Random Facts

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE Middle name after my mother's college friend 2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? When Vicki died 3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? yes 4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? Pepper turkey 5. What should you be doing right now instead of answering these questions? editing a manuscript 6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? I think so. 7. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? Unfortunately. I'm trying to be funny but I have such innocent friends, I think I hurt their feelings. 8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS Yes. 9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? This is the number one thing that keeps me from applying to the Amazing Race (that and the idea of having every ugly thing I say broadcast to the world.) 10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? Lately, steel cut oats with maple sugar and fresh berries 11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? No, but I have to untie them before I put them back on. 13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? This is not a fair question. 14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? Probably height (and weight) though I'm in denial about both for myself. 15. RED OR PINK? blue, please. 16. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF ? My inability to keep a clean house and a good attitude at the same time. 17. who do you miss the most My team and the person I am when I'm with them. 18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO SEND THIS BACK TO YOU? If you want :-) 19. WHAT COLOR SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? barefoot! 20. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? Broccoli and cheese soup. 21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? The dog's toenails on the kitchen floor. The shower running. 22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? Periwinkle Blue 23. FAVORITE SMELLS? Chocolate Chip Cookies, Chai Tea (with the smoke from a wood fire), pot roast, gardenias 24. Who was the last person you talked to on the phone? My mom 25. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU? Love her! 26. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH? gymnastics 27. Hair Color? Plain old brown 8. EYE COLOR? Grey-ish blue 29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? not any more 30. FAVORITE FOOD? anything from my garden 31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? happy endings 32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? Julie and Julia... brilliant! Let's do a girls' night out and see this one together. 33. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? blue. duh. 34. SUMMER OR WINTER? Please can't I choose eternal spring? 35. Hugs or kisses? comfortable hugs 36. FAVORITE DESSERT? a bite off of whatever is on my friend's plate. 37. MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? Sandi 38. LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND You know who you are. 39. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW The Help 40. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? No mouse pad 41. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT? Season 4 of the West Wing 42. FAVORITE SOUND? the ocean 43. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? neither 44. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME??? Mombasa, Kenya 45. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? What, like being able to tie a cherry stem with my tongue? Nothing like that. 46. WHERE WERE YOU BORN? Alaska 47. WHOSE ANSWERS ARE YOU LOOKING TO GETTING BACK? my friends

Tools of the Trade

My husband believes in tools. He has 2 band saws, a planer, a table saw, a skill saw, and more hand tools than I can count. He's a builder, so he needs and used them all. If I need to use one of his tools, forget about finding the right one for the job. I finally bought myself a basic set of screw drivers, hammer, and tape measure so I don't have to go sorting through his things and messing them up.

As a builder, he knows how important it is for him to have his tools ready and in usable shape. And, lucky for me, he thinks I deserve the same.

So, last week, he surprised me with a new tool for my birthday-- a functioning, usable laptop. I'm already getting spoiled. It doesn't shut down unexpectedly, it stays connected to the Internet, and it keeps its charge.

My old computer is getting an overhaul to be made usable for the rest of the family. As for me, I'm super thankful for my new tool!

Thanks, hubby!

Hot Wheels Vicki

I need to tell you about a friend of mine. I would have told you about her sooner, but I thought I had more time. Besides, she wanted to tell the stories herself in an autobiography she started and put aside.

Vicki King Thompson died peacefully in her sleep on Friday. The news of her death comes as a great shock to all of us who know her.

Vicki's body didn't form the same way most of ours did and she spent most of her hours in a wheel chair or in bed. Her short legs never learned to walk, but that didn't slow Vicki down a bit. You could tell that from her email moniker - Hot Wheels Vic. She was always in the middle of things, giving advice, greeting everyone, and - above all - asking for prayers for those she loved.

If you knew Vicki, I guarantee she's asked someone else to pray for you. She found great power in prayer and comfort in having other people pray with her. Hardly a Sunday went by without her asking for prayers for a niece, a cousin, a co-worker, a friend. And especially for her mom. I believe it was Vicki's greatest joy to see her mother give her life to Christ earlier this year.

The kids loved Vicki, from the little ones in her Sunday School classes to those she met in the lobby. She was just their size, sitting in her wheelchair, and she loved our kids like they were part of her family. One of my very favorite pictures is one of Vicki holding one of my twins just after the babies came home from the hospital. Vicki's arms were weak, but she could handle those 4 pounds, at least for a few seconds. Even recently, she reminded me, "Remember how I almost dropped your baby?" but I always knew it was special for her to get to hold her, one of the only babies small enough to rest in her arms.

I have a hundred stories to tell, and you probably do, too. I hope we can share them together at her memorial later this week.

