Archive | home. RSS feed for this section

easter crafting.

26 Apr
Easter is my favorite holiday and has been since I was younger.  As a middle schooler, I threw Easter parties.  [I looked for many excuses to throw parties.  Halloween parties, camp-outs, Easter parties – all with designated projects, crafts, and invitations.  Looking back, that explains a lot about where I’m at now in regards to my party-throwing beliefs.]  We pinned the tail on the Easter bunny, went on egg hunts, and had themed food and prizes.  [I was a weird kid.  Weird.]
I’m all about egg-shaped fun.  This year, I tackled homemade kinder eggs with two different groups of friends.  Kinder eggs, you wonder?  You can purchase kinder eggs in Europe.  I first was introduced to them as a sophomore in high school when I journeyed to Spain for two weeks.  Hollow chocolate eggs – a layer of milk chocolate and one of white chocolate – wrapped in foil with a toy inside.  We were obsessed with these in Spain – OBSESSED.  When I found a website with directions to make your own kinder eggs inside of a real egg shell, I was totally on board.
 

It was really fun to do and to watch others make these.  You scoop melted chocolate into the hollowed and sterilized egg shell and then shake the shell, move it around, and peer inside to see that the chocolate coats around the entire shell.  We were all so quiet as we did it as we concentrated so hard!  I traveled home for break and repeated the chocolate craft with friends from high school, including this little guy, Ryan.  He liked to stuff the chocolate eggs with two m&ms and then eat one.  Two m&ms and then eat one.  Two m&ms and then eat five.  He was sent home quite full of sugar!
There were also cakepops to be made while I was home.  My cousins always wonder when we’ll make them and they want to do it every time I’m home.  Sam [seventh grader?  eighth grader?  I can’t keep track.] and I had this text exchange in regards to cakepop making –
“O my gosh lindsay.”  I love it.  We tackled chicks, easter eggs, and did a test run of the graduation cap cakepops.  It was a busy, messy, and fun night with nearly everyone pitching to help, or at least pitching in to eat a few.
Molly made an easter bunny and crazy alien with a mohawk dude.

Logan’s double fisting it with funfetti chicks.

one with a LOTR reference.

10 Apr
thesis.*
I talked to Aunt Peggy tonight on the telephone.  We caught up on life details and as I told her about my ever-impending thesis, she interrupted me, “Lindsay, are you having any fun up there?”
Apparently, I had made my life seem filled with school assignments and future congregation processes.  [Ha.  Fooled her.]
I told her not to worry.  That I was probably having more fun than I should be, and that going out with friends or trying a new craft project usually topped homework on the list of things that actually get accomplished.
Because, she told me, you only have a few more weeks.
So true.  And I’m all emotionally jumbled about it.  [Maybe one could say I’m in a glass case of emotion?  Maybe?]
I spent the first two years of seminary making my way through but pretty much just looking to the future and being done.  I spent the latter part of my internship year wishing I didn’t have to come back to classes.  The first semester of this year was spent in a slight depression, wanting with my whole being to not be a student.  There are right around four weeks left of the semester.  Four weeks left of my four years of work in my master’s degree.  And now I kinda want them to slow down.
Because when these four weeks are over [and add another week and a half of “senior week” before graduation], I’ll be moving away from the cities.  For all practical reasons, I’ll be moving home-home after graduation, as every weekend of June is booked with fun family and friend events.  [See this not as complaining; I actually think it will be quite lovely to spend June in the country and preparing for party upon party.  It will be grand to have the windows open and hear only corn growing, not kids screaming.  As is what happens here.  All day long.  Since my apartment faces the parking lot.  Where the kids ride their bikes, play ball, and scream.  All day long.]  I’ve come to love all the cities has to offer and it’s been great to get out this past year and experience a lot of new things.  Last year, two weeks prior to the end of internship, I wrote this rant.  [And this one four weeks prior to that.]  I’m not quite to the point of ranting, but still think the ‘little sleep, much coffee’ attitude will begin now.  Or at least until this thesis is written.  Or tomorrow.  I’m sleepy now.
A fancy dinner party this Friday with friends. // Half-birthdays to celebrate. // Tandem bike riding and/or canoeing with dearest Sara. // Minnesota History Center in St.Paul.  [Anyone?] // A mosaic class, a letterpress class, and potentially a truffle making class. // A Southeastern MN synod assembly.  [Can I get a ‘woot’?!] // A thesis to write and the same thesis to defend. // A weekend home for Easter to make kinder eggs, maybe an adult egg hunt, and spring cake pops to create. // Thursdays out and about. // The normal load of reading and writing [which I’ve already confessed I do minimally – shh]. 

