"Brilliantly and excitingly clever or skillful;"
It is dinner time. Mom has the day's finish line in her sights. Soapy, wet kids are at various stages of the prep for bed ritual. Voices, speaking all at once...shout through the house....then congregate at the table...
Mom: "Dinner's ready!"
"I'm still in the bath!"
"Silas keeps taking my pajamas-"
"I'm getting my clothes on..."
Shreek....squeel...."Siiiiiiillllllaaaaasssss!!!!"
Mom:"Come to the table!"
"Siiiiilllllaaassssss!!!!"
Mom:"DINNER! NOW!"
"sit down Silas"
"I want apple juice!"
"Mom, I don't really like chicken."
"Oh yeah...I forgot...Thanks Mom for the chicken."
"Can we have coke?"
"How about Sprite?"
"where's my appah joos?"
"I don't like 'chini"
"It's zuchini."
"Yeah. Dat. I don't like it."
Mom: "who wants to pray?"
Silas: "MEEEEEEE!!!!"
"sear God...tank oo food...tank oo fwogs...Mom, Dad. Kinney. Ahex.Isaac. (pause) AAAAAMMMMEEENNNN!!!!"
"You get me cake!"
"sit down."
"how many chairs are in this room?"
"1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,....6,7,8."
"Yeah....8."
"More than 2."
(Silas singing) "Haaappyyy Birthday dear Mommmy....now bwow da canduls!"
"Kinley has more"
"who can finish first?
"ready...go"
silence
"Gold!"
"Silver!"
"what's the third one Mom?"
"Metal?"
"Bronze."
"Isaac's bronze."
"I WANT to be gold."
"Kinley's gold...she was first."
"I WANT TO BE GOLD!"
"you are bronze."
"Bronze is good Isaac."
"okay."
"my hand is sticky."
"done, Mom"
"can I be excused."
"can I have chocolate?"
"do we HAVE to take medicine tonight?"
"Chocolate? Mom?"
'This chicken is good!"
"Why can't we have chocolate?"
"Silas, sit down."
'Done MOMMM!!!!"
"Thanks Mom"
"You are the best cooker ever!"
(smile)
What did you talk about at dinner last night?
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
100 and counting...
By my count, this is post number 100. I was trying to think of some great thing to write about for number 100.
Like...
100 things I like to eat
or
100 people I love and adore (Of course YOU would be on the list!)
100 reasons I'll not fly British Airways :-)
100 ways to cook a a chicken
100 reasons why I should never sew
100 of my favorite recipes
or my top 100 favorite songs
But,that's alot of things to think of and read.
100---is a big number.
I wasn't very sure about the whole blog scene in the beginning. That vague, elusive INTERNET thing was pretty far removed from our Africa oasis here.
But blogging has become a haven. A resting place. A joy.
Thanks, blog friends, for reading these 100 thoughts, stories, rantings and happenings.
Your encouragement and sharing mean the world to me.
Here's to a hundred more....
Like...
100 things I like to eat
or
100 people I love and adore (Of course YOU would be on the list!)
100 reasons I'll not fly British Airways :-)
100 ways to cook a a chicken
100 reasons why I should never sew
100 of my favorite recipes
or my top 100 favorite songs
But,that's alot of things to think of and read.
100---is a big number.
I wasn't very sure about the whole blog scene in the beginning. That vague, elusive INTERNET thing was pretty far removed from our Africa oasis here.
But blogging has become a haven. A resting place. A joy.
Thanks, blog friends, for reading these 100 thoughts, stories, rantings and happenings.
Your encouragement and sharing mean the world to me.
Here's to a hundred more....
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Fiona, Olivia and Asher....
I've just spent half an hour pouring over pictures. New, precious babies. Healthy. Gorgeous. and Finally Here!
One niece.
One friend that feels like family.
And one fellow Uganda MK (missionary kid).
All born to God followers. Into homes where they will know His names. Learn His stories. Hear Him praised.
May the faith of each of your parents be planted firmly into your hearts until the day when you choose for yourself that He Who has always known your name is Everything and Above All.
Welcome new ones! We are so thankful you are here!
And thank you Father. Your Creation is astounding.
"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
One niece.
One friend that feels like family.
And one fellow Uganda MK (missionary kid).
All born to God followers. Into homes where they will know His names. Learn His stories. Hear Him praised.
May the faith of each of your parents be planted firmly into your hearts until the day when you choose for yourself that He Who has always known your name is Everything and Above All.
Welcome new ones! We are so thankful you are here!
And thank you Father. Your Creation is astounding.
"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
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Check Us Out....
Starbucks. Dairy Queen in Tyler. McAllisters. Most Hotel Chains. Airports.
AND......DRUMROLL please......
The Cash House in Fort Portal!
Wireless.
I can't believe it but we are.
Jeff worked very hard to set it up and here I sit. In MY chair. In MY bedroom. In the middle of nowhere Africa. With a wireless connection.
Astounding. It truly is.
Of course it will all be contingent on power supply and the dial up connection we are connected through.
But those details will occupy our minds on another day.
For now we will bask in the thrill of working technology.
It is grand.
AND......DRUMROLL please......
The Cash House in Fort Portal!
Wireless.
I can't believe it but we are.
Jeff worked very hard to set it up and here I sit. In MY chair. In MY bedroom. In the middle of nowhere Africa. With a wireless connection.
Astounding. It truly is.
Of course it will all be contingent on power supply and the dial up connection we are connected through.
But those details will occupy our minds on another day.
For now we will bask in the thrill of working technology.
It is grand.
Monday, August 14, 2006
WARNING: This blog may contain mild ranting
In light of the current ruckus at airports around the world my recounting below may seem a tad unimportant.
But I have a bone to pick.
And since I am in charge of this portion of web space, I choose to pick that bone here and now.
We have been flying internationally for over 14 years. For the last 11 we have flown British Airways, as a family, 6 times.
On three different occassions we have been chosen as we stand in line at passport checks at Gatwick and Heathrow airports. (On the other three occassions we avoided leaving the secured area so we wouldn't have to face the passport line again!)
You see, BA prints luggage requirements and restrictions on their tickets. (all airlines do)
And in case you were unaware the BA employees in England delight in following those requirements to the letter (or number as the case may be.)
On one of our first trips, before we understood the restrictions, Jeff's carry-on that held his Bible Study books was chosen randomly to be weighed. We were told he would have to check the bag and that we would be required to pay 1500 British pounds for this "assistance". (that's nearly $3000 folks!)
Jeff congratulated the man on being the new owner of a Bible Study library.
The man, apparently not a fan of Bible study, asked us to wait a bit while he could see what he could do to help us. In all of about, um, 5 seconds the helpful friend had decided that we should only pay 50 pounds ($100) for the checked bag.
So after 45 minutes of angst, embarrassment and stress we paid our $100 and boarded the flight.
Fast forward 5 years.
We are traveling back from America with a two yr. old and an infant. I have one diaper bag and a carry on (which, by the by, measured according to regulations.)As we lined up at the passport check we were "chosen" yet again by another helpful BA public servant.
He said that my diaper bag "looked" as if it weighed too much.
"Excuse me?" I said.
He asked to see my ticket and with much joy pointed out in the tiniest of print, that there was a new weight restriction on carry-on baggage.
I think it was 6 ounces.
He gleefully directed me, with my 25 pound one year old wriggling in my arms and my two year old crying in the stroller, to the last aisle of check in counters where I should take care of my "untidy" luggage.
At the counter I became aquainted with Ms. "I'm having a rotten day and I'm going to take it out on you." Another helpful BA employee.
She quickly informed me that I was not only a problem but an annoyance. And that I should learn to pack my bags better. "Don't you read the restrictions on your ticket, dear?"
I emptied my bags of everything of weight (into another bag they just happened to have for sale next to the "your bag is too heavy" racketing counter) until the only things remaining were changes of clothes for the children, diapers, wipes and baby food.
I was still .5 ounces (or something like that:-)) over weight. And my helpful BA friend would NOT budge.
I cried. Threatened breakdown. Had breakdown. Ranted a tad. And spoke with the manager.
Who apologized for the unkind woman. But held stoutly that I remove the .5 ounces.
Out went some baby food with their strong insistence that food for my young ones would be available on the flight.
Too bad my children aren't fans of kidney pie and prune pudding.
Now fast forward 5 more years.
We are traveling with four children. We each have one carry on and Jeff and I have our laptops in backpacks.
We have read the fine print. Measured our bags. Weighed our bags. And stand before the passport check with confidence that we are indeed playing by the rules.
Our passports are cleared and we begin to pass through the narrow door to security.
"Excuse me, Ma'm. May I just check that bag's dimensions?"
Sure! I knew I was okay. No problem. No worries.
Except.
New requirements.
Bags can't measure the numbers in the fine print. They have to fit well INSIDE the numbers in the fine print.
My $300 bag from REI...1 cm too long.
Now in some places there is mercy for Moms.
Not at BA counters.
Moms are synonomous with meat.
The kind BA public servant in my face this time, said I could remove anything from my 1 cm too long bag and put in my backpack. As long as it only weighed 6 ozs. :-)
The line behind me was long at this point and the passport man (also intent on being helpful) begins to point out that over 30 people are waiting on me.
"Open your bag." "What do you need?" "Hurry ma'm!" " Everyone's waiting on you!"
I was feeling the love.
Jeff carried the bag to the check in. I cried. Kinley cried. We cleared security and went to wait at our gate. Every second bringing a new reminder of one more thing I should have grabbed from the bag before we checked it.
I ran out of diapers on the flight. And as I stood washing out Silas' soiled pants in the tiny airplane lavatory (extra clothes in checked bag) I reiterated in my mind again all the reasons I should fly Sabena.
So, faithful blog readers, there you are.
My ranting will now conclude.
I'll end by saying I'm ALL FOR security and following rules. Which is the real rub. I THINK I am following the rules. I TRY to follow the rules. And my bag gets taken anyway leaving me with the embarassment of the "scene".
Ah well....
It looks like my carry on woes may be over.
I sure hope they print those plastic bag dimensions clearly on my tickets.
But I have a bone to pick.
And since I am in charge of this portion of web space, I choose to pick that bone here and now.
We have been flying internationally for over 14 years. For the last 11 we have flown British Airways, as a family, 6 times.
On three different occassions we have been chosen as we stand in line at passport checks at Gatwick and Heathrow airports. (On the other three occassions we avoided leaving the secured area so we wouldn't have to face the passport line again!)
You see, BA prints luggage requirements and restrictions on their tickets. (all airlines do)
And in case you were unaware the BA employees in England delight in following those requirements to the letter (or number as the case may be.)
On one of our first trips, before we understood the restrictions, Jeff's carry-on that held his Bible Study books was chosen randomly to be weighed. We were told he would have to check the bag and that we would be required to pay 1500 British pounds for this "assistance". (that's nearly $3000 folks!)
Jeff congratulated the man on being the new owner of a Bible Study library.
The man, apparently not a fan of Bible study, asked us to wait a bit while he could see what he could do to help us. In all of about, um, 5 seconds the helpful friend had decided that we should only pay 50 pounds ($100) for the checked bag.
So after 45 minutes of angst, embarrassment and stress we paid our $100 and boarded the flight.
Fast forward 5 years.
We are traveling back from America with a two yr. old and an infant. I have one diaper bag and a carry on (which, by the by, measured according to regulations.)As we lined up at the passport check we were "chosen" yet again by another helpful BA public servant.
He said that my diaper bag "looked" as if it weighed too much.
"Excuse me?" I said.
He asked to see my ticket and with much joy pointed out in the tiniest of print, that there was a new weight restriction on carry-on baggage.
I think it was 6 ounces.
He gleefully directed me, with my 25 pound one year old wriggling in my arms and my two year old crying in the stroller, to the last aisle of check in counters where I should take care of my "untidy" luggage.
At the counter I became aquainted with Ms. "I'm having a rotten day and I'm going to take it out on you." Another helpful BA employee.
She quickly informed me that I was not only a problem but an annoyance. And that I should learn to pack my bags better. "Don't you read the restrictions on your ticket, dear?"
I emptied my bags of everything of weight (into another bag they just happened to have for sale next to the "your bag is too heavy" racketing counter) until the only things remaining were changes of clothes for the children, diapers, wipes and baby food.
I was still .5 ounces (or something like that:-)) over weight. And my helpful BA friend would NOT budge.
I cried. Threatened breakdown. Had breakdown. Ranted a tad. And spoke with the manager.
Who apologized for the unkind woman. But held stoutly that I remove the .5 ounces.
Out went some baby food with their strong insistence that food for my young ones would be available on the flight.
Too bad my children aren't fans of kidney pie and prune pudding.
Now fast forward 5 more years.
We are traveling with four children. We each have one carry on and Jeff and I have our laptops in backpacks.
We have read the fine print. Measured our bags. Weighed our bags. And stand before the passport check with confidence that we are indeed playing by the rules.
Our passports are cleared and we begin to pass through the narrow door to security.
"Excuse me, Ma'm. May I just check that bag's dimensions?"
Sure! I knew I was okay. No problem. No worries.
Except.
New requirements.
Bags can't measure the numbers in the fine print. They have to fit well INSIDE the numbers in the fine print.
My $300 bag from REI...1 cm too long.
Now in some places there is mercy for Moms.
Not at BA counters.
Moms are synonomous with meat.
The kind BA public servant in my face this time, said I could remove anything from my 1 cm too long bag and put in my backpack. As long as it only weighed 6 ozs. :-)
The line behind me was long at this point and the passport man (also intent on being helpful) begins to point out that over 30 people are waiting on me.
"Open your bag." "What do you need?" "Hurry ma'm!" " Everyone's waiting on you!"
I was feeling the love.
Jeff carried the bag to the check in. I cried. Kinley cried. We cleared security and went to wait at our gate. Every second bringing a new reminder of one more thing I should have grabbed from the bag before we checked it.
I ran out of diapers on the flight. And as I stood washing out Silas' soiled pants in the tiny airplane lavatory (extra clothes in checked bag) I reiterated in my mind again all the reasons I should fly Sabena.
So, faithful blog readers, there you are.
My ranting will now conclude.
I'll end by saying I'm ALL FOR security and following rules. Which is the real rub. I THINK I am following the rules. I TRY to follow the rules. And my bag gets taken anyway leaving me with the embarassment of the "scene".
Ah well....
It looks like my carry on woes may be over.
I sure hope they print those plastic bag dimensions clearly on my tickets.
The Finish Line
We're home. In our house. All thirteen boxes, 6 carry-ons and 6 weary travelers.
We arrived in Ft Portal on Wednesday.
And found things as normal.
Road blocked.
Rat invaded.
Water leak.
Power off.
No phone or internet.
Home sweet home.
(smile)
There is alot of work to be done between now and the official "we're settled" declaration.
But for now I'm just going to catch my breath. Walk off the sprint. And enjoy the Finish Line.
I am glad to be here.
We arrived in Ft Portal on Wednesday.
And found things as normal.
Road blocked.
Rat invaded.
Water leak.
Power off.
No phone or internet.
Home sweet home.
(smile)
There is alot of work to be done between now and the official "we're settled" declaration.
But for now I'm just going to catch my breath. Walk off the sprint. And enjoy the Finish Line.
I am glad to be here.
Saturday, August 05, 2006
One Last Time...
We are one hour from our departure to the airport. Today has been our "one last time" day.
We had a bout 3 hours this afternoon and a delightful chauffeur. (Yeah Blake!!!)
Guess where we headed?
Target.
and Taco Bell.
But of course.
Visiting Target was rather emotional for me :-) but we made it through.
With a huge cart full of goodies.
I have now stuffed and packed one last time.
Walked the hallowed aisles of my beloved store one last time.
Eaten Nachos Bel Grande one last time.
Driven on organized paved roads one last time.
And now the only thing left--Starbucks, one last time.
Many, many thanks to Blake P. for graciously being available to us. He made our joy today possible!
Farewell blog friends from this side of the pond. Will connect again when we reach Uganda.
We had a bout 3 hours this afternoon and a delightful chauffeur. (Yeah Blake!!!)
Guess where we headed?
Target.
and Taco Bell.
But of course.
Visiting Target was rather emotional for me :-) but we made it through.
With a huge cart full of goodies.
I have now stuffed and packed one last time.
Walked the hallowed aisles of my beloved store one last time.
Eaten Nachos Bel Grande one last time.
Driven on organized paved roads one last time.
And now the only thing left--Starbucks, one last time.
Many, many thanks to Blake P. for graciously being available to us. He made our joy today possible!
Farewell blog friends from this side of the pond. Will connect again when we reach Uganda.
Treasures
I love the silence around me. It is punctuated by the long deep breaths of my sleeping children.
There are towers of black trunks lined along the walls.
My stiff back will not cooperate with my need for sleep, so I sit in this office chair and type willing my shoulders to loosen and my brain to slow down.
I have spent the better part of one week stuffing, folding, compressing, consolidating and arranging.
Stuff. Stuff. and more Stuff.
And now I am tired.
Furlough is over.
I've been trying to put into words the emotions that swirl around me and in me.
