New Year's Goals

     We enjoy creating fun goals for our family every year, and this year is no different. Our list has been tweaked and polished and we're ready to roll into 2020.
     First up is one that the entire family is looking forward to, but I'm the one they're depending on to be able to reach this goal.
    52 Weeks of Pie ... Every week I'll choose a different pie to bake. If we like it I'll share the recipe here on my blog.
    Next up is another one we're once again looking forward to, but the girls will be helping me see this one through.
    52 Weeks of Sunday Morning Breakfasts ... our week day breakfasts have become quite discombobulated. With three members of the family having to leave for work at three different times, they get up at different times and have their own breakfasts. And then Sharon and Steven get up even later and eat. Having four different breakfast times is not ideal for family togetherness. So with Pinterest and cookbooks for inspiration we are looking forward to a different breakfast every Sunday morning that we'll get to enjoy together.
    52 Weeks of Crafts ... This one is geared more toward only Sharon, Steven and I where once a week we'll hop on Pinterest to choose a craft to make.
    52 Weeks of Games ... we have quite an assortment of games, and decided we want to play a different one every week in addition to playing our favorites.
    We have some other goals as well, but we haven't made them into weekly events. These include sewing, hiking, learning a new skill, and more.
    I'm already looking forward to meeting all these goals. It should be an interesting and delicious 2020.

Picture my December

Our area got coated in a thick layer of ice that stuck around for a week. Trees looked beautiful coated like this, but there were many branches lost, including the one where we had our bird feeder hanging. We have yet to find the perfect place to hang it since losing that branch.

Steven loved spending time outside, dressing a little differently almost every time he ventured out.

The sun made the ice sparkle, which my camera did a terrible job in trying to catch that beauty. Going to town and seeing entire tree covered mountainsides glisten in the sun nearly took my breath away in the beauty of it all.

Cold mornings meant Rosie Mae had to scrape ice and frost off her car before leaving for work. She seems to enjoy it.

Our annual Christmas box from my parents arrived. The small package on the lower left hand side of the picture had a piece of paper wrapped around it, and Mom had written a few sweet words on it. I decided to wait to open it, sure that what ever was inside couldn't be as special as what she wrote on the outside. After opening it I discovered a lovely letter opener my brother Mahlon had made, and immediately burst into tears. I'll treasure it for always!

After wiping my tears I noticed this rainbow on the floor in the laundry room and had to smile. I have no way of explaining how it can appear there. It really makes no sense logically. It never did before Mahlon died, but now on days when I'm really missing him, little rainbows appear. They always make me smile, and always turn my thoughts to God in praise for His love and care.

Sharon was offered the job of being one of the chefs on the train. She accepted it, and absolutely loved it. Running her to and from the train yard kept our weekends extra full, but I was happy she got to experience this.

Christmas Day rolled around and we did our traditional 'children in front of the tree' picture. We had a lovely day even though I took an accidental nap most of the afternoon. While I was sleeping the guys decided to wash their vehicles. Not very festive, I know.

 Of the gifts the children gave each other my favorite was a beaded bracelet that Steven gave to Sharon. He spent a lot of time painstakingly making sure each little bead was in the proper place to create the pattern he wanted. All the gifts were all thoughtful, heartfelt, and meaningful.

I don't know if I'll be making another blog post before the new year rolls around, so I'll take a minute now to wish everyone a happy and blessed New Year! 

Listening to Music - Then vs. Now

     Growing up, singing was our only acceptable form of music. Even though we sang, a LOT, there was something in me that craved music.
     Visiting stores in town was great since they always had music playing. Getting to town, most of the time involved having to hire a driver to take you there. They always had Country music playing, and I soaked it up, thankful for every red light we had to stop at, or slow school bus we had to follow home. Anything to prolong the opportunity to listen to music.
      I still love music, but I can happily drive without the radio turned on. My taste in music has changed as well, and unless it's one of my favorite songs from my teen years, I can't make myself listen to Country music.
      Yesterday we were out and about, and when it was time to go home one of Sharon's friends decided to come with us.
      We got in our vehicle and as I turned the key to start it, the radio started playing. I turned the volume down a bit (so I can better listen to the girl's fun conversation). For some reason that took me back to when I was eighteen years old.
     My parents had sent me to do some errands. The driver had his radio tuned to the local Country station. He chatted as he drove along, and I tried my best to keep up with his conversation while at the same time soaking up the music.
     When we got to town he announced he has an errand to run as well, and pulled in to a store. Before going in he showed me how to adjust the volume on the radio. He exited the vehicle with the radio turned up loud.
      Being the good little Amish girl I was, there was no way I was going to touch the knob to adjust the volume, but I sat there reveling in the music that enveloped me.
      Song after song played as the driver took his time in completing his errand.
      When he finally exited the building and made his way across the parking lot I could see his agitation build as he marched faster and faster toward his truck. He yanked the drivers door open, reached in, and turned down the music so that you could barely hear it. The remainder of the way home he was quiet as well. I was sad I couldn't listen to the music on the way home, but that time of uninterrupted listening had made this silent trip worth it.
     Those thirty some minutes of listening to music at that volume earned me a visit from the bishop. I told him I hadn't touched the radio, and left it at the volume the driver had it when he adjusted it to show me how to operate it. My explanation seemed to satisfy him and I was relieved to not have to make a confession in church.
     Now since I no longer fear visits from the bishop, if you'll excuse me, I'll go turn on some Christmas music to listen to as I do the morning chores.