Willing, Wanting, Waiting....

The Butterfly Effect

2012-01-28T23:22:00.000-05:00

There is a part of me that never forgets this day of the year and always dreads it. A part of me that would rather it didn't sit there on the calendar, waiting, reminding. And yet this morning it was only as an afterthought I realized that the time during which I made breakfast and ate it with my family was the same time of day my eldest daughter died three years ago.

Oh such great significance her life and death that it's only as an afterthought I think of those final moments, right?

Oddly enough this is a thought that's been niggling at me for a while. How does Keren's life and death play out in the grand scheme of things?

Clarification: I have no doubt that her existence was fully planned and intended by God. I also have no question that she was a gift to us, and not only us, but many around us. Her life shaped Kraig and me in ways we never expected, and God grew us in ways I would never exchange. I know, too, that her death was in God's hand, and it happened exactly when it was supposed to. I was reminded of this twice this past week with Jesus' words in Revelation 1:16, "'I am the Living One; I was dead, and behold I am alive for ever and ever! And I hold the keys of death and Hades.'" Death has no power without Christ's permission. All these are truths I know, and I rejoice in them.

And yet, six-and-a-half years of life. What are those in the vast timeline of mankind? I've almost hit forty, my grandmother is 93 and I've got a great-aunt who's a cracking 97. And yet even our lives are so short on the line. So 6 1/2 years? What is that?

I suppose if I sat down and started listing things out I would see how much her short life has changed mine and my family's. I would see the myriad ways God has taught me more about unconditional love, the value of all lives no matter how fragile, His sovereignty and centrality of every part of my life. I know these are effects of having known Keren. But on the other hand, nothing huge has shifted. While she lived, Kraig and my world included multiple doctors, therapists, special education teachers, fellow parents. In the three years since then our tie to this world has grown thin. We still know some and stay connected in a way, but that is no longer our world. I regret that at times, but at the same time, I don't feel that God is calling us to try to keep close to this world. We will never forget it, and we value it much more than we ever could have without Keren, but it is not our world now. I don't know exactly where and what He is taking us into, but at the moment, I know it's not back into that world. Does that lessen the significance of Keren's life? Obviously no, but I can't see the big picture and so I wonder.

I suppose that one thing I have realized through Keren's brief life is how important every life is, no matter how short. Every life impacts another...and another...and so on. The ripples continue. My grandmother, for instance, has six sons, fourteen grandchildren, and numerous great-grandchildren who have watched her for years and have been blessed by her humble, godly spirit. That doesn't even begin to touch the hundreds of other lives she has touched. On the other hand, a life snuffed out deliberately, even before birth, affects others by its very absence. I've read some interesting discussions recently as to how the world would be different if Steve Jobs' biological mother had aborted him. Makes one think! The two miscarriages Kraig and I had before Keren deeply affected us. For one, if either had continued full-term, Keren would not have been conceived. For another, the very loss of them vastly changed our perspective on Keren's life when we knew prenatally she might have Trisomy 18. We knew we wanted her, longed for her, no matter what. We wanted her to live! And she did, longer than we had dared to hope. And the lives she touched go on to touch other lives, and so on. The individual timeline might be brief, but each life impacts a life.

A butterfly flaps its wings, clouds collide, tempests rage, floods rise, rainbows of promise appear.

"How many are your works, O Lord! In wisdom you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures." ~Psalm 104:24

I just wish I could see it all from God's perspective. But as I am not able to, I will continue to live here through the storms and floods and wait in confidence for His rainbows.

Learning to Love Round Tables

2012-01-07T15:33:00.000-05:00

I hate change.

I've said it before. I'll probably say it again.

I have always hated it, though now that I'm "grown up" I hate it differently than when I was, say, four and threw a temper tantrum when my parents exchanged our rectangular dinner table for a round one. I have matured greatly, and I know now that fits over table changes is pretty juvenile, particularly when the rectangular one was a cheap temporary table my parents got when they were married, while the round one was an heirloom that still graces my parents' dining room and will be passed through generations. How silly I was!

No, now I just hate change with bursts of internal self-pity and outbursts of woe directed toward patient ears of trusted family and friends. There are also extended railings that go on toward God. See how much more mature I am?

Okay, enough sarcasm. In reality, I know God has helped me grow a lot regarding change. I've gotten much better at accepting it, and even my railing and venting is part of my processing, the moving of my heart to the same place of acceptance that my head is. Because I do know that God is so much bigger, and has a much better grasp on all of my circumstances than I ever could. It is He who will make everything beautiful in its time, and when I willingly let Him do that work, my heart changes and I see that the round table is ten times better than the rectangular one.

Still, I try not to be a proponent of change. I will accept it passively, but I tend to avoid doing things that will change my routine or life. As Christmas approached this past year I contemplated Mary and her circumstances in those nine months before Jesus' birth. She was faced with change immeasurably more than any I could imagine, but it was all external. She didn't cause it to happen. And she accepted it with grace, faith, and obedience. I want to be like that. But I don't want to start the ball rolling. Of course, that's sort of silly to think, too, because it's always God who is going to roll the ball (that lovely antinomy of sovereignty vs. free will). I guess what I'm saying is I don't initiate risks to my routine...unless I know that God wants me to.

And there's the rub. About four months ago it became very clear that I had to give Kraig the freedom to start looking into something that could lead to a major change in our family. Hopefully brief overview: When Kraig and I got married, we fully intended to head into work overseas, whether missions or otherwise. Kraig wanted to teach, and with that in mind he pursued a PhD in Civil Engineering. I got a Masters in Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages. On September 27, 2002, our lives took a huge, amazing detour when Keren was born. Suddenly overseas work was put on the back burner, and we learned a whole new world of special needs. And our hearts grew in ways we could never have imagined. On January 28, 2009, Keren died, and in an instant we were left with a huge question: Are we back to where we were before our detour? Obviously life had changed for us, and at that point we weren't considering any drastic shifts other than adjusting to our new world without Keren. That was enough. And God used even that to show us grace and beauty. But over the past few years, God has been teaching me more and more about surrendering to Him, and letting Him work through me in whatever way. I want Him to shine, and the only way I can do that is to give up my little whims, because really, they don't make me happy anyway. I had to give Kraig the opportunity to look.

All that to say no change is occurring in our family at the moment. There is absolutely nothing definite except the fact that the possibility is there. That's the funny thing, too. What I'm dreading is the change that may come. I have no idea what form it will take, or even if it will occur, but I am dreading it. That in and of itself actually frustrates me because I know from experience that God can and will work out the details, including the state of my heart. I just don't want to let Him do it because it means change.

In the meantime, I'm watching as He's shifting some things around me that mean inevitable change in the lives of some close friends, and as a result in Kraig's and mine and our kids' lives. It makes me wonder if God is shifting those pieces first to get my heart in shape. On the one hand, it strikes me as perfect because it's not me triggering the change; I'm the passive recipient. Just what I prefer. However, once again I dread these changes. I want my rectangular table!

My fears make me want to scream sometimes. I hate being bound by them. I hate fearing change, because I know it's one more thing that separates me from the full joy and peace of a relationship with Christ. And yet there is something in this that is apparently a part of my make-up. God made me with this bent. It doesn't mean I should wallow in it and take it as it is, though. Rather, I need to seek Him, and continually give my fear and frustration to Him--over and over again. And perhaps when I am old and gray I will have grown to the point where I can immediately rejoice in the round table. And perhaps it will take till I get to heaven. In any case, it keeps me leaning on Him, and that, when it all boils down to it, is the best position to be in.

Understanding the Big Picture

2011-12-01T00:23:00.000-05:00

I love stories. I love seeing my kids’ eyes light up when they listen to good stories. And the best stories, I think, are the ones that give a glimmer of something more than. It doesn’t have to be laid out like Aesop’s Fables, “And the moral of the story is...,” but the best stories are definitely the ones that have more to them than a plot-line.

And the greatest story of all is, no question, the story of God’s Big Rescue Plan. Most of us know something of this story, and we hear a good bit about it around Christmas. But usually we only hear one part: Jesus, God’s Son, is born on a starry night and laid in a feeding trough. If we’re more knowledgeable, we know that this baby grows up to do all kinds of wonderful miracles and tell marvelous stories himself, but in the end he’s horribly murdered—for us!—and then, beyond comprehension, rises again!

So if that’s the main story of God’s Big Rescue Plan, what does the rest of the Bible have to do with it? Are the other stories in the Bible just there to give us guidance in how to live our lives (or how not to, as the case often is)? Most children’s books and videos that portray these stories seem to imply this. Two newer contributions to the wealth of kids’ books and videos, though, go a major step beyond the norm and bring out the full beauty and wealth of the greatest story out there.

First off is The Jesus Storybook Bible: Every Story Whispers His Name, by Sally Lloyd-Jones. We were introduced to this book in the fall of 2007, and I’ve lost count of how many times our family has read it through since. Colorful illustrations catch the eye of littlest ones, and the creative storytelling grasps the imaginations of kids as young as three or four…and as old as 90 or 100 J . Lloyd-Jones skillfully weaves the truth of Jesus and God’s Big Rescue Plan from Adam & Eve through Revelation. Not every part of the Bible is covered, of course, but each story included shows a connection to Christ. The way she puts things has grabbed my heart more times than I can say. It has deeply affected how my kids see Jesus and heaven, and their place in the big picture. You can find this book at Family Christian Stores, though I’ve found it’s cheaper through Amazon.

Secondly, a new video series, What’s In the Bible?, has been a huge hit at our house this year. The creator of this series is Phil Vischer, otherwise known as “Bob the Tomato” of VeggieTales fame. In these new videos, you don’t have talking vegetables, but rather an eclectic cast of puppets who dig into the Bible and pull out some fascinating stuff. It’s full of the type of humor you find in VeggieTales, along with fun, catchy songs and silly cartoons. At the same time, it lays the Bible out clearly without ignoring some of the tough questions like “What is salvation?” “What is the Trinity?” “Why does God tell the Israelites to kill people? Isn’t He the God of love?” And once again, woven through is God’s Big Rescue Plan. So far six videos have been put out in this series, and they’ve made it through 1 & 2 Chronicles in the Old Testament. It looks like there will be about thirteen videos in the end, and they’re coming out quickly. If you want to find out more about this series, or watch other videos with the characters, check out http://www.jellytelly.com/ and http://whatsinthebible.com/. I just discovered, too, that there’s a new stand-alone video called Buck Denver asks Why Do We Call It Christmas? I want to see it!!!

So there you have it! Quality stuff to check out for the Christmas season. Your kids will love it, and you’ll probably enjoy it as well!

It's Here! It's Here!

2011-11-02T23:16:00.002-04:00

I'm a sucker for good kids' music, and when I say "good" I mean music that has great songs for the kids to enjoy, but also has things I enjoy. So yes, good is very subjective! ...But really, you can't go wrong with Slugs &Bugs, and I'm thrilled that the new album, Slugs & Bugs Under Where? is now out.

I've been trying to find the right word to sum up why I like the Slugs & Bugs music as much as I do...and there's no one word. The songs are whimsical, catchy, hilarious, lovely, thought-provoking, simple, deep--any of these words will describe one or more of the songs. There's a childlike innocence that permeates the songs, but there are truths that pop out and whop this "grown up" over the head. Random silliness is set beside moments of eye-opening truth, just like my everyday life with my kids. My kids love the tunes, and we all can sing them, elaborate on them, etc. In the past year since discovering Slugs & Bugs & Lullabies, I've happily spread it around to infect friends' and family's children. I apologize if you've been a recipient (well, actually, I don't!).

One of the things I've loved about both the first album, and even more the newest, is the broad spectrum of musical styles. I like variety, and appreciate it, though unfortunately I'm not educated enough to define all of it--I just know it's well done. In Slugs & Bugs Under Where? Randy Goodgame, along with a host of talented artists, incorporates (to name a few) New Orleans street jazz, Asian themes, African themes, classical, klezmer, Beach Boys, arena rock and Queen. And some of those are all in one song, "Mexican Rhapsody," that you can listen to here.

The touch is light. Don't expect the glitz and rock of Go Fish, which, speaking of, my kids and I like. Their lyrics are great, and we love to bop around to it now and then. But their tag line, "Great music for kids that won't drive parents bonkers," just doesn't apply to me. After one listen-through of an album, I'm done or I will go bonkers. It's just not my style. On the other hand, the deceptive simplicity of Slugs & Bugs keeps me, my husband, and my kids coming back for more. The other day my four-year-old wanted to hear Go Fish, so we had an album on for a run-through. I couldn't help but smile later, though, when she trotted around repeatedly singing, not a Go Fish lyric, but "Rooster, rooster, rooster, you're a cockadoodle-dooster," from Slugs & Bugs "Mexican Rhapsody." Tonight it was "I am very, very capable of anger.... Tell it to Jesus, he already knows. Tell it to Jesus, before it grows." ...I think I've mentioned in a previous post that I'm fully in favor of brainwashing my children....

So if you're looking for a treat for your kids (and whole family) for Christmas, these are some albums worth getting.

The Continuing Saga of Giant Chompchucks (and Various Other Characters)

2011-10-14T23:44:00.000-04:00

If you thought that the evil Giant Chompchucks had faded into the nether regions, think again. He was killed again just today (key word: "again"). I don't think anything will hold this creature down....

But then, he apparently doesn't hold anything else down either.

The other day, Ev went into full-Chompchucks mode as we walked home from picking Clare up at school. Chompchucks (who lives in a cave on the other side of our subdivision pond--"See, Mom? You can see it right over there!") carried off the beautiful, kind Princess Lalala...and killed her!

"Oh no!" I said, "Did they have a funeral to mourn her?"

"Yes."

"Did she have a Prince she was going to marry?"

"Not going to marry. She was married to a Prince. His name was...his name was 'Samuel.'"

"That's so sad," I said (really meaning it, as much as one can when speaking of imaginary people). "Did Chompchucks eat the Princess?" (After all, this is his modus aperandi.)

"No," said Ev, "Prince Samuel rescued her body from Giant Chompchucks. He got there, just after she was killed, and he grabbed her body."

"Wow, he was very brave. But that's so sad that she died."

"It's okay. He got married again."

Apparently Prince Samuel married Princess Cinderella, and at this point Ev became Cinderella and I had to talk to her as such for the next few hours. At one point, the saga took a soap-operatic turn when Ev (I mean, Cinderella) came into the kitchen sparkling.

"Guess what!" she said, "Princess Lalala is alive!"

Apparently she didn't see the ramifications of this, so I gently counseled her. "Isn't that a problem? I mean, aren't you married to Prince Samuel now?"

"Yes, but he's married to both of us."

"Um, yeh, but he can't be married to two people at once." (I realize I am brainwashing my child with my biblical worldview. It is very deliberate.)

But this didn't stump Ev. "Then she's married to someone else now. Another prince." His name, as it turned out, is Prince Caspian, and so far they're all living happily ever after.

In the meantime, Clare complained that I was talking to Ev more than her. "Well, talk to me," I said, "and I'll talk to you. Tell me your story."

So Clare told me her saga which involved a Prince with magic powers who could kill Chompchucks and all the "bad guys" just by saying it. "He can kill a trillion people at once! All he has to do is say, 'Die.'"

"But if you're beside him, and he says 'Die,' won't you die too?" I asked.

"No, only the people on the other team."

And there you have it. I'll let you know if something more comes out of this.

Why I Am (Still) a Member of My Local Church

2011-10-03T22:56:00.000-04:00

My family came to Michigan, and soon after my church, when I started fourth grade. In eighth grade I took the membership class and became a member. At that time, I did it because that’s just what one did. I’d become a Christ-follower when I was five, professed that in baptism at eleven, so the next step was to become an official part of “my local body.” I went away to college and found a church home there, but afterward God brought me back to Michigan and to my husband, whose family also called my local church “home” though he’d spent most of his life overseas. We were married at our church, and saw no need to go elsewhere. Our church taught the truth, and we had family and friends there. Nothing more was required by us.

According to Merriam-Webster.com, the basic definition of “member” is the following:

1: a body part or organ—as a) limb, b) a unit of structure in a plant body
2: one of the individuals composing a group
3: a person baptized or enrolled in a church
4: a part of a whole: as a) a syntactic or rhythmic unit of a sentence: clause, b) one of the propositions of a syllogism, c) one of the elements of a set or class, d) either of the equated elements in a mathematical equation

Ostensibly, a member of a church goes with the third definition, and fits with my original reasons for joining. I was there. I believed what my local body taught. Therefore, I became a member. In eighth grade I could start to go to business meetings (if I really wanted to!) and could serve in more roles throughout the church. When I was of voting age, I could participate in making certain decisions in the church based on the structure of our organization. Cut, dry, to the point. It was pretty boring for the most part, except for when meetings got heated and certain members argued over issues large and small; then it just got uncomfortable.

But over the years, I have come to have a better understanding of what being a “member” means, and in the past year I’ve had to wrestle with it. When it comes to the church, the first definition of “member” is closer to the mark. I am, by nature of following Jesus Christ, a member of his “body” of which He is the Head, as in 1 Corinthians 12:12-14,

“Just as a body, though one, has many parts, but all its many parts form one body, so it is with Christ. For we were all baptized by one Spirit so as to form one body—whether Jews or Gentiles, slave or free—and we were all given the one Spirit to drink. Even so the body is not made up of one part but of many.”

Again, clearly, this isn’t referencing one local church. This is speaking of all who follow Christ worldwide. It’s pretty mind-boggling when one thinks of it; I can be a foot over here, and have a fellow hand in Ukraine, or Kenya, or the Philippines—you name it. If you’ve ever had a chance to visit a church in another part of the world, you’ve probably experienced that wonder of joining together in song or communion, even with a language barrier, and have sensed the Holy Spirit there, flowing through, creating unity where there is so much difference. Nothing can compare with this.