The heartbreak of goodbye. The exhaustion of preparing. The joy and praise of the moments I've had. The richness of the memories made. The stress of the process. The anticipation of being back home.
On this eve of our trip back across the ocean I'm reminded--these heavy, stuffed to the brim, boxes and bags do not hold the real treasures I am taking back.
Thank you friends and family for sharing time with us again. You mean the world to us. The lunches, laughs, prayers, dreams, struggles and even the heartbreak point me to my Father. Who can never Quit. Always Sees. And waits longing to be gracious to us.
He is so very good.
There are towers of black trunks lined along the walls.
My stiff back will not cooperate with my need for sleep, so I sit in this office chair and type willing my shoulders to loosen and my brain to slow down.
I have spent the better part of one week stuffing, folding, compressing, consolidating and arranging.
Stuff. Stuff. and more Stuff.
And now I am tired.
Furlough is over.
I've been trying to put into words the emotions that swirl around me and in me.
The heartbreak of goodbye. The exhaustion of preparing. The joy and praise of the moments I've had. The richness of the memories made. The stress of the process. The anticipation of being back home.
On this eve of our trip back across the ocean I'm reminded--these heavy, stuffed to the brim, boxes and bags do not hold the real treasures I am taking back.
Thank you friends and family for sharing time with us again. You mean the world to us. The lunches, laughs, prayers, dreams, struggles and even the heartbreak point me to my Father. Who can never Quit. Always Sees. And waits longing to be gracious to us.
He is so very good.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Embraced...again
I don't really understand it.
It's not normal, actually.
And its regularity astounds me.
At first, I eyed it with suspicion.
I analyzed it and pondered it's implications.
I investigated agendas and motives.
And...then...I cautiously accepted it.
Hesitantly...on my guard.
Overwhelmed by the obvious authenicity...unsure of its reality.
But now...I'll openly confess....
I've come to depend on it.
Lean on it.
Need it.
Miss it desperately when we are gone.
Our Glenwood church family.
Their love. Their support.
The gazillion hugs and smiles.
The gazillion offers to help...
Food, invitations, gifts....
Prayers.
Precious Glenwood,
Your interest and passion for our friends in Uganda amazes me. Your abounding love for me, Jeff and our kids bolls me over.
I don't know how we ever did this without you.
You are, over and over again, God's sustaining embrace on our family.
Love each other. Passionately. And never, never quit.
I need you now. His work through you continues to hold me up and press me on.
...to the goal...for the prize...
I'm exceedingly grateful to run this race with you.
It's not normal, actually.
And its regularity astounds me.
At first, I eyed it with suspicion.
I analyzed it and pondered it's implications.
I investigated agendas and motives.
And...then...I cautiously accepted it.
Hesitantly...on my guard.
Overwhelmed by the obvious authenicity...unsure of its reality.
But now...I'll openly confess....
I've come to depend on it.
Lean on it.
Need it.
Miss it desperately when we are gone.
Our Glenwood church family.
Their love. Their support.
The gazillion hugs and smiles.
The gazillion offers to help...
Food, invitations, gifts....
Prayers.
Precious Glenwood,
Your interest and passion for our friends in Uganda amazes me. Your abounding love for me, Jeff and our kids bolls me over.
I don't know how we ever did this without you.
You are, over and over again, God's sustaining embrace on our family.
Love each other. Passionately. And never, never quit.
I need you now. His work through you continues to hold me up and press me on.
...to the goal...for the prize...
I'm exceedingly grateful to run this race with you.
Who's in Charge Here?
I awoke to Silas' foot in my ribs. (He slept with us AGAIN.) I gazed valiantly at the clock but my bleary eyes would not adjust.
After searching for and finding my glasses, I read "7:30am".
My foggy brain began immediately clicking through the details.
"Jeff--meeting at 10am...Kaylin watching the kids...clothes for the kids downstairs....must be brought up to their rooms...what items to add to the toy bag for the day...remember nap paraphenalia for Silas...forgot to buy lunchables...Whataburger for lunch...order things online...new homeschool curriculum or old?...lists for Alicia...article for bulletin...thank you notes...schedule for evening meal...Jeff should take the van..."
And on my brain tumbled.
Through my coffee, bagel, driving, errands, lunch and phone calls.
Projects, lists and priorities demanding to be processed and attended to.
4:00pm---I sat down to catch my breath, picked up His Message and found myself at these words whispering boldly into my busyness.
"In repentance and rest is your salvation,
in quietness and trust is your strength,"
"...but you would have none of it."
Um. Ouch.
"...Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you; he rises to show you compassion...."
"...Blessed are all who wait for him."
The tender boldness I've come to love and depend on. His Truth. Calling me to be still. Quiet. At rest.
As I slam on the brakes of my day I am reminded that it is,in fact, not all up to me.
I don't have to do it all. I just have to keep the list :-).
And daily offer that list up to the One, Who with one glance, sets every priority into place.
"Be still and know that I am God."
Oh. Yeah. That.
"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God."
Okay.
"And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."
So, I face the evening ahead. Guarded. By his peace. Which at last quiets my mind and declares in the silence...
"I am God, precious one. I am God."
(scripture references from Isaiah 30:15,18 and Philippians 4:6-7)
After searching for and finding my glasses, I read "7:30am".
My foggy brain began immediately clicking through the details.
"Jeff--meeting at 10am...Kaylin watching the kids...clothes for the kids downstairs....must be brought up to their rooms...what items to add to the toy bag for the day...remember nap paraphenalia for Silas...forgot to buy lunchables...Whataburger for lunch...order things online...new homeschool curriculum or old?...lists for Alicia...article for bulletin...thank you notes...schedule for evening meal...Jeff should take the van..."
And on my brain tumbled.
Through my coffee, bagel, driving, errands, lunch and phone calls.
Projects, lists and priorities demanding to be processed and attended to.
4:00pm---I sat down to catch my breath, picked up His Message and found myself at these words whispering boldly into my busyness.
"In repentance and rest is your salvation,
in quietness and trust is your strength,"
"...but you would have none of it."
Um. Ouch.
"...Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you; he rises to show you compassion...."
"...Blessed are all who wait for him."
The tender boldness I've come to love and depend on. His Truth. Calling me to be still. Quiet. At rest.
As I slam on the brakes of my day I am reminded that it is,in fact, not all up to me.
I don't have to do it all. I just have to keep the list :-).
And daily offer that list up to the One, Who with one glance, sets every priority into place.
"Be still and know that I am God."
Oh. Yeah. That.
"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God."
Okay.
"And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."
So, I face the evening ahead. Guarded. By his peace. Which at last quiets my mind and declares in the silence...
"I am God, precious one. I am God."
(scripture references from Isaiah 30:15,18 and Philippians 4:6-7)
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Hello Out There
My dear blog friends...I miss you.
Our current place of residence is without internet service (but has so many other plusses we can NOT complain!)
We daily enjoy the gorgeous view of a lake. The quiet and stillness of country living. And the blessed joy of having our own place.
So it is NOT all bad.
I have many delightful things to share. I THINK blogs all the time. And sometime soon I hope to have more than five minutes to record my thoughts and ponderings on my little space on the web.
Until then...I think of you often. And look forward to being with you again...
Our current place of residence is without internet service (but has so many other plusses we can NOT complain!)
We daily enjoy the gorgeous view of a lake. The quiet and stillness of country living. And the blessed joy of having our own place.
So it is NOT all bad.
I have many delightful things to share. I THINK blogs all the time. And sometime soon I hope to have more than five minutes to record my thoughts and ponderings on my little space on the web.
Until then...I think of you often. And look forward to being with you again...
Friday, June 23, 2006
Sweet Time in the Desert
"How can going to the desert quench your thirst in so many ways???" Jana Miller
This sums up my time in Odessa for these 6 weeks. Thirst quenching.
I have loved it.
Every minute.
West Texas gets criticized sometimes. Even by our own.
I am really sorry for that. It makes me sad and I wish it wouldn't happen.
But for the record and in case my last reminiscent posts haven't clued you in :-), I love this place. And it is my prayer that "springs" will continue to rise up from this desert land.
Springs of Living Water to quench the thirst of those desperate for its reviving power.
Thanks Family and Friends for welcoming us and loving us these six weeks. It has been a sweet blessing.
This sums up my time in Odessa for these 6 weeks. Thirst quenching.
I have loved it.
Every minute.
West Texas gets criticized sometimes. Even by our own.
I am really sorry for that. It makes me sad and I wish it wouldn't happen.
But for the record and in case my last reminiscent posts haven't clued you in :-), I love this place. And it is my prayer that "springs" will continue to rise up from this desert land.
Springs of Living Water to quench the thirst of those desperate for its reviving power.
Thanks Family and Friends for welcoming us and loving us these six weeks. It has been a sweet blessing.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Packing...again
The life of a nomad. Sigh.
It is currently 2 AM. The house is silent except for the clock ticking. My husband, sick with tonsilitis, retired several hours ago.
Our time in Odessa is up. The boxes are out. The U-haul awaits.
I have one whole day ahead of me to gather, find, clean, pack, and shut.
My brain spins madly--details, laundry, space. Where will it all go?
So now, I write this blog and try to train my tumbling thoughts into peaceful silence.
Amidst the brouhaha of lists, plans, cases and stuff I need to sit at His feet. Hear His voice. Rest my head on His knee.
And be reminded. Of why we do all this packing and moving around. (pause)
His compelling gift.
Our extreme gratitude for it. Our desire to tell someone else. Our longing, that is His, for all to accept it.
Can packing be that noble? :-)
Nope.
But He is.
Our "worth it all" King.
Who now calls me to rest for awhile...
It is currently 2 AM. The house is silent except for the clock ticking. My husband, sick with tonsilitis, retired several hours ago.
Our time in Odessa is up. The boxes are out. The U-haul awaits.
I have one whole day ahead of me to gather, find, clean, pack, and shut.
My brain spins madly--details, laundry, space. Where will it all go?
So now, I write this blog and try to train my tumbling thoughts into peaceful silence.
Amidst the brouhaha of lists, plans, cases and stuff I need to sit at His feet. Hear His voice. Rest my head on His knee.
And be reminded. Of why we do all this packing and moving around. (pause)
His compelling gift.
Our extreme gratitude for it. Our desire to tell someone else. Our longing, that is His, for all to accept it.
Can packing be that noble? :-)
Nope.
But He is.
Our "worth it all" King.
Who now calls me to rest for awhile...
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
R n R
"Recreation and Recovery" :-)
We vacationed in San Antonio with my family last week. It was Seaworld for two days,the Alamo and Riverwalk for one day and a whole lot of good steak, mexican food, and ice cream interspersed throughout.
The kids made MANY great memories.
The adults, now four days later, are mostly recovered from all the fun! :-)
It was really warm (read:stinkin' hot) and we walked alot. Seaworld had great shows and a fun water park. And alot of fish. Big ones that do cool tricks.
After a rather unfortunate experience with Travelodge we landed at a beautiful Holiday Inn with giant rooms and we felt very proud of ourselves for keeping up with my family on the San Antonio freeways that were fraught with construction issues and fast lane changes. We only followed the wrong car once. We were trying to figure out why Wade was headed to Lousiana after a long day at Seaworld but we were dutifully following until a phone call alerted us we were behind the wrong vehicle :-)
It was an adventure capped off at the end with sweet fellowship in San Angelo.
We are left now with the satisfying vacation stories we will repeat for many holidays to come. It's all good!
We vacationed in San Antonio with my family last week. It was Seaworld for two days,the Alamo and Riverwalk for one day and a whole lot of good steak, mexican food, and ice cream interspersed throughout.
The kids made MANY great memories.
The adults, now four days later, are mostly recovered from all the fun! :-)
It was really warm (read:stinkin' hot) and we walked alot. Seaworld had great shows and a fun water park. And alot of fish. Big ones that do cool tricks.
After a rather unfortunate experience with Travelodge we landed at a beautiful Holiday Inn with giant rooms and we felt very proud of ourselves for keeping up with my family on the San Antonio freeways that were fraught with construction issues and fast lane changes. We only followed the wrong car once. We were trying to figure out why Wade was headed to Lousiana after a long day at Seaworld but we were dutifully following until a phone call alerted us we were behind the wrong vehicle :-)
It was an adventure capped off at the end with sweet fellowship in San Angelo.
We are left now with the satisfying vacation stories we will repeat for many holidays to come. It's all good!
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Amy
It was Day Two of Seaworld.
We had made the steamy hike from the parking lot (if I could only transfer one quarter of that tarmac to Uganda...) and were putting our shoes back on after a run through the water play place--
When I felt someone staring at me.
Oh. My. Goodness.
The shrieks and squeals reverberated through the park!
Amy.
Unbelievable.
My Amy and her boys at Seaworld. At the exact same time as me.
Well. It was only fitting.
We survived summer camp, boyfriends, breakups, trials, heartbreak, finals, chorus tours, college commutes, engagements, weddings, marriages, and pregnancies together.
It was hightime we faced Seaworld! :-)
Amazing how things work out isn't it?
My boys LOVED the sharks. Kinley LOVED the Log Ride and the Water Slides. Silas LOVED the squishy ball Jeff bought him in the gift shop.
I LOVED seeing Amy. What a gift.
We had made the steamy hike from the parking lot (if I could only transfer one quarter of that tarmac to Uganda...) and were putting our shoes back on after a run through the water play place--
When I felt someone staring at me.
Oh. My. Goodness.
The shrieks and squeals reverberated through the park!
Amy.
Unbelievable.
My Amy and her boys at Seaworld. At the exact same time as me.
Well. It was only fitting.
We survived summer camp, boyfriends, breakups, trials, heartbreak, finals, chorus tours, college commutes, engagements, weddings, marriages, and pregnancies together.
It was hightime we faced Seaworld! :-)
Amazing how things work out isn't it?
My boys LOVED the sharks. Kinley LOVED the Log Ride and the Water Slides. Silas LOVED the squishy ball Jeff bought him in the gift shop.
I LOVED seeing Amy. What a gift.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Taco Villa
Bean b-e-a-n burrito. Nachos--no peppers. Medium coke with a shot of cherry flavor.
Delicious.
I have had so many meals at Taco Villa in my life. I can't even count them. It was the regular for our youth group. If I thought long enough I could even think of what everyone else used to order.
I love to go there.
I shared alot of secrets, dreams, laughs, moments over beans and nacho cheese.
The arched entry ways. The red bricked countertops. The unmistakeable scent of refried beans, nacho cheese and jalapeno peppers.
Crushes, first love, warm summer nights, dollar movies...
Friends.
It's funny how a place and its scents can take you back.
Delicious.
I have had so many meals at Taco Villa in my life. I can't even count them. It was the regular for our youth group. If I thought long enough I could even think of what everyone else used to order.
I love to go there.
I shared alot of secrets, dreams, laughs, moments over beans and nacho cheese.
The arched entry ways. The red bricked countertops. The unmistakeable scent of refried beans, nacho cheese and jalapeno peppers.
Crushes, first love, warm summer nights, dollar movies...
Friends.
It's funny how a place and its scents can take you back.
the Game
In alot of places its just another thing that happens on the weekend. You only go if your kids are actually involved.
And in some places it isn't really very fun. (gasp!)
My first participation was a long time ago. 1970 something.
I remember the lights. The voices around me. The wooden planks we sat on. And the way the black and white looked against the green.
It was pretty impressive. Even to a 5 yr old.
Holding hands. Taking a knee. Prayer. They were in it together.
Young men. Learning how to stand for each other and with each other.
Just kids. Sometimes making mistakes. Sometimes getting it right. But never quitting.
It was (and is) a community gathering.
An event that brings people together.
All cultures have them.
I grew up loving it so much.
In my humble opinion the moment that illustrates all the best of this event took place in Dallas.
The Arlington Game.
We were outsized. We were not expected to succeed.
The odds...the reality...the logic...
All were against us.
But our guys showed up. And we did too. About 22,000 of us.
It was an amazing phenomenon.
The other guys steamrolled our crew. They had it in the bag.
Our young men were tired, beaten, worn down and determined.
34-14 at the end of the third quarter.
34-34 at the end.
We won on penetrations.
It was amazing.
Some folks wonder why the whole town shows up. Why everyone talks about it. Why everyone knows.
Many have evaluated it. A book was written. Opinions abound.
The answer?
Passion? For some.
Love of the game? For most.
Supporting kids? Almost always.
Community? Most definitely.
Black and white against the green.
It is an impressive sight. And still, thirty something years later, it makes my heart pound with excitement.
Something GREAT could happen here. In an unexpected place. In an unexpected way.
Hard work. Determination. Team.
A definitive event for my home culture.
I love it still.
(Go Mojo!)
And in some places it isn't really very fun. (gasp!)
My first participation was a long time ago. 1970 something.
I remember the lights. The voices around me. The wooden planks we sat on. And the way the black and white looked against the green.
It was pretty impressive. Even to a 5 yr old.
Holding hands. Taking a knee. Prayer. They were in it together.
Young men. Learning how to stand for each other and with each other.
Just kids. Sometimes making mistakes. Sometimes getting it right. But never quitting.
It was (and is) a community gathering.
An event that brings people together.
All cultures have them.
I grew up loving it so much.
