doggone redemption

My parents got a new dog yesterday.
After Patty passed this fall right before my brother left for college, a surprising and unwelcome loneliness settled over the house. Not only were they empty nesters, but my folks didn’t have a dog to keep them company. Patty was a lovely companion especially in her old age. Her read coat stayed beautiful and shiny as ever but the grey hair of wisdom and gentleness showed in other ways. She nuzzled herself easily into you lap, her big eyes and soft nose staring at you. The fireplace looked so picturesque with her laying by the hearth. Patty wagged her tail on steak night, chased squirrels and birds on walks, and readily cuddled in the evenings.

The new dog did not come as Patty. The six year-old Irish setter, Ruby, has endured a different and difficult life. The first couple years included shock collars and unjust abuse. She came to a kennel where she then gave birth to pure-breds until age allowed her to retire. She and my dad can bond ;) But regardless of the attention she received at the kennel, the formative years continue to haunt and affect her behavior and disposition.

We as humans can find ourselves in similar situations. At times a little TLC is all it takes to run and play with joy and freedom and retain the desire to come hand around. The gift of the master’s love draws us to return the affection even in our mere presence. But we can also experience times when freedom is replaced with timidity and fear. Mutual love is not shared because one was not taught or shown.
Likewise, the masters can give a little and receive bunches in return. Patti experienced care so she could be a great, loyal companion in return. But now my parents will not be automatically given unconditional love and loyalty. They will have to shower Ruby in that which she has never know in full. Love.

I can’t help but notice this reality exists with more than just dogs. We can all relate to a character in this analogy. Patti, Parents or Passive Puppy each hold a place in the story. I know Ruby’s story is too much the norm in these times. I t breaks my heart to see someone squelched and broken from lack of love. Abuse may exist but indifference over a lifetime leaves its mark, too. But I believe this story is one of redemption. I can’t be more grateful for the times I’ve been redeemed from the less the glorious moments. I ‘m thankful that we each have a purpose in one another’s redemptive story. How little it takes for all the difference it makes! And I look forward to the day when such suffering and damaging situations cease and redemption reigns. I believe it will and I believe it starts even now, one dog at a time.

3rd day

On the third day of Christmas the Wise Men gave to me, 3 Foreign Friends.

So the story speaks of Wise Men coming from the East. The popular carol says there are THREE kings from a far. While there’s no Biblical evidence of their origin or even number of traveling companions, I can be led to believe that they came together from different lands, three of them to realize a dream. They confirmed one another through their experiences and stories. I’m sure that kept their journey interesting and lively. Imagine them talking about their customs and food. I bet some had comparable likes such as peanut butter while others drooled over Oreos. And how about language? I wonder how they communicated if they were from different lands. Perhaps they were lucky and spoke similar words even if they came across with strange accents and extra letters.

The three foreign friends brought their individual gifts to honor Jesus. These were their gifts which were specific to each of the three offices that Jesus held as priest, prophet, and king. The gold, myrrh and frankincense were their best gifts to give. Such gifts couldn’t be given separately for they all had significance in recognizing who Jesus was. But I love that the commitment to Jesus and the dream/vision they shared couldn't be intimidated by Herod or any other obstacle. They did what was right and helped each other when one another grew weak. They were in it with each other whether lost, hurt or joyful. But they succeeded in honoring God incarnate, all three together.

2nd day of Christmas

So I got a little late start on it but today’s mail inspired me to start anyway. Or at least with my gift from the second day of Christmas.
(Quick Religion lesson: The church calendar has the wise men arriving on Epiphany, January 6. This is 12 days after Christmas so one could actually count the days from the birth of Jesus to Epiphany as the 12 Days of Christmas. And why not? Let’s celebrate a little longer.)

On the second day of Christmas the Wise Men brought to me: 2 legs to walk/run on.

Of all the gifts I’m probably most appreciative of this one. Everyday I make a point to go down to the lake or into the woods, running with my ipod and well-loved shoes. There are few things that bring so much joy, refreshment and life to my body, mind and soul than a run. Even when I feel gross and my body aches, the ability to go out sets me at ease. It’s a freedom that if ever taken, would leave me dilapidated and wilting.

To walk and run and skip remind me that I have great liberty and freedom. Many people are trapped in jail unjustly. Others are stranded in war torn communities, afraid to leave their home, tent, or hole in the ground. And beyond the physical bondage comes emotional and spiritual slavery. Friends suffer from depression, overwhelming stress, fear and anxiety about the future. Families suffer from brokenness without reconciliation, abandonment or simple indifference. Brothers and sisters seek answers for the deep questions in life but can’t find them except in addictions, bad relationships and imbalance in work or play.

I have the freedom to dream and pursue it. So often I come home from a run, ready to write down all the stories, ideas, poems or goals that brewed in my head along the trail. But rather than write them, I end up getting some water and going and putting the ideas to work. Sometimes I’m simply committing myself to playing with a child after my hour absence. Just like running, the doing of dreams becomes so animated and vigorous.

On a similar note, legs help me move forward. They point toward the front and while I can run and kind of skip backwards, the legs are meant to take me forward. They keep me from being stuck in the past problems or present concerns. Bend the knee and walk.

Another reason I’m taken by my 2 legs is that they can go at whatever pace I want them to go. There are moments for quick sprints and times for slow sauntering. Some responsibilities of life require fast action and great excitement. At other points, I’ve known the need to use my freedom to move but only after reflection and evaluation of the path ahead. Regardless, they take me where I need to go and help me avoid obstacles. With legs, I find hurdling boulders and murky waters much easier than slugging through it all with no energy or drive that only legs can give.

I’m mixing a lot of metaphors but the Wise Men gave wisdom with these legs...

one more

“Always room for one more.” Ugandan Proverb
Yesterday I experienced this proverb lived out. We were invited to enjoy lunch and fellowship with a Ugandan family living in the Triangle. They prepared a great feast of African food which left us all longing for a quiet nap but so satisfied and content. The home was the perfect size for their family but adding 35 extra people created space. But of course, everyone made due, room to spare for the neighbors across the street. All were welcome, no one was uncomfortable, and everyone found nourishment of body and soul. Always room for one more.

What a profound statement about for stretching and growth.
Always room for one more mile…one more thanksgiving…one more push-up…one more song of prayer.

Had Mary heard this phrase at the first Christmas, Jesus wouldn’t have been born in such humble settings. Thankfully Jesus lived by this rule not begrudging the inn keeper from his birth. “Always room for one more in the Kingdom. Always room for one more in my palace, my family, my arms, my grace,” Jesus might have said.

At this time we often think of family and friends coming to fill houses. Somehow there’s always room for one more guest, present under the tree, warm, tasty dish on the table. I pray that the spirit of one more goes beyond the physical and emotional well being. I hope one more touch of grace leads one more person to Christ. Make room for one more in your heart if Jesus isn’t there. Help others make room because there is always room. We’re made with the space just like a Ugandan family offering their home, always welcoming one more. There's room.

towels to wings

Live nativity scenes are dangerous especially when the angel walks to "Bethlehem" with Mary, Joseph, unborn baby-Jesus soccer ball, a narrator, and 26 children in the dark. All sorts of things could happen suddenly. Like personal questions about my Angel Gabriel-ness (Gabby for short).

"How do you fly from here?" (with my bath towel wings)
"Do angels get stuck in the ground?" (it's quite muddy around here)
"Do angels have mothers on earth?"

The arrival to the inn distracted us from the answers, but I'm still pondering them in my heart like Mary. What would an angel's mother be like? or sister, brother, dad or aunt?

I can only guess tone deafness is not a characteristic...HARK! the herald angels sing...

mine

What is MINE to do?

Mine designates possession. The thing that belongs to me can be a gift or inherit but none the less, I am responsible for it. If a possession is left idle, rust and moths can get at it; thieves easily pick it away from the owner.
Two important ideas must be realized about MINE:

1) MINE has to be claimed. Joy, peace, patience, the Love of Christ is MINE if I claim it. Call it to me and believe with faith and conviction that these gifts are (w)holy mine to have.

2) Be responsible with this possession. The next step is to figure out how to use the MINE in a way that shares and blesses others. Money in a can in the ground is worthless in the world. Likewise are the talents, character qualities, strengths that I can claim when I minimize them or let fear keep them hidden. However, when invested into relationships, jobs, vocations, worship, these possessions will multiply and be blessed. What is “mine” will become more in order to be able “to do” more.

is

It is time just for today. Not tomorrow or April 12, 2009 or Winter 2010 (Olympics in Vancouver…) It’s today.

I heard a challenging phrase at church which I can’t stop thinking about: “What is mine to do? “

I broke down the phrase, word by word to extrapolate a clearer and detailed understanding of what this question asks. While I have evolving definitions and meanings of each of these words (which I encourage others to do as a prayer exercise), I’m really stuck on is.

Is. A form of to be. A state of being, existing, occurring. A state over which we had no control. We just came to be with or without human planning but utter deliberation by God. He knew we would exist in this time and place.
Is. A form of to be in the PRESENT tense. There are benefits to teaching English to ES(or 6th)L children, one of them being the duty to fully explain the significance of the different tenses since they make about as much sense as the rest of the English language..but I digress. The present tense is deemed for today. Not yesterday or tomorrow or just now. It encompasses today. Now this morning could be considered the past and midnight (though very eminent) remains the future for the time. But both are a part of today so I could just as easily say “I eat breakfast today.” Or “I sleep tonight.” Is just is.
I like this tense of being because it holds open a great window of opportunity to exist as we were meant to while not going beyond the needs of the day. Jesus gave us the prayer “Give us this day our daily bread.” He didn’t ask for enough to make sandwiches for a week’s worth of lunches. Just today. Yet the day is not a marginal, unimportant time period. It has a great deal of value for it prepares the way for tomorrow and answers the questions or problems of yesterday.

