our story of trying to grow grapes

Way back in 2005 we bought an old farm house with great visions of restoring it and living off of the land.
I have always loved working outside and I actually find weeding kind of therapeutic. So when we bought 10 acres of neglected grapes - I thought that this would be a great way for me to stay at home and make some money on the side. I secretly felt a little like the Proverbs 31 woman.
First Adam had to learn how to drive this old, beater of a tractor that we inherited when we bought the farm. We didn't think twice that he had to learn how to drive a tractor, get a sprayers license, or that we both didn't know a thing about growing grapes.
In June of 2005, I had a two month old baby, a 19 month old terror, and Adam was working night and day on renavating our house. The grapes needed to be hoed. No problem. I spent hours trying to keep the weeds down and  had the challenge to keep Nate out of the construction zone. This is when we realized that we had the worst soil ever. Pure clay. I broke hoes, cried, moaned, and nursed my blisters. In the end we gave up. Next year would be better we thought . We let the birds have a feast at harvest time and determined that we would try our hardest with these grapes in the following year.
Grapes don't just grow. The season starts in the winter. Adam spent Saturdays pruning or should I say learning how to prune. On Easter weekend it is time to tie the branches to the wires. In the heat of the summer you need to sucker. This is taking the little shoots off of the bottom of the vine so that all of the nourishment goes to the main branches. And, yes, I felt like a sucker. I could hear the rest of my family splashing and relaxing in my parent's pool down the road, but I needed to sucker these ridiculous grapes. Finally that awful job was done. It wasn't nearly as therapeutic as I thought it would be. Adam worked long hours in the office or out of town, and devoted his Saturdays to spraying the grapes.

Finally it was time for harvest. Too late we discovered that the birds already figured this out.
We were behind and it was time to start picking. The previous owners decided that there was more money to be made if you grew table grapes so this is what they had planted. This meant picking all of the grapes by hand, packing them attractively in baskets and trying to sell them. Hours and hours of intense labour. My good, hard-working family came to the rescue. They couldn't stand it when they drove by and they saw the barn lights on and two very tired looking people (Adam and me) dragging the baskets of grapes around. By now the grapes were known as the grapes of wrath.

 

 

 

 

 

At the end of the season we knew that grape growing was not for us. We carefully packed boxes full of grapes and we brought them to our neighbour who would sell them at the market.  He took one look at our boxes and in his Polish accent said, "Fuller. I want fuller." We humbly went back home and packed the boxes fuller. Three times he sent us back home. On the third time Adam said, "Thats it. This is over." And that is when we officially stopped being farmers.  We didn't exactly loose money trying to grow grapes but we figured that we only made $0.08 per hour.

Andrew and grandpa

For a few years our neighbours took care of the grapes and after they were done hand picking we could come by and fill our baskets.
This year the rest of the grapes came out so that we could dig a pond. It was a bitter-sweet moment for me. There is something wonderful about walking out to the field and picking fresh grapes.
The grapes also reminded me that it is okay to try hard at something and realize that this is not for you. You never know until you try, and you can learn along the way. It is always nice when family comes along side and encourages you. I am sure that my parents thought that we were a little on the nuts side, but they came and helped. That was a good example for us for when our boys are older and say "I've been thinking....."

from the home front

Here are some odds and ends from the past few months.



When we were in Florida, (way back in March)  we went to this colourful little island. We watched the locals catch crabs for their supper
and the sun set.

Andrew learning how to dive. The pool was a big hit for everyone.

This little guy was a handful and a half. He slept in the walk-in-closet of our
room and quickly figured out how to climb out of the playpen. Every night
the doors parted open (think parting of the red sea) and he would look at us with a wicked little smile.
 He may be small and short, but he is very agile.

Olivia does very well with all of her boy cousins:)
The house that we rented had a beautiful canal behind it. The boys spent their time
fishing and we even went alligator hunting in the canoe. There were three baby alligators across the canal.
We found a church near the home that was very welcoming and the preaching was Christ-centred.
We looked forward to being there with the rest of the congregation and felt blest. It is so nice to go on a holiday and be in a church that is truly edifying.


