The Unlovables

I've worked hard this year on a novel manuscript about some homeless people. I wanted to humanize them, to make people see them as ordinary people in unfortunate circumstances. But the truth is, there are some people-- not just the homeless-- who are completely unlovable.

Saddam Hussein was hanged last night for killing 148 people in Dujail. His trial for killing 100,000 more has been suspended.

Maybe it's because Hussein's cruelty, his arrest and trial have taken so long that I've been more deeply affected this morning by the story of another unlovable.

If you are squeamish, please don't read on.

A woman in Togo has been arrested and imprisoned for killing, cooking and eating her own baby. The horror of it sends jolts of repulsion through my limbs. It's a crime beyond my comprehension.

And yet it's the next part of the story that shocks me more.

Hammer, a man who has always reached out to the unlovable, is doing it once again. "She'll die if she stays in prison," he says. "I've arranged to take her to a mental hospital to get her help." Some one in the States has already promised the money it will take to get her installed with clothing, soaps and other necessities at the hospital.

Hammer and his family live on a higher level than I do. The unlovables, to them, are the ones who need love most. They give up their own bedrooms so the homeless will have a place to sleep. They take in children who have epilepsy, teens who have been kicked out of the house. When one of the Christians in their church was accused of murder, Dela not only provided meals at the prison, she also slept on the floor of the cell at night so the accused woman would not be frightened.

In a recent discussion, I was asked who was an inspiration to me. I said it was Dela. I'd like to add Hammer to that list. Their love for people calls me to a higher standard.

New Hat

The beginning of a new year seems like a fitting time to take on a new endeavor. I'm excited about the possibilities in 2007, especially my new role as magazine editor. I'm a bottom of the totem pole editor, but with the best position I can imagine.

My job will be to read as much fiction as I can, pick out the best novels, and write about why I like them. Those of you who know that I used to sleep with books instead of dolls will understand how much this means to me.

If you've read any FANTASTIC fiction, especially something that might have an impact on modern Christians, let me know. And watch for the new fiction review section at www.wineskins.org beginning in March.

So, with only a few more days left in 2006, I hope you're enjoying the hats you wear as much as I'm enjoying mine.

Jesse's Branch

Christmas in the 1970's was, to me, an example of how American Christians can draw lines between their walk of faith and their rational side. We very neatly drew a line between secular Christmas with its trees and stockings and gifts, and religious Christmas which was the sad result of misinterpretation of scriptures. I wonder now if the message we were meant to receive really was, "We don't know what day Jesus was born, but we know for sure it was NOT December 25." But that's the message I heard at church.

I see a lot of people in our fellowship embracing the religious side of Christmas now. We celebrate the birth of Jesus regardless of his actual birthday. We relish the opportunity to talk about God's arrival on earth. We relax in the knowledge that during this one season of the year, it's not totally taboo to talk about our savior. At least not yet.

In an effort to integrate secular and spiritual aspects of Christmas, we have adopted a new tradition in our family-- the Jesse Tree. Each day from Thanksgiving to Christmas, one of the children places an ornament on a small tree as I read a scripture and tell a story.

From the moment God and his son spoke the world into existence, they were preparing the mankind for Jesus' arrival. Each day we follow the story from the fall of man, to God's promises to Abraham, Judah and Jesse, to the prophets' predictions. Each day we draw a little closer to the time of his coming and each day I am reminded of how perfectly he works his plans.

Even now he's working his plans, preparing things for when he will come again.

So Quickly Forgotten

It was cold last week... Icy windows, numb fingers, chapped lips kind of cold. But every time I wanted to complain, I thought about the three men lost up on Mount Hood.

I didn't see the mountain every day, especially because of winter storms that shrouded it from view, but the rescue effort was never far from my mind, never out of my prayers for more than a few minutes.

Maybe it was because of the death of James Kim in the Oregon wilderness only weeks ago that the story of Kelly James, Brian Hall, and Jerry Cooke captivated us so much. Or maybe the face and voice of Kelly James' brother giving information to the press lent reality to news that is usually fraught with fluff.

The families of the three climbers spoke with assurance even in the midst of their uncertainty. They didn't turn to prayer only in desperation. They were people of prayer before tragedy ever struck. And they will remain people of prayer though their husbands and brothers were not found alive.

It's been two days since the rescue effort changed to a recovery effort. Instead of 45 minute breaking news press conferences, the story of these climbers now only warrants a fifteen second blip after we've seen interviews of the people stranded at the airport, a cute piece on a plastic baby Jesus that was kidnapped and returned, and another inane report by a journalist standing in the middle of the road warning us that the rain she's standing in has no chance of turning to snow, but if it did, think about the news story we'd have then.

And the families mourn.

Half a Lifetime

Whenever anyone asks how long we've been married, I joke, "Forever."

Well, I think we're officially on the way there.

I hit a milestone today.

I've been married half my life.

A lot can happen in half a lifetime...10 houses, 3 children, 7 cars, 6 dogs.

We've gone to bed angry a few times, though I think it's been years since I slept on the couch. We still have our misunderstandings from time to time, but not as often as before. And I'm still thrilled to see him come through the door after work.

Half a life and counting.

It's a great journey.

In the Living Room

Life plays out in the living rooms of America. In ours right now, six children are building card houses and knocking them down with rubber bands. In a friend's this morning, the children shared games of Battleship and dinosaurs while I sipped tea with my friend. We do our reading in the living room, we pet the dog, we dump our coats on our way in the door and put on our shoes on the way out.

Some living rooms, though, are quiet and lonely. We took the opportunity to take part in a lost piece of our culture - visitation. The kids and I, along with another family carried cookies and Christmas cheer to several houses that don't have much cheer. Strokes, age, sickness and cancer keep so many home, cocooned away in their own little worlds where the rest of us don't have to think about them.

It was good for the children to greet and sing and good for us moms to remember that not everyone has the blessing of constant chatter in the house.

Catherine, Bill, Barb and others have given me so much over the years. A smile, a song and a kiss on the cheek are such a small return, but they rewarded me again with the twinkle in their eyes.

God bless those who can't get out like they used to. May he touch their lives with loved ones and children who will grace their living rooms with joy.

2006 in Review

2006 has been, incredibly, a year of stability for us. We’ve lived in the same house all year, Edwin has had the same job, and we’ve settled into a schedule that works for us.

As a family, we’ve been part of a home study group that has blessed us. We attend Vancouver Church of Christ most of the time, but we also like to help out at Renovatus, a new church plant, when we can. We’ve been attending a TaeKwondo class and Edwin, Patty, Jessica and Bethany all earned yellow belts this year. It has been fun living close to Patty’s parents and enjoying their company and their love for the children (not to mention free babysitters!) And we got a dog, a basset hound named Missy, who just loves to be loved.

Edwin works as a superintendent. The construction business has really taken off and Edwin is currently running 8 projects while his boss is out of the country. He also does side jobs on weekends and some evenings. Edwin took a week this spring to help with reconstruction in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina. He also built a shed and is working to clear out the garage so he can do some personal projects. He is currently in the selection process to be a deacon at Vancouver Church of Christ. If you want a somewhat twisted view of what Edwin’s up to, follow his blog at http://entropyinthegarage.blogspot.com.

Patty still home schools the kids. She taught French, Poetry and assisted in a Sign Language class at Friday School, our home school co-op. She enjoyed tending a garden this summer that produced actual food. She completed another novel manuscript, but has not yet found a publisher interested in her work. Patty attended 3 writers’ conferences this year, including one that lasted 4 days. She led education time in the writers’ critique group she and her mom started last year. She helped develop a web site for the Vancouver church (vanchurch.org) and tried to keep up with writing this blog at least 3 times a week. Patty also found a wonderful prayer group that has blessed her beyond measure.

Jessica has shot up this year and hopes to be taller than Patty by the end of next year. She still loves doing little girl things like playing with her horses and leading pack of wild lions and wolves (comprised of other kids from church). Jessica started with a new harp teacher in January and loves to show off her musical ability. She took classes in flag twirling, shorthand and drama this fall.

Bethany has also grown and matured this year. She started piano lessons and loves to sing with her sisters and with the radio. She’s totally into space exploration and took some classes on astronomy and the history of space exploration. She also loves to play and would spend every day with friends if she could.

Tabitha is working hard to educate herself. She practices her letters and counting every day and has recently decided she’d like to learn to play violin, so she practices with Patty from time to time. She loves all things frilly and girly, wears a dress every day, and is particularly fond of her curly hair which makes her different from the rest of us.

I couldn't resist

You know I can't resist a chance to answer questions and to ask them of you. AND, when this activity includes a new vocabulary word, I'm SOLD!

So, when Cheryl Cash posted this meme (pronounced meem), I had to look up the word and then respond.