So what IS mine to do?
Today I am to love the children in my care. I am to live in peace in community. I am to learn from my reading. I am to care for my body with good food and rest. I am to start on details for future projects. I am to care for a child who got sick yesterday. I am to renew my spirit through prayer and Bible reading.

Some of these things will help me just today. Some are taking care of yesterday’s issues. Inevitably most of them will effect and benefit the future if done well. We are encouraged to cease worrying about the future because, really, today will dictate the future more than what we plan for the upcoming time. Worrying about the future doesn’t benefit the future and takes away from today.
I am sticking with this fresh bread. And if tomorrow's piece is sweeter, all the better.

fundamentals of the game

I went to a high school basketball tonight. It is early in the season. The home team looked young. The opponent seemed cohesive. The referees seemed biased for the visitors.

So then what? Hustle. Use the talents and advantages you have and strengthen the weaker parts. Go full force ahead with every intention to overcome the obstacles- the obstacles that you have no control over. Give 100%.

Let the obstacles rise or fall. Let the score be with or for you. Let the other team gloat or pout.

You will have nothing left to grumble about since all energy will be on the court, only to be replaced by the satisfaction that the best you had was given. You can’t give a greater offering than that. Your all and nothing less.

Plane habits

I started this blog on an airplane a few months ago. I notice many things when I fly. I see peoples shoe’s, analyze the ease of taking them off at security or walking the miles of concourse to get to the proper gate. I observe families especially with little ones, some groups all carting their individual carry-ons with Princesses and Spiderman on wheels while other families are leashed together with those cute “animal backpacks on a string” things. One such mom and daughter seemed to have traveled all night and morning as the little one, connected to a leash backpack, still had on her lavender footie pjs and a bright pink blanket. I notice how many medium-sixed drinks a coffee shop sells in a 5 minute period, the crazy colors of suitcases in the overhead compartments, the strange identifying tags on checked luggage like a purple luffa, and the neon pink shoelaces in my seat partner’s sneakers. Little things catch my eye, and I somehow remember them.

I’m grateful for this renewable of sight and observation before I come back to tour. Over time, even the shortest length of a week, I can forget to notice the small yet significant things. The promise to listen to a made-up story on the bus or missed opportunity to compliment to a child for being extra responsible. On the plane I began Wooden on Leadership written by the former UCLA basketball coach. The book lays out his philosophy and techniques for leaders to create great teams. It’s simple though I think the other 291 pages will be worth reading. He taught good habits. And in teaching good habits, he also performed them with consistency and integrity which led to great success. It’s a lesson worth trying. Observation provides material for great stories, but more importantly, it creates an opportunity to relate to another person by connecting with his/her world. To live life alongside another, congratulating, critiquing, or plain enjoying it in all it’s small bright pink idiosyncrasies. Let me make this my habit.

aww...

JB- “Auntie, your angle kisses, the spots on your face, are going away.”
AS- Well, it’s winter so my skin gets lighter and the freckles fade.
JB- “Oh. All the snow must be wiping away the lipstick.”

“Auntie, catch my heart. Auntie Sarah is back.”

Thus begins another joyous round of touring.

Expect/Accept

EXPECT and ACCEPT. Funny how these words are so close in sound and yet have a great deal of difference in meaning and consequence. In the many realms I live, these words can get tangled up and blurred. Kids are content ACCEPTing hugs, discipline, wisdom, and tickling. Adults EXPECT deadlines to be met, conversation, traditions to be kept, and cute but pointless jokes from 6 year-olds. Travelers see these lines blurred; they EXPECT to be searched at the security gate in the airport and they ACCEPT the 3-1-1 rule for liquids.

The point I ponder tonight has to do with God, his love, his grace, and his truth. He invites us to ACCEPT these as a gift just as a child ACCEPTS a bedtime story. He invites us to ACCEPT the paradox of his character: merciful yet just, one God in three, life for all from a death of one, graceful while truthful. That’s a big invite. More than to an “Over the Hill” Party or 60th wedding anniversary. It entails more than showing up; it requires all of us because that’s when we have fully ACCEPTing God. I can’t decide, however, which is more difficult, ACCEPTing or EXPECTing. What a stretch for me to EXPECT miracles, blessings, healings, perfect timings, moving mountains. Just as we are invited to ACCEPT God for who he is, the ACCEPTing means we actually EXPECT mighty things of, from and for God and his glory. If we didn’t, then we deny part of God’s character, that which changes lives and circumstances beyond our control or understanding.

I so often live the blurred lines of ACCEPTing and EXPECTing all for and from God. But I appreciate that God ACCEPTs this paradox in me and EXPECTs growth and molding. Without the grace and the parental-like motivation, I would merely ACCEPT whatever and EXPECT nothing.

running away and back

When I was a little kid, there were days I wanted to run away. I would pack my little blue suitcase with nothing much, maybe a scrunchie and socks, and walk out the front door. My mom surely said something unreasonable like a clean room had priority over playing- silly rules. Or my little baby brother was getting ALL the attention with his teary BLUE eyes. AHH! Life outside had to be better. The ice cream man would give me a lift and a free Flinstone pop on my way to Granny’s house or the park, anywhere but my house.

Once out the front door, the blue sky and singing birds annoyed me. Why couldn’t they frown with me or call me to fly over the rainbow with them? Then I had to decide where to go- the tricky part since I wasn’t carrying a sleeping bag with me and I’m not so much a wilderness, all-out survival girl. A girl scout, but we have provisions…I digress. What made the journey even harder was the length of our walk way and drive way. Each time I left the house with my blue suitcase, the path seemed to expand (maybe in the summer sun?). Really by time I got to the garage door, I would end up circling to the other side of the house. Without fail I started singing a slow, lovely show tune from Grease, Music Man, Little Shop of Horrors- really whatever my dad was in at the community college. Once I sang out all my woes to the tree and maybe shed a tear or two, I resolved to go home, meekly to the door but clearly perturbed as I made my way to my room. I might have felt better but no need for anyone else to get off so easily.

Many times over the last couple years, I dreamed of running away to Africa or Europe or anywhere really. I thought nothing could be any worse than here. Responsibilities would be refreshingly new and yield greater benefits. Yeah, there would be challenges, but greater hope and caring for one another. A true sense of brotherhood, sisterhood. Eventually, it dawned on me, there was nowhere to hide. Nowhere to find the sort refuge and utopia I envisioned. Everywhere else experienced similar turmoil, devastation, hopelessness if not more that surrounds me.

So I have to work it out here. I can’t run from the failing economy because the rest of the world is feeling it too. I can’t run from hunger, unemployment, homelessness, indifference because I would run right back into them.
But despite it all, there’s a blue sky overhead here, in Uganda, and even in Ireland sometimes. Birds still fly and sing and trees still provide shade and strong companion when I need to vent. And stomping to get things done can work, but most the most important thing is walking back and deciding to move forward, making the rest of the day and situation a positive one.

movie: unconditional

Tonight I saw a new favorite movie, The Secret Life of Bees. Its simplicity and honesty captured my heart and mind as it brought forth the idea that we all need and seek love, truth, a chance and guidance. Most of the characters struggled to grasp these realities or what should have been realities in their lives but weren’t. A few struggled in their giving since the recipients didn’t see the gift as unconditional. Some ignored the need of love and truth while others didn’t know what they were missing.

May was probably my favorite character. She had a twin, April, who had died earlier in her life and since then, May felt all the weight of the world on her. She made a wall of stones, her wailing wall, where she went to place notes when things were distressing her. But it was amazing how happy and joy-filled she could be even in the midst of the troubles around her. Despite the dichotomy and awkwardness of these emotions especially to the rest of the world, she seemed the most free to express herself. She allowed herself to feel in a real, if even extreme, way which showed love and compassion.

In the end, so much of the story reminded me of God’s grace and truth for me and you. I wanted to shake a couple characters and say, “Don’t you realize, you deserve love. The abuse or neglect is not your fault. The fear of the future doesn’t have to rule your life and ruin relationships.” I bet God wants to do that to us sometimes. Maybe not shake so much as squeeze a big hug of understanding of his unconditional love into us. I can see him wanting to run through the sprinklers with us and wail at the wall as our hearts break along side his. What a freedom and gift to share these moments with our creator, the one who knit us together and knew us from the beginning!

movie: family

The movie helped me remember we each have our place in a family. The characters names were April (deceased twin to May), May, June, August. While each of these women were connected by mother and father, they all supported each other in different ways. August supported them for the most part, June acted like a bouncer (she had “don’t mess with my people” eyebrows) and May helped in the kitchen. It was May that kept them all in check with fun, June to do her eyebrows and August to teach and exemplify love. I appreciate that they didn’t blame each other for their short-comings, those characteristics that might seem less than worthy, nor did they covet the personalities of the others. They fulfilled their role, not out of obligations but in response to how they were made as individuals but a part of the larger family.