Every day trip that we did, I dressed the boys in orange. We could see people
counting them and commenting on their blond hair. We heard a lot of "are these all of your boys?"
"Are you going to try for a girl?" and we even over heard people muttering, "Have mercy. Look at all of those boys."
Dressing them up in bright orange worked out perfectly. We could spot them easily and do quick head counts.

 

Liam turned 7 in the beginning of April. He is a fun loving boy who has a great sense of humor:)


And then... we had a pond dug.

Day #1

Getting stuck in the mud. Dad to the rescue!

 

The boys loved watching the diggers. Andrew woke up one morning and said, "Mom when I woked up I looked out the window and there was an execvator and a bonedozener!" What a wonderful way for a little boy to wake up. It was hard to get work done that week because it was a lot of fun watching the progress and the digging.

 

 

Opa taking down the swing set.

 

The pond has filled up quickly and we are wondering who is going to be the first one to jump in!

Some geese have already made their home in the pond. We also have some mallards and
a great blue heron occasionally stops by.

Hopefully the fence will go up this week because this little guy needs to stay indoors until it is.

a mouse in the house

A few nights ago, all was quiet. Adam was at a meeting, the boys were tucked in bed and it was finally time for me to sit down and read. With my book in my hand, a bowl of ice cream on the table, and a cozy blanket wrapped around me, I looked around and felt a smile spread over my face.
All of a sudden...SNAP. I tell you, I jumped. The book went flying and my heart did a few somersaults of it's own. A rotten mouse. They have been invading my kitchen all winter long. I do not need to write about  the mess that they make and what they manage to chew apart. They are my enemies. I picture myself opening the cupboard and the mouse jumping out at me with mighty mouse strength and it  plastering itself to my face.This has been the worse year yet for mice in our house. I could not understand their invasion because we had a cat, but it all began to make sense when I was at our neighbours house- my parents.
Our cat was also visiting there when my mom spotted our cat looking at her through the patio doors and said " That cat needs some food." "Oh, no it doesn't. It needs to catch mice." I replied. My mom whipped open the fridge and out came a chunk of cheese. "Mom - that cat does not need $5.00 worth of cheese." I insisted. But the cheese wasn't enough for the cat. My mom poured a bowl full of cream and then microwaved it to make it nice and warm for our cat. We have not seen our cat since.
Anyways, back to last night. After I heard the mouse trap snap I waited a second and then horror of horrors, I could hear the mouse whimper in the cupboard. Instantly it started to thrash around dragging the big mouse trap with it. The mouse was going bazerko. I did what any normal adult woman would do. I called my dad in a panic.
The conversation went like this: " Dad you need to come over right now. I got this live mouse thrashing around in my kitchen and it is just terrible. I cannot handle this at all dad. Adam's not home and I really need you to come over right now. I will wait outside for you. " A few moments later my super dad is over and the mouse is taken out to the back field. It had one paw stuck in the trap.
After all of the excitement I settle back down on the couch with my book on my lap and I stared at my melted ice cream.
Sin lures us just like the mouse is lured to the trap. We convince ourselves that holding that little grudge, or speaking an unkind word, unthankfulness, or that "at least I don't do this" thought is just a quick small area of our lives. We dismiss these sins because we are working really hard in other areas of our lives. (Let's be honest; the things that we think we are working hard on tend to come more easily to us. Are we really working hard at all of the "small" things?) And just as a mouse thinks that it will quickly grab some of the peanut butter, we allow ourselves to be lured into these sins because it is just a quick passing thought. We deceive ourselves when we believe that God doesn't care about the "small stuff." And then snap - God reveals His holiness to us and that quick thought that we had stares at us with big blackness. What a Holy God.
But unlike my dad who dropped off the wounded mouse in the back field left to fend to itself, God takes our hurts and our guilt and tenderly points us to His Son. What a Gracious God.

