Help!

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QUICK! I need ideas. My daughter wants the traditional Sound of Music birthday party in two weeks. Oh dear, oh dear, dear me.
We're gonna make some of the favorite things like blue satin sashes, snow flakes, and ask for presents to be wrapped in brown paper tied up with string. Pooh Bear insists on jam and bread instead of cake. She nixed my idea of wedding cake (ya know, Maria does get married). Maybe I can sneak in some crisp apple strudel. Will party guests be dreadfully disappointed or humor my daughter's whim? My boys agreed to dress up like Nazi's, carry flashlights, and blow whistles for some good old hide 'n seek. Pooh Bear wants to wear a habit. My husband must learn to play Edelweiss on mandolin and lead a sing-along. And we can play musical chairs to the soundtrack. How about a yodeling contest? We do have a goat herd already, but I'm not sure if they cooperate if we added strings to them for puppets. My niece thinks I could teach the "So, long farewell dance. Too ambitious? Also we thought of making clothes out of draperies somehow, but...

And do children, besides mine, even know about musicals besides High School Musical anyway? Oh dear, again.

Any more incredibly creative ideas? I sure could use them.

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The Vyne's are piling into the van this afternoon to head to the mountains to be with family. Looking back, I couldn't be more thankful. Last year, my mother requested we come spend Thanksgiving with her thinking she might not ever be whole again after brain surgery. I'm delighted that she is healthy, whole and healed from those traumatic days.
Here are some other things for which I am thankful:
Great and healthy kids.
Family on both sides who love and support us.
Living in heaven on earth on our pretend farm.
My best friend and husband who stands right beside me every step of the way.
Healthy animals (for the most part).
The best kind of friends.
An abundant garden.
Fresh eggs.
Well running vehicle.
Warm house.
Ample clothing.
Exercise.
Work.
Christmas.

There is more, but I'll have to stop for now.

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Yesterday I stopped in at Office Depot looking for something my son will needs next semester. I searched the aisles for the item myself with no luck though I found many similar items.

I passed by a Super Geek on my way to the help desk pondering whether or not to ask him. His scholarly glasses covering scrunched black eyes and lack of fashion prowess indicated a certain knowledge of all things gadgety. I myself was wearing black sweat pants which are entirely too short with a very unmatching green sweater.Did I mention my white and red running shoes? So, it's not like I have any room to criticize what not to wear... and on top of my dressing inadequacies, I certainly don't emit a copious amount of brain waves which benefit the planet. Anyhow, Super Geek looked engrossed in an important technological discussion on his black headset with another employee across the store, so I marched up to a handsome young man behind the help desk. You know, eye candy for someone about 20 years younger than myself.

"Hi," I say.

"Hey," he answers with a confident smile on his face, in a friendly customer service tone, making good eye contact.

"I'm looking for a very nerdy calculator which I know absolutely nothing about. It's called something Nspire, and it's for people who can actually perform higher mathematical equations than myself," I announce.

"Oh, that I wouldn't know nearly as much about that as Matt. Let me call him." Yep, he contacts Super Geek to help me out.

Super Geek is called to me but cannot stand to make eye contact. He walks toward the aisle I'd previously visited without a word. He searches the rack, and says without enthusiasm, "Not here. We had 'em when school started, but they're all gone."

"Um, could I order one?" I suggest.

"From here? Why don't you go to the dealer or something," still in dead pan.

"Like Texas Instruments?" I inquire.

"Prolly something like texasinstruments.com. I don't know. You could order one at the desk I guess," he mutters.

"K, thanks," I offer as he suddenly walks off in another direction.

And there, my friends, is a lesson in how to not to close a deal. I checked officedepot.com and sure enough, one can order them from Office Depot.

That calculator is the most expensive one I've ever seen. What was Super Geek thinking? Maybe he was seriously contemplating some math problem in his brain I couldn't begin to solve.

