The other morning, I was making some peppermint tea for Eden. The tea had been sitting 10 minutes or so, so it wasn't boiling hot anymore, but still hot enough to burn. I placed her cup, I thought, out of reach and sight, and strictly told her not to touch it or the tea pot, and then stepped around the corner to get a spoon out of the kitchen for the honey. Well, when I heard her screams, I figured what had happened. Feeling like I had just won the "World's Worst Mom Award", I scooped her up quickly, noting that the water had already cooled to the touch on her chest( she was only in diaper)so instead of wasting time running it under cold water, I started blowing on it, while I made a quick paste of mustard and honey. This I quickly spread all over her torso and thighs, probably withing 30 seconds of the incident. 10 seconds later, she was laughing and acting normal with no signs of having pain. I sat her at the table to eat her bagel and finished making her tea. She really enjoyed that bagel, dipping it in her paste so much, that I had to mix up more to put on her plate. When she was finished 15 min or so later, we cleaned it off, and there was no sign of anything but perfect skin- not even pink/scalded looking like before. So, if you have kids, keep some honey and mustard on hand!
The other day, Nathan was sorting the beans for me. He is far mor particular than I , tossing any mis-colored, or even wrinkled bean. I've always wondered what was the basis for his selection process. Well, apparently his standards have risen again, because now he has added to the discard pile any split bean halves. When I questioned him as to what was wrong with them, he said," They taste like rotten fish and rotten crocodiles!"
Well, our sweet Rachel will be leaving us next month to get married to Thomas Merrit. She will be flying to North Carolina, where he is stationed. No family will be attending their small ceremony. Being here in Germany, would cost way too much for our whole family to fly down and get accomodations. So they decided to put "wedding" money towards their new start in life. Very practical, I thought.
I, of course, have been in denial, since they officially got engaged and started planning the date. (Or maybe it was when they first started courting a couple of years ago.) She is more prepared for marriage than anyone I've ever know, or heard of. She will be as sweet and wonderful a wife, as she has been a daughter and friend to me. I don't think a mom can ever really be prepared for that day when their baby girls leaves home- but God has been helping me. I awoke this morning at 3:00, because a poem was filling my heart and mind. Perhaps you'll get a glimpse of what it is like for this mom. Grab a tissue.
Who Is This Boy?By Heather Matthews
Who is this boy
Now turned man,
Who comes to take
My daughter’s hand
And lead her away
To a far-off land?
Who is this boy-
I want to know?
Who is this man
Who was once a boy?
How can he take
A mother’s joy,
And give her a ring-
Not just some toy?
Who is this man-
I want to know!
Who is this boy?
What power has he
To take my own
And give her wings
To fly away
To bigger things?
Who is this boy-
I want to know?
Who is this man
Who comes too soon,
And cups your face
In the light of the moon?
He sings a song;
You’ll heed it’s tune.
Who is this man-
I want to know?
Who is this boy,
Who saves and plans?
Who tips the glass
Of timely sands
And spills them free
Slipping through my hands?
Who is this boy-
I want to know?
Who is this man?
Who seeks a mate,
Who makes your’s like
All women’s fate
To leave us all?
It’s far too late.
Who is this man-
I want to know?
Who is this boy?
So brash, so bold
To bind you with
A band of gold
And take you from
My loving hold?
Who is this boy?
I want to know.
Who is this man
Who’ll ever share
The waking dawn,
While I’m not there?
And behold your light?
It’s really not fair.
Who is this man?
I want to know.
Who is this boy?
And can he see
My darling one
When she was three?
And rocked upon
Her mother’s knee?
Who is this boy?
I want to know!
Who is this man?
Can he protect
Her heart in love,
And never reject?
Is he that strong,
Can I suspect?
Who is this man?
I want to know.
Who is this boy?
How can he guess
The value, his treasure-
How much or less?
My tears can count
Her worthiness .
Who is this boy?
I want to know.
Who is this man
Who tears from me,
My heart and soul
So easily?
As if it were
Just a casual plea?
Who is this man?
I want to know!
Who is this boy?
I dared not ask;
Too hard makes he
A mother’s task.
Better to hide
Behind this mask.
Who is this boy
I didn’t want to know?
Who is this man,
Who was once a boy?
And surely was
His mother’s joy,
While on the floor
He played with toys?
Who is this man,
Who was once a boy?
Who is this boy
I dimly see
On his mother’s lap
When he was three,
Rocking there
So carefree?
Who is this boy
That now I see?
Who is this boy,
Who off to school
Learned the trade
And given the tool
To break her heart-
Was she a fool?
Who is this boy
That waves so cool?
Who is this boy
Who through the years
Ran to her arms
With all his tears?
She kissed away
And calmed his fears,
Who is this boy
Standing there?
Who is this boy,
Who grew and grew
And somehow, somewhere
From her nest flew
To find his way?
Her heart broke too.
Who is this boy
Who grew and grew?
Who is this man
Gone off to war,
Who made his own’s
Heart so sore?
The fears and prayers
She surely bore.
Who is this man
Gone off to war?
Who is this boy,
Now turned man
Coming now to take
My daughter’s hand?
The time’s so short-
How will I stand?
Who is this boy
Now turned man?
Who is this man
That now I see
From far off there,
Drawing nigh to me
The tool in hand;
Oh, can it be?
Who is this man
That now I see?
See now the man,
Who stole her heart
He’ll carry it off
To their new start;
He’ll take mine too,
Now we’ll not part.
See now the man
Who steals our heart.
Here is the boy,
I now have known,
Who knocks just now
At our dear home
From wanderings
And places roam.
Who is this boy?
He is my own.
"Fahrshule" literally means "travel school" but is understood here (in Germany) to mean driver's education. My sons love the fact that since "Fahrt" means here to travel by vehicle, they can yell out this word in public without the usual reactions they'd get in America. I named this post "travel school," though, because that's where I've been.
When I first arrived in Germany, I had big hopes of getting a little car that I could use for work. Instead, I ended up using the public transportation here for several reasons. The Lord said to :), saves a lot of money, gets me just about anywhere, better for the environment, etc. Germany has an elaborate system of buses, trolleys, and trains. At varying times and in intervals of usually about 20 minutes apart (like labor contractions - not that I've been in labor), there's some form of transportation that will make a stop at nearly just about anywhere. What's so cool is that for one, flat rate, you can use them all and mix or match your way to a destination.
At first, I kept trying to "manipulate" or "play" the system with different combinations of travel modes and locations in order to try and get home faster. But no matter which way I chose to go, I'd either arrive at the same time anyway or end up being late because of unfamiliarity with new surroundings, etc. It reminded me of how I used to switch lanes while driving in a traffic jam (stawberry ones are my favorite, Grape ones I cannot stand), only to find that the lane I moved to ended up being the slower lane later on. Grrr! (Yes, I just said "Grr.")
I was thinking about how that all ties into walking with God (not the labor contractions and strawberry jam part). He also has a plan for our lives that plays out each day through an elaborate and well-orchastrated series of circumstances. It's so tempting, and I think we all try (at least sometimes) to find a way to get what we want (stawberry jam, for example) our way (by going into labor, perhaps) or to speed things up (hurry with that bagel, this next contraction could be "the one!") or change the outcome, but in the end, we just make things worse when we do that. (Honey, I can't believe you just ralphed stawberry bagels all over the delivery room people!) We have to trust what God is doing, how He works, and how He has things unfold and realize it's okay. We'll get to where He wants us to go and no need to try and control the situation and bend it to our advantage. That's what I learned at Fahrschule today, mama.