head in the clouds, feet on the gas

2011-11-02T10:18:00.000-07:00

I turn 39 today. I figured I'd leave the 30's with a bang! Working on something special today... I'll post what I've done when I'm finished. Tee Hee! Can't WAIT!
-Jennifer-

2011-09-17T20:37:00.001-07:00

I'm now in my second year of Art School. I've just started my first semester of my second year. The assignments are piling up fast... and I'd like to chronicle the assignments as they're in progress. This seems to be the perfect place! Keep your eyes peeled. Some weird stuff will be coming through here...

2011-07-15T10:46:00.000-07:00

So, it's been a LONG time since I updated my blog. Instead of trying to catch you up, I'll just give you a day-by-day update on our happy little lives. I'm sure the major events of the last 8 months will come to the forefront at some point, anyway!

So...

I just put my very first meatloaf in the oven. Felt very 1950's to do so, I must say.
I was forced to empty my deepfreeze when the landlord came to claim it. (I was only borrowing it.) And, it means that this week I'll be Queen of the Kitchen. I've made all kinds of Marinara Sauces, Beef Roasts, Beef Stew... and today: Meatloaf. Tomorrow is Turkey. Yeah. Turkey. I also have cobblers to make with the berries I stashed in the freezer. Pies for the piecrusts that were buried in there. Thanksgiving has come early!

I'm hoping this blog finds you well... I promise to check in from time to time and let you know what nonsense we're up to!

-Jennifer-

2010-11-06T23:19:00.000-07:00

Oh, I guess it's time to update my blog! It's been sad for too long!
Derek surprised me with an overnight getaway to a local seaside resort... and WOW... what a beautiful place!
This was our first overnighter away from the kids... in all our seventeen plus years of marriage! Guessin' it was about time!
I was doted on and loved so much this week by my family (it was my birthday)... I just had to let you all know that I'm walkin' on sunshine.
:)
-Jennifer-

2010-09-01T10:29:00.000-07:00

I was cooking my eggs for breakfast this morning with a little sadness in my heart. A good friend moved away today. As I stared at the yolks in the pan I had this conversation with God:
"Why? Why do you let me make good friends and then let them leave?"
"This is my plan for you, Jen. You bless my people, and I send them off."
"But I'm tired of it."
"Look around you. I didn't make you rich with material things."
I observed my hand me down kitchen table and chairs that have seen better days.
"I made you rich with relationships. THIS is my blessing to you."
I realized how many people long for the kinds of relationships I enjoy.
"You don't get to keep them all... that's what heaven's for."
I turned the eggs over.
And a tear slipped down my cheek.
"It'll be okay. I'm here."

-Jennifer-

2010-05-26T07:48:00.000-07:00

Because I haven't written for so long, I want to write about everything... just fill you in. BUT... that would be boring. So, I'll just fill you in on yesterday.
We had been up late with the kids, so I let them sleep until they were done sleeping. When they did finally get up (9:30, I think) we had a leisurely breakfast... cinnamon toast and fruit. We discussed the previous weekend's workbee. All the adventures, the slave labour, the growing relationships.
We had the elders coming over for lunch... and I hadn't prepared my menu. I asked the kids to tidy each room on the main floor while I ran to the discount bakery for bread. When I came home, most of the house was finished... and Derek was doing the dishes. (This always scores major points with me. I love a clean house - especially when I'm about to cook!)
My menu came together when I found Cheesy Kaiser Buns at the discount store: Broiled Chicken Sandwiches on Cheesy Buns, sliced veggies and dip, chips... and I cheated on dessert: Butter Tarts. All in all, I think the men enjoyed their lunches.
The kids and I stayed upstairs where I filled in applications and details on transcript requests.
When the elders left, I picked up my keys and headed off to the "Junk Store", otherwise known as the Nanaimo Recycle Center. I found a pile of men's dress shirts that I needed for paint smocks for the kids who will attend our Bible Camp this summer. Score!
While I was there, I received a call: my computer that had been in the shop was ready for pick up. Woo Hoo!
I told Derek I'd pick him up on the way... we had an appointment to see an old house that was for sale.
On my way home, Derek opted out and asked me to pick him up after I picked up the computer... so I went to the computer shop alone. "Eccentric Dave" replaced my laptop's power supply, DVD player, and battery for only $60. I love that man. (Just don't tell my husband.)
As I was pulling out of the shop, a Native kid rolled up on his bike with a big grin... he wanted to talk to me.
"Do you like crab?" he asked.
Apparently he and his brother go crabbing every day... I asked for the address where he'd be selling them... he was quite happy.
But before I drove to his home only a few blocks away, I went home to pick up Derek. (The kid was disappointed to see me drive away.)
Derek and I had made an appointment to see an old house that had a "For Sale" sign in the window. (Earlier in the morning, I called a good friend who is new to the Real Estate business to see what kind of information would be available on the house.)
We pulled up and the owner greeted us.
The old house sits atop a hill overlooking the ocean. It's in a terrible neighbourhood with the Needle Exchange Clinic just across the street. However, many of the old houses all around it are being bought up and restored... with hopes that there will be a revitalization in Old Town Nanaimo. I'd like to be a part of that project.
The house was built in 1902 and had been separated from one Victorian home into a duplex. The man showing us the home was only the second owner. He'd bought the house in 1995 at an estate sale. (For only $105K!)
He told us how the old lady "Mrs. Couture" had been born there in the downstairs bedroom... and died in that same room at the age of 89. Her father had been a Pharmacist, and her mother a Teacher.
The house has most of its original features. None of the cabinets were removed, windows were still there, the old tubs. Everything was in pristine condition. The man and his now ex-wife had been working on it for the last few years... she demanded that all the original woods, floors, everything stay the same. However... she did paint the whole house in some awful rust colours. Different shades of the same rusty, red dirt colours.
The current owner is a carpenter by trade... and apparently enjoys woodwork. The house has touches of his style throughout. (I hate to say it out loud, but his additions look clumsy and out of touch with the period. If I bought the house, much of his work will have to go! Though, I'm certain someone out there will enjoy it!)
He when we entered the front room, and entry area, he told us a story of how during renovations his wife was in the next room... and suddenly he heard a shreek!
"Jim! Oh my God! You have to see this!"
Jim was busy trying out a painting technique in the next room's closet and didn't want to be bothered. He'd been at this home for months and was ready to see it done.
"Jim!" she insisted.
Jim pulled himself out of the closet... "What?" He was mildly annoyed.
"Jim... I just saw a ghost!" she continued. "It was a little girl holding a blanket and crying... she was right here. She looked at me!"
He told the story with wide eyes. Then he directed us to the closet he had been working on.
He said "When I returned to the closet, you will not believe what I saw."
"Take a look for yourself!" He opened the doors and let me in.
I walked in and looked to my left. The whole closet had been painted a deep earthy rust colour, but one patch was left white with a painting technique - rag rolling.
"What do you see?"
It was dark in the closet... I couldn't make anything out.
"Look at the bottom. Do you see her?"
He gestured to the patch of splattered paint. "See the eyes, the nose, the sad mouth, the hair?" I did!
He continued "When I got back to the closet, that's what I saw too! It gave me goosebumps!"
I was tickled to see an older man tell and believe ghost stories.
Zion's eyes were wide as saucers. In his mind we'd already bought the house... and he'd moved into this room. "Forget it, someone else can have it!"
Too bad, though. Jim had made the top of the built in closet into a loft for a boy!
We enjoyed the tour and the history. The kids admired every old lock, secret doors to the basement, window latches and stories. Jim had even found old glass prescription bottles in the garden out back.
It's a beautiful home that has my mind going... BED AND BREAKFAST!
We shook Jim's hand and took a business card.
We piled into our van and headed out.
"I LOVE that house!" Chante' gushed excitedly.
No big surprise there... Chante' is Victorian at heart.
We started to return home... chatting about the house and it's potential. What we liked, loved and hated. (Number one on the hate list was this awful black tile in the upstairs bathroom with rust and green and yellow splotches... looks like each tile had been assaulted with reject paint.)
Half way home I remembered the crab! I turned around and proceeded to tell Derek about the boy we'd met.
We pulled into the housing area the boy had told us about. No one was standing around. But, this part of town was Indian Reserve, and I knew if we got out...we'd be met with curiosity and could find the boy selling crabs.
Sure enough... the boy stuck his head out from the far apartment. He was still grinning and raised his hand timidly. I waved back.
He greeted us and directed us to his milk crates that held 15 crabs hostage. It was the end of the day... and this was all he had left.
He asked if I'd like them cooked or live. I chose live... but I needed some direction for cooking.
An older gentleman came out of the apartment... we chatted about how to cook the crab and how to retrieve the meat from the shells. I think he was concerned we'd waste the crab so he offered to cook them for us and shell them... "for just a few dollars more". I smiled and assured him that this was an adventure for us... and we'd like to cook our own.
One by one family members trickled out of the house. All timid. All smiling.
We paid the boy his $10 for three Dungeness Crabs. He immediately split the money with his brother. The boots were still hanging off the table. I asked about crabbing and he told me how he and his brother go out every morning.
"When the tide goes out, it's really easy! You just pick them up like this..." He grabbed the two hind legs and hung the crab upside down, rendering the fighting fellow useless. "He can't get you like this." The boy was grinning even wider.
We shook hands with everyone there. Chatted a bit. After a while the grinning boy says to me...
"We're having a birthday party tonight... and we'll eat these. But, we have crab almost every night. You guys should stop by one of these nights and eat dinner with us."
Immediately I felt at home. I was back on the reserve. And the thought of sitting around a table too small for the family there... picking apart crab... laughing and learning ... just sounded like heaven.
I promised we would.
We started to leave... and the littlest one... a chubby boy who looked about two years old wished us farewell...
"Bye guys!... Bye!" He waved.
"Bye guys!... Bye!"
"Good bye, little buddy!" I waved back.
"Bye guys!... Bye!" I don't think he was going to stop.
He continued from the porch as we hopped in the car with our cardboard box full of crab.
"Bye guys!"
We headed home to cook our crab.
It had been an adventurous day. Old houses, ghost stories and crabs.
A half hour after returning home, dinner was on. And big, bright red crabs sat on our delicate plates.
We thanked God for our blessings, and asked for wisdom...
And we feasted... snapping one leg at a time.

