Outside NOW!!!

Can't a girl even enjoy a beer? Globe broken off bedroom light, conveniently snagged from the top bunk, with a plastic coat hanger, plastic for safety. Package of Sponge Bob single serving Mac n Cheese scattered over an entertainment center and wooden floor laden with Thomas the Train puzzle pieces, makes for a challenging clean up should anyone be wondering. Hose turned on outside of the barn whilst Ammie is feeding horses inside the barn, river running into the barn across the dirt floor. No limes for the Corona I decide is required. "Get ur hands OUT OF your pants." for the third time. Hears water spigot turning on around the corner out of sight, God graciously afflicted this particular faucet with a high pitched squeally squeak. K..... get out of the garden. D..... clean that potting soil off the sidewalk. Use your high lift if you have to. Get your hands out of your underwear. Maybe you should use a bigger high lift. Just saying. Wonder if my potatoes boiled over yet. So need the grace of God and limes

What happened to the rest of the pictures

So why did the Blogger ap cut off half of my picture? Huh! Not happy...

Abbi n Jack

No longer the two youngest grandchildren, well, Abbi is still in the youngest two club. But Jack's position has been usurped by a younger sibling, one Finnegan Nehemiah. Now number four top down and 3 bottom up in the pecking order, he is pretty darn near the middle, as in the middle as you can be with an even number of six. Chloe being a full two years old plus five months she could be considered a co-middle. Abbi miss next to the youngest, spent the day with Ammie and DrewAllen, next to the oldest, or numbie two as he is sometimes affectionately referred to. Oops, ended a sentence with a preposition. Dear Cinderali was here from a little after nine until 2:30 when she knocked on Ammie's bedroom door offering a cup of strong black coffee and a quick synopsis of the hour n half of the part of the day I was unconscious during, wanted to say "for" but that would have ended another sentence with a preposition. Can't have too much of that. DrewAllen and I enjoyed the company of number five grandchild. Though I'm sure she was a bit bored by the lack of entertainment we provided; she was polite and did not yawn openly in our presence.
Ammie is ready for bed. Wake up time comes way to early on school days. Thanks Abbi for coming to visit. Come again soon

First Day of Kindergarten

Here we have it; Tuesday was Kaleb's first day of big boy school. The morning circus has begun. Up and out the door by 7:20AM, drop off Jer and Kaleb by 7:50. Back home; Monday, Wednesday,and Friday DrewAllen has to be at preschool by 9:00. So why 'n the heck am I trying to write at 7:03.... Gotta fly.. Or stumble to the car.

pperfect child disturbed adult

I've been pondering lately this notion that many modern parents have bought into; the idea that good parents should create perfect childhood experiences and environments for their children. Bests schools, perfect teeth, stylish clothing, cool cell phones, iPods, iPads, a plethora of after school activities, entertaining or exotic vacations. Never ending supply of personal preferences in food and beverages. Has all this lavishing kid-centered doting birthed a generation of better kids? Or, have we collectively as a society instructed our children that they owe nothing and deserve everything?

Nuisance Critters

So, sittin' on the back porch sipping lukewarm coffee, hoping my presence prevents any real injury one to  the other of small persons playing/arguing in the back yard. Somehow that sentence makes no sense, and I do not know how to fix it and still have it say what I wish it to.

According to my cadet WCO son Canadian Geese are now considered "Nuisance Creatures" in the state of Pennsylvania, similar to the groundhog. We have all been to that pristine pond or lake that appears so lovely until you try and hike the perimeter; only to find your self racing to find warm water and a rag to clean the slimy goo off of your shoes. Apparently at some point since the above picture was taken many of the black and white birds migrated from Canada and decided to stay south of our northern border . Please consider the fact, well known in most public circles, that my memory is not the best:, so my recollection of  the details of the my conversation about the geese may be sketchy. I don't think they can be hunted year round like the groundhog, at least not without the proper water fowl stamp. So before you decide to go out and bag a passel of them check out the PA Game Commission website for all the facts. Either way the fond memories of my childhood remain, all the while I am more than willing to acknowledge that not all that was, still is.

