Mostly Wordless Wednesday ~ Still sharing photos from Spirit Week... Nadia's class for Storybook Day ~What was their theme?

The theme of their wall didn't match with their storybook day theme... just in case you were wondering.

Encountering Jesus ~ when parents fear men... ~

Some of the Pharisees said, “This man is not from God, for he does not keep the Sabbath.” 

But others asked, “How can a sinner perform such signs?” So they were divided. 

Then they turned again to the blind man, “What have you to say about him? It was your eyes he opened.” 

The man replied, “He is a prophet.”  

They still did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight until they sent for the man’s parents. “Is this your son?” they asked. “Is this the one you say was born blind? How is it that now he can see?”

“We know he is our son,” the parents answered, “and we know he was born blind. But how he can see now, or who opened his eyes, we don’t know. Ask him. He is of age; he will speak for himself.” His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jewish leaders, who already had decided that anyone who acknowledged that Jesus was the Messiah would be put out of the synagogue. That was why his parents said, “He is of age; ask him.”

Photo by my mother-in-law, Susan Wright

 As is pretty typical for the Pharisees, they've looked right past another miracle - too wrapped up in the fact that what Jesus was busy doing was what they thought he shouldn't be doing and as such, so totally did not fit into their box of what He should do. The Pharisees were every bit as blind as the blind man - only they were clueless. Sadly they thought their vision was 20/20. 

Why were they angry with Jesus?

In this case, He not only did work (i.e. healed a blind man) on the Sabbath, He also encouraged the blind man to go and wash (i.e. work) on the Sabbath. From their perspective, Jesus treated the law irreverently: violating the fourth commandment, trampling sacred tradition and leading another to do the same. 

Already convinced Jesus was a sinner and that He could not have come from God... the Pharisees were left trying to come up with a way to explain away this miraculous. Their problem? It couldn't be explained without accepting Jesus as the Son of God Almighty. And they were convinced that accepting THAT was blasphemy... a violation of the Shema and the first commandment

Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place.

They ask the blind man who healed him. He says "A prophet."

The Pharisees don't like that answer - after all, good prophets were good men and they did good things... they carried clear messages from God that invited... that demanded... a change on the part of those who heard the message. The Pharisees weren't too excited about change - at least not the sort of change Jesus was bringing. So they were back to explaining away the situation: the man wasn't really blind... this is all a ruse or a hoax... it just can't be true.

They send for the parents and try to get the scoop from them. The parents clearly identify the man as their son. They attest to the truth that he'd been born blind. They refuse to identify or testify at all concerning the One Who had opened the eyes of their boy. In my opinion, it seems pretty clear from the text that they knew. They were more afraid of what the Pharisees might do to them than they were convinced of choosing Jesus.

It is easy to point my finger at those parents and call them cowards.

Until? ...I start thinking through all of the times a fear of men has overcome my desire to do what is best for my children. Any time I parent for the eyes of those who just might be watching instead of in obedience to God and in the best interest of my child and our family... 

Well, I do the exact same thing. 

It doesn't come quite so readily or easily - pointing my finger at myself and naming myself coward.

Fear of men -

• like the time I let my boy have it because he commented (in a very public setting) about the extravagance of a gift given by a church;
• like the time I chose to follow cultural greeting tradition to not offend my visitor instead of checking on my girl when I knew I should and we ended up at the hospital;
• like the time I insisted on a certain educational path because it had worked so well with all the others and we ended up with tears and school fears that took years to subdue...
• like my continual temptation to treat my young adult living at home like younger siblings so that he lives up to my expectations (and keeps us looking like good parents) instead of praying, listening, counseling and giving him space to grow, fail and become his own man who just may have some ideas and plans that make me uncomfortable.

I could go on...

When parents fear men instead of following God, when parents fear God instead of trusting His plans - parents leave children vulnerable and just may exasperate them.

I leave MY children vulnerable and I just may exasperate them.