2010-03-08T02:40:00.001-08:00

Epiphany - 4 dictionary results
e·piph·a·ny [ih-pif-uh-nee] Show IPA
–noun,plural-nies.
1.
(initial capital letter) a Christian festival, observed on January 6, commemorating the manifestation of Christ to the gentiles in the persons of the Magi; Twelfth-day.
2.
an appearance or manifestation, esp. of a deity.
3.
a sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience.
4.
a literary work or section of a work presenting, usually symbolically, such a moment of revelation and insight.

I suppose whenever I see the word "Epiphany", I expect something absolutely profound or earth shattering to be revealed in this very small humble moment.
It won't happen this time.
But... many things have been revealed to me over the last several months. And, as things settle in my mind - I'd like to share some revelations with you.
I am not by any stretch of the imagination an intellectual. But, I do think from time to time. And that, dear friends, makes me dangerous.
I was thinking the other day (you really ought to brace yourself when I say that)... I wonder what it is about Christianity that people find so unpalatable these days? Is it the church going? I mean, come ON! It's an hour a week! Buck up!
Is it the preaching? Seriously... you and I have sat through drier monologues.
Is it the do-gooding? You have a heart, don't you?

I don't think it's any of those things. I think it's this: The Box.
I think that even the most devout atheist may even entertain the idea of God... even agree that there is some cosmological entity in control of the universe if it wasn't for this Box we try to put God in.
God is massive, huge, unfathomable... we use big words like: omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent to describe him. (Those big fancy words make us feel special, don't they?)
And unbelievers sense that. They sense the bigness of God!
And we (by "we" I mean church people) place that HUGE God... in a wee little box. We tell folks: IF you are to access the almighty God, you must do it here (in this wee little building) at this very specific time (10:00am is preferable) and in this very specific way (sing, pray, listen, give, partake). And there is NO other way. Just this one. Any other way is not ordained and is likely a trap from the devil.
And our atheist friends are saying: "Huh?!" "Isn't God bigger than that?" "Can't I relate to Him any other way? Or do I have to jump through YOUR hoops to access the all powerful, all knowing, almighty God?" (And we answer with a blank stare.)
And we stand outside our boxes like bouncers. Checking folks in. Throwing folks out. (This one's saved. This one's not saved. This one can stay in the fellowship. This one's different, she's outta the herd.)
Can you see how they see it?! What have we done?! Is this what God intended?
Is it no wonder they think we're crazy? We don't actually believe what we profess to believe about the bigness of God.
In fact - we're not even sure he's big enough to save us. We doubt our own salvation... and each other's for good measure! We cast doubt on the goodness of God, the ability of God to save the soul of a sister whose knee didn't go under when she was baptized.
Silliness.
Foolishness.
Hypocrisy.
Mmm... don't' get me started.
Big God. Little Box.
I think we suit ourselves with the piece of God that makes us most comfortable in our little boxes. The piece that looks like the better version of me.
I don't know about you. But I want out of the box.
I want all of God... which I realize... is gonna be more than I can handle.
But hey... He wants all of me too.
-Jen-

2010-01-28T13:31:00.001-08:00

I feel like we're turning this Titanic around!
January's nearly over and I've made a few decisions that have already caused changes in my life. I laid out my values and goals... and shared them with a good friend and accountability partner.
My life, my living has been on "cruise control"... and the direction I was headed wasn't where I wanted to go. Not really.
This is MY life. MY God-given life. No one else's.
Stay in touch. You'll see what God and I are up to.
-Jennifer-

2009-12-31T14:12:00.000-08:00

I have a huge pot of chili simmering on the stove, and my cup of Earl Grey tea is steeping next to me. My kids are entertaining the neighbourhood children outside... and my husband is at the church preparing this Sunday's sermon.
Am I a product of my upbringing? My dad was a Southwesterner (see: chili), my mom's family is English (see: Earl Grey tea), I grew up in a ministry family (see: kids' hospitality), and we are a 3rd generation preaching family (see: hubby's sermonating).
Much of what I do and why I do it I can accurately attribute to my noble, and sensible upbringing. The values we possess, the goals we try to attain... even the recipes we share.
The family I grew up in - the Williams' - valued Family! Loyalty. Togetherness. Sharing. Hospitality. Radical Faith. (By radical, I mean they actually DID what they professed to believe in!) They also valued Thriftiness, Common Sense, Honesty, Fairness and Self-Education.
And I would dare say I have continued in trying to live that way.
And now, as an adult with half-grown kids of my own... I am facing the new year, new decade with an opportunity to re-examine our direction. Where are we? Why are we here? Where do we want to be? How will we get there?
I could continue doing what I've always done, the way I've always done it... and hope for the best. But after a bit of thought, I realize that our lives need a little fine-tuning. Redirection.
It was a surprise to me to learn that an airplane is off course nearly 80 percent of the time. Much time in the air is spent making minute, but very important direction changes.
So it will be with the King Family.
It's not that I am preparing to throw off everything I've ever learned and embark on an entirely new journey... for we have planned to be where we are doing what we are doing for a long time. Rather, I'd like to fine-tune our journey. Hone in on what is best - most glorifying to God.
(Excuse me while I put the cornbread in the oven.)
We are not in a rut defined by generations past - though we are influenced by them! We are never free from our history - though I choose learn from it! Our ancestors were no fools. They've suffered more, worked harder, accomplished more in their years than I could ever hope to in the years I have left!
And it's their sheer determinism that inspires me. Their values that motivate me. Their faithfulness that drives me.
But I will take the path that God has laid out for me. Carry the torch he's given me. And while I receive a weathered torch carried with worn hands, my light will be to a world that has grown dark because it has forgotten the values of the Greatest Generation... a Generation that loved their God.
But, I'll do it my way. In a home provided by God... with children that God has blessed me with... and age-old family recipes that have my own distinct flavour added to it.
My chili is not made with pinto beans as dad would have liked - but made with the thriftiness that mom would appreciate. The cornbread is a little sweeter. The Earl Grey tea a little darker. The kids have come inside to warm up and play video games (unheard of in my day), and hubby seeks solace when he studies...
God's plan. Our flavour in the recipe.
Hope He likes it!
-Jennifer-

2009-12-02T01:26:00.000-08:00

I expected to talk mere kidneys and ultra-sounds with my South African doctor today. We talked that... and we talked Newtonian Physics versus Quantum Physics and... Jesus.

Our conversation moved quickly... as they always do... from subject to subject. Issue to issue. And, as we discussed pain medication, I expressed my aversion to them - citing a family history of addiction to alcohol and drugs.

The good doctor quizzed me, "In my experience there is always an underlying factor to addiction. Some kind of depression or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or anxiety. Why are they addicted? Do you know?"

I told him I didn't know. He looked at me... and cocked his head to the side waiting for a better answer. I told him I had just met them this summer, and didn't know their history... but I guessed.

"I suppose there's something to it... perhaps sexual abuse." I lowered my voice. "It's what happened to me. It's why I was removed by the province... when I was six."

A tear surfaced and betrayed me.

I clenched my jaw and willed the threatening tears back to their reservoir. Why was I weeping? I think about this all the time. I'm dealing with it. I had been so matter-of-fact in my approach... my thinking. Why the emotion NOW?

"What did Jesus teach about Quantum Physics?" the doctor asked.

I wiped my tear... and looked at him confused. I struggled to find an answer. I have answers for everything.

"He taught that we live in the physical world, but that the real world is spiritual." Good enough... I didn't know what he was getting at.

The good doctor began to speak...

"The Old Testament was a Newtonian Physics system. What goes up must come down. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. 'An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.' It was good, but not good enough. Not complete. Not until Jesus came."

I had never heard the Old Testament compared to Newtonian Physics before. I wondered what he was getting at.

His voice was kind-hearted, but resolute. "When Jesus came, he did away with all of that." He swept his arms across the air. "Jesus brought Quantum Physics to our lives."

He leaned forward, "You know Quantum Physics, Jennifer?" I nodded.

He answered his own question,"Breaching the Time/Space continuum. Time travel... things that we cannot do now... but will do soon. Things that we struggle to see even with our best imagination. THIS is what Jesus has brought to us. Not 'an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth', something better, bigger, unimaginable. Complete forgiveness."