Such a solid ground provides a refuge for those who don’t have it. But I never said these women came from situation of ease, cookies and cake. They, too, were met with struggles. So what does that say about our response to who we are no matter where we come from? It means we have an opportunity and responsibility to take care ourselves, our family and others all at the same time. In doing so, we create a world where it’s safe to cry, safe to spray water on your older sister, safe to laugh, and safe to ask questions. Such a world shouldn’t have to be revolutionary, but to some it is. It’s our choice to make it a new, solid, traditional reality.

the sea remains the sea

A switch over will occur in the next months. People will go and others will come. While I wish those I know all the best and am proud to be friends of such faith and obedience, I’m going to miss them as some of my favorite folk (especially in the laughing department) and as competent, creative workers.

In thinking about my own situation (which might be too revealing to those who actually read this blog) I’m content with the commitment I’ve made thus far. Maybe because I’ve done and made that commitment, I don’t have many reservations about staying. In the midst of all this talk of change, it’s easy to start thinking of my own transition. But it’s kind of like the heptathlon my sophomore year. It sucked, it hurt, I was exhausted but because I had committed to the season from day one (one being that hot July day before freshman year when I started running for real), I knew those irksome feelings would pass. The next mountain top experience would come, maybe even that year. Sooner than I expected. The ebb and flow went hand in hand. So when Nationals came along, of course I was elated and glad I hung in there.

Consistency is another word that comes to mind as I think of change. It's an reality we try to maintain at least on the road with the kids. Without it they would be exhausted, cranky brats. I need it in my life, too. Not a whole lot has to remain the same, just the important things. Like talking to my sister before I go to bed. Reading my Bible when I wake up. Going for a run or playing outside. Being as human as I am, such consistency is impossible to maintain 100%. And the foibles also lie with the others I come to depend on. Thankfully, I know God hears this prayer. This exhaustion in my heart when consistency is replaced with chaos and confusion. The consistency of this job, the fact that I have one, albeit random and uncertain at times, keeps me calm at least for now. And thinking of the future throws me for a spin sometimes. But I’ll continue to be committed to who I follow now, what I do now and where I am now. That commitment can be the consistency in my life.

“It is true there is ebb and flow, but the sea remains the sea.” Vincent Van Gogh

leaves still fall

Leaves fall in the season.
On some they tumble in a violent storm,
On some they float as if in slow motion.
They always end up on the ground
As if banished from a limb for treason.

This yard the leaves buried;
No ground is missed, no spot is bare.
Other lawns get a sprinkle.
Depending on reaction, the owners are rested
Or in body and soul, completely wearied.

One can’t avoid the falling leaves
They come in season.
But does one gather them to clean up
Or for play with the kids
When they get crunchy bits in their pants and sleeves?

Or does one leave them for no reason?
She doesn’t want to deal with the mess.
He could care less how or where they lay.
Regardless the effect and response,
They will still fall in season.

A little walk around the block offers a good catalyst for a little pondering.

Go Big or Go Home

It’s an incredible joy to be in a real house again. To say go and see what I expect. To focus every light with the proper colors. To hear a crisp, clear sound, and have space to move, change, and work off stage. The stage hands are great: efficient, fast, friendly and they were proud of their job. I love that. Why it’s such a unique situation is beyond me. Over the past couple weeks I have run into various people who enjoy work. Mike is the cleanest and most precise sound guy thus far and all of this good service is accompanied by an upbeat attitude. Kim at a truck stop with Taco Bell had fun with her co-worker. Not only did they get the job done properly, but they played a game to see how fast they could get it done which made all of us chuckle.

Does my attitude communicate a similar love for my job or do I just go through the motions? I’ve met too many people on the road who just do what they can to get the job done and leave. Of course, they’re not paid or compensated for the extra energy and attitude adjustment, but I doubt I could find a person who wouldn’t appreciate this extra bit of intentionality and optimism whether at the coffee shop, gas station, hair salon, bank, office, or school. What would a world be like if these unique moments of people going above an beyond become common place? Would the standard go up again?

The hypothetical utopia of attitudes and actions doesn’t have to be so fantastical. Instead we need to examine our motivation and reactions to circumstance and see if they are suitable or if they’re just the easy/lazy answer. One of my coaches said to do one more push up then what we thought possible. If I could do 25 in a row, I should do 26 just to make sure I gave my all. Push ups are easy to count and better, but that doesn’t mean they require any less intentionality.

Thoughts along the same vein from Anne Lamott in Bird by Bird:
Anne Dillard has said that day by day you have to give the work before you all the best stuff you have, not saving up for later projects. If you give freely, there will always be more. This is a radical proposition that runs so contrary to human nature, or at least to my nature, that I personally keep trying to find loopholes in it...You have to give from the deepest part of yourself, and you are going to have to go on giving, and the giving is going to have to be its own reward

Merry Election

Election Day reminds me of Christmas Eve. I was thinking of writing this yesterday as it would have been the eve of the big day, but for me, much of the built up excitement is lived out on Election Day and Christmas Eve. Election Day is the final day of preparation and busyness before history is made. We might know the results of this presidential election the moment the booths close, but in all reality, nothing really sinks in until the next day. The baby is not born until midnight though we know he’s coming. The voting is done, staying up late watching electoral votes being added by sophisticated machines and the country being colored red and blue on any news program of choice comes to a close, and celebrations and/or moments of mourning die off. Then we wake up the next morning, knowing that conversations and more celebrating/mourning will happen just like presents and ham dinner come on Christmas Day. But somehow the midnight hour makes the excitement and anticipation drizzle into content feelings of life as normal. A thanksgiving is given- it’s over, the advertisements are gone, the decision has been made. The baby is born. So now it’s time to live in the reality of that miracle. May the excitement of Election Day move us to live this day and everyday as an incarnation of our convictions with which we voted.

Page 1

I recently started a new book. It’s been a reoccurring theme over the last few months, and so I can’t help observe the location of page 1. By all logic, I would think a book should start it’s first white page with 1 and carry on until the last page finishes the consecutive numbering pattern. But I have yet to find a book that begins its numbering on that page.

A book begins on a variety of pages. If the preface and prologue are included, they often use informal Roman numerals: ix, x, xi. I say informal because they are small, lower case, and seemingly shy as if they know their presence not only confuses people, but irks them as they think of all the practice pages they had to read before biting into the real story. Sometimes books compensate/commiserate with readers and rewards them by starting chapter 1 on page 15. Other books leave you to endure xxii pages of preface and begin chapter 1 on page 1 as if they were 2 separate books.

I make the preface out to be a complete waste of time and unbearable. In some instances, this is true, but often times, the preface is the most revealing part that gives the readers a clear idea of what they should expect. Not to mention the background- this helps set the story so the readers CAN enter the middle of the conversation and still know what they’ve missed. The book I’m reading right now had me in stitches all the way through the Roman numeral-ed pages, a sure sign of good things to come.

This page-numbering observation is not without meaning for the grander scheme of life. Just as I ponder the reason behind the seemingly arbitrary beginning and numbering of books, I wonder about the beginning and numbering of life. When is life suppose to start? What is page 1? This thought could take us to the very hot political topic of life, conception, etc. but I’m considering life more in the sense of “adulthood” when people have the choice to live out their days as they see fit. Some say life begins with graduation from high school or college or grad school. Elders often state marriage is the beginning of it all. Life starts when people have kids, the kids are in school, when they’re in college, when retirement starts, when people become grandparents… If Roman numerals were used to account for that lapse of time, a lot more letters would be needed.

It’s easy to think the first page will be very distinct, obvious, and a perfect start for a book, but without the title page, table of contents, acknowledgments, and preface, the story couldn’t start properly. Or should I say instead, couldn’t keep going? Life has many pages that could have a page 1, but all the extra stuff is best thought of as just another part of the book regardless of the numbering. The baby teeth, the first break-up, lunch on the Thursday of the third week in March, the first job offer, a baptism, the first vacation are merely chapters. The preface was written long ago and gives me a memory of who I am and a promise of where I’m going. Page 1 has, is and will start NOW- keep reading, keep living.

2nd 1st impressions

I work on a tour of first impressions. Save for the few people I live with everyday, my wardrobe, hair style, and attitude is new to everyone I meet in the theaters. They would have no idea I had worn the same pants and shirt the day before. They would never suspect I prefer mustard over mayonnaise. They would, however, realize straight off if I was competent, organized, articulate, and well-mannered. These qualities are worthy candidates for first impressions but can often be misread.

My aunt came to our last show in Billings, and as always, she looked lovely. She’s not my Beautiful Aunt Kareen for nothing. Her energy, even after a long day of school and driving, was boundless as ever. Of course, I have the privilege of knowing this about her anyway just like my crew team know that I have 4 black shirts that I rotate. So I was more than proud to introduce her to the rest of the team and children, confident that their first impressions of her would confirm all the things I say about her on a regular basis.

I wonder how I come across. It’s easy to judge the appearances and sometimes the intellect, but how about the character that really makes the most difference in relating with people? How are we called to come across? A song says, “They will know we are Christians by our love.” Talk about deep, abstract, personal first impressions. What does that even mean? Does that include appearances, words, actions, AND unspoken words? All of the above I think. One’s heart can really be examined by the actions of the hands. Without the desire and motivation to do something, one will not proceed in acting upon a task. If the task is done out of fear or coercion, onlookers will be able to see the lack of heart, joy and peace.

