The Poor and The Fatherless

There are so many things going around on facebook right now about "Taking America Back". And the fundamentalists are all about keeping God in America. My sweet, precious grandmother is one of them. I don't know how to break it to her, America is not God's chosen people.

Oh gosh, I know some who read this are getting really, really angry with me right now. But hear me out. "If my people, who are called by my name..." That was not a prophetic utterance about the United States of America. It was about his people. Those belonging to him. Romans 8:16 - the Spirit testifies that we are his children. By the work of Christ on the Cross. Not by the work of our Founding Fathers.

I totally understand and agree that our welfare and immigration systems are completely broken and jacked up. I get that. I know they need lots of reform. But to hear Christians in the name of Christ say that we need to cut off these illegals who are "taking all our jobs and getting freebies" makes me ill. As in sick and angry. To hear the church say that all those poor people need to "get a job and get off drugs" ticks me off.

Let's go to the Scriptures, shall we? Deuteronomy 10:14-20
"To the Lord your God belong the heavens, even the highest heavens, the earth and everything in it. ¹⁵ Yet the Lord set his affection on your ancestors and loved them, and he chose you, their descendants, above all the nations—as it is today. ¹⁶ Circumcise your hearts, therefore, and do not be stiff-necked any longer. ¹⁷ For the Lord your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who shows no partiality and accepts no bribes. ¹⁸ He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the foreigner residing among you, giving them food and clothing. ¹⁹ And you are to love those who are foreigners, for you yourselves were foreigners in Egypt. ²⁰ Fear the Lord your God and serve him."

The church has forgotten the fact that WE ARE ALIENS. We were naked, hungry and sick and our heavenly father adopted us as his children. How can we then turn around and ignore the fatherless and foreigner?

And here's the kicker. The government shouldn't even be the ones taking care of the poor. It should be the church. The very people wanting to close the border and cut people off are the very ones who should be taking care of them, advocating for them.

I confess, I was one of them. Sometimes I still am. I don't get it right. There's a whole lot more going on that I've mentioned in this little post. But I think that when we look at the poor, no matter where they're from, and we feel no movement toward compassion, that's a red flag. Christianity is not the icing on top of the "Normal" cake. It should affect how we view everything around us. I need to repent too. 

Roasted Adventures

My cooking has gotten so lazy. I'm serious. Corn, rice, potatoes, canned green beans. The end. Gross. This week I took Brody and Gracie with me to shop for new and exciting veges. We came home with lima beans, broccoli (which we LOVE and I got out of the habit of buying), asparagus, brussel sprouts, mixed vegetables, squash and avacado. I'm cooking the brussel sprouts right now. We're trying roasted sprouts because I love roasted vegetables. Drizzle with olive oil, salt, pepper, maybe some garlic salt and voila! Done. I really hope my family likes them. We need to get away from so many carbs.

What is your family's favorite vegetable? How do you cook it? Let me know in the comments. Thanks!!!

You Like What?!?

Culturally speaking, I found the closing ceremonies of the Olympics to be... peculiar. I liked some of the music and some of the display. The guy from Monty Python was funny. I liked the Freddy Mercury part. But then there were other parts that missed the mark, in my opinion.

The funny thing is: my peeps in the UK loved it. I mean LOVED it. It made them, one and all, proud to be British.

Then there was the Latin American, Brazilian, spectacle. Half dressed women, men in loin clothes and disco-decked out men with perms. Hmm. The music was repetitive, not harmonious. To put it simply, it was weird.

So I am left asking myself some questions. What am I missing? How can anyone like this? What the heck?

It is so easy for me to dismiss someone's culture, because that's what it is. It is someone's culture. It doesn't resonate with me because there are pieces of their life that I am missing.

Sociologically speaking: "Culture consists of the beliefs, behaviors, objects, and other characteristics common to the members of a particular group or society. Through culture, people and groups define themselves, conform to society's shared values, and contribute to society. Thus, culture includes many societal aspects: language, customs, values, norms, mores, rules, tools, technologies, products, organizations, and institutions. This latter term institution refers to clusters of rules and cultural meanings associated with specific social activities. Common institutions are the family, education, religion, work, and health care." - cliffsnotes.com

I think Americans, in particular, dismiss other cultures as irrelevant. Remember Manifest Destiny? No one cared about the Native American culture. They needed to stop it and get with the program. That's also what the Spanish did in South America.

We cannot possibly minister effectively in another culture without respecting who they intrinsically are. So while I don't "get it" sometimes, that does not mean it is wrong. It's just different and sometimes weird to my western, American sensibilities.

Before our last trip to England, when we were going to be taking the kids, my dear friend Laura sent me a book about America culture. So much of it was hidden right in front of my eyes. Other cultures do NOT value fun and entertainment and self-reliance. Did you know that? They don't measure success the same way. They value family much more than Americans. Other people look at us and "don't get it."

The implications make my head spin. SUVs, religion, how we educate, what we play, it all ties into a cultural norm that we don't even realize exists until confronted with something different. I talk about living deliberately, purposefully and thoughtfully. Thinking and learning about other cultures helps me do that. Even if it makes me appear strange and out of sync with the people around me.

There are even sub-cultures within our American culture: Southern > Alabamian > Springvillian. Or American > Bible Belt > Presbyterian (which is different from Southern Baptist)

Just something to think about. It makes my brain stretch a bit and I like that.

Photo Book

Click here to view this photo book larger

Photo Book Tip: Create an adventurous travel photo album at Shutterfly.com.

