Transitions. Moving from A to B. This season is full of them. People move across town, country or oceans now that the weather is nicer, kids are out of school, and the job turnover comes. Families go on vacation, transitioning from a routine of work and school to that of relaxation, recreation and adventure. Some kids are even getting ready for the transition back to school. No joke- I saw people buying school supplies at Target today; they had the list and all! Really, who lets their kids pick out their favorite kleenex box without intending for them to use it at school? Graduates are enjoying the last bit of freedom before the transition from high school to the responsibility of school with a price tag or from that academic atmosphere to real world application. Transitions with relationships often take place, too, as people go from saying hi to speaking for hours in the warm summer nights; couples go from dating to being married.
Transitions are the preamble of change which rarely comes easily for people, or at least not with a little bit of a tiff/all out fight. Carly Fiorina in Tough Choices said, “Change is an unnatural act and so requires sustained disruptions of sufficient force.” The forces of anticipation, excitement, realized potential, and new crayons can allow the transition stage to be enjoyable and preparatory for the “ultimate change.” So embrace the transition of the sustained disruptions when you experience new prayers, refocused thoughts, and redirected action because the change might appear before you know it.
Then, the change will be the reality with the characteristics of a “new kid,” all of which has a whole different set of rules.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Hair and Laces
Julius M. now greets my hair in the morning and throughout the day. The frizzled, humidity-captured, crunchy curly hair always attracts his eyes and hands. So I get the hug and my hair gets the squeeze.
I had an opportunity to explain a bit of technology to the Joan and Joshua. In their amazement with my wireless printer capabilities, they couldn’t quite grasp the idea of information floating through the air. So I said the machines talked in codes…and I’ll tell you when you’re older. The more tangible yet no less spectacular technological tool was the shredder. In perfect beat to her seeing the tiny confetti, Joan asked if it made rice. I smiled and said not real rice, only the paper rice. If only food was so easy to come by. Isn’t that what technology is for anyway.
Sunday nights are “specials” nights when the children offer their latest song, skit, or talent to the group. This week the kids out in extra effort and danced with grass skirts, worte stories using the principles of similes we had discussed in English this past week, and even composed their own songs. Florence and her trio sang a beautiful song with the words and harmonies of angels.
All the children hand-washed their play shoes after the wet and dirty trip to the lake. Thus, today they had to re-lace their shows before the rain came. Lynate decided to be innovated and start her laces at the front of the shoes and work toward the toe. I think she made it halfway before realizing her new method might not be as clever as she had hoped.
Uncle Mathew’s church back home just sent 26 Bibles to the house. This gift is invaluable and the kids have quickly come to appreciate and enjoy reading them. Uncle David taught them a song to remember the books of the New Testament. Despite the late hour and comfortable pillow, my head ran through the song about 7 times before I finally dozed off to study my eyelids. Thank goodness for edifying music and lyrics.
I had an opportunity to explain a bit of technology to the Joan and Joshua. In their amazement with my wireless printer capabilities, they couldn’t quite grasp the idea of information floating through the air. So I said the machines talked in codes…and I’ll tell you when you’re older. The more tangible yet no less spectacular technological tool was the shredder. In perfect beat to her seeing the tiny confetti, Joan asked if it made rice. I smiled and said not real rice, only the paper rice. If only food was so easy to come by. Isn’t that what technology is for anyway.
Sunday nights are “specials” nights when the children offer their latest song, skit, or talent to the group. This week the kids out in extra effort and danced with grass skirts, worte stories using the principles of similes we had discussed in English this past week, and even composed their own songs. Florence and her trio sang a beautiful song with the words and harmonies of angels.
All the children hand-washed their play shoes after the wet and dirty trip to the lake. Thus, today they had to re-lace their shows before the rain came. Lynate decided to be innovated and start her laces at the front of the shoes and work toward the toe. I think she made it halfway before realizing her new method might not be as clever as she had hoped.
Uncle Mathew’s church back home just sent 26 Bibles to the house. This gift is invaluable and the kids have quickly come to appreciate and enjoy reading them. Uncle David taught them a song to remember the books of the New Testament. Despite the late hour and comfortable pillow, my head ran through the song about 7 times before I finally dozed off to study my eyelids. Thank goodness for edifying music and lyrics.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Catch me if you can, CROC!
A great advantage of living in the country comes in the form of adventure. After returning home from our time in Fayetteville, Auntie Liz and I took the children to the lake. This is a great walk down a twisty road in the middle of the lush forest. As a sign warns unsuspecting cars, the road falls into the water. We live within walking distance of a boat dock which also means there’s a rocky/sandy shore just around the bend.
The journey to the water’s edge was fascinating with some kids holding hands with me and others forging ahead with a new-found independence and freedom. Some of these boys would be great scouts. Liz had told the kids that if she or I ever hollered “CAR!” everyone should go to the side of the road immediately and stop. Once, the journey started, many new voices for the aunties arose in the air shouting “CAR! CAR!” At one point the choir sounded like a bunch of crows. Next time I’ll teach them the ol’ Girl Scout favorite (sing it with me)
Car, Car, C-A-R! Stick it in a mustard jar. Hit the ditch!
Some of us raced from turn to turn. I need to watch out if I ever go head to head with some of the girls; their little legs have rapid turnover.
Of course, the best fun came in the water. The children let their feet free to feel the water, but as expected, much more got wet. A song in the theatre show is about fishing so after several started singing it to themselves, they decided to “rehearse” on the beach. Everyone grabbed a stick and practiced paddling and singing. We just needed a crocodile to complete the number. Maybe we should add water to the show; the extra element really brought the song to life. But then we have to deal with lighting it and overcome crashing-wave sounds, so we’ll leave God to take care of that at the lake, and we’ll do our best inside.
A couple kids learned to skip rocks, a few boys competed to see who could throw a rock the furthest, and everyone came out of the water a bit more sodden than planned. They marveled at the boats zooming by and canoes meandering around the edge, but the jet ski had them speechless and frozen in awe for a time.
Finally, in all smiles and almost jumping, Claudio exclaimed, “A crocodile couldn’t get me on that!” So I’m adding it to our wish list- a jet ski. Perhaps he can use it for his trip home next year. It would make luggage a bit of a challenge, but obviously this revolutionary machine could change his life’s goal from being an engineer to the next Crocodile Hunter.
The journey to the water’s edge was fascinating with some kids holding hands with me and others forging ahead with a new-found independence and freedom. Some of these boys would be great scouts. Liz had told the kids that if she or I ever hollered “CAR!” everyone should go to the side of the road immediately and stop. Once, the journey started, many new voices for the aunties arose in the air shouting “CAR! CAR!” At one point the choir sounded like a bunch of crows. Next time I’ll teach them the ol’ Girl Scout favorite (sing it with me)
Car, Car, C-A-R! Stick it in a mustard jar. Hit the ditch!
Some of us raced from turn to turn. I need to watch out if I ever go head to head with some of the girls; their little legs have rapid turnover.
Of course, the best fun came in the water. The children let their feet free to feel the water, but as expected, much more got wet. A song in the theatre show is about fishing so after several started singing it to themselves, they decided to “rehearse” on the beach. Everyone grabbed a stick and practiced paddling and singing. We just needed a crocodile to complete the number. Maybe we should add water to the show; the extra element really brought the song to life. But then we have to deal with lighting it and overcome crashing-wave sounds, so we’ll leave God to take care of that at the lake, and we’ll do our best inside.
A couple kids learned to skip rocks, a few boys competed to see who could throw a rock the furthest, and everyone came out of the water a bit more sodden than planned. They marveled at the boats zooming by and canoes meandering around the edge, but the jet ski had them speechless and frozen in awe for a time.
Finally, in all smiles and almost jumping, Claudio exclaimed, “A crocodile couldn’t get me on that!” So I’m adding it to our wish list- a jet ski. Perhaps he can use it for his trip home next year. It would make luggage a bit of a challenge, but obviously this revolutionary machine could change his life’s goal from being an engineer to the next Crocodile Hunter.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Downtown- doin' it right!
Today was Fourth Friday in Fayetteville, NC. Too bad it’s not February to have Fourth Friday in Fayetteville forgoing a freeze and fixing fondue at Frank’s Fountain and Fosfate facility (ignore spelling) Downtown was running as wild as my tongue with that twister. Artists, musicians, neighbors, and shoppers from all over came to enjoy live music on the streets, good eats in the bakery and the enregy of a lively downtown. Our show happened to be in the historic Methodist church of those city blocks which gave the people one more delightful option for their evening. The gym ended up like a can of sradines as folks crowded in to see the kids. They must have heard the drums on the streets below.
I want to make a tribute to downtowns tonight. Several communities I’ve visited or lived in for the last five years have put in tremendous effort to revitalize their historic downtowns. They sponsor first or fourth Fridays (the alliteration theme is popular) open coffee shops and art galleries where people can meet to chat about the important things in life, and refurbish the old and forgotten to be a new places of possibility whether they become apartment buildings, new restaurants, or unique clothing and retail stores. These services are all vital to the well-being and culture of a city.
I believe over the last couple decades the suburbs have taken us out of these hubs by inviting us to use their quick conviences in a strip mall or miniplex. Now I can’t be a hypocrit and say I haven’t spent my fair share of time and money in such places. I will say, though, that the richness, character, and opportunities of a downtown seems proportional to the well-being of the city and its people, and a place where I want to spend my time.
Downtowns remind me of kitchens. It’s where everything happens- the food, the conversation, the planning, and the relating. Action is in the center and everyone wants to be a part of it. If a downtown can provide that through the help of locals taking an interest and making it their own, business, relationships, and hope will grow. Kitchens aren’t exempt of their own burnt toast or disfunctional appliances, but those can be dealt with, fixed, and made new with just a little effort. A downtown can also transform its grungy buildings into something more inviting. It can connect with the transcient and homeless (who really aren’t homeless- they live Downtown.) by providing services to get them on their feet and find opportunities beyond the street. It can change attitudes about stereotypical groups by bringing them together that feels natural and welcoming through diverse food, entertainment, and art.
So thanks, Fayetteville, on this fourth Friday for reminding me of the great potential that lies at the center of a city and bringing life and energy to the scene. Fun is what you take with you; Fayettevillites brought it all right to the kitchen.
I want to make a tribute to downtowns tonight. Several communities I’ve visited or lived in for the last five years have put in tremendous effort to revitalize their historic downtowns. They sponsor first or fourth Fridays (the alliteration theme is popular) open coffee shops and art galleries where people can meet to chat about the important things in life, and refurbish the old and forgotten to be a new places of possibility whether they become apartment buildings, new restaurants, or unique clothing and retail stores. These services are all vital to the well-being and culture of a city.
