Quiet.

During the summer, there are a lot of quiet moments in my house. My husband goes to work a few days a week, leaving me with the quiet of an empty house. If I'm not careful, I'll allow myself to be annoyed at the quiet, wishing for noise and laughter and commotion and busyness and 'doing'. If I'm not careful, I'll miss the point.

I'm a big believer in Seasons of Life. You know, giving yourself time to enjoy one season at a time before hurrying the next along. Sometimes, these seasons have names, such as the Season of College, or the Season of Newlyweddedness. (Sometimes they have made-up names, but that's okay....) And sometimes the seasons aren't called anything. Sometimes they sneak up so smoothly that you don't realize you've walked through them till they're done.

That's how I feel about this summer. These warm summer months of quiet moments at home have been some of the most therapeutic of my life. This season has seen me so sad I thought no one could ever understand. It's seen me cry and worship and pour out my broken heart while sitting at the computer listening to "Sweetly Broken" by Jeremy Riddle on repeat for hours on end. This season has brought about intense study and reflection and progress through a book called "Breaking Free" by Beth Moore. In this season, I've shared my heart with my husband and a select few of my close friends regarding the loss I've suffered this year. Throughout all of this season, God has been doing a work on me....and it always starts with a quiet moment.

I've been hesitant to document some of the processes of grieving a loss for the whole world (ie a handful of 'blog followers') to see. Something about this method of sharing deepness makes me a bit uncomfortable. However, it is quiet today. No noise. No bustle. No nothing.

And it feels good to share.

I thank my God for this hard and rocky season, because it is shaping me into someone I never thought I'd be. He is showing me through the darkest moments how His peace can carry me and soothe my heart and my very busy mind.

I just finished reading a book called "Peace Like a River" by Leif Enger. The story isn't as important to me as is the title. While the tale is quite good and moving and I highly recommend, the title has stuck in my brain. Peace like a RIVER. Not like a still, calm pond that never moves, rushes or roars. Not like a soft rain that gently falls and then stops. True peace, God's peace, the 'peace that passes all understanding' is like a swift, pulsing, pushing river that never stops moving you, never stops challenging you, never stops, never stops.

True peace is found only when the river is crashing all around, and you still know God is there.

This season of quiet summer has been just what I needed.

Snakes on a Plane. Or in my house.

Not gonna lie...this post will gross some of you out. Including me. As I write it. SICK!

So, as you now know, we have started the (seemingly never-ending) process of painting and staining our cabinets. Thus, our house is a wreck, including our garage. We've been out there a lot lately while working on the cabinet doors. To beat the heat, we keep the garage door up with a few fans going, and it hasn't been too bad. Amidst the clutter and chaos of the garage, four big drop cloths were left on the ground after being used a few weeks ago to help paint a friend's nursery. They haven't been moved since.

Until yesterday....

I was home alone while the husband was working. I decided to keep things moving along with our project, but we needed something to cover our kitchen appliances to shield them from incoming paint. So...I picked up the wadded up drop cloths and carried them inside. I unfurled a few of them to cover the washer and dryer, and then I went about my business. I haven't been feeling great lately, so I took a break after awhile to watch some HGTV to find inspiration. After the inspiration was found, I decided to make some lunch. Hopping up off the couch to head into the kitchen....I stopped DEAD in my tracks.

There was a SNAKE in the doorway between the dining room and my bedroom!!!!!!! GAG!!!!

I froze for about a minute, wondering if perhaps my husband had placed a rubber facsimile there before leaving for work just to scare me, but then I remembered to whom I'm married. He'd never do that to me! MEANING IT WAS REAL!!!!!!

