The Marinating Life

Q.

2012-01-31T09:42:00.000-08:00

I am w-a-y too easily influenced. There are thousands of really quality blogs out there, writers with incredible talent, commenting on countless topics and seasoned with great photography. I've heard all my life Don't try to be someone else. Just be the best you that you can be. My problem is not being able to narrow that down. When I read a well-done post by a foodie, I think I want to do that. When I read something irrevent and hilarious, I think I want to do that. I want to be sassy and witty, straightforward and uncomplicated, or informed and well-read. Or all of them collectively.

I don't know if it's that I like a million different things or if I just don't know me well enough. I know that figuring out your target market is essential in book publishing, but I'm not marketing anything. I just want to write. And I want it to be good. I need to be proud of it because it's going to represent who I am and what that means.

More than halfway through my life, and I'm still asking the question of a lifetime: Who am I? I have a great starting point for the answer to that, and I wonder if there can ever be a conclusion to a quest of this scope--or if it's so simple that I'm missing it...

Did I say thanks for that?

2012-01-30T11:22:00.000-08:00

It's day 31 of Project Gratitude, and I'm glad to say that so far I haven't missed a day. It's been a terrific exercise in examining the blessings in my life, and I find myself thinking about them way more than I ever did before. I've always appreciated the words Thank You, so to apply them more often only seems appropriate, especially given the humongous blessings that wallpaper my life.

I was coming back from feeding the horses when I realized that it was going to be a sunny day. I grabbed my camera and waited (not very patiently) in the snow to watch the sun slide up behind the mountain. My camera freaks out in bright light from a sand mishap in Corpus Christi, painting horizontal stripes across the pictures, but I manage to like this photo anyway. There are frozen weeds right in front of my eyes, but beyond them is a bigger, brighter landscape with Hope glistening like floodlights. It's a lesson in perspective for me, something I've needed for a long time.

Off to go be grateful for something now. Tootles!

New Year's Resolution

2012-01-01T13:30:00.000-08:00

"If the only prayer you ever pray in your whole life is 'thank you,' that would suffice." ~Meister Eckhart

I am inspired by this quote and the notion of being grateful, for at least one thing, every single day. I never make New Year's resolutions, so this year is different. I'm challenging myself to nurture a grateful heart, so I'm going to post one thing for which I'm thankful for the next 365 days in a new blog called "Every Day Grateful."

My God is generosity, kindness, love, grace, provision, and joy. I'm looking forward to naming some results of that mighty gifting, as He inspires.

Thank You, Lord, for this opportunity.

Thanksgiving 2011

2011-11-30T13:30:00.000-08:00

This last weekend could be dubbed "The Best Thanksgiving Ever," or at least the best in a really long time, but that title's too long. For being the first one without my mom, only my God could turn it into a scrapbook full of wonderful memories.

Kev's brother's family came over and brought their mom with them. My nephew Brian lives in LA, and it was his idea for us to all get together here. He's a brilliant young man! It was his first time here, as well as his sister Jamie's, and Mel's. Doreen and Mom came up in 2009 for my folks' 50th.

Jamie with my Sahib

Brian with Sahib

The boys went on a Thanksgiving Day ride, one of the two things Brian wanted to do during this visit. The other thing was do some shooting, but the next day's ride went into sunset, and it was just too dark.
On Friday's ride, Mel drove the four-wheeler, and Brian and Jamie switched on and off Sahib since she didn't get to go the day before. Here, Brett and Brian are tooling around the fields.

Dinner! We deep-fried two turkeys to make sure we'd have leftovers after 13 people ate. Alan's was absolutely deluxe. He injects his with a buttery garlic marinade--eeYUM!

Mom, Doreen, and Wayneen

The Kids' Table

We all rambled outside after dinner to get some pictures. Three cameras, one tripod. We are a talented lot. This is the one I used for our Christmas cards. The original had Doolie's butt in it, so I digitized it right outta there. Wish I'd cleaned up Jylle's hair before I had 50 cards printed, but I honestly didn't notice it was all fly-away on top until she pointed it out. It's fixed here.

We don't have very many pictures of just the two of us. I'm sure that'll change some if we retire and do some traveling. I'm just glad this one turned out.

"Brydia"

This is one of my very most favorite pictures. I liked it so much that I had it printed, and it's sitting in a lovely frame on my kitchen window sill where it cheers me 50 times a day. He does not get why everyone likes it so much, but WE do. He might not think it's uncharacteristic, but we know better.

All of us

All the Mulligans

We liked this one so much that we had an 8x10 enlargement made for a Western style frame that Kev made last year. We'd been waiting for just the right picture, and this was it.

What a grand weekend. One of the things that impressed me is that for three days, 11 of us were pretty much together all the time, and there was no friction. There were no jabs, offenses, or hurt feelings to my knowledge. It was absolutely great.

There was one time that might have produced some disappointment. It was quite accidental, and again, I'm really sorry, Lydia, that Ryan and I managed to forget one of only two grocery items you needed. We cannot be left to do the job of one normal person. What can I say--we must always be supervised by an adult.

Sweet, sweet days altogether. Thank You, Lord, for your goodness and grace.

Goober

2011-11-18T14:39:00.000-08:00

This is Goober. We got him about 15 years ago. But we didn't mean to.

A friend asked if we wanted a kitten. We did, but I wanted a gray tabby. He shook his head and said they didn't have one.

About a month later, he asked again if we wanted a kitten. I said we did, but I wanted a gray tabby. He paused for just a second and holding my gaze said, "It's a gray tabby. It is." I remember thinking That's funny. I thought he said last time they didn't have one.

We found a box on our porch the next night, the promised gray tabby. We opened it in the house, and out jumped a sleek, gray kitty, completely freaked out by the ride, the box, the new humans, and probably the scent of dogs. He shot down the hall, and we chased him all over the place for about 15 minutes before we caught him.

"Caught" isn't exactly accurate. In his panic, he flew down a dark hall, wheeled into a bedroom, and dropped down an uncovered heating vent. We checked it out in the basement, and the duct was slanted, dead ending him in a tube too slick to climb back up unless you're Spiderman. We left him there overnight (it was around midnight). Kev unscrewed the mount the next morning, and we slid him back into the box. He still looked nervous, but nothing like the previous night.

He spent his life being a garage cat instead of the barn cat we wanted, but he was a good mouser--no mice problems on Goober's watch! He never liked being held, but he appreciated some attention. He was stealthy, dependable, and always on duty.

Later last year he started getting really verbal, meowing loudly and constantly. He also began pacing, or at least moving a lot. He would jump onto the garden bench and paw you if you didn't pet him. When he started losing weight, I did some Internet research and figured he probably had feline diabetes.

We came home from church, and Kev found him in the garage... He buried him with the horses, Jake and Gadget, under a lone pine, fitting for a loner who had little fear of the horses. I like this picture. Looks like he's going off now, business to do and all.

See ya later, Schnoobers. And thanks for everything.

wattawoman

2011-11-14T18:40:00.000-08:00

Glenice. Even her name is unique. Some friends are the entree, and some are dessert. Glenice is the whole meal.

This is what I mean. I anticipate her company; dig into, consider, and enjoy the things we talk and laugh about; savor the time; digest and remember happily the time we spent together. This is what I do with a good meal--anticipate, enjoy, savor, and remember it all over again later. There is never a time I do not come away from her company unsatisfied.

Like a favorite restaurant, I'm often pleasantly surprised by new entries on the menu. I've known Glenice for about 12 years, and it seems that about every three, I find out something completely new about her. When I met her, she'd just gone on a three-mile run with her son. She hadn't been exercising daily or working up to running, just up and went. She's that naturally athletic. She used to have a job setting bear traps. Yep, she's my bear trapper friend, no confusion over any other friend there! She hand dug a pit for their outhouse. She knows sign language--like, fluently! I can't wait for the next discovery. It's due in two years.

She wields a drill better than she does a tube of lipstick, and her projects are usually accomplished with both speed and love. When we made decorative birdhouses for the Ya-Yas for Christmas last fall, I held the pieces of wood while she operated the nail gun. *Ka-chew!Ka-chew!Ka-chew!* The trigger went off like a machine gun while the blasts of air pelted me in the face. I must have flinched 50 times that day. Turns out she had to be a little less trigger happy if we wanted enough nails to finish all the birdhouses. I kept the one with the 105+ staples as a remembrance of all the laughing we did...

She is so kind, loving, and fun, and her gazillion friends love her. I'm just blessed to be one of them.

Do-over

2011-09-28T06:46:00.000-07:00

I just woke up from the sweetest dream!

The boys were little. Brett was about 4 and Ryan not quite two, so they were younger than in this picture. Ryan was running around with that twinkle of possible mischief in his eyes, and Brett was building a Lego fort bigger than both of them. He jumped up on top of it, and I told him to get off (joykiller :/ ). My mom was trying to sleep in the living room, so I took all three of them--Jylle had joined us by now--and rearranged the furniture in one bedroom so they had a kind of stairs to climb where they could jump down onto a bed. Not quiet fun realistically, but hey, this was a dream, and stuff just gets to "be" in them.

Jylle asked if she could jump too, and even though the boys weren't thrilled, I said yes. She was so excited. It was so. much. fun. to be playing with my little ones again! Ryan would run around just like he used to, cape flying behind him, curly hair framing a face starting to bead with sweat. Brett was studious, in the way he had of absorbing all the details around him. He was their leader, showing them the best way to do things, even in a dream...

I always did relish playing with my children like that. I remember taking a door we weren't using and setting up as a slide in the living room, propping it up on the couch and throwing a couple of pillows down at the bottom to soften the landing for their little bums. More than once we made a game of keep away on the bunkbeds--you had to stay on the beds, no touching the floor, or you were out. My favorite games were ones that ended up with me hugging them, which I pretty much ended with no matter what we were playing, come to think of it. Yeah, Hug Da Babies--my favorite game of all...

My mom needing quiet because of a headache was something all too familiar from my own years of growing up. They plagued her so regularly that it was more uncommon for her not to have one. It was either fairly quiet in the house because noise really played havoc on her hearing aids, or because she was trying to sleep away a throbbing head. In my dream, I was the one making noise that disturbed her though, not the kids. I kept tripping or banging my head, just klutzy stuff. I don't think I really did that in real life. Of course, there wouldn't be a long piece of metal roofing set at a precarious angle in my real life living room that I'd have to dodge like there was in the dream.

My sweet chillins and my mama in pain--memories of the sweet and the sorrowful... I'll take it.

Happy Birthday, Mom!

2011-09-22T09:48:00.000-07:00

I sure do love my mother-in-law. She is an incredibly wonderful inspiration and role model. There are so many adjectives that come to mind when I think of what she's like:

Selfless
Humble
Demure
Thoughtful
Generous
Serving
Loving
Joyful
Peaceful
Patient
Kind
Good
Gentle
Faithful
Tender
Self-controlled
Forgiving
Intelligent
Surrendered
Willing
Worthy

Anyone who knows her could add more virtues to this list, which is definitely not exhaustive. Those are just the ones off the top of my very limited head. Honoring, practical, and thrifty just came to mind.

After I lost my mom, I told her that I would need her more than ever. Since then, she has signed all her emails to me "Your mom." Creates a lump in my throat every time I think about it. I have a voice mail from her that I'll continue to save. She's thanking me for calling and telling her about my mom (who was in the ER and not expected to live). She clears her throat and says that we'll talk soon and to take care. She's a very brave and private person, so I can imagine that she was trying to be strong and keep it together to make the message easier on me, so as not to be a distraction to me.

She is distracting though, in that the absence of any thought to herself stands in stark contrast to my own self and most of the people I know and have ever met. She is the closest thing to the Proverbs 31 woman I have ever known, while also being totally approachable.

As we celebrate her 81st birthday today (and in person this coming weekend), I raise my hands in grateful praise for the woman who raised my husband, has taught me what it means to love Jesus in word and in deed, and continues to inspire, motivate, and encourage me, using words if necessary.

I love you, Mom. Thank You, Lord, for this WW.

My Online Memory Minder

2011-09-15T22:17:00.000-07:00

Stuff I jotted down on all different pieces of note paper that I don't want to forget about, but don't want to physically keep anymore:

Songs to check out:
Cannot Turn Away, Chris Tomlin
Worthy of All Our Praise (?), Selah
I Fall, Phil Baquie
My Offering, Kelly Minter (sp?)

Books to check out (ha, literally):
The Suncatchers
A Thousand Tomorrows (Kingsbury series)
Red Glove (Kingsbury series)
Elm Creek Quilt (series)
True Believer (Sparks)

Movies to check out:
The Red Pony
The Field
Goodnight, Mr. Nick
Dancing at Lhugnasa

Ryan's 2010 Wish List:

Some really good gloves
Anything super cool by guys like Rob Bell, Mark Driscoll, Ravi Zacharias, those kind of dudes--books, videos, stuff like that.
Sanpera I (Foot switch for Peasy Vyper modeling amp ($100)

Hillsong

Faith + Hope + Love
This is Our God

Hillsong United

Tear Down the Walls

Desperation Band

Light Up the World

I found a scrap of paper with this scrawled on it: Dad's 1st Place, 512 S. Union St, Shawano, WI. While I don't remember the context of it, I googled it just for funzies.

He said that except for a porch that used to be off to the right in front, it pretty much still looks the same. He got a kick out of seeing it again. Kinda cool to think that this is where my daddy started out his life, a life that I am so deeply thankful for and love to da moon and back.

Lydia is allergic to pineapple! Do not forget this one.

It gives me the heebiest of jeebies to think of losing anyone I love. "It's impossible" is what would I would feel, as quoted from the book Making Toast. I still feel that way every one of the hundreds of times I think that about my mom.

Life is good, especially when we remember how tissue frail it can be.

Delight yourself in the small things. Someday you will realize they were the big things.

More Salad

2011-09-15T14:47:00.000-07:00

This was written on a scrap of paper in my nightstand:

Days go by, I lead a little life,
An ordinary mother, daughter, sister, wife.
Acquaintance to many, friend to a few,
Irrelevant to most... but not to You.

I read this today and don't know if I wrote it or if a speaker did: "Hindus look to the future, Jews to the past, Christians to the NowHere." The "NowHere" throws me off because that's something I use fairly frequently.

Can't find the English lyrics to "My Nipa Hut," whose title I found on yet another scrap piece of paper, and my cousins don't know the words even to the Filipino version. I found the words "suman" and "kuchinta" on the same scrap, so I googled one of them and found this site. I bookmarked it so that the next time I see my cousin Aida who loves to cook, we can try out one of these recipes.

I have got to start writing down where I hear or read things I deem worthy enough to jot down--makes me nuts. These two quotes are on the same "kuchinta" scrap. Nothing that causes me to launch into study right now, but I wanted them in a safe place so I can toss the note.

Every Utopian vision involves death on a mass scale.
My imagination is a creative force.
Pride--the unwanted guest.
All of God's stories end in peace.
Little girls who make their mothers live grow up to be such powerful women.

Ryan is amazed at the influence we have on people even without words. I've been thinking about it ever since he told me.

On an reptilian note, Kev asked a science teacher what to do about the turtle I captured a few days ago. He said it was migrating, looking for a place to hibernate. I painted two red spots on its shell with nail polish in case it , and released it in the field pointing south. It must've been used to not being able to go anywhere because it sat there inside its shell for a really long time. It was also terrified of the dogs, judging by its antisocial tendencies.

The journey of a thousand miles....

Off to ready us for the weekend. Jolly good...

Resisting

2011-09-14T08:45:00.000-07:00

I found this in a Bible I haven't used in years, and it inspired me all over again with its reminder of truth. I found something online that said it's apparently from an ancient hymn.

Lord, I'm willing to receive what You give,
lack what You withhold
relinquish what You take
suffer what You inflict, and
be what You require.

I wish I was the person my dogs think I am. I think that so often that it's become a kind of mantra. I don't know if that's healthy, but at least I don't believe I'm dumb anymore. One trip to Stevens County Title proved that to me. I used to think I was compliant. Lord's shown me otherwise. Like a lot of other passive agressives, I don't like change. I resist, avoid, run, anesthetize, and struggle. Go back, make it not that way, change it back. My life will be a lot more peaceful when I drink in and embrace for myself that nothing will happen to me that He has not allowed because He is always and only Good. Instead of being apprehensive about what-ifs, I want to rest in the Hands that have me engraved on the palms. This sounds like so much flowery speech, but it really is what I want to want, who I want to want to be, more than I want to breathe.

On a lighter note, Kev wants to eat less meat and dairy. This is easy right now when every shelf and counter has some kind of fruit and vegetable on it (I love this time of year). It'll be a greater challenge in the winter when lettuce, oranges, and apples are about all that's available. How I wish I could preserve a winter's worth of watermelon! And not those rind pickles--that is not watermelon. Gotta find some good, tasty recipes for meatless entrees that also don't contain a ton of carbs. On to my homework.

Photo Salad

2011-09-12T08:17:00.000-07:00

Thought I'd photoblog a salad of life this last week. Just for funzies.

The biggest head of garlic I have EVER seen!
This is the from the crop my mom planted last fall...
Never thought garlic would touch my heart.

Boating with Barb & Dave at Hunters.
Best day at the water this year!

Roses my daddy sent home with me after I spent the day with him ('cause I can).

Summer bounty--and this is only a few of the tomatoes. We have five kinds, two varieties from my dad's friend, Leroy--an orange cherry tomato and a maroon heirloom.

The turtle I found in the barn! I screamed as it 'sped' away. Then I captured it with a bucket and a drill (it's all I could find besides my own hands, and no way!) and put it in an abandoned water trough. I added a large piece of wood and gave him some lettuce. I have no idea what to do with him.

Blackberries from my Glenice plant! The late spring freeze means no berries for most in this area, but this plant is right next to the garage, so that must've helped spare the blossoms. Yay for garage walls!

Breakfast for Sahib. The other two were eating grass hay, and I couldn't see Sahib. I found him chillin' in a stall, so I did what I do--spoiled him with horse candy ('cause I can =) .

Beer can chicken. It was good, but no different than oven roasted. Took an hour and a half on the grill, so I won't try it again unless I come across a recipe that someone testifies is worth it.

We went to the Interstate Fair on Friday night to see the rodeo. We met Carol and Glenn and their daughter, Karen, when I stretched and Carol "caught" my fist in her two hands. I have no idea why such a simple gesture made us laugh so hard, but it did. Kev and I split a plate of fish and chips, and our second course was lo mein with veggies and teriyaki chicken. It tasted a lot better before I realized that I'd doused the whole front of my shirt with the juice when I carried it to the stands. I looked like a five-year old. *sigh* The last thing we got before we left was a baker's dozen of cinnamon sugar mini-donuts. We each had a couple and then saved the rest for Jylle because she went ape over them when we brought her some from the Cusick fair last month.

Pretty sweet week.

Change

2011-09-02T09:49:00.000-07:00

A friend posed a question on her blog: How pliable are you? do you embrace change or resist it? do you adapt easily, or fight tooth and nail when change invites itself in?

