Applause Applause

I love Facebook, if only for the opportunity to catch little snippets of people's lives.

One of my own recent status entries noted:  Andy is practicing his Christmas program songs for me this morning, and says, "MOM! We are going to sing this in front of the WHOLE school!" And he thinks about that a minute and adds, "When people clap for me, I just have to smile."

Oh, what a feeling to be applauded!

Well, that innocent sentiment stayed with me all day, and I've since thought about it several times afterward. 

I had so much anticipation the night of the program, not just for the 8th grade presentation of the Nativity, or the singing of traditional Christmas songs, or the big Flashlight Finale of "Silent Night", or even laying bets on the expected Fainter/Puker count.   

What  I really wanted was to see that smile.

When it was their turn, the little first graders entered the church, lined up in single file, hands set prayerfully in front of them.  They approached the risers, and on cue, set their hands at their sides.  The spotlight popped on, and their faces literally lit up.

During the entire first song, it looked to me like Andy was going to bust.  Kel leaned over and whispered, "He's gonna bust!"

He looked so purely and entirely HAPPY.  Down to his toes. 

Enthusiastic first graders really don't need microphones.  Like his classmates, he sang his heart out: "Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer" and "O Little Town of Bethlehem".  Despite his concerns, he remembered all the words.

I know in my head that a Christmas program is really supposed to direct our attention to the birth of a Savior.  But my heart swelled because these children are given the opportunity to shine, to have their efforts appreciated, to be applauded. 

And then, even though the singers were supposed to be looking at the director, Andy quickly stole a glance at his mom and dad.

I caught it... that blurred but memorable image of a happy happy child.

And I thought,

surely this is part of what God had in mind

when He sent His Son.

Ghost Writers

Hi.  I'm Brownie.  I'm great at creating and baking and, according to Kelly, leaving messes in the kitchen.

I dropped in with Charlie at the Krenz house about a week ago, and boy have we been having fun.  Monday night we left 24 candy canes hidden all over the house.  After the big kids left for school, Rosie and Finan found most of them, and that was their breakfast.  I wouldn't mind the sticky hands as much as Kelly does.  She's a little fussy like that.

Being a handy toymaker, Charlie is really good at technology stuff too.  He can work a GPS, any Wii game, or a computer printer/scanner/copier...like this Epson right here with the blinking green light: 

Boy, do we love this family. 

We love Brennan because he is so sincere and has lots of integrity.  We miss him when he is not around.  We love Camden because he is such a hard worker and he STILL always makes time to play.  He is such a generous person too.  We love Ally because she is so determined and focused, and she is always willing to whip up a batch of chocolate chip cookies or take us to McDonald's for sundaes.  We love Kieran because she sings us to sleep every night and she has taught us so many Broadway tunes we have never heard of before.  And boy, is she brave to perform like she does.  We love Maddie because she is so loving and so light-hearted and makes us laugh when she sings with her mouth closed or does splits on the living room wall.  Oh, she's a great leader too.  We love Merryn because she is such a terrific helper in the kitchen, and she will read us any story at any time.  She also plays Christmas music on the piano which we absolutely love.  We love Andy because he has the cutest dimpled smile and is so playful!  What a friend!  He is so good especially at setting up forts and towers.  He is also getting to be such a good reader and speller!  We love Finan because, well, there's no word for Finan except to say he is such a people-connector.  And when anyone visits it's an instant celebration and reason to party, and he just loves to serve others.  And we love Rosie because she is so sassy and she lights up the room with her big smile and sparkly eyes.

And, even though they think we are just here for the kids, we love Kel and Kelly.  We know how hard they work, and the big responsibilities they have, and, well, sometimes they just forget what the point of all this is... that the reason they have such a wonderful family is because LOVE and JOY are at the center of it. 

And we know where THAT comes from.

Hey, this has been fun!

I think I might be a real life writer if I click on this button labeled "Publish Post". 

I've always wanted to write something worth reading.

We Wait

Advent is a season of waiting.  What have you been waiting for?

Elf Updates? 
In the last few days, our elves have played Apples to Apples with stuffed animals, drew winter scenes on the TV using a brand new Wii Drawing Tablet (thanks Grammy!!!), and created an intricate zip line out of blue yarn in our kitchen.  It looked like a James Bond red laser security system. Impressive! 

Or maybe you have been waiting for snow plows? 
In the interim, a weather system brought blizzard conditions, closing area schools and making Route 66 virtually impassable.  High winds contributed to the zero visibility in the country.  Luckily, there were 5 gallons of milk in the fridge, and a new Wii Drawing tablet to occupy the kids.

I've been waiting too.
I'm sitting in a hospital anticipating news about my dad.  He's in an operating room, and has been for the last four hours.  We might be waiting six more.  And then there will be the wait at ICU for several days,  And the extensive recovery afterward.  A long haul.

I don't know where I'm going with this.

So I'll wait.

Home Movies

We've embraced the streaming technology of Netflix... movies not only delivered in two days to your front door, but also brought immediately to your TV via your computer and wireless router.

Kel signed us up for the free month trial, because we both wanted to watch Pillars of the Earth, the epic story by Ken Follet put on glorious film.  The novel itself is about 1000 pages (I read it, Kel listened to it on his Ipod), and even though I met the characters a few years ago, I STILL think about them, the amazing work they did, and the lives they led.  Now, that's a good book.

