Wow. The "Honest Words" at the end of the last post set me to thinking. I said I wanted to be myself more on my blog instead of trying to avoid writing complaints or grumbles that I often have...
I realized that I may never have explained the name of my blog, "Notes from a Nearsighted Soul." I called it that because my aim in it is to write honestly about the close-up things in life. There are so many small things in our lives that beg to be taken under a microscope and written about- like kittens and berry picking and five-year-old boys. So when I sit down to write, I tend to peer around and pluck a few tender, ripe ideas that would go unnoticed from a larger, grander view. Hence my soul being "nearsighted."
Often, the "little things" in life are simple, happy, or funny. But sometimes the "little things" are not so idyillic, and I've felt uncertain about exposing those, too. When I do write about anything like tiredness, sickness, boredom, frustration, or chores, I feel apprehensive, fearing that it will bother or bore people.
If my aim is to write about the thoughts or things that are "close at hand," then I should write about the frustrating as well as the felicitous :) If you think about the blog as being nearsighted, there is room to remember that the little things in life, no matter how delightful or annoying, are just what is "seen in a glass dimly." My far sight, though a little weak and wavering at times, is set on God, whose unsearchable mystery engulfs my little world like a tidal wave.
"Thanks be to God, who has given us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ!"
Saturday, May 31, 2008
A Wood Chopping Party and a Few Honest Words
I was just majorly joyified by the discovery that my dear Anna has updated her blog like, a million times since she left me. I hadn't checked in a while because she had quit updating, so it was a very pleasant surprise.
This morning I had a laugh at the gas station when I went to buy ice for our "wood chopping party." As I hopped in the truck to leave, a guy pulled up and got out of the vehicle with four little boys, all about 6 and under. They all had blond hair, and all but the youngest had it shaved in a long mohawk with a sort of possum-like tail trailing down their necks! Yes, folks, this is East Texas :) I just love little boys. (Though that bunch looked like a pack of little terrors!)
As I mentioned before, we had a wood chopping party today. Dad cut down a few sweetgum trees in our side yard that would make good fire wood- ones that were leaning too close to the house anyway, I think. He got several guys from church to help him chop it up and stack it to be used for heating for the next winter or two. We have a wood stove, and we use it to heat the house most of the winter. It's very cozy, and saves money, too.
Mom and I spent the morning makin' vittles for the lumberjacks :) She made a berry cobbler and I worked on the burgers and then made sweet tea, which I characteristically forgot to stir the second time I added sugar. It was kind of fun, even though we both woke up exhausted this morning and didn't start out with much energy. (Ok, I woke up exhausted- Mom, on the other hand, didn't wake up exhausted because I don't think she ever went to sleep.)
Preparing lunch was fine with me. I was just everlastingly grateful I didn't have to get out there and haul firewood myself. Dad seems to have a plan to keep me active out of doors, but I think he knew this would prove a little too much for all of us :)
Hmm...I'm twisting my hair now, trying to churn up something to write. All I can think of is how tired I am and how irritated I am that I'm tired for what doesn't seem like a good enough reason (1:00 a.m. isn't that late), and how my neck is so full of knots it could be mistaken for a fishing net. And how it's horrible to be blogging my complaints and I really shouldn't because nobody wants to read about my pathetic ailments but I really want to talk about it because it's been on the verge of spilling over all day and my poor mom is sick of hearing about it, or maybe I just think she's sick of it so I haven't actually been talking about but shoving it all back inside to moulder instead (and is moulder even a word? I have no idea where I got it.) If I just get it out, I think I'll be ok.
Oh, and while I'm at it, I don't have a very good appetite, which is alarming to a healthy member of this family, where we eat three generally well-rounded meals a day, regardless of how we feel...I'm really not stressed or upset about anything, but my body is acting like it is. So. It and I will have to have a talk. And I will say:
"Listen here, you body of mine! No more nocturnal dreamland travels, no more wee-morning-hour thinks, no more restless tangling up in blankets at night. No more turning your nose up at perfectly decent food when our stomach says we're hungry! In the morning, you and I are going to eat a protein-rich breakfast without complaint like a good human being, and a hearty lunch, and so forth. You are going to be active in the day time and perfectly docile at night, and quit this sneaking around behind my back to stress over random things that I've decided not to fret about!! There now. Run along and play."
And I'm sure it will be perfectly obliging. Well. I feel better already. My goal is always to write honestly on my blog, but sometimes I feel like I have to put on a happy face for it to be worth reading. I'm really going to try to just be myself though, and write what is close at hand. If it's too depressing or complainy, then, oh well. Just "love me or leave me." :)
This morning I had a laugh at the gas station when I went to buy ice for our "wood chopping party." As I hopped in the truck to leave, a guy pulled up and got out of the vehicle with four little boys, all about 6 and under. They all had blond hair, and all but the youngest had it shaved in a long mohawk with a sort of possum-like tail trailing down their necks! Yes, folks, this is East Texas :) I just love little boys. (Though that bunch looked like a pack of little terrors!)
As I mentioned before, we had a wood chopping party today. Dad cut down a few sweetgum trees in our side yard that would make good fire wood- ones that were leaning too close to the house anyway, I think. He got several guys from church to help him chop it up and stack it to be used for heating for the next winter or two. We have a wood stove, and we use it to heat the house most of the winter. It's very cozy, and saves money, too.
Mom and I spent the morning makin' vittles for the lumberjacks :) She made a berry cobbler and I worked on the burgers and then made sweet tea, which I characteristically forgot to stir the second time I added sugar. It was kind of fun, even though we both woke up exhausted this morning and didn't start out with much energy. (Ok, I woke up exhausted- Mom, on the other hand, didn't wake up exhausted because I don't think she ever went to sleep.)
Preparing lunch was fine with me. I was just everlastingly grateful I didn't have to get out there and haul firewood myself. Dad seems to have a plan to keep me active out of doors, but I think he knew this would prove a little too much for all of us :)
Hmm...I'm twisting my hair now, trying to churn up something to write. All I can think of is how tired I am and how irritated I am that I'm tired for what doesn't seem like a good enough reason (1:00 a.m. isn't that late), and how my neck is so full of knots it could be mistaken for a fishing net. And how it's horrible to be blogging my complaints and I really shouldn't because nobody wants to read about my pathetic ailments but I really want to talk about it because it's been on the verge of spilling over all day and my poor mom is sick of hearing about it, or maybe I just think she's sick of it so I haven't actually been talking about but shoving it all back inside to moulder instead (and is moulder even a word? I have no idea where I got it.) If I just get it out, I think I'll be ok.
Oh, and while I'm at it, I don't have a very good appetite, which is alarming to a healthy member of this family, where we eat three generally well-rounded meals a day, regardless of how we feel...I'm really not stressed or upset about anything, but my body is acting like it is. So. It and I will have to have a talk. And I will say:
"Listen here, you body of mine! No more nocturnal dreamland travels, no more wee-morning-hour thinks, no more restless tangling up in blankets at night. No more turning your nose up at perfectly decent food when our stomach says we're hungry! In the morning, you and I are going to eat a protein-rich breakfast without complaint like a good human being, and a hearty lunch, and so forth. You are going to be active in the day time and perfectly docile at night, and quit this sneaking around behind my back to stress over random things that I've decided not to fret about!! There now. Run along and play."
And I'm sure it will be perfectly obliging. Well. I feel better already. My goal is always to write honestly on my blog, but sometimes I feel like I have to put on a happy face for it to be worth reading. I'm really going to try to just be myself though, and write what is close at hand. If it's too depressing or complainy, then, oh well. Just "love me or leave me." :)
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Wierd Dreams and A Mark Twain Book
Hmmm. It seems like time for a good blog post, but now that I have the chance to write, I can’t seem to collect the thoughts I had. Some of them condensed on my brain like water droplets while I weeded the garden this morning (Dad is determined to keep me from getting bored). Others emerged in the wee hours when I woke at 3:30 a.m. and entertained the cat with my tossing. Couldn’t sleep.
Mainly, I was composing imaginary updates that I would like to be writing from Ukraine :) I composed some blog entries and other literary masterpieces, as well, but I think they’re lost to history.
When I finally drifted off to sleep again, I dreamed that I was in Ukraine, in an apartment near a field. I can’t remember what happened, except that I was only there for a short visit. In the dream, I told Bronwyn, “I have to go home now (it was Thursday), but on Wednesday I’m coming back.” Then my Dad drove me home from Ukraine, and on the way we got in a hold up with a guy with a rifle who said we were trespassing on his land. I have no idea how it turned out.
