Not this cake

But three more! I am super excited that this month has three baking events. My first ever paid for cake, balins birthday and a baby shower. I've been browsing blogs and pinterest for some fresh ideas and was seeing lots of ruffle cakes. Could it be done with marshmallow fondant? Why yes. It may not be as delicate as some I've seen, and thanks to south Texas humidity struggles with flop issues, but I think my practice ombré ruffle cake turned out pretty cute :).

Why unfabled?

My blog title throws people off, and that is ok by me. So what does it mean? I have a vision for this blog to grow into a true Titus 2 community. I dream of it being a place for Christian women to seek wisdom from more mature women and share their own wisdom with others. For now it's just little ole me throwing stuff out to mainly my Facebook friends who are primarily real life friends who are mostly church friends with whom this relationship already exists. I plod along though and hope my bits of silliness are encouraging to someone somewhere. Our culture has a fondness for creating an image of what we should aim to be. At the moment women are supposed to be strong and brash capable of running corporations while raising a brilliant child or two who wears not only name brand clothes but designer clothes and learns to read at age 2. Thy never wear diapers and nurse until the child can pour their own glass of milk. But they do not drink milk. It has to be rice or almond or some other milk looking substance. She should be underweight and muscular and not eat two or three food groups which change with the season. The more allergies her children have the more value she has. Although being a stronger sex than men she should flaunt her sexuality like a commodity but remind us constantly that it is her body to sell after all. She answers to no one, most importantly her family. She should live for herself first and make sure she watches enough pop television to know how to find meaning in her life. { exhausted yet?} If she blogs she should be sure to post only edited, altered pictures of only her children's feet and the corner of her latests craft project. She should be sponsored by as many orange juice and paint companies as possible. Her home will be large, expensive and impeccably designed. Her children's rooms will have custom carpentry beds and built in book cases. She dresses in only polyvore planned designer outfits that she buys by stacking coupons. Her hair will be flat ironed, braided and never heat dried. Every day will be carefully organized and yet completely open to whatever the breeze may bring. Yup. I have one word for that friends, fabled. It is not about politics or religion. I know that was pretty harsh, and those were not all negative qualities, But we live in a world that writes our story for us and we need to have the courage to say "Nope. My story was written for me before the beginning of time." We DO have a guidebook. We have beauty laid before us and we do not have to drive ourselves crazy looking for it. This week was certainly less than perfect. I exploded potatoes, had a fascinating run on facebook about my deformed laundry and fixed our beheaded Woody with duct tape For every cute picture I post I guarantee you there were 20 times more ugly moments than the good. Life is messy, but oh sooo beautiful.

Rocky Mountain high

We watch tv with an antenna, so our national news comes solely from social media and the internet. With Ayden being in Colorado with his dad this month I have been paying extra close attention to Colorado news. The fires in paticular. This evening watching Facebook light up and videos get posted my heart is torn seeing so much beauty being destroyed so quickly. Dawn, whom many of you helped fundraise for her adoption, is going to bed tonight confident that her parents may have lost their home. Her childhood home. A home I have been to. Where I have memories. I wonder all the time why God gave me the adventure of a life that he has given me. New people and new places on average every two to four years. It is not what I asked for. I crave consistency. I crave stability. I want to root myself deep into a community and thrive. I want to paint walls and design rooms that we live in.  But the reality is, even when we do root ourselves, there is no promise of these things... in this life. In one afternoon they can be swept away. We can rest in the promise of eternity though. We can accept that we have eternity written on our hearts and celebrate when we get glimpses. We can grow our roots and then treasure the pain when they get torn out as a sign of the promise. I think of Abraham... never seeing the promise fulfilled. Buying as fairly as he could a piece of rock, a plot of land, a forever home to bury his wife. Staking that tiny cave as his for- now taste of a forever promise. I wonder as I look around today what are my claims? Where have I left physical memories that tie me to my story. Certainly Colorado holds many. Garden of the Gods on a high school ski trip- and an unfortunate cactus that was a solemn reminder of my pride. I can feel the rocks on my hand, their red coolness inviting me to climb- to explore- to step outside of my quiet unadventurous self. Rocks that tonight are surrounded by flame. And then I think of the athletic field outside of Moby arena at CSU... preferably at night. There I first experienced Gods promting on my high school heart. Lessons he taught me at a summer camp about his plans he has for us. The same field where two years later I spent countless evenings walking after class. Falling in and out of young love. Reaching deeper into who He is-  Serving people hotdogs hoping it would spur conversations and invite them into Christian fellowship. If I close my eyes I can still feel the cool of the grass, see the bugs circling the lights, feel the shadow of the mountains, hear the whispers to my heart. Oh Colorado. You are such a PLACE for me. Such a piece of who I am. Such a reminder of His promise.  I ache for your beauty, for your people. May God comfort you with his Body. I pray the church steps up around the country to reach out to the thousands upon thousands who are affected. I pray we can take this opportunity to ever so gently remind one another that this is not our home. I pray for rain, and for the winds to be still. May you return to peace quickly, but hopefully with your stories deeper, sweeter and your hearts bent on eternity.

