Paris: Part Two

I am so mad about the layout! I've put extra spaces between the paragraphs and blogger is not showing them. It's all squashed together. Grrrr... Sorry!

The long awaited Part Deux... I made use of the journal!

I slept well. The bed was comfortable and the pillow not too hard. It was lovely and dark in the room when I woke up to find Ginger peeking out the windows. Apparently, she hadn't slept much because there was no clock in the room. I turned my phone on and when we saw that it was a few minutes after 8:00 we got up. I could tell Ginger was pretty tired.

We took turns showering in our gorgeous, enormous shower. It was so cool. It had a shower-head the size of a dinner plate and a glass enclosure. The only weird part was that the "door" to the shower wouldn't close all the way. But the water pressure was hard and I really enjoyed that because Trace and Ginger's shower in England really just spits at you. Anywho, we got ready, said good-bye to our pretty room and checked out.

Outside it was gray and the sky looked like rain. It wasn't drizzling, but every once and a while we could feel the mist. We took a moment to pray about the weather and then we were off.

Our next question was "Now what?" I had studied the maps and had a pretty good idea where things were. We wanted to see the Arc de Triomph and the Louvre. But first... breakfast. The idea of it was intimidating. We didn't speak the language. We walked past a few cafes and tried to read the signs. Finally I looked at Ginger and said, "We're just going to have to do it. We're just going to walk in one of these and try." Ginger looked as intimidated as I felt, but we chose one and walked over to it. The chalk sign held words that we recognized: le jus d'orange, omelette, croissant. Bingo. I led the way and was greeted by a waiter: White shirt, black trousers, black bowtie and apron. And he looked like Robert Deniro.

He said something in French really fast.

Me: "Pardonnez-moi. I'm so sorry. I do not speak French." I looked pitiful, I'm sure.

He threw his hands in the air. " Well zen, what are we going to do?" And then laughed.

I was so relieved! He pointed us to a small table next to the window. I ordered a ham and cheese omelette with orange juice and Ginger got the croissants with jam and coffee. While we ate we watched this old Frenchman (long white hair and beard, beret and kerchief tied around his neck) drink his espresso, smoke his pipe and read the paper. I tried to get his picture but missed. He was awesome.

We paid and walked down to Invalides and then took a left, towards the Seine, and walked through a chestnut grove. Ginger got pictures but I didn't. There were lots of people on bicycles. Just like in the movies. The buildings around us were magnificent. Enormous, stone, gilded. And that was just the Air France headquarters...

We crossed Pont Alexandre III (Pont means bridge, fyi). There are statues there that will blow your mind. They've got to be thirty feet tall, at least and golden. We just stood there for several minutes and basked. I found a pic on google. That's the dome we saw out our hotel room window. We were to the right of it.

We were almost over the bridge when about five police vans passed, going the same direction we were, lights and sirens blaring. We watched them pass and wondered.

On the other side of the bridge, we passed the Grande Palace and on the other side of the street, the Petite Palace, both now museums. They were huge! And who should be parked in front of the Petite Palace but the police vans. The odd thing was that no one was in a hurry. All the police were leisurely standing around, smoking and putting on their bullet proof vests. It was so odd. We never did figure out what they were doing.

The avenue just passed the Palaces was the famous Champs Elysees. (pronounced: shomps ee less-ay) To the right we could see the Place de la Concorde and to the left, way down the road, was the Arc de Triomph. Ginger and I just looked at each other and grinned like idiots.

We walked down the Champs Elysees. Let's just take a moment to let that sink in.... I walked on the Champs Elysees. ...

Every store had at least one guard outside and two doormen. There was a queue outside one place, which we realized was the Abercrombie and Fitch store. You had to go through a wrought iron gate, down an ivy lined path, and around a corner. They only let people in a few at a time. We didn't waste our time standing in line.

There was a movie theater, a Nike store, a Toyota showroom, Louis Vuitton, and lots and lots more. Some of the shops were literally the size of my bedroom. There was lots of traffic. And there was a Haagen Daz. I got a Bonafe Ice Cream. It had bananas and caramel. So good! We sat under the canopy to the right and people-watched. :o)

We walked the rest of the way to the Arc de Triomphe. The structure itself was magnificent. Huge! And surrounding the Arc is a roundabout, or traffic circle, that has 12 roads feeding into it. It looked like complete chaos to me. But it was amazing. We sat on a bench and rested while looking at it. Ginger made the observation that Paris is as beautiful as the pictures make it out to be, but the pictures cannot do it justice. The pictures don't give you the scale of everything. And the scale is magnificent.

As we walked back down the Avenue, contemplating what we wanted to do, I was overwhelmed with gratitude. It would have been enough for Chris and I to come back to Culcheth. It would have been enough for Maggie to come with us. It would have been enough to bring the rest of the kids. It would have been enough to spend all of our time in Culcheth. It would have been enough. But to find myself, with one of my dearest friends, walking through Paris... it was beyond words. And it was only a few minutes after noon...

Paris: Part One

Ok. Some of you are annoyed with me, I know. But when Ginger and I got home, I found out that they DO NOT have unlimited internet! So I quit using it; I didn't want them to run out. So here is my very best recollection of the rest of the trip...

