, Pretty Paper, Scrapping Supplies, Sewing Supplies, Quilting Supplies, Yarn, Looms, Embroidery Floss, Patterns, Equipment, Sewing Machines, Thread, Needles, Paint, Brushes, and on and on and on.....not to mention the ordinary things such as notes and stationary for writing to friends, my Bibles and Bible study books, DVDs, Quilts to keep us warm, Office supplies, etc. Storage is essential and fleeting and that leaves me to get creative in finding storage solutions. One of these solutions involves my love of old lunch boxes. They are wonderful for storing small things such as note cards, embroidery projects I'm working on, sewing supplies, you name it :) They also add an instant smile to my day every time my eye falls on one of them around my office. They bring back happy childhood memories.
Another fun storage solution I've found is canning jars in the shape of owls. These are adorable! And, they're perfect for buttons, needles, or a ton of other things. Colored Ball canning jars are wonderful as well, and always make my heart leap when I see them sitting on a shelf, amongst other supplies.
I'm nearly finished organizing in here. It's taken longer than I anticipated, but is well worth the effort I've put in. Once I'm finished, I can start back to sewing and quilting each day.... the one New Year's resolution I set for myself this year:) I'm very much looking forward to that and am hoping to start this week :) Until then, I'll keep plugging away, and I'll smile as my eye lingers on one of my vintage lunch boxes and my mind floats back to childhood and some of the simple memories of days gone by:)
No matter how old you are, cubbies are always awesome!
A domed lunchbox is perfect to store greeting cards waiting to be mailed out
A picnic basket is great for storing cards and scrapbook pages you've made that are waiting to be used
There is no end to the entertainment when left to their own devices out in the country. A HUGE 100+ year old tree becomes the best playground in the entire world, in their opinion ;) Exploring the ruins of farm life in the last century as they tromp thru old, abandoned barns, sheds, and houses is better than any blockbuster movie today. Collecting little treasures found on these excursions will offer them memories to last a lifetime :) This IS a living education and I'm so thankful we can offer this to our daughters through homeschooling :)
I have always loved Hannah's sense of adventure.... she is FEARLESS when it comes to facing life and it's challenges. Yesterday, on the eve of a new year, we took the girls to explore the same canyon that Craig spent his childhood exploring. Enjoying the outdoors, investigating everything that caught our attention, even the littlest details deserved our thought. Finding the perfect "walking sticks" to lean on when the path was a challenge, tracking bunnies and deer by the foot prints they left behind in the dirt, poking around to try to guess what made a cave-like shelter, coming upon a mass of gopher tunnels, searching for seashells in the canyon walls, because what is now great plains prairie was actually once an ocean leaving shells behind to be discovered, watching the train speed by and counting the cars, guessing how old the trees are, and even talking about the calvary that once drove through this same land as it sits on the Fort McPherson Trail. All in all, just following the girls lead and enjoying their laughter as they were on their grand adventure.
All this got me to pondering 2017 and what it may hold for our family. While I do not know the answer to that question, I do know that I want to face it with the same sense of adventure that the girls have. Life drags us down, and we are left with the massive weight of everything it throws at us. This year, however, I want to throw off the shackles of negativity that all that stress leaves us with and take a leap of faith to see where this life and God's plan is going to take us. I want to embrace the journey and not just focus solely on the destination, taking in the detours as blessings and not just inconveniences. No, I'm not talking about heading off to Bora Bora or something crazy; I just want to take our life back and enjoy the simplicity of generations past.
Modern life has gotten chaotic and busy for the sake of "busyness" and that is something I no longer want to participate in on any level. That doesn't strengthen our family nor does it drive us closer to God. On the contrary, it divides and conquers. As I think about my grandparents and their generation, I realize all we've lost in our own generation.... the sense of community, the face to face relationships, helping each other rather than competing with everyone.... SIMPLICITY. Personally, I have too much to distract me in my daily life; too much to keep me unnecessarily busy. So, this year, I'm going to weed out what isn't important or needed. I'm going to shake off the shackles of what I'm "suppose" to keep/have/be, and instead tailor our home and life to one of SIMPLE JOY. This is not something that will be accomplished overnight. It's the adventure I've decided to take in 2017; only instead of heading SOMEPLACE, I'm heading back... back to our roots, our foundation. Back to a time when life was actually good and joy was abundant, found in the simple things that you may miss if you don't take a moment to actually notice the detail. The smell of coffee wafting through the air, the chirping of a happy guinea pig, the sound of cats racing through the living room, the laughter of my daughters ringing throughout our entire home... the little details of life that we miss because we are too busy "taking care of business", whatever that business may be. I'm going to stop taking the path of least resistance and start looking for the fun of finding a new way to face the challenges life presents us with :)
Well, I can't believe it, but Christmas 2016 has come and gone. It was a cozy one for our family... just the 6 of us along with Mom and Tess's boyfriend Logan, enjoying family time at home around our tree. The weather was unusually warm and wet for Christmas in Nebraska ~ almost 60 degrees and a soaking rain all day long, but it was nice none the less to just enjoy uninterrupted time together for the day.
