It was a huge move for me.

We lived in Norman, Oklahoma for five years after getting married, while I was attending University. We lived in a modest little two bedroom house that had a wheelchair ramp from a former occupant that my children rode their trikes down or sled down in the snow. I worked in the Botany Dept green house and was able to make the best potting soil mix and propagate all kinds of wonderful plants.  I spent every day with my plants either in the greenhouse or in my yard.

When we moved to Maryland I had to sell my 35+ houseplants including bonsai that I nurtured as if they were my own children.  I left lasagna layered flower beds that were filled with compost so carefully made from bags of lawn clippings I collected all over town, coffee grounds from Starbucks where I was employed, and cast off plants from the OU greenhouse.

My Japanese maples, passion flower vines, and purple woodland violets that I had started from seed, my wild grape vine that had made its way from rural Chicago in a graduate student’s agrimonia specimen for research for her thesis, and my beloved herb garden.

Needless to say even though it was just dirt and organic matter, I mourn the loss of my yard and plants as I would have a friend. It sounds crazy, right?

But I know that I have many more flowers and plants to nurture in my lifetime, many more sunburned backs ahead of me as I bend and sweat while tending my Lord’s creation.

For it is He who has made everything beautiful in His time and has dominion over all.

I have long-suffering and supportive husband.  He is so patient with me that I sometimes wonder when it is going to run out…don’t worry I know that although his patience might wear, his love is still strong.  He is a wonderful man and a loving father.  I find my love increasing for him every day that I have been privileged to call him my beloved.

There I go again…

So, I have had a lot of projects that I have wanted to tackle and haven’t really gotten started due to other things coming up and taking priority position.

Tonight we are hosting the Men’s Prayer Meeting and I have to clean my house and get it prepared for having company.  I prefer to always be at the ready to receive guests into my home, however, with four kids ranging from 9 years to 7 months it can prove difficult.  So this morning as I was going about tidying up the nursery, I began to think of projects yet unfinished in the children’s room; raised shelves for toys, hooks or pegs for backpacks, storage solutions for toys, etc….bunk bed tent being the coolest.

I have a problem in the fact that I have the oldest children of our young couples groups at church.  Not that I resent having older children. I  have older children and I  have taught Sophia the limits of her freedom around her siblings stuff. It is because of this that I have  forgotten what it was like  teach my children limits concerning playing in other’s bathrooms, opening closets that are supposed to stay closed to pull out every toy that said closet contains even though some are dangerous for children younger than 2 (small parts), or not to climb up unto the top bunk and while there pull all of the posters off of the wall.  I am also not going to say that we have a 100% obedience ratio either, my children are after all children who delight in their desires first and ours as parents as an after thought. I know that this will change as they accept the saving knowledge of Christ’s sacrifice for us and as they mature and grow.

Thus my thinking of the bunk bed tent.  I googled do it yourself bunk bed tent and found this blog: The Woman of 1,00 Hobbies.  Well, bless my soul, a kindred spirit.  Here is her bunk bed tent. It is on the bottom bunk, but I think that this might entice the little kiddos that come over to play in it instead of choosing to crawl to the top bunk to play ship, especially if it looks like a house. I am still trying to find a solution for the top bunk that will  keep little ones down and them let my son up at night.  I might do something with anchored hooks in the ceiling and a tarp with bungy around it acting as a wall…hmmm.

Oh, And here is her sewing room, yes she has an entire room for sewing, and no I am not coveting it, shame on you for suggesting such a thing.  I do however love her decision to use vintage pattern covers as the framed art in her sewing room. Rabbits are hopping all over here, can you see them?  Such cute and inventive little bunnies.

SO I am not going to chase rabbits on Woman’s blog.  But I think that I might get some great ideas from her in the future to face my rabbits, and that is a very good thing.

This giveaway is for an adorable outfit…yes, the entire outfit.  I love the combination of goldenrod yellow with the navy and white stripes.  And that poppy skirt is to-die-for cute.

Along with entering this giveaway for free today,  I received a parents feeding guide through the mail via BeechNut.com.  It is packed with coupons and lots of good advice for starting a wee one on the road to solids.  The total coupon value is about $20…On baby food. That my mommy friends is good savings. It also comes with a feeding guide fridge magnet. Did I mention that it was FREE?

I highly recommend checking out your family’s favorite product brand’s website.  You can sign up at so many of them to receive coupons, and free samples or complete product surveys that will allow you the same benefits.  I signed up at Leap Frog, Gerber, Beechnut, Earth’s Best, Huggies, Pampers, Luvs, Fisher Price, Red Plum, and so many others.

I can say that I have been busy.  Four children in one two bedroom house makes for lots of fun, laughs, tears and messes. We have seen Liam grow from a little grub to a scooting, yawping man-cub.  Sophia is increasingly girly in a way that her older sister never was;  hiding under the table with my purse, the cell phone, and a smile.