The KJV doesn't use the word exasperate... It says that parents (wrongfully, sinfully) can provoke their children to wrath. The word translated exasperate or provoke to wrath is this: 

parorgízō (from pará, "close-beside" and orgízō, "become angry" - properly, to rouse someone to anger; to provoke in a way that "really pushes someone's buttons," i.e. to "really get to them" in an "up-close-and-personal" way 

Something tells me: Our kids know when we are more concerned with others' opinions than with what's best for them. And they don't... won't... appreciate it.

We get too busy arranging our own work in their lives so they help us look good before men. In the process, we totally miss out on any opportunity to share of our own encounters with Jesus as we witness Him work, His good, His miracles, in our children's lives...  

this week's gratitude list

(#'s 4600 - 4626)

skyping with a dear friend who I really, really miss a lot

a wedding date

starting to dream and make plans about how we're gonna get to that wedding

lovely, cool weather on a Thursday

teens sleeping in

little girl tiptoeing into my room early in the morning

Mexican lasagna when the tortillas wouldn't roll

finally watching a movie I'd downloaded months ago

time to read

reading some really good books

listening to giggles and squeals as they play "Murder in the Dark" in the basement on a thunderstormy day

successful surgery for my daddy - liver cath removed and the last gall stone released

fleur de lys blowing by the front door

floors blooming

rhubarb compote and vanilla ice cream - totally delightful together

no makeup days

summer music lessons... and listening to them practice

studying again through 2 Samuel and remembering lessons my Nigerien friends taught me as we went through those chapters a few years back

filling our yellow cooler with icy cold water to drink throughout the day

looking forward to seeing Niagara Falls with the kiddos - some don't ever remember having been there before

sorting through old pictures and laughing and crying as a result

peeking downstairs to listen to girls giggle as they look through old scrapbooks and photo albums

sorting, sorting and packing, packing and decluttering, decluttering

talking with someone who just totally gets it

cleaning in the storage room in the basement - my family things I do that just for fun (maybe I do)

my daddy's in the hospital again - thankful they know the problem and now are working to determine the best course of action

friends who might be the only ones to encourage my father during a hard time like this

safety on the road

  Ten most recent posts in this series: 

• Confusion and Disagreement
• Wondering at Gracious Words
• Made to stand before...
• His Traumatic Love
• Believed isn't always the same as believing
• Why?
• Why? (Part 2)
• Divine Makeovers
• Muddy Spittle Grace

Click here for all of the titles and their corresponding links in the Encountering Jesus series.

Five Minute Friday ~ Release

M&M was my 8th K4 student.

I've had to be a bit careful of my attitude as I've watched those other mothers and fathers there for every field trip, every activity for their K4 kiddos.

I've not been - partly because I've been there, done that... several times. Partly because I had other obligations and things I needed to do with other kids that made it impossible. But the biggest "partly" had to do with the fact the M&M needed to gain some independence from me and not have me around for everything.

That didn't stop me from wondering, though, from time to time... and sometimes more times than not... what some of those other really involved-there-all-the-time mommies and daddies might have thought of me.

THIS... these pictures... was her last field trip of the year and was one of those ones that I did make.

I don't know that I genuinely think of these ordeals as fun, even under the best of circumstances - although I enjoy watching my little girlie run around and learn and interact with her friends and learn and then come running back to me to tell me what exciting thing she's discovered.

This trip was to a nearby children's museum. This piping display right next to the window was M&M's favorite exhibit. Mine, too... just because she enjoyed it so much.

Well... that's not entirely true. Because it is highly likely that I might have had just as much fun at this exhibit as she did.

The piping was some sort of a vacuum. M&M would pick up scarves and foam balls and put them in the tubes. Then she'd watch them be sucked through - literally flying along - and then they'd pop out to float or fling to the ground, where she'd either catch or gather off the floor to start the whole process over again.