Each night, we would get the kids in bed, settle into the recliners in our Commons, and allow ourselves to be transported into another space and time.  It took about two weeks, but we watched the 8 episodes and loved every minute.  For people who rarely make time to watch television (not to mention falling asleep during the middle of it), this too was epic.

And with the approaching Christmas break around the corner, I'm actually looking forward to sitting down at the movies, often, in my own home.

Now, to find that remote again...

Just Because

It took a minute to realize what had transpired.

Our elves skewered snowman shaped marshmallows on sticks last night, and roasted them over an open flame.... of a candy cane candle.

Hershey miniature bar wrappers, tossed willy-nilly amongst graham cracker squares, made it crystal clear:  They made s'mores.

S'mores?  On a Thursday?
Yum.

I would never think to do that. 

I think to unload the dishwasher, check homework, return phone calls.  Those things have to get done.

But I appreciate how these elves operate... grabbing little delightful opportunities when they present themselves. It sure makes for joyful kids.

I bet it would make for a joyful mom.

Falling Temps

Our elves could not be located ANYWHERE this morning.  They've gone missing before, and turned up in some of the oddest places.  So, Andy looked in Christmas trees, on ceiling fans, and in refrigerator freezers.  No elves. 

Recalling that one of their adventures last year involved take-out pizza, he ran to the window.  Now, mind you, the average temperature this week has been about 4 degrees, but despite the cold, Andy ran outside... in socks and pajamas. 

There on our deck, seemingly frozen in time, were Brownie and Charlie in the midst of an ice skating party.  They had been drinking pop and hot chocolate (now also frozen in time). 

"And Mom!" exclaimed Andy, "They had the FAKE Santa with them too!!!"

Such resourceful little elves... and full of bright ideas.

Inspired, Andy is geared up to pull out the lumber and rebuild our own ice rink. 
Coincidentally, so is his dad.

I'm stocking up on hot chocolate.

Dentistry Elves

It's hard to get things completed around here at times, and plenty to distract me. 

There's a section of my kitchen countertop that regularly has a stack of papers and mail and notes that, well, just rotates papers and mail and notes. My computer desk is the same.

We had our Christmas decorations hauled out of the attic storage taunting the kids for a whole week before a tote got cracked open.  The main floor is pretty much done now, but the pint sized "kids' tree" has remained bare and lightless upstairs in our common room. 

Until last night.

Our little elves apparently made their FIRST act of mischief one of helpfulness too, covering that little tree with pretty colored lights, and.... toothbrushes??????  Perhaps the sheer quantity in this house was enough to inspire them. 

I'm just glad they didn't raid the underwear drawer.



Advent Lesson:  Who knows?  Maybe this is a reference to their friend Hermey of the Rudolf story who, despite ridicule, really really wanted to be a dentist...  "Embrace your gifts and talents." 

Or, maybe it was just for fun!

They're Baaaaaack!

We're big on traditions around here.  They help ground our family and give us shared experiences.

During the Christmas holidays, we traditionally make egg nog before we decorate the tree, read from a little Advent book each night at dinner, and share a blessing cup at prayer on Sundays when there is a new candle to light.

Some of these traditions, however, are thrust upon us, like the elves who arrive with St. Nicholas sometime in the wee hours of December 6th.

For years St. Nick has filled our shoes left under the tree with little trinkets and gold (chocolate filled) coins.  Legend says he tossed gold coins in a window to help a poor family offer marriage dowries for their three daughters, and these coins fell in stockings by the mantle.

We talk about how Nicholas, because of his love of Christ, worked tirelessly to help the needy, and how his story reminds us that we are called to follow his example of charity and generosity.

But a few years back, two little elves named Brownie and Charlie showed up with him, and they stay all season.  Supposedly their job is to report in to Santa about Krenz Kid Conduct in the weeks leading up to Christmas.  No one, after all, wants her name recorded on a Naughty List.

However, we've never really operated like this.  So, our little elves instead help us focus our attention on The Reason For The Season.  And, considering the crazy, stress-filled days of December, it's usually the parents who need the most reminding. 

Maybe that's why, on their arrival last night, the midnight guests also left us a copy of  Jim Carrey's The Grinch.  We all need the chance for a little redemption, and we need to work on a heart that has the potential to grow at least three times its original size. 

I'm expecting we are going to have a whole lot of fun along the way this Holiday season, and make some decent sized memories along with it.

Stay tuned.

God's Handiwork

I'm regularly given pause by watching the people my kids are becoming, and humbled by the clear fact that I have little to do with it.

Oh, I'll have to be accountable for their lack of manners, disrespect for others, and general selfishness, for what lazy parent should get a free pass for producing such societal menaces?

No, what I'm talking about is the stuff that makes them absolutely shine.  The stuff IN them that I didn't put there.  The stuff that makes me sit back and say, "Wow.  What a gift!"

Last night I left Maddie hard at work drawing an Indian Chief for a school bulletin board.  She checked out various images on the computer for inspiration, asked to borrow large white cardstock, sharpened some pencils, and consulted shading techniques with her sister.  This morning, I was overjoyed to find this drawing on the kitchen table.

I honestly didn't know she could do this.

And it is truly beautiful.

It's an answered prayer, really.  Like so many other conscientious parents with limited time and limited funds, we can't expose our kids to the myraid of lessons and workshops and camps and various kinds of enrichment that would help our children develop their God-given talents, let alone just explore what those talents might be.