The day started with seeing what Santa had left for everyone along with a breakfast of fruit and pastries. Gracie and Hannah were thrilled to find that Santa had left them a (nearly) life-size stuffed calf and horse along with new leather work gloves and elf stocking hats. He left Tess and Sarah gift certificates to the nail salon,which they were both thrilled to see. The stockings were filled to the brim with gum, lip balm, chocolate, Starbucks cards, iTunes cards, and of course their annual country attitude T-shirts. Santa left his normal mess of ashes from the fireplace as he tromped thru the family room to sit down, enjoy his cookies and milk, and to write his annual letter to the girls. The elves cleaned up all their messes and left with Santa for the North Pole... all except our little special needs elf, Hope, who was privileged enough to stay behind this year.
We then settled in to open our gifts. Yes, we were all on the nice list, or so it appears. Tess and Sarah were pleased to open new Nikes, boots, and clothes, along with a few essentials from the Estee' Lauder counter (or as Tess calls it "the good stuff;). Sarah got a gift certificate to get her hair colored, which she is totally thrilled to go get done. I can't wait to see what she decides to do, as I'm pretty sure she's going to give up her natural strawberry blonde in favor of a rich brown, which will make her blue eyes stand out. Gracie and Hannah got some new boots as well, along with team backpacks to carry their riding gear. Hannah was so excited to FINALLY get the cute space heater that she's been begging for for the past four years. We all got new blankets to curl up with. But, the highlight was watching Gracie and Hannah open their new cell phones. We all loved the expressions on their faces when they saw what was in the gift bags they were opening at the same time.
Craig and Dawn enjoyed gifts from each other that will hopefully encourage them to meet their New Year's resolution of getting back to their hobbies and finding time to relax a little. In his usual form, Craig hit it out of the park with quilt kits, quilt books, quilting tools, and knowing that stitching can tense up Dawn's neck and shoulders, he even got her a heated therapeutic massager to help her relax those stiff joints away. Dawn made sure Craig has what he need to get back to his love of photography in the new year.
Gracie gave the game Pie Face to Hannah; something that Hannah has wanted for quite awhile. All 4 girls had a great time playing that and laughing as they each ended up with a face full of whipped cream.
We were blessed to be able to celebrate Christmas with our "extended family" on Tuesday night over dinner and exchanging gifts. The girls were so thrilled with the gift Anne, their riding instructor and second mom, gave them. She had a picture of each of them mounted for their rooms. Gracie's is of her on Daddy when they won her first show. Hannah's is a picture of her riding her horse, Canton and is aptly titled "Best Friends". These two horse crazy girls couldn't have gotten anything better than these pictures for their rooms!
All in all, the greatest blessing was just being together, laughing and reminiscing, and enjoying our little clan. We are looking forward to 2017 and praying it sees many blessings
Our elves took pity on us this year and decorated our tree
Enjoying the "livestock" Santa brought
Hope, our little elf that got to stay behind
Santa left his corncob pipe behind last year and we set it out for him on Christmas eve
These three always love getting something matching for Christmas
Nothing like a big sister to help set up your new phone
Sarah was thrilled to see the pair of Nikes that she had sent me a picture of at least 3 times to let me know she wanted...GramCracker bewildered by her enthusiasm over a pair of shoes ;)
A couple of our elves riding their reindeer, who are also from the North Pole
This pretty much sums up our family when it comes to getting a picture ;)
There we go! Christmas Eve service at church
Our elves had Sharis Berries sent to us to say thank you for the fun time they had at our home again this year
Many of you know that back in 2011 we were excited to begin raising money to pay for a Diabetic Alert Dog for Gracie.... and everyone was so generous with their support, encouragement, and donations, which we were so incredibly thankful for. November 11, 2011, Max arrived at our home to much hoopla and excitement. Sadly, it was during his delivery that there began to be a little apprehension about things. Honestly, I've been embarrassed to tell our entire story, because getting scammed truly makes you feel stupid... but enough time has passed that I'm ready to share our story. Grab a cup of your favorite beverage, curl up in your most comfy chair, and get ready to read our journey with Max William the (not so) wonder dog.