My answer: I have never been accused of being pliable. But neither has anyone called me stubborn (although I personally believe I am passive-aggressive). I process plights in the inky twilight of Between as I seek to find balance between what's reasonable, and the prompts that my heart is whispering. Having to adapt to two of my three kids moving on with their lives was a daily exercise of willful surrender and acceptance. I woodenly took one step and then another, but Grace is greatest when the need is deepest, and so I survived and now own for myself two altars of sweetest gratitude and love. Things are as they should be, indeed as they need to be. This acceptance--and embrace--has come out of great struggle, tears, and sadness. By labor were they born, and by labor were they freed. Lord, You know.

Now I just hope that what I've learned from processing these two departures will help a year from now when my baby leaves this house to begin her college years! Oy...

Pilot Training, Part 3 of 3

2011-08-31T08:06:00.000-07:00

This is the article that was on the August 25 edition of the local paper. I supplied the content and the photo, and they did it up proud for a hometown boy.

Mulligan Completes Pilot Training

After successfully completing Undergraduate Pilot Training with Training Squadron 31 at the Naval Air Station Corpus Christi, Texas, 1^st Lieutenant Brett Mulligan, USAF, was awarded his Aviator’s Wings on May 20, 2011. Following the address at the Aviation Designation Ceremony by the base commodore, Captain Scott P. Cooledge, among family, friends, dignitaries, commanding officers, and fellow pilots, Lt. Mulligan had his wings ceremoniously pinned on his uniform by his father, Kevin Mulligan.

Two weeks later, Lt. Mulligan wed Miss Lydia Weatherly of Wichita Falls, Texas. The honeymoon was shortened by his assignment on June 16 to Fairchild AFB for survival training. He is currently in C-130 training at Little Rock AFB in Arkansas. Following completion of this training, he will be stationed at Peterson AFB in Colorado Springs.

Brett Mulligan is a 2005 graduate of Jenkins High School. He is the son of Kevin and Cyndi Mulligan.

Seven Months

2011-08-21T10:02:00.000-07:00

It's been seven months since I lost my mom. Sometimes it feels like seven years. Other times it feels like seven minutes. Always, I miss her. I can't look at her picture for long because it makes me cry. Even writing this causes me to press back at what wants to rise up.

My goal is to nurture a heart of gratitude for an end to the constant pain she was in, like my dad does. Like I told him though, he's a bigger man than I. It's at least my goal anyway. Sometimes there are sparks of it. I was looking at a picture of Brett with a humongous pack on, and the look on his face is painful to witness. I was glad she never saw it; it would've broken her heart. When Dad pulled his hamstring, she would've hurt for him for days.

It pulls at me to know that my dad is lonely. He seems WAY too dependent on Raymie for company. Yes, Mom talked to him a lot, and he has a big vocabulary for a dog, but he's something like 8 or 9 years old, and the day will come..... He has an enlarged heart that Dad gives him medication for, but it's just so scary that he puts SO much stock in an animal he will indeed lose.

Some mornings I wake up and remember that she died and think, Oh, yeah, it's true....... I know it'll take time. I know it won't always be like this, just like it won't ever be like it was. In the meantime, I hope to honor her life and give God the glory just like Dad does.

So, Bye and Stuff...

2011-08-12T16:28:00.000-07:00

Ryan left for Helena today to visit Amy for a couple of days before he has to show up as the Chi Alpha House director. Last year's director also experienced being an RA, so he was able to tell Ryan that this job is less work. He has to provide his own eats so it'll cost a little more, but he can't afford to let his grades suffer, so this was a good option.

When I try to think of what we did these past three months, how the summer went and how we took advantage of him being home, I can only conjure snatches of memories and generalizations of how it all went. The 48 hours after he leaves has me thinking of all these good ideas, should'ves and could'ves I wish we had done and things we planned on doing and never got around to actually executing.

I hate regrets. Ryan said not to go there, that we had a GREAT summer with really solid time together, both as a family and one-on-one. He's right, of course. It's that deep satisfaction of knowing they're home that trips me up when the time comes for them to leave. It just always feels so right when they're here, even though I know and truly do want him to continue this track of life he's on--it's a good thing he's doing, normal and challenging and good. I can take those regrets and comprise a list of things we can do another time, a time that'll be that much more precious because it won't be hosted inside three months but only a few days.

We said goodbye about four times in our typical family style, and it was just like him to hug me and then hug me even closer and just stand there like that for a bit, finally saying, "I'm sure gonna miss you when you die...!" I said, "Hopefully, that won't be for a long while, right?!" It was a great final sendoff.

A gracious blanket of gratitude lighted on me as he took off down the driveway. Three months. Three really, really good months. Jylle reminded me that he wasn't even supposed to be able to come home this summer. Three bonus months!
I'd been pushing back at the cry that kept rising up in me all morning. Honestly, every time one of the boys leaves for long periods of time, I die a little inside. (Love--the greatest curse and blessing of motherhood!) I've often gone downstairs to the room of whichever boy just left, curled up on the bed, and let out all the sadness. Instead, this time, I was delivered into a thankfulness so sure and solid that the demon pain of missing him was booted clean off the premises, and I was left with a heart full of worship.

Would that they would all go this way............ Relationship. Gratitude. Worship. That's a really great summer harvest for anyone.

Aunt Ila's Victoria

2011-08-06T13:43:00.000-07:00

Kev's Aunt Ila lives in one of the prettiest cities I've ever seen. She's going to be 90 in February, we haven't been to Victoria in over 25 years, and--double bonus--Ryan and Jyllea were available--so we made a plan: Pick up Kev's mom and float up to Vancouver Island.

Not as direct a route when you drive and ferry, but you get the picture.

Edmonds to Kingston

On the way from Kingston to Port Angeles, we went through Sequim, hometown of my precious friend, Mae. We're writing buddies, and I've heard stories of her childhood and the memories she holds so dear, so it was a treat to pass through. I even mailed a letter to her from there, so I hope she notices the postmark!

Leaving the U.S.

These beautiful hanging baskets are literally everywhere.

The Empress Hotel is a vital destination, even if you don't stay there.

They love their UK roots.

Loving our time in the photo albums. Aunt Ila is a treasure trove of stories, lineage, and the heritage we hold dear.

Trekking around the University of Victoria

Dinner at The University Club

Fresh steelhead salmon with a parsley butter pat, potato pavè, and Julienne veggies--fabulous!

The beautiful pond off the lounge at The Club.

Breakfast from Tim Horton's our last morning there... Aunt Ila said the coffee is so good you just want to bite it. Boston creams, Canadian maples, and maple glazeds--eeeyum!!

Our goodbye photo

Busker, street entertainer--parkoured up the wall, and this was his dismount!

Harbor sights

Liked the name of this ferry home...

Sweet USA

Aftermath

2011-08-02T10:49:00.000-07:00

I never ever knew how important it would be to send a sympathy card or make that phone call to inquire or deliver a roasted chicken if not for what I've experienced these last couple of months. Actually, the impact was impressed within the first week after losing my mama, but as the cards and phone calls continued to come in weeks after, the lesson was embossed in my heart, and I will forever acknowledge the importance of reaching out, even if words seem empty and useless to you at the time in your attempt to comfort the grieving.

Sometimes I think I'm over the immediacy of tears, of how ready they've been. I think Okay, I can do this. This is how it is afterward... Then I'll hear a song or read a fresh card or glimpse her precious face in a picture, and I'm completely undone. I am almost desperate for my next dream with her in it. I wake as if from some purchased time with her, analyzing the scenarios and attributing whatever meaning or symbolism they might contain.

I need her life to mean something lasting in mine. Such a loss requires the justice of a profound legacy. It is my co-honor and co-responsibility with the One Who loves her perfectly and eternally to see that that happens. I don't mean to imply that I intend to act as one equally yoked. I only mean that I want to cooperate as He prompts and gives direction. T-H-E-N it will be done with the honor and meaning that He bestows on every one of His ends.

Batdog

2011-07-27T10:17:00.000-07:00

We came back from boating, and this is what our bedroom looked like.

Clues: Doolie greeting us in the driveway when we know we left him in the house, the open window sans screen, a toppled chival mirror, my jewelry and lotions totaled all over the dresser and the floor, and finally, the many tall and deep vertical grooves decorating the inside of the door and the door frame.

Conclusion: Doolie got locked in our room. Sherlock has nothin' on us. Have no idea what the whole dresser thing was about or why he was even in our room, but he so ninjaed out the window. I went outside to see how far it really is, and it's a really decent jump. Fall, actually.

Did he hear a noise that piqued his curiosity? Did he follow the cat in there? Was he thirsty? Or nosey? Or just thorough in his watch of the whole house?

We'll never know. We do know that the wind often shuts our door, and the noise can be frightening because it seems to happen so suddenly.

Messes are no fun to clean up, but nothing was broken, and it tidied up pretty quickly. I found myself feeling so sorry for Doolie. No one around for comfort or reassurance, Guido in the garage, and his fine desire to please now hacked. Poor guy... It'll probably be the only time a dog ever caused trouble, only to receive hugs and a jerky treat. Love that Dools.

So THAT'S What You're Really Like

2011-07-26T09:30:00.000-07:00

Jylle has had a pen pal named Emily for six years. They connected through what was then Brio magazine and proceeded to get to know each other the old-fashioned way through letters for the first couple of years. When they got Facebook pages, things sped way up.

They'd done everything but meet in person until last week. Emily's folks bought her a nonstop ticket from Minneapolis (her first time flying), and she stayed with us for a full week. A small town girl from the flat lands of South Dakota, only 15 minutes from the Minnesota border, she loved it here. From the get-go, she expressed such appreciation for our mountains and trees, and we heard about "nothing but corn fields and cattle" as she answered people's questions about her region.

The first evening she was here Jylle invited a few friends over, some of whom knew Emily from Facebook and took advantage of the opportunity to meet in person. Killer Bunnies is always their game of choice. I made a Filipino dish of noodles and pork and went to bed way earlier than they did.They spent the next day at Riverfront Park, and I didn't take my camera with me. Jylle was excited to show her the garbage goat (did you know it has its own Facebook page?!), and they used their day passes until it rained. They made their way to the Flour Mill at my suggestion (did you know it's mostly just law offices now?!) and ran out of things to do way more quickly than we thought.

These photos are a quick glance of what they did during the week. There are vignettes and tableaus that drift in and out of my thoughts all day of which I have no actual pictures. It's bittersweet how much someone can come to mean to you after such a short time. Seeing them gel as well in person as they do online and on the phone, watching them as comfortable in silence as in nonstop chatter, knowing this visit is something they'll talk about to their own daughters someday, brought on a sense of something deeply satisfying as a mom--and as a friend. This time is precious, I kept thinking.

Time is precious. What a gift. I have my Jylle here, my Jamara 45 minutes away, my Lydia in Little Rock, and now my Emily in South Dakota. And those are just my girls. I am one rich motha (I sound so gangsta.)

Multi-Lingual

2011-07-16T11:11:00.000-07:00

For the longest time I've thought my love language is gifts. I like to get them,and I like to give them. I also like to give words of affirmation. Spending time with Ryan this summer has given me cause to reassess.

He said a number of things to me that really blessed me. One was really simple. He walked into the kitchen and just said, "I sure do love you!" He thanked me for making lunch and for doing his laundry, and again, it was just simple but so sincere.

Kev was telling him one afternoon when I wasn't around some of the things he loves about me. Ryan asked, "Have you ever told her this stuff?" Kev replied, "Mom doesn't really care about words." Immediately, Ryan sensed his BS meter spike! He stayed calm and quiet though and reassured him that I would probably enjoy hearing those things from him.

I don't know if I have, and that's okay. I haven't heard any compliment or statement lately that I haven't heard before. That makes me sound snotty and bitchy, but I'm just saying that Kev gives me lots of compliments--they're just the same ones, which is fine because he's generous that way, praising and thanking me for doing and being...

All the love languages have their place in my life. I love when someone cleans the kitchen (acts of service). I'm blessed when someone wants to spend time with me (quality time). I appreciate hearing that I've encouraged someone (words of affirmation). Hugs embrace my insides (physical touch). It's immensely sweet to receive a gift that showed some thought was put into it (gifts). Every time someone puts effort into letting me know I'm thought of fondly, it's a gift, and I feel loved.

All this talk of love has made me want to go out and bless someone now. Too bad y'all can't line up so I can bless some socks off! I shall ask Him for some divine appointments in the meantime. He speaks every love language thoroughly, does He not, as He is their creator and inhabitor... xo

In the Name of the Father, the Son...

2011-07-10T19:52:00.000-07:00

We were honored not only to be part of a friend's baptism, but a part of it as well. This is a quantum moment for anyone who's chosen to do this public act, so we could relate to what he was about to participate in--only we didn't have 26 other co-baptizees and 400 people watching.

Large churches are used to milling people through, and large, successful churches can do that without accentuating the mill feeling. We're from small churches (<100 people), so while we enjoyed the change of pace and anonymity, we had our concerns about how they'd take warm and proper care of people doing something as personally eventful as getting baptized.

Suffice to say, it was well done. Great big tarp under a great big tank, slight climb up a ladder, sit in the warm water, pray with your trusted dunker, and enjoy the applause as everyone watches your immersion on the big screens up front.

A little worship, a little baptism (okay, maybe a lot), and as much of a spirit of investment and community as a small city can bestow on its residents, it was a sweet experience to see all those faces, each one beaming, as they proclaimed in action their identification with the One they'd come to love and follow because He first loved them. As many kids as there were adults, inside this act that requires you to reappear in front of everyone completed drenched--as in a wet t-shirt contest--this was a level playing field. They were each one my brother and sister in Christ, from the tiny four-year old girl, to our friend, who was the oldest.

God bless them, every one.

Dress Her Need

2011-06-28T10:23:00.000-07:00

As I was praying for my Kathy this morning, I kind of tripped over a word. I said, "Dress her great need" instead of "Address." I was about to correct it when I realized how fitting it was. There's what I've come to think of as a low grade fever in this season of her life. Caring for her husband after his stroke with the greatest and most tender compassion, she has been his sole caregiver and is constantly vigilant about his condition and anything that might aggravate it. His care, his comfort, his well-being is what I hear from her in every email. She is his champion, and whether he's aware of it or not, Heaven sees and knows.

Her sweet husband was recently hospitalized and in a coma. Long story short, she waited for days through test after test to determine the cause, she was given the duties of a nurse because of shorthandedness, and then made to be the bad guy for telling family that their long visits were exhausting him and protracting the treatments. They recommended a nursing home, but she insisted on taking him back home. She told me, "Maybe someone will do me the same kindness someday."

Tasks from the most mundane (dressing him) to the more arduous (crating around the wheelchair and navigating through foreign airports) are hers to do alone. None of his family have risen to the occasion. Somehow they just do not get it. I hear all this not through clenched teeth and raised fist, but with a sigh. I actually think she pities them for their small hearts and short minds. I have known this woman for 14 years, and she honestly lives a life founded on the compassion that is Christ and the actions that come from a sincere and yielded heart.

I know she would poo-poo all this and tell me I'm exaggerating and making her out to be superwoman, but she is my hero. I am touched to the core to call her my friend. In the midst of everything she's going through, she gifts me with her frequent updates, makes me laugh, and now she's sending me something in the shape of a heart that I look forward to getting in the mail soon.* God bless her!

=======================================

* Back when her husband had a stroke, I would pray for her daily, and then again every time I saw something in the shape of a heart. They would come in all varieties--a cloud, a rock, a garden stone, stationery, chocolate, an ice chip, spilled milk (not even kidding), etc. I saved one rock that I especially liked and took a picture of this ice chip that fell out of my glass. Cool way for Him to keep her close in my heart and mind. I am grateful.

Last Stop On the Honeymoon

2011-06-15T22:40:00.000-07:00

Brett & Lydia didn't have a chance to eat anything at their own wedding reception, so they drove right to a grocery store and downed some sushi that she held so that he could drive. While I find that sad and somehow cruel, they obviously survived and zipped off to Amarillo for the first stop on their honeymoon. They stayed at the historical Monte Vista Hotel in Flagstaff and savored a beautiful dinner. Hiking and camping for the first time, Lydia said she really liked it, but nobody enjoys doing that stuff in the rain, even if it is Yosemite.

After winding their way north from California to the Seattle area to visit Nana and introduce Lydia to new relations, they made it here for a Washington reception. The day started out interesting weatherwise, and we never know what to expect when we get these mixed signals.

The cupcake "shmear

Lydia getting the wedding video ready for guests

My incredible Ya-Yas, without whose emotional and physical support I could never have pulled this thing off, much less keep up with guests and spontaneous needs. Their perfume is the fragrance of Christ, and I am one piercingly blessed woman. (Cheryl, I still owe you for all the pasta salad and punch!)

My oldest son and my new daughter

I can't herd all the thoughts of gratitude, wonder, and anticipation I have. The scenes and conversations will play themselves out many times before they settle, and I will marinate in the joy and newness of this new stage of life with a full heart.

xoxo

Rehearsal Day

2011-06-03T07:03:00.000-07:00

Got into Wichita Falls last night about 8:00, but didn't get to Lydia's until about 9. She made a lovely stir fry, and there were egg rolls, with cheesecake and sweet cuppin' cakes for dessert. The idea was to have our families meet in a relatively stress-free environment. It was great.

When I saw Kelly, Lydia's mom, come around the corner, the first thing I was struck by was the sweetness of her face. What a kind and gentle countenance. It never faltered once either. We helped cut out programs and then left for the hotel.

Gonna be a hot day. Looking forward to the fun!!

2011-05-05T08:14:00.000-07:00

Your shadow was the first thing I saw, and I realized that I even love that.

and then there were none

2011-04-27T11:28:00.000-07:00

One of my nieces wrote this on her Facebook wall:

Children are the living messages we send to a time we will not see. How much time are you actually spending with your children? These precious years will be gone far too soon, fill them with love!

This was my comment:

In the moments of the seeming never-ending day, it's hard to believe it will not always be like this. But then the day comes when there's an empty chair at the table--and then another--and there are no more chances to get it right. Have no regrets. They are your most precious investment.♥

I write off the cuff, and I found myself all teary before I was even finished! This river of motherhood thing runs deep, yet it is r-i-g-h-t there under the thinnest veil of skin ready to rise and flood. It is called up at surprising times, and even when I am unaware of it, its steady beat and flow are present and so greatly alive.

I have no little ones, just cherished memories of my precious treasures. I have regrets, but I don't live there. What I lacked, neglected, or mucked up, the Lord has or will supply to them His very own self. May they enjoy and take full advantage one fine day of joining this most incredible of clubs...

Appendicitis?

2011-04-17T13:59:00.000-07:00

You may have appendicitis if:

You have pain in your belly. The pain may begin around your belly button.
The pain in your belly gets stronger and moves below your belly button on your right side (the lower right quadrant ). This is the most common place to feel pain when you have appendicitis.
The pain does not go away and gets worse when you move, walk, or cough.
You have pain in any part of your belly or on your side.
You feel nauseated or throw up a few times. You also may not feel like eating.
You have constipation, back pain, a slight fever, or a swollen abdomen.