I heart Adoption

It is no secret around here. I LOVE ADOPTION. I love {even more} families that adopt. Maybe it has something to do with the fact tha at this point we have not mustered the faith to take the steps to start one. I admire and esteem to be like the many many mnay families we love that have opened their hearts, wallets, and homes to bring a child into their family that was birthed somewhere else. Their willingness to be Jesus at such a beautiful cost. We have a newish family in our midst that falls into this category. We met them a year ago when we started going to our church and fall more in love with them all the time. Their sweet baby boy that they already have has stolen my heart and I can not wait to see who God selects to be their next child from ETHIOPIA. As my heart already belongs to one precious Ethiopian American baby boy, I am even more excited! So I ask you to take a moment and go visit Jeremy and Heather at their blog. Poke around, learn their story and buy some coffee. Lets pray another baby home in the life unfabled. A lost orphaned child finding  a home in a castle or marrying a prince is a constant undercurrent in the land of fables and fairy tales. We get to make this happen in the life unfabled. It may not be castles and princes, but it is a castle of love and warriors as parents who serve the mightiest King. To Him be the honor and glory... forever.

Pond Scum

Parenting brings its highs and lows. This weekend was a strange mix of both. Thursday was the last day of school for our third grader. He came home with a tummy ache and moped around for most of the afternoon. Friday morning it was still bothering him, along with a headache. Shortly after lunch I took the baby to his 20 month well check apt where he got three shots. He was displeased. When little bit and I got home we found my now 4th grader crying. Daddy and I conferred and considering that he had a flight across the country scheduled the next day... I jumped in the car and took him to urgent care. The place we go is awesome. Its a second branch of a local walk in clinic but its on the north side of town so there is never anyone there. They took us back, brought him some nausea medicine (because he was threatening to get sick...) and the Dr immediately decided to get him CAT scanned because he suspected appendicitis. Truth be told he had a full belly, nothing else. Stress, junk and maybe a bug. He made his flight and is now in Colorado bliss with his bio-dad and family there. Happy little clam I'm sure.

After we dropped Ayden off with his dad at the airport we decided to meet some friends at their winery for their monthly live music night. We drove up and it was a blissful pastoral scene. People in lawn chairs with great wine, listening to great music. A little pond with children playing happily in the sand. Oh that little pond. To be fair.. I naively assumed it was decorative. City slicker that I am. Truth be told it is a stocked pond that is actually very deep. Deep enough to functionally fish and feed our friend the vintner.

Silas has discovered water recently. He LOVES the blow up pool we bought. He calls all liquid "juice" and was quick to point out the juice pond at the winery. We went inside the tasting room, got a glass of sangria and headed back to the lawn to visit with friends. Silas immediately took off towards the pond. Balin slowed him down, Lucas grabbed him and came back over to our seats. He immediately took off again. Lucas was headed his way, but in my state of mommy hood denial I was sure he was fine. GOOD moms don't let their children fall into ponds at wineries. Lucas would get him. So when people started yelling "He's in the water" I almost did not react. Thoughts flooded me that evening like A GOOD mom would have stopped him and held him in her lap where he would have played happily, right? A GOOD mom would have just gone home after their long day and stressful weekend, no? Wouldn't A GOOD mom have been the one to dig him out of the water? But there I was, fetching my pond scum soaked baby out of my pastor's wife's arms after his first rescuer- a stranger- pulled him out. I not only wasn't the first to him, I was the third. I felt like he smelled. Our friend the vintner graciously found us a towel and t-shirt we knotted on the side, and unlike all "good parents" (in my mind) would.. sat back down to finish our sangria. We kept him close to us the rest of the evening and after we got home and washed him sweet soapy clean again he fell asleep laying in my bed, lovie in one hand and my hair in the other. He watched my face as he fell asleep and I realized something. Being a mom is not about not making mistakes. It is not about preventing all injury. It is about how we handle the craziness thrown our way. Being a "good mom" is more about accepting and recognizing the grace our children receive from others than beating ourselves up for them needing grace in the first place. Our kids will have illness we aren't prepared for. They will have challenges we can not handle. They will get themselves in pickles we can't get them out of. But we hold them while they fall asleep... or pack their bags with everything they might possibly need for their journey, or take them for extended medical testing when all they really need is less cupcakes. However we handle these little mini crisis... we really just need to hold on to the One who sees. El Roi. He knows we need comfort along their journey. As our pastor reminded us Sunday, it is not coincidence that there were hands to reach into deep dark waters when ours were too frightened. It was grace and not humiliation when the pastor's wife you so look up to is soaked "pondy-wet" on your child's behalf. It is grace not weakness to wake up and miss desperately your child across the country but feel joy that he is where he needs to be. Oh these blessings. These little grace makers we call our children. Our beloveds; they are His beloveds too. Just as we; scared, scarred, broken, needful- GOOD mommies are His beloveds as well.