I believe over the last couple decades the suburbs have taken us out of these hubs by inviting us to use their quick conviences in a strip mall or miniplex. Now I can’t be a hypocrit and say I haven’t spent my fair share of time and money in such places. I will say, though, that the richness, character, and opportunities of a downtown seems proportional to the well-being of the city and its people, and a place where I want to spend my time.
Downtowns remind me of kitchens. It’s where everything happens- the food, the conversation, the planning, and the relating. Action is in the center and everyone wants to be a part of it. If a downtown can provide that through the help of locals taking an interest and making it their own, business, relationships, and hope will grow. Kitchens aren’t exempt of their own burnt toast or disfunctional appliances, but those can be dealt with, fixed, and made new with just a little effort. A downtown can also transform its grungy buildings into something more inviting. It can connect with the transcient and homeless (who really aren’t homeless- they live Downtown.) by providing services to get them on their feet and find opportunities beyond the street. It can change attitudes about stereotypical groups by bringing them together that feels natural and welcoming through diverse food, entertainment, and art.
So thanks, Fayetteville, on this fourth Friday for reminding me of the great potential that lies at the center of a city and bringing life and energy to the scene. Fun is what you take with you; Fayettevillites brought it all right to the kitchen.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
design.er
Basket weavers have nothing on spiders and their webs.
A rain drop captures the light just right to create a beautiful array of colors.
The earth rotates just far enough from the sun to keep us from melting (literally, not like North Carolina melting) but close enough to keep us from freezing like popsicles.
I’ve recently cracked open a new book that reviews a few famous people and their discoveries or inventions. Such as the guy who invented Calculus, um…Sir Isaac Newton, I think. I find it strange to think about someone inventing math. 2+2=4 It just is. See- I’ll show you with my fingers. So I can’t show you the derivative of the x squared plus 8 on my fingers. Still, the reality of such theories, facts, and formulas figured to explain what is already present in the world amazes me. The minds of these great scientists astound me especially when I think that they were doing all this at my age. Outrageous!
Beyond this remarkable realization is the greater truth that might seemed overshadowed by human accomplishments. The Design. And the Designer. How incredible that all that scientists work tirelessly toward understanding is simply to put into words the ways of the natural world. “It just is” does not work. It’s not even a good understatement for the workings of the world and universe. Newton can describe and formulate the force of gravity, but the fact it even exists as it does makes gravity and the creator of gravity so astounding. Science, math, and all other disciplines, really, have a profound discovery to make in figuring out more of the design. To not try would be a loss to everyone. Experiencing the design in its natural place is one thing, but to put the phenomena into words can only highlight its majesty and that of its creator.
A rain drop captures the light just right to create a beautiful array of colors.
The earth rotates just far enough from the sun to keep us from melting (literally, not like North Carolina melting) but close enough to keep us from freezing like popsicles.
I’ve recently cracked open a new book that reviews a few famous people and their discoveries or inventions. Such as the guy who invented Calculus, um…Sir Isaac Newton, I think. I find it strange to think about someone inventing math. 2+2=4 It just is. See- I’ll show you with my fingers. So I can’t show you the derivative of the x squared plus 8 on my fingers. Still, the reality of such theories, facts, and formulas figured to explain what is already present in the world amazes me. The minds of these great scientists astound me especially when I think that they were doing all this at my age. Outrageous!
Beyond this remarkable realization is the greater truth that might seemed overshadowed by human accomplishments. The Design. And the Designer. How incredible that all that scientists work tirelessly toward understanding is simply to put into words the ways of the natural world. “It just is” does not work. It’s not even a good understatement for the workings of the world and universe. Newton can describe and formulate the force of gravity, but the fact it even exists as it does makes gravity and the creator of gravity so astounding. Science, math, and all other disciplines, really, have a profound discovery to make in figuring out more of the design. To not try would be a loss to everyone. Experiencing the design in its natural place is one thing, but to put the phenomena into words can only highlight its majesty and that of its creator.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
silent jog, spoken blog
Silent might be an exaggeration, but certainly intentional. I decided to forgo the ipod today as I headed out into the woods for my run. Usually, I enjoy the pace-maker of my music, driving me on to go harder, faster, further.
This day I found the sound of my feet and breathing to be enough to encourage my pace. I also noticed for the first time in awhile where I slow up in the middle of the run. It’s easy to think my feet will ensure my goal time, but more focus is actually required. Yet in the midst of this crusade of feet and head, I found the surrounding ambiance to be a perfect time to be silent.
The time brought to mind those who haven’t thought about in a long time.
The thick bush beyond the trail reminded me of friends who were about to embark on new adventures or just returned from such journeys.
The squirrels helped me think of college friends where the rodents ran rampant.
The sounds of helicopters prompted me to think about those in the service, those in the hospital, and those aching after loved ones there.
A silent jog brought to mind:
It’s interesting how motivating distractions and pace-makers can actually keep me from listening to the real Pace-Maker. I take for granted that this time to run is a gift of physical strength, geography, and discipline. I don’t and won’t always have such opportunities. I won’t always run without music, but the silent jog made for a loquacious and thorough mind and soul workout.
This day I found the sound of my feet and breathing to be enough to encourage my pace. I also noticed for the first time in awhile where I slow up in the middle of the run. It’s easy to think my feet will ensure my goal time, but more focus is actually required. Yet in the midst of this crusade of feet and head, I found the surrounding ambiance to be a perfect time to be silent.
The time brought to mind those who haven’t thought about in a long time.
The thick bush beyond the trail reminded me of friends who were about to embark on new adventures or just returned from such journeys.
The squirrels helped me think of college friends where the rodents ran rampant.
The sounds of helicopters prompted me to think about those in the service, those in the hospital, and those aching after loved ones there.
A silent jog brought to mind:
It’s interesting how motivating distractions and pace-makers can actually keep me from listening to the real Pace-Maker. I take for granted that this time to run is a gift of physical strength, geography, and discipline. I don’t and won’t always have such opportunities. I won’t always run without music, but the silent jog made for a loquacious and thorough mind and soul workout.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Sweet and Juicy
For some reason my appetite has been funky monkey lately. Perhaps it’s the traveling. Nothing like airline peanuts to tide you over for a week. Or it could be all my talk about organic food, yet I lack of any such products on my table. When 32 people are coming to dinner, I need my own farm, not a quaint farmer’s market on the corner.
Regardless of how touchy my tummy tends, I somehow convince the digestive system to accept and LIKE fruits and veggies. Now, this is not rocket science for me: if it’s healthy it will probably make me feel better and make my mouth smile. Some people I know would beg to differ claiming only rabbits are meant to consume leaves and things that grow on a tree…if it doesn’t moo, they won’t chew.
TANGENT: I need to take a poll. Name the best/worst condiment ever invented. We eat ketchup at the house like it’s our job. BBQ sauce has often been a winning sauce/condiment among my carnivorous friends. Mustard sits on the fence- some can’t get enough and would much rather yellow dye than the red of ketchup. To sort of relate this the aforementioned subject of fruits and veggies, you can even consider Ranch or other dips. So cast your vote. You might learn a little more about the true condiment cravings of your average Jo/an.
So back to the appetite. I’ve decided to give into what my body craves, not that it’s particularly hard. When cantelope, watermelon, or pineapple is cut up and served, I’m first in line. I’m sure this pure enjoyment comes from good training by my dad. He knew how to make such foods desirable. By cutting them into weird shapes and especially balls. Who can pass up a bowl of melon balls? They’re like little jewels, little pebbles of pleasure. And so easy to eat with fingers, a fork, or colored toothpicks.
I don’t have to try half so hard to get these kids to eat fruit. Yet, they know the really good stuff is back at home. Not a whole bunch of pineapple farms in North Carolina. They give me the benefit of the doubt, though, and indulge in the store bought melons, mangoes, and pineapples. A sweet, juicy fruit is so much more appetizing than a juicy steak, anyway…right?
Regardless of how touchy my tummy tends, I somehow convince the digestive system to accept and LIKE fruits and veggies. Now, this is not rocket science for me: if it’s healthy it will probably make me feel better and make my mouth smile. Some people I know would beg to differ claiming only rabbits are meant to consume leaves and things that grow on a tree…if it doesn’t moo, they won’t chew.
TANGENT: I need to take a poll. Name the best/worst condiment ever invented. We eat ketchup at the house like it’s our job. BBQ sauce has often been a winning sauce/condiment among my carnivorous friends. Mustard sits on the fence- some can’t get enough and would much rather yellow dye than the red of ketchup. To sort of relate this the aforementioned subject of fruits and veggies, you can even consider Ranch or other dips. So cast your vote. You might learn a little more about the true condiment cravings of your average Jo/an.
So back to the appetite. I’ve decided to give into what my body craves, not that it’s particularly hard. When cantelope, watermelon, or pineapple is cut up and served, I’m first in line. I’m sure this pure enjoyment comes from good training by my dad. He knew how to make such foods desirable. By cutting them into weird shapes and especially balls. Who can pass up a bowl of melon balls? They’re like little jewels, little pebbles of pleasure. And so easy to eat with fingers, a fork, or colored toothpicks.
I don’t have to try half so hard to get these kids to eat fruit. Yet, they know the really good stuff is back at home. Not a whole bunch of pineapple farms in North Carolina. They give me the benefit of the doubt, though, and indulge in the store bought melons, mangoes, and pineapples. A sweet, juicy fruit is so much more appetizing than a juicy steak, anyway…right?
Monday, June 23, 2008
organic
Organic food is making it’s way onto our plates everyday. The industry grows by 20% every year and is expected to increase in food sales from 1-2% this year to anywhere between 10-50% in the near future depending on country.
I like organic food. I think it’s important first and foremost to support local farmers. It’s a gift to the region and to my table to know my food didn’t undergo the pressure of travel, cooling/heating, or major packaging before any sales transaction. It’s also a joy to encourage people in their livelihoods as they provide real sustenance to my life.
But really, it’s hard. Going organic is not for the slight of heart or determination. It takes commitment to neighbors, a few extra dollars for the “same” store-bought product, and humility to admit you are dependent on another person rather than the government or big box store without personality down the street.
Of course, it’s always worth it. My body appreciates the fresh nutrients. The region benefits from healthy harvesting and selling. The neighbors continue to survive and even maybe thrive a little from the locals’ loyalty.
Organic food seems like a lot like a good relationship. It’s real, not processed, sugar-coated, boosted with growth hormones, covered with “protective” pesticide, overly packaged in order to make it easily available to anyone. A good relationship takes intentionality to nurture the seed from the get go and watch it grow with patience. The commitment to the seed of friendship must remain steadfast because bugs will come around, rodents will try to get a sample, the weather will roar it’s ugly head when the plant is most vulnerable. No amount of growth hormones, additives, or pesticides will protect the plant and likewise no gimmick, fake feelings, or coy games can protect one from the realities of being in relationship.
