Two Steps Forward And...Two Steps Back

You know winter is upon you when you have to put on the fleece-lined car seat cover. The high for yesterday was 9. I think we might break double digits today, though.




Nate is now among the mobile ankle biters. He is crawling! Backwards. He can really move across a room...just in reverse. If you give him lots of encouragement he will take a few paces forward, stop, and then go into a three point stance and try to stand up.





This is his preferred way of sucking his pacifier. Why stay with the status quo? Upside down, backwards...it's just the way he rolls.





He is also eating like a little bear. He loves carrots, sweet potatoes, squash, peaches, apple sauce, and pears. I noticed he was getting a little "yellow" around the gills, so I started trying to incorporate more green into his diet via some strained peas. Bless his heart, he gagged. I can't blame him. I don't like peas either! Mash them up and it makes them even more gross. I am going to try green beans today. Wish us luck!

Foot Prints In My Dust

Look closely and you can see the foot print...


The other night I was sitting in the recliner talking with my husband about the day’s events. As I glanced over at the end table between us I noticed a thin layer of dust in the lamp light. "Well," I thought, "another task to add to tomorrow’s list”.

However, as I listened to Jeff I noticed an impression in the dust. It was a foot print…a rather small foot print…and the toes were pointed toward the window. It dawned on me that it was our three-year-old, Leif’s foot print. Suddenly the irksome dust turned into a memory recording medium.

I considered how such a foot print could have been made. I remembered the previous day’s excitement at daddy’s arrival from work. Leif was in the kitchen playing as I prepared supper. Upon hearing our truck pull into the drive he ran into the living room and leaped up onto the end table to peer out of the window. Jeff opened the front door to Leif’s squeals of delight and a hearty, “Welcome home, Daddy!”

It is an awesome blessing to have a three year old to show me life through his perspective. At his eye level the world looks different. A daddy coming home is the equivalent to winning the Publisher’s Clearing House. The arrival of winter’s first snow, gives you a reason to dance. Time spent wrestling with your parents after dinner is better than a day at an amusement park. A bed-time story is more exciting than a trip to the movie theater. A bowl of ice cream is a complete escape, a new toy a marvelous delight. A kind word of encouragement is not only heard but it is taken to heart and recorded in the annals of his mind, and displayed in the ear to ear expression of emotion on his face.

Tubula Rasa…blank slate. We all start out this way. We come from our mother’s wombs meeting life with awe and wonder. Somewhere along the way we become jaded and affected. We are hurt and wounded by other’s words. We are tempted, enticed and lured away by our own desires. Where do those desires come from? We are not born with a sinful nature, yet as our exposure to this fallen world lengthens day by day, so does our aptitude to sin. Somewhat like the chances of skin cancer increase with every bad sunburn. Like the Roman writer so aptly says,

“So I find it to be a law that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand. For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, but I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!”

Thanks be to Jesus. He had that three-year-old perspective of life and urged others to have it as well. He said that, “whoever humbles himself like a child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.” It is by him and through him that we can regain this child like perspective. We can once again meet this life with awe and wonder.

Jeff reminds me often that God gave us parents to rear us and children to finish the job. I know he is right when I am taught such a beautiful lesson as this.

Interview with Leif

I recently caught up with one of our country’s little heart-breakers, Leif Jaworski. He was in Anchorage, Alaska having dropped off his friends Jay Don, Debora and Jaylee Poindexter at the airport.

His family was doing some winter supply shopping when I met him in front of a Walmart.

As he was scampering toward the store front I heard his mom say, “Leif, let’s skip!”

He turned his cute little face up and said, “I can’t.”

Thinking that she might instruct him on how to skip they stopped short, but Leif’s masculinity is already in place as he firmly replied, “Momma, boys run.”

After a chuckle I followed him into the store and we sat down at the McDonalds while his dad went to be fitted for glasses.

Dressed like a little Gap model, he was wearing hiking boots, blue cords, a hooded sweater and a lined green canvas vest with a ball cap perched on his cute little crew cut.

“May we get started?” I asked. “What do you normally eat for lunch?”

“I like ham, cheese, ginger, and eggs,” he responded.

“Oh, you are on the protein-ginger diet?” I ask.

Not gaining a response I pressed on with, “What is your favorite thing to eat these days?”

“Hamburgers!” he yelled. I guess that is why we are at a McDonalds. His mom says he is allowed a piece of crystallized ginger if he eats all of his lunch. He gets ginger in place of candy. He thinks it is a real treat evidently. I turn the conversation to something any kid would like to talk about: toys.

“Leif, tell me about your favorite toys,” I said.

“I like trains,” He states. “James, Percy and Thomas.” I thought he looked like a Thomas-the-train fan.


"Reading to Red"


“What is your favorite place to play?” I ask.

“Auden and Brahm’s,” he replies. I had heard that he was still close with his friend since the cradle, Auden Cress. A loyal friend, she is five months his senior and Brahm his junior just having turned two.

“Who is your best friend?” I ask.

“Jaylee,” He responds. When pressed as to why, he says that she reads to him and plays with him and his toys. Jaylee Poindexter, age 8 just spent two weeks with Leif. Her family came to Anchor Point to vacation and for her dad to teach a gospel meeting and preacher’s conference. I can tell they made a bond for life.

“Your mom tells me you are reading some words and love to have books read to you. What is your favorite book?” I ask next.

“Polar Express,” he replies. I spy a knowing grin on his mom’s face that says, ‘Yes, we read the Polar Express year round.’ This boy really is crazy about trains.

Seeing that Leif’s attention is waning, I bring the conversation around to the upcoming Halloween holiday. “If you could dress up as anyone or anything what would you be, Leif?” I ask.

He ponders this question for a moment and then confidently says, “Jesus!”

It is good to know his hero is the one and only Savior of the free world. His mom says that he actually is going to be a farmer and his little brother, Nate is going to dress up as an ear of corn. They have a friend’s party to attend and then will go to a neighbor’s house for dinner.

Leif and his mom graciously thanked me for the interview and departed. I told them the pleasure was all mine.

Recent Happenings...

