Evangelist

His arms are covered with tattoos, and probably the rest of his body too, judging from the body art that peeks out from under his black t-shirt. He sports a ring in his nose, the kind that pierces through the lower septum and sticks out both nostrils. He's already lost all sense of professionalism, and no wonder. After all, his shop will close in 2 days and he'll be jobless anyway.

I set my books on the counter, nothing I'm too excited about, but worth purchasing at 80% off--a book on animism in Africa, a retelling of old testament stories, an exercise journal (already relegated the the second tier behind the books I actually use), and a memoir about a religious woman who tries not to believe in God.

The title caught my attention: Breaking Up With God. It speaks to me of what so many have done, turned their backs on their creator and refused to take his calls. I want to understand what drives people to seek a different life. I want to know how to tell them God still loves them even when they don't feel it.

The cashier slides one book after another across the bar code reader. I don't even notice him reading the titles I've selected. I don't expect him to care.

"Are you into this kind of literature?"

His voice startles me. I didn't think he was paying any attention to me.

"Which one?" I strain to see which title caught his eye.

It's the one about leaving God, of course.

"I don't know. I haven't read it yet." A Homer Simpson Doh! hits the inside of my skull. What a dumb thing to say.

The cashier is animated now. He's looking around for something, A pen, a scrap of paper.

"Here are some other books you might like to read." His eyes are bright, his voice eager. He slides the paper across to me. "Read them."

I don't know what to say. You've got it all wrong. That's not who I am.


The titles he's selected are non-fiction, instruction manuals for how to abandon God. I don't want them, but I stuff them in my wallet.

I stammer for an answer. What makes you so happy to teach people how to live apart from God? What happened in your life to make you so evangelistic? I don't say anything. He's already turned his attention to the next customer.

An opportunity lost, a moment in time when I could have spoken a word of truth, a word of grace, and instead I stand dumbfounded and let the broken preach to me.

A Teen Boy's Mite

I love to see a biblical truth come to life.

Last weekend I was out at Faith Quest, an amazing youth weekend that our church helps sponsor each Labor Day to give our kids a strong kick start to the year.

Somehow I drew the least important, least spiritual job of the whole retreat.

Canteen. That's right. In the midst of spiritual renewal and refocus, I sell mildly addictive stimulants (this Mountain Dew) and sugary snacks.

On Sunday each year, the Faith Quest directors choose a project for the kids to help with. In the past, they've given to buy boats for fishermen in Africa, to do outreach to unchurched teens, to support future Faith Quests.

This year, the money went to Ryan Woods, a young church planter who has had a dramatic and miraculous journey through spinal cancer over the past 4 months.

Just before the collection, one of the teens came by the canteen (closed) and begged to buy a Mountain Dew.

"Sorry," I said. "Come back later. Or better yet, give your money to the collection."

"I will NOT give money at the collection," he said.

Really? Maybe he just needed more encouragement. My "boss lady" pitched in. "You should really give at the collection."

"I'm NOT giving," the young man said.

"Just 75 cents?"

"No. I'm not giving."

We closed the door on him and shrugged our shoulders over the fact that he would be so outspoken about not wanting to sacrifice a Mountain Dew for the sake of a good cause (of course, he didn't know what the cause was yet).

Ryan and Jessica had a chance to tell the story of their journey. A year ago, Ryan was the keynote speaker, telling the kids to stand firm as warriors. This year he sits, weaker and more tired but happy to be alive, and tells the kid that the battle is harder than he ever imagined, how this year he's learned that hope doesn't come only in healing, but in trusting God to know what's best, even when it hurts.

I didn't mean to look, but it warmed my heart to see a certain young man, the same one who had refused to give 75 cents, stuff a handful of bills in the collection bucket.

"What do you think? There was a man who had two sons. He went to the first and said, "Son, go and work today in the vineyard."

"I will not," he answered, but later he changed his mind and went.

"Then the father went to the other son and said the same thing. He answered, "I will, sir," but he did not go.

"Which of the two did what his father wanted?"

"The first," they answered.

A Little Nudge

After 11 years of homeschooling, we are one week from dipping our toes in the waters of school. Well, actually, the older kids will be plunging in head first on the 26th when they start classes at our local community college. For them, it's sink or swim.

As they go off to classes each day, we realize that our younger one, a social bug, needs to be surrounded by more than just Mom. So...she will be attended an parent partner program through our local school district 2 days a week. We did our research, we did our praying, and (for my part) lots and lots of crying, and made the best decision we could based on this child at this stage of our lives.

So why do I still feel so panicked? Surely at some point I have to trust that my child can survive and thrive outside our home. After all, that's been the goal all along. It's funny, the last time I felt this much anxiety over the kids' education was when the youngun' was a babe in arms and the older 2 were starting 1st grade. They were crying every day over the fact that they had to learn to add. I was unsure I could stand to spend 18 years across the table from my kids.

Where did all those days go? First of all, we shoved the table out of the way and snuggled up together on the couch, or the chair, or the floor. We made the outdoors our school and drew from as many field trips as we could. We had hard days, sure, but we had a ball and learned a lot along the way.

Fly, little birdies,but be sure to come back to the nest to roost. I'm not ready to shove you all the way out yet.

An Unwelcome Interruption

I've often counted cancer as one of my least favorite words. Now I have a new one.

Metastasis.

Mom's cancer has found a new home in her sternum. We're praying that three weeks of radiation will knock it out, for a while at least.

For now, we're learning to enjoy our moments together. My youngest has already been over to put a puzzle together with her grandma. So many have sent hugs and cards and love.

If you want more details, check my dad's blog "millstones" in the right hand column.

If you want to help, prayers are certainly appreciated, as are hand-written cards and chocolate. (You can contact me if you need her address.)

Too Many to Love

More than 10 million people live side-by-side in the Rio/Niteroi Bay area, sometimes peacefully, sometimes not.

10 million. I can't even imagine it.

In a world where numbers like 700 billion and 10 trillion are thrown around, 10 million seems like such a small number. But not when you're talking about people, each one an individual with his own problems, concerns, joys.

How can you love so many?

The Roberts live at street level a few streets off Icarai Beach. The city is at the doorstep, often on their doorstep and inside their house. A steady flow of visitors comes in and out and, even when no one is visiting in the house, they shout comments and conversation over the walls from street to courtyard.

They chastise Pedro, reminding him that his parents want to see him back in church. They offer an area rug that they can't use in their new place to a neighbor. She insists on wiping down their new closets in return. They chat with the fruit seller, looking at pictures of his baby girl, then carry on their conversation with the bread seller, the street sweeper, the taxi driver.

How can you love 10 million people? You do it the way these missionaries are doing it--one person at a time.

All You Can Eat... and more

Brazil seems to be the mecca of all you can eat dining and last night we experienced the pinnacle.

At Verdanna Grill, there's an extensive salad, seafood and sushi bar. But that's not what people come here for.

They come for the MEAT.

All you have to do is sit at your table and wait for the food to come to you. Waiters walk around with huge skewers of meat, offering their fare at each table.

See something you like? With the nod of your head, it's yours.

To the best of my memory, we ate:

• filet mignon
• filet with cheese
• sausages
• beef hump
• pork
• capybara
• quail
• chicken
• turkey
• bacon
• pork belly and skin
• rib eye
• shrimp
• chicken hearts

It was extraordinary amount of food with an extraordinary family. I couldn't help thinking how much my dad and Ben's dad would have loved the meal. Wish they were here!