[Source: WebMD]

So my baby probably has appendicitis... One extremely kind and generous doctor friend checked her out--I'm talking house call. Absolutely unheard of, right?! She asked a volley of questions and then tested a urine sample right in our bathroom. Her suggestion was to watch her closely, and if it's appendicitis, it'll only get worse. If it's an ovarian cyst, it'll take care of itself and get better. (An ovary is right behind the appendix. If she was a boy, the diagnosis would be positive for appendicitis.)

In any case, we have an appt at 8AM that we can cancel IF we don't need it. She can only have clear liquids for now in case she needs surgery. If she gets better, great. If her symptoms worsen within the next 14 hours, we'll take her to an ER. I don't know that it'll be the local hospital though--that didn't go so well for us with Kev. In the meantime, she's not crying and doesn't have a fever. Grateful for small graces.

Calling Dad

2011-04-12T10:07:00.000-07:00

I call my daddy everyday. It used to be every morning, but now sometimes it's in the afternoon or even the evening. I used to think I was doing it for him, to make sure he knew someone cared about him. Now I know it's been for me all along. I need to hear his voice. I need to know that he's okay. I need to know if there's anything I can help him with or that he wants to just talk about. We've always been able to talk about all kinds of things for a long time, and this hasn't changed anything. Sometimes our conversations are 15 minutes; other times they go an hour.

I thanked him yesterday for his ready willingness to answer my call everyday. He responded by saying that I'm sunshine in his day. It was really sweet and something I've never heard before. Except for my sweet Kevin, I don't think anyone has ever told me that I am sunshine. It was like coming upon a full spray of roses I'd never seen before in a garden I've walked a thousand times.

Kind words do mean a lot. One of the things my mom did most excellently was to never miss an opportunity to give someone a compliment. Perfect strangers were a favorite target, but she fragranced our lives with them as well. Makes me happy that my dad isn't constipated that way and can openly share the same way with us.

Have I spent some life-offering words on someone lately...?

Think I'm going to call my daddy...

I thought it was true.

2011-04-07T22:12:00.000-07:00

The twenty-four elders (the members of the heavenly Sanhedrin) fall prostrate before Him Who is sitting on the throne, and they worship Him Who lives forever and ever; and they throw down their crowns before the throne (Rev 4:10).

Whenever I heard mention of a heavenly crown, there was also the statement that we would take our bejeweled crowns and cast them at Jesus' feet. It wasn't until today that I read this verse and realized that that's not necessarily true. It's the 24 elders who will throw down their crowns. We might cast our crowns as well, but it doesn't say.

Every once in a while I'm re-fascinated by how much we accept as truth because we've heard it so often. That makes me shiver as history repeats itself...

Did you grow up believing that there were three--count 'em three--wise men?

Do you have a Nativity set with an American-type barn instead of a cave?

And there's the thing about the Rapture and the Second Coming that's still not clear to me. I know they're different, but I can't seem to get them to gel.

I'm going to go get some pie. I need some pie.

On Being Sentimental

2011-03-29T09:07:00.000-07:00

I had lunch with a long-time friend yesterday who lost her dad a year and a half ago. We had a lot in common as far as experiences, insights, and what we've come to learn. It felt healing to share with someone who has a fresh parent-shaped hole in her heart. One topic we touched on was being sentimental. We both share that about our parent's last Chapstick.

To anyone else, these are pretty ordinary things no one would actually put any thought into, but to me, they hold sentimental value. The face cream has a perfect two-finger dip in it. I figure that's probably the cream she used the day before she went Home.

The glass toothpick holder is feminine, pretty, and the design is kinda complicated--just like her. It holds flat toothpicks as opposed to the round; that's the kind she always used, even though I thought they broke too easily.

The saltshaker is something she's had since I was little. I used to brush my teeth with the salt from it whenever we ran out of toothpaste. She was extremely fond of miniatures, and this always reminds me of that affinity.

I still have dried roses to do something with, but since I don't have any ideas yet, they wait on a dresser and remind me of her beautiful memorial service.

One of my big projects has been sorting through her almost obscene amount of costume jewelry. I'm going through one box at a time, and I don't recognize 99.5 percent of it. Most of the earrings have backs, but aren't necessarily paired together, which makes it kind of a game.

These are items whose purpose I can't identify. I took them to church and asked some of the older ladies, and they came up with two fair guesses: Sweater clips (to keep a buttonless cardigan from coming open), or decorative shoe clips (for something like a loafer). I would really love to find out for sure what these are.

I tend to be sentimental about everything pertaining to my mom. Everything she touched is precious, even the small amount of clutter that's still in the dining room where I'm sure every little thing had its purpose. I'm assuming this tendency will calm and pool into something more akin to appreciation, where I can hold something ordinary of hers in my hands without wanting to keep it safe somewhere. (I think there's a reality show about people like that.)

For now, I give myself permission to remember her nearness to me when I sniff her pajama top, wear her silver hoops and chrome bracelet and do a little word search in her puzzle book with her pen--a private, silent sentimentality that is all right...

Lessons

2011-03-25T21:28:00.000-07:00

I never ever knew how important it would be to send a sympathy card or make that phone call to inquire or deliver a roasted chicken if not for what I've experienced these last couple of months. Actually, the impact was impressed within the first week after losing my mama, but as the cards and phone calls continued to come in weeks after, the lesson was embossed in my heart, and I will forever acknowledge the importance of reaching out, even if words seem empty and useless to you at the time in your attempt to comfort the grieving. Lesson 1: Reach out. Just do it.

Sometimes I think I'm over the immediacy of tears, of how ready they've been. I think Okay, I can do this. This is how it is afterward... Then I'll hear a song or read a fresh card or glimpse her precious face in a picture, and I'm completely undone. I am almost desperate for my next dream with her in it. I wake as if from some purchased time with her, analyzing the scenarios and attributing whatever meaning or symbolism they might contain. They are a precious gift to me right now, and my heart is turned to You in gratitude for every one of Your many hugs. Lesson 2: Let your heart grieve, but remember to worship.

note from the past; hint of the future

2011-03-05T07:23:00.000-08:00

I found this in my night stand. It's written in purple ink and dated 7/29/01.

In that twilight time j-u-s-t on the brink of falling asleep, sometimes I catch the movement of another world, one that's just not this one. There is an unfamiliar dimension about it that is at once both warm and odd. It's soft, unlit yet not at all dark, and foreign. There is an invitation, a tease, a curiosity, and a fullness. It is only a glimpse--one eye blink of notice, and that is all I am given. I know it is the border of my Home. Nothing else could draw me like this. Nothing else exercises all my senses toward some kind of Anticipation.

What awe in that Place where there is no night, our tears are wiped away, the glory of Christ is celebrated, and He is acknowledged as KING.........!

Asian English

2011-03-03T09:34:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite things to do is to read the English promotions and instructions on Asian packaging. I laughed so hard that I cried one time when Ryan read some to me in an exaggerated Asian accent while I was driving. The guy next to us was pretty entertained by my apoplexy.

While this might be considered pointing-and-laughing by some, amusement at the expense of someone who speaks English as a second language, I am a word girl and consider it to be simply entertaining, no different than when Dat Phan imitates his mother. At least they have a decent grip on a second language, whereas my only claims are Pig Latin and Ubbi Dubbi. Plus, everyone knows you can poke fun at your own race, even if you're only part. My mom elevated it to the level of an Olympic sport!

These are some labels I currently have in the house. I enjoy them, especially when I "hear" Ryan recite them.

Guess you have to soak one stick at a time...

"lustrous, bright, soft and nutrient noodles"

Beware of children under 6 and the elderly.

My Favorite

If I give the goods, they'll send me a new one.

Mercies

2011-03-02T00:27:00.000-08:00

The medical world has you rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10 (worst), and Kev's gone from a 12 that had him in tears several times, to about a 5 today. He's a little ditzy on these drugs in a humorous way. He's sleeping now, and it's the sweetest mercy from God that he can sleep. I've tasted only a drop of what my dad went through for three years with my mom, helpless and thoroughly piercing to see your very best friend trapped in a 24/7 pain that nothing can touch.

Kev's convinced that he's going to work tomorrow because they need him, seeing it's the end of a trimester and a bad time to be gone. We shall see how that turns out.

The fridge has given up the ghost, so I have all its contents in four coolers and three boxes out on the deck. The insides of the fridge and freezer are now all ice white clean, thank you very much. Even in this is there mercy as it's still cold outside, and nothing is rotting, and I had the time to get 'er done.

I don't know if the big toe on my left foot is broken, but it's red, swollen, and doesn't like to bend in any direction. I'm pretending it's a moody diva hamster that just likes to be left alone in her moody diva preferences. It's worked so far.

Watching the Academy Awards and the red carpet show afterward on DVR kept me entertained all day as I busied myself with endless fridge stuff. Funny how His still, small, precious, present Voice resonated as I needed it during times like spilling spaghetti sauce all over the cupboards while emptying the fridge, boxing up its contents & trucking them out onto the deck, stubbing my maybe-broken toe, juggling one phone call after another on a limping Bluetooth, and attending to my still-broken Kev... His nearness and presence are priceless gifts that will somehow carry their import into the next life with me.

It is like a violence how a life can be there one minute and glaringly absent the next and all the next minutes after that. I don't know but a smidge of how my poor dad must feel every single hour of every single day without his lifelong love. What I do know is that He is there in that every single hour of every single day, everpresent, evernear, everloving, and everkind. We take of that grace, mercy, and kindness as we will, and there is always, always enough.

And so shall there be Enough always...

Another ER...

2011-02-28T00:47:00.000-08:00

My Exhausted Kev

We were sitting in church, and Kev's back started kind of seizing. That's weird in itself, but it only got worse as time passed. That was 11:30, and by 2:00, he could not find a comfortable position to save his life. The pain was horrible, and when the spasms persisted, I drove him to the ER in Chewelah at around 7 p.m.

I don't know if the pace of everything in a small town is slow or if we were just terribly impatient because of his pain, but it seemed to take a really, really, really long time to get to the next thing. Having retold the story three times, he was seen at about 45 min intervals.

No pill or injection seemed to quell the tsunami of pain that ambushed him rhythmically like labor pains. Finally, they gave him a cocktail duo in his behind of something that would help the pain and stay the nausea the drug would cause.

Ten seconds later he said, "I'm really light-headed. I think I'm going to pass out." He slid off the bed in slow-mo, and the nurse grabbed him. I gripped his hands and tried to pull him onto the bed as she said, "Stay with us. Get back onto the bed."

He lolled onto the bed by no means of his own, and then he just laid there. Just laid there. No response. We rolled him over. He was as pale as hospital linen, he was unresponsive, and his eyes were open and vacant. NOT AGAIN, LORD! Oh, please, not again, not so soon. I just lost Mom in an ER! Oh, please don't take him, please please please don't take him! This cannot be happening! Everything felt unreal, like I was a player in someone else’s nightmare.

The nurse yelled for the attending provider, an ARNP. I ran into the hall and started yelling for her myself. When I saw her coming, I collapsed against the adjacent wall as surely as my world was collapsing. Another nurse told me firmly, but with compassion, "It's all right. It'll be all right." I needed to hear that. That was my Lord reassuring me through her words.

They revived him, and four and a half hours later, we were home. His will to be home played as much into it as the angel nurse who was God's own servant in it all. I am immensely grateful for His very present nearness, His tremendous compassion, and His delight in delivering us not from the trial, but in the midst of it. This is not something anyone would choose, but the deepening of faith and trust because of it is of an eternal value we cannot conceive, and certainly of practical value here.

From my Mae...

2011-02-14T09:12:00.000-08:00

TO OUR BELOVED

It singeth low in every heart,
We heart it, each and all—
A song of those who answer not,
However we may call;
They throng the silence of the breast,
We see them as of yore—
The kind, the brave, the true, the sweet,
Who walk with us no more.

It’s hard to take the burden up
When these have laid it down;
They brightened all the joy of life,
They softened every frown;
But oh, it’s good to think of them
When we are troubled sore!
Thanks be to God that such have been,
Though they are here no more.

More homelike seems the vast unknown
Since they have entered there;
To follow them is not so hard,
Wherever they may fare;
They cannot be where God is not,
On any sea or shore;
Whate’er betides, Thy love abides,
Our God, for evermore.
~John White Chadwick

Leaning Hard

2011-02-02T09:15:00.000-08:00

Dad scanned Mom's obit on Sunday and made a few copies. I never thought I'd be the one to have to write it. I think I thought that kind of thing "just gets done." Like growing up, my clothes just reappeared all clean and folded in my dresser without me ever having to do anything but wear them. Someone you love leaves this earth, and a little ditty magically appears in the paper. But I got it done with His great grace and very little pain.

I'm experiencing that right now--a total immersion in His felt presence. He's closer than my breath, and He is literally my strength and endurance. I am NOT an organizer. The thought of what has to be accomplished by Saturday is daunting, and I burst into tears when I realized how much needs to be done. He reminded me that 1) I do best with small raised beds, so don't future trip and take in the whole week as one titanic chunk; and 2) I asked Him to do the driving, and He is doing just that. I only start to sink when I take my eyes off Him. I keep asking Okay, what do we do next? This is leaning hard and resting well.

Prayers are going up for us all, and I know that's why we're doing so well. Even Jylle said she's doing better than she thought she would, and that makes her happy. My mom always told her not to cry when she goes, so she's tried really hard to honor that. Doesn't mean she's still not feeling the intensity of her loss, but at a time like this, any little thing that helps is perfectly okay.

Death certificates arrived. The PowerPoint is coming along. The flowers are ordered. Dad's delivering Mom's Bible to Pastor Dale today. The check marks are encouraging. "My God is humongous." Yes, My Mom, He is.

Sprint Week

2011-01-31T08:29:00.000-08:00

There's so much to do. I've never planned a memorial service before. I still have to pick out music, select flower arrangements, help with the PowerPoint, meet my dad at the bank to sign financial papers, cancel some credit cards, and notify family friends. I want to balance this responsibility with being here for my own little family.

I know people are praying for us, and that makes me know why we're doing as well as we are. Dad is better today, but he still can't talk to people about her. At least his meltdown yesterday morning was helpful. I knew it would be, and I'm glad he's well enough to be on his own now.

You are providing deep grace for deep need, and we are so very, very thankful. Help me this week, Lord. I need You like crazy. And if You could heal my cell phone, I'd really appreciate it. Give Mom a hug for me, and tell her I'm sorry I couldn't do what she asked about her secret stash. I'm sure she won't mind now. XO

Readings and Ravings

2011-01-30T12:39:00.000-08:00

The responsibility for writing and arranging for the obituary for Mom somehow fell to me. I looked at several examples and finally finished it on Saturday. I picked out the picture and cropped it, emailed it, and all that was left was to have the proof okayed for the newspaper, which Alan took care of for me since I was on my way back home.

Dad said he had the closest thing to a meltdown this morning when he opened the paper to find it. He found it, saw her beautiful face, and it was all over. This will be so good for him though. The healing that will come from it will be worth the tsunami. I love this quote from Doe: A crushing hurt comes to our heart and the sympathizing, scarred hand of Christ presses the wound; and just for a moment, the pain seems to intensify... but finally the bleeding stops. ~Beth Moore

My Mom

2011-01-29T07:49:00.000-08:00

It's been a week and a day since I lost my precious mama. It all happened so fast... My poor dad...

So much has gone on this past week that I wish I'd have kept some kind of journal so I can remember it all. But like my dear friend reminds me, He will bring to my remembrance at least the important things.

Kev and Alan took this past week off, so I'm extremely grateful for their help and support. Somehow certain tasks get taken on by each of us, and everything important is getting done. Dad wasn't sure he could even make himself take a next breath, so we were glad that was automatic.

I guess I'm kind of in charge of the service. It's set for Saturday, February 5, 1:00 at their church. They're putting together a PowerPoint with the package of pictures I sorted through, both prints and digital. I'm still deciding on songs. "How Great Thou Art" for sure. I still here her walking around the house singing that.

It would be a sin to not mention somewhere here how terribly wonderful their church family has been not only through this, but throughout Mom's whole debilitation. Food, cards, visits, hugs, genuine sentiments. The word "wonderful" is a common adjective they use about Mom. It's endearing. I'm sure it makes my dad feel good. His usual response is, "She was one of a kind."

I ordered the urn yesterday. Dad said "something blue." Neptune has blue ones in stock, but they start at $200, so I looked online. It's weird to know that Costco sells that stuff online, but they didn't have anything that caught my eye, and neither did ten other sites until I found just the blue we were looking for--cobalt. I knew it as soon as I saw it, and so did Dad. Turns out the guy who runs this business is a retired mortician (40 years in the biz) and now runs this from his home. He has just the right touch, plenty nice without being too familiar, and he knows his stuff. It should arrive next week. We take it into Neptune, and they make the transfer there. I can say the words, but it makes my stomach flop.

Those first few days were agony. Seeing Dad just sit there in his chair, eyes open but not seeing anything, hardly able to speak was just agony. All Friday I kept remembering "My God will supply all your needs, my God will supply all your needs," (Phil 4:19).

It was a no-brainer that I'd stay overnight for a few days. When Alan volunteered to stay a couple of nights on Wednesday, I knew Kev and Jylle would be grateful. She keeps smiling and saying, "You're in my house!"

Dad's gotten to the point where he said he doesn't need anyone to stay the night. He even said as we were leaving for Jylle's game that we don't even need to come during the day. I still will for a while though because it makes me feel better to see him and be there while I'm taking care of business. What a swift and powerful answer to prayer though! "My God is humongous!" Mom was always saying that.

I hear her still.

I love you, My Mom. xoxo

Unheld Pain

2011-01-25T23:11:00.000-08:00

There is a pain that cannot be contained, cannot be calmed, cannot be comforted. Like a tin roof that will not hold water, it bears down the rain fast and constant, holding none of it, save the few maverick drops at the last that hang uncertainly. This pain rain is a ruthless tyrant, and if not for the grace of my Abba, I would be swept into the gutter with it.

I woodenly do the next thing, unsure of anything. It's like walking through a breathable mud--I cannot see, but I can still function. I have no other help but the One I've asked to drive me through all this. My poor dad can hardly speak. I don't know that Alan knows what to do. No one seems to be in charge of this show, so we find ourselves somehow given the next thing. It is a thoroughly difficult mission, yet not without great, great Grace and Provision.

Thank You, Lord. XO

The Tears I Feel Today

2011-01-23T14:31:00.000-08:00

This is a poem from a book called Dragonslayer by Anne McCaffrey. In it, Menolly composes this after her beloved mentor passes away. She is heartbroken and grieving deeply, but there is still much to be done, and the urgent tyrannizes the important.