A week or two I had another dream about Ukraine, in which I was feeding and changing a lot of babies. They weren’t the Crowes’, and they weren’t mine—I don’t know exactly whose they were. I thought I was in Ukraine, but then was aware that I couldn’t go outside without a headscarf, so…??? Was I a Babushka?
I also dreamed that I went exploring in the wilderness with two complete strangers. Maybe I was Sacagawea.
So far, I don’t think I’ve had any dreams with real meaning. I think with those kind, you know when you wake up that it was special. All I thought about waking up from last night’s dream was that I must have read too much of Mark Twain’s Roughing It yesterday while I was waiting for Grammie in the dentist’s office!
Roughing It is about two brothers who adventure to the wild west in a stagecoach after one of them is made the secretary of Nevada. So far there isn’t much plot, but plenty of characteristic Twainesque humor :) What a funny guy, and what a way with words. My favorite parts are what he has to say about the secretary’s dictionary, which pops up several times in the course of the travels.
(They were each allowed 25 lbs. of luggage on the coach)
“My brother, the Secretary, took along about four pounds of United States statues and six pounds of unabridged dictionary…”
(Later, when they are traveling through the night by stage, trying to sleep on top of stacks of mail in the coach.)
“…every time we flew down one bank and scrambled up another, the company inside got mixed somewhat…Every time we avalanched from one end of the stage to the other, the unabridged dictionary would come too; and every time it came it damaged somebody. One trip it “barked” the secretary’s elbow; the next trip it hurt me in the stomach, and the third it tilted Bemis’s nose up till he could look down his nostrils—he said.”
So, Mark Twain and the dreams of the Definitely Disturbed…
P.S. I did succeed in installing setting up Skype!!! I really did it! I haven't ventured to make a call yet, but at least I have the option now.
Mainly, I was composing imaginary updates that I would like to be writing from Ukraine :) I composed some blog entries and other literary masterpieces, as well, but I think they’re lost to history.
When I finally drifted off to sleep again, I dreamed that I was in Ukraine, in an apartment near a field. I can’t remember what happened, except that I was only there for a short visit. In the dream, I told Bronwyn, “I have to go home now (it was Thursday), but on Wednesday I’m coming back.” Then my Dad drove me home from Ukraine, and on the way we got in a hold up with a guy with a rifle who said we were trespassing on his land. I have no idea how it turned out.
A week or two I had another dream about Ukraine, in which I was feeding and changing a lot of babies. They weren’t the Crowes’, and they weren’t mine—I don’t know exactly whose they were. I thought I was in Ukraine, but then was aware that I couldn’t go outside without a headscarf, so…??? Was I a Babushka?
I also dreamed that I went exploring in the wilderness with two complete strangers. Maybe I was Sacagawea.
So far, I don’t think I’ve had any dreams with real meaning. I think with those kind, you know when you wake up that it was special. All I thought about waking up from last night’s dream was that I must have read too much of Mark Twain’s Roughing It yesterday while I was waiting for Grammie in the dentist’s office!
Roughing It is about two brothers who adventure to the wild west in a stagecoach after one of them is made the secretary of Nevada. So far there isn’t much plot, but plenty of characteristic Twainesque humor :) What a funny guy, and what a way with words. My favorite parts are what he has to say about the secretary’s dictionary, which pops up several times in the course of the travels.
(They were each allowed 25 lbs. of luggage on the coach)
“My brother, the Secretary, took along about four pounds of United States statues and six pounds of unabridged dictionary…”
(Later, when they are traveling through the night by stage, trying to sleep on top of stacks of mail in the coach.)
“…every time we flew down one bank and scrambled up another, the company inside got mixed somewhat…Every time we avalanched from one end of the stage to the other, the unabridged dictionary would come too; and every time it came it damaged somebody. One trip it “barked” the secretary’s elbow; the next trip it hurt me in the stomach, and the third it tilted Bemis’s nose up till he could look down his nostrils—he said.”
So, Mark Twain and the dreams of the Definitely Disturbed…
P.S. I did succeed in installing setting up Skype!!! I really did it! I haven't ventured to make a call yet, but at least I have the option now.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Good Morning!
Good morning!!!
It is good morning! Even this Eeyore says so :) Presently, I have five toenails painted a shiny wisteria purple, and the other five completely bare. The perfect state of readiness for the day. But hey, I'm feeling pretty happy right now, which, in the words of Nemo's dad, "is a pretty big deal, for me!"
Ethan wants me to set up army men with him, and since I've been ignoring the poor kid for the past week at least, I feel obligated...
So, a quick word of hope: Just when you finally lay your head in the dust, God comes, taps you on the shoulder, and says "Awake, sleeper, and Christ will shine on you..." and then He does :) And that is the perfect state of readiness, no matter what my toenails look like...
It is good morning! Even this Eeyore says so :) Presently, I have five toenails painted a shiny wisteria purple, and the other five completely bare. The perfect state of readiness for the day. But hey, I'm feeling pretty happy right now, which, in the words of Nemo's dad, "is a pretty big deal, for me!"
Ethan wants me to set up army men with him, and since I've been ignoring the poor kid for the past week at least, I feel obligated...
So, a quick word of hope: Just when you finally lay your head in the dust, God comes, taps you on the shoulder, and says "Awake, sleeper, and Christ will shine on you..." and then He does :) And that is the perfect state of readiness, no matter what my toenails look like...
Monday, May 26, 2008
Downloading the Inevitable
"She gets kidnapped. He gets killed.
But it all ends up okay."
This quote from the back of the Princess Bride dvd case made me laugh. Connor showed it to me a few minutes ago. It's good to face the impossible :)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This morning I'm trying to enter the wonderful world of Skype. I have watched the boxes of the two shiny Webcams Gracie gave me for my birthday for a couple of months now, admittedly with some shame and dread. They lurk in the closet and ogle me with mild, silent taunts Technology! I want to run screaming in the opposite direction
But I'm also very glad to have the cute little eyeballs (they remind me of Mike Wyzowski from Monsters, Inc. The benefits of having them with most certainly outweigh the pains of installing them. And people say it's so easy, though I have my doubts. But. I have taken the first step. I have opened the box. Compared with other box-opening experiences I've had, it was pretty painless. The little eyeball is as adorable out of the box as the pictures show.
So now I have to dive in and try to download the inevitable. Heaven have mercy.
But it all ends up okay."
This quote from the back of the Princess Bride dvd case made me laugh. Connor showed it to me a few minutes ago. It's good to face the impossible :)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This morning I'm trying to enter the wonderful world of Skype. I have watched the boxes of the two shiny Webcams Gracie gave me for my birthday for a couple of months now, admittedly with some shame and dread. They lurk in the closet and ogle me with mild, silent taunts Technology! I want to run screaming in the opposite direction
But I'm also very glad to have the cute little eyeballs (they remind me of Mike Wyzowski from Monsters, Inc. The benefits of having them with most certainly outweigh the pains of installing them. And people say it's so easy, though I have my doubts. But. I have taken the first step. I have opened the box. Compared with other box-opening experiences I've had, it was pretty painless. The little eyeball is as adorable out of the box as the pictures show.
So now I have to dive in and try to download the inevitable. Heaven have mercy.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
(Not) A Red Letter Day
Hmm...I got on here not knowing what I will write about, so there's no telling what will come out...
It would be embarressing to report what time I had breakfast today, so I guess I won't. hmm. The Jackson girls were over spending the night with Mattie, and they asked me to swim with them at our cousins above ground pool next door. That was before I had had breakfast.
After I ate breakfast, I donned my swimsuit and went up there. The girls were horsing around with Jane an Mary and having a lot of fun. As soon as I came within view, a great cheer arose on my behalf. You would have thought I was a celebrity! I was a little startled at all the to-do. All the girls are so sweet.
Ethan was in his normal stance perched on top of the ladder in a life jacket, just like last year. Just like last year, it took some sweet talking to get him to actually enter the pool, and that was still in the life jacket, clinging to me like a baby monkey.
But he did warm up to the water some, and by the end of the swim time he had let me peel off the jacket and done some kicking and ladder climbing. And also laid on top of me while I laid in the inflatable boat, trying to keep warm. (It was very stifling and muggy today, but the water was cold, and it was overcast some of the time.)