In my humble opinion the moment that illustrates all the best of this event took place in Dallas.
The Arlington Game.
We were outsized. We were not expected to succeed.
The odds...the reality...the logic...
All were against us.
But our guys showed up. And we did too. About 22,000 of us.
It was an amazing phenomenon.
The other guys steamrolled our crew. They had it in the bag.
Our young men were tired, beaten, worn down and determined.
34-14 at the end of the third quarter.
34-34 at the end.
We won on penetrations.
It was amazing.
Some folks wonder why the whole town shows up. Why everyone talks about it. Why everyone knows.
Many have evaluated it. A book was written. Opinions abound.
The answer?
Passion? For some.
Love of the game? For most.
Supporting kids? Almost always.
Community? Most definitely.
Black and white against the green.
It is an impressive sight. And still, thirty something years later, it makes my heart pound with excitement.
Something GREAT could happen here. In an unexpected place. In an unexpected way.
Hard work. Determination. Team.
A definitive event for my home culture.
I love it still.
(Go Mojo!)
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Family Times
I love it when my extended family gets together and I am there! I don't just have to hear about it or see pictures. I get to experience it!
Memorial Day was so fun. I loved the laughing and the eating. Watching the kiddos play. The visiting and the hugs.
Thanks, Family, for a great day!
The Drive In
The 1950's, convertibles, The Outsiders and Grease all come to mind.
Hiding friends in the trunk. Falling in love. Breaking up. Hanging out.
The drive-in.
My first trip to the drive-in was with my Mam-ma and Granddaddy. We saw Black Beauty.
I was small and we wore our pajamas in case we got tired and wanted to fall asleep. I thought it was so cool to wear my pajamas to the movies.
That was a long time ago.
Tonight we revisited the old tradition.
We took our kiddos to the drive-in to see Over the Hedge.
It was really fun! We didn't wear pajamas this time and we didn't hide anyone in the trunk.
But a good time was had by all.
For my kids it had all the major ingredients for a splendid evening:
--they got to stay up LATE!
-- a play place with slides!
-- POPCORN, cheese sticks, M&M's
--Uncle Wade's presence (probably the most important!)
--and a cute animated flick with cool credit music
I can't say much about the movie. I think it was amusing but I wouldn't know for sure because I was on Silas-patrol. Which mainly consisted of wrestling, finding cups and pacifiers and trying to keep him from falling on his head on the gravel.
It's okay though. The snack bar had Blue Bell ice cream and that gave me energy to endure!
Basically, the drive-in experience rocks.
Whether you are surrounding by high school friends, your first love, or six kids ages 8 and under.
Hiding friends in the trunk. Falling in love. Breaking up. Hanging out.
The drive-in.
My first trip to the drive-in was with my Mam-ma and Granddaddy. We saw Black Beauty.
I was small and we wore our pajamas in case we got tired and wanted to fall asleep. I thought it was so cool to wear my pajamas to the movies.
That was a long time ago.
Tonight we revisited the old tradition.
We took our kiddos to the drive-in to see Over the Hedge.
It was really fun! We didn't wear pajamas this time and we didn't hide anyone in the trunk.
But a good time was had by all.
For my kids it had all the major ingredients for a splendid evening:
--they got to stay up LATE!
-- a play place with slides!
-- POPCORN, cheese sticks, M&M's
--Uncle Wade's presence (probably the most important!)
--and a cute animated flick with cool credit music
I can't say much about the movie. I think it was amusing but I wouldn't know for sure because I was on Silas-patrol. Which mainly consisted of wrestling, finding cups and pacifiers and trying to keep him from falling on his head on the gravel.
It's okay though. The snack bar had Blue Bell ice cream and that gave me energy to endure!
Basically, the drive-in experience rocks.
Whether you are surrounding by high school friends, your first love, or six kids ages 8 and under.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Home...Again
The hot wind hits my face as I go out the door. The heat is dry and heavy as I walk to the car.
The sky stretches around me dramatically and definitively reaching and touching the dry ground in every direction. The immensity engulfs me. I feel I can breathe deeply. Unencumbered. Open. Free.
The West Texas Sky.
In this vast desert land our treasure on the ground is the sky that touches it. In every direction. Deep. Blue. Lavender. The spectrum of oranges as the sun rises and sets.
Sigh.
God's artistry knows no bounds. His hand is evident everywhere. And I see Him here. Met Him here.
And for that this desert will forever be, for me, Holy Ground.
Where I learned His Name. Where I heard His Voice. Where I met His people.
The beginning for me. And thus always a part of who I am.
The memories. The smells. The sky.
All a part of yet another place I call home.
The sky stretches around me dramatically and definitively reaching and touching the dry ground in every direction. The immensity engulfs me. I feel I can breathe deeply. Unencumbered. Open. Free.
The West Texas Sky.
In this vast desert land our treasure on the ground is the sky that touches it. In every direction. Deep. Blue. Lavender. The spectrum of oranges as the sun rises and sets.
Sigh.
God's artistry knows no bounds. His hand is evident everywhere. And I see Him here. Met Him here.
And for that this desert will forever be, for me, Holy Ground.
Where I learned His Name. Where I heard His Voice. Where I met His people.
The beginning for me. And thus always a part of who I am.
The memories. The smells. The sky.
All a part of yet another place I call home.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Lunch Date
Turkey Sandwich. Chicken Salad. Diet Coke. And Sweet Tea.
Heart sharing. Testimony. God.
Shopping. Bargains. TARGET!
Blessings. Moments.
Being Together.
A treasure.
My sister.
I love you!
Monday, May 22, 2006
Chats on the Driveway
Why is it that the VERY best conversations take place in the driveway. As you are getting in the car. Or as your walking out the door. Or trying to go to sleep.
What is it about those moments that open us up so much? What makes those moments so rich?
Well, whatever IT is--I LOVE IT!!
What is it about those moments that open us up so much? What makes those moments so rich?
Well, whatever IT is--I LOVE IT!!
Monday, May 15, 2006
35
I turned 35 recently. So in honor of that event I'd like to list 35 of my favorite things:
1. prayer
2. pajamas
3. my children: right after baths, right when they wake up and want hugs, when I'm reading to them
4. Coffee
5. Store bought birthday cake
6. Rosa's
7. Blue bell ice cream
8. Isaiah 30:18
9. laughing with Jeff
10. Target
11. talking to my sister
12. friends
13. being at Granddaddy's house
14. Spades
15. music
16. my MP3 player
17. my new computer
18. sunsets
19. writing
20. happy endings
21. God's faithfulness
22. singing
23. vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup
24. silence
25. diamonds
26. pearls
27. Dr. Pepper
28. M&M's
29. Psalms
30. new babies
31. bargains
32. a really good book
33. laughing until I cry
34. a good cry
35. sleep
Thank you Lord for all these and more.
Mom
Elvis. Shoes. Yellow. Monahans. Life long friends. Bunko. Shopping. Family. Cradle Roll class. Nascar. Caring for broken children. Chicken Noodle Soup, saltine crackers and 7 up. It's Music. Supper Club. Morning talks in the bathroom. Honest answers. Wisdom. Perception. Intuition.
I was a colicky kid (cried non-stop for the first months of my life). A VERY talkative youngster. And a SILENT teen.
And then, to top it all off, I moved across the World to live with four of her grandkids in a foreign land.
And somehow she still manages to love me enough to fly overseas twice, let me live in her home for 6 wks at a time, take over her laundry room, bedrooms , bathroom and hallway and never fails to be thrilled when I call or show up.
You are terrific, Mom. I appreciate your steadfastness and commitment. Your job isn't easy. I understand that more everyday :-)
I'm so glad we were together on Mother's Day. I love you!
Just Say It...Just in Case
So many times we get it right and we never know. We get so wrapped up in improving ourselves...we forget to high five the victories. Celebrate the sweet moments.
I've been convicted lately of the value of encouragement. But rather than simply pondering the word and its implications...I'm going to try to speak encouragement more.
And I'm going to start right now...
Dear Jennifer and Judy,
Just in case you didn't catch it. Just in case you are doubting it now. God used you at Pepperdine.
I'm sure He uses you all the time. But, understand, He REALLY used you in that class.
Mentoring. Authenticity. Amazing Ladies Bible Class ideas. Prayer.
Yep. You taught all that.
Joy. Encouragement. Admonition.
Check. Check and check.
An ice cold cup of water.
What?!?
I come back to the States thirsty....yearning for a drink. I long for the companionship of Christian women...sharing the journey with others who seek the Lord.
And sitting in your class...I began to feel the precious water soften my parched throat.
I was blessed, uplifted and so very thankful...
Thankful for how you have both let God work in your lives...(and I don't even know the HALF of it!).
Thankful for your preparation, thought and prayer concerning your presentation.
Thankful for the ladies you represent from Glenwood.
Thankful for the elders who prayed over you and sent you out.
Thankful that "packages for Ugandan missionaries" remains on your Ladies Class project list :-).
Tell the family at Glenwood that you represented them well. And that God touched lives through your message.
They won't be surprised. After all, Brayden WAS praying...
Do you know what else you did?
Opened a window for me...reminded me with a glimpse...of the joy of fellowship that awaits us in East Texas!
I can't wait to see you there...
With much love,
Cheryl
Who has blessed you this week? They may not know...tell them now...just in case.
I've been convicted lately of the value of encouragement. But rather than simply pondering the word and its implications...I'm going to try to speak encouragement more.
And I'm going to start right now...
Dear Jennifer and Judy,
Just in case you didn't catch it. Just in case you are doubting it now. God used you at Pepperdine.
I'm sure He uses you all the time. But, understand, He REALLY used you in that class.
Mentoring. Authenticity. Amazing Ladies Bible Class ideas. Prayer.
Yep. You taught all that.
Joy. Encouragement. Admonition.
Check. Check and check.
An ice cold cup of water.
What?!?
I come back to the States thirsty....yearning for a drink. I long for the companionship of Christian women...sharing the journey with others who seek the Lord.
And sitting in your class...I began to feel the precious water soften my parched throat.
I was blessed, uplifted and so very thankful...
Thankful for how you have both let God work in your lives...(and I don't even know the HALF of it!).
Thankful for your preparation, thought and prayer concerning your presentation.
Thankful for the ladies you represent from Glenwood.
Thankful for the elders who prayed over you and sent you out.
Thankful that "packages for Ugandan missionaries" remains on your Ladies Class project list :-).
Tell the family at Glenwood that you represented them well. And that God touched lives through your message.
They won't be surprised. After all, Brayden WAS praying...
Do you know what else you did?
Opened a window for me...reminded me with a glimpse...of the joy of fellowship that awaits us in East Texas!
I can't wait to see you there...
With much love,
Cheryl
Who has blessed you this week? They may not know...tell them now...just in case.
Life on the Island
Perspectives. Preferences. Opinions.
Everybody has them.
Pepsi or Coke?
Hershey's or Cadbury's?
Chocolate or Vanilla?
Red or Pink?
Tea or Coffee?
Original or extra crispy?
Mayo or Mustard?
Scrambled or Fried?
and on a more serious note--ahem--
Mac or PC? (the most recent addition to my own "choice repertoire" and a discussion that reveals strong conviction on either side, in case you didn't know. I was previously unaware.)
Some choices merit almost flippant response.
Others require more research, consideration and processing.
But eventually we pick.
And funny enough, we are defined but our selection.
For me...
Coke. Hershey's. Chocolate. Red. Coffee. Original. Mustard. Fried.
And, after much deliberation, Mac.
A wise man (you're welcome) said that buying a Mac would make me an island to myself.
But here are my thoughts on that:
1. Mac's rock!
2. Island living...not really so bad. (especially if you bring a friend!)
So I am the official owner of my very own iBook. MY VERY OWN!!!!
And my dear husband owns a MacBook Pro.
We have indeed passed to the Other Side. And I have to say, out here on the island the views are splendid and there are more folks to keep us company than I expected!
Aloha!
Everybody has them.
Pepsi or Coke?
Hershey's or Cadbury's?
Chocolate or Vanilla?
Red or Pink?
Tea or Coffee?
Original or extra crispy?
Mayo or Mustard?
Scrambled or Fried?
and on a more serious note--ahem--
Mac or PC? (the most recent addition to my own "choice repertoire" and a discussion that reveals strong conviction on either side, in case you didn't know. I was previously unaware.)
Some choices merit almost flippant response.
Others require more research, consideration and processing.
But eventually we pick.
And funny enough, we are defined but our selection.
For me...
Coke. Hershey's. Chocolate. Red. Coffee. Original. Mustard. Fried.
And, after much deliberation, Mac.
A wise man (you're welcome) said that buying a Mac would make me an island to myself.
But here are my thoughts on that:
1. Mac's rock!
2. Island living...not really so bad. (especially if you bring a friend!)
So I am the official owner of my very own iBook. MY VERY OWN!!!!
And my dear husband owns a MacBook Pro.
We have indeed passed to the Other Side. And I have to say, out here on the island the views are splendid and there are more folks to keep us company than I expected!
Aloha!
Monday, May 08, 2006
My Birthday Feast
May 5,2006
The Pepperdine Lectures.
Jeff and I enjoyed our breakfast and coffee overlooking the expansive Pacific Ocean. Unspeakably gorgeous.
I spent the morning "dining" on the meat provided by Jennifer and Judy, Jeff Walling, and Rich Little...with an incredibly rich sampling of encouragement from one of my favorite LCU professors punctuating it all....(I want to be like YOU when I grow up!)
Lunch found me delighting in clam chowder (the best I've ever had!) and sweet fellowship with Jeff, Andrew, Jennifer and Judy.
After a walk out on the pier---did I mention how BEAUTIFUL Malibu is?!?!---I returned to the University Embedded on the Cliff to share in praise and worship with a room full of like minds and hearts.
A brief afternoon "snack" of the Psalms and the moments they have carried us through... was sandwiched between a call from my sister, a song from my Dad and a call from my Mom.
Just before dinner, I was surprised by a beautiful bouquet of roses (yeah Jeff!) and a brief re-connecting with my Best Friend Wendy! (Can it Be? Did I really see you there?)
A yummy hamburger and sweet fellowship with Stan and Gena and Uncle Gene and Aunt Marilee (I just LOVE those guys!) energized us for the grand finale of the day...
Praise and worship with 800 Christians. A passionate call to Live in the Son from Don McGlaughlin. And an incredible (it just always is!) singing of The Lord Bless You and Keep You--every hand raised---I get chills even now.
It was a fantastic birthday feast. Start to finish. God is good.
The Pepperdine Lectures.
Jeff and I enjoyed our breakfast and coffee overlooking the expansive Pacific Ocean. Unspeakably gorgeous.
I spent the morning "dining" on the meat provided by Jennifer and Judy, Jeff Walling, and Rich Little...with an incredibly rich sampling of encouragement from one of my favorite LCU professors punctuating it all....(I want to be like YOU when I grow up!)
Lunch found me delighting in clam chowder (the best I've ever had!) and sweet fellowship with Jeff, Andrew, Jennifer and Judy.
After a walk out on the pier---did I mention how BEAUTIFUL Malibu is?!?!---I returned to the University Embedded on the Cliff to share in praise and worship with a room full of like minds and hearts.
A brief afternoon "snack" of the Psalms and the moments they have carried us through... was sandwiched between a call from my sister, a song from my Dad and a call from my Mom.
Just before dinner, I was surprised by a beautiful bouquet of roses (yeah Jeff!) and a brief re-connecting with my Best Friend Wendy! (Can it Be? Did I really see you there?)
A yummy hamburger and sweet fellowship with Stan and Gena and Uncle Gene and Aunt Marilee (I just LOVE those guys!) energized us for the grand finale of the day...
Praise and worship with 800 Christians. A passionate call to Live in the Son from Don McGlaughlin. And an incredible (it just always is!) singing of The Lord Bless You and Keep You--every hand raised---I get chills even now.
It was a fantastic birthday feast. Start to finish. God is good.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Flying Solo
May 4,1996.
My sister was getting married. Jeff stayed in Uganda and I flew by myself to Texas to attend the festivities. I remember cross stitching, reading, going to the bathroom alone and actually finishing a tray of food on the international flight.
Fond memories...
Since 1998, flying memories involve babies and toddlers. Diapers. Sippy cups. Snacks. Diversions. Pacifiers. Untouched trays of food. Spilled juice. Lost dolls. Missing pacifiers. Oh so very many tears--some of them the babies'-- and more than one longing glance at fellow passengers who are actually watching the movies provided, sipping beverages and sitting quietly. My deadened arms---the only part of my body that actually fell asleep--numbed under the weight of finally still and quiet little ones.
May 4, 2006.
Ten years later and I will fly alone again. I am traveling solo to the Lectureship at Pepperdine. Jeff is awaiting my arrival there. The kiddos will stay with family here.
I'm actually packing a book in my carry on.
Sodas to be sipped, silence to be embraced,books to be read...
Blissful indulgence!
My sister was getting married. Jeff stayed in Uganda and I flew by myself to Texas to attend the festivities. I remember cross stitching, reading, going to the bathroom alone and actually finishing a tray of food on the international flight.
Fond memories...