Tonight, though, I can't help thinking about Vicki climbing all over heaven's playground, swinging high up in the air, scurrying across the monkey bars and dancing in the freedom of her new-found perfection. Save a spot on the swing set for me, Vicki. I can't wait to play with you.

That's Nuts!

I'm trying so hard to accept the fact that my beautiful walnut trees belong to the squirrels. If you sit outside, you can hear them munching away, stuffing themselves on MY (I mean "their") green walnuts.

But, come on guys! You don't need to be so greedy. I just saw a squirrel scamper by with 3 - THREE!- walnuts in a cluster sticking out of its mouth.

UNFAIR! I won't even get one.

My other stuff is the same way. Much as I try to let my possessions flow through my hands to whoever needs or wants them, somehow I keep pulling things back and crying "MINE!" I take a deep breath. I loosen my grip. I look for something else to share.

She Didn't Follow Her Script

We did vacation Bible school a week ago. I was the village scribe and my job was to help kids write and seal their own parchment scrolls with wax squeezed out through a glue gun. My shop's co-owner, Edna Ruth, helped the youngest market-goers stamp letters into ancient Roman fluorescent play dough.

Our script said we were not Christian. We didn't know anything about the rebel Jew Jesus or why he and his followers were stirring up trouble. We were to ask the kids questions, to learn more as the week progressed.

"Who is this Jesus? Why is Paul in prison? Shouldn't he just give up talking about Jesus so he can be set free?" That was our script.

This is the script Edna Ruth followed, the script of her life--

"Of course I have a god. I know THE God. And his son, Jesus. Have you heard of him? Let me tell you all about him! He's made the biggest difference to my life and I love him with all my heart."

Even play acting, she couldn't say anything other than what she knows to be the truth. And I love her for it.

Velvet Hammered!

Just one little velvet hammer milkshake from Coffee People at 9 o'clock at night. It tasted so sweet, so cool going down after a long, hot day. I chewed on the little black specks and hoped they didn't get stuck in my teeth. Got home at midnight and crashed.

For an hour.

Then I was wide awake. Wide, wide awake. I read 200 pages. I stared at the ceiling. Until 5 a.m. and even then, I slept fitfully.

I woke up feeling like I'd been clonked by that velvet hammer, only someone forgot the velvet part.

For all you coffee addicts out there, I can see why you feel like you need to cure your coffee hangover with more coffee. I can't imagine feeling this way every morning. No thanks. A caffeine addict, I am not.

Unless it comes in the form of chocolate.

Third Place Hang-outs

I told you I lost my third place hang-out, my morning version of Cheers, where I could go for a good cup of tea with a friend and where I was bound to run into someone I knew. Cafe Divine closed down months ago and has recently been converted to a church meeting place with a really good espresso bar. I finally realized that it won't be open as a coffee shop business again. It's time to find a new place to meet.

I put the word out on my home school community chat loop that I'm looking for a third place. Here are my requirements:

1. It must serve coffee AND tea, several varieties of each to satisfy a range of tastes.

2. It must have comfortable seating that invites you to stay a while.

3. It must have a peaceful atmosphere so we can carry on a conversation without having to shout above the music or the people next to us.

4. It shouldn't cost as much to have a drink as to eat a meal. Price points matter.

I got back about a dozen responses, but for my first sortie I chose a place on my own. Excellent, inexpensive coffee (with a 25-cent discount if you use your own cup), comfortable couches, a knowledgeable barista, and no music being piped in. And a book exchange shelf. Who wants to go?

Tunics and Togas and Peplos, Oh My!

It's that time of year again, when the straight rows of chairs in the sanctuary are stacked and stored to make room for an ancient marketplace, this year in Rome. With five of us to costume in ancient Roman dress, the living room is draped in toga fabric (aka old sheets bought for a song from the Goodwill Outlet store).

I am the local scribe, a task I found myself drawn to, the write job for me. (buh-dum-ching!) Bamboo styluses (or is that styli?), parchment, and sealing wax are the tools of my trade. There's been word around town about a prisoner, Paul, who can't shut up about some Jewish rebel named Jesus. Have you heard of him?

If you happen to be in the Roman marketplace next week, Tuesday-Thursday from 6:30-8:30 p.m., drop by my booth and I'll help you write a letter to a loved one or transcribe a poem for you. And maybe we can both learn a little about this rumor going around.

See you there?

Prayer and Praise

2 big events today.

1. My mom, who broke her back in a fall a couple of months ago, is having surgery to glue her back together this morning. I'm heading over to the hosptial soon to check on her. Pray for her?