My oldest two children start back to school next Monday and I have tried to figure out where the summer has gone. Then I go to my husband’s flickr site and I am reminded that our summer has been full with Karate, sunny days, church, fellowship, and family.

We may have differing views theologically… I am unsure of her heart’s beliefs for she doesn’t use her Soule Mama blog as a sounding board for that aspect of her life, and for that I am thankful.

I do know this: I love to read of her delighting in her children, her husband’s presence, and ordinary days with extraordinary occurrences. And upon the next time I have money to spend on books, I plan to buy one if not several of hers.

She is having a giveaway today for an adorable cow kimono and rockin’ aqua blue messenger bag sponsored by Bayan Hippo.  You should probably check out Bayan Hippo on Etsy as well… AWESOME! Their clothes are the cutest and the bags are so me.

Mothering by Grace is very graciously giving away a copy of  Jeff VanVonderen’s new book, Families Where Grace is in Place: Building a Grace-Filled Marriage and Raising Creative, Contented, Capable Children Without Legalism or Manipulation.

The book’s list price is $12.99, but you can purchase it from Amazon for $10.39. However, if you follow the steps outlined on the Mothering by Grace website  you can be entered to win a copy for free, for as many was five times.

I have not read the book, but judging from the description on MbG, I feel that I could use the wisdom that Jeff gathers together in the text:

Families Where Grace Is in Place by Jeff VanVonderen.

This book jarred us both from the unbiblical errors and extra-biblical extremes that run rampant in our previous life. Most startling is VanVonderen’s rather matter-of-fact correction that the Bible doesn’t say that I’m supposed to make my husband love me, nor is he supposed to make me submit. I have my responsibility to submit, and he has his responsibility to love. That’s our division of labor, so to speak.

The same goes with parents and children. My responsibility to not provoke my sons to wrath is actually greater than their responsibility to obey/honor me. I can’t make them honor me, but I need to act honorably. VanVonderen was the first for me that made that very simple, mind-blowing point.

The above bold emphasis is mine.  I struggle with parenting by grace.  I did not have the best role model as a mother. I do not struggle as much with submission to my husband, thankfully.  It is very easy to submit to a man that you know loves you and has God’s will as his main intention for your life.

Well what are you waiting for? Go and enter yourself to win the book!

I have been so busy this month. I do admit that some of that time has been my own decision to just play with Liam and veg with the kids. Still, we do have something to fill the time almost every day of the week.

The kids started Karate on Monday nights from 7-8 pm, Tuesdays are Men and Women’s Bible study at 7pm, Wednesday nights we walk around the corner to church and fellowship at 7pm, Thursdays are Library day till 7pm, Fridays nights are Fellowship Night at 6pm, Saturday’s are Free , and Sunday is the LORD’s day.

I have managed to get behind in my domestic duties this past week after finally catching up and in a groove the previous week. I am disappointed about falling back into the “I’ll do it later” trap last week. I procrastinated and made up excuses because I gave in to my body’s desire for slothfulness. I got on the computer and wasted time Googling, searching, blogging, Facebooking. You name it. I would start and stop cleaning different rooms, and just generally stayed in a funk.

I did manage to have my yard sale on the one day last week that it got up to 102 degrees… yes, I am an idiot. I cannot believe I allowed myself to put the sale off until the week of Summer Solstice – the hottest and sunniest period of summer. I developed dehydration sickness and malaise. On top of that, I only got 30 bucks out of it. I do thank GOD that I made any money at all. When I was sitting outside I kept trying to figure out why no one was out yard sale-ing… everyone else watches the local news and common sense kicked in after hearing the weather forecast the night before I am sure.

I did not sleep the night before the yard sale, instead electing to set the sale up in the cool of night. I crashed for a power nap while nursing the wee man before Matthew came home from work and then again at around 5pm. I ignored the mess and laundry that was piling up.

Around 10:45 Saturday night, I realized that I had neglected to prepare for my Sunday school lesson… DOH! I decided that I could pull off the “Three Parables” lesson without much preparation since I had heard it a dozen times or more in my life. So back to sleep I went to nurse my semi-migraine and sleeplessness.

Sunday morning the sun shone down on my yard as I walked to church and it looked like a war zone. I walked deliberately past the melee to get to church, stopping along the way to pick up my neighbor’s daughter for her first visit to FBC Overton. Once at church, I realized that I had not nursed Liam yet…  due to my focus on getting everyone to church on time.

After church I nursed, shopped, nursed and napped, cooked, and ignored the mess in and out of the house again. We were going to visit Matthew’s brother, Mark, and I knew that if I began to worry about the house we would never make it. We were late even with me trying to get ready early.

We brought potato salad, fruit salad, drinks, Bluebell Ice cream and chicken. Mark grilled a pork loin, the chicken and his fiancee Nikki made a pasta salad. We all ate until full, reminisced and laughed about the kids antics. Sophia became better acquainted with “Venitor” (Mark’s pet painted Dragon). Gaelynn and Israel played Wii Baseball, and explored Uncle Mark’s double Monitor setup on his computer desk. We had a lot of fun and upon arriving home and getting the kids to bed; I promptly fell asleep nursing Liam.