At certain junctions in the piping, were levers that could be moved. That would change the pathway the scarves or balls would then take through the tubing as well as where they'd then pop out.

With each release, my littlest one stood there waiting, eyes up... wondering which pipe would then spew forth those items so she could run, try to catch, collect so she could do it all over again.

I'm not kidding you when I say she was fascinated. Like for 20 minutes fascinated. In a children's museum with lots of other things to potentially fascinate her. 

I was glad.

This whole scenario reminded me a bit of parenting.

There aren't any formulas... and I guess I no longer picture my husband and I as "launching" or "aiming and shooting" (as in the bow and arrow analogy) our kids as they're starting to grow up and move out and away and on to other things. Instead, it is feeling a lot more like M&M releasing those scarves into that vacuum... where then they are sucked away - almost violently.

We aren't exactly sure what paths they will take, whether they pop or fling or float - but as their parents, we can watch expectantly for when that happens - and then go from there...

Right?

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Linking up, a few days late, with Lisa-Jo for a Five Minute Friday write.

(adding all the photos too more than five minutes

Living the Expat Life

It feels normal and strange all at once – but that’s to be expected.

I have been back in my home country for nearly a year… Another year to go before we head back into the expat life and scene. The routines here are finally comfortably familiar, again! I’m still loving all the things I love about living in Michigan (changing seasons is a biggie) while the flirtatious heat of summer nostalgically hints and reminds me of the overwhelming heat of Niger (and so we refuse to run the AC) while the familiar tide of homesickness floods over me. But? I’m more adept at riding that wave now than even just a few short months ago. I remember how to get to, and more importantly get through, the store – actually handling shopping at a super Walmart without feeling too overwhelmed… as long as I go late at night… with a very specific list… and have a specific time I need to be finished by – like teenage daughter waiting at home for help with her Precalc or a sick preschooler waiting for children’s Tylenol (even though I had adult pills I could have cut and crushed like I did while overseas). I’m once again proficient at swiping credit cards and there’s no longer a temptation to try and bargain down prices for clothing or material. I’m desperately missing friends and loved ones, but that is always a part of life, no matter where I’m living.

And since things are feeling relatively comfortable, this introvert finally wrangled up the courage to try something new....

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To read the rest, please join me at a life overseas: the missions conversation, where I'm posting today and chime on in. Would love to hear your answers to the questions I ask at the end of the post... expat or not!

photo credit: Luke,Ma via photopin cc

“You don’t have to find out you’re dying to start living…” ~ Zach Sobiech

There are a probably as many ways to say goodbye as there are people actually bidding those farewells. It's an experience that is as universal as death. Death... the ultimate goodbye.

Fly a Little Higher, by Laura Sobiech chronicles the story of her son, Zach, and their family, after receiving the news that Zach has osteosarcoma. At first, hopes are high that Zach, with the help of his doctors and the support of his family and friends, will beat the disease. Cure rates tend to hover around 70%. But when the disease came back, first attacking his lungs and then spreading from his hip (the original site) to his pelvis, Zach and his family confronted the reality that in the remaining six to 12 months God had gifted them, they needed to live in the moment, for the moment, intentionally, doing things that really counted... particularly investing in people by using the talents God had given them to bring hope, courage and healing to others. And according to his mother, Zach really is the one who leads this crusade.

He is challenged by his mother to write letters, saying goodbye to those who love him... to those who he loved. Only instead of letters, Zach wrote songs. That's why our family knows about him. My kids and teens are among the millions who've listened to his most well-known song, Clouds. My children weren't saying goodbye to a dying friend - but when this song began making internet waves, it certainly spoke to their hearts as they were saying many permanent goodbyes to friends and precious people from our 15 years in W. Africa.

I thoroughly enjoyed this book, reading with laughter and through tears. Zach's girlfriend, Amy, intrigued me. She seemed to be a wonderful young woman who loved Zach with her whole heart, as painful and costly as it was. I hope and pray my own girls would demonstrate this same sort of faithful friendship, love and strength.