There is much to be done in these next two weeks, many phone calls, emails, and inquiries. I will schedule a meltdown afterward. For now, the tears can flow at night where I am exhausted, but held and loved.

Song For Petterin

The tears I feel today
I'll wait to shed tomorrow,
Though I'll not sleep this night
Nor find surcease from sorrow.
My eyes must keep their sight;
I dare not be tear-blinded.
I must be free to talk,
Not choked with grief, clear-minded.
My mouth cannot betray
The anguish that I know
Yes, I'll keep my tears till later,
But my grief will never go.

Sunshine

2011-01-19T10:02:00.000-08:00

Everything seems so much better when the sun is shining brilliantly, especially in the winter time when most of our days here in the Pacific Northwest are overcast and c-o-l-d. When the sun is full and so very present, every room in my house knows it. Not one goes unaffected by its permeating beams, as every facing wall and window absorb its warmth and radiate it collectively.

My Kevin goes about a little more joyful, Jylle dons those funky-cool yellow shades, the horses gambol in the fields, and there just seems to be a lightness that comes in proportion to the bright. Even when there are ongoing problems that need to be dealt with and worked out, there's a sense of it'll be all right...

As a Christian, I've heard the analogies of "sun" to "Son" and appreciate their truths. In learning what it means to live in the power of His resurrection, I'm experiencing this "Sonshine" in the bitterest of weather--literally and figuratively. In the storms and clouds and hail and ice, there is an imperturbable calm that neither grows nor shrinks. It is steadfast, unshakable, serene. This is the place out from where I want to live His Life. This is the place out from where others will be blessed as His power and living water flow.

Sun or no sun, the indwelling Son is Enough. There is no need that has ever been for which He is not Enough. This truth and the others He is revealing are invigorating, inspiring, and rejuvenating. Even when windows are darkened and wild winds force through cracks, I AM safe, and Enough is more than enough.

"Choose"

2011-01-15T06:30:00.000-08:00

"I will choose to love You. I choose to love You."

Ah, Winter...

2011-01-14T09:08:00.000-08:00

Snow shmow. It's ice that creates the real drama. At least, on the roads. We have a most dependable 4x4 half-ton truck that may as well be named Hercules. It's been our ace in the hole a hundred times when our other cars have fallen lame against winter's harshest road conditions. When this is what greeted us first thing this morning, it was a no-brainer that Kev would take Hercules to work.

Yeah, it's icy, but we have Chevy Hercules, right?

... right?

I was shocked when Kev called a minute after he left to say that he was stuck in the driveway. He was broadside halfway to the road, just slid right into the snowbank in slow-mo and not a thing he could do about it.

Hauling kitty litter, ammonium sulfate (snow melter), gloves & jacket for Kev, I opted for a shortcut through the field of snow rather than skate my way to him. Good choice. In the meantime, he'd fetched chains from the barn to lay down for traction. Like he always does, morphing into a mighty combo of MacGyver and Jack Bauer, he unstuck the truck and took Jylle to school so she wouldn't have to gauge the roads by her first-ever-winter-driving self.

I snapped a few pictures of the innocent-looking puddles along the way. One would never guess that inches away from the traction of that snow, lays ice that would just as soon smack your grandma than just sit there and look pretty.

Watching the water splash into the melt of the puddles, I was reminded of Rob Bell's book Drops Like Stars. He writes of a four year-old boy who says over and over, "Stars, stars, stars..." as he stares out the window at the rain. His mother explains that he thinks the droplets look like stars in the instant that they explode onto the sidewalk.

Magic in the mundane. A melody in the caterwaul. Victory in the tumult. Peace in the battle. Joy in the tragedy. My God delights in the upside-down, the impossible, the moment alive. Be still and know that I AM GOD. All is well...

The Face of God

2011-01-13T16:57:00.000-08:00

For God Who said, Let light shine out of darkness, has shone in our hearts so as to beam forth the Light for the illumination of the knowledge of the majesty and glory of God as it is manifest in the Person and is revealed in the face of Jesus Christ. ~2 Cor. 4:6 (Amp)

I was talking to Ryan, and he shared this verse with me. He just started talking and said he was still processing it even as he spoke. As he went on, a shiver went through me. "When you look into the face of Jesus, you're looking at the face of God." God, in all His Godness, excluding nothing of His nature and essence, put on skin and flesh and walked Earth as a man called Jesus. The face of Jesus owned the glory and majesty of GOD. Within tangible pores, bones, organs--the Eternal, Self-Existent One.

When Moses asks God to show him His glory, God responds by saying He'll cause all His goodness to pass before him. His glory is His goodness. His goodness is His glory. In Jesus is all the glory-goodness of the Father. When I look on His face in worship, I am possessed by His glory-goodness.

Like Ryan, I'm still processing this. I love the immediate impact it had on my spirit. I know that means He's bringing on something. Something of His nature, and I dig that.

I don't know how accurate any of the pictures, paintings, or composite guesses are of Jesus' face. I rather like that we don't know. He becomes to each of us what we most need.

When Brett was two, I asked him if he'd ever seen Jesus. He played with a toy as he answered matter-of-factly, "Yes." Surprised, I asked what He looked like. Still occupied with the toy, he answered, "His hair is black." Even more surprised, I asked if there was anything else. "He not very tall." I asked, "What else?" He turned to me and said, "His skin is like yours." Tears flooded my eyes. Could he have actually seen You...? The only pictures he had of Jesus were in a calendar by Richard Hook, famous for his ruggedly handsome, GQ Jesus sketches. Interrupting my wonder, Brett piped up, "He was Good. And nice." Keeping it together, I asked, "Did you do anything together?" His voice grew a little quieter, "He just hold me and sing to me."

Was he making this up? Only God knows. You can imagine how I pondered this fiercely. Finally I remembered that he'd had chicken pox a couple of months before. It was bad too. Sores covered his little body from head to toe. He cried and cried, I gave him oatmeal baths, sang to him, tried everything to distract and entertain. Bedtime was the worst though. He didn't like to go to bed anyway, and this physical torment only exacerbated that dislike. As I held him and rocked, croaking out lullabies through tears, I begged the Lord to help him. I know it wasn't a fatal condition, but witnessing your child suffering and being helpless to do anything about it is a lonely agony.

Could this have been the result of a young mother's plea? Might His Spirit have held Brett in the night, the Comforter consoling His precious, hurting little one? Did He enjoy holding him like I did, delighting in being his solace? I'll never be sure in this life, but it's certainly in keeping with His nature to manifest compassion and refuge to the weak.

I've only told this story two or three times. It's very special to me, and I hold it dear. To look on the face of Jesus and see the glory-goodness of God... Unless you become like a child...

Vita Nova (New Life)

2011-01-13T09:22:00.001-08:00

I'm in a good place. I haven't been in a good place for a long, long time. I've been in a decent place, a proper place, a reasonable, survival, rebellious, confused, or waiting place, so this is good.

The difference, of course, is where I am spiritually. The enemy can connive and manipulate and deceive like nobody's business, and I am quick to justify. Until now, I have been misled, God has been maligned, and I have been bewitched. The burden of personal responsibility for my sanctification was grossly misrepresented. "Stagnation in spiritual life comes when we say we will bear the whole thing ourselves" (Oswald Chambers).

It is unfortunate that desperation is a necessary condition for motivating me. Up to my eyeballs in self-centered, self-absorbed pride (for that is what doing my own thing is), I came to the end of my natural self. I do believe I have attended my own white funeral. That is the difference.

For years now I have kept back the one thing that delineates a follower from a disciple--my right to self. Oh, it was there in the beginning. I am Yours, Lord. Have Your way. Use me up. Then life happened, and I got tangled up in the razor wire of complacency and comfort. I began to grow invisible. While I was doing no obvious damage to the Kingdom, I was not building into it either. "Whoever isn't with me is against me. Whoever doesn't gather with me scatters" (Luke 11:23). The enemy is far more powerful and clever than I can handle on my own, and it was folly to deceive myself into thinking that while I was in the camp of doing my own thing, I would be safe. O, little lamb, you are not only weak and foolish, you are in mortal danger!

I don't believe it would've taken so long to come to this place if I hadn't added one particular exemption to my earnest request for deliverance from my self. I would pray, " Lord, make me desperate for You. Bring me to that place where I want You more than a drowning man wants air. But please don't let it cost me anyone dear." Always, I would ask for the whole enchilada and to have it as cheaply as possible. The banged-up, chipping, tawdry, plastic baubles I'd clung to and enjoyed privately seemed too precious to exchange for only a promise of real diamonds and pearls. Maybe later, I would say. I'm just not ready yet.

The thrill of overcoming temptation-that-had-become-habit the first time was exhilarating and encouraging. It's what inspired me to do it again a second time. On the brink of another setback, He asked me, "What is something you would just love?" I thought, and remembered that going to Israel is the one thing I'd wanted all my adult life--and I'd done that. The only thing I'd love is go back and do it again. I heard Him in my spirit say, "Let's go on an Adventure. I'll take you to Israel."

I'm all over the spiritual connotations of that! Israel, the apple of God's eye. Israel--God's people--the bride of Christ. Israel, occupied of and by God. Israel, the confluence of man and God. Israel, earthly home to the One who thought the universe alive. Israel, the beloved, unfaithful whore. Israel, land of promise and destiny, of the birth, death, and resurrection of Jesus the Christ.

My response was physical. I smiled, my stomach did a hand spring, and I felt a rush of Joy. Yes, Lord, for this I would exchange my baubles! Yes, I'll do it!

Immediately, I was ambushed by legitimate arguments and rational fears. I've failed at this a thousand times before. What was so different about this time? Sure, you say Yes now, but what about crunch time? What then? Who will you run to in the need of the moment, especially when you know how comfortable this is because it works? This really isn't so bad. Maybe this spring...

A rush of verses, recent encouragements, and thought-provokers rallied me:

If you gotta start somewhere, why not here?! If you gotta start sometime, why not now?!
My God will supply all your needs, according to His glorious riches in Christ Jesus!
Do not be terrified, do not be discouraged, for the Lord Your God will be with you wherever you go!
Take every thought captive to the obedience of Christ!
He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me!
Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom!
I am willing to be identified with Your death so that I may sacrifice my life to God!
The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds!
We only have this time on earth to affect the kingdom in the next life!
We only have this dot of time to establish how we will reign with Christ!
All will come before the Judgment Seat of Christ!
This body of sin is not the real me! I am crucified with Christ!
Be still and know that I am God!
Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart!
We have to go through an experience where our energies are brought to an end, where the strength of the flesh is buried in Jordan, and where we can only go on because we discover the power of His resurrection!

This is Day 3 of Vita Nova. Sounds puny, even pathetic, but it's a big deal in my world. There have been no new days at all for such a very long, sad time--"always winter but never Christmas." *

While I know I will stumble again, I combat the habit of future tripping and considering whole, great chunks of time. In keeping with my personality, I can manage a few small patches (why I have only a few raised beds in a wee, Hobbit-ish garden). Like a recovering addict, I look only to one day at a time and resist the urge to fall back into Eeyore-ism. The image of Him driving is a calming, comforting thing, even though I don't know exactly how we're going to get where we're going, but I am banking on His goodness. He is the gentlest Person I have ever known, and I do not want to leave this place.

He holds me tenderly and swaddled, and I nuzzle into the crook of His neck. I am restful, and He is plenty Enough.

...~*~...~*~...~*~...~*~...~*~...~*~...~*~...

1) "City on Our Knees," by TobyMac
2) Phil. 4:19
3) Joshua 1:9
4) 2 Cor. 10:5
5) Psalm 18:19
6) 2 Cor. 3:17
7) Oswald Chambers, January 8
8) 2 Cor. 10:4
9) Andy Fox
10) Earl Nash
11) 2 Cor. 5:10
12) Colossians 3:3 and Galatians 2:20
13) Psalm 46:10 14) Proverbs 3:5
15) The Power of His Resurrection, T. A. Sparks, p. 54

* Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C. S. Lewis

My Master

2011-01-12T16:29:00.000-08:00

Texas Meets the Pacific Northwest

2011-01-01T16:38:00.000-08:00

We picked up Brett and Lydia at the airport on December 23. Brett was all smiles, but poor Lydia looked just short of a seizure, a stricken look on her face and tottering steps as she managed herself on slick and unfamiliar snow. She looked totally unsure of herself--which only further endeared her to me for all her humility and concern. What a gem. I hugged her for all I was worth, beaming with satisfaction at finally holding this lovely soul who'd captivated my Brett. When I finally let go, she exhaled in the sweet relief of that much anticipated First Meeting. Nice for it be over, I'm sure. I so wanted her to know in her deeps how very welcome she was, just as Kev's mom did for me at my own First Meeting.

She quickly fell in step with our family beat and was my favorite child for the week as she anticipated needs and met them without being asked. With her rich theatrical background, her expressiveness and colorful conversation were interesting, informative, and engaging. When I first heard her sing, it was so soft and haunting that it brought tears to my eyes. What a beautiful voice... She also plays guitar and piano and knits like nobody's business! (I even hired her to knit a scarf for Zeb.)

The kids played board games, card games, head games (jk!), and got to know one another in the process. We had a bonfire one night, went for a long hike in the woods, and saw Voyage of the Dawn Treader. The two of them explored a little of Spokane and enjoyed a horseback ride. Well, it was enjoyable after she managed to stay on when my horse took off downhill early on! She taught Jylle how to knit, but somehow I let that opportunity slip through my hands. *sigh* She left me some lovely rust-colored yarn and cute wooden needles though, so I'll have to check out the knitting sites she left for Jylle.

Brett was distracted the morning they left as he considered that he might have to leave without the stand-in ring** he was anxiously awaiting for her from the post office. It arrived indeed, however, so we picked it up in Valley with Brett trying to keep the smile from wrapping around his head eight times. We drove straight to my parents' house so they could exchange a five-minute goodbye, and then we dropped them off at the airport. Kev thought Brett was so excited that he might propose on the plane instead of waiting until that evening!

At the New Year's Eve party that evening, we got a phone call from them announcing their engagement. Ryan was the only one they could reach, so after telling him, he handed the phone to me and wide-eyed, said, "It's Brett." I looked at him, and he nodded and said, "Uh huh!" We had two messages from them when we got home, both of them sounding so happy that I could hear them smiling!

He proposed on a high hill (a mountain by Texas standards, I hear) close to midnight. She nodded 'Yes' vigorously with tears sparkling in her eyes. He originally thought of doing it in front of a bunch of her friends because she's so social, but there was no party, so he opted for Plan B. A deliriously joyful young couple in front of God and a sky no nighttime could darken, I like to think the heavens sang in celebration of what will certainly be one Happily Ever After.

Thank You, Lord...

==================================
**The official one is in the process of being made.

First Annual Crae Bon Rye

2010-12-26T22:50:00.000-08:00

As Ryan thought about what memories we all hold near and dear, he realized that experiencing something fun together tops the list. As a result, he decided to buy Dungeness crab for everyone.

The name came about via plays on words that built on one another, finalizing in what's pronounced in a Frenchish or Cajunish manner, originating from "Crab on Ry" to what is now "Crae Bon Rye." He rounded out the meal with clams, shrimp, and lobster tails. I made homemade rice-a-roni and salad, and Jamara made Heath cookies and brought loads of sparkling cider.

Ryan and Zeb ran the show from the deck with the turkey fryer brimming with seafood (in water, not oil). We had ramekins of butter, Lydia made her special shrimp sauce, and Kev set us up with hammers, nutcrackers, and cutting boards. Lydia was smart enough to cover the table with newspaper first. All nine of us claimed a crab, and there were still leftovers of everything but clams and cider.

When you look at these pictures, hear nonstop conversation, laughter certainly, hammering, cracking, tapping, clinking, the deck door opening and closing, muffled side convos--and then picture my heart seams at their most grateful. elastic. edge...

Lyrics "Fah Who Foraze"

2010-12-17T11:40:00.001-08:00

These are the lyrics to the Glee version of "Fah Who For-aze."

Fah who for-aze, dah hoo dor-aze,
Welcome Christmas, come this way
Fah who for-aze, dah hoo dor-aze,
Welcome Christmas, Christmas Day

Welcome, welcome, fah who rah-moose
Welcome, welcome, dah who dah-moose
Christmas Day is in our grasp
So long as we have hands to clasp

Fah who for-aze, dah who dor-aze,
Welcome Christmas, bring your cheer
Fah who for-aze, dah who dor-aze
Welcome all Whos far and near

Welcome Christmas fah who rah-moose
Welcome Christmas dah who dah-moose
Christmastime will always be
Just as long as we have glee

Fah who for-aze, dah who dor-aze,
Welcome Christmas, bring your light
Ooooooo…..

========================

In the animated movie, "How the Grinch Stole Christmas," the Whos say "just as long as we have we," instead of "glee." They also sing this additional verse:

Welcome Christmas
Fah who rah-moose!
Welcome Christmas
Dah who dah-moose!

Welcome Christmas
While we stand
Heart to heart
And hand in hand

Fah who for-aze
Dah who dor-aze
Welcome welcome
Christmas, Christmas Day

A Fox Visit

2010-12-10T12:31:00.000-08:00

Stephanie and Beans came over the other day. It's the second time in three months, which isn't a bad start. We thought we might try to make it once/month because in Stephanie's words, "We are. so. bored!" With Josiah in school now, there's less excitement in the house and maybe more time for a visit like this. It's a wonderful time for me, and I just love it because I never get to see them on Sundays anymore.

A latté is always on the agenda. I made a caramel macchiato for her, she was thrilled to know I made homemade caramel and asked for the recipe (thank you, Glenice =). She brought scones the first time, white chocolate and cranberry--eeyum. This time I made an apple coffee cake with biscuits, grated apple, and lots of butter. Turned out that it could've used a lot more. Or a glaze. Or something. Bummer. She was very gracious though and ate what I served her. It was very kind. Beans is always happy with apples and cheese.

I love how she'll come sit on my lap and just "be." She lets me hug her tight and kiss her sweet, sweet head and cheeks. She is so delicious! In a small and polite voice, her eyes darting between mine and the floor, she asked, "Can I play with some Legos?" No problem. You want the moon and the stars? I'll get those for you too, you adorable, precious, tiny angel girl!

As she bent over the toys I fetched for her, she'd swipe the hair out of her little face. Stephanie asked if I knew how to braid. Like nobody's business! I proceeded to dampen her hair and find some small bands. I set her on the counter and let her play with some toys while I set to work. She let me finish with little squirming, and then we took these pictures to mark the occasion. Our hope was that she would let her mama do that without the usual fuss about "the dreaded comb." Again in that small voice, almost to herself, she said, "I don't like combs."

People tell me I'll absolutely LOVE having grandchildren. I probably will since I absolutely loved having children, and I understand that's the harder job. Until that blessed day, I am perfectly content loving on Beans, who fills my heart with so much joy and love that I'm moved to tears.

Thank You for this precious family who open arm us into their lives. Thank You... xoxo

It's Not Even Winter Yet...

