It was Daddy's idea...

The deep summer night had frosted the grass with jewels this morning, and I was slogging through the bed of diamonds back to the house instead of venturing from it.  Last night, Daddy proposed an impromptu campout in the back-field.  Short adventures of that kind get infectious responses on most occasions in our family.  Who can resist a good fire, fresh air, and a front row view of the sunset?  The boys and Daddy pitched and batted arcs over the field, (and sometimes over our heads and sometimes into the pig's paddock), with a baseball while we ladies cheered and commented from the fireside.  We made firebrands out of our marshmallow sticks and then roasted prodigious numbers of the fluffy sugar bombs into various stages of charcoal.  It was proposed we try the same method with a few leftover brats; so we added grease sparks to the night-light of our camp and burnt our fingers and tongues on the most delicious portions of meat I have ever tasted.  Crackling and charred on the outside, juicy-sweet on the inside.  Every topic of conversation around our campfire is broached with the happy assurance that we have all the time in the world to pursue it, unhurried by the demands of a schedule. Family jokes are laughed at without reserve, nobody worries about the state of their hair, we all wear the same scent (wood smoke and bug-spray), and no-one has to say anything to be a necessary presence in the assembly.  I didn't bother taking large numbers of pictures.  Once in a while these times are too sacred and precious for the excessive recording of things best painted on the memory alone.   Tucked into those loud swishy sleeping bags where every move is a waterfall or an express train, we admonish each-other about the coming hours and say good-night a thousand times in funny sleepy voices until someone forgets to reply in the twilight of wakefulness and we drop off to the roar of bullfrogs and the flickering of our dying fire.  God quiets my heart most often when I rest for these short moments of time in His countless blessings of the present common-place.  Contentment, I think, is not having things you want, but truly wanting those things which you have with a passion that makes the smallest gifts cause you to worship the Giver.  He calls it gratitude.

Happy Birthday Sam!

Mama

The Author
"I was in the company of a talented Christian lady when a friend said to her, "Why have you never written a book?"
"I am writing two," was the quiet reply. "Have been engaged on one for ten years, the other five."
"You surprise me," cried the friend, "what profound works they must be!"
"It doth not appear yet what they shall be," was her reply, "but when He makes up His jewels, my great ambition is to find them there."
"Your children?" I asked.
"Yes, my two children. They are my life work."

~Christian Age

So has our own noble mother loved her husband and children, making our lives her life work and her home a haven. Having adorned herself diligently with good works, she is most beautiful to us and shines brightly in her Father's world.

Her most cherished works are so precious as to be secret, yet so great that they cannot but bear fruit that bears evidence before the world.

Mama, from our earliest memories, has persevered diligently in caring for us, nourishing our bodies, but in doing so has not failed to fill our minds with good things, and our souls with better, training us to love her Savior and ours with all our beings. In her home, she has perpetuated the calling of our father, tirelessly working beside him.

In doing these things, our mother has truly lived a life most worthy of her calling, fulfilling the highest mission given to women, and so adorning the gospel of Jesus Christ.

We rise up and call her blessed.

A little Swedish heritage

Potatis Korv (Potato Bologna), Lussekatter (Saffron Rolls or St. Lucia Buns), and Bruna Bonor (Brown Beans) grace our dinner table, along with corn-pudding, sweet potatoes, cream peas, mashed potatoes, and ham!

The Night Before Christmas

Music is one of the things our family enjoys together...especially this time of year with all the unique and beautiful music.

This year, our trio was expanded to a quintet since Charlie joined us with his oboe and Ben with his violin.

Christmas is no longer a time to get things in our family.  But we can't bear not to give good things to each other, so we still open presents Christmas Eve.  None of us can wait for everyone else to open their gifts.  There have been secrets circulating through the house for weeks and the best part for me is the surprise on the receiver's face when they see the way you have worked to bless them. 

Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow

Bright and early Thanksgiving morning, the tables are prepared for the guests.

A work in progress nearly done!

Our dear girl preparing food in the kitchen.

One of the finished place settings.

The delicious brownie bites Aubrey made, dipped in chocolate and garnished with candy corn!

 Some of the cooks and dish-washers...there were more, but they escaped the camera.  :)

The menu was alarming to look at if you were attempting it alone, but together, the army of Lenz's and guests produced a prodigious feast.

Lively conversation flowed freely and I think that by the end of the day nearly everyone's face was ready to crack.