Zach's raw lyrics that capture the frustration, fear and and sad brokenness that overwhelms after receiving a terminal diagnosis; yet there's still a tender hopeful quality, a confidence of more to come exuding from the music itself that leaves the listener looking up and forward. 

Well I fell down, down, down

Into this dark and lonely hole

There was no one there to care about me anymore

And I needed a way to climb and grab a hold of the edge

You were sitting there holding a rope.

And we'll go up, up, up

But I'll fly a little higher

We'll go up in the clouds because the view is a little nicer

Up here my dear

It won't be long now, it won't be long now.

When I get back on land

Well I'll never get my chance

Be ready to live and it'll be ripped right out of my hands

Maybe someday we'll take a little ride

We'll go up, up, up and everything will be just fine.

And we'll go up, up, up

But I'll fly a little higher

We'll go up in the clouds because the view is a little nicer

Up here my dear.

It won't be long now, it won't be long now

If only I had a little bit more time

If only I had a little bit more time with you.

We could go up, up, up

And take that little ride

And sit there holding hands

And everything would be just right

And maybe someday I'll see you again

We'll float up in the clouds and we'll never see the end.

And we'll go up, up, up

But I'll fly a little higher

We'll go up in the clouds because the view is a little nicer

Up here my dear

It won't be long now, it won't be long now.

The song is certainly a beautiful legacy. 

The greater legacy, what is more remarkable, is how by dying well, Zach not only encouraged but taught so many to live today well.

This review was published as a part of Book Look Bloggers Review program. I received a free copy of this book in exchange for reviewing it. All opinions expressed are my own.

Encountering Jesus ~ muddy spittle grace ~

How then were your eyes opened?” they asked. 

He replied, “The man they call Jesus made some mud and put it on my eyes. He told me to go to Siloam and wash. So I went and washed, and then I could see.” 

“Where is this man?” they asked him. 

“I don’t know,” he said. 

They brought to the Pharisees the man who had been blind. Now the day on which Jesus had made the mud and opened the man’s eyes was a Sabbath. 

Therefore the Pharisees also asked him how he had received his sight. “He put mud on my eyes,” the man replied, “and I washed, and now I see.” 

Some of the Pharisees said, “This man is not from God, for he does not keep the Sabbath.” 

But others asked, “How can a sinner perform such signs?” So they were divided. 

Then they turned again to the blind man, “What have you to say about him? It was your eyes he opened.” 

The man replied, “He is a prophet.”

Some might find this funny, but it's true... 

I've experienced very intimately the miracle of birth eight times. 

Yet I'd never actually seen real live "birth" occur until recently. 

Finally observing (for a change), I lay on my tummy, watching into the wee hours of the morning - literally, staring at eggs in an incubator, mesmerized the entire time. Pretty amazing to watch a little turkey chick finally break free from the shell and stretch free all the while blinking madly in the light and suddenly silent from the mad chirping of just a moment before.

I kinda wonder if the blind guy in this story felt at all the same. 

He'd experienced a miracle, quite intimately. After all, he could now see! Yet he didn't really see that miracle happen. People, and then later the Pharisees, were wanting details - some of which he couldn't give precisely because he was the one who'd received the miracle. His comments include "the man they call Jesus" - he can't even give a specific to the "they" here. It seems like he just heard people using Jesus' name. 

And I kinda wonder if he really hoped in faith that his eyes would be opened as he stumbled... or was led... to the pool. After all, if someone had just mixed spit and mud and plastered it on my eyes, I'd be heading for someplace to wash as quick as I could get there. After he washed, then he could see... then his blind faith or his desperate "obedience" to rid himself of the "yuck" was rewarded. 