And, I am thinking that is true of far more in life than Canadian Geese. So much more to be added, but an electronic chirping coming from the kitchen alerts me to refrigerator invaders, summoning me inside to survey the carnage I most likely will find on the floor....

The Winds of August

Blogging, something some do for fun, some to put public voice to their chosen cause or passion, some because they want to ad life and color to an otherwise humdrum existence . So, what would provoke me to put letters on a screen, words onto the computer generated paper of today; my thoughts or experiences sent into cyber eternity to be viewed or worse ignored  by family, friends, and strangers?
    If only I could keep after it well enough to satisfy the writer buried, possibly crushed under the weight of neglect, that writer's voice that has cried out to be acknowledged, to be heard, or to have the motivation to even speak. So long ignored that the very fingers pecking out the words do not recognize the noise they are asked to record.
   Even now, with blank mind and weary heart I seek to find the person I lost. or forgot, or allowed to slip away. Or perhaps. the savior has so rattled my soul that that I do not recognize the new creature in the mirror. Could it be that the old must die for the new to be born? Basic Gospel 101 has been the forest I have missed for my consternation with that silly old tree?
    On this side of heaven I now walk as an earthly orphan, yes redeemed for the glory of the Heavenly Father, but fatherless in my flesh. So many lessons, so much wretchedness this month of August. The emptiness of  anxiety echoes off of my cavernous heartache, yearning for clarity of mind and increased strength of bones. Of course i know that I possess all I could ask or imagine, so perhaps it is my imagination that needs to be stretched, expanded. My vision for the uncertain and a confidence that my own weak flesh and soul can be used by the creator not because of my abilities or brilliance but because His plans cannot be thwarted.

Another day another dollar

Just reread my last post. Should repost; it totally encouraged me. Rough couple days...kid wise anyways; kinda make life in general more challenging when chaos abounds. Everyone gets a little cranky. I'm determined to recommit my focus on the freedom of the cross and developing a more specific and purposeful prayer life. Help me Jesus.

posted from Bloggeroid

Muffin Man

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Kind of a rough night. Boys seemed quite full of themselves, and several other creatures too...maybe a combination of wolf, monkey, and a squawking blue jay. All is finally quiet; teenager, out of sorts hubby, and even the dogs are at rest. Not even any snoring or scratching tonight. When I think on the whole canvas of my colorful life I feel blessed, content, filled with a deep resonating joy. Its all the abrasive fragments, the taken out of sovereign context particulars, that set my teeth on edge and pick at the scabby sores of my unsanctified sin. But for now I will take this momentary peace as evidence of my saviors love and His redemptive work that makes me worthy of His Father's love.

posted from Bloggeroid

On the Porch

Boys are playing, not necessarily obeying....normal, I guess. Now we are sharing a cushioned patio chair, because of course they were made for three. Swollen glands making me feel wimpy and weak. Fed kids a combination of corn dogs, cereal, and whole wheat English muffins with peanut butter and Nutella. One added jelly to his. For dessert they capped off the evening of fine dining with a pair of mini popsicles. Yep, well cared are they.
Number one, upset because I wouldn't drive him to the neighbor's to play, threatened to walk since he and his brother knew the way. No sooner had the pompous threat fell from his haughty lips than the fire sirens began to squall. Front door slammed, pretty sure hes not going anywhere.

An occasional breeze lightens the humidity and brings a pleasant peace to my resting spot. Grazing horses in the pasture before me remind me of chores yet to be done. Far away rumbles hint of a possible much needed shower. If only it was always this simple....but then it can be if we allow it. If my eyes are on the Lord than His Breath will be upon my face. His Grace ever before me and His peace my Mainstay. Lord take my rebellious posture and gently readjust my focus so it is You alone I see.