And even at home in my church in Michigan there have been local body members who have come and gone over the years. By nature our area is transient. For many years, the car companies kept a regular in-flow and out-flow of families. More recently many have had to move due to economy. Pastors have come and gone, called to other ministries. In all these there was a farewell, and in each case a loss, but while painful in the sense of having to say good-bye, it was not a tearing of the body. That member was simply elsewhere, and God was now using him or her in another place, and He filled the empty place in our local body. At times some of these members have returned to visit or moved back and there is a joy in their return. Some members have died, and that too, while painful, has a sense of hope. It gives us another person to look forward to seeing again someday, and makes Heaven that much more real.

But then there are the other reasons why members leave. In a church of our size it’s inevitable there will be people with different perspectives as to how the body should work. As a result, conflict occurs, and many times the result is a rending of the body. Members tear themselves out, or are torn out. Some say the leaving is due to doctrinal issues, some stylistic or structural reasons. Some leave because they truly feel there is sin present that hasn’t been dealt with, and they aren’t willing to keep pushing for things to change. Some leave because they don’t feel welcomed. We have lost pastors because of disagreements. Each time these losses are a wound to the body. If the wound is dealt with in a godly manner, the result is a healed scar. If it is not dealt with…the result is a festering sore.

Leonardo da Vinci sketch

In our current culture, I’ve seen a growing trend of people attending a church, but not becoming members. There seem to be a number of reasons, a strong one being that desire to avoid the in-fighting and pettiness that many church “memberships” have come to symbolize. There is a desire that coming to church to worship and participate should relate directly to a relationship with God through Christ. It should not be a process of working out, and potentially battling out, church policy. I think many believers genuinely feel that, “If I am part of the body of Christ, then it doesn’t matter which local body I attend. We should all be unified no matter where we go and we are dividing ourselves if we take on membership in one place.”

The situation at our church over the past few years would seem to support these arguments pretty strongly. When our previous pastor resigned, our church went through a process of restructuring how we functioned. Both our pastor’s resignation and our church’s restructuring led to people leaving. In the midst of this, there were growing issues over worship style, and that led to a great loss of fingers, limbs and vital organs. These issues culminated this summer in a surprise upset when our worship pastor received an insufficient number of votes for an eldership role, leading to his resignation. Because of this, elbows, toes and vital organs on the other side of the issue have torn themselves from our local body. I’m sure there has also been a loss of some who were attending but weren’t official members. Why would anyone commit to an organization that is so faulty?

So, why am I still a member of such a faulty organization?

Leonardo da Vinci sketch

This is the question that my husband and I have wrestled with for the past few years, and here is our conclusion. Being a member of a local church is not the same as being a member of a club or business or institution. I am a part of a family, and more, a body. Christ is the Head, and as long as this local body teaches the truth of Christ, the truth of God, through the truth of the Bible, I have no justification to leave. In fact, if I leave because I am upset about something, whatever that something is, I am not functioning as part of the body is supposed to function. If there is sin within the body, but not in the undergirding truth taught and believed, I must stand for the truth and fight for it until we fall on our faces before our Head, so that the sin is dealt with and restoration occurs. Going to another local church because I prefer their worship style or governance structure will not help me function in the best way I can in the worldwide body of Christ. I may have more uniformity with that local body, but will there be true unity? If my church is made up of noses, where will be the hand to hold the tissue if we catch a cold?

“Now if the foot should say, ‘Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,’ it would not for that reason stop being part of the body. And if the ear should say, ‘Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,’ it would not for that reason stop being part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? But in fact God has placed the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. If they were all one part, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, but one body.

“The eye cannot say to the hand, ‘I don’t need you!’ And the head cannot say to the feet, ‘I don’t need you!’ On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor. And the parts that are unpresentable are treated with special modesty, while our presentable parts need no special treatment. But God has put the body together, giving greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it.” (1 Corinthians 12:15-26)

Leonardo da Vinci sketch

I don’t believe that this blunt and beautiful picture of true body-life can be seen if Christ-followers are not members of a local body. If I am not connected to and committed to a local Christ-following community, how will those around me who don’t know Christ see what relationships within the body can really be like? One may argue, “But all I see is the divisiveness!” Then obviously our body isn’t functioning as it should. “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:35). How does this love look to those around us? Do I love my fellow members simply because I agree with their perspective all the time? Because they never fail? Or do I love them because they are fellow body parts, found, loved, forgiven and put together by our beloved Head…and I wouldn’t be whole without them? I think it would be an incredible witness to our community if they could see my local body and say, “Wow! What a crazy hodge-podge of people…and yet they all seem to love each other. How does that happen?”

My church is not there yet, but it still teaches what is true. There are still a lot of festering sores. I think we are only just beginning to see that the only way we can become whole is if we take these wounds and failings and lay them before our Head. But there are still many members here who know this is their family, their body, for all its warts and underarm hair. These are the members who remain committed through the ups and downs, who stand against trends of culture, and say, “For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health….” My husband and I are committed to being members like this, and we will continue with our local body, serving in whatever ways we can, until or unless God calls us to another local body in far-off regions.

The Giant Chompchuks

2011-09-18T18:16:00.001-04:00

A new creature of immense ferocity and evil has entered our little dominion. He is a giant, but not just any giant. He is an incredibly detailed and defined giant, at first indestructible, but I think he might be dead now. I'm not totally sure. You'll have to double-check with my four-year-old.

He emerged from thin air the other morning when I was walking home with Ev and Jon after dropping Clare at school. One house that we pass has stepping stones set in the grass going up to its front door, and my girls love to leap from step to step. This morning was no different, and Ev took off on them, telling me as she went that these were a monster's footprints.

"Really," I said. "What kind of monster?"

"A giant."

I decided to find out more, so I asked, "Does he have long, gnarled fingers?"

"Yes," said Ev.

"Does he have a great big nose with hair sticking out of the nostrils?"

"No," said Ev. "It's really tiny, but there's hair coming out of the top."

"Oh, is his head big?"

"No, it's really tiny, too."

"I see," I said. "So are his eyes big and bulbous, or teeny beady eyes?"

"They're really tiny," she said, "and green."

"Does he have lots of hair all over his head, or just little wisps coming out of the top?"

"Little bits of hair," Ev told me. "And he has a really big mouth with lots of teeth."

I discovered later that these teeth "went all the way to the ground." The giant's description continued to grow as the day progressed, and even the next day. For one, to give him a size comparison, he's as tall as our ceiling (about nine feet). Also, at first his name was just "Giant," but when yesterday I said, "So his name is 'Giant'?" she clarified, "His first name is 'Giant,' but his second name is 'Chompchuks.'"

The Giant Chompchuks, it seems, has a love for people. That is, a love of eating people. Animals, too, but preferably people. The good news for us poor people, though, is that he only comes out at night, and not only that, he only likes the cold. I asked her if we were safe in our houses, and Ev informed me that of course we were, because it is warm in our houses. He is loud, and when you hear thunder it's probably him, prowling with his fellow giants (yes, there's a whole group of them) outside our windows. She at first said nothing could kill him, but she soon amended this. There is an army, apparently, who fights the Giant Chompchuks and his minions. This army uses swords and rubber slingshots (a la David and Goliath except for the rubber part). In fact, one army guy shot a slingshot stone right through the eye of Giant Chompchuks and killed him. I think this is why he is now dead...but maybe not. You never know with Giant Chompchuks. He has an evil sidekick named "Kangarooey," but the army has a good-guy named "Kangaroo." Very helpful to know.

What amazes me about Ev's elaborate and frightening description of the evil Giant Chompchuks is that even though she insists that he is real and she's seen him, she isn't at all afraid of him. He's not causing nightmares, though she claims he keeps her awake at night, and she certainly hasn't shown any signs of worry. Despite all his ferocity, he simply is.

And all this from the mind of my four-year-old. The one who plays with baby dolls, who prefers dresses to pants, the one who mothers her little brother and loves to help out with the domestic details around the house. Of course, she is also the supreme drama queen who lately puts on a great show of tears and tragedy when told "no."

If she can stream her drama a bit more into creatures like Giant Chompchuks, I think I'll let him hang around for a while. Oh look! Is that him lurking behind the pear tree?

Tigger Tale

2011-08-29T23:01:00.000-04:00

You know how parents groan when some well-meaning (or conspiring) friend or relative blesses their child with a "noisy toy"? One of those with all the electronic bells and whistles and obnoxious songs that play over...and over...and over.... I've heard many new parents declare that their children will only have non-electronic toys and the first bell or whistle that comes through the front door will find its way quickly out that back. That usually lasts until the first said toy appears and junior is completely enthralled by it.

But anyway, one of the earliest things that Kraig and I discovered after we had Keren, was that the best toys for her were the noisy, moving, light-up affairs. They helped stimulate her, and we could usually find things that she could manipulate and get going. She loved the lights, the vibrations, the sounds. As a result, when birthdays and Christmas came around, friends and family would go all out to find her toys like these.

On one of these early Christmases, our friend Jodi gave Keren a "Bounce & Pounce" Tigger (or something like that). All you had to do to get it going was pinch the tip of his tail. "Let's bounce!" he'd say, and a snip of "The Wonderful Thing About Tiggers" would play while Tigger jiggled on his four legs. Then, "Even fasterer!" he'd cry and do the same bit faster. Finally he'd say, "I think I over-pounced," and that was that. It was cute, and Keren could get the tail bit which was cool, but we did think it was a little low on the output for the fancy toy it was. The box didn't enlighten us further, though, so we figured that was it. Keren liked him--she'd grin when he'd play and vibrate--and that was what mattered most.

And Tigger has remained a part of the family since, making his way through the hands of many small children and loved on more or less, depending on the child. He's just one of those that hasn't been put away or removed from the over-population of dolls and stuffed animals that reside in our home. A few months ago he was one of Ev's favorites because Clare's favorite stuffed pet was a lion. More recently he's been one of Jon's particular buds. All this time Tigger has played his little bit and still jiggles and shakes; we've never even had to change the battery.

The other night as Kraig was reading to the kids, Jon was "listening" as he sat there biting Tigger's tail and making him play his tune. We ignored it for the most part; after all, Tigger's tune has become one of those background noises we don't really listen to any more. Suddenly, though, Kraig stopped mid-sentence and said, "Jonathan, what are you doing? Are you trying to destroy Tigger?" We looked down, and there sat Jon studiously pulling at a piece of flexible plastic that now stuck out from Tigger's underbelly and battery case. I reached over to take Tigger and see what Jon had grasped, and as I peered at it I realized the plastic strip had words on it: "Pull out after purchase for full play mode." By this time we were all focused on Tigger. "No way," I laughed. "We're just seeing this now?" I took hold of the strip and pulled it out. In wonder and anticipation, bated breath on my part, I reached out and squeezed Tigger's tail. After all these years did Tigger have more for us?

And he did! No bit pieces of "The Wonderful Thing About Tiggers." Tigger let loose and played the whole tune once through, jiggling away. Then he paused and said, "Let's try even fasterer," and he stopped. Was that it? I cautiously pinched his tail again and he took off "even fasterer" for the whole tune. There were a couple other phrases thrown in that we'd never heard before, and we laughed and laughed at the sheer silliness of it all. Keren would have loved the crazy thing, and Clare, Ev and Jon were loving it now.

So now when Tigger's tail gets pinched (and of course, over the past few days it's been pinched much more than usual) he plays a full rendition of song and bounce. And Kraig and I have learned for the zillionth time that this parenting business is never a worn-out tale. You never know when you're going to discover something amazing that's been under your nose for years.

Just WRITE!

2011-08-25T21:57:00.000-04:00

Actually, I have been writing a good bit this summer, just not on the blog. This has been the summer of travel, and I was able to keep a journal during our trip to Oklahoma earlier this summer, and I'm finishing up writing memories down from our recent trip to Boston and New Jersey. I had thought maybe I'd take parts and put them into the blog, but so far it hasn't worked out that way.

But I just finished reading a book that I'd seen recommended by a number of people in recent months, If You Want to Write, by Barbara Ueland. It's a fun read because the author is a character. She says exactly what she's thinking, and it doesn't matter that I don't agree with all of her philosophies. It's easy to sort those out and find the nuggets that are true because she's so straightforward, not to mention interesting. And as I do want to write, I have found a lot that I could take home.

For one, she emphasizes that when it comes down to it, every person is "talented, original and has something important to say." The problem is that we tend to either exalt ourselves in our own eyes and so come off sounding like conceited prigs, or we downplay everything we are to the point we become dull as old knives. Neither of those are qualities God desires in us. In His eyes, we are talented, original, and beautifully important--we don't need to prove anything. So, if we desire to write (or paint, teach, sing, research, engineer--anything!), then write, and write what we feel, think, etc. It doesn't matter if no one reads it. If it never gets published, who cares? Get it out!

I needed that encouragement, because writing for me is such a great form of therapy. It helps me get thoughts organized, I feel like I'm using my creativity, and as a result, other things get done better. I'm more on task with home projects and I'm more patient with the kids. There are so many times that I've started to write something and God opens my eyes to truths about Him that I wouldn't have grasped if I hadn't put my questions out there in print. And as a result I know better how to deal with a problem, or God just becomes so much more real to me.

My absolute favorite chapter title was "Why Women Who Do Too Much Housework Should Neglect It for Their Writing." I wish I could say the doing "too much housework" was one of my faults, but despite that, I love Ueland's point. She talks about how we give ourselves up for our families so much that we neglect ourselves, and when we don't feed our own passions (the good kind of passions) we end up hurting our families.

"You make them physically more comfortable. But you cannot effect them spiritually in any way at all. For to teach, encourage, cheer up, console, amuse, stimulate or advise a husband or children or friends, you have to be something yourself. And how to be something yourself? Only by working hard and with gumption at something you love and care for and think is important.

"So if you want your children to be musicians, then work at music yourself, seriously and with all your intelligence. If you want them to be scholars, study hard yourself. If you want them to be honest, be honest yourself. And so it goes.

"And that is why I would say to the worn and hectored mothers in the class who longed to write and could find not a minute for it:

"'If you would shut your door against the children for an hour a day and say: "Mother is working on her five-act tragedy in blank verse!" you would be surprised how they would respect you. They would probably become playwrights.'"

So I plan to write, whether here or elsewhere. And something will come of it, I know: God will use it to mold me more into whom He desires me to be, and because it is a joy for me, I will blossom, and I pray my family will, too. What better purpose is there than that?

"Patience, please!"

2011-06-14T00:45:00.000-04:00

Have you ever had that prayer run through your mind, "Lord, grant me patience!" or "Lord, give me peace!"? ...And of course, the result is that you find yourself in increasingly stressful situations till you get to the point where you're afraid to pray for these things at all....

Over the past few years I've been increasingly challenged by things I've learned that part of the problem is that these aren't the best prayers to begin with. After all, the truth is that if we are "in Christ," if we belong to Him because we have believed that He is the way, the truth and the life, and that no one can come to the Father except through Him, then we have these characteristics in our lives already through the Holy Spirit. It is fruit that comes from Him, not something we ourselves produce:

"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law." ~Galatians 5:22&23

The key is not to pray for these things, but rather to realize that they are there and to thank God for them. So, an example I heard recently was something along the lines of, If I'm angry with my children, rather than praying that God will give me patience with them, I thank God for the patience that He has given. As a result, the situation is diffused because I'm resting in the Spirit and letting Him work through me, not striving to accomplish something myself.

But does this really work? I admit I've been leery. I've believed it in my head, but I've fought it in action. On the one very selfish hand there are so many situations where I would much rather stew in my frustration and anger. After all, I have been wronged! Everyone should see this and know it!!! My children should suffer the consequences of being obnoxious when they should have known better!!!! (Can't you hear my righteous indignation?) Of course, the glaring problem with this attitude is that it's all about me.... My pride has been wounded. God should be on my side on this, after all.

Not only am I full of pride in this, but I'm letting fear reign. What will change if I let go of this righteous indignation? What if I don't like how God changes me as a result? What will He make me do that might make me act really differently and stick out like a sore thumb in the world around me? Will I face more suffering if I let Him take control of this? I can't handle more of that! Again, one part of my brain sees these fears and scoffs at them. I know "whom I have believed and I am convinced that He is able to guard what I have entrusted to Him until that day" (1 Timothy 1:12). Don't I know Him? Can't He guard these things? I've seen Him do it. I've seen Him take suffering in my life and turn it into huge growth and blessing. And yet I still fear.

So can I really just thank Him for the fruit and let Him do the work?

I'm trying to take on the challenge. Today was a long day with the kids. We seemed to have meltdowns happening every couple minutes for good portions of the day. Tonight there was a continual rain of tears from Clare and Ev as they scrubbed down and readied for bed. In the midst of it I found myself praying, "Lord, thank you for giving me your patience." I prayed it, though I wonder if I prayed it with a tinge of sarcasm. "Yeah, right.... We'll see...." And then, after stories were read and the kids were tucked in, and more tears were falling from my eldest because her daddy had to work late and couldn't be there to pray with her, there in the midst of all that I realized that I wasn't frustrated with her and snapping at her. The patience was there.... I hadn't changed me at all. God had.

I am in awe. I am humbled.

Now onto tomorrow....

Books Worth Reading

2011-06-07T21:45:00.000-04:00

Saturday morning I finished the second book of a series that was recommended to me by a librarian friend. I enjoyed both books--junior fiction fantasy with some allegorical twists and nods to C. S. Lewis in that a boy is swept from our world into another. So, a fun read, particularly for someone like me who is one of those strange creatures that thrives on certain fantasy and sci-fi :) .

However, I didn't regret putting the book down because another was waiting for me. It is a novel that I'd originally planned read later this summer when we're traveling, but the author has hosted a competition for a great blog post review and I succumbed to the irresistible temptation.... That, and the fact that I don't think I could have waited three more weeks to read it!

The book is The Monster in the Hollows, the third segment of The Wingfeather Saga by Andrew Peterson, who is also a talented singer/songwriter. Once again, I was delving into the junior fiction fantasy realm (personally, I think the majority of quality stories are in junior fiction!), but based on the first two books in the series I had a feeling that this experience would be more than just "a fun read."

And it was. No question.