I awoke this morning when Matthew came to bed just as the first light of day was seeping into the sky. I “shook sleep from my eyes” and headed outside to pack up my neighbors yard sale items and take them to her house. I lost track of time and before I knew it, the kids were asking what was for lunch… never mind the fact that they wanted saltines and Cherry 7up for breakfast. This is not a normal breakfast menu in my home. I only had soda because it was on sale at Brookshire’s, Tuesday the women are coming here and next weekend is July 4. I quickly scanned the fridge…  some grilled chicken and some raw, beans, fruit salad, meatloaf, etc.

I grabbed the meatloaf, crumbled it into a saucepan, mixed in some soy sauce, Worcestershire sauce, brown sugar, onion and garlic powder, and apple cider vinegar. Voila! BBQ sloppy Joes and fruit with milk; all in under two minutes.

Thank you, GOD for leftovers on a downhill kind of day….things are looking up now.

These are my finds for this week:

Produce:
2 bags of fresh California Blend veggies, 2 bags of cabbage slaw, a bag of broccoli slaw, 2 large bell peppers, 5 lbs. bag of bananas, a bag of jalapenos and limes, and a bag of broccoli florets
Cost: $1.00 per listing or bag,  for a total of $9.00.

Meat:
2 packages of Pilgrims Pride Thighs and 2 packages of PP drumsticks, 2 pkg 1lb 73/27 ground beef, 2 pkg 80/20 ground beef, 1  Family size pkg boneless pork loin chops, 1 pkg pork loin steaks, 1 pkg chops, 1 pkg tenderized boneless chuck steak, 1 pkg boneless chuck steak, 1 skirt steak, 1 pkg BBQ seasoned leg quarters.
Cost: $19.95 a piece for 3 about 27-30 lbs = about $2/lb

I begin by placing the veg in the freezer of fridge depending upon when or how I am going to use it. Then I take all of the meat and organize it by animal and then be what I am going to do with it and set about processing it for the freezer or fridge.

I made pork chops with Asian slaw salad last Sunday and had leftovers for lunch Monday. Monday night we had Broccoli beef made from the tenderized steak that I cooked the day before and added the veggies and sauce that night  paired with rice. Tuesday I made BBQ drumsticks and thighs in my broiler accompanied by coleslaw and a potato salad I put together on Sunday afternoon to save time during the week.  Wednesday night we ate Bratwurst that I bought on sale at Wal*Mart for $3.50/pkg and frittered eggplant, zucchini, summer squash that a young lady from church gave me.

This morning I spent less than an hour processing the rest of the meat to be placed in the freezer for meals next week. 

I put up chicken seasoned with season salt to be fried and served with green beans and potatoes, lemon pepper chicken for pairing with one of the packages of California Blend Veggies and rice, a two pound meatloaf that is frozen in the dimension that I plan on cooking it in for easy prep – served with mac n’ cheese and peas, Garlic and Herb Chops paired with corn and carrots, plain boneless chops for stuffing served with spinach, and a large bag of cut and marinating beef steak for more broccoli beef made with the other California Blend Veggies.

With the five pounds of bananas I made three loaves of Banana Chocolate Chip Bread.  This time it turned out like banana flavored chocolate bread pudding in a crust…YUMMY!

I cannot tell you how awesome it is to finally be getting back into the groove of having a week’s menu planned ahead of time.  It allows me to send Matthew with leftovers to work and have some leftovers for me and/or the kids as well.

Precious Lord, take my hand
Lead me on, let me stand
I am tired, I am weak, I am worn
Through the storm, through the night
Lead me on to the light
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

When my way grows drear
Precious Lord linger near
When my light is almost gone
Hear my cry, hear my call
Hold my hand lest I fall
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

When the darkness appears
And the night draws near
And the day is past and gone
At the river I stand
Guide my feet, hold my hand
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

Precious Lord, take my hand
Lead me on, let me stand
I’m tired, I’m weak, I’m lone
Through the storm, through the night
Lead me on to the light
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

Something said during Sunday School about how we as Christians hold our hope in Christ during this recession made me think of this hymn. Then it promptly got stuck in my head for the rest of the day.

Here is one of my favorite Youtube presentations of the hymn.

Of course, I do not care for red-orange text on a black background, but I am not ready to fork over the cash to be able to tweak the layout. In time, perhaps.
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With that said, I encourage all of you to drop-in on the new incarnation of what was formerly “not for you” but is now A Place To Stand:  matthew.wordpress.com

The title is derived from a famous quote of Archimedes: “Give me a place to stand, and I will move the world.” The Greek text of which accompanies the heading.