On a walk home from the Firth's last week, we spotted this rainbow behind the antennas...what a beautiful reminder of God's promises.



Leif recently picked out this outfit, put it on all by himself and even buttoned his own buttons. He was so excited...and so was momma!



Nate and Jaylee Poindexter

Pictures of the boys...

"You can pick your nose and you can pick your corn, but you can't pick your friend's corn."

We have a new addition!

For those of you that don’t know we lost our dog Link. Last fall while we were gone to Texas and Madagascar respectively, Link decided to heed the call of the wild. Interestingly, Link came into our lives seven years ago about the time I started asking to have children. Initially Jeff thought he could stave off the ticking of the biological clock by giving me a puppy to look after. Many years and two kids later, Link decided to leave. After a lengthy period of mourning we decided that it was time to get a new dog. This decision also came due in large part to Leif acting like a puppy. He started getting bowls out of the cabinet and asking for his juice to be put on the floor so he could lap it up. The first few times this was cute…then it got plain weird. He began talking about dogs and puppies incessantly. Things got so bad we had to cut him off from watching Clifford.

Danny and Gail Presley, our good friends knew we were looking for a dog. They have quite a menagerie themselves, made up of schnauzers, cows, horses, Australian shepherds, chickens, and a few cats. So, when Gail called me from Anchorage saying she had found us a dog I wasn’t as skeptical as I normally would have been. This is my first dog that someone else has picked out. She said over the phone that her daughter, who works at an animal shelter, had a four month old Australian Shepherd/Border Collie mix female. I asked Jeff what he thought and the next thing I knew we had dog being delivered via Danny’s airplane in a few days time.

As soon as Leif heard we were getting a dog he fell deathly silent and looked down at the floor. His dad didn’t know what to make of this. Leif looked up and had tears in his eyes as he said, “Really?” Then a grin the size of Alaska spread across his face. “That’s awesome!” he exclaimed. This of course made us cry as well.

Then the name game began. Leif wanted to name the dog Clifford when he overheard his daddy talking to Gail on the phone. Gail told us she was red, blonde and white. Leif heard ‘red’ and thought he was getting a big red dog that needed to be named Clifford. It took us a while to explain that our dog was going to be a girl and Clifford was a boy’s name. He then wanted to name the dog, ‘Auden’ after his best friend. It took some convincing but we finally settled on just plain, ‘Red’.

Red ended up being too big to fit in the plane so her arrival was delayed a few days, but when she finally arrived Leif was ecstatic. He brought her in the house and showed her around. After a few minutes of running and chasing, Leif stopped and breathlessly exclaimed to the dog, “Red, I wuuuuv you!”

She is a great dog. Aside from the normal jumping up, she is pretty gentle with the boys. Very smart and attentive…I think she speaks English. When kenneled she initially began to whine, so I told her, “Red, we aren’t going to whine.” She gave one last whimper and then stopped. The other night she began barking so I let her out. She was barking because she heard a new vehicle in the driveway. She stood guard on the front porch while looking out at Jeff in the plow truck. “That is your daddy, no need to bark,” I told her. She immediately settled down and started wagging her tail.

Like adding the perfect garnish to make a dish complete, so is having a dog for a young family. Red is just the garnish we needed to make life pleasant. Not to mention, she makes me feel less outnumbered.

I Killed My First Moose

For those that know me well, know that I like to hunt. Since my career as a momma began, hunting has taken a short hiatus, except for the occasional evening dove hunt when in Texas. The main reason for the hiatus is due to the nature of hunting big game in Alaska. Here hunting moose typically involves a week at what people call “moose camp”. One gets to moose camp by many hours atop a four-wheeler or horse. This is quite impossible with an infant. However, who needs a week at moose camp with a 30.06 when you can easily off one with an F250?

Last night as I was driving home from the movies I noticed that it was the time of day when moose might be out. It was dusky dark (about 9:30 pm). Just as I flipped on my high beams I saw a wall of hide ahead of me. A large cow and her two yearling twins were crossing the road at a quick clip. I jammed on the brakes sending my bowl of left over popcorn flying (at the movie theater here you bring your own bowl and they fill it up for a dollar, needless to say you end up with ample left over popcorn). I swerved and missed the momma and the first calf. I nailed the third one square in the back right hind quarter. This yearling calf’s back was a few inches taller than the hood of our F250. Luckily the west Texas manufactured “cow catcher” of a grill saved both me and the truck.

I pulled over and looking into my rear view mirror noticed that the calf’s back was broken, but it was struggling to get up with its front legs. In a panic I called Jeff to see where the “truck pistol” was. Unfortunately, he had taken it out. He told me to call the troopers. When I called the troopers the dispatcher first asked if I was okay and then if the animal was still alive. I said ‘yes’ and that an angry looking cow was standing sentry by the road. I have heard of irate momma cows charging both man and vehicle in defense of a dying calf. I wasn’t about to get out of the truck alone. She asked if I could “dispatch the animal and drag it off of the road.” “Dispatch!” I thought… is she really asking me to shoot this calf? What kind of back woods crazy place do I live in?!!! As she is giving me instructions I look in the rearview mirror and the poor thing has finally expired. I tell her, “No need, it just died.” “Well, then please drag the moose off of the road, set a flare out and we will call the next person on the road kill list. What mile are you at?” she asks. “Here is your case number for you to fill out your participant accident form,” she informs me. I grab a napkin and write down the case number.

I hang up and notice I am shaking. How am I going to drag this 200 lb. “baby” off of the road I think to myself? About then I see car headlights approaching from the rear and the south bound lane. The car pulls up behind me and a lady about my age gets out. “You okay?” she asks. About then the other car has pulled over and a man is getting out. The gal informs me she is an EMT and he is a first responder. We get some rope and they drag the calf off the road while I get the flare. I slay my first moose and take off for home in a matter of minutes.

The very large pipe bumper and grill were completely bent back unto the hood of the truck, but the truck runs fine (I never get the courage to go over 45 mph) as I complete my journey home. The next day Jeff uses a neighbor’s bull dozer to put the bumper back in place. The only damage was a superficial 2 inch crinkle in the hood, some cracked plastic on the grill, and a serious decrease in the blood lust that once defined me. I don’t know if it is having two babies of my own or the fact that I annihilated a goofy yet beautiful animal with a two ton truck, but I cried the whole way home with only the conciliation of the momma having had twins.

