Lattice

Canadian Geese Winter Over...Up North in MN!

2012-01-07T06:00:00.000-08:00

Okay, so, we went downhill skiing yesterday. This may not sound too incredible being as it IS January here in Minnesota...except that we have no snow.

Well actually, WE have a skiff of snow in our yard left over from three days ago, but there isn't a stitch of the white stuff to be found for at least a 1-hour radius around the ski resort. Our drive to the resort was amazing. We live on the meandering boundary between forest and farmland, and the resort was developed on a hill in the middle of farm country about 90 miles south. About half way there, we started seeing huge groups of Canadian geese--the cornfields were alive with them! This year, that's as far south as they had to migrate!

Given the shortage of snow around our place, I was a little leery about ski conditions and hesitated to commit to the homeschooling downhill ski day in advance. But earlier this week the resort website said they were making snow and most runs were open, so I finally capitulated. As we covered the last few miles, though, I began to get a sick feeling. We were driving through nothing but bare, brown fields and old, dead, cured stalks and grasses. Enough snow to ski...really???

The resort was a surreal sight: camouflaged from distant sight by a crown of dormant bushes, it popped up suddenly out nowhere--a shiny white hill sitting like a clean little blob of marshmallow creme on a huge chocolate sheet cake--wow!

We had a blast! Kudos to the resort--they created an incredible little recreation microcosm, they're staying in business, and I hope they're making a profit! There was only a 6-12" base of snow, but it was enough. The sun was shining, there was only a light breeze at the top of each chairlift, the temps were great, the snow was in decent condition, and our kids went from the tentative beginners they've been for the past three seasons to black diamond dare-devils!

The much-discussed, much-researched, much-hyped year of 2012 has finally arrived. Not to be an alarmist, but as I look at its beginning and the Bible's end, I can see why so many people are taking a closer look. I predict we're going to have an interesting fire season this year. And I'm wondering how the farmers are going to do...and where our produce is going to come from this year...and how much it's going to cost??? I tried to get the kids to focus and dialogue about this as we were driving through the goose fields, but they were too excited, anticipating the ski day.

Reminds me of this biblical head's up in Matthew 24: 37-39, 42:

"In the days before Noah's flood, people were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage...and they knew nothing about what would happen until the flood came...

As it was in the days of Noah, so will it be at the coming of the Son of Man. Therefore, keep watch..."

Is it hypocritical, then, as I ponder food shortages, firestorms, starting a local soup kitchen to provide nutritious fodder for the malnutritioned in our community, and other FEMA-type relief efforts...that once I post this blog, I'm leaving to do nothing more with the rest of my day but drive 80 miles to have lunch and go purse shopping with my daughter and close friends??? Well, that said, I'll also be on the lookout for ways I can invest rather than simply spend the day!

Ziva Did It!

2011-10-21T04:20:00.000-07:00

For the past year our family movie time has been riveted on what was, for us initially, an unlikely target--the highly successful crime show series, NCIS. So far we've watched (in order) every episode of Seasons 1-8. And as family movie watching often does, this activity has produced a new level of comradeship among us. We've experienced every episode together, discussed and played with some aspects, made common memories. To make the endeavor and time even more valuable, the teacher in me assigned an extension activity: Write an essay telling what you learned from the show. Here we list our family's most valuable lessons:

~Ziva did it! This is code for "Dad is funny, albeit repetitious." He blames Ziva for everything around here, now!

~"On your six, Boss." There is such a thing as a team, and it requires loyalty and dependability. Don't take a job unless you're committed to supporting your team. Your co-workers are depending on you. Incidentally, your family is a team, and it depends on your support as well.

~Give 'em a Gibbs A head slap on the back of the head for saying/doing something foolish is just affectionate feedback. If the whack was on the front, it would be demoralizing. No whack at all leaves you feeling insecure, unsure of your value and position in the group. (That's NCIS's perspective and we laugh about it, but Bear Bait insists that if his boss ever gave him a Gibbs, that'd be the end of THAT job!)

~The Rules Everyone needs a code they can live by. There are rules. Sometimes they're more like guidelines, but... My house, my rules. Gibbs has about 50. See them here. We each have a favorite. Mine is Rule #51: Sometimes I'm wrong.

~Time Management

"A little less time for the rest of the world / And more for the [four] of us..."

(Okay, that's not from NCIS. I borrowed it from the song Honesty by Rodney Atkins--thank you, Rodney! I borrowed it because my HE, Bear Bait, truly worked hard at and learned the value of giving the world a little less time while we were deep in the throes of watching NCIS. "Projects? Projects--schmojects! We've got a DVD to watch!")

~Chinese Takeout We all love it! The restaurants are trying to get away from packing their entrees in paper cartons nowadays, but it's worth the extra trouble to clarify that desire to the person who takes your order. Besides the extra xenoestrogens we don't need around here, it's just not the same eating Chinese out of plastic.

~Morality vs. Ethics "The ethical man knows that it is wrong to cheat on his wife, whereas the moral man actually would not do it." --explains Dr. Mallard to his assistant ME, Palmer. I appreciate Ducky's analysis. It's good to mark the difference here, so you're not so disappointed if the person you vote into office, go into partnership with, or even just look up to turns out to be more ethical than moral...

~Semper Fi Most of my family members rebelled against the idea of actually WRITING their thoughts, but one actually did turn in an essay, and it's awesome:

I learned what the word "semper fi" means, even though I don't remember now.

I learned that you don't have to tell everybody your business (unless you need to).

I learned you can't love someone too much, because everybody eventually passes on.

I learned that you can't trust someone too much because there's always a chance

they will turn against you. I learned that I am very interested in Forensic Science.

How about you? Any favorite gold nuggets from this show? Or just an opinion? Love it? Hate it? Feel free to leave comments! ;~)

Semper Fi...(Always faithful),

Lattice

I AM SO THANKFUL TODAY!

2011-08-21T04:32:00.000-07:00

I am so thankful today

that last night I was able to go to bed at 11:30 and sleep through the night without pain...

I am so thankful today

that on this day over a decade ago, my friend, Leone, was available to pick me up, drive me to the hospital, and coach me through the day.

I am so thankful today

that my HE is still happily married to me, even though on this day over a decade ago, I (apparently...according to him...though I absolutely can't imagine or remember myself doing this) told him to "Get out of my face!"

I am so thankful today

that on this day over a decade ago, in spite of all that could have gone wrong, God blessed us with the safe delivery of a precious little girl who was the spittin' image of her baby brother when he was born!

"For You created my inmost being; You knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Your works are wonderful, I know that full well." --Psalm 139:13-14

I am so thankful today

that on this day over a decade ago, the Lord gave us the final biological member of our family. We welcomed her along on our journey of teaching and learning from/with each other as we pursue Christ-centered living together.

I am so thankful today

for the gift of marking days and looking back,

for today as I reflected on many fond memories, I also discovered I was still holding a grudge against one of the nurses who was assigned to help us that day. I know the wisdom and freedom, now, of choosing to forgive and not despise God's other children, and it is easy--a relief, even--to let go of that burden.

"Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy, and My burden is light." --Matthew 11:28-30

Finally, I am so thankful today

that I am not being poked or pierced with anything. It's our daughter's turn for that. She got her ears pierced! ;~)

2011 Dance ExPLOSION!

2011-06-08T19:55:00.000-07:00

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Aha!

2011-02-02T05:32:00.000-08:00

[He] knew he should say something more, but his mind was still reeling. He couldn't think of anything else to say that wouldn't take more explaining than he was capable of right now.

(from Impeachable Offense by Neesa Hart, pg 3)

My mind's been reeling for months. Somewhere in the middle of last school year I lost both my bearings and my footing.

Footings... Hmmm...

Maybe it was when I broke my foot! That was last mid-December. I'd promised our son I would meet him on the ice to skate while his school friends were still arriving for his party. He was excited, and I was late. Running quickly through our crowded house, I failed to negotiate a turn in our hallway and whammed my pinkie toe, HARD!, into the wall corner. Black and blue, swollen and bleeding...suddenly skating, as well as dance practice, walking, and even putting on a shoe, were out for the evening.

The owie slowed me down, but didn't stop me. I limped through the Christmas break and had to sit in the lodge during our annual downhill ski trip, but I was ready to teach and dance again by mid-January. A few weeks later we spent a lovely afternoon XC skiing and my foot didn't hurt at all--just felt tired when we were done. Until an hour later, when I re-broke it playing in the snow at the campground where we stopped for teatime! This time I ended up in a walking boot. Dance class was no longer an option and I limped through school and housekeeping for six weeks. All my favorite winter sports activities were out, and the bare necessities were harder to accomplish--took more time. Since I had commitments and responsibilities, I gave my quiet times away to work. I figured it was just for the short-term, because I had to.

But, like Mary's sister Martha, I was "distracted with much serving..." (Luke 10:38-42). By summer, my foot was healed but my soul and spirit were not. My prayer life had virtually petered out. As a teacher I was burned out to the point that little disappointments made me critical, and I no longer wanted to participate in our homeschooling co-op. I also had no heart or gumption for my favorite warm weather activities. I spent almost the whole summer sitting on the beach while my kids swam, and I hardly biked at all. Still, I did not recognize my depression. I felt "fine"--just tired, and cold...

My functional med doctor saw me in late summer and insisted I exercise harder. Run, he said. I hate running, but...our son decided to try XC running, so I did, too. After the initial rotten first two weeks, running went well and felt good until mid-fall when N got sick and there was just driving and hospitals and doctors--no time or place for exercise.

Now it's winter again.

I'm feeling old,

and noticing a pattern of lack of ambition. I see now that

I've been drowning for months,

and struggling for weeks to regain a foothold so I could rise above the surface again.

This week I returned to my piano to worship musically,

and finally, just today...

a whole year after breaking my foot...

had a basic, real, honest-to-goodness prayer time again.

Ahhhh....!

Short, simple, and...successful, the Lord definitely met me where I was. I feel..wooed. And excited for tomorrow. Because...well, have a gander at the gold nugget He gave me today:

"Be still, and know that I am God."

~Psalm 46:10

He Gave Them Charge

2011-01-04T05:55:00.000-08:00

So Moses spoke thus to the sons of Israel, but they did not listen to Moses on account of their despondency and cruel bondage.

Now the Lord spoke to Moses, saying, "Go, tell Pharaoh king of Egypt to let the sons of Israel go out of his land."

But Moses spoke before the Lord, saying, "Behold, the sons of Israel have not listened to me; how then will Pharaoh listen to me, for I am unskilled in speech?"

Then the Lord spoke to Moses and to Aaron, and gave them a charge to the sons of Israel and to Pharaoh king of Egypt, to bring the sons of Israel out of Egypt...

Then the Lord said to Moses, "See, I make you as God to Pharaoh, and your brother Aaron shall be your prophet. You will speak all that I command you, and your brother Aaron shall speak to Pharaoh that he let the sons of Israel go out of his land."

~Exodus 6:9-7:2

Moses did not feel empowered. It wasn't his fault the Israelites were too despondent to believe God sent him to free them from slavery. Cruelly burdened by a tyranny that grew over centuries, they felt abandoned by God and looked upon this dusty, aging shepherd from the wilderness with disillusioned skepticism. But Moses took their rejection personally. Their response shattered the initial self-confidence that had carried him across the desert since his meeting with God at the burning bush.

Yet it is in the midst of his pain and questioning that God gives Moses and Aaron a charge--

an assignment,

a responsibility,

a stewardship,

a commission...

...not only to the Israelite slaves, but also to the Pharaoh who held them in bondage, to bring the Israelites out of the land of Egypt.

Notice God does not give the brothers a full briefing; rather, throughout the Exodus, information comes on a need-to-know basis. This MO promotes trust, faith, and great opportunities for God to reveal His glory and character. But at this point, all they know is that they have a job to do--an overwhelming job for which Moses does not feel equipped.

Verses 14-27 establish their credentials. Credentials? What credentials? Moses and Aaron descend via some rather intriguing characters and circumstances. Their father, Amram, married his Aunt Jochebed, and these two bore the brothers. However, notice the information in verse 16: "These are the names of the sons of Levi according to their generations." It is the genealogy, not circumstances or skills, that make Moses the man for the job.

Finally in Ex 7:1 God reveals an encouraging element of His plan: "See, I will make you as God to Pharaoh, and your brother Aaron shall be your prophet."

I will make you...

Lord, please make me into the person You created me to be, and direct me, that I might fulfill the purpose for which You created me. Grant me discernment to know what You give me charge of, versus what You don't, that I might stay on task. And thank You for not giving me too much information ahead of time. I love to watch You work and I love Your surprises! Oh my Lord, be glorified!!!

Romans 12:3

2010-12-16T03:39:00.000-08:00

For I say, through the grace given to me, to everyone who is among you, not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think, but to think soberly, as God has dealt to each one a measure of faith.

Ro 12:3

Our son had a temper tantrum today. It wasn't the yelling, thrashing, foaming-at-the-mouth (ok...I exaggerate) meltdown kind of toddler tantrum. It was the passive, pathetic, nobody-cares-I-might-as-well-go-eat-worms, Eeyore kind of teenage tantrum. As he's sought scumble (as used in this fun read-aloud, Savvy) over his feelings, esp during times of disappointment, our maturing young man has overcompensated. His response to disappointment has mutated from highly intense to bitterly despondent. While we applaud his effort (and acknowledge that the latter is quieter)...it's not really much of an improvement.

Why?

Because it's not truthful.

In YWAM's course titled Relationships, Dean Sherman expounds on Romans 12:3: "We could say it this way: Do not think more highly [or lowly] of yourself than you ought to think..." Sherman explains that thinking more lowly (negatively) of ourselves than we ought to is not humility; rather, it's just negative pride. And it's just as wrong as thinking too highly of ourselves, because it's inaccurate, untrue...a lie. God wills that we would accurately understand the truth of our value as well as everyone else's.

We discussed how this concept could extend to how we express feelings--how extreme, irrational highs and lows tend to be inaccurate, untruthful, and unhelpful--and the tantrum dissolved into rational reflection. Then came a thoughtful, "Mom...I don't know why, but I've just kinda felt mad for a long time now...ever since you left us with Clarks."

"Ya Mom," came our daughter's calm contribution, "I'm not mad, but...I do wish you would've taken us with you. I wish we would've been there when [N] passed away."

If we would have known Wednesday would be N's last day, we would have taken our kids with us to the nursing home. But we didn't. We dropped them off Tuesday night to stay with good friends, thinking that Wednesday dance class was the bright spot in their lives that we could keep stable in the midst of a six-week upheaval in our routine. N was declining rapidly now, right on the verge of coma but still getting nutrition. All family was enroute. Until Tuesday night, N was still waking a few times a night to cry out for help, and didn't want to be left alone. Her needs were temporarily consuming and we weren't our most available to parent. And not being God, we were unsure how long the process of actively dying would take. But if we'd known, we would have brought the kids with us that night.

That was a few weeks ago. Next came the flurry of work--arrangements to be made, funeral to attend, and finances to figure out. Then the activity died down and everyone grew quieter, more contemplative. Long private group Facebook messages ensued between the adults in the family, each of us welcome to offer our two cents' worth. It was a good way for us to all stay connected no matter where we live. Now depression has set in for some, and we gently check in with each other, evaluating where each member of the family is in the grieving process (denial, bargaining, guilt, anger, acceptance) and encouraging as the Lord empowers us. Through all of this, the kids have seemed okay emotionally. But...perhaps I've missed something?

"See, Mom, I'm not saying there's anything wrong with it and I'm not blaming anybody--not even God--but I'm just...tired of everybody around me having to be sad. I guess it just makes me mad that the family has to be sad."

From the mouths of babes...

As I pondered this young wisdom, I discerned anger in my own heart. I was mad, too. But I also realized my anger was less innocent. I suddenly recognized it as subconscious anger, subconsciously misdirected at the loved ones who are grieving, especially the ones who have a relationship with God. I'm not angry that they're grieving, but that they're failing to find hope and strength in their faith, that they're NOT taking every thought captive, they're NOT walking in the freedom of Truth, their minds ARE anchored in this world. I haven't really felt judgmental, but...I guess I have been. Perhaps that's why my encouragements have sounded more like commands than compassion, even to my own ears???

I've been guilty of pride, then. Lord, forgive me. Thank You for redirecting my anger toward the true and only culprit--Your enemy, satan. Now by the blood and in the name of Your son, Yeshua (Jesus), please give me Your mind on this matter. Prepare me to wage holy war and be a holy sanctuary for Your sake. I claim Your ground in the lives of our loved ones, and refuse any retaliation from the enemy. Gird, strengthen, and lead us in this fight. Give us Your ears to hear, Your eyes to see. Give us Your love and patience and joy. Be our comfort, our peace, our Answer. Give us an accurate assessment of ourselves, and this matter of death and life. And for those who doubt...Lord, you met Thomas where he was. Please meet each of us where we are, too. Praise You, Lord God Almighty! Amen.

Bear Territory

2010-11-22T13:54:00.000-08:00

Then the word of the Lord came to him, saying, "Get away from here and turn eastward, and hide by the Brook Cherith, which flows into the Jordan. And it will be that you shall drink from the brook, and I have commanded the ravens to feed you there." So he went and did according to the word of the Lord... The ravens brought him bread and meat in the morning, and bread and meat in the evening; and he drank from the brook. And it happened after a while that the brook dried up, because there had been no rain in the land.

~1 Kings 17:2-7

It's finally snowing today. It's about time for the bears in our area to retire to a cozy cave for the winter. Yesterday we did not even think much about them during our family outing--a grouse hunting trip. Rather, as we moved single file I brought up the rear, and was captured by the sight of our daughter, who, like a whisper of ghostly fog, wafted quickly and silently over, under, and through all manner of obstacles as they lay strung like matchsticks and tangled Christmas lights across our woodland path. What an incredible little waif! And our son, more solid in step and experienced at carrying a shotgun, intrigued me with his already mature skill at barrel management...wow! Even without looking he is always aware of where it's at, lacing it through any manner of obstacle without ever pointing it at anything he shouldn't!

Except for the loud call of a raven and occasional sighting of crows, we saw no birds, bagged nothing for our stew pot or grill...

On several levels, food is on my mind a lot these days. For one thing, our diet has been in transition for the past two years, ever since we chose to change our lifestyle in the hope that I could avoid surgery. Now I spend a lot of time educating and re-educating myself--and those in my sphere of influence--about nutrition. And even MORE time preparing even FRESHER meals than before. And then we finally joined the unemployment statistics last week when my husband was laid off for what appears to be an extended period, and with loss of income the challenge of procuring fresh organic or local wild food is even more challenging.

But all of these issues took a backseat to the one that suddenly popped up again this morning, after 17 or so years... Does it bother any other woman on the face of this planet to be absent when another woman provides her husband with a meal??? I remember when my mother used to graciously invite temporary bachelors over to join our family for a meal while their wives were away for a week. It just seemed like friendly hospitality then, like something right out of the Waltons. But for some reason, I am very territorial about Bear Bait's stomach! It's been my concern ever since we first started dating. Even though I liked the woman who was my colleague and his supervisor back then, I felt like scratching her eyes out and stomping on 'em whenever she brought him muffins to start the day!

As Bear Bait left this morning to go spend the day installing his friend's water heater, visions of the woman of that house offering my husband lunch made my stomach churn. He insisted he didn't need to pack a lunch from home because he was too full to care about a midday meal, but I knew she'd talk him into eating so I insisted that he take at least his high quality nutrition shake and a piece of fresh organic fruit or veggies. Thankfully he acquiesced gracefully.

If he's still unemployed in a couple months, perhaps I'll be forced to rethink my position. Perhaps I'll be more willing to farm him out during mealtime, just so he doesn't starve. But for now, Mama Bear retains dominion, scanty though the larder is...

For my hope is in Him. He will provide today, as He did in Elijah's time.

So she said, “As the LORD your God lives, I do not have bread, only a handful of flour in a bin, and a little oil in a jar; and see, I am gathering a couple of sticks that I may go in and prepare it for myself and my son, that we may eat it, and die.”

And Elijah said to her, “Do not fear; go and do as you have said, but make me a small cake from it first, and bring it to me; and afterward make some for yourself and your son. For thus says the LORD God of Israel: “The bin of flour shall not be used up, nor shall the jar of oil run dry, until the day the LORD sends rain on the earth.’ ”

So she went away and did according to the word of Elijah; and she and he and her household ate for many days. The bin of flour was not used up, nor did the jar of oil run dry, according to the word of the LORD which He spoke by Elijah.

~1 Kings 17:12-16

Ending Well

2010-11-08T04:09:00.000-08:00

For almost three years now I've been the primary caretaker for my husband's mother. She's been trying to convalesce with us, contributing to our family and challenging/expanding my knowledge of both allopathic and naturopathic health care. Last week her body took a critical turn and she is now in end-of-life stage.

Blessed, beautiful friends take time to email their condolences. These notes often include compassionate apologies for our suffering. The thing is, God is walking through this with us, and we are not suffering. As we stand by N's ICU bedside and work to comfort her and interpret her needs and wants for the nurses as best we can (she is not a typical patient in that she can barely talk or respond to questions now, so ideally she needs someone who knows her standing by 24/7), it is exhausting and sad, but also somehow satisfying. It is the same feeling that caring for her for the past three years has often produced. There is something "right" about returning the gift of care that someone else has provided for you in the past.

What feels odd to me is the lifting of responsibility. Suddenly, she can never live with us again. Suddenly, I no longer have a 9am deadline to poach an organic egg, double-toast a piece of her favorite English muffin bread, or section half a grapefruit. I feel like a hermit crab, about to shed my exoskeleton.

But the race is not completely over. Today I have to wake my children and head to the hospital. Today is the day we find out what comes next. I hope we will all end well...

To My Faithful Mountain View Reader

2010-09-16T04:09:00.000-07:00

I don't know if you read my blog or just pass through on your way to somewhere else, but if you do actually stop by, I wanted to give you a word of encouragement: please don't give up hope! I have several fresh blogs in mind. It's just that I'm late to make my daughter's lunch and prep for my son's schoolwork...MOST mornings! In another month or so a couple extracurricular activities will conclude and I'll be back...

