Ruthie is showing quite a fascination with doors. Whether it’s the back door, the bathroom door, or the nursery gate at OneWay, she is drawn to them like a bug to light.

Some people have a “life verse”, so I am declaring Psalm 84:10 to be Ruthie’s “toddler verse”:

Better is one day in Your courts than a thousand elsewhere; I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of the wicked.

From my husband this morning:

From the below map I can envision two scenarios:

1. All of us together at Rock Island trying to figure out what to do with 5 kids and a blown over, rain soaked tent, or…

2. You, Ruth and Jeremy at home worrying about the four boys (out of cell phone contact, mind you), who in turn are wondering how to deal with a blown over, rain soaked tent.

Be flexible.

Because plans change. And hold onto your hat because around here, plans can change at breakneck speed. Take the family vacation we had planned for this week, for instance. We reserved a campsite at Rock Island, WI. Never mind that we have never camped as a family before.

See where the marker is? That’s Rock Island. To get there, first you drive up that peninsula and put your car and your self on a ferry that takes you to Washington Island. Then you drive to the northern part of Washington Island, park your car, and hop on another ferry to Rock Island. From there you walk to your campsite while hauling your camping gear. Simple enough…if you are a group of adults.

I started getting a headache just imagining this weeklong adventure with kids underfoot. Granted, the older ones would be fine. But the five-and-under crowd? Not so much. I asked Jim if he minded taking the older three while I stayed back with the younger two. He agreed, so this became plan B. As time got closer, we realized a week apart wasn’t exactly a family vacation, as we had originally intended it to be. Jim strongly suggested I reconsider bringing Ruthie–it’s totally do-able, we can bring an extra tent, the pack-and-play and some baby-friendly activities…not a big deal at all. I reconsidered. Really. So we were on to plan C….or A. Meanwhile, I prayed, asking God what He wanted me to do. When I settled again on the decision to hang back with Jeremy and Ruth, I told Jim. So then we decided on plan D, which was really plan B.

We happened to look at the weather forecast for Rock Island for the week, and it was questionable. Good chance of storms. Jake was planning to bring his telescope to go stargazing. So between the iffy weather and our desire to be together, Jim made the final call last night. Plan E: we will all stay home.

First order of business on our stay-cation?

Yes, I know we had made the decision not to set up the pool this year. Please refer to our family rule #32.

As the kids frolic in the partially filled pool, flexibility sounds really good.

Whether it’s due to nature or nurture we may never know, but Ruthie appears to have no fears. Having no fear is good when you are alone in the dark, but bad when you are one year old and running from the edge of your grandparents’ 56th-floor rooftop to the edge of the pool, clumsily squatting toward the water.

The other day, we got a kick out of Ruthie’s response to some heavy-duty lightning and thunder.

Thunderstorm from James on Vimeo.

He has his mother’s eyes.

Time for Molly to go on a diet.

Sounds simple enough–a day trip to Niles, MI to visit friends. Add five kids and a dog, though, and things get complicated pretty fast.

Pack-and-play. Check. Dog food. Check. Stroller. Check. Telescope. Check…

Kids and Dog. Check.

What we neglected to bring was a 100-ft. rope with which to rescue Molly from the powerful current of the St. Joseph River.

If you look closely in the picture, you’ll see a white object in the middle of the river. That would be our dog. Jim went walking with her toward the water, and with barely a hesitation, she dove in and began paddling to her heart’s content. Molly has zero river swimming experience (after writing that, I realize that even though she now has river swimming experience, things would not be different in the future), so unbeknownst to her, the current was taking her for quite a ride. With every yell from Jim to get her to swim to shore, she drifted farther away. He ran downstream to try to catch her when she went by, but he lost sight of her. He came back to where I was standing and asked if she came back my way. She hadn’t.

At that moment, we both resolved that it was a real possibility we would be driving home without the family pet. After straining to see the white furry object in the river, we finally spotted her about 1/2 mile downstream. Long story short, Jim walked downstream again, called to her as she approached and brought her back. She remained staked to the ground the rest of the day.

This was to be just the beginning of our adventure.

As I walked up to the house, here is what my eyes beheld:

See the driver? He’s eleven. Is it just me, or is Peter looking a little nervous? As they pulled out of the driveway, I heard Van Halen blasting from their radio. I prayed that God would keep them safe, thanked Him for helmets, and trusted that if they made it back it would be a great adventure memory branded in their minds.

Sure enough, they made it back and then picked up the dads for more 4-wheeling.

Jeremy was thrilled to be included in the caravan. I think he was even more thrilled to wear a real racing helmet.

For the remainder of the afternoon, boys took turns driving this motorized vehicle and that one.

The young-uns posed some shots.

Being the only girl among nine boys, Ruthie was beginning to feel left out. So after posing on the ATV, she hitched a ride with Jim.

The faster they went, the louder she squealed. Typical.

