number two

Happy Birthday Cindy!!!
I celebrate your life and
wish you all God's best in this new year.

(Wouldn't a pic of you be lovely right about here? Sigh!)

fearless

We retreated this weekend. A large percentage of women at "my" church got together
and invested in each other,
our relationship with God
and in the fellowship.
We ate.

We laughed.
We listened and talked.
We prayed.
We pulled practical jokes. (Some of us experienced them anyway.)
We played games.

We DIDN'T sleep, or at least, not much,
but it wasn't a sleeping retreat, I suppose.
I feel quite privileged to get to know
the fantastic women in our community of believers.

Some of these women I know a bit more. And after the retreat, we just HAD to go to the Lake. Because the temperature had fluctuated so greatly, we knew that the waves would be large. And the surfers were there, too, donning wet suits, attempting to tackle the waves.

Surprisingly, at first, the sand wasn't cold on our bare feet. Mostly because we were blessed with some 70+ degree weather during the week. Thus the water and waves so lulled my friend that she decided to swim.
I might mention that the air temp was about 47 degrees.
And yes, the water temperature was also about 47 degrees.
She's my new hero.
She not only jumped in, she really swam.
Like dove back into the water, without hesitation.
It was amazing. Perhaps crazy, but definitely amazing.
This was after she walked on the beach with her sleeping bag around her.
I know, it doesn't quite fit, does it?
From a sleeping bag to the cold water.
But, so it was.

It didn't feel like the start to summer,
but it LOOKED a bit like it!

In other news, it's birthday week!
Today is Lori's birthday!
Happy Birthday dear Lori. You are missed.
You are loved!

seduction

It wasn't that I didn't want to stay, when she asked, "shall we round this corner and discover where the wood duck landed?"
I certainly wanted to continue the adventure.
It's just I needed to get to work.

Spring seduced us, in a sweet way on our walk today.
Our "normal" walk found us lingering 20 minutes longer than usual.
Various calls, colors, and wild flowers captured our attention,
both slowing and stopping our stride.
Awe of our creator and the majesty of the creation
caused us to burst out with applause and praise and wonder.
Yesterday my spiritual director mused, "what if God had decided to make the grass and the fauna red instead of green? Would we enjoy it as much?"
I tried to imagine it red, but truly, I adore the green.

So we sought out the yellow trout lily,
the sweet spring beauties,
white trillium,
blooming bluebells,
jack in the pulpits,
rain dropped may apples,
solomon's seal,
wild garlic,
and ginger,
and loads of other lovelies that we don't know the names of.
It is such a glorious time of year.

We heard our cardinals, flickers, song sparrows, robins, even a wren we mistakenly labeled a cardinal with vibrato.
Our other friend, the kingfisher, was back, mapping his (or her?) flight along the creek's windy trail.
Alas, work called. The cars at trails end signaled my leave.
But Jordan? she remained.
On the lookout for the wood duck
and whatever other adventure or creature awaited discovery.

just leave them dirty in the sink!

A couple weeks ago I tasted the "best ribs" in Grand Rapids. It was good. I'm not a rib connoisseur, but I believed their advertising. For whatever reason, however, it put us in the mood for ribs. The incredible guy I'm dating, see, he is more of an expert, and actually has his very own rib maker thing. (There IS a more official title, I know.) And so the other night he cooked up ribs. And they were fabulous. As far as I can tell, they could compete with the Grand Rapids fare.
As a show of appreciation, I was cleaning the crockpot portion of this rib cooker. And may I introduce exhibit A. Trouble. It may have been a sign not to do dishes. (j/k)

Seriously, here's the thing. I had the pot in the sink. Granted, it doesn't fit perfectly, so I began to adjust it, and it shifted slightly, When I say slightly, I mean the thing did not crash into the sink or anything even resembling that. It shifted.
And it cracked.
You may wonder how hot the water was, or if there was a major temperature change. But that was not the case. (I know, I sound defensive.) The thing cracked though. and I couldn't believe it. You know me. My reputation for falling surrounds me. I wouldn't say that I break things, even if there have been a few things in my lifetime. But this, the crockpot? It's like it broke without me. I'm not kidding people.
So there it is. Perfectly broken.
Now...would you think I could find a replacement crockpot somewhere, anywhere on our "get anything u want and more online store" internet?
Nope.
I can't.
Not even on the website that makes the precious pot.
So, it remains.
Broken.
No ribs to be had.
so very sad.

any advice out there?