The bay is only a twenty minute walk through the park, past the shopping district and to the sand. The temperature drops from 82 to 75 as the sun sinks behind a nearby ridge. The city comes alive at sunset when individuals and family take to the streets. You are never truly alone here. The sounds and sights and smells of the people wrap around you like a protective blanket. Across the bay, the Jesus statue spreads his giant white arms over the ten million people. He knows them all by name and loves them, each one more than the next.

The Roberts are at home here, happy to be a part of the neighborhood they are ministering to, opening their home to foreign visitors and next door neighbors, being God in the flesh to those around them.

Let the Good Times Roll

You can keep your whiskers on kittens and cream colored ponies. Here are a few of my favorite things, all rolled up in an evening of fun.

1. learning about new cultures

2. trying new foods

3. learning new skills

4. hanging out with friends

5. good conversation

Thanks to Joan, a friend from Hong Kong, for opening her home and doing all the prep work to teach a small group of us how to roll our own sushi. All I need is the sushi mat and I'm ready to branch out on my own.

Next party--how to make pad Thai.

Up On the Rooftop

The trails around here seem so far away compared to where I grew up, but I must remind myself that an hour and a half in the car is worth the payoff.

If I'd stayed home today, I would have had a great view of the inside of the dishwasher, the washing machine, and the toilets.

This view from the eastern side of Mount Saint Helens doesn't even compare. Add to that the company of my loving husband, my in-a-good-mood daughter and a passel of teenagers and I'd say it was a perfect day to enjoy the great and vast outdoors.

God is good. All the time.

Prayers, Please

Mary Poppins had all kinds of advice, but the bit that sticks in my head this morning is that there's a word you can say when you have nothing to say.

It's Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

Hmm.

I don't feel any different.

Maybe I should go with Maria's advice in the Sound of Music and sing about my favorite things.

Or maybe I should do what the apostle Paul and so many others have done through the centuries and ask the saints to lift up prayers of intercession.

Mom has uterine cancer. She's having surgery this morning to remove a bunch of stuff she never thought she'd live without and the one thing she'd rather not live with. I'll head down to the hospital soon to sit with Dad, and probably a crowd of church ladies, while Mom's in surgery.

Prayers, please?

Congrats?

It's that time of year again, when bulwer lytton announces the worst opening lines in fiction. Thankfully, these sentences are created specially for the contest and will never grace the opening paragraph of a real book. Here are a few of my favorites. For more, visit the contest website.

The Grand Winner

Cheryl’s mind turned like the vanes of a wind-powered turbine, chopping her sparrow-like thoughts into bloody pieces that fell onto a growing pile of forgotten memories.

Sue Fondrie

Oshkosh, WI

My Personal Favorite

Detective Kodiak plucked a single hair from the bearskin rug and at once understood the grisly nature of the crime: it had been a ferocious act, a real honey, the sort of thing that could polarize a community, so he padded quietly out the back to avoid a cub reporter waiting in the den.

Joe Wyatt

Amarillo, TX

Adventure

From the limbs of ancient live oaks moccasins hung like fat black sausages -- which are sometimes called boudin noir, black pudding or blood pudding, though why anyone would refer to a sausage as pudding is hard to understand and it is even more difficult to divine why a person would knowingly eat something made from dried blood in the first place -- but be that as it may, our tale is of voodoo and foul murder, not disgusting food.

Jack Barry

Shelby, NC

Historical Fiction

Napoleon’s ship tossed and turned as the emperor, listening while his generals squabbled as they always did, splashed the tepid waters in his bathtub.

John Doble

New York City

Runner-Up

The executioner sneered as the young queen ascended the stairs to the guillotine; in the old days, he thought, at least there was some buildup, a little time on the rack or some disemboweling, but nowadays everyone wants instant gratification.

Andrea Rossi

Wilmington, NC

Sci Fi

Morgan ‘Bamboo’ Barnes, Star Pilot of the Galaxia (flagship of the Solar Brigade), accepted an hors d’oeuvre from the triangular-shaped platter offered to him from the Princess Qwillia—lavender-skinned she was and busty, with two of her four eyes what Barnes called ‘bedroom eyes’—and marveled at how on her planet, Chlamydia-5, these snacks were called ‘Hi-Dee-Hoes’ but on Earth they were simply called Ritz Crackers with Velveeta.

Greg Homer

Placerville, CA

What Would You Say?

If you were given the chance to go back to your hometown and teach at your home church for a weekend, what would you say?

Would you thank the people for investing in your life and spirit?

Would you berate them for the mistakes they made?

Would you share a truth that you've "discovered" along the way?

Really, what would you say?

Border to Border

It's been a big week for the older kids.

Sunday, they turned 16. We celebrated with high tea in Victoria, BC.

Monday, we crossed back into the USA in time to hear the fireworks, if not see them.

Tuesday, we traveled south 200 miles. Each of them took a turn at driving. Highway 101 is not for the faint of heart.

Wednesday, they got acquainted with their new laptop computers, a birthday gift that is cooler to them than any car.

Thursday, they said good-bye (from bed) to their NM grandma. One of the girls cranked out most of a quilt top that day. Packing began.

Friday, they squeezed in a birthday party with one of their friends.

Saturday, we dropped them off for their mission trip to Mexico. They'll be helping build a house for a poor family. They should be crossing the border by now.

Canada to Mexico in a week. What a way to turn 16!

How Can I Help?

Another friend stricken with cancer. I've honestly lost count. The first response for so many of us is, "What can I do to help?"

Which might just be the exact wrong thing to say. When you're sick, do you really want to be making TO DO lists?

Here's a list of other suggestions of things that might be better to say (and do). What do you think? What do you do to help friends with serious illnesses?

1. Instead of asking what you can do, look for what is needed. Garbage overflowing in the bathroom? Take it out. Dust rhinos frolicking in the corners? Clean them up.

2. Fix a meal. I try to take something that is freezable so even if they don't need food tonight, there's something in the freezer for when they're having a bad night.

3. Offer to take the kids for a while.

4. Water the plants, mow the lawn, bring a live plant. Life breeds hope.

5. Be sensitive about family time. Stay for a short visit rather than lingering.

6. Don't focus only on the illness. Feel free to talk about good news.

7. Think of something you can offer that no one else can. When I was on bedrest during my first pregnancy, a friend who was a massage therapist came once a week to give me a massage. What a blessing!

8. Be sure to include the person in the bed in the conversation. It always feels so awkward when a crowd is gathered around the hospital bed, laughing and talking, and ignoring the person who should be the center of attention.

9. Saying you're praying for someone is fine. Actually doing it is much better.

10. You can never go wrong with a heartfelt, hand-written note or card.

Summer Snow

I had plans to spend my first afternoon of summer outside, but I was foiled by a freak summer "snowstorm."

In Africa, the kapok trees would shed their fluff every January. We'd go outside and let it fall on us, pretending it was 90 degrees and snowing.

Oh, joy. Even here in the states, we get to experience hot weather storms. It was 82 degrees today and the cotton from our neighbor's poplar trees hit us like a slow motion blizzard. My plans to paint a dresser were cut short. It may take a week for the accumulation to melt away.

Unless you have any suggestions for shoveling air?

Heard Any Good News Lately?

National news is full of grim economic forecasts, natural disasters, and way-too-detailed accounts of what idiots men in power can be. International news is worse--nations toppling, people dying, corruption and economic collapse.

Where's the good news?