Kids are the most organic. It doesn’t take a shot of steroids to get them to hug people. Kids just naturally hug and love a lot; a watermelon seed naturally sprouts green leaves. Do kids live the organic lifestyle because they are innocent to the harshness of the world? Would peas choose enhanced fertilizer if they knew they might be 3cm smaller than other “chemically enhanced” peas? These are both silly questions: peas can’t talk. And kids just live and react to the love that’s around them, starting out by giving an abundance of joy and love simply due to their organic nature.
Adults can do it, too, live organically in their relationships. Maybe not hug all the time, though, life might be a little more friendly if we tried. But like “going organic,” it’s not easy. We’ve grown out of that innocent stage and can choose to protect and enhance relationships unnaturally. Or we can be honest and genuine with the hope that our relationships bear great fruit. Relationships might hurt (it’s the bugs and rodents), anxiety (that’s from the storms), or even little growth (it’s the natural soil), but in the end, the results and journeys of friendship will be so much richer. The commitment will be worth it. The extra resources of time and energy will be worth it. The humility that draws others nearer will be worth it.
I like organic food. I think it’s important first and foremost to support local farmers. It’s a gift to the region and to my table to know my food didn’t undergo the pressure of travel, cooling/heating, or major packaging before any sales transaction. It’s also a joy to encourage people in their livelihoods as they provide real sustenance to my life.
But really, it’s hard. Going organic is not for the slight of heart or determination. It takes commitment to neighbors, a few extra dollars for the “same” store-bought product, and humility to admit you are dependent on another person rather than the government or big box store without personality down the street.
Of course, it’s always worth it. My body appreciates the fresh nutrients. The region benefits from healthy harvesting and selling. The neighbors continue to survive and even maybe thrive a little from the locals’ loyalty.
Organic food seems like a lot like a good relationship. It’s real, not processed, sugar-coated, boosted with growth hormones, covered with “protective” pesticide, overly packaged in order to make it easily available to anyone. A good relationship takes intentionality to nurture the seed from the get go and watch it grow with patience. The commitment to the seed of friendship must remain steadfast because bugs will come around, rodents will try to get a sample, the weather will roar it’s ugly head when the plant is most vulnerable. No amount of growth hormones, additives, or pesticides will protect the plant and likewise no gimmick, fake feelings, or coy games can protect one from the realities of being in relationship.
Kids are the most organic. It doesn’t take a shot of steroids to get them to hug people. Kids just naturally hug and love a lot; a watermelon seed naturally sprouts green leaves. Do kids live the organic lifestyle because they are innocent to the harshness of the world? Would peas choose enhanced fertilizer if they knew they might be 3cm smaller than other “chemically enhanced” peas? These are both silly questions: peas can’t talk. And kids just live and react to the love that’s around them, starting out by giving an abundance of joy and love simply due to their organic nature.
Adults can do it, too, live organically in their relationships. Maybe not hug all the time, though, life might be a little more friendly if we tried. But like “going organic,” it’s not easy. We’ve grown out of that innocent stage and can choose to protect and enhance relationships unnaturally. Or we can be honest and genuine with the hope that our relationships bear great fruit. Relationships might hurt (it’s the bugs and rodents), anxiety (that’s from the storms), or even little growth (it’s the natural soil), but in the end, the results and journeys of friendship will be so much richer. The commitment will be worth it. The extra resources of time and energy will be worth it. The humility that draws others nearer will be worth it.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
bumber stickers
Bumper stickers make me laugh sometime. I think they’re sort of like your medicine cabinet or shoes; they tell a lot about the person inside (except in the case of the cabinet and then it would be reflected on the outside…)
As I drove down the street in the trusty, bumper stickerless Red Pepper, I noticed a few vehicle tatatoos.
A minivan license plate read: 4MUNCHKINS
A pesticide truck with its tank of chemicals reported this sign: DO NOT DRINK THIS WATER.
A red jeep license plate said: YATHINK?
• I think he was trying to embrace his southern roots. Or punctuation was more important than proper English.
Here’s the fun part. Put them all together.
4 Munchkins, Do not drink this water.
[duh mom (soon to be designed sticker)] Ya think?
It’s like they were communicating to each other. What would I put on a bumper sticker or license plate? I can’t think of anything clever right now. My brother is lucky and has the perfect nickname for the Wyoming plates: DMAN. If I put my initials people would think I was constantly sneezing inside. SJM! Bless you! Maybe I’ll get both. Then fellow travelers can drive without worry that a hurricane like disaster in my nose will impair my driving. And hopefully, they’ll experience a bit more love and goodness in their day with a blessing from my bumper.
As I drove down the street in the trusty, bumper stickerless Red Pepper, I noticed a few vehicle tatatoos.
A minivan license plate read: 4MUNCHKINS
A pesticide truck with its tank of chemicals reported this sign: DO NOT DRINK THIS WATER.
A red jeep license plate said: YATHINK?
• I think he was trying to embrace his southern roots. Or punctuation was more important than proper English.
Here’s the fun part. Put them all together.
4 Munchkins, Do not drink this water.
[duh mom (soon to be designed sticker)] Ya think?
It’s like they were communicating to each other. What would I put on a bumper sticker or license plate? I can’t think of anything clever right now. My brother is lucky and has the perfect nickname for the Wyoming plates: DMAN. If I put my initials people would think I was constantly sneezing inside. SJM! Bless you! Maybe I’ll get both. Then fellow travelers can drive without worry that a hurricane like disaster in my nose will impair my driving. And hopefully, they’ll experience a bit more love and goodness in their day with a blessing from my bumper.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Apple of My Eye
Psalm 17:8 Keep me as the apple of the eye.
As Lynate and I waited for our final plane to depart for Raleigh, we read Psalm 17 together. The NIV translation is pretty easy to understand or explain but phrases like this are thick and juicy. They bring about cherished memories of family and friends’ love. This one seems to be so rich and while I gave her the explanation I have long held, I had to check myself tonight.
What a phrase and praise! But what does it mean? My grandmother use to say this to me as a little girl. She also made the best apple pies that I’ve ever had. Her crusts were flaky and perfect. I can’t wait to be a grandma to cook like that. But I digress…did she call me that because I was as precious to her as apples were to her pie? Did I give her sweetnesses and fulfillment just as the apples gave her pie?
Obviously this phrase is not just a couple generations old. David prayed to God that he would remain that close and be protected by him. And even before that Moses spoke of God’s care for his people in Deuteronomy. The Hebrew translation literally means “the little man of your eye” which might come from the reflection you can see of yourself in a person’s pupil.
According to Michael Quinion, a British scholar who writes definitions for the Oxford Dictionary among many other academic endeavors, believes the English phrase is as old as the 9th century.
“At this time, the pupil of the eye was thought to be a solid object and was actually called the apple, presumably because an apple was the most common globular object around. So the apple of one’s eye was at first a literal phrase describing the pupil. Because sight was so precious, someone who was called this as an endearment was similarly precious, and the phrase took on the figurative sense we retain.”
So while my own experience with my pie-baking grandma might not be used as the entry for the next encyclopedia of cliches, I can be affirmed:
1) I translated well enough for Lynate.
2) I have experienced this preciousness from as both the apple and the eye.
3) I can rest knowing God holds me close regardless of translation.
As Lynate and I waited for our final plane to depart for Raleigh, we read Psalm 17 together. The NIV translation is pretty easy to understand or explain but phrases like this are thick and juicy. They bring about cherished memories of family and friends’ love. This one seems to be so rich and while I gave her the explanation I have long held, I had to check myself tonight.
What a phrase and praise! But what does it mean? My grandmother use to say this to me as a little girl. She also made the best apple pies that I’ve ever had. Her crusts were flaky and perfect. I can’t wait to be a grandma to cook like that. But I digress…did she call me that because I was as precious to her as apples were to her pie? Did I give her sweetnesses and fulfillment just as the apples gave her pie?
Obviously this phrase is not just a couple generations old. David prayed to God that he would remain that close and be protected by him. And even before that Moses spoke of God’s care for his people in Deuteronomy. The Hebrew translation literally means “the little man of your eye” which might come from the reflection you can see of yourself in a person’s pupil.
According to Michael Quinion, a British scholar who writes definitions for the Oxford Dictionary among many other academic endeavors, believes the English phrase is as old as the 9th century.
“At this time, the pupil of the eye was thought to be a solid object and was actually called the apple, presumably because an apple was the most common globular object around. So the apple of one’s eye was at first a literal phrase describing the pupil. Because sight was so precious, someone who was called this as an endearment was similarly precious, and the phrase took on the figurative sense we retain.”
So while my own experience with my pie-baking grandma might not be used as the entry for the next encyclopedia of cliches, I can be affirmed:
1) I translated well enough for Lynate.
2) I have experienced this preciousness from as both the apple and the eye.
3) I can rest knowing God holds me close regardless of translation.
Worship week
What a blessing to experience worship!
All week long…
Despite it all especially no sleep and our typical human failings.
God is awesome and works in miraculous ways.
Was it a miracle that we made it to Houston without any issues? Maybe, I mean the fact we all woke up in time to travel an hour, check in and hop on a 6am flight was pretty great.
Was it a miracle that the kids sang like angels? Maybe, they only had 36 hours to learn the music and even then it changed a little bit when we arrived.
Was it a miracle that the concert was such a success? Maybe, Michael W. Smith wasn’t feeling well, the concert was recorded live for both CD and DVD so lights, cameras and microphones made their way in every nook and cranny, and over 400 singers and musicians participated in the performance which gave the potential for a lot of human foibles to happen.
The theme of the last three days centers on worship. (I guess is a lot more life giving than blogging, though I must say I dearly missed my daily writing and ruminations.) We arrived in Houston on Thursday to rehearse with Michael W. Smith before his live concert on Friday night. Throughout the process the people we worked with lived an authentic life or grace, generosity, and faithfulness. Their lives radiated God’s love and goodness in their life which didn’t just appear for the concert. The ebbs and flows of life kept them real and humble even during the process as people missed family celebrations or recovered from sickness. So when our contact person or the musicians or producer connected with the children, asking them good questions and telling jokes, I felt at home with brothers and sisters in Christ.
The kids also personified worship in all they did. They offered their gratitude for everything including having a chance to go to the bathroom. They focused during the recording despite having to wear gianormous headphones. They smiled with all their might and sang with all their heart during their performance. They laughed so much at the chaperons silliness, told stories about home and gave me massages at every chance they got.
Finally, the concert itself was a tribute to God himself and I’m sure made him extraordinarily proud of his children. The talents, the prayers, the praise, and the strive for perfection could not have been a better offering and act of worship to the God of the Universe, King of Kings, Savior and Redeemer.
Michael W. Smith wrote a song about a new Hallelujah that will touch all the nations. I believe it is true and is happening this moment, for without such a reality, God could not have been so present to us this week. He’s preparing his church, his children even this moment for the Hallelujah chorus because worship is happening right now, in our bus, at the dinner table, in our prayerful sleep, and with our relationships with friends, new and old.