Midnight with Boudreaux

The other night Jeff went to Kenai to pick up my dad and granddad from the airport. Unfortunately, their plane was delayed and they didn't end up getting into Kenai until 10:45 pm and Anchor Point until 12:20 am.

Generally speaking daddy is an essential ingredient to our bedtime routine. Typically we wind the evening down around 8:45 and end the day with what we call "home church". Home church began as practice runs for Leif to get the hang of sitting still at actual worship. What began as a teaching tool has now become an essential end to the day. We sing a few songs, read some scripture and then have a prayer. It isn't complicated, but it is really special. Leif occasionally gives us a sermon (as seen in the picture) and usually prays.

The night of craziness began during home church. Since dad wasn't around it was just Leif and I along with Nate. Being the multi-tasking mom that I am I was nursing while singing. Leif didn't like having my attention divided and began asking to nurse himself. I am sure there are many moms that have had a similar discussion with their three year old...this was my first. I tried distracting him with a story from his bible...that didn't work. I tried singing his favorite song...that didn't work. I offered chocolate milk...didn't work. He was becoming more insistent as I was becoming more exasperated. Finally, I told him that big boys with teeth get to chew gum and he could have a piece of gum right before bed. He thought that was pretty cool.

After a few minutes of minty chewing I finally got him into bed and went back to our living room to finish nursing. I hear Leif's door open and then the linen closet door open right outside his bedroom. "You get back in that bed!" I boomed back to the rear of the house. I didn't hear any more. Around 11 pm I went through the hallway to my bedroom and heard Leif still up. The little stinker had opened the linen closet door so that I couldn't see light coming from the crack in his door. I rush into his room and found a blood shot, bleary eyed three year old listlessly playing with toys on his bed. "I scited (excited) to see Pop Pop, momma," he said as I put him back to bed, turned off the light and waited another hour until Jeff returned with dad (aka Pop Pop) and granddad.

Well after midnight after everyone is settled in for the night I lay down next to Jeff and who do I hear, but Leif still awake. Jeff gets out of bed and goes to deal with the energizer bunny we have for a son. The next thing I hear is uproarious laughter coming from the next room. I run in and find Jeff bent over laughing as Leif is sitting on the edge of his bed with his palms upturned on his lap. I notice his hands are white and think, "what is going on..." as he lifts his red, blinking eyes upward. He has covered every exposed surface in Boudreaux's Butt Paste zinc oxide. He looks like a NYC street performer at the end of a very long day of miming. His hair is covered in white zinc oxide and poking out in all directions like Calvin ready for his school picture. His face, neck and hands are completely white. He looks at us with utter desperation and a look that says, "this stuff just won't rub in!"

All you can do in a situation such as this is laugh. He said, "Momma I need soap..." "Ya' think so, son?!!!" I wanted to say. Needless to say, we wiped him down and got him in bed around 1:30 am. The next morning he was exhausted but no worse for wear, and he finally got to see his Pop Pop.

Blessings...

My gran used to say that if you were feeling down it was a good idea to take stock of your blessings. I am not feeling particularly down, but rather blessed. I thought I might share a few with you...

I am blessed to be the mother of two beautiful boys. I love raising them and training them. At times this can be a trialsome chore, but at the end of the day a true blessing.

I love being at home with them and participating in every facet of their lives. I am thankful my husband affords me this opportunity.

I am blessed to have a husband that is a great daddy. He loves being a father and considers it to be both a fun and high calling. He is so good at patiently teaching Leif. He loves to have Leif participate in what he is doing, whether it is fixing something around the house or an outside chore.



I am blessed by the many green tomatoes on the vine at my bedroom window. I have been working on these tomatoes since April. I believe we have eaten a total of ten. As you can see the vine is nearly to the ceiling. Here in Alaska home grown tomatoes are so difficult to grow Guy Clark might die of a stroke from a lack of lycopene if he had to live here. I can't wait to bite into number eleven!

I am blessed by family, both those adopted and bloodkin. Since the birth of the baby, we have had an influx of visitors. It is a real pleasure to entertain those that you love. My mom came for the birth and the following week, Jeff's parents after that for two weeks and then my sister for three weeks. My mom came again for a month and my dad and granddad are about to visit for two weeks. They say that in Alaska you have two seasons: Winter and Company.

I am blessed by Winter....just kidding. Actually, I do love winters here. The snow transforms our world into wonderland of fun and beauty. It will be neat to introduce Nate to snow. Leif loves riding the snow machine with his daddy, sledding and building snow men. I am looking forward to getting out the skis and exploring the muskegs.

There's a bobber in my bread crumbs!

Yesterday my mom was leaving after a month long stay. In an effort to send her off right, I made her a fancy halibut lunch. The recipe calls for marinating the halibut steaks in white wine and then dredging them in Italian bread crumbs. You place the breaded halibut in a casserole dish and schemer a yummy mixture of sour cream, butter, mayonnaise, scallions, garlic and cayenne pepper over the whole dish. Bake it and then serve it with angel hair pasta .... it tastes pretty good.

As I went to retrieve my large container of bread crumbs from the back of a lower cabinet (that is latched with a childproof latch), I was met with quite a surprise as I opened the container. Inside I had about two cups of bread crumbs with a small red and white bobber and a whiffle golf ball sitting on top. I couldn't help but laugh. How my three year old got into the "child proof" cabinet I will never know, but also quite remarkable is why he thought I needed a bobber and a whiffle golf ball?!

I love having boys! They are so awesome! This small gift reminded me yet again how much I have to be thankful for. Leif and Nate are growing like the beautiful fire weed that covers my back yard. Each day is filled with new discoveries as they blossom and grow. Just this morning we spent time at an imaginary pool made of blue blankets on the floor. Leif put his swim suit on over his sweats and grabbed his pool toys. After a while he grew tired of swimming and decided that his pool float was really a boat on the bay. He fished for salmon and halibut for over an hour (with yet another bobber fastened to an undone and partially limp balloon animal). Life doesn't get much better.