Strange noises from inside, the dragging of a wooden chair across hard oak floors indicate my rest has been suspended...let grace abound.

Two tickets To Paradise or Being Mom

butter fingers

So I see a tiny finger reach behind my almost wilting jug pitcher of flowers left from Easter; they dip into the soft room temperature butter, retrieving a tablespoon sized glob. Doggedly picking at my own dinner I pretend not to notice. Several minutes later the lad proudly announces and shows off, "look at my butter." Top side of his whole grain peanut butter n jelly glistening in the evening sun. I smile.

Long, Long time ago....

 
So I guess its been a while (or awhile?)  since I recorded any thoughts or pecked out any meaningful banter. Multiple problems could be the cause; my computer (laptop) is either missing has sticking keys representing all the important letters and functions. Like "enter" sticks. (.) missing key. (y) sticks and is loose. (T) sticks. (G) not sure what its problem is, doesn't always work. Whine, whine, whine. Yep, I could use the old IPad, except it and blogger are not real friendly and the app is worse. Additionally, after all me years using this forum some inconsiderate geek redesigned the whole shabang...confusing me every time I try and log in or access my stuff. I suppose if I spent more time using the site I might become accustomed and then have one less excuse. But technology changes baffle me. I think I was more computer savvy 15 years ago than now.

Life at the Kimmel Ranch has never been this exciting, well, that probably is not a true statement if I gave it any real thought. The early years did have a character all their own; either I have chosen to forget or like many events that happened more than ten minutes ago its just gone with  no recovery option. If I ponder long and hard enough I can remember finding 22 shells clanging around in the dryer, or all the hair burnt off Ned's cute little 5year old face...the smell of burning hair is quite the memory trigger. Slaughter rock, and the first day of trout season still make me smile. Allen going to the emergency room with half the meat from his elbow lost in the driveway somewhere. Two young boys who used yellow shed paint to decorate our ancient blazer. Faded burgundy and canary yellow...well not quite canary, more like egg yolk. Which by the way reminds me I should put the colored eggs in the fridge. My mom always left them out on the table for a few days decoratively arranged in a real straw Easter basket. But so many things make us sick and kill us that never did back in he day, I'm afraid boiled eggs that have set out might be a new killer. Our house was 58 degrees this morning when we woke up, that's not much warmer than the refrigerator anyhow. But still, why risk it. Course Kaleb tried to eat one shell and all this afternoon. Jer told him the shells would cut up his stomach. Don't think that's true, just some way for Jer to torture Kaleb. Kind of like a big brother would do to a little brother, which of course Kaleb is not, to Jer. Jer is the uncle. Ask him.

Do not be fulled by he cute picture of the two boys sweetly sharing the contents of their Easter Buckets. I am pretty sure they a are making sure they got all the good stuff and didn't leave any of it for the littles. You know, younger sister of cousins. Course I'm confident  Abbi's papa could take 'em, DrewAllen and Kaleb.

Now for the real reason my blog entries are so far and few between, utter exhaustion, which has just overtaken my eyes and fingers. Pushing the silly "y" key multiple times and plum wore me out.

And the excitement at the ranch has finally all fallen asleep.  Too much easter with a small "e" Can never get enough of the Savior Jesus who is the real Easter with the big "E"

warning will be published without proofreading...

Laid Back.

Laid Back, watching PBS... staring at Facebook, enjoying the need to do nothing. I am sleepy but not weary; tired but not exhausted, for tonight, and this is a good thing. Soon the demands of daily responsibilities will return and I will again be hard pressed, yet not undone. My limits will be stretched and my arms will ache. My heart will pound with both joy and anguish. I will be found breathless and by profound awe my breath will be vacuumed from my lungs. Days filled with impossible obstacles will be capped by nights of small victories. Small fingers leave their prints on my soul and send that antique vase crashing to the floor. I will long for heaven yet clench the dirt of this tight in arthritic fists. I will spank, and I will squeeze tightly. I will exhort and in my frailty I will sometimes rip apart what o have struggled to build. I will cry out for grace and venture out uncovered. Lord, go on ahead. Prepare my way. Open my eyes and heart to see and chose the path you have laid.

