O is for Obsequious

I don't have enough to say about the people I've met whose names (or nicknames) begin with the letter O. Not enough to write a whole post on any of them, I should say. My memories of a woman named Ona can be summed up in the word "disciplined" while memories of someone else's Dutch grandparents ("Oma" and "Opa") could be summed up with "faithfulness."

Therefore I will omit a tribute today.

What I really need to do is to omit blogging from my daily life for a while. In fact, I am pretty sure I will be doing a reverse sort of challenge in May. For April the challenge is to blog every day except Sunday (with the exception of April 1 which happened to be the kickoff Sunday). Essentially that's four days off of blogging in April.

In May, I'll try the opposite--ONLY blogging four days. While writing these legacy posts is a wonderful exercise for expressing my heart to the world (and to the individuals I've honored), I must confess it's not easy to keep up this pace. Outrageous. Obsequious. Ostentacious. (I don't recall the meaning of obsequious, but it's fun to say.)


I'm overwhelmed and overcome sometimes by the grace of God in my life through the influence of dozens and dozens of people. I've also been off-the-charts curious (call it overactively intropsective) about what legacy I am leaving. The conclusions are obviously negative to me.

"She was ordinarily online."
"Her obliques were obsolete."
"She was overchatty and overweight."
"She was overtly obsessed with grammar, spelling, and punctuation. OCD.""She opted out of organizing and cleaning too often."
"She had a lot of personal power outages."

Lately I've been oscillating between condemnation and conviction.

Condemnation says, "You're old, obese, and obstinate. What good are you? Might as well give up on impacting anyone for good. No one really cares that much anyway. You'll be forgotten soon enough. Gain weight, lose weight, what does it matter? Serve people and they might or might not say thanks. Is it worth the effort to serve ungrateful people? Might as well do what YOU enjoy. You only go around once. Eat, drink, and be merry!"

Conviction says:

1. "Teach us to number our days, that we may may gain a heart of wisdom."
2. "Your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit; now glorify God in your body and in your spirit, which are His.
3. "Serve one another and do not grow weary in doing good."
4. "For the Son of God came not to be served, but to serve."
5. "I have loved you with an everlasting love."
6. "Freely you have been given; freely give."
7. "To whom much is given, much is required."
8. "My grace is sufficient for you."
9. "If you chase after worthless idols, you forfeit the grace that could be yours."
10. "Offer yourself as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable unto God, for this is your reasonable service." (I tend to think that my duties are just unreasonable. Au contraire. (Oh, contrare.)
11. "To obey is better than sacrifice."


Pardon my omission of biblical references. The eleven quotes above are taken from scripture--God's holy oracle-- and are memorized, sans reference.

I intend to finish up my April A to Z challenge because there's half-an-alphabet's worth of people that I want to say a few (or more) words about. Then I plan to operate in other ways--more organization in the home, to be sure, but what's the highest priority? Returning to my First Love, God ,the Alpha and Omega. I've neglected time with Him. I used to so enjoy having coffee and scripture reading first thing in the morning. It was like taking a long, hot bath in grace. It's been months since I experienced that. (And going months without a bath? OY! There is a "distinkt" odor about even a servant who doesn't bathe regularly!)

Also, I want to be "visiting orphans and widows in their distress." How? By writing letters to our sponsor children, having coffee with a widowed friend of mine and glean wisdom on good marriage from her, encouraging my friend Bonnie in Africa (see link in my sidebar) as she ministers to orphans, praying more actively for our pastor and his wife who are in the process of adopting four orphaned brothers from Brazil). Orphans abandoned by father, mother, or both, because of drugs, disease, dysfunction, divorce, or death. (Obnoxious alliteration? My ap-ologies.) As the pastor pointed out, there are over 150 million orphans worldwide. Reread that sentence 150,000,000 times and see if you aren't moved. We have the privilege and onus of caring for them somehow, some way.

Oh, the overabundance that is life! Opportunities overflow. And so, fellow bloggers whom I delight in "seeing" and "hearing" daily, I am setting a different course in the upcoming month. It won't be easy. We all know that the "spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak." By omitting blogging except for four days in May (on which days I might go on wild outbursts posting things I've pent up inside), I hope to leave a legacy of obedience motivated by love for the One who loves me with an everlasting love, who doesn't love me less if I never raise another finger, or doesn't love me more if I obey him with everything that is in me. If there's one thing I've learned from writing these legacies, it's this: a legacy is formed by whatever a person does over and over. I really need God's help to obey Him over and over, so that I don't forfeit the grace that could be mine.

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PS. I went back and looked up the word "obsequious." It means "eager to please or obey." God has a sense of humor, doesn't He?

Hodgepodge Wednesday: Queues, Quests, and Quintessential Beauty

1. Do you send Christmas cards? If so about how many will you send this year? How do you display the cards you receive? Or don't you? (gasp!)