Last fall when I plunged into the first book, On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness, it was well worth the adventure, though I admit that initially I wasn't sure if the book would rank among favorites. I liked the humor, and there was something greatly appealing about a complete work of fiction that had footnotes referencing fantastical historic instances and lofty-sounding texts as if we should all be able to find them at our local library. But at first the book didn't seem quite serious enough with its lizard-like "Fangs of Dang," despite the main characters' fears of the Black Carriage which periodically appeared to carry children away to the realms of Gnag the Nameless. As the story unfolded, however, layers were revealed, and suddenly it was so much more than a funny story. The characters fleshed out and grew, the plot flipped and turned and surprised, and by the end of the book I was hooked. The second book, North! Or Be Eaten, was even better, and by the time The Monster in the Hollows came out last month I knew this was one of those series we'd want on our own shelves. (And it is now--or it would be if I didn't keep lending it out to friends :) .)

So what is it about a book whose protagonist is a twelve-year-old boy that hooks a mom of young kids (kids so young that it will probably be another year before they're able to enjoy the stories)? I've come up with my top nine reasons....

There is nothing like escaping from a world of laundry and dishes into a land where the humdrum of daily life is punctuated by threats of toothy cows (and worse).
You discover that your worst fears for your children's safety and well-being are pretty unfounded in the grand scheme of things. After all, they aren't likely to meet a cloven, or be captured by Stranders, or taken by the Black Carriage, etc.
You find yourself standing taller, because you feel that in some small way you are as gracious and queenly in your children's eyes as the mom in these stories (and she's not perfect; she's just a cool mom!).
When you see your neighbor's overgrown puppy chewing everything in sight it crosses your mind that having a family dog might not be such a bad idea after all.... (NOTE: This is one of the dangers of reading these books!)
When your kids start squabbling, you smile because you know that down deep they really love each other and will stick up for each other, just like the Igiby children--and you have the chance to help guide them in that.
You may have a hard time putting the book down, but you know that you will be well-satisfied when you finish each book, because even though certain themes still need to be resolved, the main plot of each book has been neatly wrapped up. There's no mess left at the end that will nag you and interrupt your day until the next book comes out!
There are songs out there worth singing, drawings worth sketching, stories worth telling, and you get the opportunity to hand them on to your own kids.
Even though the books are set in a different world, the people are real with feelings and internal struggles to which you can relate (and as a result, you see new ways you can handle your own).
No matter how hard things get, no matter what we suffer, God has His hand on each of us. He wants to change "something twisted into a flourish" and take something "bent and make it beautiful" (The Monster in the Hollows, p. 205), and He can do that with our lives when we let Him.

So yes, there are some books that are fun...and then there are other books that are well worth reading.

Dogwood Awakening

2011-05-17T22:40:00.000-04:00

In the summer of 2009, we revamped the landscaping in our front yard, eliminating two annoying weeping mulberry trees and a lot of lava rock. In place of these horrors of creation, we created a grassy sward (sounds nice, though it's still a work in progress) and planted a dogwood tree. The tree is in memory of Keren, though I know that if we ever move, we aren't exactly going to dig up the tree and take it with us! But for now, it's our memorial tree.

I love dogwoods, but I've had a slight disdain for dogwoods in Michigan after spending my college years in the warmer climes of southeast Pennsylvania. In that part of the world, dogwoods are great, gracious ladies who in spring shake out their pink and white skirts with elegant flamboyance. They're a little like this picture, but even bigger.

In Michigan, dogwoods are delicate ornamentals, resilient in our cold winters, but fairy creatures that hide their beauty behind the flashier pears and crabapples.

The longer I deliberated on what tree to place out front, however, the more I returned to the dogwood. Maybe it was the romance of the legend of the dogwood, or maybe it was just that I love its beauty more than any flowering tree.

Our little dogwood weathered the winter of 2009, and in the spring of 2010 I started to scrutinize its branches to see what it would put forth. As a result, I discovered that the dogwood is more amazing than I ever dreamed.

The first thing I noticed were tiny woody nobs growing on the tips of some branches, while on others sharp points seemed to break right through the wood. It looked a painful process.

Slowly the nobs grew, till eventually they opened to reveal the starts of the blossoms. Even then, though, they didn't burst out fully-formed like crabapple blossoms. Each flower unfolded its warped, but colorful petals with careful deliberation.

Meanwhile, the sharp-tipped branches forced out pairs of leaves, raised upward like hands in praise....

When the flowers finally unfurled, they displayed their colors with dignity and grace, their very blemishes a part of their beauty.

This literally took place over the course of a month last year. This year it went a little more quickly, but happened later in the season.

I have never seen anything like it. It amazed me how God had given us such a perfect tree to remind us of our beautiful, "imperfect" Keren. How He had created her to be one that blossomed slowly, letting us drink in every step of her development. She was warped and flawed in so many ways, and her successes came through excruciatingly hard work, like the dogwood blossoms breaking forth from tough wood. And yet like the dogwood leaves and blossoms, Keren lifted her eyes heavenward, seeing things we could only imagine.

I don't mean to portray her as a saint; she was just as human as any of us. Actually, I think her life and the awakening of the dogwood are quite a bit like me. I am a hard little tree with nobs and points at the end of my branches. But God is slowly, slowly helping me grow. He's prying open those nobs and unfolding beautiful, stunted blossoms that will someday be fully formed. He's opening those tiny, sharp points and making them soft, open hands lifted up to Him in prayer and praise. He's giving me the strength to weather the winter storms so that each spring I can put forth a little more show. And one day I might even be one of those elegant dogwoods of Pennsylvania.

Hosanna!

2011-05-16T23:04:00.000-04:00

Last week was full of spring. The kids and I walked to school each day, relishing the calls of the robins, cardinals and red-wing blackbirds. We caught sight of a mother duck with her ducklings, played "Pooh Sticks" on the bridge, counted the fish we spotted in the stream, and watched the dogwoods unfold their flowers. We breathed deep the fresh air and the fragrance of the crabapple blossoms, and stared up into the blue, blue sky. Even the dandelions in the field were golden treasures scattered on an emerald carpet.

One would think it was a perfect week. But the beauty in this world only reaches to a certain point in the soul, and when the soul is sore all the beauty in the world won't cure it.

My heart, mind and soul seem to have been aching all spring and I'm not sure what will be the cure.

On the one hand my objective brain can analyze the situation: The weather has been, for the most part, miserable this spring--cold, wet, gray. There are some big issues that I've been working through that relate to my posts over the past few months (note: no posts for almost two months), and there hasn't been resolution (except that Kraig and I know where we are on the issue, and we're together on it; can't complain there!). The kids have been hit with a number of spring bugs, and two weeks ago I was hit upside the head with a nasty cold as well that is finally getting better (and Kraig has just gotten it, lucky guy :( ). In the middle of that cold, I managed to pull off a major personal failing--one of those where you wonder why God didn't give you a nice, big nudge in the midst to let you know that you were about to make a royal mess of things. As a result I had an epiphany that while I may have learned the vital truth that we must "fervently love," I have still to figure out that others perceive love differently than I may show it. On top of this, I've been short with the kids, I miss Keren, I'm not writing, my kitchen (not to mention house) has reflected my state of mind, yada, yada, yada....

So yes, my objective brain looks at all this and says, "Loren, you are depressed."

Nice to know, isn't it? But immediately a chorus from my subjective brain takes off:
"Why, Loren? Why are you depressed? Is this a chemical imbalance? Do you need to see someone? Or is this all spiritual and you need to hand it to God to take care of? Remember, 'Cast all your anxieties on Him, for He cares for you!' How long do you think this is going to last? How long does it need to last before you know you need to do something about it?" Etc., etc., etc.

What I really feel like is what Paul cries out in Romans 7:24 after he has gone on about doing what he doesn't want to do, and not doing what he does, and that continual struggle between the heart that longs to follow God and the body that continually acts against it. "What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?" I deeply relate to the words from Andrew Peterson's song, "Hosanna," "I am tangled up in contradictions. I am strangled by my own two hands...." My own actions seem to turn around and trip me. I feel I'm floundering and failing at everything.

And yet even in the midst of this wallowing (there is a self-pitying giant rumbling beneath this) I know the unalterable truth. "Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God--through Jesus Christ our Lord!" That clarion truth-call cuts through all the webs around my soul, and my objective brain knows that I am caught up in lies when I could be singing praise along with the world burgeoning with spring about me. But for me right now, my song is "Hosanna," which appropriately means, "pray, save us!" I know the truth, but I'm not sure how to break free of the webs. I know only Christ can show me the way, and I'm not sure when He's going to show it. I am in a waiting period, utterly dependent on Him because I don't have the strength to fix this.

So in other words, I am exactly where God wants me.

Love is...

2011-03-07T15:40:00.000-05:00

I have a quote running through my head that I'm almost positive is C. S. Lewis, but I can't track down the source. "Just because I have to love someone," Lewis states, "doesn't mean I have to like him." I can't tell you how many times I've referred to that quote, or appreciated it, when faced with very unlikeable people or situations. But it's not an excuse, because we do have to love....

In Bible study we've been working our way through 1 Peter, and this week we finally got to dig into chapter 1, verses 22 & 23:

22 Since you have in obedience to the truth purified your souls for a sincere love of the brethren, fervently love one another from the heart, 23 for you have been born again not of seed which is perishable but imperishable, that is, through the living and enduring word of God.

I've been wanting to delve into this because it's something I've been dealing with a lot recently. How do I truly love "the brethren," that is, other Christ-followers, particularly when I'm not thrilled with what they are doing?

We had to check out the root words for the two "loves" used in verse 22. Not surprisingly, "sincere love of the brethren" is from the Greek word "philadelphia" aka "brotherly love" (or a city in Pennsylvania :) ). So in a nutshell, our "sincere love of the brethren" is a result of being born again "through the living and enduring word of God," an act of obedience on our part. We love one another because God desires us to. But it's not just a nod of "Okay, I love you, brother!" It's not a matter of liking or feeling warm-fuzzies for other believers. It's a lot stronger. We're to "fervently love one another from the heart." "Love" here is the hard, strong "agapao," the love that God has for us--unconditional, engulfing, encompassing. It is a love that delights in someone or something by an act of the will, a choice, not an emotion that fades or a passion that fizzles. It's not something we can question, "Do I really love that person?" It's a matter of choosing to love. To use a quote I did find from C. S. Lewis: "Do not waste time bothering whether you 'love' your neighbor; act as if you did. As soon as we do this we find one of the great secrets. When you are behaving as if you loved someone you will presently come to love him."

So after digging into these words, the follow up in my study was, "List some practical ways you can love one another from the heart."

And that's where the rubber meets the road. Instead of practical, active deeds of love that would reveal that great secret of love, my mind was filled with questions:

How do I love the person who seems to deliberately ignore me when I am in her presence?

How do I love the person who refuses to be humble; who will not take suggestions because if incorporated they might indicate the person giving suggestions was "right," while he was "wrong"?

How do I love the friend who is struggling to feel accepted, no matter how much acceptance is extended?

How do I love my kids when I'm completely frustrated with their stubbornness?

I know on the one hand that I can't love them in and of myself. It is only in my obeying the truth that I can love, and the truth is that Christ saved me and chose to love me when I was unloveable and I couldn't do a thing about that. In the same way I must choose to love these people in my life, to delight in them even when I don't particularly like them....

How can I demonstrate this love? Last week one of the women in my study shared a situation where a friend who had hurt her was suddenly in need and asked her for help. She didn't feel like helping at all, but she prayed about it, and God filled her with compassion for this hurtful friend. She said it was amazing, because it wasn't her own feelings at all--it was all Him. And I think that's the key. And while it sounds simple, it's so hard to let go of my hurt, my frustration, my anxiety, and bow to Him and say, "Okay, Father, take away my pettiness and replace it with your agape love."

That's the starting point. I think I still have to think through some practical outworkings. I know God can provide the love, but I'm not sure how to show it. Does He give that answer, too? I'm praying about that.

4 Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous ; love does not brag and is not arrogant, 5 does not act unbecomingly ; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, 6 does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; 7 bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. 8 Love never fails.... (1 Corinthians 13:4-8)

Maps...And Using Them....

2011-02-26T14:01:00.000-05:00

This morning I double-checked my directions before heading to a baby shower. My dear pal Google Maps gave me numerous ways to make the ten minute trek; unfortunately the most direct route meant wending one's way through one of those golf course subdivisions where there are boulevards and odd turns. I've made my way through that sub before, but I don't think I've ever done it without backtracking or getting completely turned around. Despite this history, I looked at it this morning and thought, "No problem. I can pull it off this time!" I didn't print out the directions, but I wrote down the directions figuring that would be enough.

It wasn't.

Twenty minutes later I had managed to get out of that sub, but due to overconfidence on my part (in this case that the road I would emerge from would be the road I was supposed to come out on) I didn't know where my next turn was. Thankfully a call to the party hostess resolved my problem, and I got to the shower.

Later, as I drove home, I thought of the old analogy of how the Bible is our map on this road of life. We may know our destination--where it is, the general route, etc.--but if we don't use the map on our way we're bound to get mixed up, have to backtrack, and at the worst get completely lost. In my case, too, while I had written out the directions, I didn't look at them again until it was too late because I was so sure I had the streets straight in my head. How many times do I do that with Biblical truths? I've learned them many times, I've written about them, studied them, but when I'm faced with a situation I don't go back to the Source to make sure I'm remembering correctly. ...And likely as not I've gotten overconfident and headed off on the wrong road. It's often it's stretches where I've gotten lost before--the Mire of Worry, the Cesspool of Self-Pity.... Thankfully I do have the Holy Spirit, and I'm slowly getting better at turning to Him for help as soon as I realize I'm lost. Like the hostess of the event I went to today, when I call on Him, He helps me back to the right road.

Now to not get off track in the first place!

Words, Words, Words....

2011-02-17T16:58:00.000-05:00

Natural formation named after Lot's wife who became a pillar of salt

On Wednesday evenings this year I've been helping my parents with an ESL (English as a Second Language) Bible study. We started in September with a brief Bible overview, then jumped head-long into Genesis, with the goal to study the book of Genesis in the course of the year. We're currently in chapter 18; almost halfway through! In our small group we have a mix of Jordanians, an East Indian, a few Chinese, some believers, some not. There are also five Americans helping out, though I think I can honestly say we're learning as much as the students! There's nothing like delving into the Bible with international perspectives!

Every week along with reading and discussion, we deal with new vocabulary words (pronunciation and meaning). Last night was no exception as we plumbed the depths of words like lunge, bolt, pillar, and righteous. The other week, a young German woman who's been staying with my folks was able to come and while her English is flawless, she's been having a blast learning new words. The word of the night that week was "carnivorous." You just never know how a word will hit a chord...or a funny bone!

I love words! I love how they can be simple yet beautiful, or simply repulsive just in the way they sound. Recently I read a blog post that used the phrase "limn loveliness" and my heart soared--how awesome a word is "limn!" It just sounds wonderful as it comes off the tongue! (It means, by the way, "to depict or describe in painting or word, suffuse or highlight (something) with a bright color or light.") Then there are words like "mush" which I believe is my sister's all-time least-favorite word (correct me if I'm wrong, Carg!). Just try saying it a few times and I'm sure you'll understand.

But there are times that words are so frustrating. There are times when I'm trying so hard to communicate an idea and I feel like I'm failing miserably, either because the words I'm using are not the words of my audience, or the idea behind them is not carried across. I've spent this week trying to write a letter that is of vital importance to me and I want the point to come through clearly. I want my audience to hear the point, understand it, and most of all agree with it, but I don't know if I can pull it off. My words are limited, and my emotions are a huge encumbrance. Emotions tend to make communication almost impossible at times. Then there's the added pressure of wanting them to be Godly and wise...which is where copious prayer comes into play. Thankfully the Spirit "intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance to God's will" (Romans 8:26&27). If only that always worked in talking with other humans!

On a totally different part of the communication spectrum, I'm enjoying the beginning of words. Just this week my eighteen-month-old Jon-Boy has crossed a line. He's communicated very well up to this point, considering his vocabulary has been made up of "Ommy," "Addy," and something indecipherable that refers to his sister Evie. He also has managed the signs for "please" and "thank you" quite well accompanied by a big, cheesy grin and "EEASE!" But I think we've stepped into new territory. Yesterday he came running over to me clutching something in his fist. "Ba-uuw! Ba-uuw!" he said, and handed me a little ball. Ah! "Ba-uuw" is "ball"--got it! Then this morning we were on a walk and some ducks flew overhead. "Ducks!" I cried excitedly. Jon and Ev were duly impressed and when more ducks flew overhead, Jon stopped and pointed, "Dut!" Later this morning he was trying to copy Ev's rendition of "Happy Birthday," and it was almost recognizable (not the tune, really, but the fact that he was stringing some words together in a sing-song way that ended with "oo"). Someday, that child will have words at his command...if he can ever get a word in edgewise with this sisters!

Never underestimate the power of words....

...And those are my deep thoughts for the day!

Gollum Tears and Dragon Skin

2011-02-12T21:04:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking about Gollum today (of Lord of the Rings "My Precious-s-s-s" infamy). I haven't read the books in a long time, nor watched the movies in a while for that matter, but I recently pulled out the theme music from the movies. I wanted to hear "Into the West" which I hadn't listened to since Keren's funeral. It's one of those songs that I've always associated with Keren.

Anyway, listening to that cd (Return of the King soundtrack) led me on to all of the movie soundtracks and this morning I was struck by the words of "Gollum's Song" at the end of The Two Towers. The song is sung with an aching, longing, lonely voice. You feel the angst of Gollum and you hurt for him; he's been so abused! But the more you listen to the words you also realize that he's brought much of his pain on himself. Here's a taste:

So in the end
I will be - what I will be
No loyal friend
Was ever there for me

Now we say - goodbye
We say - you didn't try...

These tears you cry
Have come too late
Take back the lies
The hurt, the blame!

And you will weep
When you face the end alone
You are lost!
You can never go home

It's so sad; he's been betrayed and no one loves him. But is that really true? Or is it his perception? If you know the story, you know that the hobbit Frodo takes Gollum under his wing and tries to give him the path to restoration. We see glimpses of the Gollum he could be/once was, but in the end, Gollum chooses his personal desires, addictions and his pain over the chance to be restored and renewed...and find ones who love him....