After a lot of laying around and a few games (it's not actually very easy to swim in a three and a half foot pool) I decided to take E home, because he was turning blue, and I was definitely ready to go myself. I got home and saw that we'd been out there for nearly two hours! I had thought I'd only stay about 30 or 45 minutes...
Ethan and I were ravenous, so I got us some cheese and crackers and an apple. Well, I got cheese for his crackers. Fishing around in the fridge for whatever looked tasty, I settled on dill pickle for some of mine, and seedless blackberry jam for others. Then I made a list of All the Little Things That Were Nagging Me and set about doing them in between crackers.
I washed my hair, started laundry, sent an email, made a phone call, clipped my nails, dusted the living room (a leftover chore from Friday), and finally got to the hemming jobs Grammie gave me this past week. It was a little scary figuring out the new sewing machine, but it's a good machine, and we're getting to know each other. As I get used to it, I think my seams will get neater and smoother. It was supper time when I finished the sewing, but I got it done.
If life doesn't sound very exciting today, well, it's not. No thunder or lightning or flying aardvarks. I think we're having Blue Bell ice cream later on...but that doesn't quite make the charts I guess. The word "serenity" comes to mind as I sit here...when I look at my life (aside from internal emotional difficulties that wax and wane) it does look serene and peaceful. And kind of boring. No adventures.
I think when it comes down to it, I need the serenity to accept the serene-ness of my life. Maybe it wasn't a red letter day, but Jesus himself is the same yesterday, today, and forever. He's also the one who "makes all things new" and can (and will) change everything in the "blink of an eye." He can surprise me with joy at any time, night or day. Someday He will come back and surprise us all face to face.
I guess the virgins in the parable weren't getting a lot of thrills out of sitting around watching their oil lamps, but they derived joy from anticipating the arrival of the Bridegroom. So I guess I just want to keep being faithful...
It would be embarressing to report what time I had breakfast today, so I guess I won't. hmm. The Jackson girls were over spending the night with Mattie, and they asked me to swim with them at our cousins above ground pool next door. That was before I had had breakfast.
After I ate breakfast, I donned my swimsuit and went up there. The girls were horsing around with Jane an Mary and having a lot of fun. As soon as I came within view, a great cheer arose on my behalf. You would have thought I was a celebrity! I was a little startled at all the to-do. All the girls are so sweet.
Ethan was in his normal stance perched on top of the ladder in a life jacket, just like last year. Just like last year, it took some sweet talking to get him to actually enter the pool, and that was still in the life jacket, clinging to me like a baby monkey.
But he did warm up to the water some, and by the end of the swim time he had let me peel off the jacket and done some kicking and ladder climbing. And also laid on top of me while I laid in the inflatable boat, trying to keep warm. (It was very stifling and muggy today, but the water was cold, and it was overcast some of the time.)
After a lot of laying around and a few games (it's not actually very easy to swim in a three and a half foot pool) I decided to take E home, because he was turning blue, and I was definitely ready to go myself. I got home and saw that we'd been out there for nearly two hours! I had thought I'd only stay about 30 or 45 minutes...
Ethan and I were ravenous, so I got us some cheese and crackers and an apple. Well, I got cheese for his crackers. Fishing around in the fridge for whatever looked tasty, I settled on dill pickle for some of mine, and seedless blackberry jam for others. Then I made a list of All the Little Things That Were Nagging Me and set about doing them in between crackers.
I washed my hair, started laundry, sent an email, made a phone call, clipped my nails, dusted the living room (a leftover chore from Friday), and finally got to the hemming jobs Grammie gave me this past week. It was a little scary figuring out the new sewing machine, but it's a good machine, and we're getting to know each other. As I get used to it, I think my seams will get neater and smoother. It was supper time when I finished the sewing, but I got it done.
If life doesn't sound very exciting today, well, it's not. No thunder or lightning or flying aardvarks. I think we're having Blue Bell ice cream later on...but that doesn't quite make the charts I guess. The word "serenity" comes to mind as I sit here...when I look at my life (aside from internal emotional difficulties that wax and wane) it does look serene and peaceful. And kind of boring. No adventures.
I think when it comes down to it, I need the serenity to accept the serene-ness of my life. Maybe it wasn't a red letter day, but Jesus himself is the same yesterday, today, and forever. He's also the one who "makes all things new" and can (and will) change everything in the "blink of an eye." He can surprise me with joy at any time, night or day. Someday He will come back and surprise us all face to face.
I guess the virgins in the parable weren't getting a lot of thrills out of sitting around watching their oil lamps, but they derived joy from anticipating the arrival of the Bridegroom. So I guess I just want to keep being faithful...
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Hugged
God loves little prayers. And it's so wonderful how such a little thing as a shirt can brighten life up so much!
I'm never one to recommend shopping as an antidote for the blues. In fact, for me, it usually causes the blues! I was happy to be out with Mattie and Jane today, but I confess, passing rack after rack of clothes I couldn't reasonably buy or wear didn't appeal to me. We had a fun lunch together at Cheddars, and I just wandered through the stores, playing chauffeur and trying to just enjoy my role as big sis.
But I'm just a normal female...I do have a soft spot for pretty clothes. I'm not immune to wanting nice things when I see them. I even gave in and tried on a few things my conscience warned me about, but a sense of being a lady and the knowledge that I need to pinch every penny for the sake of my dear visa dragged me back to reality.
I wasn't there to shop, I was there to be with the girls. But, there was that little lurking discontentment. I thought through my wardrobe. I have plenty of clothes. They are good clothes. I've figured out by now that it's no use comparing myself to other people, because I'll always be a lot poorer than one person and a lot richer than another. I'm pretty blessed, and after all, that's just one less thing I'll have to pack...
We moved from store to store pretty quickly, because it was a shopping trip in honor of Jane's birthday, and she is of my ilk...she flatly refused to buy anything more expensive than eight dollars :) So, we hovered over the clearance racks, and, seeing as all roads lead to Walmart, eventually found ourselves on pilgrimage to that Blessed Institution.
We headed for the clearance rack there, too, where there was a $3 section. Jane and Mattie were raking up, and I was sort of thinking I might possibly if the opportunity arose consider thinking about maybe getting something if it caught my eye...
We noticed all the environmentalist propaganda t-shirts...a step up from nasty slogans about boys, but still not my cup of tea. But then, a nice marine blue t-shirt on the three dollar rack DID catch my eye. It had a light blue whale on the front spouting a cloud of white, on which was effectively printed, "Save the Humans." Immediately I was attached. My ray of hope was soon snuffed out, though, when I saw that all the shirts were several sizes removed from mine.
Shouldering my growing load of miniature disappointments, I moved on, telling God in a brain wave somewhere between whinyness and surrender that it was really ok and if He wanted me to get something, I knew He'd take care of it. It wasn't much of a prayer at all; in fact, it wasn't until, well, a good while later that I remembered it.
So, it was just a bit later (before a "good while" had passed, you know) that I, for some unknown reason, passed by the $3 rack again, from the other side. And there it was. Hanging there by its lonesome was that adorable t-shirt, in my exact size, for yes, three dollars! Favorite color, favorite fit, unbeatable price- not to mention that "Save the Humans" is a cry I'm far more willing to take up than "Save the Striped Spitting Iguanas."
It felt like a hug from God. You know, I'm not very good at being a Christian. I get uptight about money, I covet, I calculate. I think vain thoughts and dither for hours about what is appropriate to wear. But even when I expect God's displeased thumb to squish me and all the muddle, all He seems to see are the ways I'm growing, the little victories, the small, half baked prayers. All he ever does is cheer me on. Finding that simple garment that I liked so much was like the warmth of His favor on me as a little child. It was as if He was saying, with a laugh in His voice, "Way to go, you're so small, but you're doing so well! I love you!"
It sounds like I might be just making up what I want to hear, but I know the voice of my Lord. After all, isn't that what it's all about? Grace...Unmerited favor?
I'm never one to recommend shopping as an antidote for the blues. In fact, for me, it usually causes the blues! I was happy to be out with Mattie and Jane today, but I confess, passing rack after rack of clothes I couldn't reasonably buy or wear didn't appeal to me. We had a fun lunch together at Cheddars, and I just wandered through the stores, playing chauffeur and trying to just enjoy my role as big sis.
But I'm just a normal female...I do have a soft spot for pretty clothes. I'm not immune to wanting nice things when I see them. I even gave in and tried on a few things my conscience warned me about, but a sense of being a lady and the knowledge that I need to pinch every penny for the sake of my dear visa dragged me back to reality.
