Made For Each Other

Did you ever see such happiness on one face, such trust on the other? Welcome to the world, Elijah! We can't wait to meet you.

To see more pictures of my new nephew, visit his daddy's site.

Two Advantages

Two good things about losing 3 teeth in a week (according to the loser)

1) You can slurp gaspetti real good.

2) You can drink through a straw without having to put it between your teeth.

I wish I'd had my camera!

We took the six-year old on an impromptu outing today, to an outdoor fair with booths and games and bouncy houses. She took her turn on the blow-up slide, raced me on the obstacle course, and jumped for a few minutes in the bouncy castle.

The last choice was the inflated Velcro wall. She watched another little girl dress in a funny suit, run at the wall and bounce off.

"You wanna try?" I asked.

"Mm-hmm." She kicked off her flip-flops and let the attendant help her into a Velcro suit meant for someone 6 times her weight. She couldn't even move. No way could she jump.

"Maybe I should throw her against the wall," her daddy joked.

The attendant said he could. The child gave her approval.

"One, two, THREE!" He tossed her out and up.

And she stuck.

Like a fly on flypaper. Like a starfish on a rock.

She had to be peeled down one limb at a time. She laughed at first, then went quiet.

In the car on the way home, she gave her opinion. "I stuck better than anyone else!"

Name That Tune

I've known for a long time that different songs share the same tune. The ABC Song, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and Baa Baa Black Sheep, for example, all roll along to the same notes.

The Battle Hymn of the Republic has been used as a tune for all kinds of irreverent songs.

Here's one I'd never noticed before.

I may never march in the infantry,
ride in the cavalry,
shoot the artillery.
I may never fly o'er the enemy,
But I'm in the Lord's army!

And, equally fun to sing, but not in church...

Great big globs of greasy, grimy gopher guts,
Mutilated monkey meat,
Chopped up parakeet.
Alligator eyes swimming in a pool of blood,
and I forgot my spoon!

I'll never be able to sing the first song again without ending it with, "But I remembered my straw!"

A Touch of Honesty

Alas, not every dinner is as perfect as last night's. Tonight, the menu looked more like this:

Guy: 2 slices of leftover pizza, the last slice of blueberry pie
Me: A glass of malted milk, a handful of raw kale, 1 asparagus spear, 4 grapes, a chocolate bar
Child 1: a kiwi and something else, I think
Child 2: a cup o'noodles, a handful of strawberries
Child 3: a peanut butter and honey sandwich, potato chips

I feel neither as full nor as satisfied as I did last night. I'm not near as proud of my prowess as gatherer or provider. But the random stuff in my fridge is mostly gone.

Hunters and Gatherers

I derive great pleasure from placing food on the table that I planted, harvested, and prepared.

I am a gatherer.

In the past few days, I've picked strawberries, spinach and lettuce from my garden, and harvested kale and radishes along with my mother and mother-in-law from a friend's garden.

Tonight's dinner (eaten outside in the sunshine which has finally shown its face), consisted of Walla Walla sweet onions and kale, a green salad from the garden with fresh radishes, blueberry pie (picked last summer), and fresh-baked baguettes.

The meal would have been incomplete, though, without the provision of the hunter. The piece de resistance was a moose roast, a melt-in-your-mouth cut of meat that would never have made it to table if it was up to us gatherers.

I suspect each of us is, to some extent, either a hunter or gatherer. Are you?

I Miss the Rains Down in Africa

I lay awake last night listening to the thunderstorm, the first night storm in over a year.

I miss the rains down in Africa - the boiling clouds overhead, the hope of relief from the heat, the crack of thunder and the drumbeat of rain hitting the hard, red clay.

Last night, I was homesick.

Time Flows Downhill

Like a snowball that starts at the top of a hill and gains speed as it grows and descends, time seems to accelerate as it rolls along.

For those of you marking time with me, my twins will turn 13 tomorrow. I think my pregnancy with them lasted longer than this whole 13 years. I want to hold back the clock. I want to deny that their time at home is more than 2/3 done, that in 2 years they'll be begging for their driving permits, that they might be taller than I am any day (I know - no big accomplishment!).

I want to dig my heels in and slow time down, but I know it doesn't work that way.

I wonder if Methuselah thought the last 300 years of his life flew by in a wink. I wonder if Adam said, "I'm 412... no, wait. Make that 422. I lost count."

I wonder if Jessica will wish away being 13 in order to land on 14, her ideal year. She wants to be 14 forever.

Don't we all.

Car Parts for Sale

As a missions committee, we're trying to raise enough funds to purchase a reliable vehicle for Andrew and Aimee Jo Martin, our missionaries in Uganda. We've divided the responsibility with a couple of other churches and our goal is that our church will collect $20,000 by the end of July towards the purchase of this vehicle.



As part of our fund-raising effort, we had the idea to split the car into parts and ask members to sponsor various parts. Here's a picture of what's been "purchased" so far.


2 weeks down, 4 to go. I'm praying the funds will come through.

Power Struggle

Our family computer has some personality quirks. Like... it has memory problems and randomly shuts down programs when its brain gets too full. And... the USB plugs in the back just went out, so we have to use the 2 slots in the front.

2 USB slots.

1 keyboard cord.

1 mouse cord.

1 printer cord.

1 flash drive.

3 MP3 players.

Which device will get priority? I tend to think the keyboard and mouse should be plugged in (though trying to print something from the flash drive is like trying to get the fox, the chicken, and the corn across a river).