In other, much happier news, please welcome a new blogger! Check out my friend's new blog. Her blog features her fabulous writing. Give her a shout as you visit, would you?

steeple chase

I see them first. It's often the steeples that draw me. They highlight an area or draw attention to a skyline. So when I had some time this past weekend, I decided to capture some of those steeples "on film." (We need a new phrase!!)
And doorways.

In the "modern" church (not part of the modern/post modern discussion) of today, churches don't necessarily standout in the same way. My current church building, for instance, is a warehouse. It serves our community and space needs well, but one wouldn't use it as a landmark in the city of Grand Rapids...

so the church building can signal something. It can bring us to attention. And we spend a lot of time and resources on buildings and what our churches look like (at least, generally that's the move).
But really,
as much as we get caught up in the church,
and we equate it to a building,
we, the people of the church,
we're the ones that really need to draw attention to Jesus, regardless.


A friend of mine in class often challenges us to be a window to Jesus. And maybe I'm influenced by that as well.
Others say people need to see Jesus as they look at us. As we reflect on our lives, as I reflect on who I am and how I live,
what do I draw attention to?
Does my "skyline" allow people to see Jesus?
Does my church make a difference in the community,
aside from drawing attention to the building?
If the church were gone, would the community notice the difference?

These are the questions that chased me as I chased after the steeples...

Serious Consideration

Here's a piece of the current journey. These words from my class, and most recent book have been hitting repeat in my mind.

"I have come to the point in my life where I realize
that if I ever get passion for the Son of God
it will not be because I earned it;
it will be because he gave it to me
as his greatest and most gracious gift.

We can have anything from him
that we are willing to labor for in prayer.
I encourage you to spend more time asking God
to grant you passion for the Son of God
than you do asking him for anything else.

The Father loves the Son more than anyone or anything else.
He is devoted to the Son. His eyes never leave the Son.
I have paraphrased John 17:26 to pray it like this:
'Father, grant me power from the Holy Spirit
to love the Son of God like you love him'"
(Deere, Surprised by the power of the Spirit).

How does that hit your heart and spirit?
Wanna pray it as well? (Maybe u already do...)

Which one of these doesn't belong?

A few weekends ago I went "up north" to visit our friend, Karla, with two other friends...
we snapped this photo when we realized that three of the four of us had
nearly the identical camera.
And the answer to the question is that my camera doesn't belong.
It's the one that took the photo b/c it's a Nikon.
Apparently all the cool people have canon cameras.
But it's okay. I'm not suffering camera envy or anything :-)

mystery

Not that you were asking, but I'm nearly halfway in my Master's program. It is a bittersweet reality. Not that it is over, but I simply don't want it to progress any quicker. I am so thankful for the opportunity to learn and to interact with classmates here in the states and around the world.

My current class is called Healing and Wholeness in Christian Spirituality. This is not an easy subject for some. As part of this week's response, we had to explain our experience with healing and how our faith tradition addressed healing.

Part of our assignment and class responsibility includes praying specifically for physical healing for five to ten people per week.

I'm excited about praying with people and for people.

What remains unsettled is the fact that God doesn't heal everyone or every situation in the way we pray. (Perhaps we need a different definition of healing but that may be another post.) We can pray in faith and hope, but it is NOT our human ability that heals or determines healing. And the mystery of how and why is sometimes hard to swallow, much less understand.

Photo credit: my sis, Hildred, one of her zillion gorgeous photos from 0807.

weekend mishap

I confess that I have this thing about dishes in my sink. I don't need my dishes washed immediately, but I like to pile my dishes alongside the sink, neatly, so that my sink isn't full of dishes.

This very weekend I was preparing to steam some broccoli and sear some salmon. I turned on my burners and set my "broccoli" pan on the stove. As I was washing and trimming the broccoli, I did notice the color of my stove top under the pan seemed a bit strange. (But I didn't pay attention to it. Argh!) After a few minutes of cooking however, I smelled something beyond broccoli. And that color, well, yes, one of my favorite tupperware container lids, purple! The smell, of course burning plastic. The end result? Well, the good news is that the lid did not melt onto my pan. (B/c it's really one of Hildred's pans even though I keep praying she'll forget I have them.) But it did melt all over my burner. Only, I don't have a removable burner, b/c I have a flat top stove.

