The Piano

I know nothing about music. I can't read a note of it, and can't really carry a tune in a bucket. When Mac and Autumn were little I wanted them to take piano lessons. We couldn't afford a new piano so I scoured the newspaper and made a phone call. An older woman said she had a spinet that she would sell me for $650. The children and I made our way across town to see the piano.

The older woman claimed to be a retired piano teacher, and invited the children to play. The piano did indeed look beautiful. There wasn't a mark on it. The children were excited and the woman offered to let me have it for $500 since I had four little mouths to feed. I thanked her profusely, setting up a time for Verne to get it and bring it home. As I walked out the door, the woman said not to have it tuned anytime soon. "Your children are young and won't know the difference. You can wait awhile."

Verne and a few friends brought the piano into our home. When one of the men sat down to play a few notes he said it was badly out of tune. I didn't want the children thinking that their songs sounded wrong, and so I called a tuner. The piano tuner wasn't in my home more than 10 minutes when he asked me how long I had the piano. I told him the entire story and he said, "I'm sorry, but you've been had." It turns out the the pegs holding the strings had been pounded, and couldn't be turned at all. And though the cabinet looked beautiful, it was home to quite a few mice, and they had left their nests as proof.

As you might imagine, I was distraught. I called the woman back and told her what the tuner said, and asked her to please refund my money upon the return of the piano. Her response? "You're really upsetting me!" and she hung up!

Here we were $500 poorer, and with a lovely looking, but totally useless piano taking up real estate in our tiny cape cod home. The children were greatly disappointed. I was disappointed and disillusioned. I couldn't take a chance on another used piano, and we ended up going the digital route.  Not a keyboard, but not a real piano either. And it wasn't pretty!

As Mac, Autumn, and eventually Collin took their lessons, Abigail would count. "One, two, three four." Soon she was climbing up on the piano bench, opening the hymnal (sometimes upside down), and playing. As the other children lost interest, and went on to play guitar, cello, bass, etc., Abigail's interest continued to grow.

Last winter when we began our house-sitting adventure, Abigail had the treat of playing on a real piano each and every day as it sat in the living room of the house we stayed in. She started lessons again in our new city with a very enthusiastic teacher who brings out the best in her. When our home didn't sell and we had to go back to the small town, we promised that though it was far, we would get her to piano lessons again come fall. But, she also had to return to the digital piano.

All summer long Abigail would sit down to practice, and end up in tears.

We did sell our home, and moved into the rental, dragging the digital piano along. At this point, Abigail had lost interest in practice altogether. You have no idea how this upset her. This is a young woman who has never been told to practice once in her life. She simply goes to the piano multiple times each and every day to sit an play for 20-40 minutes.

The week were were to move into our permanent home, I saw a message on a Facebook page for the women in our church. Someone had a piano to give away. The name wasn't familiar, but I sent her an email telling her the whole story I've just written above. She responded and said if Abigail wanted the piano it was hers. I didn't want to commit to a bad piano, and though I still know nothing about music, Abigail can tell if it sounds good or not. We arranged to look at it that very evening.

We met the woman at the home of her father who had recently passed away. He bought her the piano years ago when she was in high school, and it had always stayed at his home. Abigail sat down to play, and Karen and I talked. When she told me that her dad had died of cancer, it hit me. "Are you Paul's daughter?" Karen doesn't go to our church at all, but her dad did, and had been in Sunday school with Verne and me. She was hoping to bless someone from his church, and she was thrilled that we knew him. Karen not only gave Abigail the piano/bench, but she also gave her the piano lamp, the metronome, and a huge box of music.

We closed on our home on September 11 at noon, and at 6 pm, Abigail's piano was the first piece of furniture to come in the door. We scheduled the piano tuner for two weeks out, and I was a nervous wreck until he got here, though Abigail assured me the piano was fine. Sure enough, she was right. Our home is filled with music once more.