I wasn't there to shop, I was there to be with the girls. But, there was that little lurking discontentment. I thought through my wardrobe. I have plenty of clothes. They are good clothes. I've figured out by now that it's no use comparing myself to other people, because I'll always be a lot poorer than one person and a lot richer than another. I'm pretty blessed, and after all, that's just one less thing I'll have to pack...
We moved from store to store pretty quickly, because it was a shopping trip in honor of Jane's birthday, and she is of my ilk...she flatly refused to buy anything more expensive than eight dollars :) So, we hovered over the clearance racks, and, seeing as all roads lead to Walmart, eventually found ourselves on pilgrimage to that Blessed Institution.
We headed for the clearance rack there, too, where there was a $3 section. Jane and Mattie were raking up, and I was sort of thinking I might possibly if the opportunity arose consider thinking about maybe getting something if it caught my eye...
We noticed all the environmentalist propaganda t-shirts...a step up from nasty slogans about boys, but still not my cup of tea. But then, a nice marine blue t-shirt on the three dollar rack DID catch my eye. It had a light blue whale on the front spouting a cloud of white, on which was effectively printed, "Save the Humans." Immediately I was attached. My ray of hope was soon snuffed out, though, when I saw that all the shirts were several sizes removed from mine.
Shouldering my growing load of miniature disappointments, I moved on, telling God in a brain wave somewhere between whinyness and surrender that it was really ok and if He wanted me to get something, I knew He'd take care of it. It wasn't much of a prayer at all; in fact, it wasn't until, well, a good while later that I remembered it.
So, it was just a bit later (before a "good while" had passed, you know) that I, for some unknown reason, passed by the $3 rack again, from the other side. And there it was. Hanging there by its lonesome was that adorable t-shirt, in my exact size, for yes, three dollars! Favorite color, favorite fit, unbeatable price- not to mention that "Save the Humans" is a cry I'm far more willing to take up than "Save the Striped Spitting Iguanas."
It felt like a hug from God. You know, I'm not very good at being a Christian. I get uptight about money, I covet, I calculate. I think vain thoughts and dither for hours about what is appropriate to wear. But even when I expect God's displeased thumb to squish me and all the muddle, all He seems to see are the ways I'm growing, the little victories, the small, half baked prayers. All he ever does is cheer me on. Finding that simple garment that I liked so much was like the warmth of His favor on me as a little child. It was as if He was saying, with a laugh in His voice, "Way to go, you're so small, but you're doing so well! I love you!"
It sounds like I might be just making up what I want to hear, but I know the voice of my Lord. After all, isn't that what it's all about? Grace...Unmerited favor?
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Berrypicking and Being Beastly
Well, it seems that all I post about is being tired and cranky, and I don't like the idea of people getting that idea of me, but there's no sense in pretending. I am tired and cranky. At least I feel that way.
I felt rotten all day. I took an 11 o'clock nap in which I lay crumpled in my bed listening to music and whimpering miserably to the Lord about how I didn't want to complain. Even Laila rejected me.
After that I got up and tried to be an asset to society, i.e., help make lunch since Mom was really busy today with cooking. My main work was survival, and refraining from saying irrational mean things to perfectly innocent people. It was miserable, I tell you.
I think after lunch it got better. Mattie and the cousins and I read together outside and nearly finished The Girl of the Limberlost. Mary and Ethan (8 and 5) even joined us, and not only shared snacks, but sat for two hours while I read aloud. Now that's what I call attention span!
It's fun having our little club.
Tonight we went to our grandparents next door to have the supper Grammie made us, which was a delicious one. We visited and watched two baby cardinals fall out of their nest under the jasmine arbor. They looked too little to fly. They were just teeny tufts of down with a big frowny beak fixed on one end.
When the parents came around, they hopped and squeaked and opened up for worms. Frantically hopping here and there, the mother and father seemed to be leading them to a thicket on the edge of the yard, quite a distance away. They spent all evening hopping toward it. I hope they got there in the end.
What a precarious thing it's got to be to watch your babies throw themselves out of the nest on their teeny stubs of legs and hop around, just pathetic little fluffballs, knowing there's nothing in the world you can do to keep them from being eaten alive!! Helps me have more understanding for my Mom :)
It's finally acting like summer. Not that I was hurrying it, mind you! But tonight there was the familiar syrupy sweetness hanging in the air, the crickets singing from lush woods, the wildflowers still blooming in a blast of color along our road.
Flic was over on Sunday and we walked along, picking coral Paint Brushes, tiny purple flowers, big yellow ones, and the russet red ones with yellow on their tips, with the fuzzy center that Flic said reminded her of a caterpillar. I don't know all thier names.
And then the blackberries have come out. Dad, Mattie, Ethan, and I picked for hours on Friday, and then again on Monday, wandering the pasture, sweating and drawing bloodon angry briers, but anticipating the reward of our labors. Dad carefully disciples his little berrypickers along the way, honing our skills.
"You want to pick down low first, and then work up the bush," he says, "So that you don't smoosh the berries around your feet." And then, "Before you move on to the next bush, always look back at it- you'll see more from a different angle." We comb the bushes till the harvest is taken, and then trudge home with heavy jugs nearly full.
Then there is the gratifying moment when you bring in a full milk jug of bleeding berries and set it down in front of Mom, waiting to see what she will say, and she takes the jug, and looks in, and raises her eyebrows, and makes gratifying noises of approval. And then she makes a blackberry cobbler. Now, there's a moment!
I dread summer's heat and humidity and wanting to take multiple showers a day, but there are certain seasonal delights. Berries are among the chiefest.
Tomorrow is a new day. I'm so glad they start over :)
I felt rotten all day. I took an 11 o'clock nap in which I lay crumpled in my bed listening to music and whimpering miserably to the Lord about how I didn't want to complain. Even Laila rejected me.
After that I got up and tried to be an asset to society, i.e., help make lunch since Mom was really busy today with cooking. My main work was survival, and refraining from saying irrational mean things to perfectly innocent people. It was miserable, I tell you.
I think after lunch it got better. Mattie and the cousins and I read together outside and nearly finished The Girl of the Limberlost. Mary and Ethan (8 and 5) even joined us, and not only shared snacks, but sat for two hours while I read aloud. Now that's what I call attention span!
It's fun having our little club.
Tonight we went to our grandparents next door to have the supper Grammie made us, which was a delicious one. We visited and watched two baby cardinals fall out of their nest under the jasmine arbor. They looked too little to fly. They were just teeny tufts of down with a big frowny beak fixed on one end.
When the parents came around, they hopped and squeaked and opened up for worms. Frantically hopping here and there, the mother and father seemed to be leading them to a thicket on the edge of the yard, quite a distance away. They spent all evening hopping toward it. I hope they got there in the end.
What a precarious thing it's got to be to watch your babies throw themselves out of the nest on their teeny stubs of legs and hop around, just pathetic little fluffballs, knowing there's nothing in the world you can do to keep them from being eaten alive!! Helps me have more understanding for my Mom :)
It's finally acting like summer. Not that I was hurrying it, mind you! But tonight there was the familiar syrupy sweetness hanging in the air, the crickets singing from lush woods, the wildflowers still blooming in a blast of color along our road.
Flic was over on Sunday and we walked along, picking coral Paint Brushes, tiny purple flowers, big yellow ones, and the russet red ones with yellow on their tips, with the fuzzy center that Flic said reminded her of a caterpillar. I don't know all thier names.
And then the blackberries have come out. Dad, Mattie, Ethan, and I picked for hours on Friday, and then again on Monday, wandering the pasture, sweating and drawing bloodon angry briers, but anticipating the reward of our labors. Dad carefully disciples his little berrypickers along the way, honing our skills.
"You want to pick down low first, and then work up the bush," he says, "So that you don't smoosh the berries around your feet." And then, "Before you move on to the next bush, always look back at it- you'll see more from a different angle." We comb the bushes till the harvest is taken, and then trudge home with heavy jugs nearly full.
Then there is the gratifying moment when you bring in a full milk jug of bleeding berries and set it down in front of Mom, waiting to see what she will say, and she takes the jug, and looks in, and raises her eyebrows, and makes gratifying noises of approval. And then she makes a blackberry cobbler. Now, there's a moment!
I dread summer's heat and humidity and wanting to take multiple showers a day, but there are certain seasonal delights. Berries are among the chiefest.