Since 1998, flying memories involve babies and toddlers. Diapers. Sippy cups. Snacks. Diversions. Pacifiers. Untouched trays of food. Spilled juice. Lost dolls. Missing pacifiers. Oh so very many tears--some of them the babies'-- and more than one longing glance at fellow passengers who are actually watching the movies provided, sipping beverages and sitting quietly. My deadened arms---the only part of my body that actually fell asleep--numbed under the weight of finally still and quiet little ones.
May 4, 2006.
Ten years later and I will fly alone again. I am traveling solo to the Lectureship at Pepperdine. Jeff is awaiting my arrival there. The kiddos will stay with family here.
I'm actually packing a book in my carry on.
Sodas to be sipped, silence to be embraced,books to be read...
Blissful indulgence!
So Rich...
*lingering visits after Sunday dinner at Mike and Koni's house
*prayer after lingering visits at Mike and Koni's house
*late night chat fests with cousins
*Mount Hood on a clear day
*the smoked salmon and cheese at Multnomah Falls
*Target
*Dollar stores!
*hot breakfast and coffee on Cash Mt.
*shoes :-)
*cousins giggling and TRYING to behave during church
*a brand new Real Simple magazine
*homemade ice cream
*letters of encouragement
*words of encouragement
*new CD's
*frequent flier miles
*God's drawing the broken to Himself over and over again
*hope
It was late Sunday afternoon. The food eaten and put away. Conversations in all parts of the room...cancer, healing, career, production, worship, church, God's family, children, Uganda, Pump Church,Tivo, learning, babies, pregnancy, memories-t-opics related and distant swirling around the room. Meandering thoughts and dreams.
As the precious lady in front of me listened and shared her seekings and understandings, I was struck by the richness of life. Friends, communication, prayer, struggle, pain, perseverance, God. Above all and in all.
Rich.
Thank you Lord for helping me see. That in every moment there are morsels to savor.
"Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." 1 Thess 5:16-18
*prayer after lingering visits at Mike and Koni's house
*late night chat fests with cousins
*Mount Hood on a clear day
*the smoked salmon and cheese at Multnomah Falls
*Target
*Dollar stores!
*hot breakfast and coffee on Cash Mt.
*shoes :-)
*cousins giggling and TRYING to behave during church
*a brand new Real Simple magazine
*homemade ice cream
*letters of encouragement
*words of encouragement
*new CD's
*frequent flier miles
*God's drawing the broken to Himself over and over again
*hope
It was late Sunday afternoon. The food eaten and put away. Conversations in all parts of the room...cancer, healing, career, production, worship, church, God's family, children, Uganda, Pump Church,Tivo, learning, babies, pregnancy, memories-t-opics related and distant swirling around the room. Meandering thoughts and dreams.
As the precious lady in front of me listened and shared her seekings and understandings, I was struck by the richness of life. Friends, communication, prayer, struggle, pain, perseverance, God. Above all and in all.
Rich.
Thank you Lord for helping me see. That in every moment there are morsels to savor.
"Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." 1 Thess 5:16-18
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Shoes
Some of you smiled when you read the title. You are my soul mates. Shoes are good. Buying new ones, unbelievable.
We've been in the States for 4 1/2 weeks. I have purchased 11 pairs of shoes.
My husband thinks I may be insane. Honestly, that could go either way, depending on the day and at least I'm happy. A happy insane person is manageable. :-)
And speaking of manageable--I'm not sure how to stop. I enter Target, I head for the shoes. K-Mart--shoes. Outlet malls, department stores, you guessed it...
In order to assuage a mild guilt complex I took back two pairs of shoes this week. Returned. Got the money back. Reported in to my husband. :-)
But he knows me well. And he understands.
I'm not turning back.
I'm only making room for the shoes I'll buy in Texas.
:-)
(PS I hear they let you where those cute plastic Croc shoes in mental institutions...)
We've been in the States for 4 1/2 weeks. I have purchased 11 pairs of shoes.
My husband thinks I may be insane. Honestly, that could go either way, depending on the day and at least I'm happy. A happy insane person is manageable. :-)
And speaking of manageable--I'm not sure how to stop. I enter Target, I head for the shoes. K-Mart--shoes. Outlet malls, department stores, you guessed it...
In order to assuage a mild guilt complex I took back two pairs of shoes this week. Returned. Got the money back. Reported in to my husband. :-)
But he knows me well. And he understands.
I'm not turning back.
I'm only making room for the shoes I'll buy in Texas.
:-)
(PS I hear they let you where those cute plastic Croc shoes in mental institutions...)
Shall We Dance?
For the first time since I entered this blog land I don't know what to say.
Its not for lack of thoughts. There are plenty of musings, considerations, exasperations, confusions, and humorous antecdotes muddling through my mind.
But how to say it? I am at a loss.
I think it is officially called Culture Stress. And it occurs both when entering a new culture and when re-entering your home culture.
Culture stress for me looks a little bit like handing a ballerina a pair of army boots and telling her to dance. What was once delicate, graceful and coordinated becomes clunky, messy and kinda funny to watch.
I've never been an actual ballerina, but when it comes to coping, living life and functioning in society I used to feel coordinated. (:-)) Now, I cognitively know the steps, but can't manage the dead weight tripping up my feet. The heavy, burdensome "shoes" which are protective and important in one environment are frustrating my moment right now.
I've danced this dance before. And the outcome is always unique.
I probably won't ever be the "ballerina" I once was. I have to learn to dance a new dance. Learn how to manage the new shoes.
The key is really the music. And there is one Song that never fails to inspire.
"The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing." Zephaniah 3:17
Can you see me dancing now?
Its not for lack of thoughts. There are plenty of musings, considerations, exasperations, confusions, and humorous antecdotes muddling through my mind.
But how to say it? I am at a loss.
I think it is officially called Culture Stress. And it occurs both when entering a new culture and when re-entering your home culture.
Culture stress for me looks a little bit like handing a ballerina a pair of army boots and telling her to dance. What was once delicate, graceful and coordinated becomes clunky, messy and kinda funny to watch.
I've never been an actual ballerina, but when it comes to coping, living life and functioning in society I used to feel coordinated. (:-)) Now, I cognitively know the steps, but can't manage the dead weight tripping up my feet. The heavy, burdensome "shoes" which are protective and important in one environment are frustrating my moment right now.
I've danced this dance before. And the outcome is always unique.
I probably won't ever be the "ballerina" I once was. I have to learn to dance a new dance. Learn how to manage the new shoes.
The key is really the music. And there is one Song that never fails to inspire.
"The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing." Zephaniah 3:17
Can you see me dancing now?
Thursday, April 06, 2006
My Safeway Card
I've forgotten the rules.
And I need rules. Guidelines. Directions.
I want to know where I am going before I disembark. I want to clearly understand all expectations for my behaviour. I want to know what the right way is. And I don't want to hurt anyone in the process.
(Please, graciously allow me to forgo a discussion/confession of my obvious "people pleasing" issues...:-) ...and say...
I really have forgotten the rules. All cultures, families, communities, churches...have rules. And while there are a few guidelines that carry over from family to family....community to community...
MANY rules are unwritten...unspoken...just KNOWN and uniquely different from any other set of rules. Which is the rub.
Landing in my American Homeland immediately enforces a new set of rules. Interacting daily with family, American community and church involves understanding, accepting and acting in accordance with The Rules. Most of The Rules aren't even acknowledged by the community..until...they are broken. Then people get upset.
And that is hard. But it is a part of this vagabond life. And truly, learning and understanding The Rules of different places...enriches and blesses my life.
Its just the initial moments that are hard for me.
Which is why I love Safeway.
We went to the coast with Jeff's family this week. And Jeff and I were in charge of lunches.
So we went to Safeway.
I was proud of us because we made it in and out of Safeway in less than 45 minutes. We bought what was on our list and didn't stray much...though the amazing array of junk food available does tempt us to indulge!!! (Little Debbie's---Yummy!)
I feel lost in American groceries. So many choices. So many options. I have no clue what to pick. So I flounder through. Manage. Gather. Discard. And finally...the golden moment...
Checkout.
My Safeway Club Card. I swipe it through the machine trepidly (am I doing this right?) and the sweet lady at the register says..."How are you Mrs. Cash?" (she knows my name!)
"Did you find everything okay?" Um. yes.
"Thank you for shopping with us Mrs. Cash."
That kind woman thought I was a member. A Safeway shopper.
She didn't know that I didn't know the rules. She didn't know I live on another continent. She wasn't aware of the mind boggling flustered thoughts tumbling in my brain...
With one swipe of a red Safeway card....I belonged. I was well within the Safeway rules. I did it right.
It was moment for me. And at this point...I'll take those moments where they come!
So, for now, I'll keep floundering through...rediscovering rules and expectations. Learning and growing....
But, when it gets to be too much...you can find me at Safeway. I'll be eating Little Debbie's Banana Twins and swiping my card!
And I need rules. Guidelines. Directions.
I want to know where I am going before I disembark. I want to clearly understand all expectations for my behaviour. I want to know what the right way is. And I don't want to hurt anyone in the process.
(Please, graciously allow me to forgo a discussion/confession of my obvious "people pleasing" issues...:-) ...and say...
I really have forgotten the rules. All cultures, families, communities, churches...have rules. And while there are a few guidelines that carry over from family to family....community to community...
MANY rules are unwritten...unspoken...just KNOWN and uniquely different from any other set of rules. Which is the rub.
Landing in my American Homeland immediately enforces a new set of rules. Interacting daily with family, American community and church involves understanding, accepting and acting in accordance with The Rules. Most of The Rules aren't even acknowledged by the community..until...they are broken. Then people get upset.
And that is hard. But it is a part of this vagabond life. And truly, learning and understanding The Rules of different places...enriches and blesses my life.
Its just the initial moments that are hard for me.
Which is why I love Safeway.
We went to the coast with Jeff's family this week. And Jeff and I were in charge of lunches.
So we went to Safeway.
I was proud of us because we made it in and out of Safeway in less than 45 minutes. We bought what was on our list and didn't stray much...though the amazing array of junk food available does tempt us to indulge!!! (Little Debbie's---Yummy!)
I feel lost in American groceries. So many choices. So many options. I have no clue what to pick. So I flounder through. Manage. Gather. Discard. And finally...the golden moment...
Checkout.
My Safeway Club Card. I swipe it through the machine trepidly (am I doing this right?) and the sweet lady at the register says..."How are you Mrs. Cash?" (she knows my name!)
"Did you find everything okay?" Um. yes.
"Thank you for shopping with us Mrs. Cash."
That kind woman thought I was a member. A Safeway shopper.
She didn't know that I didn't know the rules. She didn't know I live on another continent. She wasn't aware of the mind boggling flustered thoughts tumbling in my brain...
With one swipe of a red Safeway card....I belonged. I was well within the Safeway rules. I did it right.
It was moment for me. And at this point...I'll take those moments where they come!
So, for now, I'll keep floundering through...rediscovering rules and expectations. Learning and growing....
But, when it gets to be too much...you can find me at Safeway. I'll be eating Little Debbie's Banana Twins and swiping my card!
Monday, March 27, 2006
Impressions from the Fog
It is 7 PM. The frozen pizza has been bought and baked with much anticipation but only barely touched as we are all too tired to eat. The whine in Isaac's voice has become a permanent fixture and crying outbursts are happening every second. Baths await and Bible time...but we try to put it off as long as possible in order to force our body clocks into a new timeframe . There are piles of clothes along the wall. Jeans and sweatshirts bought at the village market in preparation for the New England cold. Every eye is heavy, and every light is on in an effort to keep ourselves alert. The boys are cradling new Knight swords and Kinley organizes her new Polly Pockets. My Real Simple magazine awaits me at my bedside and Jeff is enjoying his Mountain Dew. The clock ticks slowly as we await a reasonable bed time hour...
Jet lag hurts. Alot. For some odd reason...the pain is forgettable. I don't usually remember the unique brain numbing/yet nerve sensitive irony of jet lag. But I am currently in the throes of it and I can't wait for it to be over.
3Am. It is the time we actually got to sleep the first night in America. And it is the time all our children woke up the second night. Ready to party. "Where is the food Mom?" "Can I have juice in my cup Mom?" and "Why aren't the birds singing yet Mom?"
The roads are all smooth. I understand most of what people say the first time. Roads have signs and maps are correct. Internet, phone service and electricity are always on. And so is the water. I have so enjoyed hot showers. And drinking water without boiling it. I feel like I'm breaking a rule everytime I drink from the tap :-).
Food is easy. When we are hungry...we find food. And it is YUMMY! McDonald's fries are just always RIGHT. Chocolate milkshakes, Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream, and the Dr. Pepper I just finished have been delightful and required no forethought. I didn't plan at 10:30 am this morning that I would make the ice cream and cookie dough. I just wanted it, went down the hall and bought it. And ate it ...all by myself.
Magazines are affordable. And the news is American. David Letterman is on at night. And there is every re-run imaginable on television.
People here always wear shoes. And I haven't seen dirt on the ground yet. Cars are large and colorful.
There is a price for everything. It is clearly marked and there are no negotiations.
Everything is for sale. I flipped through over 30 channels today and only found 3 with actual shows on at one moment. The rest were commercials.
And while on the subject...commercials are funny. Hilarious really. This, in case you were not aware, is unique to American consumerism.
There are so many things made for kids. Museums, aquariums, restaurants, stores...all geared for kids and their learning and development. It is valued here. And I am proud of that.
I am moved to tears when I see the flag.
The homeless people we saw today were...wearing coats and gloves and appeared,to me,to be well fed.
We are in a very historical place. And I have found myself relating stories to the kids all day. Tomorrow will bring more stories. I am so thankful for our heritage. The men who argued and debated and decided what our country would be founded on.
Other parts of this culture will also be impressionable in this fulrough experience...but overall....this is a phenomenal country. And it is good to be here.
The crying has started again. It is turning into a wail. I must go help my kids to bed.
Everything will look even better on the other side of a complete night of sleep...:-)
Benadryl anyone?
Jet lag hurts. Alot. For some odd reason...the pain is forgettable. I don't usually remember the unique brain numbing/yet nerve sensitive irony of jet lag. But I am currently in the throes of it and I can't wait for it to be over.
3Am. It is the time we actually got to sleep the first night in America. And it is the time all our children woke up the second night. Ready to party. "Where is the food Mom?" "Can I have juice in my cup Mom?" and "Why aren't the birds singing yet Mom?"
The roads are all smooth. I understand most of what people say the first time. Roads have signs and maps are correct. Internet, phone service and electricity are always on. And so is the water. I have so enjoyed hot showers. And drinking water without boiling it. I feel like I'm breaking a rule everytime I drink from the tap :-).
Food is easy. When we are hungry...we find food. And it is YUMMY! McDonald's fries are just always RIGHT. Chocolate milkshakes, Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream, and the Dr. Pepper I just finished have been delightful and required no forethought. I didn't plan at 10:30 am this morning that I would make the ice cream and cookie dough. I just wanted it, went down the hall and bought it. And ate it ...all by myself.
Magazines are affordable. And the news is American. David Letterman is on at night. And there is every re-run imaginable on television.
People here always wear shoes. And I haven't seen dirt on the ground yet. Cars are large and colorful.
There is a price for everything. It is clearly marked and there are no negotiations.
Everything is for sale. I flipped through over 30 channels today and only found 3 with actual shows on at one moment. The rest were commercials.
And while on the subject...commercials are funny. Hilarious really. This, in case you were not aware, is unique to American consumerism.
There are so many things made for kids. Museums, aquariums, restaurants, stores...all geared for kids and their learning and development. It is valued here. And I am proud of that.
I am moved to tears when I see the flag.
The homeless people we saw today were...wearing coats and gloves and appeared,to me,to be well fed.
We are in a very historical place. And I have found myself relating stories to the kids all day. Tomorrow will bring more stories. I am so thankful for our heritage. The men who argued and debated and decided what our country would be founded on.
Other parts of this culture will also be impressionable in this fulrough experience...but overall....this is a phenomenal country. And it is good to be here.
The crying has started again. It is turning into a wail. I must go help my kids to bed.
Everything will look even better on the other side of a complete night of sleep...:-)
Benadryl anyone?
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
My Girl
Monday was a great day around here. We celebrated eight years of our sweet Kinley's life.
...Kinley's beginnings took alot of extra care. And every single day with her is a witness to God's healing, blessing and perfectly timed gifts.
I simply do not know what I would do without her. Her passion for living, her heart that actively seeks God and her amazing creativity make my world more beautiful in every way.
And I'm not the only one. Jeff was the first one to call her by name....she lay screaming in the hospital bassinet. He spoke her name, "Hey Kinley..." and with one suddenly silent head turn ...Jeff's heart was gone. "She knows who I am!" He was never the same...:-)
Amazing how one tiny bundle can change you forever...
Happy Birthday Kinley. We love you very, very much.
Check out http://www.missionaryjournal.blogspot.com for Jeff's thoughts on this day.
...Kinley's beginnings took alot of extra care. And every single day with her is a witness to God's healing, blessing and perfectly timed gifts.
I simply do not know what I would do without her. Her passion for living, her heart that actively seeks God and her amazing creativity make my world more beautiful in every way.
