Of the many hours of my childhood spent on the school bus, two memories keep returning to me this week.
First is the time we were bustled onto the bus early because a student with a gun was in the Principal's office threatening suicide. I can still feel my visceral reaction when I heard the kid's name, a friend whom I'd recently brushed off.
Second- and this dates me- I've been thinking about the words to a song, "Little Good News" by Anne Murray. It played on the radio as we rode home from school and I wondered about all the bad news she told about.
Wouldn't it be great, I thought, if all the bad news went away.
But the news Anne Murray sang about in 1983 is the same news we're hearing today - fighting the Middle East, the economy, arson, robbery, hostage situations, assassinations, problems in the Third World.
In light of the Virginia Tech Massacre I guess I'm disheartened, but not surprised. The world is fallen and it cannot redeem itself. My prayers are with the families of those killed, the family of the shooter, and with the many young people whose lives will be forever changed by this event.
I heard a song yesterday that recognizes hopelessness, yet ends on a note of hope. A modern companion to "Little Good News", it is "Will's Lullaby" by Josh Radin.
the rain in new orleans
forgot to end
but the mouths of the people are dry
and we watch and wait
and do nothing but sigh
and hope everything is gonna turn out right
but i don't know if it'll be alright
In the last verse of this song, Josh looks down on his sleeping son in his crib and realizes that hope lies not in the past, but in the future.
Still, misplaced hope and promises will surely leave us empty in the end, asking the same questions in another 20 years and another 20 years after that.
for lyrics to these two songs, visit Lyrics Depot and Josh Radin's site.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Little Seeds of Faith
I love it when a plan falls together. Especially when there's no human way to pull it off. But this weekend, God took bits and pieces of talent and dedication and mixed it together with a little Holy Spirit to form a wonderful weekend centered on the places our church is working around the world.As I sampled finger foods from every continent, prepared with care by people whose hearts are planted in different cultures, I marvelled that such diversity could blend together. As I listened to Andrew (Uganda) tell how he and Ben (Brazil) had prayed for God to lead them somewhere in the world, I wondered at these young men's ability to embrace each other as members of one team, not as competitors out to secure as much funding for their own special projects as possible.
Sermons and talks, videos and songs, flags and food. It was all great.
But I think the best parts of the weekend happened behind the scenes.
One of our outstanding teenagers was invited to spend a summer in Uganda. A woman who was moving the next day expressed her appreciation for the reminder that she will be God's messenger no matter where she goes. My five-year old came home and strapped a baby doll on her back and asked a hundred times when we could go to Africa.
Little seeds were planted. Giant trees will grow.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Prayers Needed
Many of you who check this blog are pray-ers. Please join me in prayer for these two women:
Pat just had surgery to correct a problem, but the surgery was not successful. She's in ICU.
Jane had a lump removed from her breast, but the pathology came back showing that there is still cancer present. She'll be going in for another surgery soon.
I know that both of these women would agree with these words from Job:
"God gives. God takes.
God's name be ever blessed."
Pat just had surgery to correct a problem, but the surgery was not successful. She's in ICU.
Jane had a lump removed from her breast, but the pathology came back showing that there is still cancer present. She'll be going in for another surgery soon.
I know that both of these women would agree with these words from Job:
"God gives. God takes.
God's name be ever blessed."
Monday, April 09, 2007
Mountain Top
My week at Mount Hermon Christian Writers Conference was, first of all, a spiritual experience. Between the hike to the top of the mountain on Palm Sunday, the beautiful times of song and prayer, and my short hike down into a valley of redwoods, I found my spirit refreshed and my soul revived.Beyond the warm sunshine and lovely flowers, I also had opportunity to sit at the feet of some of the most gifted teachers in the industry. More surprising than the skill of successful authors, though, was the level of craft and dedication among those trying to break in. If the people I met are any indication, Christian publishing will only improve.
Perhaps the greatest lesson I took away from Mount Hermon was the realization that I sat amongst 500 writers who write in different genres, with different styles and different voices. Yet all wrote for the same goal. When I write a novel with redemptive value, I can spread good news to people who read fiction. Another author may write non-fiction and touch someone else's life. Others may write poetry or biography or devotionals. But we all write to the glory of the same God.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Into the Pool
In October, I submitted the following essay in a writers' conference scholarship contest. Tomorrow morning, I'm off to the conference!
I believe the Mount Hermon Conference is perfect for me at this time in my writing because ...
… my toes ache.
`
I stand at the edge of a diving board, peering into the pool of publishing. The bottom looks so far away. I grip the edge of the board with my toes, as if they can keep me from falling. Once I jump, will I be able to stay afloat? Can I out swim the schools of piranhas circling below? If someone would just give me a shove, I would find out.
About two years ago, I started writing a novel. A story burned inside me that I had to put down on paper. By no means would I say it was an inspired book, since it was full of all the classic flaws—POV problems, too many adverbs, little dialog—but the process drove me to seek the help I needed, help I found in the form of a critique group. My fellow writers encouraged me and tore my writing apart. They helped shape my story into a full novel, ready to present at a conference.
But which conference? Money, always an issue, meant I could only choose one. I listened to the way my group leader spoke of Mount Hermon as if it were the Mecca of Christian writers and I pictured scaling the mountain’s summit. But not right away.
I looked at several options, but ended up settling on a regional conference which I could attend with my mom who was also in the throes of her first writing venture. I sat across from editors and agents who all said, “I like your writing style and your ideas, but this book just doesn’t fit our market.”
Undeterred, I returned home and cranked out another book manuscript, this time focusing on realistic people in an American setting. The next year, I attended the same regional conference and again received encouraging words about the quality of my writing, but didn’t find a publisher.
What I did hear from several people, in different words, was this: You are on the brink of being published (thus the pool analogy). You will have books published. But you need to get out, network, meet more people in the industry and make connections with the people who are looking for books like yours.
The best way to do that is to attend conferences. But until I am published, I have no writing income to support a conference habit. So, while I dreamed of attending Mount Hermon and other large gatherings of Christian authors, I imagined my dream could not be fulfilled for many years. Until I heard of Cec’s generous offer.
I am a writer, one who writes because I can’t not write. I’m eager to take the plunge into the writing and publishing industry. I would dearly love this chance to take swimming lessons from those who are already in the pool.
Just give me a little shove.
I believe the Mount Hermon Conference is perfect for me at this time in my writing because ...
… my toes ache.
`
I stand at the edge of a diving board, peering into the pool of publishing. The bottom looks so far away. I grip the edge of the board with my toes, as if they can keep me from falling. Once I jump, will I be able to stay afloat? Can I out swim the schools of piranhas circling below? If someone would just give me a shove, I would find out.
About two years ago, I started writing a novel. A story burned inside me that I had to put down on paper. By no means would I say it was an inspired book, since it was full of all the classic flaws—POV problems, too many adverbs, little dialog—but the process drove me to seek the help I needed, help I found in the form of a critique group. My fellow writers encouraged me and tore my writing apart. They helped shape my story into a full novel, ready to present at a conference.
But which conference? Money, always an issue, meant I could only choose one. I listened to the way my group leader spoke of Mount Hermon as if it were the Mecca of Christian writers and I pictured scaling the mountain’s summit. But not right away.
I looked at several options, but ended up settling on a regional conference which I could attend with my mom who was also in the throes of her first writing venture. I sat across from editors and agents who all said, “I like your writing style and your ideas, but this book just doesn’t fit our market.”
Undeterred, I returned home and cranked out another book manuscript, this time focusing on realistic people in an American setting. The next year, I attended the same regional conference and again received encouraging words about the quality of my writing, but didn’t find a publisher.
What I did hear from several people, in different words, was this: You are on the brink of being published (thus the pool analogy). You will have books published. But you need to get out, network, meet more people in the industry and make connections with the people who are looking for books like yours.