Granted, the great mathematician of Antiquity was speaking of the principle by which his fulcrum-based Lever operated and I am speaking of something different altogether. Mine is more of an oblique Francis Schaeffer reference. Even so, were I proficient enough in Greek, I would likely amend his phrase to say:  Give me a place to stand and He will move the world.

Huge credit goes to a dear Brother of mine and computer programmer extraordinaire John (he of the Donatello pseudonym) for all of his fantastic work in this endeavor, as well as the many of you who took so graciously of your own time to weed through browser caches and old emails to help fill in the missing pieces of the puzzle. You all have my gratitude.
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I will be gradually phased-out as primary author here at Prospero House. Though I will still contribute from time-to-time. Iit is my hope that Candace is able to make her mark here in the coming months.

Of course, she has her hands quite full at the moment, so it may be a while before she can get into a groove.

While I cannot say that I have ever made much of an effort to keep track of this date, whether during my days as an Atheist or now as a Theist, the significance of this occasion has been foisted upon me zealously for the better part of this week.

Be it the giddy efforts of local clergy in my community, or the numerous forwarded editorials being carried in mainstream periodicals; hard-line Skeptics and conservative Baptists alike are celebrating this event…  Darwin, it seems, has a Posse.

Charles Darwin is credited with providing the groundwork for modern evolutionary theory: that all species of biological life evolved over time from a common ancestor through a process he termed Natural Selection. In essence… that only the “strong” survived. Of course, the strong could be whatever organism propagated the most abundantly or aggressively.

Essentially, Darwin’s research did much to usher in an innovative Naturalistic paradigm, wherein the diversity of all living organisms could be retroactively delineated to an origin of singularity.
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I do not “hate” Charles Darwin, nor am I “afraid” of Darwinian Macro-Evolution. To be perfectly honest, I have some rather romantic notions of the sort of man he was and I suspect that (ideological differences aside) we would have gotten along rather famously. I have read The Origin of the Species in its entirety at least three times in my life, and I find it to be a highly impressive work of profound scientific scholarship.

My own disagreements with Darwin have everything to do with his philosophy and the necessary implications that follow. For all facts are interpreted facts, and every idea has consequences…  whether unintended or not.

Ideas seldom flourish in the frigid vacuum of theory, they flow with the people and the time in which they are borne; the history of man is a living and bleeding thing.

When I think on Evolution, Natural Selection, and how quickly they became interwoven within the socio-political consciousness of the British Empire…  a fearful symmetry emerges.

There could not have been a better time for a wealthy Englishman to deduce that the particular “manifest destiny” of English Imperialism was not the unjust imposition of overreaching economic avarice or even an irrational nationalistic prejudice, but simply the natural outworking of the biological imperative to dominate.

Man’s baser instincts to magnify himself at the expense and domination of those that they perceived to be weak, found a fresh new paradigm to rationalize their actions.

We find such manifestations of this is the abhorrent practices of eugenics that followed, as well as certain other vile practices that continue with us to this very day.
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On a personal note…  I love Science. I do, I have always loved studying about the natural world.

When I was a boy, I memorized constellations and wanted to “know everything” about outer space. I remember how I wanted to “know everything” about Dinosaurs one Summer and then I wanted to be a Marine Biologist (that “worked with Dolphins”) the next. I would sit with my father in his Greenhouse, enchanted by his rambling dissertations of one aspect of horticulture or another.

Even to this day, I find a glorious wonder to the natural world…  yet such savagery as well.
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There must be more than this…  there must be.

Today, thus far, has been one hastening from one task and endeavor into another…  with very little time for rest or reflection. Granted, this is not atypical in and of itself for a typical workday. However, I am weary from very little sleep.

A nagging Cold has lingered with our younger children due in no small part to the bitter Winter weather of recent weeks. Our children have no problems sharing, especially when it comes to runny noses and chest congestion.

Candace and I swapped-off holding and soothing the wee babes but, when Israel’s stomach turned on him and Gaelynn’s nose sprung a leak in the early-early hours of this morning, it took a lot to bring the household into order. ‘Twas indeed a sleepless night.

Admittedly, my beloved bore the brunt of the pre-Dawn puking/coughing/sneezing chaos to ensure that I would have at least my minimum four hours of sleep…  but it is impossible for me to have true rest when my pretty ones are ill.
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Upon the desk, my mobile phone shakes and warbles in petulant insistence.

This brief stanza of contemplation must end; there is work to be done.

At one point she was lamenting her age, and lamenting the Age in which we lived; she told me that she thought that “things” had only begun to worsen, and that her thirties would surely be harder a decade than any she had ever know before.

Wondering at all of this (both at the implied premise of many of her assertions as well as their following implication), I thought it best to liven the mood a trifle. I referred to the fact that she had known only a meager three decades thus far, and that even if her third should become gloomier than those that preceded it: “Two out of three ain’t bad.”