There was good news in in my town this week when Jones, a boy we've been praying for since his llymph nodes started swelling, turned out not to have cancer but a severe food allergy.

Good news at my house is that neither I nor the hubby are working this weekend. We're going to spend a whole day together as a family.

My nephew's chicken pox were not chicken pox after all so he got to go on the plane to see his grandma. (Good news for his mommy who needed the trip!)

There's a full group of potential church planters heading to Kairos Discovery Lab next month. That means more new churches for more new people.

The older kids are heading to summer camp and the younger is going camping with her Memaw and Papa which means a whole quiet day for me and the hubby!

A group of special ladies is going to help paint a bedroom this week! Yay!

The best good news I've heard this week, though, is in Romans 8. Here's just a taste from The Message.

The resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It's adventurously expectant, greeting God with a child-like "What's next, Papa?" God's Spirit touches our spirits and confirms who we really are: Father and children.

How's that for good news? The whole chapter is brimming with encouragement and excitement. Read it! You won't be disappointed.

What's the good news around your place?

Things That Make Me Happy, Part 2

BUBBLE TEA!!

For those who have never had it, bubble tea is an Asian tea experience. You can choose your flavor, though I always get the original milk tea. What makes it fun, though, is the bubbles.

The bubbles in bubbles tea are actually blueberry-sized balls of tapioca. Chewy, a little sticky, they sit in the bottom of your cup and surprise every time one comes up the straw and into your mouth. Caveat: if you're making bubble tea at home, as I am today, regular straws won't do the trick. You need a straw thick enough to suck up a marble.

Even more fun than drinking bubble tea is giving it to a friend. I love the look of surprise and either delight or disgust that washes across a face with the first tapioca experience.

Haven't tried bubble tea yet? Come on by. I'll brew you some.

photo credit: http://whatscookingamerica.net

http://whatscookingamerica.net/BubbleTea.htm

Things That Make Me Happy, Part 1

Sometimes you just need a laugh. On a recent road trip, here's something we found that was always good for a giggle.

THE COW GAME

The rules of the game are simple.

1. Any cows you pass on your side of the car are "yours."

2. If you pass a cemetery on your side of the car, you lose your cows. All of them.

What makes you laugh?

Anniversary

The hubby came home with flowers and chocolate and sparkling cider tonight.

"Who's that for?" one the kids wanted to know.

"For everybody. It's a special anniversary."

He proceeded to remind us all of the day, 10 years ago, that we spent in "Heidi's village" in Switzerland. We bought fondue, we walked the pebbled path in the shadow of a mountain chateau. And we told our twins they were going to be big sisters.

What a delightful 10 years it's been getting to know our youngest. She's a joy to all of us. I can't imagine life without her. I love her so much. I love her daddy, too, and am so thankful for his reminder to celebrate special memories.

Extra Credit

Build the Starship Enterprise out of useless office supplies or anything that might be sitting in your junk drawer. Here's an x-wing fighter for inspiration from instructables.com

Be sure to send me pics of what you make so I can share with the whole class.

Perks

One of the perks of my job with Kairos is that I get to spend time with people who care passionately about sharing Jesus with lost people. Another, one I discovered yesterday, is that I get to talk to some incredible people who are newly experiencing the thrill of being found.

I spent half an hour on the phone with Donna yesterday listening to her story and it's a doozy. If you didn't believe in God's providence before you met Donna, you would after you talked to her.

I can't bring myself to repeat Donna's story just yet. I want to hold it as a sacred memory for a minute before I release it. I'll share it with you soon.

But for today, be encouraged. God is at work in his work. He is actively seeking people, drawing their hearts to him, redeeming them from the most horrific life situations into shiny new life.

It's awesome.

Time Warp

In Amarillo, TX about 3 weeks ago, I was thrilled to find the public radio station for a few minutes of Car Talk. The caller was from not too far from home and had a long but interesting question.

This morning, I turned on Car Talk just as the same caller was asking the same question.

Reruns?

No. Pledge drive. I felt like I was in a warp of time and space. What I thought was live 3 weeks ago was being played today. Or was it the other way around. Is what I heard today really the live show and the other was a rerun (or prerun)?

Shades of Gray

The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral,
begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy.
Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it.
Through violence you may murder the liar,
but you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth.
Through violence you may murder the hater,
but you do not murder hate.
In fact, violence merely increases hate.
So it goes.
Returning violence for violence multiplies violence,
adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars.
Darkness cannot drive out darkness:
only light can do that.
Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.
— Martin Luther King Jr. Strength to Love, 1963

I see the world in shades of gray, though often from fear of committing to the wrong side rather than from conviction that the truth lies somewhere in the middle. I am not the sort to dance in the streets, chanting "USA! USA!" about anything. After living overseas, I cringe at what it must look like to a watching world. War is not a pep rally and being on the winning team does not automatically make you the best. Though I know in my head that the death of Usama Bin Laden is a triumph for the oppressed, I can't keep my heart from feeling that the violent death of anyone can only breed more violence.

So many opinions being so freely expressed today--the world is a safer place, the death of any man without Jesus is a tragedy, remember that it was government, not church, that hunted and assassinated Bin Laden--at least we are free to express these opinions.

What price for freedom is too high? Do we, like the rebels of Libya, promise to fight until the last drop of our children's blood has been spilled? Or do we sit like potatoes on our couches and spout opinions we have no intention of defending?

King David had no trouble at all rejoicing over the downfall, disgrace, torture and death of his enemies. David, the man after God's own heart. I've always struggled with that aspect of David's personality--his lust for revenge. I don't have it in me.

I find today that I can only pray that God have mercy on the souls of Bin Laden, his family, and those who killed him.

Hesed. Over and over in the book of Luke we see Jesus practicing a form of grace that is so complete, it can't be properly translated into English. As I understand it, hesed happens when we receive everything from someone from whom we expect nothing. Jesus offers me this kind of grace. How can I not extend it to others?

It's not all sorted out in my mind yet. Perhaps it never will be. I cannot live in black and white. My place is somewhere in between, in the grays.

First Reaction

I don't spend many nights laying awake worrying, but the other night a combination of a glitch in the precious metals market and the book I'm reading about the atrocious things people did to their neighbors during the Nazi regime during WWII saw me turning off the light with a pit of worry in my stomach.

I snuggled up to my honey and whispered, "I'm scared."

His reaction? (Giving him credit for answering at all since he was asleep.)

"Hungry people do desperate things."

Thanks, Babe. I feel better now.

2 weeks

13 states

10 beds

4 colleges

3 fast food restaurants

2 sit down restaurant

3 cafeterias

5 traveling companions

15 days

109 driving hours

6410 miles

1 catalytic converter

a million memories

Good Friends, Good Times

A friend dropped by the other day to bring me something--Snapple Amazing Race Papaya Mango Tea. She knows me well. My favorite show, my favorite fruit, and good conversation. Can't beat it.

Another friend and I are loading in our car tomorrow, throwing some kids in the back seat and some luggage up top, and taking off on our own amazing race. All the way to Tennessee and back in the next 2 weeks.

Wish us luck and--if you think of it--say a prayer for us.

More from the road.

Living Language

If you had the news on for even a second last night, you heard the big news that the Oxford English Dictionary has added words to its tome once again.

The words that made the cut (and the news) are symptoms of our times--LOL, OMG, and couch surfer.