Yes, they do get some exposure, but in a small rural town and as one of nine children, how do you know you're good at the cello?  Can perform an arabesque or stand en pointe at the barre?  Have a gift for comprehending aerodynamics?  Or be able to throw clay on a wheel and create beautiful pottery?  (We can't do any of this... but who knows?  Someone still might.).    Still, I could go crazy numbering all the ways I potentially fail my kids, and not helping them develop their gifts is one of them.  Even worse, I worry about a child who would question the value of his own God-given worth, created for a purpose, and here for a reason.

So, one of my frequent prayers (usually out of desperation, or when I'm particularly overwhelmed) is that God please show these children what their gifts and talents are and to provide the people and means along the way to teach them how to use these gifts well... be it drawing, or singing, or hurdling, or loving.

Afterall, they are His handiwork, not mine.  And I just marvel at what He has made.

We are the clay, and you the potter; we are the work of your hands. (Isaiah 64:8)

Tumbling Treasures

We live in an old home, so I'm accustomed to stuff not being perfect.  There are cracks in the plaster walls, gouges in the oak floors, and BB gun pellet dings on the living room ceiling.  (Teenage sons of the previous owners... NOT OURS). 

We also live in an old community.  Our current library building was actually an old Congregational church, donated to the city for this public purpose in 1912.  The charm of our turn-of-the-century pharmacy includes its worn wood floors, painted tin ceiling, custom cabinetry and medicinal labeled porcelain knobs (not to mention the charm of friendly pharmacists who work there!).  The building that houses our current grade school was built in 1877.  There's some history in those halls.

I'm surrounded by old, worn stuff, and it's not uncomfortable.

But things got a little exciting a few months ago when the back of one of the downtown buildings literally slid off.

Thankfully, no one was injured.  However, the site was quite impressive, and the kids and I would regularly drive by to see what else was hanging out of the exposed end. 

To our joy, the city has finally contracted the details of demolishing this property and work started on it this week. 

From the safety of our big white van, we got to gawk at two brave men (one is shown in this picture) who withstood the windy heights to knock out sections, brick by brick.  When larger chunks tumbled out of the air and crashed to the protected sidewalk below, you could hear the whoops and cheers eminating from my van.  The dust didn't settle, and neither did the Five-and-Under crowd.

The children were excited, but I was also a little sad.  This building is much older than three of me, and now it will be gone forever. 

The arches above the windows, the detailed stone carvings, the cornice at the very top.... all this "character", gone.  And I couldn't help but wonder about the personal history of the people who utilized this building over the years, those who worked in it, those who lived in it, and the generations since who have ridden their bikes in front of it. 

In a few short weeks, the resulting big empty lot will look awkward.  Rosie, Finan, even Andy and Merryn may never remember what the downtown looked like before the gaping hole, but I will. 

And, I realize I've just joined the ranks of those who "Remember when..."

Jumping In

Yooohoo.  Anybody home?

Yes.  We're here... even since the end of July.  But I can't remember last week, let alone last July, so, I'm jumping in where we are.

And that happens to be up to our ears with school.

And a certain 4th grader needing help with her science homework... "single cell orgasms" (Her father, who is also helping to correct her pronunciation, adds "If only it were that easy.").

And a first grader who drew a picture full of people, and who STILL didn't have enough classtime to complete the assignment of  drawing "My Family".  I wonder how many times he had to ask permission to sharpen his pencil.  (He is the 7th Krenz for this wonderful teacher... she could accurately draw the family portrait for us).

And two giddy high schoolers scavaging archaic clothing.  It's Homecoming week, and they needed to dress in the '80s.  Torn, off the shoulder sweatshirt, fingerless leather glove, pearls, white tennies with hot pink laces, shoulder pads, tunic length sweaters, leg warmers, Big Hair...  RELAX; this was not from MY closet!  (They would not have thought this was so funny if it were from my closet).  Thank you, dear youthful Charlotte, for opening yours.

When I was wearing shoulder pads back in the day, I couldn't fathom a future with nine children, all of them ours.  I bopped along between classes listening to my cassette player.  I was as clueless as a single cell orgasm.

Still am.  Sometimes.

Getting There

Note: Text by Kelly. Parenthetical notations by Kel.


Saturday’s eight hours in a car were chopped up by a few potty breaks and a whirlwind run through Walmart where we spent forty bucks on lunch fixin’s and a frisbee too. (We almost lost Finan. That’s why we don’t stop very much… it increases our risk of loss). We had plenty of food for snacks and another lunch today. I think the Food Network should run a Challenge show for deli chefs who can assemble meals for eleven in vans driving through department store parking lots. I’d be a contender for the $10,000 oversized check. Even if I won I think we would still assemble lunch from a grocery store. (No, we would go through a Wendy’s drive thru.)

We were happy to arrive at our little Ramada last night. (It was a dump.) It wasn’t bad, except for the lack of adequate air conditioning. Considering that we have NONE at home, we kept complaints to a minimum and put the big kids in the “cooler room”. (Don’t forget to mention the lack of windows, lack of towels, lack of ice machines, lack of hotel personnel, lack of wi-fi, lack of omelets and pancakes and bacon and sausage and waffles and good coffee. Shoot! Even lack of Twinkies.) It was just for one night, and the pool was nice and cool. Unfortunately, I did step on a “not quite so dead yet” wasp who managed to stick his stinger in the bottom of my foot. (That would not have happened at a Marriot).