He went on to tell me about his President Nelson Mandela... his writings on forgiveness. He shared his passion for African American Gospel music... their songs of slavery and their understanding of true freedom. He explained that my life had been on a wave - a tsunami - but it was 30 years ago... and that it's time to get off that wave and choose a new one... one that would take me where I want to go.

He told me to take off my shackles now. And dance.

The tears began to spill freely, and I was at a loss for words.

There was quiet in the room for just a moment. My mind was swimming.

The doctor returned to his duty and wrote up a prescription and explained it to me. We set up appointments for referrals as I pulled a tissue from a tiny box.

My tears continued uninterrupted for the next hour as I headed home. Not sobbing, just a quiet cascade of sorrow mixed with gratitude.

The good South African Doctor has begun a healing process of my heart and soul. His prescription? Jesus. The treatment? Forgiveness. The prognosis? Good.

-Humbled-

2009-11-20T12:29:00.000-08:00

I was going over some math homework with my son. He was frustrated that he was making simple mistakes in his math, and it cost him the right answer.
"In math, you don't get points for trying, you only get points for getting the right answer." I told him.
My mind immediately went to some missionary training I had when I was a youth. The director taught that you must get ALL of your doctrine 100% correct ALL of the time, or you'd not make it to heaven.
He used the following illustration:
"Suppose you're at a train station at lunch time, and your train leaves at 12:25pm. You look up at the clock and you see that the clock says it's 6:00pm. You know without a doubt that the clock is wrong, and begin searching for a new one." (He was alluding to false doctrines that are OBVIOUSLY wrong - how easy it is to discern and not be lead to hell in THAT handbasket.)
"But, let's suppose that the clock is only a few minutes off. It's four minutes slow. You may be inclined to trust that clock... but end up missing the train!"
(His illustration was meant to keep us alert to even the smallest error, lest we miss heaven due to a mistake.)
I took issue with that and challenged him in my very idealistic, naive 17 year old passionate way. We agreed to disagree.
But, all these years later... I wonder. Where's the grace, forgiveness and mercy in that? How can I possibly know ALL the correct doctrine ALL the time? Little old me? Is there room for God's mercy in my flawed understanding?
The scriptures say there is:

"Let me put it another way. The law was our guardian and teacher to lead us until Christ came. So now, though faith in Christ, we are made right with God. But now that faith in Christ has come, we no longer need the law as our guardian. So you you are all children of God through faith in Christ Jesus. And all who have been united with Christ in baptism have been made like him." (Galatians 3:24-26 NLT)

There's comfort in his grace.

And if my understanding of doctrine is as flawed as my understanding of mathematics... I'm grateful for that grace.

-Jennifer-

2009-11-18T18:03:00.001-08:00

I was lamenting to a new friend today about how badly I miss my old friends. How I love what I've got here, but starting over can be so hard.
And... it seems as time passes, I have forgotten how good those friendships really were. Time and distance have altered my memory...
I figured they'd moved on. Life just kept going and as my presence faded, my value as a friend faded too.
Today I read a friends' blog... and I don't know how I missed it before... but in it she expressed her sincere appreciation for me. She was generous with her words. So thoughtful and kind. It touched me...
And I wept.
I forgot that people miss me as much as I miss them.
I forgot that people mean as much to me as I do to them.
I forgot.
But now I remember.
And I won't forget again.
And now... as I'm making new friendships... I can know... that they are real... even if they're temporary. And I need to BE real, and unreserved.
So that I can have good old friends... now.
-Jennifer-

2009-11-16T22:58:00.000-08:00

How much of my life is lived in fear?
You'd be surprised to know...
I'm afraid to speak my mind, in person and online... because I'm afraid my husband will lose his job if I do.
I'm afraid to tackle tasks... even mundane ones... if I can't do it perfectly.
I'm afraid to confront some that I love... out of fear of losing their affections.
I'm afraid to love the friends I have... in case I let them down.
And... this fear... it's purpose? I suppose it's to prevent disaster.
But disaster's already here. I've created the very thing I was afraid of: loss.
My ministry suffers - I'm not the "smile and nod" type. I haven't been genuine.
My household suffers - tasks undone, events passed, moments neglected and tensions mounting.
And my friends... become distant as the wall seems to be a permanent one.

So no fear.

What I lose is what needs to be lost. Any life lived under the stormy cloud of fear is a life that hasn't lived to it's fullest glory...

It seems the clouds are parting...

-Jennifer-

2009-11-10T19:11:00.000-08:00

Every now and again I find myself caught up in a rather heated political debate. I rather enjoy the discussion... but afterward wonder if I've stepped on toes.
Some have called me a bulldog.
But I prefer "spirited" or "passionate"... ya know?!

2009-09-28T07:43:00.000-07:00

So, a lot has happened:
School has started up again.
My oldest son is in private boarding school a thousand miles away.
I met my bio mom.
Stuff like that.
-Jennifer-

2009-09-20T20:57:00.001-07:00

It's time to start writing again. There's so much going on... and sometimes I just need a place to let loose and express myself.

Now...
What to say...?

2009-07-28T00:47:00.001-07:00

My fingers are stained with various paint colours. Cerulean Blue, Black, Lime Green. I suppose I paint when I need time to think and at the same time find it necessary to keep my hands busy.
The finished product looks somewhat like a backdrop for one of Tim Burton's movies. I didn't intend for it to... but I let the piece move in it's own direction.
In the meantime there was so much to think about... so much to write about.
My mind is brimming with past conversations, conflicts, worries and troubles.
::Sigh::
If I could just get my mind to turn off. Always thinking... always wondering. Always conversing with God... always pondering things to great for me.
I suppose - like life - the painting didn't turn out the way I planned... the way I wanted other people to see it... but it did reflect the condition of my spirit.
The question is: Will I let people see it?
-Jennifer-

2009-02-18T23:39:00.000-08:00

So, I'm up painting tonight.
No particular reason.
Or so I thought.
I had a grand idea. I'd already finished one painting (see above), and was going to do another. Earlier today, I'd sketched in the final details of the second of two frog paintings and even outlined the artwork.
But, when it came time to paint the second one, I was struggling. I messed up so many times. Paint was too thick here. It wasn't blending there. I tried different mediums - water, blending gel... different brushes. Nothing worked.
So, I did what most artists do on a white canvas background. I used white paint as my "eraser". Very carefully, I dipped in a tiny brush and painted around my newly and beautifully sketched artwork. My mistakes were in the background, and needed to be erased. The white went on smoothly in the larger areas... but as I neared the sketched and inked work... my hands shook and I spilled over the lines. I didn't like it, but I continued. I spilled more. I was frustrated... but I continued. Using different brushes and angles, I desperately tried to cover all of my mistakes.
It was no use. The white paint was now piling up and making a textured line around the artwork. Not what I had intended.
Then... my mind cleared.
"You gotta do what God does with you, Jen - a complete do-over."
Reluctantly, I picked up a fat brush, dunked it in white paint, and painted broad strokes across the small canvas. I deliberately went over my sketched and inked work (the frog). And... there was peace.
All of the mistakes I had made were gone. In an instant. And, all of my "saving it" was for nothing.
A complete do-over. The areas that were riddled with mistakes were now clear. The outline is still barely visible underneath the new white coat. Something I can finally work with!
Isn't that how it is with us?
We make mistakes. Several of them in a row. Hoards of them.
Then, with everything we have, we attempt to clean it all up ourselves. We struggle, we research and try new methods, we try new angles at the same old problems. And... in the end, we get the same, ugly results.

God wants to do a do-over with me, with all of us. He wants to use the broad, wonderful brush of forgiveness... a fresh start.

I'm grateful for this midnight lesson. God is good.

My white frog is drying now. And my blog is posted.

Ever wonder what goes on late at night in Jen's dining room? Now you know...

God's giving her painting lessons.

2009-02-04T10:42:00.000-08:00

When I was little, dad used to recite poems at the dinner table. This was one of my favourites...
Love and miss you, dad.
-Jennifer-

The Cremation of Sam McGee
by Robert William Service, 1874 - 1958
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee,
where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam
'round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold
seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way
that 'he'd sooner live in hell.'

On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way
over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold
it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze
till sometimes we couldn't see;
It wasn't much fun, but the only one
to whimper was Sam McGee.

And that very night, as we lay packed tight
in our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead
were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and 'Cap', says he,
'I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I'm asking that you
won't refuse my last request.'

Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no;
then he says with a sort of moan:
'It's the cursed cold, and it's got right hold,
till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet 'tain't being dead -- it's my awful dread
of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you swear that, foul or fair,
you'll cremate my last remains.'

A pal's last need is a thing to heed,
so I swore I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn;
but God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day
of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all
that was left of Sam McGee.

There wasn't a breath in that land of death,
and I hurried, horror-driven,
With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid,
because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say:
'You may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it's up to you,
to cremate those last remains.'

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid,
and the trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb,
in my heart how I cursed that load.
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight,
while the huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows --
Oh God! how I loathed the thing.

And every day that quiet clay
seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent
and the grub was getting low;
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad,
but I swore I would not give in;
And I'd often sing to the hateful thing,
and it harkened with a grin.

Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge,
and a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice
it was called the 'Alice May'.
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit,
and I looked at my frozen chum;
Then 'Here', said I, with a sudden cry,
'is my cre-ma-tor-eum'.

Some planks I tore from the cabin floor,
and I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around,
and I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared --
such a blaze you seldom see;
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal,
and I stuffed in Sam McGee.

Then I made a hike, for I didn't like
to hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled,
and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled
down my cheeks, and I don't know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak
went streaking down the sky.

I do not know how long in the snow
I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about
ere I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said:
'I'll just take a peep inside.
I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked';
. . . then the door I opened wide.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm,
in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile,
and said: 'Please close that door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear,
you'll let in the cold and storm --
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee,
it's the first time I've been warm.'

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

2009-01-12T18:44:00.000-08:00

"I have the pleasure of..."
There was some hesitation.
"... sharing his bed." She finished the sentence, and continued "I get to lay next to him every night."

Friday night we were invited to a friend's 40th birthday party. My friend had just come back from a surprise trip to Paris with her husband - and her dearest friends were throwing her a party when she returned. The house was filled with all sorts of people - younger and hip. Older and refined. Middle aged and friendly. No children. The liquor bar was busy, the exquisite food table was not. The music was drowned out by friendly chatter.
When we arrived, we were immediately greeted, glasses placed into our hands and introduced to lovely people. A middle aged, handsome man chatted with Derek. I joined the conversation.
Paul was a good friend of the birthday girl. He had done all the tile work in both this house and their Lake House. He was a construction kind of guy. Down to earth. Likeable.
A young lady walked up beside him, and Paul introduced her.
"This is Ashlee."
She was young. Barely in her twenties. Probably his daughter.
We shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. I learned that she was an interior designer. She'd grown up in Singapore and was well traveled. She fidgeted and touched her hair as we spoke.
Derek asked - "So, how do you know Paul?" gesturing to the stone-worker.
"I have the pleasure of..." she looked down and then up at my eyes again "sharing his bed". She forced a smile and struggled to find words. "I get to lay next to him every night."
Was she his girlfriend? Is that what she was getting at? He probably hadn't made it official, but was enjoying all the benefits of having a doting young woman at his disposal.
I didn't let the words hang in the air long. It was already uncomfortable. I smiled, touched her arm and moved on to other conversation.

But, those words hung with me after the party was over. The awkwardness for her at that moment. She had settled. I could sense the disappointment and the difficulty in finding a label for their relationship.

Some people say they don't need commitment or labels for their relationships. But I really don't believe that. I believe every man and every woman really want something significant. True connection. Something more than just physical. We all want soul-satisfying relationships. Ashlee did. I could see it in her eyes.

This couple had settled for something less. They're playing a sort of Russian Roulette of the heart. Risky business. And all for what? Bragging rights? They'd been unconventional. But at what cost?

I think the price is more than she can afford. And, in that moment - when she looked down - she was aware of it. I think we all were.

-Jennifer-

2009-01-09T15:53:00.000-08:00

In an effort to be "really real", I must take a new stance on several things:
Blogging - be authentic - let the readers read it and make up their own minds.
Friends - seriously - you only have a few real ones. Nourish those. Forget the rest. (It's not like they're gonna DIE without you!)
Image - you are what you are. Your body, your home, your thoughts. Quit hiding!

2008-12-28T07:49:00.001-08:00

I'm searching for purpose in writing here again.

Haven't lost inspiration. Just nerve.

On one hand, I hope people read it.

On the other hand, I hope it's people I don't know - so I can speak my mind.

Yeah.

I know.

Tell me about it.

-Jennifer-

2008-10-20T23:44:00.000-07:00

Today, my stony heart has been cracked. As though tapped with some sort of magical tool. One that can penetrate even the hardest of hearts. The swell of emotions that threatened me had to be re-routed, ignored, pushed down - and still it's on the brink of overflow. I have been distracted by it all day. What happened?

I was forgiven.

And old friend contacted me today. Completely out of the blue. A name I hadn't heard in 15 years - and didn't expect to hear ever again. But, the name alone conjured up a mix of wonderful and difficult memories. A relationship started in innocence, and then twisted and ravaged by cruelty, hurt, resentment... and then ended in deafening silence. Time didn't heal this wound. This wound that I inflicted on another... and on myself.

It was a brief, pleasant... and straight to the point conversation.
"I hurt you. I'm sorry"
"You hurt me too... and I forgive you."

Forgave me.

The words echo in my mind. A simple, short relationship. Long time ago. Long forgotten. No one remembers me from back then. I didn't matter. I meant nothing.

"You hurt me."

The words didn't accuse... they weren't meant to harm or blame. It was a fact. I'd hurt someone. Me. The wallflower. The free-spirit. I'd been careless... unthoughtful... even hurtful... I caused real pain. I was stunned. Me? I was free-falling.
But before guilt could kick in and do it's damning work... the words that followed...

"I forgive you."

Immediately I was saved. Snatched from the free-fall. I was safe.
I was safe, and didn't deserve it. I was at the mercy of the forgiver.
And, then. It was over. The conversation was done as quickly as it had started.

My mind has been restless. The wrinkle in my forehead (the one I get when I think too hard) had moved in - threatening to stay permanently. I was distracted. Calm. Serene. Peaceful. Distant. And, every once in a while - misty-eyed.

I had mistakenly believed that I was the only one wounded. I was the one being challenged to forgive. I suffered. Me! I was preparing myself to "grant forgiveness" to those who had caused me to suffer. I had a list! I'd been praying about it... reading about it.

But first... God wanted me to experience forgiveness. Reminding me of my own participation in life's cruel games. Reminding me that I too, had been a player.

And, today - I was forgiven.

Today, because of an old friend - an unlikely connection... I am understanding just a little more about forgiveness.
I am humbled.
I am not worthy.
But I am forgiven.

And my stony heart is broken.

-Jennifer-

2008-09-18T11:51:00.000-07:00

Simplicity.

I've been making biscuits a lot lately. I make the world's best buns - two kinds! But lately the simplicity of making biscuits has appealed to me. I've served them at breakfasts, lunches and suppers... and never without complaint!

I suppose my switch to simple, uncomplicated, delightful, homey biscuits is a reflection of just how things are going at home.

Homeschool has started... and with it, excitement with new books, delight in learning something new. But after all these years of homeschooling, this year I've decided to try a new approach. Instead of the "six-subject-days", I've decided to work on one subject at a time. The worries about retention levels went out the window when I discussed with my sister her success in homeschooling her eight kids. (One of whom graduated Magna Cum Laude in University.) She has her kids work on one subject - finishing 10 pages per day. And mine are too.

My kids toddle off to their study area of choice - a bed, a well-lit desk, or the dining room table - and count out their ten pages. And, as new concepts challenge them, they come to me with questions. Homeschool can be done in about 3-4 hours for a typical student. Longer for those where cursed with my inability to sit still and think about anything for too long.

But homeschool isn't the only place where simplicity is settling things down.

Breakfasts are at exactly the same time every morning. I write the menu on the kitchen chalkboard so that the kids will have a clue what to set the table with. Lunches are identical - sandwiches, veggies and fruit - and a granola bar or dried fruit treat. Suppers are quick, uncomplicated 3-4 menu items.

Chores (or duties) are listed in my household notebook with some detail about my expectation for how they are to be finished. Perfection isn't required, but great effort is certainly appreciated.

Our schedule has been simplified as well. One church event mid-week. One skill-builder (piano lessons will start soon). One apprenticeship (trade preparation for "real life"). That's it.

My interests - arts and academia - are pursued when homeschool is "out". Fitting my fitness in is my next challenge.

Simplicity. I don't know why I didn't think of this before. It's as easy as biscuits. Fewer ingredients, less time in the kitchen, more time enjoying the product of your work.

Here's my recipe:

2 1/4 cups flour

3/4 tsp. salt

1 tsp. sugar

4 tsp. baking powder

1/3 cup frozen butter (use cheese grater to "cut" butter)

1 cup milk

Sift dry ingredients together. Toss in grated butter. Toss lightly. Add very cold milk. Stir with fork until just blended. Toss dough onto floured board. Knead 10 times. (Any more and you'll have tough biscuits - and you want to keep the dough very cold.) Roll out to 3/4 inch thick. Place on ungreased cookie sheet in a preheated 400F oven. Bake for 12 minutes or until top is lightly browned. Serve plain, with butter, jelly or sausage gravy!

To reheat biscuits, place on a cookie sheet and cover with aluminum foil in a 350F oven for 10 minutes. (Microwave makes them soggy, uncovered makes them dry and hard.) Baking fresh biscuits is so easy, re-heating yesterday's seems hardly worth it.

-Jennifer-

2008-08-17T20:28:00.001-07:00

It's been stifling hot this August. Not hot in the traditional "it's 100 degrees outside" - for it's only been in the nineties. But - Canadians generally don't have air-conditioning in their homes, and even churches and stores. It's been a humid 90 degrees for a few days. The sun goes down, but the air hasn't moved in weeks.

So, it's been hot.

Today was especially overbearing - the rain was threatening to come - but first we had to endure thick, oppressive, stuffy humidity.