“Everyone sing a new Hallelujah!”
All week long…
Despite it all especially no sleep and our typical human failings.
God is awesome and works in miraculous ways.
Was it a miracle that we made it to Houston without any issues? Maybe, I mean the fact we all woke up in time to travel an hour, check in and hop on a 6am flight was pretty great.
Was it a miracle that the kids sang like angels? Maybe, they only had 36 hours to learn the music and even then it changed a little bit when we arrived.
Was it a miracle that the concert was such a success? Maybe, Michael W. Smith wasn’t feeling well, the concert was recorded live for both CD and DVD so lights, cameras and microphones made their way in every nook and cranny, and over 400 singers and musicians participated in the performance which gave the potential for a lot of human foibles to happen.
The theme of the last three days centers on worship. (I guess is a lot more life giving than blogging, though I must say I dearly missed my daily writing and ruminations.) We arrived in Houston on Thursday to rehearse with Michael W. Smith before his live concert on Friday night. Throughout the process the people we worked with lived an authentic life or grace, generosity, and faithfulness. Their lives radiated God’s love and goodness in their life which didn’t just appear for the concert. The ebbs and flows of life kept them real and humble even during the process as people missed family celebrations or recovered from sickness. So when our contact person or the musicians or producer connected with the children, asking them good questions and telling jokes, I felt at home with brothers and sisters in Christ.
The kids also personified worship in all they did. They offered their gratitude for everything including having a chance to go to the bathroom. They focused during the recording despite having to wear gianormous headphones. They smiled with all their might and sang with all their heart during their performance. They laughed so much at the chaperons silliness, told stories about home and gave me massages at every chance they got.
Finally, the concert itself was a tribute to God himself and I’m sure made him extraordinarily proud of his children. The talents, the prayers, the praise, and the strive for perfection could not have been a better offering and act of worship to the God of the Universe, King of Kings, Savior and Redeemer.
Michael W. Smith wrote a song about a new Hallelujah that will touch all the nations. I believe it is true and is happening this moment, for without such a reality, God could not have been so present to us this week. He’s preparing his church, his children even this moment for the Hallelujah chorus because worship is happening right now, in our bus, at the dinner table, in our prayerful sleep, and with our relationships with friends, new and old.
“Everyone sing a new Hallelujah!”
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
harmonic dissonance
A lovely harmony came out of rehearsal today. Staging flowed smoothly and efficiently, the choir hit melodic harmonies spot on, and everyone’s memory served them well at the end when we reviewed all the work from the day. I don’t claim to be a musical theory expert; I’m barely a novice. But when I say there was a lovely harmony, I describe a day worked out of the dissonance of confusion and new concepts and resolved into a harmonic chord that I could listen to anytime.
The children are working on a new show for July. This show will be the first of their theatre experiences so we needed back up help from our director. Dave is great with the kids, and his big and silly facial expressions dismiss any intimidation that the kids might experience. He has such a respect for representing and fully understanding the story of the choir and the traditional African songs and dances. Despite his short time with us, most of his goals and expectations were met so that we are all prepared for the big show.
Dissonance doesn’t come just from new staging, different songs, or a mixed-up running order. It can arise from the heart, in fact I would say this is the main source. Hopes and expectations do that- they put one at risk of falling short, experiencing an unstable moment, and realizing the process can be grating and unpleasant. The angst, fear, and anticipation of all that could go right along side all that could go wrong creates that funky chord, the D and F natural at the same time.
It’s not a totally awful note but I know it has potential to be better.
It’s not a terrible problem to be anxious for often times that energy brings about the best work.
It’s the note that really highlights the resolved, the perfected, the final note in all its glory.
The choir is still in the middle of the song. Beautiful chords rise to the heavens but come up along side those notes that still need to be worked out and refined. As I hear the song, the show, come together I am learning to appreciate the temporary and dissonant chords for the product they produce and the way they keep me on my toes.
The children are working on a new show for July. This show will be the first of their theatre experiences so we needed back up help from our director. Dave is great with the kids, and his big and silly facial expressions dismiss any intimidation that the kids might experience. He has such a respect for representing and fully understanding the story of the choir and the traditional African songs and dances. Despite his short time with us, most of his goals and expectations were met so that we are all prepared for the big show.
Dissonance doesn’t come just from new staging, different songs, or a mixed-up running order. It can arise from the heart, in fact I would say this is the main source. Hopes and expectations do that- they put one at risk of falling short, experiencing an unstable moment, and realizing the process can be grating and unpleasant. The angst, fear, and anticipation of all that could go right along side all that could go wrong creates that funky chord, the D and F natural at the same time.
It’s not a totally awful note but I know it has potential to be better.
It’s not a terrible problem to be anxious for often times that energy brings about the best work.
It’s the note that really highlights the resolved, the perfected, the final note in all its glory.
The choir is still in the middle of the song. Beautiful chords rise to the heavens but come up along side those notes that still need to be worked out and refined. As I hear the song, the show, come together I am learning to appreciate the temporary and dissonant chords for the product they produce and the way they keep me on my toes.
Monday, June 16, 2008
magic but Real
I started reading and I kept falling asleep. I want to be faithful to blogging for my loyal readers and my own records, but… y a w n
Every once in awhile I have a crazy daydream where I am in a Broadway musical. Even as a chorus member, I would eat up the experience. As a little girl, I had the pleasure of watching my father perform at our local community college in some fantastic shows. I sat in the back with white gloves and conduct the performers or so they tell me as I can't remember. From such shows to road tours of Phantom of the Opera or Crazy for You to Broadway to see Mary Poppins or Miss Siagon, I can’t get enough. Even though the white gloves are a little small and I’ve grow in my understanding of the theatre world, I am taken away by the magic still. The dancing, singing, and costumes blow me away. Of course, I give props to lights, sound and scenery for making the rest seem so flawless and spectacular.
Now, I have heard many times to go after dreams. I believe that. And I do. But just like I think it would be cool to be an astronaut or 4-star chef, I don’t see this daydream becoming a real day job. Yet, I pursue challenges that bring me joy and growth none the less. What happens when I go to Africa (a trip TBD), go back to school, become an inspirational speaker, get married, or author more than a daily blog? Daydreams will turn into realities topped with another layer of the imaginable. These moments will certainly be as magical as a Broadway show. Maybe without the sequins or spike tape, but I’ll still have a cast of characters, a good soundtrack, and lights- flashing, dimming, and whatever I can get for when the sun goes down!
I think of it as I hear the kids say what they want to be when they grow up. I hope Claire becomes a doctor and Julius becomes a pilot. I have no doubt that someone(s) out of 26 kids will change their mind; I wanted to be an accountant or genetic engineer for a while. These are not random dreams but sought after goals.
I really like Katie Melua. There’s a magical life and career. She has a similar sound to Norah Jones or Eva Cassidy. She has a song “My Aphrodisiac is You” which is funny but sexy. The jazzy, minor keys lull me into calm…and probably sleep.
Every once in awhile I have a crazy daydream where I am in a Broadway musical. Even as a chorus member, I would eat up the experience. As a little girl, I had the pleasure of watching my father perform at our local community college in some fantastic shows. I sat in the back with white gloves and conduct the performers or so they tell me as I can't remember. From such shows to road tours of Phantom of the Opera or Crazy for You to Broadway to see Mary Poppins or Miss Siagon, I can’t get enough. Even though the white gloves are a little small and I’ve grow in my understanding of the theatre world, I am taken away by the magic still. The dancing, singing, and costumes blow me away. Of course, I give props to lights, sound and scenery for making the rest seem so flawless and spectacular.
Now, I have heard many times to go after dreams. I believe that. And I do. But just like I think it would be cool to be an astronaut or 4-star chef, I don’t see this daydream becoming a real day job. Yet, I pursue challenges that bring me joy and growth none the less. What happens when I go to Africa (a trip TBD), go back to school, become an inspirational speaker, get married, or author more than a daily blog? Daydreams will turn into realities topped with another layer of the imaginable. These moments will certainly be as magical as a Broadway show. Maybe without the sequins or spike tape, but I’ll still have a cast of characters, a good soundtrack, and lights- flashing, dimming, and whatever I can get for when the sun goes down!
I think of it as I hear the kids say what they want to be when they grow up. I hope Claire becomes a doctor and Julius becomes a pilot. I have no doubt that someone(s) out of 26 kids will change their mind; I wanted to be an accountant or genetic engineer for a while. These are not random dreams but sought after goals.
I really like Katie Melua. There’s a magical life and career. She has a similar sound to Norah Jones or Eva Cassidy. She has a song “My Aphrodisiac is You” which is funny but sexy. The jazzy, minor keys lull me into calm…and probably sleep.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
big thoughts
The bus ride to church always makes me smile with delight and wonder. The children are looking their best in Sunday dresses and collared-shirts with ties. Their countenance is bright with ample rest and play from a day off on Saturday. Somehow this tri-fecta of looking good, feeling good, sleeping good gives them wisdom beyond their years. Or at least innocent insights that, when really pondered by us old-foggie adults, should make us shout Amen!
Claire and Fiona were studying a book of a cross between Where’s Waldo and a Picture book Bible. Though I did not watch them search throughout the pages for Noah or Jacob’s ladder, I can imagine they had a fun time when they turned to a picture of the Sermon on the Mount. I can imagine an image of mass chaos, disciples squirming near Jesus, Pharisees grumbling, and children running closer to the feet of Jesus. With that, Fiona pointed out that if she was a disciple, she would have cried so much when Jesus died. “All I would do is cry.” But the older sister Claire answered back with confidence about a clever scheme to avoid such tragedy. She said that after Jesus died, she would go sleep in the tomb with him. That way when Jesus went to heaven, she could just grab his leg and get a ride up with him.
And why not? What could be better than hanging out with Jesus! Alas, we are here, though, and the kids have discovered ways to bring the heaven to earth. They always give good hugs, say thank you after meals, and live out joy-filled moments. Whether these children are in heaven with Jesus or Jesus is with them here, it seems like they’re enjoying a party.
Claire and Fiona were studying a book of a cross between Where’s Waldo and a Picture book Bible. Though I did not watch them search throughout the pages for Noah or Jacob’s ladder, I can imagine they had a fun time when they turned to a picture of the Sermon on the Mount. I can imagine an image of mass chaos, disciples squirming near Jesus, Pharisees grumbling, and children running closer to the feet of Jesus. With that, Fiona pointed out that if she was a disciple, she would have cried so much when Jesus died. “All I would do is cry.” But the older sister Claire answered back with confidence about a clever scheme to avoid such tragedy. She said that after Jesus died, she would go sleep in the tomb with him. That way when Jesus went to heaven, she could just grab his leg and get a ride up with him.