2. My nephew, quite possibly one of the cutest boys on the planet, is turning 1 today. Happy Birthday Elijah Hugh!

Oregon Christian Writers

I'd like to interrupt this blog for a brief commercial. In two weeks, Oregon Christian Writers will host its summer coaching conference. Can I just say, if you're a writer (or hope to be one some day), this is a great conference for beginnings and professionals alike.

I'm polishing up the first 10 pages of my novel to send in for review by agents and editors. At the conference, I'll be able to take classes from Lisa Samson, one of my favorite authors in the Christian book marketplace. I'll meet up with old friends, make new ones, learn some new skills and polish old ones.

It's going to be a lot of fun! Why don't you join me?

The Power of Story

I finished reading A Thousand Splendid Suns last night and was amazed at how Khaled Hosseini was able to do what 8 years of TV news coverage on the war in Afghanistan has failed to do--make me see the people of that country as real people. I find it ironic that a cast of fictional characters lends more humanity to the place than the faces of real people, but I suppose that's the power of story.

To find love and acceptance, to provide for their children, to survive whatever hardships come along... these are the needs of women around the world. I've been working on my own story about a woman in Africa who faces different struggles, but they are really the same. When I finished reading this book, I felt like pressing the delete button on my own story. I want to tell an important story in a way that begs to be read, to expose glimpses of hope that survive the worst persecutions. Some day, perhaps I can capture the human condition as beautifully as Hosseini does, but I doubt it. All I can do is tell the story I have in the best way I can. I don't know if it will move anyone to tears, but I pray it will put a face on the people of West Africa, people who are real to me but are just video clips on the news to so many others.

Hallmark Religion

We have a birthday celebration this weekend for 5 people who camp with us over 4th of July weekend each year (including 2 of my kids!), so I had to stock up on birthday cards. I got the card for the sweet sixteen and for the toddler boy, but needed one for the grown up lady. My eyes roamed to the "religious birthday" section and I picked up a sweet looking card to read it.

Front: On your birthday, may God bless you with the greatest blessing of all.

Inside: Birthday cake.

Really? It's probably supposed to be a joke that got mis-filed under religion, but in a way, that's kind of how people seem to treat their faith. It's fluffy and fun and all about instant gratification with no thought to consequences.

Oh, Hallmark, God has so much more to offer than birthday cake.

Buried in Berries

2 moms.

5 girls.

1.5 hours.

20 rows of bushes.

18 buckets, 8 empty, 10 full.

42 pounds of raspberries.

1 wonderful morning.

Unreasonable Goals

In my enthusiasm to finish my current project, I set myself a high goal. High but reachable, I thought. 2000 words a day times 42 days and I'd have a finished first draft. Thing is, I forgot to schedule in weekends. I don't know about you, but I find it hard to squeeze creativity out of myself day after day after day without giving the creative sap of my brain time to flow again.

So, I'll be a few days behind. It was imaginary deadline as it was. First draft by the end of June, final by the end of August. I think I can... I think I can.

I wonder, am I so used to setting the bar low that setting it a little higher stretches those muscles I didn't know I had?

I've been thinking about goal setting lately as I prepare to homeschool high schoolers for the first time. Do we need to set higher goals for them, give them something to reach for? Probably. Can we still make learning fun and interesting? I sure hope so.

I hope that as I push myself, expect more from myself, it will help me understand how to set goals for my kids and how to teach them to set goals for themselves. I also hope it will give me more grace as I come to understand that setting high goals and missing by a little is better than setting out to accomplish nothing and succeeding.

Pure Freedom

Reaping What I've Sown

The garden is up and this week we're enjoying early fruits of the labor we put in on those cold March days. Spinach, four varieties of lettuce, kale, cabbage, and radishes grace the table at every meal and leave the house by the bagful with each visitor who drops by. I start every morning surveying the tomato, squash and pea plants, looking for blossoms and young, succulent fruit. Papa's winter pruning has paid off this week with a lovely harvest of bing cherries. We watch the plums plump on their branches and count the days until July.

For longer term reaping and sowing, I still plug away on writing projects, honing my skills and hoping someday they will turn into either a paying gig or a way I can minister to people beyond my small circle of friends.

And for the future, I invest time in my children, knowing that the lessons they learn now will reap benefits for them and for their families for generations to come.

Ambition

The seven-year old made an announcement today.

"I know what I want to be when I grow up."

"What's that?"

"I want to be a homeless person."

Tip du Jour

I've had some blackened burnt-on crud in one of my saucepans all weekend. Soaked it, boiled it, scrubbed it. Lathered, rinsed, repeated. Tried baking soda with water, baking soda with vinegar, baking soda in boiling water.

Still black and burnt.

A few minutes ago, I filled the pot with water, tossed in a dryer sheet and brought it to a boil. Voila! It's clean! Wiped the remaining junk out with the dryer sheet and washed the pot with soap and water. Finally, a household tip that really works!

