a remodeling story

When we purchased our little yellow house over 8 years ago, it came to us very much on the path of being well restored to its original mid-1800s glory after many, many years of being a poorly-cared-for rental property. I never saw it in its roughest condition, as it was already dramatically improved by the time we purchased it and then moved in, but friends tell me it was bad. The man who flipped it and sold it to us did much to restore it.

That's my dear mama on the porch. Family did all the scouting of this house on our behalf and we ended up buying it without ever seeing it in person. We just knew it was the house for us. (The price tag and location helped clinch that!)

But there was yet more to do.

When we purchased the home, about 1700 square feet of the house was livable: fresh paint, new wall-to-wall carpet, functioning bathrooms, new windows. Attached to the main house was an adjacent 200 square feet or so (look on the right hand side in the above photo) that maintained what the house looked like in its *ahem* more recent history. Dog-stained floors, rotting joists, missing windows, no insulation or interior walls, the works. But I am my mother's daughter and I could see the potential in it all.

Our first big house project began in late August of 2008, almost two years exactly after we purchased our home. We had been saving up and now the prize was in sight: a new kitchen and reclaiming the adjoining unfinished/closed off space!

an exterior picture of the unfinished space that became a family room and now is the eat-in/schooling area of the kitchen

the interior of what it looks like today

We love, love, love this room! The kitchen is the heart and soul of a home-- especially a homeschooling family's home.

Then in November of 2010 we began another project, quite by accident. Out of curiosity, Daniel pulled up a section of the wall-to-wall carpet in our dining room and we found, beneath layers of flooring, wide plank New England pine. Unfortunately, it was covered in lead paint and our family had to vacate the premises (Ryan and Danica gracious took us in for almost 6 weeks while we were homeless) while Daniel set about ripping out the rest of the carpet and other various flooring that had piled up over the 100+ previous years, pulling out hundreds of nails, sanding and sanding and sanding, and then oiling the floors.

 no stain necessary on these babies-- age has made them beautiful!

This happened to be the first time I had ever seen our house without a single piece of furniture or even a box of belongings in it. The wheels began to turn and in the process of redoing the floors, we ended up rearranging walls, widening doorways, and the like.

I can get carried away like that.

It was totally worth it, though, and we had some wonderful help from several wonderful friends during the process.

In the spring of 2011 we began thinking about more space. Our 3-bedroom house was technically now a 2-bedroom house thanks to the previous house project, which had meant us giving up our original master bedroom for living space (we were, at this point in time, sleeping in a room on the first floor that was really not a bedroom at all, though I did love it, I must say). At 1900 square feet, it certainly wasn't a tiny home, but the realization that our 5 (at the time) children were all growing rapidly and taking up more and more space was nipping at our heels. I had often wondered about expanding our upstairs to fully extend over the entire downstairs (the upstairs was about 400 square feet less than the main house), but financially we weren't sure it would ever be possible.

We looked at real estate, wondering if moving altogether was the best idea. (It wasn't, we quickly gathered as we suffered major sticker-shock at real estate prices!) We played around with floor plans for our own home. We hemmed and hawed. And no good answer seemed obvious. Long story short, the Lord laid it on my heart so strongly to not fret if another baby was sent our way and Daniel decided to take out a small home improvement loan if necessary in order to gain ourselves more bedrooms.

Lo and behold, absolutely miraculous provision came just days after he first met with a loan officer and before we could ever file any paperwork.

We dove right in and a month later found out that baby #6, our very own Elliot Hale, was on the way.

that became...

this!

 originally, that entire second floor wasn't part of the house-- we added two bedrooms, eliminating our need for the small make-shift bedroom on the first floor entirely (we claimed that room as a family/TV room)

A big bonus of changing the roof line and adding those two extra bedrooms upstairs was that our knee-wall, sloped-ceiling upstairs bathroom could become a full bathroom.

In all, the upstairs expansion project took us over two years from start to finish because Daniel did the bulk of the work himself. We hired out sections of the project at key points (the beginning, middle, and plumbing!) and certainly benefited from the help of generous friends, but most of it fell to him. He kept at it and never gave up, even when it felt grueling and s-l-o-w.

the bathroom before...

 the bathroom after

 one of the new bedrooms, which has become the master due to its larger-than-the-rest closet!

 the "double duty" guest room & nursery

With these rooms added, the entire first floor having been rearranged and the floors redone, the kitchen remodeled, the unfinished adjoining kitchen space reclaimed, and the upstairs bathroom dramatically improved, we were left with one yet untouched nook of the house: the downstairs bathroom.