I would also like to add how difficult it is to settle children for the night in an unfamiliar place. (Add to the hotel list: PARENTAL LACK OF SLEEP). They are fascinated by every switch, button, cord… and the close proximity of two bouncy double beds. We spent several hours attempting the impossible, and I finally suggested turning on the National Weather Service broadcast on the tv. Think emergency weather radio with radar maps. Both have the same sonorous voice that warns you of clear skies and flash floods in emotionless monotone. (Hey! I like the weather channel!)

Kel, exhausted from the day’s drive and relaying the incessant countdown to “When are we gonna be there???”, was clearly getting frustrated (This was Hell), but eventually the children fell asleep. And then he was compelled to take this picture of them. “Aren’t they so cute?”, he said. (I did.)

I’ll skip the breakfast selections (Yes, we should have) and add that we actually made it to Mass on time! (The truth is we had help… we gained an hour in Ohio’s eastern time zone, and who wants to linger over wheat bread?). The children were so interested in this centuries old German parish called St. Nicholas Catholic Church. The Italian Renaissance architecture supported a beautiful Florentine dome and stunning stained glass windows. (That’s what the pamphlet said). Merryn pointed out that one of the largest windows was of The Visitation, depicting Mary visiting her cousin Elizabeth. “That’s your name!” I told her.

So here is Merryn Elizabeth in front of her stained glass window.

The next blog will number the times Finan has exclaimed “Awesome!” and “WOOOOO-HOOOOO” during mountain tunnels, steep grades, runaway truck ramps, and bridge overlooks. (As well as Andy’s “I gotta go pee!!! breaks).

Vacation Adventures

So who was I kidding when I thought I would write something “cheerful” everyday?

(Not that I couldn’t…there has been plenty of cheerfulness around here, as well as a few great stories. But with baseball and softball and play practice, leadership camps, tumbling nationals, and, For Pete’s Sake, NINE kids, who has the time?)

I’ll just jump in, instead, where I am…. which is at mile marker 138 on Interstate 70 heading into Zanesville, Ohio. This is not a final destination but the interim spot. And Finan is, (and I quote), “so so SO excited Dad!!” (The kid can’t wait to get out of a seat belted booster and into a swim suit!)

We are on a family vacation, short one child but long on a girlfriend… and we hope she still likes us after this adventure. After all, this is a lot of “togetherness” going on, with our overstuffed duffel bags and economized eating plans.

But there are plenty of laughs to go around, and I’m glad we’re sharing it.

In fact, we were sharing what we have to look forward to when Finan made his interjection about swimming soon. Merryn is keeping track of the state capitols we see. Andy is itching to spend the $10 he received from kindergarten graduation. And Ally can’t WAIT for …. Mountains? Museums? Metropolitan sites? No, Ally can’t wait for the hotel breakfast tomorrow morning.  “I love hotel breakfasts!” she says, with her salivary glands visibly overworking.

“Well,” I say, “I sure hope it’s nothing like your continental breakfast at that Daytona Beach hotel!”

Kel can’t contain his laugh. “Who would ever think to serve coffee and Twinkies and call it breakfast?”

I wasn't surprised to hear there were no complaints from the Krenz girls who had joined him. Their only concern was making sure they weren’t stealing Twinkies on display for hotel guests.

Personally, I’m hoping for omelets tomorrow. It may be my last warm meal for a week!

(Stay tuned for more Vacation Adventures… permitting Wi-Fi access).  Oh, this little bitty notebook computer could be a lot of fun!

Revolving Doors

It was brief, but they're gone again.  A bunch of them.

One to Champaign, and several to Springfield, IL...

Kel is getting Maddie downstate to the USTA  National Tumbling Championships, in which she qualified to compete in both trampoline and double-mini. 

She's been to Des Moines, Amarillo, Daytona, and other exciting places.

And for the first time, EVER, the venue is close enough for her mom to see it.

I can't wait!

Have confidence, Maddie, and just do your best.

Welcome In!

We try hard to make our home a welcoming place to all who enter it. 

There's a lot wrong with it (unfinished crown moulding, feet that find their way through the floor into the ceiling below, clutter, dust, limited bed space),  but what IS right with it, the people, is exceptional.

And since my family has finally returned from being spread far and wide, the shoe pile is humongous again, the fridge door is constantly open, and the barrage of requests has resumed.  I'm far from "company ready". But I'm trying to maintain the perspective that it's about relationships, not piles.

That's why, when a friend of Ally's asked to spend the night here (Ally: "Really?  You want to spend time HERE?"), the girl responded with an exhuberant "YES!" because she just anticipated it must be a blast here, all the time.  Regular circus.

Well, She's Brave.

And I thought she was even fearless when she walked in here with a carrier holding a baby raccoon. 

SHE BARELY GOT THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR.

The squeals and giggles were many.  The kids were awed by the cooing "Drew" made when they lightly stroked his back.  They all took turns trying to feed the poor thing who was clearly not hungry, but who attempted to comply just to entertain us.  The kids sat in a circle and covered themselves with his blankie so they would avoid getting peed on. 

They all wanted one.

Now, even though the rodent was given to Ally's friend by her Ag teacher,  this was NOT a school assignment.  It's true, this man teaches classes like "Ag Resources" in which students become skilled in archery, navigate through deep woods, and eat off a buffet of wild game for class credit.
 
Raise a wild animal?  Not required.

No, she ASKED to bring that baby raccoon home after he and several siblings had spent the first 3 weeks of their lives in the classroom.  (I never asked for any delicate information about the death of the mother... would you?)  Clearly, however, this one month old baby needed some love!

Was I worried?  Initially. 
After all, we've never had a raccoon in our house before.
Even on accident.
We've had big ones in our garbage, and boy, can they do a number on the stuffings of garbage cans!