Note to self: All that, "Please look in my eyes when we are talking" with my children hopefully will make a difference in their future.

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It's something of a miracle, but you might not understand. I only know that change happens from the inside out, and I so rarely am allowed glimpses inside the heart of my son.

Here's the miracle. The phone rang. It was for my boy, and he sat down on my bed to chat with a friend while I typed on my computer close by. I heard, "Yes, we have a football, but it belongs to my dad. I'll ask him if we can use it."

This is the point I felt a lump forming in my throat. I turned my head, so my son wouldn't notice the salty drops about to spill from my stinging eyes. What's so darn touching about his statement? Enough to bring me to tears? Isn't it a common thing for children to ask to borrow something when it doesn't belong to them?

Not for him.

From his rough start as a foster child, he's claimed sole ownership to whatever he saw or touched in our home no matter whom it belonged to. He owned the world and we other mortals simply occupied his space. Our family has pulled together through good counsel to gently coax him to another way of being more a part of us rather than living separately. His comment above is evidence that something, no matter how small, has shifted.

In one of our counseling sessions with him this summer, my son stated what seemed to be a heart felt, "I want to really be part of this family." At the same moment of his declaration, a small butterfly came from nowhere and landed on our son's heart. No one spoke, but we smiled deeply at one another. After the butterfly took flight from her rest on my child's chest, one of the counselors whispered, "I wonder if that was a sign?" As if on cue, the little yellow butterfly returned a second time on my son's shirt over his heart. Of course, we all savored the moment.

I'd call our road rocky with this son, but isn't it lovely that there have been butterflies and other miracles along the way?

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I was in the mood for some inspiration this morning, so I asked Eleanor Roosevelt for some help.

Here's what we came up with together.

A woman is like a tea bag- you never know how strong she is until she gets in hot water.

Do what you feel in your heart to be right - for you'll be criticized anyway. You'll be damned if you do, and damned if you don't.

Justice cannot be for one side alone, but must be for both.

No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.

It is not fair to ask of others what you are unwilling to do yourself.

She always knows just the right thing to say doesn't she?

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I'm walking a new and delicate tightrope as a parent as I learn about this beast known as the teenager. I figure I've got it easy, having three boys with which to try my ever-changing bag o' tricks first before my girl hits the years beyond twelve. If the mood swings of my sons are any indication, I'm in for big trouble when she hits hormones. I'm finding my boys have upped my game of thinking on my feet and remaining centered at all times.

I took in a couple of very interesting facts at my conference a few weeks ago. The first felt real and so very true- teens believe they are living their own personal fable. No one could ever loved as deeply as they have. No one has ever wanted to make the basketball team more than they have. No one could possibly understand their unique circumstances enough. The second also got me nodding briskly in agreement- teens have an imaginary audience watching them all the times. They believe everyone is observing them in particular, and it truly is all them.

The fables arising from my boys are sometimes precious and other times annoying. I love the fact that all three believe they can do or be anything. Watching the Olympics, I heard their remarks like, "I could do that!" I adore it when my children say, "My coach says I could be top in the state if I applied myself." The annoying part can be when don't make the effort. I must remind myself that sampling many things instead of a single focus can be a great thing as well at this developmental stage of personal mission. Peace cracked me up the other day that his "science fan club" made up a myth about him living on the farm which was the setting for E.B. White's Charlotte's Web. Teens can be fantastic storytellers.

The part about the imaginary audience has hit all three boys as well. It took only a few weeks for Peace to drop his public bird calling with the event of entering high school. Tater constantly talks about the girls who can't take their eyes off him. Wise One hushes our family members in public situations when he feels embarrassed at some perceived spectacle we're making.