Wednesday morning, Ginger and I got up and tried to get everything just right so the men would have an easier time while we were gone. We cooked potato soup for Wednesday night and made taco meat for them for Thursday. Then we walked into the village for Ginger to get her haircut. (And yes, I gave her the money that everyone donated for this very reason... she got a style too!) The haircut took much longer than expected and we still had to go to the grocery for lunch stuff for the kids. At 2:00 we were still at Sainsbury's and we had to leave for the airport by 3:00!

We dashed back to the house and packed. No, we had not already packed. I know. I know. Dumb. We spent so much time taking care of everyone else, we didn't take care of ourselves. But isn't that how we women work? ... Yes, it is.

Sue came and picked us up. I told her to bring her passport but she disobeyed. She drove us to Liverpool and dropped us at the John Lennon Airport. The thing about Sue is, we can talk about really personal, important stuff and then turn around and crack each other up. She would totally fit in on a Friday night.

Ginger and I flew Easy Jet, the illegitimate step-brother of more distinguished airlines. You get the gate furthest away from civilization and no assigned seating. And no leg room.... and no elbow room... and only one carry-on (this includes purses). But we didn't care. We were going to PARIS!!! Our flight attendant, a man, looked remarkably like a very effeminate David Russell. Creepy. The girl next to me, beside the window, had a cold I thought. It wasn't until we were almost there that I realized she was crying.

Now I know, I had been told, that the English are private and reserved, yadda yadda yadda. But I could not let this poor girl sit there and cry! I made a funny comment about Paris and broke the ice. Come to find out, she goes to university in Paris and was going back after a short visit at home with her family. She was homesick. We talked for a bit and by the time we disembarked, she was laughing. It was cool.

The Charles DeGaulle airport is dark and old and slightly dirty. Not at all what I expected. And since we flew Easy Jet, we were in the back forty and had to walk the entire length of the airport to get to the train station. No problem. Our feet were still fresh. We went down the escalator and were confronted with machines. Many ticket dispensing machines and no idea what to do.

We walked over to what we hoped was an information desk. This was our first time to say, "Bonjour. I don't speak French. I am so sorry." The young man smiled at us and said what we soon found out was the standard, "It's okay. I speak a little English." He pointed us in the right direction and we found the line for the real live person who sold tickets. Soon we were on our way. I had studied the Metro map extensively and knew our stops. It still took about an hour to get from the airport to our stop.

When we walked up the stairs and into the heart of Paris, we held hands and grinned at each other. It was lit up and living up to its nickname, "The City of Lights." Wow. There are no words to describe the feeling. And it was the first of many, many times we got that feeling. We found our hotel, a discreet little place next to the Musee de l'Armee. It was called the Hotel de l'Empereur. It was awesome! Our room had a little balcony that faced the golden dome of the Museum. We called the guys and let them know we made it, ditched our stuff and headed out in search of food and the Eiffel Tower.

It was late and the cafes were crowded and about to close. We also didn't have the courage to walk into a place and try to order. Instead we found a tiny, tiny little Parisian version of a quick mart. We bought cheese, grapes, a plum, an apple, some bread and a bag of chips for me, and some drinks. Then we were off again.

You would think that you would see the Eiffel Tower first thing, but the buildings are so tall and close together that you can't. I had studied the map and, having a pretty good sense of direction, headed the right way. And then it happened. One minute we were looking at beautiful buildings and then we could see the top of the tower.

We ran forward a few steps and there it was! All lit up and sparkling with lights. We literally jumped up and down and squealed! I was looking at the Eiffel Tower! Surreal. We took some pictures and then walked over to it.

The pictures I had seen captured the beauty, but there's just no way to capture the scale. It's just so big! One of the bases of the leg is the size of my house! And up close, the steel framework almost looks like lace. My words are inadequate.

We walked under it and sat at a bench while we ate our fruit and cheese. Let me restate: Ginger and I sat under the  Eiffel Tower and ate cheese and fruit. From Paris. And the grapes... the grapes tasted like honeysuckle. The best thing I have ever eaten. If someone asks me what my favorite food is, it will forever be Grapes From Paris. Seriously.

We sat for a while. We gawked. We giggled. We tried to wrap our minds around it. And then, since it was midnight, we walked back to our hotel and fell into bed.

End of Day One in Paris....

Tuesday, England Day 3

I wrote this partly on the day of and partly the next day and never posted it...

We woke up this morning, ate breakfast, and got ready for Ladies Bible Study. Ginger and I walked down to AnneMarie's, not far. AnneMarie's home is lovely. Very homey. In England they say very "homely". Different meaning, I know.

In Bible study, we talked about the ongoing work of the Spirit in sanctification. We studied in Galatians. It was me, Ginger, Ruth, AnneMarie, Sue, Sarah and Bea. I love these ladies. They're so awesome. Very honest and longing for more of the Lord. It was beautiful to be able to talk about the struggles we feel everyday. The things that cause us pain, doubt and fear are the exact spots where we apply the gospel. That is where we most see our need for someone to save us.

After lunch, we walked down to Linear Park. I was surprised by how... linear it was. :o) It's a wooded area with hiking that lays on the site of an old railway line. It was very muddy but the kids had a great time. Cully cried when it was time to leave.

While Ginger and I were at Linear Park with most of the kids, Chris, Trace and Ty played tennis with Jevon. They had a great time together. Jevon's a hoot.