1. Egg nog or hot chocolate?
Anything but egg nog. Mom's hot chocolate is the best.

2. Does Santa wrap presents or just set them under the tree?
Sets them under the tree. When I was a kid, he set the big one under the tree unwrapped and had smaller presents wrapped, but now he only brings one gift for each kid (and a stocking full of goodies for everyone).

3. Colored lights or white?
White. Colored lights bring back memories of the 1970's. One year we had a 3 foot tree with a rotating lighted base that made the whole room glow in technicolored glory. What could Mom have been thinking?

4. Do you hang mistletoe?
No, though I always think it would be a nice touch. Mistletoe brings back memories of climbing trees in northern CA to collect the bunches of fungus. I couldn't believe mistletoe was a real plant, not just a piece of beribboned plastic.

5. When do you decorate for Christmas?
About a week after Thanksgiving. If I pull out the stuff too early, I start feeling crowded way before the holiday is over. I love taking out my angel collection and arranging each one. And this year I did something I've wanted to do for years. I bought a pre-lit tree. Gone are the temptations to succumb to swearing at the wads of tangled lights!

6. What is your favorite holiday dish, excluding dessert?
Fondue... and Mom's cinnamon rolls, a Christmas morning must.

7. Favorite holiday memory as a child?
Not my favorite at the time, but we used to tape our Christmas for Grandma Alta. Audio cassette tape. It was brutal. each package had to be described in detail before, during and after opening, then photos were taken and the gift was described again before anyone could move on to the next gift. After that, the time Santa left ashy footprints from the fireplace to the tree.

8. When and how, did you learn the truth about Santa?
What are you talking about?

9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve?
The kids open one gift on Christmas Eve after BEGGING their dad to remember this tradition. Begging is part of the tradition, as is the father's apparent memory lapse that it's always been done this way.

10. How do you decorate your Christmas tree?
Every ornament has a meaning-- most are handmade by the kids. Others are mementoes of places we've been (a seashell for our 10th anniversary cruise, Togolese carvings, a few from my childhood). Lots of felt and foam shapes and handprints cut from cardstock, each more beautiful than the last.

11. Snow. Love it or hate it?
Love it. Except when it gets balled up on the end of your corduroys and drips down inside your boots.

12. Can you ice skate?
Last time I tried skating was at the Olympic ice rink in Albertville, France. At the time, I'm sure someone asked me to never do that again, though I think I could still make my way around the ice.

13. Do you remember your favorite gift?
It's a tie between the hamster and the violin (but since the $ for the violin came from my own bank account, I guess I'll have to go with the hamster).

14. What is the most important thing about the holidays to you?
Jesus. Family. Secrets. and Fun.

15. What is your favorite holiday dessert?
What isn't? I love them all.

16. What is your favorite holiday tradition?
Fondue on Christmas Eve. Hot chocolate. Stockings.

17. What tops your tree?
This year, a golden wire angel playing violin. I keep saying she's only temporary, but she's been up there for several years now.

18. Which do you prefer, giving or receiving?
Giving... no question. Though I love to get a thoughtful gift, too.

19. What is your favorite Christmas song?
We're all humming "I Want a Hippopatamus for Christmas" this year, though I doubt it will stand the test of time. Kind of like "the 12 Days After Christmas". I'll have to go with "Oh Come, Oh Come Emmanuel."

20. Candy canes. Yuck or yum?
Ho-Hum. I'll eat them, but there's no great pleasure there. There are plenty of other super delicious treats to have.

So there you go... a meme from me to you. Wanna send one back?

Thank God for the Essenes

They may have been religious fanatics. They may have lived in a dry, desolate land, perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking an inhospitable sea. But they produced one of the greatest treasures in the world and stored it, ironically, in jars of clay.

The Essenes, in their cloistered existence, were writers - scribes really - who painstakingly copied laws, histories, and scriptures. Thanks to their mission to preserve the written word of God and their care in secreting the writings away, we now have the Dead Sea Scrolls, a collection of 900 documents transcribed around the time of Christ.

Prophecies, laws, psalms, and histories, even a treasure map, are part of this collection. And now a tiny piece of the collection is on public display in Seattle. 10 manuscripts, 4 of them never seen by the public before, stand in hermetically sealed, dimly lit cases.

As I ran my fingertips over the plastic case and gazed at the fine, perfect handwriting of Psalm 119... as I leaned in for a closer look at the fragments of Genesis 1 and Hosea... I was struck by two things. One, the Dead Sea Scrolls are a treasure, a tangible proof of the accuracy of canonized scripture. And two, the Word of God has been written on my heart and the hearts of all his people. While it also is carried in jars of clay, it will never fade or fragment or deteriorate. It does not break down in light. Rather, it radiates light.
*photo from whyfiles.org

I Have...

I have a super husband who works hard and doesn't complain.
I have three beautiful daughters who are growing faster than I can believe.
I have a basset hound.
I have three library cards.
I have lived in 4 states and 3 countries.
I have touched the Atlantic, Pacific, Indian and Arctic Oceans.
I have worked as a preschool teacher.
I have been a speech therapist for migrant workers' children.
I have tutored online.
I have been a missionary.
I have ridden a camel.
I have swum with stingrays.
I have a wonderful prayer group.
I have many loyal friends.
I have visited 40 states.
I have traveled to 23 countries.
I have learned 3 languages other than English.
I have walked on a glacier.
I have hiked the Chilkoot trail.
I have written 2 novels (unpublished as yet).
I have a mother whose book has sold 500 copies so far.
I have about 30 kinds of tea in my cupboard.
I have a heart for missions.
I have friends all over the world.
I have waterskied in Alaska with no wetsuit.
I have been pregnant twice.
I have given birth to three children.
I have a budding harpist, a beginning pianist and an eager-to-be-a violinist at my house.
I have a very small garden.
I have had hot chocolate in an igloo.
I have met President Reagan.
I have given blood.
I have exercised my right to vote.
I have read a gob of books.
I have feet the same size as my 11-year old daughter.
I have a craving for dark chocolate.
I have a major sweet tooth.
I have plans to go book shopping in the morning.
I have made a mess of the office while trying to clean it.
I have a computer that thinks it lives in France.
I have walked through the tree tops in the Ghana jungle.
I have almost finished a Christmas stocking for my youngest just in time for her 5th Christmas.
I have several other unfinished projects to get to.
I have a huge stack of gingerbread cookies to frost.
I have been married almost 19 years.
I have a yellow belt in TaeKwonDo.
I have 2 terrific brothers and a loving set of parents.
I have only one more thing to think of after this.
I have tagged whoever is willing to play along.

Archimedes and Advent

Did you know that most of the most impressive accomplishments in Ancient Greece took place during a fifty year period known as the Golden Age of Athens?

The golden boys of Athens - Socrates, Plato, Aristotle and Alexander the Great - all lived and did their work during that time. Just after them came Archimedes, who did enough discovering on his own to put Einstein to shame. Pi, specific gravity, the archimedes screw for irrigation, a new model of the solar system, displacement and more were all ideas born from the mind of this brilliant man. Unfortunately, he tended to get so wrapped up in the problems he was working that he forgot the fundamentals of life like getting dressed, bathing, and eating. In fact, his death came as the result of his wandering absent-mindedly about the streets while the city was under attack.

The things Archimedes and his friends knew and discovered were long forgotten. And though we knew they were brilliant, we had no idea how brilliant until just this week.

According to CNN, a device recovered from an ancient Greek shipwreck back in 1901 has just been determined to be an incredibly intricate astronomical device, the first mechanical calculator we know of. It could add, subtract. multiply, divide, track eclipses and the route of the moon. Much of this amazing machine had to be based on the work and study Archimedes had done earlier in the same century.

For one man to be remembered for his accomplishments so long after he died speaks to the importance of his work. I wonder how many people know about Archimedes and his discoveries compared to how many know about another man who lived not long after?

Archimedes explained small parts of the world and he is remembered as a great mind. But Jesus Christ changed the world forever.

Hunkering Down

Compared to the snow that's being dumped up in Juneau, it's silly to complain about a little freezing rain. But, hey, most people in Washington are LOUSY at driving in snow and ice. So tomorrow morning when it's icy outside, I plan to be inside with my family and a cup of hot cocoa (like Mom used to make) and a good book. And I'll stay home until the ice melts away, unless, of course, the power goes out, in which case I'll venture out to sip the hot cocoa by the woodstove with Mom.

One Nostril At a Time

You learn the funniest things on late night TV. Last night I learned that Cameron Diaz can only breathe through one nostril, the left one. I lay awake thinking about that as my own nose was completely plugged. Did you ever notice that even when both are working, most people only breathe through one nostril at a time?

