Writer's Traffic Jam

I haven’t posted in a while. I’ve been having a bit of writer’s traffic jam.

It’s not that I don’t have anything to say. In fact, I have started several drafts with updates of what’s going on in hour house, thoughts on parenting and letting go, and so on. But the thoughts, along with the activities in our house, have been overwhelming. There has been much reflection over the last few weeks and much melancholy. And there have been many activities and a house full of guests. I simply haven’t had the space to collect my thoughts into written word.

But I do want to acknowledge that we have graduated our eldest.



We celebrated all weekend with grandparents in town.

And I must add the classic quote she spoke to the principal as she received her diploma.

“I love the red scarf, Mr. T….” I don’t know what sort of one-liners he got from the 350+ grads that day, but that has to be a classic.

Later that night as we feasted in celebration, Dave gave a little speech of how proud we are of our little girl.


She has taught us so much about parenting, loving and life in general. We are humbled to be her parents and honored that our title remains no matter how old or independent she becomes.

Now it is summer. No normal schedule. Maybe I’ll find time to write. But today the pool is our priority…

Public School...

When you hear the words “public school” what thoughts come to mind?

Most often when I hear those words spoken, they are surrounded with negative words regarding poor funding, limited programs, bureaucratic leadership, biased and inaccurate curriculum, the sketchy-ness of the students or the lameness of the teachers, I’ve heard it all.
Seldom do I hear positive words about public school.

So this blog post is meant to surround the words “public school” with positive.

What I am most grateful for in our years of public school experience is the number of teachers and school staff who have spoken into our kids' lives. These words have carried much weight. They have come not from Mom and Dad or extended family or a Sunday school teacher or a youth leader. They have come from random adults that our kids have encountered in large settings. They are adults who may not hold the same philosophy or worldview as us. They are adults who work with dozens and dozens of kids daily, week after week, all year long. Then they do it again for another year. So when these people speak into my kids, it makes an impact.

Here are three examples of how our kids have been impacted. Only three. I could write several pages from the past 13 years. But these are the reflections I have had from this school year that is coming to a close.

1. Jack, our 4th grader, brought home a note card back in March. It was the last day for the TA in his class who had completed requirements for her teaching certificate. Here is an excerpt from the note she wrote to him: “Seeing you each morning perked me up and just set me up in the right direction…. You are a quiet leader in groups. The students look to you for help and you take the job seriously. You listen to others but you stick with your own ideas when you know you are right. This is a wonderful trait.” Wow! What does that do to a 10 year old’s confidence?

2. Sam is finishing his sophomore year in high school. He’s our family smarty-pants. He remembers everything he reads and is a natural at math. He could take a solid schedule of academic classes and carry a stellar weighted GPA. Last year he dabbled in drama as part of the spring musical. Then the budget for drama got cut. Fortunately, they saw fit to bring in a new drama teacher mid-year and Sam was once again part of the spring musical. But this teacher did more than her obligatory spring musical and teaching electives. She invested heavily in the drama club. Sam realized earlier this week that he has been staying after school almost every day for drama since January. It’s true (just ask this taxi-mom). The spring musical, Shakespeare Festival, and One-Act plays have given him opportunities outside of his academic pursuits. It has opened up his curiosity for the arts. His decision to choose arts electives in his schedule seriously compromises his class rank. I love that. (OK – I’d be proud as punch if he were #1 in his class, but not at the expense of exploring a balance in life.)

