The Auction

I've been to two fundraising auctions in the past few weeks: one for school and one for church. Today especially I've been thinking about last nights auction. I'm surprised at how it has affected me. Let me share some of my thoughts, more for me perhaps to process. . . stick around if you'd like to listen. :)

Our school auction is important in that it raises much needed funds which help for our tuition. :) I didn't buy anything. . . a little too rich for our blood. I did volunteer in the kitchen which was fun. I'm thankful for those who do purchase items and those who donate. It was fun to watch and support my school community.

The church action is a different story. All items are donated from members of our church and all proceeds go toward the youth group trip. I even made some bread to donate. There are no cruises or pool tables, but there are dinners for eight, babysitting, homemade doilies, drawings, afghans, pies, an airplane ride, and baby booties to name a few. Though there are still items out of my price range, we can run with a few. It is also fun because I know everyone there. We can laugh together and compete with one another. Here are some of my thoughts.

1. When I am bidding I get stressed out. There were times when Gary wanted to "bid it up" a bit and I just can't handle it! What if we get stuck with it? I once got stuck at my first school auction in Chicago with a pair of children's cross country skis. I think the auctioneer last night could sense my tension and even picked on Gary and I when I was saying "stop" to an item and he was lifting his number. It know it is all in good fun. It is just stressful!

2. I don't think I'll made bread again. It is a little item and it is in the silent auction, so I know it won't bring the big bucks. Yet my insecurity gets the best of me and I think surely this delicious bread (I even brought samples which were a big hit!) is worth more than $3.50. I had to not look at it or even watch the silent auction table because I took it personally. It was if the cost of the bread was a reflection of my worth. Silly, I know. It is something I struggle with---insecurity.

3. It is not good to make money decisions about an item DURING THE BIDDING OF SAID ITEM! Either you spend too much, or you end up bidding against the people you are going in with. I did get a cabin/spa night with five other friends. It'll be awesome and well worth what we paid for it. At one point though, we were trying to decide if we'd go over our original limit. . . and then we were bidding at the same time, and then we are trying to make eye contact, and then I'm begging Gary to stop, and then we lose it, and then they decide to offer two. . . . It is just better to get all the ducks in a row beforehand.

4. I got chided by the auctioneer, and I didn't like it. Sometimes I'm o.k. with being the center of attention--when I'm in control. I'll dress crazy (remember the prom of last year?) or do silly things when I know that is what I'm supposed to be doing. I went to the front table to ask a question about paying and I got in trouble in front of everyone. I got called out by the auctioneer. I think I handled it o.k., but inside I just wanted to be a green witch and melt away. Have you ever experienced that? My instinct is to leave. . . to flee the scene. I'm still pondering that whole thing. I'm not sure what to make of it.

5.I saw Christ. See, for the most part I was at the auction for selfish reasons. Yes, it is good to donate to the youth group, but really I wanted to have a great time and perhaps get stuff that I wanted. I wanted that cabin/spa get-away. Yes. I. Did. Sitting alongside the items that lots of people wanted (the dinners, the night away, the babysitting) were the items that might not have been so desire-able. They were the poor and needy of the auction. The homemade salsa. The aforementioned doilies. The 8x10 photo of a flower. My friend and mentor sat near the back. I saw Christ in her last night. As items came up that no one else wanted, she raised her number high. She proudly claimed two doilies and other merchandise and then she found her way to makers of said items. She proclaimed them beautiful. She left before the auction was over. My guess is that she came not for herself, but to make a donation. She bid on items that needed love and attention until her money was spent and then she left.

I often get lost in thinking about myself, how people are perceiving me, if my bread is good enough. . . .I had a great time and I'll go again. Next time though, I think I'll also try to be more like Christ.

Get beyond it

Gulp. . .

This is post number 300. How did that happen? I've logged on a couple of times, only to shut it down again. What is worthy of number 300?

I have a picture in my camera of my beautiful wrist corsage from Easter Sunday morning. Oh, you know I was the envy of every woman in church! Seriously, it was a ton of fun and I was the ONLY chica with flowers on my wrist. There are reasons why we don't wear flowers on our wrists often. It is awkward. They get in your way. Bathroom visits are interesting. Your 11 month old daughter is fascinated with them. Strange glances thrown your way. They are good for only one day--even if you store them in the fridge. I'm not going to walk around my house with orange roses----did you read that---ORANGE ROSES (love love love them) on my wrist. So yeah, the pictures are on the camera, on the island. . . with no way of getting off because I don't know how to do it. So, the pictures will have to wait.