Then...it started to move. All two feet of it. I freaked out and called Russell at work. He said to find something to hit it with, and the only thing within arms reach (remember, I was practically frozen in place by this point....I've had dreams like this, by the way. Ones in which something frightens me, and I know I need to move to get away, but I absolutely am rooted to the ground. So glad I could live this one out) was a very small frying pan. NO WAY. But, as the snake started moving towards me, it lifted its tail and it began to rattle. The snake curled up into itself and lifted its head, baring its scary teeth right at me! Keep in mind, I have three dogs who still hadn't seen the snake at this point, and I'm so afraid my littlest (who assumes she is the biggest) would try and play with/attack the snake. Not good when I'm assuming it is a rattle snake due to the RATTLING sound it is making! I calmly called for my dogs to go outside to go potty, grabbed a 5 qt. pot, got SOOOOO close up to the snake, and dropped the pot over it.

Neat. Now I had a snake in a pot. Hissing. And rattling.

My husband rushed home from work (which is about 15 minutes away...longest 15 minutes of my life). While waiting, the snake would occasionally stick its awful head out from under the pot to check things out, causing me to scream and to sweat like a man. However, throughout all of this, except for the pot placement, I had not moved from my spot. Frozen, I tell you.

Russell came inside with a shovel and a seven-iron. Obviously the correct tools for snake removal, I'm sure. Even he had to gear himself up for a snake beatdown. He lifted the lid and smacked that snake with the shovel....to no avail!!! It kept moving and rattling and hissing, and I thought we were both going to die.

(Note: I realize the melodramatic tone of this post, but this was perhaps the closest to a true nightmare coming to life I've ever experienced....IT WAS IN MY HOUSE!!!)

Anyway, after a few more whacks, the snake was no more. Yes, it continued to writhe and wriggle, but Russell (my hero) assured me it was only nerves reacting at that point. I continue to think the snake was possessed by an evil demon, but, you know, whatever.

After doing some research of the snake up close (after the writhing ceased, of course), it was determined that it was not a rattle snake after all, but something called a bull snake. Apparently, bull snakes are not poisonous and can be kept as pets (gag!). However, in defense of my overreaction, the bull snake will apparently mimic a rattle snake when it feels threatened: it will coil into itself, raise its head, and it will rattle its tail, making sure to hit it up against something to produce the rattle affect and noise. Crazy!

By far the most disturbing part of this experience is the fact that I was, at some point, most likely HOLDING the snake inside of the drop cloths that I'd carried inside earlier. There is no way that snake made it inside through some small, insignificant hole in the house's exterior. No, sir. It came in with me. In my arms. GAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!

Needless to say, I inspected my blankets preeeeeetty closely before turning in for the night....!

He Won.

And look how smug he is........

People, my house is a disaster zone. Look out.

Me, chanting to myself: "Positive attitude....positive attitude......"

I'll let you know if we make it through...!

To Paint...or Not.

Okay. So the husband is usually very laid back about the millions of home decor/improvement ideas that I come up with. He'll usually listen to my idea, think about how to accomplish it with his various handy-man skills, and then he'll get going on the project. Normally, he has no opinion about these projects. Normally....

Until now.

I think he has discovered the ability to voice a male's opinion regarding our home. Weird. Normally he could care less (in a nice way, of course...but hey, he's a guy, after all....). However, my lovely husband has decided that we need to paint our cabinetry and re-tile the floors.

Okay.

I don't know why I am having a difficult time with this. Is it the commitment that paint requires when applied to wood cabinets? Is it the fact that HE thought of this idea instead of me? Is it all the work that I know is around the corner that I'll need to help out with? I'm not quite sure.

All I know is...I'm nervous. Anyone out there ever taken the plunge and painted wood cabinetry? My mother-in-law has given me multiple tips (along with the very helpful HGTV channel), but it is quite the commitment. I mean, I am by no means in love with the look of our faux-oak-ish cabinets and would love to further contribute to the beachy-cottage-y feel of our little home by adding white cabinetry....but still. Commitment.

Since my house is currently disgusting, I shall not post pictures of my actual cabinets. However, here is a picture with a pretty close example of the type of cabinets that we currently have:

And here is a picture of what he's shooting for with the white paint:

What do you think...???? Am I ready to take the plunge!?!?