Tomorrow is a new day. I'm so glad they start over :)
Friday, May 16, 2008
Happy Belated Birthday, Gracie!
It's a little late, since her b-day was on the 8th, but we're celebrating it today.
My beautiful friend is a young woman of amazing fortitude and quiet strength, which all comes straight from the God she loves so much. She inspires me and helps me persevere. She is one of those Cloud of Witnesses people that the Lord calls His own, and I can't wait to be in the throne room with her someday!
Love you, Gracie! Thanks for good years...
My beautiful friend is a young woman of amazing fortitude and quiet strength, which all comes straight from the God she loves so much. She inspires me and helps me persevere. She is one of those Cloud of Witnesses people that the Lord calls His own, and I can't wait to be in the throne room with her someday!
Love you, Gracie! Thanks for good years...
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Vanya, and Faithfulness
All my housecleaning muscles are tired. Connor and I had tea after lunch and now I want to go back to bed. But I think that is partly because I stayed up till one reading Vanya in my closet. and then Mom, who didn't know of my midnight vigil, woke me up at 6:30 to have coffee time with her. Well, I didn't want to miss that, so I got up, but wasn't a very coherent companion, and when everyone else got up I promptly went back to bed till 10:00. It was very odd.
But, aside from that...Vanya, by Myrna Grant was a very good book, and just what I needed. It's the story of a Russian Christian guy in his late teens who went into the Red Army under Communism and was martyred within a few years. As soon as he went in, they started persecuting, interrogating, and hounding him to renounce Jesus. He was so constant, and every time he underwent another impossible trial, he cried out to God, and God rescued him. So many miracles happened because of him that many of the atheists around him became believers.
My favorite part was his testimony during one of these trials. His authorities sent him to stand outside in sub-zero temperatures in a summer uniform at night until he was willing to deny what they thought of as his religious nonsense. He stood there for hours. When the officers eventually came to check on him, expecting to find him frozen to death, they were shocked to discover him stamping his feet and rubbing his hands, no colder than they were after their five minutes out-of-doors.
Although Vanya was thrilled at the miracle God was doing in keeping him from freezing to death, as soon as the officers left, he became very broken and cried out to God...
"He was no better than any of the young people in his congregation at home. His parents had suffered in difficult situations for years. He knew pastors who had been questioned, arrested, even sent to prison camps. Yet he was touched again and again by God's direct power and deliverance...He didn't want to be special, he didn't deserve miracles or mysteries. He ought to be freezing. He wasn't good enough. Hot tears rimmed his eyes..."
So he cried and prayed and finally was about to fall asleep, when an officer called him inside. The wondering officer asked "What kind of person are you?
And out of his brokenness, Vanya answered, "Oh comrade, I am a person just like you. But I prayed to God and was warm."
This story encouraged me, because even as I read the book, I felt the weight of my own inadequacy and wimpiness. But this reminded me that it's not what I can do, but what God can do. I want to run the race and fight the fight. I want to be like Vanya, like Paul, even like Jesus, as he has called us to be. I want to live a life that faces pain and death with confidence and even joy. I don't want to always try to preserve and shield myself.
But even one of the persecutions Vanya underwent would have put me under. One foul prison cell, one beating, one "refrigeration." I'm a huge wimp. I have plenty of struggles and pains, but my life is so easy, physically, and many ways emotionally, too. I cried when I had the chicken pox and I moaned for days when I sliced my fingernail with the potato peeler. My fingernails stay purple with cold in East Texas winter. Weeding the garden is often my greatest physical hardship, and I have never broken a bone.
I cried to God that I want to pursue Him with all my heart, but I'm not fit to be His saint. I don't have the willpower to undergo Vanya's kind of suffering again and again. I can hardly stand up to my elementary hardships at home...ones like holding back complaints, helping with kitchen chores, and being cheerful in the morning. I am so easily discouraged, so easily reduced to tears, so quickly driven to my knees.
Could this be a good thing? All He seemed to say to me was "You already have what it takes to do this..." and then, "Be faithful, Cass."
Faithful. "Be faithful unto death, and I will give you the crown of life." Revelations 2:10 That was Vanya's last word in a letter to his brother before he was brutally killed. And in Revelations 3:8 there is a dear verse...
"I know your works...for you have a little strength, and have kept my word, and not denied My name."
Really, every time I complain or hurt someone else, I'm denying Jesus' name. He has forgiven me for those sins, but doesn't this mean that I'm fighting the same fight Vanya fought so faithfully? God has made me small and weak. I am like a cat, finicky, pampered, wanting to avoid the water as long as possible. Vanya, Paul, and many of my friends seem like joyful, bounding puppies, so ready to get down and dirty, to bear anything. But maybe He has a special place for this weak one. If I truly am driven to my knees, and not into the pit of despair, so much the better. If I am driven to tears, maybe I can share God's heart.
Just some thoughts.
But, aside from that...Vanya, by Myrna Grant was a very good book, and just what I needed. It's the story of a Russian Christian guy in his late teens who went into the Red Army under Communism and was martyred within a few years. As soon as he went in, they started persecuting, interrogating, and hounding him to renounce Jesus. He was so constant, and every time he underwent another impossible trial, he cried out to God, and God rescued him. So many miracles happened because of him that many of the atheists around him became believers.
My favorite part was his testimony during one of these trials. His authorities sent him to stand outside in sub-zero temperatures in a summer uniform at night until he was willing to deny what they thought of as his religious nonsense. He stood there for hours. When the officers eventually came to check on him, expecting to find him frozen to death, they were shocked to discover him stamping his feet and rubbing his hands, no colder than they were after their five minutes out-of-doors.
Although Vanya was thrilled at the miracle God was doing in keeping him from freezing to death, as soon as the officers left, he became very broken and cried out to God...
"He was no better than any of the young people in his congregation at home. His parents had suffered in difficult situations for years. He knew pastors who had been questioned, arrested, even sent to prison camps. Yet he was touched again and again by God's direct power and deliverance...He didn't want to be special, he didn't deserve miracles or mysteries. He ought to be freezing. He wasn't good enough. Hot tears rimmed his eyes..."
So he cried and prayed and finally was about to fall asleep, when an officer called him inside. The wondering officer asked "What kind of person are you?
And out of his brokenness, Vanya answered, "Oh comrade, I am a person just like you. But I prayed to God and was warm."
This story encouraged me, because even as I read the book, I felt the weight of my own inadequacy and wimpiness. But this reminded me that it's not what I can do, but what God can do. I want to run the race and fight the fight. I want to be like Vanya, like Paul, even like Jesus, as he has called us to be. I want to live a life that faces pain and death with confidence and even joy. I don't want to always try to preserve and shield myself.
But even one of the persecutions Vanya underwent would have put me under. One foul prison cell, one beating, one "refrigeration." I'm a huge wimp. I have plenty of struggles and pains, but my life is so easy, physically, and many ways emotionally, too. I cried when I had the chicken pox and I moaned for days when I sliced my fingernail with the potato peeler. My fingernails stay purple with cold in East Texas winter. Weeding the garden is often my greatest physical hardship, and I have never broken a bone.
I cried to God that I want to pursue Him with all my heart, but I'm not fit to be His saint. I don't have the willpower to undergo Vanya's kind of suffering again and again. I can hardly stand up to my elementary hardships at home...ones like holding back complaints, helping with kitchen chores, and being cheerful in the morning. I am so easily discouraged, so easily reduced to tears, so quickly driven to my knees.
Could this be a good thing? All He seemed to say to me was "You already have what it takes to do this..." and then, "Be faithful, Cass."
Faithful. "Be faithful unto death, and I will give you the crown of life." Revelations 2:10 That was Vanya's last word in a letter to his brother before he was brutally killed. And in Revelations 3:8 there is a dear verse...
"I know your works...for you have a little strength, and have kept my word, and not denied My name."
Really, every time I complain or hurt someone else, I'm denying Jesus' name. He has forgiven me for those sins, but doesn't this mean that I'm fighting the same fight Vanya fought so faithfully? God has made me small and weak. I am like a cat, finicky, pampered, wanting to avoid the water as long as possible. Vanya, Paul, and many of my friends seem like joyful, bounding puppies, so ready to get down and dirty, to bear anything. But maybe He has a special place for this weak one. If I truly am driven to my knees, and not into the pit of despair, so much the better. If I am driven to tears, maybe I can share God's heart.
