Kyrsten's birthday

We loved our time at Daintree Wild Zoo, but we loved it even more when it was time to leave.  We left on Kyrsten's birthday morning.  Well, day one of her birthday since, due to time changes, she had a birthday in Australia and a birthday the next day--in American time.

Lovely tropical flowers graced her breakfast table and a little stuffed wombat named after Wish, the real resident version thanks to our zoo proprietress. 

And off we went.  Hoping desperately that our next location even further north had its own bathroom!

If we thought we were in the thick of it before, we had another thing coming! As we left our zoo we crossed a croc-infested Daintree river via car ferry and entered the Cape Tribulation area.  This area was so named by explorer Captain James Cook as he quickly and effectively beached his boat on the Great Barrier Reef and soon lost men that he sent ashore to scout the jungle to unknown scariness.

This spot is known to have 62 cassowaries roaming about.  They are giant birds with bright blue and black plumage that are so precious to the area that there are speed bumps every 50-75 meters to avoid hitting them.

We were very excited to have a rare sighting of two cassowaries one day as we drove down the speed bump road.   

This area is so remote there is no cell phone service.  So I learned upon check-in at our quaint, beautifully appointed cabin in the middle of nowhere.
(This picture is what the inside looked like only it also had two twin beds in the same room.  Australian hotels really accommodate families!)
No cell service meant I couldn't get my daily phone call in to my Addie.  She was fifteen hours behind us so every day, mid-morning, I would call her and tell her goodnight.  I don't have words for how devastated I felt when I thought I couldn't hear her voice for several days.

I sat in this stunning, open-air restaurant overlooking a creek that led to two swimming holes and cried and cried.  My husband knows me so we went out looking for a signal.  Would you believe that we found two bars five minutes away on the beach?
So every morning we would get up and while Christian would use the lodge wifi at the restaurant to work, the rest of us would get cleaned up and ready to go to the tropical beach to talk to Addie.  That's how God takes care of me.  It's the little things!

We ate lunch at a strange little restaurant and followed it up with organic, biodynamic ice cream.  Whatever the heck that is.  It was yummy and that is what we cared about.

From there we drove to a beach that a shopkeeper in Port Douglas had told us about called Cow Bay.  He said that if we hiked ten or fifteen minutes on the rocks along the beach we would come to a secluded bay.  Well, we hiked for close to an hour, treasure hunting for coral, crabs and shells in the tide pools along the way and all of a sudden we noticed the tide rising!  We all decided it would be best to save the rest of that journey for a day that we could get an earlier start. 

On the drive home we stopped at the home of some new friends of ours, Russell and Theresa who grow their own vanilla beans and sell them worldwide.  These are not your average beans! We learned all about the tedious process of harvesting one's own vanilla.

To sum up a 45 minute lesson, vanilla beans are like orchids.  They bloom for a few hours and during that time they need to be pollinated.  These folks pollinate each blossom by hand with a toothpick.  However many hours it takes for the blossom to fall off determines the size if the bean that will grow over the next nine months. Then the beans go through a tedious drying process.  Most people around the world rush the process and get brittle vanilla beans that are a far inferior product. These beans are flexible and aromatic (and pricey), and I can hardly wait to try some of the recipes I learned about!

Our new friends recommended a restaurant to us called Lync-Haven.   Another open-air, lantern-lit gem of a place that like all other restaurants seems to be family owned and operated.  Orders are placed at the counter and then you wait for your food to be delivered to your table.

Or, if you aren't ready to sit, you can wander through the restaurant and view the pythons and parrots and all manner of creatures in cages inside and out.

Every night as the sun sets, a little creature or two come running under all the tables scrounging for scraps.  We never did figure out exactly what they were--bandicoots, perhaps? Funny little fellas.  And as always, the resident bats flew overhead.

And tonight, we celebrated Kyrsten's birthday at the restaurant with some chocolate cake lit up by candles we found at the petrol station and a birthday song.

Back to our cabin for some more euchre and our typical 9:00 bedtime.  Either we hadn't ever recovered from the time change, or all of our activity had us pooped plenty early.

Plus, the next day we knew we had to have a mighty early start for a once-in-a-lifetime event...

And I'll cry if I want to!

But I won't want to because it's the best day of the year!!  Woohoo!  It's my birthday on Friday--my party!  It's all about me!  I get to be selfish, spoiled, and demanding full of requests.  Yes, it's a big day at the Kirksey house and in all fairness, everyone knows what to expect.  Momma begins reminding all members of the household well in advance that the best day of the year is approaching.

I've heard it mentioned before that the whole idea of celebrating a day about one's self is wrong--even sinful.  
But I disagree, and I am making up for lost time.