• Yes, most years I do send Christmas cards--about 25-30, and receive about that many. I tape them to the back of the front door, as pictured halfway down this post.

I used to include our family Christmas Chronicle which journaled our year in (lame) poetry. It's been several years since I wrote one, for lack of inspiration, but I might revive it this year.

2. When do kids become adults?

Great question! Hmmm, I'm tempted to ask, "Can I get back to you on that?" so that I might possibly come up with an erudite answer. The thing that keeps coming to mind is that adulthood
seems to be not much as an age reached, but a perspective understood. That perspective seems to include a combination of fiscal responsibility, personal priorities, a sense of gratitude rather than entitlement, and a display of selflessness that includes serving his family, showing up for work when he doesn't feel like it, keeping a commitment even when something more appealing presents itself, and it includes having a quest for purpose and vision about his life.

As for the fiscal responsibility part of maturing, a child nearing adulthood seems to be "arriving" when he realizes that he has to put his own hard-earned money into the ATM before it will spit any out. When he puts more in than he takes out, he matures further. When he pays his bills on time before thinking of any luxuries, he is marked as more mature than when all the bills were paid for him. And when he shares his earnings regularly for the sake of another, rather than thinking only of himself, I would say he has pert-near reached adulthood.

3. Does your 'beauty regimen' change with the seasons?

If you mean the seasons of the year, then no, not much except for the lip color. I wear moisturizer 365 days a year, mascara most every day, usually eye shadow, and some blush. If you mean the seasons of life, then yes, in the sense that I am more careful as I age about protecting my skin. I also drink more water than I used to because I really think it moisturizes skin which , in addition to having good genes, keeps the skin softer and more radiant, which translates to "younger looking."

Boy, I'm starting to sound like an infomercial. Moving right along...

4. What's something you like to eat that might cause another person to turn up their nose?

Brussels sprouts. I used to turn up my own nose at them until about two years ago on a date, when our waitress convinced me to try to them as part of the special. They were fresh, cut in half, drizzled with olive oil, and roasted till tender-crisp and sweet. I had never liked them before (I'd tried them twice) because they'd been boiled to death and tasted like buttered golf balls.

Not that I've ever eaten buttered golf balls. (I tried eating unbuttered golf balls once, but...oh, never mind.)

The secret to liking brussels sprouts is not fixing them the way your mother's generation cooked everything.

5. Gloves or mittens?

Gloves. Mittens are fairly useless since the only time I venture out into the cold is when I need my fingers to be flexible for driving vehicles, scraping ice , shoveling snow , or assisting a 13-year-old man-child up the hill after he has wrenched his knee while snowboarding on one inch of the powdery stuff because he wore out his 7-months pregnant mother by begging her ad nauseum to try his new board in the backyard. I won't mention names, but he is getting married soon.

6. What's the longest queue you've ever been in? Was it worth it? Queue=line but doesn't queue sound nicer?

Yes, "queue" is a nicer-sounding word, Joyce, and one of my favorites. Longest queue I've ever been in was for a women's bathroom stall at the Women of Faith Conference in Kansas City several years ago. It was about an hour after lunch. There were 10,000 (give or take 278) women who also needed relief, and there were probably only eight restrooms in what seemed like 14 city blocks' worth of convention hall.

Even though all the mens' facilities (except one) had been reserved for the women, they certainly hadn't been converted for us. You know what I'm talking about.

There really isn't much a woman can do with a urinal. Especially an hour after lunch.
Although, I wonder how many women were sorely tempted to experiment.

At least one woman was, but she didn't yield to the temptation ,and by the grace of God, she didn't mess her drawers either.

She didn't even care that the lock on the door didn't work when she FINALLY-thank-you-LORD, FINALLY got a vacant stall. (She's not sure the woman exiting had fully exited, either, or if she knocked her out of the way whilst the woman zipped up.)

Sitting on that toilet (maybe she didn't even make it to sitting position?) was worth every second of "holding it," considering the alternative. Absolutely. She became a woman of faith in the almighty bladder and in the overwhelming ability to distract one's mind away from her bowels and onto solving complicated math problems such as 10278 divided by 14, x 7, - (14-7) to the 82nd power.

7. Besides Christmas, what is one thing you are looking forward to in the month of December?

I am eager to attend a parents' luncheon for the December 2011 graduates of the College of Education at my daughter's university. Our precious Sarah, who will graduate with a BS in Early Childhood Ed, has invited my husband and me to this special occasion.

We are so proud of her and what she has accomplished, and grateful that she puts her heart and soul into her studies and her student teaching. Forsooth (does anyone use that word anymore?) I absolutely love that she wants us to be at the luncheon. (That's another sign of adulthood--when your kids are no longer embarrassed to be seen with you, but actually ask you to be seen with them. It's almost worth the price of tuition.)

