Heavenly Homemakers

So let’s see…we’ve covered some childhood memories and how Matt and I met. Now what should we talk about? 

Matt and I married after our junior year in college. I got a degree in Elementary Education…Matt got a degree in Biblical Studies. I taught first grade for a couple of years before Asa was born (in York). Justus and Elias were both born in Colorado where we lived for about four years. Malachi was born after we moved back to York. Matt worked as a youth minister for 13 years before we made a difficult decision (about a year and a half ago) not to be in employed ministry anymore. 

I stay at home, cook a lot, homeschool the boys, and have a website (I guess you knew that already?)…and Matt is working for himself doing construction as well as coaching soccer in season.

The End.

Yeah, I realize I skipped a few details in there. Sorry. Some things are a little difficult to write about….and I seriously don’t want to bore you with a million details of the past 35 years. Plus…my Christmas break is almost over and I’m planning to get back to normal blogging stuff. Because, you know, reading my menu plans is much more exciting than reading about what my nick-name was in high school.  ;)

Some of you have requested to hear more about my Christian upbringing, specifically about my relationship with my mom. I’d be happy to share! Just give me some time to work on those posts after I unpack and recover from being away from home and on the road for many, many long hours. (Has anybody seen my hairbrush?)

Let’s see…let me think of a few more random facts about my life to finish up this little series for now….

• Matt and I took a trip to West Africa after we’d been married for about 10 months. It was enlightening and life changing. We got to know God in a whole new way.
• I was a Stampin’ Up! demonstrator when we lived in Colorado and I loved it. 
• My favorite color has always been, and as far as I know, always will be pink. I love pink.
• I had never seen a soccer game until I went to York College. 
• My high school nick-name (that I’m going to go ahead and sheepishly tell you and then I’m going to crawl under a table) was Farba. I don’t know why.  Maybe you should ask my brother Kevin.  Or, maybe you shouldn’t. Oh…and if you are one of the people who actually know me in person and see me on any kind of regular or irregular basis…you are NOT…I repeat NOT allowed to start calling me that. Understand? Okay.
• I know you’re still laughing about my nick-name. Stop it. :)
• We aren’t planning on having any more babies. I had some weird uterus issues after my last two pregnancies (that you probably don’t want to hear about on a blog). We made the decision at that point that we probably better not take any chances. And well…nothing gets a person’s mind off of a weird nick-name than the mention of a uterus. Am I right?

Thanks for taking the time to read my short little chapter book about my life and memories. Feel free to ask more questions and I will be happy to share more about my life than you ever wanted to know.

If any of you had a crazy nick-name you’d like to share to make me feel better…please feel free to embarass yourself along with me in the comments!

Let’s skip ahead a little bit onto college, shall we? 

I was SO ready to get out of my hometown after graduation that I couldn’t get away fast enough. I went to York College, in York, Nebraska, which is a small Christian college. I LOVED my experience at YC and am so thankful for my time there.

And yes…it’s where I met this tall, good looking blond soccer player named Matt. 

I suppose you might like to know how we ended up together? Yes, it’s a pretty good story. Would you believe me if I tell you that Matt and I started dating because he LOST a coin toss? Yes, it’s true. 

He and I were in the same Bible class our freshman year which is where I first got to know him. At that time there were about seven or eight of us guys and girls that would get together and study for our Bible exams together….then we all just started hanging around together in general. Matt and I were a part of that gang. 

Skip ahead to our sophomore year in college. (And, I’m sorry, but I have to take you into the guy’s dorm for this part of the story….hold your nose.)

One night in October Matt and several of the guys were hanging out (not studying) in one of the guy’s dorm rooms. The topic came up of, “who are you going to ask out this year?” At one point in the conversation, both Matt and another guy (I’ll call him Bob) said that they’d like to ask out Laura Hamm (yes, if you didn’t already know my funny maiden name…there you go).