I thought about writing about my Easter Service. . . let me share what happened to me during my church service. I was in the nursery and it was going well. I'm not upset--every person needs to take their turn. No big deal. Then. . . .a surprise. My friend Sara comes rushing in right before the end, grabs the child in my arms (it's o.k.), and tells me she'll sub for me so that I can sing the Hallelujah Chorus. What a gift! It was awesome to sing and celebrate my Risen Lord! Good stuff as well.

Perhaps the egg hunt a mom's house? Perhaps the aquatic center on Saturday night? The movie that Gary and I watched last night that has me thinking often today?

Nope, though every one of those is blog worthy (after all, it is my blog), post 300 deserves more. Here is it. The compliment that made my week. It came today from a three year old.

My daughter Noel was the estrella (star) today in school. She attends El Puente. It is a Spanish Immersion School that is part of the Zeeland Christian School system. We love it. In her classroom, only Spanish is spoken. My boys attend as well. It is amazing how much Spanish they know already. So today was Noel's special day and I got to go and speak only Spanish. I use my few words over and over again. No English! (Sometimes things slip, but I try!) Anyway, at the very end we were packing up and a little darlin' was having trouble with her coat. She asked me for help and I slipped and said, "Sure, I'll help you."

"Wow, you speak really good English."

My response? "Thanks" followed by lots of laughter.

300 posts. Thanks for coming along. Hopefully the next 300 will have lots of laughter as well. And just so you don't forget, I speak good English.

Easter Memories

It is Holy Week. The time of the year when we remember and ponder and reflect on the amazing gift given to us by our Saviour. It is humbling to me that Christ thought about me and loved me enough to endure. . . the worst. Thank you God! Amen and Amen!

I'm thankful for parents who taught me the real meaning of Easter. I remember driving around early on Easter morning while in high school. I was in a singing group and we had sung at a Sunrise service. Afterwards, we drove around Holland and Zeeland with the windows open shouting about how Easter isn't about pink bunnies and peeps. Not exactly the best way to share the good news, but it was truth.

I remember a few Easter Egg hunts as a child. I remember we couldn't wear our spring dresses until Easter. I remember that it was often COLD! One of my best. . . and perhaps most entertaining memories is of the corsages in church. Can I get a witness! Lori--you have got to remember the corsages! It seems (and this is looking back through my little girl glasses) that every woman in the church had a corsage for Easter. I think they got them for Mother's Day as well. I'd love some clarification on this one. I loved looking at all the flowers and picking out my favorites. My dad always got a big one for my mom and two little lilies for Tricia and me. I was so proud to wear my flower from my dad. I wonder if the dads ever competed for best corsage? I wonder if there was corsage envy among the moms? Mrs. Dykstra, in my opinion, always had the best one. She sat behind us and seemed to get one with red roses. Lovely. Did you have "dress" traditions when you grew up?



The days of the corsage are over. I wonder what would happen if I wore on on Sunday? I don't own an Easter Dress. . . . I am in the nursery this Sunday. Perhaps the kids would love to look at my flower and try to taste it. I know I'd be the envy of every mom if I had a corsage. Honey, if you read this before Easter. . . hint hint. :) I'll keep you posted.

The Voice of God

Last Saturday was "Boy Haircut Day" at the Sprick house. Garrison, Simon, and Daddy all received haircuts. Gary followed up his haircut (And by haircut I mean that I buzzed all of his hair off. It was about an inch long.) by shaving off his beard. The results were quite dramatic. I found myself being surprised by his appearance for the rest of the day. Garrison, Simon and Noel also laughed at how different daddy looked. Penny was a different story. She was taking a nap during haircutting time. As she began to talk and alert us to her presence, I went into her room and Gary followed me. She immediately stopped her talking and clapping, opened her eyes wide, and began to cry. There was a stranger in the room. She reached out to me and I picked her up explaining that it was daddy. She buried her head in my shoulder. Daddy then began to talk and she began kicking her legs, smiling and laughing. She looked around the room for her daddy. Instead, she only found a stranger. Gary and I both laughed and laughed. We kept on explaining and Gary kept talking to her so very lovingly. She wouldn't go to him and continued to smile when she heard her daddy's voice. . . yet cry when she saw the stranger. It took awhile for her to connect the voice and the person once again.

Gary and I talked and laughed about it again that night. We both made the connection to our spiritual life. Though I can't always see God, or perhaps we don't see what WE would like God to be doing, we can hear His Voice. He has given us His Word and we can always go to it. It should bring a smile to our face and joy at the thought of it. I know I often want to tell God how my life should be and what things should be happening around me. Instead, I need to spend more time listening to His Voice and then I think I'll recognize Him more often.