And why not? What could be better than hanging out with Jesus! Alas, we are here, though, and the kids have discovered ways to bring the heaven to earth. They always give good hugs, say thank you after meals, and live out joy-filled moments. Whether these children are in heaven with Jesus or Jesus is with them here, it seems like they’re enjoying a party.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Jane Kelly, et al.
I bought a new dress at Target today. It is out of this world: sort of Spice Girls meets the Jetsons. To be quite honest, I don’t exactly know how I’m to wear it or where I will wear it for that matter. It might be saved for a sweet costume party and I’ll go as Jane Kelly, my alias. Whether I accessorize it will hot pink high heels and sexy hair in front of my face or an up do with ballet slipper shoes, I’ll be sure to find the attitude to live up to the dress’ obvious fashion standard. Of course I have to say that I was all giddy about the dress. I even took pics of me in it before I left the store. And I laughed like a little girl….ooo I can’t wait.
Thank God for Saturday summer weddings. It was my small miracle. Next week our group starts rehearsing for a theatre performance but due to last minute schedule changes, I only just found out the director wanted to practice in a larger space. Normally we haul the bus to the nearest town and ballet studio in Apex, but alas with the lateness of the hour and the brevity of the director’s time with us, I had to opt for plan B: New Elam Church.
For a frame of reference, think Alcova Lake outside Casper or Lake Pend Oreille outside of Spokane. These bodies of water take people away from the hustle and bustle of “city” life for a more secluded time on the water. Well, that’s where I like except I’m by Jordan Lake. The neighbors live a couple stone throws away along a busy street connecting parallel highways. The lake sits about a 20 minutes walk from Mirembe House and 20 minutes the other way is New Elam Church. It’s members reside nearby and have gone there for generations. It’s a quaint, white church in the country. Apart from the small sanctuary for 100, a couple Sunday school rooms, and adjacent cemetery, the church can boast a big fellowship hall built only too recently, perhaps even for the church’s 100th year anniversary. And this building is exactly what we need.
And yet, New Elam is on Pea Ridge Rd. near Jordan Lake. The staff doesn’t hold regular office hours; facilities personel aren’t running around. So how am I to get a hold of these people? Make a friend with the neighbors and hope they’re members? Tried but they weren’t home.
Go to a wedding. And by go I mean, pull into the parking lot just before the piano starts the processional and catch stragglers. A straggler I caught and after a brief introduction of me and the predicament, the deal was sealed. Anything to see those kids. I couldn’t have planned the meeting more perfectly.
North Carolina’s fever is finally breaking as the temperature goes down and even a bit of rain soaks the ground. Last week I was resigned to melt away even while standing in front of the fan. And my hair- wowsers! It was out of control with the humidity. Now I have the pleasure of writing this blog outside on the deck, watching lightning and listening to the rain.
Perhaps that’s what this day was about: experiencing God’s perfect timing. Would I have bought Jane Kelly a dress had I been in a different mood or hurried? No. Would I have confirmed rehearsal space for Monday without the joyous wedding? No. Would I have felt relief without a bit of extra hot with which to compare? No. These weren’t life or death situations where time was of the essence and yet goodness abounded in them. Therefore, the day lifted up life and filled it with joy. The death of worry, stress, discomfort was conquered. I think this is the potential of everyday, if only I choose to recognize that which is life giving, no matter how silly or simple.
Thank God for Saturday summer weddings. It was my small miracle. Next week our group starts rehearsing for a theatre performance but due to last minute schedule changes, I only just found out the director wanted to practice in a larger space. Normally we haul the bus to the nearest town and ballet studio in Apex, but alas with the lateness of the hour and the brevity of the director’s time with us, I had to opt for plan B: New Elam Church.
For a frame of reference, think Alcova Lake outside Casper or Lake Pend Oreille outside of Spokane. These bodies of water take people away from the hustle and bustle of “city” life for a more secluded time on the water. Well, that’s where I like except I’m by Jordan Lake. The neighbors live a couple stone throws away along a busy street connecting parallel highways. The lake sits about a 20 minutes walk from Mirembe House and 20 minutes the other way is New Elam Church. It’s members reside nearby and have gone there for generations. It’s a quaint, white church in the country. Apart from the small sanctuary for 100, a couple Sunday school rooms, and adjacent cemetery, the church can boast a big fellowship hall built only too recently, perhaps even for the church’s 100th year anniversary. And this building is exactly what we need.
And yet, New Elam is on Pea Ridge Rd. near Jordan Lake. The staff doesn’t hold regular office hours; facilities personel aren’t running around. So how am I to get a hold of these people? Make a friend with the neighbors and hope they’re members? Tried but they weren’t home.
Go to a wedding. And by go I mean, pull into the parking lot just before the piano starts the processional and catch stragglers. A straggler I caught and after a brief introduction of me and the predicament, the deal was sealed. Anything to see those kids. I couldn’t have planned the meeting more perfectly.
North Carolina’s fever is finally breaking as the temperature goes down and even a bit of rain soaks the ground. Last week I was resigned to melt away even while standing in front of the fan. And my hair- wowsers! It was out of control with the humidity. Now I have the pleasure of writing this blog outside on the deck, watching lightning and listening to the rain.
Perhaps that’s what this day was about: experiencing God’s perfect timing. Would I have bought Jane Kelly a dress had I been in a different mood or hurried? No. Would I have confirmed rehearsal space for Monday without the joyous wedding? No. Would I have felt relief without a bit of extra hot with which to compare? No. These weren’t life or death situations where time was of the essence and yet goodness abounded in them. Therefore, the day lifted up life and filled it with joy. The death of worry, stress, discomfort was conquered. I think this is the potential of everyday, if only I choose to recognize that which is life giving, no matter how silly or simple.
Friday, June 13, 2008
lol
I have a friend who Laughs Out Loud all the time. Now she is serious about running; she’s running a marathon in October. She’s serious about talking to God, living the life he has for her. But I can always count on her to laugh at my jokes, to laugh in general at just about everything which is highly contagious.
I tend to dance when I cook. There’s the “cookin’ eggs” dance, a little shake of the cabina (bum), which happens when I get really excited about food or when I cookin’ eggs. Then there’s a dance for everything else which is sort of a combo high-knee, jazzersize, salsa mix which I practiced today…twice. And the kids laughed. Laughed Out Loud. Now we have a simple rule at Mirembe House that says meals are to be eaten without talking. This is not to be monastic, cruel, or boring, but instead it’s for discipline and teaching purposes as this is the way their school in Uganda works. But laughing…not a sub-rule. And therefore, little giggles break the silence and make me turn my head. They got to laugh at the table today…twice.
Laugh out loud. Something I do even when I’m “talking” to my computer. Or listening to NPR. Or remembering a silly conversation from the day before. And yet the acronym doesn’t embody the fullness of my emotions most of the time. To some people I have to type out “I’m rolling on the ground.” I need them to know that I can’t breathe and must collect myself before responding to their humor. Also, as I admit that I hope I’m encouraging them to keep it up and thanking them for loving me so much to share these stories. Laughter is a gift that comes at the perfect time. I need to relax, to get over disappointment, or just to know someone knows me well enough to get me in stitches.
I watched Bucket List tonight. One of the list items was “laugh until I cry.” I hope that can be fulfilled on a daily bucket list. That’s a lot of laughter, lot of tears. I’ll take them together. The good and bad and still come out rejuvenated with joy.
I tend to dance when I cook. There’s the “cookin’ eggs” dance, a little shake of the cabina (bum), which happens when I get really excited about food or when I cookin’ eggs. Then there’s a dance for everything else which is sort of a combo high-knee, jazzersize, salsa mix which I practiced today…twice. And the kids laughed. Laughed Out Loud. Now we have a simple rule at Mirembe House that says meals are to be eaten without talking. This is not to be monastic, cruel, or boring, but instead it’s for discipline and teaching purposes as this is the way their school in Uganda works. But laughing…not a sub-rule. And therefore, little giggles break the silence and make me turn my head. They got to laugh at the table today…twice.
Laugh out loud. Something I do even when I’m “talking” to my computer. Or listening to NPR. Or remembering a silly conversation from the day before. And yet the acronym doesn’t embody the fullness of my emotions most of the time. To some people I have to type out “I’m rolling on the ground.” I need them to know that I can’t breathe and must collect myself before responding to their humor. Also, as I admit that I hope I’m encouraging them to keep it up and thanking them for loving me so much to share these stories. Laughter is a gift that comes at the perfect time. I need to relax, to get over disappointment, or just to know someone knows me well enough to get me in stitches.
I watched Bucket List tonight. One of the list items was “laugh until I cry.” I hope that can be fulfilled on a daily bucket list. That’s a lot of laughter, lot of tears. I’ll take them together. The good and bad and still come out rejuvenated with joy.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
books
Today I read with the kids from Mr. Popper’s Penguins. It’s a fun story with great images and amazing feats of strange animals. In keeping with Teacher Liz’s way of doing things, I asked questions, explained what was happening, defined many words and then showed the few but unique pictures. Did the children get it? I hope so and probably enough to say they read a book about penguins who slid down ladders on their stomaches. Even if their reading comprehension on Auntie Sarah’s pop quiz was poor, the neurons were firing, they were chuckling and learning new words, and each one heard a new way of expressing a story. Nothing like exaggeration and outrageous events to make a fun tale to tell.
I especially like the part in the book when all the kids huddled really close to me, lookin at the picture and rubbing my back. I could be hired out for that job again, I think.
In the past couple weeks, Liz and the team have gone through every book in our possession to sort the wheat from the chaff so to speak. The really good wheat is to be sent to Uganda to the primary school. I marvel at how much I love books and reading (remember every day off since I got back to the choir has been spent at a bookstore). I’m now discovering a deeper and profound way of reading that keeps me thinking about the book long after I’ve put it down or finished the final page. While I have sought after books that are insightful and also a good story, I appreciate even more how key sentences just jump off the page and strike my heart.
“ Cover yourself with the dust of your rabbi’s feet.” (Velvet Elvis, Rob Bell)
I pray that these kids will also develop a deep love for books. As with most things they have here in the States, the children do genuinely appreciate the library they have and excitedly “check” out materials to read and study. The seemingly abundant options prompts some to bring me a book to read at breaks.
If I counted my “Mirembe House Library” alone, I would count over 20 books in my possession. Those just a few selections to occupy the next weeks. Despite all my adventures through literature, I’m not sure I can really imagine a life without books. I say grace for my food everyday; maybe I should say grace for the “meal” feeding my brain, page by page.
I especially like the part in the book when all the kids huddled really close to me, lookin at the picture and rubbing my back. I could be hired out for that job again, I think.
In the past couple weeks, Liz and the team have gone through every book in our possession to sort the wheat from the chaff so to speak. The really good wheat is to be sent to Uganda to the primary school. I marvel at how much I love books and reading (remember every day off since I got back to the choir has been spent at a bookstore). I’m now discovering a deeper and profound way of reading that keeps me thinking about the book long after I’ve put it down or finished the final page. While I have sought after books that are insightful and also a good story, I appreciate even more how key sentences just jump off the page and strike my heart.