But since he had been captive since birth, seen a vet, had no teeth, and was bottle fed with puppy formula, it was easier to let my guard down.
And the kids, and their friends (who continued to arrive), really enjoyed the "Come one, come all" adventure, right here in our own family room.

I'm glad it happened.  It was an experience none of us will soon forget, and thankfully, did not end up to be a three ring circus... just a three-ringed raccoon tail! 

And I truly doubt he'll end up as a coon-skinned hat.

Checking In

My family is scattered.  A few in Ohio.  A few in Mississippi. 
A few more local.
Two here with me.

Someday,
perhaps a long time from now,
it will be like this, everyday.

As for today, I will end it with an early "to bed".
'Night!

Real Surreal

A few miles up the road is a topographical bump called Cayuga Ridge.  This rise is just big enough to make what looks like flat land actually quite a "hill" for around here.  This rise also makes the area one of the best in the entire state of Illinois for harvesting wind energy.

We've got wind farms in these parts.

It will catch you off guard as you travel along I55.  For miles and miles you'll see nothing but flat farmland in various stages of production of corn and soybeans.  But as you near the Ridge, huge 100 foot propellers on poles erupt out of nowhere.  Hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of them.  Their computer controlled motors seem to turn the propellers in unison, and at night, a blinking red light alerts aircraft to their position.
The. same. slow. red. blink.  Blink. Blink. Blink.

It's a tremendously surreal moment.  And fascinating. 
You pause, and watch. 
You're quiet.

And if you're out for a drive like we were a few summer evenings ago, you might tumble into a little adjacent town called Dwight. 

Three nights ago, a windy wind blew right through there. It even touched down in several places. 
It sheared off the tops of trees,
and unearthed others.

It sheared off the tops of houses,and unearthed others.

It was a tremendously surreal moment.  And fascinating.

You pause, and watch.

And then you see real people

who are struggling with this real loss...

You're quiet.

And then you keep thinking about how that surreal moment,

is someone's reality.

Party Planner

There are two 9 inch round chocolate cakes on the stereo in the computer room.  Four more on the piano.  3 yellow on the fridge.  3 a top the bookshelf.  All told, there are 17 in all, scattered around the main floor of our house.

Thinking one of the adults in the house has hoarding issues?

In fact, this is party preparation.  It's Merryn's birthday celebration, and a few days ago she sent mailed invitations to each of her guests.  She created a guest list, filled out the invitation information, addressed envelopes, sealed them, stamped them, and mailed them immediately before her parents changed their minds.

While we always observe a birthday, we don't do annual birthday blow-outs for each of the kids.  It gets to be, well, a little excessive.  So, if they turn double digits, or sweet sixteen, or leave classmates for a new school, or observe a golden birthday, then we might acquiesce and have friends join us.

Quite a few years ago, we quickly realized that if we kept giving our kids stuff (and invite other people to parties in which they too would do so), we would suffocate from what was amassed.  Plus, we didn't want our kids to get attatched to material things, especially if it made the children less grateful. 

So, we started focusing on giving them "experiences".  Some of our best parties have been at public parks with water features, or hikes in Starved Rock State Park.  We've had a surprise "Come as You Are" breakfast bash in which even the guests didn't know they were coming!  (Boy, did all the parents have fun with that one!).  The focus has always been spending time together, and creating good memories.

So, tomorrow we are going to work on another memorable one... and it just might get a little messy.  That's what we're planning on!

Rush Hour

So, Jack just rescued Tony, who is really not dead after all.  And Bill and Chloe are working a top secret operation outside the government loop, with Tony, who has since returned from the dark side.  And our president must make a decision within the next few hours whether to pull out of an occupied country in Africa where thousands will die at the hands of a dictator, or risk American lives at the hands of terrorists who control a CIP device.

And, who really knows if all of this will turn totally upside down, in, literally, the next hour.

If you followed any of that, then you too must be a fan of 24... the television drama in which an entire season shows "a day in the life" of special agent Jack Bauer.   If it's not thwarting presidential assassinations, disarming chemical warfare, or  preventing nuclear disaster, then it's dealing with the muck of governmental corruption.  It's torture being Jack Bauer.

He makes my life seem really easy.

And if you were able to follow the characters and plot above, then you must also realize that we are a few seasons behind. (Technically this is just one or two days in the life of Jack Bauer).

Well, we actually plan it this way.  Kel and I can't watch tv week to week like most normal folks.  That would require availability on a single weeknight for at least 20 consecutive weeks.  At the same hour each week.  And a memory for details that could span 6 days. 

No, we wait for the whole thing to be over and watch it all on dvd in about 12 days (usually during Christmas break, or the first weeks of summer). 

And before some smartypants starts spouting off simple instructions about TiVo and DVR recorders, I just have one calculation:  Children + Remote Buttons = 85 hours of Dora the Explorer.   

Yes, I know the show 24 has already run its course, that the finale was aired this year, that Jack Bauer may or may not be dead.  DON'T TELL ME.

I'll find out, eventually. 

The Essence

Early this morning, I had a friend come over to do physical therapy on me... today, in my home.  I think she sent me into a deep coma, and when I emerged, 3 loads of laundry were done and Rosie was napping.

Throughout the day, I slid from the couch, to the floor, to the deck, to the couch.

I iced my arm.  And I napped.

In spite of the pain and strain of this stubborn shoulder, I've not experienced such "RELAXATION" in a long, long time.  Would I know it if I saw it?
Today was the epitome, in my best estimation, and boy, it felt good. 