Just some thoughts.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Another Goodbye and a Big Job o' Work
This morning I said goodbye to my munchkins before they headed off to Oz. Thankfully, it’s only 11 weeks till I see them again :) I’ve decided that saying goodbye is sort of like eating an ice cream cone…suddenly quick and melty right there at the end.
At least, that’s what it was like yesterday when I thought I was saying bye to Bron and Rodge and Tucker (the others were gone or asleep). But then, there they still were this morning when I came to help clean the house, the kids huddled in the garage with the luggage and Alana, who had come to see them off before school.
It was raining torrentially, and I told Bron that my canoe had a hole in it, so I had to swim there instead. She giggled and gave me a big hug. Today, the goodbyes were exciting rather than tragic. After all, I will see them again soon, and besides, all the nervous excitement of a huge adventure was hanging all over the place. I wanted to run out there and jump in the van with them!
After some minor issues with the church van, they set off a bit late in the pouring rain. A colorful jumble of luggage showed from the van windows, mingled with small Crowe faces, wavy with the rain racing down the windows.
I found it ironic that the last thing to go was a baby blanket, which Deb’s Mom ran out with at the last minute :) Then they drove off. We heard later that the rain let up once they were on their way to Dallas, and I as far as I know, they made it to the airport in time.
After they were done, Deb’s Mom, Aunt, and I started cleaning the house from top to bottom. Deb’s Mom paid me to help, and between the three of us, we were able to get it all done. Talk about elbow grease! Sometimes I dread hard work shamefully, but today it was a welcome distraction. There’s nothing like scrubbing so hard you can’t think, and going home with a good appetite :)
I really enjoyed being with Deb’s Mom and Aunt. They are two ladies who know how to start a day’s work right! A cup of Earl Grey with cookies, first thing. So the rain came down and the suds came up, and about five o’clock we finished, and parked ourselves on the blessedly bare carpet with another cup of tea, exhausted but satisfied.
At least, that’s what it was like yesterday when I thought I was saying bye to Bron and Rodge and Tucker (the others were gone or asleep). But then, there they still were this morning when I came to help clean the house, the kids huddled in the garage with the luggage and Alana, who had come to see them off before school.
It was raining torrentially, and I told Bron that my canoe had a hole in it, so I had to swim there instead. She giggled and gave me a big hug. Today, the goodbyes were exciting rather than tragic. After all, I will see them again soon, and besides, all the nervous excitement of a huge adventure was hanging all over the place. I wanted to run out there and jump in the van with them!
After some minor issues with the church van, they set off a bit late in the pouring rain. A colorful jumble of luggage showed from the van windows, mingled with small Crowe faces, wavy with the rain racing down the windows.
I found it ironic that the last thing to go was a baby blanket, which Deb’s Mom ran out with at the last minute :) Then they drove off. We heard later that the rain let up once they were on their way to Dallas, and I as far as I know, they made it to the airport in time.
After they were done, Deb’s Mom, Aunt, and I started cleaning the house from top to bottom. Deb’s Mom paid me to help, and between the three of us, we were able to get it all done. Talk about elbow grease! Sometimes I dread hard work shamefully, but today it was a welcome distraction. There’s nothing like scrubbing so hard you can’t think, and going home with a good appetite :)
I really enjoyed being with Deb’s Mom and Aunt. They are two ladies who know how to start a day’s work right! A cup of Earl Grey with cookies, first thing. So the rain came down and the suds came up, and about five o’clock we finished, and parked ourselves on the blessedly bare carpet with another cup of tea, exhausted but satisfied.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Monday Morning Thundercloud
So...I officially feel like a big baby wallowing in self pity after all the comments in response to my pitiful complaint...gag. Oh well, moving on.
This morning I awoke as a black thundercloud, ready to drop on the kitchen when I came downstairs, puffy eyed and bedraggled, to breakfast. The main theme of my thought processes at the time was, “Sncthgugagurgasnchatukagurgasntc” which translates to something to the effect of “Why do we have to live in the morning?” Complaints and gripes roiled and seethed like so many menacing storm clouds, ready to drop. A few hailstones plummeted before I had the presence of mind to snatch them back, but I think the full bulk of the storm rolled on through without much more than a few showers.
My airline ticket finally went through, after several debit card problems which we had to leave hanging in the balance while on the camping trip. The airfare people (bearing such a promising title as “CheapOair”) assuring me they had taken care of things by the time we left Thursday morning, but the absence of a confirmation email when we arrived home Saturday night told me that it wasn’t so. But this morning, after a mercifully short encounter with a really nice lady whose accent I could actually understand, it was straightened out. So, come July 31, I’m gone! Eleven weeks, three days…five hours…no, I’m kidding about the hours. I'm so thankful it’s settled, though. I mean, as settled as anything of this nature ever is.
I spent what seemed like the rest of the day on the phone with the bank, trying to get acquainted with what my dad calls “real life.” I think I’m with C.S. Lewis. Reality is what we can’t see, not what we can. Otherwise…let’s all just curl up and die. No. The Bank People were very nice. The Music Played While On Hold was not the nicest. I don’t have a head for numbers, even just remembering the four-digit one the nice Bank People gave me last week when I went to visit. Nevertheless, I found out what I needed to know, and all’s well that ends well, I guess.
After helping weed the garden, I went upstairs to think and read in a quiet spot, but was so overcome that I just went to sleep instead. I don’t even know how long I slept, but I must have needed it. When I was mostly awake, Catherine, Jane, and Mary came down and Mattie came out of her lair, ahem, her room, and we all read The Girl of the Limberlost together in the yard.
On a retrospective note...Camping was really nice. We canoed and kayaked the Caddo one day. We got a canoe and some kayaks and took turns in them. Actually, the kayaks were just “Funyaks,” which are kayaks for greenhorns, I guess. You sit more on top of them than in them, so there is no barrel rolling or other life threatening maneuver necessary, and no real skill required. It does help to know which side is right and which is left, and to have a little coordination between the brain and limbs, but it’s not entirely necessary. I’m living proof ;)
We got to see plenty of wildlife, including deer, foxes, centipedes, snakes, rabbits, a saucy raccoon, man-eating turtles, and a deadly looking spider that met a violent end in the upturned cuff of my jeans, after it jumped into it from the passenger side visor in our van. I thought it was a black widow, but it wasn’t after all. Oh, and Ethan saw some “tadapolts.” I suppose they’re like baby frogs, only they jump farther.
I think the camping trip was enjoyable more on the basis of what we didn’t do than on what we did…I loved kayaking and would readily do it again, now that I can paddle, but it was especially nice to be away for a bit and have the rushing river sounds constantly in my ears. I read that
The Lord’s voice is “like the sound of rushing waters” (somewhere in Revelations) and hearing it was truly like hearing Him speak. Not really certain words or phrases, but an overall sense of calm and comfort and an urging to rest in His power.
When we returned home, Leyla met us at the door, and let us know, in a series of irate, overwrought kitten mews, that we had better never go off and leave her again! She trotted all over the house, following us, running into us, climbing up us. That night I went to bed with wet hair after a much needed shower. About 2am, I woke up giggling. I’m not sure I’ve ever giggled in my sleep before, but I was doing it then, and soon discovered the reason to be Leyla, who was nested in my half-dry hair, purring warmly and kneading my head affectionately with her paws! She nuzzled my face, kneaded my hair, and then went over and curled up with Mattie. And then she came back…and it continued for several hours. She’s definitely a cuddler. The perfect cat for Mattie. I hope Mattie won’t be jealous for my borrowing her a bit. Leyla’s just so irresistible.
I go around grabbing her up just to feel her silky fur and listen to her comforting purr, calling her names for fun. By the look in her eye, I think she takes them as compliments. A few days ago, when Mom saw me scoop her up, she said “I do believe you’re getting attached to that cat.” And I said, “Well, by the time I go to Ukraine, she’ll be grown up and I won’t care about her anymore.” and she said, “I don’t know…” and I said, “Hmmm…”
This morning I awoke as a black thundercloud, ready to drop on the kitchen when I came downstairs, puffy eyed and bedraggled, to breakfast. The main theme of my thought processes at the time was, “Sncthgugagurgasnchatukagurgasntc” which translates to something to the effect of “Why do we have to live in the morning?” Complaints and gripes roiled and seethed like so many menacing storm clouds, ready to drop. A few hailstones plummeted before I had the presence of mind to snatch them back, but I think the full bulk of the storm rolled on through without much more than a few showers.