Thanks for reading! ;~)

Between Waves

2010-09-03T03:16:00.000-07:00

Are you kidding? June 28th...?! It's been two whole months since I've sat down to blog???

Do you know how discomfiting it is to read your last blog entry and find most of it completely unfamiliar? ...I said WHAT? ...We really did THAT? I don't even recognize my own voice anymore, let alone the plot!

I take solace in a bit of wisdom from the remade version of Freaky Friday: "If she was doin' it, she wouldn't be writing about it in her journal--she'd be out there doin' it."

That's me. I've been out there "doing" life--just living it rather than writing about it, because I've felt like an arrow shot toward a target I can't see. The journey has been interesting but nothing terribly spectacular, and it's all happened rawther faster than I can even think. Following a school year in which I felt like I was walking on water, I climbed back in the boat and entered a short season (amazingly short!) of catch up and rejuvenation--a season where I felt, spiritually speaking, as though I was "between the waves." I'd just finished an incredible ride, but couldn't yet imagine what was over the next oncoming wave. I had no vision, no direction. And for the time being that was just fine with me. I was tired, and welcomed a time of rest. Despite my best intentions and willful submission to it, though, I'm not sure I took proper advantage of it. It seemed to be gone quite suddenly, like when you wake from a dead-tired sleep and feel as though you haven't really slept at all. And when it was gone I still felt scatter-brained and had only very limited vision.

Perhaps my rest was stolen?

Stolen by storms. Or by expectations. For while I expected storms during the month of June, I also expected them to end by the beginning of July. (While there's surely a metaphorical level to this discussion, I am, at this point, actually speaking of physical storms.) This summer it was storms, storms, storms. Thunderstorm after thunderstorm, tornado after tornado, and rain-pelting wind, wind, wind. July is usually a long, mellow season of beach days and barbecues, but this year it was a staccato of starts and stops laced with extreme environmental violence.

And now it's September, and still the storms continue. Last night I fell asleep to pattering on the roof. This morning I woke to a windy gale, more rain, and temps that direct my thoughts toward hot spiced cider, pumpkin goodies, deer hunting, and even snow. In fact, it just snowed in my home state a few days ago!

Jesus walked on water and calls us to get out of the boat--out of our comfort zone--to walk on it with Him. But He also slept in the boat...in the midst of the storm...up, down, and between the waves...

"As they sailed, He fell asleep. A squall came down on the lake, so that the boat was being swamped, and they were in great danger. The disciples went and woke Him, saying, 'Master, Master, we're going to drown!' He got up and rebuked the wind and the raging waters; the storm subsided, and all was calm." ~Luke 8:23-24

Lord, please help us to rest with You, and trust You for our vision. And if it's not Your will for the storms outside to subside here as they did for You there, then please help us look above them as we walk in their midst.

A Season of Good-bye

2010-06-28T03:41:00.000-07:00

It is a homeschooler's life to get behind in housework for a season here and there. Educating gets priority, and sometimes the academics get the highest of all. And sometimes academics just take more focus and time than we expect. Despite my best efforts and intentions, no matter how well organized and well-oiled the machine (that is, our household) is at the beginning of a new set of curriculum, eight or nine months is a long time for a home to run on auto-pilot. So summer is typically a time to catch up and de-clutter (as well as garden, bicycle, read, fish, camp, vacation, and enjoy the sun and water at the lake every livin' afternoon!).

This year some of our "clutter" is unique. For instance, for over a year now we've been living with a cluttered driveway. Now, we have a nice long driveway and what is currently a single car garage (it's big enough to be a double, but there's only one door for vehicles and the second bay is enclosed, a cluttered storage room we've dubbed "The Hell Room") at the end--PLENTY of room for a couple vehicles, and maybe even a boat! But currently have five--yes, I said F-I-V-E!--vehicles, PLUS a boat and another trailer--creatively parked in it! Our driveway ALWAYS looks like there's a party goin' on here! There's a story and a practical reason behind each piece of equipment, yet they seem an ostentatious display and they're definitely an encumbrance. Yesterday the culling began. With a resigned Bear Bait telling me what to say, I posted my first ad ever on Craigslist.org. Anybody in the market for an '87 Ford F350 Crew Cab 4x4 that's never seen salt? The interior is worn but the truck runs good, and has really low miles, a heavy-duty bumper, and an onboard inverter. The thought of parting with it makes Bear Bait wanna cry, but being hungry makes him grumpy, too...

Another unique thing we've had to declutter this summer is one of our pet tanks. After loving and learning on two painted turtles that hatched in our yard almost two years ago, the turtles (Ping and Pong) suddenly quit eating and began spending inordinate amounts of time trying to swim through the glass walls of their aquarium. We researched and worked on this problem for a couple weeks, even putting crappie minnows in the tank for them to hunt. It was all to no avail. They enjoyed chasing the minnows and stalking them under rocks, but could only grab a tail now and then--crappie minnows were too big and fast, and only appetizing when they were alive. Finally we faced the fact that it was time to let Ping and Pong go. This was heartbreaking for our pet-keepers, as they'd envisioned keeping the turtles until their shells were five inches long before releasing them back to the wild (as mandated by our state Dept of Natural Resources). Ping and Pong were prob'ly up to about 2.5 inches in diameter...halfway there. As hard as it was, though, our brave kids realized the turtles needed to be reintroduced now or they weren't going to make it. In a tearful-but-joyful goodbye ceremony, Ping and Pong seemed to settle quite naturally into our swamp among cattails that gave them excellent cover from predators like birds. The last we saw of them, they were smacking away on fresh something-or-other that we couldn't offer them in captivity. The kids continue to harbor a sneaking little hope that they'll wander back into our yard for a quick visit someday.

Last week we started repainting the exterior of our house, then moved inside when the humidity and rain showed up. We repainted and rearranged our entry/dining area and pantry. This week I'm diving into our daughter's room and finishing the exterior. Hopefully next week Bear Bait will finish our son's new bed and we'll begin using it to declutter his bedroom space (it features custom drawers and shelves for more storage)...while at the same time making room in the garage for a little mechanical work on the boat. By then I should be practiced up, ready to tackle the worst room of all--mine!

I love fresh, clean, decluttered living/working space...space that WORKS for you! And every year the kids are a little older and a little more interested in actively managing the space (in the midst of their academic activities), too. Now here's hoping (and praying) no tornadoes will hit us just when we get finished!

This is out of context, but in light of our build-up of clutter and recent tornado weather, I connect with this portion of scripture today:

"...it is the season for heavy rain and we are not able to stand outside. Nor is it the work of one or two days..." ~ Ezra 10:13

I WISH to Write!

2010-06-16T18:37:00.000-07:00

I wish to write

.....without pressure of rhyme or meter or cadence,

.....((though, alas, such play continually in my mind!)

I wish to write

.....the taste of melting butter and honey

.....on fresh steaming homemade fruit dumplings...

I wish to write

.....the sound of the sweetest melody

.....perfectly tuned to universal lyrics,

.......... the glory of the panoramic alpine vision

.......... unmarred by man's footprint or even his breath,

............... and the sensation of shrinking into myself

............... as the universe expands, unwinding...

I wish to write

.....the feel of your skin brushing mine

.....and our essence mingling together

And of

.....the pure, clean necessity of time to embrace aloneness

.....with all the weary hot tears and crumpled heaps,

.....melting into quiet reflection, rest, and direction.

I wish to write

.....of my free-spirited passion for life...

Yet even the richest articulation can never really tell it all,

And besides...

.....I have SUCH the writer's cramp! :~O

Auditory Smorgasbord

2010-05-19T05:46:00.000-07:00

It is finished... Homeschool co-op classes, the Rest in Rivendell/Lii campaign, AND hunter's safety! Success reverberates from all three endeavors. A vibrant ornithologic dawn song is also reverberating through my window this morning, wrapping 'round me like a light cocoon in which I can study peacefully...the perfect amount of "noise" to keep an auditory learner from, as my daughter says, "deconcentrating." For a quick, free diagnostic tool to help determine your primary learning style and concise descriptions, strengths, and tips for each, click here

For the rest of this week we will concentrate on our end-of-year dance recital. Five of the numbers have reverberated through our house all year and we've gradually become emotionally attached to even the jazz music. The recital will be a smorgasbord of sound--40 or so songs, some of which will be nice oldies but others will be new and will crash into our senses discourteously. Between dress rehearsal and the performances, we'll hear them all at least three times. The choreography and costumes will be fabulous, and by the end we'll like each song at least a little bit. Then Dance, too, will be finished for the year.

But our home will not be silent. ;~)

Sometimes I long for silence. Then when I get it, it feels like a stagnant black blanket and I grow dizzy and chafe under it. Thank God for sound, for senses. Praise Him for the natural undulations of life, and be glad He sets boundaries on that sea...that fantastic smorgasbord of sensorial input.

The Road Unbending

2010-04-30T20:20:00.000-07:00

"Fairness does not mean giving everyone the exact same treatment. Fairness means giving everyone the treatment they need."

~ Richard Lavoie, in the PBS F.A.T City Workshop titled

Understanding Learning Disabilities: How Difficult Can This Be?

Lately we've been taking our children driving on Sunday afternoon. Or rather, they've been taking us... We've found some forgotten forest roads where we can safely relinquish the wheel to begin the first steps of practical driving practice. The kids are thrilled. So are we. It's a refreshing alternative to our normal academic studies. And in this endeavor, there is a myriad of challenging lessons available to both student and teacher:

How does one adjust the seat? And the mirrors?
How does one keep an eye on both the speedometer and the road?
How far over on the soft shoulder can one drive without sliding into the ditch?
How does one stop a vehicle without giving one's passenger(s) whiplash?
Am I really ready to relinquish control and entrust my child with the family vehicle and our lives?
Should I grab the wheel to help them make a quick correction or give them one more second to figure it out?
Am I insane or realistic to empower them with driving skills at this age?

Our daughter is interesting to teach. She reminds me a lot of me: a self-centered child with a need for speed. She seems to be less rebellious than just completely oblivious to the fact that life includes rules and other people and she cannot always have her way. We've worked and worked to strengthen her will to make healthy choices without breaking her spirit, yet even after all these years she still astounds us. We give her an imperative, and she just wanders off, completely ignoring it, to do whatever she wants until we go after and corral her. Not to mention all the times she tries to change our minds about our plans and decisions... If there ever was an example of someone who thinks the world is her oyster, our daughter is it.

Imagine my loving joy for her, then, when our last driving lesson offered the perfect opportunity to introduce a spiritual object lesson about free will. This week she encountered the fact that the ROAD does not bend to her will! Just because SHE wants to turn doesn't mean it's going to change to accommodate her!

Yes!!!

And no, there was no fender-bender or accident of any kind. I grabbed the wheel right away. Repeatedly! ;~)

Such strong questioning and testing of authority...

What potential she has to succeed or fail mightily.

I pray our daughter's will will be thoroughly, rightly strengthened and submitted while the price tags for the lessons are still small.

I'm so thankful she resides in the hands of a loving, all-powerful God...

I think driving will be an important, integral part of our curriculum for awhile...

Who really has the authority in your life?

"Yet you say, 'The way of the Lord is not fair.' Hear now, O house of Israel, is it not My way which is fair, and your ways which are not fair?" --Ezekiel 18:25

Rules of Diplomacy

2010-04-03T22:20:00.000-07:00

I'm compelled to share this excerpt from Shannon Hale's Princess Academy:

When they arrived at the academy, the girls arranged themselves before the steps in a straight line... In the silence of waiting, Miri became aware of the jagged rocks poking through her boot soles... She wanted to hop around or say something funny to relieve the nervous tension, but she was the diplomat and thought she had better appear respectable...

Finally Olano emerged, fists on her hips...

Miri brought to mind the first rule of diplomatic negotiations: State the problem. "We know we are not welcome inside," she said.

Olana blinked. That was not what she had been expecting to hear.

"We left without your permission and violated your authority," said Miri. The second rule: Admit your own error. "That was wrong."

Frid shuffled her feet nervously. Miri knew the girls had not been expecting to concede fault... But she wanted Olana to see that they had listened and learned.

"You kept us from our families, punished us for unfair reasons, and treated us like criminals. That was also wrong. We're here now, willing to forget our mutual offenses and start over. Here are our terms."

Olana blinked rapidly, a sign that her composure had slipped. Miri felt encouraged. She reviewed the other rules: State the error of the other party. Done. Propose specific compromises and end with Invite mutual acceptance. She hoped she was not forgetting anything.

"For each rest day, we will be allowed to return home to our families and attend chapel... When traders come, we will return home for one week to help... Rule breaking may be punished with a missed meal, but no one will be hit, locked in a closet, or grounded from a return home."

Olana clicked her tongue to show that she was not impressed. "I have a steep task to turn twenty mountain girls into presentable ladies. These measures are the only way I can keep you in line."

Miri nodded. "Perhaps they were, but no longer. As part of these new terms, we will vow to focus on our studies, respect your authority, and obey all reasonable rules."

Just one more: Illustrate the negative outcome of refusal and positive of acceptance. "If you don't agree to this, whichever of us [becomes princess] will report your bad behavior and demand that you serve the rest of your days in...a territory that is swampland--smelly, sticky with mud, and poorer than the mountains."

Olana cringed visibly.

"And if you live by these terms and treat us as you would treat noblemen's daughters, whichever one of us is chosen as the princess will commend your teaching and see you get comfortable work..."

"I see..." said Olana.

"We accept these terms and invite you to do the same," said Miri, waiting for Olana to respond. The silence poked at Miri's confidence, and she shifted her feet in the rock debris and tried not to squirm under the weight of Olana's hesitation. "Um, so do you?"