When we moved in, it was the room that seemed to need the least improvement, but as the years went by we realized that, although on the surface it had seemed perfectly fine, it was as much a victim of rotting floor joists, insufficient insulation and ventilation, poor plumbing and crumbling drywall as the rest of the house.

I have to say that I dragged my feet on this project. The downstairs bathroom is right off our dining room and I just wasn't sure it was a good time to wreck the house by virtue of wrecking the bathroom. (Both Daniel and I were well aware that this bathroom redo would be of the tear-it-down-to-the-studs variety.) Daniel asked me when would be a good time (never) and then proceeded to discover obscene amounts of black mold that I'm pretty sure he planted just to convince me it had to be now.

I told him it had to be quick because I couldn't handle a long, drawn-out project.

The man delivered.

He ripped it out on March 25th and today, one month later, it is more or less finished. Besides one 8-day stretch when he had non-stop meetings, he found time each day to put in a few hours. I don't think he's watched a single baseball or hockey game in a month, I know he didn't do much reading, and he certainly gave up hours of sleep since often those few hours came after returning home from an evening youth meeting or life group or mens group or an elders meeting or a young couples gathering, etc. If I sound like I'm bragging about him, I am. I couldn't have done what he did. I'm not sure many people could.

And he did it for me. For our family.

before:

during:

after:

The hope is that we are now done with major interior projects. We'd still like to add a screened-in porch off the back of the house, build a fence along one part of our property, and a chicken coop is immediately next on the docket (more on that another time), but we think the dust will not fly inside for quite some time now.

Unless, of course, I dream up something new...!

easter 2014

Easter.

My favorite day of the year, every year. Not because I tell myself it should be. It just is. How can it not be when I wake up instantly thinking, "My Jesus died for me because He loves me, and then He rose again so that I might have new life, too!" Makes me realize that if I only woke up more days thinking that thought, I would have day after day after day of victorious living.

This year, even the weather knew to cooperate. The sun shone, the air warmed, the grass turned greener, the shoots that are busily springing up grew taller.

On Friday I set about our traditions of baking cheesebraid for Easter breakfast, piecing together something special to wear-- a little from the closets and drawers, a whole lot from the stored-away totes of summer clothing, a tie here and there bought for this day, new pants for the tallest boy and a new dress for the oldest girl-- assembling our basket treasure hunt, setting tables, wrapping new books. Bit by bit. I have to pace myself, you know, or else it wouldn't get done. I am not superwoman. I just love a good celebration and will fit in the preparations where I can in order to enjoy every bit of it that I can!

On a regular basis, we make big deals out of lots of things. Sports teams. Academic accomplishments. New jobs. Retirement. Marriages. New babies. New homes. Selling old homes. Moving. Travel.

Jesus, His death and resurrection, is the biggest deal going. Nothing will ever top what He did. No one will ever surpass who He is. There will never be a Love that is stronger, deeper, truer. And my prayer is that my kids know through and through that there isn't a holiday, an accomplishment, or an event that tops our celebration of Him and what He's done for us!

The clothes, the food, the time away from ordinary routines, the gifts, the family-- these things communicate that we are a celebrating people because we have a victorious King!

 

As Daniel began our day with a reading of the Easter story, I felt myself freshly drawn into the majesty of God's plan. Lowly to the human understanding, more perfect than anything we could ever dream up.

 

And then the basket hunt, when year after year I do my best to write clues in a rhyming fashion and year after year Daniel and I chuckle at what apparently sounded good late the night before but now after some sleep is obviously a hack-job at best. The kids don't seem to care... yet anyway!

Found! And what joy!

 

Even Oliver had a basket this year, as much because he desperately needed new onesies as for any other reason. He had no clue either way, but I'm enjoying the onesies immensely on his behalf!

New books on Easter are a tradition my mom began for me when I was young. I loved it then and I love sharing it now with my children. We went very simple this year-- just a few dollars a book-- but they are still titles that are dear to my heart and I hope become dear to their hearts.

Elliot was perhaps the least enthralled with many of the morning's activities-- especially when it came time for photo-taking. Even when he's grumpy he's cute, but don't tell him that or he'll sulk all the more!

Wonderful moments at church. Too many to count and too captivating for either Daniel or I to have remembered to take pictures-- even when it was our own kids up front!

Then lunch at my parents'. We all pitch in with the food, but really? My mama knows how to pull out the stops. She's the one who taught me to love celebrations.