8. Insert your own random thought here.

Today I got to do one of my very favorite things in all the world- -have an international guest and a missionary in my home for a meal. My friend Bonnie is home on furlough from Zambia with her roommate/"adopted" daughter Swazi (who is 22). The three of us had lunch on a cold rainy day, and I got to hear first-hand what their lives are like, and felt honored that Bonnie prioritized her very busy schedule to include four uninterrupted hours with me.

It's just really too bad that missionaries have to spend so much of their supposed R&R setting up meetings, raising support, and showing the same videos over and over instead of just resting and relaxing, or reading and rejuvenating. The R&R for missionaries actually appears to stand for "Running and Rallying." But what is the solution?

Bonnie requested egg salad, so I obliged and just had to bake peanut butter cookies with Dunkin Donuts coffee, a treat I've been promising to serve her the whole time she's been gone. PB cookies and DD coffee. Yum!

And hot tea for Swazi, who was having trouble warming up, literally.

Swazi's first impression of America is "it's cold!" Oddly enough, we've been having a warm spell here in Maryland this past week, but today was cold and wouldn't stop raining. Swazi didn't have an umbrella, but I had a brand new polka-dotted one, still with tags on, so I wished her an early Merry Christmas, and she promptly popped it open before heading up the driveway in the pouring mess, all smiles.

The Generosity Matrix

One of these days I'm going to finish Radical: Taking Back Your Faith from the American Dream.And one day after that I plan to write a review of it. Why has it taken so long for me to get through it? Not lack of time. Not busyness to excess. Not poor writing.

The main reason? Guilt. The feelings of guilt that seize my heart are much greater than the compulsion to love those within my very circle of immediate influence. Going to a third-world country with Bibles, food, and medicine seems more glorifying to God than homeschooling my child, fixing meals for my family, folding the umpteen thousandth load of laundry. Responding to the massive and critical needs of the world seems to trump my family's need for food, clean clothes, and education. Especially when I see how we eat, how many outfits we have, and the quality of education our children are getting.

As I'm reading Radical, I am convicted on one page and compelled by love to give more to the hurting poor of the world, to abandon all my worldly possessions and life in America as I know it, and take the next flight into the depths of the Amazon jungle to find lost people who've never heard the name of Jesus. I fantasize that my husband will suddenly morph into Jim Elliot and I will be his Elisabeth. (But the end won't be tragic for us.) Thinking thoughts like this make me imagine that I'm doing more pleasing work for God than sitting here "a spoiled rich American" taking care of her home and family. Is it not good enough to cheer on my husband to whom God has given the ability to make money and manage it wisely? Why do I think God would be more pleased if we liquidated our assets and gave everything to the poor? Would we not then leave our own children poor, and have no inheritance to give them or their children ( and thereby disregard another scriptural principle)?

There was no lasting peace in my heart while reading the book. Conviction would be sweet, but that's not what's happening. I keep thinking, "I can never do enough. I can't give enough, pray enough, go often enough overseas or into inner city ghettos to measure up to the call of the Great Commission" as David Platt keeps talking about. To me, the balance is missing. It's as if he says, "It's wrong to have wealth and it's wrong for you to be part of a church that has nice buildings." (Granted, I am more at peace in a modest house and a simple church building and would squirm in ones I thought too lavish. Nor do I espouse renting a home or a school gym forever and a day as wise stewardship.)

I am quickly "tripped up" by the swinging pendulum on the issue of giving. How much is enough? Can I buy another pair of shoes when I know there are poor kids with not even one pair? Why do I own more than one Bible when 20 Christians underground in Asia are sharing three pages from a torn New Testament? When is enough enough in our savings account? When we know someone is unemployed in the household of faith, do we give to them, and if so, how much and how often? The needs are overwhelming. Where do you start and where do you end in the helping?

Enter this article, The Generosity Matrix, by JD Greear, directed to me on Facebook by my pastor, Joel Rishel. Greear has enumerated six principles that should be held in tension on the matter of money. The bottom line? Live sufficiently and give extravagantly.
It's a liberating article that I needed to read today--and to revisit whenever I feel the guilt pangs of not giving enough. I particularly needed to read this:

So, have you given enough? The simple truth is this: the Gospel eschews the word “enough” in any context, except in describing Christ’s work on our behalf. “Enough” will most always become a form of compulsion, which Paul says is not to be an operative motive in our giving. “Have I given enough?” is a question that pounds us with guilt and “compels” us to give more to feel good about ourselves. Paul, by contrast, says that God loves free, cheerful givers who give because they absolutely love to, not because they are compelled to (2 Corinthians 9:5).

Short Term Mission Trips: Helpful or Hurtful?

I can't get enough of the front-lines reports of God's work in Haiti via the blog called Sit a Spell, by Heather Hendrick. (She's on my blogroll, at the bottom of this page.) I don't know her, but I feel I'm getting to know her, and I really appreciate her insight, candor, humor, and wisdom.