And what if a person fails to give a good first impression? Do they get a second chance? Do we require even more of the person, as if a sense of trust had been broken? First impressions are difficult to nail all the time. So I think the second impressions are more worthwhile because at this point, the superficiality no longer matter. They might influence the second impression, but for fairness sake, the second impression is where most of us would exceed expectations. So let your words and appearance be noticed, but hope that the actions, energy, and character be remembered.

Milking Books

Today was a nice day of driving to Billings. I love this drive especially in the fall. The colors along the mountain are beautiful and call me to stop and stay awhile each turn. Plus, the big blue sky of Montana seems to sigh with a great relief of joy. Like the clouds just exasperated away and were vacuumed up to hang out over Seattle or the Golden Gate Bridge. The best part, though quite close to be a toss up, was the fact that I got to start a new book. I’ve been in a sort of barren book period. A lull of reading. Such a reality lends itself to two observations: 1) I haven’t had a day off lately where I just sit and read in Borders. 2) Reading inspires me to write.

I just started Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott and in 53 pages have laughed hard that I fall silent, shared several clever passages with fellow van riders, and written topic sentences for a dozen different blogs. Reading leads to writing which leads to more reading and ultimately a happy heart. This book specifically talks about the joy of writing and techniques one might adopt to keep improve one’s skills and still write out of pure passion and dreamy expectations.

[Some writers] feel better and more alive than they do at any other time. And sometimes when they are writing well, they feel like they’re living up to something. It is as if the right word, the true words, are already inside, and they just want to help get them out. Writing this way is a little bit like milking a cow: the milk is so rich a delicious, and the cow is so glad you did it. –Anne Lamott

I once read that a good line in a book made the reader want to write for a living. I once read a book that changed my perspective of corporate executives and their role for the average or less the cared for Joe. I once read about a fine meal that made my mouth water. The fact that all of these feelings and sensations could come from ink on parchment amazes me but then again, I guess so does the fact that creamy milk for babies can come from a four-legged beast that eats and re-eats grass. Thankfully, such combinations results in wonderful gifts that one can even share.

Writers block is no longer an issue, nor is reader’s hurdle. Now I just have to find the chance to do both. Maybe along with my morning cow-milking chores…

go for floss

Jeff Foxworthy makes people laugh with this joke, but I think it’s true with a good majority of the people I know. The sketch goes something like this:
Dentist: Whoa- when was the last time you flossed.
Patient: When YOU did it!
Flossing is one of habits that’s so good and healthy for you. Like eating green vegetables, reading a poem, taking a walk, and playing with your dog. Of course, it’s not life and death, but my day seems all that more complete and accomplished with a thorough flossing. And yet, as Jeff Foxworthy noticed, such intentions rarely become realities…until of course it’s too late to hide your laziness. Flossing has always been a dreaded chore like dusting or cleaning the toilets. I’d just rather let things collect until it’s really obvious. And in all cases, I’m the worse off for it as you might well imagine. Poor Precious Moments figurines…

I did find, however, that a firm commitment to stick to this habit has made all the difference. Ever since my last appointment, I’ve expired several cases of mint floss- yes on my teeth. So I know it’s possible. And as I said before, this activity brings me a great deal of achievement.

Let me take the analogy to another arena or even smaller- a gym. Think about pull-ups. They are probably the worst exercise ever realized. Nothing is more humbling than hanging from a bar, knowing you can’t even lift yourself once to chin height. Pull-ups seems like they should be easy and insignificant in life. Both adjectives are incorrect, though. Pull-ups are quite difficult especially after a long hiatus (a couple decades from grade-school gym class), and they can signify the amount of self-discipline one possesses. For a long time, I could not do one by myself. When I started track in college, I had partners give me boosts just so I could finish the work-out. I was less than thrilled by my dependence on their help, but as I continued to do them, I grew stronger and gained an appreciation for the exercise. Eventually, I could do 40 by myself without a problem. (I won’t say what I can do now…) I actually love pull-ups now, and even though I’m far weaker than a few years ago, I know the process and the reward at the end of it.
Just like flossing takes time to build as a habit, it’s worth the process in the end for healthy gums and white teeth, hold the spinach.

So what am I saying? I’ve missed this place. This place of writing. This place of thinking. This place of reflecting. At points the effort was a chore due to time requirements or lack of profound insights (still lacking). But over with the summertime, I formed habits that drove me to come back today, even after a lengthy pause. I enjoy the process and sharing the product.

Plus, this little thought relates so well to what happening now in life, it’s a bit hard to grasp and believe. Tomorrow we begin teching for Journey of Hope in Concert in Wenatchee, WA. This is a process if there was. Over the next few days, we'll bring all the elements of a stage production together before opening night. There are sure to be moments of complete chaos and frantic frenzy. Repeating a costume change or song and dance 23 times might be kin to mopping. But I’m also sure that the process will make the product oh so enjoyable. I can’t wait. I might floss in the morning just to remind myself of the benefits of the process.

Home Run #1

I made it home yesterday and it’s so good. It’s kind of fun to show off the kids to my people. Best news of our time here- 5 sponsorships for our children! What a gift! What a commitment! What an answer to prayers! I’m so proud of these folks for stepping up to the plate. I know a lot of them could do it. Sometimes it's easy for us to think that filling the plate on Sunday morning is enough and love for the nations is designated for church projects or mission trips. But this mentality doesn't hold much weight though, because I have been reading about ministers in the marketplace and the miracles that occur simply because God is the foundation of the organization. Such can be the reality of families, too. But that attitude starts with the desire to give and invest in Kingdom work. Sponsoring a child is kingdom work. So I’m thrilled. Ask and you shall receive. We’ll continue to ask but Praise God in the meantime. It's a home run. And I look forward to reporting more highlights.

Franciscan Blessing
May God bless you with discomfort at easy answers, half truths, and superficial relationships, so that you may live deep within your heart. Amen.

May God bless you with anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people, so that you may work for justice, freedom and peace. Amen.

May God bless you with tears to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation and war, so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and to turn their pain into joy. Amen.

May God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you can make a difference in this world, so that you can do what others claim cannot be done. Amen.

And the Blessing of God, who Creates, Redeems and Sanctifies, be upon you and all you love and pray for this day, and forever more. Amen.

tag, tickle, timeout

This afternoon at lunch, we played this awesome game similar to capture the flag on the flags were long pieces of cloth that drug on the ground even while tucked into my pants. The idea is to step on the cloth of another person as she runs and pull out the cloth. This puts the person out, one person closer to victory. The kids are great at this, but in my efforts, I thought too much and ended up running away when I should have run with the crowd. If everyone runs the same way, then the strategy becomes outrunning the other people. But if I turn and run the opposite direction, the wise children just stop long enough to catch my cloth on my way by. DUH!
Oh my- I got out quickly and plunked down on the green grass under the warm BUT dry air of Colorado. What a glorious time!

I discovered a great way to discipline children, too. TICKLING! It would definitely be a punishment for me- but SHH! Keep it down. That information is secret and could be used against me if I’m not careful. Thankfully, I’m not the only one perpetually spazzying out when fingers run and poke around my sides. Most of the kids cry and squeal and fall straight to the fall in efforts to rid themselves of the torture. Of course, tickling is quite paralyzing…or so I’ve heard. And brings so much pleasure to the disciplinary. So when one girl continued to pull people’s cloth out even after she was out, to the tickle torture she went. Parents often say, “This hurts me more than you.” But really her giggles just enticed me more, though fully empathizing with her, I ceased after only a brief interval.

Play time also gave the children an opportunity to learn sportsmanship. Football (soccer for the American readers) attracts a great deal of attention and excitement especially when the uncles play, but as today's game consisted of only children, they played at a good but maybe a bit more rambunctious level. When I finally blew my pseudo whistle, they kept going until another goal was scored. Boy howdy, the shouting started. But in moments, all were calm and discussing what had happened, what was wrong about the situation and asking for forgiveness of one another for bad attitudes or boasting over nothing.
These are the simple things of family life. All in the span of a lunch hour filled with PBJs, chips, and running. It’s fun to grow together and laugh along the way. Why not learn the best way to live abundantly in God’s blessings?

26 minutes

Today I ran the perimeter of a small town of Nebraska in 26 minutes. I touched the final dirt road going east and passed the coffee shop and post office going west. I waved to a couple fellas driving by in their pick-up trucks. I let out a cheer “Go Storm” as I went by the high school. I saw the Pump ‘N Pantry, the one of two possible grocery options, the one assisted living home, and a handful of churches of various denominations. The houses put out an air of simple but comfortable living. The sidewalks invited neighbors to walk down the street to say hello. I even admired the soft grass of the park, thinking about how happy, playing children could be heard for blocks.

What an interesting morning of workout. I began thinking of an exercise that never seemed possible before: encompass a town in prayer. As I ran I couldn’t help but think of the people who frequented the coffee shop to catch up, the friends that packed the church for this morning’s funeral, the children of all ages attending school. What does this town hold for all of these people? What keeps the town alive, but more than that, what makes it thrive? What are the struggles that small town life presents to seasoned citizens as well as new families?

I appreciated that I had such an opportunity and ability to run those 26 minutes. How much ground could I cover of my home in that amount of time? How many outings would it take for me to encircle the entire city? Being a creature of habit, I know a few routes that could be done in that time, yet I realize I’m meant to branch out beyond those areas. So I aome to my final conclusions from this morning’s workout.
• Prayer for a town is important.
• It can be done portion by portion, area by area.
• So many people and situations live together in a town so focusing on few different details is significant start.
• It’s easy to pray for that which is familiar, but so much still needs a blessing of peace, hope, prosperity, and reconciliation.
• Even a short jog can give one an opportunity to encompass the whole town in prayers and good thoughts, even if that just means running a few miles around the neighborhood.