When I had my kids, I learned the importance of a fantastic birthday.  On their special day, I wanted them to have love volleyed at them in rapid fire succession all day long with little surprises and big ones, too.  Of all days, on their birthday, there should be no question that they matter--even if I didn't spend a dime.

Because, you see, growing up, our entire family, Grandpa, mom, dad, sister and I all had birthdays in July--my dad, sister and I were all within five days.   Now, if that wasn't enough to make a birthday a little less special,  we shared celebrations to save on something.  
Still not sure what that saved...Time?  Effort?  
Paper plates?  

Also, my mother stunk at gift giving.  I mean it.  Ask my sister.  We usually got the same strange item, like an earring holder crafted by some ancient lady at a church craft fair from yarn and white plastic. Of course, I might get a red earring holder and she, blue, since  we were, after all, totally unique people.  And since my mother knew me so well, I usually got a dessert that she made special that she also forgot--or never knew--that I hated. 

Truly, I don't remember one birthday I had or even one gift except the year I turned double digits (a big deal in any 10 year old girl's life) I got a..........
drumroll please.............

Umbrella.  
Yup.  Still feeling pretty bummed about that one.  

For the record, it's not that I get really greedy on my birthday, although I'm sure it must sound like it by this point.  To this day, I don't want money spent.  I just want a day to be considered.  That is the most meaningful thing in the world to me on any given day.  Like, "Oh, you have a lot to do today! Let me unload the dishwasher!" Or, "Wow! You must be exhausted.  Let me rub your shoulders." 

And my family is simply FANTASTIC about these things EVERY day.  I just spent a lot of years waiting to be seen, and I happen to really like a day where I can ask away and it's allowed. 
I don't ask for much on Mother's Day.  I don't particularly like that day.  It's a Hallmark holiday that's pretty contrived, in my humble opinion, and I don't usually ask for anything.  Save it up for the real deal, baby.

On my birthday, I sleep in.  Sleeping is my favorite.  
No, I take it back--eating is my favorite.  On my birthday, I don't cook.  I eat out somewhere great--my choice.  On my special day, no one fights or squabbles, and when they have to keep their mouths shut, I smile.  I don't work (unless it's a piano day--you know, that whole pesky JOB thing). But other than that, I don't lift a finger.  It's a.m.a.z.i.n.g.  I love every minute.
(If I was single, I would do all this for myself, so if you are just, please, give yourself permission.)

It doesn't matter that I'm getting older.  I feel great, and that's most of it, isn't it? Attitude. 
To me, the key is to keep learning, setting goals, and having folks ask if your child is your sibling.  These are the things that really count.  And, yeah, that just happened to Kyrsten and me.  Love that.

And this year, despite my agedness, I have set out to learn some neat things--like an amazing piano song that I've been working on entirely too long.  And I'm teaching myself to can things like peaches and tomatoes and pickles--neat, huh?
I've accomplished some huge personal achievements (Friday being day 59 of 60 grueling days of suffering exercising to whip this body back into shape--okay so I'm going to add 30 more, but I'm working harder than ever on this horrible new skill and seeing some results for the first time ever--go me!).  

And, I'm looking ahead to a fantastic new year in which my daughter gets married, I am hoping to take a trip that I've waited for since age four, and we are contemplating a move! 

Wow!  It's gonna be a great year!  Which is great news because I fully intend to stay this age (that ends with a nine) for the entire rest of my life.

All better

We did some partying at my house this week. This girl is pooped!

My sweet husband had his birthday, and I try to do it up big for him. His birthday is four months before mine, and since I pretty much declare my birthday a national holiday, I like to let him see how good it feels to be celebrated all day.

But, also this week, I was in the midst of preparing to host a party for a dear friend on behalf of her husband. We threw her a surprise birthday party at my house and had a lot of fun. I LOVE to event-plan. I love the decorating and the cooking and planning the little things to make someone feel special.

Somewhere in the midst of me planning and running around like a chicken with my head cut off, I got a tooth-ache. Now, let me say, I come from a line of good teeth. I had two grandparents who never had a cavity, and I'm lining up under that "good-teeth umbrella." No cavities for this girl! And I hate the dentist and would be sooo happy if I never had to go back. So, when my tooth started to hurt, I moved to the land called Denial. And, in my defense, it really felt like something in my gums--not a cavity.

So, it hurt and hurt until chewing became difficult, and soup became my friend. And for a meal to hurt me is like a betrayal.

This went on for about ten days. Finally, Christian looked at me and said, "I'm making you a dentist appointment in the morning." Instantly, my heart was beating way too fast, and I begged him to never say those horrible words again. "Could you guys just please pray for me?" I asked. My family circled up and laid hands on me and prayed.