He's given no name in this story. This isn't the first time such a thing happened - I seem to recall the same being true with other miracles Jesus performed. He's simply known as "the man born blind" or later, "the man who had been blind." But Jesus, knowing just what it would take so spur this man to obedience and/or to a tiny hope - a flint-scrape sort of spark of faith - gave him just that.

There's something else I see in these verses. When the Pharisees, totally blinded to the beauty of the miraculous by the fact that all of this took place on the Sabbath, asked him what happened, the man replies: "He put mud on my eyes and I washed, and now I see." 

Can you see the parallel to the saving work of Jesus?

First, He helps us to "see" that our blindness is due to sin - filth, due to mud and spittle caked over those instruments we rely on to perceive this world. When we truly recognize the filth of our sinfulness, we immediately want to wash it off. Once we do, then we see.

Muddy spittle caked on unseeing eyes prompting a rush for water to wash.

That's grace. Saving grace. Wonderful grace. Unbelievable grace. Infinite and matchless grace.

this week's gratitude list

(#'s 4579 - 4599)

grace that doesn't look like grace

seeing baby turkeys growing strong and healthy

middle schoolers performing "The Little Mermaid"

little girls watching and enjoying watching those middle schoolers performing

mocha frappé, strawberry shake and oreo cookie blizzard to celebrate the occasion

great week in Chicago for our big girls

making lots of beds, setting up lots of place settings, washing lots of dishes and meeting lots of new people

henna-ed arms

working at an animal rehabilitation center with my two oldest

taking the family to see "How to Train Your Dragon 2"...

...meeting friends at the movie theater...

...and thoroughly enjoying both our friends and the movie

munching on popcorn

listening to the basketball pounding the pavement as girls work on the drills for camp

a new-to-me song that I just love

visiting a new church last weekend - and enjoying catching up with some folks I've not seen in a very, very long time

loving finding things in common where I didn't think there really were

thunderstormy morning

finding a recipe for rhubarb compote

daredevil mini-bike rider

enjoying summer and Farmers' Markets

  Ten most recent posts in this series: 

• Whisperers
• Confusion and Disagreement
• Wondering at Gracious Words
• Made to stand before...
• His Traumatic Love
• Believed isn't always the same as believing
• Why?
• Why? (Part 2)
• Divine Makeovers

Click here for all of the titles and their corresponding links in the Encountering Jesus series.

"God has given each one of us a little chunk of eternity called time."

I find that quote to be a powerful one - a reminder that life, each moment, is a gift from God. Some are gifted larger chunks of eternity; others aren't so large. But each one is responsible to steward whatever size chunk he or she has been given. To steward well, one must be focused... intentional... and not distracted by things that can easily render useless... things like refusing to forgive and hanging on to bitterness.

Easter break was over and I was driving my oldest to the Detroit airport to catch his flight back to Harrisburg PA and Messiah College, where he had three-ish weeks of school and finals left before coming home (Yes!!! That thought still makes my heart glad even though it is now a done deal!). After leaving him at the airport and starting the drive home, I was looking for any distraction on the radio so that the tears wouldn't start. (I usually manage to hold it together until after he's out of sight and I have to start the leaving to go back to the rest of my Wrightlings.) So I started listening to an interview with a woman named Kathy Sanders... and then when I got home, I ordered her book.

Here story is a compelling one. On April 19th, the Murrah Federal Building was bombed. She was at work about a block away and immediately ran to the scene because her two grandsons were in the daycare facility housed in that building. Joined by her daughter (the boys' mother), they searched for the two toddlers - to eventually discover that both had been killed as a result of the blast.

Now You See Me is Kathy Sanders' story. This event totally and completely devastated her and her family; this book details her journey to a point of healing - acceptance, finally being able to continue on and celebrate her present gift of life as well as the brief moments she had with her grandsons. This book tells how God empowered her, by His grace, to forgive the unforgivable. As she went to great lengths to try and understand why this crime was committed, she chose to rub shoulders with those responsible for this crime - and in doing so, God truly opened her heart to see them as real people with real stories now living horrific consequences. Perhaps most astonishing was how she befriended Terry Nichols' family... and eventually Terry Nichols himself.