The last several nights we've slept with just sheets leaving the doors and windows open. The kids have called me into their rooms late at night asking me how they can cool off, and wishing that they too had a ceiling fan in their rooms like Derek and me.
But - I reminded them - we also live on the second floor. It's even hotter up there.

Tonight as the sun was setting between the clouds, a huge rainbow lit up in the sky. And not just one or two - but as our family gathered on the porch, we counted four rainbows in one and then another a significant distance above that. FIVE rainbows! Glorious!

I stayed outside a moment longer and relished in the cool breeze flowing over the mountain. The rain is coming - and with it - relief!

My weeping willow tree is moving for the first time in what seems like ages.

I've realized that I'm still a cold-weather person. I've never acclamated to the regions I lived in - Arizona, Arkansas and California - because I stayed where it was air-conditioned and was careful to never be caught in heat's immobilizing trap. I remember rushing to the van and cranking up the air-conditioning as high as it would go and praying it would just hurry up as it blew my hair back. And, within a few miles it would deliver. And the walk from the van to the store seemed like the green-mile, but when the doors parted, the air-conditioned blast was ever-so- welcoming. And in reverse, the walk to the van was hot and brisk and the desperate rush to get the air-conditioning going again was on...

Most of the year here has been without the need for air-conditioners. Even on hot days you can step into the shade and find the relief you're looking for. Or, if you still find it too oppressive, there's always a body of water a quarter of a mile away - whether it be a river, lake or ocean. And no matter how hot the day, the breeze off the ocean is always the right temperature.
So, I'm not complaining in the traditional sense. I think I might be appreciating the rest of the year through the lens of these few weeks.

I lamented that I didn't have enough memory on my camera left to take a picture of that rainbow. I was reminded that I could use my cellphone to take a picture and so I did. And walked away. A few minutes later as I prepared to send the picture to my mailbox, I realized I had failed to "save" the picture... and rushed out to take another snapshot of the rainbow...
But the rainbow was faded and nearly gone - and now just a memory...

All of our doors and windows are open this evening. We're sure we're going to freeze and have to get up in the middle of the night to close up the house. But that will be a welcome relief.
We'll all return to our beds and pull the comforters up from the bottom of our beds...
And snuggle in their warmth.

-Jennifer-

2008-07-29T18:02:00.000-07:00

I'm writing to you from my newly assembled armoire/desk in the living room. Yes. I know. Exciting stuff.

I've been going through a sort of "gotta get rid of it" phase in my life. I'm clearing all sorts of things out. Furniture, extra clothes and toys, cat toys and condo, and soon I'll be clearing my art studio too.

There's nothing as difficult as facing a heap of "stuff" and realizing that you've shuffled it around the house several times in a winter-long phase of avoidance. My art studio had become a dumping ground. Anything the kids didn't know what to do with landed on my table or desk. I've had several projects in the last few months (baby showers, wedding showers, bible camps) and it's left my creative space in a wreck.

I lamented this to Derek and told him of my plan to turn the hallway built-in bookshelf into a family computer area. It would hold everything including the office supplies and need only a few things to get it up and running. Things like electricity and lighting.

He talked me out of it. Smart fella.

I settled for a new armoire in my living room. (I like my electronics to be hidden. It's this thing I have.) The other thing about having the computer in the living room is that it's a safe-zone for the family. Keeping the computer in plain sight keeps temptation for looking or listening to anything unworthy at bay.

So, Derek bought and assembled my armoire right away. I've since hit the dollar store and organized the entire piece of furniture to death. A dry-erase and cork-board to my left. Two wire baskets (holding post-it's, scissors and pens) hanging to my right. Below that is my monthly menu on a clipboard. A funky little desk lamp installed. Bamboo pencil case, hooks, etc. I love it. My kids think I'm nuts.

But this organizing/nesting thing has been going on for some time. The last time all of my laundry was done, I did more than fold my clothes and put them away... I hung all my outfits on hangers by colour. Even my t-shirts are organized by colour.

I might be losing my mind. (But it sure is fun!)

So, my little white board tells me I still have to finish the bedroom, plan our vacation and relocate all our homeschool materials to the main floor bookshelf. Can't wait!

Maybe with all things organized and in their places, I'll spend more time blogging. Wouldn't that be nice?

But first... I need to alphabetize my spices again.

-Jennifer-

2008-05-22T14:32:00.000-07:00

Granola-itis.

Granola Syndrome.

GDD (Granola Delusional Disorder)

I don't know what I have, but apparently it's contagious.

I was blending smoothies when my husband came home with the following:

apples (okay, that's normal... but read on)

strawberries (lucky me!)

pineapple (yummo... but read on, it get's weirder)

dried mango (ya feel me?)

vegan, low sodium, no transfat trail mix with dried fruit (yah.)

two tire tubes for his bike (which he will be riding to work from now on)

And then he said the following:

"Oh! I forgot the Yogurt!"

We're finally taking a turn for the healthier. My husband recently found out he has really, really, rediculously high blood pressure. He's fit as a fiddle... "has the body of a god" as they say. (I do too... Bhudda.) We've decided to quit complaining and do something about it.

I've been working out 5 days a week, controlling my refined sugar intake... and he's been controlling his sodium intake. I've lost a few pounds... and he's dropped a few points.

So, these granolas might be on to something.

Just hope their fashion-sense isn't contagious too.

-Jennifer-

2008-04-19T11:10:00.000-07:00

I think I'm turning into a "granola".

"What's a granola?" you ask.

A granola is what I started calling those strange northwesterners who wore earthy-toned clothes, toques (beanies, or knitted winter hats for my American friends) year round, they ride their bikes instead of taking a car, grow their own vegitation instead of buying from the local grocer, wash, sort, recycle and compost everything instead of smashing it all into a green trashbag, they eat granola... with soymilk for the sheer pleasure of it. They've been known to hug trees. And, they probably like tofu.

A granola.

So... I think I'm turning into a granola.

This morning, I woke up and peered out my bedroom window to see that we had been blessed nearly a foot of snow. Yes. In mid-April. It's a wonderland! But, my first thoughts went to my garden and my bushes. My rhodos (formerly known as "the big bush in the back with the huge pink flowers") were bent over under the strain of the heavy, wet snow. I grabbed my robe and shuffled to the den to see a big-picture window view of my neighbour's yard... snow EVERYWHERE. Thick, heavy, white and quiet. Beautiful. I looked down... my fluffy white "what's it called" bush was nearly flattened. My eyebrows krinkled together in concern.

I made my way to the studio and peered toward the mountain past my weeping willow tree. Covered. The mountain, every tree, every rooftop, the road... and... then I saw it.

My weeping willow tree lost a major limb and was laying half-in my driveway. I rushed downstairs to the living room for a better look... It's my favourite branch... the one we drive under and pretend it's a carwash... as it tickles our car when we pull in our out of our house. Gone. And I was... sad. I was sad for the tree. What the mess? What's happening to me?

I got dressed, put on layers of socks and headed outside. I grabbed a rake from the garden shed and went around the yard knocking the heavy snow from off of my bushes. It was so pretty to look at... the snow covered flowers and spring bushes... but I knew that while the young bushes would recover, the older bushes might just snap under the strain.

I was out in my yard... saving the trees.

When I returned to the house, I shook off the snow and put things away. And, I found myself going on and on about how sad I was to lose that limb. Derek seemed sympathetic to how I felt, but rather unconcerned for the tree. He was just trying to figure out how to get it out of the driveway.

I wondered what could be done with the wood... the long, willowy branches. Could I make something? Is weeping willow tree wood any good for anything? I was starting to sound like a granola. Recycle, reuse. What would the Indians have done?

I'm still rather upset about the tree. But, I've gathered my senses. A friend is going to bring his chainsaw and help us cut up the carcass...er... limb and haul it off.

So... I made my way to the kitchen and toasted some whole wheat toast and made a cup of organic tea for breakfast.

The teabag wrapper went into the recycle bin, the teabag went into my compost.

Granola anyone?

-Jennifer-

2008-04-13T10:16:00.000-07:00

Being sick isn't even remotely cute.

A few days ago, I woke up with a "rattle" in my chest. Nothing big. Didn't stop me from going to work. Or to Seattle for that matter.

A few days later and I'm a coughing, wheezing, sneezing, ear-popping, red-nosed, feverish snot factory.

Take yesterday for example: My husband's been busy since I've been home, so he'd only popped in a few times to see me. And when he did I'd do my best to straighten up and be presentable.

But who am I kidding? There was nothing cute about sitting in pajamas among a foot-deep pile of used kleenexes. And, all the Menthol Halls candy in the world probably didn't do a thing for "sick breath". I'd taken showers to clear my head, but I hadn't done my hair... so frankly my reddish/brownish curly hair resembled that of an orangutan that lost a fight. But, I pulled it behind my ears and smiled sheepishly past my chapped nose and said something sweet to my husband who asked if I need anything.

When my nose wasn't runny, it decided it was done working all together and stopped up. The only relief in that is that the sneezing stopped. But I'd rather have sneezed than have breathed through my mouth with the wheeze that came from my chest... I'm afraid I'd started to sound like one of those walking trees in The Lord of The Rings.