P.S. When I went to label this post I found I have never written about cleaning, housework, tips, or anything else resembling cleanliness. No big surprise there!

$1 well-spent

Seven years ago, I bought a little television at a garage sale for a dollar. Its screen is about 4 x 4 inches, black and white, and in all the time I've owned it, I've never been able to stop the picture from flipping. But I didn't care. It's not about the picture, but the sound. Television news has kept me company in the kitchen as I've prepared nightly dinners.

Today, the tv sits silent. It cannot receive a digital signal and I thought it would be silly to spend the time, money and space to hook up a converter box and antenna to a little $1 machine. Next stop, recycler. But I consider that a dollar well-spent.

Out of Thin Air

Some days, I feel I can reach above my head and pull a story, fully-formed, out of thin air. Other days, I slog through the mud and mire of writer's block, hunting the elusive word. When I capture it, I will slay it and mount it on my trophy wall of paragraphs.

I love the way words, like clay, can be molded in the writer artist's mind. I used to try building towering works of majestic splendor. Now I'll settle for, "that's practical... and kinda purty, too."

Don't watch, now. I probably look a little silly trying to catch the words that flit about me like a swarm of cotton candy butterflies. But when I catch one or two, they will dance about in my story, sprinkling bits of magic over everything.

Community

"So, what were you doing this week?" The lady next to me on the airplane asked the polite question.

"Some girlfriends and I had a weekend together," I said, but the words didn't really convey what our time together was about. Yes, I'd spent time with 5 ladies from my mission team, but it wasn't just a few days with some girlfriends. It was much more than that.

We're so much more than friends with a common experience. We've experienced trials together, joys and sorrows, triumphs and tears, and always, always, commitment to a common cause that is bigger than the sum of its parts.

We're church, we're family, we're team, we're friends and colleagues, we're sisters. The word of the weekend was "community," that elusive quality of sacrificing your personal goals for the sake of a bigger group, a greater goal. We found that community with each other in Africa and now we search for it across America. We've had a taste of what Christ's church can and should be and we hunger for more. I believe true community can happen. 

Do you?

Where in the World?

I plan to write a little about my trip after I have a day or two to decompress, but here's a little taste. Can you guess where I've been?

Don't peek at the comments if you want to figure it out for yourself. Someone just might give it away!

Missing Dad

Wish you were here!

Sprung!

I love this time of year when winter has given up its icy grip and summer has not yet smothered me. Grass and plants grow so fast I think I could see it if I only had the patience to watch. The fig and walnut trees put out new leaves every day. Beans and peas and all the other little seeds, tired of laying in the dark beds, are stretching out their arms toward the sun. By next week, the spinach and lettuce will be ready to be turned into salads of succulent baby greens.

By the end of this week, the kids should be finished with their school work. They can already taste the freedom, though the last few pages of math and science hold them down.

I know how they feel!

Put One Foot In Front of the Other

Ever since I wrote my silly poem the other day, I've had the song "Put One Foot In Front of the Other" in my head. Christmas re-runs in May. Yikes!

LoveMercy noted that my hiking moral seemed to parallel my writing life. No coincidence there. Last month I was at a meeting of the local chapter of ACFW (American Christian Fiction Writers). We went around the room and everyone shared their recent accomplishments. One friend finalled in a prestigious contest. 6 or 8 had books under contract. 2 had their new books, recently published, to share with the group. 1 had just received a photo of her new book cover. 1 had signed with an agent.

I unlocked the door for the meeting. That's it.

I went home from that night wondering why in the world I've wasted so much time and energy on a dream that may never come true. I was ready to give up.

But now, with a manuscript out there being evaluated as a finalist, I've found new energy. I'd love to have the whole manuscript ready and polished for the summer OCW conference, so I've given myself a strict goal of how many words I have to write each day in order to have the manuscript ready.

2000 words a day, no excuses, until the end of June.

Wish me luck!

Angel's Rest

Climbing the mountain,
I switched forth and back.
With shoes on for hiking
and water and packs.

Only 5 miles,
but oh what a hike.
Made me wish for a zipline,
a plane or a bike.

Exhausting and sweaty,
I started to doubt
I couldn't continue.
I was all tuckered out.

So I sat by the path,
too fatigued to stand up.
Too ashamed to turn back
from so close to the top.

Would I make it or fail?
Was I strong or too weak?
When I turned the next corner,
I had conquered the peak!

moral: Don't give up. You're almost there.

A Little News

Usually, when I get a call from a stranger, it's someone from the police guild, my alma mater, or another non-profit. This morning, though, I got a different sort of phone call.