I used to be a multi-tasker, up to my eyebrows in fourteen different projects. Now, though, I've lost that ability. I have to concentrate on one thing at a time. If I try to do too much at once, nothing is done well.

I'm feeling that pressure to do a bunch of different things right now. I just got back to town an hour ago and my calendar has already filled every night for the next week. So I'm back. That doesn't mean I have to do every thing that comes my way.

I need to take it slow.

I need to breathe through one nostril at a time.

Shared Experience

It was strange moving back to America after being away. Americans have a national identity, a common experience bank, that revolves around the TV schedule.

Did you see the news?

Can you believe what's happening on Survivor?

How 'bout them Mets?

It reminds me of the main character on the movie Scrooged. (Now just because I mention it doesn't mean I recommend it). He kept talking about his Christmas memories. In one memory, he pictured himself running through a field of wheat, then the big snow set in and it was only because Mr. Edwards forded the swollen creek that he and his sisters got a tin cup and a penny in their stockings. In another memory, he was hurt, but the dog ran to get help. All his happiest memories were not his at all, but television moments that he took as his own. Think Little House on the Prairie and Lassie.

What memories will you make tomorrow? Will they center around the big game (Denver vs. Kansas City will be on the set here) and the Thanksgiving Day Parade, or will you make your own happy times?

I sit at my mother-in-law's kitchen island breathing in scents of stuffing and rising bread and I'm thankful for the chance for my kids to make new memories with their cousins.

May many happy memories and many blessings deserving of thanks be yours.

Walking Together

Hot air tanks breathed fire with hissing breath into the belly of a great balloon overhead. Other floating behomeths descended on the city in the warming morning air, their fatness rounding out the ever-changing Albuquerque skyline.

It's been 20 years since my first visit to this beautiful city. We chased a balloon then, Edwin and I, thrilling in new experiences and young love. I didn't like the Southwest on that first visit. It was too dry, too brown, too foreign. The family was so loud and there were so MANY of them. Some things take time to grow on you, though.

Now the family is even bigger since we and Edwin's siblings have added 13 little ones to the mix. They come with their quirks and personalities and I love them all. The city has grown on me, too. I love the sight of chilis hanging from every porch, the scent of sagebrush, horses, and dust, the taste of beans and chilis and fresh tea.

We walked beneath the balloons this morning, a brisk morning stroll, slower than 20 years ago, but quicker than 20 years hence. I'm glad I've gotten to know this place, these people. I'm happy that it's still Edwin by my side.

Semantics, Schemantics

Today, according to the U.S. government, there are no longer any hungry people in America. Great news, huh?

Great except the only thing we did to eradicate hunger was to change the terminology.

Now instead of being "hungry", people are considered to have "very low food security."

As if that helped the 35 million people affected feel any better. They still don't know where their next meal is coming from. They still forgo dinner so their children can eat.

I'm sorry, but does the department of Agriculture think we're stupid? No one, least of all the people with "low food security", is fooled by the optimism of this new phrasology. Give it to us straight and let us face challenges head on. For when you solve a problem merely by changing the words, you insult us and the people you're trying to help.

Officialdom

Those of you who follow this blog know that Mom's book has been a focus around here lately. First cover design and editing, then sending it off to the printer's, and now, dun-da-dun!-- her first book signing! Leave it to our family to have a signing at Dairy Queen, but it worked out perfectly-- books for the moms and ice cream for the kids.

Congratulations, Mom!

Contact me if you want to get a copy of JESSIE.

It's Not News

Oregon just reelected its encumbant governor, Ted Kulongoski. The day after the campaign, he actually said the samrtest thing I've heard from any politician in a long time.

As you may know, we in the Northwest have had a very wet week. Rivers have flooded, roads washed out, houses have tumbled into streams and oceans. The governor declared a state of emergency. But first, he said something like this:

"This is Oregon. It rains in Oregon. It has rained in Oregon for as long as I remember. The Wilson River has overflowed its banks in heavy rain for as long as I can remember. The media has taken this yearly occurance and blown it up into a television event.

"Rain in Oregon is not news."

There you go, folks. Rain in Oregon is not news. It's supposed to rain in Oregon. Aren't you glad there's a man out there to keep this straight for us?

Deluge!

Rainy season-- not a term I normally connect to the Northwest, but this year, the rains have hit with a vengeance. I believe we've had 6 inches of rain in the past two days. Other parts of the state have had over 2 FEET since Thursday. Flooded streets, damp socks and carpets usher in the wet.

Every time I read a children's story about Noah's Ark, I wonder at the pictures of water serenely rising to cover rooftops, trees and mountains. Never mind the animals and people who went to their watery graves, Noah's story tends to emphasize the way God saved the cute critters and ignores how he wiped most of humankind off the earth.

I imagine it was horrific dying in the flood. The tsunami of southest Asia comes to mind. Pictures on TV show cars flooded, abandoned and swept away by water that rushes desparately toward the ocean. Pictures that, then multiply by a thousand, or a million.

Mercy and Judgment.

Truth and Grace.

Judge and Defense.

All come together in the story of the flood, a story of destruction and redemption. On days like this, I'm thankful that God won't destroy the world by flood again. And I keep my eyes open for a rainbow and the hope of God's promises.

He Hears

I find it easy to get so caught up in the needs and wants and requests of the moment that I sometimes forget to go back and say thank you for the prayers God has already answered. There have been a lot this week.

Mom had 2 things worrying her today and noth of those worries have been wiped away.

A friend was having trouble with her knee and wasn't sure if she'd be able to get around on a planned trip to Europe. She not only got in to see a doctor, but he "happened" to have an opening for surgery right away. She came through safe and sound with time to heal before the voyage.

Another friend lost a filling while in Africa. We prayed for her trip to the dentist, that she would be safe, that the instruments would be sanitary. She found a dentist with a clean office, but when he looked at her teeth, he said there was nothing wrong at all.

Another friend (isn't it nice to have so many friends!) let God overcome her terror at singing in front of a crowd. I can't wait to hear her solo tonight.

Still ANOTHER friend took the kids last night and let Edwin and I have a much-needed date night.

We've known that we'd need to purchase a new car for a while, but we didn't have enough money set aside to get anything reliable. Just as the old car was sputtering to a stop, God provided enough money for us to buy a van, and we were able to find one that was priced well below value because of cosmetic damage.

Those are just a few of the prayers being answered around here. Any requests being fulfilled where you are?

From Mayberry to Metropolis

Lest we think technology moves swiftly in the West, let me tell you about Tabligbo, Togo, a little town that has gone from Mayberry to Metropolis in twelve short years.

When we moved to Tabligbo in 1994, we put in requests for phone service. It took weeks for our requests to be filled. Finally, one of our teammates heard he would be getting his telephone turned on.

"How do you know?" he asked the bearer of the news.

"I saw the men coming down the road with your wire."

Sure enough, each house had to have a wire run from the Post Office (where the phone company was housed), which meant two men (one to work and one to supervise) had to roll the wire down the road and string it pole to pole.

We were the last family to get phone service, being the furthest stretch from the Post Office. In fact, the phone company had to use our truck to get the job done.

But, at last, we had a telephone... of sorts... and we could call anyone we wanted... sort of.

In order to place a call, we dialed the Telephone Operator who sat in a little closet in the back of the Post Office. "I'd like to call this number," we'd say, then hang up. A few minutes later, if we were lucky, the operator would call back to connect us to our party. We learned to place calls when Maglow was working since he actually tried to do his job. Some of the other operators tended to nap or take breaks or just get annoyed that we would have the audacity to actually want to call someone.

We waited impatiently for direct dial. In the meantime, we experiemented with doing email through a Callback computer in the States, through Compuserve in Ivory Coast, and through any other number of methods that all had their disadvantages (especially the $300 phone bills).

Fast forward a few years past direct dial telephones and the trunk line that was finally installed to allow internet in country, past the cell phone service out of Benin and then in Togo, to this week.

We just got word that Tabligbo, Togo has gone wireless! With a little boost from an antenna, our teammates there can have unlimited internet access 24/7... provided they can get electricity.

But that's another story.

One of the crowd

HowManyOfMe.com

There are: 63 people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

Family Reunion

1600 people gathered in one room singing praises to God.

Not so incredible in other parts of the country. At Harding, there were more than that in chapel each day (though how many were actually singing is up for debate). At College Church and Richland Hills and many others in the Bible belt, that would be low attendance. But for us in the Northwest, 1600 is incredible.

Welcome to TLC Sunday. Once a year, most of the Churches of Christ in the area meet together at the convention center for a family reunion of sorts. Today's was fantastic.