In her latest post, she reviews the book When Helping Hurts, and gives her own gracious but candid opinion from her vantage point of a new, long-term missionary to Haiti.

Sure makes me rethink the place of a short-term mission trip that a church spends thousands of dollars on. Not that it's all bad. But I always thought, before now, that short-term mission trips were all good. I took one to Russia with my daughter, and it changed us. All three of my older kids have to been to Mexico on a STM trip. But I hadn't thought of the ramifications that our brief, albeit well-intentioned, appearances may have had in the orphans' lives.

I love being challenged to think, even when it hurts my heart.

For as Heather puts it so poignantly, "We always want hearts to be broken for the orphan, but never at the expense of the orphan."

Thinking Twice About Buying Cheap Chocolate

I had no idea that American chocolate comes, in large quantity, from Africa. I thought Hershey bars came from Pennsylvania. I was clueless, until last night, that buying chocolate products such as cheap candy bars, puddings, cake mixes, and so on, actually means I am oppressing the poor children in Africa. I was set to stock up on Halloween candy for our not-a-Halloween-party at church.

Read this post by Heather at Sit a Spell, and see for yourself that children in Africa are forced into working the cocoa fields. Why is this news not reported more? Why has the church at large not heard this news? I feel terrible now. knowing that we are trying both to help the oppressed with our giving, yet oppressing them by purchasing cheap chocolate from Africa. The writer says the alternative is to buy from the fair trade chocolate companies whose employees are adults working by choice. I will certainly be looking into that.

I do appreciate that the blogger reminds us that God doesn't love us more if we buy chococolate from Africa. Not that I'd do it knowingly, but at least I don't have to beat myself up about it. Satan is at the heart of darkness, keeping information in the dark about the oppressed across the globe. If our churches knew, that would be a call to prayer and action. Satan doesn't want that! Anyway, Heather's blog tells the message more clearly than I do.

Up Close and Very Personal in Haiti

A blog I read occasionally, this one broke me:

Go here.

New Blogger I Like Already

To my fellow saints who enjoy good writing, great humor, and raw emotion, check out this blog:


Sit a Spell

It's the journey of a young American family on the cusp of their new life in Haiti as teaching missionaries.

Yard Sale for Uganda

My friend Bonnie is trying to raise money for a missions trip to Uganda. She is about 2/3 of the way there financially. I remember how much it meant to me to have my care group bolster my coffers with a huge yard sale back in 2007 when Sarah and I needed money to go with GAIN to Russia .We raised close to $900 at that sale. Crazy good!

With that in mind, I am holding a yard sale this Saturday and trying to rally my new care group on Bonnie's behalf. (This is not the same bunch of folks; things get switched up at our church from time to time.)

I am also taking this short break at the computer to let you know in case you're not on Facebook to please:

-pray that donations and sales would be a loaves-and-fishes testimony since I'm not on a busy street in my community. Customers have not typically driven down in droves.

-pray that the forecast of "75 degrees and sunny" holds!

-shop if you're local (donations are tax deductible and payable to Covenant Mercies and given to Bonnie)

-make baked goods to sell (crumb cake, sliced and ready to go, sold very well; cookies or finger foods to eat with coffee or lemonade)

- sit with us an hour or so, and/or help us at the end haul the leftovers to Goodwill

-forget the middleman and write out a check to Covenant Mercies and send it my way. I 'll pass it on to Bonnie for ya.

Thanks! Now back to the hunting and gathering and cleaning.

Spring Cleaning: Fun with a Friend

I have a friend named Cheryl who is great company for me. Not only is she a gentle, fun-loving teacher and dear c0-worker (she teaches the morning classes, I teach the afternoon ones) but she is also that kindred spirit.

We have this yin-yang thing about us. I love to laugh; she loves to cut up. I love deep conversations; she goes quickly from superficial to the heart. I love to lighten my workload whenever possible; she is a Clydesdale. (That is only referring to her endurance, not her size. She was a ballet instructor back in the day.)

Today we combined some of her goals with some of mine and some of ours:



Her goal: Raise money for her mission trip to China
My goal: Help send her
Her goal: Visit with me at least once during spring break
My goal: Visit with her , too
Her goal: Help me if I needed her, to get some deeper cleaning done this week (which is not at the same time as my collegers are off)
My goal: Take her up on the offer, while giving Joel a friend (her youngest boys) to hang out with. As the mother of a sort of "only child," I have to make extra effort to socialize him. "Twas never an issue when I had 3 close in age.

I also know Cheryl's son, Caleb, is a hard worker like herself. Well-trained to persevere "as unto the Lord." I could make him a list and he'd knock it out, with minimal instruction and even less supervision. When asked if he'd like to earn money, he gave a thumb's up, so I made a list. I wouldn't have to go behind him.