The older I get the more I meet people who are caught in Gollum's trap. They want to be loved--they long for it and need it (obviously we can't exist without it!). But they want it on their own terms, by their own definition as to how it should work. And they aren't willing to sacrifice anything to get it; there's no giving up of certain selfish desires. And so they are stuck, and cry out like Gollum that they are betrayed and forsaken and "can never go home." And yet you can see that in the end the choice to be rejected is their own. There was still the chance to accept hard love, but it was considered too high a price compared to giving up their own perceptions of what love should be.

There are some would-be Gollums I've tried to help...and others, regrettably, that I've ignored, given up on completely, or had to step away from for fear of getting sucked into their black hole of self-absorption. It's so hard to know when to let go of them, knowing they will forever think they have been rejected, and never know they could have been transformed.

Of course, I probably shouldn't leave this yet.... How many times have I shed Gollum-tears of self-pity? I'm alone, no one understands me, etc., etc., etc. But each time I've known that it's really a lie. I am not alone; God is with me and He will never leave me nor forsake me (Hebrews 13:5). I am not misunderstood or unloved; Christ can sympathize with my weaknesses because he is "one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are--yet was without sin" (Hebrews 4:15). I have only to believe this, to know that this is true.... But that is the hardest part in the end because it means I have to let go of me and be enveloped by Him.

We've been reading C. S. Lewis' The Voyage of the Dawn Treader with the kids and just finished the part where Eustace is un-dragoned by Aslan. Eustace tries to peel off the dragon skin on his own, but he can't get it all off no matter how many times he tries. Finally Aslan says, "You will have to let me undress you." Eustace describes it:

"The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I've ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off..." When Aslan removes the skin he catches Eustace up in his paws and throws him into the water of a well. Eustace said, "It smarted like anything, but only for a moment. After that it became perfectly delicious...." and Eustace was a boy again, but the "dragon" in his nature, the selfish peevishness, was removed. He wasn't perfect from that moment on, but he was transformed and progressing. He'd let the Lion peel off the dragon.

It really comes down to a choice in the end. Do I want to be like Gollum, lost in my self, grasping at a gold ring until I am lost in fire? Or do I want to be like Eustace and let Christ peel off my dragon skin, leaving me vulnerable, but then throwing me into the excruciatingly painful, joyful effervescence of his never-ending love?

Thinking On Two Years....

2011-01-28T07:36:00.000-05:00

What is most mind-boggling is that it has been two years since I saw Keren. Two years ago today she left us here. In some ways it seems like an eye-blink, and then it seems a lifetime. So much has happened since that has formed our lives now, and it's hard to know that she hasn't been here for them. It is hard to look at pictures of her, knowing that I will never see her older than she is in them, to know that her siblings will be older than her before I know it.... But there is so much joy, too, and thought Keren's not here in person, she is still very much a part of our lives, and for that I am thankful.

Recently I had some cds on, and when the final song of one cd transitioned into the first song of the next I knew I wanted to share them today, because they truly reflect the divided state of my heart. The first song is "More," by Andrew Peterson, on his album The Far Country. It's a song of longing for that inexplicable beauty and joy that I know is waiting for me in heaven. The second song is Fernando Ortega's "This Good Day," from his album Home. This song resounds with joy, praise and thanksgiving for each day and moment hear on earth.

Below are the songs. Apologies for the low image and sound quality, but it's clear enough to enjoy.

Resting In Christ

2011-01-22T16:19:00.000-05:00

I just read this post on one of my favorite blogs, www.therabbitroom.com. You can see it with a number of great comments here: http://www.rabbitroom.com/?p=11243. I couldn't resist reposting it, because it hits the nail on the head of a truth I've been slowly learning over the past few years. It also (at least in my mind) is related to my previous post about what unity in the Body means and how we can work it out. But I'll let Hudson Taylor speak for himself....

Hudson Taylor’s Spiritual Secret

POSTED BY Ron Block

From a letter written by Hudson Taylor, the great missionary to China, to his sister.
“…I felt assured that there was in Christ all I needed, but the practical question was - how to get it out. He was rich truly, but I was poor; He was strong, but I weak. I knew full well that there was in the root, the stem, abundant fatness, but how to get it into my puny little branch was the question. As gradually light dawned, I saw that faith was the only requisite - was the hand to lay hold on His fulness and make it mine. But I had not this faith.

I strove for faith, but it would not come; I tried to exercise it, but in vain. Seeing more and more the wondrous supply of grace laid up in Jesus, the fulness of our precious Saviour, my guilt and helplessness seemed to increase. Sins committed appeared but as trifles compared with the sin of unbelief which was their cause, which could not or would not take God at His word, but rather made Him a liar! Unbelief was I felt the damning sin of the world; yet I indulged in it. I prayed for faith, but it came not. What was I to do? When my agony of soul was at its height, a sentence in a letter…was used to remove the scales from my eyes, and the Spirit of God revealed to me the truth of our oneness with Jesus as I had never known it before. (I quote from memory):

“But how to get faith strengthened? Not by striving after faith, but by resting on the Faithful One.” As I read I saw it all! “If we believe not, he abideth faithful.” I looked to Jesus and saw (and when I saw, oh, how joy flowed!) that He had said, “I will never leave thee.”

“Ah, there is rest!” I thought. “I have striven in vain to rest in Him. I’ll strive no more. For has not He promised to abide with me - never to leave me, never to fail me?” And…He never will.

Nor was this all He showed me, nor one half. As I thought of the Vine and the branches, what light the blessed Spirit poured direct into my soul! How great seemed my mistake in wishing to get the sap, the fulness out of Him! I saw not only that Jesus will never leave me, but that I am a member of His body, of His flesh, and of His bones. The vine is not the root merely, but all-root, stem, branches, twigs, leaves, flowers, fruit. And Jesus is not that alone - He is soil and sunshine, air and showers, and ten thousand times more than we have ever dreamed, wished for, or needed. Oh the joy of seeing this truth! I do pray that the eyes of your understanding too may be enlightened, that you may know and enjoy the riches freely given us in Christ.

…it is a wonderful thing to be really one with a risen and exalted Saviour, to be a member of Christ! Think what it involves. Can Christ be rich and I poor? Can your right hand be rich and your left poor? or your head be well fed while your body starves? Again, think of its bearing on prayer. Could a bank clerk say to a customer, “It was only your hand, not you that wrote that check”; or “I cannot pay this some to your hand, but only to yourself”? No more can your prayers or mine be discredited if offered in the name of Jesus (i.e., not for the sake of Jesus merely, but on the ground that we are His, His members) so long as we keep within the limits of Christ’s credit - a tolerably wide limit!

The sweetest part…is the rest which full identification with Christ brings. I am no longer anxious about anything, as I realize this; for He, I know, is able to carry out His will, and His will is mine. It makes no matter where He places me, or how. That is rather for Him to consider than for me, for in the easiest position He must give me His grace, and in the most difficult His grace is sufficient. It little matters to my servant whether I send him to buy a few cash worth of things, or the most expensive articles. In either case he looks to me for the money and brings me his purchases. So if God should place me in serious perplexity, must He not give me much guidance; in places of great difficulty, much grace; in circumstances of great pressure and trial, much strength? No fear that HIs resources will prove unequal to the emergency! And His resources are mine, for He is mine, and is with me and dwells in me.

Unity vs. Uniformity

2011-01-19T16:35:00.000-05:00

I have a blog post that I started a year ago, edited more last fall, and have still not completed. It says a lot, and I keep tinkering with it, but there's a lot in it that I'm not sure should be posted. There is much of it, however, that can be stated--should be said. And so I shall try.... I realize my perspective is limited, so I'm sure there are things I'm not seeing, but I will add my voice and see where it leads.

When I was in grad school, one of the educational terms that was popular was "multiple intelligences." I'm sure the concept still exists, but I've been out of the field for a while so it may go by a new name. The gist of it is that everyone learns in a different way. It's kind of along the lines of one of those personality tests: Find out what your personality is (strengths/weaknesses) and this will help you know this, that, and the other thing about your life and purpose. With multiple intelligences you take into account that your students will have different ways of processing and learning information. Some may be highly visual learners, others kinesthetic (get them moving and they'll get the concept), others need to hear things, etc. It's a pretty cool concept, and an idea that has stuck with me and become an important part of how I view individuals and situations.

So, to say the least, it frustrates the snot out of me when I am in a situation where there is no room for this diversity of learning styles. And it seems that a key place where this is true is in my local church, a place where one would hope that this truth would be most applied. After all, one of our greatest truths is that we are the body of Christ and "Just as a body, though one, has many parts, but all its many parts form one body, so it is with Christ" (1 Corinthians 12:12). All those who follow Christ in all walks of life are part of that body and he is the Head.

The passage goes on to talk about some of the parts:

Now if the foot should say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason stop being part of the body. And if the ear should say, “Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason stop being part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? But in fact God has placed the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. (vs. 15-18)

I love the way this is put. But it seems that in our striving for church unity--a diverse body working together under the Head, Christ--we get confused and push for uniformity, with all the parts of the body trying to be the same part. We forget Paul's words, "If they were all one part, where would the body be?" (v. 19) We say, "Treat others better than yourself!" which is true enough, but seems to lead to one part assuming it is the wiser, better part, and other parts being forced into the same mold. Instead of seeking to listen to each other and seek Christ's leading in how to handle our diversity, we shove the undesired part away. We forget:

The eye cannot say to the hand, “I don’t need you!” And the head cannot say to the feet, “I don’t need you!” On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor. And the parts that are unpresentable are treated with special modesty, while our presentable parts need no special treatment. But God has put the body together, giving greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it.
Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it. (vs. 21-27, emphasis mine)

Now, my church is not exactly diverse when it comes to ethnic backgrounds. Despite living in a vastly cross-cultural community, my church is still (though 75 years old) pretty much white middle-class. Sometimes I think that's a shame, but I don't regard it as a huge problem. We do have a larger ethnic variety in our children's ministries, school, moms' group, etc. It's just Sunday morning that doesn't fit that category.

What we do have, though, is a multi-generational church, and that's something that I think is vitally important to our strength as a body. And yet in our striving for uniformity (under the guise of unity) we are forgetting our elders and exalting our youth. Not exactly what Paul seems to be pointing out in 1 Corinthians 12. It breaks my heart to see older mature believers being shouldered out and ignored because they are too "traditional" or "critical of current trends." And already I see the effects of that treatment:

We are losing mature believers.
A number of our childrens' programs are suffering from a lack of qualified, willing teachers and caregivers. (And believe me, we have lots of kids...which means we need lots of teachers.)
Our church is suffering financially because those coming in lack a foundational understanding of stewardship and what it means to be committed to a local body; mature believers who were committed and could educate are leaving.
Our "worship" service is a bombardment of one style--there is no room for those who learn differently and are touched by God in different ways. There is no place for that still, quiet voice that can speak so very powerfully.
Our leadership is struggling to find qualified leaders within the church (goes back to my first point).
We have forgotten much of our heritage in the striving to reach the future state (whatever state that is.... Our vision is clouded).

I fear for our church's future, and more personally for my family's future if things continue down this path. There seems to be a great striving for fixing things (every member knows there's a problem; it's just defining it that seems to be the hard part). Some think that if we evangelize more and all get organized doing that, we'll forget our internal differences and as a result thrive. But this neglects the core health of the body. If we truly unify internally, than we will blast Christ's love to the ends of the earth! We won't need special programs for reaching out to our community; it will be part of our very being. Last year our church participated in an analysis program...but the vision statement that was created by a cross-section of the church has been put aside in a new search for a vision, one created by only a few leaders. They are trying very hard to define our purpose and vision, but this can't succeed unless each part of the body is considered. Pride is a big problem.

I think there is a fear of submitting ourselves to God in prayer and seeing what He wants for us. If our body came together as a whole and we humbled ourselves to ask God for His plan and guidance, we'd find our answer and our unity. We probably would be blown away in shock and awe with the way He could answer. I long to see that!

And so, I'm making a proposal: PRAY! Please pray for my church, for your church. Pray for all who call themselves followers of Christ that they will treasure the diversity of others in the Body. Pray for those who have not yet found him that they will see him in his followers' unity. Pray for true unity that sees the value of every diverse part and seeks, above all, to exalt the Head, Jesus himself.

Our Head isn't into disrupting the Body function. That's the Enemy's job and he's pretty good at it. Are we going to let him succeed?

Hindrances

2011-01-08T22:53:00.002-05:00

I've discovered a few hindrances to keeping a regular blog. Three of them are named Clare, Ev & Jon :) . I'm not upset that I have those three hindrances; I'm just saying that it's hard to finish a complete post when there are certain unavoidable interruptions! The biggest hindrance I've discovered, though, is the fact that a blog is public. Even if no one knows it's out there or bothers to read it, the fact is, it is on the internet which means that someone might just pay attention to it, and react, respond...perhaps even--gasp!--criticize what I've written. That, I think, is my biggest obstacle in writing.

I've been looking back over my posts of the past year and I have a number of unfinished posts. Some of them aren't finished because my inspiration dribbled away before I could get the whole thing written. Other times I'm just not sure whether I'm brave enough to put the words out there for all to see. And so the words remain in draft form to taunt me and remind me of my hesitance.

True, there are many times when discretion is the best way. As I wrote in my previous blog post (back in November!!!), there is a question of when it's the right time to speak, and whether one should speak. But I think that I'm more afraid of ruffling feathers and stirring up storms than anything else. Of course, that's a bit presumptuous of me--to think that my opinion could cause feather-ruffling and storms. But even if only one person responded negatively, I'd have the ramifications to deal with. It's that whole butterfly effect concept....

Why do I fear? What have I to fear when I know in my head that the One who saved me, who holds me, who conquered death, loves me more than anyone. And even if I make a complete fool of myself, He will love me and forgive me and gently set me back on my feet. It is His opinion which is the final, important one. I must do/say what I believe He wants me to say.

But then I doubt myself again, because I know I haven't spent as much time delving into Him and His word as I should. I fear my underlying attitude might be one that is deceived, or worse, prideful. As much as I believe my opinion is on the mark, am I actually right? Or am I blinded by my perspective?

Nothing like running around in circles, huh? I'm sure this blog is as clear as mud, and no one will find the least offense in it.

So. I guess I can post it.

...And if I were as cynical a person as that comes across, I'd hit the "publish post" button right after that last line. But I pray that I am not. This morning as I was wrangling through some of these things and my head was heavy with the pressure of these thoughts, two verses that have been a mainstay came to mind:

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." ~Romans 15:13

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your heart and mind in Christ Jesus." ~Philippians 4:6&7

I won't say that I immediately felt that hope, joy, and peace. The fact that it's 10:50 p.m. and I'm writing this is probably an indication of that. But I do know that these words are true, and I've asked God to help me trust Him in them. I may not feel it yet, but that doesn't alter their truth.

And on that note, I can publish this post.

Nehemiah, Heavy Hearts, and How and When to Speak

2010-11-05T21:40:00.000-04:00

My heart has been heavy for some time--and I mean a pretty long time--about an ongoing conflict in our church. It's one of those exhausting issues that happens in so many church bodies, and sometimes there seems no solution. It's not some huge sin; in fact the issue itself has more to do with conflicts of interest. But as sinful human beings, even though saved, we stumble and fumble, trying to solve the conflict, and our body suffers....

So last week my brain was buzzing and I was jotting all sorts of notes down for a blog post. I've felt more and more strongly that I need to put my thoughts down in words and let them go where they may. Many others have spoken and written on the topic without effect, and I have no idea if my words will change anything, but I feel strongly that I have been silent too long. I haven't been totally silent; my family and close friends know how I feel, but I haven't spoken up publicly. There's always that faint hope that perhaps my words will be understood; that I can put the thoughts into words and clarify what everyone is struggling with. How's that for arrogant?

And there's the sticking point. What does God think about me speaking up? Is it something He wants me to do? What is my motivation? Am I being arrogant, thinking my words will break through where none others have; or is my desire simply a prayer that my words will help bring the healing that is so needed?

Before I typed up my post, I took a break to get into my Bible study lesson. I figured I'd better not go any farther with it before delving a bit into God. And, as is so often the case, the first points I got into hit square between the eyes and I've been working through them all week.

We just started the Precept's Ministries study of Nehemiah, by Kay Arthur. I love Nehemiah, particularly in the first chapter when he hears of the sorry state of Jerusalem--its walls are broken down and its city gates are burned (still, after almost 150 years). His heart grieves, and he immediately goes before the Lord, seeking wisdom, confessing sin, glorifying God. It's powerful stuff.

We were to read through all that and then list anything we learned about Nehemiah. Then came the next question which had to do with asking God if there was anything you could learn about Nehemiah to apply to your own life.

"For instance, Nehemiah was grieved because of the distress of his people..... Is there distress in your family, community, church, nation? Reproach? Anything 'broken' in your life, family, community?...."

Yikes! I had to write my issue down, right there. The next few parts of the question took me through "Have you ever wondered how to handle it?" and in answering that, I had to look at how Nehemiah handled his situation: He brought his grief to God, he glorified God, he admitted his part in the sin, he remembered God's promises, and finally presented his request. So I did that, and I think my mind is slightly clearer.

When we met for Bible study last Tuesday, we had discussion for the first hour, and then there was a video with Kay Arthur who took us through a lot of the points from the lesson. It was good, hard stuff, and I was literally vibrating by the end of it because she was pulling so much straight from Scripture that resonated with what I've been feeling, and answering questions about how I should be dealing with it. Nehemiah was an ordinary person like any of us, and yet God was able to use him in extraordinary ways because he let God use him. He turned to God, and sought God's help in his struggle and grief.

Kay wrapped up the session with this:

When you look at a situation and it grieves you--you can know God has something He wants you to consider.