I'm blessed to say that though my kids attend and absolutely enjoy social events, we still have loads of fun, maybe even the most fun, together. I wonder what the day will be like when their wings ache to fly from this nest to make their own? I'm getting glimpses of such things when Peace throws an "I certainly know how to do this better than you ever could" barb my way. I've been learning how to step quietly and deliberately out of his way in this case and escape to a fulfilling task for myself till he is practically desperate (and humbled) for my help, or he simply finds his own way. Thus the tightrope analogy at the beginning of this post.

Taken yesterday before our hike to Fall Branch Falls, my new favorite place on earth.

The first time I voted, I voted for Dukakis. Oh my, that's embarrassing to admit.

Every election since, I've voted for the winner until last night. Even though I didn't get my way, I am so very proud to have a black leader as a President Elect. I'm proud to live in a country where anything is possible, and the vote is a way for us to speak out. I'm astounded at the peaceful transfer of power in a democracy.

Barak's "government for the people and by the people" message resonated with me four years ago as I watched him speak at the DNC. His elegance and eloquence captured me, yet we all know his roots are much more like an everyman. I pray his less privileged upbringing keeps him connected and grounded to everyday people. I also pray for his safety and for wisdom in leading this country.

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I wouldn't dream of telling you who to vote for in tomorrow's election, but I will beg you to vote. I heard on NPR that 40 million Americans do not bother. Please don't be one of them.

How can such apathy exist? After all, our right to vote has been bought at a steep price.

The adventures of the last week have left me spinning, dizzy from the fun and learning.

First, I abandoned Buck and took the children to Dyersburg, TN. Never heard of it? I hadn't either until my dear friend Mac moved her family there. We piled our eight children together in her lovely new home on the lake and had a blast. Five of the children are stinky teenaged boys with Wise One as the eleven year old exception. Every time I opened the door to the boy's room to check on them, I gasped for lack of fresh air among the stifling body odor from boys who tromped through the woods and paddled canoes all weekend with little regard to personal hygiene. Mac and I forced a parade of showers a few times. The girls played dolls and led canoe adventures to mysterious islands as well.

We had one expensive fatality. Mac asked Peace to keep his cellphone with him, so we could literally call the mob of young men in for dinner. At some point, Wise One caught Peace off balance in the canoe, and Peace fell into the lake rendering his cell phone useless forevermore.

Mac cooked an awful lot for the masses and let me rest many times over the visit. We held a weenie and s'more roast over a fire in the crisp autumn air. She and her husband grilled a celebratory sabbath meal of shark, swordfish, and steak on our last evening. We shared prayer and communion together.

Mac also helped me pull together a bit of remaining choreography for a dance I prepared for the conference the following weekend. She and I figured out a dance language together some years ago, and it didn't take long to sew up the details I lacked for a lovely presentation.

Our group also visited Reelfoot Lake. It's a lake which was created by an earthquake and the Mississippi River flowing backwards for the first known time in history from the disruption of the tremors into a newly formed indention in the earth. Cool stuff, huh?

Parting was sweet sorrow, but our children demanded we schedule another visit for spring or summer.

We had an evening to at home to get Peace rested for his final cross country meet. That day I spent packing for my conference called "Weaving our Gifts". I enjoyed many workshops, a few lectures, and presented my own workshop as well. Our dance was well received in Sunday worship. Maybe sometime I'll blog about the meaningful information on teenagers I learned.

Buck has gently brought me back to real life with lots of care and nurture for me and our young people. What a gift to have someone keeping us on track and afloat.

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Heading out of town today for more than a week with one stop at home for a cross country meet. Hope all of you in bloggy world have a great one.

Last night, Tater found a brand spanking new clutch of eight chicks with a broody hen. She was sitting on six more eggs, and this morning there are three more tiny babies. Doesn't this momma hen know that two days before the fall weather dips down into the 50's at night is not the time to bring new chicks into this world? Buck and Tater put the proud hen, eleven peeping and adorable chicks, and the three remaining smooth eggs into a rather crowded box. Once Buck put the heat lamp on, the babies gravitated right to it. I wonder, since the timing is so off, if this bunch will make it.