“ Cover yourself with the dust of your rabbi’s feet.” (Velvet Elvis, Rob Bell)
I pray that these kids will also develop a deep love for books. As with most things they have here in the States, the children do genuinely appreciate the library they have and excitedly “check” out materials to read and study. The seemingly abundant options prompts some to bring me a book to read at breaks.
If I counted my “Mirembe House Library” alone, I would count over 20 books in my possession. Those just a few selections to occupy the next weeks. Despite all my adventures through literature, I’m not sure I can really imagine a life without books. I say grace for my food everyday; maybe I should say grace for the “meal” feeding my brain, page by page.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Red Pepper
Today I spent a ¼ of the tank in the Red Pepper. Thankfully the “pepper” is a misnomer these days as it’s AC has recently been fixed. Before the 100’ weather would only be hotter inside; drier, though, I guess, since the humidity was baked right out. -> SILVER LINING!
The Red Pepper, named after its bright hue of RED, the size of an enlarged chili pepper without the stem, and overall “hotness” (which attracts all the ladies- no worries we have FOUR back seats) ,was a donation to Mirembe house for transportational use…not to be confused with other red peppers which are eaten. The “Pep” is a 1994 15 passenger van with a crumbling ceiling (Jordan will get to that), a passenger seat that is perma-reclined, and speakers to rival the recently released album, “Sounds of the Gravel Road.”
And yet, it treats us well. Out in the boonies, one doesn’t mind how one ventures here and there (at least 20 miles regardless) so long as the GPS is plugged in and the gas tank is full…to start the trip. I don’t think I need to remind the readers of any stellar emissions records made by any said “pepper.” Nor is it important to dwell on the somewhat depressing realities of gas prices. Watch out Europe, we’re finally catching up to you…in prices. We’ll still need time to learn how to use other resources and modes of transport. But I digress from my praise. The pepper is a perfect vehicle for the weekly shopping trip to Sam’s Club. Not just any trunk can fit 14 gallons of milk, 2 watermelons, 20 loaves, of bread and a couple dozen other odds and ends such as 144 rolls of Charmin. What other fine vehicle could take the chaperons out for the night in such class and flare as the Pepper? And nothing says move out of my way like a big chunk of red steel barreling over the rolling hills of North Carolina. We are subtle, humble, and determined to get wherever, whenever as quick as we can so the Pepper can adorn the parking lot like the prized jewel of a crown.
So that was me today. The Princess and the Pepper. (And that’s the truth…look up Sarah and you’ll see what I’m talking about.) I navigated from one highway to the other byway without so much as a blink; I really slept most of the 45-minute drive to the first destination. I thought quite a bit, took in the landscape which is overly luscious and green, and tried not to get lost without the aid of typical landmarks such as a mountain. The two of us conquered the roads and errands list like it was the new world…no no, like it was an unshopped mall with all new summer fashions. (Is that more princess-y?)
I also enjoyed the company of Carl Kassell (Wait Wait) with his perfect “radio” voice and funny limericks. It’s amazing the things one can learn from this clever news game show. One piece of news I gleaned caused me to clap out load. Literally…but I was safe. GM has finally pulled the plug on the HUMMER! Hallelujah! I thought the day would never come. I think even Ol’ Pep, here, gets better gas mileage and doesn’t look half as stupid driving down the road. But again, I’m a princess not a proud, powerful warrior wanting to zoom across city parks, school yards, and hiking trails to make my 8:30 tee time. I ride in class and style.
The Red Pepper, named after its bright hue of RED, the size of an enlarged chili pepper without the stem, and overall “hotness” (which attracts all the ladies- no worries we have FOUR back seats) ,was a donation to Mirembe house for transportational use…not to be confused with other red peppers which are eaten. The “Pep” is a 1994 15 passenger van with a crumbling ceiling (Jordan will get to that), a passenger seat that is perma-reclined, and speakers to rival the recently released album, “Sounds of the Gravel Road.”
And yet, it treats us well. Out in the boonies, one doesn’t mind how one ventures here and there (at least 20 miles regardless) so long as the GPS is plugged in and the gas tank is full…to start the trip. I don’t think I need to remind the readers of any stellar emissions records made by any said “pepper.” Nor is it important to dwell on the somewhat depressing realities of gas prices. Watch out Europe, we’re finally catching up to you…in prices. We’ll still need time to learn how to use other resources and modes of transport. But I digress from my praise. The pepper is a perfect vehicle for the weekly shopping trip to Sam’s Club. Not just any trunk can fit 14 gallons of milk, 2 watermelons, 20 loaves, of bread and a couple dozen other odds and ends such as 144 rolls of Charmin. What other fine vehicle could take the chaperons out for the night in such class and flare as the Pepper? And nothing says move out of my way like a big chunk of red steel barreling over the rolling hills of North Carolina. We are subtle, humble, and determined to get wherever, whenever as quick as we can so the Pepper can adorn the parking lot like the prized jewel of a crown.
So that was me today. The Princess and the Pepper. (And that’s the truth…look up Sarah and you’ll see what I’m talking about.) I navigated from one highway to the other byway without so much as a blink; I really slept most of the 45-minute drive to the first destination. I thought quite a bit, took in the landscape which is overly luscious and green, and tried not to get lost without the aid of typical landmarks such as a mountain. The two of us conquered the roads and errands list like it was the new world…no no, like it was an unshopped mall with all new summer fashions. (Is that more princess-y?)
I also enjoyed the company of Carl Kassell (Wait Wait) with his perfect “radio” voice and funny limericks. It’s amazing the things one can learn from this clever news game show. One piece of news I gleaned caused me to clap out load. Literally…but I was safe. GM has finally pulled the plug on the HUMMER! Hallelujah! I thought the day would never come. I think even Ol’ Pep, here, gets better gas mileage and doesn’t look half as stupid driving down the road. But again, I’m a princess not a proud, powerful warrior wanting to zoom across city parks, school yards, and hiking trails to make my 8:30 tee time. I ride in class and style.
Monday, June 9, 2008
balancing act
Pastor Brian from KPIC took the staff out to ice cream and discuss how the church can bless us. It’s an interesting situation to be overwhelmed with people wanting to serve and give to us. While we want to offer suggestions, there’s also an element of humility that keeps us from wanting anything. And in the end, what do we need? A day alone.
Yes, golfing, boating, or hunting would fun, but that’s why we hang out with kids. Fun is built into the job. You can’t plan for the stuff that just happens such as putting together a floor size puzzle, volleyball in the shade and off the roof, cards with fast acting wrists who slam down the cards as if to say “Not only do I have an Uno, but just try to beat me, Auntie.” Or introducing kids to new foods like pork ‘n beans. A small tentative spoonful becomes the first of many scoops. How about reading Mr. Popper’s Penguin? They’re just grasping the concept and possibilities of the fridge. Now stick a penguin in it…whoa! Surprised faces and laughter abounds.
Perhaps this is how my parents feel/felt. When I would try to barge into the bathroom as a kid to ask my mom a question; thank goodness for locks. But really, there are moments not worth missing. And there are moments when the brain can’t absorb any more cuteness, questions, or funny growing up situations.
It’s a balancing act….oh that would be too much fun. Hey kids…
Yes, golfing, boating, or hunting would fun, but that’s why we hang out with kids. Fun is built into the job. You can’t plan for the stuff that just happens such as putting together a floor size puzzle, volleyball in the shade and off the roof, cards with fast acting wrists who slam down the cards as if to say “Not only do I have an Uno, but just try to beat me, Auntie.” Or introducing kids to new foods like pork ‘n beans. A small tentative spoonful becomes the first of many scoops. How about reading Mr. Popper’s Penguin? They’re just grasping the concept and possibilities of the fridge. Now stick a penguin in it…whoa! Surprised faces and laughter abounds.
Perhaps this is how my parents feel/felt. When I would try to barge into the bathroom as a kid to ask my mom a question; thank goodness for locks. But really, there are moments not worth missing. And there are moments when the brain can’t absorb any more cuteness, questions, or funny growing up situations.
It’s a balancing act….oh that would be too much fun. Hey kids…
Sunday, June 8, 2008
say again...
This weekend was a whirlwind of wacky words. The kids, adults, even pastors had some great phrases, words, and thoughts to share. The best part: they are ALL organic. No preservatives. No extra sugar. No additives. Just great stuff...when you listen.
• “Auntie, keep sneezing. I want to bless you.” ~ Joshua B.
• “The brother who loved me took me to Sunday school. He loved me because he let me go to church with him.” ~ Julius
• Lynate taught me a new word after feeling my neck.
o Bissela= the soft part of the neck
• “This is heaven.” (Said while the lights came up on the worship band and pastor at church.) ~ Godfrey and Lubega
• “I’ve never seen a U-haul attached to a hearse. We don’t take our treasures with us.” ~ Pastor Ron
• Pastor Ron discussed the identities of man today in his two week series, “Save the Males.” One of the Hebrew words he mentioned during his message spoke about the male anatomy. “If it’s in the Bible, I’m gonna talk about it.” He continued by mentioning the reason for circumcision for Abraham. At this point, this topic flew over most of the kids’ heads, but their vocabulary is growing. Godfrey needed clarification, “Is circumcised the same as circumstance? What is circumcise?” I assured him the words meant different things, but asked him to remind me of the second question on the bus. I haven’t finished that conversation, but the Uncles are definitely on stand-by.
• “I have 8 dimples.” Godfrey said this pointing to his face cheeks and then his six pack. We’ll work on that.
• “ONE!” All the kids have numbers which they count down when we travel to keep track of each child. Today we had lunch at church, and the children sat scattered throughout the room. So instead of trying to gather them for introductions, we had them go in order of their count-down numbers. Lubega did not catch that we wanted his name before shouting out his number. He got lots of laughs and then another chance for his name.
• “Auntie, keep sneezing. I want to bless you.” ~ Joshua B.
• “The brother who loved me took me to Sunday school. He loved me because he let me go to church with him.” ~ Julius
• Lynate taught me a new word after feeling my neck.
o Bissela= the soft part of the neck
• “This is heaven.” (Said while the lights came up on the worship band and pastor at church.) ~ Godfrey and Lubega
• “I’ve never seen a U-haul attached to a hearse. We don’t take our treasures with us.” ~ Pastor Ron
• Pastor Ron discussed the identities of man today in his two week series, “Save the Males.” One of the Hebrew words he mentioned during his message spoke about the male anatomy. “If it’s in the Bible, I’m gonna talk about it.” He continued by mentioning the reason for circumcision for Abraham. At this point, this topic flew over most of the kids’ heads, but their vocabulary is growing. Godfrey needed clarification, “Is circumcised the same as circumstance? What is circumcise?” I assured him the words meant different things, but asked him to remind me of the second question on the bus. I haven’t finished that conversation, but the Uncles are definitely on stand-by.