Sisters of Another Mother

Recently in my life I've come to realize how truly blessed I am by sisters and brothers all over the world who let me do life with them. In this realization came a longing to reach out and thank the for being them. But I also want to take away the pain, sorrow, and discontent. Alas, I can't do the latter, at least not in whole. That hole is actually filled by the one much more powerful than me...and not just the Governator. I'm talking God himself, the giver of life, the restorer to make all things good, and the ultimate Dad to fix me up with such sweet siblings...most of the time. hugs family

Sisters of another mother.
I’m honored that you would even bother
To call me your kin.

Brothers of another father
You teach me well and help the laughter
Bubble over the rim.

But sisters, why, how can this be
That you have pain away from me?

And brothers, where, with whom can you
Choose to do all those things you do?

Bros and sistas, come in close.
I want to hold you near.

But alas your stories and aches and craziness occurs
So far from me, so far from here.

I am thinking of you in my every thought
For that’s all I can do despite the efforts I’ve sought
I love you and there’s never a moment I’m not.

a reason for me is you

What a difference one person can make. There's a reason It’s a Wonderful Life is a classic. A deep and profound message about the gift of each person’s life and PRESENCE in a particular moment and place relates how much difference a person makes in the world. Who would we be without our parents? Or best friend? Or our children’s bus driver or the mail man? Some people have significant place in our lives and hearts, having more than just a name or title. They are a piece of heart and mind.

Pandora Radio is one of my bookmarked websites as it offers to create a personalized radio station according to the songs/artists one desires. Recently, Scott Joplin playing the Entertainer came on and immediately I thought of my grandma. I played piano for several years but I took the most delight the year when I learned to play this song for my grandma. This was one her all time favorites on the ivories, so with great joy and her bursting pride did I perform it for her at my recital. To this day it’s the only song I still have memorized, at least in part. My grandma was my entertainer and delight-er as I grew up. No doubt did her presence inspired abundant and joyous giving, the subtle faux pas I have in speech every once in awhile, and the enthusiasm I have for life.

Robert Frost talked about the road less traveled by. Think about all the people who traveled that well trodden road and how their very steps influence his decision to go the other way. Or the few who went down his road to discover something new and challenging, maybe just in himself.

The people in our lives leave marks, leave voids when absent, leave lessons to be learned. I’m really appreciating this fact now in the midst of transition in work and at home. Of course, a time comes for all of the people to move as they do, the roads to be chose, and yet such circumstances make me appreciate the presence and mark people leave on me. Each of us are unique through a great weaving of inspirations, influences, and individuals’ shared stories.

Sweat 'N Smile

The Newest in Workout Videos

Need to lose a few extra pounds?
Do you live anywhere with humidity?
What do you love to do on your feet?
Well, we have the perfect video for you to love your body and still love yourself. Sweat 'N Smile will tone your body as you strengthen your face muscles and show those pearly whites. Studies show that not only exercise but a good attitude will lower your blood pressure.
Step 1) Be on your feet
Step 2) Do something you love: soccer, dancing, basketball, jumping jacks, running, DDR, ironing, washing dishes, or vacuuming.
Step 3) Show the world that you love it: Smile.
Step 4) Keep up the good work for 30 minutes, 5 times a week.
Step 5) Check in the mirror and smile again at the results!

Now while I can’t market this fabulous video using the bodies and charm of Chuck Norris, Arnold Schwarzenegger or Tamilee Webb from Abs of Steel, I have some pretty sweet things to bring motivation to the tape.
1) The children. They find fun and game in everything which makes playing soccer keep away with a water bottle so amusing. Joshua Mirembe smiles more when practicing his touches than any other time. Even Tony, who is still growing in his skills, grins while going after the uncles with possession.
2) The children. Have you seen their concert? If anyone danced as much as them they would understand why they can eat SO much and still cinch their belts in to keep their pants up. The effect this has on others is quite the blessing and health benefit all by itself. I can’t help but shake my bum and practice the different choreography while they perform.
3) Percussion Instruments. Jembees, congas, steel drums, shakers, marimbas all make me want to move by dancing, stomping, jumping or just walking like a groovy duck.
4) Humidity. If nothing else, you’ll feel like you worked out. Even just standing outside for 30 minutes will get you sweating. Of course this factor is best used in the late spring, summer, and early fall in the south. That just means you can take it on your vacations to those lovely, tropical islands.

I might have something here. Keep your ears open for future developments so you can be the first to pull it off the shelf.

HEY YOU GUYS!

CALLING- ORIGIN late Old English ceallian, from Old Norse kalla ‘summon loudly.’ (New Oxford American Dictionary)

So often I hear the phrase “God’s calling.” (either as a verb: God IS calling or as a noun: his calling. Hey, I teach English.) At times this phrase gets mixed up with emotions and questions in a time when the future looks grim. Sometimes this euphemism takes the place of parents saying GET A JOB. Other times it’s a lovely term to encourage people in their chosen path of life. But I think the definition gives us a clearer and more accurate idea of calling. From there, we might derive how God uses the word calling according to his character.

The aforementioned definition could be said “TO summon loudly” or “THE loud summon. Either way I suspect God is making some noise, some big noise (think home game opener for you Seahawks fans!) God’s hollering, angels are busting out the trumpets, newspapers are flying off the press with a new headline for the Heavenly Herald, and dogs are probably barking with excitement. All for what? Is God shouting out orders like a sergeant? Are the angels blasting out a command to follow? Are the headlines demanding action? Are the dogs barking AT you like a old-cranky teacher?

Nope. Just the opposite.

To summon means to call someone to attendance. Usually it comes with some urgency and it might include a demand in the end, but first and foremost, a summons means “come here.” When God calls us he begins by asking us to draw near to him.
Why is that so important?
1) Remind his children of his love and hope for their life.
2) Show them the place to come with questions, concerns, anxiety, and wonderings.
3) Encourage and fill them up for the task ahead.
4) Connect the dots of passion, talents, and the needs of the world in order to address them with energy.
5) Finally, give orders.

We are all called. All summoned. All meant to be reminded, shown, encouraged, connected, given. Therefore, if the calling is to change our attitude, change our lifestyle, or change our world, we ALL receive a call (LOUD SUMMON) from God. I hope that the shouting includes #1 fingers, big hugs (or slaps on the butt if that’s your style) and a response by you which causes you to go and attend to summons.

"Let yourself be summoned by the love of Christ; His voice which rings in the temple of your heart. Have no fear of the fact that the response He requires is radical, because Jesus, who first loved you, is ready to give what He asks of you. If He asks much it is because He knows that you can give much." -Pope John Paul (emphasis mine)

Diagnose AND Treat

The body lacks proper energy production
When work stops in the Mitochondria.
The mind lacks confidence in the body’s function
When a person lives with hypochondria.

A family is torn into bits and pieces
When the need for love is suffocated.
A nation is fraught with unending debts and leases
When the funds are poorly allocated.

Is there a treatment
A pill
A shot
A surgery
To render these plagues extinct?

Is there a doctor
A psychologist
A social worker
A leader
To speak a message, courageous and distinct?

Why not you? Why not us?
You know the symptoms.
We know the ailments.
The time has come treat this.

by faith

There’s a lot of things that I can say will happen because they seem pretty possible. I will eat something tomorrow, probably even three meals. I will wake up and get dressed. We will do devotions in the evening. They’re just givens despite the fact they haven’t happened. Out of routine and habit I have the confidence that these events will occur.

Today, I really appreciated the phrase “by faith it will happen.” By faith I believe we will travel safely for the rest of the tour. Even this one seems easy to control and highly possible without God’s intervention. By faith, the kids will be ready to perform a new show in October. I can’t say for sure since we’ve never done this production. And yet these things I say, by faith, will happen. Yeah- it seems unlikely that we have bus trouble, but the odds are not 100% in our favor. Could the prevention actually be the intervention of God on another vehicle so we wouldn’t meet on the road? Likewise, the choir can only control so much of how the program comes together. The kids can’t make decisions about lighting or sound controls. The music conductors can’t make decisions about costumes or drive times. They are what they are. But also, each adult position requires a portion of grace in order to use time wisely and effectively. Without control in my hands, only by faith will the details come together.

So I control the one thing which is mine to have: my confidence. I put full weight in the confidence as I live optimistically in God’s life for me.

book-itis. eek!

My bed is covered in books. All sorts of books: text books for the English classes, Bibles, books of notes for work, books that I’ve finished, and a gamut of books that I can’t wait to read but have yet found time to do so. Maybe that’s due to the fact that for every book I finish, I buy two new ones. It’s a strange disease I have right now, as if I’m always thirsty and can’t get enough to read, I mean drink. Yesterday, I spent the good part of a day in a chair at Borders reading through chapter after chapter, absorbing as much as I could, laughing out loud, and despising the rule that unpaid books aren’t aloud in the bathroom. (Don’t try to tell me you’ve never read on the toilet.) I just can’t get my fill of the words, the message or the knowledge offered so freely between the book cover.