And I'm not the only one. Jeff was the first one to call her by name....she lay screaming in the hospital bassinet. He spoke her name, "Hey Kinley..." and with one suddenly silent head turn ...Jeff's heart was gone. "She knows who I am!" He was never the same...:-)
Amazing how one tiny bundle can change you forever...
Happy Birthday Kinley. We love you very, very much.
Check out http://www.missionaryjournal.blogspot.com for Jeff's thoughts on this day.
Tick...Tick...Tick...
Do you hear it too? It is the clock (currently sitting at some minutes after midnight). And it quietly, rythymically reminds me...our departure is nearing.
I am really tired. REALLY tired. My pillow is calling me and my brain nudges me to allow it to rest.
I am very thankful, sitting here tonight. First, the lights in our home are bright. Power is on!
Second, my "for better or worse" man paid to have two tanks of water brought to our home...some laundry has been done and everyone has had a warm bath.
And three, almost every essential for our trip has been completed.
God is good and gracious.
Tomorrow is the final day. I'm feeling pretty good about what we've accomplished so far...And I am basking in the realization that a Burger King Whopper is in my very near future!
Now if I could just get all those piles of clean clothes to walk themselves into a suitcase...:-)
I am really tired. REALLY tired. My pillow is calling me and my brain nudges me to allow it to rest.
I am very thankful, sitting here tonight. First, the lights in our home are bright. Power is on!
Second, my "for better or worse" man paid to have two tanks of water brought to our home...some laundry has been done and everyone has had a warm bath.
And three, almost every essential for our trip has been completed.
God is good and gracious.
Tomorrow is the final day. I'm feeling pretty good about what we've accomplished so far...And I am basking in the realization that a Burger King Whopper is in my very near future!
Now if I could just get all those piles of clean clothes to walk themselves into a suitcase...:-)
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Won't You Be My Neighbor?
So, our friend and truck driver, Ali Baba (yep, that's really his name) had mercy on us. He lives around the corner. He shared some water. Enough to fill our tank again.
Praise the Lord!
And, I woke up to trucks rolling in front of my house...
I don't know how long their fuel will last. But at least its a start! (or a continuance as the case may be...)
AND, we were actually able to complete a few loads of laundry, a finance report and a yearly report for the government here.
When Silas ran into our room this morning with the excited announcement "Sump Shruck!!!" (that's "dump truck" for all you non Silas-ese speakers)....I had to smile. First, because the two year old living in our house is just TOO CUTE! But second, isn't it...um...a tad ironic...that after I hear from several of you that you are praying...those cemented-to-the-soccerfield trucks started moving again.
I know the Creator of the Universe does have a few things to attend to right now...and my water issues really aren't the most pressing issue... yet, He acts on my behalf.
May YOUR day be full of the astonishment of His care...
Praise the Lord!
And, I woke up to trucks rolling in front of my house...
I don't know how long their fuel will last. But at least its a start! (or a continuance as the case may be...)
AND, we were actually able to complete a few loads of laundry, a finance report and a yearly report for the government here.
When Silas ran into our room this morning with the excited announcement "Sump Shruck!!!" (that's "dump truck" for all you non Silas-ese speakers)....I had to smile. First, because the two year old living in our house is just TOO CUTE! But second, isn't it...um...a tad ironic...that after I hear from several of you that you are praying...those cemented-to-the-soccerfield trucks started moving again.
I know the Creator of the Universe does have a few things to attend to right now...and my water issues really aren't the most pressing issue... yet, He acts on my behalf.
May YOUR day be full of the astonishment of His care...
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Off
Everything is off. (except for my children's energy level--that is very ON and LOUD at the moment)
I've already discussed the power issues we have been facing. And while my ingenious husband continually pulls tricks from his hat to keep some light and power flowing into our home, currently I am typing off power from a car battery and inverter. Our power woes have increased.
We are given less and less power each week. And for the last four days, when the town has had power, our house has not. Just our house. I cannot tell you how happy this makes me.
Our transformer and power line have problems. Fire problems. Which is not only a tad concerning,but apparently, not a high priority for the power company in it's present state. It is time for a new transformer on Njara Lane. Any chance of that happening in my lifetime? I'm not holding my breath.
Except when I walk past the bathroom.
Because our woes do not only include power.
Early last week huge trucks started rolling by our house. The road in front of our home is being paved. (amazing!!!) So the grading and dumping and hauling began. And in the process our water line got cut. It is sticking up in two pieces on the side of the road.
Remarkably, they informed us of this predicament and we began rationing the water in our tank. I was proud that we made it last about 4 days.
Everyday, I woke up and watched for the trucks to roll again to finish the job. But, oddly, the trucks have permanently camped out in the soccer field around the corner. Seems you can't operate huge bulldozing trucks without diesel. And the truck people ran out of money for fuel.
So the water line remains severed and the road unpaved.
The mounds of laundry in our home are almost as overwhelming as the scent from unflushed toilets. (sorry to be so graphic)
Did I mention, also, that in 9 days, I am boarding a plane with my four children and husband to be away for some months.
That at some point we have to pack these soiled garments to take with us. And that without basic necessities like water, primarily, life feels a little off.
It is not the first time we've dealt with such things. And, in the end, we will survive.
But every once in a while, in the process of handling it, I feel the need to be really mad. That has been this morning. Then after the 'mad', I need to laugh. And then--back to handling it.
My dear friend gave me the keys to her house so I can haul the mountain of laundry her way and use her water and power.
And clean clothes or dirty clothes, we WILL board the plane for the Homeland.
Which I am REALLY looking forward to. Family, friends, Blue Bell ice cream and a VERY full Bathtub with HOT water!!!!
I've already discussed the power issues we have been facing. And while my ingenious husband continually pulls tricks from his hat to keep some light and power flowing into our home, currently I am typing off power from a car battery and inverter. Our power woes have increased.
We are given less and less power each week. And for the last four days, when the town has had power, our house has not. Just our house. I cannot tell you how happy this makes me.
Our transformer and power line have problems. Fire problems. Which is not only a tad concerning,but apparently, not a high priority for the power company in it's present state. It is time for a new transformer on Njara Lane. Any chance of that happening in my lifetime? I'm not holding my breath.
Except when I walk past the bathroom.
Because our woes do not only include power.
Early last week huge trucks started rolling by our house. The road in front of our home is being paved. (amazing!!!) So the grading and dumping and hauling began. And in the process our water line got cut. It is sticking up in two pieces on the side of the road.
Remarkably, they informed us of this predicament and we began rationing the water in our tank. I was proud that we made it last about 4 days.
Everyday, I woke up and watched for the trucks to roll again to finish the job. But, oddly, the trucks have permanently camped out in the soccer field around the corner. Seems you can't operate huge bulldozing trucks without diesel. And the truck people ran out of money for fuel.
So the water line remains severed and the road unpaved.
The mounds of laundry in our home are almost as overwhelming as the scent from unflushed toilets. (sorry to be so graphic)
Did I mention, also, that in 9 days, I am boarding a plane with my four children and husband to be away for some months.
That at some point we have to pack these soiled garments to take with us. And that without basic necessities like water, primarily, life feels a little off.
It is not the first time we've dealt with such things. And, in the end, we will survive.
But every once in a while, in the process of handling it, I feel the need to be really mad. That has been this morning. Then after the 'mad', I need to laugh. And then--back to handling it.
My dear friend gave me the keys to her house so I can haul the mountain of laundry her way and use her water and power.
And clean clothes or dirty clothes, we WILL board the plane for the Homeland.
Which I am REALLY looking forward to. Family, friends, Blue Bell ice cream and a VERY full Bathtub with HOT water!!!!
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Lost
It all started on Monday.
I was gathering furlough things. Kids clothes, swimsuits, credit cards, checkbooks... and it happened.
The inevitable.
The smallish Eddie Bauer bag...which is home to our five remaining passports...(Jeff's new one is still at the embassy)...was gone.
It is, obviously, an important bag. Not one I carry with me always. And it has its place. But it wasn't there. Or under....or behind....
I checked a few, more obvious places...but went to sleep, SURE that the bag would appear quickly, the next day.
Tuesday morning found me determined and focussed. Jeff awoke to me emptying drawers, bags and moving shelves. He generously joined in the hunt.
By the time he left for his lunch meeting...there was no Eddie Bauer bag to be found. I was beginning to be VERY concerned. Our plane leaves in 2 1/2 weeks. Replacement passports take 3 weeks.
We intensified the search. By the time Jeff returned in the evening, I was barely staving off panic.
The passports are my responsibility. They are IMPORTANT. WHERE ARE THEY?
I could not remember the last time I held them in my hand. I could not back track because I couldn't remember.
And mostly, I could NOT stop looking. And neither could Jeff. Under beds, in toy boxes, in trunks we haven't opened in years...
We cleaned out backpacks, dressers, shelves and cabinets. And by midnight on Tuesday. That elusive bag was still AWOL.
I did not sleep well. I tried to DREAM where it might be. We brainstormed options. When do we declare them gone and call the embassy?
Wednesday morning, everyone was in on the hunt. At 6:30 pm on Wednesday...I sat in the middle of a VERY clean living room and desperately pleaded with God to take me to the bag.
I stood up to do one more quick sweep, before the power went off.
My hand went into the diaper bag and....OH MY GOODNESS....and PRAISE THE LORD...
My hand felt the zipper of the bag that had become my entire pursuit for two whole days! In a diaper bag we had emptied several times. It was stuck at the bottom and its black cover blended VERY WELL with the inside lining of the bag.
I have not been that excited over a passport wallet....well...ever!
No police reports...no investigation...no missing passports...no trip postponing...no disappointment... all was right in the world again.
And there was much rejoicing!
I was gathering furlough things. Kids clothes, swimsuits, credit cards, checkbooks... and it happened.
The inevitable.
The smallish Eddie Bauer bag...which is home to our five remaining passports...(Jeff's new one is still at the embassy)...was gone.
It is, obviously, an important bag. Not one I carry with me always. And it has its place. But it wasn't there. Or under....or behind....
I checked a few, more obvious places...but went to sleep, SURE that the bag would appear quickly, the next day.
Tuesday morning found me determined and focussed. Jeff awoke to me emptying drawers, bags and moving shelves. He generously joined in the hunt.
By the time he left for his lunch meeting...there was no Eddie Bauer bag to be found. I was beginning to be VERY concerned. Our plane leaves in 2 1/2 weeks. Replacement passports take 3 weeks.
We intensified the search. By the time Jeff returned in the evening, I was barely staving off panic.
The passports are my responsibility. They are IMPORTANT. WHERE ARE THEY?
I could not remember the last time I held them in my hand. I could not back track because I couldn't remember.
And mostly, I could NOT stop looking. And neither could Jeff. Under beds, in toy boxes, in trunks we haven't opened in years...
We cleaned out backpacks, dressers, shelves and cabinets. And by midnight on Tuesday. That elusive bag was still AWOL.
I did not sleep well. I tried to DREAM where it might be. We brainstormed options. When do we declare them gone and call the embassy?
Wednesday morning, everyone was in on the hunt. At 6:30 pm on Wednesday...I sat in the middle of a VERY clean living room and desperately pleaded with God to take me to the bag.
I stood up to do one more quick sweep, before the power went off.
My hand went into the diaper bag and....OH MY GOODNESS....and PRAISE THE LORD...
My hand felt the zipper of the bag that had become my entire pursuit for two whole days! In a diaper bag we had emptied several times. It was stuck at the bottom and its black cover blended VERY WELL with the inside lining of the bag.
I have not been that excited over a passport wallet....well...ever!
No police reports...no investigation...no missing passports...no trip postponing...no disappointment... all was right in the world again.
And there was much rejoicing!
Monday, March 06, 2006
You Win Some, You Lose Some
Bad hair day.
I was never a hair color gal. For a long, long time I held out. But then, I got brave. Tried a little. A little more. You know how it goes.
Well, my hair was kinda boring after the braiding frenzy. So I decided to be bold.
I asked for dark brown with a hint of red.
Ahem.
NOT what I got.
It's red with a hint of brown.
Everytime I look in the mirror I wonder who put their hair on my head.
Kinley said, "MOM!!! Your hair!"
Alex said, "Way cool Mom. But, um, if you go back to Kampala to color your hair again I suggest black."
Jeff said, "you are always beautiful to me."
Good thing.
My Fort Portal friends have been encouraging but I'm a little concerned about furlough.
"Hi. I'm Jeff the missionary, this is my punk rock wife and these are my four adorable children."
Ah well.
"Rock on."
I was never a hair color gal. For a long, long time I held out. But then, I got brave. Tried a little. A little more. You know how it goes.
Well, my hair was kinda boring after the braiding frenzy. So I decided to be bold.
I asked for dark brown with a hint of red.
Ahem.
NOT what I got.
It's red with a hint of brown.
Everytime I look in the mirror I wonder who put their hair on my head.
Kinley said, "MOM!!! Your hair!"
Alex said, "Way cool Mom. But, um, if you go back to Kampala to color your hair again I suggest black."
Jeff said, "you are always beautiful to me."
Good thing.
My Fort Portal friends have been encouraging but I'm a little concerned about furlough.
"Hi. I'm Jeff the missionary, this is my punk rock wife and these are my four adorable children."
Ah well.
"Rock on."
Sunday, March 05, 2006
The Domino Line
My Grandpa had a card table with dominoes on it, set up ALWAYS. He and his buddies could shuffle, draw their dominoes and, just from looking at their hand and observing the first domino thrown... tell you every domino in the other players hands. Amazing.
When the games had died down and the table was abandoned for a moment, we kids would make the domino line. We'd line the dominoes up strategically to make some interesting shape. Then push the first one over and watch them fall.
It was a tedious process, because if one domino fell unexpectedly, the whole line had to be re-set.
Furlough planning---a missionaries "domino line".
When should we leave? When should we arrive? What is best for us? What is best for our families? When should we speak at churches? Are we going to try to rest? When do we need to be back? How much can we spend? Is this a schedule four kids can hold up to?...And on it goes...
One domino set deliberately and painstackingly in place...accidently toppled...and then starting over again.
It seems that we almost have our line in place now. We are guarding the table carefully so that no domino falls.
The actual ticket purchases are occurring.
We will be "pushing the first domino" late-March. We pray the furlough falls into shape in a great way....
When the games had died down and the table was abandoned for a moment, we kids would make the domino line. We'd line the dominoes up strategically to make some interesting shape. Then push the first one over and watch them fall.
It was a tedious process, because if one domino fell unexpectedly, the whole line had to be re-set.
Furlough planning---a missionaries "domino line".
When should we leave? When should we arrive? What is best for us? What is best for our families? When should we speak at churches? Are we going to try to rest? When do we need to be back? How much can we spend? Is this a schedule four kids can hold up to?...And on it goes...
One domino set deliberately and painstackingly in place...accidently toppled...and then starting over again.
It seems that we almost have our line in place now. We are guarding the table carefully so that no domino falls.
The actual ticket purchases are occurring.
We will be "pushing the first domino" late-March. We pray the furlough falls into shape in a great way....
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Ode to a Tough Girl
Missionary Kid's are a tough breed. They really have to be.
Well, one of their number, has now stepped to the head of the game. And endured an excruciating episode.
A 64 hour episode to be exact.
My friend, Laura, was in LABOR for 64 hours.
I've had four and I wasn't in labor that long combined...I hope that doesn't make Laura want to punch me. But you know what, if punching me would relieve some pent up frustration for her...I'd gladly take the hit. (Better yet, hit Rusty. He's a big man. He can take it! Go ahead!)
Bless you, friend. You have truly fought a huge battle and I am proud of you.
And bless sweet Alexander (brilliant parents to pick a name such as that!).
We are so thankful he is here and that you are both safe.
(Laura and Rusty currently live and serve in Japan. Laura was born and raised in Kenya.)
Well, one of their number, has now stepped to the head of the game. And endured an excruciating episode.
A 64 hour episode to be exact.
My friend, Laura, was in LABOR for 64 hours.
I've had four and I wasn't in labor that long combined...I hope that doesn't make Laura want to punch me. But you know what, if punching me would relieve some pent up frustration for her...I'd gladly take the hit. (Better yet, hit Rusty. He's a big man. He can take it! Go ahead!)
Bless you, friend. You have truly fought a huge battle and I am proud of you.
And bless sweet Alexander (brilliant parents to pick a name such as that!).
We are so thankful he is here and that you are both safe.
(Laura and Rusty currently live and serve in Japan. Laura was born and raised in Kenya.)
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Aunt Nora Belle
This is not a woman you will read about in Time or Newsweek. Her life was not marked by fame or wealth. She lived a simple life. In a simple place.
She never married and never had her own children. But she was ALWAYS taking care of people. Her brother Carl. People in the church. My Granny.
Granny started having strokes when I was really young. She slowly lost the use of her legs, arms and body. She spent her last years bedfast.