• “I have 8 dimples.” Godfrey said this pointing to his face cheeks and then his six pack. We’ll work on that.
• “ONE!” All the kids have numbers which they count down when we travel to keep track of each child. Today we had lunch at church, and the children sat scattered throughout the room. So instead of trying to gather them for introductions, we had them go in order of their count-down numbers. Lubega did not catch that we wanted his name before shouting out his number. He got lots of laughs and then another chance for his name.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
black shirts
I love our black shirts. They look sharp on everyone, the logo stands strong, and they cover my sweat which is a must in this job. And a must in North Carolina where I walk outside into a wall of water (humidity for those in the West.) They’re perfect identification for the airport, church, and gas stations, and most appropriate for back stage at the theater. One place they are not: a baseball game in NC in 106 degree sunny weather. WOWSERS!
The baseball game featured first and foremost our kids. Their act came at the beginning and they even had people on their feet before they were done. Of course, I’m talking about the National Anthem, but they deserved all the spotlight they received. For the last couple weeks they’ve studied and rehearsed the song to sounding like one harmonious voice. We were lucky enough to hear the practice runs from the house.
So why Ugandans singing the USAmerican Anthem? Good question. In some ways it’s weird as I doubt I would ever go to Spain or Thailand to sing their anthem. And yet, I appreciated their gift in a way that their other songs can’t give. They took a song that I’ve treasured ever since my own experience singing it in six part harmony at KWHS for graduation, the Olympic torch relay, and track meets and gave it meaning and sparkle like I’ve not heard. It made me proud to have such a rich song to share and enjoy with my new sisters and brothers. While I did not give them anything, their pure devotion and 100% effort enriched my life beyond national patriotism, music to my ears, or parental pride.
It reminded me of God’s pure devotion to me.
And a desire to give it right back to him.
I just wish I could with such a good sound and cute smile. ☺
The baseball game featured first and foremost our kids. Their act came at the beginning and they even had people on their feet before they were done. Of course, I’m talking about the National Anthem, but they deserved all the spotlight they received. For the last couple weeks they’ve studied and rehearsed the song to sounding like one harmonious voice. We were lucky enough to hear the practice runs from the house.
So why Ugandans singing the USAmerican Anthem? Good question. In some ways it’s weird as I doubt I would ever go to Spain or Thailand to sing their anthem. And yet, I appreciated their gift in a way that their other songs can’t give. They took a song that I’ve treasured ever since my own experience singing it in six part harmony at KWHS for graduation, the Olympic torch relay, and track meets and gave it meaning and sparkle like I’ve not heard. It made me proud to have such a rich song to share and enjoy with my new sisters and brothers. While I did not give them anything, their pure devotion and 100% effort enriched my life beyond national patriotism, music to my ears, or parental pride.
It reminded me of God’s pure devotion to me.
And a desire to give it right back to him.
I just wish I could with such a good sound and cute smile. ☺
Friday, June 6, 2008
jumping in
I jumped into the lake this morning. Jump is a stretch, but I definitely swam across the lake which was a thrill. As I ran the 10 minutes to the water’s edge, I thought about the plunge. I’ve never put more than my feet into this lake and all of a sudden I got a little nervous. I have seen families fishing from the dock so what if a big fish came up to nibble on my toes or elbow? What if I got tired in the middle? It was a strange feeling since I’m a pretty confident swimmer.
So I made my way down the rocky beach, took off my shoes, commenced to wade in, and then dive under the water. I knew the water was a pleasant 70 degrees from a previous toe-dipping trip to the lake last week and wasn’t disappointed this morning. That is until I got about a quarter of the way from the shore. My breast stroke took my arm to a cold current that shook my whole body. The images of the Loch Ness Monster came back to mind and my heart rate sky rocketed. My HR was faster after 40 meters in the water than 3 miles on ground.
What else could I do but give myself a little pep talk?
Be calm.
Cool down.
Collect yourself.
Keep moving.
How strange it was to be caught off guard by that which was just under the surface…the 45 degree water.
As I mentioned yesterday, the future and unknown capabilities of all that is to come with the choir has got my heart pumping a little. And yet again, this morning’s swim reminded me that a just a little lower than I can see is more refreshing and life giving, swimming-enabling stuff. The stuff that makes the lake exist and be so enticing. The stuff that makes the choir and the theatre tour extra thrilling. It’s hidden but good and necessary regardless of my knowledge of it or acknowledgment. The potential for disaster exists in every big project, the Loch Ness Monster could have moved, but success and growth often triumphs.
I still caught my breath every once in awhile from the current and the little fish swimming into me (not a threat or a monster). I suspect the same will occur even as I move forward in tour life with confidence: calm, cool and collected. But I will hop out on the other side grateful for the swim.
So I made my way down the rocky beach, took off my shoes, commenced to wade in, and then dive under the water. I knew the water was a pleasant 70 degrees from a previous toe-dipping trip to the lake last week and wasn’t disappointed this morning. That is until I got about a quarter of the way from the shore. My breast stroke took my arm to a cold current that shook my whole body. The images of the Loch Ness Monster came back to mind and my heart rate sky rocketed. My HR was faster after 40 meters in the water than 3 miles on ground.
What else could I do but give myself a little pep talk?
Be calm.
Cool down.
Collect yourself.
Keep moving.
How strange it was to be caught off guard by that which was just under the surface…the 45 degree water.
As I mentioned yesterday, the future and unknown capabilities of all that is to come with the choir has got my heart pumping a little. And yet again, this morning’s swim reminded me that a just a little lower than I can see is more refreshing and life giving, swimming-enabling stuff. The stuff that makes the lake exist and be so enticing. The stuff that makes the choir and the theatre tour extra thrilling. It’s hidden but good and necessary regardless of my knowledge of it or acknowledgment. The potential for disaster exists in every big project, the Loch Ness Monster could have moved, but success and growth often triumphs.
I still caught my breath every once in awhile from the current and the little fish swimming into me (not a threat or a monster). I suspect the same will occur even as I move forward in tour life with confidence: calm, cool and collected. But I will hop out on the other side grateful for the swim.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Antelopes and Acting
What I learned today...
kob |käb; kōb|
noun ( pl. same)
an antelope with a reddish coat and lyre-shaped horns, found on the savannas of southern Africa
I taught English this afternoon and in an reading comprehension exercise this new word came up. I had to ask the kids what it meant which was an interesting change of positions, from explaining the meaning of fierce or adjective to asking about an African animal. Somehow they had the easy job. I guess that’s why I’m paid the big bucks!
Auntie Liz read the story of Jesus calming the storm to the kids tonight at devotions. Then she had them act it out. Jesus, played by Godfrey- fitting!, and the disciples, Lubega and Joseph, experienced the crashing waves (bed sheets and aunties splashing water) and wind (kids blowing with all their might and slapping their legs). Godfrey rose after much shaking from his friends, put out his hand and commanded the waves and wind, “Silence. Be still.” And after some coaching, the wind, waves and disciples froze. What a moment when silliness come to a stand still and under control! While a few giggles escaped, I think most of the kids thought it was a pretty awesome storm.
Two very important things came of this little acting workshop.
1) The kids had a chance to grasp a little more how AWESOME God is.
2) And I was reminded. The anxiety I have about them learning a new show, more dances, different songs on top of school, cultural nuances, rules, and daily living should be stilled because God has it in control. He knows the time to put things in their place. He knows how to do it. He can work with or without me depending on how scared I want to be.
And here- the kids acted. They learned lines and used props. What more is there to our show? A few costumes. Really, I should be more concerned with the adults who have to make sure the kids can be heard in the huge theaters or seen from two balconies away.
Um guys….can we chat…
kob |käb; kōb|
noun ( pl. same)
an antelope with a reddish coat and lyre-shaped horns, found on the savannas of southern Africa
I taught English this afternoon and in an reading comprehension exercise this new word came up. I had to ask the kids what it meant which was an interesting change of positions, from explaining the meaning of fierce or adjective to asking about an African animal. Somehow they had the easy job. I guess that’s why I’m paid the big bucks!
Auntie Liz read the story of Jesus calming the storm to the kids tonight at devotions. Then she had them act it out. Jesus, played by Godfrey- fitting!, and the disciples, Lubega and Joseph, experienced the crashing waves (bed sheets and aunties splashing water) and wind (kids blowing with all their might and slapping their legs). Godfrey rose after much shaking from his friends, put out his hand and commanded the waves and wind, “Silence. Be still.” And after some coaching, the wind, waves and disciples froze. What a moment when silliness come to a stand still and under control! While a few giggles escaped, I think most of the kids thought it was a pretty awesome storm.
Two very important things came of this little acting workshop.
1) The kids had a chance to grasp a little more how AWESOME God is.
2) And I was reminded. The anxiety I have about them learning a new show, more dances, different songs on top of school, cultural nuances, rules, and daily living should be stilled because God has it in control. He knows the time to put things in their place. He knows how to do it. He can work with or without me depending on how scared I want to be.
And here- the kids acted. They learned lines and used props. What more is there to our show? A few costumes. Really, I should be more concerned with the adults who have to make sure the kids can be heard in the huge theaters or seen from two balconies away.
Um guys….can we chat…
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Day in the Life
Claudio and Joshua play UNO, the favorite game among ACC children.
The girls show off their mad artist skill.
Meanwhile, Auntie Christine and Florence have a match in their oven boxing mits.
Joan just hangs out.
Tony practices for the closer goal.
Claire, Florence, Susan and Uncle David cheer on the chicken to cook for dinner.
The children cool off under the Fountain of Uncle Jordan, a new addition to the landscape.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Mixed Emotions
Today I might have been nicknamed Crazy Auntie. While the older kids’ class met quietly in the dining room working math problems with Uncle David, I had the joy of making lunch. Well as not to be distracted by enticing multiplication problems and to keep my mixing hands moving, I put in my ear buds to listen to the last weeks podcast of “Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me.” Oh Carl Kassell….sigh!
Right where was I? Oh yes, laughing at “Wait, Wait.” And not chuckling to myself, but bending over with glee. The kids just stared and giggled at me. Then I started chopping onions. Tears came straight away and still I was laughing. The kids didn’t know what was going on. She’s loosing it had to be on their minds. Of course, the clincher for my new status came when I explained my laughter by saying, “The voices I heard made me laugh.” Next time I’ll have to be more careful with my words…and my emotions before they take me away.