Be aware. Have knowledge of the condition of the situation.
Have a heart touched by the situation. Ministries come from mourning, born out of trials and pain.
There needs to be confession of the transgressions that brought about this situation. (Neh. 1:6-7) (Align self with the sin and take responsibility.)
Believe that God will ever remain God. He is a covenant-keeping God. (Neh. 1:7-9)
There needs to be an assessment of the situation on your knees. (That was a wake-up one for me.)
Know how to handle fear. (Neh. 2:2-4) (Interesting that that was mentioned, because fear is what usually keeps me silent.)
Assess and know when to share God's call with others. You can't do it by yourself. (Neh. 2:14-18) (This was another good one for me--I realized that I want to speak up so that we can work together.)
Be discerning. Understand the wiles of others. (Neh. 2:19-20) (If there's one thing Satan wants, it's to make the Body ineffective.)
Know that only God can give success. (Neh. 1:11, 2:20) (Here, again, is the key factor. We keep trying and trying to solve this issue, but I think we have yet to turn completely to God and let Him do the work and bring the solution....)

I'm sure this doesn't come across as a fascinating blog post. It isn't meant to be, though I pray that it will help you where you're at as much as it's been a help for me. I'm not totally ready to post my other blog note yet.... I need to type it out, get it organized, and pray some more before I post. Sigh! I wish I had all the answers, but I don't. As the saying goes, though, "I may not, but God does."

Surviving & Thriving Mode

2010-09-18T12:03:00.000-04:00

So here it is September--mid-September at that--and the words and thoughts continue to flood my brain, but rarely make it to the page. Sigh! Must be motherhood or something. Maybe it's personality. I have great aspirations of writing, but when the rubber meets the road, I'm more likely to get caught up in the daily business of life (or escape into a book). Not horrible, so long as I'm doing what God wants me to be doing....

Much of this summer has been prep for REAL moms. Yesterday morning we "finished" our prep with our first meeting of the year and now we plunge into the fall. It was an awesome morning with our moms, and I'm so excited about this year, and so thankful for my team. At the beginning of the summer we weren't sure if we'd have a team or a group this year, but God pulled the people together and we're ready to roll. This process has been one of my ongoing lessons in trust. I found myself praying, "So, Lord, I know that your plan is the best plan, but could you let me know if it includes REAL moms?" Apparently REAL moms was in the plan, so now I'm waiting to see what His plan is for additional childcare workers who we desperately need!

One of my "jobs" as Coordinator is to write a monthly note for our newsletter, so in a way I'm "forced" to write something :) . Our theme this year is "Survivor: Thoroughly equipped for every good work," and with that in mind I wrote about one of our summer survivor experiences. I've found that the more I go through various adventures in life, if I step back and think, "When this is over, it'll be an awesome story to share," the more I'm able to laugh in the midst of the situations as well, and handle them better.

So since I don't seem to be getting much else up in this blog, I though I'd include a version of the letter and experience here :) :

Last year, our first year as REAL moms, we focused our theme on just that—how we are each “real moms” and what that means in life. This year our theme takes another angle of being a real mom: surviving. And not just surviving, but also thriving by being well-equipped with the tools and support we moms desperately need.

I’m sure each of us has multiple mom-survivor stories. While there are definitely experiences that are tragic and tough, there are many that might seem that way in the moment, but make for hilarious stories after the fact. My summer has had a number of these. The biggest event revolved around Kraig putting a new roof over our heads (you know, one of those “little” projects that takes on gargantuan proportions). It’s been crazy, but I’m very thankful he’s the one who’s been doing it.

The funniest survivor story of my summer, though, was the blistering hot day the kids and I planned to meet friends at a pool, only to find that the car battery was dead. And of course, that was after my kids were all buckled in and we were running late. A quick call to friend L confirmed they were running late, too (phew!), but now she knew we might or might not get there.

My first thought was to charge the battery with a charger we had for that purpose (yes, we have an old van, and yes, the battery had been acting up for a few days so we'd borrowed the charger from family "just in case"). I called Kraig and got the 411 on hook-up and procedure. It didn't work. (That night Kraig looked at the charger and said, "Well that's why! You turned it to 6-blah-blah, not 6-blah-blah." Okay, so he didn't say "blah-blah" but that's about all I understood!)

Despite this set-back I was determined we would get to the pool! It struck me that I could walk over to my in-laws’ house (you can do it in about fifteen minutes without kids)—Kris and Katrina were out of town, so I figured I’d just borrow their van. Our neighbor hadn’t headed to work yet and could watch the kids while I ran. Yay! I booked it to Katrina’s, called them as I went and left messages to let them know their van was going for an unplanned ride. When I got there, I opened the garage door...and found that the person taking care of their home had locked the door to the house inside the garage…. I had no key.

Story over? Sad, hot walk back to kids to let them know we weren’t going swimming? No way! I was a survivor mom! Katrina’s neighbors who are family friends were home and I thought for sure they’d have a key, so I trotted over…and found out they didn’t. Just then Kris called to let me know that their van’s battery was dead, but I was welcome to use their smaller car…and no, he didn’t have extra house keys lying around. At this point, our neighbor’s son volunteered his lock-picking kit. Seriously! No, really, he is above board! Eagle Scout. He just has friends who give interesting birthday gifts. He set to work on the lock, and within a few minutes we had the pleasure and surprise of a wide open door! (By the way, I’m known in that neighborhood, so don’t think you can get away with pulling the same stunt :) . Besides, I was on the phone with Kris at the time, so it’s all legal!).

So, the keys were got, the car was driven home, the carseats were switched over (and all three fit!), the children re-buckled…and we made it to the pool only an hour-and-a-half after we had planned. We still got to hang out with L and kids for a bit, and the water had never felt so good!

May this year be a year of wonderful survivor stories!

Food Fashion and Other Newsbites

2010-07-25T19:35:00.000-04:00

It took four kids, but I finally have a child who takes his food fashion seriously....

The girls all got messy to a certain extent, and Clare & Ev loved food, but they concentrated on getting it into their bellies. Other uses didn't occur to them.

And don't tell me, "Oh, it's because he's a boy," because I have a 2-year-old nephew who is meticulous with his food, and a friend's daughter who was renowned for her messiness.

What amazes me the most about Jon with his food fashion is how deliberate he is about it. He'll take a food-slathered hand, put it up in his hair and pu-u-u-ll it carefully through the strands. Then, for good measure, he'll pat his hand on his ear. Or stick a finger in his ear, then take it out and inspect to see if anything new is on it.

Note the textured waves shown to full advantage in subdued light:

To say the least, we are not concerned about sensory issues....

I'm not totally convinced it's all about the food. I think the boy has discovered there is a direct link between his food ventures and the inevitable result:

Yes, Jon-boy loves water. Clare had swim lessons the past two weeks, and since it was right next to a splash park, we spent a good bit of time there, too.

Oh the joy of water! Perfect on hot summer days. The kids have been very active this summer--in water, at the park, VBS back in June, a vegetable garden going out back. Jon's busy taking first steps and the Kraig's putting a new roof on our house. I thought that life would slow down a little since it was summer. You would think I'd know better by now! My extrovert Clare starts her day with, "Where are we going today?" Her introvert mother tries to make up for it by holding religiously to rest/naptime. That sometimes gives me the regroup time I need.

So, yeah, a lot's happening in life. A lot's been going on mentally, too, but I haven't had the energy to blog about it. ...And so over two months have passed....

On Being a REAL mom

2010-05-10T22:07:00.000-04:00

Mother's Day was a special one for me this year--crazy, but special. It wrapped up a wonderful, insane week. Friday we had our final REAL moms meeting of the year, then Saturday evening was a wrap-up leadership meeting of the same group (and dinner out--Yay for girls' nights!). Sunday morning we had Jonathan dedicated at church because we have three of four grandparents currently in the country--not a small accomplishment. We even got the bonus of extra grandparents--my sis-in-law who is expecting a baby imminently (actually overdue as I write!) has her parents in town and they stood in as part of our family, boosting our family representation :) . Then to add to the excitement of the week, I had the privilege of sharing with our church about what REAL moms has meant to me.

The dedication went off beautifully. One of our dear pastor friends, John, who dedicated Keren and did her funeral was the one doing the dedication. My friend Laura and her hubby were dedicating their youngest daughter, which made it even more sweet. I love Pastor John's dedications because he always prays over the child using the meaning of his or her name and how that will be significant in what God will do in the child's life. Of course, Kraig and I have been pretty obsessive in choosing our children's names based on the meaning, so this dedication was the icing on the cake. And John had us in tears (in a good way) as he prayed about Jon being "God's gracious gift" (the meaning of his name), and though we had so much grief, God had given us joy as well. Jon's middle name, Lewis, means "lionlike," or "mighty warrior," or as Pastor John put it, "victorious." He prayed that Jon-boy would be victorious in this life, living for Christ. Everything was so perfect--a powerful blessing. We don't take it lightly....

...And I had to follow it up. I was so excited to have the chance to share about our group and what it's meant to me. It's been a good year, but tough, as it's been my first year as coordinator, and our first year as our own church group and not under MOPS, Int. Many of my team are stepping down this spring as they move into new stages of life and ministry, so we're in the process, too, of seeking out new moms and women who can fill the roles to keep our group functioning. I know that God is in control of this, but it's been a continual process of handing it over to Him and trusting Him.

Everything went well with the testimony, though I managed to pull off some "real mom" proofs of life--I went up on stage way before I was supposed to, and wore extremely uncomfortable shoes in an attempt to look a little more polished than my everyday Mary-Jane Sketchers :) . Then, after the whole heady morning, my humility was kept firmly in place when out in the parking lot I backed our car right into the door of another family's car :( ..... Oh, the life of a "real mom" never ends.... But my prayer is still that God will use these words to help our group. Here's basically what I shared:

MOTHER’S DAY TESTIMONY

May 9, 2010

Hi, my name is Loren Warnemuende, and I am the Coordinator of REAL moms, formerly MOPS.

Six years ago I did not feel like a “real mom.” I was a mom, but our two-year-old daughter Keren, whom many of you knew and loved, had many special needs. My world was full of doctor specialists, therapies and strange equipment like g-tube buttons and sleep apnea machines. I couldn’t imagine what I had in common with “typical” moms.

But I knew I needed to connect—I was desperate for friendships with women who were at my stage in life, even if their roads were different. I knew our moms group here at Calvary was a strong group, so I decided to take the plunge, and I signed on…as a small group table leader :) . It was definitely not my forte! Not only that, but the majority of the women at my table all had older kids, so they weren’t even at my point in life!

Despite the vast differences between my life and those of the moms at my table, I had a wonderful year and built up relationships with these women, a number of which have continued long past their time in our group. My second year I took over the newsletter (much more my comfort zone) and over the next few years I got to know the women in our group better, and the relationships went deeper. As Kraig and I had more children, I learned more of the ropes of “normal” motherhood, but I realized, too, that the friendships could be built no matter who our kids were. We were all real moms.

When you’re a mom of little ones, it’s hard to make friends—there’s always the logistics of the constant interruptions, running after kids, naptimes, and getting out the door. That’s where a group like REAL moms is so helpful. It gives us a chance to chat with other moms and find those connections, so that we can push further and find the time other places to build the friendships. It’s helped me realize that the things I face are normal and gives me tools to work on challenges. When Keren died January a year ago, I had a group that surrounded me with love and encouragement.

Last spring, our former coordinator Gwen H. asked me to consider taking on the coordinator role. As I prayed about it and thought about it, I came to realize that the role of this mom’s group—that of lifting up and encouraging each other, providing help for the mom journey, reaching out to moms who may be floundering because they don’t know our foundation, Jesus—this role had become my passion. I wanted to help other moms who have been like me (feeling that they weren’t possibly “real moms”) to reach that comfort zone of knowing that they are loved by God and accepted for who they are as individuals.

Our group continues to have that goal today. When we left the umbrella of MOPS to become our own group at Calvary last year, we opened our doors even more to moms of different walks of life. Our focus will always be primarily on moms of young children—those expecting babies, adopting, etc., through lower elementary school. Now, though, we can encourage women to join our team who may have older children—even grown, but still have a heart for moms of young kids, and can be there to minister to younger moms and help raise them up into leadership.

Already we’re gearing up for our second year of REAL moms that will begin in September. There are so many opportunities for Calvary moms of all walks of like to get involved in this wonderful group, and we would love to welcome you. If you have questions, or would like to join our morning or evening group, please see me or Pam C., our evening coordinator, check out our table in the west narthex, or see our contact information in your bulletin.

Come join us and become a “real mom!”

Memories and Making More

2010-04-24T22:10:00.000-04:00

I just checked in on the girls as I put Jon-boy down, his body already limp in sleep. The girls are out cold, Clare hidden in a huddle under blankets up on her bunk--you wouldn't know she was there if it weren't her norm, and Ev flat on her back with one hand cupped protectively around her favorite baby-doll who's lying on her chest. It's Clare's turn to pick the music tonight, and of course it's her "favorite," so I walked in on Michael Card singing, "Let the children come, don't dare drive them away. Let the children come. Hear the holy, foolish things they say...." Beautiful, true words that echo Jesus' love for us and for little children.

It's been a marvelous day! We've been looking forward to it for a long time: A Day Out With Thomas is at Greenfield Village, and we had tickets! My friend LH, the one who got me roller skating again, has a pass to Greenfield Village that allowed us to get in with her and her kids. We only needed to buy one day pass as a result (and of course, we splurged and bought tickets for the Thomas train ride--three only, though--we only splurge so far!). Ev's third birthday is coming up, so it was a great way to have a special celebration.

I've loved Greenfield Village ever since we moved here when I was in fourth grade. My family had a membership for a few years when we were growing up, so I have many memories of checking out the Wright Brothers' store, Thomas Edison's lab, the Salt Box House, Noah Webster's house, etc. Over the past couple years we've had a few chances to go with our family, and though the kids have been a little young to thoroughly enjoy all the history, they get their kick out of riding on horse-drawn omnibuses, watering gardens, and most of all, riding the carousel.... The fact that Thomas the Train was there today was simply icing on the cake.

It's amazing to see how much they're growing up, too, because today for the first time, the girls (Clare particularly) really wanted learn about things. We thought we'd be heading out the gate as soon as we got to nap time, but the time came and went, and all three kids were still happy and raring to go, and wanting to look at everything. We visited the roundhouse and discussed railways and steam engines;

we traipsed through an old cider mill and Henry Ford's soybean lab (Clare wanted Kraig to read all the signs to her); we went to the working farm and listened to the mother sheep bleating (LOUDLY!) as their new lambs went in for a drink, and checked out the farmhouse kitchen where the ladies were making a hard money cake.

And then, of course, there were all the Thomas activities--playing with model trains, riding vintage push cars around, coloring pages, even getting a picture with Sir Topham Hat....

Jon-boy, of course, couldn't do much, but he smiled and slept his way through the day, pulling his sisters' hair when they got too close, and on the few occasions when he could get down from his stroller, heading for the nearest object that could be a) pulled up on, or b) put in his mouth.

Despite the highlight of Thomas, and the fact that when we got home this evening the girls wanted to watch our two Thomas videos (because they hadn't had enough), I do think their favorite part of Greenfield Village is the carousel. And really, who can resist the excitement of choosing a brightly colored horse (or frog, pig, cat, or rooster...) and whirling around in circles, rising up and down to the music? They went on it three times today (and that's not their record!). Every time we've been there as a family we've gone to the carousel, and as a result I have special memories of taking Keren on it two summers ago. She, too, loved it--grinning like mad as we spun around. I wonder what she thought of the combo of music, color and wind?

I have pictures of Kraig standing between Keren and Clare, hand out to keep Keren secure on her mount. Today, I watched from the sidelines and saw Kraig standing solid and straight between two charges, balanced securely like an old sea hand on a ship in high seas. It was still a beautiful picture, even though now it's Clare and Ev and he doesn't have to reach out a hand to hold them.

On our first ride this morning, there was a mother with her son who had special needs. I recognized them as ones Kraig had pointed out to me after the train ride. They had been on the same ride as him and the girls, and when they were getting off he was able to help her with maneuvering, as they weren't in the section with the wheelchair lift. "There are a lot of special needs kids here," he said. "It's so cool that there are places like this where they can come." Anyway, I spotted the mom with her son--she stood beside him, holding him securely on his horse. He leaned forward, arms looped loosely around the pole, his mouth slightly gaped. But as the music played, and the carousel whirled, I saw him grin. And I saw his mom grin--and her eyes never left his face as she drank in his joy. And his joy gave her joy...and it gave me joy to see it, even though the tears that poured down my face, because I understood her so completely, and I wished I could be there once more, even for a moment....

I was thinking about that again this evening when the girls were down and I was nursing Jon-boy in the quiet of the living room. Suddenly I heard a chiming sound and I looked out the window to see that the wind had caught hold of the cardinal wind-chime we picked up for our garden. Keren's teachers at Old Village were the ones who put me onto it last month; they'd gotten one for the kids in the classroom, and it's a cardinal because of Keren. It's become a standing symbol for her teachers and me that a cardinal is a reminder of Keren, and that God is watching out for us, too. Long story, and it would be a tangent to tell now, so I'll leave it at that for now. But yeah, the cardinal wind-chime, all flamboyant red and joyful in sound played its music just then. Another little reminder that God had made this whole day exceedingly special, bringing together memories of the past and new-formed ones, carrying us one step further toward the future.

My Pile

2010-04-17T22:59:00.000-04:00

The other night I spent over an hour sifting and sorting a paper pile to find a document Kraig needed for taxes. I figured I might as well take the time to sort while I was searching, and might, as a result, actually file those stupid papers! The night resulted in filed papers...and I even found the desired document--on the top of a totally different pile (and the information on it was something I could have told Kraig off the top of my head, but didn't realize what he needed from it!). Sigh!

So the papers are filed (except one part I'll touch on later), and I can start my stash all over again. Because, knowing me, there will be a stash. It doesn't matter that we actually have files in a filing cabinet all nicely set up and organized so that theoretically every paper that comes into this house could go immediately into the correct file. To paraphrase (and butcher) Robert Frost, "Something there is in Loren's nature that loves a pile." I'd have to add that Loren herself does not like piles. Piles are stressful, annoying objects, and when they are gone, Loren is light as a feather, free as the wind, blissful as.... Okay, enough talking in third person and waxing eloquent (or not so).