2010-12-02T09:44:00.000-08:00

Winter does not start until the 21st of December--correct me if I'm wrong. While I find a winter wonderland truly breath-taking and awe-inspiring, snow is one of those things that's exciting and welcome for about 48 hours. Then you have to drive in it, shovel it, plow it, trudge through it, get ready for the next dumping, and all other manner of business. I'm generally a Grinch about it unless I'm sitting in the warmth of my cozy little home, which fortunately, I get to do a LOT.

I know I have no right to complain, but this is my place to vent as well as praise and process, so I'm exerting privilege. I shall confess and repent later. Then I'll sip a peppermint mocha and hit the play button on my Christmas playlist as I check tomorrow's forecast.

The Backyard

My Snowy Sahib

Just somethin' sorry-lookin' about this...

The corral takes on definition and outline in this stuff.

Snowy, but you're still welcome...
(Beware of the attack cat.)

What it looks like coming back home

Handsome backyard visitor

Loved and Kept

2010-11-30T09:52:00.001-08:00

Woke up with a massive headache that brought on nausea and the involuntary grimace that strikes my face inside that kind of severe discomfort. Woke at 10:30 to a message from Jylle saying she called me "a ton of times" and that if I hadn't gotten those messages, then my horse was probably still in the barn. Oy.

Feeling a little better than the death-on-a-stick I felt a few hours before, I donned my outdoor gear and headed for the barn. This is what I found.
He didn't even have the decency to think he was in the teensiest bit of trouble. Horses aren't like dogs though, so spanking him on the fanny with a newspaper would only cause mayhem and total confusion, so I did what any good horse owner would do--I gave him some apples, strapped on a lead rope, and put him back in the pasture.

I still had to find the short in the electric fence if I didn't want to do this again in a few hours. I prayed what I call my fence prayer, "Lord, You have to show me where this is, or I'll miss it. You know exactly where it is--please lead me there." I set out in a different direction than I usually do when looking for a short. The dogs went ahead of me, making the snow-going a wee bit easier as I followed in their trail. Not too far along, I found the wire down near the draw into the woods. Only two posts away was a big ol' spool of wire. Snip, snip, twist, twist, and we're good to go. Still not hot though, so I kept going. First though, I responded to that strong prompt to bring along an extra piece of wire. Thirty yards later was the second break, and that extra wire was just enough to connect the two severed ends. Now it's hot. I know because I felt the bit o'shock in my thumb as I stretched the wire taut.

I stood there in the white silence, marinating in the bliss of feeling His presence in and around me. The power of His felt nearness and loving-kindness was profound, and the only proper response was worship. In my mind and heart, I constructed an altar on that spot to commemorate this event. As long as I am sound, I will look on that place and remember. I am loved. I am kept in perfect protection and provision. He is always tenderly looking after me, and there will always be an ongoing abundance of faithfulness and grace. Remember.

What started out as a chore turned into first an amusing encounter and eventually a praise time in a beautiful, warm, snowy cathedral. I don't need to stay on the mountaintop though. A time like this bolsters me inside the ordinariness of the everyday. He knew this was exactly what I needed for exactly this time. How perfectly wonderful to be loved by the Perfect.

Brass Tacks

2010-11-26T08:41:00.000-08:00

One of our Thanksgiving traditions is to go around the table and talk about two things we're thankful for. I spent a couple days thinking about what I might say this year, but with the novel challenge to come up with something besides relationships and God.

I thought of the animals. I l-o-v-e my doggies and my horse. They are my buddies and my faithful companions with not one mean bone in their bodies amongst them. But then I thought They're basically like family. Doesn't count.

I thought of my home. It's modest, but it is a lovely setting. When it came right down to it though, without the memories we've made here as a family, this building would be just another nice place to live. Too shallow.

I thought of Kev's job, that we're extremely grateful for that in this wretched economy. We're thankful for the medical and dental insurance. It allows us to keep going without missing a beat while hundreds of thousands are not so blessed in this woeful climate. Pretty good, but Kev used this one last year.

I thought of good health. With our folks aging and my mom in acute, chronic pain for two years now, we're aware of our own "growing pains," some of them new and whose causes are phantom. Our kids are beautiful and healthy and thriving. This one will work!

The bottom line though, is that without relationships and God, there really isn't anything profound enough to declare "important." Without those two vital things, even good health isn't enough to make you get out of bed in the morning. No wonder there are more suicides during the holiday season than at any other time. It's in our very design and the motivation to even take our next breath. We are all about relationships and God, and ultimately, a relationship with God.

Thank You, Lord, for Your perfect design, for creating us for relationship and community and oneness, and for providing the Way for that. From the bottom of my small-but-still-learning heart. XO

Thanksgiving Thought

2010-11-24T09:57:00.000-08:00

I am surrounded and embraced by family, friends, love, and comfort. This is an incredibly rich life I'm talking about. The dysfunction is minimal, as compared with others', and honestly, it's almost embarrassing.

On the outermost edges of this blessed life exist the lonely, the invisible, and the broken. It's not that I don't care about them; I simply don't know them. Admittedly, I haven't tried to find them, much less know them. There is a niggling in my brain: What if I stepped out of my verdant, lovely, peaceful world and entered theirs...?

Perhaps lives would be changed on both sides, and I would realize that we have more in common than I ever imagined.

Happy 80th!

2010-09-22T09:32:00.000-07:00

Kev's mom is 80 today. She threw a party last weekend, and there were 20 of us. We all met at this one Chinese restaurant that she likes in Seattle and then went back to her place for cake and ice cream. She had a table full of snacks, but I think most people were still too full from lunch and then cake to do anything but nibble a few nuts. Kev rearranged the furniture to better seat everyone, so it was comfortable and still intimate.

My sister-in-law, Doreen, ordered the cake, and it was great--vanilla with a Bavarian cream filling. The restaurant let her keep it in their fridge while we were there because it was a warm day, especially for the West side.

Voila, zee cake!

The people always make the event. It was lovely to meet her friend, Ruth Li, who showed such kindness to Brett when he stayed with Mom last December. Her bright blue socks made me happy. It was so good of Kev's cousins to come, one from Gig Harbor and one from Tacoma, especially in light of the traffic from the Husky game. It was just plain wonderful to visit with Kev's aunts, the oldest and youngest sisters of his biological mother. They are the best. Not a minute into any conversation with Aunt Ila, and you're laughing. She lives in Victoria, which I understand has a huge bunny overpopulation problem. No crime, just thousands of wabbits.

Kev and the always adorable Aunt Ila

After her neighbor and walking partner left the party for home, I realized that if I was going to get the group shot I wanted, I had better do it right then. It was a beautiful day, completely defying every forecast we'd seen every day beforehand.

The Partay
L-R: Kevin, Me, Doreen, Dorine, Jo (Mom's cousin), David (Kev's cousin), Ruth Li (can you dig the blue socks? =), Mel (Kev's brother), Birthday Girl, Monica (David's wife), Eleanor & Berlyn Wible, Uncle Gary, Lorene (Kev's cousin), George (Lorene's husband), Aunt Mary Ellen, Jamie, Aunt Ila,
and Jyllea

Doreen's face is barely visible in all six of the pictures I took. Rats. But at least we have this memory shot for Mom, minus the one neighbor.

Mom is going to a prayer meeting today on this, her 80th birthday. Then she's going to spend the night with her friend, Dorine. I hope she has the best 80th birthday that anyone has ever had since the world began. She is healthy, takes good care of herself, and did/does the three things the oldest man alive says to do: Stay in school, work as long as you can, and always help others. She's the poster child for that last one down. She is a jewel, a gem, a peach, a rose, the sweetest Proverbs 31 woman ever, and we thank the Lord for her life every single day. Happy birthday, precious lady.

On John the Baptizer

2010-09-14T10:07:00.000-07:00

I read in Luke 7:28 that Jesus presents his cousin with tremendous praise, "I tell you, among those born of women there is no one greater than John." My mind flashed to their childhoods. What was their relationship like? From within the womb John knew Jesus was God's Son. John’s mother, Elizabeth, knew that it was the Lord Himself in utero Who had walked into her home. There’s all this communion amongst four people, two of whom aren’t even born yet.

John is a few months older than Jesus, and surely they played together at family functions every year. Nazareth and Jerusalem are about 65 miles apart, and I’m sure there was at least the annual occasion of Passover that brought the relatives together as Joseph brought his family to Jerusalem. When Jesus was 12 and stayed behind in Jerusalem, sitting among the teachers, listening and asking questions, might John have been there too, watching and listening and marveling?

Did John enjoy Jesus’ company? They were both the only child of their parents, at least Jesus was for a little while. At any rate, they were the oldest sons. I have to wonder how they got along. Was John protective of his little cousin? Having no brothers, did he treat Jesus like one? Did he beat up on him in a brotherly way, give him a hard time in fun like brothers do? Was there a mutual respect right from the beginning, an understanding that they were involved in the greatest story ever told?

John’s disciples came to ask Jesus, “Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?” After He reassured them, they left to deliver the reply. It was only after they left that Jesus pronounced to the crowd, “I tell you, among those born of women there is no one greater than John.” John's disciples didn’t hear that part, so John most probably never heard it either. But is that how Jesus felt about John all along, all those years growing up together? Did the growing Son of God know the heart of this growing son and go on in their adulthood to proclaim it to the world so we all could consider him—and be challenged to go even further: “Yet the one who is least in the kingdom of God is greater than he.”

John must have been a truly wise, humble, and God-honoring man. “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30). Only the most reverent, profound, and respectful things are quoted by him of Jesus: “One more powerful than I will come, the thongs of whose sandals I am not worthy to untie” (Luke 3:16). Jesus declared that there was no one greater than John, and yet John readily affirmed his unworthiness when compared to that of Christ’s.

When I have thought of John the Baptizer, I've pictured locusts, honey, an animal skin, and baptism. I have seldom considered his great humility, his boldness and courage, and those heavy days of doubt in Herod’s dungeon when he had to know Are You the One? I thought You were, but I need to know from You for sure. I need You to confirm it. God bless John's disciples who did for him what he couldn’t do for himself in that trial! They brought back the word he so needed to hear: You were right. It is true. He is the One.

Godly. Courageous. Humble. Great. In the end, human. I will consider John the next time I spoon honey into my tea, step on a grasshopper (sorry, PETA, can’t stand ‘em), or hear of a baptism. And I will be challenged upward and onward to decrease day by day, to aspire to the least of these--not in my strength, but in the Person of the One John loved and promoted and honored with his whole life.

1st Day of Junior Year

2010-09-01T10:55:00.000-07:00

"What do I do with my arms?"
Oh, yeah, you're always carrying something.
"All my stuff is in there."

Good and bad stuff about school.
Smile...
"Nooo...!"

You have to smile--I'm sending this to your grandparents.

*heavy sigh*
Thanks for the "beep beep"--it made me happy.

Father, keep her safe in the snake pit. Remind her of who she is and Whose she is. Don't let her speed. Keep crazies away from her. Sing Your song of love to her friends. Grant her some Christian friends at school who'll stand with her when things get dicey. Keep her pure and honest and focused. Help her to do her best and to listen more than she speaks. Shine out brilliantly in her, and make the people You allow into her life be able to taste and see that You are good. Yes, that You are the Maker of all good and perfect gifts. Help her to be radically saved and to be Jesus on wheels for the Kingdom.

And please remind her to wear her responsibility helmet at all times. *zhooop*

Deer, Deer, Go Away

2010-08-30T10:17:00.000-07:00

I don't have a green thumb, so every bit of garden produce we get is grown with great investment. Last year we only got raided in late September, and it was a doe with two babies, so I just let her eat what was left of the tomatoes and snow peas. This year, we have harvested three snow peas. It eats the snow pea blossoms and keeps the tops of the plants regularly mowed so they've only grown four inches tall. I kept thinking it would move on since we haven't had this happen before, but it's still here, and I'm still slow to pick up on some things!

I'm so aggravated about this deer! I've only seen deer around a couple of times, one buck and one doe, each at different times and not together, so I don't know which one it is. Maybe they've even since joined forces... (For simplicity's sake, I'll just assume it's the doe, so hereafter it'll be referred to as she/her.) We put some fencing on top of the peas and beans (whose blossoms she's trimming as well), and I scattered the clippings from Kev's haircut on the portions sticking out. The next day we had gusting winds, so the hair promptly blew away. I am *this* close to staying up tonight to rush her with pots and pans!

So far, we've gotten a decent bean harvest, but as summer slides into autumn, she'll have to start eating what's available instead of making dessert of the succulent tops and blossoms of my poor snow peas. That means the tomatoes and cantaloupes are in jeopardy. Come to think of it, she topped my sedum last night too. Seriously, I've never wanted to punch an animal in the face like I do right now. Well, I want someone to anyway.

Not sure what I'm going to do. Don't want to spend a lot on fencing since we're going to redo the whole garden fence situation next year. I can't keep cutting Kev's hair. Jylle won't let me cut hers. I'm not talented enough to cut my own. Dog hair doesn't work.

GOOGLE--what was I thinking?!--somebody out there must have an answer!

When Thank You Doesn't Come

2010-08-26T09:34:00.000-07:00

It's when I've done or said something with the intent of being encouraging or uplifting that I realize I have subconscious expectations when the thing remains unacknowledged. I was raised to believe that "thank you" was in order after someone did or said something with kind intent. Most of the time this ritual is satisfied to the extent that I only experience a lack of it on occasion. It occurs at least once/month on my big trip to town as I deal with the general public, and even rarely with friends. I have a higher standard for my closest friends and my family, and that's a problem.

I feel all good about something after I've done it, like that person who can't wait for you to open the present because you're just going like it so much! There's that eagerness, that anticipation of something along the lines of "Wow, I really like it--thank you!" If I've put effort into a project, even a little one, it seems like an abortion of sorts when it's met with a "Thank you for that," and the subject moves on immediately.

That's when I have to deal with the Committee as we caucus in order to find out what went wrong. That is usually when I come back to I expected something different, something better, something more. Who was I really doing this for then?
R-i-g-h-t...... I gave a gift with strings attached... or at least one anyway. Whose heart was blessed by the kindness of your intentions? My Father's... and His pleasure is the only thing I need to care about. Freely you have received, freely give.* The burden of unvoiced expectation, like a noose, is severed, as I realize my sin, and I release you from it with my most sincere apologies.

Yes, it would have been nice to know if it meant something to you, but the promptings of my motivation were divine, and you and I are only players in this larger lesson I would not have relearned if you had given me what I expected. See, I often forget that the main character in this story is not me, because most of the time it feels like it is me. The whole world tells me it is. I am reminded once again of that magnificent Protagonist, and I am humbled to the core.

Thank You for letting me play, Daddy. It means everything to me. You mean everything to me. Thank You.

=================
*Matthew 10:8

Yea, Skype!

2010-08-23T09:15:00.000-07:00

Got an email from Brett yesterday asking, "Can you Skype us about 2 p.m. your time?" My first thought was vocalized by Jylle, "Us...?" I replied that it probably wouldn't be a problem when suddenly the thought hit me--he's not going to tell us they're engaged, right?! I told him I don't like bombs...

For some weird reason, Skype was no longer on my computer, so I had to download and install it again. (I am so getting a Mac next time.) To my relief, it was a simple Skype call, a time to meet and introduce and get to talk for the first time.

Kev's phone kept ringing, so he only got to be in on it a few minutes here and there, but Jylle and I got to enjoy the whole thing. She laughs easily (which Jylle absolutely loved, esp the parts where Lydia laughed because of her), and she's simply adorable, very easy to like. I got to ask all the questions that came to mind, and we got to see the two of them together, having fun, joking, laughing, enjoying being young and in love (or least large infatuation =). It was a great introduction, and we were grateful for the time they took. They seemed to have a pretty good time too, so I believe a good time was had by all (...or however that antiquated saying goes).

Lord, please keep them pure and honest. Let the core of their relationship ever be anchored in Your love as they seek Your heart diligently. Lead them firmly by the hand through this time, whatever it may hold. Grant them wisdom, ground them in Love, and avail Your sweet joy to them. That's my prayer for all of them. XO

Mawa

2010-08-20T09:29:00.000-07:00

Glenice and I visited Jamara yesterday. She had her second knee replacement, so now she has two titanium hips and two chrome knees. Her right foot has been fused, but the left still needs to be done. Until now, it's all been her lower body, but she got the news before this last surgery that she'll have to have her right shoulder replaced too. She can't lift her arm beyond horizontal...

Her attitude is incredible. She is vigorously optimistic, enthusiastically joyful, and disturbingly wise for her 23 years. She's like my own little Dalai Lama--with a sprinkling of Kelly Pickler for color. Her state of mind is poised on the Mercy she sees in experiencing the ravages of this Adult Stills. While onlookers' mouths drop open at what she's encountered in the last three years, emotionally as well as physically, she speaks at length of God's kindness, grace, protection, and provision and how she is a better person for going through this. It is at once profoundly inspirational and convicting.

Wish I'd taken a picture of her. She straightened her hair, makeup beautifully done as usual, and she was perfectly lean in her black sweats. She is an unstoppable presence in any room. I love this girl like she came out of my own body, and it's bitterly piercing to imagine what it would mean if this disease continues to evade remission and runs out of cartilage to attack, starting in on her organs. I can't let myself go there. I must follow her sweet example and focus on Mercy.

Oh, p-l-e-a-s-e, Lord..............

They're Droppin' Like Flies

2010-08-15T17:01:00.000-07:00

So Ryan has a girlfriend. Jylle is fairly regularly crushing on someone different like twice a year. Brett calls us every week on Sunday, and this time he had something very intentional to tell us. Yeah, her name is Lydia. "You could say 'girlfriend'."

I had so many questions. He answered them all, but I found that my questions grew exponentially once we got off the phone. I've met Ryan's Larissa. I know all the guys Jylle has crushed on. I. Don't. Know. This. Girl. At. All.

My kids appear to be a little different as far as romantic relationships are concerned. The boys never had a girlfriend in high school. They're both now in their very first "real" relationship. I thank God that their Walk is sure and solid. That they care very much about the interior landscape of this other person, both as she came to them and how they must take care of it as men of God. There's a song called "A Sacred Moment" by Daniel Kirkley that often comes to mind when I think of my boys now. He sings of how this is a very special time, but that it may come to be that she will become someone else's wife, so for now, he wants this to be a sacred moment in her life. My take is: Let there be no scars or ugliness, but only a putting the best foot forward, putting her best before his own.

Maybe because it took so long for one of them to have a girlfriend, it was a surprise when it finally happened. That 'first' was in March. Five months later, we encounter the second 'first.' It was at once another surprise but also a very joyful thing for me. Brett sounded so happy, so willing to be forthcoming. I only wanted to know more, to dig into knowing this person who's making my son smile so much that I could sense it over the phone.

It's a really interesting time for me, something that a lot of moms my age have already experienced. But I wouldn't trade having to wait for anything. This seems just right. It's kind of like delayed gratification--seems a whole lot better for having it come later. And I'm grateful.

