Strawberry Hill Farm

It was Juju's birthday party, but it could've
been mine. Surrounded by my favorite peeps in one of my most idyllic spots on earth--Strawberry Hill.

Papa Soups hosted this perfect summer supper. Lelu and A. Boston joined us, fitting in like a pair of little gloves--with hugs and love from all. The boys climbed on the big ole tractors (and Lelu, too).

We all wandered the farm. The kids were in awe of Dad's beautiful hand-made windmill, and he so patiently explained how it worked. They stood for long, still periods beside the pond watching and waiting to see a fish.

Everyone brought something yummy, and Soups outdid herself, as always--dressing their cozy cabin up in its party-finest.


Megs brought these yummy little pastry shells (filled with a blend of cream cheese, confectioners sugar and I don't know what else)--that were as pretty as they were delicious. (See Leemy eyeing the dessert spread!)

On the drive out there, we were talking to A. Boston about having
a little 4th birthday celebration for him in a few weeks.

Near the end of the gathering tonight, he whispered to me--"Mimi, can everybody here come to my birthday?"
It's so very good to be loved, huh?

Weight of the World

For years, I had this Farside cartoon hanging above my desk at work. I think its hysterical and poignant at the same time for several reasons: (1) I believe that we’re all equally “gifted”—just in different ways (and this poor guy, saddled with that big “gifted” label, was even being sent to a special school. (2) Sometimes, I think we’re so focused on getting everything perfect that we miss the big picture.

I was reminded of this cartoon on Saturday. I went to visit an elderly lady from our church at her home. As I chatted with her and her daughter, I learned about their big family and how proud and blessed they feel. Outside the wind was whipping up an approaching storm. Inside, her farmhouse was warm and cozy. Beautiful flowers and plants decorated her dining room table, along with her birthday cards. A happy 1940s era table cloth covered the old dinette set at which we were seated. A cat rubbed against my feet gently. Soft music played from the other room. It was during a quiet lull in the conversation that I found the peace I’d been desperately trying to find lately ... right there in that modest, simple farmhouse. I stood to leave and they both gave me hugs, saying “God bless you.”

Looking out the window I spotted this angel statue (right)—and almost started laughing. I asked if I could snap a picture of him. “He once held up a bird bath,” they said. I smiled. I would’ve guessed he’d once tried to hold up the world. I felt an instant connection with the little guy. Here he was, in the midst of this strong prairie wind, little face scrunched up in effort, arms muscling towards the sky—trying to handle it all. Only there was nothing there to handle. God has it under control.