So, I popped off the cap of my Drixoral nasal spray. I jammed the spray nozzle up my chapped nostril just in time to see my husband walk in. Nozzle in, I smiled sweetly and blasted two cold shots up that side, and quickly pinch my nose and put my head back. Other side. And, head back. Got it. Stuff worked in seconds. Amazing! But, man it was bitter as it slid down the back of my throat. I spit the goo into a tissue and began a coughing fit. I hacked and wheezed like I've been smoking non-filtered Camels my whole life. And it was done. Sweet husband took the dirty laundry downstairs without uttering a word.

I retreated to my den and tidied up. It's then I realized I should have taken stock in Kleenex brand. Wondered out loud if I should recycle them?

I wrapped myself in my red, sparkly blanket and set myself up for hours of channel flipping. There is nothing good on Saturday nights.

I went to bed only a few minutes before Derek. He was downstairs doing the dishes. When I crawled into bed, I could breathe, so I didn't think to check how long the Drixoral was going to last. It lasted up until about 2:30 or 3am. I coughed throughout the night. Knocked over a few things on my nightstand as I blindly reached for kleenex. When the coughing fit was over, I'd sit up and groan. Disoriented, I'd force myself to lay down again... only to repeat the ordeal every half hour or so.

I woke up this morning in a sweat. My fever had broken some time early in the morning. My pillow was wet, but my mouth was dry... the roof of it grainy and my tongue felt like leather. It took me a minute to realize that I had slept with my mouth open all night. THAT must have been delightful - sleeping next to Darth Vader-turned JAWS. I'm surprised Derek didn't pop in some winter-fresh gum and force my mouth closed!

I think it's days like these that my husband must really really love me. He must pull from this deep well of affection to put up with a drippy, red-nosed, green-eyed, orangutan-resembling shell of a wife. Because... there's nothing cute about being sick.

Now excuse my while I sneeze.

Thank you.

-Jennifer-

2008-04-03T13:31:00.000-07:00

I've been a bit of a spaz today. Before I got to work, my boss called and let me know there was very little to do... so I could open shoppe myself and fire up the ovens. Only 11 pies this morning. Two Coconut Cream, 2 Banana Cream, 3 Strawberry Rhubarb and 2 Apple Crumble, 2 Lemon Mirangue. No problem. Bake the shells. Bake two extra. Set out the pastry. Got it. I was gonna get out early today!

So I promptly started the apples. Prepped the 8 pie shells I needed to bake... popped them into the oven. Opened a new box of frozen fresh apples. Things were moving fast! I was deep into it when I suddenly realized I was boiling apples to make THREE - not two apple pies! Ack! I moved forward hoping the extra pie would sell. Grabbed another pastry from the freezer to make up for it.

Moved along to the Strawberry Rhubarb. No problem. Three pies. Got it.

Moved along to make the cream pies. Two of each. Made the puddings and grabbed the bananas. And peeled enough for THREE banana cream pies before I had realized I was only supposed to peel enough for two! ACK! (Again!) Made two coconut cream and THREE! banana cream. Hoped the extra pie would sell. Grabbed yet another pastry from the freezer to make up for it.

Baked the two extra pastries.

Made the Lemon Mirange pies. No problem. Beautiful mounds of fluffy mirangue... and... what's that? I baked two extra pie shells for nothing. I had started out with the right number of shells in the first place. ACK! Hope we can use them for tomorrow.

I offered to buy one. Making a chocolate cream pie at home today. Just for the fun of it.

Starting to wonder if I have some kind of obsessive compulsive disorder with the number 3.

Starting to wonder if I have some kind of... oh. Hehe.

I have a hard time remembering words. Today in the middle of Costco with my son I found myself pointing and asking him to grab that "what's it called?" Lemonaide. ERGH.

I think my mind is on some kind of hiadas.

I think my son might have been "touched" by my... what's the word? I dunno.

Today after his very first Chiropractor appointment, he was telling me how amazing it was that the doctor would touch his neck (he gestures to his neck) and it would fix his elbow (he gestures to his ankle). Huh?! We both started laughing.

He said it was time to take analogy classes again.

"You mean anatomy?"

"Yeah!"

We started laughing all over again.

Yes. My son is touched too.

Good thing we're not rocket surgeons.

-Jennifer-

2008-03-28T08:44:00.000-07:00

There's really no excuse for not being here. I just didn't want to write.
My mind is so full of thoughts and ideas... but my heart just hasn't been into it.

Until today.

I was going to tinker in my garden today... under the promise of sunshine. But... when I woke up this morning... and glanced through the blinds... I gazed upon my neighbour's snow-covered roof. Sigh. My brave early blooming flowers are shivering under a blanket of snow. And, I am sitting in my warm studio with the kettle brewing.

I'm stalling.

I'll tell you what's really going on.

Since I've been in Canada - 10 months, now... I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop. I have had such - traumatic? - experiences in churches past, that I have been holding my breath - wondering if or when we'll get canned - again. I've been holding back. Waiting. I haven't deleved into ministry like I usually do. I've certainly helped my husband with his... but I haven't jumpstarted my own like I usually do in a new place. I've waited. Wondering what God has in store... but at the same time... wondering if it's all too good to be true.

Utter faithlessness disguised as self-preservation.

Last night during our young adult bible study, I let my mind wander for a minute. I was faced with my very personal struggle... and I forced myself to define it.

Early in our ministries I kept myself guarded from real, intimate relationships with people around me. I suppose it really wasn't anything more than just the fact that I wasn't mature enough to know exactly how to handle it. Nothing sinister... just half-grown. (How absolutely ineffective was I?) Later on, I dropped the "act". I was ready. And... just like any other human being on the planet... I discovered both immeasurable joy and devistating pain in those flawed relationships. I've nursed the hurts long enough. I'm over it. And, I think I might be ready again for real heart-to-heart ministry.

This is where the revelation interrupts my thinking last night... and sheds light on my actual struggle. It isn't with flesh and blood. It isn't even with the churches. My personal relationship with God has suffered through all of this. I have remained faithful TO Him, but am no longer intimate WITH Him. I have continued in His service, but have neglected to continue in my dialogue with Him. Not completely. Not intentionally. But - the effects have been the same.

My fear that the other shoe will drop has less to do with the church that I am working with... and more to do with my lack of faith in the God I serve.

So, a preacher's wife has a lack of faith? She struggles with intimacy with her Creator? You bet. Satan's been busy. I've been distracted. I've been running on fumes. I've been... maybe... a little bit self-absorbed. And, now... I risk being absolutely ineffective in the work He has planned out for me. And no work right now is as important as restoring my faith in my God.

So, it's no wonder that God has placed us in ministry in a place where there are no real expectations of me. (I was confused for a while, thinking it would just take time to realize what my special ministry was.) God wants me to re-introduce myself to Him. He's given me the time. He's taken me to a small island, filled with His beauty. He's surrounded me with people who have incredible patience and understanding. He's even sprinkled the congregation with former preachers' and elders' wives who completely understand... and have reached out to me.

And 10 months later... my stubborn soul has just come to realize it.

The other shoe isn't going to drop. I am safe in His care. Right here, right now. Always have been.

So... that's what's been on my mind. I've been restless. Uneasy. Until today. Now I know what to do. And I can't wait to get started. Guess it's good that it's snowing... my water's boiling and my bible is waiting.

-Jennifer-

2008-02-27T17:17:00.000-08:00

Job asks: "Where is wisdom?"

28:1 “Surely there is a mine for silver, and a place for gold that they refine.

2 Iron is taken out of the earth, and copper is smelted from the ore.

3 Man puts an end to darkness and searches out to the farthest limit the ore in gloom and deep darkness.

4 He opens shafts in a valley away from where anyone lives;they are forgotten by travelers; they hang in the air, far away from mankind; they swing to and fro.

5 As for the earth, out of it comes bread, but underneath it is turned up as by fire.

6 Its stones are the place of sapphires, [2]and it has dust of gold.
7 “That path no bird of prey knows, and the falcon's eye has not seen it.

8 The proud beasts have not trodden it; the lion has not passed over it.
9 “Man puts his hand to the flinty rock and overturns mountains by the roots.

10 He cuts out channels in the rocks, and his eye sees every precious thing.

11 He dams up the streams so that they do not trickle, and the thing that is hidden he brings out to light.
12 “But where shall wisdom be found? And where is the place of understanding?

13 Man does not know its worth, and it is not found in the land of the living.

14 The deep says, ‘It is not in me,’and the sea says, ‘It is not with me.’

15 It cannot be bought for gold, and silver cannot be weighed as its price.

16 It cannot be valued in the gold of Ophir, in precious onyx or sapphire.

17 Gold and glass cannot equal it, nor can it be exchanged for jewels of fine gold.

18 No mention shall be made of coral or of crystal; the price of wisdom is above pearls.

19 The topaz of Ethiopia cannot equal it,nor can it be valued in pure gold.
20 “From where, then, does wisdom come? And where is the place of understanding?

21 It is hidden from the eyes of all living and concealed from the birds of the air.

22 Abaddon and Death say,‘We have heard a rumor of it with our ears.’
23 “God understands the way to it,and he knows its place.

24 For he looks to the ends of the earth and sees everything under the heavens.

25 When he gave to the wind its weight and apportioned the waters by measure,

26 when he made a decree for the rain and a way for the lightning of the thunder,

27 then he saw it and declared it; he established it, and searched it out.

