Thanks for praying for us!  I wanted to let you know that we prayed and prayed through this decision and came to the conclusion that, for now, we are not to be in Africa.  The opportunity and the process of working through this possibility have stretched us as a family.  I don't know that God won't take us overseas some day, but for now we're excited to continue in our routines here.  We are learning so much.

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This week our farm work included gathering potatoes.  I had remembered to tuck the buckets in the car (for the sand pile by the barn), and M had her own bucket to fill with the potatoes she found in the turned earth.

I had many thoughts as we rummaged in the top 8 inches of soil for the red fingerlings I'm going to roast tomorrow...  I thought of Laura Ingalls' dislike of the dry, cold earth on her fingers (sorry, I can't remember which book).  I thought of how much work goes into harvesting potatoes, and how little I pay for them int he store.  I thought about the richness of the soil in which I was digging, and how it shows in the taste of the food I eat from the farm.

Later that afternoon, M took the salad spinner bowl from the kitchen and was playing in the living room... I watched for a minutes and realized she was playing "gathering potatoes."  The duplo blocks were the potatoes, which she dug out of the bin to collect in the salad spinner.  When full, the bowl was emptied into the big bucket that holds the gears.  Unfortunately, when I was cooking and contemplating the game, she emptied all the toy buckets into the playpen (it was the truck): gears, duplos, tinker toys, baby block, and dominoes. So tomorrow we'll be "harvesting" the "vegetables" in the playpen to return them to their homes.  Maybe while the real potatoes roast with a little olive oil and rosemary...

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I turned on the camera the other day, in hopes of snapping an in-media-res photo of one of my children doing something spontaneous, but the memory card was full.  "That's odd," I thought, remembering having emptied it on the weekend.  So scrolled through the photos...

There was also one of me snoozing on the couch with my mouth open (you can imagine why I didn't post that one), which explained when all these delightful photos were taken...

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We've been members of various CSA farms for seven summers now (not consecutively).  This is the first summer I have worked as a member.  At the beginning of the summer, I thought, Sure, this is great... no big deal.  After a month and a half, I thought, Wow, this is a lot of work for the discount.  At the end of July, I thought, This has been a good experience, but I don't think I'll do it again next summer.  And now, with two weeks left, I'm thinking that I really need these people-- the other working members.  They sharpen me.  It has been a wonderful experience.

Though we are all very different, the members with whom I work are all what I'd call "radicals."  I don't mean that in a jump-in-and-join-the-commune kind of way.  I mean that they make the effort to live in accordance with what they believe. 

Last week, after the truck was packed to distribute the shares, we members sat around and split garlic heads into cloves for planting.  We sat in a little circle and talked about music in contemporary culture and education.  One of the members is a composer (who actually supports his family by composing classical music); another is a  bass player, though they can't live off her music.  We had a dentist, a retired teacher, a homemaker with grown children, a graduate student, and myself.

These are all people who live "unusual" lives.  I like to tell people that our family is trying hard not to get back on the gerbil wheel of life.  All these other farm members-- though our politics and faiths diverge-- help me to see the value in living an unusual life.  They have looked at the issues and formed opinions (about local food, the Wall Street bailout, or listening to Aerosmith) and they live in accordance with their beliefs.

I think that's pretty unusual.  And I am encouraged by their example to live in accordance with my beliefs.  When I was younger, I often fell pray to the sophism that-- although I knew what the right way (or at least, the better way) was-- it was too much trouble (or too radical) to live that way.  Now I am learning that, be it difficult or not, I need to live like I believe... no matter what the Joneses think about it.

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Our monitor crashed last week, and though the computer was working, I couldn't see what it was doing.  (Whenever that's the case in my house, it's only a matter of time until someone gets hurt...)

I mentioned it in passing to my friend Lori, who said, "Oh, I've got an old one in my garage..."  So we hooked it up, and now we're working again.  Thank you, Lori! 

I'm very grateful for our community.  There are so many ways we can support each other-- meals in crisis, afternoon play dates, loaner computer parts, loaned books, flat tires fixed.  As St Francis of Assissi said, "Preach the gospel every day.  If necessary, use words."

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I love hiking in the autumn.  My parents had brunch with us last weekend, and then we all went for a golden walk at our favorite state park.  Here's O with Grandma:

I'm grateful for: the playhouse O & M built (without squabbling) under the big cottonwood tree...

and pearl barley simmering on the stove, ready to go into ham & vehetable soup.

And I'm grateful for afternoons like this:

and the triumph of little boys like this:

and little crawlers like this:

and mornings when we have nothing urgent, and can do important things like this:

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Wishing I had more... patience.  Enough said.

For lunch today: Jerusalem lentil soup, oatmeal bread, and local nectarines: so ripe.  SweetP sat under my chair and begged from bread, because she refused to sit in her own chair.  This morning we took a walk and collected as many different colors and types of leaves.  This afternoon we'll make leaf rubbings and make them into trees, so emphasize the connection betwen the leaf's shape and the tree's shape.

I'm recovering from a terrible sore throat and chills/fever.  I'm grateful to be healthy again.

Here's J, now 8, who does mostly fourth grade work.  I cherish his love of learning, his creativity, his compassion, and his laughter.  This week he's into dragons again.  He takes turns being the different dragons for whom I'm the keeper.  He's frustrated that this year, I'm asking him to do more independent work... he'd love to sit on the couch and be read to all day long, if I'd do it.

Here are the kids with M's window markers.  They're making a mural.  SweetP can't figure out what it is, though, and keeps swiping at the window to catch the colors. 

Here's my O, now five-and-a-half (and still not allowed to cook with fire.)  He's my lover of the outdoors, the one who loves to run and is training for another kids' race in October.  He's learning to read despite himself, thanks to Study Dog and Explode the Code.

Here's M, before Grandma kindly took her for a big-girl haircut at a salon... and then M decided to trim her own hair further.  It's a little shaggy now, but at least she can't suck on the ends anymore, right? 

In other news, we fixed the doorbell (it had been crushed by too many little fingers pushing it over and over and over and over and over).  J did most of the work.  O and I installed a dimmer switch on the 600 watt lights in the master bathroom that just about BLINDED me every time I tried to find the chapstick in the middle of the night.  (Why don't you just put the chapstick in your bedside table? you ask.  Because M will find it and eat it.)

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Sam was out of town for two days, and I was wondering how the long day-into-bedtime would go.  I was saved by Uncle Matt's T-shirts!  A few weeks ago, Sam went to visit his brother and sister-in-law and their new babies, and Uncle Matt sent these T-shirts (from his high school English class) for the kids.  All three kids were thrilled to put on their new "night shirts" and snuggle into my bed for a little Swallows and Amazons.  (This is a book-- the first of twelve-- about a family with five children who have lots of adventures together, Boxcar Children-style.  It's fun, clean, and a wonderful read aloud.)

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I have this funny struggle.  Perhaps it's one you can relate to.  I often feel that some of my "work" is more valuable than other work.

For example, when I'm cleaning the bathroom at the barn on my farm days, the thought, "I went to medical school for this?" runs through my mind.  Or when I'm canning tomatoes, I think, "Is this really the best use of my time?"  When I'm arguing with someone at an insurance company so that one of my patients can get the medicine/referral they need, or scrubbing the crayon off the bathroom wall, I wonder what would be a better use of my time.

And yet I know the truth: what I am doing is less important than how I am doing it.

"Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward.  It is the Lord Christ you are serving."  Colossions 3:23-24

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It makes the diapers blue for a week, but she's worth it. 

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