Again With the Going Back to School

2010-08-11T11:21:00.000-07:00

Ryan will go back to school this weekend. I can't believe his whole summer has gone. Looking back, it doesn't seem like there was even one day when I wished we were doing something else. All the days that he slept in and all the time he spent playing guitar or being on the computer, I was glad he was able to. I simply like that he's in the house. I suppose that once he's lived out of the house longer than he's lived in it, the feeling that this is the way it's supposed to be will diminish. Judging from the eagerness in both sets of our parents to see us and have us stay with them, I don't think it ever goes away completely.

Knowing that he's looking forward to getting back and seeing his best friends is worth a lot to my heart. Knowing that his classes are only getting more difficult is a little hard, but I know he can do it. I suppose I'll probably cry again, before and after he leaves, but knowing that's a natural and healthy thing makes it not as dread-full as it's been in the past. One last, good cry pretty much wraps it up until the next time. I just hope he keeps calling at least once/week because that makes me happy. I love you, Ryrie. XO

Before and After

2010-08-03T08:53:00.000-07:00

Before

Do you know how much damage can be done when you expect to be the Center of someone's universe? Do you realize how complicated you make it when your level of expectation exceeds reason? Where is this Grace you preach...? Where is this Love you speak of...?

You are so young. But you have experienced a great deal: Depth. Life. Miracles. Grief. Sorrow. Confusion. Complication. Tenderness. Courage. I don't consider that lightly. But this is hard.

This seems to be three steps forward, three steps back. This no longer seems worth it to me. Maybe it's a good thing I'm not much in the scheme of things because I would no doubt make this situation worse than it already is. I thought I knew your heart. Obviously I don't. I got caught presuming.

When Mary's heart was pierced through, did anyone remember the prophecy? Did she even, until the midst of it? To see your child suffer is a grief no parent can bear in a lovely way. It stinks. It's a mountain of misery, and more often than not, this mother's knee jerk reaction is to slap at the hornet rather than to be still and know that He is God, at work, alive, revealing...

After

Psalm 103:11-12 was written on the note left on the counter, “For as the heavens are high above the earth, so great are His mercy and loving-kindness toward those who reverently and worshipfully fear Him. As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us.”

I needed a fresh reminder of my own sin and level of unreasonable expectation. If I find that I am unwilling to forgive, if I have uttered the words, “How could you…” then I need the tender revelation once gain of which world I belong to. The rules and tools of that other world have no function or place , like using a tennis ball to build a house, or a sock to magnify. The rules of the Kingdom, of the Overcoming Life, are the tools of the Redeemed—humbled at being saved, forgiven, and given the scandalous privilege of walking as Daughter or Son, that to walk in any other manner than that of Abiding is not an option.

Where is this Grace I preach if it does not begin with me? Where is this Love I speak of if it isn’t seen immediately in my own life? I have been forgiven of far worse, and I drop the stones I would hurl in a red hot hurry as I acknowledge that my board is greater than your sliver. I wish you sweetness and roses as you are delivered from your self in this walk as we all will be. XO

Psalm 32:6-8 For this forgiveness let everyone who is godly pray—pray to You in a time when You may be found; surely when the great waters of trial overflow, they shall not reach the spirit in him. You are a hiding place for me; You, Lord, preserve me from trouble, You surround me with songs and shouts of deliverance. Selah. I the Lord will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with My eye upon you.

Georgie

2010-07-17T15:34:00.000-07:00

Shock rocked the Valley as news of Georgie McCanna's sudden death spread literally like wildfire. Phone and various local news chains lit up, as did text messages, the disturbing information branching out to people exponentially.

I still don't have all the facts, just that she was at the pool on Monday morning, July 12, when she suffered a massive heart attack, which killed her almost instantly. No rescue attempt made any difference; she didn't even have time to say one last thing. She was gone, just like that.

I think about her at least 20 times a day. I have so many questions, so many things I would've liked to have told her. She was one of those people who really listened when you spoke. She made you glad you ran into her and grateful that she was there. She was just one of those rare people who are really easy to love.

Georgie was only barely 50. She had no previous indications of a heart problem and in fact, exercised vigorously and faithfully. She was one of the creators of the exercise group at the middle school, and I often saw her strapping on her sneakers after school was over, ready to climb stairs and walk the halls with friends and co-workers.

I keep thinking of how one day her husband was probably thinking of where they might go to enjoy some of this summer break, and the next day, he's picking out his wife's casket. It's insane. I cannot wrap my little mind around it. It's just not the way it's supposed to be. It's just all too unreal.

Her service was as lovely and as loving as one could be. It was at the Catholic church, and I'd never been there before. We got there pretty early because we knew there'd be standing room only by start time. I picked one of the back pews, but Kev suggested the opposite side, and it wasn't until afterward that he told me it was because we would've been sitting right in front of the casket, something he deems just a little uncomfortable.

Two of her closest friends stood up together to read tributes and to tell a little about her. After that, her husband and youngest son got up to tell us their own. Michael graduated with my Brett, and he has a great sense of humor. He made everyone laugh with his recounting of how Georgie kept guessing "Sheep herder!" in one round of Pictionary, no matter how he tried to get her to shorten it. "It's shepherd, Mom! Shepherd!" From then on, any time you didn't know what the answer was, you'd just say, "Sheep herder!" Craig assured everyone that he loved his life with Georgie, and that while his world has come to a complete stop right now, he would go on again without her. There wasn't a dry eye in the room, and people cried freely and without embarrassment. This was a soul whose spirit was so sweet and thoroughly kind that it would be a shame to her memory to withhold honor that she would have so freely expressed.

Death is our own personal, final enemy. But for those of us who are in Christ, even Death has been ultimately silenced and rendered impotent. It is the gateway to real Life where it will not at all exist except perhaps as some distant reminder of having been vanquished by the One Who gave everything, so that we might inherit His All and live forever inside Love, Joy, and Peace.

So, Georgie, I will miss you. Everyone who ever knew you will miss you. The world is a less joyful place without you in it, and I'm praying for the people who loved you and whose hearts are in pieces. I know you are knowing Joy now, so enjoy that Life...

We said our goodbyes to you today. You would've hated being the center of attention, but your friends and family did a fabulous job of holding it together well enough to give honor to your life and acknowledge before the world how much they love and miss you.

Little Janie was beautiful. Craig was strong. Michael was hilarious. You would've loved that.

No one can believe it. It's all ridiculously horrible. How can a light so blazingly bright be gone now?! How does the earth keep turning, mail get delivered, the sun keep shining? How do the people who love you find a new normal without you when you were their North Star?

You were a huge part of why JMS is such a great place to work. The fingerprints of your heart work were everywhere. You made me laugh. You made me feel safe. And welcome. And cared about. There was nothing you weren’t there to help me with. You made me brave when I had to face the lunch lady about the food I'd used by mistake. You never made me feel dumb when time and again I'd forget to unlock the girls' locker room. Your smile and encouraging words were always exactly what I needed to go on and do the next thing right.

Your smile lit up a room. Your humility and strength were quiet, but so very sure. You were a driving force behind so many others' accomplishments, but no one outside might ever realize that. You were certainly the wind beneath so very many wings. So many beautiful facets to miss about you...

There's a hole the size of a galaxy here now. While we treasure knowing that we'll see you again someday, it's all the days in between now and then that will make the rest of this life here seem terribly long. But Brenda was right--the greater tragedy would've been to have never known you. You are a princess, as beautiful inside as out, with a kindness, integrity, and humility that endeared you to anyone who spent any time with you at all.

I thank the Lord for your life. I know He'll hold you close and treasure you in this last Dance. See you soon… XO

My Six-Month Cough

2010-07-12T16:17:00.000-07:00

It's taken more than a week for my voice to get back to near normal. The evening headaches and retching have been hard to get a handle on, and I can't tell where my activity limit is, so I'm still trying to feel that one out. I wake with three specific symptoms, live out the day doing whatever, and feel around rather blindly around evening time looking for hand holds. Going to bed at 9:00 seems to be a good idea so far.

A nurse friend asks occasionally, "So how's your lung cancer?" She always wants me to get this cough checked into because the rate of lung cancer cases is spiking. I always know though, that it's not lung cancer. It's just something that sticks around a long time, but eventually always goes away. Like a bad meal.

Gotta say though, Texas was totally worth it.♥

Hoopfest 2010

2010-06-27T12:23:00.001-07:00

I actually had fun at Hoopfest yesterday! Ryan and I didn't get there until about noon, and we spent half an hour just looking for a parking spot. It didn't look good when we saw all kinds of people heading toward the park blocks and blocks north of it. We finally found something about 6 blocks away, and a guy pulled in behind us right when we got there. I made fruit kabobs and brought lots of ice water, and we took turns carrying the cooler to lighten the burden.

The first game we saw was Zeb's. We hefted ourselves over the stone wall, and I felt bad crushing the day lilies. No one around us seemed to care, and one guy and I even laughed about how "anything goes 'cause it's Hoopfest!" Still felt bad being a crusher though. Kev and Dave H were camped out under a huge tree, two oldie guys each with a camping chair and a book in complete surround-shade.

Kev's first game happened so fast that he didn't have time to re-injure his bad ankle. The crushing took all of ten minutes, and it was soundly over. The second game took a little longer, but only after Dave R was steam rolled by an opponent disguised as a wall. His jaw ended up misaligned, but even more damage was inflicted upon his sense of manhood. "Huh!" Take that, mean man!

Not wanting to see our guys further tossed about like rag dolls, Barb and I took a short jaunt into Nordstrom where she treated Ryan to a peach smoothie while he waited for us with his book. I tried on a scarf and matching hat in vivid fuchsia. Would've bought both of them, but I had just given my spare $300 to a homeless waif. Darn.

Ryan stayed at the park with Zeb, and I took off for home. Realizing that I had no one waiting for me and really no reason to zip straight home, I took a few detours, which eventually landed me some much-needed grocery items as well as a dandy little bag of treasures from Bath and Body Works for 75 percent off! I was extremely pleased with my bargains and agreed with myself to go home now. But only after one last stop for a frozen pizza and ice cream.

THAT was one great Hoopfest.

sweet she...

2010-06-21T18:49:00.000-07:00

When she laughs, I swear butterflies are born. Roses drop their thorns, and even the gravel softens.

But when she cries, even the sun dims in heartache. Woodlands grow gray, and even the creatures retreat in sorrow.

Rejoice for her. Weep with her. Celebrate her. But most of all, remain beside her.

a high school girl at heart♥

2010-05-31T07:26:00.001-07:00

I started going to youth group Jylle's freshman year just so she could go. I always did like the worship, and now I could hang out with some of the high school kids I really enjoy. Now that Ryan's home for the summer, I don't have to go. In fact, she has her license now so she can drive herself. But I'm still going. For one thing, Kev doesn't object. Secondly, I still enjoy it. There are kids I really look forward to seeing, and if I don't see them on Wednesday, I won't see them at all.

Ryan wrote a poem for me that contains the phrase, "a high school girl at heart." I've never forgotten that because it's fraught with meaning. On the negative side, it could mean I'm not that mature and still involve myself in shallow, frivolous matters. Stings, but it's true. On the positive side, it could mean that I will ever be able to relate to the things that these young women care about, whether it's the shallow or the not-so. I like being able to relate and be relevant to these girls whose hearts I truly care about. Being able to listen and empathize and then pray for and with them is a privilege, and I know it's work that He's put before me.

Maybe I like how carefree and ready to laugh they are. Maybe I like their contagious joy and their eagerness to be together. Maybe grown-ups are serious a LOT, and I like a break from that. Maybe it's more than I even know. All I know that I have a big green light, and that's a good enough Go for me.

Off to straighten my hair and buy some gum. Gosh.....

Awkward, Odd, and Worthy

2010-04-01T15:17:00.000-07:00

"God continually introduces us to people for whom we have no affinity, and unless we are worshipping God, the most natural thing to do is to treat them heartlessly..."

There's a teenager at church I'm not particularly fond of; I even unfriended him and then clicked "Ignore" when he sent a second friend request a few months later. While I did accept his third friend request just last week, I'm still not particularly fond of this kid. He's just really odd, and when I'm around him, I feel very self-conscious, the way I do around people whom I think don't like me.

He's here at my house right now, about 10 feet away. I'm often reminded of what Cheryl shared with me from Oswald Chambers the day I told her about the whole unfriending thing. It was something to the effect of "When you treat someone harshly, it means you're unwilling to take on that person's burden." Jylle has also told me that it's not that he doesn't like me--he's just awkward and odd, but she still wants to be his friend.

As I sit here praying, I have this determination to simply love him. Awkwardness, oddness, and self-consciousness all aside, I will love him in Christ. I will treat him like a friend. He is my brother, after all. Thank You, Father, for Your Love that supercedes all.

Weak Junk

2010-03-29T10:06:00.000-07:00

There's so much that is worthy of my attention--immediate family, extended family, quiet time fodder, eccentricities of the day, the latest Democratic dance... They range from whisperings to outright screechings. I'm sure you can relate. These all seem so awfully important as they rear their heads.

"Gather the people together to Me and I will make them hear My words, that they may learn reverently to fear Me all the days they live upon the earth and that they may teach their children," (Deut. 4:10). These are the words that I want to want to heed wholeheartedly.

My children are my Achilles. Do or say what you will to me, but watch well what you direct toward my kids. I have antennae alert, the initiation of which I am not aware. Defenses arise, and I am not even alert to them until the threat has passed, is defused, or deemed impotent. Always I wish this vulnerability was not so great. I wish I could sip a lattè while lackadaisically pointing out varied and sundry weak spots in my world and the people who comprise it as if it didn't matter. Alas, I am not made of such strong stuff.

I am made of the most fragile chiffon. If soul was a tangible element, I might be cotton candy--reduced to pink sugar syrup at the introduction of enemy moisture. Afar, I might appear hefty and extensive and well-connected. But is anyone all that...?

When people validate you as kind and thoughtful and "wonderful"--what happens inside? Do you scramble to justify all that? I do. When time goes on and I remember what I really am, I pray. Hard. I want to fling off all that's not truly me and put on Christ so that I can be so. much. more. of that wonderfulness. I scramble to make it about Him and not me because I always make everything about me, even when I'm trying to make it about anything else. Ultimately I want to hear, and learn reverently to fear, and to have my children hear--and obey, and abide.

Doesn't seem like this is as connected and relevant as I intended at the start, but that's how it usually goes. I hear or see or think something and believe it's blogworthy. And so it might be in the right hands. Seems my hands are elsewhere. I am content. That's worth something, right?

Our Jeslyn

2010-02-24T08:36:00.000-08:00

I have a niece who's one of those rarest of finds. She's a beautiful girl, tall, slim, with coffee-colored hair and eyes the color of a summer sky. It is her heart that captivates me though. We are polar opposites politically but she puts me to shame when it comes to living out the Gospel. She has exhibited more grace and maturity in the face of trial and opposition than most of the believers I've ever known, myself being the least.

Her joy leaves you wanting more. Her humor is quick, often self-effacing, but always wonderfully out there. She inquires into my life, into my heart, my well-being, and when she questions, it's as if I'm the only person in the room or certainly the one she cares about the most at that moment. She makes you feel important, relevant, and worthwhile. Seldom has she ever given her attention to anything else when we talk. Her gaze is steady, focused, and intent, and you find yourself wanting to bless her with your words and an equal attention.

She is a wonderful writer, and I wonder if the Palouse realizes the jewel they have in that rural area. While her talents might later be put to use in a large, metropolitan city, possibly not even in the States, I hope her heart will always be drawn back home here. I love just knowing she's in the area, as if that makes the sun just a little nearer in the winter.

I admire you, Jeslyn. And since my human love is so small, I love you with God's bottomless, infinite, overwhelming Love. mmWAH.

so Other

2009-10-22T09:17:00.000-07:00

I want stability. You want my growth.
I want comfortableness. You empower me to stretch.
I want safety. You offer goodness.
I fear everything. You've conquered ALL.
I'm content with lukewarm. You want passion.
I don't know anything. You give the mind of Christ.
I wait for You to pull. You wait for me to step.
I've tried to do it alone.You never meant for me to.
I lean toward feelings. You supply perfect balance.
I think of the worst. You allow only the best.
I want shortcuts. You are the Way.
Help my unbelief. You are the Truth.

filial wretching

2009-10-09T00:43:00.000-07:00

I'm so weary of being the more mature one in this relationship when my parents are supposed to be......... My mom, of all people, is the one who's the more mature, and my dad is the one I want to toss into a recycle bin and start all over with!

He's been pitching hissy fits whenever we've forgotten to call to say we're home safely or WHATEVER. Doesn't matter, he calls and lets us know in no uncertain terms that he is NOT okay with us not having contacted them in one way or another to fill them in on whatever.......

Bbblllllleeeeeeccccchhhhhhhhh............... I just want to retch right now.

No one reads this, so I feel pretty safe in putting out here that I have RE-acted in a patient way toward this man, and I believe it will not get any better in the near future just because I've apologized. Again and again. He's old and cemented and thinks he's always right. What do you do with that...? What in the world do I do now?!

"Mine"

2009-10-02T09:19:00.000-07:00

Jylle wrote a song for me for my birthday! She was so excited--she ran downstairs and said, "I finished this song. You have to come and listen!" She fairly dragged me by the hand to her room, where she plopped down on a chair and started into it. It wasn't until I heard the name "Didier's" that the thought dawned on me that this song was about me. Like, for me. I totally interrupted, blurting out, "Is this song for ME?" She didn't miss a beat (literally), just kept singing and nodded her head 'Yes.' Tears flooded my entire face. Felt like it anyway.

Wish I could post the song here, but at least I can show the lyrics.

"Mine"

You could understand me when no one else could
You would stand beside me when no else would
You, you are mine

Drama filled my life when I was only thirteen
You were there to show me how to keep my heart clean
You, you are mine

Rainy days would come and I would ask to hold you
You were there to give me something to hold onto
You, you are mine

All those trips to Didier's we took on Tuesdays
They'll stay in my heart forever and always
You, you are mine

I don't care what they say, I'll always love you
I'll never forget all the funny things we do
You, you are mine

Hate to break it to you, but I've gotta leave sometime
Don't worry about it though, I'll be back in no time
You, you are mine

Start looking different at the start of September
Miles separate us, but just remember
You, you are mine

As I'm growing older, I hope just maybe
I could be a fraction of you, pretty lady
You, you are mine

You, you are mine.

Lord, thank You from the bottom of my gnarly little heart
for this precious gift.
And for the song, too. xoxo

Musings on Aging and Changing (and Not)

2009-10-01T08:32:00.000-07:00

Kev is 50 now. I'm going to be 49 in three days. This is way past middle age already. I remember when I was 38, thinking THIS is the midpoint of my life. To live much more beyond 76 is not something look forward to doing. But when I look at our parents, all I can think is how I would HATE for them to be gone! It's hard enough not having Kev's dad anymore.