Politics, religion, and real life

Gov Huckabee has a few of the Republic presidential candidates on some kind of extended special. Drew put Fox News on earlier before he promptly slipped into snoredome. Because I was busy searching mindless info on the iPad, I paid no attention. Now that I realize what is on and that I have the option to change the channel unnoticed, I feel almost guilty for not watching. I do not want to be one of the ignorant uniformed...but my desire to be entertained, distracted, swept away from the poignantly sharp grind of the daily by and by. A variety of child amusement devices litter the floor. From my perch dirty dishes, leftovers, and unshelved groceries stand defiantly on the granite countertop. My lovely home though not in complete disarray is still moderately cluttered. My vain attempts to ignore the wimpering and wailing coming from down the hall as Jer coaxes my crazy wild sweet baby boys into nighttime slumber, do not prevent a gnawing ball of guilt from twisting my guts and clawing at my weary heart. Bridge ...kids asleep. I agree to watch whatever movie Jer chooses. DrewAllen, not asleep, joins. Just watched "mr popper's penguins" with Jer n drew. But not really cause they fell asleep. DrewAllen apparently not asleep joined me. Because I'm a sucker for a story, any story once began must be finished. Some like the song that never ends, make a grandma a mama again. And I cannot say I love it everyday...or even most days. But the sweet bitter ache in my soul, make it worth it. Whether is the tiny gently kisses of a little boy or the obnoxious snoring of a half manchild, I am a blessed woman.  Guess I left out the region part....that's maybe because it is not a part but the all; and not religion but life. Breathing in and breathing out the very spirit of God.

Twas the night before tomorrow.

It's hard to imagine what life was like then When the evening was peaceful, quiet and free. Before pull ups and sippy cups had to be bought. Before Tractors, and trains, hot wheels and games Littered the hardwood, the carpet, the stairs. When no one crept into my bed in the night Whimpering and whining that they'd suffered a fright. Seems long ago, that my life was my own. My comings and goings were were all about me, And sometimes my husband and our family.... My heart has been challenged and stretched open wide Turns out when you say, "jesus, i give you my life." He takes it And molds it As He sees is best. The Fathers's hand can be felt every day Touching my heart and making it new. The fingers he uses are sticky and small They create lovely drawings on couches and walls. I'm grateful and thankful And blessed beyond measure. For as He has promised He's given great treasure.

Futile or Feudal

I have heard it said that the best way to write is to just write; to begin. I opened my computer 20-30 minutes or so...ago. (is that grammatically correct?) Anyways, torn between going beyond my perfunctory devotional reading, to Bible reading and prayer, I bounced up and down of my chair wiping a bum, closing the refrigerator door, letting the dog out...then back in, and generally being distracted as I watched the kitchen clock tick away my precious time, and nothing I was supposed to do or wanted to do was getting accomplished. So, here I sit, staring at that clock knowing I should have slipped out of my pajamas and into some form of real clothes. I should be ready for my official 8:00 start time, never mind that I woke, no was awoken before 6:30 (about 15 minutes after I hit "ignore" on my alarm) by a very grumpy 3 year old, what is it about 3 year olds and grumpy Audra B? Though he feigned affection, his little fists and elbows pounded away at my mummified flesh demanding I open "his" bathroom door...mind you my bathroom door was open and only a few baby steps away. Threats to spank is cute chubby bottom fell on deaf ears as he continued to snuggle and pound away. My groggy selfish mind, still muddling over what was being asked of me and its longing to drift back into and unconscious oblivion, fought to form some plan of action, or inaction.

Now, with only seven short minutes left, chaos is brewing in the kitchen, and only one of the chaos creators is even awake. An empty, grateful, egg carton glides off the bar and across the hard wood. An unidentified crash can be heard as a devilishly grinning face peers around the stainless steel garbage can to see if I am catching this misbehavior.