"Do I accept these terms?" Olana pulled long each vowel sound, an effect that had always made Miri cold for what she would do next. "I'll go ponder the matter, and I'll be sure to let you know."

~~~

Now before we practice, let's review the rules. ('tho they're really more what you might call...guidelines!)

State the problem.
Admit your own error.
State the error of the other party.
Propose specific compromises.
Invite mutual acceptance.
Illustrate the negative outcome of refusal and positive of acceptance.

But alas, Miri DID forget a rule. Can you guess what it is???

"See, I have set before you today life and good, death and evil... I command you today to love the Lord your God, to walk in His ways, and to keep His commandments, His statutes, and His judgments, that you may live and multiply; and the Lord your God will bless you in the land which you go to possess. But if your heart turns away so that you do not hear, and are drawn away, and worship other gods and serve them, I announce to you today that you shall surely perish; you shall not prolong your days in [the Promised Land]... I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing; therefore, choose life." --Deuteronomy 30:15-19

Remarkable...

2010-03-16T10:33:00.000-07:00

When they're young, children think so much is remarkable. They insistently call our attention to things which we gaze at and think, "WHAT is so amazing about that???"

As parents, much less that happens seems remarkable and worth commenting about to others. Our parents call to check up on us and we think, "Oh Mom--get a life."

Then we become grandparents, and things our children cannot fathom as important are suddenly remarkable again, and we want to be updated and sought for advice.

I am in the middle season--caught in the middle between my children who want focused attention and praise for everything they do, and my mother who wants to know everything they do. I feel like the squished middle part of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich!

Today I needed a break from my children calling me, so I sent them away to their friends' house. Then my dear friend who just became a grandma cried on my shoulder because her son never calls to update her about her grandchild. And, well...I think I'm beginning to understand my mother better now.

"Thy father and thy mother shall be glad, and she that bare thee shall rejoice." ~Proverbs 23:25

A Time to Dance...

2010-02-16T06:16:00.000-08:00

It's been four years and nine months since a friend's college-aged son received confirmation that his neuroblastoma (a type of childhood cancer that affects developing nerve cells) was back. Through their journal at CaringBridge.org the events of Erik Ludwinski's life, struggle, and the family's faith have been beautifully expressed, encouraging thousands. Last week Erik passed into Heaven, and his family continues to share their faith and joy even in the midst of their painful grieving. They exhibit a beautiful example of Ecclesiastes 3:4b:

"There is a time to mourn and a time to dance."

A time to mourn...AND a time to dance...

Some would say it's impossible, or perhaps shameful, to both mourn and dance at the same time. But then others would say it's shameful to spend time crying over something one cannot change. I believe there is no shame in crying when a loved one dies, nor rejoicing when a loved one enters their restful reward, but rather the shame is in not expressing how much we miss our loved ones, or the selfless joy we feel for their gain. Where death is concerned, the two emotions ARE very naturally entwined...don't you think?

That's my "soapbox speech" for today. I mourn with Erik's family, pray for their comfort, and rejoice with them over Erik's fortune. He ran a good race. His funeral this Saturday will be a celebration of the life he lived before us here, as well as the infinitely better life he's recently begun.

On a more personal note, it's been eight weeks since my little left pinky toe rammed (at about Mach 10) into the wall that sticks out in our hallway as I hurried by on my way to dress in warm layers for our son's ice skating b-day party. I was sure I heard it crack, but x-rays eventually confirmed my FM doc's tuning fork diagnosis that it was only a sprained metatarsal. The skin was split open, and despite icing that first night, most of my foot was swollen and green the next morning. So much for ice skating...downhill and x-country skiing...and dance class this winter.

The prescribed treatment was alternating 20-min ice water and tepid epsom salts soaks morning and night, and for pain, liberally applying peppermint essential oil everywhere on the wound except where the skin split. Within a week my gait was almost normal, but I waited two weeks before trying to dance again.

Two weeks wasn't enough...

You know, what really surprised me is that I missed dancing! I mean, it's really not been my forte. I've never done anything like this before, and I've gained SO much more appreciation and respect for what my kids go through and how naturally talented they are now that I know how unnatural dance is for me. (The week before I injured myself, my dance instructor commented on how serious and frustrated I looked in the mirrors all the time, and explained, "It shouldn't be like that. This should be fun for you, too!" To which I replied, "I am having fun [when I'm practicing on my own at home!]...but I usually feel like crying by the end of every class.") But once I couldn't dance, I discovered I almost couldn't NOT dance anymore! I danced all over the kitchen, back and forth from the stove to the table with hot food, making up new turns I haven't been taught or even shown yet...and it WAS so FUN!

I went back to class too early, and in an effort to keep my feet dry I wore shoes that were too tight in the toes, and needless to say, I suffered a big setback. It's been six weeks now since I last reinjured my foot, and just last week it was well enough to endure massage and adjustment. I still can't wear my dance shoes, but was allowed on the floor in stocking feet yesterday. I'm still limited, but it felt SO GOOD to move and stretch, leap and turn again! My foot swelled slightly after class and I had to ice it again last night, but I danced with freedom and joy rather than burden, and that made all the difference.

Praise God! There is, indeed, a time to dance.

On Being Rare

2010-01-27T22:16:00.001-08:00

Twelve years ago my nurse calmly but forthrightly expressed the weight of the situation: "We haven't seen one of those in this hospital for as long as I've been here--at least 30 years..."

One year ago my medical doc called to announce: "We haven't seen a test result like this for...a very long time. This needs to be dealt with now!"

One month ago my functional medicine doc paused to think aloud: "Most of my patients just get well..."

Way to fall through the cracks, Lattice!

But then today:

"You've accomplished something worth being proud of. Most of my patients don't get this far. They don't stick with treatment long enough."

I am not most. I fall through the cracks on a regular basis. I am rare. Odd. Weird. Eccentric. Peculiar. Different. Unique. Special.

But then, aren't we all?!

"For you are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a mighty nation, a peculiar people, that you should show forth the praises of Him Who has called you out of darkness into His marvelous light." --1 Peter 2:9

Set apart... S-E-P-A-R-A-T-E-D!

And called... C-A-L-L-E-D!

Into His marvelous Light... Into HIS Light! HIS Truth!

For the purpose of showing forth our praise of Him... WOW!!!

This past year has been a long journey through unknowns with unsure footing, but praise God, I am feeling better! And I'm pretty sure that light I see is the joy that's waiting on the far side of this pain... ;~)

The Hole in the Sky

2009-09-02T03:36:00.000-07:00

She woke to the luxurious smells of organic decaf mixing with the crisp cool air swirling in through the window, which was raised open six inches to welcome the humidity-free freshening. The soft thrumming of a helicopter hidden in the still-darkness (at least that's the impression she had of the sound's origin in those first waking moments) wafted in with it. How strange...

The strangeness captured her attention, and as she mulled it, she gained inspiration. Time to blog again!

Our summer arrived in late-August this year, and didn't stay long. We made the most of it by delaying school an extra two weeks to devote as much time as possible to soaking up Vitamin D and swimming at the lake. I hope we'll remember and take solace in what we were thinking come next April 30th, when our battle with spring fever is raging as we face those last two weeks of school...

Even though school's starting a little late, I'm still not quite organized. Monday I pulled a late-nighter to catch up on housework and prep work, and was kept company by the made-for-TV movie The Ranger, the Cook, and the Hole in the Sky.

And for some reason, this time I "got" it! Our family views this video a few times a year, but I've never before understood the meaning of the phrase "the hole in the sky." Perhaps I just needed to view it by myself in peace and quiet. Perhaps all the planets were finally in alignment. Or perhaps it was God's perfect timing? I mean, He's leading us down a strange new path with regard to school this year, and we'd just studied diffusion in Biology that day...

To me, the elusive "hole in the sky" is now an illustration of our memories diffusing into history. As we tread forward, they waft in our wake like the breeze through my window, spreading out behind us like a fragrance, thinning as they expand backward into the vast open space we call the past, floating gently away... Yet we cling to their essence and it lingers, often teaching, perhaps more valuable in diluted, objective form.

In the movie, a young USFS ranger reflects on his memories of the summer of 1919. Will you indulge me as I take a few moments to reflect on my memories of our short summer of 2009?

As I review photos, I see this has perhaps been our Summer of Welding. I think 900 photos of welding flash may have done my camera in, but through photo journaling I've learned a lot more about my husband's trade, his skill, and the mightiness of God--and got some great shots!

We researched and enjoyed our first garden--raised bed, organic, prolific for its size, and free of deer and rabbits thanks to my husband's "stinky shirt" invention.

Somehow we also managed to indulge in more play time with extended family this summer, swim and ChiRun in a downpour, help our kids begin babysitting and lawn mowing businesses, teach them to dive, and spend four days camping with friends on the North Shore of Lake Superior (boy, was that water cold!).

In August we pickled our own green beans; hiked in to a small lake where, for the first time in years, we gorged on thimble berries and gobbled fresh wild-caught rainbow trout roasted over a campfire; and FINALLY got our boat running!

A birthday arrived again this August as well. Do you remember The Paris Party? This year it was a Swimming-Supper-Spa Slumber Party, and prob'ly the most fun of any party I've hosted to date. We had so much fun planned that it ultimately took two days to accomplish it all. NOW I think I understand better why God tells us we need to set aside a whole week for the Feast of Tabernacles and other holidays He talks about in Leviticus (and beyond)! He's got cool stuff planned!

Remembering the china from last year, the birthday girl combined information she gleaned from a summer community ed class and Sarah Masters Buckey's novel, Gangsters at the Grand Atlantic, to plan an elaborate 5-course meal, then designed and arranged her own absolutely elegant table setting:

The action included swimming, burying cold guests in warm sand, trying out the lifeguard chairs/duties, and log roll races down the beach into the lake.

The menu included:

Course 1 (soup) ~ Apple Compote (a warm fruit soup)
Course 2 (fish) ~ GoldFISH crackers and sliced cheese (to some guests' relief, the birthday girl only likes walleye, and we didn't have any), with an abundance of chilled sparkling apple juice for beverage (it was on sale)
Course 3 (salad) ~ Fresh garden veggie tray, and fresh fruit platter with fruit dip
Course 4 (entree) ~ Frozen cheese pizzas enhanced with each guest's creative design of turkey pepperoni and more cheese
Course 5 (dessert) ~ Triple-tiered strawberry angel food cake stuffed with hidden Hershey's Hugs, glued together with Cool Whip...with full aerosol cans of real whipped cream on the side. (Yes, it was indulgent. Yes, it was decadent. And yes, I have some AMAZING blackmail pix archived for "someday!")

The slumber party activities included a freezing cold foot spa (the water heater died for awhile right after everyone got their five-minute post-swimming/pre-supper showers), viewing The Spiderwick Chronicles and Peter Pan, rearranging the birthday girl's bedroom, and munching cold pizza and a new nearly-patented secret snack creation currently called "Peppzoni." We forgot the pillow fight, but oh well...next year.

After an elegant but simpler breakfast of bagels and strawberries, we enjoyed a chocolate facial spa (check out these recipes/suggestions), complete with Lindt white chocolate truffles and, while-U-wait, more foot spa, fish crackers, and juice. As soon as all the gigglers were glowing from head to foot, they wanted to head back to the lake. Goodbye glowing faces! Easy come, easy go, I guess. Ah, c'est la vie...

Beauty. Birthdays. Beans. My summer diffuses through a hole in the sky.

At this time I have a strong sense--stronger than ever before--of being right in God's will and timing for our school year. Perhaps that's all that really matters here today.

Indeed, You have made my days as handbreadths,

And my age is as nothing before you;

Certainly every man at his best state is but vapor.

Selah

--Psalm 39:5

My Face Shall Not Be Seen

2009-07-26T06:22:00.000-07:00

If your eyes are like mine, this picture is hard to look at straight on. In the past, I've foolhardily ignored all warnings and captured glorious shots by aiming my camera straight at the sun. I love to photograph my husband while he's welding, so whether intentional or not, I've also captured a lot of welding flashes (if you'd like to see my best shots, find me on Facebook). But this is the closest I've ever come to photographing an illustration of glory too bright to gaze on.

And [Moses] said, "Please show me your glory."

Then [God] said, "I will make all My goodness pass before you, and I will proclaim the name of the Lord before you. I will give grace, and I will have compassion...But you cannot see My face; for no man shall see me and live...Here is a place by Me, and you shall stand on the rock...It shall be, while My glory passes by...I will put you in the cleft of the rock, and will cover you with My hand while I pass by. Then I will take away my hand, and you shall see My back; but My face shall not be seen." --Exodus 33:18-23

...while My glory passes by...I will put you in the cleft of the rock, and will cover you with My hand...while I pass by.

We often echo the cry of Moses, "God, let me see You," and experience disillusionment when He doesn't show Himself. What the...? If He's real, where is He? Why doesn't He "pass by" here? Why does Moses get a miraculous encounter and we don't?

Well, let's see. To be fair and scientific, are we comparing apples to apples? Are our motivations and attitudes the same as Moses'?

In general, in a word...no.

Why did Moses want to see God? In our search for evidence, our insistence on proof, we often say, "I'll believe it when I see it." The one belief we truly buy into is that we can't know something for sure unless we've experienced it for ourselves. But in the Bible God calls that leaning on our own understanding, and warns us, "Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths." --Proverbs 3:5,6

Moses knew the Lord even though he hadn't seen His face. Early in Exodus, Moses stepped out in faith just a little. God met him where he was, and revealed Himself a little. As Moses became more familiar with God, God revealed more and more--more about Who He is, what He can do, how we can live successfully, etc. And over time, Moses' faith grew. The cycle continued, and their relationship deepened. Moses learned that he could trust God. By chapter 33 of the Exodus, Moses didn't want to go anywhere without God! In fact, he didn't want to go anywhere unless God led the way! So by the time Moses asked to see God's face, he was not motivated by a need for proof; rather, he was motivated by a longing to see the Lord, Whom he loved so much.

And God loved Moses, understood the longing behind the impossible request, and made a compassionate choice. A cleft is a place where the rock is cracked open a little, making a small shelter, a shallow cave. God tucked Moses into the cleft of a rock, and further shielded him from harm by covering him with His hand, just as my husband's elbow shields us from the intense brightness of the welding arc in the second photo above.

You know what? The Bible says Jesus is a Rock:

Then He looked at them and said, "What then is this that is written: 'The stone which the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone.' ?" --Luke 20:17

"Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock." --Matthew 7:24

"Therefore it is also contained in Scripture, 'Behold I lay in Zion a chief cornerstone, elect, precious, and He who believes on Him will by no means be put to shame.' " --1 Peter 2:6

What if, when we cry out, "Please God, I need help! If You're real and You're there, please show me Your glory! Please save me!", God chooses to hide us in Jesus the Rock just like He hid Moses in that cleft? He says He will save us from harm, and that Jesus covers us, or shields us, from the punishment we deserve for our sins. What if it is through Jesus that He hides and covers us...while He passes by?!

Often after we walk through a time of fiery trial, we can tell He's been there (...you shall see My back). Perhaps it is because His glory is too great that we cannot see Him in the midst of our trouble, but can see His hand on our lives afterward. Perhaps that's also why, in Ps 94:22, King David (the shepherd boy who killed Goliath, had to flee and hide in caves from King Saul, and later fought numerous battles as king of Israel) wrote “…My God is my Rock. I go to Him for safety.”

How can we go to God when we need a safe place from someone who is hurting us, or when we are afraid, or other times when we need Him?

"Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication (asking in earnest humility), with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." --Philippians 4:6-7

Because it would be unloving, God cannot show us His face; but He can and does reveal Himself to us. He can and does save us. How exciting! Salvation excited King David, too. In his very next song, Psalm 95, he wrote: “Come, let us sing with joy to the Lord. Let us give a loud shout to the Rock who saves us. Let us come to him and give him thanks. Let us praise him with music and song.”

Though His face shall not be seen, He IS! May His glory be revealed to you!

Visual Migraine Simulated

2009-06-18T08:14:00.000-07:00

Not that I've researched them thoroughly, but as I sit here having my second visual migraine in three days, I thought I'd share:

http://www.knownjohnson.com/?p=73

Mine happen in black and white and start more peripherally. Still, like sneezing in rush-hour traffic, not the thing you want to experience while driving.

Lucrative Fender Benders & Driving 55

2009-06-17T05:32:00.000-07:00

This blog entry could be called a lot of things, but I've had this particular title picked out for almost a month now. My second choice might be "Jeremiah 29:11, part 2." To reiterate, "For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you..."

Today, without apology, I am going to write long. This is the first day I've had free to blog since May 1st, and I need to process. This might be more of a blessing for me than you, but of course you're welcome to participate. Or not.

We're not risk takers. We don't pay interest, investing's not our thing, and we're not entrepreneurs. Business ventures don't give us a rush, and we never want to own our own. But there comes a time in every man's life when he's got to go after that thing for which he feels he was created. Hopefully, this is that time. Hopefully, our little purchase will help keep the economy going. Hopefully, we really are onto God's plan and not just deceiving ourselves, thinking it's His time for this dream because we want it too much. I'm excited to watch my husband fly.

The month of May is always crazy around here. Besides the spring cleaning, end-of-school year activities, graduations and weddings, we also have fishin' opener, sucker spearin', a big family birthday bash, and the end-of-year dance recital that completely consumes about a week. It's fun, but there's no margin for mishap or more activities.

Or so we thought. This year we were stretched, and managed to negotiate both mishap AND more! This year, when spring finally broke winter and we went through our normal "spring restlessness routines"--the restlessness that makes our good friend want to put his house up for sale, makes me feel like traveling, and makes my husband want to buy a portable welding rig so he can practice and test for pipeline work--we decided that of those three desires, which are annually as dependable as the changing of the season, the rig was the desire that had a decent chance of being lucrative (there're two new pipelines going through our state this year). So my husband updated his research; then we prayed, and got on eBay.

As it turned out, we got to travel and buy a welding rig. To make a long story short, in early May we found the welder. It was more inclusive (and expensive) than we were expecting, and it was on the east end of Long Island, which was a long way away through places we never want to go. After much pondering, prayer, and nearly puking (remember, I'm making this short), by mid-May we'd reached an agreement with the seller. Besides agreeing on the price and payment method, he agreed to haul the equipment out of the metropolis and into Pennsylvania. We were scheduled to leave the Sunday evening of Memorial Day weekend, meet the seller Tuesday morning in PA, and be back in time for dance recital practice Wednesday afternoon. Theoretically, according to Mapquest, we had 38 hours to drive roundtrip. We had 65 hours to do it in, which meant we should be able to stop for at least eight hours of sleep each night.

Searching for the rig and making a 3-day trip to Pennsylvania added the "more" to our busy May. The mishap came the Friday before we left. Or more exactly, it came late on the Friday afternoon--the TGIF of TGIF's!--the Friday afternoon of Memorial Day weekend...

It started at 2:55pm, when I lost my cell phone. It's missing captured my attention as I was gathering my normal "errand paraphernalia" to head out the door to an extra dance practice. It was time to go...now...but I spent an extra ten minutes looking for that phone. Finally we left without it, pulling onto the highway into heavy holiday traffic just as the school buses were leaving the school. We still had 25 minutes to travel 15 miles (including in-town driving), so time was tight but we could make it. Halfway there, the bus in front of us braked to turn onto a country road. The three or four vehicles directly behind it braked also, including the guy pulling his boat directly in front of us.

You understand the domino effect, right? And if you're of driving age, you've prob'ly experienced the domino effect in heavy traffic. The longer the line of braking vehicles, the less response time the next driver has? The stop came up fast and I had to brake hard, but I managed to stop a full car's length behind the boat motor's propellor. And I thank God! Because as I checked my rear-view mirror to see how the traffic behind me was handling the domino effect, I'm pretty sure my mouth hung open as I watched in surreal wonder the bright yellow bullet racing up.....uP.....UP!...and just barely beginning to slow right before it plowed into the back of our vehicle! No screeching brakes, not even a terribly loud crash--just a good solid thump. It's just a guess, but I think it hit us at about 40 mph. It pushed us forward about half the distance to the boat, then our daughter had time to yell from the very back seat an incredulous, "Did we just get hit?!" before it hit us a glancing blow on the rear right again so that we were pushed up to just shy of the boat's propellor. A second later I giggled with relief as that boat pulled away unscarred, its driver completely oblivious to the dramatic close-call that had just taken place... It was 3:20pm.

No one was injured (except perhaps an unseen angel?). No airbags went off. The other car had a lot of damage and a big hole in the radiator from our receiver hitch, but our vehicle was still drivable--just a sagging bumper and a few clinging flecks of sunny yellow paint. Thankfully, the other driver, a sweet teen who was flustered but sincerely concerned about our welfare, had her cell phone, and the highway patrol arrived shortly. An hour after the accident, we arrived at practice. Everyone else was still there, and the other moms loved on us and kept my kids for another round of practice while I drove to the insurance office.

The next day the body shops were closed and we were busy getting ready for the family birthday party and our trip to PA. We looked up, down, inside, and out for my cell phone, calling it several more times, but it was nowhere. Nowhere...how could that be? I could still remember places I'd "last seen it," and called the businesses in case I'd left it there. We had a second phone we could use on our trip, but that wasn't our favorite plan. Besides, again, this was surreal. We purchased cell phones primarily so we'd have them for emergencies, and the one time I had an emergency, I couldn't find my phone. And it was because I couldn't find my phone that I had the emergency! If it'd been with my other errand paraphernalia where it "always is," I wouldn't have been in front of that teenager, behind that bus or that boat!

On Sunday afternoon just before we hosted the party, our daughter solved the Missing Phone Mystery. It was...ahem...in a bag of potato chips?!

Okay, yes--I'm caught and would be wise to confess: On the way home from my first batch of errands Friday, I snuck a grab bag of Lay's original potato chips. Potato chips have been my vice since I was eight, and they're a habit I've finally almost completely kicked. They are not at all a part of my functional medicine doctor's current plan for restoring function to a severely ailing part of my anatomy. However, it was lunchtime and I was desperately hungry, short on time, and chips were the best snack I could come up with since I had to stop for fuel and there was zero time for a second stop at a grocery store. No one was along for those errands--I was picking up surprise gifts to give our kids at the end of the recital--and when I got home I threw the bag of chips into the bag of surprises and went straight to my room. In my room, I ate a few--only a few!--while I quickly wrapped the surprises. Since everything about this errand was sneaky, my door was locked. That doesn't mean I was left alone, though. When someone pounded on my door for some emergency need, it frazzled me so much that I quickly threw everything on my bed into hiding...absentmindedly hiding my phone in the potato chip bag, then hiding the evidence of my guilt in the snack cupboard when no one was looking... On Sunday afternoon, just before our late birthday party luncheon, our daughter was famished, and, like-mother-like-daughter (thank God!), went for the chips.

And thus, she became the hero of the day. Amidst great gratefulness and celebrating, I let her eat the rest the chips in the bag right before lunch. (My little sister will vouch that coming from me, that's kind of a huge reward. When we were young I repeatedly conned her into sneaking down to the small grocery store on the corner to provide me with my habit. Her reward? A chip! Of course, I was saving her from my pain...)

Sunday at 6:00pm we said good-bye to our gracious guests, who took our kids and finished cleaning up the party as we headed east. By now we'd figured out the trip was going to take longer than Mapquest estimated. The truck we were driving is very low geared, and the fastest we could drive was...55 to 58mph.

2,300 miles, at 55 miles per hour...

Well, we had time to get a good look at the country! ;~)