My dad is 79, kev's mom just turned 79, and my mom is 71. It happens much slower and much less frequently, but I still have moments like I do with my children when I think How did this happen? how did they get to be this age already?

More and more I am convinced that we do not have the tools that would make it possible for us to love our parents as much as we love our children. As the child, there is much gratitude and guilt tied in with the love. As the parent, there is that unconditional love and abiding desire for their best, as well as the will to protect them as much as we possibly can. All too similar are both loves as they relate to my spiritual life.

Perhaps it is just this particular time in my life, but the gratitude and guilt part are nailhead

accurate. How can You stand by and watch me choose poison instead of nectar? How is it that You continue to pour mountains of spices on my already wealthy life? I fear the dropping of the other shoe, the last straw that will cause shouting from the rooftops of all I am guilty of and must answer for.

I am less of a pleasure junkie than I am just wanting not to feel much of anything. I don't seek out great highs and am not fighting great lows. I just simply don't want most of life to make me feel anything but okay. Perhaps "calm" is the best description. I want everything to feel all right, that there's nothing wrong or of great concern on any front.

Not much of a warrior, am I? Sounds like the enemy would be quite pleased with himself. Disengaged, self-absorbed, working for the status quo, I go about these days neither challenged nor challenging to anyone else. Lukewarm. Eeeyuck.

I'm looking for change around the corner though. There is a plan in the works that I know not of, one that will vault me out of this grave and back into the fray. I am made for Life, and Life is the business He is about even now as I consider this. And suddenly I realize that great highs are not so bad after all. It is the fear of descent that lurks and haunts, but fear is nothing to Him Who holds my heart and soul and Whose mind I possess. THESE are the truths I must choose to dwell on. The conversations I have with myself are as important to my mental discipline as drinking in the truth in His word. They carve and sculpt that landscape as surely as my experiences.

Hope. Hope is what I long for, and Hope is what I need. Fortunately for me, Hope is Who I have.

Stroke

2009-09-26T10:45:00.000-07:00

Lord, Kathy's Brandt had a stroke, and I can't believe it. They had so little of what I'd call normal time together so soon after their wedding. The fun and adventure and leisure I expected they would enjoy seems like a dull dream now, something only other people get to have. My heart is heavy, and I don't even know how to pray.

She needs You. For a thousand-foot need, You are her thousand-foot crutch. As we lower Brandt on a litter and ask expectantly for Your healing, I come to Your throne boldly and ask for titantic grace and mercy on her spirit, her mind, and her body. This is a hard one, Lord, and she needs the All of You to carry her. No one can do this alone. I don't know if she even has anyone in the area who can offer something to her as simple as a cup of coffee in compassion. She doesn't speak of tight friends, not that I can recall anyway, and her kids aren't in the area. My human tendency is to panic. Fortunately for her, she's nothing like me! Feed her Your truth and keep her steady and trusting.

Hold them firmly, Lord. Grant them the great, great grace of Your felt presence. Give her wisdom as she embarks on this new chapter. Let there still be generous helpings of Your surprise hugs, simple delights, and even joy--somehow, in the way only You can bring about. Grant her mercy, companionship, strength, knowledge, and supernatural peace--Your very own peace, You say in Your word.*

Help me to stand alongside her and offer her whatever comfort and compassion You would flow out through me. Use this thing in their lives to grow them up into a child, and do that in Your soft, tender way, for Your glory.

I'm rambling now... Please help her to get some rest. Give all the doctors, nurses, and helpers wisdom, skill, and compassion. Surround her with Your kindness, Father. XO

a tiny money matter

2009-09-24T08:12:00.000-07:00

Seems kind of silly to call one a credit card and the other a debit when they both reduce the amount of money you have. It's nice to have two different names for them though.

I was looking at the word "debit" and realized how extremely close in spelling it is to "debt." And then I realized that the reason my debt grows is because "i" spend money! Interesting, isn't it?! Well, maybe you've already thought about that stuff, but it was new to me.

Where You Go

2009-09-17T07:37:00.000-07:00

Oh, Lord, You are so utterly unlike us.

He doesn't acknowledge the wrong I do because He knows He's already dealt with it, and it's a mute point. Instead He is all about drawing me on higher and deeper, always completely marinating me in His titanic love.

I feel like I've been blinded by gaudy lights and baubles for so very long. This is like waking from a drugged coma where I'm rediscovering my legs and hands and neck. Movement is awkward and staggered. There is forward motion though, so I keep on.

I had a dream. I was up on a fence, straddling the top rail. Suddenly it started moving, smoothly and slowly like a horse. When I woke up I thought, "That's funny. I was riding a fenc-----."

Comfortable in my own little world. Content with mediocrity. Exploiting the gift of choice. Believing outside voices instead of God's Word. A dam of unreality is built.

I pray for "the gift of tears."*

The torrent of His purpose and love will not be held back though, and there is divine magma roiling. I pray sincerely and earnestly for the explosion, whatever comes, because He is always and only goodness, loving-kindness, and life.

"Where You Go" - Kim Walker/Jesus Culture

* "From the moment when we are brought face to face with our whole uncensored past and are forced to admit and to take full responsibility for all our faults and failures in thought, word, and deed... our release from spiritual aridity can begin. Only when we realize that self-will and its futile efforts are completely powerless to effect our deliverance can we finally abandon them and throw ourselves solely on the Compassion of the Other Power, which at last can respond to our plea and replace our impotence. Then we may be granted that most precious of confirmatory signs, the gift of tears, which spring forth from the eyes in spontaneous gratitude. Such cleansing tears are tears both of joy and of grief, of remorse for one's hard-hearted pride and perversity, and of purification from all egoistic defilements, but most of all of thanksgiving for the gift of Faith. Only tears such as these can break the drought of self-sufficiency, can water and refresh the barren anger and hatred that have gripped the heart and deprived it of tenderness, and can set free again the living waters of the spirit." ~Harold Stewart

Note: While I do not promote the writings of Harold Stewart, God uses whatever He wants to touch us and move us along in His purpose.

50 Years!

2009-07-20T11:01:00.000-07:00

My folks celebrated their 50th anniversary on Sunday, July 19. The actual date is this fall on October 31, but they wanted to do it in the summer so it could be outside in the nice weather, and at least five of their seven grandchildren could come.

My mom wanted "lichon," which is a whole pig roasted on a rotisserie. My brother Alan was put in charge of that, and he found a place that would rent a huge grill and sell them the pig. He and Kev had to "take care" of the pig, and you can see in the picture that this was the way they chose to roast it. Unfortunately, this is not the arrangement my mom was wanting, but to her credit, she handled the bad news amazingly well.

Kev and I will celebrate our 27th anniversary next month. I can't imagine what it must be like to be married for 50 years and say the same things that we're saying now: Where did it go? How did the kids grow up so fast? How did we get this old? How can it be that this much time has passed?

We all share the same yearning to experience with another person love, acceptance, bonding, intimacy, and the pith of life. We want that someone to be there for us when we're vulnerable, shaken, or ugly. We want to be able to count on and trust that someone and likewise to be counted on and trusted. My parents have been extremely blessed to have known the satisfaction of this experience. They expressed their gratitude as well as they could at the party, and bless my mom, she did it with elegance, perfect sentiment, and a wisdom that comes from a personal knowledge of pain, exquisitive joy, and the Love of the Ages.

Like my friend Mae says about our bodies aging but never feeling older in our hearts, "It's a testament to the eternalness of our spirits." At the same time, there comes a deepening of our knowledge of what it means to know love, to be loved, and to be in love. I am profoundly grateful for these gifts in my parents' life together--gifts to them and from them.♥♥

Some LightsHigh...

2009-07-15T10:53:00.000-07:00

I cried when we landed; it was love at first sight. I'm going to walk where You walked, see things You saw, and breathe the air where You grew up. Thank You... Palm trees peppered the area around the airport like my own personal happy greeters. Just the sight of them made me glad. "Oasis," I thought. Little could I know how this place would come to water my soul.

Our first stop was in Caesarea, and the surreal turquoise of the Mediterranean Sea was the kind of eye shock I needed to let go of the side of the pool and sink completely under into this trip. GeroniMO!

On the Sea of Galilee, which is really just a big lake, we sailed on the “Faith,” the only boat on the lake run by a Christian. The captain's name is Daniel, a Messianic Jew with well-sunned skin, long wavy black hair, and a simple, light-hearted manner of communicating. We sat on long benches lining both sides of the boat, some of us singing along lazily with the worship music. Except for Cathy who stood on the raised deck and belted her heart out.

Sitting there, I took in the heat, the people around me, the water splashing against the sides, the gentle hills to the east, and the felt presence of His Spirit. You taught here. You ate here. You walked on this lake and calmed its waves. Your footprints are invisible, but they’re there. I know it--2,000 years, and Your fragrance still lingers. Tears came uninvited, and I let them just be. The experience of His nearness always does that to me.

To place my feet on the same stones where Jesus walked to the Temple was fun. It wasn’t moving to me in the same way; it was something joyful and fun. I silently thanked the excavators and all the people involved with clearing and cleaning the enormous area that allows us now to literally walk in His steps.

The Western Wall (no one here calls is the Wailing Wall) brought about something I was not prepared for—grief. To see women in tears, some plastering themselves as tightly to the wall as they could, some seated and reading from prayer books for hours, my heart was crushed by grief. They want You; You want them more. They wait for You, and You’ve already come. They long for deliverance, and Redeemer has paid and risen. Lord God, show them Your Son. Open their eyes and relieve their pain. Karen held me and let me cry. When it was my turn in line, I scrunched my written prayer into a crag in the wall only as a token of respect and tradition. You don’t need me to write this down—You know me better than I know myself. Then I backed away in the manner they practice as one backs away from the presence of a king. I attempted to wipe my eyes and will away the red and then rejoined our group only to find their eyes all wet and red as well…

There are two places proffered as the place of Jesus’ resurrection. The one in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is a huge, awkward, complicatedly decorated, Russian Orthodox shrine constructed in an incongruous fashion with its surroundings. The priest lets in five at a time, and there are candles and incense burning in the outer chamber. Beyond that is a tiny room with the stone where it’s believed He was laid. There are candles and a painting in the Russian Orthodox order.

The Garden Tomb is the other place, and we ended our tour there. From the get go, we were greeted by a lively British man whose excitement was contagious as he told us about why he believes this place is the grounds of Golgotha and then not far from that, the tomb.

It’s all outdoors in a beautiful garden setting with places for meditation or just enjoyment carved out in the flora and fauna. The explanations he gave grew on me as the facts and Scriptures he laid out seemed to gel and jive. We took turns going into the tomb, and as Mr. Corker said, “It is completely unenshrined, Hallelujah!”

We had communion afterward on our own, and after that a time of sharing as anyone felt moved. I felt it was the fullest in spirit our little group had been the entire time, actually the only time Kevin and I felt our motley crew was united. It was a truly beautiful place, and the serenity, joy, and humble thankfulness we experienced there was an exquisite seal on the priceless gem that was this visit.

Interestingly enough, it was one of the few place where I didn’t cry. I think Joy, Peace, Victory, and Love were there in abundance and served to make me simply utterly content. For that reason, I hold it forever hugged and smiled on in the room of my heart set aside just for this Garden.

Shalom.

mentalpause

2009-07-14T06:43:00.000-07:00

Re-entry is almost always a little tricky, and this is no exception. It's not like I didn't have enough time because I had plenty. It's not like I wanted to stay or even that I'd turn around and go right back if I could. The only thing that comes close to nailing it is how you seem to grow another heart the day you have a baby. It's like that heart belongs entirely to that child, and he can be anywhere in the world--Madrid, Texas, or downstairs in his room--but inside that heart that resides in your core, an essential part of you is somehow righthere with him. I had a connection intellectually with Israel before, but now it's grown arms and legs and skin and hair and blood. I've had a small taste of His longing over, protection of, and passionate history with the people of this place, and something inside me has changed.

I never wanted to be one of those people who constantly makes references to the exotic place she's just visited. That gets old f-a-s-t. Chances are however, that I'm probably more like the things I'd rather not be, so I hope you'll give me grace and maybe a gentle nudge if I lapse into that behavior. You'll know that even though I'm right there in your living room or commenting away online, there's a wadge of me away across the sea...

Deuteronomy 7:6-9

a sad intermission

2009-06-15T08:41:00.000-07:00

There was a tiny baby bird that lay dead in the road on my walk today. I felt sad after spotting it. No idea how it ended up in the road since there weren't any overhanging tree branches. Strong winds could've blasted it out of its nest and into the road yesterday I guess. I took two sticks, tried to look at it only peripherally because I didn't want to see its dead face, and hoisted it into the bushes. I just couldn't stand the idea of it getting run over by a car. It just didn't sit well. This seemed a reasonable option. Ending up dust to dust or even being a meal for another critter was a better option than getting run over.

On a brighter note, I'm jogging more than half my walk now, so somewhere around 2 miles. That's happy-making!

USAFA GRADUATION!!!

2009-06-10T22:25:00.001-07:00

It was a rush of activity, but all of it so amazing and wonderful. We were SO happy to have my folks and Kev's mom there. The presence of the Lord was so obvious and almost tangible the whole time. It was a tremendous gift to all of us.

We stayed the night in a Sheridan (WY) hotel on the way there, and it was a great experience. If you ever need a hotel there, we highly recommend the Wyndham. It had everything we needed, it was clean and attractive, and the service was excellent. I made a big loud point of asking Kev to make reservations this trip because I'm sick to death of pulling into a town at 11:30 p.m. and pouring everyone into bed in either a dive, or a hundred-dollar six-hour stay. He outdid himself!

My folks went in their RV and Ryan went with them to share the driving with my dad. They left on Fri, we left on Sat, and we both arrived Sun afternoon. Brett had already had a bunch of his stuff sent to Sheppard, and the rest he stuffed in his car or moved to his host family's house.

The weather for the parades both Mon and Tue was so cold! We brought blankets and stadium seats, and Ryan and Jylle huddled under them for a while trying to gather some warmth. I have never seen my father shake from cold before. He was cold to the very core, but so obviously glad to be there. I was thrilled that he could enjoy being there. (My mom just finished radiation treatments the 13th of May, and she was still weak and in pain, so she didn't attend anything until Tue night. My dad of course stayed with her, but Mom and I both urged him to come to the parade since it wouldn't be long.) I didn't even think to ask him until we were on our way to the base, and I'm SO glad it all worked out.

The swearing-in ceremony on Tue night was so impressive! We loved it! It was just our squadron, so it was the most intimate gathering. The cadets sat with their families until the last 15 min when they got up to make room for guests. It was a formal event, so it was lovely to see everyone dressed so nicely. The cadets wore their tux uniforms. One at a time, each cadet stood by the American flag, raised the right hand, and repeated the oath of office read to them by an officer of his/her choosing. After that, someone (usually a family member or significant other) changed the shoulder boards on the uniform. Having my dad change out Brett's was powerfully meaningful, poignant, and memorable. I loved seeing all the different people the cadets chose to do that particular thing.

The only dim spot in the whole weekend was when Kev's mom fell when we got back to the car. It was dark, and there was a curb, and she didn't have reliable shoes on, so when she went down, it was a scary shock. She broke her hip and shattered her wrist seven years ago falling like that. But she recovered nicely and ended up with a baseball sized bruise on her shoulder.

Finally, Wednesday arrived, and here it was the big day. Graduation Day was the perfect temperature--sunny and breezy! Thank You, LORD! God was generous and gracious! The cadets marched into their rows in perfect precision, and the band blared something that was probably its equal to Pomp and Circumstance. The most obvious difference in their uniforms is the golden sash around their waist. It's striking, and at least to me, yet another symbol of accomplishment, pride, and patriotism. They all looked smashing! Seated at last, the speeches began.

Joe Biden's speech was actually a pleasant surprise. He poked fun at Obama this one time after mentioning how windy it was as he implied the potential for something to happen to the equipment. "What will he say if I tell him his teleprompter is broken?" That brought both laughter and applause--and a new appreciation for Biden that I never thought I'd have!

We stayed in Brigham City on the way back since Dad wanted to take a flatter route home to ease the burden on his transmission. There was one time when "82" kept going through his mind. They needed gas, so he turned off on exit 82 in LaGrande. He kept driving into town looking for cheaper gas but finally stopped at a 76 station when they couldn't find anything less. When he went to refill the transmission fluid, he found that it'd been leaking and was almost dry. A mechanic from the repair shop right next door saw what was going on and came over with this very specific tool for the job that made it so much easier! A total God-thing! Dad said if he hadn't stopped there, they'd probably have gotten stranded somewhere along the interstate. Eeeyuck.

I drove the last four hours home, and it was fun when Jylle and I were up front and wondered aloud about all the plans we might possibly make if we actually do get to go to SoCal together as her senior present. The Pacific Coast Highway and then all the way to San Diego, baby! We're all talk, but it was fun to brainstorm and dream...

When we pulled up to the house, we were so surprised by how much everything had grown! The lilacs were in full bloom, the grass needed mowing big time, and the plants on the rock wall were full and round. My doggies were wagging their butts off, whining and "doggie smiling" if you can picture that. I do love my doggies...

Brett came home for almost 48 hours the following Mon and is in Kenya now for 2 weeks, teaching and helping out at a school in Nairobi with another Christian friend, a fellow graduate. He'll fly to Europe after that and then to WA early in July. Kev and I will be getting back Israel shortly after that, and we'll all meet up at his mom's for a family reunion in Seattle and a trip to visit Kev's aunt in Victoria, Canada. Brett plans on seeing as many people as he possibly can before he leaves for Sheppard, as well as go camping, rock climbing, and boating as much as possible. I'm praying for good weather for it all!

Sooooo, it's over--the Academy experience, graduation, and all the concerns that accompanied that for me as a mom. Of course there are brand new concerns now that he'll be in pilot training at a base known for raising up fighter pilots, but I won't future trip, just take it as it comes. I'm already trying not to anticipate how much I'll miss him now that training makes it almost impossible to come home for anything but Christmas. Even then, I'm not quite sure...... One day a a time, Lord, right? One day at a time. Thank You for just one glorious day at a time.

We're going to Israel!

2009-05-19T08:33:00.001-07:00

When Andy, our youth pastor, announced at youth group in March that he's taking a group to Israel the end of June, my heart lurched. That is the one place on the globe I have always had a desire to visit (well, that and the Philippines again). When I heard the cost, reality slapped me silly. But I never lost hope. I would pray, "Lord, You know what has to be done here. There's the money, and there's getting past Kev. And I think Kev is the bigger obstacle here."

A person would drop out here or there, and people would rise up to take their places. There was never any angst or restlessness or impatience. Just always an abiding sense of "If this were to happen for me, it would be so great."