Perhaps I need to begin by cleaning my bedroom and finding my bed.  My mother will totally be embarrassed [but probably not surprised] by me posting this photo but let me relieve her of any blame – she did teach me better than this.  I’m simply being honest with you that my life is not perfect and that this is what happens when Lindsay can’t decide what to wear and when Lindsay is too lazy to hang things back up.  But trust me, the kitchen and bathroom are [nearly] always spotless.

* There is this scene in Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, that has been playing through my head all day.  Galadriel, crazy elf woman, is narrating as we watch Frodo and Sam continue to travel towards Mordor.  She says something to the tune of this: “In his heart, Frodo begins to understand.  The quest will claim his life.”  Replace Frodo with Lindsay.  Quest with thesis.  Both his with her.  That, my friends, is how I feel after this weekend.  I’ll keep you posted on the progress.

spring.

8 Apr
I love spring.  But don’t tell fall.  
The sunshine, the melting snow, and the warmer temperatures of the last couple days have been refreshing and an excellent way to stock up on the missing vitamin D in the body.  Rumor has it there may be a thunderstorm this weekend.  Oh, to cuddle up with a mug of coffee, a quilt, and a book while it rains and thunders outside.  [Excuse me.  Let me rephrase that.  Oh, to cuddle up with a mug of coffee, a quilt, and my thesis resources and notecards as it rains and thunders outside.]
I have wonderful spring memories of growing up on the farm.  My brothers and I would slip on our mud boots (theirs were black; mine were red), our farm clothes, and disappear for the afternoon.  We’d explore the barns, the pastures, and build makeshift bridges across the creeks.  I don’t quite know how this kept us occupied for hours upon hours, but I do remember how awesome it was.  There is something about growing up on a farm, especially in the springtime, that is simply wonderful.
Your favorite thing to do in the season of spring?  A favorite spring memory?  Here are a few more of mine.
I remember visiting home one spring.  Cousins Sam and Molly came out to my house to hang out with me.  I wanted to fly my kite, and the day before would have been perfect.  Suddenly, as spring tends to do, the weather changed drastically the next day.  It was freezing and terribly windy.  [Though, really, it’s constantly windy at our house on top of a hill.]  We went about our kite-flying anyways.  We had little success and even more so, because of Jetta, my brother’s then puppy.  Jetta thought it was a grand time to chase our kite, grab it, and run about the yard, Sam chasing her the whole time.  The kite-flying didn’t last long that spring day.
Puddle jumping.  M. and I used to go puddle jumping.  These photos are from two different years, the years when babysitting for her consisted of walking up and down the sidewalk, up and down the sidewalk.  Oh for cute.

adult relationships.

20 Mar
My younger-by-a-year-and-a-half brother stopped over tonight.   With his girlfriend.  [Yes.  You heard that right – he has a girlfriend.  Here’s hoping I don’t jinx it … but he seemed really happy about it too.  Exciting.]  It’s funny.  Really, it’s just humorous to me to think about how my siblings and I have grown up and now have these adult brother-sister relationships.
I grew up on the farm, having mudball fights, shooting bb guns with my younger and older [a year and a half on either side of me – they have the same birthday] brothers, and playing baseball with lots of ghost runners.  I always got along with Ben; never with Matt.  [Sometimes that remains the truth.  But there are times when it’s not; we’re growing up slowly.]
Then there is Emma, nine years younger than I.  I was the live-in babysitter; I loved watching her and dressing her up.  I remember carrying her around in clothesbaskets and being angry that one time she got a hold of a box of kleenex and spread them ALL over the living room floor.  Now she’s 18, preparing to graduate from high school and go off to college.  We exchange scarves and books, and we’re planning a sister trip to Seattle in the month of June [hoping it works out to celebrate both of our graduations].
So my brother stops over.  This is a week after he called me to see if I wanted to have coffee.  I never thought such an invitation would pass through the lips of my bike-riding, lettuce-with-mustard eating brother.  He was in the Cities, visiting formerly mentioned girlfriend, and wondered if we could get together for coffee before they took off for a camping trip to Arkansas for her spring break from school.  [Because everyone thinks of Arkansas when they think of spring break, right?]
I think tonight, as Ben stopped over to my apartment, I got a glimpse of what it might be like someday when we visit one another in each other’s homes for holiday, birthdays, or whatnots.  This is how it went – Ben walked in.  He walked nearly immediately to the stove, on which sat the tuna noodle/green bean/broccoli concoction I had thrown together for dinner.  [Mind you, it’s after 8pm at this point.  Late dinner.]  “Oh, yeah, what’s this?”  I explain.  “Well that sounds good.”  [pause]  I asked if he wanted some.  “Oh, sure, that’d be good.”  Ben helps himself to the hotdish.  Then to something to drink.  Then to the candy in the canisters on the counter.
I simply acknowledge and not complain this comfort level.  I think it’s humorous … and good.  [It reminds me of cousins, Brent and Mike, who would walk into our farmhouse and straight to the fridge.  They lived in our house as much as we did.]  Perhaps it won’t ever really matter that it’s not the farmhouse we grew up in, or the house on the hill our family built and in which we currently reside.  A family member’s house is a home for each of us.  
It’s hard to tell where those homes might eventually settle.  Matt’s in Colorado and Ben has upcoming plane tickets to Alaska to search the possible job market outside of the continental forty-eight.  Emma’s future is yet unknown, knowing only that next year Carroll University will be the place she resides.  I’ll be somewheres in southeastern Minnesota.  I think it’s kinda fun to dream about where life will take us all, and where we’ll settle down to open our homes to each other in the future.  Now I know to have a hotdish of some odd kind waiting when Ben stops by.  And old Starburst for him to chew.  [He’s pretty easy to please.]