No sooner had I spoken these words when a peer of ours happened by and overheard our dirge and mirth-making. An older and wiser gentleman than either of us (recently having turned 60), he listened for a moment before offering a thoughtful counterpoint to the above sentiments.

He mentioned that when he was thirty, times were equally hard…  if not more so. That real estate was worth a fraction of what it is now. That inflation and unemployment were each at near-overwhelming heights. That, due to destabilizing events in the Middle East, there was a fuel shortage and gas prices were at record highs. That hard-working families were struggling to make ends meet.

“Conversely,” the man continued, “my parents were still alive and I could visit with them every other day if I chose. My children were little and still at home, but now they are grown up and busy about the business of their own lives. Many old friends of mine have either passed on or moved away,” he said, “and not a day goes by where they’re not missed.”

I thought on this for a moment…  I cannot look back the span of thirty years with any deep insight for, in 1979, I was still a bawling child clinging to his mother’s skirt.

However, I thought I might take one decade back instead of three. To look back to something as recent as ten years prior…

As the 20th century was coming to an end, the American economy was floating upon the “dot-com bubble” of the late 1990s. Gasoline was under a dollar a gallon, jobs were plentiful. The Soviet Union had collapsed and there was no real threat to domestic tranquility… or so we thought.

Ten years ago I was within driving distance to almost everyone that I knew and loved. Yet, I was held captive by an overwhelming urge to go, to go, and just GO. To get as far away from everyone and everything I had ever known. Familiarity had bred contempt, seasoned with a wanderlust whose appetite had been roused by the wanderings of my youth.

“…and the wind keeps rolling, and the sky keeps turning gray
and the Sun is set, the Sun will rise another day…”

Now I yearn for that long-forgotten familiarity. Not as a burdensome shroud, but as a quilt of warmth to stave off the chill of isolation.

Old friends call out to me from coaxial wires across the great divide. Already have I  begun to grapple them unto my Soul with hoops of steel.

My family also, as the children have all grown and begat children of their own. I am called “uncle” and given other charges to keep.
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So on this day, a bitter white day at January’s ending, I pause to consider these things within myself.

The better part of my day and evening has been spent rushing to-and-fro the greater Annapolis area, securing a place to stay for the homeless in our area as well as bringing food to hungry families in our community…  but in the midst of the day’s tiny victories, there’s the dark creeping of cold despair.

A part of me looks around and wonders at the misery. I cannot savor the delicate beauty of the Winter season, as it is a harbinger of misery for so many. The falling snow does not evoke nostalgia or a Winter Wonderland for such as these, but chills their hearts in worry. How can I delight in a season that brings illness to children and death to the aged?

There are times when I want to bellow at them to flee to the South, escape to warmer climes than these. Hitchhike or even walk if you have to, but get away from this region…  like sheep without a shepherd, they wander aimless here.
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So I look out my window at the gently falling snow, we are to average at least three inches a day for the rest of this week, but I cannot contemplate its beauty…  I can only see the hardness of human hearts and the fallen nature of mankind.

As the branches grow whiter and heavier under their frigid burden, I am reminded that the fields are “white for the Harvest” and that He is ever at His redemptive work…  His people also.

“The poor you will always have with you,” He said, and surely it is so. Yet, He also promised us: “I am with you always, even to the end of the Age.”

Surely, it is so.

Candace and Liam came home last Saturday morning. I had a rather rude awakening that same day at around 4am with Gaelynn vomiting in the bathroom.

She did not have a temperature, so I surmised that she had either eaten something that violently disagreed with her or that she had picked up a mild stomach virus.

I arranged with my Uncle George to sit with the younger children, while I drove to the hospital to bring my wife and newborn son home.

Sophia’s second birthday was Sunday, and we held the usual intimate gathering of immediate family at our house. Gaelynn (by now fully recovered from her mild malady) and Israel doted upon her with gifts and other baubles. Candace served cake with ice cream, and we all sang the birthday song. Her unsuccessful attempts to blow out the candle were especially endearing.

Monday morning, I felt a first twinge of discontent in my own stomach, but soldiered on to work anyway. Martin Luther King Day (or “National Day of Service” for our organization) was spent in a variety of projects and endeavors. By the time late evening arrived, I was in a state of near-delirium. Arriving home, I collapsed into bed… shivering and feverish.

I think a good night’s rest was all I needed to recover from whatever it was I had acquired. Unfortunately, I did not arise soon enough to accompany a party of colleagues and peers into Washington DC for the Inauguration festivities. No matter, I spent the day with my wee lass and my newest wee laddy.

This brings me to now… and with much reflection.

I have remained in steady communication with “Donatello” over the last couple of weeks, and he has performed technological wonders in bringing my former site “back from the dead” by piecing together the tattered remnants of my archives.

