The Weight of the World...

Wow. Today was kind of one of those days where I want to change the world. Its such an awefully big place! Its pretty overwhelming, though exciting too.

After lunch this afternoon, Connor whipped up some ice coffee for the two of us (nobody else was home, so they totally missed out) and we a a siblingly chat in our homeade cafe. It's nice to sit and talk about life, and the possibilities of the future. I guess you could say we're both learning to be globally minded, and being 15 and 18 in a increasingly globalizing world, possibilities for going, doing, and being seem to be exploding on our horizons. At least distant horizons, that is :) I don't know what I will do with my life...honestly I'm giving it every day to God and I know I will only go where He leads, but I am excited that He is a God of Future and Hope.

After taking multiple missions trips, going through a rather intensive geography class this school year, and nosing curiously into various cultures and stories, I'm suddenly burdened with the staggering weight of the world's problems. It's not something I'm supposed to bear, I suppose, but I've been feeling it rather keenly. Racial hatred in Rwanda, nuclear weapons in Iran, Israel's struggle for their promise land, unloved orphans in China, darkness and depression in Ukraine, hungry children in India, the persecuted church in many nations, AIDs and the ravages of the late slave trade all over Africa...it goes on and on...I have to humbly admit, I can't, and don't, carry the burden, even in prayer; but I often feel guilty for not doing so! I end up thinking I'm expected to do something about it when perhaps God would just have me sensitively open up my heart to share His pain and joy. "My burden is easy and light..."

Connor and I's approaches to changing the world are a bit different. While I open up my heart to painful issues and then suddenly feel like a ten ton boulder has smashed it into the ground, Connor seems to maintain hope and have ideas about how to give it. It's called vision, I think. He was just mentioning this afternoon how cool it is for people to help start micro businesses in third world countries (such as loaning a poverty stricken family money to get a small fridge and some chickens...wallah! A grocery store!) I've heard this really works. Usually I find myself crying about orphaned kids...or a similar trouble. A few days ago in a conversation I heard about an orphanage in China...there is this room where kids just lay there silently, all day. "They don't even cry anymore, because they know no one is coming." Wow. Yesterday morning at breakfast our family was having an expostulation over whether and why Mexicans call Mexico the United States of America (an interesting thought) and why WE have the right to call ourselves that...and I just burst out "I'm so sick of all the conflict! I just want to go back to bed!" Aside from the fact that I'd just gotten up on the wrong side of the bed, I am just so worn out thinking of all the conflicts between all the countries in the whole wide world...and we Americans always thinking we're better! I'm sick of my own predjudices and those of my country. I know there can be no peace without Jesus...but I can hardly live with myself sometimes.

When my family reads this, they'll groan. What they're sick of is my scruples, the constant wrestling matches with my conscience, and the garbled guts that get spilled on them frequently. But I have to ask these questions. How can I live responsibly in a world where the skirt I just bought, cost, (on sale) the equivalent of what an Indian man can support his family on decently for two weeks? How can I rationally justify my life up against 1 John 3:16-20? How can I extricate myself from the cultural expectations of a grossly materialistic society? And what about my feeble prayers? I want to "set my heart at rest in His presence" but I am pretty confused and tormented by a lot of things. I cling to His blood that saves me, and trust that He'll show me the way before I experience heart failure...

Having a Birthday Party

It's a sticky March night. Mattie is having her 11th birthday party, a campout with four friends...they're out playing capture the flag. I was going to join them, but instead elected to be master photographer and put the pictures on the computer for a slide show. In the process I "replaced" some other important pictures accidentally...what a cold horrible feeling inside. I have a sense of loss. It was kind of the traumatizing end for the day.

Oh, but we're starting fireworks now :) I've got to let it go.

It's fun watching a bunch of giggling girls and wondering if my 11th birthday was like this. I think so, but can't remember the particulars. I know that I had four friends over, just like this...but we didn't spend the night in the tent. The conversations are interesting. Here are a few tidbits.

"I love going to the dentist"
"The doctor gives you candy if you're really good and don't cry, but the dentist only gives you mints."
"sometimes he gives you a toothbrush."
"You mean you've never had your teeth cleaned at the dentist?"
"Why don't you ever go to the dentist?"

"Does anybody need another napkin?"
"Uh, I could use some water"
"And I'd like some more apple juice please."
"I'll take dr. Pepper"

"Ooh! I want some coffee! I always have coffee after meals"

"I picked brown because I never see you wearing black."