Gracie has always been a brittle diabetic, with blood sugar swings that would make a monkey envious. Back in 2010-2011 I began seeing a few Facebook friends talking about Diabetic Alert Dogs (DADs) and all the wonderful things they do for their person. Things like alert to changing BGs, getting test kits and juice boxes, even calling 911 in case their person became unable to respond. A few friends had even gotten these dogs for their sweet Type 1 kiddos and things seemed to be going exceptionally well. One thing I noticed was that they all were getting them from the same organization, so I started asking questions and doing some deep research to see what I could learn. My first thought was that maybe we could train one of our dogs to do this important work, but there just wasn't much info available at the time into how to go about that. What info was available was really vague with only a couple of specifics at best.
By summer of 2011 Craig and I had some long discussions about pursuing this for Gracie. It seemed like a perfect answer. Type 1 is a life threatening disease; one in which life can be snatched away quickly and quietly.... our biggest fear is going in to check on Gracie (and now Sarah too) in the middle of the night, only to find that she slipped away. With a DAD to partner with us, the chance of that happening was pretty slim....or so we thought. In 2011, Diabetic Alert Dogs were pretty new on the scene of service dogs; certainly not mainstream, but heading that direction. All our research led back to the same Virginia based company as being "the best of the best". Unbeknownst to us, although they'd been around for many years, they'd only been in the service dog world for less than an handful of years. We spoke directly with the owner, in-depth, many times before deciding to jump in. And jump in we did. We worked fast to secure donations so that we could be placed on the active list and have a dog placed with Gracie asap... We were told that they were partnering with JDRF and were being featured in the upcoming FALL edition of the JDRF newsletter coming out that October (sadly, that was not true. JDRF never partnered with them or featured them in any newsletter), so if we didn't want to be placed on a long waiting list, we'd better get our $1000 in to be active asap. I received an email on Halloween stating that a male yellow lab had been chosen for Gracie. We took her out the next day for a special lunch to tell her the WONDERFUL NEWS. Her Max William would be delivered on Veterans day... less than 2 weeks away.
Fast foreward to the day Max arrived. The trainer arrives with an adorable 13 week old yellow lab.....who had never been on a leash until he was at the airport, didn't know his name, knew not a single basic command, and didn't even seem to know how to eat puppy kibble. We were expecting a puppy, yes; but one that had already been introduced to scent work for diabetes, had at least a beginning basic idea of the commands "sit, stay, down, come, heel, etc". It became very apparent from the first moment that Max had received ZERO socialization or training, and when I asked the trainer about it, he apologized and said they'd been so swamped with deliveries that Max and his entire litter had slipped through the cracks and not received their "fast track training". Hhhmmmmm.....Red Flags started to raise. The next day was spent doing local PR work for the organization. Having our local fire dept come to the house to meet Max and learn about his mission with Gracie, doing interviews with the local newspaper and TV News, and working with Max to get him to actually walk on a leash (not lay down as soon as it was clipped to his collar). By the third day, the last day our trainer was to be with us, we were presented with a 30+ page contract and told that we must sign it or Max would be taken back to Virginia with the trainer and the money we'd fundraised for to that point would be forfeited. We questioned several things in the contract, but weren't allowed the time to have an attorney read it over and advise us..... so yes, we accepted the answers of "don't worry about it, it's totally legit and is for your protection", as we looked at our precious daughter with her "life saving" pup that had spent the past 3 days bonding, and we signed. We were consoled by the fact that I knew a few people that had these pups and things "seemed" to be going ok for them. I was unaware of the shifts and fallout going on behind the scenes at the organization itself at the time.