Earlier this week, I heard a radio article on how high schools are trying to keep kids from using these texting abbreviations in their English papers. Turns out kids rule, at least according to Oxford. Of course, a dictionary's purpose is not to determine the value of language, but merely to record it.

Some of the new words in the dictionary this year surprised me. I thought these words would have been in there a long time : headline (as a verb), rototill, and rubberize.

Other words delighted me. It would be so much more awkward to say, "Look at that girl with a pouch of fatty skin sticking out above her pants that are either too tight or too low... or both," than to say, "Check out the muffin top." I'm also happy to see la-la land on the list.

My favorite new word this week, is just new to me, not to the dictionary.

Theodicy.

I'd define it for you, but I bet you can tell what it means just by looking at it. More on that later.

Are We There Yet?

We used to have a navigator, but by the time she broke down, I was so sick of her telling us to make a legal u-turn that we never replaced her.

I've been wanting a new one lately, though, not so much to help me find where I'm going as to help kiddo number 3 not have to ask, "Are we there yet?"

The kids and I and some friends are heading out on a long road trip next week--100 hours of driving, 2 weeks on the road.

I do NOT want to answer the "are we there yet" question every 10 minutes.

So... tomtom will join the family trip. And maybe, jjust maybe, he'll get us there and back again.

Super Proud!

My brother David is an amazing photographer. And I'm not just saying that. I have proof.

Check it out!

Guess Where

It won't take some of you 3 guesses to know where we went and what we saw this week. Go ahead. Give it a try.

Forty Days

Often in the Bible we find stories of events that lasted 40 days. Can you remember any of them?

• The rain fell to flood the earth- 40 days and 40 nights
• The Egyptian physicians embalmed Israel (aka Jacob)
• Moses spent 40 days on Mt. Sinai jotting down the 10 commandments (twice)
• The 12 spies spent 40 days exploring the promised land
• Goliath challenged the Israelite army every day for 40 days before David took him down
• Elijah ran away from Jezebel, a 40 day journey
• God gave the Ninevites 40 days to repent
• Jesus fasted in the desert 40 days before he began his public ministry
• Jesus stayed 40 days on the earth after his resurrection

So many things accomplished in a 40 day span. People around the world today knelt to have an ashen cross drawn on their foreheads. Today, they enter into a period of remembrance, of repentance, and sorrow for what they have done this year.

I've never observed Lent, though I'm intrigued by the idea of sacrificing something for the sake of remembering my sins and Jesus' suffering. God worked so many sacred rhythms into our lives, I can't help but believe he must be pleased by the millions who sacrifice in his memory. Lent is like the modern, stretched out Yom Kippur, a chance to let go of all the evil that weighs us down and be rescued.

If you had to give something up, what would it be? Chocolate? Coffee? Movies? Are the things we surrender really where we should be spending our resources in the first place?

What will you do with your next 40 days?

What's Worth It?

From an interview with a Libyan fighter:

"We will fight for freedom to the last drop of our children's blood."

What in your life would be worth that level of commitment?

Staying True to Traditions

It's been a while since our last barefoot walk in the snow. My feet have grown soft. One of my daughters has bailed on the tradition, choosing to follow in her grandmother's footsteps and hold the camera. The rest of us, though, continue proudly in the painfully hilarious traditions begun so many years ago in the cold Alaskan night.

We're All Terminal, But That's Not Bad

"Patty, we're all terminal. I just happen to know what might get me." Joanne laughed last year when the rumors of her impending death reached her ears. She didn't even know what kind of cancer she had yet, whether it was (fingers crossed) breast cancer or if the kidney cancer had spread. She assured me it wasn't time to plan her funeral or pick out the colors for her casket. Not yet, anyway.

Well, now it is.

Less than a month ago, I was blessed to sit across the table from Joanne and share in a time a prayer with her for our missionaries.

Three weeks ago today, I visited her in the hospital. She'd had a headache and they'd found brain tumors. 7 of them.

Yesterday, she passed quietly out of this world and into the one she's been looking forward to for as long as I've known her.

My first memories took place in Joanne's apartment, or with her and Ron in our little house. They were family to us, though we weren't related by blood. I have so many memories and almost all of them revolve around her thinking of and doing for others... always with grace and style.

She used to have a garage sale every June and would spend weeks collecting from people at church to raise money to build houses for poor people in Mexico. The garage sale grew beyond the confines of her garage and moved to the church parking lot, but still she was in command, dolling out orders from beneath a fedora...or a beret...or a feathered bonnet...whatever random hat she'd picked out of the sale pile.

Anyone who knew her could tell you what she's done for others. But let me tell you just a little of what she did for me. She loved me like a daughter... and then like a friend. She made me want to be a missionary. If she could move to Chile with 5 boys, I could certainly go to Togo (sight unseen) with a husband and a team. She gave me her secretary desk, knowing it would mean more to me than to anyone else because it was a desk she and my mom purchased together when they bought Jessie's trunk back when I was a baby. I think of Joanne every time I sit at that desk and I always will.

One of the greatest things she gave, though, came clear to me in the last week or so. The last time I saw her awake, she gave me a big hug and told me several times that she loved me. I know she did the same for Mom and for others. It's as if she decided not to burden us with her suffering, but chose to spend the last weeks of her life passing down blessings to all who entered her bedroom.

As a final gift, it was a doozy. She was gracious and lovely to the very end. Kudos to my mom for picking such a lovely friend.

Breaking Radio Silence

It's been a hard month. So much heartache, so much sorrow. Larry passed away a week and a half ago. Jeanne died suddenly and quite unexpectedly on Friday. And today we heard what we already knew--that Joanne will not last much longer.

I don't do crying well, but I've sure been getting a lot of practice. The smallest thing sets me off. One moment I'm fine, then a fleeting thought of someone I love in pain and I'm off again. In church this morning, it didn't help that I was sitting in the middle of a triangle of grieving spouses. It also didn't help that we sang In Christ Alone.

The last verse always gets me.

No guilt in life, no fear in death,

This is the power of Christ in me.

From life's first cry to final breath

Jesus commands my destiny.

No power of hell, no scheme of man

Can ever pluck me from his hand

Till he returns or calls me home.

Here in the power of Christ I stand.

Late last year, on the day of another friend's death, I ran across the picture above. What a powerful reminder that what is a sad day for us on earth is a happy homecoming for the one who has gone before. Can you see it on Jesus' face?

This morning Craig displayed this picture of another homecoming. In a way, I think this one's more accurate. Such joy, combined with such pain, must give a glimpse of how Jesus feels when we are finally in his arms.

Are you hurting? Can I pray for you? God knows my knees are calloused anyway.

Mom Meme

It's been a while since I did a meme. This one's from my mom. Leave your answers in the comment box or post them on your own blog.