Granny was the anchor of Dad's family. There would be no nursing home for her. No sir. The family couldn't stand that. A hospital bed was purchased and set up in the living room. And Nora Belle, Granny's sister, came over every day to bathe her, change her, clean her house, wash the clothes and cook some meals for Grandpa. Grandpa eventually took over most of those tasks...but he wisely knew to leave some of them for Nora Belle. She WAS coming to help. Might as well leave her a task or she would make something up! :-)
What I remember most about Nora Belle was that when she showed up...we all started laughing. She was funny. And she could make her sister laugh even in the most difficult and humiliating of circumstances. (that's something I respect in a sister.:-))
I also remember that everybody loved her. Everybody I knew anyway.
She was easy to be with. Like an Aunt should be.
If you listen close, you might can hear an etheral giggle fest taking place...Aunt Nora Belle went Home last week...and I'm sure that when she arrived on the scene...the Heavenly Chorus was was filled with more laughter. At least from where Granny was standing...
Won't the reunions of Home be splendid!
She never married and never had her own children. But she was ALWAYS taking care of people. Her brother Carl. People in the church. My Granny.
Granny started having strokes when I was really young. She slowly lost the use of her legs, arms and body. She spent her last years bedfast.
Granny was the anchor of Dad's family. There would be no nursing home for her. No sir. The family couldn't stand that. A hospital bed was purchased and set up in the living room. And Nora Belle, Granny's sister, came over every day to bathe her, change her, clean her house, wash the clothes and cook some meals for Grandpa. Grandpa eventually took over most of those tasks...but he wisely knew to leave some of them for Nora Belle. She WAS coming to help. Might as well leave her a task or she would make something up! :-)
What I remember most about Nora Belle was that when she showed up...we all started laughing. She was funny. And she could make her sister laugh even in the most difficult and humiliating of circumstances. (that's something I respect in a sister.:-))
I also remember that everybody loved her. Everybody I knew anyway.
She was easy to be with. Like an Aunt should be.
If you listen close, you might can hear an etheral giggle fest taking place...Aunt Nora Belle went Home last week...and I'm sure that when she arrived on the scene...the Heavenly Chorus was was filled with more laughter. At least from where Granny was standing...
Won't the reunions of Home be splendid!
Where Am I?
It feels like this country has been holding its breath for a week.
The Uganda Presidential Elections.
In Uganda, much information is gathered word of mouth. It is a difficult way to gain understanding. Over time, you can surmise an 'abstract painting' of a given situation but never a clear picture. We've been warned and heard threats of complaints no matter which side won. We were encouraged to stay at home.
Which we dutifully did. Until yesterday. I had a Bible study in town.
I have it every week. Atwooki and I meet at a restaurant. She drinks soda. I drink hot tea. We greet each other, ask about each others children and home and then we study. We are working our way through the Women of the Bible. The restaurant is across from the bustling market.
Everything felt normal.
We were talking about Tamar. Quite a story to tell. To be honest, I never know exactly where to go with Tamar's recounting. What point to make.
Married to a foreigner. A wicked foreigner. No children. Widowed. Given to wicked brother. Deprived. Widowed again. Blamed. Virtual Abandonment. Scheming. Posing as prostitue. Sleeping with Daddy-in-law. Facing cruel death. Saved. Twins. A place in the lineage of Christ. Huh?
I was just making the point to Atwooki that God is always seeing us and paying attention. Even if our life is not in order. And following up with the point that we may not know what God has in store for us or our children even if our life feels humdrum and usual...
And three gunshots punctuated a chorus of screams.
Atwooki and I and the gentlemen at the table beside us were immediately on full alert.
The screams and shouting were taking place at the corner, across from the market. People were running and a scuffle had ensued.
After a few seconds of observing the chaotic crowd, the man at the table next to us said, "they are arresting someone."
I scanned the area for a barricade to hide behind and my mind raced to determine if the man's analysis was accurate.
There was a police truck at the center of the struggle and two piki-piki drivers were yanked into the back of the truck and raced away. (piki-pikis are motor scooters used as inexpensive public transport)
We all let out a collective breath and tried to regain our composure. I think my heart pounded for a good 10 minutes.
We prayed together and calmed down tremendously. I finished my tea. She finished her soda. We paid our bill, sent greetings to each others families and went on about our day. The market sellers were shouting out their prices. The remaining piki drivers were discussing politics and calling out for passengers. Atwooki went to the market to see her friend. I got in my car to check the mail.
And I couldn't stop thinking, "WHERE AM I?"
A gun was just fired into a crowd of people at the market. Two men were roughly beaten and hauled away. My danger sensors were already on high alert because of possible rioting due to the results of free democratic elections. And yet we all drank tea, studied the Bible, went to the market and checked the mail. Life going on as normal?!
I've lived here awhile now. But the revelation never fails to be shocking. I am a foreigner in a very different world. Whew.
As I drove home from the post office I wrestled with the surrealness of it all.
And through the fog of the surreal Tamar's story emerged again.
She is listed (a woman?) in a very important family lineage. No one is quite sure how she got there. A foreigner in a different world. No rights to speak of. Succumbing to and even choosing one undignified situation after another.
Forever linked by blood to the Messiah.
Life is foggy sometimes. No clear understanding of why. Maybe not even a place to lay blame.
Even worse, sometimes, the blame placement is crystal clear!
Nevertheless, the question "how did I get HERE?" very often demands to be heeded. Processing and analysis follow. Sometimes answers. Sometimes acceptance. Sometimes silence and a void.
How incredibly grateful I am that despite the fog and whatever the processing brings me to,
the Lord steps in to remind me. Often, chapters after the initial question is posed.
"You matter so much. I'll join you, wayward one, to Me. In an unquestioning and irrefutable way. By Blood."
"But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near through the blood of Christ....Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and aliens, but fellow-citizens with God's people and members of God's household...with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone." Ephesians 2:13,19-20
(you can find Tamar's complete story in Genesis 38 and her name in Matthew 1)
(President Yoweri Museveni was declared the winner last evening. There were no riots in Ft Portal, only jubilant celebration. Thank you for your prayers.)
The Uganda Presidential Elections.
In Uganda, much information is gathered word of mouth. It is a difficult way to gain understanding. Over time, you can surmise an 'abstract painting' of a given situation but never a clear picture. We've been warned and heard threats of complaints no matter which side won. We were encouraged to stay at home.
Which we dutifully did. Until yesterday. I had a Bible study in town.
I have it every week. Atwooki and I meet at a restaurant. She drinks soda. I drink hot tea. We greet each other, ask about each others children and home and then we study. We are working our way through the Women of the Bible. The restaurant is across from the bustling market.
Everything felt normal.
We were talking about Tamar. Quite a story to tell. To be honest, I never know exactly where to go with Tamar's recounting. What point to make.
Married to a foreigner. A wicked foreigner. No children. Widowed. Given to wicked brother. Deprived. Widowed again. Blamed. Virtual Abandonment. Scheming. Posing as prostitue. Sleeping with Daddy-in-law. Facing cruel death. Saved. Twins. A place in the lineage of Christ. Huh?
I was just making the point to Atwooki that God is always seeing us and paying attention. Even if our life is not in order. And following up with the point that we may not know what God has in store for us or our children even if our life feels humdrum and usual...
And three gunshots punctuated a chorus of screams.
Atwooki and I and the gentlemen at the table beside us were immediately on full alert.
The screams and shouting were taking place at the corner, across from the market. People were running and a scuffle had ensued.
After a few seconds of observing the chaotic crowd, the man at the table next to us said, "they are arresting someone."
I scanned the area for a barricade to hide behind and my mind raced to determine if the man's analysis was accurate.
There was a police truck at the center of the struggle and two piki-piki drivers were yanked into the back of the truck and raced away. (piki-pikis are motor scooters used as inexpensive public transport)
We all let out a collective breath and tried to regain our composure. I think my heart pounded for a good 10 minutes.
We prayed together and calmed down tremendously. I finished my tea. She finished her soda. We paid our bill, sent greetings to each others families and went on about our day. The market sellers were shouting out their prices. The remaining piki drivers were discussing politics and calling out for passengers. Atwooki went to the market to see her friend. I got in my car to check the mail.
And I couldn't stop thinking, "WHERE AM I?"
A gun was just fired into a crowd of people at the market. Two men were roughly beaten and hauled away. My danger sensors were already on high alert because of possible rioting due to the results of free democratic elections. And yet we all drank tea, studied the Bible, went to the market and checked the mail. Life going on as normal?!
I've lived here awhile now. But the revelation never fails to be shocking. I am a foreigner in a very different world. Whew.
As I drove home from the post office I wrestled with the surrealness of it all.
And through the fog of the surreal Tamar's story emerged again.
She is listed (a woman?) in a very important family lineage. No one is quite sure how she got there. A foreigner in a different world. No rights to speak of. Succumbing to and even choosing one undignified situation after another.
Forever linked by blood to the Messiah.
Life is foggy sometimes. No clear understanding of why. Maybe not even a place to lay blame.
Even worse, sometimes, the blame placement is crystal clear!
Nevertheless, the question "how did I get HERE?" very often demands to be heeded. Processing and analysis follow. Sometimes answers. Sometimes acceptance. Sometimes silence and a void.
How incredibly grateful I am that despite the fog and whatever the processing brings me to,
the Lord steps in to remind me. Often, chapters after the initial question is posed.
"You matter so much. I'll join you, wayward one, to Me. In an unquestioning and irrefutable way. By Blood."
"But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near through the blood of Christ....Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and aliens, but fellow-citizens with God's people and members of God's household...with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone." Ephesians 2:13,19-20
(you can find Tamar's complete story in Genesis 38 and her name in Matthew 1)
(President Yoweri Museveni was declared the winner last evening. There were no riots in Ft Portal, only jubilant celebration. Thank you for your prayers.)
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
We Laughed
We had a Jeff and Cheryl retreat this week. We got a room overlooking Lake Victoria. (Even with 8 feet of her missing...she was breathtaking.) We read, talked, absorbed the silence, napped, ate....and laughed. A whole lot.
I forget how truly great that feels. To laugh. There are myriad opportunities for laughter in this third world. The steak we ordered that oddly resembled French Toast. The horse statue that made us think....what WERE they thinking?!?!? Indian soap operas. My husband's stories. And, probably my favorite of the chuckling repetoire, the late night--I'm exhausted--EVERYTHING is funny--"my side hurts" laughter.
Ahhhhhh....the satisfaction.
It is healing and replenishing. Invigorating and cleansing.
And, just plain fun.
Sometimes, from surviving the crushing defeats to celebrating the air punching victories--and cruising through all the blissfully regular in between---I forget to embrace the hilarity.
I think its always there. You just have to be watching.
May God bless you, blog friends, with side splitting laughter today.
Chuckle on!
Special thanks to JSC for "observing" some hilarity with me this week. And for providing much as well. I love you.
And MANY MANY WEBALE's to Destiny and Doug--our treasures from California :-). We know God brought you here to proclaim Him...did you know He meant to us? We are so thankful you Calhoon-types are sojourning in Fort Portal. (especially when you offer to wrangle our four rowdies for three days and two nights:-)) Treasures--indeed!
I forget how truly great that feels. To laugh. There are myriad opportunities for laughter in this third world. The steak we ordered that oddly resembled French Toast. The horse statue that made us think....what WERE they thinking?!?!? Indian soap operas. My husband's stories. And, probably my favorite of the chuckling repetoire, the late night--I'm exhausted--EVERYTHING is funny--"my side hurts" laughter.
Ahhhhhh....the satisfaction.
It is healing and replenishing. Invigorating and cleansing.
And, just plain fun.
Sometimes, from surviving the crushing defeats to celebrating the air punching victories--and cruising through all the blissfully regular in between---I forget to embrace the hilarity.
I think its always there. You just have to be watching.
May God bless you, blog friends, with side splitting laughter today.
Chuckle on!
Special thanks to JSC for "observing" some hilarity with me this week. And for providing much as well. I love you.
And MANY MANY WEBALE's to Destiny and Doug--our treasures from California :-). We know God brought you here to proclaim Him...did you know He meant to us? We are so thankful you Calhoon-types are sojourning in Fort Portal. (especially when you offer to wrangle our four rowdies for three days and two nights:-)) Treasures--indeed!
Saturday, February 18, 2006
Break it Down
KJ52--Collaborations
It's rap music. (Christian) Ike and Kaelea left it on my MP3. And I like it. Alot. In fact, I can't stop listening to it. In the car. In my kitchen. First thing in the morning. Just before I go to sleep.
I'm a mom. A missionary. I was raised on country music which includes the Grand Ole Opry and Hee Haw ("Salute!")
And somehow rap music has bounced its way into my soul.
This isn't a new development actually. I have secretly loved this stuff for a long, long time. (a jambox and the Permian band bus come to mind:-)) Unfortunately, I have not been able to indulge my love of this music because of the awful themes and language rappers in the secular world choose to "share about". Thankfully, Christian rappers have stepped up with better words and messages. And now, thanks to Rockin' I and K I am in possession of some poppin', hip hoppin' quality tunes!
They say confession is good for the soul.
"My name is Cheryl and I love rap."
Word.
It's rap music. (Christian) Ike and Kaelea left it on my MP3. And I like it. Alot. In fact, I can't stop listening to it. In the car. In my kitchen. First thing in the morning. Just before I go to sleep.
I'm a mom. A missionary. I was raised on country music which includes the Grand Ole Opry and Hee Haw ("Salute!")
And somehow rap music has bounced its way into my soul.
This isn't a new development actually. I have secretly loved this stuff for a long, long time. (a jambox and the Permian band bus come to mind:-)) Unfortunately, I have not been able to indulge my love of this music because of the awful themes and language rappers in the secular world choose to "share about". Thankfully, Christian rappers have stepped up with better words and messages. And now, thanks to Rockin' I and K I am in possession of some poppin', hip hoppin' quality tunes!
They say confession is good for the soul.
"My name is Cheryl and I love rap."
Word.
Friday, February 17, 2006
Organization...by Cheryl
What is it about stacks and lists that eases my burden? Nothing truly gets finished with the stacking and the listing. But somehow...the dividing up of the insurmountable into seemingly manageable units makes me able to sleep better.
Our dining room table is covered with stacks of receipts which will, with a little help from Quicken, become a detailed finance report in the next few days.
My guest bedroom closet has four stacks of drawings, birthday cards and other treasures that will become four sentimental and heart tugging scrapbooks for my children.
The corner of my living room has two picture boxes with pictures in sequential order that will fill the two empty picture albums they are stacked on.
My refrigerator has three lists running right now...
*to do before furlough
* to buy while on furlough
* to buy in Kampala next week
My desk in the school room has four stacks:
Kinley's work
Alex's work
Lesson books for next week
And letters to be answered
In my bedroom, by my glider rocker are three stacks:
magazines I love (Real Simple!)
Bibles, journals and current study book
thank you notes and list of names
To my left, right now, is a list of 5 tasks I MUST get accomplished on the computer before the power clicks off again. (nope. Blogging isn't really on that list. Sigh)
And to be completely honest...just writing this "list" of all my organizing efforts...well, it leaves me with an odd sense of...tranquility and peace.
In truth, it is that whole "intention vs actual behavior" discussion that is worthy of our time. But, not right now. It isn't on my list and I have a foreboding feeling that it would wreck my temporary feeling of accomplishment.
So for the moment, I'll revel in the facade of manageability. With aspiring hope that soon...I can bask in the glory of actual completion.
Our dining room table is covered with stacks of receipts which will, with a little help from Quicken, become a detailed finance report in the next few days.
My guest bedroom closet has four stacks of drawings, birthday cards and other treasures that will become four sentimental and heart tugging scrapbooks for my children.
The corner of my living room has two picture boxes with pictures in sequential order that will fill the two empty picture albums they are stacked on.
My refrigerator has three lists running right now...
*to do before furlough
* to buy while on furlough
* to buy in Kampala next week
My desk in the school room has four stacks:
Kinley's work
Alex's work
Lesson books for next week
And letters to be answered
In my bedroom, by my glider rocker are three stacks:
magazines I love (Real Simple!)
Bibles, journals and current study book
thank you notes and list of names
To my left, right now, is a list of 5 tasks I MUST get accomplished on the computer before the power clicks off again. (nope. Blogging isn't really on that list. Sigh)
And to be completely honest...just writing this "list" of all my organizing efforts...well, it leaves me with an odd sense of...tranquility and peace.
In truth, it is that whole "intention vs actual behavior" discussion that is worthy of our time. But, not right now. It isn't on my list and I have a foreboding feeling that it would wreck my temporary feeling of accomplishment.
So for the moment, I'll revel in the facade of manageability. With aspiring hope that soon...I can bask in the glory of actual completion.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Pulling My Hair Out
After 6 weeks of sporting the Africa-do... I have been de-braided. I worked on my braids for about three days and on Wednesday my friend Florence came over to help me finish the job. It took us three hours ...but we got them all removed. My children enjoyed the 'fro I sported until my hair was washed. I was...lovely. Sort of like the eighties and a new crimping iron run amuk. After a good hairwashing...I am back to my own soft locks.
The Homeland
On Monday, we hosted a meeting for American Citizens in our home. There were 15 of us gathered...including the Consular from the Embassy. He drove in just for the meeting and shared information on several important topics.
Here is my summation:
1. Stand Fast--I think this phrase sounds so military and important. It basically means "stay home"....but that sounds so ordinary.