The reality is that despite the fact I feel released and refreshed when a pile is gone, I also know that they will always be a part of my life. Maybe I have piles for that very reason--so that I can look forward with anticipation to the time when there will not be a pile. The same is true for the days when the house is in chaos. I know that at some point in time, we'll all pull together and clean, and for a little while the house will look great. And I anticipate that time with great pleasure; but knowing it in my head and actually acting on it so that I can experience the joy of no piles or a clean house seem to be two entirely different beasts.

So I live with piles. Part of the pile-problem stems from the fact that there are things that I don't have a particular place for, or I just can't part with the pile-item. This was the case the other night when, despite 90% of my initial pile getting nicely filed away or tossed, there was a remaining 10% that sat there, and still sits. It is, apparently, my Friends and Relations Pile, because a lot of what is in it is people stuff. Cards, photos, personal notes. It has a lot of Keren in it.... I kept stumbling across old medical reports and documents, IEP reports, school handbooks. On one hand one could say, "Well, that's done. Toss it. Who needs a list of all of Keren's doctors, after all?" But that's the cold, logical, strictly reasonable part. I was not feeling in any way logical as I happened across piece after piece of our life with Keren and realized again, each time, "I don't need this because Keren is not here." And so I set it aside because I couldn't think about it just then. I didn't want to deal with it, and I in no way, shape or form wanted to throw it away, because it would be throwing away a memory, or worse. It would be denying myself the chance of ever stumbling across it again....

That is one reason I have piles. I can't, yet, let go. I know I am moving forward, and that God is continuing to move our family forward. I know that He used Keren's life to shape us into who we are today so that He can use us in His next great thing. I've know this in my head since I read Isaiah 43:18 & 19, days after Keren died:

Forget the former things, do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.

I am excited about the "new thing" and I'm anticipating it with a sense of expectancy. I know that it will be beautiful, and wonderful beyond anything I can imagine. I know that Keren and her life had a part and purpose in it.... But I am not ready to get to work and clean up so that I can get to that place.

My pile is comfortable because I know it well.

I wonder what I'll have to go searching for to get rid of my pile.

It's All About the Relationship

2010-04-05T22:27:00.000-04:00

I had a bit of an epiphany Sunday morning (during our Easter morning worship service--triggered by a comment in our pastor's message) and I'm hoping I can translate it into words....

If I've heard these phrases once, I've heard them a thousand times: "[Christianity] is not a religion, it's a relationship," and "Spending time with the Lord is the way to get to know him better." Now, I will quickly clarify that I do agree with these statements.... It's just that sometimes when I hear them I want to pick up something and hurl it. Very Christ-like of me, huh?

I'll take on the second statement first. I know that I won't learn more about how to follow Christ if I don't "spend time with him;" that is, reading the Bible, studying it through the teaching of godly men and women, praying. But then the rubber meets the road...or more accurately, then the kids wake up from their naps, the baby starts grabbing at the paper of the book I'm trying to read, WWIII breaks out when one daughter takes something that the other daughter absolutely MUST have, dinner has to get made, laundry switched from washer to dryer.... You get the picture. By the time the dear little ones are in bed, the brain is fried, and in the early morning hours, well, it all starts over. I can't blame it all on kids, either. I have enough of my own nature to fight. For one, I love to read, and I don't mean deep, theological treatises or good spiritual self-help books. I'm also not one who will just pick up my Bible for a casual few minutes of pleasure. Nope. I love to read novels. I'm an admitted bookaholic. I recently came off a four-book binge and realized that I needed to get my brain back in the game, so I've fed my "need to read" with magazine articles in the last few weeks. That's been helpful, but doesn't take care of that "spending time with the Lord" part. So, I get frustrated.... I know in my head that it takes time and diligence, and I wonder if I'm being horrible and sinful because I'm not making more of an effort.

The other statement leads me to my epiphany, and I hope, in some way, it answers some of my angst about not "spending time with the Lord." While I have agreed with my head that "[Christianity] is a relationship, not a religion," I haven't been able to put it into my own words so that it really means something to me. I know that I have (to use the Christian-ese language) a "relationship with Jesus Christ." He saved me--I have no doubts; I am his. I don't go to church, follow a set of rules, etc., because that's what a Christian is supposed to do. I know that Jesus lived, died and rose again for me, and I believe that, as he says, he is "the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through" him (John 14:6). But how does that play out in the busyness of everyday life?

Our pastor yesterday spoke about the empty grave clothes that Jesus left in the tomb when he rose again, and how that made his resurrection personal. It wasn't something we see from far off--his followers saw and touched those empty grave clothes; Jesus appeared to them personally so they would know he lived. It was a living, growing relationship, and it is for us, too, no matter how long we've known this. And that's when it hit me: I've been a believer in this Truth for a long time--in some ways, it's been my entire life, though I can pinpoint the exact moment when I was four and prayed that Jesus would forgive my sin so that I could go to heaven to be with him when I died. And in those many years, I've gotten to know Jesus better. Everything that has happened in my life has ebbed and flowed out of my interaction with him. Even though it's been thirty-four years since I "prayed the prayer" I am constantly learning new things about who Christ is, who God is, and how much he loves me. Even in times when I've felt like he was distant, the overall theme has been one of growth. He's used even those distant times to help me know him better.

He's not just "God." He's not just "My Savior." He's not even just the more familiar "friend." Really, when it comes down to it, he's truly my family. The Bible relates how Jesus' relationship to us is like a husband's love for his wife (Ephesians 5:25-33), and there's the fact that when we accept that he died for us, we are adopted as God's children (Ephesians 1:5). I realized that this family picture helps me understand my relationship with Jesus better than anything else.

Now, granted, I have a close-knit, healthy family, so I can relate (my post Family Wranglings gives a better picture of that). But I've been thinking of the husband/wife scenario more recently as a result of some messages I've been listening to through Robert McLaughlin Bible Ministries (specifically a series early in March on Romans 6). In this life, as I grow and go through this and that experience, I have the chance to interact with Christ in many ways. I can reject him and God and shake my fist in his face, or I can accept the experience, learn from it, and rest in him...and as a result, get to know better him and his love for me. When I think of how Kraig and I have gotten to know each other better over the years, that helps me understand this better, too. We've been through plenty of ups and downs, particularly when we faced miscarriages, then having Keren and losing her. We're learning plenty about each other in how we interact with each of our kids, and our frustrations and joys there. With Kraig, I can be myself, but I don't get to be with him all the time (obviously), and there are even times when I don't want to hang out with him (shocker!), or times when I can't for the life of me understand his point or perspective (and vice versa). I am still learning new things about him, and I know we've both changed over the years, becoming more "one." I know that I love him, even when I don't feel it emotionally, and I want to know what makes him tick and to live life with him to the fullest so that we can do everything that God has planned for us.

So many of these aspects of my relationship with Kraig are like my relationship with Christ. I have times when I don't want to spend time with him, or can't. I have times when I don't understand him. There are times when I'm frustrated with the way he's doing things. But there are the underlying, unchanging truths: I can be myself with him; I love him, even when I don't have an emotional high about it. I'm committed to him and want to live my life for him to the fullest. When my steps are faltering, and I'm swamped with life and not resting in him, I know that he still loves me...and that draws me back to him. And over the years, I pray that I am becoming more and more like him, so that together we can live life to the fullest and do everything God has planned for me.

And if that's not a relationship, I don't know what is!

Spring Walk

2010-03-18T13:54:00.000-04:00

It's hard to believe this is our third spring in our Trent Ct. home. Okay, so technically it's not the season of Spring till Sunday, but considering the weather today and yesterday, I'll call it spring. March has been more lamb than lion this year, and while I'm sure it still has some teeth to show, for now it's glorious and I'll take it! The other morning the kids and I watched a mallard pair scoping our neighbor's yard for potential nesting.... I'm convinced it's the same couple we've seen for three springs now. Makes sense, doesn't it? And the robins have been out in full song. Actually, this year I saw a bunch of robins in our February snow, which was very weird. I wonder if they decided it was better here in Michigan than the frigid snows of the south and east. We've also been closely monitoring the sprouts of bulbs we planted last fall, and many of the crocuses, tulips and daffodils are popping up. So exciting!

But yes, it's our third spring, and we took one of our favorite walks Tuesday to celebrate it. Our subdivision isn't fascinating, but it has great sidewalks and it's an easy, straight stretch to what has become known in our house as "The Ducky Pond." The Ducky Pond is actually not a pond at all. Rather, it's a creek. Or, to be even more correct, it's a storm drain, but that doesn't have anything attractive in its sound, so we stick with calling it The Ducky Pond. Besides, The Ducky Pond can be quite lovely, and it's full of birds, bushes and muskrats. Depending on the time of year, you can spot mallards with their ducklings, red wing blackbirds, or hear the croak of bullfrogs. There's a nice arched footbridge that spans the creek, and you can check out both sides. My only gripes are that the water doesn't move fast enough to play Pooh Sticks, and sometimes it looks pretty scummy. But I can't complain, because for the most part in the spring it looks like this picture (May 2008), and their are little to no bugs at this time of year:

Below is what it looks like right now. Things are still brown, but signs of life are showing. Considering there was still snow covering most of the ground a week ago, it amazes me how much is growing.

When you come off the bridge, you T into a smooth path that leads you toward a wood and then one of our main roads, or straight toward a local elementary school where Clare will go to kindergarten in the fall. Across the path is an open field, and that's where we often land for some play time. Even this early, though the ground was a little squishy, we could still run, and the girls didn't mind sitting. I brought snacks, and we practically made a picnic out of pistachios, Goldfish, and fruit snacks.

I almost always carry my camera on these walks, and as a result, I've got some fun contrast memories from previous spring treks. For instance, I caught Clare climbing up the rails of the bridge, and it was amazing to see how much she'd grown since May 2008:

And then there was the end of March 2008 when we took the walk with snow:

The wagon in the above photo has made the trip with us many times. Some of my sweetest memories are when I hauled all three girls out for the ride. We could make it across the bridge, take the path past the elementary school, then hike toward the Alleghany House (our old house owned by Kraig's folks, lived in by various and sundry of Kraig's sibs). It's always worth visiting, and sometimes we just had to get fresh air despite the challenge of moving three little children.

Of course, even in Spring of 2008, Clare and Ev did what they could to help!

I know we made the trek a few times last spring but I didn't take my camera as much. It was too hard knowing we only had the two for the walk....

This spring things are different again, but in a good way. We have Jonathan adding his own new element.

The girls are older now, their legs longer and they're able to peddle bikes farther. They are also forming their own fashion sense. Some days it's nice to let them wear whatever they choose; after all, who's going to see or care, and it's so neat to see them developing into the incredible girls God wants them to be. In the picture below, Clare was waving one of the pine branches that she discovered (all the leftover branches from Christmas trees are emerging from vanishing snowbanks) and singing. She was actually singing about palm branches and praise, but hey, who am I to argue?!

Who knows how many more springs we'll have at Trent Ct., but I know I'll always treasure these walks to The Ducky Pond.

Remembering How to Fly

2010-02-25T22:26:00.000-05:00

Last winter a friend of mine invited me and the girls to go to a morning pre-school roller-skating event. I never took her up on it--this, that and the other reason, but I guess my biggest hold-back was it just sounded like too much work. My brain threw up all sorts of reasons why not to go: The girls were too little, they wouldn't enjoy it, I didn't want to be around a crowd of other little kids, the girls had never gone roller skating before.... Whatever. The bottom line was, we didn't go.

When the invitation came up again last month, I still was hesitant, but as there was no excuse not to go (and I always enjoy time with this friend, and our kids enjoy each other) we tentatively planned the outing for today. I called yesterday to check if she still could go, and in the back of my mind I almost hoped she'd say, "You know, we aren't going to be able to go after all...." But she was totally up for it, and so I said, "Yes! We'll go!"

So this morning I got the kids bundled up and out the door, one, two, three.... And we only got there 20 minutes late (sheesh!). The skate is a once-a-week event, 10-11:30 a.m. at a local roller-skating rink, set up specifically for pre-schoolers. The price of admission includes skate rental (for mom as well as kids who want them), and a snack for the kids. You're allowed to bring strollers (so Jonathan got to roll around), and any sort of push/ride toy with no peddles. We carted in a push car that Ev still fits in.

Once in, Clare looked for her pal; her plan was to watch him first before she had anything to do with skates (though she knew she would have to try them, as Kraig had insisted she would and had no choice in the matter!). As soon as she saw my friend's daughter who's a little over two-years-old trotting across the rink on skates, Clare decided perhaps this skating thing wasn't so scary after all. It also helped that the music was fun and the lights were enticing, and there really weren't many people. We trucked on over to the skate pick-up and exchanged our shoes for heavy skates from a pleasant older man who looked like one of my grandfathers. I can't tell you how thankful I was that the skates weren't roller blades! I've never been on roller blades.... In fact, the last time I went skating was about fifteen years ago in college. Did they even have roller blades then?

The skates went on, the music thrummed, the lights danced, and suddenly I was flying again. Weight of heavy skates was forgotten; weight of the world was forgotten! Okay, so I had three little ones to watch out for, but there were moments to fly, and it was so fun to watch them enjoying it, too! Clare took careful steps, and slipped and fell a few times, but each time she was up again with a smile and ready to take off again. Ev was twice as stable, as usual, but you figure her center of gravity is that much lower as well. Jon-boy grinned and cooed, watched the lights and enjoyed the movement of his stroller.... My friend and I reminisced childhood skating memories, caught up on family news bits, talked REAL moms stuff (that's our moms' group name, though I suppose it could be taken the other way as well :) ).

In short, it was a BLAST and I can't wait till we can go again! And I was reminded (yes, it's a lesson I've had before) that I need to stop being afraid of trying something new, and that it's worth pushing out of my comfort zone. It is always worth remembering how to fly....

Family Wranglings

2010-02-21T22:31:00.000-05:00

Kraig and my family backgrounds are similar in many ways, not the least of which is a family love of loud, intense discussions. Other people might translate these as arguments, but really, they are healthy debates...sometimes they're not even debates because everyone is "arguing" on the same side. These discussions typically take place over the table, so we combine good food with a good talk. Body and soul are fed as a result.

When rubber meets the road, all of the siblings, spouses, and parents in each of our families (fifteen total) agree on the fundamentals. Our core beliefs are the same, and unshakable. But there is no doubt that these core values have played out differently in all of our lives, especially as we have grown older and the paths God has taken us down have varied. Inevitable. And so, inevitably, some of the discussions really are arguments as we wrangle about different takes on how we should be living out our lives as followers of Jesus Christ.

In the past few weeks Kraig and I have had a couple of these arguments (not new topics, by the way) with two of his brothers and to a certain extent, their wives. I could wax eloquently on the topics and get very passionate and/or hot-headed, but the topics aren't my point. My point, and what amazes me every time, is that even though we do hotly debate these issues we come out in the end still being family that loves each other. The topic eventually gets interrupted by something else, and life goes on and we laugh and talk and live and love.

When Kraig's oldest brother and family were here the other week we had a good ol' hash out of one of these topics probably for an hour or so. We didn't exhaust it by any means (though I felt I expressed myself quite well, thank you very much :) ), but finally the talk was side-railed by something or other, and we never got back to it, but life went on merrily from there and we had a great week together. Just today we had another discussion (different brother, different topic). This is an issue that Kraig and this brother have bantered time and time again, and neither has shifted in his view. For that matter, I agree with Kraig and my sis-in-law agrees with her hubby, and we haven't changed our opinions either. Believe it or not, we're also close friends and I'd trust her with anything. We get into the debate a bit as well, but it does get hot and I find I have to step back at times or my ego gets a little fried. Now of course Kraig and my view is the right one--absolutely--but we are willing to listen the other side. Well, maybe. Actually, the reality is we are each listening to the other side, but at this point in time, for whatever reason, neither side will agree.

I suppose some would consider this a tragedy, and that if we were truly loving and (dare I use the word) tolerant of each other, we would all agree on everything. But I don't see it that way. If we were just being self-centered and wanting to ram our point home, then yes, that would be a problem. But I don't think this is simply family bull-headedness (though we all have plenty of that); I really think it is also a healthy expression of who we are in Christ. We are different parts of one Body, and he is using each of us where we are to interact the most effectively with the people in our lives. If we all sang the same tune, we would only have one audience....

So yeah, sometimes we bruise each others egos in our efforts to pound our viewpoint home. Those are the times when we either have to apologize, or, if we have been the one bruised, get over it. I sometimes have to remind myself that my family whom I dearly love still loves me even when they're arguing with me. In fact, sometimes we are arguing so fiercely because the topic is one we do feel is vital to the health and well-being of the ones we love, and if they don't agree with us, they aren't enjoying all that God has planned for them. And that would be a tragedy, so they'd better listen! LOL! Oh, the joys of family! Oh, the wonder of the Body!

I wonder if we'll still have debates in heaven....

Newsy Bits of the Past Few Days

2010-01-30T18:34:00.000-05:00

I just sent this note to the Trisomy Listserve I'm on--a group that I've been connected with since Keren was born. One of the members always puts reminder notes out about kids' birthdays and "angel days" (what they call the day a child died), so Keren's date came up this week. I ended up writing an update and thought, "Hmmm, this would be good to archive on my blog!" So here it is:

*************************************************
Thanks All, for the warm thoughts, prayers, memories! It is mind-boggling to realize that a year has passed already since we lost our Keren-girl. It definitely has not been the year we wanted, but despite the pain of Keren's death and the hole she left here, we've had so much joy over the past year, too. The other two girls, Clare and Evvie, have grown leaps and bounds, stretching us in millions of ways, and our little Jonathan who was born in August is a new bright light. The girls are eager to tell him all about Keren "So that he'll get to know about her since he didn't get to meet her," and while some of their tales are slightly apocryphal, it melts my heart to hear them :) .