I posted in the Homeschool Blog today. Just thought I'd share...

Best Idea Ever!!!

Ty and I came up with the best idea! I'm serious. We dreamed up a land/subdivision development.

We shall call it... Middle Earth.

It will be a Lord of the Rings living experience. Within the subdivision there will be different areas. They will be called The Shire, Rohan, Gondor and Mordor. The homes built in each would reflect the architecture of each.

The Shire would have be all natural materials, rounded lines, picket fences. It could have a big Party Tree.

Rohan would have stone and wooden structures, maybe with some horse pastures.

Gondor would be white stone with sharp edges and points.

Mordor would be very modern and industrial. Lots of windows and metal.

We could add a hiking area called the Misty Mountains or a wooded wildlife area called Fangorn Forest.

Now you tell me? Would you not want to live there?!?!? How cool would that be?

Does anyone have a few million dollars I could borrow???

Bringing Blogging Back

The title of this blog is a bit of a wave to Justin Timberlake. Sorry, he's a guilty pleasure. Don't judge. Anywho...

My first cousin, who is also one of my loveliest friends, Jennifer, has decided to punt Facebook and go to a strict blog diet. Many of the comments that were directed at her when she posted this decision on Facebook were unsupportive. Some were incredulous. One person even said, "There's got to be a better solution!" O.M.G! Give up Facebook? Are you insane???

I think people have forgotten that we lived a long time without Facebook. Now, there are certain things about it that I love. I love that I can easily find friends from ages ago. Last week, I had lunch with my high school friend Matt. We would not even know how to begin connecting without Facebook. With FB it was super easy. A few PMs and voila! I took my two oldest to the orthodontist in B'ham and then met up with Mattie in Hoover. It was great!

But...

1. Group invites
2. Drama
3. TMI
4. False cheerfulness
5. Pushiness
6. Bad theology
7. Time waster
8. Farmville!!!
9. My Birthday Calendar
10. Duck-lipped pictures (Pouty face!)

I could go on, but I feel myself getting annoyed.

If someone wants to give up FB, that's fine. I do wonder if that can be easily done. My friend Lissa tried but discovered that organizations, churches and families make plans using ONLY Facebook. So if you're not on there, you won't know a single thing about it. That's rough. I know in Springville we have to remember to send out emails and texts, as well as FB. Otherwise, there are people who won't hear about it.

In closing, (because I am rambling) live and let live. Blog, Facebook, texting, email, or no internet at all... Can't we all just get along?


heehee, I cracked myself up

To The Future Me...

Slow day at the Sharp House today. I have spent the day reading. All. Day. Long. For the first time in ages and ages. Loverly.

John Ponder has been here for, let's see... nine days. Honestly, that boy could live here permanently and no one would mind. We love that guy.

Mags and Grace spent most of the day at the Hansen's. Brody and John both got bored about seven tonight and decided to do jigsaw puzzles. That was calmly pleasant until Brody decided to go get another one, a floor puzzle of the United States, and they started to race. Then it got exciting. The rest of us picked teams and jumped in. Then we finished at the same time! It was hilarious.

So now, Brody is looking at a magazine; Gracie and Maggie are eating; Ty and John are roaming the house being bored again. Chris is sleeping. One more hour until I wake him up. And I am blogging.

Like I said, it's a slow day. I'm only blogging it to remember it. Years from now, when they're all gone from home and I am sitting in my clean, quiet house, this post will make me smile. So, Future Me, smile. And maybe do a jigsaw puzzle.


And fold some socks, for heaven's sake!

Pop in for a Cuppa

I've been sitting here most of the day planning this year's school and visiting with friends who popped in for a chat. I loved it. I'm glad for the company and to not have to leave my couch.

One friend and I got talking about missions. Overseas vs home. Missions boards that send vs Raising support. It was a great conversation.

The negative side (if you want to look at it that way) is it got me to thinking about my other family in England and Ireland. *sigh* I know I will always have a hole in my heart that reminds me that I'm missing their daily presence in my life. I see their faces in my mind, hear their voices in my ear and would love for them to pop over, open my door after a quick knock (if at all) and make themselves at home.

I wonder if God will ever send us overseas. I wonder if that is in His plan for us. I know that we have always been open to it, but who knows. Maybe. I know that our role right now in overseas missions is to love them with our hearts wide open, willing to hurt with longing for them, and pray for them every day. And if God sends the opportunity and the money, we'll be on a plane faster than you can say, "Would you like a cuppa?"

Until then, I feel split in two. My heart is definitely here. I adore my new church family in Springville and the community God is building. I miss my other church family in Moody and see them when I can. But I miss my people across the pond. There is only one solution...

Oh, but won't heaven be lovely?

New Blog

There is an entire side to my life that I have rarely blogged about. I don't like controversy. I don't like being yelled at or making people feel uncomfortable. I avoid those things with enormous energy.

But...

I homeschool my children. I have been homeschooling my children for ten years. That's a whole decade. I am what is referred to as a "Veteran Homeschooler". But I rarely blog about that. For some reason, it makes some people defensive or aggressive. As I mentioned above, I don't like that being directed at me.

*Slight change of subject, but I'll tie it in*

It is a well known fact that the Sharp family is involved in a church plant. We have left our safe, comfy, family church and have ventured into unknown territory. It has been a struggle. Many of you know this and have prayed for us.