lego land, florida

We wanted to surprise the boys. We planned a whole trip to Florida without them figuring it out. I had them trying on bathing suits, shorts, sandals and they had no idea. Our bedroom was packed full of suitcases and we were busy but the boys had not an inkling as to what was going on. I picked them up from their classrooms one afternoon and we headed off to the van where Adam was waiting. That is when they saw the suitcases. We told them that we were going to a hotel for a night. A hotel in Florida! When we told them that we would be flying there, then they really got excited. It was all great besides the fact that Tyler cried for most of the plane ride except for about four minutes and 29 seconds. He also decided that he did not like hotel rooms and managed to keep us awake for most of it. That was one long night...
But the next day we woke up to beautiful sunny weather and headed to Lego Land. What a great spot to take four boys!


The displays were overwhelmingly impressive. The amount of work that must of gone into it was mind boggling. There were so many details in the displays and the cars, boats, trains, and buses actually moved.

The boys went to driving school and drove their own little cars.

Andrew was scared stiff on the roller coasters but he always made himself go on. I love their faces in this picture.

The only girly thing around Lego Land

The Famous Banyan Tree

This is all one tree with the different shoots everywhere. It was so impressive to stand under it.

Trading Lego Men
Every employee there had a name tag with a little lego guy on it. The boys brought their own lego guys and you could trade yours with what they had. All day long the boys would run up to an employee and see what they had. If they liked it better than what they had, they would trade it. They had a blast doing the trading and it was a good experience for them to make split second decisions and talk politely to the workers.

Review of Lego Land - For our boys it was a perfect place because it was geared to their ages. We enjoyed Lego Land and it inspired the boys immagination with their own lego sets. Normally it would be very expensive to go as a family of six but we got in for free through our air miles plan:) That made it even more enjoyable.

a trip to the cookie factory

Way back in February the boys had a day off from school so we visited Grandpa at work. There is no better place to work than at a cookie factory!
When we parked the van at the factory we were greeted with the most delicious smells and we could hardly wait to munch on some freshly baked cookies. But first we headed up to Grandpa's office.


All of the office people were diligently working away until we stepped off of the elevators. I think that we must of been loud because all of a sudden office doors opened and all kinds of faces peeked out to see what was going on. (Even Mr. Voortman himself came to see what the excitement was all about.)
Of course Tyler had no idea what was going on and when my dad walked out of his office, Tyler had the most surprised and delighted look on his face. There was grandpa. My dad has worked at Voortman Cookies for thirty-five years, and his father also worked there until he retired. Sometimes I run into my grandparents at the grocery store and you can be sure that my grandma is doing all of the grocery shopping and my grandpa has stopped right in front the Voortman Cookie Hut admiring all of the packages.

On a wall there is a huge world map of where the cookies are presently being shipped to.

Grandpa gave us a detailed tour of the factory. We had to put on hair nets, coats and stay close together. The robots and mechanical devices are unbelievable. Close to one million cookies are made every day and it is mostly automated.

Here the jam is being pumped into the turn-over cookies.

The cookies are headed into the big, long oven.

By the wafer machine.

Grandpa gave us a fantastic tour and we were all impressed by the efficiency of the factory. (Excuse the two boys who could not resist making faces.)
We headed into the factory store and everyone picked out a package of their favourite cookies.