But our adventure did not end there. The boys got their hands on some air pellet guns and retreated into the woods to fight a war.

Again, I prayed for God’s protection over them. He did.

The Janowskis picked up a German Shepherd puppy just the day before we arrived and named him Hornet. Ruthie and Hornet became fast friends.

What may have been the most exciting and frightening part of the day was when a hive of yellow jackets decided to attack. Two of the Janowski boys were stung multiple times (a bee was inside the shirt of one of the boys), a couple adults were stung, and Derek was stung on the behind-arguably the best part of the body to be stung.

To cap off the day, Jake set up his telescope so the posse of boys could look at the sun.

Later they gazed at the stars while we adults had a pleasant conversation inside. Worth the packing and driving? You betcha.

We scattered a bunch of wildflower seeds in the front yard a couple months ago. They’re starting to come up now, and this is what they look like:

Which ones are flowers and which ones are weeds? They look very much alike at this germinating stage. I’m tempted almost every day to pull up the sprouts I think are weeds, and some days my neat-freak side threatens to pull up everything just to clean it up.

This scene in our front yard reminds me of a parable Jesus told about the kingdom of heaven in Matthew 13. The story is called the wheat and the tares–tares being weeds that look very similar to wheat.

Jesus told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field. But while everyone was sleeping, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and went away. When the wheat sprouted and formed heads, then the weeds also appeared.

“The owner’s servants came to him and said, ‘Sir, didn’t you sow good seed in your field? Where then did the weeds come from?’

“‘An enemy did this,’ he replied.

“The servants asked him, ‘Do you want us to go and pull them up?’

“‘No,’ he answered, ‘because while you are pulling the weeds, you may uproot the wheat with them. Let both grow together until the harvest. At that time I will tell the harvesters: First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles to be burned; then gather the wheat and bring it into my barn.’”

Okay, so point taken. I won’t go out just yet with my garden gloves to uproot any sprouts. But why did Jesus tell this story? How does it relate to the kingdom of heaven? His disciples asked the same question, and here is how He responded.

Then he left the crowd and went into the house. His disciples came to him and said, “Explain to us the parable of the weeds in the field.”

He answered, “The one who sowed the good seed is the Son of Man.The field is the world, and the good seed stands for the people of the kingdom. The weeds are the people of the evil one,and the enemy who sows them is the devil. The harvest is the end of the age, and the harvesters are angels.

“As the weeds are pulled up and burned in the fire, so it will be at the end of the age.The Son of Man will send out his angels, and they will weed out of his kingdom everything that causes sin and all who do evil.They will throw them into the blazing furnace, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Whoever has ears, let them hear.”

I choose Bust.

Make that Bust-er Cake! This is the perfect summer treat: easy to make and oh-so-yummy.

After making a pan to bring to our church picnic yesterday, we arrived home and Jeremy informed me that he didn’t get a piece. I felt bad for the poor guy, so decided to make another pan. Since you can’t make just one serving, we all benefitted from my act of compassion. Here’s how you can make your own.

Put the package of ice cream on the counter so it can soften. Begin by crushing two rows of Oreos in a food processor. If I don’t want to dirty the food processor, I have also put the cookies in a gallon size baggie and crushed them with a rolling pin. Works just as well.

Crush until they are mostly fine crumbs.

Melt the butter.

Mix with the crushed cookies.

Spread on the bottom of a greased 9 x 13 pan. This will be the crust of the cake (i.e. the best part). I split mine into two 8 x 8 pans; one for Jeremy (and the rest of us), one to give away.

Stick the pan of crust in the freezer for several minutes so it becomes solid.

Scoop the softened ice cream on top of crust then smooth it out.

Drizzle chocolate syrup and sprinkle peanuts.

Spread the whipped topping.

Finally, crush that last row of Oreos and sprinkle them on the top.

Put in the freezer for at least an hour or two so everything can refreeze together. Then enjoy!

You may recall a few weeks ago I copied an article here on meaningful motherhood. The same author recently wrote another article on the Desiring God blog, and it is just too good not to share. She calls out the fact that godly parenting requires total sacrifice of self, for “there is more joy and more life and more laughter on the other side of death than you can possibly carry alone.”

The truth is that years ago, before this generation of mothers was even born, our society decided where children rank in the list of important things. When abortion was legalized, we wrote it into law.

Children rank way below college. Below world travel for sure. Below the ability to go out at night at your leisure. Below honing your body at the gym. Below any job you may have or hope to get. In fact, children rate below your desire to sit around and pick your toes, if that is what you want to do. Below everything. Children are the last thing you should ever spend your time doing.

If you grew up in this culture, it is very hard to get a biblical perspective on motherhood, to think like a free Christian woman about your life, your children. How much have we listened to partial truths and half lies? Do we believe that we want children because there is some biological urge, or the phantom “baby itch”? Are we really in this because of cute little clothes and photo opportunities? Is motherhood a rock-bottom job for those who can’t do more, or those who are satisfied with drudgery? If so, what were we thinking?