So, anyone know how to get plastic off of such an appliance? Can I simply turn the burner back on and let it "burn" off?

Oh, and see, the lid was stuck to the bottom of my pan b/c of my stacking tendency. That's the thing. Too bad. Quite sad! :-(

perhaps it's just time to pay

I recently heard a phrase driving urgently used as a way to describe someone who was speeding. I'd like to adopt it. But the truth is, I knowingly speed. Perhaps not more than the average person. I don't say that to justify it, but I do say it as a qualification. Most people likely do not look at speeding as breaking the law in a way that they would change their habits. But that is another post. Today I want to talk about tickets.

I recently received one. The officer approached the car and said, "Ma'am, I've pulled you over for your excessive speed."

And after I glanced at the speed listed on the ticket, I had to agree. I was traveling over 20 miles over the limit. Now, I'd like to debate that I was in unfamiliar territory, and that the speed had just changed from 55 to 45 on what seemed to be a highway. But the truth is, even at 55, my speed was over 10 miles over the limit.

Perhaps you'd care to read my experience with tickets. I've received three in my driving lifetime.

I received one in my first year of driving, in between my junior and senior years in high school, while on a six week mission trip in California. I was clocked at 48 in a 35. Being pulled over for speeding was a complete shock. I was told "the speed limit is 55 everywhere except for in town. Then it is 35." Being a city girl from Seattle, I equated town to mean city. But we were in a rural area, and town meant something different than my perception in those parts.

I fought the ticket, though, mostly because it demanded I show up in court at a time when I wasn't going to be in California. The judge let me off.

My second ticket was three years later at college. I fought that ticket, too, and it was also eliminated.

About four years after that I was pulled over for speeding when I lived in Holland, Michigan. When the cop asked how fast I was going, I told him that I must have been going nearly 50 (it was a 35 zone) because I had just shifted into 5th gear. After spending some time in his cruiser, and after several "God, I know I don't deserve this, but please have mercy," he came back and offered me a warning.

So you can see, I've experienced an incredible amount of grace.
But I've also "fought" every single ticket.

And that was my plan for this experience. I was ready to argue that it was a speed trap, for starters.

But you know what, it's one ticket in twenty years of driving! And the truth is, I was speeding, no matter how I might like to argue.
I decided, perhaps it's just time to pay.
And so I did.
The check is literally in the mail.
(I still hated sending it though!)

Yours sincerely,
A struggling speeder

right but not necessarily wise

In the category of learning, opportunities abound. I decided to voice an opinion about something that didn't seem quite just, or "hospitable," as I put in my email.

So here's the thing, my position was right, but at the end of the day, communicating about it and identifying it via email lead to some hurt feelings and a strained relationship.

How do we make wise decisions in our correspondence? You'll have to take my word in this case that I labored over my word choice. I knew that the communication alone might ruffle some feathers so I was committed to use respectful language. At the end of the day, my boss suggested the words could have been "softer." With that assessment, I'm not sure I even get an "A" for effort. Perhaps it comes down to motivation. A friend of mine reminds me often when discerning action in a situation to ask myself "what do I want?" And then attempt to communicate accordingly. That may sound rather selfish, but for me it often brings me back to the motivation that I want Jesus Christ to be glorified. Sometimes then it diffuses my reactions entirely because it gives me pause enough to set down my righteous indignation, or overcome the perceived slight, or overlook my puffing pride, or even abandon words in the trust that God is my defender and judge.

It sounds easier than it is. I often sit in the tension of those worlds--deciding whether or not to speak, advocate, or rest.

So, I may have made the wrong choice again. But I'm certainly learning.
"Lord, thank you for beginning a work in me and your promise to carry it out until completion. Have mercy, Lord!"

Faraway fargo fun

Fun springs up wherever you make it.
And despite all the jokes about Fargo,
I like the city--especially being there with my family.

Thus I offer just a few photos of our time there over the weekend...
because we had fun.