I have an inkling I know what I'm looking for...
And I'd like some more.

Is that not the essence of summer?

Friday Five

Today was a typically busy and eventful day.

Maddie competed with a solo for the first time in a talent show and placed third, singing "God Help the Outcasts" from The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Kieran competed in the same talent show and sang "I Enjoy Being a Girl" from the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical Flower Drum Song.  She got first place in the Junior Division.

We accidentally ate four pizzas today... two for lunch, two for dinner.  No complaints from Andy or Finan.

Ally packed her bags for a week-long mission trip in Jackson, Mississippi.

Camden spent 6 hours in a lifeguard re-certification class.

Brennan drove mom to the doctor 25 miles south in Bloomington.  And then Brennan turned around and drove Rosie 15 miles east to the doctor in Fairbury.  Kel supervised 8 kids in the interim.

Merryn celebrated her 9th birthday today.  She got a brand new bike with 18 speeds.

I don't know what I would have done differently today, but it just seemed like I should have done a lot differently.  Fuss over Kieran or Maddie's hair for the show?  Pack and repack Ally's suitcase?  Wrap Merryn's gift in festive paper?  Plan and provide more nutritious meals?  Or perhaps meals that minimally were not redundant? 

Even if I could pick and choose what I could have done better,  I feel like many of my efforts would still come up short changed.  Inadequate.

It was a day full of numbers... and sometimes, in the hustle and bustle of the day, we lose track and we get a sense that things just don't add up.  We grade ourselves on what we did wrong, what we missed out, what was imperfect.

But, in spite of me...
3+1+4+2+2+7+6+25+15+8+9+18= 100.
Perfect score.

I know my best effort will always be inadequate.  I'm human.  But I also know that if my head and heart are in the right place, God can fill in the gaps and broken parts, and make it all Good.
Or, at least, Good Enough.

Human Touch

Very early this morning, as I awaited the anesthesiologist to come in and poke needles in my neck, I started feeling a little "alone".

For a mother in my position, that's a RARE feeling to experience. 

I was preparing to have a manipulation done on my frozen shoulder, because I still have such limited range of motion following the bigger surgery last March.  Comparatively, this is a dinky little procedure.  I might have achieved similar results had I drank some tequila and catapulted myself off a large jungle gym (as a dear friend had suggested).  I opted for Doctor's assistance and pain medication.

Because Kel stayed home to hold down the fort, Brennan generously agreed to take me.  The nurse encouraged him to stay in the waiting room, and she would call him back to post-op for discharge orders.

And I heard a toddler crying as he was coming out of surgery sleep, and a young boy wailing over having a casted arm, and an elderly woman slipping in and out of consciousness as her husband tried to engage her in conversation.

But in the minute of realizing I was alone, my nurse came in, adjusted my blood pressure cuff, checked my IV drip, smiled at me, and touched my leg.  At that moment I was reminded of the love and sacrifices of my family, and the prayers and assistance of my friends.  At that moment, I felt comforted.

Having SO many children in the house, I take it for granted that I might not one day have grimy fingers offer me a hug and a bouquet of dandelions.  Or that a teen with a set of car keys might not stop a split second for a "goodbye-I'll be home by curfew" hug.  Or a spouse whose hugs don't need anything to accompany them.

Today I could appreciate the implication of how we are all so deeply connected,  especially when a human touch can bring comfort when even family and friends are not present.

I want to be more generous with the way I touch, because we're a lot less alone than we think.

Summer Sounds

Our first official School's-Out night escalated into a bona fide summer kick-off.  Everywhere we went, we seemed to gather up a few more friends, until I realized that we were hosting an additional 3 pre-teens for a sleepover (I hate sleepovers), and taking 8 to see "Letters to Juliet"... a 9:15 pm showing.  Now, THAT's "care-free". 

That's also noisy.  Add to it my 3 daycare additions, and I was flipping pancakes mid-morning amongst quite the hoop-la.

But the loudest and most persistent clamor came from a few new squatters on our property.

About 4 years ago, Kel purchased a couple bird house kits designed for calm and care-free parents to assemble and paint with their children.  Aside from the fact that it's a nice IDEA, I have no clue why he bought these things.  We don't have time to make bird houses, let alone maintain the one WE live in. 

But, it was Christmas time, and we all tend to go a little nutty at Christmas time.

Well, last year Merryn and Andy found the unopened boxes in the basement.  Immediately, they worked with a guilted dad and hammered and glued these simple pieces of wood and created quite the cute little condos.  They hung them in the river birch trees in our front yard, with Merryn commenting that our house colors complemented the bird houses quite nicely.  (She gets that from her dad).

I thought they were decorative, but this year we have residents!  With babies!  And I can hear them over the din of my own children.

It's also fascinating to watch... the momma fluttering out, the babies fussing until she returns with munchies.  My children think it's fascinating too, and have wanted to help. 

At least that's what we THINK they were doing, taking turns with their cousins, standing atop the Little Tykes portable slide, attempting to peer in that little bitty bird house hole, and unsuccessfully feeding the babies by tossing raw eggs inside.

I might have heard the fridge open... if only my kids were a little noisier.

Summer Days

Today is June the first. 

My kids officially have moved beyond kindergarten, third and sixth and eighth grades, and sophomore and senior years.  I'm still recovering from the graduation blow-out that brought family and friends from far and wide, whose presence made the celebration truly wonderful.