1. What color are your socks right now?
white
2.What are you listening to right now?
hubby reading to a kid, Biggest Loser, and the crunch of cereal
3.What was the last thing you ate?
a handful of cereal
4.Can you drive a stick shift?
Yes
5.Last person you spoke to on the phone?
Stan, Kim and Kerry on a conference call
6.Do you like the person who sent this to you?
I owe my LIFE to her
7.How old are you today?
42
8.What is your favorite sport to watch on TV?
gymnastics
9.What is your favorite drink?
a big mug of black tea with sugar and cream
10.Have you ever dyed your hair?
once
11.Favorite food?
fresh picked fruit
12.What is the last movie you watched?
My Life in Ruins
13.Favorite day of the year?
3rd day of vacation
14.How do you vent?
call Sara
15.What was your favorite toy as a child?
prayer bear
16.What is your favorite season?
Spring
17.Cherries or Blueberries? Cherries
18.Do you want your friends
to e-mail you back?
Yes!!!
19.Who is the most likely to respond?
Linda
20.Who is least likely to respond?
Edwin
21.Living situation?
Married with children
22.When was the last time you cried?
Saturday
23.What is on the floor of your closet right now?
laundry and the dog
24.Who is the friend you have had the longest that you are sending to?
depends on who reads it
25.What did you do last night?
Ladies Bible Class
26.What are you most afraid of?
Falling out of an airplane
27.Plain, cheese, or spicy hamburgers?
Cheese
28.Favorite dog breed?
Bassett
29.Favorite day of the week?
Sunday
30.How many states have you lived in?
4
31.Diamonds or pearls?
Diamonds
32What is your favorite flower?
Iris for looks, gardenias for smell

Manual Update

And the winner is...

Me!

I found a manual for the embroidery machine.

Brian gets honorable mention for the best try, but it was for a different machine.

As soon as the book comes, I'll put it to work.

Thanks for your help.

Drat.

I hate cancer. HATE it. It strikes so indescriminately: old and young, rich and poor, healthy and feeble, evil and righteous. When people question how God can allow suffering, they're talking about cancer, among other things.

I know God can redeem any situation. I know he can build character in bad circumstances, reach the unreached through the suffering of the rescued, put a silver lining in any cloud.

But why are there always clouds?

I know he loves us, cares for us, died for us. In my head, in my heart, I know and believe.

But I still question. Why?

Job had questions. God had answers, but not the ones Job wanted. Whenever someone gets diagnosed, I go to Job. I don't find comfort in the questions, but in the answers which basically say, "Who are you to ask these things? Did you make the world? The sky? The sea? Then put your hand over your mouth and stop talking. Better to not say anything and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt."

I know, it's not comforting in a traditional sense, but to hear God tell us we can't possibly understand what we're asking much less what his reasons are makes me feel better for some reason.

I covet your prayers for Larry and for Joanne this week. Larry's at the end of his fight. Joanne's at the beginning of her 3rd round. Both are right with God and a whole lot stronger than I am. I want to take the pain away, but they both face it bravely.

Sitting Still

My life has been so filled with activity lately, I've been out of touch with most of the things and people I usually keep up with.

Bombings in Moscow

Oprah's half sister

The State of the Union

I've missed all of them.

I've missed my blogs, too, neglecting them in favor of birthday parties, meetings, and well-child checks. The children are fine. The baby turns 9 tomorrow. I like my work. But my writing and my blogs suffer.

It's true what they say: You can have it all, just not all at the same time.

I Give Up-- For Now

I had a brilliant idea on Sunday--I should monogram t-shirts as party gifts for my daughter's birthday party on Saturday. 6 days would be plenty of time to learn how to use my never-taken-out-of-its-bag embroidery attachment my mother-in-law so generously gave me a few years ago.

It should have been, but the one thing missing from the bag was the instruction manual. It took a friend in Africa to set me on the right track of how to plug it in and set it up. That took 2 days. With it running (finally) it was time to test my technique. The first sample came out perfect. Easy cheesy, right?

Wrong. I ruined the first t-shirt, then did one right. Practiced on the ruined t-shirt to see what I was doing wrong and did 3 monograms in a row that turned out perfect. Went to do the 2nd t-shirt and tore a hole in it.

I give up.

For now. Africa friend was right that I should learn to use the machine when I don't have a project with a deadline adding to the pressure.

When I start again (which will be soon since I think this has the potential to become a super fun hobby if I can overcome the frustrating beginning), I'm starting with a manual in hand and an expert embroiderer on speed dial.

Prize alert! A monogrammed dishtowel to the first person who can locate a reasonably priced copy (electronic or print) of the instruction manual for the Bernina Artista 180 Embroidery attachment. I have the sewing machine manual, but there are separate instructions for the embroidery machine.

Shameless Plug

Mom and I are hosting a Demarle party on Saturday at 2.

Don't know what that is? It's an amazing cookware line featuring the Silpat (Martha Stewart's must-have) and other flexible, non-stick cookware.

Can't come? No worries. Drop me a line and I'll tell you how to look at a catalog.

A New Twist on Shopping

I clip coupons... sorta. I often find that it's cheaper to buy generic brands and to shop at Winco than to use coupons on national brand items. It's a hassle and it doesn't seem to pay off.

Turns out, I've been doing it all wrong. I took a class on how to use coupons to the best advantage. Tonight, I thought I'd try it out.

Here's what I did.

I went to Safeway and spent $6.41 on 3 Hallmark cards. When I paid, the cashier handed me one of those long receipts that prints off with a coupon. This one was worth $5.

I turned around and purchased 5 boxes of fruit snacks (reg price $2.99 on sale for $.99), 2 boxes of cereal (reg price $3.49 on sale for $1.79) and 2 loaves of bread (on sale, of course). I used coupons for the fruit snacks and for the cereal & used the $5 coupon from my previous purchase.

The total came to $5.03, a savings of $29.68. And they gave me another coupon worth $3 off my next purchase. And the fruit snacks have 10 cent labels for education, so I can donate 50 cents to a school.

I may not shop this way all the time, but I've become a believer!

Ain't That the Truth

Pa's gonna be mad when he sees me do that. He don't like no fancy stuff like that. He don't even like word writin'. Kinda scares 'im I guess. Ever' time Pa seen writin', somebody took somepin away from 'im.
-Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath

My how times change... or do they. For folks these days who don't have the advantage of a solid education, pieces of paper can still be intimidating. I picture so many friends in Africa who showed up at our door clutching a piece of paper. It might be a pink page with a list of prescriptions, a bill from the tax man, a notice from their landlord. All those pieces of writing brought news that somebody was fixin' to take somepin away from them.

All those papers except one--a book--that motivated folk not only to writing, but to reading. It was so painful to listen to men and women struggle through reading passages aloud, but they struggled and they prevailed. This book, the Bible, spurred people on to do what neither school nor government had done. It gave them a reason to want to be able to decipher the words on the page.

It taught them to read.

Progress?

Last time I was in the mall, Santa Claus sat in his oversized chair, letting children sit on his knee while elves snapped happy pictures. Today I noticed his house is gone, replaced by a temporary tax prep cubicle.

Let the good times roll.

Already Behind

I started filling in my calandar a few minutes ago, trying to get all my work responsibilities in one place.

I just got dinged. The calendar tells me I'm 8 hours behind on 3 tasks.

How did that happen?

It's how I feel, though, about 8 hours behind on everything I set my mind to. Maybe I should put "hug your children" and "be nice to someone" on the calendar so I can get dinged on those, too.

With New Resolve

Well, the new year is upon us. The family is sleeping off the effects of a late night while I sit in the kitchen listening to the clock tick 2011 off second by second.

I usually greet each new year with a list of resolutions, quietly made, quietly broken. The list is pretty much the same every year-eat better, exercise more, get up earlier, keep the house cleaner, have a consistent Bible study time, get a novel written, spend more time with the kids...

I read a blog the other day suggesting that instead of making goal-oriented resolutions, we focus more on the internal motivation. Why do I want to get up earlier? How do I want to feel about myself and the way I live?

A list of resolutions, all in adjectives. It changes the focus from what I have to do to how I ought to be.

Content
Positive
Healthy
Loving
Wise
Effective

What about you?

