Apple Pickin' - a family tradition

One of my favorite childhood memories is "apple valley."  When I was a kid, my cousins and I would go with our parents to this magical place.  We would pick apples, press them into cider, sample apple butter, and cap the day off in a cozy restaurant with a slice of homemade apple pie with American cheese on top.  I loved it because it was something we did every year, together, as a giant family. 

When my cousin Sarah and I got a little older, maybe junior high, my parents tried to recreate the memory.  So we woke up early, and headed out to "apple valley."  The thing is: the real Apple Valley isn't where we would go as kids.  It's actually two hours in the wrong direction, in the middle of nowhere.  It turns out just our family called it "apple valley" because, well, they sold apples. Not only that, but once we were out in the middle of nowhere, our car kept breaking down every 10 miles.  We spent the entire day looking for our "apple valley." It became so ridiculous, that every time the car would break down, we just would laugh.  I think we all had cabin fever.  We finally got home around 10pm that night, never seeing an apple, but instead creating a new memory.  One that we still laugh about today.  It was special.  Imperfect in every way, but ours.  

So, being a product of my parents, I too wanted to recreate the original "apple valley" known to the rest of the world as Oak Glen with my family.

 We made new family traditions with help from the old.  

We picked apples from the ground and from the branches, where the proper way is to twist, not pull. 

There were so many tiny gems in each farm that we visited.  A field of marigolds, and reds and oranges.

Riley's Apple Farm had little sections set up, perfect for an impromptu photo shoot.  

 Willowbrook farm was a favorite.  It was small, but had personality to boot.

Milo's favorite game wasn't apple pickin' but throwin'.  So we gave him already bruised apples that we knew were going to be pressed into cider, and hid the good ones in the stroller.

We found a four legged friend, he followed us around for a while. 

"Both heirlooms and good traditions strengthen our sense of history and belonging.  As Christians, our history is God's story of drawing us into his family. (2 Corinthians 6:18)

"I turn from the generation who came before me and look toward the children who come after me.  I want the story they live to resonate with the history written by that great Author of the universe. " Noel Piper in Treasuring God in Our Traditions  

I'll leave you with our Family photo - crop shot style.  

What are your favorite fall traditions?

Happy Autumn, 

Kristin

15 things since the last time...

I am not going to apologize for not blogging.  I've done that enough.  

Instead, here are 15 things I want to share with you since my last posting.

1.  His name is Milo.  And we couldn't be happier to say we're adopting him. (I can't show his face until the adoption is final.)

2. Milo had his 1st birthday in May. (Yes, it's been that long.  I already feel bad about it.  Don't make it worse.) It was Dodger baseball themed, full of family and friends, hot dogs and nachos, cotton candy and cracker jacks, and prayer and laughter.  It was a good, hot day.

3.  This past spring, Susan moved out (tears and smiles) to start a new adventure.  And Milo moved into his big boy room.  We're working on his room right now, my inspiration.  We miss Susan.  She brought laughter, wisdom, and fizzy gluten free cookies.  There are so many times that I have said, "I wish Susan was here to see/hear/laugh at this."  I miss her dearly.

4.  I got a part time dream job.  I am now the "Early Childhood Director" in the Children's Ministry department of our church.  It's pretty much an answer to prayer I didn't even pray.

5. Michael, being a man of his word, took me to the Hollywood Bowl this summer.  Good food, friends, wine + Hollywood Bowl = perfect summer night.

(photo by jen burkhardt via Instagram)

6. I got lost in audiobooks this summer.  My favorite one that I plan to read again and again was this.  Although I really enjoyed this, and this, and this one too.   I seriously can't do dishes, vacuum, or mop without a good book between my ears. (Don't dwell on how weird that sounded, just move right along.) 

7. Milo went from getting around by doing this

to mainly doing this.

8.  My baby is walking. Whaaaa! Oh wait, Milo can you go get that for Mommy?  Thank you.   That was convenient. 

9.  Michael and I took the whole family (Milo, Dexter, and Toby) camping to Hume Lake.  I don't like camping, but I love my friends.  Friends always trump my distain for camping.  They're that great.

Dexter learned to swim in the lake.  He also learned how to pee and poop in it, but I opted not take those pictures. Toby, true to form, sank.

Milo, raise the bucket in front of your face, like you're eating sand, so I can show everyone how beautiful the lake is.

Thank you, son.

10.  At the end of July, we got our second foster placement.  

We'll call him Pickles for now.  Milo and him are just over a year apart. 

You will notice two things in this picture.  1.  Yes, Milo's nails are dirty. He's a boy. 'Nough said.  2. Yes, Pickles is pretty much, well, clear.  

Milo is intrigued by him.  He loves giving him kisses, and then non-maliciously pushing him away, and on to the next thing.  No jealousy issues, thankfully.  

And I. Am. Busy. 

11. It's hard not to compare.  Pickles is younger than Milo was when we got him, fussier, whiter (obviously), and already has his own personality.  He smiles in the stillness, cooes in the calm.  All he asks for his your undivided attention. He holds his fists tightly together, across his chest, on gaurd.  And when he's not in his element?  He screams.  It's a baby's prerogative.  

We don't know what the future holds with Pickles.  We're not in control of it.  I know that.  And then I forget, so then I relearn it, until the next time I forget.  

12.  I still get embarrassed when my babies cry in public.  I just don't have time to apologize for it now.  I've become one of those moms.  

13.  The yellow bungalow has taken a backseat lately.  The weeds are growing in my backyard, the ivy needs to be trimmed back, and I haven't pruned my roses in months.  Don't judge too harshly, please.  I still mop daily, okay every other day.  