However, I found myself this morning knee-deep in kids, some of whom could regularly sleep through lunch.  Can I say how much this cramps my style?

The potential is great:  I could quickly lose perspective, and even my sense of humor (which, admittedly, is not great).  After all, it only took until dinner time for Kel to point out this very fact to me.

So, per his suggestion, I am going to find something to blog about, e-v-e-r-y day...  "something funny, something joyful, something not crabby."

Because we live a big life here, and I don't want to forget that.

Pay Dirt

There are some responsibilities (oh, okay, I'll say it.... chores) that go with being a Stay-at-home-Mom. The one I dislike the most is dusting.  It's not uncommon to hear me inhale deeply and then blow off a layer on top of the piano, or use a dirty sock to swipe the top of a picture frame, conveniently located just above the laundry basket.  Luckily Kel laughs about it, or maybe it has taken him 24 years to laugh about it.  The kids really could care less, except to draw hearts and flowers and their names in it.

But laundry, I don't mind so much.  And I'm not sure why.  After all, it's just as endless as the dusting.

 I don't care that the washer and dryer are located in the   basement, aka "The Dungeon".  At least it doesn't have dirt floors.  Kel has done his best to perk up the place for me with super bright yellow walls, sleek black industrial storage shelving, and smartly placed incandescent lighting.  The best part?  It's quiet down there, and people rarely follow me.

We used to own the front loader Maytag Neptune, the cadillac of washer appliances.  I loved that machine, despite the frequent mechanical mishaps (ALL of which Maytag corrected for us, at no charge).  When we used up that machine, we bought  a Kenmore Elite Oasis Canyon Capacity washer.  It can wash 20 bath towels with little water and half a teaspoon of detergent.  Since we added a $400 ejector pump right next to the machine, it now finishes entire cycles and no longer eats dishrags.  I know the Sears servicemen on a first name basis.

It's not the technology, though, that makes me appreciate laundering, although I truly am amazed when the clothes emerge barely damp from the washer thanks to the impressive spin speed of 1000 rpm.

For some reason I get some type of satisfaction sorting the soiled clothing into big piles, and whittling them away one by one throughout the day. I like the challenge of occasionally being able to empty the lint screen in one whole piece.  Surprisingly, I don't mind hauling loads up and down stairs (15 steps on 3 different levels). 

There's an intimacy, though, in laundering, and it's not just handling everyone's underwears.    It's pulling out from the dryer a big batch of warm clothing, and feeling that warmth on my arms and chest.  It's the joy of folding championship sweatshirts the kids have earned from leadership and sporting events.  It's the extra special effort of hanging bedsheets outside on the line, because you know your husband loves that fresh scent.  It's matching socks and smoothing out shirts, and it's connecting prayer for each family member as I do so.

While my family was replacing rotting deckwood this weekend, I was reaping much reward from my laundry chores.  This week it included squeaky clean $1.16.
Yeah, I regularly hit Pay Dirt...

Big Bites

Last week Finan helped himself to a spoon while I prepared his breakfast cereal.  I laughed out loud at his choice of a serving utensil as big as his head.  (I remember our first son doing the exact same thing at that age.  In fact, all the boys have done this!)

It wasn't even a week later when the three year old picked out the "bigbigBig" bowl for breakfast, the same bowl I serve rice in for a family of 11. 

I don't know why I grabbed the camera for these silly little moments, these little "Life Snapshots".  Why did they even make me stop?

It's good to stop and notice the silly little things.

There regularly is a lot of activity around here, and now that we have officially found May, the calendar dates get lost for all the scribbling and notations. It's easy to be overwhelmed, and lose sight of why we might end up spinning our wheels every day.

That's why I'm not going to write about Confirmations and Track and Field Days and May Processions and Award Banquets and Spiritual Retreats and First Communions and Music Competitions and College Admission Days and softball and t-ball practices too. (Yes, that describes May 1-15. Really.)

I'll just make a little note about how we in the Krenz Family tend to bite off more than we can chew, and we start doing that at a very young age.

Small Comforts

I've been a little under the weather.
Well, more like "under the effects of anesthesia and pain meds."

And since I can't yet lift my own toothbrush with my right hand, I also can't even type the incoherent thoughts that run through my mind.  Or remember with detail how in my youthful ignorance I would consider dependence as a sign of weakness.

But I did want to share how much I've been cared for....
and it's nice to be cared for.

While many families might spend their Spring Break on a beach or in Disney World, or even relaxing in their own backyard, my husband spent his entire break in 4 hour increments, around the clock.  He dispensed medication, kept a cooling machine full of water and ice, helped me navigate the 10 baby steps to the bathroom, and even washed my hair.  (And he took care of the whole family too).

He has modeled care and compassion, and my children have watched and learned well.

One child has helped adjust cords and velcro in the middle of the night.  Another has attended physical therapy so I can have help with my exercises at home.  Another is a wiz with the sling. 

I've had help fetching water, the phone, the Ipod, the remote.  I haven't been in the laundry room for two weeks, and clothes are still being washed, dryed, and put away.  I can't drive, so I've been driven.

And tonight, my 3 year old sitting next to me on the couch rubbed my arm gently, and then proceeded to put a Nemo band-aid on the hurt spot. 

And others have helped.

Several dinners have been delivered, and there are offers to assist with taxi services.  Delightful cards and good wishes have been mailed to my home.  Kel's mom and dad sent a gorgeous lavender plant, and my own parents gave me a beautiful blooming azalea.  I've been kept in prayer in the hearts of dear family and friends, and I get repeated texts and emails reminding me of their vigil, often well-timed with my moments of feebleness or frustration.