 

All of us gathered around the One who is worth celebrating.

A family photo on the porch, an annual tradition-- as long as the weather cooperates!

Walking down to the neighbors' for a hymn-sing to end the day. O Sacred Head Now Wounded, When I Survey, Up From The Grave He Arose.

 

Easter Sunday. A day when I remember. A day when I celebrate. A day when I see afresh that this joy, this victory, this is the stuff that ought to be my everyday reality. Jesus has been so good to me! And how right it is to take special time and effort and care to remind myself of just how available His love is to me all the time.

holy week thoughts

There is such a multitude of thoughts that swirl this time of year as we take special occasion to consider what Jesus did for us on the cross and through His resurrection. Thoughts of awe, thoughts of sorrow, thoughts of repentance, thoughts of victory, thoughts of eternity, thoughts of gratitude. This year, the Holy Spirit is using this opportunity to remind me afresh of the freedom we have in Christ from bitterness, hurt, and offense.

Many, many years ago-- before I had children, before my husband was ordained into pastoral ministry, before I gave birth to a little girl with severe heart disease, before prematurely burying friends and brothers and sisters in Christ, before the highs and lows of the past decade and a half-- I heard a message that comes to mind often throughout the years and this week in particular:

You can't offend a dead man.

I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.

I will never forget the words, spoken so passionately by a man who had laid down his life and given up the very identity he was born with to build the Church in an area of the world where he wasn't welcomed, was betrayed by the very people he was serving, was deported for sharing Jesus, and had chosen to return to nonetheless. The same words that were spoken by the Apostle Paul, a man who knew what it was be beaten, abused, misunderstood, and misrepresented yet understood something infinitely greater-- not one thing can separate me from the love of God in Christ Jesus-- and repeated hundreds and hundreds of years later by another man who understood the same great thing: you may take my money, my time, my possessions, my freedom, my body, but you cannot take my joy, my identity in Christ, my eternal destination.

I admit, I get offended sometimes. I let the old me reign supreme and the result is that I am disappointed, let down, hurt. By my children. By my husband. By my family. By those in the Church and those outside of the Church. And, yes, at times when I am particularly misguided and selfish and myopic, I feel offended or disappointed by the very good God who gave Himself for me.

And each time I am tempted to embrace that hurt; to withdraw, lick my wounds, and throw myself the biggest and grandest pity party available, I hear those words that have not left my soul since the day I first heard them:

You can't offend a dead man.

Oh! the call is a deep one. Lay down your life. Give up your rights. Let go of your pride.

But in that call, and in that daily act and moment-by-moment choice to respond, is life and life more abundant.

What freedom is found when I live in the reality that this isn't my life anyway! I died with Christ. The life I now live I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me. He is my prize, He is my surety, He is my hope, He is my destiny-- and He does not disappoint.

So when the hurts come, when the offenses knock at my door, when the pity party is calling-- and sometimes because of things that are very real-- I get to let every single person off the hook. Whether malicious or accidental, words or actions, choices or forgetfulness, they can't offend me. Me is no longer. Christ is.

I lay down my life and, with it, my right to be offended. And in exchange I get love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Peace with God. Peace with man.

The Gospel, what Christ did for me, never ever ever gets old. It is water that truly quenches my thirst.

the Oliver update

Oliver is almost 4 months old now. He is generally a peach of a baby, I must say. Attached to me? Most definitely. Happy when with me? Yes.

I couldn't ask for more.

Since he was about 5 days old, he's gone anywhere from 7-10 hours straight at night (with 10 being more common!)-- though in the past week we've shared more wee hours together than in his entire life up until now, thanks to a springtime cold that has been making the rounds around here. Even with the congestion, he will sleep a solid 6 hours or so before waking with some coughing that simply calls for Mama.

That said, during the day he's been a fickle little guy when it comes to sleep. For weeks he slept for hours of each day happily. In the Moby wrap only, thankyouverymuch. Then he decided he was over naps anywhere and I was lucky if I got 40 minutes in a row. However, in the past 2 weeks or so he's settled into a more consistent pattern of a shorter morning nap followed by a slightly longer afternoon nap, and these he takes in his bed, thankyouverymuch. Good thing, too, because he is getting chunky and carrying him around (even in a comfortable wrap or my trusty Ergo) is downright tiring!

He still does love to be held in a carrier of some sort when awake. As the weather turns and we've gotten to take walks, he will snuggle right in, occasionally looking up at me and smiling the warmest smile I've ever seen.

I'm not even kidding.