"Patty?"

"Yes?"

"I'm calling to tell you your novel has been selected as a finalist in our unpublished novelists' contest."

"Oh, that's great," I said. But inside I was shouting, "Yippee! Whoot! Whoot!"

I have 2 days to take the judges' suggestions and return a polished draft of my work. Winning would be great, but even placing in this contest gives me a foot in the door when talking with agents and editors this summer.

I NEED...

This was a game going around Facebook a couple of months ago, but I didn't want to be too much of a follower. After a couple of months, it's a retro game, right? So that's cool?

How to Play: Google your name and the word NEEDS. (So I google "Patty needs.") Check out the top ten results. Share them here if you want. Or don't.

Here are mine.

1. Patty needs no introduction.

2. Patty needs to understand that there are three objectives she must stick to or else her planning will fail.

3. Patty needs Jenny Craig, weighs "2254 lbs."

4. Patty needs to know that God's judgment is not based on popularity.

5. Patty needs a job that overpays!

6. Patty needs a home.

7. Patty needs to grow up and rethink her friendships, her ethics and her ability.

8. Patty needs a drinking gang.

9. Patty needs help with new glasses.

10. Patty needs to fill out her profile but is not feeling sassy enough to do it.

Living History

I have a theory that if you don't tell your kids something is boring, they won't know it is. It's worked for our history lessons over the years.

Learning about the Civil War? Go to a battle re-enactment.

Lewis and Clark? Stand on the places they stood on their trip West.

Visiting Nana in New Mexico for a month? Be sure to go fossil hunting, try on different outfits at the Indian Cultural Center, and visit as many pueblos as you can.

Can't make a trip? Read excellent books that relate history as a story, not just a series of facts.

We've reached the end of our history curriculum and I'm getting worried about what we'll do next. Now that the kids will be doing high school level work, does it have to be boring? One of them recently wrote a paper about Alexander Hamilton and, I'll tell you, there's not much information about him that's written in an interesting way. By the time I was done helping her with her paper, I remembered very clearly the glazed-eyes boredom that always used to come over me in history class.

In fact, that's ALL I remember from my history classes - how boring they were.

So, the challenge is, how do we take history to the next level without losing its story, the part that makes it live?

Suggestions?

Standing Thirsty at the Source

I can't imagine a thirsty man standing by a spring of glistening water and leaning down every so often to take a tiny little sip. Still thirsty, he stands back up and refuses (or forgets) to drink. 

I've been that man lately, reading a Bible verse here, sampling a story there, but refusing to quench my thirst. The other day a friend and I opened our Bibles to read a single verse and I felt the refreshment. I wanted to open my mouth and drink in huge gulp fulls of cool relief. It's all there, everything I need to eat or drink, and I know it's there. But I stand thirsty at the source. Thank God the outflowing of his truth and grace don't depend on my consistency.

At the Feet of Giants

Sometimes giants come in small packages, like Jeanne, who at 4 foot something is one of the few people I can look down on. Jeanne has lived a long, productive life. She spent her first six years in Africa, back when a trip to Africa meant a weeks-long voyage on an ocean liner. She first came into our lives as a great supporter of our mission. She was the lady who, tirelessly, helped send out newsletters and who wrote thank you notes on our behalf. She was at the hospital when our first children were born and declared herself their grandmother. Just this week, she completed her memoires. She's not selling them, but I'm looking forward to being one of the few recipients of this very special book.

From the Pages of History

How often do you get a chance to sit at the feet of someone who made history? Someone who is actually part of a chapter in your history textbook? We're not hoity toity cultural snobs, but when we heard Desmond Tutu was coming to town, we bought our tickets to see him right away.

Desmond Tutu changed the face of Africa.

Our first visit to Africa was to Johannesburg, South Africa, a place torn by the injustices of Apartheid. We were given the privilege of staying in the homes of three families - one English, one Afrikaans, and one coloured. I couldn't tell you the names of the white families we stayed with, though they were kind and hospitable. But the Africas (yes, that was their name), made us feel like family in their home in a coloured township. I think we were the first whites to ever stay there, or at least it felt that way as people watched us walk down the street. We drove through the streets of Soweto and saw the fields where blacks were "necklaced" with burning tires. We saw the hospital not far away where great advances in organ transplants were taking place... for whites. Meanwhile, our host spent over a week in the sparse ward of an under-equipped hospital waiting for someone to see him about a kidney problem.

So, to sit and listen to Desmond Tutu, a man who worked to end Apartheid, whose work on the Truth and Reconciliation Council in newly integrated South Africa helped that country seek forgiveness above retribution, was indeed a privilege.