We worked round the clock with Max, training him as we were told to do. We weren't getting any "trained" alerts, but were told that his hiccups, chewing things up, scratching incessantly, barking, whining, even throwing up and digging were all alerts. We would test and Gracie would be out of range (no big surprise there, since she was ALWAYS out of range, hence our commitment to getting a service dog). We would praise Max and give him gourmet treats as a reward.... and the naughty puppy behavior was reinforced and rewarded. All the while, Gracie's BG was showing no improvement. We accepted what we were told.... how were we to know any different? They were the experts, right? So when Max literally ate our sofa and we were told that it was because we missed his alert even though Gracie was actually in range when we checked, we hung our heads and accepted it. When Gracie would crash into the 40s while Max was sleeping soundly, we accepted that we must have missed his alert. And, when Gracie would be outside playing and Max would be obnoxious in the house (barking, chewing up toys to shreds, pottying in the family room) we would accept that he "must be alerting" rather than a pup/dog that just wanted to be outside playing, and we would call her in to test ~ sometimes she'd be out of range and other times she'd be just fine. By the time our trainer came back, for an afternoon one day and a morning the next, I asked about "trained" alerts. What he showed me to do to train Max made sense so we diligently instituted his technique. Of course all it was to Max was a trick to get treats.... he just never seemed to actually be ALERTING. We went months and months without any training whatsoever. Our original trainer left the organization without a word and we went months without any trainer to connect with. They finally assigned us to another trainer who pretty much only asked that we email him alert/behavior reports weekly otherwise wasn't in contact with us past his introductory call to "get to know Max"
November 11, 2012, exactly one year to the day that Max joined our family... he had a grand mal seizure. By March, he began having more grand mal and cluster seizures and was diagnosed with Epilepsy. When we immediately notified the organization, we were told they'd never had this happen before, EVER. They said they'd be in touch with us in a day or so to let us know what their vet had to say, while we were vetting Max with our own family vet. We never heard back from them other than courteous response when I'd update them on how Max was recovering. By this time we were finding out more and more about the organization; hearing from others of their bad experiences, all the while staying quiet and trying not to rock the boat. We were still fundraising to pay off Max. The organization was suppose to help us fundraise, but never followed through. We even ask that they send bracelets that they had made available for people to sell (sell for $5 each, organization would've kept $1 for their cost and $4 would've gone to our fundraising account)... they never sent them after numerous requests to do so. Same with calendars. It was about that time we learned that they had never filed as a non-profit in the state of Nebraska and we couldn't continue to fundraise for them here. We didn't really know what to do. We now have a dog with epilepsy, that could not even have a hope of being trained to alert to Gracie, we couldn't continue to fundraise to pay off our contract, and we were hearing of so many other families being sued by the organization because they found themselves with similar circumstances as us. We took notice that it seemed most of the dogs the organization was placing had health issues... and contrary to what we were told with Max, there were a few that suffered with seizures. One of Max's litter mates died from cancer at about 3 years old. This was not the norm for service dogs. It's why most reputable organizations don't place puppies into service. Yes, what we were told about the logic of the pup growing up with it's person, had made sense at the time because we didn't know any better. But now we did..... service dogs need a full 2 years training to be sure there aren't health or temperament problems that can prevent them from doing their job. For instance, Max is high strung and nervous~he is scared of loud noises (the fourth of July fireworks or a good thunderstorm will send him into hysterics), he gets scared walking if a loud vehicle passes by. This is not something he can outgrow or gain control of... it is just how he is geared. And, that is not workable for a service dog who needs to be confident and calm in every situation his handler puts him in. These traits, along with his epilepsy, would've knocked him out of any reputable service dog training program. It doesn't make him a bad dog, it just makes him unsuitable for service work. He is an awesome family dog and we love him, but he is unreliable as a service dog.
A little over a year into this journey, we were served with a lawsuit by the organization. They were suing several families and we were one in that group. We chose to hire a Virginia attorney and fight for Max. Not surprising, the organization decided to drop that suit.....only to pick it up again later in another Virginia county, and yes, drop it again when they saw we would fight it. AND THEN.... we were served with papers that they were picking it back up here in Lincoln. They wanted us to pay off the contract, even though they had broken their own contract from before they delivered Max to our home, but they also filed a separate suit to get Max returned to them. Max.... a 4 year old, non-trained dog with epilepsy. There was no way we were going to let that happen. First off, we adore our boy, even though he causes major migraines for us. Beyond that, we couldn't let him go to another family, knowing full well that he was not, nor could be, a service dog. Knowing that, we also knew that he'd most likely be put down if we lost. We were ready to fight for our boy.... and a FIGHT is truly was. We went to trial, something we've never been involved with before and knew nothing of what to expect. We answered questions honestly and endured being put down and bashed by the opposing attorney. It was a long and exhausting day, and we went home not knowing what would happen. A few weeks later, we got our judgement and we won. The court had found them to be guilty of fraudulent business practices. Of course they appealed, but we won that as well. Our judgement was with prejudice, meaning they can not sue us again. Max was safe with us, his family, and we were able to walk away from this dreadful experience once and for all.