Field of Diamonds in the Sky

The other night my husband proved the depth of his love and his insanity. We have a small cabin about 400 feet behind our home that quarters a second freezer and most of our moose. I had asked him earlier in the day to collect for me a few packages of hot moose sausage. I wanted to use the sausage to make a crock pot of cowboy stew for Lionel Haakenson’s memorial the following day. After a day of skiing and sledding, and cooking coconut shrimp for dinner we forgot about the sausage until around 10:30. As I looked at the clock and my husband in his bathrobe and I began devising plan b. However, Jeff wasn’t hearing of it. He threw on his cap, headlamp, and gloves and took off on his cross country skis. After a good laugh at his appearance I went outside to enjoy the view of him skiing through the dark in his bathrobe. That was when I saw something amazing…

One of my favorite things in Alaska is the snow. In Texas, snow mainly comes in cones or falls at crazy times like Easter and then melts within 48 hours. After living in Alaska for two and half years, I am just now beginning to understand the many facets of snow. As I watched my husband’s back disappear into the darkness, I looked out across our yard and noticed the moon light and how it cast a cool yet warming glow across the snow. When my eyes adjusted to the light, the glow grew warmer until it revealed a white blanket of diamonds.

We are at the tale end of the winter season. The weather warms to the upper 30s during the day, which causes a slow melt. At night the temperature falls back down below freezing and the snow refreezes. The night air cools the outer surface of the snow banks more than the inside. This causes the water to evaporate on the inside and then reform in a layer of frost. Sometimes the frost grains can grow so large they are called hoar frost. This “diamond” effect or hoar frost occurs in areas wherever it is cold outside and there is an ample source of water vapor. Living on the Kachemak Bay, we are in a perfect place for beautiful hoar frost to grow. At times I have seen frost flakes the size of quarters. These hexagonal prisms reflect light so they appear as fields of brilliantly cut gems.

Waiting for my husband’s return I sat thankful for the diamonds laid before me rather than on me. I looked up to also see a sky full of glimmering stars. I basked in a field of diamonds both above and below. The scene reminded me of the apropos words of the late and great Johnny Cash, “it was silent beauty shining high.”

To Mock a Dying Bird

A few weeks ago our congregation lost one of its most treasured patriarchs, Lionel Haakenson. The following is a piece I wrote for the local paper:

“Thank you, Dana.” These words were issued with a smile from a man that I admire and respect. Less than ten minutes before he had lain in a recliner, dozing with his left hand limp at his side with a thin line of drool trailing down his lip. It had been months since he called me by or remembered my name, so I thought. I had assumed that his most recent stroke had left him with little of his memory or the ability to produce cogent thoughts. These three words from a dying, 93 year old stroke victim struck a cord with me, helping me realize how wrong I was about many things.

I am used to hearing of families that would put an aging parent, like this gentleman, in a nursing home. In fact, this is the norm more than the exception down in the lower 48. From a young age, my family has volunteered at nursing homes. I have witnessed the wearing down and death of both young and old. Nursing homes are not just filled with the elderly. I have known a man in his forties with AIDS, a 50-year-old former college professor with a brain injury, and a retired rodeo queen. The one consistent between these varied acquaintances is that for the most part, they are forgotten. They are forgotten by their families, forgotten by their friends, and forgotten by society at large. They are a grouping of the forgotten, the disposal of the dying. You see, aging isn’t pretty. It isn’t glamorous, and taking care of those that are in the twilight years isn’t glamorous either.

Now that I am a mother raising a toddler, I see the similarities between the beginning and the ending of life. Babies cry and are very emotional. They have a hard time putting words together to express their feelings. They need to be fed, clothed, diapered, and most importantly loved. The aging at different stages may have some of these same needs. Life is fragile in all its stages, in fact we all have needs that must be met. These needs may change depending on which life season we are in, but needs are still there. Those of us that are in the prime of our lives may delude ourselves into believing that we have it all under control and are completely self sustained. Why does our culture so easily mock the weak or the dying? I myself have been guilty of saying things like, “I don’t want to ‘go out’ that way” or “if, I ever get that bad off just ship me down the river.” It is easy for us in our youth, to ‘mock the dying bird.’ We have been sold the idea that the only way to “live” is in a blaze of glory…taking names and kicking butt. This message can be seen through movies like the academy award winning, Million Dollar Baby. As the young girl lay paralyzed from a tragic boxing accident, she begs her trainer to take her life. The message is clear: if I can’t live like I did before then life is not worth living.

This last week, as I heard my name from my nigonerian friend, I realized that life isn’t just about “living large”. In fact sometimes, life is just barely hanging on. However strong or fragile life is, life is beautiful and amazing. On the wall next to where this man lay was a framed photo of one of his proudest moments. At the age of 78 he confidently stands 6’2”, a muscular 200 pounds, with a slight smile on his face and an outstretched arm next to a 368 pound halibut. I look at the same man, in a much weaker frame, and I can’t help but smile. Our culture today might say, “How pitiful that this great man would die this way.” Yet, there is no need to pity this man. Instead I see joy in his eyes, a smile on his lips and appreciation for all that is done for him. He isn’t downtrodden in his last days or resentful of his condition. He takes delight in a song, truly feels the warmth in a hug, and finds comfort from a warm bowl of soup. I also look around and see his family and friends banding together to take care of his every need. I observe granddaughters coming to hold his hand, grandsons dressing him for bed, and friends from his church stopping by with food and lending hands. He is definitely not forgotten.

Just like a new mother cuddles, cares for and instructs her baby into childhood, and eventually adulthood; so we have the opportunity to aid the aging into life beyond this world. And through this work we can learn something. Society tells us that if you’re not young, lean, wealthy and good looking not only will you not win the latest episode of Survivor, but your life is not really worth living. What I learned from my time with Lionel is that life is worth living just simply because it is life. He also taught me that true strength isn’t being ashamed of weakness or bound by pride, but boldly stepping through the doors of life, even the door that leads us home.