Just FYI, the roads in northern Illinois leave much to be desired. Avoid them if you can! Some of the toll roads are in better shape, but many are torn up for construction. And the signage around the toll booths, esp in the construction areas, is contradictory and confusing. On the way out we avoided Chicago, but on our return trip we tried cutting through on toll roads. At one interchange a 30mph ramp was blocked off at the bottom and traffic was actually directed OVER the median! And the reason we decided to try Chicago on the way back is because the roads we took to avoid it on the way out, even the major interstates, have lots of unmarked potholes--well, I wouldn't really call them potholes; they're HUGE 1'x2' holes, 8-12" deep!--that you can't see until you're almost in them. We were told the roads in southern Illinois are better.

Just FYI...

Indiana, Ohio, and Pennsylvania were all pleasant...at 55mph. We stayed on the Indiana and Ohio tollways, stopping only at the oases/travel plazas where we didn't have to get off the toll roads. Fuel was reasonable, bathrooms were big and clean. The only food offered was fast, but it doesn't take long to get across those two states. For those few hours, you could prob'ly survive on snacks you bring along. And since we were traveling at 55mph we didn't have the expected margin for sleep, so all we really needed for sustenance was caffeine. The treats we tried from the fancy chocolate stand seemed "lardy" and granular to us. And though I could not find fingernail clippers for sale at any of the eastbound plazas, I was finally able to purchase a pair at a westbound plaza on the way home.

We wiled away the hours collecting these travel advisory tidbits, enjoying the scenery, and comparing our thoughts on life, family, and the entertaining counsel we received via Dave Ramsey's Financial Peace University CD's. We arrived in Snow Shoe, PA, at midnight Monday night, eased into a truck stop, snuggled in amongst semis, and slept in our truck. Sometime in the middle of the night we were wakened by squealing pigs, but they serenaded us right back to sleep and we were unaware of the semis leaving until we awoke for the day at 6am.

Breakfast with our new New York friends was unhurried and fun, and the welder was just as much a dream in actuality as it appeared to be online.

After a couple hours of going through the equipment and hooking up the trailer, we headed west just as it started raining. We treated ourselves to a late afternoon Campfire Meal at The Cracker Barrel, then pushed hard for home. Chicago traffic is mild at 1am, but let us remind you once more to expect the unexpected--interchange ramps that are closed but unmarked, bumpy medians, and the occasional five-lane toll road with two middle lanes removed. Our memories of these sights, plus a few more Dave Ramsey CD's (there are 11 in all), kept us entertained the rest the way home...at 55mph. We didn't make it back in time for dance practice, but thankfully we have family with servants' hearts who were free to play chauffeur. We made it home Wednesday night in time for supper.

The days have flown since then. Dress rehearsal, getting estimates for the fender bender (which turned out to be quite lucrative!), filling out the state crash report (which is quite sobering), a grad party followed by an end-of-year dance party, two recital performances (the best ever!), our first organic garden (growing slow this year, but we've harvested our first radishes...), community ed classes in babysitting, drama, and manners(!), an end-of-year homeschooling picnic, pipewelding practice (for the whole family), 900 dance and 300 welding photos to sort, finishing up "44 days of finding and seeking" the audience for Alicia's new book, and even an afternoon of fishing at the bridge. Whew! I'm glad SUMMER will officially be here in a few days!

Finding an Unseen God (It's here!)

2009-05-01T05:12:00.000-07:00

Truth is dead. God never lived. Life is filled with pain. Death is the end of life...

These beliefs formed Alicia Britt Chole's worldview as a young woman. "I sincerely believed that there was no God," she says. "As a young Atheist, I simply considered myself a realist who preferred unanswered questions over fairy tales." Then one day, without warning, Alicia's Atheistic worldview was shattered.

Alicia's new book, Finding an Unseen God: Reflections of a Former Atheist, is being released today. Creatively written, Finding... opens a window into Alicia's surprising spiritual journey. With warmth, intellect, and compassion, Alicia invites us to carefully consider what we believe and do not believe, while she paints a vivid portrait of a God who relentlessly pursues even those who deny Him.

You can watch her short (2:13) video trailer here, and, if you're interested, order a copy of the book from Alicia or Amazon.

Skills, Scars, Fashion, & Inflection

2009-04-28T20:26:00.001-07:00

From yesterday:

Pointing at the old stitch marks where he cut his finger while cleaning the turtle bowl, he demands, "Mom, how is God ever going to use this scar for anything?" Then, without hesitation or need to search, he points to other reminders of old accidents, "...And what about this one? And this one? All they're ever going to be is useless scars that remind me of times He didn't protect me from pain."

Oh, my dear son...

Sometimes it's hard to imagine how any treasure can come from our misfortunes. God calls us to walk by hopeful trust (faith) rather than understanding, but that's hard for me to explain to my youngsters. And a little bit hypocritical. After all, I've watched more victories rise from ashes. I have more testimonies--more understanding to go with my faith. Over time, Father God has mingled bits of understanding with my scars and my baby steps of faith to build my faith bigger. Now I'm to tell my children they "just have to step out in faith"??? How can I do that? Rather, I think what I have to do is: a) continue to step out in prayerful faith myself, believing He's going to help our children plow through similar stages, and b) seek Him for how to encourage them along the way.

But our children don't want the resistance of a plow nor the time and struggle of plowing; they just want answers. They want answers that make all their confusion go away... Right now. From us. Despite all training, testimony, head knowledge and actual proof to the contrary, our son still operates almost as though WE are God--kind of a "vicarious faith." Sometimes I feel like such an unintentional stumbling block between him and God that I live in relieved wonder that I'm still alive! (Whew! I live another day! He's still fixated on us, but the Lord hasn't chosen to wipe out his idols yet!)

The discussion about scars led to discussion about skills. The Lord says His yoke is easy. Theoretically, that should mean it's fairly easy to score a passing grade on our God-given assignments! I think we often expect our burdens to be heavier, though, and we discount the "skills training" God puts us through because we don't even realize He's giving us a work out!

For example, last week our children were delightfully surprised when I pointed out that by taking advantage of the privilege of going to play at their friends' house for the day, they were actually also serving the Lord. Their stay with their friends freed up their mother to chauffeur someone home from the hospital. How light was that burden?!

And today our son practiced skills of a different sort, and even moved up to the next level. Again, he just thought he was having fun:

"Mom. Mom! Can I please take my raft out? Will you please come down and watch so I can use it?"

Raft-Poling 101 (No, I have no idea how the Lord will use this for His glory, but based on all I know of Him I have to believe it will be good and life-changing!) ;~)

Raft-Poling 201 (Um...oops? Okay, I guess it's time for a dip! Yes, son, I'm sure it IS very cold--the ice has only been off our swamp for a week... But look, you amazing guy!--You just got great training! You learned and developed new skills! You saved your pole and spanning board from floating away, swam safely to shore even with wet heavy clothes weighing you down, recaptured your raft, and poled it back to dry-dock! And you did all that REALLY FAST!!! The last time you capsized into freezing water, your dad and I were right alongside of you, swimming and available to help. But THIS time, you did it solo--just you and God. And you did it VERY WELL!)

There was a tiny bit of blood on one toe when he emerged. It seems unlikely to leave a reminding scar.

Other skills in our children's developing repertoire:

Pipefitting/Engineering
Short-order Cooking
Fresh-water/Marine Biology/Chemistry
Reading/Writing
Art/Entertainment
Worship
Fashion
Mimicry/Inflection
Photography/Films
Biblical Studies
Nutrition/Exercise
Sports & Survival Strategies
Organic Gardening
Home Economics
Childcare/Parenting/Providing
First Aid
Fire Science/Natural Resource Management
Business (don't forget Business! Remember The Walking Stick?!)
Travel & Change
Customer Service
Relationships: The Art & Science of Loving Others
Discernment: The Art & Science of Seeking Truth
Wisdom/Discipline: The Art & Science of Loving Self

So many interests/skills/variables...no wonder we struggle to identify their "bend."

I wonder where they are going?

What an exciting mystery!

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." --Jeremiah 29:11 (NIV)

Garbage Swirl

2009-04-25T09:46:00.000-07:00

This week we are studying Australia and Oceania (the Pacific Island countries). Included in our study is the giant garbage swirl that stretches from Japan to the US. If you have 7.3 free minutes, check out this interesting Feb 2009 TED.com video featuring Algalita researcher Charles Moore:

Champions

2009-04-14T12:00:00.000-07:00

I was about my son's age when, during the 1976 Olympic Games in Montreal, Quebec, 14yo Romanian Nadia Comaneci made history by scoring the first perfect 10 ever (that's 10.0! The scoreboards weren't even set up to display it correctly!) in an Olympic gymnastics routine. Nadia went on to score six more perfect 10's and win seven gold medals during those Games. At that time, she was the youngest gymnast ever to compete. Nadia and her Romanian teammates inspired millions, gained fans worldwide, and raised the bar on gymnastics forever.

I always wondered what happened to Nadia after the Olympics. When I visited Romania a few years ago, the students I was meeting with sought common ground by asking if I knew of her, but she was actually before their time--they were not yet born in 1976. Recently, though, I came upon a fact-based TV movie about Nadia's life before, during, and after the Games, and found fresh inspiration. The movie is called simply Nadia, and I haven't checked other sources but it is at least available via Netflix.

Nadia was recruited by her coach, Bela Karolyi, at a young age, and shortly thereafter determined that she wanted to be a champion. Her coach was equally determined to make her one. They were both tough-minded and focused, which was a winning combination through the Olympics. Within weeks of their return to Romania, however, several factors led to the entire team being removed from Coach Bela and moved to the national gymnastics team in Bucharest (Romania's capital). In the midst of the turmoil that followed, it became clear that Nadia was completely dependent on Coach Bela. He had developed her into an incredible champion, but she had no understanding of why he demanded the sacrifices he did. In Bucharest Nadia struggled not only with her sudden and unexpected fame (by nature she was a quiet, shy, sober girl), but also with controlling her diet, training herself, relating to both old and new teammates, defining what a new personal best would be in gymnastics, and processing stressful family issues. In an amazing finale before her retirement, Nadia was reunited with her coach. They both worked hard to free her from dependence on him, and she made a great comeback at the World Games in Ft. Worth, Texas.

This fuller story of Nadia's life inspired me to acknowledge, again, my dependence on my Coach. Without Him, I am clueless. All He asks me to do is love, and yet without His guidance I am often baffled at how to do that. Nadia's story also breathed fresh energy into my desire to freely be the "champion" He created and sacrificed Himself for me to be.

For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them. --Ephesians 2:10

Kimi Says It For Me

2009-03-12T12:36:00.000-07:00

Just before our last snowstorm this squirrel and his companion discovered the homemade feeder that hangs outside our dining room window. The birdseed was easy fodder, and the duo thrilled us as they indulged in acrobatic frenzy.

I just got my own taste of their joy. As I was searching for millet recipes (new seeds we're trying), I think I might've stumbled upon a kindred spirit in Kimi. She serves rich fodder, easily attained...encouragement, affirmation, and grounding, at the very least. I think you'd find her humble wisdom uplifting, too.

She explains in words more eloquent than mine why blogging here continues at a snail's pace.

Now...I'm going back to Yangcheng for a final cup of organic green tea with my kids and Gladys Aylward at the Inn of Eight Happinesses before we remount our mules and continue toward Tokyo.

Ciao! (I s'pose the Chinese don't wish each other farewell the same way the Europeans do, but we're not overly focused on languages this year.)

Where Seldom Is Heard...

2009-02-24T04:05:00.000-08:00

Since I grew up with them, it took me awhile to become sensitive to expletives. They weren't a part of my parents' speech, but they were common in any conversation with certain members of my extended family. So for a long time they were "just part of life" for me. They weren't part of the way we talked at my house, but they were words that were easily overlooked (which kind of meant they weren't serving the speaker any real purpose, right?). Then for awhile after I left the covering of my parents, expletives became a part of my speech as well--especially when life was frustrating or painful (and much of it was). Insulated by past exposure, I suppose, I did not feel much conviction that I was paining God when I used them. In my mind I was just being transparent, voicing the sincere state of my heart...

Then I met this diamond of a guy, and we drew closer to the Lord together, got married, started a family, and...well, as our words began to fall on little ears and shape young destinies, what came out of our mouth mattered more and more. Restraint became a virtue of high value--a legacy we definitely wished to hand down! But virtues are hard to pass on if you don't live them. Between my husband and I, I was the first to become sensitive to the verbal environment we were creating. He was the busiest and most frustrated at the time, working a full-time job plus tripling the size of our house while we lived in it (it's still small by modern American standards, but it was just a hut then...), and from time to time the expletives flew as freely as the hammers. It got to the point that they caused me almost physical pain (the expletives, I mean--the hammers always flew into people-free areas), so finally I prayed and then approached my husband, who found favor with me, gave my words weight, and reigned himself in.

Oh yes!--I LOVE that man! ;~)

So we gained victory over one enemy of the tongue. But we had another, perhaps stronger and more vicious, enemy to go. It's an enemy my grandmother gently warned me about through her favorite folk songs...

Not my gold mining grandmother, who left me many legacies and much wisdom, but never sang to me. Rather, I'm sharing now about my almond farming grandma (who was born on 12/12/12--we always thought that was cool). The Great Depression taught her to live lean, and she learned those lessons well. She came to take care of us once when my mom had to have surgery and recuperate away from home for a spell, and during many after-school tea times she told us about her life during the Depression--the drought, the shortages. These things left indelible prints on her family. For the rest of his life my great uncle knew exactly where on the county road to turn off his pickup so he could coast into his garage and come to a stop without having to use any more gas than necessary or his brakes! I remember how thankful Grandma sounded when she told about having only a piece of cornbread with molasses on it for breakfast, and then another for lunch at school, everyday for months and months... Adversity grew firm, unyielding character in her, and while she loved us, sometimes she rebuked us, feeling we were ungrateful or wasteful. That was part of the legacy I suppose she felt responsible to pass on.

And now, in hindsight, I can see that she passed on legacy cloaked in song as well. When I was about six or seven we vacationed with Grandma in Yellowstone Park. Quite a large chunk of the family traveled together on this particular trip, so we had to take a lot of vehicles. I got to ride alone with Grandma in her car for a long time, and we spent the hours talking and singing...and singing, and singing! We sang "Daisy, Daisy, Give Me Your Answer True" and "My Bonnie Lies Over The Ocean," and a whole bunch of her other favorite folk songs. Our repertoire would not have been complete without "Home on the Range."

Do you remember Home on the Range? "Oh give me a home/where the buffalo roam/and the deer and the antelope play.../Where seldom is heard/a discouraging word--"

There!--that's it!--a discouraging word (counsel that takes away our confidence, hope, or courage) is kin to our second enemy, a disparaging word.

According to my American Heritage Dictionary, to disparage means, "to belittle; to reduce in esteem; to degrade." Recently we watched the movie Appaloosa, which is not a blockbuster production but it DOES include a nice little sketch in which the law-enforcing duo of Ed Harris and Vigo Mortensen remind us of the value--the need--for self-discipline and restraint with regard to disparaging words. Back when "Home on the Range" was first being penned, people reminded each other, "Everbody's got their faults, but there's no need to be disparagin' about 'em."

Times have changed. We no longer remind each other that there's no need to be disparaging. Rather, it seems like we often expect it. We expose and ridicule each other's faults as a matter of course. Even our psychologists encourage us to refrain from restraint. They counsel us to express our true feelings (albeit in a "healthy" way--whatever that is...) rather than keeping them pent up.

Along with expletives, I grew up in an environment of disparaging words. Again not so much in my home, but in the world just outside it. My graduating class was the first to attend our high school all four years--the first "real" Viking graduates, raised up beneath the lingering shadow of the vanished volcano, Mt. Mazama. That was our claim to fame, but we also had the more dubious distinction of heading up the Me Generation, and, according to several of our teachers, we were the worst back-stabbing class they'd ever seen grace those hallowed halls. In my world, belittling was also "just part of life." To cope was to do it back, and many of us learned the pattern well. Apparently we took the older generation by surprise, for while they scrambled to figure out how to neutralize our viciousness, we railroaded 'em (as well as each other).

Now I'm a mother, listening to the disparaging words my children throw at each other to defend themselves when they feel threatened, and I wonder how to teach them that these words are not "just part of life." How can I help them to stop--pause and pray, that they might look from a different perspective and walk through a trial in secure joy--before they blow a gasket? How can I help them feel and communicate regret, compassion, empathy, and willing, loving restitution to those they wrong, rather than acting on the natural inclination of fear that they'll be punished? Perhaps it's a lot like potty training? Pray for perfect timing, catch them just-in-time several times, so they can experience what to them will be the "new and improved" way--the "unnatural" way--God's way? Am I called and empowered to be God's neutralizer for this situation, or, not feeling particularly empowered, am I just called to pray and leave it in His hands???

I feel weary of the world's noise--disparaging words, name-calling, expletives, and ranting. I am even weary of my children's noise. In my heart I know I can live and love even in the midst of this noise, but I struggle to endure it with joy. I love logical arguments (and well-thought-out is good, though less than fully developed is okay), presented and discussed in a normal speaking tone using a voice of reason. I prefer that discussions don't start unless there is some commitment to finish them whether an agreement is reached or not. I welcome humor and light-hearted bantering, but am burdened by mockery and bickering. HOW do the rest of you cope?

A gentle word turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger. --Proverbs 15:1 (NIV)

A fool vents all his feelings, but a wise man holds them back. --Proverbs 29:11

Pleasant words are like a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones. --Proverbs 16:24

UPDATE: Funny... As I post this, old high school classmates are quite suddenly contacting me through Facebook! What's THAT all about?! ;~)

The Learning Curve

2009-02-06T05:13:00.000-08:00

Yesterday a friend left a comment on another post: "...life is a journey, not a destination."

AMEN.

And here is what I learned during my journey yesterday:

Legumes (dried beans, peas, etc., that we rehydrate and cook up into chilis, soups, and all kinds of wonderful Mexican and Asian recipes) are prebiotics. This means they are the "food" that probiotics (the good bacteria--flora--in our small intestine) need in order to live and thrive, so that the rest of our food gets digested and used properly. Without prebiotics, any probiotics we consume in fermented foods such as yogurt, kombucha tea, acidophilus, etc., just enter our intestines to starve and die and cause more work for the organs responsible for waste-removal.

I learned all this because as we slowly rebuild my diet following a fairly strict detoxification regimen, looking for allergens as we go, legumes are once again causing the typical intestinal discomfort/side effects they've caused all my life (which, in turn, has caused me to avoid them!). Since allergens can affect us with an almost infinite list of symptoms, I wasn't sure if I should stop eating legumes or keep going.

"Keep going," my doctor said, "There's a war going on in there right now, between the good guys and the bad guys. But the good guys will win. It'll get better."

Keep going. What an apropos description of --and prescription for--this season of life's journey...

"Please test your servants for ten days, and let them give us nothing but vegetables and pulses [legumes] to eat and water to drink. Then let our appearance be examined. [The steward] consented and tested them... And at the end of ten days, their features appeared better in flesh than all the young men who ate the portion of the king's delicacies." Daniel 1:12-15

Why Write?

2009-01-21T04:38:00.000-08:00

One of my blogging buddies, East Side Professor, just gave her Creative Writing class a blogging assignment: "Why Write?" It's a nice introductory assignment, and it seems like they're having fun with it. Their responses sent me down memory lane...

In the beginning I felt honored and excited, but what I remember most clearly--poignantly--is the hopeless feeling that sunk in soon when, as a freshman English major, I was placed first-thing into an upper division Expository Writing class where I rubbed shoulders with fantastic writers in their junior/senior years of college. Though I had a great yearning to write, I quickly realized I knew nothing of value to say and couldn't even say "nothing" creatively. Though some freshman are surely more prepared, more mature, I had limited perspective and ability to see or pull value from my up-to-then experiences. I didn't even know what there was to know, let alone what my analysis of it would be. Why write? Because the teacher said so...

Later--several years, lifetimes, majors, and colleges later--I picked up the mantle of "writer" again, purely for outlet as opposed to career goal, now from a more colorful palette of experiences mixed with tears and deep reflection. I wrote not for assignments or to tell others anything, but to get deep emotions out so I could look at them and heal. My Creative Writing prof found these unsolicited offerings "fresh" and "inspired," and encouraged me to submit them to magazines, but...I didn't write them to tell others...

During that time I did discover a couple important truths with regard to my writing, though. I love to write poetry, but sometimes it feels limiting. To write well, I need more freedom:

I wish to write

without pressure of rhyme or meter or cadence...

And while there are important things to be said about peace and chaos and power, shifting boundaries to record, and lessons to learn from historical and current world events, I am most drawn to capture, record, and dwell on simple snapshots:

I wish to write

the taste of melting butter and honey

on steaming homemade fruit dumplings,

the sound of a deep earthy melody

perfectly tuned to universal lyrics,

the glory of a crisp, clean panoramic alpine vision

unmarred even by man's footprint

the feel of your skin brushing mine,

the warmth of humanity beside me

the chara of our newborn son breathing softly in sleep

and our little girl giggling when we tickle her drooly chin...

Okay--I admit I added that last stanza just now. Before I experienced it, I could not have fathomed the immense comfort I would take from hearing our son breathing as he slept in his crib a few feet from our bed, or the joy of our daughter's happy baby coos and giggles. But that's the beauty of writing, eh? We can review, add, delete, cut, paste, and "give scope to the truth!" (Did Chaucer really say that, or did the scriptwriters just give scope to the truth in A Knight's Tale?) But these things are true, lovely, just, and of good report--valuable! (Phil 4:8,9)

Since college I've had ideas for a novel or two. My 50-page pilot excerpts are tucked away in my files, started but unfinished because I have no gift for strategy (I borrow that line from The Princess Bride often) and still don't know what it's really my job to say. What message does the world need to hear that hasn't already been said repeatedly and eloquently? There's nothing new under the sun. Wisdom has come. It's available. Does the world really need me to reiterate it?!

It's been said, I think in Rory Noland's The Heart of the Artist, or perhaps by a wonderful mentoring friend somewhere along the way, that some of us are more artistic, and some of us are less, and that it takes a bit of artistry to see the wonder and glory of God. Therefore, it is the job of those of us who can see it to show/communicate what we see to those who can't, that they, too, might see the wonder and glory of God.

And I believe God wants to be known.

And I am His servant.

So for me, after all these years, that's "Why write?" Write that we might realize, remind ourselves, and reveal the wonder and glory of God in our lives.

Bravery

2009-01-20T15:19:00.000-08:00

Bravery = having the behavior or character to walk through a situation or do something right even though it frightens one.

Today marked the culmination of our son's most recent worst fear. He's been dreading President Obama's inauguration ever since the election. His fear? That executive orders will outlaw homeschooling; that Democrats will insist on funneling all young, pliable minds through public school for mandatory "tolerance" brainwashing, thus unfairly revoking all kinds of rights and imposing terrors one can only imagine. (And one DOES imagine them!)

My husband and I have been praying and talking our son through his fear repeatedly since it began, but he's been unable to grasp God's peace. Beneath our calming admonitions he's remained steadfastly anchored to his own version of truth. Apparently it hasn't been God's plan to inspire us with the spin that would set him free and give him hope. While we admire and applaud his adherence to his beliefs, he has bordered on irrational. And the topic has popped up at the oddest times, in front of anyone and everyone. If, years ago, our children hadn't come along to be the miraculous catalysts that taught us to surrender our reputation and put on good poker faces at the drop of a hat, we'd have certainly mastered these feats in the past three months!

So our viewing of today's historical inauguration began as a tumultuous tempest. I have to commend our son, though. He's becoming a young man of valor. Despite his strong feelings and desire to bail out of the living room, he found the strength and courage to obey when I told him he HAD to stay and watch and listen, keeping his rage in check and his ranting quips to himself.

Now close your eyes and imagine, if you can, how still and quiet a young man can become as God meets him right where he is. That is the picture of our son as he listened to the speech--well prepared and delivered by his nemesis--about fear and hope...