Well, since both Matt and Bob were nice guys…they felt bad since both of them were interested in the same girl….and they didn’t want to step on each other’s toes. So, they made an agreement. They’d flip a coin. (I know this sounds so mature doesn’t it?)  Whoever won the coin toss could ask me out first. If I said yes…the other would back off, wish them well, and get on with life. If I said no…the other was free to ask me out. 

So, the coin was flipped…and Bob won. Matt lost. 

Now all this time, I’m sure I was in the girl’s dorm doing something much more productive like studying or sleeping, innocent of the fact that two guys were tossing a coin over me. (I found out all the details later.)  :)

So, the next day, Bob asked me out. Hm. Bob was really, really nice. But I didn’t really think going out with him would be a very good idea because he quiet and shy…and well..I just didn’t want to. I gave him the “friends speech”. Blech. You’ve gotta love the dating game.

Well, since I told Bob no…that meant that Matt could go for it. And so he did. And I said yes.

I remember so clearly that night. I ran up to my friend Mary’s dorm room to tell her that Matt had asked me out and that we were going to the play over the weekend. I couldn’t put my finger on it…but I remember thinking how differently I felt about this upcoming date than I’d felt about any previous ones with other guys. Without any reservations, I was so excited about this date. 

Matt and I have laughed a lot (and so have all of our friends, including Bob) about the coin toss. It was funny to me after I found out what happened in the dorm that night. Hey, in a weird kind of way, I was honored. 

But here’s what else happened in the dorm room that night that Matt’s best man told me on the night of our wedding rehearsal.

Matt sat for a long time pondering if he should ask me out or not. He told the guys, “I’ve gotta decide if I’m ready to ask out someone like Laura. She’s not the kind of girl I’d want to ever break up with.”

Wow. 

Okay…my favorite childhood farm memory….

I LOVED the Boxcar Children book. I read that thing over and over and acted it out over and over when I played.

One day when I was around 9 or 10 years old…my cousin Carie and I were playing outside at Grandma’s house. We ventured into territory we had not explored yet AND YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE WHAT WE FOUND!!!!

Tucked away behind some trees was an old boxcar I KID YOU NOT. I about wet my pants..and my cousin Carie was pretty excited too. 

Okay, and it gets better!

We went and asked Grandma if she knew it was there (of course she knew it was there) and if we could look inside it. She said we could.

GUESS WHAT WAS INSIDE THE BOXCAR???!?!?!?

There were a couple of rooms….and in the biggest one….my grandpa had put someone’s old kitchen cabinets and countertops and it even had a kitchen sink!!!!! The boxcar had a KITCHEN inside.

Okay, now first of all…I’m thinking:  HOW DID GRANDPA FORGET TO MENTION THIS GOLD MINE TO ME?

Carie and I were running all around and jumping up and down and shouting with excitement over this treasure. I mean…who finds a BOXCAR to play in…and one that has a kitchen inside it to play with?!?

We kept running into the house to tell Grandma more that we’d found….and she’d chuckle in delight at us. She gave us some old dishes and rags and we spend HOURS fixing up our little boxcar. We rigged up some kind of table and chairs and beds and fixed up our kitchen. 

It was THE most fun I ever had. Everytime I went to Grandmas for the next several years (when it wasn’t 11 degrees outside), I’d play in “my” boxcar. It was always more fun when one of my cousins was there…but oh, it was fun anyway. I wonder how many hours I clocked in that thing.

The only disappointing thing I remember about the boxcar (okay, two disappointing things):

Once we found mice scampering about the boxcar (how dare they)…and it really just ruined our fun for the day. 

And another day…there was a big snake curled up in the window that completely freaked us out and made us run faster than we’d ever run before. And Grandpa…the nerve….wouldn’t even kill it for us because he said snakes were good for eating mice. I’m pretty sure he did get it out of the boxcar and fling it somewhere else, but still. We were too freaked out to go back in it again that day. 