For whatever reason, the past couple months (Thanksgiving, Christmas, and this month leading up to the 28th) have been much easier for Kraig and me emotionally than her birthday month (September) and last October. I walked around those two months feeling like I had a lump in my chest that wouldn't loosen up. The last couple months have been full of poignant, sweet memories, but the depression hasn't accompanied it. I know that I can't guarantee that it won't return, but I've been learning to accept that what I'm feeling now is now, and whatever I'm feeling another time is that time, and I don't have to feel a certain way. I'm realizing all the more why we can't put grief on a linear track and dictate how people deal with it.

We spent the 28th quietly--Kraig went to work, I was home with the girls, then we went to my parents for dinner. My biggest prayer request was for sunshine and blue skies, because it floods our house with light and makes even cold January days seem warm and full of life. God totally answered that prayer! I was able to take time to write a little about my thoughts that day--I've been been getting into blogging and have enjoyed the outlet of getting my thoughts down. The girls and I did some baking projects that afternoon. My friend Laura brought a mylar balloon by that she and her kids picked out (a heart with "Love" written on it, and shiny--just like Keren always loved). "We just wanted you to know we miss her too," she said. I talked to family and a friend via text messages and a couple phone calls :) , but that was all the interaction with "people." I even stayed off Facebook and email for most of the day, because I knew I couldn't delve into it--too many emotions! It helped just to know people were praying from a distance.

I didn't want to be around many people that day, and we were able to pull it off because we planned a special time for today. We invited some of our close friends and family, along with close friends from Keren's school (her teacher, para-pros, therapists, a couple fellow-parents) to join us at our home for a brunch with the theme of looking back and moving forward. We wanted everyone to come with something in mind of a "lesson" learned this past year (in general--it didn't have to be about Keren), and ways they're going into the future. It turned out beautifully! Only three could come from her school, but it's three of those we've been closest to, and one of Keren's classmates and mom and sib came--another special connection, along with the few close family friends. Our friend Jodi brought Mardi-gras beads that Clare gave to each person as they arrived--another special memory of Keren. We didn't end up having a formal share time (though right at the end someone said, "I didn't get to tell the thing I learned!" so that started a good conversation), but throughout the time there was the ebb and flow of sharing good memories and things we've learned. I can't tell you how great it was to have this to look forward to all month! Today was sunny off and on, too, and we laughed and cried, and grew together. I know we're going to have to have something again--it's just so special to be able to have these friendships! Hmmm.... Next time we'll have to invite more people (hint, hint, Michigan friends :) )....

So, who knows what this year will bring, but this is where God took us to today!
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Hmmm....I forgot to take pictures today--that would have been nice to add. I'll have to get some from my Dad :) .

Time, Being What It Is....

2010-01-28T16:56:00.000-05:00

...And looking at the date: January 28, 2010.... It's the date I've been watching for the past year, wondering, wondering, wondering.... So here it is, and it is--what? It's a day. It's a date on the calendar, and tomorrow it will be gone (gone forever, if I want to be melodramatic about it), just as the day we lost Keren, January 28, 2009, is gone and will not be repeated. I've read the description of time and days being like pearls slipping by on a string. Or there's the saying Laura Ingalls Wilder quotes in Little Town on the Prairie:

Lost, between sunrise and sunset,
One golden hour, set with sixty diamond minutes.
No reward is offered, for it is gone forever.

Then again, on a lighter note, there's a quote I heard recently: "Life is like a roll of toilet paper. The closer you get to the end, the faster it unrolls."

So whether you look at time as something to be treasured, hoarded (if that were possible), or something whirling by, faster and faster, the truth cannot be avoided: Time passes, and then what is past is over, gone, done with. Ones we've loved go with it, dreams we've had may die--or fade--with it. The people are irreplaceable, though we are blessed with new friends and people to love, and we have memories of those who are gone. The dreams, we pray, are replaced with new, vibrant ones.

I'm as guilty as the next person for trying to hoard time. Over the past year I think I've saved, double-saved and triple-saved family photos because of the lurking fear that some moment may be lost forever. That "this" may be the last picture I have of my kids. I've always hung on to emails and letters because I think that maybe I'll want to look back at it, or need it. It's a way of trying to capture moments in time and hang on to them forever. I've realized that it can become a kind of obsession if I don't sit back and realize the proper perspective: while it's okay to have memories, I can't be held back by them. Time still moves forward, and if I don't take forward steps along with it, I'll never be happy, and I'll never enjoy the fullness of the plans God has for me.

From my perspective, our time with Keren will always seem too short. We had six years, four months, and a day. What is that? Already her life is creating legends in our home as Clare and Ev grapple with questions about Keren: "Why didn't Keren walk?" "Why didn't she talk?" Clare is keen on telling Jonathan things about Keren because "he didn't get to meet her, and he needs to know about her!" I love this, but I also know that what we tell him and what my little girls remember is changed by who we are now. We know there were things that drove us crazy about Keren (constantly getting her to stop poking her eyes or gouge her gums, keeping on top of tube-feedings and doctor appointments, changing bedding and clothes after diaper soak-throughs and spit-ups).... But while we know those things in our heads, the reality of the day-to-day struggle has faded. We really only remember and miss the beauty of a blue-eyed girl with incredible dark lashes, fly-away eyebrows, a squeal that could burst our eardrums and a hug that could crack our bones. Of course, those are the memories that are worth holding. And as for the time her life spanned, I am reminded continually of Psalm 139:16:

You saw me before I was born.
Every day of my life was recorded in your book.
Every moment was laid out
before a single day had passed.
(New Living Translation)

So the time was the right time, and as much as I might not like it, Keren's life had accomplished what it needed to. I have to trust that the God who loves Keren and me infinitely beyond anything I can imagine intends the same for me. That the time He has given me is the time needed to accomplish what He wants for my life. As a result I can quit worrying about everything I'm doing or not doing and wondering if it's "enough." I can't sit around living in the past, wishing things were different and Keren was still here. Instead I want to let Him use me and be willing to do what He asks of me. I need to rest in Him.

And I'm learning to rest in Him.... Because I know that if I'm not where I thought I should be a year from now, a month--even a day, I can still be at peace and have joy, because I know I am where He wants me to be. The lost loved ones, like Keren, are not gone forever and mourned without relief. I can learn from their lives, and as a result grow and help others. The lost dreams are not "dreams deferred;" rather, they are simply memories, sweet trinkets to contemplate and laugh over. And now and then a gem is discovered that I realize will work for just this occasion, and I realize that's why God had me leave it in the box until now.

Miraculous Healing

2010-01-23T23:05:00.000-05:00

One of my favorite stories in the Bible is the account of Jesus raising Jairus' daughter. I love the picture of a father doing all he can to get to Jesus, to ask him to save his only daughter. And Jesus comes, and he reaches down into death, and he tells the little girl simply to "wake up." As our family's favorite children's devotional, The Jesus Storybook Bible, puts it, "Jesus was making the sad things come untrue. He was mending God's broken world." Michael Card sings about it, too, in "Talitha Koumi," a first-person narrative of Jairus' daughter.

Talitha Koumi
He spoke like a song
Though lifeless and cold
At once I became strong
Talitha Koumi
He spoke with a smile
As he handed my father back
His only child

As I said, this story has always been a favorite of mine, but I'll tell ya, it was hard to hear when Kraig read it to the kids not long after Keren died....

The inevitable question comes. "If Christ is so good at healing, why didn't he heal Keren?" And it's an old, old question, asked by so many. Why didn't God heal Sarah, a fellow mom of a special-needs daughter who died one month before Keren--two months after a cancer diagnosis. Why didn't God heal Ethan, one of Keren's classmates who died last May? Why didn't God heal Aimee, the twenty-five-year-old daughter of family friends, who died on Thursday as a result of a head-on collision caused by another driver cutting into her lane...a driver who survived with few injuries.... Why are thousands upon thousands dying now in Haiti? It doesn't make sense....

I would be lying if I said I didn't ask those questions. I would be lying if I said I had the passing thought that I was too cynical and didn't have enough faith to bring about their healing. But I would also be lying if I said that those questions dragged me down and caused me to doubt God. Because they don't. Because it's an issue that I've realized is much bigger than physical healing.

When Kraig and I learned that Keren would be born with some significant problems, we prayed that the diagnosis might be wrong, but we knew we would keep her, and we knew that we loved her no matter what. When Keren was born with Trisomy 18, we didn't pray that she would be healed of it. How can one be healed of something that's not a disease? We prayed for her health because that could go either way, but her diagnosis was in the genes. It was a part of who she was! Since she died, many have said, "Isn't it wonderful that now she is whole in Heaven?" Now, I believe this to be true.... When I picture her in Heaven, I see her running around, learning everything she can, and probably even talking up a storm. I see her climbing up into Jesus' lap and giving him a bone-cracking hug like the ones she used to give us. Clare and Ev are experts at helping me keep this perspective; remembering the future hope of seeing Keren again.

I understand with my head that those who say this to me say it with complete belief as well, and a deep desire to give me comfort. The only problem is, thinking of Keren whole and healthy in Heaven doesn't really comfort me. It would be kind of like someone saying to Aimee's parents (and I pray no one ever does), "Just think! Aimee is whole and full of life in Heaven. Imagine the struggle she would have had if she'd survived the accident. She might never have been the same vibrant girl again." My mental scream is, "But I want Keren here! I want her healthy here! I don't care that she wasn't 'whole'. She was our Keren-girl, and that is all that matters." My comfort does not lie in the fact that she is "healed" but in that I will see her again.

And that brings me to a different kind of healing, the "miraculous healing," the sad things Jesus made untrue.... It's a truth that has been confirmed to me over and over, and slowly I'm putting the words to it. Recently I've seen it again in Beth Moore's study, Jesus the One and Only, which works through the Gospel of Luke. The first time it struck me was in a discussion of the people bringing Jesus their sick in Luke 4:38-44. There were so many of them, and they kept coming and coming. Jesus knew he had to leave, yet they tried to keep him there. The word "keep," Beth says is "'katecho,' meaning to 'hold fast, retain, or hold down, quash, suppress."

The people's attempts to hold onto Christ may not have been limited to the vocal and emotional. They may have hung onto Him physically, too. How His heart must have broken for them. I believe He may have been torn emotionally, but He was not dissuaded. The best thing he could do for them was to stay true to His goal. (p. 63)

And what was his goal? "I must preach the good news of the kingdom of God to the other towns also, because that is why I was sent" (Luke 4:43). And why was preaching the good news of the kingdom more important than healing all those people? Because the kingdom is permanent and spreading the news about it was Christ's top priority. And I realized that if I believed that (which I do), then the fact that he let Keren die and didn't heal her meant that it would help in spreading this news. It is the only answer that makes sense.

A few lessons later I came to the story of the paralytic man whose friends let him down through a roof so he'd get face-time with Jesus. A phrase in the passage jumped out at me this time--one that I hadn't seen before: "And the power of the Lord was present for [Jesus] to heal the sick" (Luke 5:17b) Huh? What did that mean? Were there times Jesus didn't have the power? That didn't make sense! Sure enough, Beth brought this point out and gradually unwound it. The Greek word for "power" used here is "'dunamis' meaning 'power, especially achieving power'" in contrast to another word used at times, "ischus" which means "power, strength, or might." The idea is that "dunamis" refers to what God does while "ischus" is what God has and is. Beth says:

I hope you caught the inference that Christ was ready and willing to apply his ischus to specifically achieve (dunamis) healing that day. Christ healed many times, but the implication is that healing was a far more specific agenda in certain instances. We can break it down this way: Christ is always willing. Sometimes He is more than willing--He is utterly resolved." (p. 70)

And what healing was Jesus "utterly resolved" to do? Here's where it became really interesting.... The passage had already set up the context: That day Pharisees and teachers of the law from all over had come to hear Jesus teach, and as the King James Version then translates immediately after this: "and the power of the Lord was present to heal them." "Them," not "the sick" as the New International Version puts it. In fact, the Greek word used is autos, meaning "self...the same" so definitely referring to these teachers of the law...who were not physically sick. As Beth states it, "Christ hadn't just come to heal those who were physically sick. He came to heal those who were sick with sin!" And as the passage unfolds, and the paralytic is put before Jesus, the first thing Jesus does is forgive the man his sins. Only later, to show the Pharisees that he has the authority to do just that does Jesus give the man physical healing. The sickness of sin was/is zillions of times greater than any physical disability....

I was bowled over by this because it spoke to me again so powerfully the truth that I've been learning this past year. God loves us and longs to be reunited with us so much that He sent Jesus to earth to rescue us. Yes, Jesus physically healed many. Yes, Jesus took Jairus' daughter by the hand and brought her out of death. Yes, there have been many instances of people being healed miraculously even these days. But not all are physically healed, and if Christ's primary purpose was/is to physically heal then he's done a lousy job.

But if, rather, his purpose is to heal the hearts of the whole world, to rescue us from sin, and that his death and resurrection made the way for that, and all I have to do is believe that yes, this is indeed why he came, then his purpose has been fully accomplished. It also means that when he physically heals it's to help people see this purpose...and when he doesn't physically heal, it's also for this purpose. Keren's death, Aimee's death...they are pieces of this amazing, incredible purpose. In an article I read today about Aimee's death, her Pastor is quoted as saying that Aimee "recently wrote that she finally felt settled for the first time in her life. She described it as wonderful, but felt God would soon bring change and she put her trust in Him. 'If you summed up Aimee's life, that's what she did. She pointed others to Jesus,'" her pastor said.

I wish I knew why Keren and Aimee (...and Sarah, and Ethan, etc., etc.) weren't ones God chose to heal--why it was that their lives and deaths were ones He chose to help point people toward His Son. I don't know why our families are the ones who were asked to hold this particular grief. But the key point is this: since I do know the Healer, I can help others find the miraculous healing He provides.

Gray Day

2010-01-19T21:38:00.000-05:00

It's a good thing that I didn't try to write earlier today or there would have been an ocean of thoughts pouring out that at other times I would consider "unpublishable"! But there was no time to write, and there was time for a nap (angels rejoicing), and as a result my thoughts have receded to little burbles in a brook instead of a flash flood. I sometimes envy people who seem to feel free to write all that raw emotion down for everyone to see, but then I think better of it and know that I will only ever write some of that stuff (and not even all of that!) down in a hard-copy journal, the good ol' fashioned way.

Today was a gray day, which was part of my problem earlier--and not just "a" gray day; it's been gray like this for days now, that dull, almost-foggy gray that winter gets when there's some snow that's trying to melt because it's not cold enough to be crisp and refreshing. Blah. Double-blah. I suppose I should be thankful that there is some snow as opposed to "lovely" Michigan no-snow winter days that are gray sky and brown grass and mud.... Why do people prefer that to snow? I'll never understand!

But yeah, the constant gray didn't help my mood. Then there's the continual self-analyzing that's been going on in my head as to how exactly I'm feeling right now, and am I going to crash and become a blubbering mass at any moment, or will I continue in this slightly disembodied state...and what if I do stay in the latter state and all my friends and family think that I'm an unemotional automaton who really couldn't have loved Keren much because I'm not even crying about her. (Yes, I know that's a flawed self-analysis, but I just wanted to show where my brain was at). It hasn't helped that I think I have a touch of some sort of cold--just enough to feel slightly off, but not more than that. I can't say, "I'm sick," because I'm not really; just not 100%. I snapped the girls' heads off a few times this morning and was kicking myself around about that.

In the end, though, it was a good day--mostly because all three kids took a nap at the same time, and long ones at that, long enough for me to lie down and close my eyes and wake up before any of them. And the sun broke through as I was falling asleep, so that even though it was gray again when I got up, I knew the sun had been there warming my back for a bit. It was such an evident touch of God. Even when I'm all caught up in me He shows me He's there, loving me. And you know, I sensed that a little bit this afternoon, but I didn't realize it completely till I wrote it just now.

I'm glad I ended up writing this gray day. Thank you, Lord, for holding me, muddled brain and all!

Unplubishable Thoughts and Everyday Life

2010-01-16T12:04:00.000-05:00

The blessing and the curse of a blog is that it has the potential of being read by one or more persons (particularly when it's set to automatically post on the newsfeed of Facebook friends!). There is definitely a lot to be said for the thrill of knowing that my words have gone "out there" and I may get feedback, and who knows, maybe one thing I say will have eternal impact on a reader. But the flipside is, I'm always conscious of my possible audience, and as a result, my thoughts are edited....

Granted, most of my thoughts aren't worth printing anyway. They are the hodge-podge of the everyday, the human heart, and need to be muddled through between me and God before I should even think of airing them to any but my nearest and dearest. If I were writing in a pen-and-paper journal, I could pour out the muddle, and then ponder it and perhaps sort things out more. Time being what it is these days, though, I'm more likely to write here where the bit of feedback I get is an inspiration to write more....

So I guess it's all in my purpose for writing in the first place, huh?

This week was one of those weeks of dichotomy, where my brain has been running on various tracks ranging from the deep ("Am I letting God work through this issue in me?") to the light ("Jonathan looks adorable in pastels...I bet he would look better than any of the girls did in pink!" ...Don't worry, I won't do that to him!), and life has been trucking along at its breakneck pace.

Here's a sampling:

We had our REAL moms (formerly MOPS) meeting Friday morning, the first of this semester, so the week started off with a Leadership Team meeting that covered a ton of material--good, thorough, and exhausting. We've been working to find our stride this year with our new name, and new coordinator (oh wait, that's me!). We want so much to be able to reach the women in our community and be an encouragement to them, and sometimes it gets discouraging to see that the group is smaller than it was a few years ago. A lot of this has to do with the economy, but one always continues to look at the issue and think, "What can we do better to connect with our moms?" I love the fact that this ministry has been such a strong one at our church, and the team is continually one of moms who really have the heart for it. When I started in the group about six years ago, I wondered if I would ever feel connected with the other moms. I only had Keren, and she was anything but the "typical" two-year-old. But over the years, the bonds were formed, and when I stepped into the coordinator role last summer, I realized how much God had been opening my heart to fellow moms. But with that vested interest comes the battling of personal demons--"What if I botch it?"--and the counter of, "You know what, it's really not about you! If it's God's ministry (which it is), He'll take care of it!" Got to focus on the latter....