As it appears now, I have recovered nearly 100% of my content, and now need only configure the various widgets and tweak the layout in order to be fully restored. When it is finished, I will maintain a parallel presence at matthew.wordpress.com as well as matthew.journalspace.com

I am indebted to those of you whom have sent me whatever saved entries and caches of my former site you possessed. On behalf of my descendants, I thank you.
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My efforts to ensure a smooth Southwesterly transition continue, with slow and small discernable progress. The triumvirate of priorities (Housing/Employment/Transport) remain unresolved as yet, though I believe I have made considerable progress in recent weeks.

The first hindrance was whether I would be unable to find a buyer for our vehicle in time to get an affordable price for airplane tickets, but my Uncle George has offered to purchase the van (to sell later at a profit). This is a huge burden off my mind, as I did not know if we could find a buyer for our rusticated “ol’ Bessie” in an area as affluent as Annapolis.

Finding housing in East Texas has presented me with no shortage of difficulty. Kilgore, being a relatively rural community, is not yet as “wired” for the Internet as what I have grown used to since living in “college town” Norman and “metropolitan” Annapolis.

There is no local database of available residential properties for rent, save for that of the immediate vicinities of Tyler/Longview. However, my parents have extended the hospitality of the rambling Mt. Pleasant house for the time it will take us to secure housing.

Employment poses similar hindrances as housing, due to technological constraints, but Texas (specifically East Texas) boasts a rather strong economy – relatively unfazed by the recent downswing of the national markets. I do have some encouraging leads, but it will be difficult to aggressively pursue them until I am there. No one wants to conduct a job interview via telephone or email.

Speaking of employment…  the “new guy” who shall be my replacement is coming along quite well. Being much younger than I, without the “constraints” of a wife and a house full of young children, I think he will be able to surpass me in many areas…  though he lacks my charisma and more dynamic character traits.

Ah, but he is still quite young yet, with a decided bent towards politics, and he may well become President someday…  stranger things have happened.
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So that is where I am right now…  standing uncomfortably between the East Coast and East Texas, my attention divided between commitments and ambitions in each.

A “double-minded” man, unstable and wave-toss’d amidst an ocean of possibilities.

Late in the evening, I pause to consider another year that I have shared with my “wee lass” Sophia.

For today, my sweet girl, is the occasion of your second birthday.
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Better than your first, this year has been an ever-unfolding of your personality…  as with each week and each day, you have become less a baby and more of a little girl.

In appearance, your sky-blue eyes have not lessened in their intensity but increased. Complete strangers will remark to your mother and I on the power of your gaze, and I amazed by how you can make your eyes burn in both joy and displeasure.

Your hair has continued to lighten into a fine tangle of spun gold, but your curls have lost their shape into a slight wave. I believe your hair will come to resemble that of your sister’s straight honey-brown tresses in time.

However, I do not think you will quite be as tall and slender as your sister. You have very strong forearms and calves, with a chest and shoulder structure of athletic build. The combination thereof tends to give your entire frame an amusing posture of pugnacity, which sorts rather curiously with your personality.

Your mother and I joke that you are an “Alpha Girl” but it is no laughing matter for your brother and sister. You have a force of personality and sense of self that precludes you from ever being lost in the shuffle or marginalized in the fray. I think you and I shall have some battles ahead of us, little girl.

This is not to say that you are impertinent, quite the contrary, but more that you seem to lack the natural reservations of your two older siblings. You have an audacity that, I think, almost overwhelms others and encourages them to follow your lead more so than their own. It is this trait, far more than any other, which I find most familiar.

You are, on the whole, even-tempered and convivial. I enjoy having conversations with you and you are already making yourself an “asset” to our household. Your mother calls you her “little helper” as you are both eager and glad to help with any chores or errands that you are capable.

With the addition of your baby brother Liam to our family, there was some concern as to your adjustment in no longer being the “baby” of the house. However, it seems that you never really cared much for that title anyway, as you prefer the role of “big sister” in helping with “baby LEEM” (as you call him).

Though you do appear to rue the sudden dearth in the “Momma cuddle time” that you have enjoyed for the span of your young life, you have more than compensated with your “Da” and our mid-day naps.

Sophia, there is more I could invest into this letter, except that I would rather spend more of this evening with your person.

Indeed, you are pushing a sticky cup towards me as I write this…  politely, but insistently, asking that I re-fill your drink.

So I will, my wee lass, I will close this rambling missive to gather you into my arms and carry you into the Kitchen with me. I will fill your cup and tickle your belly. We will play together for the remaining substance of this evening.

After which, with pajamas on and teeth brushed, you will lead me by the hand upstairs to the children’s bedrooms. I will gently lift you into your bed and tuck you in for the night.

Happy birthday and good night, my sweet little girl.
.

Your devoted father,
Matthew

‘Twas not long after Candace’s amniotic water poured forth in a great rushing torrent, that Liam followed hard upon. With a great strain and heave, Candace brought him forth. Shivering and purple, he let loose with a terrifying wail…  and then he fell silent.