From the singing to the lesson to the fellowship to the singing (did I mention the singing?), it's good to gather with family. I especially appreciated Randy Harris' interpretation of the story of the prodigal son-- that the story was told to those in the religious world as a rebuke for their disdain toward sinners. Fast forward to today and we have the same problem. It's a message I've heard a hundred times, but still fail to carry out. I so love hanging out with my sisters who are nice and clean and pretty well mannered that I don't carve out time to eat with sinners.

The family reunion was made a little sweeter by the fact that my parents were there, just back from a long trip.

One Down...

There are a thousand things keeping me from writing right now...

• shopping for insurance
• building the church website
• car shopping
• teaching French
• teaching violin
• homeschool studies and activities
• Singing and signing for concert
• time with friends
• TaeKwonDo
• laundry
• dishes
• and all the rest.

So many good things to do. So little time in a day.
Tonight, I get to cross off one thing. Maybe that will make some time for writing.
One thing down.
I bet you can guess which one.

LAUNCH!

With all the preparation of getting a shuttle into space, the excitement of smashing a bottle of champagne against the bow of a ship, the fanfare of revealing a new ad campaign...

I am pleased to announce...

the totally reworked, reworded, and reinvented website of the Vancouver Church of Christ...

...has LAUNCHED!

Thanks to Judy Sword, Lori Davis, Brian Snyder, Jurgen Achterbosch, and Bonnie Miller for helping get it all together.

Check it out!

http://www.vanchurch.org/

(feedback welcome)

Never Again

Never Again, we swore when we walked off the car lot over five years ago. Never again will we buy from a dealer. Never again will we let ourselves get desperate for a car.

Well, guess what?

Entropy happens.

And we need a new car.

Yesterday.

We know what we need. We know what we want. We know how much money we have and somehow those three factors don't jive.

I've spent approximately 4,793 hours this week looking at cars on the Internet, but haven't found the right one yet. Not even at a dealer.

Ugh.

One in a Hundred Million

Today, the population of the United States hit 300 million. 39 years ago, in 1967, it hit 200 million... and Edwin was born.

In 39 years, what has changed in America?

Our life expectancy and standard of living are up... our morality is down.(or is it just that we're less tolerant of hypocrisy?)

Our Hispanic population is up... I know I'm thankful for at least one guy with Spanish blood.

We've gone from LPs to 8-tracks to cassettes to CDs to mp3s; from board games to Atari to XBox 360.

We've seen the invention of the computer, the Internet, and grape jelly in a squeeze bottle.

Houses are bigger, yards are smaller and we own a LOT more cars.

We stopped using party lines and Ma Bell-provided black rotary dial phones and went cordless, then wireless.

We sent men to the moon, a probe to the sun and a camera beyond the limits of our solar system.

We became the only remaining superpower in the world and we felt the responsibility that brings. But we also lost some humility along the way.

We stopped being the most Christian nation on earth and we felt the burn of persecution, not so much from foreigners, but from within our own ranks.

An important milestone, reaching 300 million. Coincidentally, Edwin's little truck is turning over a new milestone today, too. He thinks it's 200 thousand, but I say it's got to be 300. (believe me, if you saw it, you'd agree with me)

And Edwin's turning 39.

He's one in a 100 million to me.

Book Review: Bad Idea a novel (with coyotes)

It's been a long time - years, even - since I've read a book good enough to consume an entire Sunday afternoon. I changed into pyjamas at 2 o'clock, brewed a pot of tea and enjoyed a good, long read.

In Bad Idea, the Hafer brothers combined the angst of the teen years with enough humor to pull the reader through a difficult story. The main character and narrator, Griffin, reminded me of Holden Caulfield in Catcher in the Rye in his sarcasm and intelligence. Unlike Holden, though, Griffin sees the good in people of true faith and he despairs of ever reaching their level of goodness. He logics his way to self-mutilation as a means to salvation or something near it.

The book is set on a road trip Griffin is taking with his dad and his dad's cliché, I mean, fiancé. But most of the story doesn't happen there. In a masterful use of flashbacks and inner thoughts, the Hafer brothers tell us all about Griffin, from the smart Christian teen he appears to be to the tormented, lost child of divorce that is his reality.

Bad Idea steps outside the bounds of a novel you would expect from a Christian book publisher, but not in a bad way. It's smart and it doesn't skirt the fact that Christians face real temptations and succumb to real sins that destroy themselves and those around them. If you read Christian fiction to escape the problems of real life, you may not enjoy this book. But if you'd like a ride inside the head of a teenager whose security has been jerked away from him, this is one the best books I've read in a long time.

Don't even ask about the coyotes. You'll just have to read it for yourself.

Missing Out

This weekend is the World Missions Workshop in Lubbock, TX. I've never attended one in Lubbock, but I've been to similar workshops in Abilene, Searcy, Nashville, Henderson, and Malibu. And no matter where they take place, it's like a big family reunion.

College students, fresh blood, excited to get out there and change the world.

Missionaries with a little experience under their belts, eager to share newly gained wisdom.

Older missionaries, whether still on the field or not, trading war stories and seeking out new recruits.

Missions committee members, teachers, family and friends-- dreamers all. These are the people who not only imagine the world as a better place, but who march out to make it so. These are the people who stand up for what they believe and who change lives on every continent. These are the people who, whether in ignorance or in faith, set aside their own temporary comfort for the eternal comfort of souls. These are the people who hug their children good-bye at the airport, cheering and waving and hiding their tears until the plane takes off.

I love these people. They're my family.

lessons learned addendum

Another thing we learned at the electric company is to never approach an opened transformer box. Back away and call 9-1-1. Apparently a man in our county had never been on this field trip, though.

The front page of this morning's paper showed a picture of a transformer station, 2 EMTs and a stretcher carrying a covered body. A man broke into the station to steal copper wire and was electrocuted. He died.

Lesson learned.

lessons learned

Opposites attract.

All water flows to the ocean.

It takes more energy than my kids can generate to run a hair dryer.

Natural gas prices affect us, too.

It takes a lot of children to equal 1300 pounds.

These are all truths we learned on our field trip to the public utilities district.

Of course what my kids learned was, morning field trips are great 'cuz then you don't have to do math.

First Date

Does every couple have a bad first date story? We had dinner with some friends this week who told us about their first date-- his car broke down so he caught a ride to her house, but she thought they were meeting somewhere else. Her little brother insulted him, he had to ride the bus to get to where she was and, to top the evening off, he had to accept a ride home from a "guy friend" of hers and watch her ride off with the other guy at the end of the date.

For my first date with Edwin, he showed up at the door with Calla Lilies and Mom opened the door and asked, "Who died?" Then, as part of the date, we went to the mall and called his family from a pay phone.

The first thing my dad ever said to my mom (he denies it) was, "You're cute but your dress is too long."

Maybe there's something to facing awkwardness and foibles right up front. These 3 couples have been married 13, 18, and 42 years.

More on the Status Quo

A couple of days ago I explored the physical things I think I need. Turns out very few of them are actually needs. Most are attempts to keep up with the expectations of society, to find ease and safety. But if I flip my priorities the right way around, I find the truth in Jesus' words: it is difficult, if not impossible, for the rich to enter God's kingdom. If I ever want to fool myself into thinking I am not rich, I just have to open photo albums from Africa to remember what poverty looks like.

But what of the soul? What does my spirit crave? What do I need to thrive?

• Food - "I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty. " (John 6:35)
• Water - "Jesus answered, 'Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.'" (John 4:13-14)
• Clothing - "You are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ." (Galatians 3:26-27)
• Shelter - "Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wings." (Psalm 63:7)
• Health - "Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." (Isaiah 40:30-31)

Why, if God offers not only what we need, but abundantly, overflowingly more, do I still feel hungry? Why do I thirst yet not drink of what he offers? Why do I feel tired and weak?

I think I, and probably many others, have gone to the wrong source. I attend church on Sunday and expect to be fed. I drink from cultural books about the church and I still feel thirsty. I look for safety in the company of friends only to find that they are flawed and feeble, too.

When I started the first part of this the other day, I was going to conclude with, "the church needs to do this, be this, change this," to meet people's needs, but as I've let my thoughts spill out, I realize that my emphasis was misplaced. If I go to the source, the spring of living water, to fulfill my needs, I will be filled with the overflow of God's rich gifts-- and I'm not talking money here. If I'm overflowing, then I've got something to share.

The Status Quo

Is it possible to be content in all circumstances, yet dissatisfied with the status quo?

When the apostle Paul talked about being content in all circumstances, he spoke of his financial situation. He said he'd learned the secret of contendedness whether rich or poor (and, a little more pointedly, whether the Philippians sent him money or not, but thanks for finally sending some). But I don't see that he was content with the state of the church in so many places he visited. He hoped for something better for them-- for freedom from sin, for love toward each other, for growth in the spirit.