At six Shaun Kavanagh came to pick us up for "tea". To us Southerners, that means supper. Our family is so big, it took two cars to transport us. Trace took part and Shaun took part. When we walked in the house smelled soooo good. I made myself at home and walked on back to the kitchen. Gracious. Sue had cooked us a feast. We had chili (my fave), mashed potatoes, rice, peas and corn, chicken pot pie, tortilla chips and bonaffe pie for dessert! So good. Sue said she was trying to bribe me into being her friend. It worked.

After tea, we loaded up again and went to the Trafford Centre. The teenagers (Maggie, Ty, Jevon, Lizzie and Josh) went their way; we went ours. Sue bought the youngers smoothies. Then we walked to the Grand Staircase. At the top we spied the teens. Sue and I just looked at each other and went into ridiculous spy mode. We ran to the nearest pillar and peeked around at them. As they walked, we sprinted from pillar to pillar. It was hilarious. It took the teenagers a few minutes to notice us and be completely mortified. Sue and I were laughing so hard and our husbands were following us around, lost in their own conversation. I'm sure we were a sight! We ended up at a coffee shop and talked and talked and talked until the kids found us again. Paul and AnneMarie showed up to pick Jevon up and we talked some more.

We went back to the Kavs house and talked some more. Such an edifying night. Sue and I sat in the car and talked for an hour! You know the kind of talking I mean? When you can't even stop to move inside the house. It's kind of magical, I think. You don't want to do anything to mess it up. We didn't get back to the Donahoos until 1am. Awesome!

It was such a great day! We got to spend all day with our church family. Exactly why we came!

England Day 2

Day 2:

I slept not so well last night. Thus I slept late this morning. I don't like the feeling of oversleeping, at all. Chris woke me up and I had to rush to get ready so we could catch the bus. We ended up having to wait for it anyways...

We took the kids to Trafford Centre today. I needed to get a new Sim card for my cellphone, so we would have a way of communicating. I got one for 10 pounds. Not bad. I can add to it if I need to. When I went to the TMobile store (pronounced T-MoBILE - long I), the tech guy took one look at my phone and asked me in an awed voice, "Is that the new 4G from America?" "Um, yes." To which he then called the girl who worked there over to show her the "new 4G from America." Again, awed voice. My eyes were a little big at this point. When he asked permission to hold it, I started to feel the first twinges of guilt for all the countless games of Spider Solitaire played on it. I nodded and he took it over to the next guy to show it off. I feel pretty certain that guy's look was slightly derisive. I felt the sudden urge to defend myself. "I have every right to have that phone. Every right." Anywho, they got me all fixed up with unlimited web and all that jazz and I left feeling sorta like a rock star.

We shopped and shopped and shopped. I watched the kids watch the people. We ate in the massive food court and the kids watched the jumbotron. I took a picture of the Egyptian themed Pizza Hut to prove its existence to the Friday Night girls. I was grilled by the pharmacist at Boots for wanting to buy Gracie some Tums. I truly thought he was not going to allow it, but he finally did. Thank goodness.

We rode a double decker bus to the mall. Gracie got some nauseating video footage of it. Let me know if you want to see it. I even took Ty's and Gracie's picture with the super nice driver. The kids like being the foreigners, I think. They like being the novelty.

Then tonight, we got to eat Indian food with Roy and Ruth. We gave up all ordering rights to Roy who chose wisely for us. He ordered the Josh Groban... no wait... the Rogan Josh for me. SOOOO yummy. Ty got lamb something. So did Chris. Brody and Grace got the Chicken ghura. Maggie got "the soup thingie and the wrap thingie," as Roy so eloquently put it. He cracks me up. After stuffing ourselves to an uncomfortable degree we walked back to Trace and Ginger's for dessert and coffee. The Kunar's (Pastor of Grace Fellowship and his wife) stayed for quite a while and the discussion was so edifying. They understand the intricate joys and heartbreak of church planting and have a lot of wisdom. God was very good to let us spend time with them.

We rounded out the evening by watching the latest episode of An Idiot Abroad. There are no words. So. Funny. At one point, Ginger and I thought we were going to throw up. Trace was in the floor, literally. And Chris was having an asthma attack. Ricky Gervais and this other guy, Steve somebody, found this really negative, slightly slow, clueless fella and sent him around the world doing different things. Like go to Egypt and see the pyramids. He was totally unimpressed. Tonight, he went down Route 66 in America. I cannot explain. You have to see it for yourselves. It was great to laugh that hard.

Now, I am in my room, which is usually Cullen's room, typing and listening to Chris snore. All the boys are in Trace's office and the girls are in Ansley's room.

Having a lovely time. Wish you were here.

England Day 1

Day 1:

After sleeping 13 hours, we awoke at 8:30. Their time change was last night, so we got an extra hour of sleep. Oh yeah. The kids slept an hour longer than we did...

We got dressed and walked to church, about 1/4 mile from here. The kids thought it was cool that we can walk everywhere. As we walked past the front of the school where the church meets, I heard a frantic knocking and looked up. Shirley was waving to me from the upper window and smiling her head off. It was awesome. When we walked in, we were immediately hugged by Jevon, Neil, Shirley, Roy and Sean. Big hugs! Then Paul and Ruth found us and gave us hugs as well.