A nurse wiped him clean of the various fluids and then the Doctor held him in front of me, his cord to be cut. Doing so, he was then wrapped in swaddling clothes and lain gently upon his mother’s bosom.

There is, of course, much more of this tale to tell…  but I shall leave that to my beloved.

.

A second son and heir, as well as my fourth living child, Liam shares his day of birth with Molière, Martin Luther King, and Captain Beefheart…  as well as the untold millions of other children of the earth that were born today.

I bid you a silent and unspoken welcome, my son, and hope that the all-wise bright LORD of Heaven grants me the wisdom and humility to raise you well. That I might train you the way you should go.

We have begun, in earnest, to prepare for our imminent departure…

Everything from making employment/housing inquiries in the East Texas area, to Freecycling our extraneous furnitures or superfluous accoutrements. Candace has been gradually packing away things since we first came to this decision some months hence, and she already has most of the books packed away…  as well as many of our less-important or infrequently-used items.

Our venerable Van “ol’ Bessie” is going to be sold, the profits of which will cover our airplane fare and contribute towards miscellaneous transition costs. We will be acquiring a new vehicle upon our arrival, and I started researching automobiles in the vicinity more than a month ago hence. In fact, I already have my eye on a Chevrolet Uplander that is at a dealership near Shreveport.

I have hired the man that, I hope, will replace me and continue the work that has been started in the Admiral Oaks community. He is quite young, no wife/no kids, and has tremendous potential. Much of my time at work for the next 35 days will be spent preparing him, and I intend to do so to the utmost of my capacity. I have spent so long on this task, there is a strange combination of fear and relief from contemplating my end at the Boys & Girls Club…  though it shall be then that I will eagerly turn my eyes towards the next venture.

Candace has, as yet, not brought forth our youngling son William into the world…  though it is not for lack of desire. My beloved has borne him with strength and grace o’er these many weeks and months, but her fire has begun to burn low. She and I both are as children that wait past Noontide for our Christmas morn. We have done near all we can to prepare for Liam’s arrival, and now there is nothing we can do but to hurry up and wait.

I am looking upon a Chessboard of a match long in progress, having made my best Opening, I am now in that vague and ticklish stanza of exchange and maneuver…

The Endgame is still but a way’s away, and I have only begun to exert my strategy.

We ate chicken and broccoli fettuccine Alfredo and Caesar salad for dinner, with a delicious loaf of organic rosemary olive oil boule that my neighbor brought over to us.

I surprised Matthew with a bottle of Windy Lane Chardonnay, while I bought for myself a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.  Matthew likes white wines and I like red wines.

Do not fear that I drank the entire bottle, I limited myself to 6oz (per Dr’s orders).  I do not like to over-indulge in the vino anyway, I just enjoy the taste and complexity.

I went to bed before midnight last night…  yes, I know, not very festive.  I was grumpy and calloused to the revelry due to insufficient sleep and waning patience with whining, ill children.  I am fully aware that by admitting this that I have left myself open for scolding, but it is what it is.  I grounded myself to bed for rest.

Liam was cooperative and allowed me to sleep for about an hour before the fireworks in a nearby neighborhood woke me up.  I got up at 12:11am and sat in the den for a while with a not so cooperative,  very exhausted, sick Sophia before Matthew was waking me up again to tell me to go get in our bed. 

I did not see the ball drop in Times Square and I did not share a New Year’s first kiss with my beloved, Gaelynn got a kiss from Daddy though.  She waited patiently and enjoyed watching the Times Square festivities before turning around on the couch to watch the display out of our back windows. Israel lasted only until 10pm.

So here I am up at 6:30am on New Year’s morning, the house is quiet and I have dishes to finish, but I feel rested for the first day this week.  Oh, Wait!  I hear Israel coming down the stairs with gusto, uhm, that would be stomping.

I am sure that within 15 minutes of his arrival by my side Sophia will awaken as well, due to his inability to control the volume of his voice so early in the morning…  time to sign off.

Happy New Year to you all.

It began with the usual flourish…  of eager tiptoes hastening down the staircase, wrapping paper being torn asunder, and the joyful cheers of happy children.

Their eyes twinkled with the beauty of the ribbons and paper, it seemed that none of them wished to dash the pristine magnificence of the tree and the many packages which crowded around the trunk. The stillness was only for a moment’s peace before they plunged into the cornucopia quivering with desire and the ecstasy of unbridled avarice.

My beloved oversaw the festivities while I snapped a few photos and stoked the fire…

Gaelynn’s eyes roved over everything, as though she wished to impress every aspect of the gifts before partaking, and opened each of her gifts before delving into their particulars.

Israel savored each gift, removing it from its box after tearing away the gaudy wrapping, and then exploring it to his satisfaction before moving on to the next.

Sophia was the reveler, celebrating with each exclamation of joy or surprise that came from her siblings. As always, all was spectacle for her.

Following this, there was play…  Gaelynn arranging her toy horses into a precise diorama, the din of Israel’s radio-controlled race car squealing across the hardwood floors, the blustering and laughter when Sophia interrupted the former or the latter.