3. Last week Chelsea, our senior, walked confidently into her AP Calculus exam. That day I did a lot of reflecting. It was a big deal. You see, math has never been Chelsea’s “thing”. Especially in the few years that we homeschooled. She was always on level, but so often approached math with trepidation. And many days there were tears of frustration. Then she entered high school. We registered her for the year-long Algebra class (as opposed to completing it in one semester.) We checked with the teacher often to make sure she was keeping up. Always he was confident in her. He made math fun – and he saved her the prized seat every day. (I’m not sure what was prized about it, I think it had wheels on it or something.) With each successive math class she took, there was no less confidence from the teachers. And they did not tolerate any negative opinions she had about herself and her aptitude with math. But when we got the call from the school counselor that she had to register for AP Calculus in her senior year because of budget cuts (go figure) that trepidation returned. She never had planned to take AP Calculus. Who wants that frustration in her senior year? I even warned the teacher, as did Chelsea, that this class was forced upon her and she would likely not sit for the AP exam. I vaguely recall a chuckle from the teacher when I said that back in August. So when Chelsea confidently walked out the door last week with her pencils, ready to tackle Calculus for 4 hours, it struck me what an impact the math department, of all departments in the school, had made on our daughter.

In the fall Chelsea will be a freshman at North Carolina State’s Education Department – with an emphasis in math and science. That’s right, she’s going to be a teacher – likely teaching math to elementary kids. I have no doubt she will be best at speaking into to the lives of those kids that freeze at the sight of a math problem.

I used to think, in our many years of exposing our kids to public school, that we were blessed, or lucking out, because of all the great teachers our kids had. 13 years after registering our first-born for kindergarten, I am realizing that there are too many teachers we have “lucked out” on. So perhaps it is not luck. Perhaps there are great teachers throughout our public school system, and the bad reputation comes from the exceptions.

things and thoughts

Two things arrived at our house this week. First was this....

My first produce box. Every week this spring and summer we'll be getting a box of produce from a local farm - delivered straight to our door. We got this box on Wednesday and most of it is already gone. Not pictured is a big bag of fresh peanuts and sweet potatoes. Yummm.

The next day this arrived.

Mixed feelings with this delivery. Excitement, anticipation, accomplishment and melancholy all rolled together. I'm working on a post about parenthood and I'll expound a little more on these feelings.

And while it doesn't look like it, there are big plans for a major project around here.

Hopefully I'll remember to get pictures every step of the way...

And while I'm not full of many words on my blog these days, my mind is full of many thoughts. Thoughts I hope to blog about in the near future. I just need to get the thoughts swirling in my mind and heart written in some sort of organzied fashion. Lots of "this is about that" thoughts when it comes to life and relationships and what it means to love and give grace and peace and mercy and forgiveness. Like I said, lots of thoughts.

RED means GO

We have spent many months visiting colleges, filling out applications, figuring out FASFA, looking for scholarships, keeping track of deadlines…. and the list goes on.

Now we can tick off one more thing on our list:

√ Enrollment Deposit.

She has decided, and we have paid the deposit…

And for the record, those are NOT carolina blue shorts I am wearing.

Sweet Sixteen

Or is it? I mean, when a boy turns 16, is it a sweet sixteen or something else?

Our second born is sixteen today. It’s hard to believe.

I still remember when he crawled into our bed every night; when he knew every little detail about dinosaurs and Thomas the Tank Engine. I remember that his first book fair purchase in kindergarten was the “Field Guide to the Night Sky” and he read it in bed every night. And he adored his big sister.

Well, he has grown and a lot has changed, but not really. He doesn’t crawl into our bed anymore, and he knows a lot more than just dinosaurs and Thomas. He loves to wax philosophical, or just mathematical, and to debate theology and politics. He enjoys stargazing and would do it a lot more of it if we didn’t live under a forest of trees. And while it isn’t obvious, I think he still adores his big (albeit shorter) sister and is an amazing big brother.

So to our “sweet” 16 year old boy. Happy birthday Samuel Porter! I love you!

Why It's Been 17 Years

On Saturday Chelsea treated me to a manicure. It was the first time in 17 years that I had my nails done by a professional.

And this is why it has been 17 years….

This photo was taken a mere 48 hours after the manicure. Rest assured, one of the chips was there 6 hours after.

No matter how careful I try to be, I smudge, chip and dent my nails.

