home.

Home is growing brighter and cozier and more winsome as Christmas break slowly slips by.  When I first got back, I was at an utter loss.  Instantly the social aspect, stress, and constant to-do lists in my life disappeared.  I put down my suitcase, hugged my family, looked at myself, and thought, "Self, what are you going to do for the next month?!"  Mom, in her efficient ingenuity, came up with a boat-load of ideas: sew a dress, crochet a blanket, clean out the garage, read...

Slowly, I am making a new routine, and I think it shall be splendid.  I am working my way through the Lord of the Rings trilogy - I am hooked.  I also want to read two John Piper books, two by C.S. Lewis, and a scattering of other books.  I think I will clean out the garage - my first semester of college drained my wallet while my back was turned.  I'm going to hang out with old friends, read even more, and play lots of games with my family.

Tonight was exquisite.  Mom spent four hours in the kitchen this afternoon, preparing a first-rate meal and baking special cookies.  All of the sisters came home.  We sat around the table laughing over old memories and telling new stories.  After supper, Mom, Rachel and I played a delightful game of Settlers of Catan.  Rachel and I vied for longest road. Rachel and Mom fought neck and neck building cities.  At present, we are all in the living room, and there are two platters centrally located on the ottoman: one full of biscotti and the other piled with Mom's special cookies.  They have names like "chocolate-mint dreams" and "cat kisses."  Audrey is curled up in the big leather chair, submerged in an Agatha Christie.  Occasionally, a laugh or an "Oh I just love Hecule Poirot!" emanates from her direction.  Merrill and Dad are discussing information Merrill has gleaned from a book she found lying around: The Encyclopedic Dictionary of Cults, Sects and World Religions.  Rachel is working on something on her computer.  Mom is checking Merrill's math assignments in the corner.  George Winston's December is floating around the living room, making us all feel serene and full of thanks.  The embers are glowing hot in the fireplace - in a few minutes Dad will put more wood on the fire.

I make everything sound so perfect and ideal...because it is.  My house is so full of peace, and love, and we are all so thankful for each other, and life, and Jesus.

I love my family so, so much.

autumn.

Autumn in Hillsdale is not like autumn in my little home town.  This morning I woke up, put on a black dress and teal jewelry, and drove to church through an army of trees, lining each side of the road and peacefully but forcefully proclaiming their agenda of beauty.  The colors here are brilliant: a merry green changes to a vibrant orange, which fades to an amiable yellow.  It is everywhere: above my head, below my feet, and slowly drifting in between.  Outside of my dorm room, there is a wide, grassy area surrounded by trees bursting with this vitality.  It's the kind of place where you want to walk to the very middle, spread your arms, look up high with your eyes squinted shut, and spin and spin.  And then when you are done spinning, you want to sit down on the grass, cross-legged, and simply bask in the warmth of the October sun.  Autumn in Hillsdale is gorgeous.

Autumn at home is completely different.  There are a scant amount these beautiful trees, at least right were I live.  Instead, autumn is field upon beige-colored field of dried corn, waiting for a John Deere-green machine to methodically make its way up and down, back and forth, capturing the ears of yellow corn that are hidden in all of the expired verdure.  Autumn is a tow-colored puppy barking gleefully at a deep blue tractor and bright red grain cart rolling into the yard.  The beauty isn't just peripheral: inside that green combine is a dad who works until 1am to get the field finished before the thunderstorm comes.  When the puppy finishes barking, she races off to find her jolly ball, in the hopes that Mom will take a moment out of harvesting in her garden to play a little fetch.  The girl getting out of the blue tractor is my sister--helping Dad here and there by moving the tractor and grain cart from a finished field to an expectant field.

I wish I were home to drink it all in; to watch the beauty of a summer of hard work rewarded unfold before me; to give the puppy some love; to sit and laugh with my sister about anything.  Instead, I look up at brilliantly-colored leaves floating down, and am reminded that wherever I am, God is good, and He is beautiful.

(picture by Mom.)

*insert Willoughby quote here*

(My apologies on having two goodbye-like posts in a row.  It just happens that way.)

I am doing something this week that I've never really had to do before...say "I'll see you in December" to so many people I love.  Not fun.

First, Liz and her family.  Liz and I have tried regularly to bridge the seventy-five miles between us since we met over a year ago. It's not too far, but it does make spending much time together a bit tricky.  When we do get together, we swing, and stay up much too late watching movies (from Jane Austen to Camp Rock - we have a Camp Rock 2 date, girl!), and go to Fazolis, and last time we got to ride in a limo.  Liz's family is one of the most fun families I know, and I love weekends in Grand Island!

Then on Friday, Dana, who I have only recently gotten to know.  Our first time hanging out, we went on a 28-mile bike ride, saw Inception (see we really haven't been friends for long!), and had an adventuresome time in the park.  The next time we tried our hand at homemade frozen yogurt.  Last week we went mini golfing.  I love her so much, and am so proud of her determination and ability to to shine through darkness all around her.  Dana you inspire me!  

On Saturday, I hugged my two older sisters goodbye.  I am trying not think about it too much.  They are living together in a cute little duplex in Lincoln, each going her separate way in the morning, each coming home in the evening to share a little supper and stories of their days.  They will love living together, and I am a little jealous and a lot sad that I won't be close enough to share suppers and laughs with them more than every few months.