Why am I telling our story now? Because, while there are Diabetic Alert Dogs that do indeed work well and save their person's life by their well-trained heroic actions, that is not always the case. Placing untrained $20,000+ puppies in homes with medically fragile children is irresponsible and can cause devastating problems. Families that need service dogs are already vulnerable, and business practices like the ones we dealt with from the organization Max came from is nothing short of preying on the vulnerable. Service dogs offer a better quality of life for so many..... passing dogs off as service dogs, who are NOT fully vetted and trained to do their service, only causes harm to all involved. Many will think that we, and everyone like us, were stupid to be so duped into signing a contract in the first place. That's a bitter pill to swallow, when all we were doing was trying to make life for our daughter the best it could be by giving her a partner to help her wth the hardships her life entails. Believe it or not, we did our research; we did everything you're told to do before making any kind of contractual/business commitment. For us, however, the organization, as well as the service itself, was too new at the time to have much of a track record that would be negative. We had no way of knowing that what they were telling us was their "proprietary training techniques" was nothing but a bunch of hooey.... after all, they were the experts, or so we thought. We truly had reasonable expectations of what we were walking into. We expected a puppy who was already "imprinted" to start alerting to fluctuating blood sugars from the start, who already had some training in basic obedience, who was already under training to alert to out of range blood sugars with a trained signal (a paw or a bow, for example), who was started on house breaking and kennel training but still might have an occasional accident. What we got was a puppy who'd never been handled much before his plane ride from Virginia to Nebraska, who was not scent imprinted as we'd been told he was from the moment of his birth, who didn't know what a leash clipped to his collar even felt like, who had never even heard his name before arriving at our door, and who had never even heard a basic command given in his entire life let along hadn't been trained to actually give an alert. We got a puppy who was an adorable, soft puppy with a coal black button nose, who was not capable of doing the service for which he was delivered to do.... a near $20,000 chewing and barking machine with no inclination or ability to alert to Gracie's blood sugars. Do I believe in Diabetic Alert Dogs? Yes, I believe there are some amazing DADs out there, but I don't necessarily believe that is the norm. Frankly, I believe that a Continuous Glucose Monitor is a much better and more accurate option that will lead to a longer and healthier life for diabetics. If down the road they need physical assistance, then at that point I would consider another service dog, but not as a front line of defense.
Finally, may I say, even though Max does not fill the service he was suppose to do, he still offers Gracie comfort from the daily struggles of living with T1D. He also offers her a mission of her own; that of his caregiver since he has his own special needs. Would we do it all over again, knowing what we now know? Of course not! But that doesn't change our love for Max William, the dog that acted as an alarm clock and caused us to test Gracie about 15-18 times a day. He may have only wanted his treats and knew that bad behavior garnered them, but it did train Gracie to start to test herself and not solely rely on Mom and Dad to do ;)
Please take the time to watch the Dr Phil episode I posted at the top of this. Learn how the best of intentions can go horribly wrong when you choose the wrong service dog organization. Yes, it shows both sides of things in that episode, but that only goes to prove that there are indeed two sides to this issue and not everything comes out smelling like roses.
And on a final note....Max is very happily living life as one of the pack with his brother Brody and Sisters Felicity and Annie. He is "just a dog" living a spoiled dog's life, enjoying romping with his brother the most of all :)
Admittedly, it's been a rough and emotional week around here. There've been lots of tears shed, regrets bemoaned, and "what ifs" mulled over. By last night we were in desperate need of some old fashioned family time. So, we loaded up in the truck and headed off to find some comfort for our wounded souls.
First stop, McDonald's drive thru for peppernmint hot chocolate, then off to the Christmas Tree lot. Is there anything that will transport you back in time better than a tree lot? The smell of fresh cut evergreens, seeing your breath in the frozen air, warming your hands around warm cups of cocoa.
Considering we already have our Christmas Tree put up at home, we were only there for the ambience;)
After getting our fill of the wonderful smell of evergreen, we headed off to see Christmas Lights, while listening to Christmas music along the way.