One of the things we have been trying to do is "get involved in the community". To me this has meant serving on the youth football board of directors. I've made a lot of contacts and hopefully, have loved a few people well. But I sense that I am trying to shove this square peg into a profoundly round hole. I don't have boys playing football this year. I don't have children in the school system (even if we put them in public school, we are zoned for a completely different system). It is really, really hard to meet up with people who move in such different circles. So I am asking myself why I'm trying to minister to people that I don't ever see. Why am I forcing this issue and ignoring the group that, by default, I belong to?

Am I uncomfortable with the fact that we homeschool? Do I feel ashamed of it? Yes and no. I have been berated, belittled and screamed at for homeschooling. Therefore, I am a little bit scared of people's reactions. On the other hand, I have been incredibly supported by my friends of all educational choices. Do I feel like we (Chris and Crissy) SHOULD homeschool our kids? The answer is a profound and sure, "Yes!" Do I think that everyone else in the world should? No! How other people parent their kids is none of my business and I would make a terrible Holy Spirit.

In the past month, since I've been thinking about these things, four people have come to me for advice/counsel about home education. Two more have asked me to teach Bible studies. I think it is time to be available to other homeschool mothers out there and quit hiding from the fact that I homeschool.

Please, please, please, please, dearest friends who do NOT homeschool, do not take this personally. Do not think that I in any way condemn you. I promise, I do not. At all.

I have started a secondary blog about this side of myself that I've never talked about. There are hours and hours of my day devoted to something I fear will hurt people's feelings. There are struggles that we have overcome as a family that I know would help others. So this other blog, Joy in the Journey, will be about our homeschool life. Curriculums, fears, reading lists, field trips, etc will all be on there. I don't expect all my friends to subscribe and follow, but if you are in need of encouragement, it might help.

Just so ya know, I am nervous about doing this. It feels like two worlds colliding. I have no idea what the implications of this will be. That will be up to you...

I'd LIke to Buy the World a Coke

I'm typing this on chris' kindle. not a touch screen. therefore very time consuming. i might go find my laptop...

I am laying on the beach with my friend Boo. I'm probably getting burned. maybe. i am on a girl trip... and it is awesome. i highly recommend it, you know if you're a girl. but there has been some controversy. i didn't invite every person that i know.


Okee doke. I am now on my laptop and that makes this blogging thing so much easier. Now, where was I? Oh, yes...

 A Girl Trip is a funny creature. Conditions are tricky. And when planning one you must be slightly selfish. I refuse to cringe when I type that because it's true. There are certain criteria that MUST be met.

1.) Invite people who know you really well. Otherwise you constantly feel that you must be on your guard.
2.) Invite only people who know EACH OTHER really well. Otherwise, THEY will feel the need to be on their guard. This is not a Women's Ministry Retreat. This is a Girl Trip.
3.) Do not feel guilty about who you do not invite. You cannot invite every single person you know and like.
4.) It's important that you don't think of this kind of trip as some kind of Clique Convention. It is never meant to exclude anyone. It is meant to be a VACATION for ME. I, personally, feel like I spend almost 100% of my time looking around me at people who need something: food, schooling, ministry, a shoulder to cry on, a friend, etc. A Girl Trip is when I can look at my friend and say, "I don't feel like talking right now. I'm going to sit and stare at the ocean." and my friend says, "OK." No worries of hurting someone's feelings. I need a break sometimes.
5.) Come up with a list of rules. A list of concrete, cannot be broken, deal-breaker kind of rules. My Girl Trip rules are simple: Do not wake someone who is sleeping without prior approval. Do not attempt to pressure anyone into doing anything: this is their vacation. Do not bring anything you are not willing to share. No babies! If your baby is still nursing, I'll see you next year.

There is always the risk of hurting someone's feelings by not inviting them. There was a situation once where a friend that was going on the trip was asked by her other friend, who was very needy, if she could come too. My answer was a resounding, "No!" If one person on the trip is stressed out by even one other person, the whole dynamic is off and the trip will suck.

So my advice is: Never invite yourself on someone else's Girl Trip. Plan your own.

There have been several occasions when other friends planned a trip and I was not invited. I chose not to get my feelings hurt. They can't invite everyone. It's not personal. Instead, I looked at my friends and thought about who among them would be a balm to my soul. Then I planned a trip. That was ten years ago.

People have asked me how I convinced Chris to "let" me go. Hmmm. I didn't convince him. I simply asked if he minded if my sister and I went away for a day or two so that I could have an off day. He was very supportive of it. I'll bet that if you give your husband the chance, he will do this lovely thing for you.

Warning: the week or two before you leave, things will go a little haywire. You will question your decision to go. You have to arrange childcare. Make sure your sweet husband has plenty of food. Get the laundry done, the dishes washed, the bags packed. Who will feed the dog? Then the air conditioner will break. (The day before this trip one of the girl's van broke down and had to be put in the shop.) Or your child cries and says she will miss you.

Advice: Persevere. Push through. Evil does not want you to be refreshed and ministered to. Go on your trip anyway. All the crazy will be there when you get back. Put it out of your mind and relax. It's okay.

My mother never had girlfriends and as a result, she put my sister and I in that place. We should never have had to do that. Women need friends and our daughters need to see us with our friends. It helps them later in life but it also helps them now. It gives them someone else to trust and look up to. And our sons need to learn how to care for their future wives.

In conclusion:
As much as I would love to buy the world a coke, or take them to the beach, I cannot. And that's okay. The same goes for you. Find your group. Take them on a trip. When you come back, you will be closer to one another and therefore, better able to incorporate others into your group of friends. The majority of a woman's discipleship comes from intimate friendships. Be that mentor. Be that deep friend. Just not on a Girl Trip.