Daniel and Joel were all about earning a buck or two as well, so I put them to work. Before I knew it, they had done a really good job wiping down my base kitchen cabinets, shining the appliances, Windexing the front glass door, and emptying the contents of the pantry so I could clean and reorganize it.

Caleb spring-cleaned the living room--from taking down curtains, to doing windows, vacuuming vents, cleaning piano keys, and dusting the furniture, scrubbing baseboards.

Cheryl and I (mostly Cheryl) cleaned the family room while I did stuff that took decision making, tossing out, washing pillows and curtains, and other miscellany--plus serving green eggs and ham. I mean boiled eggs and ham. If I'd thought of it sooner, I would've colored them green for fun.

I'm sitting here loving the clean-house smell and the how it looks--very much improved. My back is sore, my mind is clear, and my heart is happy. Spring cleaning with a friend is the way to go. (That's a note to self for next year.) The rest of the house will have to wait. I have more friends, but no more break and no more energy.

"To China with love!" (Hear the clink of wine glasses filled with ice water?)

(Photo was taken by one of our students when we went to a local Indian restaurant as a geography class field trip. My straw slipped out and made me feel goofy and I mouthed the words, "Take the shichture, pwease. My wips are schtuck wike dis.")

Missionaries in India

Once again I find myself, as a teacher, with more ideas and information that there is time to explore in a typical classroom setting. Right now we are studying India, and I so much want the students to read one missionary biography. Amy Carmichael, William Carey, Mother Teresa.

But there is so little time. In a normal week, I am only with them for my subjects (writing, grammar, history, geography, and art) for about 10 hours a week. On paper that looks like plenty, but in reality? No way.

If I could whet their appetites for missions with just one missionary's story,who would it be? Who would you choose?

The Stench in Haiti

Thinking of the death, devastation, and despair in Haiti moves me to tears every time. I am deeply affected, as I'm sure you are if you're reading this.

Listen to this video from Duane Zook of Global Aid Network (GAiN), the humanitarian arm of Campus Crusade for Christ. (Sarah, Sacha, and I were privileged to be part of one their missions in 2007. I have great respect for the way they deliver practical items to needy people, and make it quite clear that the supplies are coming in the name of Jesus from His people.)

I thank God for the way He provided some stored food for Haiti before it was needed. Take a listen and be encouraged.

The Simple Woman's Daybook

I loved the simple lines of this thought-provoking meme which Amy got from the Simple Woman's Daybook blog. Please be sure to read this link before putting this meme on your blog. It's just a courtesy to the Hostess at The Simple Woman's Daybook. A little credit where credit's due if you decide to join in .


FOR TODAY, Wednesday, July 29, 2009...

Outside my window...in the thick, damp night, bullfrogs croak near the stream's edge. Back and forth, "qwark!" and "broyk!" they say in the rhythm of a tennis match. High above them hangs the moon like a pearly slice of a clipped-off thumbnail against the black canvas of the sky.

I am thinking...I need to go to bed, but am dreading it because our mattress is so uncomfortable. We paid good money for it, and I'm thinking it wasn't even four years ago, but
I'm not sure. Could've been nine. Nine years go by like four.

I am thankful for... the company of women, for board games, for the evening we shared as sisters in Christ tonight, for laughter and wit and words and the beautiful eyes I saw on all my fun-loving, laughter-filled, witty, wordsmithy friends.

From the learning rooms...my youngest is learning in the basement to fold bath towels standing up, first in thirds longways (which makes the towel longer than he is tall) and then to roll them. They fit into our narrow towel keeper better that way--in another learning room called the "WC" in some parts of the world. May he learn, dear Lord, to close the door before he voids and wash his hands after.

From the kitchen...comes not a sound except for the low drone of the fridge's motor and the long, swollen sigh of a lazy old dog. Earlier tonight we ate the first zucchini from our garden. I chopped it into finger-length sticks, tossed some bread crumbs and olive oil in a frying pan, and sauteed my Z sticks with a toss of salt and a grind of pepper. Two days ago we had our first cucumber which Joel made a Pinocchio nose of and modeled for the camera. In my 43--almost 44-- years of life, I have never been so happy about firstfruits from a garden. Makes me think of Jesus. Never thought I'd write Jesus and Pinocchio in the same paragraph.

I am wearing...a brown polo shirt, Mom Jeans that need to be replaced now that they're too big (I love saying that!), a brown watch, my three wee rings on the left hand and a costume garnet ring on the right. And my glasses.

I am creating...a menu for our mini-reunion of Russia missionaries at my house this coming Monday; two new planters from old drawers (drilled drain holes, need soil and flowers, and probably a mess in the meantime.

I am going... to tighten these abs. I look like a compressed marshmallow when I sit down. That comes from having four children and countless s'mores.