I'm keenly aware of how undeserving I am to be showered with such goodness and generosity.

But, I keep myself humbly open to it.   For, if out of my own pride or stubborness or independence I turn any of this away, I close the door to an opportunity for others to serve, to love.  The Giver benefits too.

And sometimes for me that humility takes a little effort.

Consider, for example, slowly coming to consciousness and realizing you're propped up in a brand new fluffy overstuffed recliner with a perfect view of a flat screen tv.  

A dream?  An hallucination?  You don't own a recliner and your tv has a 10 inch screen, and you've never really pined for either.

But at some point you realize that's exactly how a family would go to the moon to make sure you're comfortable.  You realize you're tremendously grateful, for they just may know you better than yourself. 

I surely didn't know I wouldn't sleep in a bed for two weeks, or that I would want to see the scores for an NCAA bracket game instead of puny blurs at the bottom of a puny screen.  I had no idea seemingly extravagent items like a chair and a tv would bring me such comfort.  Who knew?

But now that I'm thinking about it, in and out of this pain-med fog,  I can cross at least two items off of  somone's "Over the Moon/Someday/Maybe/Sure Would Be Nice" Personal Wish List... even if the list isn't mine.

Time to rest and put my feet up...

Feast Days

We don't especially need a good reason to host a celebration.
Shoot, "It's Sunday!" is enough of a reason.

But last Sunday was extra special, because our family was observing The Feast of St. Joseph, and in the Italian tradition, this means exceptional food and many people with whom to share it. 

Sicilians have been honoring St. Joseph, the patron saint of Fathers and the Protector of Families, since the Middle Ages.  It was through his intercession that they attributed relief of a long drought and famine.  In thanksgiving to God, they gathered together and brought with them the bounty of their harvest, sharing it with the less fortunate.  That's why, today, many St. Joseph tables include an array of delicious food and a donation basket for the poor.

When I was little, I remember my Nana would cook for some Italian friends in her home on St. Joseph's Day.  She would make a little pasta, cook up some frittada,  stuff some cannoli and cream puffs and make sure there were plenty of sesame cookies to dunk in your coffee.  She set a beautiful table and was a wonderful hostess.

When my Polish mother took over the    

Italian tradition, she covered our ping pong table with food and wine and struffoli and Trinity bread and a fruit display and of course, the St. Joseph altar.  The food would spill out over the buffet.  She made pounds and pounds of pasta con sardi with bread crumb topping.  She stuffed artichoke, prepared fresh asparagus, and fried up eggplant parmesan.  She made dozens and dozens of pizzelles, and cream puffs filled with ricotta cheese and chocolate chips, or pistachio or lemon or chocolate fillings. 

The parish priest would come over and bless the table.  Every guest who walked through the front door was greeted with a big hug, and if your name had "Joseph" in it, she promptly pinned you with a red carnation boutineer and wished you "Happy Feast Day!". 

She prepared for weeks in advance, shopping and cooking and cleaning like a mad woman.

One year, after accidentally serving 200 people in her home (hey, she's known for talking to anyone in the grocery store or the back of a church), she passed out on the couch and announced she just couldn't do it anymore: "Con scuse profondo San Giuseppe!"  (Well, actually she didn't say "With deep apologies to St. Joseph"... She really can't speak Italian, but she was thinking it).   The days of the Big Open House were over.  Yet, 12 years ago when our Maddie Jo was born on St. Joseph's Day, mom ceremoniously passed down the wooden spoon to me, and I was honored to carry on  the tradition.

Now, mom still makes the pasta con sardi.  And she brings with her the confeti (Jordan almonds) and the antique candleabra.  And, she stands at the stovetop flipping frittadas with my awesome William-Sonoma frittada pan.  Oh, and she greets everyone with a big hug too. 

But Aunt Jan and her daughters prepare all the fruit, and Trish usually takes care of the fruit display.  Michelle makes the best antipasta because she gets good provalone.  And Charlotte makes the sesame

 cookies.  And CeCe made the strufoli one year, and Danielle made the pizzelles.  Xochitl made the braided Trinity bread shaped in the staff of St. Joseph.  She also made cream puffs, but about 6 pairs of hands fill them in my kitchen. 

Grammy brings all the daffodils and red and white carnations for the table.  Sue has provided all the paper products for years, and I still wear the red apron she lovingly made me.  Mary can't come unless she makes scotcharoos or a fancy cake.  In fact, any contributions to the table just make it all the more beautiful.  And Shannon lets her junior high daughters stay the night before to help scrub floors, vaccuum and dust the house, and steam veggies for the frittadas.  (We play loud music and stay up too late). 

It's tradition.

And it leaves a mark. 

I still get phone calls and cards on March 19th from friends who remember celebrating St. Joseph's Day in the house I grew up in. They share fond memories of the joyful gathering, but even more, they acknowledge something "extraordinary" about the whole celebration. 

It's not a holiday, and it's not a birthday.  There are no presents, but there are many gifts.  You can't help but marvel at a whole crowd of people wearing red, and gathered together for the purpose of a single devotion... "Lord Jesus, you willed to place yourself in the care of St. Joseph.  Bless this food which we are about to enjoy as we put ourselves under his patronage..."  And now my own children and family friends are being blessed by it too.  

There's an inexplicable grace

that permeates a place

where God is at the center

and you break bread together.