Time to Relax

I feel like I finished this school year in a doggie paddle, barely keeping my chin above water. I don't think the swimming got any harder but I got more and more fatigued. I did the calculations: I put more than 20,000 miles on my van this school year. No wonder I'm so tired.

Sunday: until March, church twice a day, once in Moody, once in Springville
Monday: school/piano
Tuesday: CORE (where Mags and Ty took credit classes) and Grace worked Mother's Day Out
Wednesday: school/church/hang out with Springville ladies
Thursday: Co-op in Trussville, seminary class with Chris at night
Friday: CORE and every other week: errands and grocery shopping, followed by Fri Nite
Saturday: catch up/kid activities/work day/school prep

I really, truly enjoy my life. I like being with my kids all the time. I like the closeness we have, the way we talk about everything and do fun stuff together. I like studying and teaching new things. I like seeing them hang out with their friends and make new ones. I  like seeing them learn and grow. I like homeschooling. I really do.

Fun, wonderful, awesome activities wear you out. Have you ever been to a water park, or Six Flags? It's sooo fun! You never want the day to end, but when it does... CRASH! My kids are usually asleep before we leave the parking lot! Good things make you tired too.

So I am glad it is summer for us. We didn't take a Spring Break. We pushed through. We'll keep doing math and English two days a week during the summer, but we're taking the rest of May off.

But it feels really weird, sitting here in my living room with no where to go... *sigh*... I feel like I'm forgetting something. Like I should be somewhere already. Hmmm. How do you, what's that word? Oh! Relax. How do you do that again???

Margaret Sarah

I remember when my friend and mentor, Maja's daughter turned 16. It was really weird to me. Laura was one of my flower girls and she was such a sweet little girl. Sixteen is when I was confronted with the reality that she was growing up and it was an odd feeling to me.

Now my own child is sixteen. Take any weirdness I mentioned in the previous paragraph and quadruple it. Sixteen. I find it hard to believe.

During the ultrasound when I was pregnant with her, I remember the moment the tech said, "It's a girl!" My very first thought was, "She's going to hate me!" For days I lived in fear, until God reminded me to just enjoy her. Enjoy her every day, starting with her in the womb and I have consciously tried to do that. There have been moments when maybe she did hate me, but as I hugged her this morning I thought, "She doesn't hate me." It made me tear up.

We (Chris, Ty, Gracie, Brody and I) woke her up by circling around her bed and singing to her. Then Chris and I gave her her gift. We gave her a really cool jewelry box and, more importantly, my mother's Smoky Topaz ring. It was my mother's favorite piece of jewelry. I can still see how it looked on her hand. As I hugged Maggie afterwards, it was all I could do to not ruin the moment with my sobs.

My tears come from this really mixed up place. Gratitude: I've been allowed to raise this beautiful girl and keep her for 16 years. Fear: I know that one day, not so far away, she will leave home and I will miss her terribly. Joy: She still loves me. She doesn't hate me as I feared she would. Sadness: I wish my mother was still here to know her. And then whatever emotion it is that is overwhelmed when presented with such deep beauty.

Maggie is indeed beautiful. She has a pretty face, sure, but her soul is lovely. She is passionate about life and her family. She brings life and joy and energy wherever she goes. She appreciates everything she is given. She struggles and refuses to give up. She has such a heart for the forgotten, the lost, and the hopeless. She understands the gospel and longs to be used by God. She sacrifices so much and so often for the sake of the Cross and it humbles me.

I wish you could all know her. She is NOT perfect, but she is lovely. Letting go of her will break my heart but even in the midst of that I can already see how God will use her for His glory. It's an exciting thing to watch. Wherever it may be, the people around her will be blessed just by knowing her. I know I am.

Fear

I dreamed last night that Chris died. In the dream, I pulled one of his shirts out of the dirty clothes hamper and put it in a ziplock bag to retain his smell for as long as I could. The grief I felt in that dream was so real that I woke up with tears in my eyes and an ache in my chest.

It was only made worse by the fact that he's in Anniston at work so I couldn't just roll over, put my head on his chest and hear his heart beating. I texted him, but he's doing rounds and won't see his phone for a few hours.

My fear tells me that he still has to make the long drive home and what if?... I used to listen to those fears. Indulge them. I would work myself into a stomach wrenching panic.

I know what it is to lose someone I love to a sudden death. My very best friend in high school died that way. She was a year older than me and already attending Jack State. I was going to spend the weekend with her at college and it was going to be awesome. But first I had to speak at the PTF meeting at the school. I don't remember what I said, but I was the poster child, the teacher's pet, so I spoke.

Lori was supposed to be at the school to pick me up before 7. We were going to leave from there and she would bring me home on Sunday evening. By 7:30 she still wasn't there and I was annoyed. She tended to be late for everything. I had to call my dad to come get me. He put his shoes on and left the house. I griped all the way home. But when I walked through the front door and took one look at my mother's face, I knew something was really, really wrong.

I can't remember my mother's exact words, but I do remember the physical pain in my chest that made me collapse to the sofa. It truly felt like my heart was being ripped apart.

Lori was on her way to get me when she crossed the center line and hit a car head on. She died instantly.

Everything changed. My other best friend and I grew apart. I distanced myself from everyone. I stuffed my anger with God. I quit eating. I graduated in a fog. I remember one night telling one of my friends, who was also one of my teachers, how angry I was. He made the mistake of telling me that Lori wouldn't want me to be angry. I don't remember exactly what it was I threw at his head. He went and got a pastor friend of his. I don't even remember the man's name now, but we went for a walk in the darkened parking lot and he told me it was okay to be angry. He let me scream my rage and then held me while I wept, reassuring me that God still loved me.