Alaskan Woman's Day at the Spa

Coming from the land of nail salons on every corner, day spas, and standing appointments with your “stylist”, it is quite an adjustment for me to move to bush Alaska. In my former life I had my hair cut, highlighted and styled every six weeks to the day. I left my appointment with Wayne feeling like a million bucks. Every month I went with my mom to have a pedicure and my brows waxed. For really special occasions I had my nails done and was even known to purchase all of my hair products at the salon versus the drug store.

Moving to Alaska has been quite the “detox” for this diva (and to think I was known as a tom-boy in my former neck-of-the-woods). However, I have risen to the challenge and adjusted well…I think. I now find pleasure in what I like to call the “low-tide exfoliating salt water soak”. You can experience this treatment by putting on your grungiest clothes, grabbing a few five gallon buckets, your clam shovel and driving your four wheel drive down the beach. This spa treatment to the “stars” occurs by quickly forcing your hands into freezing cold sand, scooping out handfuls until your bare arm is immersed up to the arm pit, then grasping the sharp shell of a razor clam, and gently coaxing this clam up through the sand. While kneeling over the clam hole you are exfoliating your knees (which are digging down into the sand), and allowing the salt air to blow through your hair resulting in a nice curl. Not only do you end this ritual with dinner in hand, but your skin is smooth and rosy, pores tight, and if you do this enough times it will even file your nails down.

I have also found a way to put up produce for the winter while giving myself a “steaming mud facial” at the same time. First, you get a five gallon bucket and proceed to your vegetable garden. As you are pulling the garden produce of your choice, you will inevitably rub dirt from the back of your gloves onto your face. Then as you are blanching your vegetables this mud will form into a nice mask that will both open and detoxify the pores. Next, hold your face over the sink as you pour out the boiling water. To complete the process, plunge your face into the ice bath for pore closure. Then place your veggies in the bath with your face. By placing your vegetables in the ice bath this both ceases the cooking process and releases complex “bio-phyto-minerals” into the water and thus your skin. Depending on your vegetable, you might have a slight discoloration to your skin. For that sun kissed look, I recommend putting up carrots. Make sure you don’t put up broccoli before a date as the slight tinge of green is not very becoming.

Yesterday, I enjoyed a new spa treatment while processing moose. We were blessed to enjoy the processing with Danny and Gail Presley. Gail shared her famous moose sausage recipe and in the process I discovered the “deep moisturizing tallow therapy” for the forearms and hands. You begin by taking the trimmings of the butchering process along with other tough pieces of meat. Run these pieces through the meat grinder while combining 5 pounds of either pork or beef tallow (otherwise known as fat) to every 20 pounds of moose meat. Once the meat has been ground you put it into five gallon buckets. This is where the fun and moisturizing begins! You then pour 16 oz. worth of various spices onto this meat while mixing and kneading the spice into the meat…by hand. You must use your entire arm to ensure proper mixing. Once this procedure is complete you end up with a bucket o’ good meat and moisturized arms and hands.

Like any girl I want to look pretty and feel pampered, (and no, I have not turned into a wooly mammoth with dreds) but I have learned that beauty comes not from the dollars you drop at the salon, tanning bed or gym. The Alaskan women I have befriended have never heard of spending several hundred dollars on a purse or buying a pair of shoes to go with just one outfit, but they are some of the happiest and prettiest gals I know. They also know an inordinate amount of uses for a five gallon bucket!

Home from Hunting

The great hunter has returned.

On Monday of last week Jeff got a call from Danny Presley, a local hunter and good friend. Danny invited Jeff on a late season hunt last year, but the moose were run off due to a rapid change in weather and wolves. This year Jeff got another opportunity to go with Danny when his hunting partner had a heart attack the night before their hunt. They left with the horses and four wheeler to hunt a 70" moose that Danny had spotted via his air plane in Willard Canyon.

From Danny's explanation and the viewing of maps, Willard Canyon is a day's ride into the Caribou Hills. This is also a day's ride past all other hunting camps further into the bush. The first evening they called in a 58" male that was traveling with two honeys and was in full rut. They passed on this guy in hopes of seeing the 70" bull Danny had spotted two days prior.The second day in, Jeff spotted a group of moose on his way to the horses early in the morning. They scoped out a 67" male bull that was large bodied. Even though the spread was smaller than the bull they were gunning for, Danny said he was a good looking male with wide palms. To explain to all the non-moose hunters: a legal moose is 50", a good moose is 58-62", with most Boone and Crockett moose beginning around the upper 60s" (depending on many rules, drop tines, points, etc.). Danny is a big time trophy hunter with a half dozen B & C moose in his garage alone. They hiked about a mile and 1/2 down to the moose. Jeff rattled with some moose scapula, Danny cow called and up he came rearing and ready to fight. Danny took the moose on the morning of the 13th. Jeff said he was a fat boy that was still sweet smelling. It took the rest of the day for them to skin out the bull (in the pouring rain), and hack out a trail for the horses. At dark they had to tarp the moose and pray that nothing got him during the night. Jeff took some of the backstrap and fried it up for dinner. He said it was delicious even before it was aged. Back at camp they listened as a pack of wolves sounded like they were having a hey day in the valley below. Resolved that they wouldn't find much the next morning, they took the horses down to the bull. Amazingly, the moose was there all in one piece! They spent the next two days packing him out. The neck alone weighed 75 pounds and one of the back hindquarters weighed almost 200 lbs. Needless to say, Jeff is a little sore.

After 6 days Jeff and Danny returned from the Caribou Hills yesterday. We now have half of 600+ lbs. of meat hanging in a cooler at McNeill Canyon. It is a privilege and honor for Jeff to go on a hunt with such a seasoned hunter. Thank you, Danny! Thank you God for bringing us to such a wonderful place!

Dear Leif

To my dearest Leif,

As I write this letter the rain falls softly outside. There is a nip in the air as fall is approaching. The leaves of the deciduous trees have all turned yellow and the fireweed is a deep umber. I expect the snow in a month’s time.

Your daddy is out on a moose hunt with Danny Presley. They left on horse back two days ago. I hope to see him in another 2-3 days. I sure do miss him. I guess I don’t realize how he is the center of my universe until he is away. He is a wonderful husband and father. I hope you learn well from him how to love and cherish your wife.