I am reading...the books listed on my sidebar. (Yes, I read that many at once, but slowly and as I'm in the mood.) The Testament is most engaging. Not eternally valuable like, say, the OLD Testament or the NEW, but I enjoy reading lite fiction in the summer.

I am hoping that our new family room will be as beautiful a haven in real life as it is in my fantasy.


I am hearing...the drone of my laptop, the clanging of my dangle earrings against my shoulders, and the fresh burst of artificial air through the vents. No more bullfrog dialogue. Tennis game is over.

Around the house...sit too many stacks of papers to be dealt with; a pile of giveaways ready for the charity truck pick-up; books to go back to the library, laundry in varying degrees of doneness and several closets and cabinets that haven't taken the class called "How to Organize Yourself and Stay that Way 101." I don't even think they've registered yet. What are they waiting for, a scholarship?

One of my favorite things...the giggles of my seven-year-old as we were making Alphabet Soup and folding laundry. I said, "Pretend we have a huge pot. You throw the first thing in that starts with A. It has to be a meat, vegetable, fruit, drink, or spice." He threw in asparagus, I threw in bacon, he threw in coffee...I threw in watermelon, he threw in "Xtra virgin olive oil" ...and he then got the giggles really bad and said, "Ew--hoo-hoo--this soup is really disgusting now. Watermelon and olive oil! " Oh, just now? I thought it was disgusting after figs and garlic.

A few plans for the rest of the week...tomorrow: to find homes for homeless miscellany (read: clutter) and clean the bathrooms; Friday--hang out with Ya'el, maybe treat her to pure, organic, sweet, smooth Broom's Blooms Dairy ice cream from "down the road apiece" ...since her last name is Blum (pronounced "Bloom") and this ice cream will leave her with a wonderful Maryland memory when she returns to Israel. Saturday--pick Kris up at the airport, go to Sacha's going-away/b'day party, Sunday hug my long-awaited daughter.

A picture thought... big brother, little brother.

Excitement in the Air

I'm so excited I can hardly stand it. So many good things (and people!) are coming our way in the next few weeks.

First, our daughter will return, Lord willing, on Sunday, home from eight wonderfully exhausting weeks at a camp three hours away.

Second, five of us gals who went to Russia two years ago as missionaries with Global Aid Network, are having a mini-reunion Monday right here at my house! Jaye, our leader, will be in town from Dallas. Kristin is coming up from Raleigh to stay with Sacha who is going to be heading to Russia for almost a year starting the end of August. We are planning a formal luncheon that recreates a lovely luncheon we were invited to in the home of Russian believers. (See my June/July 2007 posts if interested.)

Third, we will be seeing the design presentation for our family room on August 6th. A professional at LaZBoy came out to the house, took measurements, talked with me at length about my tastes and what I wanted the room to feel like. Ironically, having just decided that I wanted no TV in the room so that we might grow less worldly, I told her I wanted leather furniture, solid cherry side pieces, maybe an ottoman, and use accessories that I like from around the house that remind me of our travels and the people who live across the Pond. The designer concluded, "so you're going for a ...worldly look?"

A friend from Israel wants to go with me to Lancaster this week. She wants to know about the Amish since there aren't any in Jerusalem that we know of.

I get to plunge deeper into school plans. That's not altogether exciting since it means the beginning of the end of summer, but there's no better way I'd prefer to think of school than in
planning curriculum.

Okay, so now I'm jumpy.

Sad

A cloud of sadness hovers over me.

She said she wants to leave
For a short time
To serve God
Out of state
This summer.

She wants our permission
and our blessing. She won't
go without it, she says, beautifully
submitted.

Her dad, at first, balked.
Then prayed
Analyzed
Researched
and finally,
gave his blessing.

Now it's up to me.

I try to pray about it. But I cry instead.
I reach for the phone to ask for counsel,
but the lump in my throat chokes out
words.
Tears fall like spring rain
Whenever I think of
My daughter
Not being here.

No, no, no,
Says my selfish heart.
You can't go.
I love you too much.
You're daily sunshine here
in our home.

God can use you here.
He has, He is, He will.

I try to remember when I was
19.
I left home for a summer.
For all the wrong reasons.
It wasn't to do God's will.
I didn't ask for a blessing.
I hit rock bottom, but it was there
I found the Rock.

But I never went back home again
for very long.
I had detached.
Changed.
Grown up in a sense.

So is this about her
or me?
Do I want God's answer?
Not yet.
So I don't seek it.

I'm too
sad.

Rescue 911, Sort of, For Young Moms

Dear Young Moms of CCC,

This has been on my heart and mind. I should have posted sooner, but kept forgetting when I had the chance. It was my friend Danielle whose most recent post came as a prompt from God, I believe, to follow through.

As most of you know, I love babies and toddlers, and have had three of my own in four years' time. When the youngest was 10, by God's grace I gave birth to our long-awaited fourth child.