new towels.

28 Feb
As I mentioned before, I went home this past weekend.  Much of my weekend was spent visiting with relatives, telling them about my assignment to region three and explaining what exactly that means.  I pulled up a map of the regions, the divisions of synods, and hoped to shed some light on what more will happen as I approach first call.  Along with this, I talked about new towels.
I’m excited for first call.  I’m so excited I could – I’m not sure.
(Sidenote: I saw Despicable Me for the first time with my sister and cousin Molly.  I love it when the little girl sees the stuffed unicorn at the theme park and she yells, “It’s so fluffy I could die!”)
I’m excited to be a pastor.
And to buy new towels.  I’m absolutely thrilled to think about having a house or apartment to decorate and, based on my bathroom color scheme, to buy new towels.  Along with that?  A craft room with a large working table, a design board of sorts, and organized storage for my craft collections. I figure I have moved once – if not twice – every year for the last nine years.  It’s time to stop being so nomadic.  Not moving every year will be glorious.
Oh yes.
So excited.

a baby cousin.

18 Oct

I was finally able to meet Drew and Logan’s baby sister, Kennedy, while I was home.  (She’s the new cousin I made this pink quilt for just a few short weeks ago.)  I love new babies.  She’s oh for cute.

{ corn maze } & { fall festival }

18 Oct
I knew I couldn’t spend all of Saturday in front of my computer while at home, finishing my sermon for the following day at East [keep reading to the next post] or beginning the ten-page pastoral care paper that was due today.  Even if that’s what a responsible student would do, I refused.  My sister and I picked up our cousins, Drew and Logan, and we headed past Stoughton to Eugster’s Fall Festival.  The main objective and the way we hooked the newly eight and three-and-a-half year old was a corn maze.  You should know, this festival had two – the  big one and the children’s corn maze.  
“Okay, boys, which one do you want to do?  The kid’s corn maze or the big one?”
“THE BIG ONE!”

Well.  We tried.  Drew led the way with occasional input from Emma and I.  Logan got tired.  And then picked a stalk that he whipped around.  Fifteen minutes into it, we conveniently found the entrance route again and used that illegally as our way out.  But the children’s maze?  Dominated that one.  (Twice.) Beyond that, we found ourselves on a hay wagon ride, in a spooky silo, and eating popcorn.  There were lots of animals to look at, pictures to take, and swings to play on.  When we got home, Logan’s mom asked him if he had fun.  “Eh,” he mumbled as he shrugged his shoulders.  He had fun – he just didn’t want to admit it.


Think we’re related?  … nah.
{ get lost in a corn maze }
{ bake a pie }
{ prepare a pot of chili, beer bread, invite friends over to enjoy }
{ step on the crunchy leaves }
{ sew a baby quilt }
{ homemade pizza on the pizza stone }
{ attend a wine tasting }
{ make and share these }
{ 10k training – the hiatus is over – it’s back on }
{ find a fall festival }
{ cabin weekend. a hike to the fire tower }
{ scarves.  puffy vests.  boots. }
{ read a for-fun book }
{ cheer on the twins from target field }
{ take a stroll around a lake } 
{ pick my own pumpkin.  carve.  light. }

fan club.