Bruce preached this morning out of Hebrews. When he finished Maggie and Ty both turned to me and mouthed "Wow." It was challenging and I'll try to share my notes later. Their music is slightly different and they were new to us. But we picked them up and worshipped along with our brothers and sisters. I did notice a couple of cultural references in the music. One was about God being over every throne ever known. It struck me that to Americans that would be a historical reference... to the English, this is a modern statement of reality. It was interesting to me.

After church, we hung out for a bit and had coffee and tea. I got to talk with Jevon and Sue's daughter, Lizzie, for a while. Then we went to The Cherry Tree for lunch for a traditional Sunday Roast. Wowza. So good! (I know. I was surprised too!) I had sliced roast beef, parsnips, roasted potatoes, boiled new potatoes, carrots, mushy peas and Yorkshire Pudding. Turns out I've had Yorkshire pudding before... I didn't know it though. It looks like hollow dinner rolls. And tastes like soggy bread. Not impressive. But everything else was wonderful.

After lunch, we walked down the road to Bruce and Bea's for coffee. Bruce is almost seven feet tall and one of the most genuinely nice and funny people I've ever met. He spent months saving up to buy a fancy coffee maker. By the time he had the money saved up, Bea said she was desperate for him to just buy it already. lol. Reminded me of Chris when he shoe shops. Funny. Anyways, we spent a few hours  just sitting and talking and laughing. They asked us a lot of probing questions that gave us a lot to think about.

When we left there, Trace and Chris walked over to Neil and Shirley's to retrieve Gracie who had gone to spend the afternoon with their oldest daughter, Emily. Ginger and I dropped by Sainsbury's for canned tomatoes, corn and chili powder (Beef Skillet Fiesta - Jevon loved it!). Then met the guys at the house.

Jevon came over and we had a Halloween party since the kids can't Trick or Treat here. The kids dressed up (nerd, princess, hippie, 2 rock star, gangster). We gave them (and Jevon) each a plastic bag. Then Trace, Ginger, Chris and I went upstairs and each chose a bedroom. We shut the doors and the kids came and knocked. When they said Trick or Treat, we gave them American candy that we'd brought over. It was really, really silly and fun. Then we came down and let them dig in. :o)

Now, the kids are in bed asleep and we are watching the British television show, An Idiot Abroad. Ricky Jervais. 'Nuff said... So ridiculous.

Good night America. Good night England. Good night Moon...

Expressions of Love

My heart is very full tonight. It's not that I've had a terrific, fun-filled day. I've been busy and checking things off my to do list. But I have felt the love of my Father today...

1. in Coldplay's new album that came out today.

2. in getting to know some really cool kids at CORE and enjoying their company. Geeks are awesome.

3. in my kids' faces and laughter.

4. through Amber, who took my kids to the movies to see Real Steel so I could get all my errands run.

5. through Missy and Kim (sis), who rode with me and gave me the gift of conversation and laughter.

6. through the girl who helped me pick out and put on my phone case at the TMobile store. She kept me laughing and served me well.

7. through Michelle Davis who "shopped" with me at Target while we talked on the phone.

8. through Poe on the Porch at KimHill's.

9. through Cobi who is one of the most interesting people that I know and makes me more interesting than I already am. ;o)

10. through watching the sweet babies play in the yard at Kim's.

11. through the hot cocoa placed in my hand while I hung out.

12. through seeing my youngest be brought to tears because a song had moved him so much.

13. Did I mention Coldplay has a new album...

14. through Tiffany making sure she could hug me and give me a proper good-bye before I left for England.

15. through coming home and seeing all our bags packed in the living room.

16. through my brother-in-law and Dad reassuring me that the squealing of my van was not "critical" and they would fix it.

17. through sitting in the van with Brody and listening to a song, full blast, twice before we came in the house.

18. through my neighbor Dave who, I know, would protect my family with his life and puts up with my dog and kids like it's no big deal.

19. through the volitional family that put their arms around me and mine and LOVES us.

20. through looking at my passport and knowing how HE has provided a way and a ministry for my family.

21. through knowing that in 85 hours I can hug my friend Ginger breathless and live her life with her for a while.

22. through the anticipation of building up already formed friendships in England and making more.

23. through knowing Christ and Him crucified.

I have been busy. I have been rushed. I have been relaxed. I have been lots of things today. Most of all, I have been loved. And I am grateful and my heart overflows.

October 19th

I got all of our suitcases out of the attic and the closet. I measured and placed them in two categories: checked and carry-on. We have 5 checked and 3 carry-on. Then we carried them out to the van and they will ALL fit in the trunk. Now to figure out what to put in them...

Ginger just called me. We talked for an hour and a half. Everything from budget to travel plans to menu. I think the details are mostly ironed out. I've talked to my cell carrier and know how to get a new sim card when we get there. I talked to the bank and they know we're travelling. There are still things I have to do, but the list is not too overwhelming.

It's finally sinking in that we're going to England. I've been planning and praying and it's almost here. I've been in touch with Sue and Shirley and we have play dates planned. We'll be eating with Bruce and Bea while there. I know that none of you friends reading this post know who they are but, oh, how I wish you did. And you will one day in heaven. They are such lovely people. I know you would love them too.

I'm going to be teaching while there. God keeps bringing me back to 1 Corinthians 2:2-5. I know nothing but Jesus Christ and him crucified. And that definitely leads me to a place of fear and great trembling, but I know that I have nothing to offer these wonderful women from another culture. The Holy Spirit, however, has so much to offer them and if he can use me, even a little bit that is a privilege.