The man who enters by the gate is the shepherd of his sheep. The watchman opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice. But they will never follow a stranger; in fact, they will run away from him because they do not recognize a stranger's voice. John 10: 2-5

Crying while reading

I've been crying while reading in the past few weeks. How do I explain this to my children? Here I am, reading a story to them, and I begin to cry about it. Ack! Here are two examples.

1. We have been reading the Jesus Storybook Bible every night along with the books of their choosing. I love reading these stories to them and am rather impressed at how the author has tied every story to Christ. As I'm reading the story of Abraham sacrificing Isaac, I begin to cry and can barely get through it. Although I am very familiar with the story and have heard and read it many many times, this is the first time I have read this version. It hits me in a new place and I'm so very overcome with how Abraham would sacrifice his son! I do not want to sacrifice my son! Nope! I don't think I could do it. Then, to think that God did do it for me! It was overwhelming.

2. When I was a little girl, one of my favorite books was "When the Sky is Like Lace". My sister Tricia and I would beg my dad to read it to us. . . only dad would do because he would sing

the songs in the book. We still comment to each other when we have seen a bimulous night. (I know it isn't a real word, but it is in the book!) I love this book so much that while we were dating, Gary bought it for me on ebay because it was out of print. What a great gift! Since I can't find the copy of the one he gave me (I believe I have it packed in a box of dating treasures in the basement. . . ah. . . another post about my not being able to find things!) I resigned myself to the fact that I might not be able to read it to my kids for lack of having the book. Then, BEHOLD! Apparently, it was re-released sometime around 2004 (give or take a few years) and I stumble upon it at the library. YES! I sit down with Noel and read it for the first time. I cry. I can hear my dad's voice. I can picture my sister and I on either side of him choosing our favorite pictures. My pigtails hurt a little. My feet are peeking out from under my nightgown. . . . I so desperately want Noel to love it as much as I do. I cry as I turn the last page. . . "The sky, the sky. . . Oh Look at the Sky! It's going to be perfectly bimulous!" (Pregnant Pause) Then she asks if we can read Superhero ABC. Perhaps another reason to cry. :)

My kids are growing up. Penny began walking this week. The three older kids are watching Blue's Clues in Spanish right now. . . and they are understanding it! Garrison is wearing 6T, Simon is drawing better than me, and Noel skips everywhere she goes. I love them so much I can hardly stand it. Perhaps I'm a little emotional where my kids are concerned. My guess is that if you are a parent, you are too. I'm glad I won't have to sacrifice them, and I really hope they'll be thankful for the upbringing that they had in this house. Lord, thanks for choosing me to parent these four, and may I be worthy of them.

A connection

I'm so full of blog entries. Beware! There may be several this week.

Here is the latest. . . something wonderful that happened on Sunday afternoon. After all the naps were taken, we decided to go for a hike. I grew up hiking every Sunday afternoon. Sometimes it drove me crazy, but now I thank my father for making me do it. It got me outside, developed my love of the outdoors, gave my mom a break (I get that now!), and created a ton of amazing memories. Gary has heartily embraced the Sunday hike (love him!) so off we went. We packed up all the kids, Smokey, and a backpack to put Penny in. We went just up the road to Van Raalte Farm. Great hiking, close, nice trails and bridges, dogs allowed. . . very doable for our kids.

As were unloading, I put Penny in the backpack and lifted her up on my back. I remembered the last time I had used the backpack---China. As we began walking I told Simon that when we went to China to get him, I put him in this same backpack and we went to a really cool park. I added that we even have pictures of us together with him in the backpack. He stopped and then got super excited. He kept asking more and more questions about the backpack, us hiking in China, the pictures. He was even jumping around he was so happy. I then realized that it is the FIRST memory I've had of something that Penny is doing that I was able to see him do. We often comment to Garrison that he used to do this "just like Penny" or exclaim that Noel did the same thing when "she was Penny's age". Simon will often ask or just state that when he was a baby he did. . . X, Y, and Z. He is trying to connect. Sadly, I often say that he probably did (spit up, cry for a bottle, laugh when someone kissed him, fall down often, whatever), but that I wasn't there to see it. I wish I could have been there.

Yesterday was the day. There was a connection for Simon, something that he and Penny had in common. He has asked me more about it and I'll be looking for more opportunities to tie brother Simon and sister Penny.

And oh, the hiking was great. And we saw three frogs. And we heard hundreds of frogs. And we saw buds. And we found walking sticks. And we went wading in the creek. In our clothes. And our shoes. The kids thought it was awesome. They were right.