18 Oct
I went home this past weekend to be the *guest preacher* at my home congregation.  It was the first time I preached to the people at East Koshkonong and I was n.e.r.v.o.u.s.  The story among preachers is always both how hard it is and how positive it is to return to the congregation in which you were raised as a preacher.  It’s hard because the people in the congregation have known you from a small child through your awkward teenage phases – and now you’re preaching to them?  On the other side, you could condemn the people of your congregation and they would still tell you how proud they are of you and how you did a great job.  I was not too confident in my message; there was plenty of room for the Holy Spirit to work.  Not my best by any means.  But as I shook hands and received hugs after church, everyone made it sound like I did quite alright.  Wonderful.  A+.  Let me hug you.  Good job.  Everyone was very gracious.
I began my sermon by telling the congregation that I’m fairly certain the last time I stood in that pulpit was as a middle school narrator for the Christmas pageant.  I never would have guessed that I would return fifteen or so years later as a preacher.  The journey that led me to this place is thanks much to the people at East – they asked me to narrate the pageant.  They invited me to play my flute with the senior choir.  The called out in me the gifts they saw for ministry.  Fast forward a decade and a half and here I am.
Above and beyond the congregation at East, I felt completely uplifted and supported by my fan club.  That’s what I’ll call them – a fan club that I’m certain spanned more than three pews full, had they all been sitting together.  It’s the first time I’ve preached within an eight hour drive so this was many of their first opportunities to hear me.  I did the math – supporting me in my guest preaching role were:

1 mom
2 siblings
3 grandparents
4 aunts
4 uncles
5 cousins
2 friends from high school + 3 young boys

I heard from many people as I shook hands and greeted after the service that two physical bodies were missing from my fan club.  “Your Grandma Vera would be so proud of you!” many of the church ladies told me.  The other?  “Your dad would love to hear you preach!  He’d be so very proud of you.”  True story.

hammock.

7 Sep
The view upward from the hammock.
The hammock was part of Molly and Lindsay’s day of fun.  Molly is in fifth grade now.  She’s my cousin.  And godchild.  And likes to poke my sides and tickle me under my chin so I make that back-of-the-throat disgusting noise.  I love her lots.
The day together began with Sprocket (my car) needing an oil change.  That was fun.  We waited in like with, like, eighty cars … according to Molly anyways.
We went to a rummage sale at my church.  Also fun.

We ate spinach salads.  Yum.

Decorated cake balls for the party that evening.  The cake balls were PERFECTION.  So perfectly dipped and delicately sprinkled.  They were pieces. of. art.

Then we found the hammock, two trees and cuddled up in the midst of the wind and chill.  This hammock was my bed for a week when I was on a mission trip to Mexico, mixing concrete and passing buckets of the wet goop to cover roofs on houses in the Yucatan.  The hammock is super comfy and super huge enough for many of us to pile into it.  (When I was in Mexico, it was large enough for me to wrap it around myself with some left over.  With stupid innocence to think it would save me from the geckos.  That covered the ceiling.  Every night.)  Molly’s older brother, Sam, came later and joined us in our hammock glory.

pieces of home.

6 Sep
I was in limbo for a week.  I finished in Dawson but wasn’t quite ready to begin classes.  After dropping off my belongings at my new apartment on the Luther Seminary campus, I trekked home for a week of relaxing and time with family and friends … AFTER I took Tuesday and Wednesday to write, proofread, and fret about my approval paper due for candidacy.  (As a senior at seminary, I go through the approval process, where the faculty along with representatives from my home synod must agree and approve me for ordained ministry.  Step one of approval: the dreaded 17-20 page essay.)  After the essay was complete and emailed to the proper people, this is what I enjoyed …
… This is the view and how I (and my short, stubby toes) sat each morning and some evenings, often with a bowl of cereal or a mug of coffee in hand.  A screened-in porch with comfy wicker furniture.  After spending a year in western Minnesota, I appreciate the trees and the rolling hills more than before.  (Though there is something to be said for the open sky as well.)
The view of the old farm where I grew up from my backyard.
… An evening of bananagrams with a few of my own bananas and some of the guys.  Lynn and Kyle added a dimension to the addicting game – instead of yelling,”Peel!” when appropriate, a word or phrase is assigned in its place.  “Frigidaire.”  “The man punted Baxter.”  “Marshmallow.”
… Brunch and a matinee performance of Hairspray at the Fireside Dinner Theater with the ladies – aunts, cousins, grandma, sister and mother.  Very enjoyable.
… Many Target runs with various people.
… An Edgerton High School visit to see an always favorite band director, a wonderful administrative assistant, and, of course, Aunt Peggy.
… A dual birthday part night for sister, Emma, who turned 18, and Grandma Julie.  The most perfect night to be outside for a campfire.  Cousin Sam likes his s’more.
← Older Entries
Newer Entries →