So today, we are doubling up on schoolwork, adding things to the To Do list, cleaning, packing and trying not to let myself get overwhelmed.

One of my children, who will remain nameless, has zero coping skills today. Lots of whining, screaming and meltdowns. It's pushing my nerves to the breaking point. I am struggling with the reality of grace for this child. I have too much to do to deal with this issue... oh wait, no I don't. They need me more than my lists need me. Dang. I forgot again.

There is no real point to this post. I have no moral or lesson. Nothing profound or funny. In fact, I'm second guessing why I'm even writing this...

Wondering....

I am wondering what God has planned for me. I'm not down or depressed or even unsettled. It's just... well, I'm having a moment of peace with the fact that I have no idea what God will do. Gone are the days of assuming I know what is best for me and my family. Gone are the days of pleading with God to keep my children close.

I wonder where we will be in ten years. What we will be doing in five. I wonder what my kids will do when they grow up. I wonder if I'm preparing them.

I feel a flutter of excitement in the pit of my belly. I take a deep breath when I think about the times coming that will not be easy. I know God is sufficient. He is real. And his path for us is already laid out. I wonder what it looks like...

How Did I End Up Here?

I am currently sitting in my comfy green chair, watching my four children do their school.

First, how in the world did I end up being the mother of four children?

Second, how did I become this mother who patiently (mostly) schools her kids at home?

I am blown away. Ty and Brody are at the dining room table doing English assignments. Mags and Grace are sitting on the couch, one doing English, the other math. The house is quiet and still. They are content to do their work... at the moment. All I hear is the gentle scratching of their pencils and the tapping of Maggie's laptop.

I never, ever, thought that I would homeschool. I remember thinking that all those homeschoolers were a little bit crazy. And then God ushered me into it. I remember being overwhelmed with the choices in curriculum and teaching styles, thinking that the entire world hinged on my decision. I remember being stressed out and euphoric, by turns. I remember when Maggie and Ty learned to read and realizing that I did that... that was me teaching them.

And here it is... 10 years later. Ten years. Wow. I have two children in high school, for pete's sake. My days are now mostly quiet affairs. We start early with Bible immediately after breakfast. Then spelling, reading, math, science, history, english, electives... We move from one subject to another, no yelling. No screaming. Minimal complaints. How in the world does that happen?

God moves me into places that I never knew or wanted to go. He shows me mercy and grace when I have no idea that I need it. Now, I can't imagine not being with my kids all day, every day. Something that used to overwhelm me, is my new normal. All I can do is enjoy it. Who knows how long it will last? Sure, I would love to teach them until they graduate, but I don't know what my future holds. Only God knows all that.

I watch them as they search for knowledge. I watch them, right now, as they furrow their brows in concentration and lean over their books. I watch them nod to themselves when they finally understand. And I ask God to teach them, hold them, grow them. I ask God to bless the efforts we all put into this. I ask Him to call each of my children into the path He has already established for them. Maybe one day they, too, will ask, "How did I end up here?"

That makes me smile.

Fear and Enjoyment

How do I teach my children to face their fears? How do I help them understand that we should never make a decision based completely on fear?

I guess, maybe, I push them to jump in the deep end, go to the class, attempt the sport, etc until they see one of two things. They either see that a.) it wasn't so bad and there was nothing to be afraid of in the first place or b.) they failed and survived it and even learned from it... failure wasn't the end of the world.

And if they fail, I am there with the gospel to remind them who they actually are... they are loved by their Creator and that is all they really need. And when they succeed, I am there with the gospel too.

But in all of it, I remind them to enjoy it. Enjoy it. Jump in, tackle, pirouette, write, learn... whatever... and enjoy it. Enjoyment glorifies God if we remember Him in the midst of it. He is there in the midst of that fear and He is all that truly matters.

Is that too big to pass on to someone who still depends on me for clean underwear?

A sure sign that I have forgotten the gospel is when I've forgotten how to enjoy God in the simple things.

Do Not Entrust Yourself To Them

John 2:23-25

23Now when he was in Jerusalem at the Passover Feast, many believed in his name when they saw the signs that he was doing. 24But Jesus on his part did not entrust himself to them, because he knew all people 25and needed no one to bear witness about man, for he himself knew what was in man.

Uselessness and Glory

In my last post, I was mulling over the brokenness that comes from God stripping away all that is not his. Since that post, I've been pondering the meaning of useful/useless and also the meaning of blessings. Here are new thoughts:

I found a song by Frou Frou called "Let Go" that I am currently listening to somewhat obsessively. If you doubt, ask my family. The chorus says:

Let go.
Let go.
Jump in.
Well, whatcha waiting for?
It's alright,
'cause there's beauty in the breakdown.
Let go.
Let go.
Just get in.
It's so amazing here.
It's alright,
'cause there's beauty in the breakdown.

It then mentions how everything else is just a sideshow and there is boundless pleasure to be found. I have no idea what Imogen Heap was thinking when she wrote it but it made me cry when I first heard it. I have fought true brokenness for a long time and here was God reminding me through this song that there is such beauty in brokenness. It doesn't feel beautiful, but it is.

Which leads me to the subject of usefulness vs. uselessness...