Doesn't it feel like we get that upside-down sometimes? I know I do. I find myself complaining about what I can't afford (right now it's the $2500 transmission job that our van desperately needs or another van to replace it), forgetting that there is really very little that I NEED.

• Food (Even rice and beans is all I need, I certainly enjoy a variety of tastes.)
• Water (At some point, clean running hot and cold water inside the house became a necessity in the West, but it's really not a need. It's a convenience.)
• Clothing (In so many places, people have only the clothes on their backs. I can't even keep up with the mounds of laundry we go through around here.)
• Shelter (A roof, some warmth is nice.)
• Health (I'm not sure where the idea came from that we should be able to live completely pain-free lives. I like the idea, but it's just not a reality for most people.)

I complain so often because I can't afford this or that, I can't sign the kids up for such-and-such an activity because it's too expensive, but I really have all the physical stuff I need, and more.

In my spiritual walk, though, I sometimes feel like I'm settling for less than what God offered. His grace is abundant, his peace is beyond comprehension, his joy bubbles up and overflows. But I sit back and pat my belly. "No thanks, I'm stuffed," I say, like I'm on some kind of starvation diet.

(to be continued)

no longer a beginner

You know how when you start something new, it's awkward and strange and you're sure you'll never catch on? Like long division or riding a bike or doing a cartwheel?

Or running through the basics of martial arts? When we started TaeKwonDo a few months ago, I had to twist my body in all sorts of directions I never imagined. In fact, the way I learned how to do certain moves was to imagine how I thought they should be done and do the opposite. My arms wanted to go every which wrong way.

But, just like teacher Tony said, practice brings understanding and skill. And today we were rewarded with a little recognition of that skill-- yellow belts.

So, I'm nowhere near an expert, but I'm learning. And I'm proud of my 54 sit-ups in 90 seconds, my 43 push-ups in the same amount of time (not the girly kind either), going through my forms and sparring with tough guys. Okay, they weren't really sparring back, so that might not count.

I'm happy to change from looking like a marshmallow, to a marshmallow with a yellow belt.

Be Among the First to Own...

And now, ladies and gentlemen, may I present...

MY MOM'S BOOK!

After 30 years of thinking and dreaming, 3 years of researching and writing, 3 months of wrestling with self-publishing, JESSIE: the story of a genteel lady in frontier Alaska is in print and available for purchase.

It has been an interesting journey so far, one that has paralleled my own in many ways, but now she pulls out in front of me in offering her novel to the world.

So, world-- how 'bout it?

The book is available at lulu.com. Once there, do a search for Betty Wyatt and you'll find JESSIE. The price to order from lulu is $14.99 plus shipping. Or, if you'd rather and you're localish, Mom is offering to pay the shipping for those who buy directly from her. And that way you can get it inscribed, too!

Phase Two

Voila! The second wall is painted! All it lacks it a little glow in the dark paint to bring the stars out at night. I'm going to try to pretend I didn't hear the third child ask for paint in her room, at least for a couple of weeks.

instead of counting sheep

I've never suffered from insomnia. Or rather, I don't let insomnia bother me. If I can't sleep, I use it as an opportunity to read or surf the net or pray. This week, though, I've woken in the middle of the night every night, unable to sleep, but unable to concentrate, too.

I want to submit a story about a beach memory to a compilation book, but I'm having trouble coming up with the right story. So this week, in the middle of each night, I've been taking an inventory of beaches I've visited to put me back to sleep.

Here are the ones I remember, from (kind of)East to West.

Mombasa, Kenya
Grand Popo, Benin
La Plage, Robinson, and Ramatou, Togo (and various points between Aneho and Lome)
Elmina Castle, Ghana
Coconut Grove, Ghana
Marseille and Nice, France
Tortolla, Virgin Islands
Marguerita Island, Venezuela
Rehobeth and Bethany Beach, Delaware
Palm Beach, Florida
Hermosa, Redondo, and Zuma Beach, California
Newport, OR
Canon Beach and Hug Point, OR
Ft. Stevens, OR
Long Beach, Ilwaco, and Gray's Harbor, WA
Kalalok, WA
Sand Point and Cape Alava, WA
Dungeness Spit and other beaches on the Straights of Juan de Fuca, WA
North Beach, Ft. Worden, Kala Point, Indian Island and other beaches on the Quimper Peninsula, WA
Auke Rec, Sandy Beach, and others in Juneau, AK
Dyea, Admiralty Island, Portland Island, Pelican and others in the Inside Passage, AK
Barrow, AK

I have many, many happy beach memories and very few bad ones. How about you?

pbththth!

I'm really bummed about switching over to blogger beta since it made me lose touch with everyone in Comment World. I cannot post or receive blogs from regular blogger. It turns out that becoming a beta-ite (betazoid?) made me lose my identity as a regular blogger.

The helpers said that eventually EVERYONE will be switched over to what is now the beta program. (You, too, will be assimilated). In the meantime, here is my solution:

1. I started a new blog in the original version of blogger so I can leave comments on your blogs. The address for the blog is http://inkconcerto.blogspot.com. I've been wanting to start a new blog anyway, to host my writings on writing. Don't feel obligated to follow that blog, but do feel free to drop by from time to time to see what's up in my writing life.

2. I'd love for you to leave comments on this blog. Until you are assimilated, though, I'll have to moderate your comments (don't be offended-- it's the only way I can get them to post). So sign in as "other" and leave your comments.

And now, back to your regularly scheduled blog.

John 15

I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so it will be even more fruitful... No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.

I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing... This is my Father's glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.

As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you... This is my command.

Love each other.

Jesus is the vine, the root, the life giver; God, the gardener.

I am but a branch. My only job is to stay stuck on the vine. Beyond that, it's all up to the plant and the planter. Even fruit bearing is ultimately not my job. If I'm attached to the life source and if the gardener has pruned me well, I'll produce good fruit. Just as the branch cannot will itself to produce fruit when it sees the gardener headed over with the lopping shears, so I cannot force fruit out of myself.

It is the product of living water flowing through my heart.

books, books, books!

Book tag-- now that's more like it! And at such a great time. The very first copy of Mom's book arrived yesterday. It's beautiful. I am so proud of her. For those of you who are waiting to buy your copy, we've got to comb through this one for errors first. I'd say within a week or two she'll be ordering her first batch to sell.

And now, on with the game!

BOOK THAT CHANGED MY LIFE (BESIDES THE BIBLE):
Jessie: the story of a genteel lady in frontier Alaska by Betty Wyatt
Healing Grace by David A. Seamonds
Financial Peace University by Dave Ramsey


BOOK I'VE READ MORE THAN ONCE
Letters from Togo by Susan Blake
Edge of Eternity by Randy Alcorn
Where There Is No Doctor
Mike Mulligan and the Steam Shovel (and a host of other picture books)


BOOK I WOULD TAKE WITH ME IF I WERE STUCK ON A DESERT ISLAND
Foxes Book of Martyrs
1,001 things you can do with palm leaves

BOOK THAT MADE ME LAUGH
Dave Barry's Only Travel Guide You Will Ever Need


BOOK THAT MADE ME CRY
God's Smuggler by Brother Andrew
Sayonara by James Michener
Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

A BOOK I WISH I HAD WRITTEN
The Great American Novel


A BOOK I WISH HAD NEVER BEEN WRITTEN
Mein Kampf by Adolf Hitler

BOOK I'VE BEEN MEANING TO READ
The Power of One by Bryce Courtenay
Hercule Poirot Quitte La Scene par Agatha Christie


BOOKS I'M CURRENTLY READING
Rebecca's Heart by Lisa Harris
The Taking by Dean Koontz
Detours by Bette Nordberg
How To Read the Bible for All Its Worth by Fee and Stuart

OTHER FAVORITES
Tisha
Mister God this is Anna
When Choice Becomes God
Anne of Green Gables
The Hiding Place

I TAG
Dad, Entropy, Sara, Lori, and Shelli. If you don't have a blog, post your list in my comment box. I want to add your favorites to my list of books I'm intending to read!

More Bad News for Pluto

Poor Pluto.
As if it wasn't bad enough to be stripped of his planethood.
Now he's been assigned a number, like a common criminal.
I can just see him clinking his tin cup on the bars and crying out for justice.
The warden glares at him. "#134340-- quiet down!"
The unjustly punished former planet hangs his head and mutters, "The name is Pluto."

**Don't worry. This is not an ongoing topic. It's just that the strength of my own reaction to Pluto's demotion surprised me. Maybe it's because I was always the shortest kid in my class. Maybe it's because my 5th grade teacher got a kick out of singing "Short People Got No Reason To Live" whenever I was around.

Flibber-o-loo

Big Idea's Veggie Tales has been picked up by a major network as a Saturday morning cartoon. NBC said they would buy new episodes in their original format, if Big Idea would remove the Bible verse segment at the end of each show.