We painted eggs.
We made nests.
We created an indoor easter egg hunt extravaganza.
(unfortunately, I didn't capture all of these great moments.)

We also laughed, played cards, sang,
played violins (at least a couple of us did),
celebrated Jesus resurrection,
watched a few movies, endured hours of scooby doo,
participated in a fierce snowball fight, went sledding,
hung curtains, hung pictures, assembled a stool
(well, some of us participated in that, mostly Barkley),
hung out with the neighbors, visited the mall...
among other things.

I just really really really wish it were a few hours closer.
That's all I'm saying!


Oh and we saw some interesting things on the road, too.
One of them being this billboard. Hopefully, despite the distance, you can
recognize the billboard base. Pretty crazy.

nothing like a good routine

I'm headed to Fargo.
It's where I get to go. For Easter and for Thanksgiving.
My sister and I get there one way or another.
As some of you know, we've gotten "stuck" there because sometimes winter hits Fargo sooner than other places in the world.
We've had several planes, trains, and automobile stories.

This time we're driving.
Which means we'll laugh ourselves silly at moments when we think we're the funniest people in the world. (And we don't care that we're not.)

And we'll share a few days with our sister, bro-in-law, and our nieces and whoever else might make the mix.
It's a huge privilege to be with family.

It's one of my favorite routines.

So blessed Easter weekend, all. May the peace of Christ be yours in abundance, wherever you are!

Meeting place

I went away this weekend to attend Acquire the Fire (atf), a conference geared mostly toward junior high and high school students (of which I am not, but, none the less, I went). Events like this, held in large venues, sometimes on college campuses, with multiple speakers and bands and intentional worship leading are sprinkled throughout my life. Often these events mark pivotal moments.
But there are moments when I wonder, am I just being caught up in the emotion of it? And if that is true, is that wrong or bad or inauthentic or??

I know that can be a criticism of certain events. But as I reflect on my time, on what I heard, witnessed, and experienced, I can only say that God is real. He speaks in different ways to all. In prayer and worship I experience the presence of God. It is a meeting place for me. It is a place where my heart connects to God's heart and I am changed. Sometimes the change resembles a gentle knocking and a reminder of who I need to be (but that I'm not yet there). Sometimes it's the crumbling of walls which I've erected or my choices constructed which God's grace and truth dismantles. Sometimes it's the piercing word of scripture which removes the mask and reveals who I truly am.
It is not always pleasant. Sometimes it is utterly exhausting, as I recently put on my facebook page, I become rubbish, or completely undone by the reality of who God is and who I am not.

Perhaps it's not that way for everyone. But it's my experience. I don't want to engage the intensity everyday. Not surprisingly, God seems to know and implement the perfect timing! And it allows me to walk more closely and more connected, I hope, to his very heart.

Super

This is a tribute to my friend Sabrina, superfluous over there in the blog world.
She's consistently blogging her fabulous creations or things someone else creates that she is eating. I love it.
And it's a tribute to the incredible meal my sister made
(with a tiny bit of my help) the other night.
It was beyond super, really. It was fabulous.
So here is the recipe (or as I like to say, of course intentionally, repice, just because):

Salmon with Puff Pastry and Pesto

4 pieces of purchased puff pastry, each cut to be just larger than a piece of salmon
4 (4 to 6-ounce) pieces salmon
1/4 cup sliced almonds
1/4 cup purchased pesto
2 tomatoes, sliced

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.

On a foil-lined baking sheet, place the 4 pieces of puff pastry. Also place the 4 pieces of salmon, being careful to make sure they are not touching. Sprinkle each piece of salmon with 1 tablespoon of the sliced almonds. Bake for 10 minutes.

To serve, place each piece of puff pastry on a plate. Top each puff pastry with 1 tablespoon of pesto. Top the pesto with 2 slices of tomatoes each. Top the tomatoes with the salmon and serve.

We served this with asparagus.
And beer bread (the staple, of course).

YOU should try it.

witness

In August 2006, as I was considering starting a master's degree program, my sister Hildred and I went shopping for a Macbook. Hangin' with my sister at the Apple store in downtown Chicago AND buying my lil computer stacks up as a great memory.
It only seems fitting, then, that I should witness her receiving a new computer, a brand spankin' new Macbook to be exact.
And so here we were, sharing another significant moment in our lives. :-)
This is not overrated, people.