The best way to do that is to attend conferences. But until I am published, I have no writing income to support a conference habit. So, while I dreamed of attending Mount Hermon and other large gatherings of Christian authors, I imagined my dream could not be fulfilled for many years. Until I heard of Cec’s generous offer.
I am a writer, one who writes because I can’t not write. I’m eager to take the plunge into the writing and publishing industry. I would dearly love this chance to take swimming lessons from those who are already in the pool.
Just give me a little shove.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Benign
"Your last blog entry was benign."
I lay in bed at one o'clock this morning thinking about the word. It wasn't meant as an insult, but not as a compliment either. It was just a statement to say that my last few entries have been flatter than usual. That's by design. I've been in the middle of several forums of miscommunication lately and I've been too tired to fight in the blogging arena.
Do you think the Apostle Paul ever shrunk back from saying what he thought? He was a pretty feisty communicator, yet he still begged for prayers for boldness. Even Jesus, who never backed down from a fight, who never missed an opportunity to teach, sought alone time throughout his years of ministry.
I dance a little dance on the high wire of Blog Land. I write what I think, then go back and reflect. I respond to comments or I bite my tongue. I say something heavy, then counter with something light.
Benign.
Gentle. Self-limiting. Not dangerous.
Not exactly the word a writer likes to hear.
But I have two friends this month who would have loved to hear the word come from a doctor's mouth. Instead they heard the other word.
Malignant.
Two women I've known for years and years. Two friends who face the same fight over the coming months-- the race against breast cancer. Surgery, chemo-therapy, radiation, hair loss. And despite their fear or their weariness, they won't back down. Because these women have courage. They have courage and they have husbands and family who will stand beside them every step of the way.
All I can say right now is, let's pray to the God who hears our prayers. Let's pray for Pam and Jane.
I lay in bed at one o'clock this morning thinking about the word. It wasn't meant as an insult, but not as a compliment either. It was just a statement to say that my last few entries have been flatter than usual. That's by design. I've been in the middle of several forums of miscommunication lately and I've been too tired to fight in the blogging arena.
Do you think the Apostle Paul ever shrunk back from saying what he thought? He was a pretty feisty communicator, yet he still begged for prayers for boldness. Even Jesus, who never backed down from a fight, who never missed an opportunity to teach, sought alone time throughout his years of ministry.
I dance a little dance on the high wire of Blog Land. I write what I think, then go back and reflect. I respond to comments or I bite my tongue. I say something heavy, then counter with something light.
Benign.
Gentle. Self-limiting. Not dangerous.
Not exactly the word a writer likes to hear.
But I have two friends this month who would have loved to hear the word come from a doctor's mouth. Instead they heard the other word.
Malignant.
Two women I've known for years and years. Two friends who face the same fight over the coming months-- the race against breast cancer. Surgery, chemo-therapy, radiation, hair loss. And despite their fear or their weariness, they won't back down. Because these women have courage. They have courage and they have husbands and family who will stand beside them every step of the way.
All I can say right now is, let's pray to the God who hears our prayers. Let's pray for Pam and Jane.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Timely Arrival
My flowers arrived in the mail yesterday.
50 dormant plants all fit in a box the size of an Amazon book box. But with so much potential, I couldn't wait to get them in the ground.
So I rallied the troops. I had Dad and my husband out shoveling compost, tilling the ground and hauling dirt across town to my garden bed.
It's spring! It's time to plant!
Except it's also 30 degrees this morning... which means my little flower garden is going to have to wait a few more days for the temperature to catch up with the season.
Housekeeping
I just did a little updating on my Blogroll and I plan to add more and sort them.
A lot of really nice people seem to be moving out of the Blogger.com neighborhood. How's the weather over in WordPress land?
A lot of really nice people seem to be moving out of the Blogger.com neighborhood. How's the weather over in WordPress land?
Monday, March 19, 2007
All the Way to the Top
I should have known that the thing to put my alma mater on the map would have to do with drug reference and defiance. That was the status quo when I was there. Between all the phony fire drills and prank bomb threats, it's amazing any of us got an education.
Kids in my class said stupid things all the time. They got suspended a lot, too. But, to my knowledge, none ever took the school to court for squashing their right to free speech. To read about how one student's "Bong Hits 4 Jesus" sign has taken the issue of a student's right to freedom of speech and expression before the highest court in the land, click here.
I wonder what it was really like that day as the Olympic torch was carried from person to person through the Southeast Alaskan streets. It sounds like Frederick's sign didn't cause that much stir among the students who lined the parade route, but it did make an impression on the principal. I wonder how far Frederick and his family would have pushed their case without the help of some big time lawyers.
Which brings me to another case. At a local high school a few weeks ago, a group of students was suspended for praying in school. At least that's the way it was reported on the local news. From what I've read since, though, it seems that their suspension was not a result of their prayer, but of their refusal to move the prayer out of the flow of traffic and into a classroom. The students are now back at school and have moved their prayer place to a sidewalk just off school grounds.
For the students, it sounds like the fight is over. They found a solution which allows them to continue praying without defying school authority. I wonder, though, if the Liberty Counsel will follow through on its threat to sue the school district. I wonder what other seemingly innocuous events are taking place around us that will eventually shape the law of the land.
Kids in my class said stupid things all the time. They got suspended a lot, too. But, to my knowledge, none ever took the school to court for squashing their right to free speech. To read about how one student's "Bong Hits 4 Jesus" sign has taken the issue of a student's right to freedom of speech and expression before the highest court in the land, click here.
I wonder what it was really like that day as the Olympic torch was carried from person to person through the Southeast Alaskan streets. It sounds like Frederick's sign didn't cause that much stir among the students who lined the parade route, but it did make an impression on the principal. I wonder how far Frederick and his family would have pushed their case without the help of some big time lawyers.
Which brings me to another case. At a local high school a few weeks ago, a group of students was suspended for praying in school. At least that's the way it was reported on the local news. From what I've read since, though, it seems that their suspension was not a result of their prayer, but of their refusal to move the prayer out of the flow of traffic and into a classroom. The students are now back at school and have moved their prayer place to a sidewalk just off school grounds.
For the students, it sounds like the fight is over. They found a solution which allows them to continue praying without defying school authority. I wonder, though, if the Liberty Counsel will follow through on its threat to sue the school district. I wonder what other seemingly innocuous events are taking place around us that will eventually shape the law of the land.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Dirty Fingernails
Last week my nails were long and white, clean and buffed. This week, they're split, short, and dirty and they feel great.
After cooping myself up in the warm house all winter, it was great to get outside and dig in the dirt for the first time. I'm preparing the ground for a new European cutting garden. I've never done flowers before (except dandelions) and I'm looking forward to adding a little color to my life.
I've got a l-o-o-o-ng way to get to have my garden beds ready, but my vegetable seeds arrived weeks ago and the strawberry plants might come today, along with a house plant and some garlic starts.
Spring is in the air!
After cooping myself up in the warm house all winter, it was great to get outside and dig in the dirt for the first time. I'm preparing the ground for a new European cutting garden. I've never done flowers before (except dandelions) and I'm looking forward to adding a little color to my life.
I've got a l-o-o-o-ng way to get to have my garden beds ready, but my vegetable seeds arrived weeks ago and the strawberry plants might come today, along with a house plant and some garlic starts.
Spring is in the air!
Monday, March 12, 2007
Where in the World?
I want to go somewhere... almost anywhere would do. Anywhere except the grocery store and the gas station, that is. Here are some places on my wish list. What's on yours?