I will never forget the days of having three in diapers. Most of the days felt very long. Some flew by, but only when I had a friend around. My mom was nearly an hour away at the time. Of course she came in emergencies (when I called, usually from the ER with a boy child!) or when special things were planned, but she wasn't in a stage of life where she was sitting around knitting booties. (She still isn't. She's a pastor's wife.) Many of my friends had moms "just down the street," and I fought jealousy big time. But I think, looking back, that God was preparing me with compassion for these present years when I see so many young moms where I was.

I had friends who were more than willing to help me in a crisis or even when I just felt strung out from dirty diapers, incessant crying (the kids' and mine), and life in the Mom Trenches. I didn't feel the liberty to "take time for myself" by hiring a sitter for such things as shopping trips with girlfriends, an afternoon alone in the park with my Bible or other good book, and did not recognize the sin of self-sufficiency. I thought a godly mom was one who worked herself to the bone, despised "me" time, and didn't let anyone into her thought life if the thoughts were anything less than "I can handle this. It's my calling."

All that to say this: I would like to be your go-to gal in frazzling times. I want to be someone you call when you don't know what else to do. Kind of like 911 without the blood (unless, of course, your situation involves it, in which case I recommend you call 911 first and then me!) Think of my number as YMH: Young Mom's Hotline.

Now, a bit about my schedule. My availability for the summer is loose. For me to come to your aid by myself depends largely on whether Joel has a sibling here to watch him. The older kids' work and social schedules vary daily. I can come with Joel, but in an emotional or sickly topsy-turvy that your own young'uns might be in, it'd be better without him, I think. Of course, my husband's desires will trump all (or should, let's say), but generally speaking, I would like you to think of me as a big red plus sign on a white background. Got the picture?

For the record, no, I am not looking to be paid as a regular babysitter. I tried that once as a mother and found I didn't like the fact that I was doing a more important job (caring for children) but making less than my "employer". Nor am I am at liberty to watch your kids for free at the drop of a hat so that you can get a pedicure. I am talking about bailing you out when one kid's on the toilet with diarrhea, one's throwing up on the coffee table, one's on your hip pulling at her ear, the doctor's office is calling you back but you can't find the cordless that Diarrhea Girl hid in the toybox, the cleanest dish in the house belongs to Fido, and you haven't slept more than 2 hours in the past 24 so you call me-- Savannah, Hosanna, Rosanna Danna, or Please Come, Banana! That's what I'm talking about.

IF that could be you this summer, please jot my number down. The worst I can say is no, but it'd be my joy to serve you with an extra set of hands and a knowing history of "where you're at", hon!

With love for you and gratitude for God for getting me through such times,

Zoanna
aka Your-Mom-away-from-Mom

Finals and Tidbits

Please pray Sarah today. At 9:35 this morning, she has her last final. It's in American History, her least favorite subject of all she's taking. She's very nervous. It's not one of her easier classes, either. I quizzed her over and over last night. Hey, I learned some stuff I never knew--stuff that happened in MY lifetime that I never paid attention to. She feels a lot more confident now than she did before our study session.

Ben has 3 more finals--astronomy and film history and accounting. Please pray for him also. He doesn't let on to his nervousness, but rather keeps a cool exterior. He's always been like that.

Stephen doesn't have finals, per se, but is writing a big research on John Owen. As of yesterday morning, his thesis included the life and theology of this great preacher. As of last night, he realized he had to pare the paper to just the life of Owen. So I don't know what time he went to bed after writing a full sentence outline (the formal kind) but he was dragging out of bed and doing that hobble to the carpool van where the feet are half in the shoes, mashing the backs of the heels. He told me yesterday a sad fact: John Owen had 11 children, but 10 of them died. Only one reached adulthood. Stephen's in love with the subject matter. (He reads theology till one a.m. and biographies of great preachers. I know it's abnormal, but terribly encouraging to us, his parents.)

Sarah and Stephen are leaving for Mexico on Saturday. I am already missing them terribly. It'll be a first Mother's Day without all my children here. I'm trying to keep my mind on helping them prepare for the trip without smothering them with my version of love!

Paul is working with his colleagues to come up with a new name for their company. Their specialty is mortgage protection. They insure financial institutions. Any suggestions?

Okay, so prayers for my three oldest kids are in order.

Also for me as this month is crazy, nutty busy with graduation plans, Mexico trip, art gallery prep for my co-op presentation night, slide shows for STephen and Joel's programs, and getting seeds planted.

My parents got back safely from Birobidjhan. They didn't want to leave Russia (I can relate!) as there are so many needs and so many people to minister to. My dad came home sick, and had complete laryngitis. They are still not readjusted to the time change and they are worn out, but it was good to see them last night and hear snippets from their trip. They came by to give Sarah an early b'day present.

Joel is recovered from his orange blood booboo.

My Parents are Leaving for Russia

Please pray for my mom and dad. They are so excited and, naturally, apprehensive about traveling to Birobidzhan. They'll be gone from April 15-29th.