And beyond being a privilege, it was a pleasure. Despite all his honorary degrees, his Nobel Peace Prize, his endless list of accomplishments, Archbishop Tutu has a terrific sense of humor and an ability to connect with a crowd. I'll cherry pick a little to keep the pearls of wisdom I agree with and leave the rest, but on the whole the evening was enlightening, interesting and fun! The highlight, for me, was hearing him pray the prayer of St. Francis of Assisi, first in English, then in an African tongue (I'm guessing was Xhosa because of the clicks), before he led us in a chorus of Amens.

The Prayer of St. Francis
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love.
Where there is injury, pardon.
Where there is doubt, faith.
Where there is despair, hope.
Where there is darkness, light.
Where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master, grant that I may not
so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved, as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive.
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned.
It is in dying to self that we are born to eternal life.

Forgiveness above retribution. Peace over war. Truth. Amnesty. Love for each other. Amen.

Hidden Treasure

I picked up a book from my nightstand this morning, one of those that's been shuffled to the bottom of the stack over and over for the past 3 months. One I wasn't too excited to read.

And you know what? I think it's going to be good. I love finding a hidden treasure buried amongst the books I already know and love. It's like finding money in your pocket when you pull out your winter coat in November.

Shh! I'm reading!

Two Down

I spent the last two weeks caring for a coughing, sneezing, sniffling, headache, fever, can't get any rest child. No sleep at night, coughing until her lungs hurt and her stomach muscles cramped. She's all better, but the other two just got the same bug.

Does this mean two more weeks of sleepless nights? Two more weeks of worrying if everyone is washing hands enough? Two more weeks of isolation?

I hope not. Pray for quick recoveries and plenty of rest for everyone.

Excuse me now. I have to go wipe down some surfaces.

Only So Many Words

You can measure how much writing I'm getting done by how often I post to this blog. I've heard that men and women have only a certain number of words per day to use up. Often, by the time my husband gets home, he's used up all his words so I have to do all the talking for the evening.

In the same way, I must have only so many words to write at a time. This week, I've been plugging away on a story idea and have nothing left for all of you who are checking in on me.

Sorry about that. When I hit writers block, I'll be back with a vengeance!

Maybe You HAVEN'T Been There

Have you stood at that spot in Four Corners and known that you could mark off 4 states from the ones you've visited? Not so fast. Turns out the Four Corners marker that is supposed to be on the border between Arizona, New Mexico, Utah and Colorado has been a little off all these years.

Well, actually, 2 1/2 miles off. 2 1/2 MILES? That's not even on the dartboard!

What else did they misplace? I'm worried about this now. What if I'm not where I think I am?

For those of you who used this marker to check off those four states, looks like you have some traveling to do.

Easy Fix

For the past two years, I've been clenching my teeth at night. I wake up every morning with a sore jaw and the feeling that I've been stressed all night without knowing why.

Last week I broke a filling. I went into the dentist for a new filling  but when I got home, something was off. I went back again and had them grind the filling down so I could touch my teeth together on the other side of my mouth.

And guess what?

No more clenching my jaw at night. No more headache or clicking jaw.

Turns out I wasn't stressed at all! I just had a high filling for the last two years.

Don't you wish all solutions were that easy? That one day we'd wake up and realize we could easily end the recession by trimming out fingernails? Or end world hunger by tapping the heels of our shoes together? Or lose weight by making a wish on a falling star?

Oh well, at least I'm not stressed!

Growing Up

One of my daughters had her first babysitting job tonight. The other has her first gig tomorrow. I lay awake last night wondering if I'd given them all the tools they need to handle the situations that will come up. Probably not. How am I possibly going to cram all the experience, wisdom and knowledge into them with the little time I have left? What if they're missing some huge piece of the puzzle? What if I forgot to tell them how to dial 9-1-1 or to wash behind their ears? What if they can't discern who to trust and who to avoid? 

What if? What if? Growing up is hard, but letting someone else grow up may be even harder.

Hey, Bidder, Bidder!

Come on down to the Unknown Artists Auction tomorrow night! The evening features

• cheesecake!
• entertainment by the Kennedy viola duet and a Karaoke team
• a silent auction of 5 pieces
• a bidding auction of 20 pieces
• the chance to take home art by a local artist (my contribution is above and authors of Millstones and Rosemoor also have entries)
• the chance to donate towards building houses for poor families in Mexico
  

Friday, April 17, 6 p.m.
Vancouver Church of Christ
9019 NE 86th St.
Vancouver, WA 98662
$15/couple

Cedar and Seder

As each week flows into the next, it's easy to forget the small milestones that mark the passing of time. Here are a couple from last week.