Home Again

Ten years. That's a long time to make memories. Collin was sad that we wouldn't be living as close to him anymore. After all, we just got back to town. Mac perfectly understood why we wanted to downsize a bit and move. Autumn is the furthest away, and I was feeling especially sad that she wouldn't get to come home and see the inside of the house one last time. She felt sad about it, too. 

Moving weekend came, and I was worried that Verne would be in agony after such intense work. Thankfully, a great group of young men from the homeschool athletic association that Verne started several years back came to the rescue. They carried heavy boxes and furniture for several hours on Friday evening, lightening Verne's load immensely. Mac arrived later that night to help the next day, and Collin showed up on Saturday as well. 

We just crawled into bed on Friday when fear struck Verne. He had borrowed a delivery truck from work to transport our things. It was bigger than anything he had ever driven. While he felt confident on the interstate, he was fretting over how in the world he was going to get it into the crowded streets of the city neighborhood where we would be renting for the next five weeks. But God! 

Just as I was drifting off to sleep, Verne sprang up. "Tracy! Nathan!"

What about him? Verne had only met Nathan the month before when he started his subbing rotation in the children's Sunday School class on Thy Will be Done. Nathan and his fiancé had been assigned as classroom helpers to Verne. 

Verne went on to say that Nathan was a city firefighter and would likely know how to maneuver the large truck in tight spaces. Providentially, Nathan had offered to help unload the truck once we arrived in our new city. He sent Nathan a message, and Nathan said he would be happy to drive the truck into the neighborhood. What a relief, and a blessing! God provides! Verne drove the truck to within two miles of the house where he met Nathan in a large parking lot, and Nathan took it from there. 

Closing day came, (we moved out a week early because they took immediate possession), and we walked through the house one last time, stopping to take pictures on the porch steps. I was sad, but also excited to start a new chapter in our lives. 

After five weeks in the rental on the opposite side of town from where we had house sat in the first half of the year and where we now live, we learned even more about the city-new shortcuts, things to do, places to eat. I'm thankful for our time there, but I was more than ready to live in our own home. 

The men at the church rallied once more and helped move us a final time. As the men were unloading the truck a neighbor came to meet us. The next evening a group of neighborhood children knocked on the door, their bikes neatly lined up on the sidewalk, and helmets in hand. They wanted to welcome us. Various neighbors have stopped by to say hello. Children ride their bikes, scooters, and run the streets with superhero capes. Yes, God brought us to just the right place, and took care of every detail getting us here. 

Thy Will Be Done

For the past ten years we've lived in the same home. That's longer than we've lived anywhere as a married couple, and longer than anywhere I've lived in my entire life. Our home was a true blessing. It was spacious and comfortable, and although we bought it new, we made it truly ours by finishing the garage space into 2 more bedrooms and a bath, adding two gas fireplaces, board and batten, adding a deck, and more. 

The years flew by and the children grew older. One by one, they left the nest and left us in a house far too big for three people. We were driving 90 minutes one way to get to church, and put our house on the market with hopes of a quick sale. Two years is not quick. 

Last October, a couple from our church approached us one Sunday morning with a proposition of sorts. She is a professor and was going to be teaching in Europe from December 31 until early July, and they didn't want to leave their home vacant over the winter. Knowing that our home was for sale and that we were desiring to move to their area, they asked us if we might pay a small amount of rent to stay in their home. We prayed and prayed, looked at our finances, and decided to say yes. Our hope was that our home would sell in the time we were house-sitting and we could be mortgage-free, allowing us to save money. We could then buy a home in the summer. Not being in our home would allow it to be shown at a moment's notice without us having to make everything look just so. 

And so, on December 31, 2013, we loaded winter clothing, school books, and kitchen things up, and set up housekeeping in a house that didn't belong to us. We lived with their furniture, and most of their clothing still hanging in the closets. It was...odd. I haven't posted a lot this year, but not one person questioned when my kitchen suddenly looked entirely different than it had before. 