I know what it is to lose. I know the kind of pain that changes you. But the thoughts of losing Chris are beyond my comprehension. Therefore, I "take every thought captive to obey Christ". (2 Cor 10:5) I chose in this moment to not fear, to trust. To believe that He will hold me, uphold me, no matter what. He is enough. His grace is sufficient.

I really wish Chris would call me back.

Squirrel Face-Off

I have the funniest story to tell and if you want to copy and share, that's fine, just give credit where you got it...

My dad is a handyman. I'm not giving him a compliment here; people pay him money to do odd jobs. Last week, he and Ty ran electrical conduit and wire at a house on the river. (my dad's also an electrician) This week, Dad called and explained the job they were going to do. I haven't laughed that hard in a while.

It seems there's an older couple he knows that he does odd jobs for periodically. A few days ago, they called because there was a squirrel in the wall of their den. Dad went over and removed the squirrel and put up mesh in the attic to keep it from getting back in. What they didn't know was that there was another squirrel in the wall. Who was now trapped.

The old man heard scratching and clawing in the wall and was very concerned. He sat in his chair and stared at the wall. Soon he noticed a small hole developing where the squirrel was gnawing at the sheetrock. He started to panic, so as a defense, he put a piece of duct tape over the hole. (well played...)

When the persistent animal started chewing through the duct tape (or what dad called "gray squirrel imprisonment tape"), the old man really panicked. The only logical course of action he could come up with was a .22. Yes, he ran to the closet, grabbed his gun, and shot several holes in the wall where the squirrel was.

Result: dead squirrel.

Dad and Ty's job:

1. cut a hole in the wall
2. remove dead squirrel
3. patch hole
4. patch bullet holes
5. extend the mesh in the attic
6. go outside and patch the bullet holes in the exterior siding
7. commiserate with the poor guy's wife who was gardening at the time of the incident and was almost SHOT!

I'm still laughing. Dad said if you take this guy's natural instincts, turn the 180` around, you get the right decision.

Moral of the story:
Duct tape cannot conquer squirrels. Guns can.

Homemade Laundry Soap

A few people have asked me for the recipe I use for laundry soap. It's a lot cheaper (about $6 per year!) and cleans just as well. I make mine in a five gallon bucket and only have to make it about twice a year. It's really, really quick and easy to make. I promise!!!

All you need:
1 cup Borax
1 cup Washing Soda (Arm and Hammer)
A Bar of Bath Soap
A 5 Gal. Bucket

Grate 2/3 of a bar of soap. Add slowly to simmering water on the stove top until melted. Add the Borax and Washing Soda slowly, stirring until dissolved.

In the bucket, add some hot water from the tap, then pour in the soap mixture. Stir. Add lukewarm water until the bucket has about 4 gallons of water in it. Put the lid on it and let it set for 24 hours. It will gel and end up looking sort of like white egg drop soup. :o) The whole process takes only about twenty minutes. Not bad, right?

*Don't use moisturizing soap.

This soap is low sudsing and I use it in my HE front loader but it can be used in a top loader too.

Church Planting

It's a really beautiful day outside. 68 degrees and sunny. Perfection. Chris has the day off. My dad is here just to hang out and there are 7 extra kids at my house. The two neighbor boys walked up and are playing catch in the front yard. Kristine spent the night with Gracie and the Hill kids are here while Kim and Quinn go to Virginia's dad's funeral.

Darrin, Brandon, Steven and Nate came up this morning and met Chris and I at the church plant's building. We made a list of things that need to be done and then they stayed to cut the grass. It looks so much better already. I'm so thankful for these guys!

Church planting has been described as "intense" and I would have to agree. To a certain extent, all ministry is intense. Any time you take your family into a situation where you are attempting to bring the gospel into an area where it has been absent is fraught with danger. People are suspicious and resistant. Churches get competitive. And your own heart gets frightened. I've heard planters talk about the frustration, the fear and the attacks. I've talked with one godly woman, who I thought was already so humble, who talked about the process of being broken. During one period of time, I looked around and asked what in the world we were doing. Why would I stay in a place where God is pealing back the layers of my flesh. That hurts.

I have an artist friend, Michelle. She painted this one particular canvas that has become God's word picture to my heart. The painting is of a girl with a jeweled tiara. The words on the canvas are, "Like any good princess, she laid down her life for the kingdom." My superficial happiness is distinctly unimportant. This short life is not what I'm living for. There is a King and a kingdom, and I am His princess and I lay down my life for him. He already gave his life for me. It's a beautiful truth. He died so I could live. He gave everything so I could have fellowship.

For me to give up temporary pleasure or my idols of comfort can feel like a huge sacrifice sometimes. But looking at it from the other side, it is NO sacrifice.

"He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose." - Jim Elliot

There is always a cross we are to take up. For some, it is to be a martyr. For others, it is to raise their children, day in and day out, in the way they should go, even when they fear their children will not like them. In the face of fear and anger, or misunderstanding and condemnation, to follow Christ takes on a very different tone.

A friend asked me this week, in utter defeat, what to do about a child who throws tantrums all day long. What does she do to "fix" that problem? Another friend talked to me about the pain of never seeing her husband because he's ministering to other people. How does she get his attention? I could go on and on. The common thread there seems to be wanting to make the problem go away. Surely if we're following God, things will go well for us.