New Zealand
Japan
Thailand
Rwanda
Togo
France
Moscow
Alaska
Scandanavia
China
New Zealand
Japan
Thailand
Rwanda
Togo
France
Moscow
Alaska
Scandanavia
China
Saturday, March 10, 2007
confession is good for the goal
At what point did politicians start assuming that we're all a bunch of blithering idiots? Since when is it okay to make a confession just so you can do whatever you want?
I think it started, this week at least, with the news that Obama had paid off his outstanding parking tickets before announcing his candidacy. Perhaps we all chuckled a bit and thought, what a good idea to clear the slate before someone else finds those pesky parking tickets and brings them up. Better to start things off clean than to be outed and embarrassed on down the line. Because, of course, presidents can be made or broken by one mistake or one wrong word.
(Take, for example, Senator Joe Biden, who killed his candidacy the first day with these words: "I mean, you got the first mainstream African-American who is articulate and bright and clean and a nice-looking guy. I mean, that's a storybook, man.")
Parking tickets are one thing, but Newt Gingrich? That's a whole 'nother story. It's not the fact that he's had affairs. Lots of politicians (and for that matter, lots of ordinary folks) have. It's not even that he was having an affair while pursuing Bill Clinton's impeachment for having an affair and lying about it.
No, for me, the idiocy of Gingrich's plan lies in his assumption that the public has a short memory. If Obama can pay off his parking tickets and remain a political rock star, why can't Gingrich confess a few little things, clean the slate of past mistakes, and return to his old Man Of The Year status?
Does he think we can't discern the motives for his confession? Is there any way he would have confessed if he wasn't testing the waters for his chances for presidency? Are we ready for a year and a half of campaign promises and muddy waters?
Oh, but I'm sorry. I heard he wasn't running.
"I am not 'running' for president. I am seeking to create a movement to win the future by offering a series of solutions so compelling that if the American people say I have to be president, it will happen."
Good start.
I think it started, this week at least, with the news that Obama had paid off his outstanding parking tickets before announcing his candidacy. Perhaps we all chuckled a bit and thought, what a good idea to clear the slate before someone else finds those pesky parking tickets and brings them up. Better to start things off clean than to be outed and embarrassed on down the line. Because, of course, presidents can be made or broken by one mistake or one wrong word.
(Take, for example, Senator Joe Biden, who killed his candidacy the first day with these words: "I mean, you got the first mainstream African-American who is articulate and bright and clean and a nice-looking guy. I mean, that's a storybook, man.")
Parking tickets are one thing, but Newt Gingrich? That's a whole 'nother story. It's not the fact that he's had affairs. Lots of politicians (and for that matter, lots of ordinary folks) have. It's not even that he was having an affair while pursuing Bill Clinton's impeachment for having an affair and lying about it.
No, for me, the idiocy of Gingrich's plan lies in his assumption that the public has a short memory. If Obama can pay off his parking tickets and remain a political rock star, why can't Gingrich confess a few little things, clean the slate of past mistakes, and return to his old Man Of The Year status?
Does he think we can't discern the motives for his confession? Is there any way he would have confessed if he wasn't testing the waters for his chances for presidency? Are we ready for a year and a half of campaign promises and muddy waters?
Oh, but I'm sorry. I heard he wasn't running.
"I am not 'running' for president. I am seeking to create a movement to win the future by offering a series of solutions so compelling that if the American people say I have to be president, it will happen."
Good start.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
A New Generation
My five-year old has given me some different perspectives on the world as she sees it. She's known how to operate a mouse since she was two and a touch pad shortly after that. She listens to The Wiggles on an MP3 player and knows how to work a microwave. She's never lived in a world without remotes and DVDs and cordless phones.I was reading her a story this morning. "Pause the book," she said. "I have to go get something."
The other day we were driving somewhere and I pulled up to a stop sign.
"S-T-O-P. That spells STOP," she informed me. As I pulled away, she observed, "The sign didn't change. It still said STOP. If that kind of sign can't turn to go, you have to just stay stopped and then you'll always be stuck."
Monday, March 05, 2007
A Collective Gasp
This morning on a field trip, the docent gave an introductory speech to our home school co-op group.
"...and you know what's the coolest thing about our museum? Our floors are 600 million years old! Isn't that cool?"
The hair on the back of my head got sucked backwards as all the mothers and a few of the children gasped. At least they gasped quietly.
I don't know how old the earth is, but I do know who made it. I have the strong sense that by gasping when people say something we don't agree with, we're not going to get very far in conversation with them. I may know there is truth and non-truth, light and darkness, holiness and depravity, but if I stand so strong on the RIGHT that I can't get through a conversation without being either offended or condescending, I'll never get a chance to share why Jesus is the answer.
We Christians have a reputation as being know-it-alls and nobody wants to take advice from a know-it-all. I'm hoping to become more of a "know some of the important stuff-er" who is still in process of seeking, learning and maturing. And I'm looking for people who might want to learn and seek and grow with me.
"...and you know what's the coolest thing about our museum? Our floors are 600 million years old! Isn't that cool?"
The hair on the back of my head got sucked backwards as all the mothers and a few of the children gasped. At least they gasped quietly.
I don't know how old the earth is, but I do know who made it. I have the strong sense that by gasping when people say something we don't agree with, we're not going to get very far in conversation with them. I may know there is truth and non-truth, light and darkness, holiness and depravity, but if I stand so strong on the RIGHT that I can't get through a conversation without being either offended or condescending, I'll never get a chance to share why Jesus is the answer.
We Christians have a reputation as being know-it-alls and nobody wants to take advice from a know-it-all. I'm hoping to become more of a "know some of the important stuff-er" who is still in process of seeking, learning and maturing. And I'm looking for people who might want to learn and seek and grow with me.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Raindrops on Roses and Whiskers on Kittens
Irish Breakfast Tea.
Literary Fiction.
Periwinkle blue.
Chocolate and raspberry.
Inspirational music.
Warm fuzzy socks.
A good, firm back massage.
An afternoon with friends.
Fruit fresh off the tree.
Salt water air.
A well-turned phrase.
The scent of gardenia.
A hand-written letter.
These are a few of my favorite things.
Literary Fiction.
Periwinkle blue.
Chocolate and raspberry.
Inspirational music.
Warm fuzzy socks.
A good, firm back massage.
An afternoon with friends.
Fruit fresh off the tree.
Salt water air.
A well-turned phrase.
The scent of gardenia.
A hand-written letter.
These are a few of my favorite things.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
good news, bad news
The good news is, I'm not a hypochondriac.
The bad news is, those two sore teeth are sore for a reason.
The good news is, it doesn't look like the decay on the back one has reached the root.
The bad news is, we won't know until we take the old filling off and get in there.
The good news is, the front tooth is not cracked above the gum line.
The bad news is, it is cracked and will need repair if I'm ever going to be able eat ice cream, drink a cold drink, or smile in the winter.
The good news is, I live in a country that offers me solutions other than "live with it" or "let's pull those suckers out."
The bad news is, by the time we pay for the two repairs, I might as well live in a third world country.
The bad news is, those two sore teeth are sore for a reason.
The good news is, it doesn't look like the decay on the back one has reached the root.
The bad news is, we won't know until we take the old filling off and get in there.
The good news is, the front tooth is not cracked above the gum line.
The bad news is, it is cracked and will need repair if I'm ever going to be able eat ice cream, drink a cold drink, or smile in the winter.
The good news is, I live in a country that offers me solutions other than "live with it" or "let's pull those suckers out."
The bad news is, by the time we pay for the two repairs, I might as well live in a third world country.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Prayers, Please
Today I ask for prayers for a friend whom I've never met, author of over 100 books and well-known in the Christian writing community as a giver. He is sponsoring me and 9 others to attend a writing conference in California next month. He has helped many other novice writers find their feet.
I got word yesterday that his house burned to the ground . His son-in-law was killed. Please lift this family up in prayer.