My airline ticket finally went through, after several debit card problems which we had to leave hanging in the balance while on the camping trip. The airfare people (bearing such a promising title as “CheapOair”) assuring me they had taken care of things by the time we left Thursday morning, but the absence of a confirmation email when we arrived home Saturday night told me that it wasn’t so. But this morning, after a mercifully short encounter with a really nice lady whose accent I could actually understand, it was straightened out. So, come July 31, I’m gone! Eleven weeks, three days…five hours…no, I’m kidding about the hours. I'm so thankful it’s settled, though. I mean, as settled as anything of this nature ever is.
I spent what seemed like the rest of the day on the phone with the bank, trying to get acquainted with what my dad calls “real life.” I think I’m with C.S. Lewis. Reality is what we can’t see, not what we can. Otherwise…let’s all just curl up and die. No. The Bank People were very nice. The Music Played While On Hold was not the nicest. I don’t have a head for numbers, even just remembering the four-digit one the nice Bank People gave me last week when I went to visit. Nevertheless, I found out what I needed to know, and all’s well that ends well, I guess.
After helping weed the garden, I went upstairs to think and read in a quiet spot, but was so overcome that I just went to sleep instead. I don’t even know how long I slept, but I must have needed it. When I was mostly awake, Catherine, Jane, and Mary came down and Mattie came out of her lair, ahem, her room, and we all read The Girl of the Limberlost together in the yard.
On a retrospective note...Camping was really nice. We canoed and kayaked the Caddo one day. We got a canoe and some kayaks and took turns in them. Actually, the kayaks were just “Funyaks,” which are kayaks for greenhorns, I guess. You sit more on top of them than in them, so there is no barrel rolling or other life threatening maneuver necessary, and no real skill required. It does help to know which side is right and which is left, and to have a little coordination between the brain and limbs, but it’s not entirely necessary. I’m living proof ;)
We got to see plenty of wildlife, including deer, foxes, centipedes, snakes, rabbits, a saucy raccoon, man-eating turtles, and a deadly looking spider that met a violent end in the upturned cuff of my jeans, after it jumped into it from the passenger side visor in our van. I thought it was a black widow, but it wasn’t after all. Oh, and Ethan saw some “tadapolts.” I suppose they’re like baby frogs, only they jump farther.
I think the camping trip was enjoyable more on the basis of what we didn’t do than on what we did…I loved kayaking and would readily do it again, now that I can paddle, but it was especially nice to be away for a bit and have the rushing river sounds constantly in my ears. I read that
The Lord’s voice is “like the sound of rushing waters” (somewhere in Revelations) and hearing it was truly like hearing Him speak. Not really certain words or phrases, but an overall sense of calm and comfort and an urging to rest in His power.
When we returned home, Leyla met us at the door, and let us know, in a series of irate, overwrought kitten mews, that we had better never go off and leave her again! She trotted all over the house, following us, running into us, climbing up us. That night I went to bed with wet hair after a much needed shower. About 2am, I woke up giggling. I’m not sure I’ve ever giggled in my sleep before, but I was doing it then, and soon discovered the reason to be Leyla, who was nested in my half-dry hair, purring warmly and kneading my head affectionately with her paws! She nuzzled my face, kneaded my hair, and then went over and curled up with Mattie. And then she came back…and it continued for several hours. She’s definitely a cuddler. The perfect cat for Mattie. I hope Mattie won’t be jealous for my borrowing her a bit. Leyla’s just so irresistible.
I go around grabbing her up just to feel her silky fur and listen to her comforting purr, calling her names for fun. By the look in her eye, I think she takes them as compliments. A few days ago, when Mom saw me scoop her up, she said “I do believe you’re getting attached to that cat.” And I said, “Well, by the time I go to Ukraine, she’ll be grown up and I won’t care about her anymore.” and she said, “I don’t know…” and I said, “Hmmm…”
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Hope, that Rather Fickle Bird
Here's a poem that describes my life today, inspired by the David Crowder song I heard twice on the radio yesterday that mentioned hope "taking flight." Picturing hope as a bird was a pretty effective image for me.
Hope is nesting like a bird
In the branches of my heart.
Eye has not seen, ear has not heard
Of heaven, but in part.
Hope takes flight when morning dawns,
At night come home to roost,
Still to this bode of stubble drawn
To resume her patient post.
"Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." Heb. 11:1
"Without faith, it is impossible to please God. For him who comes to Him must believe that He exists, and that He is a rewarder of those who earnestly seek Him." Heb. 11:6
The primary work of my mundane life seems to be believing that hope is coming home for the night even when it looks like it has "taken wing."
Tomorrow we are leaving on a short camping trip to Albert Pike, Arkansas to relax as a family. It was sort of a sudden thing, and I have felt a bit overwhelmed by the tiniest things in life all of a sudden, but after all, I don't have a lot of pressing engagements at the moment, so it's a good time to go camping and be together. Mom has been incredibly busy and it will be good for her to take a load off.
We got the church cleaning done this morning, and this afternoon we'll pack up I guess. Somewhere in all this, I'm going to be buying my ticket to Ukraine as well...whoopee! There's one little exclamation mark in the day :) Just three months and I'll be gone! Very excited about that.
So, I won't be posting while out in the boondocks, I guess. By the amount of commenting going on I guess it doesn't matter too much...do I sound like Eeyore or what? Sorry, I think I got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Seeing the world through puke-green colored glasses again...dear me. We'll be back Saturday night, so next week I'll mend the blogging breach. And maybe come back a little "cheerfuller," too. So long.
Hope is nesting like a bird
In the branches of my heart.
Eye has not seen, ear has not heard
Of heaven, but in part.
Hope takes flight when morning dawns,
At night come home to roost,
Still to this bode of stubble drawn
To resume her patient post.
"Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." Heb. 11:1
"Without faith, it is impossible to please God. For him who comes to Him must believe that He exists, and that He is a rewarder of those who earnestly seek Him." Heb. 11:6
The primary work of my mundane life seems to be believing that hope is coming home for the night even when it looks like it has "taken wing."
Tomorrow we are leaving on a short camping trip to Albert Pike, Arkansas to relax as a family. It was sort of a sudden thing, and I have felt a bit overwhelmed by the tiniest things in life all of a sudden, but after all, I don't have a lot of pressing engagements at the moment, so it's a good time to go camping and be together. Mom has been incredibly busy and it will be good for her to take a load off.
We got the church cleaning done this morning, and this afternoon we'll pack up I guess. Somewhere in all this, I'm going to be buying my ticket to Ukraine as well...whoopee! There's one little exclamation mark in the day :) Just three months and I'll be gone! Very excited about that.
So, I won't be posting while out in the boondocks, I guess. By the amount of commenting going on I guess it doesn't matter too much...do I sound like Eeyore or what? Sorry, I think I got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Seeing the world through puke-green colored glasses again...dear me. We'll be back Saturday night, so next week I'll mend the blogging breach. And maybe come back a little "cheerfuller," too. So long.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
In Which We Examine the Nature of "Goodbyes"
It's raining pleasantly outside while I give a little thought to the Nature of Things. After a conversation with Deb about their nearing departure for Ukraine (next week), I was pondering the nature of goodbyes and how everyone seems to have their own way of dealing with them. Deb said that she didn't even want to say the word, and couldn't let herself think about leaving at all, but simply has to focus on the moment she's in.
I think that's a gift, because I don't seem to be able to control my mind that way. "Goodbyes" often loom over me like a mountain you approach from a distance, clouding my view of the present. I can't hide from it, but I really don't want to, either. I want to grip that dreaded word, shove it out of the closet, and lay everything out on the table. When it's my turn to go to Ukraine, you can guarantee I'll be goodbying for weeks before hand, driving you all crazy with sentimental speeches about possibly never seeing you again.
If I don't say goodbye, I feel like I'm denying the truth. Of course we say we'll meet again, but what if we don't? It's all fine and well to say "au revoir" and all that, sure, but I've got to face up to the fact that one chapter is closing and another chapter is opening. Closure. It would be like writing a book that moves straight through without breaking up into chapters and parts. And chances are, they wouldn't give it an ending, either. It would just leave you hanging there. And that's bad writing.
I'm not really sure if this has to do with liking to write, or if it's just my personality. But, for the sake of writing, I've delveloped a contemplative, observatory nature that insists on processing every detail of my life. Often in a journal, sometimes orally in a long-suffering ear. I've become an emotional glutton who wants to feel every emotion (even sadness) to its uttermost. It may be kind of a bother, but it is rather helpful when writing poetry about human nature.