We hoped and prayed, and I looked at oodles of homes that were for sale. Winter was harsh, and spring came along. Still, our house sat. Verne had to travel back weekly to mow the yard, weed the flower gardens, and keep up maintenance on our home. I'd go back once a month or so to give everything a quick dusting, run the vacuum, and make sure everything looked just right. We were both starting to feel like our own home wasn't even ours. That's a strange feeling! 

Spring turned to summer, and finally, one day in June we got an offer. We were elated! We made an offer on a home. It would work out perfectly that we could stay in the house we were sitting in until closing day for both properties. 

And then it all fell through. The prospective buyers for our home couldn't get financing. I was spending the day with Autumn and Abigail when Verne called me with the news. He had taken care of everything, letting our realtor know that we wouldn't be able to purchase the home we had a contract on. 

The next evening we took Abigail to youth group, and went for a drive. Suddenly, the rainbow in the photo appeared. We were so upset. Distraught, really, and it was as if God was telling us that He cared for us and it would be okay. Still the news was hard to swallow. 

Way back at the beginning of the year, Verne talked to the Director of Children's Ministries at our church and told him he'd be willing to teach Sunday School as a substitute. He never heard anything again until the week our house fell through. Verne was asked to teach Sunday School for the entire month of July. The children were studying the Lord's Prayer, and Verne's month was on "Thy will be done." 

As Verne taught each week, he shared with me that he didn't know if the children were learning anything, but he sure was. It was as if God was speaking directly to him with each lesson. Mid- July we packed our things and went back home. As much as we wanted our house to sell, we were both at peace. 

The day after we returned home we got a phone call. The house had been shown four days prior, and the people decided to make an offer. We accepted. The house we were going to buy previously had already sold, and we made an offer on another home. We were both really excited as we liked this home much better than the first one. The day for inspections came, and we couldn't wait to get back into the house to see it again. Only, as we entered the house the inspector looked uneasy. He had bad news. Very bad news. Invisible to the naked eye, he had found quite a bit of water damage, roof damage, and active termites. We were deflated. There was a bit of going back and forth with the seller, asking for things to be repaired. To be honest, they agreed to most of what we asked for, but we were still very uneasy. We decided to walk away from the house. It was three weeks before we had to be out of our home, and we had no idea where were were going to live. 

Back to the internet I went, scouring the webpages for homes for sale. I had seen most of what was on the market in our price range. Pickings were slim. I found six homes that could work, and set up an appointment with our realtor. As the day of our appointment drew near, Verne asked me what I wanted for our 25th wedding anniversary, which just so happened to be the day were were going to look at houses. I replied, "I want a home." 

As a homemaker, it isn't easy to be displaced for 7 months, not really being able to make things yours, and living with someone else's things. Once I was back in my house, I was too busy packing up to enjoy it. 

August 5th arrived, our 25th anniversary, and we set off. The list dwindled as one homeowner wasn't willing for us to view their home that day, and another house had renters that needed more notice. As we walked into "the one", we both knew. We loved the yard, and the house felt like home. We continued on through the list, had some lunch with our realtor, and asked if we could go back to "the one". 

Our closing was a short ten days away and we knew that even if the sellers accepted our offer, there would be no way we could have everything done in time to move into the new home. We also knew no one would want to rent to us for just a few weeks. It was looking like we might have to stay in a hotel, and that was going to get expensive really quickly. Plus, we have pets. Our realtor suddenly mentioned that a couple from our church had just listed their second home for sale the night before. I quickly asked if she thought they might rent to us short term. Of course I'd be willing to let potential buyers come and look. 

The realtor made a quick phone call, and got a "Yes!" This was such a blessing to us, and it turns out, a blessing for them as well. They didn't have to make two payments this way. Needless to say, we negotiated, and came to an agreement with the sellers of the house we loved. 

That's not the end of the story of how God worked out every little detail. Maybe I'll tell the rest tomorrow. ;)

Holy Week

We attended the evening service on Maundy Thursday, and participated in the Lord's Supper. As communion was being administered the sun was at the point in the sky when it's absolutely blinding. We closed the service by singing O Sacred Head Now Wounded, and the sun sank below the horizon as we finished the song. The symbolism was not wasted on me, and I left the service in tears.