Oh, but I loved that boxcar. I have warm fuzzies now just thinking about it. Hmmm, and now I also miss my grandma. Oh it’s so good to have such wonderful memories.

You learned a bit about my school life…now I’ll tell you more of my home life. Here are some farm memories..in no particular order:

• My dad was a farmer when I was growing up. He was busy all the time. My parents did a good job of hiding it from us kids, but there was a lot of financial stress. It was at that time that my dad went to school to learn how to “talk fast” (to be an auctioneer). He also referreed basketball in the winter. He did odd jobs for other farmers. He worked hard (still does). 
• I remember long, hot, busy summers. My brother helped my dad in the field…I helped my mom in the house. Often we had teen boys living with us during the summers to help my dad on the farm. I always thought that was fun. My mom didn’t. I think it was something about all the extra laundry and cooking they caused. :)  Those summers, I would bake a batch of cookies every day. By the time I was a fifth grader…I could bake them with my hands tied behind my back (er, so to speak).
• I remember taking lunches to the field during wheat harvest. I loved it. My mom didn’t. Sometimes I would spend the day at my grandma’s helping her get food ready to take to the field. I also spent a lot of Saturdays at Grandma’s when my dad had auctions before I was old enough to help. I LOVED being at Grandma’s. I got my love for baking and cooking from her. 
• When I was old enough to learn to drive, my dad tried teaching me to drive a stick shift. I have extreme traumatic memories of that. Driving a stick shift vehicle was harder for me than popping a balloon with my bootie….and we all know that the balloon never popped. Neither did I learn to drive a stick shift. I still break out in hives just thinking about it. 
• Kevin and I were in 4-H…and raised pigs each year. I always started the summer pretending that my cute little pigs were my pets. After a long…oh, I don’t know…two days or so…the pigs weren’t cute anymore. They were big, smelly, and a lot of work. And one summer….they kept getting out of their pen. Sometimes I would be the only one home. Like I could get big, fat, snorting pigs back into a pen by myself? Oh the stress. 
• And also….about the pigs? We took them to the fair every year to be judged. Have you ever tried to walk a pig around in a big pen in front of judges and before a big crowd of people? (hives, again)  Anyway, one year, both mine and Kevin’s pigs looked exceptional to the judges. He got grand champion pig, and I got reserve grand champion pig. We both got Golden Pig Trophies (if you think I’m kidding, I’m not). It was one proud day when I walked away from the fair with my golden pig trophy. Wonder what ever happened to that trophy?
• Here’s my most favorite memory of growing up on a farm:  Oh wait…that’s going to take too long to write. I think that will be a part of chapter three. :)

Sooo…did any of you grow up on a farm? Anybody break out in hives driving a stick shift? Ever have any pigs in your yard? Have any Golden Pig Tropheys to brag about?!

I was born on the very first day of my life in a small Kansas town. 

My brother, Kevin was only 14 months old. My mom often talked about how difficult…and how fun it was to have two babies so close together. We grew up much like twins, doing new things at the same time. I don’t think the “birth order thing” really applies to us so much, since we were so close in age and he a boy and me a girl. 

My parents would have loved to have more kids…but when I was three my mom developed a tumor in her uterus. She had surgery, then months of treatments. I don’t remember any of that time.  Grandmas and aunts and neighbors took turns helping to take care of us while Mom was weak and sick. She told me once that during that time, she wished so badly that she had the strength even to just fold a load of laundry. I try to remember that wisdom when I feel whiny about all the laundry I have to fold.

Mom made a full recovery and the cancer never came back. Mom and Dad would celebrate her birthdays heartily, having learned the hard way that life is precious.

When I started school, I had a very hard time…probably because of some insecurities I developed when my mom was sick and I was passed around a lot. My mom always felt bad about that. I cried a lot at school and had tummy aches. I finally “came out of my shell” a little in the seventh grade. (I never knew I was in a shell before that…but that’s what my volleyball coach told my mom. What am I, a turtle?)