"It's time for fireworks!"
"This is the worst fireworks show I've ever seen." (Before it starts)
POP! POP! POP!!! Bam BAM BANG! (light spewing forth)
Eeeee!! OOoooo! Ahhhh!
(Giggles and other loud noises)

Yeah...there were funnier things but I can't remember them now. We took a walk in the dark, the five giddy girls trailing along, arm in arm, with Ethan hovering nearby. They all were wearing pink and blue hankies (party favors.) Connor, Mom, Dad, and I amused ourselves by quoting the new favorite movie of the month, Hoodwinked ("Can't believe I'm sayin' this, but...drink up.") Then Dad put a (rather large) balloon under his shirt and said it was his burger belly. More amusement :)

The girls are now engrossed in the newer version of Pride and Predjudice, and the flood of chatter and gurgling has ceased momentarily. Connor wants me to play a "geography game" with him. Considering that we don't have anything you could categorize as a geography game (with the exception of Risk, maybe), I was kind of wondering what he meant. "I just thought maybe we could get out the atlas and do mountain ranges and stuff." I've been plodding through a geography report in the wild ranges of Iran all afternoon more or less, so I'm a tad weary and wary...but hey, anything with Connor and geography mixed has got to be at least a little fun. I'll just see if he can spot the Zagros mountains or Mount Damavand. Or the Dasht-e Lut (a desert in eastern Iran.) oh ho ho, I feel so intelligent. Its almost to the pedantic point.

The smell of popcorn is wafting into my nostrils...the sophisticated characters of P&P are discussing the graces of accomplished women...I can hear giggling and munching from the other room. My lips are chapped. The air conditioner has just come on. I think I'll go...perhaps travel to a far off land with my dear beloved brother.

Spring Break Tidbits

The God who said "Come to me" is still saying come. And calling me by name. Check out Isaiah 43:1 (or 2?)

"Fear not, for I have redeemed you. I have summoned you by name; you are mine."

Fear not. I don't have to ever be afraid of anything...including hypothetical scary things like

being locked in a boxcar
being embarressed
being in a house fire
being forgotten
being unloved
getting sick and throwing up
hurting people
being too timid
going to dentist
doing the wrong thing
not knowing enough
talking to people
taking the SAT

Anything. And that redeemed part...oh it keeps making me cry. In quiet moments, or when music is playing...I remember that I'm forgiven, and that I'm not able to do anything on my own. I have to be near my Savior.

Spring Break has been pleasant and restful so far. I'm still teaching Bronwyn and Broderic this week (or was, the past three mornings) but school is on hold. I'm fascinated by the rate Rodgy and Bron are progressing...and it really just has to do with all the reading they're doing. We go through the same old routine every week, and somehow, like eager young onion stems sprouting secretly out of our winter garden, they are reading with more and more ease. Especially Bron, since she wants to do it at the moment...Rodgy is extremely smart and capable, but sometimes disinterested. I'm so proud of them both.

Honestly, a lot of teaching is coming the other way, too. Since I'm totally inexperienced with this, I'm just learning a lot about kids, communication, and suchlike. Not to mention getting to experience rare and comical moments that come along in a family of five kids (with one on the way.)

A few days ago...(and I almost hesitate to write this...but not enough. Its just such a perfect example of life as a ten year old boy. I've seen it in my brother, but am realizing that it's quite universal) A few days ago, Rodgy whizzed through his phonogram drill (saying the sounds of the letters) and made a perfect score, knocking off his afternoon phonogram practice. He was extremely happy about it. " Rodge saves the day!" he exclaimed, and, bolting out of his chair, proceeded to flex his bared muscles to the max. As he strained harder and harder and his buffness became more and more exceedingly apparent, he suddenly let out a most resounding, shall we say, "roar from below..." I mean, the windows SHOOK! The three of us gasped with laughter for the next five minutes. The next morning Bron piped up..."Rodge, see if you can do that again!" "No," he replied placidly, "I'm out of gas."

I have much more to write, but am out of time. bye!

Spring Break Eve :)

Can you believe it? I'm posting again!

Today was a pleasant day in that it was the last day of normal life until Spring Break begins (it seems like I've been waiting all my life for Spring Break.) I'm really tired of feeling busy. Not necessarily being busy. Most Americans could probably look at my life and guffaw because I really do nothing compared to them...no sports, music, college classes, or "adult things" like full time jobs or running households or mommying. But life goes on non-stop, and it scares me that I might never come to a point where there is nothing to do. Nothing I need or ought to do. I feel harried...haggled...hassled...but God says "Come to me, all who are weary, and I will give you rest..." It's like a sweeping invitation: Come to me...whispered lavishly, not in my ear, but across a field in the afternoon when the sun is beginning to go down. Come.