So, even though Deb doesn't want to discuss it, they are leaving soon. On Sunday, after Bruce preached and Pastor Bo talked about them a little and there were those last songs on the piano, I really felt bereaved a little that they were leaving. I would be heartbroken, I think, except that I am pretty positive I'm going to see them in about three months. But I'll miss them during that time too.
All this is really just a bunch of psychogoobldegop. Bruce's message on Sunday really encouraged me in having an eternal perspective. The Crowes may be leaving Longview, and yes, there are people they will never see again. I will leave too, and even though I only plan to be gone a year or so, I don't know where further adventures will take me. My friends are growing up and leaving, just like I am.
Change gives me the creeps, but I wouldn't be happy without it. In the end, after all the psychoanalizing, I'm glad to know that it really doesn't matter at all. This life is just a freakish delay at the airport while we wait for our Flight Home. Like Keith Wheeler says, "Get supper ready, Jesus, I'm comin' home!" And when that happens, I probably won't remember to say goodbye.
I think that's a gift, because I don't seem to be able to control my mind that way. "Goodbyes" often loom over me like a mountain you approach from a distance, clouding my view of the present. I can't hide from it, but I really don't want to, either. I want to grip that dreaded word, shove it out of the closet, and lay everything out on the table. When it's my turn to go to Ukraine, you can guarantee I'll be goodbying for weeks before hand, driving you all crazy with sentimental speeches about possibly never seeing you again.
If I don't say goodbye, I feel like I'm denying the truth. Of course we say we'll meet again, but what if we don't? It's all fine and well to say "au revoir" and all that, sure, but I've got to face up to the fact that one chapter is closing and another chapter is opening. Closure. It would be like writing a book that moves straight through without breaking up into chapters and parts. And chances are, they wouldn't give it an ending, either. It would just leave you hanging there. And that's bad writing.
I'm not really sure if this has to do with liking to write, or if it's just my personality. But, for the sake of writing, I've delveloped a contemplative, observatory nature that insists on processing every detail of my life. Often in a journal, sometimes orally in a long-suffering ear. I've become an emotional glutton who wants to feel every emotion (even sadness) to its uttermost. It may be kind of a bother, but it is rather helpful when writing poetry about human nature.
So, even though Deb doesn't want to discuss it, they are leaving soon. On Sunday, after Bruce preached and Pastor Bo talked about them a little and there were those last songs on the piano, I really felt bereaved a little that they were leaving. I would be heartbroken, I think, except that I am pretty positive I'm going to see them in about three months. But I'll miss them during that time too.
All this is really just a bunch of psychogoobldegop. Bruce's message on Sunday really encouraged me in having an eternal perspective. The Crowes may be leaving Longview, and yes, there are people they will never see again. I will leave too, and even though I only plan to be gone a year or so, I don't know where further adventures will take me. My friends are growing up and leaving, just like I am.
Change gives me the creeps, but I wouldn't be happy without it. In the end, after all the psychoanalizing, I'm glad to know that it really doesn't matter at all. This life is just a freakish delay at the airport while we wait for our Flight Home. Like Keith Wheeler says, "Get supper ready, Jesus, I'm comin' home!" And when that happens, I probably won't remember to say goodbye.
Monday, May 5, 2008
Whirlwind Week Comes and Goes, as do many wonderful visitors
The whirlwind week has come and gone, as have our dear visitors. I’m NOT practiced in the art of saying goodbye to family and friends, and it leaves me in a lost, sort of “what-do-we-do-now” state. Normal life feels wierd.
The time with Anna was so short and precious. I say short, but it really seemed longer than it was because we crammed every minute with quality cousin time. I can’t thank God enough for her. It was the kind of time where you think, "why sleep when we could just keep talking"? Why bother with food or laundry or any of those mundane things? But we did eat. At least she did. I admire her substantial appetite. I was too excited to eat much.
They left for a four or five day journey to Washington, their van bulging and sagging with all their belongings for the next several months of furlough. We waved and waved…
Then it was time to get ready for the next big event, Cameron’s graduation celebration, which was at our house since his family is from all over the place. It was good to have something to do so that I didn’t sit around mourning Anna. I had my little cry and the Skillet song that made me think of her, and a long hug from Mattie, and then I felt better. Before we heard the tornado sirens, Mattie and I dashed down the road to pick wildflowers for decorating tables. Flowers are such a delight to the soul! We got them before the rain came and hurried back. There was just enough time to prepare stuff for Saturday, and it really worked out well.
So then Dad, Mom, Connor, and I went to Cameron’s banquet at Letourneau, where we got to see his parents and sister again and meet his grandparents. He’s been our adopted student for his whole time at Letu., so it was a special occasion. We like to say that we’re his Texas family, since we “adopted” him.
So what did he go and do at that banquet but win some fancy bling? We knew he was smart, and figured he’d be getting some of those “fancy words” (as Mom calls them) read after his name when he graduated, but he got Summa Cum Laude!
Well, if anybody deserved a medal like that, it was Cameron. He’s been very focused and faithful, not just academically, but in his walk with God foremost. So we were all sitting there bursting with pride over him while he unassumingly returned to his seat and quietly examined his medal.
Next day was graduation, which was earlier and shorter than usual and held in the Belcher center this time (just when a day of perfect weather came along, they happened to be having it indoors!) How ironic. After the ceremony everyone came to our house and we had sort of a barbeque/picnic and sat visiting in the sun for quite a while. The Murphys are kindred spirits!More wonderful people in our home. We went inside for graduation cake, and then it was time for them to go because Kelly (his sister) had to get to the airport. Ethan gave Cameron a Lego pirate ship (totally his own idea) to commemorate all their Lego times together. We’ve all had some good times. So we had to say more goodbyes…hugs all around and smiles and encouraging words.
Now we have to go back to normal life again, in which there are no parties or visitors or late-night cousin chats. Although Mattie and I did stay up pretty late last night talking…I think the up-till-three-in-the-morning habit is a hard one to break.
The time with Anna was so short and precious. I say short, but it really seemed longer than it was because we crammed every minute with quality cousin time. I can’t thank God enough for her. It was the kind of time where you think, "why sleep when we could just keep talking"? Why bother with food or laundry or any of those mundane things? But we did eat. At least she did. I admire her substantial appetite. I was too excited to eat much.
They left for a four or five day journey to Washington, their van bulging and sagging with all their belongings for the next several months of furlough. We waved and waved…
Then it was time to get ready for the next big event, Cameron’s graduation celebration, which was at our house since his family is from all over the place. It was good to have something to do so that I didn’t sit around mourning Anna. I had my little cry and the Skillet song that made me think of her, and a long hug from Mattie, and then I felt better. Before we heard the tornado sirens, Mattie and I dashed down the road to pick wildflowers for decorating tables. Flowers are such a delight to the soul! We got them before the rain came and hurried back. There was just enough time to prepare stuff for Saturday, and it really worked out well.
So then Dad, Mom, Connor, and I went to Cameron’s banquet at Letourneau, where we got to see his parents and sister again and meet his grandparents. He’s been our adopted student for his whole time at Letu., so it was a special occasion. We like to say that we’re his Texas family, since we “adopted” him.
So what did he go and do at that banquet but win some fancy bling? We knew he was smart, and figured he’d be getting some of those “fancy words” (as Mom calls them) read after his name when he graduated, but he got Summa Cum Laude!
Well, if anybody deserved a medal like that, it was Cameron. He’s been very focused and faithful, not just academically, but in his walk with God foremost. So we were all sitting there bursting with pride over him while he unassumingly returned to his seat and quietly examined his medal.
Next day was graduation, which was earlier and shorter than usual and held in the Belcher center this time (just when a day of perfect weather came along, they happened to be having it indoors!) How ironic. After the ceremony everyone came to our house and we had sort of a barbeque/picnic and sat visiting in the sun for quite a while. The Murphys are kindred spirits!More wonderful people in our home. We went inside for graduation cake, and then it was time for them to go because Kelly (his sister) had to get to the airport. Ethan gave Cameron a Lego pirate ship (totally his own idea) to commemorate all their Lego times together. We’ve all had some good times. So we had to say more goodbyes…hugs all around and smiles and encouraging words.
Now we have to go back to normal life again, in which there are no parties or visitors or late-night cousin chats. Although Mattie and I did stay up pretty late last night talking…I think the up-till-three-in-the-morning habit is a hard one to break.
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