Birobidzhan is a tiny region of Russia way, way, way over there on the eastern side near China.
Siberia ring a bell? It's a place where Hitler sent Jews to die, but instead of their race dying out, they reproduced and became stronger in the cold and distant "forgotten" land!

My folks are going over there to celebrate Passover with their dear friends Andrey and Valeria (who were here last summer) as well as to take much needed items that their congregation and others have generously donated (a laptop being the big ticket item) to aid this couple in spreading the gospel.

I admit I'm a bit nervous for them. Daddy is 74, Mama a few years younger. It's a 26-hour flight over, and 48 back because of a 5- hour layover in Moscow and a 10-hour one in London.

They are taking a veritable pharmacy with them. I also gave them pointers from my experience of what to take (good toilet paper, hand sanitizer, deodorant to hand out to people on the bus, and pictures of loved ones, which I hope include me!).

ColorBlends.com

Gorgeous, gorgeous flowers!
Sidebar organizes them by color, bloom time, and other methods.
How-to videos right on their site, just click and play. Includes "How to Plant 100 Tulips in 30 Minutes or Less."

Check this site out before planting just any bulbs.

There's a clever homespun song about "the history of tulipomania" by an older gentleman named Jay Leonhart. He's playing a bass or viola (?) and appears to be making up the words as he goes along. I was enchanted, the way I used to be when I listened to grandpa tell stories.

Note to self: ColorBlends even does fundraisers with a 50% profit. A bit late this year, but keep in mind for next time you're raising money for missions.

Camera Bags, Blessing Bags, and Windbags plus Q&A Weds #1: Adventure

This is one of the "misc" category posts . Lots of little things to say or ask. Here goes.

1. I need a new camera bag. The one I have now has a broken latch on the front, meaning I have to carry the bag like a football under my arm for real security. I would like recommendations on a bag that will hold a Nikon D50 (an SLR) body plus 3 lenses of average length, a charger, a point 'n shoot, memory cards, and anything else a hobbyist will undoubtedly grow into. Also, does anyone recommend a backpack type camera bag, a shoulder strap kind, or one with both options. Why?

2. I'm waiting for a contact person in San Diego that Bethany is putting me in touch with. I'm wondering who, among you, want to send relief aid if this contact comes back and says, "Yes, please help!" And are you inclined to buy items yourself if I make a list of suggested things, or prefer to give me shopping and shipping money (PayPal, check, cash, anything but your firstborn)? (Note: the picture here of Amanda Joy with Katrina Kits in 2005, was taken on my old cheapy digital. I can't believe I used such a piece of junk, but it was better than nothing and I didn't know how good "good" can be with a great camera. My apologies to Amanda for the poor quality, but she is photogenic even with the worst of cameras, is she not?)


3 I'm gonna start a "Q&A Wednesday" series. When I have guests over who don't know each other well, or who could dominate the conversation at the table (read: windbag, which can be me), or tend clam up, or stay completely superficial for an hour, I try to have prepared a bowl of questions sitting near the center and tell everyone at the start, "Some time during the meal, I'm gonna ask one of you to pass the pepper, the butter, the rolls, et cetera. I'm also gonna ask someone to pass the questions. The one I ask will pick one, read it silently and decide if you want to answer." (At this point the nontalkers give you the mortified Judas-Iscariot-at-the-Last-Supper expression. Then, after I stop giggling at this predictable reaction, I say, "If you don't like that one, pick a new one." (Non-talkers exhale at the relief of getting to choose.) I try to mix it up, some light and funny, some about memories, some about dreams of the future, some that will honor one or more people specially (usually the person across the table, I say on the question paper).

So, let's get to know each other better ,shall we?

Today's question: What is the most adventurous thing you've ever done? Feel free to expound on it. (Was it scary? painful?fun? wise?stupid?)

Calling all Merciful People

As fires rage out of man's control in Southern California, we who stand afar off in safety have an opportunity to show mercy. I am in the process of finding a contact person to receive our "Katrina Kits." I still have a few of these handsewn fabric drawstring bags left.

What I need are sponsors, people to step up and say, "Yes, I'll give money for toiletries and shipping. Just say when." Well, if anyone reading this can put me in contact with a Christian in the SoCal region who you think would take the shipment and distribute it to anyone in need, let me know. This is a great time for the gospel to be shown. A few tubes of toothpaste, some deodorant, a washcloth, soap, nail clippers, hair scrunchies....yeh, it sounds small, but I have emails from back in Katrina days saying that it was a HUGE blessing.

Please let me know ASAP:
1) Can you give $10 per bag straight to me?
2) Can you give me the actual supplies ?
3) Can you put me in contact with a Sovereign Grace Chruch out there in need? Specifically a name of someone who is at a safe distance so that FedEx would deliver to their zip code?