Done.

Then, apparently, the executives at NBC actually watched an episode or two and found out that Veggie Tales is religious programming to the bones. They insisted that the whole show be changed. I've read a couple of blogs by outraged Christians insisting that this represents a double standard. The networks tell parents it is their responsibility to screen programs for language, violence and inappropriate content. But when programming has a Christian bent, NBC insists that it cannot condone such teaching.

God forbid we should teach about sharing, loving, and cooperating.

Veggie Tales will air on NBC in its adapted format. Phil Vischer, creator of Bob the Tomato and all his friends, had some interesting things to say about the changes and the way we witness in the world. One thing that struck me is that the same network that refuses to air the vegetables quoting Bible verses is planning to show Madonna in concert, hanging on a cross, mocking the crucifixion.

Is it just me, or is the world upside down?

"There's no such thing as luck!"

I've been promising the twins for most of their lives that we would go to the circus. For the past 3 years, I've assured them that this is the year! Of course, things came up and we haven't taken them to the circus yet, despite the fact that they've had Ringling Bros. tickets tucked away in their files for 11 years.

This is the year. I promised.

The problem with the tickets they have is that we had to go down to the box office to get assigned seats. I'd been putting it off and putting it off. I don't really do downtown driving by myself. But I didn't want to drag my husband down to the arena, so I decided to brave the traffic and the unknown parking situation and take the kids down myself.

104.1 the Fish, our local Christian radio station, announced they would be giving away circus tickets on Friday at noon. What better time to go since we had to go anyway? So we arrived exactly at noon and made our way through the maze of corridors, navigating past the tile layers and through the bowels of the building with the help of a construction foreman.

20 minutes late, I was sure the tickets would be gone. But when we reached the edge of a small crowd of people, they let us through to the front.

"Too many people showed up," the station representative said. "So we're having a drawing. We'll draw 3 winners every 10 minutes." I glanced at my watch. We could only stay for 2 drawings and then we'd have to go.

The 2nd name pulled from the box was Bethany's! She went forward and claimed her 4 tickets. A few minutes later, her sister was chosen to receive a free CD of her choice.

"Wow!" I said, "You guys are so lucky!"

"There's no such thing as luck," Bethany said. "It's a blessing!"

A blessing indeed. As are my children.

Moving Day

While I may not be the first on the block to own the latest gadget, I do like to mix things up a bit from time to time.

So today I moved my blog. It should still pull up in the same spot for you, but I'm trying out the beta version of blogger, tying it in with my email and Picasa accounts. I've been happy with Google's other beta programs, so I expect I'll like this one, too.

Tell me what you think of the changes.

Searching for Hidden Meaning

We like to look for hidden meanings, to search out the deeper nuances of scripture, even when they are not there.

I sat in a Bible class once where we read the story of Jesus feeding the 5,000. A woman near the front raised her hand to ask a question. "I notice it says here that the people sat on the green grass. Does this symbolize new life?"

I chuckled at the question, then sat in disbelief as the teacher and a couple of others proceeded to discuss the meaning of the word "green" for ten minutes. Couldn't it just mean the grass was green?

Last week I sat in another Bible class where we read through the story of Samson. When we reached the story of him killing a lion, a woman asked, "Is it symbolic that he killed a lion?" Someone else piped in to suggest that it referred to Jesus in Revelation as a lion. (I wanted to throw in that it could just as well refer to Satan as the roaming lion, but I refrained.)

Sometimes I think we look so hard for some hidden, secret meaning that we miss the point. Jesus was going to perform a miracle. The people had to sit somewhere. Isn't it better to sit on the grass than the dirt? But the point is that Jesus is Jehovah Jirah, the Lord who provides.

And Samson was strong. (Not to mention that the lion dying set up the story for Samson to defile his parents, anger the Philistines, and start dishing out God's wrath against them.)

So while it's interesting and often appropriate to search the scriptures for depth and truth, sometimes its might just mean what it says.

Order out of Chaos

Bits of ideas churn in my head, disconnected thoughts until I get them down on paper and form them into an outline.

Dozens of Post-it notes piled on a table seem like a mess until we start to arrange them into the plot of a story or the pages of a website.

Children run wild, the house is a mess. Books and papers litter the floor. But as we settle down to start a new school year, a schedule emerges, the dishes are done, the folded laundry stacks grow taller than the dirty clothes pile.

As much as I love vacation, I'm always ready for the normalcy the routine of the school year brings. I wonder if it's a function of being created in the image of the God who took a handful of chaos, mixed it up with a bunch of nothing and created the order of the universe.

Bread and Jam for Francis

Oatmeal.

Mushy, squishy oatmeal.

Slimey, gray, drippy oatmeal.

Tabitha loves it.

So much she wanted it for every meal for two and a half days. And in one of my finer moments as a mother, that's what she got.

Every meal.

Every snack.

Every dessert.

Just like Francis in Bread and Jam for Francis. And now, lo and behold, she'd ready to taste things like lasagna, pork and green beans.

And she still likes oatmeal.

Back to the Good Old Days

There was a book I loved about a nice old man who owned the corner ice cream shop. He would always weigh out nuts and candy for his customer and then add a few more in, just to be nice. He would always scoop a small scoop of ice cream inside the cone, then put a bigger scoop, with ruffly edges on top of the cone.

One day the old man got sick. His nephew, who knew all about new fangled business practices, came to take over. He would carefully weigh out nuts and candy, but would take a few away as he poured them in a bag. He would scoop a small scoop of ice cream inside the cone, then hand it to the waiting customer without adding the bigger scoop with the ruffly edges.

Business at the shop got worse and the young man couldn't understand it until his uncle explained about taking care of the customer. The nephew changed his business practices and sales picked up.

Unfortunately, business in America has not followed this trend. I'm so tired of going into the big box stores who never have what I'm looking for. I went to two huge national chain stores this week looking for help changing the tint of some paint I have. I didn't even find anyone who would try to help me.

So, I headed to the neighborhood hardware store, where I met Rob. As if he didn't have anything better to do, he listened to my question. He then took the time to match the color of paint I already have, then look up how to change it to the shade I want. He probably spent half an hour mixing pigments and testing to see if he'd reached the right shade. He even pulled out a hair dryer to dry the sample and show us what color it was.

Total cost: $1

Discovering a bit of small town America in the middle of strip-mall-land: Priceless

tanagrams

You know those puzzles where all the pieces fit together until you dump them out on the table and try to put them back in again?

That's what just happened to my living room.

3 lamps.

3 chairs.

A futon.

A piano.

A dog bed.

2 violins.

A harp.

And two trunks. All fit perfectly in place until I decided it was time to rearrange the furniture.

I needed help moving the piano, so once it was in its new spot and my husband left for work, I was stuck with that decision. Picture the tanagram with one piece glued down, whether it's in the right place or not. Now picture having to move the remaining pieces around it without going outside the lines.

Twenty tries later, I finally solved the puzzle. (Is it considered solved if you throw two pieces out in the process?)

"We stopped counting at 3000..."

Aleda Mae Hubbell
1918-2006

The funeral chapel was full yesterday as young and old paid their respects to Aleda Mae. Though she was housebound for the last 15 years of her life, she never lost touch with all of us.

Aleda Mae was probably best know for her crocheted kitchen towels. When Gene asked for a show of hands of how many mourners had received towels from Aleda Mae, every hand in the chapel went up. Her towels went out, with her prayers and love, all over North America, and into Africa, China, and Eastern Europe. The family stopped counting how many she made when she reached 3000.

I know for a fact that several dozen grace the prized kitchen collections of many Togolese women.

I loved Aleda Mae. She had a touch of mischief in her to let us all know she was human, otherwise we would have knighted her "angel" years ago. Birthday and anniversary cards, crocheted baby blankets, home-cooked meals around her table, and-- of course-- piles of kitchen towels, poured from her generous hands to me.

I hope to learn from her how not to die until I'm dead or, in other words, how to live and keep on living until I live forever.

I'll miss you Aleda Mae. Could you make some kitchen towels for me to go in my mansion over the hilltop? I think I'd like them in azure blue.

Market Day, le Jour du Marché, Asigbe

Around the world, in villages and cities, on every continent, people congregate at outdoor markets to sample, socialize, and stock up. Each market has its own flavor, its own specialty. Each offers a symphony of sounds, tastes and smells that combine into a colorful composition. Wherever you are, you can reconnect with the land and the people by spending a morning at the market.




Albertville, France
Honey made only from raspberry blossoms, cheese from cows who dine only on alpine clover in the Savoie region, old men in berets who carry on the traditions of many generations.

Tabligbo, Togo
Dried fish wrapped in cardboard, colorful fabrics, juicy fresh pineapple, voodoo dolls, pedal-powered machete sharpeners, shouts and echoes of "Yovo!"