Gorgeous photo taken by Tater

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I've wanted to write just the right words about this week's experience. However, nouns, verbs, adjectives, prepositional phrases prove inadequate to convey the amazement I've felt as my son's friend lingered a few days, enough for Tater to say, "Goodbye" and was gone in a flash, like a bright flash of lightening across a black night sky. Yes, Tater was afforded the privilege of touching, smelling, talking to his unconscious friend the day before Zach entered his final rest.

The evening of his death, Zach's parents surprised us all by attending a prayer service given in support of their struggle. When the couple arrived, the children- Zach's friends, swarmed to cling to Sally and Shawn. Sally was 10 kid deep in a sobbing throng in all directions when the director asked for us to pray prayers of comfort for her. After the second sweet prayer, a strong voiced Sally stopped everyone suddenly in their tracks with something like this, "Just so you know, I already have the comfort of the Lord. I am covered with His peace. I know you have been praying for Zach, and prayers maybe did not seem to have the outcome you may have wanted. I know you wanted Zach back. I wanted him so much myself, but we have a good God. And His plan was different. I ask that you, children, not doubt God. I suppose you'll need to question Him because we are still human, but know that He is good. Zach is with Jesus in such a beautiful and better place. Please run to God and not away from Him, because Zach wants you with him one day. So, if we could please pray for these hurting children to be comforted, that is what I'd like us to do now." And as you can imagine, that is precisely what we did. Many children, including two of mine, witnessed the horrible accident. One young person hung on the zip line for several minutes while Zach was taken down from the line beside. Another young man shared his regret for letting Zach have his place in line ahead of him. A camp staff member will have to live with his mistake. Others live in unshared pain. I'll be praying for all concerned for a while to come.

Church staff and volunteers have led the middle and high schoolers through many days of grief together. A grief counselor spoke to parents and youth. I loved that our children's pastor distinguished between feeling and truth in a session with the kids. He called attention to the fact that all feelings are very real, but they may not always be true. The leader had them call out things they had thought and felt but they knew were not God's truth, "God doesn't care. He didn't love Zach. God doesn't protect. God took Zach away. I'm not safe." Then he had then voice true words about God, "Good. Loving. Kind. Compassionate. Safe. Strong." Very powerful.

Instead of a funeral, the family and church held a celebration of Zach's life. They requested no black clothing. Nineteen dozen crisp yellow sunflowers adorned our reception area.

Now it's back to the life of a mother for me and the student roles for my brood. Though I imagine we'll never be the same.

Sometimes the veil between death and life is so very thin like a piece of yellowed tissue paper tossed in the corner of an attic. The young man, Zachary Weimer, has passed through that fragile veil to be in the Arms of God.

No words. Just tears and prayers.

I find myself fighting tears for the tenth time today. The sun has set, and there has been no peaceful resolution to the day's unsettling news. A friend of Tater's was airlifted from camp after an accident on the zip line. I'm told that though he wore a helmet, his skull is fractured, and he remains unconscious.

Yesterday I faintly remember an irk inside me as I filled out the medical information for the zillionth time for my own sons who are also on the camping trip, "Why do I have to always fill these things out. Nothing ever happens, and I have to round up my insurance numbers for nothing."

Yes, things do happen. We are not guaranteed another breath past this one. Every day, every moment is a gift.

The young man was taken to a hospital which I am intimately acquainted with though it is two solid driving hours away. It's where my Aunt Nell died, my Aunt Francis endured several serious surgeries, and my cousin Nadine was taken after she fell suddenly into her constant vegetative state. I've slept in the same chairs this boy's parents very likely occupy tonight as they pray their son will soon wake. I've eaten too many free dinners hosted by local churches while waiting for news of recovery or progress. I've run the breath holding gauntlet to my car through chain smokers just outside the trauma doors.