The first hike of the season... really just an excuse to get out and breathe fresh air. We chose to spend an afternoon with friends at the Cedar Plank Longhouse in Ridgefield, WA. If you squint, you can spot a couple of natives measuring the doorway.

The following Saturday, I dusted off the Seder plate and enjoyed an evening of good food and fun with family and friends. I think we lose so much of the rhythm of life when we ignore feast days. A once a year reminder about salvation, safety, and new life is always a good idea.

Gummi Boils

War of the Tulips

Europe dragged the North American colonies into three different wars in the 1700's - King William's War, Queen Anne's War, and King George's war. French colonies were pitted against British colonies were pitted against Spanish colonies in battles that had nothing at all to do with the colonies and everything to do with differences between the protectorates across the ocean.

Three wars. And all for nothing. For all the fighting, all the loss of life, all the drama, nothing was ever decided by any of the wars that made a lick of difference.

I think I may be embarking on such a war, a futile fight against an enemy who hides in trees, blends in with its surroundings, and refuses to fight in the proper fashion.
The War of the Tulips (aka the War for Squirrelish Domination)

It's early in the year, but the fight is on. A neat row of tulips grows along my fence. I wait each day to see them open in their vermillion brilliance. Today should have been the day for the first ones to burst forth with shouts of spring.

Alas, this morning I found the first of my precious tulips decapitated. Headless, its body drooped to one side. It has lost the will to live. This afternoon, 2 more flowers met their dreaded fate. And this evening, another 5. When will the carnage stop?

Desparate, I pluck 4 flowers prematurely, whispering apologies for my violence. But they are My flowers. They live at My pleasure. Or so I think. Inside, I prop them in a vase and mourn their fallen comrades.

I know this battle won't be the last. Next will come peas and lettuce (which suffer at the hands of the squirrels great garden ally, the slug), tomatoes, carrots and, finally, the heartwrenching stripping of the walnut trees.

I fear the battle endeth e'en before it's well begun.

The New Math

The size of your tax refund is directly proportional to the size of your emergency dental bill (and/or car repair).

Sunday's Coming

Perfect Timing

More often than I expect, events in life fall together in a way that just makes sense. Take yesterday for example. We started a new history book which will finally, after 4 or 5 years of studying through history in chronological order, launch us into the colonization of America and its birth as a new nation.

Over a year ago, I put my name in the government's hat and asked them if I could receive a set of American art through the Picturing America Project. The set arrived today and it's a beautiful set of 40 pieces of American art that tell the story of our nation through photographs, paintings, sculpture and other art objects. I'm so excited about how it will dovetail with our history study over the next year or so. And I'm excited to share it with other educators who can also use it to expose their children and their students to the power of art to reveal stories.

Creating Beauty

God loves beauty. Why else would he have created spring? White magnolia blossoms, pink flowering plums, and yellow daffodils paint a canvas that, only last week, was brown and gray.

God loves beauty. When he finished creating each day, he declared his creation good. When he made humans in his own image, he declared it very good.

If God created things to be beautiful, and he created people in his image, I've got to believe he created people to make beauty. Sculpture and color, shape and sound, words linked together as pieces of poetry. When we create something lovely, it brings glory to God.

What beauty have you created lately?

Unexpected

Sometimes life hands you little blessings that you're not expecting. Like getting to witness the delivery of 6 kittens without having to leave home. Even though I don't own a cat.

My friend Shelli and her daughter Hannah have been visiting for the last several days. They brought their motor home and their extremely pregnant cat, Recy.

Last night around 11:15, Hannah came crashing in the door to announce the immenent arrival. We woke up one of my kids to come watch and, after the 4th kitten was born, woke up a second child. It was too good to miss!

This is picture of the 6 kittens and their mama not long after the last one was born, around 2 this morning. What a fun reason to stay up so late!

Black Holes

I've always known there was a portal in the back of my dryer where socks can escape into another dimension. Turns out there are several other black holes, worm holes and portals in the house.

Obviously, there's got to be a warp in the time/space continuum. So many things go missing. I hunt and hunt for them. Then when I finally give up, the missing items show up right where they should have been in the first place.

The camera charger that went missing for 3 months. (ditto, the bluetooth charger)
The power cord that showed up in the same drawer I'd looked in 57 times.
The mapquest directions I printed off, then couldn't find. When I got home, they were the only thing sitting on my bed.

How do I switch these mysterious portals on and off? I'm missing a CD that I need to give to someone. And one of the kids' DSes. Are we sharing these items with an equally disorganized family in a parallel universe?

If so, I wish they'd go ahead and lost the stuff so we can get it back.

Mother Birds

I took the kids on a field trip to the Water Resource Center yesterday for a class on where we get our drinking water. About a dozen other homeschool families attended, none of whom we'd ever met before.