There is still no trust (I'm glad. President Obama is human, inexperienced, a stranger, and a politician. He's fallible, not much older than me, and doesn't seem to have done much more than me except accept a lot of money. As a human being and a leader, he warrants respect, prayer support, and a chance. But trust? I hope his wife and kids can trust him, but I don't know him from Adam and so far he doesn't have much reputation. Trust is not a part of the package.), but our son's fear has been replaced with wariness, and we are reveling in a peaceful "wait-and-see." Ahhh, thank You, Lord!

I love and value this time in my son's life. Watching a baby grow is amazing. Watching a young child grow is pure fun. But watching a young boy grow into a man, a squire into a knight--that is the embodiment of hope itself. I consider it a privilege to give my son room to grow. But for his sake I also look forward to the time when he'll have the maturity and understanding to appreciate truths like the message Susan posted today at Forever His.

A fool vents all his feelings, but a wise man holds them back. --Proverbs 29:11

Chara

2009-01-08T16:28:00.000-08:00

This week I learned:

"Chara, the Greek word for joy, means calm delight. The greatest concentration of chara in the New Testament is found in John 16, where Jesus uses the word four times within five verses. Between a warning of coming persecution and the darkest hours the disciples would ever know, Jesus speaks to them of joy...For the disciples, the fact that Jesus rose from the dead became a permanent anchor in their lives of joy--not a giddy form of denial, but a calm, ever-present delight."

--from online devotional "a joy that is full"

by alicia britt chole, http:/www.truthportraits.com/

This definition of joy captures me. As we studied biblical holidays last year I felt uneasily challenged by God's commands to celebrate and feast joyfully for whole weeks at a time. These words painted a picture for me of long-lasting large-crowd high-energy giddiness, which seemed like a lot of WORK! Since an important element of each holiday seemed to be refreshment, I was confused. What really seemed preferable and possible to me, especially as we were learning so many new things, were celebrations marked by...calm delight.

I was so excited when I opened my devotional email Monday morning and found that my heart and scripture actually agree on this point! :~)

I find that chara is not limited to biblical holidays or grave circumstances. Sometimes we find it in the strangest, most unexpected places. While I am not walking in as dark a place as the disciples in John 16, I was blessed with chara at God's provision for me again just this afternoon. A month ago when I placed an order for 20 lbs. of organic skinless boneless chicken thighs, in the online photo they appeared to be one solid, frozen mass. Since then I've wondered how I was going to defrost all those thighs enough to divide them into 2-lb. packages without ruining them. When they arrived today I was on the phone concluding a lengthy editing session, and was completely delighted when I opened the box and found ten 2-lb. packages! While I did not climb on the table and dance a jig or whoop and holler into the phone, I had to ask my caller to give me his ear while I shared my "calm delight" and recently acquired understanding of chara! (He did so lavishly.)

I guess my joy hasn't worn off yet--I'm sharing it with you, too! ;~) Organic chicken thighs will not be an ever-present delight in my life, but today I can certainly relate them to my permanent anchor, Christ. May the fact that He rose from the dead give you a calm, ever-present joy as well.

Treasures

2008-12-31T17:38:00.000-08:00

After taking my mother-in-law and our children on a 5,000 mile vacation to see where and how my grandparents, parents, and I grew up and lived (and the exact place where my husband proposed to me), and after spending the last few months purposefully changing some of the composition and nearly 100% of the source of our food in a prayerful, scriptural battle to keep all my God-given vital organs and improve our quality of life (just go organic and kosher--it's worth it, and the sooner the better), there are two timeless sayings I'm pondering right now: 1) You're not defined by where you've been; you're defined by where you're going. 2) You are what you eat.

Okay, that brings up a third saying. Have you ever heard, "There's poop in those brownies..."? It's a phrase that still elicits giggles and guffaws at our house, and we use it to alert our children about the unprofitable content of questionable media whose previews entice them. If you happen to be a brownie lover, you can prob'ly relate. If I made you some brownies and added just a teeny-tiny bit of poop to the recipe, would you eat them? Calling out a "Code Poop" is a sure-fire way to turn our kids away from a mess without a challenge. (They'll still ask curious questions, but they have great respect for the boundary.)

We aim at guarding our children and ourselves from "poop," and if you'd like to read a nice rendition of the whole "Poop in the Brownies" devotion you can do so at Dana's Corner, but we also acknowledge a flip side to poop-infested offerings, called potential. I think of a story Alicia Chole once shared about a college girl who "got saved"--she got saved, but her wardrobe...didn't... Waddaya do? Fret about form, or dig in and disciple substance? Besides, there's much we can learn from a mess. When we come into the family of God, we bring our messes with us. God doesn't tell us we have to clean up in order to come to Him; rather, He assures us that as we get to know Him, we'll want to clean up, and He'll help us. Who are we to impose more on humanity?

So while we employ a Code Poop if necessary to identify boundaries as effectively as an electric dog collar, when my husband and I consider what our family will read, watch, or recommend to others, we don't look from the food perspective, evaluating material as though it's a brownie that may or may not contain poop. Our heritage includes gold-mining, and we've learned that a pile of ordinary-looking rubble often holds potential treasure. It may be profitable to sift through. There may be precious gold nuggets in there that just need a little spit, polish, and light. After a few experiments sometimes you can map out sources of ore that will likely be more profitable than others, but often you can't truly judge until you test some samples. And most of the time there's a lot more ore than there is gold...

So guard yourself, but give grace. Judge as you would be judged. If you find poop in the kitchen, don't embrace it, but don't freak out and leave, either. Why not grab some gloves and help clean it up? (In the writing world, our "gloves" are our editing tools. I'm so thankful for my editing tools!)

That said, here are the most valuable cyber treasures friends sent or I found in 2008. All of them are edifying to me. One or two are rated PG-13 for sarcasm or swearing. The rest contain absolutely no poop...

Alicia Chole on Holy Ground, Prayer, This Too, and Bookends

Jen on Water

Jan on Salt

East Side Professor on The 80's

Czech This Out on Getting Married in Prague

Old Tybee Ranger on Football, Fall Tradition and The Great Depression (incl fun movie clips from the Depression)

on Kitchen Fires (safety video). If you haven't seen this yet, important commentary is included in the email: "At the Fire Fighting Training School they demonstrated this with a deep fat fryer set on fire in an open field. An instructor, donning fire gear, attached an 8oz cup of water to the end of a 10-foot pole and tossed the water onto the grease fire. Water, being heavier than oil, sinks to the bottom, where it's instantly superheated. The explosive force of the steam blows the burning oil up and out. On the open field, the oil became a 30-foot high fireball resembling a nuclear blast. Inside the confines of a kitchen...well, watch the video... Also, do not throw sugar or flour on a grease fire. One cup of either creates the explosive force of two sticks of dynamite!"

Selah on Refreshment (spring video)

Tim Hawkins on Corporate Worship and Cletus (summer videos)

Ray Stevens on Mississippi Squirrels (fall video)

The Holdman's on Music Box Dancer (winter video)

Far Side of Fifty on Teaching Old Drivers New Tricks, Cuts With Scissors, and New Year's (...another winter video?)

Richland Hills Church of Christ, North Richland Hills, TX, on Defining Moments (Cardboard Testimonies video)

May you eat well as you end well in 2008, and may where you're going matter more than where you've been. Happy New Year!

In His Hands

2008-12-23T19:09:00.000-08:00

A dear friend called tonight while I was finishing up the Unfettered Heart post and tweaking Christmas Letters. I'm sorry to have to admit that I kept typing, listening with only one ear and half a mind, as she asked if I could be her kids' contact in case they had an emergency while she and her husband attended a fancy-shmancy Christmas party. "Of course!" was my immediate, instinctive answer. Then I flew back from cyber-space with a jolt:

"Wait a minute!--I just remembered!--I'm wondering if we have chicken pox going here..."

She explained that her kids had been exposed, too, and besides she didn't think I'd really be needed. It was just a precaution... At this point her husband called out that it was time to leave. Hurriedly I agreed to be on stand-by, and we rang off.

About fifteen minutes later she called again. "Um, actually we're headed in the opposite direction than we thought we were going--[the hostess] surprised us and we're headed to Fargo to have supper and drive around to look at lights. We're in a limo... Can you please pick up the kids?"

This time I was paying a little more attention when I committed myself. "We still don't know about the chicken pox, but if you're okay with it then I guess I am."

The other factor to consider was the snow, but I didn't know that at the time. I knew it had been snowing a bit, but I hadn't been out or even looked outside all day. Why? Because I'd been blogging, and updating laundry, then blogging some more. I prepared a couple meals and quickly cleaned the bathroom so someone could take a shower, then went back to blogging until I was interrupted to check the fiery-red rash that suddenly appeared in my son's armpit. I gave him a Benadryl, and blogged some more. A couple hours later the rash had not changed, and I finally took a picture and emailed it to far-flung family members who are more familiar with chicken pox and other maladies than I am. This produced more questions than answers, as did calling the clinic's triage nurse for her opinion. I helped my son get a soothing bath, and then...put the finishing touches on my blog as the sun went down...

I hope blogging isn't becoming an addiction for me--a new modern-day addiction, like texting, except cheaper. I try to discipline myself, but on some occasions I admit I'll pass up food, friends, teaching, reading, and sleep in order to blog... (Wait until my doctor gets ahold of this! Or my siblings--at the moment I'm delinquent on editing projects for each of them! Ei-yi-yi!) :~( On the other hand, I have a Bible scholar sibling who does the same thing sometimes--just feels like whatever God is compelling him to do is more important than meeting his physical needs, etc... Am I finding a new idol, or is God purposing my writing???

I agreed to bring my friend's kids to our house, and prepared to do so. That's when I discovered there were 6-8 inches of new snow outside! It took me 45 minutes to get to the car, start it so it could warm up, clear it and the sidewalk of snow, and get out of the driveway. The great thing about this was that after all that blogging, I really needed the fresh air! As deep as the snow in our driveway was, I envisioned bad roads; but they were already plowed (the DOT workers obviously did not spend their whole day blogging). The kids were ready when I got to their house, and they enjoyed the reunion once we arrived back at ours.

Now all our kids are staked out in their respective parts of the house having a slumber party and a camp out, and I'm free to...blog again! (No, no, no, Lattice! Sleep! That crazy doctor says you need 12 hours of sleep tonight! Wouldn't that be nice?! Now go drink your dirt [a.k.a. Bentonite toxin-binder, a.k.a. kitty litter] and go..to..bed!)

The interesting thing is the tangible feeling I have that I'm resting in God's presence right now. Here I am, blogging along seemingly self-indulgently, at the close of a day (several days, in fact) for which the ultimate agenda--not the one I planned, but the way things turned out--has seemed impractical and unreasonable. I'm not sure if today's blogging is all my own choice or if God's compelling me to do it, but I know I don't have the focus or energy to fulfill the other dutiful plans and good intentions I think would be valuable around here. It seems like almost nothing "important" is getting done, and yet I am certain I've--we've--been in His hands... Is it a Mary vs. Martha kind of thing, where sitting at the Master's feet is more important than chores? Or am I making excuses? Have I been sitting at the Master's feet? Or just gratifying myself while He keeps protective watch over me?

Lord, thank You. I don't know what that rash is, or what You're doing, but I'm glad You're here. I commit our son and the other children into Your hands and ask for Your healing touch, and I thank You for helping me carve out time to wrap up loose blogging ends as they came to mind today. My time and this blog are in Your hands, too. Do You think tomorrow we could focus on that stack of dishes out in the kitchen and catch up on the floors and finances? I think we have some bills due...

Many are the plans in a man's heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails. --Proverbs 19:21

The Year of the Unfettered Heart

2008-12-23T06:02:00.000-08:00

"All things are permissible for me, but not all things are profitable; all things are permissible for me, but not everything is constructive. --1 Corinthians 10:23 (NIV)

"...[They] were so busy trying to figure out whether or not they could that they never stopped to consider whether or not they should!" --Michael Crichton, Jurassic Park

I wish Roman Emperor Constantine (336 AD) could have meditated freely and long on both those quotes before he made some of his decrees, but that's a blog for another day. In the more recent past decade, it's become a familiar occurrence--not a "tradition" mind you, as it's by no will or power of our own, but definitely an occurrence--that we can summarize a year's worth of life-changing lessons with nothing more than a succinct theme. As I said, this isn't something we do--we've never tried to prophetically discern ahead of time nor look back over the year and come up with our own theme; rather, the Lord has given them to us. Sometimes He's revealed a theme late in the year, mid-Fall or so, as we were about to write our family letter. Other years it's come in early Spring, and we've been encouraged and blessed as we've watched Him fulfill a "prophecy" outside our ability to conceive. This year He went even further outside of the little box we unknowingly try to keep Him in, in that He didn't give us our theme during 2008 at all! This year it popped out at me in early December 2007, right off the page of a book from Jan Karon's Mitford series. I can't find it now, but I was thinking it was from Book 6, titled A Common Life, in which Father Tim Kavanagh, sixty-two year old Episcopal priest in the hospitable small town of Mitford, finally takes a bride. What I remember of the scene is Father Tim resting reflectively when his attention is suddenly captured by a wild songbird singing with "an unfettered heart."

An unfettered heart... Someone recently asked me what unfettered means. It means: "unrestrained, uninhibited, uncontrolled." Or more straightforwardly, "free." So then, what in the world does that have to do with us? We live in the "land of the free"--how much freer can you get? What are we to be unfettered from? ...What holds us in bondage?

In John 8:33, some men asked Christ the same question: "We are Abraham's descendants and have never been in bondage to anyone. How can you say, 'You will be made free'?"

They sound a bit testy to me. I think they're reacting to what Christ said just before that:

"If you abide in my word you are my disciples...and you shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free." --NKJV, bolding mine

The ultimate job of our US Constitution is to protect our freedom, and after a lot of research I believe its construction was ordained and ordered by God. It is a replica of the free choice our Heavenly Father gives to all mankind to choose Him (life), or not (death). We need to realize, though, that one of the biggest strengths and weaknesses of free choice is that we are free to believe truth as well as lies, and the God who created and loves us is not the father of lies. Rather, the father of lies is His enemy, who seeks to deceive, lead away, imprison, and destroy us--all for our Father's sake. If believing a lie was just a short stop on our journey toward truth, that would be one thing--each of us is "in process," and there's a good chance we'll never know all truth anyway, since that would make us God! But in addition to our freedom to believe lies, we are also free to operate in and even manufacture and propagate them. And we do. And that sets us apart from God. He can only be, tell, and operate in truth. He IS truth, so if we're not agreeing with Him, then no matter how reasonable we think we're being, and no matter how much sense we think we make, we're opposing truth--completely separate from Him. Separate from the Living Water, the Bread of Life, the Way, the Truth, the Life... Going in a direction our Creator says is not the way we were created to go, a direction that eventually leads to break-downs and destruction...

And that is bondage. Believing and operating in our own "truths" is bondage. So while our Constitution protects our freedom, it also protects our right to choose bondage and death! While it offers us opportunity and has potential to be used wisely, it does not offer us life. Especially when it is interpreted and used by people who have chosen to separate themselves from God. Therefore, let us not worship our country or its constitution. While our leaders and defenders should be honored (i.e., promoted for their betterment) as the authority and servants they are, they are only a part of the body of humanity. While America is in many respects a nice place to live, the best place to live is wherever God wants us. While the Constitution is a powerful structure from which to build, we must choose safe boundaries for ourselves based on wisdom, sober judgement, and discipline.

And where do these things come from???

If God is truth, love, justice, and wisdom, and if He offers Himself to us freely, then wouldn't our wisest course of action be to submit our freedom right back to Him?

And so this Year of the Unfettered Heart has been for us a year of shedding deception, of "abiding in His word" and asking the Lord to reveal to us lies we've believed, and replace them with His mind--truth--on those matters. You may be surprised that we would either bother or feel free to share our mistakes/God's corrections here, as it leaves us vulnerable to "I told you so's" and various other unpleasant repercussions. But one thing I love about God is that when He shines a light into an area of darkness in our lives, He does so lovingly, to free us from captivity--never to shame us. We're so grateful for the freedom! We share our lessons for His glory, and also in case you may be able to relate and benefit from our journey. So here is a recap, with a short description and link to each lesson I was privileged to share since I started blogging in July:

My first blog post is titled Welcome to My Window. Though I feel "born to write" and for much of my life have harbored the dream to be published, I lack a lot of necessary components for that to become a reality. Most of the time I'm content working "behind-the-scenes" while I wait for God's timing. However, blogging does not seem so "behind-the-scenes" to me, and I felt reluctant and vulnerable about it. I felt like a chick kicked out of the nest the day I became an "accidental blogger." I got "tricked" into it when I felt compelled to leave a comment on a blog posted by a missionary friend. I had to set up my own account first, and couldn't quite grasp all the directions. Once I started blogging, though, I felt great satisfaction. It's a great outlet for me, and also pushes/allows me to keep refining/editing my essays. And they're "out there" for God to do whatever He wants and others to glean from, so I guess I AM published, aren't I?!

In my second post, My Favorite Thing, I shared a lighter aspect of my penchant for truth.

August began with Peace & Prosperity, a discussion of the truth that our peace is not necessarily found where we expect it (for me, this especially meant the freedom to take long, hot bubble baths every afternoon while our kids were in public school for a year!); rather, it can be in the midst of big unknowns and things we never thought we could or would want to do. This post also includes the answer to our most F.A.Q.: "Why are you home schooling again this year?"

Poster Child is a short but humbling post amidst a busy week, about the truth that there's nothing new under the sun--not even my "own" thoughts!

The Paris Party is about learning to speak the language of Love to give purpose and bridge gaps as we gather for an extended-family birthday celebration with loved ones who hold different worldviews.

During seasons of loss I've often felt abandoned, as though God has left me alone In the Desert. Over the years I've found surprising treasure even in the midst of my husband's occupational traveling (loss of proximity) and other losses.

Dressing Hair is about a delightful evening of proximity for our daughter and I, during which we each discovered something we were missing: the joy of spontaneous with-ship.

As we prepared to take our children on a vacation through ten western states that have impacted their heritage, the personal item my husband needed most was new hiking shoes. Used Shoes is a fun testimony of how God met both of us exactly where we were, provided my husband's need, and illustrated yet again how available and perfect His love for us is.

In 5,017!, we're back from our trip and grateful for we-don't-even-know-what-all yet! Let the processing begin...

Evidence is my first post about lessons from our trip. It's about admiring the Creator through His creation, and is transcribed from notes I felt compelled to make while summiting the Rockies in the back seat of a minivan. It is based on Romans 1:18-20, which starts "...That which is known about God is evident..."

After crossing the Rockies, the Salt Flats, and the Great Basin in something of a hurry, we were blessed to slow our pace as we met up with my parents and relived some of their fondest memories, enjoyed visiting relatives who made extra effort to come see us by winding their way around routes that were closed due to wildfires, and toured the old stomping grounds and resting gardens of my grandparents in Reunion and Renewal.

At the beginning of October my focus switched temporarily from our vacation to repainting our garage. Is it possible to paint masterpieces in the rain? See if you agree with my answer in Painting in the Rain.

Thanks to God's appointed time for the Feast of the Fall (Feast of Tabernacles), we finished painting our garage and still had time to rake leaves, mulch shrubs, AND build and enjoy time in our first sukkah! Did you know the word that is commonly translated "stable" in the English account of Christ's birth in Luke 2 means the same thing as the word that is translated as "tent" in the Old Testament? Christ could have actually been born in a tent during the Feast of Tabernacles, perhaps something like the one you can see in this post (because it's the post in which I finally learned how to post photos!). ;~)

While I was on blogging hiatus to paint our garage, my friend Far Side of Fifty took advantage of my back being turned to "tag" me with a blogging game called a "meme" (another astute young friend--an English teacher--compelled me to look up the definition of "meme," and it means: an element of a culture that may be considered to be passed on by nongenetic means, esp. imitation). For me this "fun game" was a horrible little exercise, but it stirred up a crisis of faith that had beautiful plunder. You can read all about it in Six Quirks & A Talent or Two.

I cried my eyes out the day I wrote Excellence in Excess. We took a field trip to watch the Golden Dragon Acrobats, and their performance was overwhelming!

If you're so inclined (i.e., not sick of hearing what everybody thinks about it yet), you can read my thoughts on the outcome of the presidential election at Not my will, but Thine...

Once all the fall chores, celebrating, and fall-out from the election were sorted out and put away, my focus swung back to our vacation. Common Decency highlights our experiences at the California coast, including a brief introduction to a lesson regarding intricate considerations and consequences of expressing love. I still have more about this cooking on the back burner in my mind--maybe it'll come out next year...

Several years ago, just before his marriage, my brother led me on an incredible, defining, 15-minute journey into my favorite waterfall. This past year as we left CA and began to tour the area where I grew up in OR, our children took a different but equally valuable natural object lesson from a similar experience. The Lord sets boundaries and establishes authority over us because He loves us. He has perfect plans to prosper us, not to harm us (Jer 29:11). Yet we sometimes (often?) distort what He sets up, expecting "prosperous" to look a certain way, or chaffing at being subject to an authority (any authority, but especially one we don't like!). We long to be "free and independent," especially if those over us abuse their authority rather than submit it back to God. The Watson Falls and Umbrella posts go together.

Magic Ice is a quick, in-the-moment piece about walking...well, and skating, too!--on the perfect ice we have this winter. You'll prob'ly want to at least take a quick peek to see the photos...

Okay--are you getting tired? I am, and so's Blogger's "Autosave" feature! Uh-oh! But we're up to December now, with only three posts to go:

The Walking Stick might be my favorite essay of the year... It's about the day my family accompanied me to fulfill another long-held dream. The summer after my senior year of high school the USFS was just beginning to build a new hiking trail into my favorite lake. That fall I left Oregon to go to college in Montana, wandered off on a tangent or two, and never made it back home at a time of year when I could accomplish the hike. On this day we not only made it to the lake, but found unexpected value in doing it together...

A "normal" MN winter finally arrives in Skates to Skis, and we're appreciating and pondering the power of God to direct all things.

And lastly, although we're not celebrating Christmas this year, we aren't disconnecting from everyone who is, either. We're so blessed to keep in touch via Christmas Letters.

During this past year we've been set free from many expectations, a few manmade traditions, and some lies. We've grown in freedom and health, and experienced much more than we even have time to share. Yes, I can see why God named it our Year of the Unfettered Heart! Some of our relatives and friends have been shocked at the changes we've gone through, and expressed great compassion and empathy. (They've pretty much kept to themselves any disappointment they've felt!) And yes, sometimes growth is painful or unpredictable; on the other hand, for much of it there was really nothing we could do but hold on anyway (it's really not wise to jump off a roller coaster in the middle of the ride, right?!), and we found that if we can just hold on past the pain, God always has some great treasure waiting for us on the other side.

So...onward! Let's see what God has in store for us in 2009, eh?!

And BTW, He hasn't given us a single inkling of next year's theme yet! ;~)

Christmas Letters

2008-12-22T13:57:00.000-08:00

I received a call this morning from a friend who wanted to double-check her address book before mailing us her second annual family Christmas letter. We hadn't connected since this time last year, so we chatted for awhile. As we prepared to ring off she quipped lightly, "Well, I've told you everything in our letter now, but yer gettin' it anyway!" (She's an ol' cowgirl...) She hadn't really told me everything--I'd only caught up on half her kids!--but even if she had it wouldn't change the blessing I'll feel when I receive her note.