I got word yesterday that his house burned to the ground . His son-in-law was killed. Please lift this family up in prayer.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Readers of the new Millenium
I always thought you were supposed to put your most important, most eye-catching information at the beginning of an article. In print, that's true. People want to get hooked by the headline to read the first paragraph. Hopefully the first will lead to the second and so on. Come to find out, this rule does not apply if you're writing for an online readership, because online readers don't read, they skim. For them, the second paragraph is key because they assume the first paragraph is a rewording of the headline.
Did your eyes skip to this paragraph first? If so, the theory is correct. (see above)
I guess it's true for me. Most times when I read something online and try to tell someone about it, I find I don't have details to back up what I'm saying.
Me - "Did you hear about the bombing yesterday?"
Husband - "No what happened?"
Me - "Um, I'm not sure, but I'm pretty sure there was a bombing. Or maybe it was a bomb threat. I'm not sure. But you can look it up."
I'm thinking a symptom of this method of reading is that we've got a lot of people who know a little about a whole lot of subjects rather than people who know a lot about a few subjects. I've got more to say about that, but by now you've quit reading anyway and have moved on to the next blog.
Blah, blah, blah.
Did your eyes skip to this paragraph first? If so, the theory is correct. (see above)
I guess it's true for me. Most times when I read something online and try to tell someone about it, I find I don't have details to back up what I'm saying.
Me - "Did you hear about the bombing yesterday?"
Husband - "No what happened?"
Me - "Um, I'm not sure, but I'm pretty sure there was a bombing. Or maybe it was a bomb threat. I'm not sure. But you can look it up."
I'm thinking a symptom of this method of reading is that we've got a lot of people who know a little about a whole lot of subjects rather than people who know a lot about a few subjects. I've got more to say about that, but by now you've quit reading anyway and have moved on to the next blog.
Blah, blah, blah.
Friday, February 23, 2007
God's House
My grandpa used to tell the story about Enoch, the man who never died. He used to say that Enoch walked with God every evening. One night they walked and walked and walked. They got so far from home, Enoch knew he couldn't make it back.
"That's okay," God said. "You can just come on to my house."
And he did.
I heard an idea tonight that tickled something inside my brain. It's probably not a new idea to many of you, but it was stated in way I'd never heard before.
We as a church tend to treat our congregation like our family home. We're the ones who know where everything goes. We hold the keys to the house. We turn the heaters on in the morning and the lights off at night. We're comfortable in our little home together, but visitors have a hard time feeling like part of the family because they're just... visitors.
What if we decided to face the truth that church is not at our house, it's at God's. It's a new concept to me. What does church look like if we're all strangers together, if no one is proprietor of the way things should be?
It could be a horrible mess.
Or it could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
"That's okay," God said. "You can just come on to my house."
And he did.
I heard an idea tonight that tickled something inside my brain. It's probably not a new idea to many of you, but it was stated in way I'd never heard before.
We as a church tend to treat our congregation like our family home. We're the ones who know where everything goes. We hold the keys to the house. We turn the heaters on in the morning and the lights off at night. We're comfortable in our little home together, but visitors have a hard time feeling like part of the family because they're just... visitors.
What if we decided to face the truth that church is not at our house, it's at God's. It's a new concept to me. What does church look like if we're all strangers together, if no one is proprietor of the way things should be?
It could be a horrible mess.
Or it could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Ageless Wonders
I left Juneau in 1987 and, expect for a couple of short visits, I've not been back. I missed my 10 year reunion, skipped my 15th, and was absent for my 20th. But yesterday, a mini reunion came to me.
Yesterday, Julie Lynn got married. She was the youngest of the gang of us who used to hang around together, the daughter of my beloved physics teacher. And when Julie Lynn got married, our parents' friends gathered to witness the event. And since all of those friends were teachers, it was like a small school reunion, but with teachers instead of classmates.
So, counter clockwise around the table were my 9th grade English teacher, my 12th grade computer teacher, a history teacher, Dad (English teacher), school librarian, Jr. high chorus teacher, some husbands, wives and me. I've aged in the last 20 years... really aged.
Bu the incredible thing about all those teachers is they all look exactly like I remember them. How does that happen? How do 20 years go by without a new wrinkle or any more gray hair? Were they prematurely old because of all the headaches of teaching? Or did hanging around kids for so long act as a fountain of youth?
I think it might be the latter.
Yesterday, Julie Lynn got married. She was the youngest of the gang of us who used to hang around together, the daughter of my beloved physics teacher. And when Julie Lynn got married, our parents' friends gathered to witness the event. And since all of those friends were teachers, it was like a small school reunion, but with teachers instead of classmates.
So, counter clockwise around the table were my 9th grade English teacher, my 12th grade computer teacher, a history teacher, Dad (English teacher), school librarian, Jr. high chorus teacher, some husbands, wives and me. I've aged in the last 20 years... really aged.
Bu the incredible thing about all those teachers is they all look exactly like I remember them. How does that happen? How do 20 years go by without a new wrinkle or any more gray hair? Were they prematurely old because of all the headaches of teaching? Or did hanging around kids for so long act as a fountain of youth?
I think it might be the latter.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Imaginary Peer Pressure
I probably shouldn't have been in the game store in the first place since my husband and I gave up on "Hallmark holidays" years ago. I think Valentines Day fits in that category, doesn't it? Anyway, I'd just come from a nice activity where we'd made some really nice Valentines cards and I wanted to get a little gift to go with it.
So I ended up at the game store looking through stacks of used XBox games for a particular one we've been wanting-- not just any video game, mind you, but the 4th in a series of puzzle solving games we've played together on our "date nights" when we lived overseas. They didn't have the game I was looking for, but we were there, so I started looking for something else that would do. The kids and I finally settled on a second choice that was reasonably priced and that would be fun for him if not for me.
I paid for the game and waited for the clerk to get it for me. After several minutes he came back and said the game I'd purchased was missing. He refunded my money and made me sign a paper that I'd received a full refund.
I should have walked out then. But I didn't. I felt this imaginary pressure to purchase a game, any game. Not that my husband was expecting a gift or that he needed or even wanted a game. But I was there, I'd been thwarted twice, and I wasn't leaving without a game in hand.
I waffled back and forth for a while before selecting a game that was almost 5 times the amount I'd been planning to spend. I plunked down my card (less painful that way, you know) and walked out of the store.
And turned right around and walked back in.
"I'm so sorry," I said. "But I'm going to need to ask for a refund on this game. I came in looking for one thing and left with another." The clerk didn't know how to give a refund since I'd paid with my card, so I came home fuming, angry at all my imaginary friends who made me feel like I needed to buy something that I neither needed nor wanted. It doesn't matter to me at this point whether we keep the game or not. I just wish I could gather up my dignity and hide in the corner.
So I ended up at the game store looking through stacks of used XBox games for a particular one we've been wanting-- not just any video game, mind you, but the 4th in a series of puzzle solving games we've played together on our "date nights" when we lived overseas. They didn't have the game I was looking for, but we were there, so I started looking for something else that would do. The kids and I finally settled on a second choice that was reasonably priced and that would be fun for him if not for me.
I paid for the game and waited for the clerk to get it for me. After several minutes he came back and said the game I'd purchased was missing. He refunded my money and made me sign a paper that I'd received a full refund.
I should have walked out then. But I didn't. I felt this imaginary pressure to purchase a game, any game. Not that my husband was expecting a gift or that he needed or even wanted a game. But I was there, I'd been thwarted twice, and I wasn't leaving without a game in hand.
I waffled back and forth for a while before selecting a game that was almost 5 times the amount I'd been planning to spend. I plunked down my card (less painful that way, you know) and walked out of the store.
And turned right around and walked back in.