In other news, Kraig and I were able to cement the plan for our event for remembering Keren and I got an evite sent out this week. I wish I could have sent it to a ton more people, near and far, because so many have been an intimate part of our journey this past year. But it seemed important to focus primarily on our connections at Old Village, Keren's school. We're planning a light brunch at our house with a theme of "Looking Back, Moving Forward." We're remembering Keren and how much we learned, and are still learning, from her life. More than that, though, we want to hear what's been going on in the lives of those around us--how God has been at work in stretching and growing them. Hmmm.... So much to talk about there; I'll save that for other posts.

...And there were the other events of the week.... Clare's preschool, time with friends, a Gideons' dinner, taking down the Christmas tree, skyping Grandma and Grandpa (Kraig's folks). All the little details of life that put a week together. Amazing how God can work throughout all these things, and help me become more of what He desires me to be. At least that's my prayer!

Enough rambling. That's my publishable update for now!

Snow Hill Morning

2010-01-09T17:38:00.000-05:00

There's a hill at a park near us that is one of the few good sledding hills in this flat part of Michigan. I have many memories of zipping down this hill, but I haven't been there in the winter for years now. So when my bro-in-law asked us if we'd like to join him and his boys for a sledding morning, we jumped at it. Like everything in life these days, the hill is more restricted: there's a list of "sledding rules," there are two return points cordoned off, and at the base of the hill is a slight bank so you can't shoot off into the creek at the bottom (not that anyone has sleds these days that could actually make it that far!). Despite these "safety measures" it is still a great place for families to come and get a good thrill ride...if you can convince your children that that's really what it is!

As you can see, Clare was not completely convinced. She is our true tentative child; I'd say firstborn, except that she isn't; but because Keren's limitations were what they were, Clare migrated into the firstborn role in many ways. Kraig and I are thinking we'll term her our "fircond" or maybe our "secirst."

Her cousin, Eli, is definitely a tentative firstborn; while little brother Sim is the adventurer. Here they are before their first run--before they decided they'd had quite enough, thank you, and "Daddy, we want to go home now!" Actually, they liked the going down part--it was the coming up part that wasn't something they wanted to repeat (but then, who does?).

Our "thircond" (or is it "secird") daughter (can you figure that one out?), Ev, is more like Sim in her adventurousness, and she was ready to roll. Not so thrilled with the actual rolling when she did tumble off her sled once, but even then she came back for more.

You can see her on her little red sled just right of center.

After her first run on the big hill, Clare was quite willing to stand at the top and watch...and throw snow....

Eventually she and I took one more slide down the big hill, mostly because we wouldn't let her get off with just one run, but that was it. A few minutes later, though, we discovered a much smaller hill beside the big one. We did have to set a guard (Kraig and Jon) down at the bottom, because on this hill one actually could run into a tree, or the road.... Everyone going down this hill learned good bailing techniques.

Despite the formidable base, since the hill itself was so much smaller, Clare decided sledding could be fun after all, and she, Uncle Kris, and Eli were off and running. Ev took a few more runs, too.

I think the one that surprised me most this morning was Jon-boy. I kind of expected that I would end up hibernating in the car with him. Instead he cooed and smiled, all bundled in his snowsuit, and eventually Kraig cocooned him in his jacket where the boy took a long snooze. Go figure! I wonder what this says about his personality (besides the fact that he is an adorable, well-tempered baby, and on his way to being thoroughly spoiled? :) )

All in all, it was a beautiful morning on the snow hill, and nice to start our own family tradition of enjoying it.

....And zipping down the hill is still as exciting now as it was umpteen years ago!

January Snow

2010-01-07T17:02:00.000-05:00

Today it's snowing like the day Keren died. It's falling steadily, silently, cloaking the world in white. I've been dreading this day. Not that it's the first snow storm since she died--there were a few like it last winter. But this is the first for us here, this winter. I wasn't sure what I'd feel. I remember that day and how it hit me then that the snow was falling like the day my grandfather died--also in January.

But I'm not struck down by grief looking at it right now. It's so still, so quiet, so beautiful. I love it as I've always loved watching snow fall. The world seems to hold its breath, waiting to see what will come of it all.... We get so few moments of silence nowadays; it's nice to have the enforced pause.

I think that after all I am glad it was a day like today that Keren slipped away from here. It's a day of anticipation. Spring lies in wait.

Breakfast Theology

2010-01-07T09:44:00.000-05:00

You never know where a conversation with kids will take you.... Of course, Kraig and my family would argue that that's true of any conversation with me; one tangent jumps to a seemingly unrelated tangent (though in my mind there's always a connection!). But that's beside the point. The point is how amazing it is that a random conversation with my kids can warp at light speed into a theological point.

This morning Clare and Ev were singing "Rock-a-bye, Baby," and Clare wanted to know what a "bough" was. When they found out it meant "branch" they started singing the song using "branch" instead of "bough" and that led me (okay, yes, past English teacher here) to pointing out the difference between connotation and denotation--why "branch" creates a different mental picture than "bough" and the sound of the word in the mouth fits better in the song, etc. "You know," I reminded Clare, "how we've talked about how 'big' means the same as 'giant', but when we talk about David and Goliath, it's one thing to say Goliath was big, but you get a totally different picture when you say he was huge."

All right, so that was me leaping to another point. But Clare, being her mother's daughter, jumped to the next one. She wanted to know how David who was so small could kill Goliath, and that took us to the point that God helped him, and God can help us do amazing things when we let him. We didn't go much farther on that tangent because Clare wanted to know why Veggie Tales stories are about God. I explained that they were stories and points from the Bible, and it's one way to help people learn about God. "Everything we do in life should be based on things we know from the Bible," I said (more or less; definitely not so clearly). "Mommy and Daddy try to live by this, and when we ask you to do things it's because we want you to do that too. It'll help you become everything Jesus wants you to be." (And like I said, this was not stated so concisely; it wandered a bit over seconds on pancakes. I was thinking, too, that this is a point I need to continually learn. There are certainly many times when I'm demanding something of my kids (even good things), not because I'm living in the spirit of God working through me to help them grow, but out of frustration and anger that they aren't obeying!

In an ideal, unfallen world, Clare and Ev would have taken these "Breakfast Devotions" and immediately internalized them and begun to live them out.... But the reality is that we've had conversations like this many times in the past, and I know we'll continue, and in the meantime they'll go off and often beat each other over the head trying to get their own way on things. And I'll keep struggling with my desire to lord myself over them. But through it all, too, as I'm having these conversations with them, I'm reminded of theological truths that I need to make a part of my every moment, and to let God work them out through me. Because really, as Junior in "Dave and the Giant Pickle" sings, the challenges are "big, but God's bigger" and the results can be amazing.

Turning of the Year

2010-01-02T21:45:00.001-05:00

Kraig and I quietly said good-bye to 2009, and hello to 2010 the other night. I suppose the evening wasn't all quiet. We did a VeggieTales show with the girls, then put them and Jonathan down so we could have our own time. I made one of our not-letting-the-kids-in-on-it-yet favorites: homemade Alfredo sauce with sun-dried tomatoes, steamed broccoli and mushrooms--ahhh! :) I'd splurged for dessert on some Ben and Jerry's ice cream and we ate and zoned, watching the newest Star Trek movie. Thoroughly enjoyable evening! We didn't try to watch the ball drop or anything like that--just watched the clock turn over at midnight and called it a day, and a year.

And what a year.... Though in some ways I don't feel like the year has ended yet. There is one date that is looming on my calendar, which this year to me will be "The End": January 28. I don't know what to think of it, or this month. I don't want to look forward to it with dread like I did Keren's birthday back in September.... It seemed that all of September and October I walked around with a hard lump in my chest. I don't feel like that right now--haven't since the end of October. I don't know why. I haven't tried to analyze when and how the emotions come, knowing that grief has always been like ocean waves for me, ebbing and flowing.

But what will this month be like? I want to plan something for that weekend after the 28th, something particularly for folks from Old Village, and maybe more. I have this seedling idea of making it a day to look back at what God has done this past year, look at the amazing things that have happened, and look forward to see what He might do in the year to come. I want to keep remembering Keren, but in such a way that I'm focusing on the positive (to be cliche about it). Clare and Ev have helped me a lot there with their constant looking toward heaven when they talk about Keren. "Maybe Keren is doing this!" they say about little adventures in their own lives. Or, "When we get to heaven we'll play hide and seek with Keren in her new house." Or, "Maybe Keren and Ethan are climbing trees right now," or "giving Jesus a hug." These are the pictures I'm given over and over, and they constantly remind me that I will see Keren again and that in the meantime God has a lot going on in my life, and Keren's life and death are a part of that....

But will I be hit with overwhelming grief again? That's what I can't think about because it is so unknown. Kraig and I haven't had much chance to talk about it recently. I think we shy away from the topic a bit; or I shy away because I feel like my feelings and perspective right now are too bright for him to handle. That his grief is running deep there, and while he is completely trusting God in all this (I have no doubt of that), he's not willing to air his thoughts as freely as me, and so not wanting to have an "event" or anything like that.

Anyway, that's where I'm at with the turning of this year. Kraig has said a number of times how thankful he is that 2009 was ending. It sure didn't start well, and I haven't enjoyed the grief, but there have been amazing bits of joy, too, like Jonathan's birth and watching the girls grow. We talked about that. Then there's the unknown of even this month--not just for us, but family as Kraig's grandma is deteriorating rapidly. Will we lose her this month? When it comes down to it, I agree with Kraig: January is a horrible time to start a new year, whether it's the first or the 28th. I think I'll go with Kraig's idea for my year turnover: Easter. Why not celebrate the beginning of a new year at the Resurrection? Sounds much better to me!

So, for the moment, there hasn't been a turning of this year for me.

2009-12-29T22:36:00.000-05:00

Christmas Resolution

I find that my creative thoughts, or urges to write something, most often come in the middle of a Sunday morning sermon. I don't know if this is a distraction from the Enemy, or an inspiration from my Friend. I tend to think it's the latter, mainly because the thoughts usually relate to something in the message. They are thoughts triggered by some point that make me want to write about what I'm learning in life, what God is teaching me, etc.

So this time I was sitting in my sister's church in Virginia on December 27 as the pastor spoke about facing the challenge of a new season and thinking through what's happened in the past year, and wondering what the new year will hold.... He spoke about the very real obstacles we face in life and how God is bigger than these and is with us in these. And it resonated completely with where I'm at and where our family is. So much has happened this past year and I have no idea what's going to happen next....

I've been journaling hard copy more recently, but a few things have been pushing me to start blogging again, and my mind started whirring Sunday morning with possibilities. My blog could become something productive...not just the place that I last visited a year-and-a-half ago when I was able to post some photos but got fed up when I couldn't get a video to load. I might start writing more consistantly, and maybe in the process start seeing more clearly what God has in store.

The phrase from Alfred P. Doolittle in My Fair Lady came to mind: "I'm willing to tell you, I'm wanting to tell you, I'm waiting to tell you!" Willing, wanting, and waiting is definitely where I am right now with God. I'm doing it with a bit of fear and trembling, but that's where my heart is....

So this is my Christmas Resolution: to start blogging more consistantly. I won't try to make it a family blog with the ins and outs of my kids (though I'm sure they'll come into it). Rather, this is my blog where I'll let my thoughts hang out and see where they go (and find out if anyone would like to come along with me).

...And hopefully I'll get the whole formatting thing worked out sometime soon!

2008-07-12T11:56:00.000-04:00

Keren & Clare Hangin' Out

I caught some fun shots of one of Keren and Clare's snuggle moments. These are so great because it shows them both at their finest :) . I've got a video clip that goes with this that I'll try to post; for some reason I haven't been able to for the past couple days.

2008-06-22T19:41:00.000-04:00

False Start and Then Success

Clare is our songbird these days, and it's a joy to hear her sing. She loves to make up tunes, but also sings favorites like "Jesus Loves Me." Recently she was serenading us at breakfast, and agreed to perform for the camera. Unfortunately, being a girl of the 21st millennium, she wanted to see the video immediately, even before the song was done. So her first performance resulted in these renditions:

Her second try was much more successful!

2008-06-22T19:18:00.000-04:00

New Cousin

Be sure to check out photos of our girls newest cousin--and our first on my side of the family!--Zachary Ethan Bash.... Here's the link to their album: http://picasaweb.google.com/jbgcrash/ZacharyEthanBash

If you don't get that far, you can definitely get a glimpse with these two photos:

Isn't he adorable? And of course we aren't at all biased :) ....

2008-05-27T21:17:00.000-04:00

Photo Shoot

A few weeks ago we were able to have my friend Joan come take photos, particularly of the girls. She started her own business just a little over a year ago, and does a beautiful job of capturing the vibrancy and innocence of kids. I've been wanting her to get pictures of our girls since Evelyn was born, and thought that Evvie's first birthday would be a good time, so here we are! It also worked out well, because Joan and her family are moving :( .... We got these just in time!

You can see a selection of the photos at Joan's blog, the May archive: http://thomgirlphotography.blogspot.com/2008_05_01_archive.html

The photos start with Evelyn on May 19 and end with a family photo on May 27. You can really see our girls' personalities in these. Enjoy!

2008-04-27T17:15:00.000-04:00

Evelyn's Birthday

Yesterday was Evelyn's first birthday...is that possible?!!! We had a great group of family and friends over--not too many, though the number of kids kept multiplying :) . It was our first "party" at our new house, and great to see how the ebb and flow of people worked.

...Anyway, we did take a lot of video, but most of it's on the video camera and I haven't tried to download any of that yet. As a result, the bit here is Evelyn thoroughly enjoying the e-card sent to her by Uncle Brian and Aunt Jessie in Macau. As you can see it was a big hit! She liked Aunt Carrie's e-card too--watched it really intently--but I'm afraid it was a little beyond her humor-wise. Someday she'll get it! Aunt Carrie did score in her goal, though, which was a card with lots of action! Next year Ev will catch the humor, too, Aunt Carrie! :)

I'll put up photos on our Picasa album, http://picasaweb.google.com/LorenWarn. Just the ones I have from the party--I haven't gotten Dad's zillion yet!

2008-01-31T16:19:00.000-05:00

Evelyn has been strutting her stuff across the floor in our new house. It still boggles my mind that she's just nine months and doing this already. That and the scary fact that she loves to show off with it!

2008-01-21T08:29:00.000-05:00

Here's Evvie showing off some more...

2008-01-20T22:07:00.000-05:00

"Stand Up, Stand Up for Jesus"

Yeah!!! A video clip that finally posted!!!

Here's a tidbit of Evelyn practicing her standing. I haven't caught steps on video yet, but it won't be long....

2007-11-29T14:35:00.000-05:00

We've been enjoying the Elphamorphoses from friends so I thought I'd give it a try for our family. Here's the link to our little elves! It seems you'll have to cut and paste, because for some reason when I ask it to link, the link doesn't show up in the post! Go figure....

http://www.elfyourself.com/?id=963444631

Hard to believe it's the Christmas season already!

2007-10-12T10:29:00.000-04:00

I've been trying and trying to upload a video clip of Evelyn, and no matter what I do it doesn't load - Sigh! I'll have to be content and give you a photo of the little squirt who has taken to almost crawling!!! It's hilarious to watch her scooch across the floors these days (and scary, because she's usually after something she shouldn't have....). Here's she's just hanging out with her big sis, Keren.

2007-10-08T08:12:00.000-04:00

I've been wanting to show off this cool picture of Clare from when we were apple-picking with Grammy G the other week:

We also had fun making applesauce the next day....

2007-09-29T19:04:00.000-04:00

So I just found out that if I use FireFox rather than Safari as my browser I can post video clips! This opens a whole new world of blogging....

Keren's fifth birthday was Thursday, September 27, and we were excited to celebrate with her a bit at school (not to mention all the partying at home). Check out this clip of Keren "blowing out" her candle at school.

2007-05-27T19:24:00.000-04:00

I just saw this quiz on one of my favorite blogs (author Karen Hancock) and thought I'd try it out. I thought for sure after all the places I've lived in life it would come out as "no accent", but apparently the Philadelphia roots go deeper than I thought. But REALLY, how can it be truly Philadelphian when I know that "don" and "dawn" sound completely different!!!

What American accent do you have? Your Result: Philadelphia Your accent is as Philadelphian as a cheesesteak! If you're not from Philadelphia, then you're from someplace near there like south Jersey, Baltimore, or Wilmington. if you've ever journeyed to some far off place where people don't know that Philly has an accent, someone may have thought you talked a little weird even though they didn't have a clue what accent it was they heard.
The Midland
The South
The Inland North
The Northeast
Boston
The West
North Central
What American accent do you have? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz

2007-04-29T12:11:00.000-04:00

Well! It's high time I started doing something with this blog. We've had big news in our house in the past week and want to share it with all :) .

We were thrilled to welcome "Evelyn Ruth" to our family on Thursday, April 26, 2007. She weighed in at 8 lbs., 11.3 oz., and measured 21 inches in length. She also has a thick head of dark-brown hair and bright eyes to check out the world! Big sister Keren hasn't put in her vote quite yet as to whether we should keep her--babies are a little unpredictable, after all. Big sister Clarissa, on the other hand, is excited that we have brought her her very own baby, who reacts when she kisses her!

You can see more of the family fun in our online album. Check out http://picasaweb.google.com/LorenWarn/Announcing

2006-09-07T16:58:00.000-04:00

There are a million other things I should be doing right now, but I had to put some sort of post up to get myself started...and also to see if I'd actually be able to access my blog if I posted! Besides, it's time to start sharing pictures, etc. Life has been crazy for the past month as our house has undergone some major remodeling--new kitchen, and just yesterday, new carpet in the living room--Whoo Hoo!!! Now it's time to put the house back in order.

Until I get photos up of the house, and of course, the girls, I'm going to attach a favorite for autumn that I can then use in my profile. Enjoy!