We're not celebrating Christmas this year, but we're not disconnecting from everyone who is, either. We particularly enjoy receiving family letters, and have fun putting ours together...together. For the first few weeks of December it seemed like perhaps a lot of folks might not be writing them this year, though. Letter volume was way down, and the few cards that were showing up included drastically short notes from people who said they weren't in the spirit of Christmas and didn't expect to get that way. They sounded overwhelmed with the suddenness and busy-ness of the holiday.

More recently though, as we head into the final stretch leading up to man's traditional celebration of Christ's miraculous birth, I'm rejoicing to find our normal load of letters in the mailbox each afternoon. I'm finding that I have a mental list of each family, and as they "check in" I feel a renewed sense of connection and...relief? It is just so good to have an exchange! I surmise that since I am made in God's image, perhaps what I feel is a shadow of what He feels when we check in with Him. It is good--very good--to connect with our loved ones...

While we don't really have "favorite" letters--we enjoy each family's unique style--today I received the letter we always know will make us laugh so hard we'll cry. Far Side of Fifty's husband, Far Guy, has an incredible knack for turning "normal," "mundane," and even "negative" family circumstances into hilarious, adventurous single-sentence anecdotes. The guy's a hoot, and appreciation and humor just ooze out of him. We've been admiring his talent for years, and this year we take special strength from it as well.

We were blessed as we reflected on the advent of Christ's birth under the stars in our sukkah during the Feast of Tabernacles in October, but we're also blessed to be a part of His expression of love through caring connection with His people. I guess that makes sense. He IS a God of relationship!

From Skates to Skis

2008-12-15T22:08:00.000-08:00

Wow! Our Hans Brinker days are already over for this winter! Even the persistent 40 mph winds couldn't sweep our wonderful natural skating rink (the lake) clear during our 9-12 inch dump over the past 30 hours. The only skating we'll be doing for the next few months will be at a small manmade outdoor rink that is plowed occasionally. The ice was perfect this year, but the season was short-lived. Some people are even pulling their fish houses back off the lakes already, as this load of drifted, hard-packed snow will likely put enough weight on the ice that in some places the water beneath will be forced up around the edges, flooding the ice.

Yesterday afternoon, just for fun and fresh air, we tried to ski to the store while the storm was still running its course. We figured we'd use the outing to pick up a couple slightly necessary groceries. But our heading was right into the wind, visibility was limited, and we didn't get far before we realized the -40F wind chills that were forecast had actually arrived and just weren't worth it. This morning our front door was frozen shut, it took my husband an extra two hours to snowblow our driveway before he could leave for work (3-1/2 altogether), and even medical clinics were closed for the day. One of our cats has the sniffles now and we think her ears have a little frostbite--we didn't know she was outside when we left to do some errands this afternoon.

We enjoy winter, snow, and cold temps... We even enjoy extended periods of below zero highs, with a few -40F days thrown in, because they usually mean limited suffering and the comfort of a warm fire and hot drinks on our part, plus a season of killing back the pine beetles and other insects that have been destroying our trees at an alarming rate. I love being "stuck" indoors for a season of reading, writing, sewing, and reflecting. But right now we're praying and watching with anticipation for the thermometer to rise just enough so we can get back outside and enjoy some of our favorite winter sports without jeopardizing our extremities, too. In the meantime, today I enjoyed Far Side of Fifty's photos of our recent storm and, especially, the triple sun dogs she captured this morning. I also appreciated reviewing Alicia Chole's online devotional for this week, titled "stunning but not safe," about the deadly beauty and other similarities of both physical and spiritual ice. (If you want to read it, once you enter her site you have to click on the link in the lower right-hand corner to sign up for the free weekly online devotionals. The devotional is then emailed to you.)

God thunders marvelously with His voice; He does great things which we cannot comprehend. For He says to the snow, "Fall on the earth"; likewise to the gentle rain and the heavy rain of His strength. He seals the hand of every man, that all men may know His work. The beasts go into dens, and remain in their lairs. (Except our poor kitty! Well, she's safe and warm in her bed NOW...) From the chamber of the south comes the whirlwind, and cold from the scattering winds of the north. By the breath of God ice is given, and the broad waters are frozen. Also with moisture he saturates the thick clouds; He scatters His bright clouds. And they swirl about, being turned by His guidance, that they may do whatever He commands them on the face of the whole earth. He causes it to come, whether for correction, or for His land, or for mercy... Stand still and consider the wondrous works of God. --Job 37:5-14

The Walking Stick

2008-12-08T11:44:00.000-08:00

Climb every mountain / ford every stream / follow every by-way / 'til you find your dream...

(from Climb Every Mountain, as performed in The Sound of Music by Rodgers and Hammerstein. Okay, we just watched the movie again--part of our study of Europe--and that, plus the fact that I finally get to write about this part of our vacation, has left me a bit giddy...)

***

Our practice paid off. After six weeks of triathlon workouts (biking/hiking/swimming) for two hours every morning, we took a week off to pack, travel, and play in CA/OR with Grandma and Grandpa. But then we reached their home place, located less than an hour from my favorite mountain lake, and it was time for the test. Could any amount of exercise at our 1,000-foot elevation prepare us for a 14-mile hike at 4,000-7,000 feet???

It was to be a day hike, and we had a deadline since a special supper was planned for our return. Our alarm woke us while it was still dark. I finished loading lunch while my husband quietly rousted kids, and we snuck out before dawn without waking our elders. Our destination? My favorite lake or bust!

Over the years the trails to this lake have...evolved. When I was in my early teens we first hiked in using an arduous trail that was five miles one way, and we were more than grateful to set down our gear and set up camp for two nights before we had to pack back out. By my senior year in high school that first trail was closed, and our Backpacking Club took a new, more moderate, but longer trail in and out for a day hike. The following summer I worked for the USFS on a crew that used hand tools to maintain all the trails in the wilderness areas in that district. Along with kicking rocks and cutting out Douglas fir of great diameter that had fallen across the trails during winter, we spent one day picking rocks out of a fresh dozer trail that would one day become the trailhead from which hikers could get to the lake from the opposite side of the wilderness area. It was planned to be an easier, shorter route, with breathtaking panoramic views along the way.

But alas, I missed those views. I left Oregon that fall--headed east for college, and ended up settling in the Midwest after that. Over the years, during a couple different late spring visits, I attempted the trail, only to be forced to turn back due to snowpack. I had never made it to the lake via this newest trail. Now my family was excited to realize this dream with me.

Upon arriving at the trailhead, we ate a quick breakfast: fruit, yogurt, and breakfast bars; then took a pre-hike potty break and pix, donned our packs, and headed out. The flora in the area is very different from the species around our home, and the kids started noticing and appreciating this right away. Nevertheless, the first mile was breezy, chilly, steep, and, at this time of year, dusty. Reality dampened their excitement quickly, and it took a lot of encouragement, silliness, and photo-op stops to get our tired young trudgers over that initial hump. Once everyone warmed up and got going, though, we chugged along at a pretty good pace. We got our first glimpse of the lake from the ridge that overlooks it, and made it down to shore just in time for lunch.

Like most of the other bodies of water in the volcanic Cascade range, this lake is crystal clear and icy cold. That means, of course, that it's enticing! Though seconds before we'd felt famished, the lake was captivating and immediately became more important than lunch. Some of us soaked our hot, aching feet... Others went swimming... I'll leave you to imagine who was in each group, but will say that my husband repeatedly commented on how comfortable his "new used" hiking shoes had been, and I got one incredible video of someone who donned her snorkel and mask, jumped right in, and...SCREAMED through her snorkel as she kicked and paddled underwater all the way across the small bay of our resting spot!

It sounded like a mama moose was charging us!

I'm sure all the wildlife in the area were fairly confounded!

It would have been great fun to share, except......I accidentally deleted it...! :~O

By the time we arrived at the lake we had hiked seven miles and were tired, sore, dusty, hot, hungry, and had consumed about half of our water (we carried 80 ounces per person, plus had a large jug waiting back in our vehicle). Considering the time it had taken us to hike in, plus the surprise steep section of switchbacks we'd encountered on that last leg from the ridge down to the lake (this was not marked on the map--it was a "s-i-m-p-l-i-f-i-e-d" representation...), and the flagging energy of our children, we decided we had better plan some margin into our return. Thus, we figured we could only afford to spend about one hour resting at the lake before we had to start back.

After a delight-ful/bee-free lunch (including a few handfuls of wild blueberries we found at the lakeshore--the bushes were loaded!) the kids played pleasantly at the edge of the water while I scouted and photographed the lake and scree fields. My husband lounged barefoot beside the trail, in the shade, in a large patch of huckleberry foliage, staining his shirt (and thus dubbing himself "Bear Bait" for the return hike). We all savored the solitude.

Finally I rinsed my feet one last time and sat near my husband to put on my shoes as he roused himself to do the same. Quietly he commented, "I wasn't sure this lake was really going to be worth the hike--that it would really be worth climbing the mountain. But it is--it definitely is. I wish we could stay here and camp for at least a week..."

What a wonderful, affirming, refreshing thing for him to say! I fell in love with him all over again!!!

However, the feeling of refreshment wore off quickly. The beginning of our return was at least as rough as the beginning of our beginning. Our kids must not be "barn-sour." They were refreshed, but as soon as we left the lake the magnitude of the hike ahead of them overwhelmed them, and the "carrot" we dangled in front of them--the feast Grandma was preparing back home--was not sweet enough to empower them. They were not terribly in touch with the reality of our need to go. In the end, it took parental patience (for me that meant biting my tongue and letting my husband do the coaching...), careful pacing, and, mostly, their own personal shortage of water(!) to motivate them to climb back out and over that ridge.

Once on top, though, they were on a roll. During a quick water break our son looked around and found himself a walking stick, and this reminded him of something. Now, my husband and I are not entrepreneurs; in fact, we despise being analyzed for marketing purposes, almost completely hate shopping, and refuse to play the capitalist game. We enjoyed reading Gary Paulsen's Lawn Boy with our kids, but would not want to be the Lawn Boy...or hire him. For the most part, we like doing our work ourselves and train our children to do the same. So as the following conversation began, "Bear Bait," bringing up the rear, and I (in the lead) were first thoroughly amazed, then entertained, and finally astounded. We wasted no time shutting our mouths, opening our ears, and just revelling as we listened in on this conversation for most of the rest of our hike. It went something like this:

Oldest: "Hey, remember our business?"

Youngest: "What business?" [This was a good question. They're not like their parents in this respect. They have MANY capitalistic ideas "in process."]

O: "You know--the one where we carve walking sticks to sell to people."

Y: "Oh ya--that one. I didn't know it was our business. I thought you were just doing it with your friends."

O: "Ya, I am. But you could be in it, too."

Y: "Really? What would I do?"

Much brainstorming followed--over an HOUR of brainstorming. Very early on the youngest revealed her incalculable worth and was appointed Vice President, and then they introduced, discussed, and resolved every element of business with sober judgment beyond their years, from research to production to marketing to expansion to...investing?!?. Let's listen in again right there:

O: "What should we do with the money?'

Y: "Help the poor people."

O: "Which ones, though? I mean, there're all kinds of poor people."

Y: "First we should help the ones that don't even have a house--the ones that just live in dumps, like Melvin in Honduras."

O: "Okay. Then who?"

Y: "Then we'll help the ones like Gregor [Gregor the Overlander, in Suzanne Collins' fictional series], who have to live in tiny apartments and don't have enough money and only have a closet for a bedroom."

O: "Um, ya, that's good. Okay, and then who?"

Y: "Then we'll help everybody else--rich people who just might need a little food or something."

Hmmm...investing in...people...

Oh yes! Truly a mountain worth climbing!

Magic Ice

2008-11-24T02:23:00.001-08:00

Yesterday my friend, Far Side of Fifty, posted a reminiscent blog called "Magic Ice." I've only experienced ice like this one other time, when I was a teenager visiting a friend on her ranch in Oregon. And that time I didn't know how to skate. Just looking through the ice at the weeds and life carrying on below was thrilling enough, though.

This year our ice is even clearer...so far. It unnerves me a bit to walk level on nothing but water as I watch the ground gradually falling away beneath me. Faith, Lattice, faith... I think I can now relate a lot better to Peter's anxiety as he stepped a few paces away from the boat! ;~)

Our kids have never experienced perfect ice before. Often the wind blows too hard during this season, making the ice build in uneven ridges; or it snows as the water freezes, forming a huge sheet of jagged crystallized bumps littered with hollow pockets in surprising places, all hidden beneath a blanket of white powder. But our kids love to skate, good ice or bad, and for the past month our son has used at least one of his breaks during the school day to run down and check the depth of ice on our small swamp. A week or so ago it reached four inches, which was enough to walk on safely (the more daring were prob'ly driving ATV's on it by then), and as we've been studying the Scandinavian countries and watching Hans Brinker, or the Silver Skates, the kids' excitement was at fever pitch and we nearly had a family incident by the time I dug out the skates this past weekend!

The kids were content on the swamp for two days, but then yesterday afternoon I walked to town to do some errands and detoured by the lake on my way home. There were two men on the lake, 30-50 yards out from the shore, removing small boulders that someone had thrown on the ice to check it's strength. Everywhere else the ice was a perfect smooth sheet. I trotted home as quickly as I could, knowing the swamp was never going to seem "enough" after this. No matter--this was not a gift to be left unopened!

Everyone at home was up to their eyeballs in home projects, but I called a 30-minute recess, grabbed skates, camera, and kids, and headed back to the lake for some quick fun and fresh air. By the time we got there, the men were gone and the whole lake was ours. Within two minutes the kids were skating the entire length of our summer beach, stretching their wings and trying new tricks.

"Thanks, Mom! That was THE best skating I've ever been able to do! That ice is perfect! Will you take us again tomorrow, and bring your skates, too?"

...Well, yes, I think maybe I will... And I don't know if we might have inspired anyone who happened to be watching through the windows of their lake home, but like the Gospel, this news is too good to keep to ourselves. We invite you to join us...

Watson Falls

2008-11-20T21:44:00.000-08:00

Mist filters past us

Driven by playful puffs of wind

Collecting on angel noses,

Dripping off ecstatic chins

From dark to open light

With rainbow rays of praise

Dancing around shadows

Swirling deep with timeless phrase

Forever tumbling, sparkling

Finding paths of least resistance

Heading t'ward full oceans

From some expansive distance

Sheer curtains of endless power

And opaque, dynamic glow

Merge in rhythmic, cyclic cadence

To pound loudly far below

And through the chaos at the bottom

Order is restored

Settling out 'round mossy boulders

Resumes a stream that we can ford

We spent the next several days of our trip in my old stomping grounds--the southern Cascade Mountains in Oregon, around Crater Lake NP. I spent my earliest "hidden years" there, climbing trees, building forts, running up and down game trails, romping around our secluded hydroelectric power camp. There were ten houses in our camp, plus the building where my dad worked, a school for the 40 1st-8th Graders who lived in our camp and the USFS camp a few miles up the road, and housing for our two teachers and the principal/teacher/bus driver/janitor/Phy Ed instructor and his wife, the librarian. There were three classrooms, the library, a gym, a playground and a ball field. Since there weren't very many of us, we had to modify game rules in order to play sports, and we square-danced for Phy Ed every Friday (so that was dress day... By third grade I was a total tomboy and hated to wear dresses, but my mom made me a square dance dress I loved!). We had all music and band classes on the same day of the week--the day the music teacher came to camp. Town was 60 miles away.

For me, it was an idyllic life. I liked to read Pippi Longstocking and Nancy Drew tales (our small library had almost all of Carolyn Keene's series), but I really connected with sweet Heidi of the Swiss Alps, reading her story over and over. I agreed with her that high in the mountains was the place to live, and I was steadfastly resistant (on the inside--had to acquiesce on the outside...) when my parents chose to move us to a large town just before I started 6th Grade.

Watson, Whitehorse, and Clearwater Falls were just a few minutes' drive from camp, and we visited them frequently. Huckleberry season, morel and coral mushroom season, deer and elk hunting, fishing, and wood-cutting season all beckoned us their way. I guess we were hunters-and-gatherers, living simply in the midst of some of God's most spectacular scenery.

But I was completely grown before I ever actually got in Watson Falls. I had long dreamed of daring it, but it's not an easy act. The water plunges 272 feet in a sort of "cathedral amphitheatre" of columnar basalt, landing in a shallow pool strewn with boulders. It's perfectly clear and paralyzingly cold, and the pelting curtain moves--a long, slow swirl, kind of like water swirling down a funnel (except pelting!). In an exhilarating, kind of "last act" together before life changed, my brother finally took my hand, pulled me up and past the trail, and led me straight into it not long before he got married. That dousing was defining--one of the most freeing, joyful experiences of my life. It is standing in the presence of Almighty God and being washed clean! I danced...

And it was on my "must do" list to pass that experience forward to our kids during our recent trip. They were quite eager and intrepid to do this wild, extraordinary thing, and we had a blast. But it illustrated a different concept for them. It gave them a whole new appreciation for the concept of honoring their parents. My husband and I have since enjoyed being viewed as a valuable part of the fabric of the umbrella God provides to protect them from our enemy's fiery darts!

Umbrella

2008-11-20T21:00:00.000-08:00

Common Decency

2008-11-10T20:47:00.000-08:00

He stirs up the sea with His power, and by His understanding He breaks up the storm... Indeed, these are the mere edges of His ways, and how small a whisper we hear of Him! But the thunder of His power, who can understand? --Job 26:12, 14

The conclusion of the election process seems like a natural break--a perfect place to refocus and finish journaling our vacation lessons. Now let's see...where were we? Oh yes--we had just arrived at the vast, powerful, massive piece of creation known as The Pacific Ocean! (Which is just the mere edge of His ways??? The small whisper we hear of Him...? Wow!)

My husband and I have each lived a small part of our lives on the ocean, and wanted to help our kids take in and savor their "very last first time" there. We coached them in safety concerns before we left the hotel, then borrowed a bit from an idea set forth in James Michener's novel, Space. He says to first look at the stars with the naked eye, then binoculars, and then, finally, a telescope, pacing oneself to enjoy each layer of revelation...

Our kids started first with just a glimpse of the ocean (easy to accomplish since it was foggy). Once we parked, they stood for a moment just outside our vehicle to take in the panoramic view, first scents, and sounds. It was nearly high tide, so the small dunes with strange new vegetation were more impressive than the slim offerings of the beach (just a few broken shells and no tide pools). After a bit of dune exploration, we approached the frothy outskirts of the tumbling, churning waves. First we snuck up just close enough to run away from them. Finally, we clasped hands tightly and tackled them head on!

What ecstatic fun! What energy! What freezing temperatures! After racing and jumping waves at Samoa Beach for most of a very gray morning, we were nearly hypothermic. We changed clothes (no Far, we did NOT need scissors!--we held up damp beach towels to change behind), crowded into our vehicle and turned the heat on full blast, and relished the warmth as we meandered a few miles north of Eureka, CA, to have fresh seafood for lunch at a merchant's marina cafe'. After ordering hot drinks all around, I went to wash. In the women's restroom there is a sign that reads:

"California state law and COMMON DECENCY dictate that all employees wash their hands before returning to work."

The sign is probably common to the people who work there, but I found it refreshing! ;~) Common decency... Isn't that really just another term for love? Makes me think of God's second greatest commandment: "You shall love your neighbor as yourself." Even washing our hands is a loving thing to do, for others as well as ourselves!

After lunch we played at two warmer, sunny beaches before meandering through the gentle giants in Redwood National Forest on our way north to Crescent City. We arrived at suppertime, still shivering but also glowing. As we checked into the motel where we had reservations, my father noticed a little sign on the counter:

"You must report any pets traveling with you. There is an extra charge for small dogs. Note: California state law prohibits leaving pets in vehicles."

Another "sign of love?" When I called to make our reservations I was asked if we'd be bringing any pets, but it never dawned on me, a month ahead of time from here in MN, that my parents out west might bring their two Australian Shepherds with them. Even if it had, it wouldn't have dawned on me that I needed to notify the motel. For my whole life my parents have either found caretakers or traveled with their dogs as circumstances dictated, but they've never lodged them in a motel. They provide padded mats for the dogs to lie on during driving or sleeping at night; bring along their leashes, dishes, food, and a supply of clean water for them; make frequent stops to meet their needs; and always leave the topper's windows open for adequate ventilation. My parents care for their pets as responsibly as they care for me, but they do not lodge them in motel rooms...

We reported our pets to the desk clerk, and then we were ALL in a real pickle. The dogs were too big to be allowed into the motel room, the law prohibits lodging them in the vehicle, and it was too late to cancel our reservation without having to pay full price for the rooms. Besides, there was no place else to go. The clerk resolved the issue by charging us the extra pet cleaning deposit even though the pets wouldn't be in the room, and telling my father to park in an out-of-the-way space in the parking lot, make the dogs wait for their evening constitutional until after dark, and hope the dogs didn't bark and attract anyone's attention. After getting our wet, sandy clothes washing in the Guest Laundry and taking a quick hot shower to warm up, I found my father in the parking lot taking care of his dogs. It broke my heart when his face crinkled in frustration and his voice cracked when he spoke, "I feel like such a criminal, sneaking around out here!"

Later we learned that such laws are not limited to California. It is illegal to leave pets in vehicles overnight in our state, too. In my world, animals have never needed the government to protect their rights--they've had caretakers with common decency, and that was enough. But I guess activists somewhere have found people who need Big Brother to tell them how to be responsible owners. Whether lawmakers are fanatical or just trying their best to enact reasonable laws, animal rights seems to be an issue where balance is hard to find. My parents were unfairly charged, and forced to break the law, because they brought their "over-sized" dogs with them. And yet they brought them because of...common decency.

Besides that we were spending time in environments those dogs LOVE, playing with people those dogs LOVE, and that they both enjoy traveling, one of the dogs had recently contracted a horrible eye infection. Her vet prescribed medication that had to be administered to her eye several times a day, and the elderly neighbor who usually cares for the dogs when my parents have to leave them could not manage the job. Bringing the dogs along was the most reasonable, decent choice my parents had.

We left Crescent City the next morning, mentally battered but thankful that at least in the previous election the proposed CA state law that would have limited pet travel to only 1-1/2 hours per day did not pass!

What a simple yet complicated concept is "common decency." How hard it is for us to account for all eventualities and set boundaries that truly define love. There are as many choices to make about loving as there are ways to blog. Perhaps that's why God didn't get overly specific in His commandments, and admonishes us to avoid legalism. His plan is for us to be free to love.

Not my will, but Thine...

2008-11-04T22:31:00.000-08:00

"...there's no authority except from God, and those which exist are established by God."

Romans 13:1

It's late, and we already know who won the next presidency.

It's seemed like natural foreshadowing the past couple days to substitute the name "America" for "Assyria" as I've read through the short book of Nahum... (If you try this exercise, don't give up in the middle!)

The peoples' choice is not my choice, but okay, Lord, You are God and I am not. You've put me in this position of surrender before, and You were faithfully full of surprises then... Your ways are higher--much higher!--than mine... Thank You for staying in control and implementing YOUR perfect plan.

(Note: If you viewed this blog in its original form you will notice it's now changed. This morning the Lord convicted me that while it was a little catchier with my tongue-in-cheek thoughts, my attitude was out of line. It reflected resignation but not true surrender to Him. I apologize.)

Excellence in Excess

2008-10-28T17:32:00.000-07:00

Today we took a field trip to the Reif Theater in Grand Rapids, MN, to watch a mini-performance of the Golden Dragon Acrobats. Wow!--Fabulous! What an incredible troupe from China! What talent, training, balance, and discipline! Each act was beautiful and emotionally climactic, performed with excellence...in excess! Our applause were wild, and it was an honor to bestow them. By the end of the hour I was so over-stimulated that I couldn't keep from crying as I watched!