Speaking of crazy things, have you ever thought about the animal kingdom? I mean seriously, Noah’s ark must have been quite the sight with aye-aye and their BIG eyes, sloths just h a n g i n g so slowly. Really, is it possible to hang that slowly? And then there are the animals I’ve seen recently. A big blonde of a dog that reaches my belly button while he stands on all fours and the hummingbird with super fast wings and ultra quick heart beat. The weirdest and craziest by far are the ants and turtles, one I saw on the big screen and the other on the street. Turtles have super sensing smellers, I guess, because it crawled into its shell before danger even drew near. Then as the threat retreated, just it’s head came out. Like a football with a beady-eyed tail. On top of it all, check out the name. TURTLE. Say it five times fast. Turtle, turtle, turtle, turtle, turtle. Yikes! The ants were just as survival oriented as the turtle, except that they move in masses to devour their predator and east A HUMAN ALIVE! (If this grosses you out, close your eyes at the Indiana Jones movie.)
Finally, I have to mention my job as one of the craziest things ever. I mean who in their right mind hangs out with kids, travels the world, plays soccer, makes dinner, and praises God for their daily livelihood? Only the truly nutty!?
Such a thought reminds me of an exchange in Waking Ned Devine between Father Patrick and Maurice, a little boy with profound thoughts.
It goes something like this as they sit at the church organ:
M: Can you play songs by Jesus?
FP: No, I wish I could.
M: So, did he come to you then? Jesus?
FP: Jesus, well he did in many ways, yes.
M: But did you see him?
FP: Well not exactly no.
M: But you’re working for him.
FP: I am. And doing the best I can.
M: Do you get paid for it?
FP: Well, it’s more of the payment of the spiritual kind, Maurice.
M: Oh…right.
FP: Do you think you could be drawn to the church?
M: I don’t think so.
FP: Well you never know.
M: I don’t think I could work for someone I’ve never met and not get paid for it.
Right where was I? Oh yes, laughing at “Wait, Wait.” And not chuckling to myself, but bending over with glee. The kids just stared and giggled at me. Then I started chopping onions. Tears came straight away and still I was laughing. The kids didn’t know what was going on. She’s loosing it had to be on their minds. Of course, the clincher for my new status came when I explained my laughter by saying, “The voices I heard made me laugh.” Next time I’ll have to be more careful with my words…and my emotions before they take me away.
Speaking of crazy things, have you ever thought about the animal kingdom? I mean seriously, Noah’s ark must have been quite the sight with aye-aye and their BIG eyes, sloths just h a n g i n g so slowly. Really, is it possible to hang that slowly? And then there are the animals I’ve seen recently. A big blonde of a dog that reaches my belly button while he stands on all fours and the hummingbird with super fast wings and ultra quick heart beat. The weirdest and craziest by far are the ants and turtles, one I saw on the big screen and the other on the street. Turtles have super sensing smellers, I guess, because it crawled into its shell before danger even drew near. Then as the threat retreated, just it’s head came out. Like a football with a beady-eyed tail. On top of it all, check out the name. TURTLE. Say it five times fast. Turtle, turtle, turtle, turtle, turtle. Yikes! The ants were just as survival oriented as the turtle, except that they move in masses to devour their predator and east A HUMAN ALIVE! (If this grosses you out, close your eyes at the Indiana Jones movie.)
Finally, I have to mention my job as one of the craziest things ever. I mean who in their right mind hangs out with kids, travels the world, plays soccer, makes dinner, and praises God for their daily livelihood? Only the truly nutty!?
Such a thought reminds me of an exchange in Waking Ned Devine between Father Patrick and Maurice, a little boy with profound thoughts.
It goes something like this as they sit at the church organ:
M: Can you play songs by Jesus?
FP: No, I wish I could.
M: So, did he come to you then? Jesus?
FP: Jesus, well he did in many ways, yes.
M: But did you see him?
FP: Well not exactly no.
M: But you’re working for him.
FP: I am. And doing the best I can.
M: Do you get paid for it?
FP: Well, it’s more of the payment of the spiritual kind, Maurice.
M: Oh…right.
FP: Do you think you could be drawn to the church?
M: I don’t think so.
FP: Well you never know.
M: I don’t think I could work for someone I’ve never met and not get paid for it.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Lift the Cow
Writing a blog everyday is difficult. I feel like I need to be witty or clever or insightful, but some days I’m just not. I taught English this morning. Went for a run in the middle of the day=had to take a second shower. Counted product and climbed on boxes to measure the crocodile puppet. Read Pinocchio to some kids. Walked to the lake. And that was the day. I feel happily exhausted and ready for bed.
So like any good story teller would do, I will retell a story that I treasure. Since my first reading in the middle of June, the summer before I started college and my collegiate track career, this story has encouraged me to keep starting, keep going, and keep striving for perfection.
Somewhere along a highway in Eastern Washington lived a farmer and his cow. Now his cow had a special place in his heart for it was a partner in business and personal growth and constant companion. One day a man drove down the road to see the farmer and his cow standing next to a sign that said:
"Will lift cow for $100."
The man pulled over, finding the statement both silly joke and an impossible challenge. He asked the farmer if the cow was real or if the sign was some kind of gag. The farmer let the man try and lift the cow. The man could not even budge the fully grown cow from its spot and so determined to pay the farmer $100 to see him meet the challenge. Agreeing to lift the cow for a minute off the ground, the farmer moved behind the animal. Slowly, he put his arms under the cow's belly and gently lifted her off the ground six inches where they remained for a minute.
As the farmer set the cow back on its feet, the man stared in amazement. Not only did he lift the cow, but the farmer could hold it and not waver. The man congratulated the farmer on a tremendous effort. He told the farmer he would pay him, but he wanted to know the secret to his success.
The farmer took a deep breath and replied:
"When this cow was born, its mother died. I knew it would not survive without its mothers milk, warmth or constant touch, so I became its mother. Everyday I picked up the calf and carried it to my home where I fed it milk and warmed it by the fire. Everyday, the calf grew stronger and stronger. When the cow grew old enough to eat grass with the other cows, I would carry it out to the field and carry home. I picked up the cow everyday. Some days when it snowed, I did not want to trudge out in the cold to get the cow, but I knew it would suffer. Some days the heat felt overwhelming. And some days I just did not feel like getting the cow, but I knew it was a task I had committed to from day one. Even though it grew bigger and bigger, I did not notice because its growth was very small from day to day. Those who would try to lift the cow now would fail, but over time the task is not so impossible."
Working out, going into a new job or relationship, or reaching a life goal can be like the farmer and his cow. With each day, you will grow stronger and stronger. The goal that seemed impossible and so hard to attain is coming true. Sometimes, however, the hardest thing about the new journey is taking the first step off your front porch. Start now. Keep at it. The challenges will get bigger, but the strength you gain along the way will give you the ability to succeed.
So like any good story teller would do, I will retell a story that I treasure. Since my first reading in the middle of June, the summer before I started college and my collegiate track career, this story has encouraged me to keep starting, keep going, and keep striving for perfection.
Somewhere along a highway in Eastern Washington lived a farmer and his cow. Now his cow had a special place in his heart for it was a partner in business and personal growth and constant companion. One day a man drove down the road to see the farmer and his cow standing next to a sign that said:
"Will lift cow for $100."
The man pulled over, finding the statement both silly joke and an impossible challenge. He asked the farmer if the cow was real or if the sign was some kind of gag. The farmer let the man try and lift the cow. The man could not even budge the fully grown cow from its spot and so determined to pay the farmer $100 to see him meet the challenge. Agreeing to lift the cow for a minute off the ground, the farmer moved behind the animal. Slowly, he put his arms under the cow's belly and gently lifted her off the ground six inches where they remained for a minute.
As the farmer set the cow back on its feet, the man stared in amazement. Not only did he lift the cow, but the farmer could hold it and not waver. The man congratulated the farmer on a tremendous effort. He told the farmer he would pay him, but he wanted to know the secret to his success.
The farmer took a deep breath and replied:
"When this cow was born, its mother died. I knew it would not survive without its mothers milk, warmth or constant touch, so I became its mother. Everyday I picked up the calf and carried it to my home where I fed it milk and warmed it by the fire. Everyday, the calf grew stronger and stronger. When the cow grew old enough to eat grass with the other cows, I would carry it out to the field and carry home. I picked up the cow everyday. Some days when it snowed, I did not want to trudge out in the cold to get the cow, but I knew it would suffer. Some days the heat felt overwhelming. And some days I just did not feel like getting the cow, but I knew it was a task I had committed to from day one. Even though it grew bigger and bigger, I did not notice because its growth was very small from day to day. Those who would try to lift the cow now would fail, but over time the task is not so impossible."
Working out, going into a new job or relationship, or reaching a life goal can be like the farmer and his cow. With each day, you will grow stronger and stronger. The goal that seemed impossible and so hard to attain is coming true. Sometimes, however, the hardest thing about the new journey is taking the first step off your front porch. Start now. Keep at it. The challenges will get bigger, but the strength you gain along the way will give you the ability to succeed.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
eating
Popcorn should have been on the schedule for this evening. On Sunday we have specials, a time to share talents of songs, skits, interpretive dancing, etc., during our regularly scheduled devotion time before bed. Tonight the kids all sang songs. Some had dances, but all sang a cappella in front of all of us. Despite performing all the time, I was still impressed by their stage presence and excitement to share for the most part. Trios sang with harmony, soloists danced, and boys did a call and response number…Ugandan Idol anyone?
We had a staff meeting tonight. I left quite a bit later and headed straight for the fridge…with all the uncles. I think my body was following the natural routine of working until late and then eating ice cream. Vacation was good for my waist line because I didn’t have those late night work hours (or any for that matter) and therefore no need for midnight snacks.
It’s fun to serve meals to these kids. They all look at their plates with curiosity and amazement, sometimes at what’s on it and sometimes at the abundance. They tried tuna for the first time the other day. A whole leftover pan made it to the lunch table, but they still went for thirds. The kids are pretty open to trying new things, necessary being here in the west. But a few things will never change: mustard is detestable, hot food beats out sandwiches any day, bacon makes the day great. I have the great pleasure of making the menu for the week, but the chore of being creative enough to avoid tuna casserole every Friday.
Any recipes feeding 30 people would be greatly appreciated.
Think potluck.
We had a staff meeting tonight. I left quite a bit later and headed straight for the fridge…with all the uncles. I think my body was following the natural routine of working until late and then eating ice cream. Vacation was good for my waist line because I didn’t have those late night work hours (or any for that matter) and therefore no need for midnight snacks.
It’s fun to serve meals to these kids. They all look at their plates with curiosity and amazement, sometimes at what’s on it and sometimes at the abundance. They tried tuna for the first time the other day. A whole leftover pan made it to the lunch table, but they still went for thirds. The kids are pretty open to trying new things, necessary being here in the west. But a few things will never change: mustard is detestable, hot food beats out sandwiches any day, bacon makes the day great. I have the great pleasure of making the menu for the week, but the chore of being creative enough to avoid tuna casserole every Friday.
Any recipes feeding 30 people would be greatly appreciated.
Think potluck.
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