She never learned exactly what she wanted to learn - and is convinced that there has been a cover-up by the government; she no longer, however, lives under the shadow of a desperate need for answers, choosing to trust God and to love others, even those most would consider enemies.

While, at times, the tone of the book becomes overbearing and redundant - the powerful grace of God working in and through this woman is continuously present - convicting and challenging, exhorting as well as encouraging readers to thoroughly examine their lives to determine if there are any seeds of anger, bitterness, jealousy... that need to be brought before the throne of God.

And so I do recommend this book.

Leave me a comment - if you are interested in receiving my copy. I'd be delighted to pass it along! 

photo credit: bcfought via photopin cc

Five Minute Friday ~ Messenger

I've mentioned before that my father-in-law loves sailing.

The man built, over the course of a couple of decades, his own wooden sailboat. Quite the accomplishment!  (And if, after I finish writing this post, I can find a few pics of my hubby and kids sailing on that boat with their grandfather, I'm gonna scan and add them here.)

When I married into this family, I knew nothing about sailing... had no desire to try sailing... was only vaguely clued in to the fact that people still actually sailed using sails instead of engines and motors and automatic stuff.

Since then, I've learned a few bits and pieces... and have definitely paid more attention when I've stumbled across nautical terms... because of this.

One interesting piece was that "messenger" is also a nautical term. 

If you'd asked a sailor back in the early 1800's, "What is a messenger," he would have said something like: "a small kind of cable, which being brought to the capstain and the cable by which the ship rides made fast to it, it purchases the anchor." That's the old-fashioned way of saying that a messenger is actually a small line that is used to help pull up a heavier line or cable, like the thick, weighty metal cord typically used to hold an anchor. The messenger line tends to be easier to throw, more readily threaded through holes... in general, this line is more conveniently and efficiently manipulated to accomplish tasks necessary for securing, releasing and otherwise controlling the boat.

I guess you could think of the messenger as a potentially delicate (but not less important) connection between the captain and the anchor... that thing that holds fast, keeping the boat from drifting away or maintaining stability when the winds and waves batter it.

A contemporary of Robert Lewis Stevenson (I actually read somewhere that Stevenson modeled his character of Long John Silver on this man), William Henley wrote a famous poem - I'm sure that even if you don't recognize the entire poem, you'll recall having heard someone, somewhere, quote the last few lines. In some senses, they are the epitome of the American dream and spirit: 

Out of the night that covers me,

    Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

    For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

    I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

    My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

    Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

    Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

    How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

    I am the captain of my soul.***

Those are words that sound so courageous, bold, inspiring... but yet without a messenger line anchoring the captain in his boat to a secure anchor, he really is at the mercy of whatever may come... wherever the tides pull, however the winds buffet... pointless and without consistent direction.

And that thought has me thinking today about what serves as my messenger line in life, safely leashing me to God Almighty... His Word, my church (and pastor), my husband, my children, good friends... come to mind immediately.

How about you? What tethers you, today, to the Lord?

photo credit: Franck Vervial via photopin cc

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Linking up with Lisa-Jo for another Five Minute Friday... and this one was fun to write. Loved having a "different" sort of word for today's writing prompt!

{*** indicates where I was when my five minutes had expired. :-) I kept on going!}

Recently read a bible study on Hebrews, called Enduring Faith ~

This is one I've been waiting to read for a long time.

The author is a long time friend - in fact she's been like a big sister to me ever since my college years at Penn State.

I can't remember the first time exactly we spoke or corresponded about the idea of writing a Bible study on the book of Hebrews, but I've known she wanted to write this and that she has been working on it amid the busyness of life, for quite a time.

Thus, as soon as I saw Nivine's request for proofreaders, I signed up.