This was the reccommendation concerning the day of the Presidential Election next week and the days following...especially the day the results are released.
2. Sell the Poultry Farm--We don't actually have one...but there could be very tough times ahead for those who do. The Bird Flu has reached the Africa Continent (specifically Nigeria)...so task forces are being formed, money is being doled out and precautions are being taken. We were advised not to handle live poultry and to prepare to (ahem...) Stand Fast in case of quarantine. There is a large CDC (Center for Disease Control) office in Kampala so Uganda should be well equipped to handle problems if the need arises.
3.Electricity Joy--We were told it would probably get worse before it gets better. Apparently, diesel generators have been brought in to provide the little power we are currently receiving which in effect means--- diesel shortages. No generators...less power. That is unless God graciously dumps eight feet of water in Lake Victoria soon.
I have been about this international living for over 10 years now. And I always enjoy the dynamics of American gatherings overseas.
In our living room were:
-- four 20-something Peace Corp volunteers...living on nothing, serving, sharing, volunteering, missing home.
--one single woman, who in her 50's decided to take all of her money, leave her home in Hawaii and move to Fort Portal....to help orphans. And she has...
--seven missionaries...from California, Oregon, Texas, Pennsylvania and South Africa...from different backgrounds, doctrines and training...but (check this out) One Christ
--one Catholic sister...she came to Ft. Portal for 3 years and has stayed 34. Amazing.
--and one American Embassy consular staff person...willing to drive to our town to give us information....
We shared something. Citizenship.
We are all foreigners, stand-outs, Mzungu (white men). We exist and cope in surroundings and world views that will never be our own. We came because we CHOSE to. We stay, because we feel we have something to offer. And yet, we all maintain citizenship in a place that means the world to us. Home.
For one hour on Monday, we gingerly stepped back into the bounds of American politeness and greeting. We told American jokes. We wallowed in the joy of information...true, factual and precise. Our greetings were shy at first. We were shifting our minds back to our American rules of social order. But we got there and in many ways, relaxed into the social acceptance we understand.
I love the diversity our life here allows. I love the international understanding I have gained.
But I adore the American-ness of me. I am a West Texas born girl. Who always sings the National Anthem at football games(though I haven't been to one in awhile). And whose heart races everytime she sees Old Glory waving in the wind.
I'm glad for all the flavors of this life. And for the joy of being a Citizen.
"Ohhhh, Say,can you see...."
Here is my summation:
1. Stand Fast--I think this phrase sounds so military and important. It basically means "stay home"....but that sounds so ordinary.
This was the reccommendation concerning the day of the Presidential Election next week and the days following...especially the day the results are released.
2. Sell the Poultry Farm--We don't actually have one...but there could be very tough times ahead for those who do. The Bird Flu has reached the Africa Continent (specifically Nigeria)...so task forces are being formed, money is being doled out and precautions are being taken. We were advised not to handle live poultry and to prepare to (ahem...) Stand Fast in case of quarantine. There is a large CDC (Center for Disease Control) office in Kampala so Uganda should be well equipped to handle problems if the need arises.
3.Electricity Joy--We were told it would probably get worse before it gets better. Apparently, diesel generators have been brought in to provide the little power we are currently receiving which in effect means--- diesel shortages. No generators...less power. That is unless God graciously dumps eight feet of water in Lake Victoria soon.
I have been about this international living for over 10 years now. And I always enjoy the dynamics of American gatherings overseas.
In our living room were:
-- four 20-something Peace Corp volunteers...living on nothing, serving, sharing, volunteering, missing home.
--one single woman, who in her 50's decided to take all of her money, leave her home in Hawaii and move to Fort Portal....to help orphans. And she has...
--seven missionaries...from California, Oregon, Texas, Pennsylvania and South Africa...from different backgrounds, doctrines and training...but (check this out) One Christ
--one Catholic sister...she came to Ft. Portal for 3 years and has stayed 34. Amazing.
--and one American Embassy consular staff person...willing to drive to our town to give us information....
We shared something. Citizenship.
We are all foreigners, stand-outs, Mzungu (white men). We exist and cope in surroundings and world views that will never be our own. We came because we CHOSE to. We stay, because we feel we have something to offer. And yet, we all maintain citizenship in a place that means the world to us. Home.
For one hour on Monday, we gingerly stepped back into the bounds of American politeness and greeting. We told American jokes. We wallowed in the joy of information...true, factual and precise. Our greetings were shy at first. We were shifting our minds back to our American rules of social order. But we got there and in many ways, relaxed into the social acceptance we understand.
I love the diversity our life here allows. I love the international understanding I have gained.
But I adore the American-ness of me. I am a West Texas born girl. Who always sings the National Anthem at football games(though I haven't been to one in awhile). And whose heart races everytime she sees Old Glory waving in the wind.
I'm glad for all the flavors of this life. And for the joy of being a Citizen.
"Ohhhh, Say,can you see...."
Friday, February 10, 2006
Rain, rain, come our way...
Scheduling, predictability and time conciousness....non existent in a Third World country...FYI.
I am feeling the love today...with kind regards from our Uganda Electricity Service.
There was an official announcement two days ago. AFTER three weeks of horrible power outages, our Electricity Experts declared "we have a problem."
Indeed.
The hippos are drinking Lake Victoria! Or something...
Because five feet of water from the mammoth lake have disappeared. Evaported. Gone...
So now, the generating dams are not...generating that is.
We are without power for 12 hours a day...or WITH power 12 hours a day...depending on your outlook. Or your hold on reality.
Because, what they don't tell you... is that your 12 hours will be delivered in any increment they deem appropriate....
For instance, last night our power went off at 5pm. Came back at 5:10. Went off at 5:20. Came back at 5:45. Went off at 6:00. Came back on at 6:15. Went off at 7:00. Came back on at 7:05. Went off at 8:15. Came back at 8:30. Went off at 8:45. Came back at 9:15. ...whew.
To give you the visual. Power clicks off. I huff and look at the clock (why?). As I hunt for the matches that mysteriously walk away from where I last put them, my mind clicks off 12 hours from time on clock. Before I get one candle lit, power clicks back on. Sigh. Wait for everything to click back on, settle back in with movie. Power clicks off. Louder huff. Matches? Candle...Discuss generator option. Walk out to generator room...power clicks on before generator turns on. Deeper sigh. Back to the house. Settle back in...power off...Huff and special words :-)...skip candles...straight to generator...many kind comments floating about...generator won't start...check oil...fiddle with wires...power clicks back on. While power is on...quickly locate flashlight...more matches and candles...light them and leave them lit for the duration...beg husband to please take a look at the generator...starts right up for him (argh! and Yea!)....settle back in with movie...can't even remember what we are watching...town power returns...do we turn off the generator or just run off generator?...generator dies...back to town power...prepare for bed...crawl under covers...power clicks off...children begin to cry...out of bed...WHERE ARE THE MATCHES?!?!?!....light the lantern...pull blankets off bed...try to sleep in the heat with no fans to cool you...
Are you feeling the love too?
We have been told that this power service will not change until it rains in Jinja. I'm not sure if that is the Ugandan equivalent of "when donkeys fly"...but I'm kinda scared that it might be.
So for now, we resign ourselves to the inevitable. Try to laugh about it. Apologize to our family when we forget to choose a good attitude:-)...dutifully pay our electricity bill...and wait for the rain.
I sure hope its coming...
I am feeling the love today...with kind regards from our Uganda Electricity Service.
There was an official announcement two days ago. AFTER three weeks of horrible power outages, our Electricity Experts declared "we have a problem."
Indeed.
The hippos are drinking Lake Victoria! Or something...
Because five feet of water from the mammoth lake have disappeared. Evaported. Gone...
So now, the generating dams are not...generating that is.
We are without power for 12 hours a day...or WITH power 12 hours a day...depending on your outlook. Or your hold on reality.
Because, what they don't tell you... is that your 12 hours will be delivered in any increment they deem appropriate....
For instance, last night our power went off at 5pm. Came back at 5:10. Went off at 5:20. Came back at 5:45. Went off at 6:00. Came back on at 6:15. Went off at 7:00. Came back on at 7:05. Went off at 8:15. Came back at 8:30. Went off at 8:45. Came back at 9:15. ...whew.
To give you the visual. Power clicks off. I huff and look at the clock (why?). As I hunt for the matches that mysteriously walk away from where I last put them, my mind clicks off 12 hours from time on clock. Before I get one candle lit, power clicks back on. Sigh. Wait for everything to click back on, settle back in with movie. Power clicks off. Louder huff. Matches? Candle...Discuss generator option. Walk out to generator room...power clicks on before generator turns on. Deeper sigh. Back to the house. Settle back in...power off...Huff and special words :-)...skip candles...straight to generator...many kind comments floating about...generator won't start...check oil...fiddle with wires...power clicks back on. While power is on...quickly locate flashlight...more matches and candles...light them and leave them lit for the duration...beg husband to please take a look at the generator...starts right up for him (argh! and Yea!)....settle back in with movie...can't even remember what we are watching...town power returns...do we turn off the generator or just run off generator?...generator dies...back to town power...prepare for bed...crawl under covers...power clicks off...children begin to cry...out of bed...WHERE ARE THE MATCHES?!?!?!....light the lantern...pull blankets off bed...try to sleep in the heat with no fans to cool you...
Are you feeling the love too?
We have been told that this power service will not change until it rains in Jinja. I'm not sure if that is the Ugandan equivalent of "when donkeys fly"...but I'm kinda scared that it might be.
So for now, we resign ourselves to the inevitable. Try to laugh about it. Apologize to our family when we forget to choose a good attitude:-)...dutifully pay our electricity bill...and wait for the rain.
I sure hope its coming...
Saturday, February 04, 2006
Broken Heart
"The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise." Psalm 51:17
When we were preparing to leave for Uganda, many precious souls passed on interesting, humorous (and on rare occassions--helpful:-) tidbits of advice to insure survival in a third world country.
Of all the wonderful bits I gleaned, one morsel has proven to be the jewel.
The sage comment came from someone I barely knew. She was the preachers wife at Jeff's home church. At one point she pulled me aside and said, "Sometimes, the only thing there is to do is lay down across your bed and cry. So when you need to, I give you permission. Just cry it out!"
The wise voice of a veteran. In these East Africa years, everytime I have opened the floodgates to release the pent up mess inside me...I have thought of her generous gift to me. Understanding and validity.
Tonight, I am exhausted. Completely depleted, can hardly lift my arms, brain dead---exhausted.
My heart is broken. And I have laid across my bed and cried.
Sin.
Why do we do it?
The specific details are really not that important in the end. The basic framework is usually the same. Someone seperates himself from God. Doesn't trust. Starts with a little bit... Rationalizes. Becomes entangled....begins to die...
This week the smell of death overpowered us in the Fort Portal church. But after three days of confession, repentance, accountability and God's Grace (deep sigh)...I perceive Revival has begun.
One man. Poor choices. Anger. Accusation. Confession. Guilt. Promises. Betrayal. Tears.
And many broken hearts. Not the least of which...is His.
But in that Mysterious and Mind Boggling Way...He actually has us now...right where He can meet us.
Broken. Hurting. On our knees. Needing...
The Healer. Saviour. Compassionate One.
In our moments of shattering confession...we are real. Pretension erased. Hearts laid bare. And He begins to Heal. Painfully. Gently. Faithfully. Healing...Hearing...Watching.
It's not what this third world has come to expect. Shame. Accusation. Blame and Abandonment. That's what accompanies the darkness.
How unbelievably brilliant is His Revealing Light. Waiting, hopeful, ready...to flood the gloom of a dying heart. And Revive.
Please pray today for the heart of my dear brother here. Pray that he will be strong to stand, in a different way than anyone around him. Revealed. Imperfect. Forgiven. Fought for. Redeemed.
"Create in me a clean heart O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me.Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me." Psalm 51:10-12
When we were preparing to leave for Uganda, many precious souls passed on interesting, humorous (and on rare occassions--helpful:-) tidbits of advice to insure survival in a third world country.
Of all the wonderful bits I gleaned, one morsel has proven to be the jewel.
The sage comment came from someone I barely knew. She was the preachers wife at Jeff's home church. At one point she pulled me aside and said, "Sometimes, the only thing there is to do is lay down across your bed and cry. So when you need to, I give you permission. Just cry it out!"
The wise voice of a veteran. In these East Africa years, everytime I have opened the floodgates to release the pent up mess inside me...I have thought of her generous gift to me. Understanding and validity.
Tonight, I am exhausted. Completely depleted, can hardly lift my arms, brain dead---exhausted.
My heart is broken. And I have laid across my bed and cried.
Sin.
Why do we do it?
The specific details are really not that important in the end. The basic framework is usually the same. Someone seperates himself from God. Doesn't trust. Starts with a little bit... Rationalizes. Becomes entangled....begins to die...
This week the smell of death overpowered us in the Fort Portal church. But after three days of confession, repentance, accountability and God's Grace (deep sigh)...I perceive Revival has begun.
One man. Poor choices. Anger. Accusation. Confession. Guilt. Promises. Betrayal. Tears.
And many broken hearts. Not the least of which...is His.
But in that Mysterious and Mind Boggling Way...He actually has us now...right where He can meet us.
Broken. Hurting. On our knees. Needing...
The Healer. Saviour. Compassionate One.
In our moments of shattering confession...we are real. Pretension erased. Hearts laid bare. And He begins to Heal. Painfully. Gently. Faithfully. Healing...Hearing...Watching.
It's not what this third world has come to expect. Shame. Accusation. Blame and Abandonment. That's what accompanies the darkness.
How unbelievably brilliant is His Revealing Light. Waiting, hopeful, ready...to flood the gloom of a dying heart. And Revive.
Please pray today for the heart of my dear brother here. Pray that he will be strong to stand, in a different way than anyone around him. Revealed. Imperfect. Forgiven. Fought for. Redeemed.
"Create in me a clean heart O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me.Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me." Psalm 51:10-12
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Two Years and Counting
We hit a milestone this week.
Our baby turned two. And we are NOT expecting another one! :-)
Two is always a memorable birthday...it marks the beginning of what will be some intense years of parenting. These boundary testing times....my oh my.
The irony of a two year old is that the complete joy and delight of one moment can instantaneously transform into the most difficult test of patience and temper you have ever experienced....and then, before the time-out is complete...you're back to joy and delight.
Quite the ride.
And I have to say...one I'm glad to experience...all told.
Silas was our true surprise. My first months of carrying him were filled with astounded shock. I COULD NOT be pregnant. But, alas. The nausea over came me...and the stick showed two lines.
His arrival took place on this soil...Uganda. His first months were full of colicky fun (?). His first year included travel to four different countries, a trip to Disneyland and so much attention from his doting siblings he still thinks the world revolves around him.
He is....a sign of how well God knows me....and keeps on giving anyway.
My birthing days have been a whirlwind. Four kids in 5 1/2 years. The baby years have felt like a blur. But through this last one...I've been able to actually hold on to the moments a time or two.... and I have so cherished those times. I think with number four...I was trying really hard to pay attention.
My Father must have known I needed that.
One more opportunity to open my eyes a little wider. One more baby to have our features and personality traits (egads!)--with all the joy and humility that demands! One more precious awareness of the constant need to re-evaluate what I value.
On his birthday this week, he actually let me rock him for 20 minutes. We had guests coming for a party. I had lunch to get ready...cakes to ice...a floor to sweep. But it was time for his nap and I was trying to make it a little bit special. He cuddled in my lap and we sat in the silence. Just the two of us. Rocking. I guess because I know from experience that these moments rush away...I WAS paying attention. And it was delightful.
Several of my friends are already at the letting go stage of parenting...and I'm starting to believe them when they say it will be here before I know it.
But it's hard to think about that now. Tomorrow lies on the other side of a few hours of sleep...and with tomorrow comes sippy cups to fill, diapers to change, potty training to master, more than one battle of wills, books to read,pacifiers to locate...
Through the blur, the "moments" emerge. I'm striving to savor and experience...not just "get through".
A milestone.
For me, Silas' two year mark, signifies the longest stretch I've gone in 7 years without being pregnant. (Could it be we FINALLY figured this out?!?!?)
But more than that. Silas' big day signifes God's all knowing and yet remarkably merciful care. He KNOWS what we deserve and yet lovingly gives us something way better. It's pretty stinkin' great, if you ask me.
I always wanted to be a Mommy.
God blessed me four times over. He is good.
Happy Birthday Silas. I am so glad you are here!
Our baby turned two. And we are NOT expecting another one! :-)
Two is always a memorable birthday...it marks the beginning of what will be some intense years of parenting. These boundary testing times....my oh my.
The irony of a two year old is that the complete joy and delight of one moment can instantaneously transform into the most difficult test of patience and temper you have ever experienced....and then, before the time-out is complete...you're back to joy and delight.
Quite the ride.
And I have to say...one I'm glad to experience...all told.
Silas was our true surprise. My first months of carrying him were filled with astounded shock. I COULD NOT be pregnant. But, alas. The nausea over came me...and the stick showed two lines.