"I'm so sorry," I said. "But I'm going to need to ask for a refund on this game. I came in looking for one thing and left with another." The clerk didn't know how to give a refund since I'd paid with my card, so I came home fuming, angry at all my imaginary friends who made me feel like I needed to buy something that I neither needed nor wanted. It doesn't matter to me at this point whether we keep the game or not. I just wish I could gather up my dignity and hide in the corner.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Am I the Only One?
Does anyone else find it strange that we're still being bombarded with information about who else might be the father an Anna Nicole Smith's now incredibly rich baby but we've hardly heard anything about North Korea standing down on its plans to develop nuclear weapons?
I don't follow every bit of news, but it seems to me like one of these stories has more impact on more people than the other.
I don't follow every bit of news, but it seems to me like one of these stories has more impact on more people than the other.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Did you Hear the One?
This ol' blog's been kind of heavy lately. Time to lighten up. Thing is, I'm not too good at jokes.
Here, I'll prove it.
An angel is talking to God. The angel says, "Look, God. I know that you're all-seeing and all-knowing, but for the knock-knock joke to work, you HAVE to say 'Who's there?'"
or
Why did ancient Romans close down the Coliseum?
The lions were eating up the prophets.
Okay, I'll admit. Without Garrison Keillor and Reader's Digest, I got nothin.
How about you? Heard any good ones lately?
Here, I'll prove it.
An angel is talking to God. The angel says, "Look, God. I know that you're all-seeing and all-knowing, but for the knock-knock joke to work, you HAVE to say 'Who's there?'"
or
Why did ancient Romans close down the Coliseum?
The lions were eating up the prophets.
Okay, I'll admit. Without Garrison Keillor and Reader's Digest, I got nothin.
How about you? Heard any good ones lately?
Friday, February 09, 2007
The years are fleeting
Anna Nicole Smith. I don't know anything about her except what the tabloids and commercials scream at me.
39. We may have been in the same grade at school. But the similarities end there. Every time I heard her name over the past couple of years, it was because she was tied up in some controversy or some lawsuit. She married an elderly billionaire, then took his family to court when she didn't get what she expected in the will. She sued the weight loss company she used to represent. She was giving birth to one child (paternity testing currently underway) as a grown child was dying.
Even in life, every time I heard about one of Anna Nicole's situations, I cringed for her. How could one person make life so complicated in such a short time?
Then I realized that it doesn't take long at all to make your mark on the world. In fact, those whose lives are short often make a bigger impact than the rest of us.
Consider Alexander the Great, who conquered huge areas and annexed them into the huge Roman Empire. Who died at 33.
Or Nero, who killed pretty much everyone who looked at him funny (including his mother) and who started the first persecution of Christians after the burning of Rome. And who died at the age of 30.
Or Jesus Christ, whose teachings changed lives, whose death changed history, whose resurrection changed everything. And who only spent 33 years on earth.
This is not an invitation song. It's just a moment to muse about how I've used my life. What is my legacy? Will my death bring shock and a chance to rehash painful yet interesting stories? Or will it be a chance for people to reflect on the strength God can give to the weak?
Time will tell.
39. We may have been in the same grade at school. But the similarities end there. Every time I heard her name over the past couple of years, it was because she was tied up in some controversy or some lawsuit. She married an elderly billionaire, then took his family to court when she didn't get what she expected in the will. She sued the weight loss company she used to represent. She was giving birth to one child (paternity testing currently underway) as a grown child was dying.
Even in life, every time I heard about one of Anna Nicole's situations, I cringed for her. How could one person make life so complicated in such a short time?
Then I realized that it doesn't take long at all to make your mark on the world. In fact, those whose lives are short often make a bigger impact than the rest of us.
Consider Alexander the Great, who conquered huge areas and annexed them into the huge Roman Empire. Who died at 33.
Or Nero, who killed pretty much everyone who looked at him funny (including his mother) and who started the first persecution of Christians after the burning of Rome. And who died at the age of 30.
Or Jesus Christ, whose teachings changed lives, whose death changed history, whose resurrection changed everything. And who only spent 33 years on earth.
This is not an invitation song. It's just a moment to muse about how I've used my life. What is my legacy? Will my death bring shock and a chance to rehash painful yet interesting stories? Or will it be a chance for people to reflect on the strength God can give to the weak?
Time will tell.
Monday, February 05, 2007
He No Here to Worship
A new acquaintance met an Asian man at the back of the auditorium during church services. The man didn't speak a word of English and my friend's Cantonese was just as absent.
The man had a paper with him with the name and address of a Chinese church on it. Once my friend understood that the man had no car and that the church was a couple of miles away, he offered to drive.
Once there, this friend entered the front of the room where the Chinese church was meeting and asked for someone to help.
"I've got a man here who is looking for you. I don't know who he is or where he came from, but he had your address."
A couple of Asian men walked out with him to the hallway and talked with the lost man for maybe ten seconds before turning to my friend. This is what they told him:
"He no here to worship. He homeless." They shook their heads and turned the man away.
The story continues of how my friend got the man to someone who could understand his situation and help him, but the part of the story that stuck out to me and to the men who lived it is the words, "He no here to worship." The very people who could have helped him most turned him away before he even got in the door.
My brothers, as believers in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ, don't show favoritism. Suppose a man comes into your meeting wearing a gold ring and fine clothes, and a poor man also comes in. If you show special attention to the man wearing fine clothes and say, 'Here's a good seat for you,' but say to the poor man, 'You stand there' or 'Sit on the floor by my feet,' have you not discriminated among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts? Listen, my dear brothers: Has not God chosen those who are poor in the eyes of the world to be rich in faith and to inherit the kingdom he promised those who love him?
James 2:1-5
The man had a paper with him with the name and address of a Chinese church on it. Once my friend understood that the man had no car and that the church was a couple of miles away, he offered to drive.
Once there, this friend entered the front of the room where the Chinese church was meeting and asked for someone to help.
"I've got a man here who is looking for you. I don't know who he is or where he came from, but he had your address."
A couple of Asian men walked out with him to the hallway and talked with the lost man for maybe ten seconds before turning to my friend. This is what they told him:
"He no here to worship. He homeless." They shook their heads and turned the man away.
The story continues of how my friend got the man to someone who could understand his situation and help him, but the part of the story that stuck out to me and to the men who lived it is the words, "He no here to worship." The very people who could have helped him most turned him away before he even got in the door.
My brothers, as believers in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ, don't show favoritism. Suppose a man comes into your meeting wearing a gold ring and fine clothes, and a poor man also comes in. If you show special attention to the man wearing fine clothes and say, 'Here's a good seat for you,' but say to the poor man, 'You stand there' or 'Sit on the floor by my feet,' have you not discriminated among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts? Listen, my dear brothers: Has not God chosen those who are poor in the eyes of the world to be rich in faith and to inherit the kingdom he promised those who love him?
James 2:1-5
Sunday, February 04, 2007
bumpkin
I'm a bumpkin - I admit it .This fact was confirmed to me this weekend when I walked into a church building that seats 5,000 for a Beth Moore conference. I should have realized it would be a monstrous event when every person checking into our hotel was female. Or maybe when it took 20 minutes of circling the parking lot to figure out there were no free spaces - not one - even though we were an hour early. Still, climbing to my seat in the third balcony, I was dizzy at the height and breadth of it all.
I'm a bumpkin and I tend to distrust people and events that look too organized and dolled up.
5,000 women gathered to praise God and listen to a woman who has a following among evangelical Christians as smitten with her as others are with Oprah. Christian Rock and Roll, I thought. Anything this popular, this polished, cannot be sincere.
Did I mention that I wasn't supposed to be there? The event sold out MONTHS ago. MONTHS. By the time I even heard about it, there was no way to get a ticket. Then, with only a few days before the event, God blessed me with a ticket, a ride, and companions. Still, I wasn't sure.