It is a mercy that this child has not awakened in one sense- the pain of a fractured skull must be unimaginable. But what his parents wouldn't give for one wink, a stir, one word, a stroke of a single finger. How dare the sun go down before he rouses?

My heart breaks. My soul prays. We want you back whole and soon, friend.

Updates can be found in the journals here if you type in his name: ZacharyWeimer (no spaces).

Quiet Morning

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The youth minister at our church lobbied hard for Peace to come to fall camp this weekend and won. Wise One tagged along as well. Tater and Buck scattered early to help a young man in our scout troop with his eagle project. Pooh Bear and her overnight guest much prefer the outdoors, so I'm inside a perfectly quiet house all. by. myself. I hear only the hum of the dryer tumbling my Saturday morning fresh sheets. I head out Friday to teach in Atlanta again, so I've got work to prepare.

I'm praying just now for my dear friend Jo who has been commissioned by her fancy church in Belle Meade to introduce Catechesis of the Good Shepherd to a simple church in Soweto, South Africa for the next two weeks. May her excellent work be received with joy. May her precious heart for children to connect to Jesus be imparted to the South African church. God bless all those with her, including her guide, Desmond Tutu's daughter. Let the work of their hands please God and bless His name.

This year has taken the Vyne family in unexplored directions.

I haven't found the right words to blog about a particular ongoing struggle with one of our children, Tater. Buck and I continue to lay down our lives on his behalf, and I have to say I'm disappointed with the results for him but not for Buck and I. Tater experiences life differently, through the jaded lens of early pre-adoption trauma which has crippled him emotionally. As a mother, I know that if his perspective doesn't change, he will be one of those people who has to learn the hard way. And I am painfully aware that the hard way will not be pleasant to watch as a mom.

Pooh Bear remains steady and on a good path. We plod through reading one baby step at a time, and she's coming along slowly as she always has. Her love for dance grows with her Thursday class. She thoroughly enjoys an entire day at school on Tuesdays through a friend's home school enrichment program. Pooh has quickly made friends there as she does wherever she goes. Lately, I'm mulling over future navigation of a daughter through the wily road of becoming her own person among a den of challenging girl peers who exercise exclusion. It's in nearly every circle I've encountered as a woman. May God bless Pooh Bear with the kind of centering friendships I've had to get through those tight places.

Wise One exhibits the signs of growing up while still clinging to boyhood amidst teen-aged brothers. His best friend, Peace, has flown off to high school and a whirl of school activity leaving Wise One to forge new relationships. He has three particular buddies he prefers. Wise One has made leaps and bounds in physical and mental development through occupational and visual therapy this year. Many "gaps" I'd been concerned about in learning are now filled in. Just to give you a glimpse into his sweet soul, Buck found five Bibles under his bed this summer. Wise One remains most interested in his incredible relationship with God.

Peace is loving his first year of public high school after seven years of homeschooling. Though he's learning organizational and study skills he'd never been challenged with before, he's doing well in every class. It is a college prep school, and I couldn't be more pleased with the high academic expectations. I'm busting with pride sometimes when Peace talks about standing up for the underdog or putting the g'nosh on trash talk around him. He works very hard on cross country team as well. It's something to juggle a sport and the everyday challenges of homework for the first time. Peace has finally hit the maturity marker of needing to make tough decisions of setting priorities, and he's making good choices.

Buck is hanging in there with the mighty strength of a man. He's been an amazing husband and father.

The whole "keeping a school schedule after seven years of my own time", has kicked my tail. Six a.m. comes all too early. I actually wake up in the night thinking about the support Peace needs for the coming day, "What's Peace going to need to ask from his teachers when he misses school for his meet Friday?" Homeschooling the other three children and needing a nap at 2:00 in the afternoon isn't quite working out the way I hoped. I've found myself in a hard place spiritually with all the activity of doing and not so much time for just being. How can this constant motion please God? Yet He made me a mother with many needs to continually meet. Any advice?