Perhaps this disease is contagious though. I think I might have caught it from somewhere or someone. My friend insists on sending me packages containing new reads she just finished and insists I do the same. I get back at her and send a batch of books I’ve finished. Good friends share sickness.
(Aaaa-chew!)
The kids are just as bad at spreading the ailment. All they do are talk about stories and ask me to read. The two boys who sit next to me on the bus are enthralled by my story telling. Thankfully my adaptations of popular American stories are new and thrilling for them since they haven’t heard them back home in Uganda. Of course, I’m sure to be creative, too, and tell them ghost stories creepy enough to keep their eyes as big as saucers to the very end when the punch line comes up as a joke.
(cough cough)
Matilda is the current story book of choice. Who wouldn’t want to hear chapter after chapter with characters like Mrs. Trunchbull, a formidable woman who throws children out windows without even trying? I have to keep the copy in my room to make sure the children don’t read ahead. They’re infected, too, I’ll say.
(sniff sniff)

Thus far in my reading I haven’t come across any cures for this disease. And to be honest, I’m content not getting over this one. Instead,I’ll wash my hands only after handing over a book.

you're allowed

Today I woke up with not much sleep behind me and yet I felt rested. For the most part. I can enjoy the day on the bit of sleep but little things can bother me easier. It’s amazing how quickly the kids pick up on it. Two boys caught me and I told them I was tired. They said it’s ok. “You’re allowed to be sometimes.” Well thanks, wise old men of 7 years. So we chatted and hugged. I got a back rub out of their pure desire to treat their auntie, no coaxing needed. We also discovered that if G put his ear against my shoulder and tapped on my elbow, he could hear the tapping as if it were mic'd. And it worked on his arm, too.

Really? Am I that lucky to be taken out of my sullenness and exhaustion by two little boys who have such joy that it just beams out of their eyes and oozes out their ears? What’s more is they continue to give me the compliment that I make them laugh all the time. Am I really that funny in real life? Maybe but I really only care if I can keep being funny as a gift to the kids.

Perhaps that’s why we’re good for each other. They make me smile and I help them smile, too. It’s easy and simple but good. The goodness that’s worth writing about and remembering.

words work like a ladder

What is it about fun words that make people especially children light up?
Fantastico!
Fabulous!
WOOHOO!
Of course, the mere fact that they are words of encouragement and praise would make anyone smile. But for children they hold so much more. They learn that these words are a pure form of love and affection. At a young age, words have such a power as they develop their vocabulary. I think there’s a crazy statistic that says kids know most of the words they’ll use in life by the time they reach kindergarten. YIKES! So what a treat it is to be a part of a team that uses positive words to instruct, praise and love kids. It’s these words that will stick with them, words that they will repeat so others and words that can and will bring them out of a situation of failure to one of success.

How easy for us to say good, uplifting words to adorable kids? How easy for us to say them even to people we like? For some, good words are always on their lips with genuine affection behind each syllable. That’s my personal challenge over the next week. To speak intentionally with positive, life-giving words. If they are in my mouth, then they will be in my head and heart where the power of words can have as much affect on me as they have on that of the hearer.

“The words of the thoughtless are like swords, but the words of the wise bring healing. Anxiety weighs down the heart, but a kind word cheers it up.” Prov. 12:18, 25

Yippee!

tipping

Over the last few days I have seen significant changes due to one small thing. In fact this blog is the result of such reflections. I haven’t written in a while and the volumes of stories is just overwhelming my brain. Therefore, I can’t help but write about several moments and musings from the week. This is the 3 for 1 special.

Tipping Points are on my mind. In the past I’ve written about the little things. The simple moments that make all the difference. Malcolm Gladwell describes such moments and people in a informative, concise way with both the attractiveness of a fun purse and the serious, hard-core validity of a cure for cancer. Tipping Points: How Little Things Can Make a Big Difference uncovers how the smallest percentage can create a social epidemic similar to that of a flu epidemic. The most humble ideas can come to pass with the smallest of efforts by the right people in the right way.

Yesterday the kids planned to sing the National Anthem at the beginning of a local high school football game at private school and then again during half-time. Along with the performances were a few scheduled interactions with the sixth grade class over pizza dinner and their new friends during the game as they watched together. The kids made their way down to the field through a tunnel of students and parents alike. After enamoring the crowd with their A Capella rendition of the Star Spangled Banner, they went to their seats to cheer on the home team. Well, two touch-downs into the game and six minutes, lightning struck in the distance. The big brawny boys took cover inside as the rules require, and the rest of us were left to wait it out. A few moments go by as people guessed what the clouds would do while the kids scramble from auntie to uncle to know what will happen next. Thankfully all the scuttling subsided when the kids went to doing what they do best. Being kids. They ran around, threw balls to each other and involved their new Big friends in simple games. The pause in the game became the highlight for the kids as the students took to them with all the enthusiasm of new camp counselors. Simon Says. New songs. Hand Clap Game “Down by the Banks.”

Could the kids really be that cute to move high school students from teenage obsessions or insecurities to play with little ones they’ve never met before? Certainly but with a combination of excited students, green grass, and bright lights in an otherwise dark place the night, three kids would have been enough to tip the scales to that of utter fun and freedom. I thought the stoppage couldn’t have been a better unplanned marketing scheme to find student volunteers because they interacted with the people they were being coaxed to help in the future. Face time and the real deal inspires many to seek more.

hair products

Thursday brought us home from a week on tour. I appreciate each part of my life for various reasons but somehow I look forward to the other just as it comes up on the calendar. Lucky me… This reality however did not necessarily bring me to my feet, jumping with joy. Humidity.

The New England area was so pleasant this time of year. The evening concert we had on Cape Cod allowed me to dance my way to climate control. The evening air was a touch chilly but really only in comparison to say 87 degrees and 87% humidity. People enjoyed the concert wrapped in their light sweaters, but I don’t recall hearing anyone their toes were turning blue. It was lovely. So it was the small change in degrees and increase in dew point that really hit me in an instant. Well, more like a 16 hour, 800 mile instant as we made our way back to NC. But sure as we pulled up to the house, my hair took on it’s on personality, curling every which way but mostly straight out from my head. The little things that I miss.

Really, the South is a natural hair product. I wish I could bottle it for times I’m in windy WY. Alas, I’ll deal with a subtle change of 30 mph winds work itself out. Really this too should be bottled…for those times I model hurricane-appropriate scarves?

the word to making history

I received an email with the verse from Nehemiah 6:11. “Can you imagine the thrill of working with people you love serving the God of heaven and making history?” From this quote came a desire to read the whole book. From that came a basket full of thoughtful fruits that is flooding my journal. From this came a devotional moment I shared with the kids about the passions God has given them. From that who knows!? God has great plans for us and the kids are fully aware of this fact. And yet it is hard for them to really see their dreams of being a doctor or pilot come true. So what can they do but work hard each day and pray. Pray for their exams next week. Their professors in college. Their future employers. And the favor of all the people in these stations of life. These kids can make history together as a choir and also with their brothers and sisters back in Africa. It might sound canned, but our African chaperon always tells the audience that he believes a future leader of Uganda can come out of these kids. And WHY NOT? It’s totally possible.

What will be the tipping point in their lives? This year in the states drastically swung the scales as the rest of their education in Africa is guaranteed. And they have an extra family of peers and aunties and uncles looking after them. They won the lottery in a sense. Does that mean they have to find a cure for AIDS or erase poverty in the country? No, their efforts can be modest and still impact many lives. And yet I don’t doubt that a small tipping point and pieces of inspiration will allow this group to find much favor and make history.

< 25 words

Today I read Matilda to the kids. The book reminded me again of how much I love Roald Dahl and his characters. I love reading about the twitting and tantalizing details of their lives. And yet, his literature makes it difficult to explain all these things that happen to the kids. Some of the vocabulary is hard to explain with less than 25 words.

The kids find it very funny when I dance. As I have mentioned in blogs past, I dance at most every event but especially meal times. Well, following lunch I had an opportunity to dance around with some of the young ones. I went all out, exaggerating my arms, facial expressions and hips. Giggles and laughter filled the tent where the night’s concert would be held. Thankfully, they mimicked my moves. They coaxed me to do penguin dances and fainting over and over which all received the same amused laughter and cheers. Somehow, words are unnecessary to communicate pure pleasure and jolly dispositions. In fact, I’d rather hear the young giggles versus hearing how they feel in less than 25 words.

I hope I learn to use the appropriate words for the right time. I hope I realize the situation where I should use laughter to express myself. I hope I remember the important things I need to say can be done in less than 25 words: I wish you well. Jesus loves you. Peace and blessings to you. Stay well. I love you, Mom, Dad, Brother, Sister, Aunties, Uncles, Grandparents, Friends. 25. whew!

hole-in-the-wall

The joys of the city came to an end last night as I headed back to my temporary home. After yet another fantastic eating experience with a New York friend, it was time to send her home to Long Island. We finished the night at a great hole-in-the-wall restaurant called Rick’s Pizza.

Over the last year of touring such a phrase is sort of redundant as most seedy, holes-in-the-wall are nothing but fabulous. The food rocks and comes in large portions, the service is friendly and efficient, and the atmosphere gives me exciting material for writing. Take for instance Rick’s- it’s a small place where the kitchen and dining room meet. The servers have very little ground to cover, and if a customer wanted to sing praises or shouts obscenities, the server wouldn’t have to be the middle man- just get out of the way. The tables had random newspaper articles laid under heavy glass and the booth seats were well-loved in the sense that they were comfy and not stiff rather than the “well-loved” torn plastic types you see in some places.