You'll Be Happy To Know

Especially those of you buried in snow out on the east coast, but also those of us in the wet, windy west, will be happy to know...

The mail today confirmed that winter is almost over.

Nevermind that the groundhog won't peek his head out for weeks. Nevermind that the solstice was mere days ago. Nevermind that the sun hasn't been seen in days.

Land's End is having their Winter's End Sale!

Henry Fields and Guernsey seeds are announcing the advent of spring.

Well, who am I to believe? Obviously, we can't trust the weather or the calendar any more. The advertisers must be right. The fact that they're the same types who put out Christmas items in August might clue us in to a trend, but I'm choosing to believe them this time.

I'm on their team. But tell me, by agreeing that spring is here, can I make it so?

Return to the Scene

My hubby of 23 years took me out of town for the weekend. He wouldn't tell me where we were going. He brought me somewhere I never thought I'd go again, the little motel where we started our honeymoon.

The Camelot Room, to be exact. It just shows how tastes change over the years. The room looks exactly the same--the coat of arms and armor on the wall, King Richard the Lionhearted's banners hanging from the ceiling. Best of all, the Pacific Ocean still washes up underneath the private balcony and the Yaquina Lighthouse is visible from where I sit.

So much has changed in our years together. We've had 9 cars, moved 11 times, had 3 children together. We've earned degrees and learned languages. Last time we were here, we didn't carry computers or cell phones or ereaders or digital cameras. Now we have them all.

Some things haven't changed, though. I'm still madly in love with the man I married and happy to have him to myself for a few hours.

Happy Anniversary!

Broken Record

We fed 18 around the dinner table last night, thanks to a generous donation of several salmon from some Alaska friends. It truly was an all-you-can-eat meal straight out of the Copper River.

When two more friends dropped by, we broke the record for how many people can fit in the house at once - 20 people, 3 dogs, and a bird crowded into living room and kitchen of our 1200 square foot house. When 8 of them left and only 10 remained, it seemed so quiet!

Good times, great blessings, wishing the same for you.

A Modern Retelling of the Christmas Story

Old Dog, Same Old Trick

When we got Missy 5 years ago, she introduced herself to our family by gorging on 2 pounds of chocolate. That's when we met our vet. And cleaned our carpets.

You'd think she'd never want to eat chocolate again after that traumatic introduction to it, but no such luck. It's her mission in life to sniff out and devour whatever chocolate she can find. We've been very careful to keep it out of her reach ever since.

Until yesterday. She got her teeth around a small dark chocolate bar and downed it before I could get it away from her. I spent most of the night awake with her. If you've never seen a hyper geriatric basset hound, it's actually quite entertaining.

Not that we want to see it again. She's feeling better tonight and has been allowed back in the house to sleep.

Rejection Day

The first manuscript I sent to an agent, I waited anxiously by the mailbox waiting for the acceptance letter and the tumbling words of praise for my work.

Not so much any more. First of all, I get all my rejections by email these days. I've had enough of them that I don't take them personally at all.

This morning, I got my 4th rejection on a mystery series set in Alaska that I've written for 4th-6th graders. It's my first time to send something to a "New York" agent--meaning one who works in the general market of book publishing, not in the Christian market. After all the stories about how rough it is out in general market land, I've been pleasantly surprised by the nice, personalized rejection letters I've received. Of the 3 New York agents I've heard from, every one of them read at least a portion of my manuscript and every one of them wished me the best of luck in finding an agent or publisher.

It's not personal, it's business. That's a mantra I should repeat to remind myself not to take things personally. The agents, after all, are looking for work that fits what they want to work with.

On the other hand, when these agents treat me as a person instead of an annoyance, it feels pretty good. Even in business, people should be treated like people.

Under the Bridge

It's cold tonight in Bridge City--not quite freezing, but close. The wind whips its way along the Willamette, stirring scraps of paper, dried autumn leaves, and dust in its path.

A long line forms outside the Portland Rescue Mission, a hundred or more souls looking for a warm place to sleep.

A bus parks under the Burnside Bridge and disgorges its passengers, a mob of eager youth. Tables go up, coffee comes out, clothes are placed on plastic tables, free for the taking.

A mother wanders by with her two grown children and all three dig into the piles pulling out shoes and hats and coats and blankets. They cart away a bag full of stuff--I don't see where it's stashed--and mosey back over for more.

Four or five men warm their hands around paper cups of fresh coffee. They're joined by more.

"Are the clothes free for everyone?" Sharon asks. She approaches the tables tentatively, unsure if she's allowed to touch.

"Help yourself," I say. "And have something to drink, too."

"I just need the clothes."

She does, too. Her thin jacket and jeans won't protect her from a night like this. We rummage through the gloves together and find a fingerless pair with a mitten flap that will keep her fingers warm.

"How can I pray for you?" I ask. It's been so long since I asked a stranger that question.

She doesn't even hesitate. "Strength," she says. "I'm 33 days clean and sober and I need strength."

"You've got it." I reach a hand for her shoulder, but Sharon's not shy about pulling me in for a full hug while I pray for her.

A woman wobbles up on her bike, its red strobe flashing in unison with the strobe on her dog's collar. The black pit bull waits patiently on the curb while his owner finds a sweater and a blanket. I hold the dog until his owner balances her goods on her handlebars, then she and the dog continue down the sidewalk. Some men pray over Matthew and some others, I didn't catch their names.

It's not much we offer--a small meal, warm hands, a little conversation--before we pile back into our vans and buses and head back to the comfortable suburbs. Just a blink of an eye for us, but for Sharon and the others, the cold persists, the struggle continues.

My heart grows jaded sometimes toward human suffering. I witness a drug deal and don't know what to say. My youngest child buckles her seatbelt and tells the truth, "Homeless people are nice."

They are and they aren't. Just like me.

DIY Christmas

Every year, I like to do some kind of homemade gift for all my friends. Last year, I made soy candles. The year before that was a flaxseed neck pillow. The year before that I did my own blend of chai tea.

I enjoy the process of deciding what to make, finding the goodies to get it all done, making and presenting the gifts.

All year I've been planning to make reusable produce bags. I bought the fabric and the thread. I set aside the day to work on them. And then I got a gift from my sister-in-law.

Reusable produce bags. Cheap, well-made, and better than what I was planning to do. Good then. On to plan B.

Only there was no plan B. Hmmm... what to make?

I've found my plan B, I think. Testing it out today.

Question for you: What kind of handmade gifts do you enjoy receiving? What are the best ones you've made?

Thanksgiving Show and Tell

It's Thanksgiving time, a holiday for remembering all the things in our lives to be thankful for, a day for gathering with family or friends, for good food and good times. Tell us about YOUR Thanksgiving.

1. Do you cook all or part of the meal?

2. Do you eat at your house or someone else's?

3. White meat or dark?

4. What is your perfect bite?

5. Anything you won't eat for Thanksgiving?

6. How do you spend the morning?

7. The evening?

8. Favorite leftover?

9. Favorite thing about Thanksgiving?

10. Favorite Thanksgiving memory?

11. What are you thankful for this year?

Way To Go!

Last time I saw Scott, they called him Scooter. He couldn't walk, couldn't crawl, but he was a happy little guy. His parents took him to Easter Seals and prayed many a prayer over him.

He learned to walk. And then to run.

And today he ran in the NAIA Men's Cross Country National Championships. Dad and I cheered him on as he climbed the hill toward the finish line. (Those are Dad's hands. Scott's the one between them.)