Are we still sad and frustrated over how things are? Sure. But, life continues to roll on and we refuse to allow it to blind us to the simple joys in life; to rob us of sweet time together, especially while the girls are still young. Contentment found in the simple pleasures :)
Ok....and totally unrelated to last night's retro inspired trek...I've spent the afternoon/evening today quilting and binge watching Fuller House. Check out my little sidekick while you play "find Annie" 😂
Yup, that's her wearing her puppy pjs, curled under the quilt I'm working on. And, in the corner of the sofa is Hannah, who put her own pjs back on this afternoon to warm up on this classically cold Nebraska Saturday.
Gracie at about 2 1/2 years old...living with T1D for over a year of her life at that point. She's grown up sooooo much since then. Seriously!!! She's almost a real teenager!
Gracie was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes at only 14 months old. She's spent her entire life living with this disease, as well as living with her parents managing it all. She is on the threshold of becoming a teenager and I see her taking interest and ownership of her T1D in her own reserved way.
She's never really known others with T1D... I mean, yes, she knows others with it, but there's not been anyone "like her" in her daily life (church, dance, riding, neighbors, friend's events, etc). I'm not gonna lie; Sarah's diagnosis with T1D a couple months ago was bittersweet for Gracie. She doesn't want her sister to go thru all she has over her lifetime, yet at the same time it's kinda nice to not be the only one. Plus it allows her to be a mentor to Sarah in all this. At any rate, I'm watching Gracie take consistent steps to taking over her own T1D care, and it's been a treat to see.
We've always taken things a step at a time, in our family. Gracie started doing her own finger pokes at 3 years old. She's been a carb counting master since she was 8 years old. She has begun, slowly, to do her own site changes. Baby steps, but heading toward the prize nonetheless. She loves watching certain vloggers on YouTube, and I've discovered that the ones she faithfully follows are those living with T1D. She gleans tips and new ways of doing things from watching others... and she is understanding WHY we do things a certain way. Things like, why we don't leave her diabetes bag in the truck (insulin can't get too warm or chance freezing, and she always carries insulin in her bag), leaving glucose tablets in the truck during the warmer months causes them to loose their effectiveness, why we wipe off the initial drop of blood during a finger poke, etc. I am so thankful that she is growing up in a day when her world is far wider than our own yard. It's because of things like YouTube, Podcasts, Google, iPhones, Laptops, etc that kids like Gracie are able to learn and connect with a community that can help them grow up healthy. Yes, there are horrible and dangerous things that can come across our screens... but there are amazing things as well. It's for those reasons that I'm so very thankful!
And, as a side benefit... Gracie utilities the skills we learn thru our lessons in very "real life" ways. Think about it: She's honing her research skills, spelling skills, and reading skills without even thinking about it. When she's figuring out her carbs to cover with insulin, she's using her math (she'd use more math if her pump didn't automatically figure out her insulin dose;). I could continue, but you get the picture;) Yet again, homeschooling RULES in real life!
Dreams...We all have them; some are lifelong, others are for a season. Some are formed in childhood, others seem to formulate in a moment. The fact is, without dreams, life is pretty pointless and burdensome.
Some dreams take years to grow and refine. Maybe you head that direction at one point in time only to discover it was too soon and you need to step back for a time... but that dream is deeply rooted in your very soul, and you know that if you wait patiently, pray over it continually, and live in a responsible way, doing everything you can to achieve your dream along the way, it will eventually become reality. At least, that's what we are led to believe. It's what we've been told since childhood, right? Well, here's a dose of reality... we are lied to during our life time. Yes, even by those whom we should be able to trust without any hesitation. Maybe they didn't mean to lie; they just said what was in their mind or even their heart at that moment. But when push comes to shove, and it's time to keep those promises, they back track. Or, maybe they just make everything absolutely impossible for you to actually make your (very achievable) dream, a reality. You see, all hope doesn't die in an instant...No, it takes years of broken promises and broken relationships to erode. Then suddenly, the final straw snaps and all hope dies.