A lot of blessings came with the weekend-- the chance to spend with friends and to get to know other ladies, the chance to worship with abandon, the chance to witness an interpreter for the deaf turn an already beautiful language to pure art, the chance to sit at the feet of a woman - a gifted teacher - who gives all the praise to God.
Perhaps the greatest thing I took from the weekend, though, was the realization that just because something is popular and crowded does not mean it's insincere. As I sat and looked out at the thousands, seated neatly in numbered rows, I imagined Pentecost in Jerusalem.
3,000 people turned their lives over to Jesus that day. Just because they were numerous did not mean they were half-hearted.
3,000 people in one day, with no microphones or comfy seats or advertising fliers. So many in one small place, so few in the vast world. Yet those 3,000 changed the world forever.
3,000 in Jerusalem. 5,000 in Seattle.
"But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you shall be my witnesses both in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and even to the remotest part of the earth." Acts 1:8 NAS
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
On or in?
I've always said you stand in line, ever since I walked the halls of Glacier Valley Elementary School with my class, on the way to gym or lunch or to get a drink.
Now, it seems, everyone is saying you stand on line. I chalked it up to regional differences-- must be an east coast thing. But lately, our local west coast news channel have been talking about people standing on line.
Is it just me, or is this a recent change? I looked it up. Sure enough, it's changing. Apparently we're so used to talked about being online on the Internet that the phrase is getting generalized to other parts of life.
Okay, I can deal with the change now that I know where it came from. But what I can't deal with are some of the other annoying phrases that work their way into our vocabulary.
Outrage for example. Any time I turn on the news, someone is outraged about something. No one's just angry or miffed any more. We've got road rage and now even wrap rage (uncontrollable anger that arises when you can't open a package).
Or take holiday tree. Come on! If you're going to have a tree, call it a Christmas tree. You're not fooling anyone by changing the semantics.
For more words and phrases that should be kicked out of usage, check Lake Superior University's list of Banished Words.
My personal favorite was the tendency to combine names of celebrity couples. Think Branjelina and Beniffer. As one commenter said, it's so lame and pathetic... it's lamathetic.
Do you have any unfavoritist words to add?
Now, it seems, everyone is saying you stand on line. I chalked it up to regional differences-- must be an east coast thing. But lately, our local west coast news channel have been talking about people standing on line.
Is it just me, or is this a recent change? I looked it up. Sure enough, it's changing. Apparently we're so used to talked about being online on the Internet that the phrase is getting generalized to other parts of life.
Okay, I can deal with the change now that I know where it came from. But what I can't deal with are some of the other annoying phrases that work their way into our vocabulary.
Outrage for example. Any time I turn on the news, someone is outraged about something. No one's just angry or miffed any more. We've got road rage and now even wrap rage (uncontrollable anger that arises when you can't open a package).
Or take holiday tree. Come on! If you're going to have a tree, call it a Christmas tree. You're not fooling anyone by changing the semantics.
For more words and phrases that should be kicked out of usage, check Lake Superior University's list of Banished Words.
My personal favorite was the tendency to combine names of celebrity couples. Think Branjelina and Beniffer. As one commenter said, it's so lame and pathetic... it's lamathetic.
Do you have any unfavoritist words to add?
Monday, January 29, 2007
Peripheral Vision
There are a lot of people in my life who exist in my peripheral vision. I see them, but I don't really look at them. I greet them, but I don't really know them. I shake hands with them, but their lives don't actually touch my own.
One of the kids was sick yesterday, so I sat with her in the church lobby until services ended. There was quite a crowd back there... a couple of teenagers hanging out, the church secretary overseeing everything, an elder praying with a couple, and a woman crying, a pillow hugged against her. Over the intercom, I heard the call to prayer and the instructions, repeated every week.
"If you have a prayer need, feel free to ask someone to pray with you. Or if you know of someone in need, get up and move to be by that person."
I didn't know the lady. I've seen her, but just in that peripheral vision. I couldn't ignore her, not now that I faced her with nothing to distract me. So I sat by her and prayed for her. I don't know if she heard me through her pain. I wish I could have done more.
I'm so thankful that the God of the Universe heard, that the God of all comfort does not see us out the corner of his eye. He sees us clearly.
One of the kids was sick yesterday, so I sat with her in the church lobby until services ended. There was quite a crowd back there... a couple of teenagers hanging out, the church secretary overseeing everything, an elder praying with a couple, and a woman crying, a pillow hugged against her. Over the intercom, I heard the call to prayer and the instructions, repeated every week.
"If you have a prayer need, feel free to ask someone to pray with you. Or if you know of someone in need, get up and move to be by that person."
I didn't know the lady. I've seen her, but just in that peripheral vision. I couldn't ignore her, not now that I faced her with nothing to distract me. So I sat by her and prayed for her. I don't know if she heard me through her pain. I wish I could have done more.
I'm so thankful that the God of the Universe heard, that the God of all comfort does not see us out the corner of his eye. He sees us clearly.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Behind the Scenes
For those of you who lost track... this is my 200th post to this blog. Since December of '05, I've averaged a posting every 2 days.That's a lot of nothing to say. I feel like I've delivered what I set out to do... scribblings, random thoughts, opinions on all sorts of subjects. This blog is my exercise, my mind-stretcher, my doodle pad.
I don't obsess about the counter, but I do check it from time to time to see where my readers hang out. I've had hits from Togo and Thailand, India and Indiana, Juneau and Johannesburg. And tonight, for the first time, I had someone stop in from Israel.
Israel... wouldn't you love to go there? Or Greece or even Patagonia? At least my thoughts get to visit. Sigh.
One benefit of blogging that I didn't expect is that it can help people know me better. I even had a faithful reader (and friend) call the other day to check on me since I hadn't posted an entry in 4 days.
Thanks for caring and thanks for sharing this little side road with me.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Oxymoron-- No Offense
Diet ice cream.
Virtual Reality.
New Classic.
Act natural.
Friendly fire.
And now, the latest oxymoron in my collection...
Geoffrey.
The two reactions to the news of his engagement have been...
FINALLY!
and
WOW! HE WORKS FAST!
Congratulations, Geoffrey and Dana. May your life together be as fun and exciting and perfectly right as your courtship has been.
If anyone wants an invitation to the June 9th wedding, drop me a line and I'll pass on the word.
Virtual Reality.
New Classic.
Act natural.
Friendly fire.
And now, the latest oxymoron in my collection...
Geoffrey.
The two reactions to the news of his engagement have been...
FINALLY!
and
WOW! HE WORKS FAST!
Congratulations, Geoffrey and Dana. May your life together be as fun and exciting and perfectly right as your courtship has been.
If anyone wants an invitation to the June 9th wedding, drop me a line and I'll pass on the word.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
The Eleventh Commandment
Growing up, I actually thought it was one of the original ten (but I also thought Juneau was on an island until I was twelve, so I wasn't always tuned in to reality).
NO READING AT THE TABLE
Followed closely, of course, by
FOUR ON THE FLOOR
and
DON'T STICK YOUR TONGUE TO THE MONKEY BARS WHEN IT'S COLD OUT!
My kids are growing up thinking the most important commandments are
NO WHISTLING IN THE HOUSE,
THE DRIVER CONTROLS THE RADIO,
and
USE A TISSUE!
I wonder what other tapes will play in their heads when they're older. What was the eleventh commandment at your house?
NO READING AT THE TABLE
Followed closely, of course, by
FOUR ON THE FLOOR
and
DON'T STICK YOUR TONGUE TO THE MONKEY BARS WHEN IT'S COLD OUT!
My kids are growing up thinking the most important commandments are
NO WHISTLING IN THE HOUSE,
THE DRIVER CONTROLS THE RADIO,
and
USE A TISSUE!