14.  I need a vacation.  Maui, Cabo, or any tropical place will do.  Donations are accepted.  Checks can be made out to me.  Thank you.

15.   I still love to blog.  It's therapeutic, and I've missed it. I never want to feel obligated to blog, and I don't. But I have noticed, the longer I go between posts, the harder it is to get back into it.  There have been countless times this summer, I've wanted to write and share, but never bit the bullet.  Until now.  And it's good to be back.

love,

Kristin 

Scarred, but Standing

Sitting on the couch with the baby monitor on coffee table between both of our propped up feet, I am grateful. Grateful for the simple presence of my husband by my side.  Thankful for the rhythmic breaths and periodic stirring of the boy on the monitor. Grateful that we're all still here.  Maybe a little scarred, but a little wiser, and a little closer too. Still "standing." And shouldn't we be thankful for the scars? Maybe not thankful for what caused the scar.  But the scar itself can be useful, can't it? Yes, scars are a result of pain. A pain that can cut to the deepest part of us where grief and weeping lies. Where loss lies. It can make you ask the questions you don't really want the answers to. But don't scars also remind? Scars reminds us to long for the days where there will be no more pain. There will be no more tears, no more loss. But until then it hurts. Oh, does it hurt. 

We have lost. February was a month of pure joy and extreme pain as we found out we were expecting our first and then miscarried.  We're still pretty bruised. We're still fragile and a little broken.

But it's when we are broken and confused that we turn to Him. That's where He can, with His huge and encompassing arms, hold us closer. Comfort us with an incomprehensible love. It's when we have cried millions of tears and are empty and dry, that He can mold us and draw us closer to Him. Isn't that what we really need. All of Him? Less of us, more of Him. That's the goal, right?

In the daily grind it can get hazy at times. We can be consumed by the sillies in our life. Don't get me wrong, I still enjoy the wonders of Pinterest as much as the next girl. But when all of the outer world has been stripped away, and your left on your knees, you're reminded. Reminded of the truth in the songs we sing: "All of You is more than enough; You satisfy me" And He does. And scars remind us of that. He satisfies, He sustains (Ps. 55:22), He is good (Nah. 1:7), and there will be joy in the morning.  So although the pain can be blinding white, the scar can remind of things to come.  Good things.  Holy things. 

He also brings blessings in the midst of the turmoil. Blessings of family and friends who cry and grieve alongside us. Blessings of their wisdom and His Truth, even if I have to be spoon fed it hour by hour. Blessings of a husband who loves with a mighty love. A selfless, understanding love.  Blessings of a baby boy who holds on tight to my finger as he gulps his bottle and who smiles though I always sing off key. The blessing of my family holding each other tighter. Yes, we are scarred, but we're okay. And no, not so thankful for the pain. Or maybe not even the scar yet, but thankful for Him. Because He is good, and He is all. I. need.

bouncing back

Apparently if you get food poisoning, your entire site may crash and it makes it difficult to get back into the blogging world again.  

Wednesday night, around 2am I got sick.  I mean real sick.  Let's just say I got "sick" from 2am until noon that day.

every hour, on the hour.  This wasn't a good thing considering I was taking out of town family to Disneyland the next day.  

'Nough said about that gross topic.

Like I said, Chris and Kelli came into town.  Chris is my one and only sister's second son.  He has a "strong personality" and has always possessed the ability to charm the pants off my parents.

His lovely wife and two beautiful daughters came into town for the weekend. 

They loved Disneyland.

Michelle, my oldest great-niece was fun to watch

She loved Mickey and Minnie

the new Little Mermaid ride , and especially her great-Grandpa.

Little Aubree and my dad can handle the same temperate of rides: slow and steady.

Father's day was even more special for my lovely dad having his is grandchildren and great grandchildren honor him.

We spent the day at the Grove in Hollywood.  It was full of shopping, my dad's favorite.  

My mom loved every second of spoiling the girls.

Come to think about it, so did Michelle.

Family is a good thing.  In my family it always brings big belly laughs.

It was a great weekend, with an awful start.

Happy Father's Day to the best Dad I know.

glad to be back,

Kristin

Mom's Birthday

Its my mom's birthday today.

 No I will not reveal her age, because a lady never reveals another's secrets.

Yes it was just my dad's birthday a week ago.  

My parents are 6 days apart, give or take a couple of years.

My mom
loves her Handy Hubby, her kids, her grandkids, great-grandkids.

My mom is cool as ice.

And yet, somehow, stays grounded for us common folk.

She taught me how to cook,

.....and that it's okay if it gets a bit messy.

But it's not just my mom's birthday.

It's my namesake, Aunt Faith's birthday too!

You see? They're twins!

Aren't they cute?

So let's all wish them a Happy Birthday.

You two are timeless.

Happy Birthday Aunt Faith.

Happy Birthday Mom.

I love you very much, 

Kristin

An Oldie, but Goodie

Today is my Dad's 71st birthday. 

Let me tell you a little about him.

He is father, a grandfather, and a great-grandfather. 

After this photo he threw a piece of bread at his grandson, missed, and hit a lady in the head at another table.

.

My dad is a man of God who adores his wife.

.

Whenever the Hacker would take me out on a date, he is the protective father who never failed to say, "Remember, you have my 'pride & joy' with you." 

He is the "behind-the-scenes" man who takes care of the little things to make life easier for his family.

 
He is the hardest worker I know, as well as the biggest comedian.

Did I say that he's 71 today?  'Cause he is.

Happy Birthday, Daddy, I love you.

Love, 

Kristin