And then, I left for the midnight premiere of a movie that my teenaged daughter is obsessed with.

Now, I'm going to tell you straight up that I believe God heals. I have seen miraculous healings with my own eyes. My husband and I have laid hands on our children many times and our kids have been healed. I have seen miracles, but never personally have been healed. More on that later, but first, a story.

Once upon a time, my husband, when he was just a cute little boy, was severely allergic to cats. Since he was little, he has loved kitties, but his eyes used to swell shut from even being in the same room as a cat. His dad saw this and it must have broken his heart for his son because Christian's parents laid hands on him and prayed for him to be healed.

Several days later Christian saw a kitten in the empty lot next door and brought it home to play with it. Christian's dad came home and said, "Son! What are you doing! You can't play with that cat! You're allergic!"

"No, I'm not," little Christian declared, "God healed me, remember?"

Sure enough, he was completely healed, and we have the kitties to prove it.

Not having been raised this way made this kind of faith a journey for me. I've seen it, believed for it for my own children, but if I was to be honest, I always knew that God was capable of healing me, but not sure that He would want to when I asked.

I guess I was making it about my unworthiness instead of His amazingness. How very human of me.

There's a difference between what we know in our mind and what we believe in our heart isn't there? The twelve inches or so from our head to our heart can be a great distance.

So back to my tooth. This time, I decided in my heart and mind to EXPECT to be healed. I changed my words from, "My tooth is hurting" to "God's healing my tooth!" And, as I went through the evening accompanied by screaming fans in a theater, I literally felt my teeth changing. Good thing it was dark in there because I would've looked pretty silly the way my tongue was feeling my tooth! By the time I got home, the pain that had ruined my days and meals was almost gone. Within twenty-four hours I was chewing on that side of my mouth! After more than ten days of pain, God healed me! Let me tell you, the biggest battle was, as usual, in my mind. But this time, I just decided to believe. I didn't let any thoughts in that sounded like doubt. I just waited with expectation for a healing and claimed it with my words.

And He is good.

And I am grateful.

Who am I to doubt Him and His love for me? How many times do I just accept less than He wants to offer me because I think so small?

I am in love with a God Who is big enough to heal my heart, my body, and even my thinking. Who can stick money to a wall just because I asked. Who can change my life in the blink of an eye because I let Him. Or not, because I don't.

Does He always heal? Obviously not. I don't know why. I don't have answers for all the pain folks go through. I do know that life in this world isn't meant to be perfect. No one ever said it would.

I do know, though, that I'd rather hold His hand all the way through than try to go it alone. And, in the meantime, the perks and benefits sure make a girl feel loved.

 

Birthday Season

I suppose this morning of all mornings I have the right to wax nostalgic. It was, after all, two decades ago almost to the minute that I was born to motherhood. A state of being that altered my existence beyond my imagination and forever changed the shape of my heart. Six pounds, eleven ounces of a gorgeous little blond boy turned a couple of kids into a momma and a daddy and we've loved every single second. And, in retrospect, to contemplate how the enemy attempted to wipe us out; but God had such an amazing victory in store. One that would change the course of generations. But, I digress...

This is a big birthday year at our house. We've been talking about this year for some time now, knowing it was coming. This year Justin exits the teen years (though none of us have thought of him as a teen for some time now), Addie turns eighteen (which makes her, according to some standards, an adult), and Kyrsten enters the teen years (odd because everyone thinks she's fifteen already.)

My kids were due on November 3rd, 5th, and 7th in their respective years. That's because Christian and I love to plan and schedule. NOT! No, we wanted our babies desperately, but certainly did not know things would be so organized!
Each fall that I was pregnant, I began laboring on October 18th. I was the Queen of False Labor. Justin was born some 40+ hours later (I know, I've been waiting for my medal for that one),

Addie, pretty close to schedule,

Kyrsten, several days late.

Yesterday, I had lunch with Kyrsten and two lifelong friends--a mother/daughter pair. The adults were saying how it doesn't seem possible that my littlest was a baby THIRTEEN years ago! Where did the time go? Kyrsten, however, thinks thirteen years has been quite a long time! :o)
Time is a weird thing isn't it? I told her that I think it's like when you're riding in a car. If you're young, it's like looking out the windshield where things are coming toward you somewhat slowly. If you're older, like me, it's like looking out the side window and things are whipping by the window. Age even more, and it seems the view is more and more about the rear window and looking back.
My wise friend, Jenny said, "What a good analogy! The older we get the more we find ourselves looking at where we've been."
So true. I imagine it won't feel like too long, and Christian and I will be waxing nostalgic about the kids and grandkids and the good old days of yesteryear--but then again, you can't really stare out the back window of a Harley, can you?

Happy Birthdays, my babies...

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