28 And he said to man,‘Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom, and to turn away from evil is understanding.’”

2007-12-08T11:48:00.000-08:00

A few things I found while researching "The Golden Compass" (while waiting 17th in line for the book to be free at our local library). All of the quotes below are from secular sources. (I intentionally avoided Christian Reviews.)

First - the story line:

"In Pullman's trilogy, Lyra is the new-age Eve, and Will is the modern-day Adam. God is a wizened spent force of an "Authority". And "The Fall" is to be celebrated as the defining moment of mankind, rather than the source of all worldly evil. Little wonder that His Dark Materials has been denounced by some religious zealots."

What did Pullman have to say about his book?

"Pullman, though, expected more. 'I've been surprised by how little criticism I've got. Harry Potter's been taking all the flak. I'm a great fan of J.K. Rowling, but the people - mainly from America's Bible Belt - who complain that Harry Potter promotes Satanism or witchcraft obviously haven't got enough in their lives. Meanwhile, I've been flying under the radar, saying things that are far more subversive than anything poor old Harry has said. My books are about killing God.'"

His inspiration?

"As a teenager, he fell in love with Paradise Lost. 'Books I and II, when the angels have just been thrown into Hell after the war in Heaven. They plot a terrible revenge, to destroy, subvert and ruin the new world God has made.'"

His message?

"Essentially, the trilogy is about the transition of innocence to experience, the triumph of knowledge over ignorance. When we're introduced to Lyra, we're told the inflexible church authorities in her world are anxious to stem the spread of 'Dust'. Only later do we find that Dust is good - 'the totality of human wisdom and experience' is Pullman's description. It's the religious zealots trying to prevent the spread of wisdom who are the bad guys, even if they wear clerics' robes."

Fantasy or reality to Pullman?

"Pullman has been compared so many times with Tolkien and Lewis, it galls him. 'Despite the armoured bears and the angels, I don't think I'm writing fantasy," he says. 'I think I'm writing realism. My books are psychologically real. So I would be most flattered if I was compared to George Eliot, Jane Austen or Henry James.'There's a pause, and the tinkle of a wine glass. "But I don't expect anybody will."'

His motivation for writing the books?

"Pullman has not been shy in the past about verbalizing his beliefs — or, some might say, nonbeliefs — and his intentions in writing the 'Dark Materials' novels.
The novelist has said they are in response to C.S. Lewis' 'The Chronicles of Narnia,' the popular children's fantasy series of which 'The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe' is the first book — written by Lewis to teach Christian ideals to kids.
'I loathe the 'Narnia' books,' Pullman has said in previous press interviews. 'I hate them with a deep and bitter passion, with their view of childhood as a golden age from which sexuality and adulthood are a falling away.' He has called the series 'one of the most ugly and poisonous things' he's ever read."

What do atheists think about the book/movie?

"In spite of complaints about the forthcoming film, Pullman fans and atheists are still excited about the exposure it will give his novels. They say the American literary market is sorely lacking material for those who don't believe in God, and they scoff at the idea that the series is hazardous to children.
'Philip Pullman and I would say it is religion that poisons everything,' said Annie Laurie Gaylor, co-president of the atheist advocacy group the Freedom From Religion Foundation, and a co-host of Freethought Radio, a talk show that recently went national on Air America Radio.
Gaylor said her now-18-year-old daughter read the 'Dark Materials' books 'over and over' when she was a middle-school student about the same age as the heroine.
'What this book is about is casting off Church authority,' Gaylor said. 'I think it's very, very positive. There should be something for freethinking children. It's a very good yarn.'"
"We knew from the beginning that the producers of this film intended to leave out the anti-religious references. We think this is a great shame " (Terry Sanderson, National Secular Society)

What Pullman says about himself:

"Blake said Milton was a true poet and of the Devil's party without knowing it. I am of the Devil's party and know it."

What's his take on the daemons?

"T]he story I was trying to write was about real people, not beings that don't exist like elves or hobbits. Lyra and Will and the other characters are meant to be human beings like us, and the story is about a universal human experience, namely growing up. The 'fantasy' parts of the story were there as a picture of aspects of human nature, not as something alien and strange. For example, readers have told me that the dæmons, which at first seem so utterly fantastic, soon become so familiar and essential a part of each character that they, the readers, feel as if they've got a dæmon themselves. And my point is that they have, that we all have. It's an aspect of our personality that we often overlook, but it's there. that's what I mean by realism: I was using the fantastical elements to say something that I thought was true about us and about our lives.""I think [my dæmon]'s probably a magpie or a jackdaw, one of these birds that pick up bright shining things and doesn't distinguish in terms of shininess between the diamond ring and the KitKat wrapper - just as I don't distinguish in terms of 'storyness' between Shakespeare and Neighbours.""[Y]ou don't have a choice in what your dæmon will become. There are many who would like to have a lion as a dæmon, and end up with a poodle! But if I did have a choice, I'd choose a raven. In North American mythology a raven is a trickster. And a storyteller is really just someone who tricks you into believing in their story. So I'd be happy if my dæmon were a raven."

Does he think he's teaching anything?:

(His Carnegie acceptance speech)"All stories teach, whether the storyteller intends them to or not. They teach the world we create. They teach the morality we live by. They teach it much more effectively than moral precepts and instructions."And furthermore:"[T]he act of true reading is in its very essence democratic. Consider the nature of what happens when we read a book - and I mean, of course, a work of literature, not an instruction manual or a textbook - in private, unsupervised, un-spied-on, alone. It isn't like a lecture: it's like a conversation. There's a back-and-forthness about it. The book proposes, the reader questions, the book responds, the reader considers. We bring our own preconceptions and expectations, our own intellectual qualities, and our limitations, too, our own previous experiences of reading, our own temperament, our own hopes and fears, our own personality to the encounter."

An off-subject quote about Creation Science:

"As for disgraceful betrayals of wisdom such as the pretense that there is something called "creation science" and we ought to give it equal time in schools with proper science --- I'm ashamed to belong to a human race that is so sunk in abject ignorance and willful stupidity."

What he thinks about religion:

"The religious impulse – which includes the sense of awe and mystery we feel when we look at the universe, the urge to find a meaning and a purpose in our lives, our sense of moral kinship with other human beings – is part of being human, and I value it. I'd be a damn fool not to.
But organised religion is quite another thing. The trouble is that all too often in human history, churches and priesthoods have set themselves up to rule people's lives in the name of some invisible god (and they're all invisible, because they don't exist) – and done terrible damage. In the name of their god, they have burned, hanged, tortured, maimed, robbed, violated, and enslaved millions of their fellow-creatures, and done so with the happy conviction that they were doing the will of God, and they would go to Heaven for it.
That is the religion I hate, and I'm happy to be known as its enemy."

About his belief or disbelief in God:

"I can see no evidence in that circle of things I do know, in history, or in science or anywhere else, no evidence of the existence of God.
So I'm caught between the words 'atheistic' and 'agnostic'. I've got no evidence whatever for believing in a God. But I know that all the things I do know are very small compared with the things that I don't know. So maybe there is a God out there. All I know is that if there is, he hasn't shown himself on earth.
But going further than that, I would say that those people who claim that they do know that there is a God have found this claim of theirs the most wonderful excuse for behaving extremely badly. So belief in a God does not seem to me to result automatically in behaving very well."

His thoughts on truth:

"I'm for open-mindedness and tolerance. I'm against any form of fanaticism, fundamentalism or zealotry, and this certainty of 'We have the truth.' The truth is far too large and complex. Nobody has the truth."

On Adam and Eve's sin in the Garden:

"The general theme, the general gist of the whole book is that the famous story of the Temptation in the Garden of Eden and the Fall of Man so-called, when Eve gave way to the temptation to eat the fruit of knowledge and tempted Adam to eat it as well, that this traditionally [has] been presented as being a very bad thing and Eve was very wicked and we all got covered in sorrow and sin and misery from then on as a result of this .. well, I just reversed that. I thought wasn't it a good thing that Eve did, isn't curiosity a valuable quality? Shouldn't she be praised for risking this? It wasn't, after all, that she was after money or gold or anything, she was after knowledge. What could possibly be wrong with that?"

What does he think we should reference for our guidance?

"We don't need lists of rights and wrongs, tables of do's and don'ts: we need books, time, and silence. 'Thou shalt not' is soon forgotten, but 'Once upon a time' lasts forever."

His take on "The Kingdom of Heaven" and "The Republic of Heaven":

"[The republic of heaven] stands for a sense of community. It stands for joy. It stands for a sense that the universe and we together, have a common meaning and a common destiny, and a purpose. It stands for connectedness between these things. All these things are so important, so fundamental to what keeps me alive that I don't want to be without them. I don't want to do without heaven, but I can no longer believe in a kingdom of heaven, so there must be a republic of heaven of which we are free and equal citizens - and it's our duty to promote and preserve this."

What are the key values in the Republic, rather than the Kingdom, of Heaven?