Supper

Supper last night included chicken, salad, rice, corn, mom and dad. You read that right. Mom and Dad.

Dad has been doing so good and working hard and improving in so many areas. After our meeting last week, Gary and I both agreed (with some caution) that it would be o.k. for him to come over and be with the kids. He is doing well and needs some encouragement. It is very hard to live alone knowing that family is close by, but feeling so very far away. We believe that grace is something that we have received and now is the time to pass that on to dad. Will he ever be perfect? Nope. Will he still mess up in areas of his life? Yep. Know what? I will too.

So overall, it went well. The kids were surprised by his appearance (he has a beard and has put on some weight), but Garrison and Simon remembered who he was. Noel was a little distant, but quickly warmed up. She talked a mean streak at dinner. (shocker) The kids weren't shy about their questions either. "Gramps, how come your leg was cut off?" "Gramps, are you doing better and aren't sick anymore?" "Why do you have all that hair on your face?" Dad handled them with great care and appropriate honesty.

Each of my three oldest kids remembers that Gramps would always have an apple for them. He would hike with them to the woods and would cut up an apple to share. They would often talk about it during the past year and a half. In fact, Garrison used to only eat apples with his Gramps. He didn't like my apples. After dinner, dad sat down and pulled out an apple and a jackknife from his pocket. The kids crowded around him eating bites of apple loudly proclaiming that he still had the best apples. These are the moments when I see my dad again.

Friends, dad is still my dad and he isn't my dad. He is someone new that I don't really know. There are parts of him that are familiar, but so many things are different. We'll be gradually getting to know this new person through get-togethers and the like. I hope that I can grow to like him. . . right now I don't really know him. For now, this is where we are at. Thanks for your continued prayers and support. This is a marathon where we feel great running sometimes and at other times feel like we are hitting a wall. I'm glad that God knows the finish line.

It's spring

Hey--did you notice? It's spring! Yeah. . . one of my favorites rooms in my house is now open for business. The outside!

I love seeing my kids playing outside and I LOVE saying "go outside to play for awhile". It makes me happy to hear the laughter (and the fighting). It makes me happy to see rosy cheeks. It makes me happy to see toys strewn about the back yard. I'm sure that doesn't make my neighbors happy. Oh well.

There is one thing that bothers me about spring. Nope, not the mud. Nope, not the crazy changes in weather. Nope, not the sense that it seems to be the shortest season. The thing that is bugging me the most is the rocks.

You read it right. . . rocks. My kids are fascinated with rocks. They collect them. They sort them. They show them off. "Look at this fossil, look at this footprint, this is a mineral, this is a keeper, this one writes (it was a piece of charcoal), this one was the oldest, this one looks like a heart. . . " and on and on and on. I can handle these comments, in fact, I welcome them. I love it that they are creating and learning and pretending with rocks.

I don't like it that they are migrating into our house. They find homes on my counter and in bedrooms. Several have found their way into the laundry which I am NOT excited about. I find many in the car and then get chastised after recycling them because "that one was a special one". Today, the boys got in trouble because they saw a spider and tried to kill it by throwing rocks at it. That is a problem because the spider was on the house! Somehow throwing rocks at the house (bad idea) was overruled by killing the spider (a good idea?). Summer will bring hoses, and gardens, and hikes, and bicycles, and sandboxes and more water. . . perhaps rocks will fall aside. A girl can hope.

Holiday Inn

There are five of us in this room of the Holiday Inn. Five.

Here is a rundown of our day today.

Everyone wakes up super excited.

Get everything and everyone packed.

Head to a goat farm for a tour and taste testing of goat's milk and goat milk products. Tour includes seeing a baby goat who is minutes old and carrying him wrapped in a towel.

Stop at library for traveling videos.

Return home to pick up forgotten items.

Drop Penny off at Grammy's house. Cry a little.

Tell the kids to stop asking for videos.

Turn on a video.

Try a new video because the first one doesn't work.

Neither does the second.

Dora is good to go.

Wendy's for lunch.

Outlet mall in Michigan City.

Every kid sleeps in the car on the way to Chicago.

Gary and I have good talking time about school and goat's milk.

Hotel.

Pool.

Pool.

Pool.

Pizza in the room.

Watch a calming and soothing video (Sign time).

Call for extra pillows.

Read books, sing and pray.

Now, every kid is still awake marveling at their noisy sleeping bags as well as the jets outside and all the newness of a hotel room.

Shanda is posting a blog.

Gary is sleeping without a pillow.

Tomorrow: Shedd Aquarium.