8K in 27:36. Your mom and dad are so proud.

It was good to see you again, Scott. Hope to see you again next year.

Tea Time

My first day on my new job, Stan asked if I'd like some tea.

I answered, "You never have to ask if I want tea. The answer is always yes."

It's true. Just like Sabrina who, in her movie, says that Paris is always a good idea, tea is always a good idea. (I'd take Paris, too, but at 20 cents a cup, tea's a bit more accessible.)

One whole cabinet in my kitchen is filled with tea. Earl Gray, Lady Gray, English and Irish breakfast. Rwandan, Kenyan, Ugandan. Indian Chai, Black Chai, Homemade Chai Blend. Darjeeling, Assam, Ceylon. Ginger, fruit, and mint ... there's something for everyone.

I have my tea cups, too, but when I want to drink tea, I always reach for the big mugs. The one with Christmas trees reminds me of Lori who judges how well she likes a mug by how thin it's lip is. The "Shh, I'm reading" one doesn't really work, but I like it. My new Copco To Go mug will get me 10 cents off a drink at Starbucks.

Excuse me now. I need to put the kettle on.

Forever 29

He always said she'd run forever. If she was going to die, it would be from getting hit. 29 years, 400,000 miles, talk about Old Faithful.

Storage Options

When my hard drive crashed recently, the PC guru who unsuccessfully tried to retrieve my data advised that all important data should be stored in at least 3 places. Some storage options are:

-on the computer itself (of course)
-on a thumb drive
-on an external hard drive
-on an online storage backup site (like mozy or qwest digital vault)
-on a file sync service (like dropbox)

A colleague recommended sugarsync, which stores your info online and regularly syncs it with your computer. I signed up for it today and was able to receive a 500 megabite file, 50 times the size of info I'd be able to receive via email.

If you're interested in learning about sugarsync, use this link. If you sign up, it will give both of us extra storage space above the 2 gigabites you can use for free.

If you've got a helpful tip for backing up data, feel free to share.

This Just Made Me Smile

Originally I posted a clip from Wheel of Fortune, but it won't play any more. So if you want to see it, click here.

A Colorful Moment

We ARE the Joneses

We are NEVER the first people to buy a new technology. Case in point: we still have a VCR. And an analog TV. And a radio. And a typewriter.

Yesterday, though, I bought a new technology on the first day it released. I brought the Kinect for XBox home with a big grin on my face.

Finally, a game that I want to play.

For all the years we've had an XBox, there's never been a single game that's interested me. Until now. I was intrigued by the Wii and had pretty much talked myself into getting one before I heard that the Kinect would not require any controllers. It works with a motion sensor, is geared for real exercise, and works with the system we already own.

Perfect.

I only bought the sensor and a fitness program, which will be plenty to keep me busy until Christmas.

We've only had it for 24 hours but we've already had about 15 kids come over and give it a try. I think I'm going to love it. Drop on by and see how this amazing new gizmo works.

A Serene Moment

This indigo art exhibit is on at the Portland Japanese gardens. Amazing textile work by an artist from Kyoto.

A Blustery Moment

November started out wet, warm, and windy. No worries. Just get out and enjoy the weather!

Snowmobiling with Santa, Part Last

One of my earliest memories, when I was about 3, is of snowmobiling with Santa. Looking back, I’m not sure Santa was actually on the snowmobile, but in my mind he was. At least, I was riding on the back of the snowmobile, then was picked up and plopped on his lap. Surely he was there, too. I always pictured Santa abandoning his sleigh to race across the frozen white land on his Arctic Cat.

It was a privilege to grow up Alaskan and I wore the title Sourdough with pride. It was a gift to sit at the feet of the old Tlingit woman who taught beading and moccasin making. It was a thrill to deliver homemade banana bread to Montana Joe in his one-room cabin. He was one of the last homesteaders in Juneau and, even as I child, I knew I was looking into the face of history.

I was always told not to disturb the bricks I found when exploring the ruins of the A.J. Mine or the Treadwell mine. “Those bricks are valuable.” That’s why, when I moved to Arkansas and saw all the brick houses, I thought everyone was rich.

And all the time, it was I who was rich. Rich in a heritage and a boatload of Alaskan memories I will never forget.

Snowmobiling with Santa, Part VII

“We’re going to the glacier!” We would yell to Mom as we sped off on our bikes. Nearly every sunny day was spent at the glacier, climbing rocks, hiking trails, fishing for ice, and (most fun of all) lying to tourists. We got a kick out of the questions we heard.
“What is the humidity here?” as the rain drizzled down.

“What is our elevation?” They had just come in on a cruise ship. Their elevation was pretty close to zero.

“Why is the glacier so dirty?” This was my favorite questions to answer.

“Those teenagers,” we would say. “They are always joyriding out on the glacier. They keep leaving their muddy tire tracks.” Or “That’s actually not the real glacier. The real glacier is out for cleaning, so they’ve just pinned up a huge photo.”

The tourists would nod in wonder.

The real answer, of course, is that the ice picks up boulders as it flows slowly down the valley. Mendenhall Glacier’s face was more than a mile from the parking lot, but because it is so huge, it’s easy to lose perspective. Boulders look like gravel, gravel looks like dust.

But what’s so fun about that?

Snowmobiling with Santa, Part VI

Dad and my brother went fishing… no surprise. Would it be salmon or halibut for dinner? Neither, as it turned out. When the phone rang, it was Dad, calling from his Ham radio.
“Call your Japanese friend. We’re bringing home an octopus.”

Dad had caught and released the leggy creature, but when David caught the same one ten minutes later, it was either release it so it could eat more bait or take it home.
Our new eight-legged experience filled the utility sink, its body and tentacles seeking their own level like a viscous liquid. We all took a turn at pulling the suction cups away from the sink. Pop! Pop! Pop-op-op! By the time Mariya, my Japanese friend arrived, I was having second thoughts about whether I wanted to put that thing in my mouth. Her scream upon seeing the octopus made me even more nervous. Apparently she had never seen a whole, live octopus before. She had always bought chopped up parts in the supermarket.
Our expert was useless as a butcher.

“How do we kill it?”

“We can’t drown it.”

“Maybe we should cut off its head. But wouldn’t it still be alive?”

Luckily, we had a book on how to prepare octopus.

Don’t ask.

“Remove the beak then turn the head inside out,” the book said. Somewhere in that process we think it died. We pulled the stretchy skin off the legs, sliced them up and delivered them to Mariya who was waiting inside at a safe distance from the carnage.
She expertly turned the octopus into a bowl of indigestible rubbery disks.

At least we got a bottle of ink out of the deal.

Snowmobiling with Santa, Part V

Winter in Juneau meant wondrous snow! On the playground, we all worked together to build the biggest snowman we could. Starting with a small snowball, one kid pushed it until it was too heavy for him to handle by himself. Someone else joined and, soon, twenty of us were pushing around a five-foot snowball. There. The bottom was done.

“Hey, I’ve got the middle part started over here!” someone else yelled. We all swarmed over to help, rolling the ball until it was the size of the first one. Only one to go.

The head was easy to make. Now to put it all together.

I don’t know how we thought we were going to lift several hundred pounds of snow above our heads to place the middle section of our snowman on top of the base. Never mind that one part was by the baseball field and the other was clear over by the swing set.

And so our snowman sat, every time we had a big snow, a slowly-melting testimony to our inability to learn from past mistakes.