Then there came the menu/short novel full of any late night desire one could image. Fruit, any slice of Pizza on earth, Baklava, Mac ‘N Cheese, Jell-o, hamburgers topped with guacamole, omelets, and hot chocolate. I could eat a meal there everyday for the next year and still not have covered all the options. I can’t pinpoint whether the fact that all the foods had a bit of comfort in them or that there was novelty in the random assortment of menu items but I felt right at home and enjoying the whole experience. After another meal there, I might have considered the chefs my brothers.

A great deal can be said about the importance of sharing meals with friends, but much can also be said about the atmosphere of the place you come for food. I would rather eat at home most everyday: it has a pleasant atmosphere, endless glasses of water without waiting, and food that I love. However going to a restaurant is good fun too: it provides food I wouldn’t/couldn’t cook at home, interesting people to observe, and no dirty dishes for me to clean. Regardless of venues, both can create the best place for conversation, deep thoughts, and genuine delight. Food does that to me- gives me delight. So I am happy to share that delight with others especially if the chefs can see me dancing for their spectacular dishes.

Some cultures find joy is sharing meal TIME much easier than most Americans. All of the aspects of a meal hold significance so when one finds the perfect place to facilitate that experience, goodness is found, even if in its in the holes of walls.

what's next?

There is so much anticipation in the air. We’re heading to NYC tomorrow- driving the bus the whole way in a day. I’m actually looking forward to it, though every seat will be taken. I’ll be helping some kids with English but also writing, reading and thinking.

And then I can’t wait to see my friend Jessica who is the associate sound designer for the new Off-Broadway show Fela! It’s been quite the process, and I was lucky enough to hear all about it as the rehearsals took shape. Not only do I get to see Jess, but I get to see the show which has some incredible dancing and Afrobeat music. So tight.
While I’m in the city I’ll also try to stop at the Bald Man’s for some chocolate.This place is now a small addiction I have. Fortunately enough I visit NYC once a year and not more frequently. Otherwise, I would be a spokesperson for the restaurant and get stock options just to have an excuse to pop in the store every week.

The city brings about a certain thrill which will be fun to have coursing through my veins. Of course, several things bring that on these days like the Olympics, the tasty dinners and new recipes we’ve tried this week and upcoming projects with the choir. Plus, the forthcoming theatre tour just gets me juiced up every time I think about the costumes, puppets, travel, post-show-ice-cream-debriefing, and the overall production. I can’t wait to see the kids at their prime in this show.

We often go through life thinking about what’s to come. That’s definitely a cultural thing as we live in a society that is pretty certain that not only will tomorrow come but a 10-year plan is necessary to properly live today for the future. One thing that brings me back from my daydreams are prayers from the kids thanking God for keeping them alive yet one more day.
It is good to have plans. God does and even tells us they are to prosper us. It's great to have anticipation for what’s ahead.
All of these are best used when we think about how we can use that energy for today. I have been pondering my current position and place quite a bit, not out of distaste but out of a desire to make the most of it. How can I be present in the present and capture all the lessons and experience for future endeavors? How can the investments I make in the children, the team, the organization bear fruit in the immediate or even distant future? These questions add as much value to my future plans as the question: What is next on the agenda?

presence

Presence is an important reality that many of us take for granted.

I’ve been living vicariously through a friend who has been house sitting/dog sitting. I often did that in my normal life. (PS-good tour preparation) I smile at the fact that houses need to be sat. I’m sure they get lonely. I remember the day I returned from my Christmas holiday to find my house at school the same temperature as a walk in freezer. The heater had broken- a sure sign of the house’s disgruntlement from our extended absence. But I digress.
Apart from the obvious and intensely important reasons one should “house” sit, dog sitting ranks up there in worthwhile activities as say visiting old folks homes and playing the flute for church. These experiences are meant to take you out of yourself and appreciate other’s needs and well being. And to a dog-sat dog, presence is all that matters. “Presence” can turn into petting, hopefully feeding and watering, and maybe even walking. Pets usually respond to people and feel a great deal of impact when the human is gone. That’s why dogs run to a newly-arrived guest or mom as she walks in the door from work. They want the attention, the company that doesn’t require anything but one’s existence.

I had a reminder of this simple idea as I came home from grocery shopping the other day. Though it didn’t take too long, the kids seemed to think I was gone for an eternity. On top of it, they weren’t just happy to see me and say hello, but they wanted me to hug and pet and hold them and tell them stories.

Sometimes in life our presence is our job. That’s the purpose for the season, and even in the midst of doing other things, being “here” matters to the people around you, especially to the small people. They hold dear to the time spent as if I had deposited a handful of money into their pocket. A wise teacher once said to me that how we spend our time determines our priorities. Therefore, if we are willing to spend our time being present to a friend at coffee, sister over the phone, child on the swing, God in the quiet, we are setting a precedent of importance and value. It can and should be intentional, but even when it’s not, the committed presence impacts that life.

That’s how God did it. He decided to be present with his people. Not just to send representatives or messengers. He sent himself through Jesus to spend the time, to interface, and to grow people in a way that would have lasting promise.

Let’s not be discouraged that being present doesn’t always finish with a end product that can be quantified or hung on a wall like a degree. Instead, let’s realize the gift of being alive to be present or the joy of being that which brings a smile to someone’s face.

two tiny things

Immaculate thought the fountains at the Bellagio were worshipping. Others said they were dancing. All of the children were awestruck.

Mathew brought a great reminder to us and the children. When we come to these gigs in places like Las Vegas, it’s easy to think: Why am I here? Why did the organization bring me here? When really I should be asking: Why did God bring me here? This is the question for every threshold I cross and town I enter. I can be an ambassador for God in this place. I should seek to bring light in every dim or dark place, not just the ones that are labeled as such.

good farrago

I had an incredible experience at church this morning. It was as if every song was played for me. Each message was directed right at me. And what’s even more amazing is that I wasn’t the only one. A couple of the children told me that worship brought them to tears, but they didn’t know why. They were dancing and singing and all of a sudden…

I could interpret many things from their experience some of which I told them. I tried to explain to them how I wanted to go run and jump and shout in the parking lot after church due to my excitement and spirit-fed gusto (which I sort of did though no one saw), but such attempts were lost on them as much as they’re lost on me tp even articulate.

All I know is that God has a mighty language with which he speaks, and it can knock us off our feet, especially when we’re not expecting it. Various wonderful, marvelous, thrilling ideas and jumbles are reeling through my head these days, many of which have to do with more than just the next 10 minutes- go for 10 YEAR plan. In the midst of all this “planning” or “dreaming,” activities much pursued in my college days, I was reminded yet again that God has a perfect purpose for me. The passions which are fueling much of this farrignous* fire point at the very thing that God will have me do. Cool. And exciting. And WHAT! Crazy, Out of Control, Wild, the Creator of the universe is using me?…Yikes!

So it’s all good. That’s the main interpretation I have for what happen this morning. God’s in the middle of it, doing what he does best…being GOOD.

* a new word to add to my vocabulary (so helpful when wanting to alliterate)
farrago |fəˈrägō; -ˈrā-| noun ( pl. -goes) a confused mixture
derivatives: farrignous- adj

snake by snake

Yesterday the man came to mow the lawn. As we sat on the porch by the mud room, someone noticed something wriggling around in the grass so the kids went to inspect. On closer look they discovered a snake. A wee snake about 10 inches long and no wider than my pinky finger.

BUT A SNAKE!

At least those were their feelings. Angela got a stick but as she doesn't like snakes, she handed it over to me to pull the snake out. The poor dude had a nice cut which made his guts ooze a little. I pulled it out of it's hole and Mirembe took over.

The kids were crying out and shouting, "Mirembe! Mirembe! Mirembe! Mirembe! Mirembe! Mirembe! Mirembe!"

As he hoisted the snake hanging over the stick and took it out to the field by the road. a parade of children followed him still shouting, picking up sticks and rocks along the way.
It looked like they were going to burn a witch or something.
Mirembe flung the snake off the stick just close enough whereby he then took a small post and started beating it while Claudio and Joseph threw rocks.
He beat it dead, and everyone made sure it was sufficiently buried by thrown rocks. All the time kids are squealing and carrying on in such raucous as if to scream it to death.

Apparently this isn’t an unusual scene back home. Of course, the snakes are much bigger and more poisonous than a little gardner snake, but this tour is suppose to be training ground for these kids. We’re not making them Americans, we’re trying to help them grow into great Africans. Why not start in the garden?

What activities do we do that makes us the better people that we are meant to be? I had a Catholic professor at a predominantly Protestant school. She always instructed us by saying, “I’m hoping I’m making you better Protestants as you are refining my Catholicism.” It’s not about converting but about honing. When I ran track I didn’t want to run the 10K (neither did my teammates- they would have had to pull out the calendar to time me) but their dedication to their intense and grueling race urged me on to dedicate as much energy and focus to my 15 second hurdle race.

It’s easy to think being better means changing something about our current circumstances. Sometimes the change that leads to refinement is just in our pursuit and attitude. We can be better where we are by being a bit more intentional, using inspiration from co-workers or friends to motivate our current progress, and appreciating the unique situation we’re in where self-improvement is within our grasp and worth seeking.

Let’s embrace who we are, where we are, and where we can go…snake by snake.

the Joy.

These reflections come in the context of the Olympics, southern hospitality for our many visitors and the departure of a friend.