Spotted my morning barn hand strolling past the sun room windows, time for real clothes and moving body parts. I hear Sandy hollering a DA to unlock the door, "No!" he hollers back.
Alas, this queen must begin her daily reign. Lord please help her serve joyfully in both the mundane and the mighty.

Colored Glass

The following was written for my ladies christmas party to be given with a tiny glass ornament,

Colored Glass

THen the LORD God formed man of dust from the ground,

and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life;

and man became a living being.Genesis 2:7

So many things I want to share with my dear sisters. I am deeply grieved that I cannot be with you this evening. My God is so amazing, so gentle, so kind, so generous, so faithful. How I could go on and on. I found these glass ornaments and knew they were what I was to bring to this table of friends, but unaware of what He would set on my heart to share. Even as late as this morning I was unsure. I was prodded to search “Colored Glass” on the Internet. Thinking that would not turn up a productive search, I believed GOD would meet me, as He always does. I skimmed down through the search results until I stumbled upon this short article. Three things stood out to me.

1. Stained or colored glass is known for its “utility and beauty.”

2. Glass is made of sand and wood ash

3. A beautiful creation is sometime given its shape as the breath of a man is blown into the unformed to create the formed.

1 Stained-glass windows have been admired for their utility and beauty since ancient Rome, when pieces of colored glass were assembled into patterned window frames. In Europe, the art of stained glass reached its height between 1150 and 1500, when magnificent windows were created for great cathedrals…. "Inestimable beauty.”

2. The basic ingredients for making glass ARE SAND AND WOOD ASH (potash). The mixture is melted into liquid which, when cooled, becomes glass. To color the glass, certain powdered metals are added to the mixture while the glass is still molten

3. Molten glass can be BLOWN into a sausage SHAPE

Mankind was created as a the living God blew His own Holy breath into mere dirt, (sand?) resulting in a living being He said was GOOD, BEAUTIFUL, HIS OWN. May we be known as His living hand blown creations, creatures of “inestimable beauty…for their utility.” Useful and beautiful.

As we look at these simple ornaments may we remember how we were created and that we are purposed to be both useful and beautiful.

at it again

Two little boys, one scaling drawer pulls and climbing on the counter, one singing along with the Wonder Pets; second child tho innocent now, narrowly avoided spilling a half a cup of milk onto the table and down to the floor...
In most homes with preschoolers, The special time occurs any time after 4:00 PM and before they fall unconscious at the end of the days misadventures. A variety of titles have been assigned this exciting time segment. So as to be civil, not vulgar or abrasive, for the purpose of this writing. I have decided on the The Special Time.

The writing moment has passed. Dinner time, shower time, driving around for an hour to encourage an early nod out. The nodding did not happen. Earlier in the week a few errands after dinner sent them both into premature dreamland after only 45 minutes or so. Disappointed and defeated pappy and I wound up the drive and into the garage. The non-stop chatter from the booster seat in the rear grating on our wearing nerves like iodine on an open wound. Leaping out of the back seat and bounding up the stairs and into the house the older finally comes to a sliding twisting stop at the end of the hall. Dropping into our respective dining room chairs we announce, "Ten minutes till bedtime." At least that much time is needed to lick our wounds and gain strength for the last big push, driving the wee tyrants into bed and hopefully sleep and the end of Special Time. Two bathroom trips each, several drinks of water, one small green tractor sailing across the room, three stories, and a new night light later silence slowly slips into the nursery, otherwise known as my library.

Drew asleep in my chair now, and me settled stiffly into the ugly, worn, stuffing leaking, lump of a chair by the crib; we wait for the call announcing the return of our teenage basket ball player. A trip to town for Dad and my attempting to peck out some sort of witty conclusion for this rambling essay, the day comes to and end. I am thankful for my partner and the opportunity to serve the Lord in ways that seem beyond my means and abilities. In this He shows Himself strong and I am blessed.