But maybe God has something else in mind. Maybe he's bigger and more complicated than that. Maybe his primary goal is NOT our comfort and happiness. Maybe he wants us to trust him, no matter what. Even when we are misunderstood, or judged, or reviled, or ignored. That may mean that we hold our ground with a stubborn child and discipline ten times a day for years before we see a heart change. It may mean that we continue to tell our spouse what our heart needs over and over again, feeling the hurt of that until they finally understand, no matter how long it takes. It may mean keeping our hearts soft towards someone who hurts us even when everything in us screams to cover up, give up, harden ourselves.

God is so good to us. He strips us bare so that we can finally behold him as he really is, not as we want him to be. He speaks the truth into our hearts, even though it hurts, because he knows the truth will set us free. He loves us with a furious, relentless love. Oh how I pray for love to be able to love him back.

Cold Feet and Scratching

The first thing on my mind right now is that my feet are cold. No, not cold... freezing. I think I'll go find my ski socks. Be right back...

Better. Now... the second thing on my mind is much more complicated and less easily fixed. Place and Story.

Chris has been listening to a sermon series on the theology of place. It's complicated and more than I can explain in a paragraph, but very simply put, it means live WHERE YOU ARE. It means if you live in a town, minister in that town. If you work someplace, minister in that place. Shop in your own town from stores that are local. Put your money into your local economy. Stop looking into the distance and living for a theoretical future. Live now, where you are.

Story. God has been gently pulling me to a place where I can confront my own story. There are things in my childhood I have never faced. Things that scare me. Things I ignore. When asked if there were any traumatic events in my childhood, I used to always say no, it was normal, happy even. When Gordon (my Christian counselor) asked me, the Holy Spirit brought several things to mind. Not good things.

Why now? Why can't I keep ignoring it? I dunno. The sermon Sunday night provoked a thought about my childhood. I heard someone, just this week, bring up the title of a Dan Allender book that Gordon recommended two years. I decided to pick up the new Bible study Chris got me for the wives of church-planters. First chapter: The Myths of Story. *sigh*

To quote: "It is our belief that the more we know and become familiar with our own stories, developing self-awareness and healthy critical thinking, the more we have the capacity to know God and his story. When we truly see our pasts for what they are, then we can begin to understand how we have sought to bring peace into our lives apart from relying on Christ. We begin to see where we have created idols to give us a false sense of hope and comfort. We being to see how we relate to others apart from relying on Christ. ... The more we open doors to our past, the more freedom we encounter. It is this freedom that draws others to the life-giving hope we possess."

*sigh*

I started a Word doc to track my memories. Some of the things I have recorded are messed up. Some are happy. But I get the distinct feeling that I am scratching at a rough patch of skin that could rupture at any time. That maybe there's some really f'ed up stuff under there. Stuff I am afraid that I'll never be able to make sense of. Is that really better than ignoring it?

I guess we'll find out. I think I'll go scratch at it a little while longer.

A Sunny Irish Day

Is it a stretch to combine trebuchets and St. Patrick's Day? I hope not because that's what we did today.

In my co-op class we have been talking about the history of weapons and warfare. So far we've learned about the Tang dynasty and the invention of gunpowder, the Mongol invasion, Vikings, the Mayans and Aztecs, the spread of Islam and Werner von Braun's V-2 rockets. Diverse, I know. Anything to keep me from having to study guns. Blah. Boring.

This week we are studying Medieval Britain and Ireland. (thus, the trebuchet) I found the pattern here. It was not hard or expensive. Chris precut all the wood and he and I assembled one yesterday just to make sure we knew what to do. This morning he helped the kids and it only took about an hour.

Missy's geography class was on Ireland and St. Patrick's Day since that is day after tomorrow. They had a handout this week about it and today we had an Irish feast. Roasted chicken and carrots with Roasties. Roasties are roasted potatoes.

Recipe:

Peel and quarter several potatoes.

Boil for 5 minutes with a little salt.

Drain and let dry out for an hour or so.

Put them back in the cook pot with the lid and shake!

Put some duck fat (or olive oil) in the roasting pan and let preheat 5 minutes.

Add the potatoes. Top with salt, pepper and herbs (rosemary from the garden).

Cook 22 minutes on 350.

Take them out, flip them over, add a little more oil and herbs, put them back in.

Cook another 22 minutes.

DELICIOUS!!!

After we ate, we skyped with Laura, AJ and Bella Morgan for over an hour. The kids asked lots of questions. What are the toilets like? What do you eat for breakfast? Do they have beef jerky in Ireland? What kind of sports do you play? How is St Patrick's Day celebrated? Do you have stores like WalMart? etc. etc. etc.

AJ told us about hurling and showed us his hurler and slither. Super cool! Bella told us how to ask to use the bathroom in Irish. She showed us what their cereal boxes look like. We got a grand tour of the house. Steve and Eli popped into frame long enough to make us laugh. And Laura and I kept on talking while Kim was teaching Science.

The kids had a great day learning today. I love watching them laugh and experiment. I love when they get excited about learning. It puts all the days when school is an exercise in discipline into perspective.

Now, the sun is shining and Titan and I are swinging on the porch swing. The boys are in the woods looking for the perfect stick to use as the firing mechanism for their seige machine. The girls are running around in the yard doing who knows what. Kim is asleep on the sofa. It's been a really lovely day. I am very thankful!