On Mother's Day, after my traditional, beautiful, kid-prepared breakfast, Kev leaned on the bed and asked, "How would you like to go to Israel?" I asked, "How?" I knew a spot was open, and that the cost went down from $2500 to $2100 because of the fundraising that had gone on, but still--that's almost no change at all. He said, "A spot has opened up, and the price is down to $1700 now." One incredible boy donated some of his over-and-above funds so that I could go! Kev had been on the phone for the last two weeks working on seeing how I could go! Bigger obstacle, my eye! I knew this was the 20th seat, the minimum number needed pricewise overall. But I also knew of a 21st seat that Kev knew nothing about. Ryan and Jylle were in the room too, and one of them asked, "Why don't you go too?" I rushed in and told him about that last seat, "It could be for our 25th! We never did anything for it!" You could see the wheels turning as he slowly smiled, considering, and said, "That'd be pretty cool..."

When I was young, I would play this game with God. I called it "Go Ahead and Try." (He is so indulgent to engage us on any level!) It's impossible to outgive God, and this probably sounds loopy, but I found it fun to try. I would call Game On and then venture into some new way of giving, whether it was money, time, or effort. I would envision all the myriad ways He could outgive me, knowing that He never, ever came through in any of those ways. Eventually, He'd execute some coup de grace, and I'd know it was Game Over, and it was always so delightful to see how He came through because it was always a complete surprise, ridiculously clever, and utterly sweet!

In February, I started the game again. Every week, I would give all my coins to the SS offering, no matter how much or how little. I know it's not much, but it's something. If I missed church, I'd just let it add up, and I'd empty it all the next week. Until then, collecting my change was something that would render about $100/year, which I always enjoyed either spending or adding to my savings (I'm always saving toward one thing or another). It dawned on me the day after Kev presented the Israel trip to me that He'd done it again!This is My gift to you. Game over.

Maybe it's an STP thing, but it didn't fully hit me until Sunday that this is really going down. Kev and I are going to Israel! He's so fun too because he says this at some point every day now, "I can't believe we're going to Israel!"

Me too, but WE'RE GOING TO ISRAEL!!!

USAFA Graduation at Hand!

2009-05-17T08:15:00.000-07:00

Only 10 more days until Brett graduates! Incredible!

Seems like just a year+ ago that I was an emotional pile from having dropped him off and thrown him to the wolves...

My folks will leave on Friday in their motor home with Ryan in tow so that he can share the driving with Dad. The three of us will leave on Saturday and just meet up all together in Colorado Springs.

We have shopping to do in the meantime though since whatever we attend requires dress clothes. I can't believe how okay my Kevin is with all the expenditure--not one word of bemoaning or shade of complaint. But then, he's good at forecasting, so he probably thought all about it already and was braced for this four years ago! He and Ryan need dress slacks, shirts, and ties, and Jylle and I need cocktail dresses, of all things, in addition to sun hats. They don't allow umbrellas, so I'm looking for a proper sun hat, whatever that is. Can't help but picture "Kentucky Derby." Where do I buy a classy sun hat?!

Sooooo thankful for having lost a little weight so I can fit into some of the pre-heavier clothes I'll be packing now. Less expense, and I just plain feel better. Not being able to taste or smell anything in two weeks has been harder than I thought it might be, but it's like a fast--whenever I feel like complaining, I pray instead, and truly, truly, I have mountains of blessings to thank Him for. Still wondering when the ban will be lifted (I see it as a divine discipline), but without panic or anger. Again, see?--so much to be thankful for!

Buying snacks and planning a couple of lunches are still on the agenda. Working the two days before we leave wasn't smart on my part, but it's an easy gig, and I knew we could use to the money for our big trip next month. Honestly though, whatever we forget or don't have, we can just get down there, right?

Off to try on more clothes. Just wanted to dash off a note while I had time. Kev and Ryan are out horseback riding, and they'll need dinner soon.

swine, schmine

2009-05-05T07:08:00.000-07:00

Wouldn't that be a bit o'news if I DID happen to have swine flu? No documented cases in this state, and yet somehow, never-gets-sick, hardly gets-out, mostly stays-at-home me gets the disease of the year?! Kev keeps reading these little tidbits on it in emails, the news, school flyers, and he always says something like, "Yeah, Cyn, you're right here. You've had all of that." My standard reply is "Tell me how that's any different from regular flu," and there's just a shoulder shrug in response.

The media and the WHO have completely blown this out of proportion--but nobody asks me. Pandemic?! Seriously?! Are they that bored?!

Now, I do NOT believe I have anything more than a standard case of flu-turned-sore throat-turned-hacking cough, but if I did have to have something exotic and related to a pandemic, this is a pretty good one. One consideration of ebola, and I am all over the swine option. Excuse me, the H1N1.

Packed for 2009

2009-05-04T08:52:00.000-07:00

Three weeks ago I planted a bunch of vegetable seeds. Being the impatient gardener, I opted to use the seeds I had instead of waiting for the ones that were coming in the mail or buying some new packets in town. Psshaw, old seeds will do fine. I'll just give them some extra water. And horsie poop. Got it covered.

NONE of the beans came up. NONE of the radishes either or the carrots or the cucumbers. Seven snow pea plants sprouted out of about 40. The lettuce, spinach, and Swiss chard seeds were only from last year, so they came up pretty well. I'm hoping that doesn't fuel the inner voice of impatience that wants to say, "See, it was mostly fine!"

I reseeded the peas yesterday with the seeds that came just a few days after the initial planting, but I lost three weeks' time because I chose not to wait for the good stuff. Phooey.

Makes me wonder how often I sell out for the "right now" instead of the eventual best.

new superpower

2009-05-03T08:12:00.000-07:00

Sometimes a certain truth will become crystal clear to me. The revelation bursts into being without warning, and I am a comet of joy. Recently I've sensed that I am to keep these things for myself, to ponder them in my heart and not "hurry up and go write them down before I forget them." Immediately I obeyed, immediately came the revelation. Doesn't always work that way, but that's how it went down this time.

I have a couple of friends who are experts at getting me to say things I had no intention of sharing. I think one of the reasons might be that I trust their heart toward me. But another reason is that I hate to disappoint people. That usually doesn't work for me in the end.

Discernment is something We've been working on for most of my adult life. To speak or not to speak. To whom or not to whom. I'm thinking this new Nearness will be the Gift of a lifetime.

...or something like that

2009-05-02T08:41:00.000-07:00

Seems like there should be a word specifically for someone who's more than a friend and more like a sister. I have several of these women in my life, and "friend" just doesn't cut it. One does prefer to call me "Sis," which pitches people into mental fits trying to see how we could truly be sisters when she insists on declaring that we really are--same mother, same father, what's the problem.

Sister-friend? Sounds too much like those extreme Mormons.
Friendster? Sounds like a facebook app.
Soeur-ami? (French.) Sounds like "sore at me"--way off base.
Sorella-amico? (Italian.) Kind of like a quick stop.

I tried Google Translate for "sister of the heart" in Spanish, French, and Italian, but it was all too complicated. I'm looking for something sweet, simple, and accurate. I know the word exists somewhere. Even if it's just in heaven. I'll know it someday. And it'll be perfect.

I'm Worried About You

2009-04-25T10:13:00.001-07:00

Mom, you are so filled with worry and concern over Dad's health when yours is the one that's deteriorating. You don't tell him some of your pains because you don't want his blood pressure to keep rising, but that only adds to the fire of your Gehenna that lit you into the fiery place you are now. An adult lifetime spent nurturing worry, frustration, offenses, and raw deals results in the less than mediocre health you now have. All my life I've heard Dad urge you to let things go, to give them to the Lord and let Him keep them. I don't think you know how. You tell me that you trust Him, but that worry is something you do when you love someone. Not because you love them, but something that results out of the very great love and concern you have for that person's well-being.

My sweet, sweet mom....... that's not how it works. When you place your trust in your Heavenly Father, it's a whole different ballgame. He is not even just the best promise keeper you can imagine; He IS the promise. He IS the keeper. He IS the vault and the heart and the brain that keep the thing you're so afraid of and do with it whatever His deep love knows to do. If we polled the entire family and asked What is the one thing you wish she could have?, I believe the unanimous vote would be Trust in God. To not handle absolutely everything in your own strength--doesn't that sound divine?! To be relieved of the tremendous burden of this thing we call life can be found on this earth. Your think your desire for heaven will be met when you finally take your own life, which you've held as an option ever since Apo opened it up for you, but that's twisted, evil thinking that you say you can't help when you get enraged. But isn't that what wife beaters and child abusers say is that they can't help it...? There IS help. The enemy wants you to believe that you can't help it because then you believe there's no other option but to go there. The enemy takes a bit of truth and then contorts it so that it becomes a miscarried embryo passing itself off as the real thing. Mom, don't settle for less than GOD's Truth. Seek His heart and compare what you believe to His Word and see for your own self what's true and what's not. You'll see with the eyes of your soul that what's not is meant to kill, steal, and destroy. Implicit trust in the Almighty God I know you love is our surest, most thorough and complete fortress.

I love you, Mom. I wish you Trust. I wish you Peace. I wish you Joy. I wish you Jesus, because then I've wished you Everything.

on being sick

2009-04-23T10:47:00.000-07:00

I've had the flu since Monday night. It was like some kind of viral bomb suddenly kicked off inside me. I was standing there doing dishes when suddenly my face and neck got hot, I felt achey all over, and I was freezing in my core. I finished the dishes and went and put on a sweatshirt, sweatpants, and my softest, fuzziest socks. I curled up on the couch in a couple of blankets, but could not get myself warm. As the evening went on, I felt a little worse.

Kev kept asking me if I was okay and if he could get me anything. "No." Jylle was funny. She kept kissing my cheeks every few minutes kind of mechanically and rhythmically "because I've never felt anyone with cheeks this warm before."

My fever was the worst ever last night, and I just couldn't quit shaking inside. Kevin finally bundled me up in a comforter and heated a neck warmer. A second one finally put me over the top. Whew.

How like You to use sickness to pull me nearer. I've heard it said that "your favorite child is the one who needs you the most at the moment." I know You don't have favorites, but I can take that saying and see how I have needed You, and You would have me need You like that all. the. time. There's been a difference in my need too. It lacks that kind of hopeless desperation that's marked some neediness in the past. Instead there has been the most intimate sweetness about how near You are and how intensely You love me. Although the piercing pain of the intermittent headaches tends to knock me out, there remains that exquisite draw to Your sweet spot.

Yesterday I helped some friends, but by the time I got there I was feeling puny again. I laid down once, put my head down at the counter a few times, closed my eyes occasionally, and each time I did something like that, I was self-conscious about not wanting anyone to think that I was posturing for sympathy or attention. Certainly I have my moments, but even my Kevin (yes, "even") knows that when I'm sick, I just like to be left alone, not asked often how I am. I tried not to do any of those things in front of one friend who disdains pity-fishing. Then I tried not to be sad that I cared so much that she not think badly of me, and then felt frustrated when I couldn't stop caring. Finally, I just felt better, so that problem went away. Thank You for rescuing me from myself.

This morning, a headache had me in a vice, so I couldn't help my people off to school. They set me up with what I needed before they left, and Jylle even fed the horses without being asked. I'm upright and except for still having a headache of a lesser ferocity, I've managed to get a few things done. Mostly, I've just enjoyed nestling with You. Thank You for singing to me.

the way it was

2009-04-21T08:45:00.000-07:00

I went to coffee the other day with a friend, and I saw something I'm not sure I've ever seen before. These two older men were next to us in the café, and as soon as their lunch was served, they bowed their heads, and one said a prayer. I was as surprised at my surprise as I was at what they did. I thought of how that must have been a rather commonplace act at one point in time in this country. I wondered what their families were like and if that's something they taught their own children, and if their children were in turn teaching their children by example. Praying over a meal in public is something I do with my friends, but it's not something I see often. When I do, I instantly fall madly in like with them. I want to hug them and thank them for taking the time and stand to thank God for the food they're going to eat and the Heart that supplied it. I want to take a picture of their faces and put it in my scrapbook.

This is the next best thing. These guys were all right...

Plasmacytoma

2009-04-20T08:54:00.001-07:00

My mom has a type of cancer of the plasma cells that her doctor is treating with 20 sessions of radiation. The plasma cells are growing abnormally fast, especially at the vertebrae she damaged when she fell. Those cells can put a protein into her blood that can spread throughout her body and cause tumors at the joints. This is the less aggressive type though, so we're extremely grateful for that. She won't need chemo, so she feels like she dodged a bullet.

Her last treatment will be a couple of weeks before they leave in their RV for Brett's graduation. We're all praying she feels well enough to travel. I think Ryan's going to help my dad drive, so just having him around will be a huge boon to her. His bedside manner is comforting and genuine.

Lord, hold my sweet mama ever so tenderly. Sing Your love into her, and swathe her in Your velvet grace and brightest sunlight. Position her thoughts to be toward You and shield her mind from sad imaginings. Use this to make her more alive to Your realness and power than she's ever known. And thank You for her.

"The Motions" by Matthew West

2009-04-17T08:07:00.000-07:00

This might hurt, it's not safe
But I know that I've gotta make a change
I don't care if I break,
At least I'll be feeling something
'Cause just okay is not enough
Help me fight through the nothingness of life

(Chorus)
I don't wanna go through the motions
I don't wanna go one more day
without Your all consuming passion inside of me
I don't wanna spend my whole life asking,
"What if I had given everything,
instead of going through the motions?"

No regrets, not this time
I'm gonna let my heart defeat my mind
Let Your love make me whole
I think I'm finally feeling something
'Cause just okay is not enough
Help me fight through the nothingness of this life

(Chorus)

(Bridge)
take me all the way (take me all the way)
take me all the way ('cause I don't wanna go through the motions)
take me all the way (I know I'm finally feeling something real)
take me all the way

(Chorus 2X)

(Bridge)

I don't wanna go through the motions...

my sweet mama

2009-04-15T08:47:00.000-07:00

My mom fell and hurt her back this winter. She's been in terrible pain and has had to wear a brace when the pain gets extreme. She damaged a vertebrae, and when she went in to have the damage repaired, her doctor noticed an abnormality in her blood. He immediately referred her to a cancer specialist and sent her a letter stating that based on the increased plasma cells found in the vertebral biopsy, he suspected a cancer of the plasma. I'm waiting now to hear which kind she has--multiple myeloma or plasmacytoma. I'm finding conflicting reports online as to which is the more serious.

My dad is a fairly calm person, not prone to worry or overreaction, so I can see why he wasn't too excited about this news. My mom is another story, however. As soon as we got to their house, she came up to me and whispered, "Cyndi, I think I have cancer in my blood." Not having any information one way or the other, all I could do was ask questions and pray for her.

I don't know if it's His protecting hand on me that I'm not freaking out about this, or if it's that all my life, my mom has always had something serious going on with her body. She's had something like 20+ surgeries, and there's literally always been something wrong with her body. It's why I've referred for years to her 'mediocre health.' I'll just wait and see what the results show before I decide whether or not to schedule a meltdown. That's what I did back when my dad had colon cancer. After I called Cheryl.

Easter Day

2009-04-13T08:14:00.000-07:00

Easter Day was LOVELY! Brightest sunshine woke us up, and Jylle and I wore our new dresses. (I was a little disappointed that the only dress she found that she really liked and that fit was black. For Easter?! I know, right?! I told her to try accessorizing with some color, and she pulled it off. I forgot to take a picture though...)

Our youth pastor, Andy Fox, brought a powerful message about how shocking and offensive some of Jesus' words in John 6 were to the crowds and to the disciples. We like to think that we'd be people who took in everything He said with a Yeah, and a Right, and a Preach it. But if you put yourself in their shoes, totally unaware of the big story and the ending, you just have to believe that you'd be just a little offended or repulsed, or pretty confused at the very least.

"I Myself am this Living Bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this Bread, he will live forever; and also the Bread that I shall give for the life of the world is My flesh" (51).

"Jesus said to them, "I tell you the truth, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day. For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in him. Just as the living Father sent me and I live because of the Father, so the one who feeds on me will live because of me" (53-57).

I love that we ended the service with communion. There's something about coming together in unity around the person and sacrifice of Jesus Christ. It is profound and moving in its symbolism and meaning.

We went to the early service to allow more time to get ready to go to my brother's. I made a lovely salad and a couple of dressings, and the Jell-o was ready from the night before, orange with sour cream and mandarins mixed in it. We changed into more comfortable clothes and took off.

I called both boys on the way there (an hour plus drive). Brett's fighting a cold that's going on a month old now. He already went to the doctor, but nothing seems to help. I told him to eat some wasabi or Chinese hot mustard if he gets desperate for at least some temporary relief. Motorcycle safety class got canceled because of snow, so that'll be rescheduled soon. He didn't go to church because of the road conditions, so he was listening to something online. I'm so glad I mailed his Easter package in plenty of time so he could have his jelly beans and chocolate bunny on Easter!

Ryan went to church and was just sitting around practicing guitar when I called. He was going to have a little jam session with Keira later. She's in his Texts and Critics class, puts on a dinner for students once/month for $3, and plays a mean violin in the MSU symphony orchestra. They're just friends, and he admires her mad music skill. He was thankful for the Cheez-Its and jerky I sent. Have no idea if he'll actually eat the chocolate bunny, but I had to send it for me. He thanked me for not sending him Peeps. I haven't given him those for years though because they just don't do anything for him. When he said that, I immediately thought of how I did send some to Brett, but I didn't give any to Jylle! I gave her a bunny and a bag of jelly beans, but no Peeps! She didn't say anything, so she either didn't care or didn't want to complain.

The air smelled absolutely delicious when we stepped out at my brother's house. As the turkey fried in boiling oil, we stood around the pot just catching up. The girls were inside, and the guys stayed outside, so I went into the room where Jeslyn stays when she's in town and joined in the conversation between my mom and her. Jylle came in a few minutes after that, and it was kind of fun to all be in one room like that. Jeslyn's toes were really cold, so I started rubbing them, and that evolved into a foot massage. "This is only the second foot massage I've ever had, and I am really enjoying it!" It was so satisfying being able to bless her like that. I don't get the chance to bless those girls...

When Alan brought the turkey inside 15 minutes later, the aroma was completely captivating. We were all SO ready to eat! Alan said the prayer, and I always love when he prays. He sounds like he does in the cards he writes--sweet, straightforward, poignant.

Surprisingly, my folks left shortly after dinner, just like they do when they come to my house, even though they only live 15 minutes from my brother. Jylle's hopes of playing a game of "Apples to Apples" was dashed. She's a quick recoverer though, and we decided to leave shortly after they did. Jeslyn had to get back to Pullman for work in the morning, and she was already tired, so we didn't want her to stay any later.

We just snacked a little in the evening and went to bed after eleven. It was a simple day with a blend of routine and some new stuff added. I realized that it's awfully nice to have family in the area and to enjoy them as well is truly a wonderful blessing. The only thing that would've made this better would have been to have ALL the kids with us. We gave thanks for their safety though, and I look forward to seeing Ryan in just a few weeks, then Brett the end of May. We'll be all together again, at least for a few days.

It's for unity, love, and Your glory that we thank You this day. Thank you for what we could never have done ourselves, so that we might meet around You together in spirit if not in body. Thank You for this precious day.