I know God had His eyes on these young people today, too. They're in the niche He created them for, and He loves watching them. They, like us, live their lives for a very special audience of One, and He applauds us based not on our performance but on the fact that we are His. The Golden Dragon Acrobats don't have to perform perfectly to impress Him! But I'm not sure if they know it. I hope there is an age limit--that at some point their tenure on the team is up--just so they can do something besides train and perform for human applause.

Whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of Christ, giving thanks to God the Father through Him. --Colossians 3:17

Six Quirks & A Talent Or Two

2008-10-27T23:19:00.000-07:00

While I was on "blogging break" I was tagged by Far Side of Fifty to do a "meme list" of six personal quirks. Ahem! I know it's supposed to just be a fun way to get to know people, but wow!--this actually turned out to be quite a struggle for me! To whoever thought up this game, I don't like it very much!!!

It's not that I mind confessing. James 5:16 exhorts us "Confess your faults one to another, and pray for one another, that you may be healed." Quirks might not be faults exactly, but some of mine probably are. And I could use some healing! (More on that later...) So how about if I take a chance on the semantics, step out in faith, and see what God wants to do???

Except...well, check out these rules:

1. Link to the person who tagged you

Check. You can link to Far's blog by clicking above, or on the link in "My Blog List" in the sidebar...

2. Post these rules on your blog

Check. Here they are...!

3. Tell about your six quirks

Check. Actually, I could only think of three off the top of my head. Then I got out my secret weapon (aka, my kids and husband) and they had no problem coming up with the others! (And theirs are the best!)

4. Tag six bloggers to do the same

Okay, so here's the problem: I enjoy sharing, and receiving comments on my blogs(!), and just a tiny bit of browsing, but I'm kind of an "introverted blogger" (an oxymoron, I know...). I lack the quota of blogger connections, especially six whose sites seem particularly suited to memes. I've enjoyed a visit from one person I've never met outside of cyberspace, but her site doesn't seem suited to it, either. For fun I would love to tag a few friends and family members, but they don't blog and now that I've said that they prob'ly never will! ;~)

5. Leave them a comment to let them know you've tagged them

If I ever get past #4, this one will be a piece of cake. But...!

I procrastinated on this through our holiday celebration, then last night finally decided to dig in, "be an overcomer," and play this game with Far (thanks for your patience!). I stayed up late constructing and wrestling over a list of bloggers I could potentially tag (my highest tally was only five), and in the wee hours of the morning fell into a fitful sleep; then arose early with a full day's agenda, and...cold feet! (Funny how getting just a few hours of shut-eye can have the opposite effect of getting enough sleep...)

For awhile I didn't have to care, though. The morning was busy and I was nowhere near my computer. But then, as I was standing at the stove preparing a late lunch, I received inspiration. Suddenly I was reminded of the Parable of Talents (Matthew 25:14-28), in which a master entrusts different amounts of talents (a form of currency in the Middle East) to his servants, each according to their ability. Then he leaves on a long journey. When he returns, he finds that the servant he entrusted with five talents has invested and doubled the money. Likewise, the servant entrusted with two has doubled his. However the third servant, who was entrusted with only one talent, was afraid, and simply buried his talent until his master's return.

The first two servants risked what was entrusted to them, and received praise--"Well done, good and faithful servant." The third guarded what was entrusted to him, and was condemned--"You wicked and lazy servant."

Seems like a curious and rather serious lesson to associate with a just-for-fun little old meme game, doesn't it?!

People blog a variety of ways for a variety of reasons. Some journal, some discuss, some inform, some just connect. For most of the people I'm linked with, blogging is a tool for making spiritual food gracefully available to all who visit--fresh manna served in a timely fashion and usually in small bites, so no one overeats. The burden of my heart is that this site would serve that same purpose, although having descended from a hearty bunch of gold miners, I often view my offerings less as food and more as nuggets of pure gold--treasure dredged out of rubble and entrusted to me by my Master.

I believe He would have me invest the treasure I'm entrusted with, too. Though the skillful presentation of just one nugget at a time still eludes me, and I'm not as talented at panning out all the rubble as I'd like to be, blogging is already one of my "investment tools." I'm uncertain what else I'm supposed to risk here, though--how I'm supposed to apply the Parable of Talents to this game. Later today I happened upon a blog site in which this author who'd been tagged posted her answers but chose not to tag anyone else, and I thought, "Hey!--I could just do that!" But I have a nagging sense that I'm supposed to go ahead and tag the five people on my list...

Whew!--seems like it has taken an inordinate amount of time, energy, and agonizing to get to firm ground on this, but now that I'm finally settled, here are my top six quirks:

1. I scratch and clean my right ear--and only my right ear--with the skinny barb of pen caps. (And please DO pray, as Father God leads you, for healing in this ear! It has a fungus that is incurable according to modern medical standards, and sometimes it really drives me crazy.)

2. I serve lots of awesome renditions (and occasionally a flop) of lots of awesome recipes, but never the same rendition twice. Especially when my kids aren't helping in the kitchen, I never follow a recipe to a "T" (modification is the name of the game), and I estimate rather than waste time measuring.

3. When loading the car for errands or whatever, I never remember everything in the first load. (I sometimes imagine this is a God-thing, to help me get more exercise!)

4. Despite evidence in #3 to the contrary, I'm a planner and a scheduler. I value spontaneity and love that my life and times are truly in God's hands, but spend a lot of energy planning and imposing ordered structure. My husband says many people prob'ly think this should be thought of as a "gift" rather than a quirk, but that if so, it's only because they haven't walked a mile in his shoes! ;~)

5. Left over from my days working in salmon cold storages in Alaska, I love the smell of ice, freshly shaved in ice-making rooms or just quietly building up in warehouses and walk-in freezers when they're "On." When Christian women talk about "the fragrance of Christ," this clean, refreshing odor is what comes to mind for me. So far no refrigeration guru has been able to tell me what makes the odor, though.

6. I like to compare people to beverages. For instance, my friend Far--you remember her--she's the one who tagged me with this whole insane quirks exercise--is like a warm caramel apple cider: mellow sweet comfort that disguises a surprising tang! (But my husband thinks she's more like peppermint schnapps--sneaks right up and steals your breath away! I don't know--check out her blog and see what you think... [That is an encouragement to meet Far--not to drink schnapps!])

Okay, that was the easy part. Now for the tagging. Please don't feel obligated to play, but I hope you'll be blessed if you do. So then...(drum roll, please!)...you're it: Czech This Out, East Side Professor, Jen & Jan, Forever His, and Truthportraits!

Feast of the Fall

2008-10-26T06:39:00.000-07:00

Okay--the garage is painted! Also, the leaves are raked and tucked around the shrubs like warm blankets, our first snow is falling in gentle fat flakes, and just outside my window our first sukkah stands bare and empty but not forgotten. It is yet a reminder of recent reminiscing, family fun, and God's graceful provision. In case you are wondering what a sukkah is, this is my "very last first time" at placing an image in a blog:

Oh good!--it worked! Still hard to tell what a sukkah is, though?! A sukkah is a tent--a temporary dwelling, like the Israelites lived in during the years they wandered in the wilderness. As God directs it to be constructed, it is a basic, four-sided frame covered with fabric walls and a roof made of four different kinds of tree branches--something like evergreen, deciduous, flowered/fruiting, and flexible (like willow). Our walls--long swaths of purple and blue fabrics I've used for many purposes over the years--are not pictured because we only hung them when we were actually in the sukkah. Our sukkah happens to be "furnished" with benches we made several years ago when a beaver took down one of the largest remaining popple (aspen) trees next to our swamp (he only wanted the leafy branches); but furnishings are not a significant element of a sukkah.

And why do we have such a dwelling in our yard? We are not Israelites; and we are not in need of temporary shelter. We have several tents in much better shape, and have besides, also in our yard, a much more stable, protective, permanent dwelling! Well, throughout this year our family is studying and celebrating biblical holidays, and from sundown on Tuesday, 10/14, until sundown on Wednesday, 10/22, we celebrated the Feast of Booths (aka Feast of Tabernacles). The Feast of Booths is, in part, a Thanksgiving celebration. In Israel it is closely tied to agricultural harvest, and is a time of acknowledging and thanking the Lord for all His provision. There is even supposition that when the pilgrims celebrated the first American Thanksgiving holiday, they were actually celebrating the Feast of Booths. (This is a festival which is to be celebrated still and in the future, as evidenced in Zechariah 14, and the pilgrims were very religious people, committed to following God's ways.) God appointed this feast as a time for people to remember that we dwell here only temporarily, and it is He (not we, "pulling ourselves up by our own boot straps") who faithfully sustains and prospers us just as He sustained the Israelites in the wilderness and then prospered them after He led them into the Promised Land to dwell permanently.

As the subject of biblical holidays has come up in conversation this year, a lot of our listeners have equated them with "Jewish" holidays, but this is a misnomer. Biblical holidays are the feasts and special days God told His people to keep long before there were such things as "Jews" and Jewish customs, rabbis, rabbinical law, tabernacles, or temples. The special days and feasts are delineated in Exodus 20, Leviticus 23, and Deuteronomy 16, when the Lord was beginning to form the Hebrew people into a nation. The holidays are also mentioned in various other places in both the Old and New Testaments. They are celebrations pregnant with purpose, reminding all celebrants of God's credibility and capability as evidenced by His faithful hand on His people in the past. Thus, many Jews (a relatively modern term most widely used to mean "people whose traditional religion is Judaism, and who trace their origins through the ancient Hebrew people of Israel to Abraham") do celebrate these holidays according to customs they've established through tradition, but the roots of "biblical holidays" are pre-Judaism; likewise, many "Jewish" customs and holidays are not found in the Bible, and we are not studying those.

God's appointed feasts also foreshadow the arrival and work of the Messiah. Many Jews are still waiting for a messiah (savior) that meets their expectations, but since we accept Christ as the Messiah, who was born Immanuel (God with us) and sacrificed Himself to redeem us from our debts, we've enjoyed learning how He fulfilled the Messianic intents of the biblical holidays. Christ, in fact, gives the holidays even richer significance.

I know we didn't keep the letter of the Law (for instance, we never quite got our "lulavs" together to wave...), but I think we discovered and embraced the spirit of it. For us, God's appointed time for the Feast of Booths was perfect timing. We were thankful not only to set aside some pleasant days for celebration, but also feasted on rich, nourishing lessons for ourselves and our children. We savored the reminder, permission, and time to reflect. We enjoyed the extra time outdoors in the fall weather. We warmed ourselves at the fire, admired the stars, and imagined the arrival of Immanuel in circumstances in which many scholars believe He was actually born. And we dwelt expectantly on the future, studying about the time when Christ will gather us as a groom gathers his bride, to establish us in our permanent home!

Since we also had time to finish preparing for winter, I have a little more time for blogging again!

Thank You, Lord!

Painting in the Rain

2008-10-06T04:34:00.000-07:00

I eased into leaf season feeling free--even responsible!--to pause in my work to admire the Fall scenery... Now, however, we're racing the weather to button up several outdoor projects before snow arrives. I will have to take a short break from my indoor hobbies, including recounting/journaling our vacation... (But I'm NOT done yet!)

The project of highest priority at this time is repainting the garage. We had a lot of scraping to do, particularly on the south side, so the painting had to start over from the bottom up--priming. My husband and son finished that Saturday. Yesterday I shivered in my thin old painting shirt and shorts (the only clothes I have to sacrifice) as we tried to get the first coat of paint on over the primer before it began raining. I was nearing the end of "my" side when light sprinkles began to filter down from the darkening clouds. I picked up my pace, and thought of my friend, Alicia.

Alicia paints, too. She paints portraits with words. Beautiful portraits! Masterpieces! That is her current career, and one of her ministries. Since it's a career, Alicia has commitments and deadlines, which means that sometimes she even has to paint on what we might call "rainy days."

Is it possible to paint Masterpieces in the rain?! Oh, yes! With the Master, all things are possible! But sometimes it can be a bit tricky. Yesterday I painted for just a little too long, and the rain washed the paint right back off of the last two boards...

I admire the way Alicia remains on track in the midst of struggles and sad times, but yesterday reminded me to pray for her (and others) who seem so strong that they can weather ANY...weather.

Reunion and Renewal

2008-09-24T21:34:00.000-07:00

West of the Salt Flats the "scenery" is gray, greenish gray, and dark greenish gray. Upon studying it, I've found the ecology of juniper and all the various species of sagebrush pretty intriguing, and the geologic story of the silver and gold mines might likewise be interesting. But there is nothing that really attracts us to the state of Nevada. The fragrance of all the shrubs in bloom is heady, but I still prefer the clean tang of sub-alpine forests and alpine meadows. Nevada's homogenous Great Basin view wore on us. We slept fast and made haste to leave Reno the next morning. Except for the 15 minutes Daddy spent stuck in the parking garage elevator with a wonderful bag lady who encouraged him that the elevator door stuck shut all the time and you just had to keep pushing the button, our leaving was uneventful...

So then, the "new" California was pretty interesting. First we had a joyful reunion with my parents at the cabin in the shady, forested Sierra Nevada mountains, where my father, as a boy, spent his summers. My parents arrived a day ahead of us (after a hiatus of 30 years or so) and by the time we got there my father had scouted the present-day setting and relocated his favorite childhood haunts. He was completely prepared to take us on an engaging tour, and we were completely engaged! The grandkids especially enjoyed seeing the "old-fashioned refrigerator" (a spring in the front yard), the place where Grandpa built his network of roads for his P.I.E. truck and tractor (in the back yard), the live-trapping grounds for squirrels (a lucrative business for boys back in "the old days"), and the "Leaning Rock" where cousins once built and defended makeshift lean-tos. The kids also went kind of crazy collecting sugar pine cones (the cones are huge, and we brought home a whole garbage bag full!), until our daughter tripped and accidentally touched one that was apparently very precious to a gray squirrel living in the mature pine above it. Boy!--it was a very tall, very straight tree, and he was a very quick scurrier! Friendly little bugger, though. It was quite a sight! ;~)

One of my favorite things about a forest is the ecology, too. Specifically, I love to see the way God has worked out recycling and regenerating, restoring and renewing. Sometimes His processes are incredible because of their simplicity, and sometimes because they're so complicated... Squirrel caches are a simple process; wildfires, insect infestations, and even disease often represent the more complicated.

Speaking of fires, after thoroughly touring the cabin area for a day we continued our trip by detouring around persistent wildfires and resulting road-closures. Amidst some dreadfully graphic but informative discussion with my husband about why many vehicles (mini-vans like ours, in particular) are not built for the style of mountain driving handed down to me by my ancestors, the vivid imagery and his gentle instruction reformed me as I drove us up steep, narrow, intensely banked, winding roads to the gold mining claims where my mom's family spent THEIR summers. (I wonder if renewing our minds makes us younger? I mean, whether it's God or my husband that enacts it, I feel like a whole new person after I'm re-formed!) There we quickly reminisced, hiked the old ditch, observed bear scat and poison oak closely, and took a two-minute wade in the old skinny-dipping pool. After a quiet family prayer time in the garden of my grandparents, it was nearing dusk as we started the last three-hour leg of our journey to the coast.

Did you know there is still at least one section of paved road in the United States that is a 10% grade? (If you know of others, please leave me a comment. I'd prefer to be forewarned!) It's five miles long, very winding, and relentless! The locals--including trucks--travel it at something close to the speed of light, but we were unfamiliar, unprepared, and it was already dark AND foggy. Even though I started down it in "L"--the lowest gear possible on an automatic transmission--I smoked our brakes about half a mile from the bottom. As spongy as the brakes suddenly became, we overshot the pull-out but managed to stop alongside of the guardrail, and although the engine/transmission groaned at first, it did manage to back us up into the pull-out...

Whew! Okay, so the Lord blessed us twofold: there was no one behind us when we had to stop and back up, and the brake pads didn't crumble into dust; rather, they worked fine again once they cooled off (20 minutes waiting plus another 20 miles later...). We arrived at the coast in time for "breakfast" at an all-night diner, and fell into bed for a pleasant round of regeneration, restoration, and renewal (i.e., r-e-s-t!).

Heavenly Father, YOU are an engaging, intriguing Father, too!!! Thank You for our parents and their heritage, our legacy. Thank You for putting in place processes of renewal for our bodies, souls, and minds. There are so many truths we don't yet know, so many erroneous conclusions we've jumped to and believed to a fault. Thank You that You are the Truth, our salvation, and our gentle, loving guide. Please bind us to Your will, Your truth, and the mind of Christ (which has perfect understanding of truth), and renew our minds. Set us free from the deceptions we've believed! In Jesus' name, amen.

Evidence

2008-09-22T19:34:00.000-07:00

Bear Lake, ID/UT

"...That which is known about God is evident...for God made it evident...For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made, so that [we] are without excuse." Romans 1:18-20

Due to some medical issues, we had to delay the onset of our vacation for eight hours. Since we had prearranged our lodging (lots of it!), we had to somehow absorb the delay. We chose to spend a full day and stay an extra night in Cody, WY, and then drive straight through to Reno, NV, via the scenic route of Yellowstone NP, Teton NP, Bear Lake, and the Salt Flats in Utah. For our entourage this was a 21-hour drive through what seemed like several distinct worlds. My husband did a lot of the driving; the kids were content most of the time; and the scenery was enthralling for much of the day. I had a lot of solitude for silent worship, and reflected on the passage above for a long time. What invisible attributes did the Lord intend to reveal to humanity through the part of Creation we were viewing?

Grand Teton draped with glacial lace...

His sovereignty; He is King of kings

Plunging painted canyons and wide open prairies...

the depth and breadth of His love

Steaming thermal springs...

the gentle but unyielding conviction of His Spirit

Crisp high mountain air...

the fresh fragrance of freedom in Christ

Lush meadows, where moose and buffalo graze...

His rich provision; He's the Shepherd who gives us everything we need

Cascading waterfalls...

His joy--He delights in all of His creation, including US!

Bugling bull elk...

He calls to us

Backpacking bicyclers...

His strength, endurance, and longevity

Speed limit signs... (okay--they're not "nature," per se--but I enjoy driving fast the way some of you enjoy your vices, and have the same problem with speed limits as some of you do with, say, legal alcohol limits, so let's just rejoice that I'm noticing them!)

His loving limits/boundaries

Interpretive signs...

His Word, the Bible

Slow drivers ahead of us on steep canyon roads...

despite my "need for speed" (!), God is our pacesetter; He's not above placing precious people ahead to slow us, that we might reach our appointments in HIS perfect timing! And while He is seldom early, He is never late...

The piercing pain of the poisonous stinger of the dying wasp wounded on our windshield...

God lovingly warns us that we'll encounter our enemy's fiery darts if we wander past the limits of His shield--a shield limited not by His power (ability), but by His promise (laws)

The wasp itself...

as we buzz down the road called Life, bugs (trials and storms) often splat on our windshield.

While admittedly distracting, God encourages us that it's foolhardy and unnecessary to focus on these bugs; rather, stay focused on the Road (Jesus--THE WAY!...the Truth, and the Life)

Brilliant-hued Bear Lake, which spans the man-made political border between Idaho and Utah...

because of God's great love for us, He enacted a brilliant plan to span the border between Himself and man, becoming "Immanuel"--that is, "God with us"--whom we most commonly call Jesus. In taking on our sin and dying for us, He bridged the gap created by our sin (lack of trust, unbelief, pride, unwillingness to submit, fear, independence, self-indulgence, self-preservation, etc.), and removed the source of our "need" for man-made borders (prejudices) between each other...

The close proximity of my son's "travel armpits"...

how BELOVED is Jesus' cleansing power!!! ;~)

The Salt Flats...

God is not stagnant but full of flavor, and He desires to anoint us that we might also be flavorful and spread His flavor to those in our sphere of influence

Truly, I am without excuse! :~)

5,017!

2008-09-21T20:09:00.000-07:00

That's the reading on our trip odometer.

In miles...

Exactly!

It was a long trip, but it was good. We consciously acknowledge that we were led, challenged, and blessed the whole way. As I consider the vehicle issues, finances, time, personal logistics, and events of our two-week "heritage/overview-of-the-west" vacation in our current economy, our trip seems somewhat "unreasonable." I'm still in awe of God's handiwork and wondering what His purpose is. From our perspective, He sure went to a lot of trouble! Makes me determined to "get" whatever He wants me to out of the experience!

We're still putting things in order at home, preparing to get back into routine, and processing what we experienced. Between us, we captured approximately 700 photos and video clips. This week the kids and I will concentrate on producing photojournals, and may post some of our favorite shots.

I learned much...I think. Enjoyed much, also. A HUGE thanks to my family for all the hosting and stories. Dad, one of our favorite things was watching your eyes twinkle as you shared your boyhood haunts and antics. Mom--THANKS for the hospitality, painting, and special surprise pear pie! And Sis, I really like putting together devotions for all the kids with you. The potential for sharing Godly legacy seems to increase exponentially when the cousins are together, and I'm glad we were in it together, too! ;~)

Used Shoes

2008-09-01T13:39:00.000-07:00

"Hey Honey, how about these?" He's peeling off the last too-tight fit in the clearance aisle, and I've been rapidly rummaging through this season's models one aisle over. The hiking shoes in my hand are the widest I can find in the store.

We're preparing for a "family heritage" vacation. You'll never guess where we're going: Yep!--into the desert! That's only part of the trip, though. We'll also be winding our way through several magnificent mountain passes...dancing in cold, cascading waterfalls...visiting old family cabins and gold mining claims...playing in the ocean...touring 5-6 national parks...hiking up, up, UP to my favorite mountain lake (thus the need for hiking shoes)...and visiting relatives here and there along the way. This trip has been fun to plan, and we're just about ready, set, go!

"How much are they?"

"I don't know. I can't find a price anywhere--"

Then the tag catches my eye, and I groan inwardly...$90. My husband doesn't pay $90 for ANY shoes, let alone a pair that, in his words, "won't be used to make money."

About 100 miles south of us in a teeny-weeny rural town, there's a teeny-weeny Redwing store that sells new, seconds, and--of all things--used work boots. Ever since a friend introduced us to the place a decade ago, my husband has been a consistent customer in the "Used" department. We've asked but never thoroughly understood why this little store has used boots for sale (I mean, who "turns in," or "trades in," their slightly-worn used work boots? And how? And why?!), but every other week this store receives a large shipment of used boots from the big city. The day after the shipment arrives, the boots are sorted according to various criteria and lined up neatly in the "Used" room. The store even has a toll free number so customers don't have to waste a trip; they can call ahead and the clerks will rummage through the current supply to see if they have what the customers need. About once every year or two we pray ahead and then call or stop by on our way through the area, and find my husband's next pair of boots. A pair of used boots costs $35-40, depending on appearance and wear.

Talk about walking in another person's shoes! ;~)

Our son loves to walk in his father's shoes, figuratively as well as literally. When he was two he'd find his dad's big ol' work boots resting near the front door, climb in, grab the laces up tight like reins, and clomp around the kitchen giggling with joy and boyish pride. As the years passed he loved and learned to emulate his father in so many other things, too, so that now he's quite handy, engaging, and seemingly steadfastly decided on his career (despite any counsel from anyone--even Dad). His goal is to follow in Dad's footsteps and work right alongside him someday.

Along with work, funny is big at our house. Since my husband excels at entertaining the rest of us, our son is busy perfecting a like sense of humor that belies his age. Most of his jokes and teasing drive his sister crazy (because, as she's quick to remind him, he's not Daddy!), but a precious jewel of wisdom my mom passed on to me years ago prepared me for this stage. Mom shared that she hadn't realized what my brother was doing when he first started developing his "dry" humor, and she hoped I'd watch for it and be able to appreciate it more in my son. I'm so thankful for that heads-up! My son's developing humor captures and thrills me so that I don't even have to pretend to get a kick out of him--he's funny!