There it is- the Vyne family update.

My Aunt sent this video to me. I am probably NOT going to show it to my sons, so they won't get any ideas at dinner.

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Gas?

When I arrived in Atlanta this past weekend, Piper asked, "How full is your gas tank after your drive?"

"Fairly low. I didn't fill up before I came, and it's a long drive," I replied nonchalantly.

Little did I know that Atlantians must spend a good part of their days now in search of a fuel station which actually has very expensive petrol in its tanks to sell. Apparently the population of five million created far too much pollution and recently legislation kicked in which mandates a less lethal emissions from a cleaner mix of fuel. Piper's husband took his sweet little boys on a ride in my car on a crazy hunt for a station with product and stayed in a line for 1/2 an hour to fill my tank for me while Piper and I taught. God bless him! I passed at least 10 gas stations tooling around from training to Piper's and none were open either Friday or Saturday.

Here in the Greater Knoxville area, we had one or two days of a rush to the pumps which seemed like a fleeting blip on the big screen of life- the cause attributed to conversion to a new mixture of some kind including more ethanol. As a pretend farmer, I'm am bugged and honestly worried that a food source for humans and animals forms the wave of this present future.

My Atlanta weekend experience amounted to something far more eye opening. I heard more chat about alternate fuel sources in my two days further south than if I'd have struck up a conversation with Al Gore himself. I suppose this tactic of unavailability would change Americans gas guzzling habits quicker than a jack rabbit hopping from a hungry fox. And I don't have wiggle room to bash others about fuel consumption, because as I've said before- I live in heaven and drive everywhere else. The drive to my son's high school is 45 minutes one way. When I ponder moving back anywhere closer to the city though, I cringe and gasp for air at the thought. I'd have...neighbors. Gulp. And I'm the world's worst neighbor. My current neighbors, cows, don't mind my reclusive and introverted nature a bit.

Buck sent me this link concerning the gas crisis in Nashville, and it had me howling. It's rated R for language and might not make any sense unless you know a bit about Nashville.

Peter goes to Bollywood

My dear husband likes to surprise and delight me by giving me new music. He knows exactly what will make me happy and burns a cd. Today, Buck slid a new cd into my hands which we both were sure to begin a long new tunes love affair for me with Peter Gabriel's Big Blue Ball album.

A hundred years ago in 1986, I was asked to a Peter Gabriel concert by an unsavory character during the "So" tour. I liked Gabriel's sound and was curious about his presentation, so I was left with a dilemma of attending the event with someone I considered a sociopath. I conjured a plan B which included but was not limited to psyching myself up to leap out of a speeding car if necessary to brave the performance. I am so glad I did, because I will never be the same. The music and delivery moved me beyond words, so I cannot possibly do it justice with words. From the opening notes, an African band led a journey into an unfathomable array of musical and visual experiences twined together by an artist like no other, Gabriel. There were thousands in the audience, but I felt a complete immersion into the depth of the moment- forgive my sappiness here- as if Gabriel was singing just to me. I totally lost all sense that I had come with a companion. I remember hoping the guy wouldn't chat with me afterward, so I could linger in that space of contentment created during the concert. In a few short hours, I moved from liking Gabriel's stuff into a sincere fan, and I've stayed there all these years.

When I popped Big Blue Ball into my van's cd player this morning, the first song convinced me I had a delicious new love. The next few songs assured me my first impression was not all that accurate. It's much more of a World Music endeavor than songs delivered by Peter himself. I truly like cross cultural arrangements, but I was hoping for quality time with that raspy meaningful lyric only Gabriel can produce. I'll have to be somewhat satisfied with the few Gabriel gems planted among the Egyptian, African, Spanish, Hungarian collage of other artists.

I came up with my own alternate title. No, not Frankie goes to Hollywood- Peter goes to Bollywood. You might get me within listening the first four songs...