Kampala, Uganda
Tourist trinkets-- carved animals, baskets, soapstone carvings.

Caracas, Venezuela
China town. A blend of Spanish and Chinese, but no English. Long green gourds, fresh fish slapped out on tables, chopsticks by the hundreds.

Seattle, Washington
Incense, flying fish, a wall covered with ABC gum. Face painters, antique books, market spice tea.

Albuquerque, New Mexico
Propane fires roaring across rotating wire drums filled with fresh green chilis, blackened chili skins flake to the ground leaving soft, smokey flavor-packed pods.

Nairobi, Kenya
Ramshackle kiosks, pineapple and bananas, chocolate Milo, tomato can lamps, vervet monkeys begging for scraps.

Bucharest, Romania
Pan flutes, tomatoes, porcelain tea pots. Red and white table runners, flies on butchered beef.

Maragarita Island
Rainbow painted parrots, woven grass hats, absent vendors, pouring rain.

Portland, Oregon
Headgear formed from kitchen utensils, soup stands to feed the homeless, elephant ears and pad thai, hand-turned pottery, buskers and bridges.

At an intergalactic bar in the Delta Quadrant

Bartender: Wow, you look like you've had a rough day. Can I get you something to drink?

Sphere: A rough week, actually. I'll have a Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster. Make it a double.

Bartender (mixing the drink): What happened, man?

Sphere: I got demoted. You'd think 76 years on the job would give me seniority, but NO!

Bartender: You can always get another gig, can't you?

Sphere: You don't even recognize me, do you? (Sphere starts to cry)

Bartender (hands over a cocktail napkin. Sphere wipes his face on it): Um, I know I've seen you before, but I can't place your name.

Sphere: It's PLUTO! Pluto. I used to be a planet, but now... now I'm just a dwarf.

Bartender: That stinks. Well, look at the bright side-- at least now you can be king of the dwarves!

Pluto (bursting into tears): Oh, the humility of it all! No, I can't even be king of the dwarves. Turns out they gave that position to 2003 UB313-- Xena. Whaa-a-a! If they melted off all her ice, she'd be way smaller than me.

Bartender (patting Pluto's shoulder): There, there. That's the same argument Texas has used for years, but Alaska is still the biggest state. I'm afraid you'll just have to get used to your new position.

Pluto: Solar system restructuring stinks. Get me another drink.

Abiding Darkness: Author Interview and Book Review

Abiding Darkness: The Black or White Chronicles, Book One

A Book Review

Summers were most reliable.

They always followed spring. They always got hot. And they always promised twelve weeks of pleasure to the three children at Cat Lake.

The summer of '45 lied.

This promising beginning to Abiding Darkness by John Aubrey Anderson hooked me into reading more. Another hook at the end of the first chapter propelled me into the second. But a few well-turned teasers were not enough to hold my interest.

Life in Mississippi in the 1940's was frought with racial tension. Anderson explores this struggle through the life-like voices of his characters. Add on top of that a group of demons intent on bringing about chaos through the destruction of Missy, the golden child of the town, and you've got a story with a lot of potential.

Unfortunately, I didn't see Anderson carry through on that potential. He didn't make me love Missy the way the people of Cat Lake did, so while I could never root for the demons, I also didn't find myself rooting for the little girl, either. I found his action scenes confusing, with too many points of view for me to engage myself in the struggles of any one character.

Anderson has a way with words. He does a great job of making his characters speak like real people, of giving each a distinct voice. I also like the fact that he is exploring supernatural forces in his writing. So, while I can't recommend Abiding Darkness, I will keep my eyes open for later works by this same author. I think he has the potential to write a thrilling yet satisfying read.

A FEW QUESTIONS WITH JOHN AUBREY ANDERSON
Author of Abiding Darkness

(provided by Glass Road PR)

Why did you choose to write in this particular time period?

It's almost as if the series started of its own accord. It chose the 1940s because it was such a special time…it picked the Mississippi Delta of the 1940s because it was a special place. The value system was different back then. People moved at a slower pace over shorter distances and information exchange was limited. The communities were smaller; the people were closer and more involved in each others lives. Also, the people of that day didn't have to be strange to be colorful.

Did you draw from personal experiences to write this novel?

Oh, yes. The adventures and exploits that made up my childhood would provoke the envy of Tom Sawyer, but sharing a small part of them would take more words than I used in the novel. Just think ideal…then add boys, dogs, and energy.

The characters seem very real. Where did you pick up the voices for these people?

I grew up with the people in Abiding Darkness. Granted, some of the characters are compilations of people I've known—half of one person and part of another. For the most part, all I had to do was just tweak them a little, maybe boost the octane in their blood a bit. As soon as I figured out who the characters were, the rest was easy…I let them use the voices they'd used all their lives.

Your book's depiction of demonic thought and activity is often frightening. How have your readers reacted to the book’s intensity?

I appreciate your comment about Abiding Darkness being frightening. When I started this project, I really wanted a fiction work that would steal its reader's sleep—and I got it. I frequently receive reports from people, men and women alike, who have found they can’t read the book at night. Some readers say they won’t read it when they're home alone, others tell me they can only read a page or two at a time, and a final handful talk about becoming so frightened they have to put it aside…all because they are scared of what might happen next. On the other side of that coin are the reports from people who've stayed up all night reading because they couldn't put the book down. The response has been more than gratifying.

Made Up Words

I love the way words feel as they tumble around in my mind. A well-written phrase brings more pleasure than a piece of chocolate-- honest. The transience of language intrigues me, the way words morph and grow to reflect a changing culture.

Here are a couple of words that might find their way into our dictionary some day.

truthiness: n. This word coined by Stephen Colbert refers to a person who feels the truth about something in his gut and isn't bothered by facts or logic to the contrary. If something feels truthy, it is truthy.

writerliness: n. Writerliness (term first used by Sol Stein) is the substance of writing that makes it a pleasure to read. Literary turns of phrase that captivate the reader are writerly.

smunch, squwitch, splot, kachink: Words that imitate sounds are great, like the sound an apple makes when you step on it (pahsquit) or the sound of a moth butting up against a window (whrthwick).

Do you have any favorite new words?

A Losing Battle

How many movies have made fun of the intrepid gardener taking on greedy critters-- moles, squirrels, deer, ants, squirrels, raccoons, mice, squirrels-- did I mention squirrels? How many times does the gardener win the battle. Hmm.

NEVER!

At my last house, raccoons and deer were the enemy. Especially the coons that would climb up onto our second story deck, pick each almost ripe tomato, take one bite and toss the rest, uneaten, to the ground.

Here, it's the squirrels. We have the most lovely walnut tree, limbs heavy with nuts, but not for long. Apparently our tree serves as a u-pick center for the entire metropolitan area. I kid you not, I was driving home the other day and had to stop 2 blocks away to let a squirrel cross the road, a round green nut from MY tree in its little mouth.

I resist the urge to run out and yell at them because of a theory I have. I believe that squirrels get a kick out of training people to do crazy things. I can just imagine them at Dad's house, whispering to each other.

Squirrel 1: "Stay back here by the bird bath. I've got to show you this trick."
Squirrel 2: "Over here? Do I need to hide or anything?"
Squirrel 1: "Nah. The more of us he sees, the better."

Squirrel 1 then proceeds to climb the bird feeder and help himself to two cheeks full of sunflower seeds. Dad jumps to the window, waving his arms and yelling. He flips the window handle to make more noise. Squirrel 1 cocks his head with a twinkle in his eye and scurries back to his friend's side.

Squirrel 2: "That was pretty good. How long did it take you to train him?"
Squirrel 1: "Not long, but you have to use intermittent reinforcement to get increasing reactions."

I'm afraid of what I might resort to if I started reacting. Doesn't the gardener in the movies usually end up in a straightjacket while the intruding rodent sits back in a lawn chair and sips lemonade?

fragrant offerings

Another angel, who had a golden censer, came and stood at the altar. He was given much incense to offer, with the prayers of all the saints, on the golden altar before the throne. The smoke of the incense, together with the prayers of the saints, went up before God from the angel's hand.
Revelation 8:3-4 (NIV)

We are a fragrant offering, the aroma of Christ to those who are saved and those who are perishing. Our prayers waft up to God on the wings of wisps of an angel's offering.

Fresh tomatoes on the vine.

Melting chocolate.

Rubbed lavender.

Fresh gardenias.

Simmering spices.

All the best fragrances were created by God, yet it is the aroma of a life of praise that smells the sweetest to the master and creator of all.

Tunnel Vision

If a project is complex enough to hold my interest, I tend to get tunnel vision. I set aside all other responsibilities until said project is accomplished. That's why I haven't written much this week. I haven't returned emails and I certainly haven't done any house cleaning.