But the baby is enormous. I mean, I've had chubby babies, but he takes the cake! I am not exaggerating when I say that he is wearing clothes Elliot wore just a year ago. He is not just round, but also long! After the exhausting, wearisome first 3 months of Elliot's life as we struggled to get into any good patterns of any kind-- including growing-- this has been a welcome change. He has not only thrived as much as any of my other babies, he has far surpassed. God didn't have to do that, but I think He did just for me.

Just to bless my heart and remind me that it's really not about me. Not really.

Oliver enjoys his baths. He enjoys anyone who will talk to him, rewarding them with big smiles that reach all the way to his eyes. He enjoys when Claire entertains him, a task she is given at least once a day when I need to shower or make dinner or switch the laundry or some other such thing.

He does not, however, enjoy his car seat. If we get in the vehicle and he's not ready to sleep, we get about 10-15 minutes of him looking around happily before he decides he'd just much rather have me holding him. And let me tell you: once the crying commences, it persists long and loud. With all the other kids, we've made a long-ish trip by the time they were 4 months or so and, generally, it was fine. I have felt rather thankful that we've not had any trips planned because Oliver is far from a great traveler-- so far, anyway.

Growing, seeing more and more, recognizing voices and experiencing new things (the sun!), absorbing his surroundings, settling into patterns and just as fast settling into new ones. I can't believe how quickly these months are flying by.

But mostly I can't believe how lucky I am to be this sweet boy's mama.

spring

Spring in the little yellow house means lunch outdoors, our backyard looking like waterfront property, splurging on fresh flowers, prophetic presbytery meetings, house projects, runny noses (always!), windows flung open, and the washer humming as it cleans snow pants and snow coats. It means sunlight pouring into the sitting room each morning and flooding the kitchen each afternoon. It means bedrooms being cluttered with boxes of clothing as we begin to rummage around for lightweight jackets but aren't quite ready to commit to putting winter things away for good; the mudroom now housing yellow boots all in a row-- six pairs this year. It means long walks and playing outside for hours and tucking children into bed while it is yet light out. It means getting antsy for the school year to be done and feeling relieved that a handful of subjects are already finished.

When I was younger, I didn't much care for spring.

Spring is, after all, muddy and brown and messy.

But the longer I am alive, the more I fall in love with spring, mess and all.

Flowers I bought for our table, just because.

I need to do that again. 

Baby's first morning spent in the sun.

My little walking companions.
(Oliver is in the Ergo)

Our backyard currently.

The bathroom my husband stayed up past midnight mudding and taping.

First outdoor lunch of the season!

Caesar Salad Dressing

When Oliver was just about 1 month old, a kind lady and her daughter showed up at my door with an unexpected dinner meal. How she knew that I was just flying in the door from a doctor's appointment and uncertain of what I was going to feed Daniel before he had to head out for an evening meeting is beyond me, but with one knock there she was: a hearty pan of lasagna, the fixings for a fresh salad, yummy homemade coconut filled chocolates in hand.

One taste of that homemade dressing and I was practically begging her for the recipe.

I've made it countless times since and it is consistently my family's favorite. Even in these winter months when fresh veggies are scarce and the ones we can come by are mushy and flavorless at best, this dressing can turn simple greens into a delicious bowl of summer.

And so I share it with you.

Meg's Caesar Salad Dressing
1 clove garlic, minced well
1/4 tsp salt (I usually use sea salt for this recipe)
1/2 tsp freshly ground pepper
1/4 cup lemon juice (fresh or bottled both work!)
2 T mayonnaise
2 tsp dijon mustard
11/2 tsp anchovy paste (optional)
8 tsp olive oil
1/4 cup grated Asiago or Parmesan cheese

Throw all the ingredients in a 1/2 pint canning jar (or something similar), lid tightly, and shake vigorously.

Enjoy!

Days Turn Into Years

On Monday, we celebrated two whole years with our very own Elliot Hale.

This little man who has done his own thing from the day he was born until now. The life God told me details about before he was even born. The child who is daily leaving baby behind and putting on boy.

He makes us laugh with his antics.

He makes his daddy beam to see his gifting and talent.

He has been used by God like a refining fire in my life.

He is treasured by us all.

His whole life-- every moment of every day-- is marked by intense passion, opinions, ideas, and willpower.

I love him to bits.

I really, really, really do.

So what joy to celebrate him.

And, yes, to laugh as he burst into tears the minute we all began singing to him. For being such a saucy little guy, he sure doesn't like to be the center of attention!