You have grown by leaps and bounds since my last letter. This spring we went to Hawaii with daddy for his military training. It was such fun to get away from the cold weather for a while. You experienced sand, sun and the water. You enjoyed it all after getting used to it. The sand in particular offered you a challenge, but before long you were eating it like it was brown sugar. We went to the island of Oahu and stayed at the Pearl Harbor Naval Base. We particularly loved the North Shore. We love to travel and have adventures and with you in tow it is an added plus. We saw great big monk seals, sea turtles, and lots of fish. We took you to the Dole Pineapple Plantation and went through the world’s largest maze. The day we went it was raining, so we got a coffee and waited for the rain to let up. It never did! So, we put you in your car seat pulled the canopy up to meet the canopy on the stroller and took off in the rain. It was a timed course with stops along the way. We slogged through the puddles and the rain and had a great time. You stayed nice and dry and slept the whole way! We also hiked up Diamond Head with you on daddy's back. It was a beautiful place and you are such a great traveler. You have already been on 6 plane rides and you’re not even two, yet. Daddy had to fly to and from Hawaii on the C-130 and we flew commercially. What an adventure getting through the airport just the two of us. If you can help it son, NEVER let your wife travel alone with the kids. I was very thankful for the helpful individuals that helped us out. You made friends with a man on the plane that had grandkids in the lower 48. He played with you almost the entire 5 hour flight.

On May 19^th you celebrated your first birthday with an applesauce cake and a present of a Tonka dump truck. We had your cake at Sarah and Jesse Cress’s house. Their daughter, Auden (5 months your senior) and you ate your cake with great relish. You were quite neat, barely getting any icing on your face or hands. Auden dove right in, face and all. I also celebrated my 30^th birthday on the 21st. What a special present for me that every year on my birthday I can remember the day we came home from the hospital with you. By your first birthday you had all but 6 of your teeth in, you were running, and just learning to use a fork.

We had many visitors this summer and did many exciting things. In June, Gary Musgrave came for his yearly visit and brought his brother- in- law and nephew. I went halibut fishing with these three men and ended up puking over the side of the boat. I wasn't alone as Dan (the brother-in-law and elder in the church) was right beside me. I am sure you too will someday experience sea sickness. The important thing is that we still all caught our limits.

In July, your Marme came to visit for a month. While she was here we took walks, went dip netting for red salmon, worked in the garden, put up and canned produce from the garden, fished, and went clamming. You enjoy all experiences if they involve being outside. You are so compliant and easy to take along. We put you in a special backpack on our back and you can ride along for hours. You even sit in your backpack while your daddy fly fishes. At the beginning of the summer you were unsure of the green grass. For much of your life the grass has been covered in snow, so the green “stuff” was new to you. You would quickly walk across the parking lot, get right up to the grass and cry for one of us to come and get you. But by the end of the summer you were quite acclimated. In fact yesterday, we were out with the dog. Link was scratching his back and rolling in the grass. You decided that looked fun and lay down to try it out. It was so cute watching you mimic Link.

In August, the Watson family came to visit. You loved playing with Hudson and Hannah Presley. At the first of September, Glenn and Elaine Fischer came to see us a few days before they went on a cruise. With each new guest you adjusted well to your schedule disruptions. You are a real flirt and once you get used to some one you wrinkle your nose, tilt your head and smile…especially to the ladies!

We recently went to the Bracht’s for the annual raspberry picking. You had a great time. This year you were mobile, so you went along following me or your dad, while stealing berries from our buckets. After a while we decided you had enough and told you to stop eating from our buckets. You then discovered you could pick the berries yourself and would escape from our sight and pick and pick. I am surprised you weren’t sick that evening. Your face and hands were stained red for the next two days. I put up 6 batches of jam with Sarah Cress, and then continued making jam and pancake syrup throughout the next week. With each batch of jam came a layer of foam. You loved eating the foam on bread.

This evening we went down to see the Firths. Since it was raining I decided we should take the jeep. I put you over in the passenger seat, but didn’t buckle you up since it is such a short drive. However, as we were pulling out of the drive the jeep lurched forward as I was turning and shifting gears. Automatically, I shot my arm out and put my hand on your chest (just like my mother use to do to me). You looked down at my hand and gently pulled my fingers up one at a time and shook your head ‘no’, as if to say, ‘I am a big boy and don’t need your protecting, thank you.’ Son, you are already independent and confident. Already the end is in sight. You will leave our home one day and start your own life. In the meantime, I cherish every smile, laugh, utterance (so far you say, “Dada, Momma, ‘this’, ‘yes’, and ‘essss’ for “please”), hug and kiss (they come in the open-mouthed slobbery variety). I thank God for blessing us with you. You are special and uniquely made.

I love and adore you son,

Momma

Soul Security

Today, while opening the mail I received a jolt to my stomach and a wound to my pride. This jolt came in the way of my yearly Social Security statement. As I peered down the column of earnings I noticed that I began working the first year I was able, at the ripe age of 15 in 1993. Impressed that the Social Security Office took such care to “know” my earnings and thus withholdings that long ago gave me a sense of belonging. I next noticed that the earnings (and thus withholdings) took a significant leap with each passing year. I went from earning 4 digits at summer time life guarding to earning 5 as a manager at a Christian university. I was also proud of the fact that not a year passed since ’93 that didn’t have a corresponding evidence of monetary accomplishment. I was feeling pretty self-important when my eyes fell to this last year: 2006. Next to 2006 there was the lowest number of all. Due to my having to quit my job and our move cross country for my husband’s job in ministry, I knew the earnings wouldn’t be much. But nothing would have prepared me for the reality of such a low number. Not even a cool $100, but a lowly $84 I earned while substitute teaching for one day. The one day I was able to work before being put on bed rest for premature labor. I don’t know what hit me. I closed the document in disgust.