Upon the evening, we all feasted upon rare roast beast, a good-sized bird glazed in oil and spices. Tender and savory, with plenty left over. Even with a belly full my mind was adrift with thoughts of turkey sandwiches, turkey salad, turkey a la King, and gallons of turkey soup.

In the midst of this wild-eyed fervor was a warm glow of contentment that filled my abdomen, of the children, young people, and families to whom I was honored to be of service; of the families who would be enjoying a honey-glazed ham or the children who received a large parcel of gifts from a large wild-eyed and curly-bearded white man. I thought of the food and gifts brought to many, the work of our LORD’s hand in this community.

It ended with quiet and tranquility…  of wee folk sleepy dream-filled murmurings and sighs; of a man and woman, together in the dark.

A long trail of chimney smoke trailing upwards into the clear star-filled sky.

So this is Christmas…

A day spent in relative leisure, culminated in an outing to church for Christmas Eve services.

Instead of the customary “Sunday-best” wardrobe for such an occasion, we bundled the children in their warm woolen pajamas with coats, scarves, and gloves.

Considering the lateness of the hour, as well as our plans to adjourn from the preceding to drive about the town viewing the many Yuletide startlements upon eave and shutter, we thought this to be practical as well as more comfortable for the children. It occurred to me that someone might make a deprecatory remark or, at the very least, raised a perturbed eyebrow… but I dismissed it as being overly finicky.

Imagine my surprise when I was accosted by a number of the parents of our congregation, each praising such a prudent approach and remarking that they might take such a course of action for future reference.

The evening service was lovely, flickering candles and garlands green created a delightful ambience combined with the ethereal singing of the great hymns of the Faith and Carols of the Season.

Afterward, we departed the sanctuary in embrace and handshake… echoes of “Merry Christmas” flowed out of the warmth of the entrance hall and into the cold Winter night.

O, we shall miss these dear ones something fierce.

We drove to a nearby Starbucks for Hot Cocoa and after fueling up, turned our wheel towards the affluent neighborhoods of Hillsmere, Keyes Farm, and Bay Ridge to take in the glimmering spectacle.

It seemed the lights were far less in depth and scope than in recent years. Candace and I talked about how the economic downturn had seemed to impact the frivols of the season, sharing anecdotes of our respective places of business and those in our sphere of influence.

The children giggled and cooed about the various arrangements, recognizing beloved characters such as Snoopy and the Grinch.

Sophia howled with glee and clapped her hands, this is the first Christmas that she has been able to discern that something is going on around her, and it has been delightful to share her joy and wonder.

Eventually the hour grew late, and the children’s eyes became heavy with the need for a long Winter’s nap.

Arriving home, I read to them of the Nativity of our LORD and spoke at length about many layers of symbolism and the depth of meaning contained within all the aspects…  my children grew increasingly quiet until all was silence.

I’d like to think that it was a sober astonishment of it all, but it was probably more of an exhausted and over-stimulated stupor than anything else.

The low murmur of Put The Lights On The Tree by Sufjan Stevens replaces the voices of children. I stoke the fireplace and retire to a comfy chair…  waiting for Father Christmas to arrive.

It has been a tradition in Matthew’s family to have them on the table during the holidays for generations. His beloved “Nanny” Ferguson was the official cookie maker before passing the recipe on to Matthew’s mother, Linda.

First, I made one batch that was the generic, everyday melt-away, and to the next batch I added chocolate. I then dusted the chocolate snowballs in cocoa and powdered sugar and “Reindeer Poo” was born.

I asked Gaelynn if we should call them “Dirty Snowballs,” but she definitely preferred the former.

Who knows, perhaps next year we shall make lemon essence “Don’t Eat the Yellow Snowballs.”

I have been keeping an online journal for the better part of the last six years…  I started it on a bitter cold and gray day in February of 2003, from our upstairs apartment deep in the heart of Downtown Norman (Oklahoma). It began as an attempt to connect…  both to others as well as myself, for I had hoped to draw out much of what often lay dormant behind the still veneer of my countenance.

My journal has ebbed and flowed in great yawning stanzas of silence and noise. I have closed access to it in both literal and figurative means, I have been both vulnerable and guarded…  sometimes within the same sentence. Which brings me to now…

My current domain has suffered some manner of technical malfunction and, in the interim, I have decided to start an alternative means of meta-narrative. A secondary creative outlet to pursue, in the event of any further or ongoing hiatus interruptus.

This endeavor will be more personable than personal, but hopefully still allow others to connect. Between my beloved and I, the stated purpose of this domain is to focus more upon the domestic and/or prosaic aspects of our lives.

Now we are six…  that is, we are six in number. Matthew, Candace, Gaelynn, Israel, Sophia, and little Liam are the members of Prospero House.

LORD willing, I think we shall be six for now and forever.