This Bible study, Enduring Faith, doesn't disappoint.

Based on my memory of our conversations, she was frustrated with Bible studies that never provoked readers to genuinely, deeply interact with the Biblical text. Therefore, her goal was to write a study 

• that challenged and helped readers dig into the "meat" of Scripture - consistently - yet do so without becoming burdensome;
• that encouraged thinking through challenging and sometimes confrontational questions;
• that required prayerful consideration of God's Word... its relevance not just today but for each day to come; and
• that promoted meaningful and real application of those relevant truths in lives.

It doesn't surprise me that Nivine would write such a study. I've seen her live this. 

She saw a younger sister struggling very unsuccessfully to live as a Jesus follower in the secular paganism and party-ism of a university environment. She gently but unabashedly confronted the hypocrisy between that girl's life and words, challenged her with God's Word to walk differently... and then faithfully and graciously encouraged her to begin again... resubmitting my life to God. And yeah, in case you hadn't figured it out, I was that girl. The Lord used her in the past to remind me that "...even if *our* faith fails, He remains true--He cannot prove false to Himself." (2 Timothy 2.13, WNT)

Today, her book, Enduring Faith, is released. And just as she succeeded in challenging me and helping me to change years ago, I think she has succeeded in achieving all of the above with this study.

One of the things I enjoyed most about this study was a continual focus on the fact that regardless of what this world throws at me, when I see Jesus for Who He is and all of the amazing, miraculous that He accomplished, I can trust Him. Seeing Him, keeping my eyes on Him and all that means empowers a faith that endures.

I'm not one of those folks who reads and rereads books - except for a select few. This book has qualified for that exclusive group: I'm already looking forward to diving back into this study and digging deep later this summer. 

Look carefully ~ Nivine was a part of our wedding party.
So thankful for her friendship then - even more so now!

Disclaimer - Nivine has asked for people to review her book. That is not, however, why I'm writing... I've been hoping to write this post for a few years now... and I had already written this up, prior to receiving her request. I did receive a copy of the book to proof read.

Five Minute Friday ~ Hands

When I first saw the topic for this FMF, I never, in a million years, dreamed I'd be writing this...

But?... It looks like we're becoming parents, again... 

...to quintuplet of wild turkeys.

There's clearly a back story to this.

A few weeks back, the Saturday of Mother's Day weekend, Tim came walking into the house asking me how we could rig a makeshift incubator. I'm not sure why he thought that might be one of my areas of expertise... I'm not sure I want to know, but that's beside the point.

Earlier that week, one of our kiddos had discovered a mama wild turkey building a nest just back into the treeline behind our house, and since Tim was scheming wild turkey hunts for the Michigan season, all of the bigger girlies were keeping an eye on the nest. I'm wondering if they didn't quite trust their daddy - he was pretty excited about the idea of turkey hunting for the first time in his life.

Then he showed up that Saturday morning, cradling gingerly in his T-shirt a small clutch of five remaining turkey eggs. When he'd checked on the nest that morning, he found a "crime" scene. Feathers scattered everywhere, a few eggs broken and trampled. Only the five he held in his shirt remained. We have a sneaking suspicion that the neighbor's dog who seems to have adopted our family might have been the guilty party. Since the everyone really likes this "wolf dog," they chose not to think about that possibility for any real length of time.

Needless to say, our longing-for-pets-slash-menagerie-sick children were delighted with their daddy's new project.

Tim rounded up an incubator from some friends and now our brood has been waiting, even brooding at times since it seemed to be taking FOREVER, wondering if their dad had rescued those eggs in time or if they'd sat too long in the cold.

We've got our answer.

It is amazing the delight and hope inspired by the sight of many sets of young hands gently cradling, holding brand new life...

...and we wait, 

just a bit breathlessly for the other four to finish their hatching.

 

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Linking up with Lisa-Jo for another Five Minute Friday.

You really should join us.

It's fun!