A couple weeks ago he really caught me, though. We were out of milk that morning. The sky was clear blue, the air crisp-cool, and we welcomed a refreshing bike ride to the local grocery first thing. As I paid for our milk the elderly clerk asked where my husband was working that week, then began to reminisce about what her life was like when her husband worked on the road. The "lovely" spin she put on the lifestyle truly glorified God, but as I listened my mind sought balance. While I acknowledge God's provision, I must also acknowledge the desert. It is because it is hard to watch my husband struggle to maintain all the other aspects of his life during the few days he's home each week, and because it is sometimes hard to maintain joy when I'm a tired "single parent," disappointed in--or right along with--a child, that God's presence and grace in my life is such a precious oasis. Without the harshness of the desert, I would not seek nor value His help so much. And so although I trust and promote His faithfulness, I must acknowledge the hardship that creates room for it in my life. And since I am human, I also long for relief...or at least improvement!

As we left the store, I said to my son, "Remember, when you grow up, what it feels like when Dad is gone. Remember, so that maybe you can live in a way that's not so hard for your family."

"What do you mean, Mom? I'm gonna do just what Dad does, right along with him."

"Yes, Son, I know. But just remember what the rest of your family will be going through at home, and pray for a way to balance things more."

"Uh...no way! When I grown up I'm gonna be gone from home as much as possible!"

"What?! Why?!"

"So I won't get made fun of..."

Huh?! :~(

I had just pushed off and was pulling away from the curb as he said it, defensively looking for moving cars as we crossed the parking lot, so just kept going. But I almost cried the whole way home. In the midst of a hearty round of joking, my husband often teases us that he "just gets made fun of whenever [he] comes home..." But I know he's kidding... Didn't our son? Doesn't he know his father would prefer to be home every night, with us and having time to work on projects at a more relaxed pace? Can he not see that marriage, and family life is lovely, and valuable...and that we wish we had more time for things other than all the have-to-do projects that steal our time to play together? And with the breakdown of family values so prevalent in our culture, it's important to me that our children see the gift of family--that they see it in us, and for what it truly is... And we've tried to show them... And...aren't they getting the message?!?

By the time we got home and hit the day running--breakfast for Grandma, home school, etc.--I was a basket case. I was praying, but still a basket case with a churning mind and stomach. It wasn't until the next day that I was actually collected and ready to broach the subject again with my son.

He quickly explained that he'd been TEASING!

Thankfully he's not quite old enough to judge me as silly or stupid for feeling upset.

But then, he's walked in my shoes some, too...

I hand the box of $90 hiking shoes to my husband, knowing I'll have to elaborate on my answer about the price but wishing I didn't, wanting to at least see if they're wide enough... He opens the box to try the shoes on, and notices...they're used! But we aren't in a used shoe store--we're in a sporting goods store. They carry used guns, but not used shoes! Weird! And these shoes are d-e-f-i-n-i-t-e-l-y used, but just a little. The shoes are the right model for the box, but they have light wear/scuff marks on the sides, a light layer of dust all over, and a little mud still stuck in the barely-worn soles. We ask a roaming clerk about them and she tells us to ask for the manager at checkout to receive a discount. After I tell my husband the regular price, we agree it prob'ly won't even be worth it to ask about a discount. (He's not willing to pay more than $50 for hiking shoes...)

But what do we have to lose? While he takes the kids to look at guns, I carry the box to the checkout, praying all the way. The astute young man at the customer service counter is genuinely baffled, both at the appearance of the shoes in a new box in his store and that we want to buy them. But I gently reassure him we are not crazy--just thrifty--and he finally calls the manager. The manager has him look up the store's cost for the shoes, and offer them to us for...$50!!!

As my husband pays for his shoes, the sales clerk still can't quite wrap his mind around this event. "Are you sure you really want these?" "Yes," my husband tells him, "Used is fine with me. Someone else just wore the price right out of them."

I, like my husband and son, choose to walk in used shoes. I strive to stay in the shoes of my precious Master, Jesus. Whoever first owned my husband's hiking shoes walked their price right out of them, but Jesus forthrightly paid the price for my sins (the ones I've already confessed, as well as those I have yet to commit). However I cross life's deserts (and mountains!), whether I walk, run, stumble, fall, crawl, roll, or dance...I am blessed to cross freely, in His shoes!

Dressing Hair

2008-08-27T20:01:00.000-07:00

This evening it was my honor to be the first customer at a new beauty salon. I called my new hairdresser at 6:50pm, and she squeezed me in at 6:51. (She closes at 7:00 so as to be in bed ready for storytime by 7:30...)

I received hair extensions to the middle of my back, a fabulous curry with several different brushes (I guess they each do something different), some kind of invisible finishing spray, and a couple of old-fashioned bobby pins (because they're coming back in style...or something). The "mirror" through which I was asked to appraise my new look was a well-loved audio CD! (How "now" is that?!)

By 6:58 I was all fixed up and out of the chair, and she was c-l-e-a-n-i-n-g u-p!!! ;~)

And she only charged me 19 Mexican pesos! (Far Guy could afford her easy, and he could really use the hair, too!)

My reward for being the first customer and sitting so still in the chair was an appreciative hug and kiss...

And with emotion so strong it stunted verbal communication, I watched as shock at this unexpected "with-ship" battled with real joy trying to erupt from the shy smile and shiniest eyes my daughter's had in...well, a really long time... I care for, protect, provide, watch, evaluate, teach, train, motivate, and enjoy my children pretty consistently, but I seldom PLAY WITH them... It appears that playing may somehow be as important an ingredient for security and trust as protection and provision?!!

Thank You, Lord, that Jesus played with our children, mourned at our funerals, rejoiced at our weddings, fished and paid taxes with us, died for us, and lives and walks with us as our personal Savior. Thank You for His example, and the joy and responsibility of walking as He walked. Thank You for the opportunity to walk near and play with our precious in-process children. Please forgive us for any way we've taken them for granted, or caused them to stumble or question Your goodness. Help us, Lord, to remain committed to Your people, because You remain committed to us.*

(And thank you, Alicia, for the online devotional and prayer...)

*Lightly adapted from two free online devotionals by alicia britt chole, "a personal Savior," & "the people of God." Copyright alicia britt chole. onewholeworld, inc. http://www.truthportraits.com/

In the Desert

2008-08-20T07:13:00.000-07:00

This week in three subjects--Geography, Science, and Bible--we are studying the desert. The English word "desert" comes from a Latin root that means "abandoned, deserted." Though deserts are often teeming with life incredibly adapted to their extreme temperatures and dry climate, we often view them as empty--deserted. Sometimes we view ourselves that way, also--deserted. Though things are not always what they seem, loss of things or people valuable to us, whether temporary or permanent, can leave us feeling abandoned and empty.

Loss is a universal experience. But whatever we're losing, we can't compare and weight each other's losses. Maybe we're losing our health, or our wealth; maybe it's our freedom, or rights; or maybe we're losing loved ones to college, marriage, moving, or death. Maybe we're losing a "favorite," such as when my son takes his father's favorite old Lay-Z-Boy recliner with him to college, or when the manufacturer quits making our favorite cleaning sponge or bubble bath (Far, that one's for you! ;~p). Sometimes we endure a whole season of loss, like the year Beth Moore's daughter moved to college, her best friend moved out-of-state, AND her favorite coffee shop quit serving her favorite bagel! A few years later, our season of loss looked different--we lost our church fellowship of seven years and had 16 different friends and family members either die or become critically ill in one year...

We can't compare losses because we each have and value different things at different times; but we can empathize and agree that loss is often uncomfortable and insecure, breeding more questions than answers. And isn't it our first instinct to resist it? And isn't it hard to watch our loved ones endure it? Yet as I've studied God's Word and walked through times of personal loss, I've gradually gained hope, resource, and even treasure from desert times. For some people, discomfort and unresolved questions are proof enough that there must not be a God (for surely a warm fuzzy, loving, all-powerful God would not allow such preventable pain). I have found, though, that God actually calls us "into the desert," using times of loss for purposes as unimaginably wonderful as they are real.

Though I would not make a religion of it, God's Word gives evidence that He does some incredible things in the desert. For instance, in the seemingly empty nothingness of the desert, He:

provided a ram for Abraham;
pursued and commissioned the runaway, Moses;
formed, sustained, and trained His chosen nation for 40 years;
provided intimate provision, rest, and ministry to the prophet, Elijah;
raised up John the Baptist to prepare the general population of the time for His Son;
and led His Son to encounter and overcome His enemy's temptations with truth--God's Word.

The Lord uses my husband's job to lead me into the desert at least once a week. Now, I love the companionship of my husband and would prefer he had no job to go to ever! But we've been at this traveling thing a long time, so sometimes the impact is mild (in fact, I may sleep right through his leaving and wake up in manager mode); other times it still feels devastating. No matter how my feelings change, the Lord can always fill my emptiness, providing the same relief, rest, healing, counsel, commission, and companionship He did in ancient times. You see, it is in the desert, where taking care of myself is beyond my capacity, that He has a chance to prove to me the truths that: 1) I cannot be separated from Him (Romans 8:35-39); 2) He will never abandon or forsake me (Hebrews 13:5-6); 3) He is trustworthy (2Timothy 2:11-13); and 4) He is enough (Psalm 23:1)... Just as He did with Elijah, He ministers to me intimately. And just as I've learned from Jesus, His Word is my true source of comfort and...life.

Yes! The desert is not barren, but teeming with life! Plants and animals that live there have been given incredible tools for survival! Likewise, the desert times in our lives are not as forsaken as they seem; rather, they are places where we can press our loss into the heart of God and completely depend on Him for our survival. And what treasure we can reap!

The Paris Party

2008-08-18T20:40:00.000-07:00

Each year at about this time my husband and I have the privilege of telling a special story to a rapt audience. The main character of the story is a princess--a princess who is childlike, yet wise. She is not perfect, but she is absolutely beautiful, completely captivating, and growing--definitely a true princess and a revelation of God's glory!

Our audience is our children, including the princess herself. The story tells of her birth, how she got her name, and some of the specific blessings and revelations we've received because she is a part of our family.

The day is her birthday.

Our birthday stories give purpose and vital focus to our celebrations, and we anticipate and savor them. However, not everyone who wishes to join our celebrations would appreciate them, so we keep them within our immediate family and host a less intimate party for everyone else. The birthday girl/boy gets to help plan their party, and this year our daughter asked, "Mom, could I please have either a Hawaii Party or a Paris Party?" After discussing possible menus, she settled on Paris, "...because I don't really like coconut that much."

I have no clue where she gained a penchant for Paris. We did actually spend a couple of hours some place in France one evening (when she was TWO!), but have never been to Paris, speak no French beyond the simplest "quiche" and "croissant," and have not studied European countries in school yet. It's been long enough since we read the Madeline stories that she doesn't remember them. And at our house, when the French opted to stay out of our war, "French fries" became "Freedom Fries" and Wal-mart became the lesser of two evils ahead of Target.

But wherever the idea came from, the Paris Party made for a great time this past weekend. There weren't a lot of expectations, so the potential for disappointment was low. The only real guideline was that the Eiffel Tower should somehow be included. Lacking decorations and time to make them, we searched online for photos and printed posters of the Eiffel Tower to hang in the windows. Decorations? Check.

We also just received our DVD of the spring dance recital. We played it in the background since many guests hadn't been able to make it to the recital, and France is an artistic/dance mecca. Mood music? Check.

On sudden inspiration we unpacked the china (THAT's never happened before!) and used it for both our private breakfast (real quiche w/pretend croissants and French roast coffee) and the luncheon "tea party" (hot homemade French rolls, a fresh fruit platter, marinated chicken drummies, frozen Cream Puffs and Eclairs [from Wal-mart] and lemonade/tea). Elegant French cuisine? Check!

Simple, sweet, and uncluttered... Ya, but then came the gifts! About a billion of them! Our extended family and friends may not understand our stories or speak French fluently, but they don't miss a beat speaking the Love Language of "Gifts!"

Hmmm... Paris, the City of...Love?

"Love in any language/straight from the heart/pulls us all together/never apart./And when we learn to speak it/all the world will hear/love in any language/fluently spoken here."

Poster Child

2008-08-16T08:17:00.001-07:00

This week has been the poster child for the best reason I used to never blog! (BTW, that last phrase is a new spin on one I coined for my husband back in '93, which goes like this: "I prob'ly usta would have...") I've been too busy collecting and processing other people's views to collect and publish my own. Well actually, maybe not my own--I'm not sure I've ever had an original thought (not even THAT one!). Maybe next week...

Peace & Prosperity

2008-08-07T21:24:00.000-07:00

Aren't the two big P's--peace and prosperity--a universal yearning? We long for, dream for, and pursue them. Our drive for them motivates many of our decisions, either consciously or subconsciously.

Lately I've been studying the text of a "lowly" sheepherder, Amos, who was given a message to deliver to a group of his countrymen--members of a nation's upper class who were enjoying peace and prosperity, but also incurring the wrath of God.

Their sin? The two P's had caused (or allowed?) them to become selfish, materialistic, self-centered, and indifferent toward God. They ignored the needs of those less fortunate, congratulated THEMSELVES on achieving prosperity, and, while keeping their religious rituals and making the obligatory sacrifices and offerings to the Lord, actually worshiped the stars and planets in the heavens. They were so awed by the constancy and orderliness of the heavens that they worshiped nature rather than nature's Creator.

And the message? "Seek the Lord, that you may live. Or He will break forth like a fire...and it will consume with none to quench it."

(How's that for a warm fuzzy delivery? It's kinda, well, long on warm and short on fuzzy! I appreciate God's directness, though...)

Americans typically enjoy a higher level of the two P's than citizens of many other countries, but right now we have a lot of issues challenging our peace and prosperity: terrorism and war, environmental concerns, health and disease issues, skyrocketing fuel prices, a new leader to elect, etc.--so many issues about which we have various perspectives and strong opinions. Is it possible that we can keep our peace in the midst of all these big, unanswered questions? And if so, how? Is it possible that an ancient message to an ancient society can be useful to us today?

Our family has undergone some training in the tactic I discovered in Amos' message, and it wasn't as painful as it sounds. Our training began several years ago, as we approached the task of choosing a form of education for our children.

At the time, my husband's job required travel to cities several hours away, where he would stay during the week. If we were not tied down with activities at home, our children and I could travel and stay with him. His physical presence in our family provided stability (and fun!--he's the silly parent!), and thus peace, and thus we were motivated to consider homeschooling. In our state, home educating is legal and, except that the public schools would prefer to have more students so as to reap more financial benefits, it's basically free of hassles from Big Brother.

Home educating also has some nice perks, and we enjoyed our experience for most of a semester before the Lord stepped in and began to actively participate in our decision. I'll never forget how He inserted Himself. It was mid-week one December morning, and we were all at a motel wherever my husband was working. I woke up from a terrible, disgusting dream the likes of which I've only ever had that one time, and it disturbed me so intensely that the only thing on my mind as I awoke was to pray and ask the Lord to help me understand what it meant. And as soon as I prayed, the meaning became clear: While it was true that we were having fun in school, and our son was making good academic progress, he needed input--education--from someone outside of me.

Notice that we were never "for" or "against" homeschooling--it just fit our preferences, kept our peace. Many home educators are intense advocates of the cause (some with good reason), but we were not so determined. We expected that there were pros and cons to each form of education (public, private, or home), and that we'd just have to find effective ways to deal with whichever set we got. This was our reasoning, and it was loose enough that it left us open to Divine direction.

So, following God's intervention, we enrolled our son in public school for the rest of the school year. Since the other kids had been in class together the first semester, he was the "new" kid, but he had a wonderful teacher who supported him well. He adjusted fine, learned a few things about socializing, flexibility, and waiting his turn that he would never have been able to learn at home, and enjoyed his time in public school.

I enjoyed the time less. I felt forced to stay at home and deal with issues as a single parent when my husband was gone, and there seemed to be so many things about walking with the Lord and practical daily living that I was responsible to teach my children, but didn't feel empowered to teach. I also felt the pressure of another issue: It was important to provide a stable structure; therefore, we had to choose a form of education and stick with it, didn't we? But I felt confused about what the Lord wanted, and why. I wondered and whined a lot during this time, but sometimes I did actually pray about these things. And at some point the Lord brought a video about homeschooling across my path. It provided ideas and advice for many aspects of home educating, but the most valuable advice I gleaned was from the section on preventing burn-out: "Don't commit to homeschool for your child's entire school career; rather, commit to one year at a time." Aha!

For us, that translated into "Seek the Lord--pray--about it each year!" Wow!--I felt "set free" from my confusion! We implemented the advice immediately, and have been so obviously blessed! The Lord directed us to homeschool for each of the next three years, and then led us to enroll the children in public school for a year. Through each year, the greatest blessing of all was the security, KNOWING that whether the days went smoothly or were full of challenges (remember, all forms of educating have their pros AND cons, and although we were blessed, homeschooling is not without its challenges), we were in the place God said was best for us.

Several issues in the last year of homeschooling made it very challenging, and when I found out a break was coming I couldn't help but dwell on it and fantasize a few expectations--time to catch up on several years of deep cleaning and organizing, exercising, scrapbooking, quilting, reading, and writing, plus time for nice, quiet hot soaks every afternoon--ahhh... I was looking forward to so much...peace! What I found, though, was continued confirmation of a concept C.S. Lewis shared in The Silver Chair: "You'll notice that although [the Lord] tells us what to do, He doesn't tell us how things will work out." Quiet time and hot soaks?! Ha!

Besides the support our children needed as they faced several challenges in adjusting to their new setting and routine, I spent the first half of the school year on crutches. I got rid of those torture sticks just in time to spend the other half of the year running back and forth to hospitals, meetings, and whatnot for a family member who became very ill. In late winter I DID get to deep clean and rearrange my house--well, most of it--since the result of illness was that the family member can no longer live alone. We welcomed her into our family, rearranging everything to make room.

So my "sabbatical" from teaching definitely did not go according to MY plans! And yet, we could see God's hand all over it. The surprising adventure was not without treasure. However, what I really liked most about it was the security I felt through all the ups and downs--the assurance I could have that no matter what happened, the Lord would be WITH us, helping us, with very capable, wise help indeed. And my faith in this idea was confirmed in our lives, as provision for our childrens' education and the ordering of my days were obviously, absolutely, amazingly planned and implemented! My peace was not in bubble baths; rather, it was in the midst of big unknowns, and things I never thought I would or could--or wanted to--do.

WE really have very little idea what-all our children need to learn and be prepared for (because the Lord has not made us privy to His plans for their future). But He does. As it is with our children, so it is with all things. "It is to the glory of God to hide a matter, and the glory of man to seek it out."

The other day I received a forwarded email with the subject line: "I don't know what the future holds..." It was a letter in which the author was disturbed by a comment from a presidential candidate, about how America is no longer a Christian nation, but rather a melting pot of religions. The writer encouraged American Christians to take action--to vote against the candidate, so as to prove to him that we ARE still a Christian nation. The issue was interesting to me because as a home educator responsible for instilling patriotism in my children, I have struggled with what I perceive as the ungodly state of our nation (which for a long time I blamed on our form of government). Yearning for peace with this issue, I struggled and researched until I found resolution (may share more on that in another blog). In so doing, I have to disagree with the author's stance on some things. However, I am in complete agreement that we do not know what the future holds!

As Americans grapple with the big issues threatening our peace and prosperity, let us begin by disillusioning ourselves: We DON'T know what the future holds; and we HAVE experienced a long period of peace and prosperity that seems to have allowed us to become self-centered, materialistic, and indifferent; and we ARE a melting pot of religions, including many who don't sincerely worship the Creator. We must not just assume it is God's plan that America will continue to enjoy peace, or even stability. The final book of God's Word promises there are great structural changes, and suffering, war, and big changes in world government to come. As much as it goes against the grain of free, independent American hearts, let us not lean on our own reasoning to determine how to resolve these issues. Rather, let us be encouraged that it is still profitable to implement the direction God gave the people in Amos' time, who were very much like us: "Seek the Lord, that you may live."

Before we decide...before we choose...before we criticize...before we even speak...and definitely before we VOTE!...let us seek the Lord. We don't know what the future holds, but He does. He has a plan--a perfect plan--and while He does not always reveal how things will work out and they don't always make sense to us, we can trust His faithfulness, as promised in Romans 8:28,"And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose. "

May the peace that surpasses all understanding encompass you today. (Phil 4:6,7)

My Favorite Thing

2008-07-29T20:58:00.000-07:00

Setting up a profile page is kind of fun! Since starting it yesterday, I've enjoyed the challenge of considering/choosing my favorite music, movies, books, etc. Then today I had to drive for awhile and had time to reflect and dwell on yesterday's choices, remembering a few old favorites I'd forgotten.

One thing the profile doesn't ask for (maybe because we live in a country where everyone's right to believe ANYTHING is protected) is my favorite Bible verse. My favorite verse is Philippians 4:8: "Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things."

One thing I like about this verse is that it highlights my very favorite thing: Truth. Sometimes truth seems so abstract and elusive, like light trying to shine through a dirty window (for you bookworms, I'm just finishing an excellent example in the form of an action/mystery novel, The Parsifal Mosaic by Robert Ludlum!). But then there are those times when we have the courage to be transparent with each other (also illustrated in Ludlum's novel), or God reveals His truth in a way that we KNOW that we KNOW (often--but not limited to--illustration through His Word), and it's pure golden light shining through a window that is clear as crystal! What a blessing, to dwell on such things!

So then, I was blessed to receive two gifts today. One was a piece of truth, and the other a gift of praise. They were not from Ludlum's novel or the Bible, but they were blessings nonetheless. The truth was bittersweet--a doctor's report I could have lived without; however, I knew something was wrong, and it's a relief to know what it is and bring it before the Lord forthrightly and begin treatment as soon as possible.

The second gift was more uplifting, and in God's perfect, graceful timing, it was waiting to uplift me when I arrived home from the doctor's office! It was a letter of encouragement from a friend, who was comparing me to her 4yo grandson! She wrote, "Little kids are so honest! Until they learn differently, they tell it like it is. How our Heavenly Father wants HIS children to be honest with Him... And something else: A little child knows his parents will protect him. God is our Father. Is He any different? ...I LOVE how open you are!"

What lovely praise, and what encouragement as I contemplate the stumbling block to transparency that I mentioned in yesterday's post.

May your day be full of gifts to dwell on--things that are true, honorable, right, pure, lovely, excellent, and praiseworthy! And just to think about for fun, what are a few of YOUR favorite things?!

Welcome to My Window

2008-07-28T06:39:00.000-07:00

Wow!--Didn't expect to be setting up my own blog site today! It just kind of happened... I think it might have been a God-cidence, but a word to other feet-draggers: Be aware of this possible consequence before you post a comment to someone else's blog!

To me, blogging seems daunting... I mean, to collect and arrange my thoughts concisely, and actually make them available for others to know and judge, on a daily (or even weekly) basis?! Ei-yi-yi! For one thing, life is fast and busy. For another, sometimes I really want to share my opinion, but do I really feel safe being "known?" A few months ago my friend, "Far," encouraged me, "If you ever set up your own blog site, let me know. I'd like to see what you'd write." Huh! SHE writes great stuff! (I think I'm attaching a link to her site, but not sure yet if that's really what I just did.) I don't have that much fun wisdom yet...

Well, this is a beginning. I don't expect to post every day, but I'll try for once a week...