I used to be able to blame it on being a mom of 3 young kids. You know, diapers, potty training, dishes, toys, house cleaning, car seats, strollers, etc etc. But my kids are now 18, 16 (this week!) and 10. And I did not do any dishes this weekend. Nor did I clean my house. No excuses. It must be the tom-boy in me.

Sigh… I enjoyed the manicure and the look. But it’s just not worth doing it regularly.

I think next time we’ll do a pedicure.

My Dad

My Dad passed away last week after suffering a second stroke. I am so thankful that I was able to be with him in his last few days and at the very end. To thank him for being such a great dad when I was growing up; to tell him that I will never forget how much he loved me; to remind that he has 13 grandkids that he has left a legacy to; and to let him know that we are going to be ok.

My Dad wasn’t anyone famous nor did he have a long list of outstanding accomplishments. But he was my Dad. And I learned a lot from him. He taught me to ride a bike, throw a ball (not like a girl!), ride a motorcycle and drive a car. And he taught me some things just by living his life while I watched. Some things I learned from him because he did them well. Some things I learned from watching his mistakes. That’s the great thing about dads. You can learn from them in the good and bad.

My Dad and me:

Below is what I shared at my Dad’s memorial service.

“We are here to give you a glimpse of who our dad was.

It is easy to list out so many things about Philip McNutt so that you can know more about him. Born on September 23, 1942 in Cushing Oklahoma, raised in Okmulgee and Morris. The only child of John and Jane McNutt, who owned and operated a small drugstore. He became an electrical engineer working in Texas, Saudi Arabia, Arkansas, and eventually this area. He loved Dr. Pepper, Ham radios, Mexican food and his motorcycles.

But these things do not tell who our father was. As we considered the things about our father that we would like to share with you today, a passage of scripture from Galatians, in the New Testament, came to mind.

“But the fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.” Galatians 5:22.

This past week, when we knew my father was in his last days, I asked friends from over the years to share memories of my Dad so that I could remind him of all the people who love him and remember him fondly. I received many stories. Some funny – some touching. But always, without exception, the emails or messages were finished off with comments like this: I will always remember how kind and patient your father was. And what joy he brought with his hearty laugh and his smile.

All of these attributes were apparent in my Dad while I was growing up, but his biggest gift to me was his faithfulness, gentleness and love.

My Dad was faithful: steady, reliable, loyal, trusted. He was a faithful husband. A faithful father. And a faithful friend. While our family lived in Saudi Arabia, my sister and I attended boarding school for our high school years. Both living in the middle east and attending the Stony Brook School were amazing experiences in my life and have shaped me into who I am today. While my sister and I were at Stony Brook, and our parents were in Arabia, my father wrote to each one of us every single week. Without fail, there was a hand-written letter in my mailbox updating me on all that was going on at home.

My Dad was also very gentle. His words were gentle as were his ways. Whether it was in discipline or confrontation or just day to day interaction, he was gentle. His gentleness combined with his humility made it so easy to hold him in high regard. And everywhere he went he was held in high regard. Even as he entered into the remote territories of Arabia to administer bringing electricity to those areas, his gentle ways, and his unique red hair, often meant that he became the honored guest in the Bedouin tents, where they served him endless coffee and tea (neither of which he liked) and always the most desired part of the meal – the goat’s eyeballs.

But what I treasure most from my Dad is the love that he showed me. I never doubted his love for me. His love was most often in deed, whether he was providing for us, guiding us or playing with us. And after I was married, he did all he could to make sure that my husband would love me as a godly husband should. For several years early in our marriage, my Dad took Dave (as well as Robin and Wes) to Promise Keeper events to encourage him as a young husband and father.

I pray that when my children experience these godly qualities in me, they will know they are of God’s spirit, and that I first experienced these qualities through my father. I will forever be grateful to my father for his love, his gentleness and his faithfulness.”

Here are my kids being goofy with Grandpa a few years ago.

Here he is sharing his love of motorcycles with my kids.

I miss him already.