I have felt utterly spent and useless for months. I labor, toil, work... all for the zeal of the Lord... and nothing happens. I don't think it was wrong for me to get tired. But I do think the exhaustion caused me to forget some things... Today's devotion from My Utmost For His Highest said this:

"[We] notice God's unutterable waste of saints, according to the judgment of the world. God plants his saints in the most useless places. We say - God intends me to be here because I am so useful. Jesus never estimated His life along the line of the greatest use. God puts His saints where they will glorify Him, and we are no judge at all of where that is."

Can I just say??? Ouch. I have always said that I want to be "used by God". And when I know that I am useless then that must be wrong and bad. Right? But what is my chief end? To be useful, or to glorify Him? It is not my decision to determine my usefulness. It is only for me to obey.

The devotional above was on the subject of suffering in 1 Peter 4:19. He says, "To choose to suffer means that there is something wrong; to choose God's will even if it means suffering is a very different thing." I think it is a kind of suffering to put your own desires and dreams to death. And that suffering leads to brokenness. And that brokenness is beautiful. And God is still God. And he still loves me.

Selah.

So where does that leave me? In the same place. Only now, I realize that I don't know what my future holds. And I'm okay with that. And I realize that I cannot contribute one thing to God's work. But He uses me anyway, for His own glory. I can do His bidding, show His love, rest in His peace, all without thought to my own life.

And I know some may read this and think "Of course we don't know the future!" But I think we still maintain this small nugget of our past dreams for our future. (Read THAT sentence ten more times! Geez.) I mean... We all have some residual, lingering dreams from our childhood. Marriage, minivans, children's graduations, retirement. We think we know the general direction of our lives. We make plans for after our kids are grown. We determine where we are most useful. That's the kind of thing I'm talking about...

Now, I pray for the grace to remember it...

Myopic Faith

I'm trying to determine how much to tell, how much to expose. I don't want to give too much.



In my childhood, my life had periods of uncertainty. It also had periods of deep chaos and pain. I never gave much thought to my future. It wasn't a conscious choice; I just didn't. God seemed close to me then. Even though my idea of who he was lacked truth and substance. I thought of him as someone who loved me but who was disappointed and annoyed with me most of the time. I carried a burden with me always.


God showed me his glory in the form of the gospel when I was in my early twenties. I vividly remember the freedom that came when I was told that God is not disappointed with me. He doesn't cry a sad tear when I am selfish. He doesn't roll his eyes at me when I sin or act foolish. He, because of Christ's atoning work on the cross, is enamored with me. He delights in me. My spiritual shoulders sagged with relief when that burden was lifted.

It was then that I began to have hope. I began to think of the future; make plans. I wanted to tell others this grace, this relief. I began to see the burden in the lives around me and looked for every opportunity to tell them. I wanted to serve God.


And serve him, I did. He called me to teach women's classes; something I had NO interest in doing. No way. He called me to help in women's ministy. It was wonderful. He then called me to be the head of women's minstry. That too was a delight. I had a clear vision and a mission/purpose statement written out to keep me from trying to take over. That is my inclination after all. Then God called Chris to seminary and us to church planting. I was amazed that God could use either one of us. It seemed blissfully amazing.


Somewhere along the way, as the British say, it all went pear shaped. The wheels of my faith began to wobble. Without even realizing I was doing it, I compensated for the wobble with hard work and a good attitude. But little did I know that something was wrong. I couldn't feel it yet; wasn't aware of the impending consequences.


Just as the human body can take abuse for so long, so can the spiritual man. It can run on memories and past experiences for a while. But as I tried harder, my joy was quietly seeping out of me a slow enough rate that I didn't notice it until it was completely depleted. And I was depressed.


My plans do not work. No matter how good they are, how easy they are, how well thought out. If God is not in them, if he is not blessing them, they will fail. And fail they do.


I've come to realize that my hope has been in the future God planned, not in God Himself. So he took away that hope. Smashed it to pieces. Now, when I think of the future, I see nothing but cloudy, murky nothingness. It exhausts me to contemplate it.


My faith is now myopic. I can see God and nothing else. He is nose-to-nose with me; His breath on my face. If I try to look around him, despair overtakes me and I feel fear. But as long as I am looking at Him, contemplating Him, breathing Him in, then I am okay.

There's a Mo Leverett song that I love. I think it's the modern day equivalent of It Is Well With My Soul. It's title is It's Alright. When everything falls apart, when my hope in me is shaken, when I feel like a failure... it's alright. "If God is for us, who can be against us? If God is with us, then we are not alone."

It's Alright. Myopic Faith ain't all that bad...

Slippery Hamster Wheel

There is so much in my head right now. It's like there is a hamster wheel in there and all my thoughts and hopes and concerns and worries have piled on and are running as fast as they can. I hear the squeaking. Maybe I should make a list...

1. I have no idea how to parent teenagers. Their decisions making abilities are sub par, to say the least, and yet the decisions they are faced with can have huge repercussions. Do I give them lots of freedom? What if they make a huge mistake? They're too young to have that kind of responsibility right now. They're not 17 or 18. But what if I limit them too much and they end up stunted and socially retarded? What if, by not letting them make mistakes, they never learn from them and make worse mistakes when they're grown? But making mistakes is an important learning tool. But drugs and stuff like that can ruin your entire life... See the hamster wheel?

