Down the Gravel Road

Living with Less So Your Family Has More

Thu, 29 Jul 2010 10:16:43 -0500

Thomas Jefferson once said, “I can not live without books.” I know what he means. Even in the midst of a hectic spring and summer, I found time to read in those in between moments - waiting for appointments, sitting in airports, before bed or during breakfast on days Hiram went to work early and Anne slept in.

One book, Living with Less So Your Family Has More, got me pretty fired up, perhaps because its release coincided perfectly with the beginning of our kids’ married lives, and it’s a must read book for recently married couples and parents of young children. Why? Because the advice and resources contained in it will help them make financial goals and set priorities that can result in positive long term consequences and reap eternal rewards.

The book is divided into four sections. In Part 1, the Savages help readers shape a vision for living with less. In Part 2, they encourage couples to transform their attitudes about money by examining and strengthening their trust in God’s faithful provision. In Part 3, they provide resources - how-to lists, websites, books - so families can put feet to their financial goals and revised priorities.

The eighteen chapters are sprinkled with stories from the Savages’ lives, sometimes from Jill’s point of view and sometimes from Mark’s, along with stories of other families who have learned to live with less. Each chapter ends with a prayer and a “Let’s Talk about It” section to encourage discussion between couples.

The ideas in Living with Less are most effective when implemented by those mentioned above, recently married couples and parents of young children. But, I am recommending this book to many families, regardless of the age of the parents or kids suggestions can help any family, regardless of the age of parents. It’s a book which can help everyone live more frugally and intentionally.

In fact, I’m ordering two copies to give to my children and the spouses they recently married. It would be more frugal to order one copy for my son and his wife and pass along my copy to my daughter and her new husband. But I can’t do that. I need to keep my copy to refer to as I put some of Jill and Mark’s suggestions into practice at our house.

My MOPS Mess

Wed, 28 Jul 2010 09:58:01 -0500

Last December, when an invitation to speak at the 2010 International Mothers of Preschoolers (MOPS) Convention arrived, I was pretty pumped. With about four or five thousand young moms attending the August 5 - 8 event, the convention would be a great place to hawk A Different Dream for My Child and connect with parents raising kids with special needs.

When two BFFs agreed to road trip with me to Nashville, stay at the Grand Old Opry Hotel, and help sell books, I was even more pumped - at least until last spring when Nashville was smacked with a devastating flood. Life changed dramatically for people along the flooding river. I can’t imagine what horrors they endured and are still enduring. But I do know the effects of the flood flowed far beyond the Tennessee shoreline. One small ripple made it all the way to Iowa and left me with a MOPS mess to tidy up.

The convention planners moved the event from Tennessee to a conference center in Kissammee, Florida, just south of Orlando. My BFFs said it was too far for them to travel. My daughter can’t come because her new in-laws are hosting a reception for the newlyweds that weekend. My new daughter can’t come because she just started a new job and doesn’t have any vacation time. My husband can’t come because he’s used all his vacation time on weddings, Family Camps, and man-of-steel hikes in the wilderness with other men of steel.

So I’m going to Florida...alone.
I’ll be minutes away from the happiest place on earth...alone.
I’ll be counting out change and signing books...alone.

In the grand scheme of things, it’s a tiny disappointment. It’s a teeny-tiny mess compared to the flood in Nashville. It’s still a great opportunity, and I’m eager to learn why God is sending me there all by myself. What will happen on the way? Who will I meet? What opportunity awaits? When I think like that, my MOPS mess looks tidier by the minute.

But what about the people in Nashville?

Photo Booths & Birthdays

Tue, 27 Jul 2010 09:42:35 -0500

Whoever came up with the saying “A picture’s worth a thousand words” sure knew what she was talking about. We just received the disc of pictures taken in the photo booth at Anne and her husband’s wedding, and they are priceless.

Hiram and I have laughed ourselves silly looking at the shenanigans of friends and family during the wedding reception. Give a guest, young or old, some costumes to wear and a black box to clown around in, and whammo, the inner child comes out.

My inner child, along with my innate fashion sense, emerged once I put on a furry hat, Groucho Marx glasses and a clown collar. And Hiram, in Gerald Burghduff’s old cowboy hat and googly glasses was one handsome hunka-munka. How could I resist either sticking my finger in his nose or kissing him?

Lest you think my actions were highly original, let me assure you that there were at least 5 other nose pokes and 14 couples who took advantage of the photo booth’s privacy to have a quick smooch.