I wonder what other tapes will play in their heads when they're older. What was the eleventh commandment at your house?
Friday, January 19, 2007
When dreams come true, but you don't know what to do with them
I bought an MP3 player.
I want to listen to podcasts of sermons and npr.
Problem is, I have no idea how to easily get the podcasts I want to the player. I've downloaded about 6 different jukebox programs and I see lots of options on how to buy music, but I'm stuck on what to do with podcasts.
Anyone out there who has a non-iPod MP3 player, who listens to podcasts, and who has a clue how to help me out?
What's the best jukebox or podcast organizer program?
I want to listen to podcasts of sermons and npr.
Problem is, I have no idea how to easily get the podcasts I want to the player. I've downloaded about 6 different jukebox programs and I see lots of options on how to buy music, but I'm stuck on what to do with podcasts.
Anyone out there who has a non-iPod MP3 player, who listens to podcasts, and who has a clue how to help me out?
What's the best jukebox or podcast organizer program?
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
War Memorial
Adam Langford, missionary to Uganda, died in a car accident along with his friend and co-worker Moses Kimezi yesterday.
I didn't know Adam, though his sponsoring church was not far from here. But I can picture his life in Jinja, his work with The Source Cafe, an Internet cafe and coffee shop that serves as gathering place, fund raiser and development prototype. I can picture his last trip in a lorry across the pitted asphalt and red dirt roads of Mount Elgon.
For those of you who know Adam, Ben and Kym, my deepest sympathies and my most sincere prayers. To you in Fort Portal, Mbale, Mbarara, Jinja and Kampala and elsewhere in East Africa, to friends and family in Oklahoma and Portland, may God bring comfort, peace and eventual understanding.
In the war we wage, the battle that is not against flesh and blood, but against principalities and powers of this dark world, it seems there are so many casualties lately. Adam, Cyndi, Nancy, and Cathy, all left their comfortable American homes only to lose their lives on the African roads. But that's from our perspective. In fact, I wonder if they are casualties at all.
I read a book years ago about a missionary in South America who was kidnapped and later murdered. Rather than leaving a hole in the work in that place, his story spurred dozens of new recruits to volunteer to replace him. A loss on this side of the curtain between life and death may bring many surprises. I don't believe that God caused this accident, but I do know that he can use it for good ir ways that we can not yet imagine.
God bless you, Adam and Moses. May your sacrifice and suffering reap great rewards.
Solutions are wonderful. Cures are amazing. Answers are great. But in this broken world, I am beginning to believe we need more people who are willing to enter into the suffering of others whether they can help or not. I want to choose to suffering for the sake of others. I am not always sure how to do that or what it looks like, but most days I wake up and can’t think of anything else to do. Uganda has problems, I pray that God will solve them, but until He does I will also pray for the strength to suffer.
- Adam Langford, November 2006
*For more news about Adam and Moses and the needs of the church and teams in Uganda, click here.
I didn't know Adam, though his sponsoring church was not far from here. But I can picture his life in Jinja, his work with The Source Cafe, an Internet cafe and coffee shop that serves as gathering place, fund raiser and development prototype. I can picture his last trip in a lorry across the pitted asphalt and red dirt roads of Mount Elgon.
For those of you who know Adam, Ben and Kym, my deepest sympathies and my most sincere prayers. To you in Fort Portal, Mbale, Mbarara, Jinja and Kampala and elsewhere in East Africa, to friends and family in Oklahoma and Portland, may God bring comfort, peace and eventual understanding.
In the war we wage, the battle that is not against flesh and blood, but against principalities and powers of this dark world, it seems there are so many casualties lately. Adam, Cyndi, Nancy, and Cathy, all left their comfortable American homes only to lose their lives on the African roads. But that's from our perspective. In fact, I wonder if they are casualties at all.
I read a book years ago about a missionary in South America who was kidnapped and later murdered. Rather than leaving a hole in the work in that place, his story spurred dozens of new recruits to volunteer to replace him. A loss on this side of the curtain between life and death may bring many surprises. I don't believe that God caused this accident, but I do know that he can use it for good ir ways that we can not yet imagine.
God bless you, Adam and Moses. May your sacrifice and suffering reap great rewards.
Solutions are wonderful. Cures are amazing. Answers are great. But in this broken world, I am beginning to believe we need more people who are willing to enter into the suffering of others whether they can help or not. I want to choose to suffering for the sake of others. I am not always sure how to do that or what it looks like, but most days I wake up and can’t think of anything else to do.
- Adam Langford, November 2006
*For more news about Adam and Moses and the needs of the church and teams in Uganda, click here.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
An Old Fashioned Snow Day
I've got nothing deep to share today... just the warm, satisfied feeling of a well-spent day.
We awoke to gently falling snow, which wasn't a surprise. What did surprise us was that it kept falling and falling into the afternoon. Mid morning, I dug out my husband's ski shoes and went out cross-country skiing for the first time in over 20 years. I never was an expert, but the gently swishing of skis on fresh snow brought back sweet memories. I've never heard the neighborhood so silent. Cars had not yet beaten down the three inches of white fluff.
I came home to hot chocolate and chicken noodle soup with homemade noodles that I started simmering on the stove last night. Then it was out again with the whole family for some sledding, skiing, and snow angels. The little one (the perfectionist, you remember) announced that she already knew how to make a snow angel, but that she wouldn't because it might mess her clothes up. With a little encouragement, though, she knelt down and gave it her best shot - stiffly at first - but then with great pride in her perfect angels.
Back at home, we scraped up a layer of untouched snow and made a big pot of snow ice cream which went down with a smile. Then Daddy read to the older kids while the little one and I read together.
A hot bath, some flannel jammies, and a sigh of contentment.
What a lovely day.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
really SMALL world
Lori and I have been friends for - what? - 4 years? We were thrust together at a camp out where, for some reason, we were the only 2 families not from a certain church. They all knew each other, we both knew no one, so we paired up. Soon afterwards, we joined their home school co-op and our kids became fast friends, which is a fantastic excuse for us moms to get together.
When I was visiting her a couple of weeks ago, she pulled out her Christmas album which is filled with photos of all the people who send her photos in in their Christmas letters. I thumbed through, listening to stories about her good friend from Mississippi, her other friends from Idaho, her family on the East Coast. I turned a page and stared straight into a face from my past.
"Why, that's Nancy!" I said.
"You know Nancy? How do you know Nancy?"
Nancy, who first invited Lori to church, was from the family I stayed with every summer when I went to camp. Nancy, who left Anchorage to move to Egypt, looks exactly like she did when we were both 12. Nancy, who I haven't thought about for 20 years, brought a new friend into my life.
If Nancy hadn't extended a welcome to Lori, Lori never would have made connections in the Church of Christ. And without those connections, she wouldn't have been at the camp out where we met. And if she wasn't there, my life would be so much the poorer.
Small world?
I'll say!
When I was visiting her a couple of weeks ago, she pulled out her Christmas album which is filled with photos of all the people who send her photos in in their Christmas letters. I thumbed through, listening to stories about her good friend from Mississippi, her other friends from Idaho, her family on the East Coast. I turned a page and stared straight into a face from my past.
"Why, that's Nancy!" I said.
"You know Nancy? How do you know Nancy?"
Nancy, who first invited Lori to church, was from the family I stayed with every summer when I went to camp. Nancy, who left Anchorage to move to Egypt, looks exactly like she did when we were both 12. Nancy, who I haven't thought about for 20 years, brought a new friend into my life.
If Nancy hadn't extended a welcome to Lori, Lori never would have made connections in the Church of Christ. And without those connections, she wouldn't have been at the camp out where we met. And if she wasn't there, my life would be so much the poorer.
Small world?
I'll say!