Good Friday at noon we gathered back at the church for a worshipful time of prayer. My heart was heavy even though I know the outcome. That Christ died for me is an astounding thought. The fact that my sins nailed Him to the cross is almost unbearable.

And then came Sunday. JOY! He is risen!

Mac and Autumn weren't able to join us this year, and that made my mother's heart a bit sad, but we enjoyed a nice brunch and each other's company.

Icy

Though many are more than ready for winter to be over, I'm enjoying it immensely. It's full of beauty, especially at night.

Cozy Days of Winter

Though most people I know are ready for spring, I happen to love this time of year. Snowy days mean slower days, fresh breads, puzzles being worked on the table, and broken pipes. Okay, I could do without the broken pipes. Yes, pipe(s). Two of them. Winter days also mean big pots of soup. A few we've had this month: Pasta Fagioli, Potato, Ham and Bean, and Italian Sausage Soup. I used dried beans vs. canned each time, saving money. Click on the names of the dishes to find the recipes.

Winter means higher heating costs, and trying to stay warm with hearty meals. For me, it also means getting creative and serving satisfying meals without breaking the bank. Planning ahead, and not reaching for convenience foods is one way to do that. Rich soups served alongside homemade breads are nourishing, satisfying, and pretty inexpensive.

Back at Thanksgiving, I cooked my organic turkey carcass for hours, and then canned the broth. I received 16 quarts of broth so rich it tastes like butter for my efforts. I paid $56 for my turkey, which seemed high at the time, but considering the amount of meat I got off of it, plus the broth, that turkey was cheap! It's easy to spend close to $3 a quart for watery broth at the grocery store. Even the non-organic brands aren't cheap. My broth is so rich, I can add water at a 1:1 ratio, and it still looks like I added food coloring(which I never would!) and tastes amazing. After seeing that good broth was being sold at a local grocery store for $7 a PINT, I was feeling extra good about my efforts.

I had a ham bone in the freezer that I used to make a huge pot of ham and bean soup. I boiled it alone for several hours, and then removed every bit of meat from the bone. I added about 6 cups of meat back to the soup pot, and froze 10 more cups. I seriously have no idea how I got that much meat off a leftover hambone. We hosted four post-college guys from our church for dinner, and I served that big pot of soup with homemade cornbread and homemade cookies. We had made several batches of cookies and set some aside for a gathering with friends the next afternoon. I allotted several dozen cookies for our gathering with the young men, and what they didn't finish here I sent home with them.

Three moms, and seven children gathered for lunch and games here the next afternoon. I cooked a big chicken ($12) the day before and took every piece of meat from the bones. I saved 6 cups out for lunch, and froze two more cups. I cooked the carcass all night, and got 5 quarts of rich broth. I froze the broth rather than canning it and unfortunately, two jars broke in the freezer. I nearly cried. I'm convinced canning is the way to go. It saves freezer space, and allows you to use the broth at a moment's notice rather than having to wait for it to thaw.

I made homemade tortillas, and lots of them. 32, to be exact. What would have cost me $10-12 dollars to buy was produced for about $2. The menu was build-your-own chicken quesadillas with cheese, sour cream, peppers, black olives, and homemade salsa, home-canned fruit cocktail, and cookies that had been made in advance. This wasn't the cheapest lunch to provide, mostly because of the toppings for the quesadillas, but it was a splurge since I'd spent next to nothing for our meals the rest of the week.