I left my husband and baby sitting at the lunch table and retreated to my bedroom. As tears of shame filled my eyes, I knew that I was being silly. However, I still felt lacking. I felt that instead of helping us with our debt, I was contributing to it. I guiltily thought of the list of grocery and personal needs that I had on the kitchen counter. At first I was angry for having to be concerned about the cost of facial lotion and shampoo. Angry that we have to make the sacrifices that we do for my husband to work in ministry, then I was overcome with a wave of sorrow as I remembered the children I have seen in Ghana with their black skin turned white with dust and dryness. They have never heard of exfoliating creams and heavy moisturizers, much less a meal with all five food groups represented. Who am I to think I am mistreated for not being able to buy the latest beauty products? Still the shame of not contributing to our bottom line filled my mind.

About this time my husband came in announcing that he had to go back to work and that I should look at my statement again. He was so proud of himself, he couldn’t help but smile. He said, “See this isn’t a Social Security Statement, but a Soul Security Statement!” He had taken a pen and written over, added and marked out the words until it read something like this:

What Soul Security Means To You:

This Soul Security Statement will help you understand what Soul Security means to you and your family. Soul Security is for people of all ages…It can help you whether you’re young or old, male, Jew, Greek or female. It’s there for you when you more than retire and go to heaven. Soul Security also can provide benefits and help your family when you die. Remember, that Soul Security was never intended to be your only source of salvation. Soul Security can’t do it all, but God can.

Then in the “Soul” Earnings column for this last year he had added hundreds of thousands of dollars to my $84, with a note:

“Please see W2s on:

-Leif Wilder Jaworski and projected effects on the world.

-Subcontract work done through your husband, Jeff Jaworski, who despite being a rock head is working to bring the gospel to the world with your help.

Meanwhile our son, Leif had found his way into the bathroom and was doing his best impression of a porta-potty by playing in the commode.

As I peeled his soggy clothing off and put him into the bathtub, my tears turned to smiles and then laughter. I realized each day is filled with great earnings, as I care for my husband and son. These earnings may not be quantifiable in dollars, but they are treasures laid up in heaven…and that is where my heart is!

Tejano Cheechako

I used to live in the land of trouser socks, planners, meetings and planners full of meetings. (For those gentlemen that do not know what a trouser sock is, it is somewhere between hosiery and socks ((For those that don’t know what hosiery is, it’s those stretchy, see-through “pants” that your wife burns 40 calories just putting on)). In this land suits were expected. A day at the office meant coming early and leaving very late. To get away from the office, you went on “working” retreats. This land possessed many happy people that loved their lattes, late nights and long meetings, but I was one citizen that had a secret. Secretly, I yearned to be free of my pointy-toed shoes and tailored suits. I wanted to relax! More importantly, I wanted my significance to be based on something other than the affirmations and desires of others. Instead of facing every day with anxiety and apprehension I wanted peace and joy in the simple things. So, when my husband came home one day and said, “How would you like to move to Alaska?” I was initially sceptical, but ultimately thankful.

Now, after living here for the last eighteen months, I feel inspired to share some observations, opines, and orations. The following is a synopsis from this Tejano Cheechako.

On our journey “North to Alaska” we found out unexpectedly that we were “with child” in Whitehorse, Yukon. That at least explained why I was feeling like the guy on the “Road to Tok” Sadowski, Froehlich, and Brown post card. If you haven’t traveled the Alcan with morning sickness, I highly recommend it. It is like several days at a theme park, all for the cost of fuel and the meals you lose along the way.

Once here, our first winter was filled with sights and sounds that were both new and exciting…especially that white stuff that kept falling from the sky. In Texas we only have it in little huts on the road side, and they sell it in things called, snow cones. There certainly is never enough that it must be plowed, shoveled, or blown. We also quickly learned that when you go out in the snow, you wear a hat on your head, not a toboggan. A toboggan is a sled, not a hat. This is a colloquial mystery to me. I have asked many people (all from Texas) what they call the warm, woolen hats worn on one’s head in winter, and the answer is always a sure, “toboggan”. Here, however this verbal slip has afforded others many laughs on my account.

I also learned that “muskeg” is not some large wooly, wild ox of the north, but a marsh-like plain. While difficult to traverse in the warm months, they are fields of enjoyment in the winter. I cross country skied across one for the first time. It was as if I was skiing through a majestic Norman Lowell painting (yet another great discovery). I fell only a few hundred times; this I like to think was due to my center of gravity being off because of my discovery in Whitehorse. I also rode on a jet ski for the snow, known as a snow machine. In Texas we use these vehicles on another form of water, known as a lake. Snow machining offered fun while providing a facial. Heading out across the muskeg with my toboggan tightly tied around my chin, I gave it all she had and ended up with snow cone up my nose, but at least my cheeks were sufficiently exfoliated and rosy!

Another great surprise came when we were asked to help process some road kill. Many of my relatives from Texas or Arkansas shuddered at the thought of their kin eating road kill. The very words, ‘road kill’ conjure images of the Clampetts and Ma fixin’ possum stew for supper. So, when I called to tell them we were feasting on fruit from the freeway, they flipped. Come to find out people in the great state of Alaska actually sign up to be one of the lucky few who are called to field dress and haul off moose that have been hit by the unfortunate driver.

We are now on our second winter and one of the proud members on the road kill list. However, we regrettably have yet to receive a call. When we do, I have my trouser socks ready. I think they will make good clean up rags.