Friday, January 12, 2007
Real as Life
I have a complex relationship with my personal trainer. I dread going to her classes since I know she'll gripe at me for not making it every day. I watch for her to turn her back so I can quit doing her eternal sets of heel jacks. I've even (gasp!) changed my name so I could rejoin her class after dropping out. I'm hoping she doesn't notice it's me and ask why I've gained 3 pounds since I joined.
The thing is, my trainer, Maya, is not actually a person. She's a computer animated trainer that lives in my X-Box.
I think it's a little weak-willed on my part to play mind games with someone who's not even real. But she's real to me. I put in a Billy Blank's Tae Bo tape this morning, but realized that if I didn't show up to Maya's class, she'd notice. So I popped out the tape, braced myself, and tuned in to Maya. She noticed I didn't work out yesterday, but she wasn't too disappointed this time.
The thing is, my trainer, Maya, is not actually a person. She's a computer animated trainer that lives in my X-Box.
I think it's a little weak-willed on my part to play mind games with someone who's not even real. But she's real to me. I put in a Billy Blank's Tae Bo tape this morning, but realized that if I didn't show up to Maya's class, she'd notice. So I popped out the tape, braced myself, and tuned in to Maya. She noticed I didn't work out yesterday, but she wasn't too disappointed this time.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Hearts Entwined
I don't often cry, but I did today.
Several times.
I cried for Ablavino whose oldest child, Ablavi, died yesterday after a long illness stole her twenties from her. For talkative, opinionated Ablavino whose voice has been silenced by a hard-hearted husband. For Ablavino who mourns alone as the rest of her family wails and cries out that Ablavino's faith in Jesus brought about this tragedy.
I cried for Brenda, who first saw Ablavi as a friend and later embraced her family as her own.
I cried for Murphy and Christine, for Marty and Louise, who search for ways to offer help and comfort, who live in a place where the questions are so difficult and the answers harder still.
I cried for Edemno and Delano and Suzanne and all the other mothers of Zebe who try so hard to keep their children safe but fail again and again.
I cried for Sandi and Jenna and myself as small pieces of our hearts wither with the loss of friends beyond our reach.
I cried for Ablavi and the choices she made, the choices made for her. I haven't been in her life in many years, but I have a hundred pictures of her in my mind... of her braiding Esi's hair, or pounding fufu, or fetching water from our faucet, or repeating a phrase to me for the fifteenth time until I truly understood.
I told her story to a girl today, a girl about the same age Ablavi was when we first met. This girl said, "The death of one is a story; the death of millions a statistic."
I thank God that Ablavi was not just a statistic. Her life touched mine. Her story is part of my story. Against all logic and reason, our stories are entwined.
Several times.
I cried for Ablavino whose oldest child, Ablavi, died yesterday after a long illness stole her twenties from her. For talkative, opinionated Ablavino whose voice has been silenced by a hard-hearted husband. For Ablavino who mourns alone as the rest of her family wails and cries out that Ablavino's faith in Jesus brought about this tragedy.
I cried for Brenda, who first saw Ablavi as a friend and later embraced her family as her own.
I cried for Murphy and Christine, for Marty and Louise, who search for ways to offer help and comfort, who live in a place where the questions are so difficult and the answers harder still.
I cried for Edemno and Delano and Suzanne and all the other mothers of Zebe who try so hard to keep their children safe but fail again and again.
I cried for Sandi and Jenna and myself as small pieces of our hearts wither with the loss of friends beyond our reach.
I cried for Ablavi and the choices she made, the choices made for her. I haven't been in her life in many years, but I have a hundred pictures of her in my mind... of her braiding Esi's hair, or pounding fufu, or fetching water from our faucet, or repeating a phrase to me for the fifteenth time until I truly understood.
I told her story to a girl today, a girl about the same age Ablavi was when we first met. This girl said, "The death of one is a story; the death of millions a statistic."
I thank God that Ablavi was not just a statistic. Her life touched mine. Her story is part of my story. Against all logic and reason, our stories are entwined.
Saturday, January 06, 2007
prfection
I have a small, young perfectionist in my house. I've known it for a while, probably since she used to line her toys up along the edge of the bed. Or maybe it was when, as a toddler, she would cry when she spilled something on her shirt. Or perhaps it was when she started having tantrums because her pants were wrinkled.
Being a perfectionist can be a hard job. When making a mistake sends you over the edge, any new endeavor can be threatening. So I was surprised that my 4-year old perfectionist insisted on skating around the rink on her own after only 5 minutes of holding my hand. She went out there like a trooper and skated proudly around a couple more times.
Then she fell.
She wasn't hurt, but she was done.
"I'm no good at this, Mommy. I fell down. Take my saktes off me."
I wanted to hold her and love on her and tell her what a narrow life she will have if she never lets herself fail. But I gave her a quick kiss and said, " Let's go around again. I'll hold your hand if you want."
No body's perfect, honey. No matter how hard we try.
And that's where our spiritual awakening begins.
Being a perfectionist can be a hard job. When making a mistake sends you over the edge, any new endeavor can be threatening. So I was surprised that my 4-year old perfectionist insisted on skating around the rink on her own after only 5 minutes of holding my hand. She went out there like a trooper and skated proudly around a couple more times.
Then she fell.
She wasn't hurt, but she was done.
"I'm no good at this, Mommy. I fell down. Take my saktes off me."
I wanted to hold her and love on her and tell her what a narrow life she will have if she never lets herself fail. But I gave her a quick kiss and said, " Let's go around again. I'll hold your hand if you want."
No body's perfect, honey. No matter how hard we try.
And that's where our spiritual awakening begins.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
so long, farewell
Do you know many times I baked cookies in December? I can count at least a half dozen times. Each time I swore I wouldn't eat any... I was just doing it for the kids.
Right.
All the gingerbread and sugar and butter and lovely treats dipped in chocolate enticed me and I couldn't hurt their feelings by ignoring them.
But now, alas, they're gone. All except the M&Ms and the Kissables who will wait politely in their bags until we invite them out.
Sleep well, cookie cutters. I'll see you next December. Good night, beautiful angels, sugar sprinkles and twinkle lights. You all brought magic into our home for a short time. We'll think of you throughout the year, but keep you tucked away.
Right now, I don't miss you. But I know in a few months I will. Absence truly does make the heart grow fonder. And right now, I'm longing for sunny days and my little garden.
Right.
All the gingerbread and sugar and butter and lovely treats dipped in chocolate enticed me and I couldn't hurt their feelings by ignoring them.
But now, alas, they're gone. All except the M&Ms and the Kissables who will wait politely in their bags until we invite them out.
Sleep well, cookie cutters. I'll see you next December. Good night, beautiful angels, sugar sprinkles and twinkle lights. You all brought magic into our home for a short time. We'll think of you throughout the year, but keep you tucked away.
Right now, I don't miss you. But I know in a few months I will. Absence truly does make the heart grow fonder. And right now, I'm longing for sunny days and my little garden.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
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.
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.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
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.
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.
Saturday, December 23, 2006
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.
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.
Friday, December 22, 2006
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.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
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.
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.
Monday, December 18, 2006
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.
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.
Friday, December 15, 2006
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.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
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?
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?
Monday, December 11, 2006
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
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
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
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.
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.
Friday, December 01, 2006
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
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.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
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.
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.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
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.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
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.
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.
Monday, November 13, 2006
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.
Congratulations, Mom!
Contact me if you want to get a copy of JESSIE.
Saturday, November 11, 2006
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?
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?
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
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.
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.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
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?
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?
Thursday, November 02, 2006
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.
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.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
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.
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.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
One Down...
There are a thousand things keeping me from writing right now...
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.
- 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.
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.
Monday, October 23, 2006
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)
Thursday, October 19, 2006
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
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.
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.
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