One risks a lot having great expectations.
One hopes they are met without complications.
Then one can give explanations
Of the joy.

One’s source of endless exultations
Can only be seen in part, not as completed compilations.
Hence the reason for the random exclamations
Of the joy.

It can come from athletic dominations,
Words of support and inspirations,
Or a simple hug of love explains the accumulations
Of the joy.

One should keep the great expectations
Which can lead to moments of jubilations.
Nothing should stand in the way- not the risk, not the derivations-
Of the joy.

no words.

Good day. Good company. Good food. Good thoughts.

No Words.

What do you do when you don’t have words
To put together a thought, a sentence, a prayer?
What happens to the thing in your heart
When your mouth stays shut, the mind goes blank, the eyes just stare?

Why is so hard to convert feelings into phrases?
They don’t have to be profound or new.
Why is it easier to spin around, looking for the…what?
See what I mean? It’s the words that are hard to do.

When my head is all filled up,
Is that when the steady flow stops?
When I want to say it all and more
But I don’t know what has more meaning, if its phrased right, what should be tops?

Who can say this is not normal, though,
To be at a loss over the important things?
Who hasn’t been in this situation of jumbledness
When the heart jumps, hopes, cries, dances, sings?

Where is there a better place to be
Than in a state of dissonance and seeking?
Where would I rather be?
I can’t say..that’s part of the what I’m still tweaking.

paradox

Life around the house surprises me everyday. Yesterday, Lynate and I went on a spider rampage, clearing all the webs around the house. Such a task was emboldening and utterly gross because while we got rid of lots of intruding friends and their habitats, the fact that we had so many was a bit disturbing. In our retaking of our home, Lynate and I missed a very large visitor right by the porch light. Thankfully, the three boys in grade two spotted it right away. Even Lubega said hi would kill it right away, if he could jump that high, the class decided to name their new friend Spencer. Spencer might not last long, but there’s a lovely and surprising paradox in being both friend and foe to the creature.

This morning the same class took a science field trip to the back yard. They found a broken bird, struggling to fly with it’s bruised leg or sprained toe. So the little bird became the subject of observation for all the classes. As a teacher let it rest in her hands, the bird hopped out and began to scuttle and flap its wings through the house. What a funny site, bird trying desperately to escape while teacher ran hunched over to catch it and return it to the outdoors. Again, a bit of love and tenderness mixed with utter chaos and uproar. Oh my!

Finally, at least for this post, comes the cooking of dinner. Sometimes madness ensues and other times, the microwave is the only sweating from work. Last night, leftovers were at hand for consumption, but tonight sis and I went to town and brought the house down. (Can I really rhyme here- is that allowed? She wore a bandana…) Anyway we made hamburgers, company potatoes, peas, buns, tomatoes, ketchup…
Boy, we were a hit. A real class act, family style. And yet, we couldn’t have done it without the help of the little ones we fed, especially the B. He master-minded the lovely table-setting, grape-washing, tomato-slicing, and all around up-lifting words. Meanwhile, S/J were efficiently running around with our heads cut off to serve dinner in timeish. Everyone ate the goodness (not ice cream) and left wild and full of energy while we nodded and went to bed (early for us) with the satisfaction of a job well done.

hence the GREAT driving

So my sister came yesterday. And how did I know, we were wearing the same thing and our hair was doing it’s CRAZY and WILD thing. All the way home, I was driving and being insane so we were extremely safe. Really, focusing on the road is like trying to hit the golf ball straight the the fair way. It’s better to aim for the antelope in the rough and the ball will fly right into place. Anyway, this much anticipated date has finally arrived and I’m SUPER EXCITED. Hence the great driving.

Reuniting with people you know who live far away can go one of two ways. Either you’ve been in contact with one another and can start from yesterday’s conversation and go forward or you’ve talk to the other sporadically if at all and therefore spend the next several hours catching up. Both are fun and have their advantages. The sporadic check in gives a person a surprise to his day and hopefully a big grin. The daily updates allows a person to share in the other’s joys and woes as they happen. Such a situation offers both people the opportunity to step out from their world and share with perspective to each other. And if one doesn’ t have perspective the other one certainly will.

I love that I met my “twin” and she already knew what was happening tomorrow in my life. And I knew what she ate on her flight over. We had new stories to tell from the days events, more tales to tell about life, and excitement abounding. Hence the great driving.

And more than that, meeting people you’ve talked to more than every 3rd Tuesday after the full moon establishes a relationship that moves conversations from “How are you?” and “What’s new?” to “What are you dreaming to do next year?” Which could turn out to be “Hey, you too?” Making plans, encouraging dreams, holding each other accountable to those hopes. Such reunions get me pumped up for the moments, hours, days ahead. My head’s churning, her head’s brewing. It’s exciting. Hence the great driving.

Laughing silly

The simple things in life make it all good. Really, it’s these moments that really make me smile and dance around. Anyone can attest to it, though the kids would be the first to share that their Auntie Sarah is a little silly but the “funniest in all the world.” Ahh…thanks.

The joys first came with the trip to the beach on our free, day-off Friday. A real beach with waves of the Atlantic ocean that filled our mouths with salt and sand. I tried to convince the kids it was sugar, but they wouldn’t buy it. I carried different kids on my back as we jumped waves, ran from them and dove right into the water. At one point I took one of the smallest boys on my back and ran across the beach, chasing a bird who kept running at just the right speed to taunt us. Godfrey and I were screaming and waving our warms (I was- he was holding me by the neck) and still the bird kept scuttling along without any fear or trepidation. I realized throughout the excursion, Godfrey was mainly laughing at me and not helping the scaring-bird-off-it’s-feet-into-the-ocean mission. Oh well, I looked silly again, he took to giggling: mission accomplished.

Yesterday, the Summer Olympics started with an amazing display of art, technology and China’s unique culture colliding into a ceremony meant to bring hope, harmony, and a charge to make history. I came in from the bus in time to remember the ceremonies had just started. I jumped on the couch and remote to find NBC. And jumping, I remained to view 2008 Chinese drummers putting on a spectacular light show with their instruments with the precision that dropped my jaw for several minutes…when I wasn’t squealing with delight. The whole event kept me captivated, though I did have to scurry in and out of the kitchen during commercials to grab a bite to eat for dinner. The kids just laughed and watched in awe at the mere
madness of me.

Then there was the refrigerator. With 34 people living out of a few “ice-boxes,” as my grandma would say, things tend to spill, leftovers can be forgotten and tucked away, and who knows all the ways humidity comes into play. So I cleaned it out with the help of a few willing volunteers. Now it sparkles. I open the doors just to look at the clean shelves and I inevitably do a little jig. Job well done.

New discoveries are probably the #1 source of smiles. Mr. Lubega, as we formally call him, has come to a new level of dexterity with the English language. Once the littlest boy with the most anxiety and unknowing in his eyes, Lubega now chats up a storm, tries new and strange foods, and offers profound pieces of insight. Tonight the kids enjoyed ice cream and more than just the usual vanilla. Rainbow really mixed things up. And Lubega didn’t miss a beat for, as he tried he first bite, he held out the bowl to offer me some, saying, “Auntie, have a taste of the goodness.” Boy, did he have that nailed down; the ice cream couldn’t have been better after such a praise. The special English lessons are paying off, even the African chaperon said so. Lubega is just lucky I didn’t come dance around his chair poking in with my spoon when he wasn’t looking. Oh, I still giggle inside at his big, toothless grin and bowl of goodness.

are you my BFF?

Does the a person you consider to be a best friend have to have a mutual perception?

It’s a question I’ve been contemplating for a long time.

What makes a best friend? Does it have something to do with the fact that you have similar beliefs, share the same mind, cannot talk forever and yet begin a conversation right where you left off, see a talent others miss, can talk about anything and everything for hours or minutes, wear the same clothes, finish each other’s sentences, know exactly how the other person would react to a certain comment or event, eat the exact same thing or the exact opposite, learn more about yourself and God through the interaction? Or is such a formula or list of characteristics fit just one set of BFFs? Does each pair create their own definition?

I think so. And therefore I think it’s acceptable and plausible to have differing opinions about the Bestness of your friendship. And really, best friends count mainly at 8-year-old birthday parties where it designates who gets to sit by the birthday girl and have the 2nd piece of cake after the 1st goes to the queen bee for the day. I’m not saying best friends don’t or shouldn’t exist. The definitions change so much that assumptions about what a best friend looks like, who it should be, why it is so, how it came to be, and what it requires or advantages the other has in the relationship isn't really important to the outside world. The result of abundant joy and lavishing love from this friendship is important. That, the world can see, appreciate, and even benefit from as such adoration only tends to bubble outward. Ooze in my case probably.

The Gospel writer, John, wrote about himself as the beloved. Jesus held him close to his heart in a unique way. Jesus didn't exactly confirmed this, probably because, as God, he has equally abounding and unmeasurable love for everyone, despite the tantrums he through at the temple. And yet, all the Gospel writers talk about a certain few that Jesus hung out with a lot including Peter and John. Peter inherited the keys to heaven and was told to be the rock or foundation on which the church was to be built. So John received a certain extra measure of love. He’s writing his autobiography a little bit so he had the liberty to elaborate as he perceives. I’m glad that John felt worthy enough to claim such affection.
Regardless of the mutual feelings toward bestestness of friendship, I should claim it for myself that I have a friend who delights in me. One, a couple, some, many, endless friends delight in me and I delight in them.