Women Need Men

WARNING: THIS BLOG IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART
There are many ways to tell that winter is approaching in Alaska...your Halloween pumpkin is frozen solid, your dog sheds his "summer" coat all over the rug, and there are recommendations on the TV to start plugging in your truck at night. You also have little rodent visitors looking to check in for their winter reservations. No matter how clean you keep your house, if there is a hole anywhere in your house: THEY WILL GET IN!
This last week while Jeff was moose hunting I went mouse hunting. I have always known that I had an abnormal killer instinct for a woman. I am not sure if it comes from my dad making me rip the heads off his dove before I could even shoot a shot gun or watching my great grandmother slaughter many a rattle snake in her garden with merely a hoe, but the killer came out in me this week. Last Tuesday evening as I was kicking back on the couch after putting the baby down, Mickey's cousin Cleotha ran across the living room. Much to my surprise I didn't scream. "Hmmm," I thought, "I need to do something about him tomorrow." Upon awakening the next morning I stumbled to the coffee maker and was abruptly alerted to Cleotha's family of four residing under the big burner on the stove. (Here is where the screaming ensued) Being a sweet little woman all alone in the woods, I called my neighbor (and screamed some more over the phone) for back-up. He promptly sent down his middle and youngest son with two glue traps. By placing my traps in enticing locations I quickly had two takers. Soon I had success and I was dancing a victory jig as I looked over and saw my prey caught...all until I realized they weren't dead. In fact there were large mice that thought they were about to dine on a delicious lunch of peanut butter when they were instead immobilized. Cleotha was none too happy about this arrangment and was letting me know by screaming loudly. Up until this point in my 29 years of living I have fortunately not come into contact with many mice--certainly not any screaming mice. I didn't know they did that?!! Being the mighty huntress and protector of my off-spring (also because Jeff wasn't around) I grabbed up the sticky traps, put them in a shoe box, shook them real good and put them in the trash. "Whew," I thought...I am so glad this is over! I spent the rest of the day taking apart my oven and thoroughly cleaning.
That evening I stopped at the hardware store on the way to church. Just on the off chance I had any more visitors I wanted them to feel welcome. Purchasing four more sticky traps and one more traditional one, I thought I was more than amply prepared. When bedtime approached I put out midnight snack laden traps and went to bed. As my head hit the pillow I heard the first flop..flop..flop of the mouse on a trap. Before the screaming began I quickly disposed of this one by banging it with my iron skillet. I had no idea that Cleotha had such a large family! I nestled back into bed (one that was surrounded with traps) and tried to get my mind off of mice. Right as I am drifting off, here comes another visitor. To sum it all up- "the creatures were stirring" all night long. Four more mice later with dawn approaching I was exhausted and thoroughly grossed out. I cried later that day when Jeff called and said he was coming home early.

I am happy to say a week later (and 8 more dead mice) we have solved the mouse crisis. My husband spent two days under the house cleaning out the mouse resort, and sealing up every crack, cranny and nook. Many people come to Alaska to experience the vast wildlife, wanting to prove their prowess through the taking of a brown bear or a trophy moose...but few can say they have conquered an Alaska rodent invasion of biblical proportions. I am thinking about opening a guide service next year. If you are interested in reserving a slot the deadline is April '07 or perhaps you would like to come view our "wildlife" museum full of mice trophies mounted on my kitchen wall.

Letter to Leif

I write Leif letters and thought that some of you might enjoy reading one. Occasionally I may put a letter on the blog.
10-19-06

Dear Leif,
Today you are 4 months old! We spent a fun day making jam from the raspberries we picked yesterday. You were so cute dressed in your lamb sweats, hanging out in the snugli. You loved watching momma pick berries and put them in the bucket. By the end of our picking you were covered in raspberry juice.

Melanie Firth, our neighbor and mother of 7 taught momma how to make jam. After three batches, we had a wonderful lunch of fresh baked wheat bread and the foam from the jam. As we sat around the table with the kids enjoying their bread I thought about how joyous the simple things in life are…putting up fruit, baking bread, washing dishes by hand in sudsy water (that you have warmed on the stove, because the Firths do not have running water), and time with family and friends. Son, my prayer is that you never lose sight of the life that is simple. You will no doubt want to explore this world and seek after your own adventures, but I hope you will always appreciate the basics. A home cooked meal is always better than one from a restaurant. Work done by your own two hands is never a waste of time. Time spent outdoors is better than in. A conversation or a book is far more important than any TV show.

Finally, love our Lord and follow his commands. He will never forsake you. As I am writing this I am reminded of the wise words of Lynyrd Skynyrd in the song, “Simple Man” – check it out.

Love,
Momma

It has been a long, long time...

It’s been a long, long time…

For those of you that have been wondering where my blog entries went, I have been a little busy. Now that Leif is 5 months old and we are settling into this whole parenting gig I have no excuse. So, here is an update on our lives.

I dropped him off in the early morning light. When we turned into the driveway the headlights shone on the horse’s breath as they waited to get on the trailer. Jeff was packed and prepared, literally “loaded for bear”. Jaw set, he put on his hat and squeezed my hand as he got out of the truck. I have never seen him quiet with anticipation…this is a first for him and me. This week Jeff is out living every man’s dream in the wilds of Alaska. There is a gentleman named Danny at church that is a pilot and an avid big game hunter with two Boone and Crocketts to his name. He invited Jeff to come along on a trophy moose hunt. They are leaving this morning after a week of planning, packing and scouting via his Citabria. They are taking six horses on a 9 hour ride into the back country of the Chugiak mountain range between us and Anchorage. They will set up camp tomorrow and be out for a week or so. Poor Jeff has a wearisome journey ahead of him, mainly due to his lack of sleep the last couple of nights because of excitement. I’ll admit I am excited and I don’t even get to go. Jeff hopes to get a black bear as well, while he is out. The moose and bear meat combined will set us up for the winter and then some. What a blessing a full freezer will be!

Meanwhile back at the ranch, Leif and I are hanging out. He is rolling all over the place and working on sitting up. I always thought those baby crazed moms were nuts, but I am starting to understand them more. This baby is amazing! I think we could stare at him for hours. He smiles all the time and makes the funniest faces. He just started wrinkling up his nose in the most adorable way. It is hilarious! Who am I kidding?! I am one of those baby crazed moms! I honestly thought I would be bored out of my gourd with staying home, but this job is the best one I have ever had. I love every minute of it. What a privilege to see Leif growing and learning. I am thankful beyond words for Jeff allowing me this opportunity. Not only do I have every minute with my son, but I get to do fun things like bake bread, pick and make jam from raspberries, clean up the cabin behind our house and prepare for my garden this spring. This is the life! Quiet, still and peaceful. If you are reading this, I encourage you to take a moment this week and go somewhere where there is no noise. No road noise, no airplanes, no distractions and just sit in God’s creation. Alone. If you can’t find a place to do this…come for a visit. We would love to have you! I have a cabin with a wood burning stove ready for you. (It even has indoor plumbing and electricity if you want!)