Wall #1 of the 11-year olds' bedroom is complete. I asked for a couple of days off before starting the next wall, which will sport a space scene.

This is my first full-size wall mural. I've done stenciling before and, back in the day, I worked on set backdrops for school plays. It's not a masterpiece by any means, but it was fun to see a task come together in just a few days.

If only I could write a novel so quickly.

No Relation

Before I was capable of conscious thought, Jessie posthumously entered my life. She came in the form of photos, journals, fancy dishes, and Indian baskets. She came in the form of stories. She came in the light in Mom's eyes as she told visitors about acquiring Jessie's trunk from an Alaska State auction. I thought she was a distant relative, and was a bit disappointed to find that she was neither aunt nor grandmother, merely a fascinating lady with a fascinating story.

Jessie was born to a wealthy British family. She traveled with her father and mother in the early twentieth century to the Yukon territory and then into Alaska. Their trip came to a sudden and permanent halt on receipt of a telegram from England.

The world is at war. Funds inaccessible.

Mom has talked about writing down Jessie's story for years. For the past 2 years, she has been consumed by the task. A trip to Eagle, Internet research that has introduced her to new friends in Alaska, Arizona, and England, will soon reap their rewards.

Thanks to all of you who offered your input for the book cover. While I wish we could have featured the lady on the car's running board, unfortunately, it turns out that is not a picture of Jessie. So, taking that fact and so many opinions into account, I am pleased to present the (possibly) final cover for Mom's book. We hope to see it in print very soon.

electric blue and innocence

Electric Blue and Innocence-- they're not retro disco bands. They're the colors I am boldly splashing on walls. I've decided to take a short hiatus from writing this week in order to direct my creative energies elsewhere...

Store-bought Sludge

There's a filtration system in existance that I never noticed before I had kids. It's a sort of sifting that takes places in their bedrooms, in their drawers and toy boxes. And it works like this:

1)Everything they bring home goes into the giant tossed salad on their floor-- books, clothes, stuffed animals, Sunday school papers, crayons, Polly Pocket accessories-- everything.

2) I look in their room and say something like, "How can you live like this? It's disgusting. Clean it up." They counter with, "Do we have to really clean it or just the big stuff?" To which I normally reply, "Just do a quick cleaning so you can walk across the floor."* This begins the filtration process.

3) As toys, large and small, are tossed in baskets, bins and boxes, the biggest things stay on top while the small pieces find their way down through cracks to the bottom. Scraps of paper, pony tail holders, shoes and pen lids find their way under the bed. Barbie clothes climb, of their own free will, into the sock drawer.

4)Things begin to hide in plain site. Yesterday one of the twins spent hours looking for a paint set that was sitting on her shelf.

5) Clean up day-- We scrape the top layer of the toys aside and look at what is underneath. Most of what filters to the bottom of the box is either misplaced or unloved. In our cleaning adventure this week, we hauled 3 heaping laundry baskets of store-bought sludge to the garage for donation. 2 grocery bags full went out with the garbage this morning and one basket is full of treasures that need to go in storage (handmade baby dolls, baby blankets, outgrown favorite toys and clothes)

6) Stay tuned to see what we're going to do to jazz up the now clean room.

*Their last "quick cleaning took 7 hours and was back to its original cluttered state in less than a day, which prompted the thorough cleaning this week.

Imago Dei

One of the marks of the post-modern generation is that its members are searching for authenticity. They've had it with hypocrisy, with parents and teachers who tell them to act a certain way and then do the opposite. They've lost respect for authority because authority tends to say, "do what I say and don't ask questions."

The church has largely ignored the post-moderns because, after all, if they don't want to be told what to do, they certainly aren't looking for what God has to offer. Or, to be fair, perhaps we just don't know how to connect with them. Their loosy-goosy morality frightens us. When they ask questions, they aren't really looking for answers, so we shy away. The irony is that what God has to offer is exactly what they are looking for-- authentic life, real relationships, complete honesty.

On Sunday, we visited Imago Dei, a church less than a decade old which has successfully connected with this new generation. I don't know what "denomination" they belong to, but I suspect they would say that they're not into drawing lines, that life is complicated enough without erecting artificial border fences. I don't know what their stand is on all my favorite issues, but I do know that the words that came out of the preacher's mouth were pure gospel truth.

I'm also not saying I'm jumping ship at my church. I just think we have a lot to learn about connecting with people where they are and I'm interested in learning anything I can about bringing Christ to different cultures, whether next door or abroad.

Imago Dei and a few other churches in the area are deploying over a thousand Christians this weekend to reclaim run-down areas of town, restore them to their intended beauty, and name them sacred spaces, dedicated to God and his kingdom. I love this idea of claiming territory for God, and doing it alongside Christ followers, city workers, homeless bums, troubled teens, and landscape professionals.

How can Jesus not smile on that?

This is pure and undefiled religion in the sight of our God and Father, to visit orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.
James 1:27 (NASB)

Boiled Frogs

Edwin says we're like frogs in a pot of boiling water in regard to gas prices. The prices go up, up, slowly up. When they drop a few cents, we sigh with relief and brace ourselves for the next big hit.

Well, brace yourself, 'cause the prices are going up again. Corrosion in the pipeline at Prudhoe Bay has shut down the Alaskan Pipeline, supplier of 8% of America's crude oil. If you're interested in the whole story, check out CNN, or just wait. You'll probably be bombarded with this story on local and national news throughout the day.

The pipeline was big news in a Alaska when I was a child. Men moved north for months to work on building the 800-mile long tube. It brought hope and riches to our great state. I remember standing by a cross-section of the pipe in the State Museum in Juneau (nowhere near the pipeline) and marveling at its size. I remember standing beside the long tube and thinking that it didn't seem quite as huge in person, just really long. And I remember looking at it from the air and noting what a tiny vessel it is against the vast Alaskan frontier.

The feats of man, incredible though they are, pale in comparison to God's wonders. The pipeline was built in my living memory and it's already corroding away. It will take some shoring up, some cleaning and scouring to get it back on track. Meanwhile, the caribou still graze alongside it. Denali still looms over it. Mosquitoes still butt against it.

And we sit in our nice warm bath of water, barely noticing the temperature change.

Another Vote

Thanks to all of you who left feedback about the book cover. We will be working up another cover design taking your comments into account and I'll share the new cover when it's ready.

I have the opportunity, as a Christian writer, to pass along free books to my blog readers. I've had several book reviews come across my desk that I have not posted because of some high-falutin' idea that to advertise books would somehow compromise the integrity of my blog. But this week, I read a description of a book that intrigues me so I asked for a free copy.

When I receive the book, what should I do with it? The choice is (sort of) yours. Cast your vote to let me know what you prefer.

A. I should post interviews to this blog and let you, the readers, have a chance to win a free book by commenting.

B. I should post book reviews on this blog and forget about letting you win the free copy.

C. I should start another blog just for posting interviews and book reviews.

D. I should forget the whole idea and just keep doing what I've been doing.

Life's a Journey. Enjoy the Ride

Camp Irondyke, Eastern Oregon

The thirsty ground baked to powdery dust in the scorching July sun. Twigs and branches crackled underfoot, ready to lap up any offering, whether fire or water. Smoke from nearby fires rose in giant grey plumes on the horizon. And God's people bathed in soothing streams of living water.

Fellowship with friends, old and new, and with family (also old and new) quenched a thirst I didn't know I had. In the middle of the week, we took some time off camp to visit Baker City and its Oregon Trail Interpretive Center. I could just picture the sunbonetted women trudging along beside the covered wagon, day after miserable day. They lived with fear of Indian attack, fear of Cholera and other deadly diseases, and hour after hour of crippling boredom.

I stood in the rut permanantly worn in the landscape by hundreds of thousands of wooden wheels, oxen hooves and tired feet. I imagine the sight of the Blue mountains up ahead broke many a spirit, but most pushed on... and on... and on.

Oregon Christian Writers, Canby Grove. Oregon

I stood in the midst of a crowd of writers (or should they be called a thesaurus of writers?), soaking in knowledge I thirsted to receive. While I appreciate all the advice on writing, publicity, agents, and marketability, what I longed for most, I received-- confirmation.

I wasn't looking for confirmation that my work is good or that I am somehow worthy to be a writer, though I did hear some of that. I wasn't looking for confirmation that I can help out with the family income by writing, though I would have liked to hear it.

What I did hear was, "Life's a journey, enjoy the ride." In other words, be faithful to what God called you to do and don't worry about whether you are successful in any worldly sense of the word. Use your talents and leave it to God whether he wants to use them for masses of people or for one specific soul. Let him grow you along the way and, always, give him the glory.