A Sword Will Pierce Your Soul

I shall preface this post with a comment on perception. Perception is a funny thing. The way a person perceives information is dependant on their experience or life state, at the time. So two people can listen to the same set of instructions or the same sermon and perceive two different things. Today's sermon spoke LOADS to me. It might have spoken to other people as well, but what they gleaned from it would be different from myself. Confused? I am. Whatev... on with the point of this post.


Our home church is planting a sister church in the town where we live. My husband is the elder for this plant. We have come to the stage in the process where it is time for us to make the transition from our home church to our new church. Why am I telling you this? Background is needed and I'll try to keep it brief.

My parents were vaguely unhappy most of my childhood. Okay. More than vaguely, if you count the suicide attempts. So we bounced from church to church. I don't blame them for this, seeing as how they were trying the best the could. By the time I was 17, I was ready to grow some roots. I was tired of the gossip and the chaos of the churches we had been to, and the Lord led me to a PCA church. (This in no way implies that only PCA churches are valid. This is just my experience.) I was comforted by the church government. It made me feel safe to know that the preacher couldn't run the church like a dictatorial regime and the "leadership" couldn't run him off if they didn't like the way he parted his hair. There was structure and safety in having a session of elders.

I joined Community when I was 17. I was in the youth group. I graduated and moved into the singles group. I met my husband there. I was discipled. I had my babies. I was shown how to mother. I was introduced to grace. I was taught. I was trained to lead. I grew up. I participated in Women's Ministry. I was comforted when my parents divorced. I saw what unity looked like when there was no gossip about it. I was supported through tragedies.

When Chris mentioned church planting, my answer was a simple but emphatic, "No." I could not even contemplate leaving my volitional family. But God worked in my heart and gave me a desire to move into my own community and share the gospel.

Now, it is time to make the move. It is time to leave my safe, wonderful, happy, comfortable, precious nest. It is time to say a goodbye to that family and give my heart to another family. I will, of course, never truly leave Community. They are my history. They are my heart.

Today was our last regular Sunday there. My children's hearts are broken.

(now to the perception part. Here is my take on Burt's sermon)

This morning, Burt preached out of John 19, when Mary was standing at the foot of the cross, watching her son be brutally murdered. Jesus told her to take John as her son and John to take Mary as his mother. Burt took us back to Luke 2, when Simeon blessed Jesus in the temple and told Mary that "a sword will pierce through you own soul also".

Right now it feels as though my soul is being pierced through.

Burt went on to point out that when Mary was in that agonizing place, Jesus saw her and provided a comfort for her. He saw her pain and met her in that place. When I am in grief and sorrow, Jesus sees me. He sees me from heaven and gives me himself. He doesn't ignore it. He comforts me.

When I took communion today, I could hear the Spirit reminding me, "Christ's body broken for you. He sees you. He knows." I couldn't stop crying. It was beautiful.

The rest of the sermon pointed out Christ's reconciliation with John who had abandoned him in the garden and the creation of a new family. John took care of Mary. She came to live with him.

God is moving us away from our true family, but he will not abandon us. He will not turn us out into the desert. He is providing another family for us. It will take a while for the relationships to be built and it may never be the same as Community, but there is no doubt that God is sending us.

I ask you to pray for my teenagers. This move is hardest on them, I think. Pray for Chris and I as we parent them through this. I think my biggest fear is that they will hate God and hate Chris and I for doing this to them. I long for them to see God's goodness in this. Pray for us as we actively and deliberately seek out relationships in Springville. Pray for Maggie and I as we trust God with our fears of being forgotten by the ones we love most.

Who knew that God would lead us into church planting? Yowza. Not me. I think moving to Peru would have been easier in some ways.

Someone else listening to this sermon may have perceived something completely different, but that's where I was today and I don't think I'll ever forget it. God spoke straight into my heart. Thank you, Burt for bringing it today. Have you been reading my mail???

Let's Rediscover over a Cuppa...

I was resistant to joining Facebook for a long time. I loved blogging and I adored my Blog Community. I think I had almost 25 or 30 blog links on my page. Most of these were people I knew but there were some of people who were either inspiring or just plain fascinating. I would log on every night after the kids went to bed and check in on my people.

My friend, Jawan, introduced me to the blogosphere. She started one and I followed her religiously. Once I started my own, it seemed like more and more people jumped in with me. My sister kept hers light-hearted. My pastor and brother-of-my-heart, G, varied. Sometimes his were frenetically hilarious; other times, heart-wrenchingly honest and moving. Another blog was from a guy named Nate who lived up north somewhere. His posts were fascinating as he navigated his new married life and teaching jr high.

And then Facebook came along. I didn't want to leave my sweet little nest. I was talked into it. There were some things I loved about it. I found friends from ages ago and we could chat like we were once again sitting in Economics class passing notes. What's not to love about that? I found my Algebra teacher and my high school mentor. I found kids (now adults) that I used to babysit. I found my best friend from third grade. This was awesome!

But somewhere along the way, something changed. All the depth was sucked out of the connections. Blogging allowed me to make a statement or a claim and then spend 500 words explaining it. On FB I became very cautious of my status updates, because I just didn't know who might be reading it. I didn't want my family to misunderstand a snarky comment or my high school friends to misinterpret me and think I was still the same self-righteous prig I used to be.

Facebook makes me rise back to the surface of myself and be pleasant. Admit it. You don't put deep feelings on a status. You don't want to post, "Cried myself to sleep last night. I don't think I want to be a mother any more." What?!?! DHR will be knocking any minute. Or how about posting, "My sin overwhelms me. I long for heaven." My aunt would have the suicide hotline make a house call.