Reset.

Sad day. My wedding ring broke. Let's hope this is not a sign or omen or something...! ;) Rather, I believe it was due to a faulty setting that made my heirloom diamonds keep popping out, and (luckily) I've found them each time.

So, the day came when we decided to have the whole thing reset. This is sad for a few reasons. Mostly, I was sad due to the fact that Russell and I designed the ring together during the time we were dating. Might sound a bit anticlimactic that I knew I was going to get engaged AND that I knew what the ring would look like. But I loved it.

I loved that we did that together, worked on our little drawings and ideas together, and the end result was gorgeous. Just what we wanted.

You might not be able to see it from these old pictures from the night we got engaged, but there are four small diamonds on the engagement ring on either side of the main stone, and seven diamonds on the wedding band. The diamonds are open on the sides, and the only thing holding them in place are little bars of the white gold on each side of the diamond. We loved this plan, because then the diamonds handed down four generations sparkle and shine as they are not blocked off by extra metal on two of the four sides. Anyway. Probably makes no sense, but we loved it.

Now that it keeps loosing the stones, we're having it reset...which is sad to me. I actually cried leaving the jeweler. Lame? I don't think so. I felt like I was letting go of a season of our life or something. Don't know. Just how it feels.

In the meantime as I wait for my ring to be finished, I am wearing a very small, very sweet band that my husband bought for me during our first year of marriage. It is nothing fancy, nothing giant. And I love it. We've made silly jokes about 50 carat rings, etc., but for real....this sweet little ring is all I need. Don't get me wrong: I can't wait to get my real wedding ring and band back.....but I'm kind of enjoying the simplicity of this band while I wait.

Not about the diamonds, expense or size...it's the memories that give the ring the value. And I'm a bit sad to see some of those memories go.

Animal Kingdom or The Boonies.

Out here in what we like to call "the boonies" where we now live, there reside all kinds of animal life that I was not accustomed to seeing while living in the city. It isn't anything outrageous like moose or leopards or anything. More than anything, I've just been surprised that with the extra land we live on come extra creatures, great and small. Not a week goes by without one of us spotting a few deer, wild chickens and pheasants, numerous bunnies, a fox or two, and we've even spied some crafty raccoons...that ate our trash. Neat.

Anyway, over the past few weeks, we've had a few new residents move into little alcoves of our front and back porches, respectively.

First up, our family of barn swallows. These birds apparently return to the nest of their childhood or something like that, because every year, a male and female barn swallow set up camp in one of the two nests built into the upper corners in our back awning. They swoop around so gracefully during the day, but as soon as the sun starts to set, they take their places near the nest to sleep. You can walk right up to them at night, and they will not move, no matter how close you get.

This year, they had five little birdies, and it was so fun to watch them grow and learn to fly. One little guy didn't make it as he was too puny and weak, but the other four grew up and swooped out on their own.

And our other resident chose her real estate on our front porch.

Can you find her?

Look closer!

Here she is, Mama Toad/Frog. Not totally sure, but all I know is that I came out to water our flowers one day, and, to my surprise (and hers), I found her burrowed down into the cool soil of a potted plant. Everyday I go out to water, and everyday she sits perfectly still, letting the water fill up around her. I'm sure it is a nice place to be to beat this summer heat. Actually, the other day I found a Papa Toad/Frog snuggling with her out there, but he jumped out as soon as the water came in...who knows WHAT was going on out there in my flower pots! ;)

Probably those of you who did not grow up with five malls within 10 minutes of your house (i.e. a large city) like I did are scoffing under your breath that I'd take such pride in my little wilderness family...but I do! I'm even willing to sacrifice the birdie poo on my back porch during the weeks they are too little to fly. Just makes me feel one with nature, as corny as it seems.

Yee haw.

;)