In the photo with the tortillas, you'll see my Farberware electric skillet. I love this skillet. Nearly 25 years ago, my brother Brian bought me a stainless steel electric skillet for a wedding gift. I used it nearly every day, sometime several times a day, and it eventually wore out. My mom was no longer using hers much, and gave it to me. Though it's the same age as my original skillet, and identical, it's still going strong. Except it wasn't heating quite like it should. Verne started looking to replace it for me as a Christmas gift, but stainless steel electric skillets are very hard to come by these days, as most are teflon coated now. No, thank you! If you can find one, they're upwards of $200. Knowing how much I use this skillet he was willing to buy one, but I was convinced to make the current one work. I scoured E-Bay and while I could find a replacement cord, the reviews said that they didn't fit quite right. I mentioned it to my friend Lynn, and she suggested checking an electrical store in town. I mentioned it to Verne, and he mentioned it to another friend who also suggested a different electrical store. Verne tried both places, and sure enough, Lynn was right. Verne bought me a new, off brand cord for $14! It fits and works perfectly. We live in a disposable society, where people think having the newest thing will bring them happiness. Sometimes, keeping what's near and dear to us makes us the happiest of all.

While organizing the sewing room I found this cat quilt that I started way back in 2005. I had it all pieced, and hand-quilted when I lost interest in it. All it lacked was the binding. I considered not finishing it, when I was reminded of another project I had thought the same of and decided to bring it to completion. I'm glad I did. I think it's charming once again. Each cat is quilted differently, and the alternating corners have balls of yarn and mice quilted into them. Abigail has claimed it, and uses it on her lap in the evenings while she sits and draws. Chester loves it, too. Lucy? She loves any quilt you lay on the floor.

Grant

...and then came spring. One early morning as we were running through town and had just come over the crest of a hill, she said, "I feel like I'm running six weeks pregnant." Again, words failed me. My mind raced. Is she pregnant? Is this her way of telling me? What if she isn't, and I ask: will her heart hurt even more? I remained silent, and we finished our run and parted ways.  

Several days later as we ran in the hour before dawn and we were talking about upcoming races, she counted herself out for a fall marathon. That's when I knew. And I had the courage to ask, "Are you...?" Yes, joy comes in the morning! My heart was happy, and light, and thankful. 

The months passed and Amy kept on running until finally we had to train separately as we approached our marathon date, and she approached her due date. But still, nearly every day she'd check in with me, asking me for updates, and coaching me along the way. At the local fabric store I spied a piece of number fabric and was instantly drawn to it for a baby quilt for Amy's little one. Runners are constantly crunching numbers, trying to set PRs, and so forth. The rest of the fabrics were chosen to coordinate with the colors of the numbers, and to suit a baby boy. The pattern is from Allison Harris of Cluck Cluck Sew, and is called Kaleidoscope. 

I started cutting pieces in early September, and had the hand-quilting done by early December. I just had to wait for the new little babe to make his appearance so I could label the back with his name. Waiting is hard, even when you aren't the expectant mother. ;-)

Finally, on December 16, Grant came into the world healthy and loved. I shared with Amy how much I loved his name, and how I thought it was so fitting since God had granted her another baby after losing Jack. (I was reminded a bit of Hannah in 1 Samuel 1.) Two full weeks passed until we got to meet this new little beautiful person, and it was good to finally hold him. 

It was good to see Verne holding him, too. It took me back to the days when our children were newborns. He definitely still has the touch, and was able to put Grant to sleep.

Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord,
The fruit of the womb is a reward.

Like arrows in the hand of a warrior,
So are the children of one’s youth.

Happy is the man who has his quiver full of them;
They shall not be ashamed,
But shall speak with their enemies in the gate.

Psalm 127:3-5

Sweet Days

For so many years the hustle and bustle has happened in our own home, but the days are much quieter now. Abigail and I were thrilled to be thought of and invited to participate in a Gingerbread House Party. The afternoon was a wonderful mix of older and younger children, and a sweet time with other moms. Having baked and assembled these houses so many years in the past I truly appreciated the hostess and all of her hard work.

Mac is home, and now we wait for Autumn and Collin to arrive. The turn around time will be quick, just as it was for Thanksgiving, but I'm so grateful that we'll all be together.

From our home to yours, Merry Christmas!