So yeah, I guess resting is a process and I'll have to keep learning it. Please tell me there's hope! One of the busy (but rather fun) things we did today (Connor, Mattie, and I did some errands) was pick out fabric at Hancock's. I had the bright idea of making a decorative bag...something as exotic and shimmeringly "eastern" as possible...something that's like desert sunsets and sheiks and Arab princesses...the romanticized version. And camels. I have a definite fondness for camels. All humpy and large. Well, somehow I doubt the bag will be exactly what I planned, especially considering my sewing skills *small titters of embarressed amusement* Surely it can't be that hard. The fabric is dupioni silk (please don't ask me what that means...all I know is that it's pretty, and it was in with the "Asian brocades") The silk is a brownish gold, and is shimmery and somewhat rough, but light. (No, that isn't an oxymoron!) The ribbons were red with gold embroidery and beading, gold and brown design, chocolate satin, and gold. Then I purchased tiny red beads and gold sequins to sew on...exotic indeed! So, we'll see what happens!

Library Adventures, etc.

It's been much longer than I meant to go without posting. I've actually been wondering if I would even post again 'til I graduate, because nothing ever seems to be finished, and I try to wait till my work is done to post...so much for being a good girl. Life goes on, in spite of itself. In spite of school, which, though a strain, is really quite enjoyable in general. What will I do without it?

I think I'll:

1. Keep learning
2. Attempt to help others learn :)

This morning, instead of having quizzes and spelling lessons, etc, Bronwyn, Rodgy, I went to the public library with Deb and the other kids. AHHH!! There are so many books! What do you pick? There is honestly some scary stuff in that library, and you can't just go letting them devour the shelves, as some kids (like my sister) want to do at certain stages of reading. Once my Dad found a book in the kids section called "How to Sue Your Parents." Ouch. So anyway, having left the handy dandy list at home, I was sort of at a loss as to what to help the kids find... Yes, there are those time honored classics I loved when I was knee-high to a grasshopper, but it seems that a mere ten years has totally uncoolified the cool books. I didn't think I was that old, honestly. Really, though, if you can just get them to peer past the covers...the classics are still classic. A few we ended up with were: Georgie the Friendly Ghost, Heckedy Peg (gotta love the illustrations!), Meet Felicity, Encyclopedia Brown, The Three Trins (by the guy who wrote Babe). Remembering how that last one used to crack me up, I recommended it to Rodge. Taking it from me with an Eeyorish expression, he appealed to a higher court (his mother) concerning the injustices inflicted upon him. "Do I have to read this?" The verdict was...yes. (Wicked inward laughter welling up inside me) Just you wait. Its gonna be great. Oh, the adventures of reading.

It really is difficult ot figure out what a very intelligent, pessimistic, no-nonsense third-almost-fourth grade boy would be interested in reading. Never having been in that spot, I wouldn't know. I'm all excited about introducing the likes of Grimms Fairytales, but somehow I'm thinking that's not going to cut it :)

Yesterday I got to experience an Ethiopian meal at geography...Mrs. Burklin had made some injera. (I think that's what you call it) We sat at a low table instead of the [more authentic] floor, and ate with our fingers, scooping up the chicken and sauce with the dark brown tortilla shaped bread. I hadn't had a good finger-eating fix since India, and thoroughly enjoyed it. Made Connor jealous. Sadly, I always compare everything to India, (is it more Indian or more Western?), so while the meal was African... I was thinking of India. Connor and I think we need to have an India night and make curry, chapati, dal, and chai...use our Indian chai cups and golden elephant table cloth, dress up in kurtas and stuff...I could wear my new jangly anklet...it could be quite fun. Oh, and don't forget the gulab jamons...a sumptuous syrupy dessert. Well, if we do it, he will have to help cook, is all.

On Sunday we went to the Daffodil Farms...it was beautiful, and pretty cold and windy. We bummed around and took pictures, etc. We also happened to see Bob the Doughnut Man. No, that isn't a tv show. He happens to be the guy who works at (runs?) Shipley's Donuts
(the best in town, most definitely), an old family aquaintance. And I do mean old. Not that he is extremely ancient, but he was probably the first person my dad met when he moved here, several years before I was born. I don't know about the first...but, you know, it sounds good. That doughnut shop is a special place. First Dad went there, then he'd take my mom, and then they would bring their little tykes in...awww...legacy...heritage...So we've kind of half known this guy for years. Not that I had actually talked to him before, but I remember when he used to throw flour at us as we watched him knead the donuts from behind the window, and occasionally my dad sees him around town. He remembers searching the garbage for my mom's keys at the shop. It's just extremely wierd that he's a real person who goes to the daffodil gardens just like us. He seems mythical. Like the doughnut man of yore...