The small but formidable young man on the right was largely to blame for this.  Ryan, the youngest and most animated personage present, kept us all in stitches the greater part of the day. At one point, he tramped into the kitchen armed with gloves held on high and instructions from Aunt Debi to announce solemnly to his Mama, “I’m wedy to ‘ash dises.”

The men adjourned to the basement for the greater part of the prep time so as not to hinder in the delicate task of arranging the food so that it was both hot and on the table in good time.

The climax of Thanksgiving is that moment when the noise is hushed as the last dish safely lands in its place on the laden table.  The cooks sigh in relief as the last task is accomplished, and everyone sighs in expectation.  In this moment we freely come in humble gratitude before our Father in heaven to thank Him for inumerable blessings.

Farmer Boy by Laura Ingalls Wilder talks about Christmas, but the way she writes is applicable and unforgettable.  I always think of this whenever we come to Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner: “Almonzo bowed his head and shut his eyes tight while Father said the blessing. It was a long blessing because this was Christmas Day. But at last, Almonzo could open his eyes. He sat and silently looked at that table…He looked at the fat roast goose, the drumsticks sticking up, and the edges of dressing curling out…He looked at the big bowl of cranberry jelly, and at the fluffy mountain of mashed potatoes with melting butter trickling down it. He looked … at the golden baked squash, and the pale fried parsnips…He swallowed hard and tried not to look any more. He couldn’t help seeing the fried apples-‘n’onions, and the candied carrots. He couldn’t help gazing at the triangles of pie, waiting by his plate; the spicy pumpkin pie, the melting cream pie, the rich dark mince oozing from between the mince pie’s flaky crusts. He squeezed his hands together between his knees. He had to sit silent and wait, but he felt aching and hollow inside. All the grown-ups at the head of the table must be served first. … At last Almonzo’s plate was filled. The first taste made a pleasant feeling inside him, and it grew and grew, while he ate and ate…”

Of course Thanksgiving would be incomplete without target practice.  The men had our valley ringing with shots for about half an hour.

Thank you to everyone for a wonderful Thanksgiving!

I believe we can truly sing:

Praise God from whom all blessings flow

Praise Him all creatures here below

Praise Him above ye heavenly host

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Gost

AMEN

Garrison

Garrison - Fortified Stronghold

Garrison turned 17 last week!  His perception, motivation, organizational skills, careful and practical foresight and love for vaccuming and dusting are gifts from God the Lenz family simply couldn't do without.  Happy birthday Gar!

By the way...that is a real rich and delectable German Chocolate Cake with Coconut Pecan Icing that was hardly ready in time for the celebration...as is obvious by the way the warm icing is sliding down the sides of the cake.  Happily, it was delicious in spite of visual deficiencies.  :)

25 Years Ago Today!

On Sunday, we celebrated Mama and Daddy's 25th wedding anniversary at a lovely restaurant in St Paul called Forepaugh's.  The food was excellent and we had such pleansant ladies serving us. 

The restaurant is in a beautiful old mansion in St Paul, and the food was delightful, but it also has family history.  Grandma and Grandpa Rees (Mama's parents) celebrated their 25th anniversary at Forepaughs as well...even in the same room!

After eating, we revisited the place where God started our family!

In this small chapel Craig and Karen Lenz, our dear mother and father, covenanted together in marriage.

As their children, it was amazing to be in this historical place.  Mama and Daddy verbally remembered not only that day but all the following days. They said again and again that they marvel at what God has done in their lives.  We marveled together at the beauty and blessing God has showered on our family.

Daddy and Mama's trip to North Carolina

Mama and Daddy took a trip to beautiful North Carolina together to attend a marriage retreat. It was an early celebration of their twenty-fifth anniversary...Our beautiful Mama packing in the pickup. :)The conference, Our Marriages and the Marriages of our Sons and Daughters, was held in the home of the Scott Brown family. Mama and Daddy said it was wonderfully encouraging and inspired them.We were so happy that they could go! But we were even happier when they came back!

The Valley

This is not exactly "our" valley, but it is close to home and our valley opens into it. I see this view every morning when I take Charlie and Ben to work on the other side of the ridge. It takes my breath away every time I see it, no matter how often. I think that without even realizing it, when I recognize the familiar slopes and swells of this valley, I know I am coming home. Wherever I go, if a place resembles this, I have a moment of home-coming.
The best in this world cannot compare to heaven, but if the good things in it are "foretastes," heaven will be the first place we have never been where our souls will recognize beyond doubt that we have finally come Home.

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

~1 Corinthians 13:12