2. Money. DO NOT get me started. If I have it, I want to relax and not be vigilant about how it is spent. I want to feel some freedom or "breathing room". But then I spend too much and feel really guilty about it. If I don't have any money, then I think of all the ways that I've wasted it in the past or spend too much time thinking of ways to save and/or make some. But then I remember that God always provides our needs and try to trust God. But then I think about natural consequences and how, if you are wasteful you can't just pray and ask God to hand you a vacation. You need to save for it, right? But I see God blessing other people with things that they have not scrimped and saved for and I get confused. Hamster wheel.

3. Missions trip. Our support is not coming in very well. We only have maybe half. But I know that God calls us to missions. But not all people are called to all missions. So am I not supposed to go or am I supposed to get more creative about fundraising? Or am I supposed to wait until the rates go down and our support will cover it? Hamster wheel. *sung in a sing-song voice*

4. Church planting.
5. Homeschooling.
6. Exercise.
7. Personal conflict with people who have not loved me well.
8. Travel in general.
9. Etc. etc. etc.

I feel like a baby Christian trying to figure things out. It all seems so confusing to me right now and I feel like the people who could help me figure things out aren't all that interested. Which leads me to another thing I've noticed...

I've forgotten how to be transparent. Somewhere along the way I've become solid and maybe a little stoic. I've sucked it up and kept working, trying to be obedient. But the harder it gets, the harder I try and the more I try to convince myself that everything's ok. The more I try to convince myself, the less open I am with the people around me. And I lose my ability to be open about my life.

I hate that. I hate that I started projecting competency. I hate that the more I projected it, the less I felt it until I ended up in a place of deep disconnection and aloneness.

Somehow, I lost my way. Somehow, the slippery soap of the gospel squirted right out of my hand and it took me a long time to notice that it was gone...

Love

It is a beautiful thing to love someone well. To love them fiercely is even better. I don't think that scripture calls us to love everyone ferociously. It would be too exhausting and consuming. And really, I think it would be unnecessary. If you are loved by one person with a depth and openness that goes to the very marrow of your bones, you're blessed.

I don't think everyone has the ability to love this way. At least that's what I hear. But for those of us who do, we must guard our hearts. To love someone this way, to always be for them and never against them, to protect them and open your heart to pour yourself out for them, leaves you open to the deepest kind of heartbreak.

I think mothers love their children this way. I think husbands love their wives this way, and vice versa. I think it is not felt always or even consistently practiced, but when it is poured out? It's a fire that soothes as well as challenges. It brings one spirit in contact with another spirit in a way that allows for the Holy Spirit to pour back and forth between them.

This kind of love isn't sexual or shallow or friendly. It is deep. Bone deep. And it is more powerful than anything we have the privilege to experience on this earth. It can give someone the strength to continue on through unspeakable pain. It can give someone the courage to confess sins too deep to utter lightly. It can open someone's heart and lift them up above their temporal circumstances and look into a reality much higher.

It is breathtaking in its total lack of self-concern. It is the way the Father loves his children. We are not strong enough to understand, to truly grasp, the breadth and length and height and depth. It surpasses our understanding.

But there are moments, those short yet giant moments, when we are able to love someone else this way. We cannot sustain it. Not like God. But there are those times when we open ourselves wide and pour love into someone's heart and they feel it and they know it and they are lifted up.

Catalog Living

Elaine finds it hard to get to sleep at a decent hour when Gary insists on “working the red carpet” every night before getting into bed.






This current post from catalogliving.com made me think of KimHill. Can you figure it why? heehee

It Might Get Loud

I know that I've blogged about music before. And I am completely aware that I've blogged about documentaries. But I can't help it; I love them both. And today I found the perfect combination of both...

It Might Get Loud is a documentary that was advertised as being about the electric guitar. I was interested. Then I found out that it starred Jimmy Paige, The Edge and Jack White. I was thrilled. I settled into my favorite armchair with a glass of water and a handful of M&M's. Then I paused it to get my headphones since I have such loud children...and headphones in my ears are their sign to leave me alone.

It was outrageous! I loved it! Nothing draws happiness out of me as much as music. And I have always loved Led Zeppelin and U2. The White Stripes are a newer fave addition to my playlist. To see all of the guitarists together and to hear their back stories was really fun.

All I could think while I was watching it was how great it would be to watch it with Brendan. After all, he's still a musician, and the first time he ever heard Led Zeppelin and U2 was from Chris and I. I remember teaching him to sing some of the songs when he was barely two. Seems like yesterday. Maybe when he's home we can find a couple of hours to watch it together. In the mean time, I think I'll write him and tell him about it.

Is Resistance Futile?

Only those familiar with the repercussions of mental illness will understand this, I am sure. It almost doesn't make sense to me. Will my mother always affect me this way?

-------------------

Like a ghost.
A dream almost remembered,
niggling at the edges of consciousness.
Like a word on the tip of the tongue.
A splinter festering in the finger.
Shadow, fear, always there.

Like an ancient worry stone,
turned over and over.
Rubbed gently over time.
Familiar, yet repugnant.

Run from it. Yesterday.
Ignore it. Today.
Pretend it doesn't exist. Now.

Bone deep surety, inevitability.
Resist, resist, resist.
Nothing is written in stone.

Will the reality of my mother ever leave me be?
Or will I wrestle with her every day for the rest of my life?

Weary.
Tired.
Done.