After Sunday night pizza I said goodbye to Vic and Ruth, who have known me since the day I was born, and who I write down on every reference form and emergency contact paper.  

Then tonight, Annie, and her family.  I'm sure if you've read this blog much at all you know about Annie.  We've been having fun together for the past ten years. :) That pretty much sums it up.  I'm going to miss my sunshine girl.

And soon, I'll be waving goodbye to my parents and my younger sister.  I really dread this, but at the same time I know it is what's right for me at this point in my life.  So I'm squaring my shoulders and looking forward with hope, while at the same time anticipating December 17, when the semester ends and I will head home.

we make it fun

Bandanas? On! Taylor Swift? Turned up! Rags? At the ready!

Commence cleanage!

Well then Mom disappeared downstairs for a few minutes so we took the liberty of adding a little fun to our major clean-out-and-clean-up-the-upstairs afternoon.  Here's how it went:

"Ok! Everybody do Audrey!"

Note sweet, serene faces all around.

"Ok! Now everybody do Merrill!"

So we all get crazy.

Then some of us decided to put our bandanas on Indian style.

We're saying hello in Indian, I think...

The simple act of moving your hair from back to down and flowing changes you from an Indian to a Hippie. Woo!!

Audrey on a fine spring day.

i'm not quite sure...

skating

"mountains of snow"

There are frequent mornings when my sister and I walk down the stairs to find a little white sheet of paper heralding us from the kitchen counter. It reads something along these lines: "Girls - today please...vacuum the living room. Pick up the bathroom. Sweep the office." The jobs vary, but you get the idea.

This morning, the list said: "shovel the front walks."

Two girls, two walks in need of shovelment. Seems easy enough. Except for one thing. As it happened, one of the sidewalks had your average amount of snow on it, while the other was piled high with snow. It seems the snow had drifted considerably right along that sidewalk. It was up to my hips, and I exaggerate not.

However annoying this problem may seem, it is easily solved if you have an easy-going younger sibling. I casually asked her if it mattered which sidewalk I shoveled, and because she conveniently hadn't seen the front walks yet, I was home free.

Just as I was whisking the last bits of snow off of my walk, I heard a tap at the window. Merrill was glaring out at me as she jerked her thumb towards her walk. I laughed, but then I decided to be a sacrficial sister and help her out. Obviously some good intentions are just not to be. I broke the snow shovel.

Immediately after my brief shoveling escapade, I had to leave for work. When I came home, I found this drawing on my whiteboard.

I am really going to miss this girl when I move to Omaha.

snow day

Last night and today it snowed so much, the community college cancelled classes. Merrill and I curled up on the couch and watched it snow...and snow...and snow. After naps and homework, we ventured outside for a little fun.

Here in Nebraska, hills are sparse. So Merrill and I make do with what we have...the manure pile!

(captions above pictures)

MJ trekking up Mount Everest

Doesn't this look adventurous? (Not so much.)

MJ decided to try a new route down...

...which didn't turn out so well.

"OWW...My butt hit a manure chunk!!"

We had fun. I love snow days.

...

Sometimes my mom puts flowers in my room just because.

Sometimes my mom rakes the leaves below my window just for me.

I love my mom.

yeah, we look alike

I was playing around on Yearbook Yourself, yearbooking (never knew "yearbook" was a verb, did ya?) my sister and me. This kinda cracks me up.

The years are 1960, 1952, 1958, and 1985.

May 01

Happy Birthday to a wonderful mama.
We had a lovely luncheon with wonderful friends.

Super Sister

growing up

When my sister moved away after high shcool, I was angry. My best friend of twelve years was moving halfway across the country, into a different world. A world I was excluded from entirely. I was angry with my sister, my parents, life, and God. Why couldn't we stay how we always were? Why did we have to grow up? Why did she have to move away? More than ever, I felt Jo March and I were akin.

Slowly, as the months and years passed, the anger abated. I came to realize this was just the way it was, and there was absolutely nothing I could do to reverse time, as much as I wanted to. My mom always told me that, even though a wonderful thing had ended, something else wonderful would start. My sister and I would always have a good relationship, no matter where we were. I found that extremely hard to believe. Gone were the days of bomb shelter on the bunk beds and buddy-buddies all day long, and nothing could be better than those things. Ever.

In the past month, I have had some of the most fun with my sisters ever. Mom was right. Even though it's not playing American Girl dolls or dollhouse every afternoon, we still have fun together. RK lives in Omaha, working and going to school. AC is in college and has a job, and I have a job. Time with all of us together is rare. We will never all sit down at the dining room table and bicker our way through morning school again. We will never set up an entire village of houses, playgrounds, and shops on the commons floor again. We will never again own check stores and banks, trading money like it was going out of style. Although that makes me sad, I've accepted it. The things we do have changed, but the relationships haven't. They are still strong and real.

The old is gone, and the new is here. Over Christmas break, we all stayed up watching creepy movies. Some friends went on vacation, and wanted my sister to house-sit. We all trooped over there and spent the night in a strange house - without Mom and Dad. It was fun. It was grown-up.

Life is always moving forward, while I trip along trying to catch up.

Pages are turning now
This is abundant life
The joy in the journey
Is enough to make a grown man cry

Andrew Peterson, Little Boy Heart Alive