Most of those couples were as old as me, which brings up the second subject of this post. Today is my birthday, and yes, I’m old enough to know better than to stick my finger in my husband’s nose. I’m also old enough to think twice about posting a picture of the two of us smooching. But after thinking twice, I decided it was exactly the right thing to do. After all, both my recently married children indulged in a photo booth smooch with their respective spouses. I need to set a good example, right? After all, my greatest hope for our children’s marriages is that at age 54 they still want to catch a smooch with their sweeties when the opportunity arises.

Happy marriage to you, Allen.
Happy marriage to you, Anne.
Happy anniversary, dear Hiram,
And happy birthday to me.

Empty Nest or Full Life?

Mon, 26 Jul 2010 09:53:05 -0500

Since the end of May, our nest has been anything but empty. First Anne came home from college the weekend before Memorial Day. Since all her summer sewing projects were of the large variety, she was into weekly baking extravaganzas, not to mention her constant concocting of environment-friendly hygiene products, her flotsam and jetsam gradually oozed into every cranny of our nest. Of course, her sweetie came for several weekends between then and their wedding, so for much of the summer, the spare bedroom was occupied, too.

Then there was the wedding shower for both couples in mid-June. That weekend, Allen and Abbey were in the spare bedroom, Anne was in her room, and her sweetie slept on the sun porch until the mosquitoes drove him into the living room.

Mom kept the nest hopping, too. She used the spare room a night or two before we drove to an all-school reunion Fourth of July weekend, one week before the wedding.

I barely had time to change the sheets before the influx of wedding house guests hit: Anne’s sweetie on Thursday, Allen and Abbey on Friday, five girl cousins on Saturday night. Add to that crowd friends and family - the groom’s immediate family, the groomsmen, bridesmaids, Anne’s personal attendant, my extended family - but somehow, the nest expanded to accommodate the masses.

Two days after the wedding, which wasn’t enough time to tend to our nest, Hiram and I went to Idaho for a week of R & R in the cool, mountain air. When we got back, Anne and her new husband were packing their vehicle with a mountain of wedding presents and boxes of Anne’s possessions.

Over the weekend, we put set things right, and this morning, Hiram went back to work.
So today, for the first time in months, I’m alone in our empty nest.

Anne’s room is vacant. Most of the pictures are gone. All but three dresser drawers are empty. The closet is clean and organized. There’s no thread, fabric scraps, or stray pattern pieces on the floor. Strange toiletry concoctions aren’t perched precariously on the sink or bathtub rim. The bathroom floor isn’t littered with dirty clothes.
No wet towels hang from doorknobs.

For a minute or two, it weirded me out.

Until I remembered the unanswered emails waiting for answers in my inbox, the thank you notes waiting to be penned, the www.DifferentDream.com blog posts that need to be written, the workshop to practice for next week’s International MOPS Convention, the research to be done so I can write Different Dream Parenting by deadline, the weeds in the flower beds, and everything else on the to do list in my planner. Then I realized I don’t have time to mourn our empty nest. God has given me a very full life.

Now’s the time to live it.

Migration Isn’t for Me

Fri, 23 Jul 2010 15:20:39 -0500

On the last morning walk Hiram and I took in Idaho, a very noisy bird interrupted our conversation. Hiram located the rude critter in the tippy-top of an evergreen tree. While I whipped out my camera, Hiram also spied the mystery bird of prey’s nest in the next tree over.

Maybe the bird was trying to scare us away from a clutch of eggs. As if the constant ruckus and our lack of desire to scale the tree weren’t enough, one look in the telephoto lens at the bird’s hooked beak would have convinced us to keep our distance. That beak, though slightly blurred by my camera shake, is one wicked weapon.

With weeds to pull, wedding supplies to store, bills to pay, a mother to visit, and a book to write, bird identification isn’t making my top ten list any time soon. So, if you can identify the mystery bird, have at it.

To be honest, my travel recovery is taking too long for this efficiency queen. I’m way behinder than expected going into the weekend. So our encounter with the noisy, conversation stopping, mystery bird has me wondering how and why our feathered friends migrate twice a year. But the bigger question is this: Why do human snow birds voluntarily do the migration thing? It’s hard enough unpacking from a week of vacation. But to open a second house, put everything in place, adjust to a new climate and time zone, get reacquainted with friends - whew! I don’t think I’m up to it.

But someday, I’d like to be free as a bird, like you. So please, human snowbirds, share your travel tricks with non-migratory folks like me. And leave your comments before August 4, when I go to Florida for a few days. I want to become flexible and adventurous before meeting my first alligator!