...

Faith.
Is God really good?
Ruthless trust.
Cling. Hope. Tenacious faith.
Please be real.

-------------------------------------------

I do not call this poetry. I don't know what I call this. Stream of consciousness, maybe? Incoherent babbling of a raving lunatic? Grieving of an abandoned child? All I know is that it helps to get it out of my head.

White Oleander

I watched the movie White Oleander yesterday. I thought it was a really good movie. I watched it based on the cast. Renee Zellweger, Michelle Pfeiffer, Robin Wright. I hoped it would be good, and it was.

Of course there were certain aspects of the film that I did not like. Robin Wright's character used Born Again Christianity as a crutch which is what many in the world boil Christianity down to. That part was sad to me. I'm absolutely positive that many "christians" do use it as a crutch; but I know I don't. I know I have surity that God is real. Christ is real and his sacrifice was real.

But there were moments in the movie that were very poignant. The main character's relationship with her mother was thought provoking, the way it shows how closely a mother and daughter are intertwined. Even when one or both of them are "profoundly broken." (a phrase directly from the movie)

The last lines of the movie made me think of my own mother.

“Even so, I find myself thinking of her, wanting to feel that wind. It’s a secret wanting… like a song I can’t stop humming. Or loving someone you can never have.
No matter how much she has damaged me… No matter how flawed she is…
I know my mother loves me.”

Wow. I think that says what I think most of the time when it comes to my mother.

Good movie. Very little bad language. Very few sexual situations. But it had the feeling of being very real, which made it more than a little sad at times. The ending was good though. I hate sad endings.

Unsure. Unsteady. Confident.

Things on my mind:

I love Pride and Prejudice. The BBC production. It's time to watch it again. All five hours of it. Solid film-making. Romantic. Beautifully shot. Witty. Well written. Colin Firth. 'Nuff said.

I'm really looking forward to Bible study tomorrow. I've really, really missed it. I love those Springville ladies.

There is a white dog at my house. It's been here for three days and it will not leave. We've chased it off with sticks, thrown gravel at it, not fed it. Today I shot the shotgun to scare it... 4 times! And it still comes back! It's not mean, just annoying. It's sweet, but it's big and a female. Too much maintenance for someone who is not an animal person and who already has a cat and a puppy. I think I'm going to have to take it to the pound tomorrow. Grrrr.... so inconvenient.

I miss Chris. He's been busy this week and we haven't had a chance to just be around each other. I like him. So much. I like to sit in bed and watch movies with him. I like just being in the same room with him: him reading or watching tv and me reading or on the computer. His breathing is a comfort to me. Like that Nickel Creek song, Tomorrow Is a Long Time. It says, "Yes and only if my own true love was waiting. If I could hear his heart softly pounding, yes and only if he was lyin' by me, would I lie in my bed once again." I love the sound of Chris' heart beating. It's slow and steady and assures me that he is real and he's still alive. I love to lay my head on his chest while we watch television and just be comforted by his existence. I adore that man.

I love my friends who come see me and make my home their own for a few hours a week. I love to see them dig in my cupboards and cook. I love making things, like tonight's margaritas, as a team; all of us giving it a taste until it's just right. I love laughing together and telling terrible things that break our hearts. I love that they can answer almost any question that my kids may have for me and vice versa.

I miss Ginger terribly. I didn't think it would be this bad. I honestly didn't. I want so much to have the money to buy a plane ticket. Why must it be so impossible? I feel like that illustration from Jane Eyre, that our hearts are bound together by an invisible cord. And the cord is stretched to a painful degree. I wonder if God will make a way for me to go see her? I wish, I wish, I wish...

I miss Brendan. I wonder how he feels right this very minute. Is he happy? Scared? Alone? Sick? Happy? Smiling? I wonder.

I've thought of Michelle all day. Talked to her once. Is St. Louis what she expected? Is there room for all her boxes? What will she and Michael face in the coming months? I want badly to help them, encourage them. I miss my little SK. Her happy smile when she wakes from her nap on Thursday is in my head. Will she remember me? I want there to be someone else there, in St Louis, who will love her the way my family and I do; who will do her nails and play marbles with her. I want them to be happy.

I am rambling. Anxious. Tired. Unsure of my choices. Unsteady on my feet, metaphorically speaking. Aware of my sin and weakness. Inadequate to the task. Confident that God is enough. Sure that He has a plan.

That's all. The End.

Funniness

Missy and I have a lot of fun. We have PhD's in witty bantering. It's true. I admire us tremendously. It's very hard to remember a time when we were not friends, even though it wasn't that long ago.

One of my favorite things we have done is go back and forth on Facebook. My favorite thread goes like this:

My status update:
sometimes the line between beauty and pretentiousness is in the eye of the beholder.

Missy: Of what do you speak?

Me: I speak in riddles and code...

Missy: Stop it.

Me: The eagle took the spoon and threw it down the hill with the goat... decipher.

Missy: My husband beat your husband up again? Dangit. I'll talk to him about that.

Me: No. That's "The BALD eagle threw the smokin' hot spork down the hill and killed the goat"!

Missy: Busy Beavers.

Me: aannnndddd.... scene! That's a wrap, people.



I'm still laughing. It's so nice to be able to crack yourself up. It's positively outrageous good fortune to have a friend who can do it for you. Thank you, Missy dear.