37 pounds

• The weight of my 6 year old before we went strawberry picking yesterday.
• The number of pounds of strawberries that made it onto the scales after we'd picked for two hours.
• The amount of strawberries we might have consumed that didn't quite make it into our buckets.
• How much sugar it will take to process all these berries into jam.
• How much weight I'll gain if I eat all that jam.

Pride

I've got to take a minute to brag on my brother's photo site. If you haven't taken the time to check out wyattjourney.com, you're missing out. Take a look at yesterday's photo - spectacular!

The Neighborhood Grouch

Remember when you were a kid, there was an old lady in your neighborhood that never talked to you unless she was yelling?

"Get off my grass!"

"What are you kids doing?"

"If I catch your dog on my property one more time..."

I might have turned into that lady. I don't mind when kids come over to play when my kids are out with them, but when I catch a half dozen boys up the walnut tree...

"Everybody down! Go play in your own yard."

And last night, when I caught a bunch of them red handed, picking my under ripe strawberries...

"Get over here! Don't you toss that berry off in the bushes. I SAW you pick it."

The problem is two fold. One: what kind of parents are letting their kids play in my back yard without knowing where they are? If one of the kids falls out of the tree, I'm pretty sure that's my fault. Two: (here's where the grouch comes in) I planted those berries, I tended them, watered them, weeded them and have been watching for them to turn red. About 3 more days and the first ones will be ready for tasting. Or-at least-they would have been. Now I'll have to wait another week or so.

I think what I'm discovering is that, while I like to share, I like to do it on my own terms. If I give food to the neighbors, I want to pick it, bag it, and hand it over with a smile.

Is this a pineapple story, where I'm trying to hang onto something that really doesn't belong to me? Or am I just eager to enjoy the fruit of my labor?

Self Esteem

We had a certificate night with some other home schoolers last night. It was a chance to praise each child for an area of excellence. For us, this was a good year academically.

My husband presented each of our children with a certificate, said some good words about each one and we gave them each roses.

On the way home, the youngest asked, "Why do people give other people flowers?"

"To make them feel special," I said. "Do you feel special?"

She didn't skip a beat before boasting,

"I AM special!"

Gorge-ous

The kids were wondering why every hike we take seems to end at a waterfall. What can I say? When you live near the mountains and it rains all the time, what other destination is more likely?

What a Funeral Should Be

Ira Pirtle died this week at the age of 93.

His funeral this morning was what a funeral should be. He lived a long, productive and happy life. His children and friends and grandchildren(and even his son-in-law) rose up to call him blessed.

People shared stories that made me laugh, that made me cry, that made me remember.

Ira was a joy to know, from his impish twinkling eyes, to his ready word of encouragement, to his insatiable appetite for pie. He lived a full life, loved well, and will be fondly remembered.

He lived his life so close to God that his departure from this life was no great struggle, rather an easy hop across the headwaters of the Jordan into the land of promise.

Well over 200 of us gathered to remember Ira and I know of many, many more who wish they could have been there.

Bon voyage, Ira. And thanks for all the ways you've laid foundations for those of us who come behind.

The Answer

Used Car Lot

This was our driveway this morning. The cars, left to right, are

• the totalled Toyota Sienna which will go to salvage later today


• my husband's 1980 Toyota pickup


• the rental car, a Dodge Grand Caravan


• our "new" Honda Odyssey, the replacement for the wrecked van

Someone rang our doorbell asking to buy one of these vehicles.

One guess. Which one?

Eco-Terrorism

Yesterday, I did something I've wanted to do for a very long time. I hiked a 4-mile portion of the Pacific Crest Trail (only about 2,000 miles to go). I was a little nervous about parking the rental car at the trail head, but - hey - it's just us good guys out on a lovely spring day, right?

Um, wrong.

While we were on the hike, someone stuck a bumper sticker to the rental car. A good one.

By a good one, I don't mean the sticker's message was one I want to share with the world. I mean it's got great adhesive and it's going to be a pain to remove carefully enough to not damage the paint.

What kind of person goes out of their way to put stickers on other people's stuff? I can't imagine doing something like that... just like I can't imagine attacking someone going into a fur store or spraying graffiti on the side of a house or egging a car or blowing up a mailbox.

It seems like there are better ways to get a point across.

Teddy Roosevelt Speaks

It's not every day you get to sit at the feet of a past president and listen to him regale the crowd with stories of his failures and triumphs. But last night, we got just that opportunity.

Teddy Roosevelt, our 26th president, was a joy to listen to. From leading the Rough Riders in the Spanish American War, to starting the National Parks system, to winning the Nobel Peace Prize, to championing the digging of Panama Canal, this president accomplished so much in his lifetime.

It was my privilege to invite and host Joe Wiegand, Teddy Roosevelt repriser, and his family on their 48-state tour in honor of TR's 150th birthday. In meeting them, I was impressed by their dedication to this dream. They left their home and a stable life to experience God's faithfulness day by day on the road. They trust him to provide the next venue and enough funds for gas and food. And at each stage, they acknowledge God's providence... like the fact that last night's show was dedicated to Andrew Shields, a local soldier who died in Afghanistan this week... and that the chaplain who delivered the notice to his family was in the audience last night.

Joe is not shy in his reprisal about letting Roosevelt share his own faith. He uses the president's own words to express God's faithfulness in the midst of extreme tragedy.

Take a look at his website and see if he's heading your way. His performance is worth an evening of your time. And if he's in the neighborhood but not performing in your town, drop him a line to see about acting as his coordinator for your area.

It's worth it.