Here are some exciting memories you’d probably love to hear about my school years:

• In first grade we put a note and our school address inside a balloon and sent them off from the playground. Months later the school received a letter from some guy in California. My balloon had made it all the way from KS to CA and lived to tell about it. I was a six year old celebrity. (I mean, they put an article in the Pratt Tribune and everything.)
• Ooh, another first grade balloon memory… For our class Christmas  party, one of the moms had us play a game where you had to sit on a balloon and pop it. I gave it all I had, but I could NOT pop my balloon (I was so stinkin’ scrawny). Kristina’s mom finally came and pushed down on me real hard to get my balloon to pop. It still didn’t pop. All the moms laughed and I thought they were laughing at me. (sniff)
• In the fifth grade, we did a musical called, K.I.D.S. Radio. My friend had to do a solo called, “Figaro”…about a dog and she had to sing, “Bow Wow, Bow Wow” several times. I was SO glad I didn’t have to sing the Figaro song.
• I hated P.E. Always.
• I cussed twice in the fifth grade. I called Wesley a “Jack—“. I said it to impress Joey. I’m pretty sure he was impressed. That summer, I cried and confessed to my mother my potty mouth. I never cussed again.
• I started to play sports in the seventh grade. I played volleyball and basketball and ran track. I was never very good, but I tried hard. (Kevin got all the athletic genes.)  When we lifted weights in high school, I was always the one who “benched” the least amount of weight. It was that scrawny thing coming back to haunt me.
• My junior year, I tore a ligament in my knee while playing volleyball, which pretty much killed my sporting career, even though I didn’t really have a sporting career to begin with. For a few months, I had to wear a thing on my left leg that was half cast – half brace. The only kind of pants I could wear were sweat pants. I bought a pair of sweats in every color and even wore them when I sang in choir concerts. Lovely. My left leg is still slightly smaller than my right leg (muscle wise). Lovely.
• I played the flute.
• I had 17 kids in my graduation class. Impressive number isn’t it?

Well, we’ll stop there for now. Did you hate P.E. or love it? Did you play an instrument? Could YOU get a balloon to pop with your bottom in the first grade? (sniff)

As if you don’t already know too many things about me….I thought I take my Christmas break to tell you everything about my life and more (or less). Then, you can decide if you still want to read my blog or not. (Oh, please come back.)

Really, I just figured that it would be good for you to know more about the whole me. About what has shaped me into the person I am today…then you can read and watch as I continue to be molded by God. It’s hard to look back on your life sometimes and see who you used to be. But really, isn’t that the point of growing and being molded? 

We can’t start out the way we will end up. (Wow, Laura. Profound.)

I really will try not to bore you with too many details. Like what color of shirt I was wearing when Matt and I went on our first date (red and white striped, button up, by the way) or what my favorite cereal was in Kindergarten (Cheerios). And I’ll try to refrain from telling you about all the thousands of ways my brother tortured me growing up. That’s another book in and of itself.  I guess that’s what helped me grow into who I am today too, huh? (Although I don’t see how him pouring water into my ear while I tried to sleep really helped me grow into a better person, do you?)  (Perhaps I have some bitterness issues?)  (Ah, Kevin…you know I love you.)  (Like Kevin actually reads my blog?)  (Yeah, well his wife does…so I’d better be careful.)  (Hey, Michele! What’s up? Great guy you married, that Kevin.)

I find it hard to pick and choose what information you really should learn about me. Like…do I really want you to know what my high school nickname was? It’s horrible. And…I’ve shared some pretty dorky things I’ve done in the past…do I really want you to know more? 

And, some things are painful to write. What deep places within my heart do I need to draw from to share with you? 

I think I’ll just start writing and let God lead me. My prayer is that what I write will be beneficial to you and encourage you. I hope to make you laugh. But it isn’t all funny. I may have to skip some of those parts.

Thank you for being my audience.