His arrival took place on this soil...Uganda. His first months were full of colicky fun (?). His first year included travel to four different countries, a trip to Disneyland and so much attention from his doting siblings he still thinks the world revolves around him.
He is....a sign of how well God knows me....and keeps on giving anyway.
My birthing days have been a whirlwind. Four kids in 5 1/2 years. The baby years have felt like a blur. But through this last one...I've been able to actually hold on to the moments a time or two.... and I have so cherished those times. I think with number four...I was trying really hard to pay attention.
My Father must have known I needed that.
One more opportunity to open my eyes a little wider. One more baby to have our features and personality traits (egads!)--with all the joy and humility that demands! One more precious awareness of the constant need to re-evaluate what I value.
On his birthday this week, he actually let me rock him for 20 minutes. We had guests coming for a party. I had lunch to get ready...cakes to ice...a floor to sweep. But it was time for his nap and I was trying to make it a little bit special. He cuddled in my lap and we sat in the silence. Just the two of us. Rocking. I guess because I know from experience that these moments rush away...I WAS paying attention. And it was delightful.
Several of my friends are already at the letting go stage of parenting...and I'm starting to believe them when they say it will be here before I know it.
But it's hard to think about that now. Tomorrow lies on the other side of a few hours of sleep...and with tomorrow comes sippy cups to fill, diapers to change, potty training to master, more than one battle of wills, books to read,pacifiers to locate...
Through the blur, the "moments" emerge. I'm striving to savor and experience...not just "get through".
A milestone.
For me, Silas' two year mark, signifies the longest stretch I've gone in 7 years without being pregnant. (Could it be we FINALLY figured this out?!?!?)
But more than that. Silas' big day signifes God's all knowing and yet remarkably merciful care. He KNOWS what we deserve and yet lovingly gives us something way better. It's pretty stinkin' great, if you ask me.
I always wanted to be a Mommy.
God blessed me four times over. He is good.
Happy Birthday Silas. I am so glad you are here!
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Dare I Say It?
Shhhhh....Listen very carefully, because I am whispering.
Something wonderful happened today. And I don't want it to go away...
Child #3, went all day without a diaper...and...lean in so you can hear...no accidents.
I am using an effective parenting method that I have perfected through these 7 years of mommy-ing...Bribery.
Pee in the potty...one Hershey's kiss.
Poo in the potty...two Hershey's kisses.
Nevermind the bouncing off the walls...nevermind the other children begging for their chocolate...nevermind the blatant disregard for highly educated, morally fortified, honorable parenting systems...
I have resorted to the Real World of Parenting...AKA...Whatever works :-)
And for today...Hershey's and me...we worked.
Please don't say this outloud. I don't want anything to burst our happy, little, victory bubble.
But feel free to pass around some silent high fives!
"Yea!"
Something wonderful happened today. And I don't want it to go away...
Child #3, went all day without a diaper...and...lean in so you can hear...no accidents.
I am using an effective parenting method that I have perfected through these 7 years of mommy-ing...Bribery.
Pee in the potty...one Hershey's kiss.
Poo in the potty...two Hershey's kisses.
Nevermind the bouncing off the walls...nevermind the other children begging for their chocolate...nevermind the blatant disregard for highly educated, morally fortified, honorable parenting systems...
I have resorted to the Real World of Parenting...AKA...Whatever works :-)
And for today...Hershey's and me...we worked.
Please don't say this outloud. I don't want anything to burst our happy, little, victory bubble.
But feel free to pass around some silent high fives!
"Yea!"
Friday, January 20, 2006
Granddaddy
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The smell of engine oil. The feel of his hand as he held mine when we prayed before meals (I sat to his left--always.) Plain yellow cake. (Mamma said it is his favorite) Pick up trucks. Ice Cream. Repaired Barbie Dolls. Dukes of Hazard. The address file under the phone. The Lake House. Trips to Baskin Robbins. Lawn mowers. Bags of goodies from the Oil Show. Nutter Butters..jpg)
Gentleness. Honesty. Hard work. Family.
Happy Birthday Granddaddy. My love and admiration for you are from depths that are hard to articulate. You make me feel treasured. And adored. Usually without even saying anything. Which is your gift to our world. Quiet strength. Be sure, we all depend on it.
In this big scary world, I've always been confident...there is a quiet, steadfast man on my side who really can fix anything.
I love you.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Longing For That Big Red Store
So, if you, like many precious others, have been mesmerized by those big red circles...I just read a hilarious post that is right on Target...(smile)
Check it out friends. And then head out to that Lovely Place of Bargains for me. I would so love to meet you there!
http://www.deanaland.blogspot.com
Check it out friends. And then head out to that Lovely Place of Bargains for me. I would so love to meet you there!
http://www.deanaland.blogspot.com
Saturday, January 14, 2006
That's Our Boy!
During our second and third years in Uganda, our little corner of the country faced a drastic crisis. A rebel army began terrorizing the villages all through the Rwenzori Mtns.
Jeff and the young men at church spent the better part of the two years delivering food relief and medical treatment to the hardest hit villages. It was a difficult, blessed, exhausting, amazing time.
I experienced this time in a unique way. From my bed.
Just as the rebels marched within 15 miles of our quaint little town...I discovered that one of my greatest longings had been fulfilled. I was officially going to be a mommy. Jeff and I were ecstatic over the news of our first little one. Soon after the nausea and pregnancy sickness began to take firm hold of my being...another sickness attempted to steal the whole show. Malaria.
The combined onslaught left me completely depleted and stuck in bed. I spent alot of time on prayer patrol. Desperate prayers for our unborn baby. Intensive prayers for Jeff and the guys.
Jeff would come home at the end of his very long days and tell me some of the things he had experienced. I remember one day in particular. He was in Ntoroko, a small, hot, fishing village on Lake Albert. While they were there,he was asked to go and help a dying boy.
When he entered the mud hut, he smelled a rancid odor and saw a small boy, with a large, infected wound covering his leg. Jeff described the wound as the worst he had ever seen. The wound stretched from mid thigh to the ankle and the boys leg was permanently bent due to the decay of the muscles.
What touched Jeff most was the boy's....smile. Yep. One smile from that precious suffering boy...and Jeff's heart was gone.
He said to me, "He really is the cutest thing you have ever seen! I can't wait for you to meet him."
Samuel.
Samuel's mom had brought him back to his village so he could die at home. They didn't have the cash for the surgery he needed. Five dollars.
Jeff gave them the money that day, but he had very little hope that Samuel would get the help he needed in that village hospital.
Jeff made arrangements to stay in contact. And he did. Two years of hospital confinement, three major surgeries, an amputation and several months of rehabilitation later...Samuel emerged from a horrific struggle...healthy, smart and still smiling.
He wanted to start back to school. He was very behind by that time, but he was determined...so we put him in a nearby school.
He went to the head of his class and has stayed there. The teachers and administrators love him. He has held leadership positions and was responsible for keeping the school keys.
He even preached on Sunday mornings for the school chapel. Amazing.
What a thrill to see him thrive. Volleyball, soccer, academics, social skills...(he completely won over the entire Faith Quest crowd with his own rap about a Butoro Boy!)...what a joy.
This morning (Saturday), Ronald came over to tell us that he saw our son's name in the paper. (Uganda Monitor Page 1) Samuel Balinda scored in the top 5 of this district on the Uganda National Exams...which is a high and distinct honor. It pretty much secures a place for him in a very good secondary school.
And it makes me cry.
Sam has faced obstacles like I can't even imagine. And unfortunately, many still remain for him. Mainly, as we watch him face adolescence, he is coming up against the obstacle of himself. His choices. The direction and path he will walk....
I pray for him like I pray for my own.
That year....seven years ago...was a big year for our family. We were expecting one child. God graciously gave us two. One looks just like us. One never will. :-) Both lives are results of His miraculous care and healing. Both are treasures in our lives.
...and one of them just aced a big exam and will head on to the next phase. We are so thankful for what we've seen God do in Samuel's life. Please pray with us that Samuel will hear God's voice and walk with Him in every way.
Jeff and the young men at church spent the better part of the two years delivering food relief and medical treatment to the hardest hit villages. It was a difficult, blessed, exhausting, amazing time.
I experienced this time in a unique way. From my bed.
Just as the rebels marched within 15 miles of our quaint little town...I discovered that one of my greatest longings had been fulfilled. I was officially going to be a mommy. Jeff and I were ecstatic over the news of our first little one. Soon after the nausea and pregnancy sickness began to take firm hold of my being...another sickness attempted to steal the whole show. Malaria.
The combined onslaught left me completely depleted and stuck in bed. I spent alot of time on prayer patrol. Desperate prayers for our unborn baby. Intensive prayers for Jeff and the guys.
Jeff would come home at the end of his very long days and tell me some of the things he had experienced. I remember one day in particular. He was in Ntoroko, a small, hot, fishing village on Lake Albert. While they were there,he was asked to go and help a dying boy.
When he entered the mud hut, he smelled a rancid odor and saw a small boy, with a large, infected wound covering his leg. Jeff described the wound as the worst he had ever seen. The wound stretched from mid thigh to the ankle and the boys leg was permanently bent due to the decay of the muscles.
What touched Jeff most was the boy's....smile. Yep. One smile from that precious suffering boy...and Jeff's heart was gone.
He said to me, "He really is the cutest thing you have ever seen! I can't wait for you to meet him."
Samuel.
Samuel's mom had brought him back to his village so he could die at home. They didn't have the cash for the surgery he needed. Five dollars.
Jeff gave them the money that day, but he had very little hope that Samuel would get the help he needed in that village hospital.
Jeff made arrangements to stay in contact. And he did. Two years of hospital confinement, three major surgeries, an amputation and several months of rehabilitation later...Samuel emerged from a horrific struggle...healthy, smart and still smiling.
He wanted to start back to school. He was very behind by that time, but he was determined...so we put him in a nearby school.
He went to the head of his class and has stayed there. The teachers and administrators love him. He has held leadership positions and was responsible for keeping the school keys.
He even preached on Sunday mornings for the school chapel. Amazing.
What a thrill to see him thrive. Volleyball, soccer, academics, social skills...(he completely won over the entire Faith Quest crowd with his own rap about a Butoro Boy!)...what a joy.
This morning (Saturday), Ronald came over to tell us that he saw our son's name in the paper. (Uganda Monitor Page 1) Samuel Balinda scored in the top 5 of this district on the Uganda National Exams...which is a high and distinct honor. It pretty much secures a place for him in a very good secondary school.
And it makes me cry.
Sam has faced obstacles like I can't even imagine. And unfortunately, many still remain for him. Mainly, as we watch him face adolescence, he is coming up against the obstacle of himself. His choices. The direction and path he will walk....
I pray for him like I pray for my own.
That year....seven years ago...was a big year for our family. We were expecting one child. God graciously gave us two. One looks just like us. One never will. :-) Both lives are results of His miraculous care and healing. Both are treasures in our lives.
...and one of them just aced a big exam and will head on to the next phase. We are so thankful for what we've seen God do in Samuel's life. Please pray with us that Samuel will hear God's voice and walk with Him in every way.
Friday, January 06, 2006
Zowee!!!!!
All these years in Uganda, I've admired plaited hair from afar. (Braided with extensions) I've always thought it was gorgeous. I've had several American and European friends who had their hair braided here. And I loved it!
Well, in all the admiring...my sweet friends left out one MINOR detail about the whole braiding, plaiting phenomenon....
IT HURTS!!!!!!!
Oh my goodness.
I started at 9 AM and the first little bit pulled and smarted pretty good. But I was set to be tough. I was ready...excited to see how it would all turn out.
Well..that optimism degenerated over the next 5 increasingly excruciating hours into HATE. I hated the lovely girls yanking and pulling on my head, I hated the other 20 women on the porch braiding or being braided....I hated the world. No kidding.
I'm sure I'll get over it. It has now been 6 hours since the tortuous task ended and....my head still hurts. All my friends have said I'll feel better in two days and not to expect to sleep well. Great.
So the up-side:
*I have a really cool do...that I am proud of.
*I feel like I have sort of stepped through an African woman's rite of passage...
*I am now well aquainted with every teeny little nerve in my scalp....I mean EVERY ONE.
*I have officially forgiven my Mom for all those painful, pointy-hot-roller episodes. You were right Mom, it COULD be worse!
Now I'm going to go take some Ibuprofen and try to sleep. On my face.
Monday, January 02, 2006
Go! Team! Go!
It all began with a little flick about my high school senior year football season. We watched it the other night. (my opinion of the movie still stands at "weird". Some of the movie I hated...some of it was all right. All in all...weird. But I digress...)
We were the Panthers. Mojo. And that is cool. Tough. Panthers are...intimidating.
The question was posed later among my housemates here...what are people thinking when they pick school mascots? I mean, I think the mascot is probably picked by committees. Things like that usually fall to a committee. And, really, what are people thinking?!!?!?
At some point in any school (high school, junior high, college, university) competition does enter the picture and it would seem to me that "the committee" would choose mascots that would instill confidence...courage...boldness...pride.
Well, my friends. Not so.
Take for instance the poor university students in Camas Washington. The Papermakers. Yep. Of all the mighty. scary, fear inducing animals available to choose from...their committee chose Papermakers.
Or you have the mighty...the proud...the Oakville Acorns. Acorns?
Or, from Indiana, the Goshen College Maple Leafs.
Is anybody scared? I can't begin to imagine what the fight song might be.
For goodness sakes.
I thought that, surely, these mascot choosing blunders would be limited to a few schools but take a look at what I found with only a few VERY interrupted minutes of research on the web:
Banana Slugs--University of California
Turtles--College of Insurance (not sure where)
Retrievers--Univ. of Marlyand
Rainbows--Univ of Hawaii (why not Sharks?)
Anteaters--University of California
or...even more unfortunate...
the Buttons in San Antonio
and the Daisies of Dallas Hockaday School (all girls?)
For those that are intimidated by rhyming verse...you will shudder when you are called to face the Poets of Whittier College.
And for those with a fear of the religious...beware the Whitman Missionaries (we are a fierce sort) or the Preachers of Johnson Bible College.
My top picks are as follows:
Most clever---the Lincoln Abes in Tacoma Washington
Most scary--tie between the Klickitat Vandals and the Grays Harbor Chokers
Most difficult names for the girls' teams---tie between the Whatcom Orcas or Yakima Valley Yaks
But, my most favorite, unfortunate mascot falls to Kaelea's high school in Montana. They were...brace yourselves...the Sugarbeaters.
Oh my. The actual picture of their mascot was a red beet riding on a pair of beaters.
And despite that...their girls volleyball team went to State. Bless their little sugarbeatin' hearts.
I'm not totally sure why this bugs me so. I guess...I believe, deep down, that everyone deserves a chance. And when it comes to kids and athletics...you just shouldn't send them out to face their menacing opponents,like the Lions or Wildcats with a name like Buttons or Billygoats.
It just doesn't seem fair.
We were the Panthers. Mojo. And that is cool. Tough. Panthers are...intimidating.
The question was posed later among my housemates here...what are people thinking when they pick school mascots? I mean, I think the mascot is probably picked by committees. Things like that usually fall to a committee. And, really, what are people thinking?!!?!?
At some point in any school (high school, junior high, college, university) competition does enter the picture and it would seem to me that "the committee" would choose mascots that would instill confidence...courage...boldness...pride.
Well, my friends. Not so.
Take for instance the poor university students in Camas Washington. The Papermakers. Yep. Of all the mighty. scary, fear inducing animals available to choose from...their committee chose Papermakers.
Or you have the mighty...the proud...the Oakville Acorns. Acorns?
Or, from Indiana, the Goshen College Maple Leafs.
Is anybody scared? I can't begin to imagine what the fight song might be.
For goodness sakes.
I thought that, surely, these mascot choosing blunders would be limited to a few schools but take a look at what I found with only a few VERY interrupted minutes of research on the web:
Banana Slugs--University of California
Turtles--College of Insurance (not sure where)
Retrievers--Univ. of Marlyand
Rainbows--Univ of Hawaii (why not Sharks?)
Anteaters--University of California
or...even more unfortunate...
the Buttons in San Antonio
and the Daisies of Dallas Hockaday School (all girls?)
For those that are intimidated by rhyming verse...you will shudder when you are called to face the Poets of Whittier College.
And for those with a fear of the religious...beware the Whitman Missionaries (we are a fierce sort) or the Preachers of Johnson Bible College.
My top picks are as follows:
Most clever---the Lincoln Abes in Tacoma Washington
Most scary--tie between the Klickitat Vandals and the Grays Harbor Chokers
Most difficult names for the girls' teams---tie between the Whatcom Orcas or Yakima Valley Yaks
But, my most favorite, unfortunate mascot falls to Kaelea's high school in Montana. They were...brace yourselves...the Sugarbeaters.
Oh my. The actual picture of their mascot was a red beet riding on a pair of beaters.
And despite that...their girls volleyball team went to State. Bless their little sugarbeatin' hearts.
I'm not totally sure why this bugs me so. I guess...I believe, deep down, that everyone deserves a chance. And when it comes to kids and athletics...you just shouldn't send them out to face their menacing opponents,like the Lions or Wildcats with a name like Buttons or Billygoats.
It just doesn't seem fair.
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