She's got the latest MacOS, the Ilife photo software, the latest and greatest. Sigh!
I'm all shades of happy for her (if not a slight shade of j).

Happy computing sis!!

Whether or not you believe

Last week part of my "unwell" season was complicated by some major shoulder and neck pain. I love sleep. Nothing disturbs it too much. In my Mansion years I slept so soundly that students couldn't wake me. I went through periods of sleep deprivation, however, such that I would fall asleep mid-sentence, mid-prayer, etc. It was bad and embarrassing, even, like the time I feel asleep as I was interviewing someone (but that's another post). But I'm a recovered sleep-deprived individual and don't sacrifice sleep for much (an occasional conversation is well well worth it, but not on a regular basis).

I say all of that to say, this pain was soooooo bad I couldn't sleep.
In fact, I woke up one particular night in such pain
I could only beg, "Oh Jesus, please, please, help me."

I am unfamiliar with such excruciating pain. For those that experience such pain on a continual basis, I am so sorry.

The pain subsided enough to go to work, but even there I was completely aware of it. I recall one other time of pain like this about three years ago. Finally someone suggested I go to a chiropractor. Have you had this conversation?

"A chiropractor?"
pause
"Um, right.
Yeah, but, aren't they the people who are not "real" doctors
and just get you trapped into seeing them
so that you're quasi-addicted and
"need" to see them the rest of your life?
That chiropractor?"

The same.

Let me tell you. I went. I faithfully attended the suggested appointments. My pain subsided. I was done. Sufficiently satisfied that I had avoided that whole addiction trap. so there! But it helped. I overcame my skepticism and previous stereotype and moved to advocacy.

I didn't need much encouragement this time, you see, to return to the chiropractor. Only I have different insurance and yada yada. Thus, I visited a new doctor on the recommendation of my coworkers.

The intake procedure includes cataloging some history of pain, and charting the intensity of current pain, as well as a computerized scan of the spinal cord (very impressive!!), and xrays. As the chiropractor asked me to do certain movements (did u know for instance, that a person should be able to bend their head to their shoulder--not moving the shoulder--so that the ear about touches the shoulder?), it was obvious that I was in much pain and had limited movement. He asked whether or not I heard clicking noises, whether or not I had frequent headaches, frequent sinus issues, etc.
I gratefully replied "no!" to most questions. I feel healthy most of the time.
"I need an occasional back massage from a friend b/c I carry stress in my shoulder blades," I mentioned, "but other than that I'm good."

Then we took a look at my posture in the mirror. And saw a bit of a drooping on my right side. Then he had me do some shoulder rotations, again, on the right side. As the bones clicked and cracked he asked, "do you hear that?"
"yes," I smiled. (Hoping THAT was the right answer.)

"See those noises," he said, "those aren't supposed to happen. Those aren't normal."

"Oh," I responded, rather sheepishly, "so I should say I do hear clicking and cracking all the time then. Because those noises are very normal to me."

We proceeded to look at the xrays. And he showed me how in two places in my neck, the space for my nerve is reduced because of the growth of bone spurs.
Yikes.

And then he asked whether I had experienced any traumatic events or accidents as a child.

"Well," I chuckled, confident I did have this answer right, "anyone who knows me knows that I fall all the time. I did trip over a tree root when I was nearly five and broke my leg, just for starters."

"This would be a traumatic thing, like, you lost consciousness or something."

"Oh."

I thought for a bit longer and remembered the whole fall on my head story that my family loves to tell. And it's true. When I was a very small baby, like three months or so, my just older sister Carmen needed to go to the doctor. My Mom had me in the carseat and when she set me on the counter at the hospital, I fell over, car seat and all, on my head. The doctor quickly examined me and determined I was okay. My poor Mom has really never quite recovered. But it's worked as a great excuse to explain things my whole life.
so I told that story in hopes that it would qualify. Certainly it was traumatic!!

"No," he said, "this would have occurred in your late teens, say at 15 or 16 based on the development of your bones."

I confess, I'm at a loss. I don't know when this traumatic experience happened, really. I've invited my parents to think about it with me. They of course remembered the whole fall on my head as a baby thing. But that's it. We can't explain it.