That is the moment my family finds itself in today. Craig and I always wanted to live on his family farm and raise our family there. We actually gave up everything shortly after we were married to leave the city life behind and move to the farm. For 11 years we loved our life and little home. Craig was truly "home" and I quickly "wrote my name in the dirt" to make it my home as well (a line from a Willa Cather book that I always loved and felt describe my country/farm journey perfectly). But even then, promises were changed on the fly, silently altered over time, and walls built up in relationships over judgements made without any basis. We tried our best to make it work, but financially we were foundering. Honestly, had it not been for living hand to mouth and not being able to make ends meet, we never would have returned to the city when Craig was offered the directorship of a state agency. We truly loved our life in the country and were heartbroken to leave our home. We've never closed the door to our "country life" dream, though. We have always wanted to give that to our daughters, and have done our best to give them as much of that life as we can while living in the city. And, for the 17 years since we've lived here, the dream was still taking root and growing.
Nearly 4 years ago, we decided it was time to take active steps to move back to the farm. one of our daughters was ready to move out on her own and the other three were young enough to make the move with little disruption to their lives. We made long lists of pros and cons, and yes, the pros always came way out ahead of the cons. We developed a solid plan to transition not only our home and family, but Craig's work as well. He has a large client base in the west, and living on the farm would make it much easier and less stressful for him. It would also mean less time away from the family when he travels. And finally, it would allow him to face the transitions a family farm goes thru when parents are aging; making the transition easier on everyone by doing it now rather than during a health crisis which might force it suddenly. We spoke with the regional medical facility to be sure they could handle our family's needs when they arise. We discussed several housing options, and were content with any of them. We were looking forward to being close to Craig's parents again, especially the girls, who've never had the opportunity to really get to know their grandparents or build a relationship with them, since they have spent their lives only seeing them once or twice a year. Yup.... April 2013, we were all EXCITED and ready for this dream to become a reality. We had a plan and we had the blessing we needed to make the move "home".
BUT..... at every turn we've met resistance from the very family members that said they wanted us back there. Every option we've presented for a home has been denied in one way or another. We even said we'd like to renovate Craig's grandparents place but were given a flat out "NO".... after they'd spent quite literally thousands of dollars keeping a roof on it, new paint, and even storm windows... ON A VACANT HOUSE. Frustration. Hurt. Sadness. Confussion. Abandonment. And yes, Anger. Emotions that continue to churn inside each of us over the past several years. Did we move away 17 years ago? Yes we did; but not because we didn't want to be there, rather because we were not able to make ends meet and struggled even putting food on the table at that time. But now it seems we are to be punished for leaving, even though we had no other real choice at the time.
Through it all, however, we have held onto HOPE, and continued to keep our dream alive. A few weeks ago we found a home about half an hour from the farm. A beautiful 100 year old farmhouse that we all fell in love with and could see ourselves living in till we died. Yes, it needed renovation, but it was a solid home with most of it's original detail and character intact that made it so special. Even better yet, it was reasonably priced, even calculating in renovation costs. PERFECT. And yet again, we were met with complete resistance. We've spent the last few weeks dreaming and trying to find a way to get the house that we fell in love with, without causing any hardship for the farm itself. Talking each day, planning, investigating options, and yes, DREAMING in the face of insurmountable odds. Then.... it all came crashing down late last night, when I looked at the listing online and my eyes were drawn to two words in red.... ACCEPTED OFFER. Yes, last night with two little words in red across the picture of "our" house, all hope died. An entire lifetime of a dream for our family came crashing to a halt with those two little words. You see, we've run every other possible option and the resistance from family was too great. This was the last option. We've been told to "just wait until they die", even though quite literally they along with every other member of that family have never had to wait until death for their dreams. We've missed the opportunity to give the life we desperately want to give our girls to Tess and Sarah; waiting until someone dies means that we can't give it to Gracie or Hannah either. In another 6 or 7 years at most, they will be out on their own. The deep country roots we wanted to give them won't have ever had a chance to even start.
Yes, it's been a really tough day around our home, one filled with tears that come unannounced. We are going through the motions, doing what needs to be done, but there is no point anymore. There's no joy. Because, dreams bring joy and our dream has died, buried under red ink across a picture. I hope these family members feel it's worth it. They are more concerned about who is sitting where at their funeral; meanwhile, these grand daughters of theirs are growing up without them, by their own choice. These girls have craved a relationship with them since they were babies, but it's hard to have a relationship with people who send birthday cards in the mail, and offer christmas gifts during a three hour "layover" when they're on their way to see the other half of the family that they actually desire to grow relationships with. Craig and I are tired. Tired of bearing the burden of everyone's unfair judgment. Tired of trying so hard to build a real relationship only to be shown time and time again that we are only wanted to complete the "perfect family" portrait (you know, "smile and say cheese" then go away, because ya'll are unworthy of our time). Tired of making excuses to our girls for the cruel treatment they endure from someone who should love them unconditionally. Tired of feeling unworthy ourselves in a family that clearly wants nothing to do with us.