 

What a great way to spend a day off of school!

math=humility

   When I was in grade 4, math became a subject that I loathed, detested, and despised. In the beginning of that year my teacher carefully cut out a sailboat for each student and in big, bold letters she wrote each student's name on it. She told us that we would be "sailing" through the multipulcation facts all of the way up to 12. I took a big gulp. I could do multiples up to 5, but up to 12 - that was a challenge that I would not enjoy. Each day we got a slip of paper and in a short period of time we would have to multiply a number. If you got it all correct your little sailboat would move to the next number. When you completed number 12, your name would get to go in the school newsletter for a reward. These little boats were up on the top of the wall in our classroom for all of the world to see. Within two weeks most of my classmates sailed through all of the facts. By Christmas time, the teacher was ready for a scenery change on her wall but I was still stuck on number 9. It was a terrible, humiliating time for me. To have my name mentioned in the school newsletter when I finally finished the multiplcation facts was a punishment, not a reward. Even writing this story down has me trembling and I had to be very brave to relive it.
   Throughout school, math continued to be a huge struggle. I am sure that my teacher somehow missed teaching the concept of fractions because it is still a big puzzle for me. Actually, most of the math concepts I do not get. My dad spent countless hours trying to breakthrough a math concept to me, only to give up and ask my younger sister to help me. The issue here was that she hadn't been taught it in school yet, but she was teaching me. I refused to learn from her.
   In highschool I needed a grade 11 math credit in order to be accepted into nursing for college. I took the most general course I could. I am sure that the math teacher could see the steam coming from my ears while trying to grasp the math concepts but nothing sunk in. By the time the math exam rolled around I was a huge bundle of nerves and devoured four rolls of mentos within minutes of starting the exam. My math teacher took pity on me and somehow I passed. Occasionaly I see Mr.S in the grocery store and he still gives me a sympathetic smile.
   After I was married, Adam tried to explain a math concept to me, to which I replied "I am perfectly content going to my grave without ever getting it."
I love Fanny Crosby's poem, "Multiplication is vexation, Division is as bad; The rule of three puzzles me, And fractions make me mad."

But this is the point of my story. God's math does not make sense to me either, but it works.
Here is what I read from the book "Confrontations with Grace: Red Like Blood." (book review coming up soon)
1.God's math is always profound. Whenever you realize things are not what they seem to be, you're probably learning God's math. Here are some mind-boggling examples of single-sentence paradoxical equations straight from the Bible:
It is more blessed to give than to receive.
The greatest among you shall be your sevant.
For whoever would save his life will lose it.
You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good.
When I am weak, then I am strong.

2. Brokeness is a constant in God's formulas. Our brokenness forms the cracks through which grace flows in and joy pours out. Learning the Math of God invoves embracing brokenness the way He does. It involves a collision between His grace and our brokenness.
3.The resultant sum of all of God's calculations is the same: We get more of Him. Getting more of God equals finding satisfaction, significance, and fulfillment in Him. When we do, it is axiomatic: we get more joy and God gets more glory. And that results in living a life that transcends circumstances.

God's math is hard to get but, oh so worth it when a Biblical breakthrough occurs.

Hospitality

I was reading through my torn, worn note book. This is my brain. Whatever I need to remember I write it in there and then hope that I can find it. I found two paragraphs that I wanted to share with you. I can't remember where I got it or when I wrote it, but it is a good thing to be reminded of.

Entertaining has little to do with real hospitality. Secular entertaining is a terrible bondage. It's source is human pride. Demanding, perfecting, fostering the urge to impress, it is a rigorous taskmaster that enslaves. In contrast, scriptural hospitality is a freedom that liberates.
Entertaining says, "I want to impress you with my beautiful home, my clever decorating, my gourmet cooking." HOSPITALITY, however, seeks to MINISTER. It says, "this home is not mine. It is truly a gift from my Master. I am His servant, and I use it as He desires. Hospitality does not try to impress but to SERVE."

And here is another one from Ruth Bell Graham on interruptions through out the day.

"Everyday is full of interruptions. I think that one thing that a busy housewife and mother has to learn is to accept interruptions as from the Lord. And the sooner she learns it, the happier she'll be. When you do, then you roll with the punches, and each interruption is an opportunity. In other words, if I tried to keep a rigid schedule, every interruption would make me frustrated and irritated. But when I accept each interruption as from the Lord, life becomes much more interesting and much more relaxed."