Snowmobiling with Santa, Part IV

Picking up trash is good. Planting trees helps the future of our forests. But for a memorable service project, how about starting a library? When my Girl Scout troop heard there was no library in Pelican, we were devastated. How can you live without a library? We collected books from friends and neighbors and packed them up in cardboard boxes.

Pelican had no roads, no airport. We would have to deliver the library by hand.

So, a bunch of 11-year old girls and our fearless leader boarded an Alaska State Ferry. We transferred in Sitka to a smaller ferry which took us to Pelican. With only a couple of hours’ turn around time, we would have to work quickly to establish a whole library. We walked, arms full of books and heads held high, down the boardwalk of the fishing village toward the site of the new facility. One of the town members had very kindly offered the use of her closet to host the new book collection.

A cup of tea, a Girl Scout cookie, a wave of thanks and we were off. I hope those books brought as much pleasure to their readers as they did to the delivery girls.

Snowmobiling with Santa, Part III

Summer isn’t summer without homemade ice cream. And you can’t make real homemade ice cream without glacier ice—the freshest, coldest, purest ice on earth. Dad surveyed the ice from the shore of Mendenhall Lake, eyed a piece that was close enough to reach then plunged in with hip waders, ice pick and burlap sack. While he was nabbing the perfect berg for our dessert, we three kids were facing a challenge of our own.

“Who can keep their feet in the water the longest? Ready? Go!”

“One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand… AAAHHHH! Ow! Ow!” The bone cracking cold broke even the bravest of us within a few seconds.

Back home, sucking on a puzzle piece of glacier ice and waiting for dessert, I knew that the ice cream was just an afterthought to the experience.

Snowmobiling with Santa, Part II

Every summer we picked berries on Blueberry Hill. Tiny berries, barely bigger than bee bees, but so full of flavor, it was like eating candy right off the bush. We sang as we picked. Loud choruses of “The Other Day I Met a Bear” and “There’s a Hole in the Bottom of the Sea” were enough to scare off any critters in the neighborhood.

Most of my pickins ended up in my tummy, but Mom somehow filled her bucket. At home, she emptied her pail straight into a sink full of salt water. What fun to run my fingers through the small, sweet marbles. Even the dozens of tiny worms floating to the surface did not keep me from sneaking a few more berries. It’s good protein and, besides, the ones with the worms are the juiciest!

Snowmobiling With Santa, Part I

Shadow tag at ten o’clock on a summer night. The shadows stretch fifty feet. There is no way to escape being stepped on by “IT.” This is childhood in Alaska—fun, wacky, and unforgettable.

I thought it was normal to come home from school and find a king crab wandering around the garage.
“Can we name him, Mom?” we’d ask.
“Yes, but don’t get too attached. He’s dinner.” And show-and-tell as it turned out. There is no cooler show-and-tell than a giant crab claw. Not even a lunch box full of skunk cabbage.

I thought everyone grew up panning for gold and finding little flecks of color, dreaming of striking it rich, just like in the glory days.

I thought all children wore bells around their necks to warn away the bears.

I thought the Easter Egg hunt on the Alaska State Ferry somewhere between Petersburg and Ketchikan was fun, but not particularly unusual.

I also thought everyone had an “end of the road.” With less than thirty miles of road in any direction from our house, we never got used to riding in a car. Every car trip “outside” Dad challenged us to stay awake and enjoy the scenery. By the time 30 minutes had passed, though, Dad was inevitably driving a car full of sleeping wife and kids.

I thought camping meant roughing it. Camping in the lower 48 was such a disappointment after the real life survivor challenge of camping in Alaska. One of my fondest memories is of the camping trip Dad and I took to Portland Island. Pup tent, sierra cup and dried apples were our only amenities. We were dropped on the beach and, when the boat pulled away, I knew we had to depend on our wits to survive. Never mind that the most dangerous wildlife we saw was a deer trail. Never mind that we were only there for two days. It was an only-in-Alaska trip and one of the experiences that shaped my life. Over the next week, I'll share few more.

Protecting My Future

Our family runs on a four month dry erase calendar.

If it's on the calendar, it'll get done.

If it's not on the calendar, it'll never get done.

Every day is scribbled full of all our activities. Tomorrow, for example, reads:

Guitar
Art
Haircut
French
Ortho (dontist)
youth group

Usually, I rotate the months every several weeks. Not this month, though. The writing on the wall runs July 1-October 31. It's time to erase and start again. I'm enjoying the illusion that the next four months stretch out empty before us, though I know it's just an illusion.

If you want me to do something with you or for you, be sure I check my calendar first. I've been known to double and triple book myself.

What's on your calendar today?

It's All Relative

This is why when someone asks if I know so-and-so in Africa, the answer is probably no. The map comes from a fascinating blog on visualizing data called information is beautiful.

Hmmm...

I was just looking back at this blog and was surprised to find that my last 4 posts were about food.

Hmmm...

A Warm Welcome

We weren't even all the way in the door at the new family owned grocery store before one of the workers greeted us. Dad pumped him for information about who built the store, how it was stocked, what made them stand out from the chain stores, while I picked up huge avocados, tiny pears, and arugula from a bulk bin.

The same worker met us on the other side of the store while we were browsing the cheese section. I asked if they had any prepared pizza dough. He didn't know, but he'd find out.

"We don't carry pizza dough yet, but we might later," was his answer. "But I'd like to introduce you to Erik. He's our executive chef."

Erik was more than happy to fix up some pizza dough for me on the spot and bring it out to me while I was shopping.

We met the same worker at the end as we pulled our cart up to check out. Dad did what I should have done in the first place--asked his name.

Larry.

The new store, Chuck's Produce and Street Market, will be a fun place to shop, especially for hard to find items like passion fruit and good Gouda. But what's taking me back there is the warm welcome I received from Larry and the terrific customer service from Erik.

By the way, the pizza was delicious. Y'all should have stopped by.

Happiness is...

... a piece of moldy cheese.

My dad drop by with a huge hunk of gorgonzola cheese the other day. He split it in 3, left some for me and some for a friend who loves cheese.

Kind of random, I thought, but I've got to tell you--I've been enjoying that cheese. It's not the kind of treat I would have bought for myself, so it tastes a little luxurious. Also, I've discovered that both of my older kids like it, too. It's a snack the 3 of us can enjoy together and a reminder that their taste buds are definitely maturing.

My folks do thoughtful things like this all the time. A couple of dog bones showed up at my house the other day, a stack of coupons and comics, a basket full of freshly picked grapes.

It's fun to be thought of by someone who knows what you like. Has anyone done anything thoughtful for you lately? Have you done anything for someone else?

Bananas

The Asian market has plantains on sale, nice juicy ripe ones. I bought 2 the other day and grilled them. One of the kids and I ate them both before anyone else got a taste.

Back to the market to buy a dozen of the giant cooking bananas. That was yesterday.

We ate them all.

6 went on the grill. The rest went in the fryer to go with eggplant sauce and potatoes for dinner. All went in our tummies.

What is it about food? Plantains were a staple for us during our years in Africa. I don't think I've cooked them since, but as soon as I started cooking with these, the kids started telling me stories of memories they have from Africa. The smell, the taste, the texture ... I'm not sure what it was, but those bananas awakened a long dormant piece of our family. It's fun to let the memories flow.

Ask a random question. Get a random answer.

Q: What should I blog about?

A: Cheez-its.

Uh ...