But, my pain is getting better.
I'm doing my "therapy" exercises at home. I'm seeing the chiropractor a bit these next few weeks. I'm sleeping through the night again almost normally. And I'm so thankful for the relief.

Where you could help, however, if you feel so inclined, is to pray that the bone spurs heal completely. See, the chiropractor can't make those go away. But God can. So if this comes to your heart and mind while u're talking to Abba, I'd appreciate the request.

Thanks!

More to life!

You know that sound a balloon makes as it spits out it's remaining air?
That's what I feel like.

That, after spending a week studying Sabbath for my class which included inhaling a most fabulous book titled Sabbath, by Wayne Muller. But notice I say inhaled.
After each chapter we were challenged to engage in these wonderful Sabbath practices which I laughed at thinking maybe I'll practice those in the summer. There is no time to practice Sabbath right now!
Hmmmm.

That, after utilizing a sick day after I realized I was still sick so why brag that I don't take sick days? (okay that's misleading. I only realized it b/c my friend lasered in on that reality by saying that's it's all fine for me to boast that I've only taken one sick day in my working life, but if I'm still sick the next day, is it really a gain or even something worth bragging about?)

That, after a great weekend that really did allow moments of rest and catching my breath, despite feeling busy.

There is more to life than this. Like Celebrations!!!

Like my friend Cathy. It's her birthday today.
Happy Birthday lady! We celebrate you.

and it's a good friend's son's birthday today, too (is that the right punctuation??). So Happy Birthday Kyle!
You also are a gift from God!

Operation Seattle Surprise #2

Yesterday marked the anniversary of my Mom's birth! Happy Birthday Mom! It goes without saying that I owe my life to her! :-) (Hmm, seriously, why do we use the phrase "it goes without saying" and then say whatever it is that we don't need to say? Perhaps a different post. Let's get back to Mom!)

Here's the thing, remember how I surprised my parents and went home for Christmas? Well, my sister Hildred surprised my parents by going home for Mom's birthday. Both of these surprises relied heavily on our sister Jenni's involvement (pictured here with my Mom). We couldn't have done it without her. Turns out she is quite the schemer. And conniver. And a master at what was the word, ah yes, subterfuge.
Surprise #2 led to the whole "when will you stop trusting us?" conversation again.

Mom's reply: priceless.

"I've decided that I don't want to stop trusting you girls," she said.
"I like surprises.
If I begin suspecting things,
and then it doesn't turn out to be a surprise,
I'll be disappointed."

And since we love surprising her (and my Dad),
her attitude really is a win-win for all!
(Thanks Mom!)

Some people's kids

This past weekend I "did life" with my college friend, Teresa and her family. We tend to go weeks, sometimes months without communicating. But our friendship goes deep. She's journeyed through every season of my life since I met her. And so it doesn't take much to "get on the same page" so to speak.

One of the things I appreciate so much about Teresa is her commitment to journey with me. I recall that when I was serving at His Mansion Ministries, in New Hampshire, she phoned me to say that she wanted to understand my life there more fully. so she was coming to visit me. And she did. She engaged in my life. She met my friends. She experienced "the mansion." And even though her life was completely different, she attempted to know and understand who I was becoming through that experience.
This marks our friendship.

In a somewhat similar way, I attempt to jump into "her life" as best I can. This weekend it meant kids...lots of kids. At one point, when we gathered with her three sisters, all their kids, plus a few friends, we had 18 kids!!! (To be fair, a couple of these "kids" are grown. So there were only 16 aged 13 and below.) At one moment it was just the four sisters plus me sitting around a table talking. The conversation didn't last long before someone needed one of those Moms, but I love catching those experiences with them.

Part of our time included a Saturday morning basketball game. Teresa's son and her sister's son played. And for a 3rd and 4th grade team, I was on the edge of my seat. With two seconds remaining, Teresa's son rec'd a pass, shot, and made the winning basket. 22-20!! It was intense, people. And all the while, Teresa's youngest took pictures. So that's the photo credit today. Lissie (short for Alyssa), age 6, pictured at the top, snapped all these photos (including the one of herself). How I appreciate digital photography. And these moments sharing a friend's life.