But blogging... ahhh, that quiet little bubble where only people who WANT to know me come. That still place where I can think through my thoughts and send the results out into the void, not knowing who, if anyone, will read it.

I used to blog two or three times a week. I haven't blogged with any substance in almost a year. Maybe more. I don't like that. I like thinking and typing. I miss sending things out into the great unknown and waving as it goes. I like to be poetic sometimes. And I really like you... whoever you may be, who is reading this right now. I'm waving at you. Wave back with a review if you want. You don't have to; it's not required.

Facebook will continue to be in my life. I have the app after all. But my blog will be my dear, old friend that I sit down with and drink a cuppa and tell all my problems, joys and fears... You're invited too. Come on in. Do you like cream and sugar with your coffee?

Redeeming the House and my Heart

Today, I cleaned out my big hall closet. A lot. Like to the tune of purging three garbage bags out of it. I am so tired of my house being full of s*#t, pardon my cartoon french. I have lost count of how much stuff I've given away. It's so much that my friends are seriously worried that we're moving overseas. My hall closet now has space for more coats and room on the shelf. The bigger hall closet (deemed the "Tornado Closet" because of its location at the center of the house) has floor space and the topmost shelf is almost empty. Maggie's closet, where I had stuff stored, is now empty of my stuff. Next project: the Attic! Duh duh duh *cue scary music* I am so done. It's amazing how much stuff we've accumulated.

In the process, I homeschooled. Ty and I went through his entire Algebra book to date and went over the processes that he was unsure of. Brody and I did a math lesson and then I gave him some books on tape to keep him busy and happy. A while later, I heard his growl of frustration and made my way to where he was nested, only to find out "the stupid tape is broken!"... except it was at the end of the tape and needed to either be flipped over or rewound. For a child raised with his own iPod, this was a major inconvenience. He made himself a sandwich while it rewound.

Maggie and I had a great, ongoing conversation about life today. She's ridiculously funny. So witty. She got a new full sized bed yesterday and she tried not to move from it today. She ate, did school, helped me sort boxes, all from the squishy firmness of her "big girl" bed.

Chris and I discussed the cluster that was Maggie's check up yesterday. Her pediatrician is losing his mind. He interrupted, assumed, and lectured to the point that I was almost rude to him. He stopped. Chris recommended a carefully worded email.

I did all these things almost simultaneously today. My house isn't super clean but it is tidy. The kids did their school. The closets got cleaned. I got several long, whispery hugs from Chris that I am completely addicted to. And I found this... a page of homework from the very first time I went through Discipling by Grace circa 1999:

"While trying to do this assignment - Chris wants help going through his suits to give some away, Maggie wants to have a dialogue on why we should go to McDonald's, and Ty lets me know that he has poop in his pants. I get VERY angry every time I hear "Mommy! Mommy!" I'M TRYING TO WORK!"

And

"I woke up - sick, fatigued. Then I look around and now I'm overwhelmed. The floors need vacuuming, there are dishes in the sink, the table is full of the junk I emptied out of the van, my desk is overrun with papers, there are toys everywhere, the bathroom is dirty, etc, etc, etc. I end up either doing nothing and feeling disgusted with myself OR I push myself to clean and am mean to the kids and get even sicker."

I was dumbstruck at the difference in myself in the last twelve years. I wish I could go back in time and get myself to understand that the children and Chris WERE my job. Who gives a flying rat's ass about the dishes or the vacuuming? Those are just things that needed doing. My family was my job. I remember being so task oriented that Maggie and Ty were just interruptions.

In my defense, that's how you do every other job on the face of the earth. You have a job description. You have a list of tasks that need to be done and you do them. But being a mother is not a list of tasks or a job; it is a living, breathing, organic experience. It's not like pooping. It's like breathing. You don't put it off or try to hurry it along. You just breathe.

And also in my defense, I was still relatively new (just a few years) to the whole experience of washing dishes and clothes and cooking... I still had to think about them. As time has gone on and I've gotten so accustomed to doing those things, I don't have to give them a second thought. Remember when you learned to tie your shoes? For years after, you had to force your fingers into the right position, maybe even repeat under your breath the steps, "X them over, loop, over, under, loop, through, pull." When's the last time you had to think about tying your shoes? Huh? You can't even remember. You can talk on the phone, do whatever, and tie your shoes. That's what housework is like to me now. I do it without ever giving it conscious thought. But back then, back when my kids were little, I still had to think about it. And add to that the constant demand of their persistent voices and no wonder I got so frustrated!

The older I've gotten, the more relaxed I've gotten. There's a reason for that: I am not defined by the state of my house or how nice my kids are to me. My kids are sinners just like me. They don't mean to be unkind to me. They don't try to hurt my feelings. They are just like me. I don't try to be selfish or say mean things to people. But I get caught up in my own little world and before I know it, I've hurt someone. That's what they did to me. Poor things. They had no idea why I was so angry with them all the time.

I mentioned this to them tonight and asked them if they remembered it. Nope. Not even a little. They have no recollection of a messy house or a screaming mother. They remembered the walks we took in the woods and the trips to my mother's house. And today, my two oldest, at different times without knowledge of the other, came to me, hugged me and told me thank you for all the ways I helped them today.

I wish I could tell my younger self to hang in there. One day, they get older and become aware of you as a person. One day, all that housework becomes second nature. One day, they clean up after themselves. One day, they look down upon you and say "Thank you."

God's grace is sufficient. For my sin, for my children's memories, and for my heart. He is making even this right. Redemption is a beautiful thing.

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...