Motherhood is not a hobby, it is a calling. You do not collect children because you find them cuter than stamps. It is not something to do if you can squeeze the time in. It is what God gave you time for.

Christian mothers carry their children in hostile territory. When you are in public with them, you are standing with, and defending, the objects of cultural dislike. You are publicly testifying that you value what God values, and that you refuse to value what the world values. You stand with the defenseless and in front of the needy. You represent everything that our culture hates, because you represent laying down your life for another—and laying down your life for another represents the gospel.

Our culture is simply afraid of death. Laying down your own life, in any way, is terrifying. Strangely, it is that fear that drives the abortion industry: fear that your dreams will die, that your future will die, that your freedom will die—and trying to escape that death by running into the arms of death.

But a Christian should have a different paradigm. We should run to to the cross. To death. So lay down your hopes. Lay down your future. Lay down your petty annoyances. Lay down your desire to be recognized. Lay down your fussiness at your children. Lay down your perfectly clean house. Lay down your grievances about the life you are living. Lay down the imaginary life you could have had by yourself. Let it go.

Death to yourself is not the end of the story. We, of all people, ought to know what follows death. The Christian life is resurrection life, life that cannot be contained by death, the kind of life that is only possible when you have been to the cross and back.

I couldn’t help but pull out the video cam to capture this one. I can just see showing this to Ruthie at age 25–she’ll be all prim and proper by then and she’ll ask why in the world did we dress her in her brother’s football pads. I’ll tell her, honey you insisted on wearing them, and you have to admit you were awfully cute running around squealing in pads.

Ruthie found a new fun activity: stickers.

We are all for activities that keep the toddler happy and out of harm’s way..

not to mention out of the dog’s water bowl.

After much deliberation, Bubbie has decided that he is indeed ready to play football. He weighed in and picked up his pads today. Upon returning home, he declared to me that he is going to be the safety. I told him that it’s an important position–he must be fast and alert–then asked why he wants to be safety. He said, “Because it’s the safest position on the team.”

Do you remember in the movie Toy Story when Buzz Lightyear  believes that he is something he’s not?  And Woody tells him over and over that he is a toy, only to have it fall on deaf ears? I sense that we may have a crisis moment like that with Ruthie. I can’t blame her for wanting to do everything the boys do–she has a steady diet of wrestling and roughhousing.

But when I was gone one morning and came home to this:

it hit me that we will be having a conversation when she’s old enough to understand.

You are different from your brothers.

It’s a good thing…God made you this way.

Your brothers do things like wear heavy helmets and pads and head butt one another.

They are boys.

But you…you are a girl!

*Ruthie is sitting on my lap as I am uploading these pictures. She’s laughing at the pictures of her head butting Derek and currently head butting the computer desk. Oh dear. Help.

The night before leaving, Grandma brought goody bags for each of the kids, filled with candy, markers, notebooks and more. The boys promptly packed their bags into their backpacks, while Ruthie–in typical toddler fashion–white-knuckle-gripped her bag starting at 6:00 am all the way until we arrived in San Antonio 6 hours later.

Meanwhile, the boys kept busy spotting planes at the airport.

Most of our time was spent catching up with college friends. They were kind enough to host our brood for the week, and we all enjoyed the time together.  The kids:

We visited the Alamo and determined to remember our time there.

Jake kept tabs on Ruthie as much as possible.

She hasn’t yet learned that you never ever look down the barrel of a cannon.

We had the pleasure of eating some Texas BBQ.  The joint we ate at was named one of Ruthie’s nicknames…

Delicious. I don’t know why it’s called the worst BBQ in Texas. If it was my restaurant I would not choose such a tagline. But it’s not my restaurant.

Jim enjoyed reminiscing with some college buddies currently living in TX–they laughed over past practical jokes and embarrassing moments. Lucky for the guys, their wives and kids got along marvelously as well.

At the end of the week, we took a drive to Fredericksburg on our way back to Austin. Fredericksburg is a town settled by Germans, with tons of quaint little german shops. Who knew that southern Texas attracted germans way back when?

One of the highlights in the town is the Pacific War Museum. We saw a live reenactment with guns and explosives…a boy’s dream. Meanwhile, with bombs bursting and guns firing, Ruthie took a nap in her stroller.

Our final stop before departing was University of Texas stadium. As we approached the impressive structure, all we could say was whoa. Unfortunately we couldn’t tour the inside, so we observed from the locked gates.

A great trip!

We’ll have the full San Antonio vacation report later this week, but until then, try to guess

where Peter found this cannon…

why these guys are wearing ear plugs…

why Ruthie is hugging a bottle of BBQ sauce…

why the boys were climbing this gate…

and how we escaped harm here…