So how does hope die? One day and one hurt at a time, over many years, and the casket is hammered shut, one nail at a time, by those who say they love you, but their actions make it clear that they view you as nothing but an inconvenience. Hope dies at the hands of others.....
It was the perfect snow for making snowmen, so the girls decided to make a snow family. FYI: the mound of snow next to the baby, with the red blotch is baby's blanket. The food coloring wasn't spreading all that well;). They did a GREAT job and I'm sure will be sleeping well tonight :)
I can't believe it, but here we are in December already. Part of me can't believe it and wonders where 2016 has gone. The other part of me feels like 2016 has been one of the longest years ever. How is that possible to be on both ends of the spectrum? None the less, it's true. Of course this leads me to start thinking about the New Year.... 2017. What do I want it to entail? What goals do I have for the new year? What do I want to change, improve on, accomplish?
For starters, I'd really like to see life more simplified. Life has been crazy on every level; there are certain things that can't change, like dealing with chronic health conditions each day and all that throws at us. But, there is much that can change, such as cutting out screen time, spending more time with family and friends "face to face," eating at home rather than on the run, finding my daily groove again. Basically, I want to spend less time on things that don't really matter and more time on what does. Actively search out the good in each day and skip over the nonsense that does nothing but distract from what's important. I'm an old school gal living in a new world and frankly, I don't like it much. I'm choosing to stick to my old school ways and focus on the important things in life.
What exactly are the "important things" you may ask? A personal and close relationship with God, my family and friends, treating everyone with respect and kindness, my home, just to name a few. If you notice, there is nothing in that list about losing weight or working out;) Not that those aren't concerns, but they just aren't anything I am going to choose to focus on this New Year. I really can't eat any less than I already do, I'm miserable when I try to 100% give up Dr Pepper, my fibromyalgia and lung issues prevent me from more intense work out routines like I use to enjoy (or endure).... So this coming year is about BALANCE.
We are not a "scheduled" family... meaning we don't do well on a strict daily schedule. We tend to be much more relaxed about things around here; of course it does help to find a loose routine that works and that is my goal. I want to be able to get everything I NEED to get done each day, actually done. And, I want to still have the time to do things I actually enjoy as well. Things like quilting, sewing, embroidery, paper crafting, maybe even start the scrapbooks I've been planning since the girls were all infants. And...... BAKING BREAD; I use to actually make bread from scratch and loved it. The smell alone is heavenly and the taste is amazing. Finally, gardening....I am HORRIBLE at it, but I'm the most determined gardener you will ever run across, and I really want the girls to experience growing things themselves.
As we head into Christmas and the final few weeks of 2016, I want to take some time to dream and plan. No, I'm not setting any New Year's Resolutions this time around; I am however, going to figure out how to get back to exactly what is important and let go of what's not. Maybe it's letting go of unrealistic expectations or excess stuff cluttering up the closets.... and freeing up the time and space to be more available to God and what He wants to do through me this coming year. What I do know is that I really want to get back to quilting in the New Year. Not just once in a blue moon when the planets align just right and I have a free afternoon; no! I want to make it a daily or at the very least, a weekly priority. I want to actually finish up some of the projects I've started over the past 2 1/2 decades, I want to make a couple of new ones, and I really want to do a Block of the Month that I commit to finishing on time :)
So, my theme for 2017 is SIMPLY QUILTED :) Yeah, that sounds perfect for the new year!
Elves are a big part of our Christmas tradition. I do mean a BIG part...we have 29 elves, at last count, that come on Thanksgiving night and create lots of fun chaos until Christmas Eve. It seems every year another one or two join our little clan and we look forward to seeing their little personalities develope over the coming weeks.
You never know what our elves are going to do. Last year they rigged a zip line through the living room and foyer and we woke up to find them having a great time zip lining through the house. This morning we awoke to find them in the middle of a snowball fight. Some elves taking cover under my quilt on the dining room table or enjoying the spectacle from a high vantage point in the flowers left from Thanksgiving.
I'm so glad the girls love elves as much as I always have. As you'll see from the pictures below, many of our elves I've had since I was little. It was a favorite Christmas activity of mine to search the house every day to find them. Now our girls look forward each day to finding what kind of mischief they created for themselves all night long:)