The kids gathered in a semi circle in front of a row of tables. The mothers gathered behind. As the class started, I was able to witness an interesting dynamic at work.

The teacher would ask a question. The kids would stare at her. The teacher would rephrase the question. The kids would stare at her. Behind the kids, the mothers grew fidgety. At first, they swayed from foot to foot or crossed their arms. Pretty soon, though, the bolder moms were reaching out and poking their kids. Or if they couldn't reach them, they were waving to get their attention and mouthing the answers to them. The mom next to me wanted her son to answer every question.

My kids weren't answering questions either, which was a little discouraging since we recently finished a science chapter on the water cycle and they should have known all the answers. Nevertheless, I tried to restrain myself from prodding them during the class.

As I watched the other moms I wondered... were they so visibly flustered because they wanted their kids to participate, or to be the smartest, or to succeed? I can't say for sure, since I don't know them, but I got the feeling it was more about Mom wanting to feel like she had succeeded in producing brilliant, articulate, confident children.

Like a mother bird pushing her young out of the nest, not to let them fly, but to show the world... Look what I made!

Day 9

... and counting.

Eh, Sonny?

I'm on day 6 of my ear infection, day five of treatment. Yesterday the doc prescribed a stronger antibiotic with the good news... "Really antibiotics only knock about 16 hours off your symptoms."

The screaming pain is gone, but nothing is in stereo any more, I list to the right when I walk, and I'm sure the rest of the family is mumbling on purpose, just to trick me into agreeing with what they say.

And I definitely need a nap every afternoon.

The same day I started antibiotics, an acquaintance was starting her first round of chemo. As much as I'm annoyed about my little treatable sickness, it's really nothing.

Would you say a prayer for Diana today?

Where are the Chickens?

We're having fufu for dinner. I found a hairy taro root that, though it's purply on the inside, tastes remarkably similar to the yams of West Africa.

Problem is, when I peeled off the hairy skin, I realized that there are no chickens wandering around underfoot in my kitchen. Nary a one.

I never thought about chickens when I bought the taro. Or when I set it on the shelf. Or when I sliced it in chunks. But when I peeled off that first piece of skin, my automatic reaction was to toss the peelings on the floor. For the imaginary birds.

Old habits die hard. Even dormant habits.

3 Steps Back

Yesterday, I traveled back through time to my childhood. Not exactly, but I did see, do and experience some things from my distant past.

1. The whole day was about the wedding. I traveled with my parents to Astoria to be at the wedding of a childhood friend whose parents are still close friends of my family. The parents recognized me, but all three of their kids (including the bride) had a blank "I wonder why that short middle aged woman is smiling at me" kind of greeting. Then the recognition... it's funny seeing people you haven't seen in over twenty years. We all change, you know. Lovely wedding, lovely bride, and lovely being introduced to the groom as "the other girl in the Little House on the Prairie outfit" in our childhood photos.

2. I started the day with doughnuts for breakfast. Yummy doughnuts. I haven't had doughnuts for breakfast since I used to go to the bakery in the Foodland parking lot. I also had the requisite nap in the backseat of the car on the way home. Probably because I had doughnuts for breakfast.

3. The worst blast from the past was last night. I got an earache. An all out screaming pain, can't relieve the pressure with drugs or hot water kind of earache. I knew it wouldn't kill me, but I kind of wished it would. Eardrops finally did the trick enough for me to get to sleep. Of all the nostalgic memories from my childhood, earaches are the ones I rather not revisit.

signs of spring

At some point in my house's history, a previous owner laid a layer of black plastic in the area I use for my garden. Every time we till the garden (by we, I mean my loving husband), it stirs up crumpled pieces of visqueen. You'd think after 4 planting seasons we'd have it all picked up, but I think there's more plastic out there now than there was when we started.

I still have to scrape my windows every morning, there are other signs of spring beside the beautiful black dirt and not so beautiful black plastic. It looks like my daffodils might actually flower this year. The squirrels are drooling over what is sure to be a tasty first course to a season full of wonderful things to eat out of my yard.

My youngest didn't come in from playing outside until after 7 last night. She smelled like fresh air and happiness.

The rose bushes, still in their plastic bags waiting to be planted, are growing like gangbusters, an inch or more a day.

Any signs of spring at your place?

Tools of the Trade

When you home school, you never know where you might end up. Today, it was to the Leatherman factory where they make the best multi-use tools in the world.

From spooled stainless steel to finished product, we got to watch the whole process.  I'm sure we'll extrapolate lessons about the industrial revolution, labor and safety standards, robotics and immigration.

Really, though, the coolest thing I took away from the tour was the handy little gizmo pictured here, the Juice Cs4.

Thanks, Dad!