"Firstly, a sense that this world where we live is our home. Our home is not somewhere else. There is no elsewhere. This is a physical universe and we are physical beings made of material stuff. This is where we live.
Secondly, a sense of belonging, a sense of being part of a real and important story, a sense of being connected to other people, to people who are not here any more, to those who have gone before us. And a sense of being connected to the universe itself.
All those things were promised and summed up in the phrase, 'The Kingdom of Heaven'. But if the Kingdom is dead, we still need those things. We can't live without those things because it's too bleak, it's too bare and we don't need to. We can find a way of creating them for ourselves if we think in terms of a Republic of Heaven.
This is not a Kingdom but a Republic, in which we are all free and equal citizens, with – and this is the important thing – responsibilities. With the responsibility to make this place into a Republic of Heaven for everyone. Not to live in it in a state of perpetual self-indulgence, but to work hard to make this place as good as we possibly can."
"I find it impossible to believe (in God). However, the corollary of that is that if there is no kingdom of heaven, we must have a republic of heaven. We can't have another king. We mustn't have another king. Worshiping the wrong thing is going to lead to trouble, so we have to have a republic, by which I mean that we ourselves in this world here in the physical universe where we know we live have got to make it as much like the traditional idea of heaven as we can.
By which I mean it's a place where we're connected to other people by love and joy and delight in the universe and the physical world. And we have to use all the qualities we have -- our imagination, our intelligence, our scientific understanding, our appreciation of art, our love for each other and so on -- we have to work to use those things, to make the world a better place, which it sorely needs making."

It appears as though Mr. Pullman is singlehandedly trying to disassemble the heirarchy of God's design for man. God's design to have man under Christ, who is seated at His own righteous right hand. Mr. Pullman's message is clear: Organized religion is poison. Seek your own wisdom and follow it.
Many people have said that his book is just a story of Good versus Evil. My question is: Who is good in his books? And, who is evil?
Mr. Pullman hopes to "undermine the church" - a direct quote. How does he intend to do that? By sitting home watching re-runs of Neighbourhood? No. He's written a book, and at the most opportune time, he has released one of them in the form of a mesmerizing movie - aimed at children and their weak or unsuspecting parents.
I have more to say on the issue. Scriptures that come to mind. But, I'll let it rest for now. Marinade in it.
Sounds like I'm 17th in line at the library for a real winner.

-Jennifer-

-Jennifer-

2007-11-09T13:52:00.000-08:00

It's two o'clock in the afternoon and something is nagging me. I've stopped everything and thought I should work it out here.

Why is it that when I choose to protect my kids from what I have deemed "dangerous" or "contrary" ideas, I am seen as an overprotective coward?

I found my experience public school to be difficult and unsatisfactory in the realm of education and personal development. So, I homeschool my children. And, as a result, I'm prejudged to be a christian alarmist who indoctrinates her children with all sorts of radical christian ideas... and likely to grow bunnies in the back yard.

Sigh.

Whereas the truth is: My kids learn their abc's just like in school... and their school days are filled with science (secular and faithbased for comparison), history, math, language arts and so on. There's no hidden extremist agenda classes in the basement. Nothing other than an open bible every morning... and a lot of discussion about what is right and what is wrong according to that bible. Not spooky, extremist or alarmist. Just what my husband and I thought would be best for our kids.

There's a few fiction stories that have come out in recent years. I'd heard from both sides of the aisle about what we "should or shouldn't do". I took them as suggestions not commands. And, I approached the books/movies cautiously... Eventually I found out that the kids did see the movie when they weren't under my supervision... and it provoked some discussion. Good discussion. My children haven't read all of the books, and as the movies progressed they became less and less interested in their dark nature. (It was already lost on me, so I was fine with the hoopla being over.) They won't likely see the last one... but it will be because their interested has waned.

There's a new movie based on a 12 year old book of fiction coming out. The kids and I were only vaguely aware of it. I came across a dear friend's blog where she writes about the controversy of it all. I did my research and responded. My response? I feel obligated - based on what I learned in my own research - to be cautious. I was also concerned that in an effort to be "openminded" christians may find themselves marching alongside a professed atheist who says he hopes to undermine the church.

Here's a portion of a response that was written right after mine:

"Was witchcraft around before J.K. Rowling brought up the idea of a school of witches and wizards? Uh, yeah. Were there anti-christian people before this author….and many others? Uh, yeah. I think that I agree with Niki on some things that there are ‘alarmists’ and that people often react like frightened sheep……a quick bleat and then turn as a group and run. Nevermind the thing that triggered it was a blowing pile of leaves, or a playful pair of kittens practicing their hunting skills.
I have taught my girls (7 and 14) that before you are afraid of something, try to understand it. Before you freak out and run, do take a good look at things and learn from it. This of course, does not apply to playing in traffic or running with scissors or other maternal must-haves. The point being that being educated and thinking for yourself is not just a good thing anymore, it’s MANDATORY to function in this world we live in now."

Sigh.

The idea of my kids becoming fascinated with witchcraft and atheism is a little more than a pair of playful kittens or leaves blowing in the wind. I am a Christian. Avoiding the very appearance of evil is what I'm learning to do... and I have unashamedly taught that principle to my children too. Though... discerning what appears to be evil and what is really harmless is where the heart of the discussion lies... and it will be a discussion that will never end. There are as many opinions as there are people.

I obviously have a different vantage point than this reader. I do not think that children our children's ages can or should learn from everything that's available to them. I as a parent have been given both the authority and the wisdom to guide their learning. It's as though we are building a home and I am deciding - depending on our surroundings - just how much insulation our home requires. And, in the secular viewpoints of witchcraft and atheism I have chosen to insulate our home just a little bit more than most. For now.

I think a lot of times parents can pride themselves in just how "informed" and "cutting edge" they've allowed their kids to become. As though it were some kind of strenuous feat. I find that my it takes great strength, attention and guts to stand up and say "here and no more".

There is a lot of learning that has to be done before I introduce my children to the very real world of witchcraft and atheism. And, they're not at the age of understanding yet. This doesn't make me an alarmist, extremist or even a stick in the mud.

I'm just a parent.

It's what I do.

That's my rant.

Now, back to the 200 word fiction papers my kids are writing... ironically.

-Jennifer-

2007-11-05T22:45:00.000-08:00

My creative mind has been a barren wasteland for a few months. And, today... creative juices sprinkled on the cracked surface just a little bit.

I've just started a new painting... I'm trying something I've never done before. Impressionist art. I saw something tonight that fixed an image in my mind. Something I just had to put on a canvas. So far so good. It's not exactly what I imagined, so I think I'll be revisiting the canvas again tomorrow. In the meantime, I'll wash the cerulean and prussian blue off the ends of my fingers, wash the paintbrushes and call it a night.

We've moved from our first rental into a new home. Built in 1945 but new to us.

We moved because we found the first home to be full of mold. And at first I thought it wouldn't affect me much. But soon I started finding myself sleeping a whole lot more than usual. Sleeping in and having to take several catnaps throughout the day. Eventually we moved out of our bedroom (the worst of the mold was there), and things started to get a little better. But, symptoms like unclear thinking, rashes, postnasal drip, nausea started to overwhelm me. And, apparently I was the most susceptable. The kids were upstairs away from the bulk of it. And, I'm glad. Derek started becoming symptomatic here in these last few weeks as well. It was a good decision leave. I just hope the effects aren't permanent.

But... on to the new house.

I'm sitting in my new studio. I have my art desk, easel and computer in an angular room in the attic. A small window faces west with a great view of the mountians behind our very large weeping willow. Fabulous! I keep the fridge downstairs so I'll leave this nook every once in a while.

The house is colourful, clean, bright, and well maintained. A real jewel.

I have a garden outside that both delights and challenges me. I've never gardened. Okay. I actually have a reputation as a plant killer. But let's keep that between you and me. I heard that plants listen. (A kooky, dirty fingernailed plant lover told me that once...) I hope to be up to the challenge. I spent an hour raking the garden under the weeping willow and have the sore hamstrings to prove it.

So once again life has taken a turn... and I'm enjoying the ride.

-Jennifer-

2007-11-02T20:21:00.000-07:00

I turned 35 today.

I don't feel 35. Not that I know what 35 is supposed to feel like.

I suppose I don't feel mature enough to be 35? Maybe that's it. Maybe that's a good thing! Maybe not.

What I learned this year:

I'm stronger than I thought I could be.

I hurt deeply... and then recover.

I'm quite organized when I want to be.

I've been sick a lot. Might want to get that checked out.

I really REALLY love my family.

I finally feel like I have a grip on homeschooling.

I'm a good teacher.

I can do more at church, but just because I can, doesn't mean I should.

My husband is madly in love with me. He puts up with too much from me.

You can come out of your shell now. The world didn't end.

God is good. All the time.

You never know what God is up to. Enjoy the ride.

I haven't wasted my time. I'm glad I stayed home all these years with the kids.

They are too.

I need to express myself creatively more often. This is where your voice is best heard.

You need to get a grip on your health. Enough is enough already!

You are more capable of love than you even know. Keep it up.

You actually enjoy early mornings and early bedtimes. Might wanna keep it up too.

You and your daughter really bonded this year. This is good.

Enjoy your new home. Invite everyone in! This is why God blessed you with it.

Learn more about others this year. Seek wisdom. You'll need it.

-Jennifer-

2007-10-05T23:51:00.000-07:00

I am angry. My heart is on fire... finally.

The title of the article reads "'The Kite Runner Is Delayed To Protect Child Stars'".

The article is in the New York Times.

I saw the picture, and made some quick assumptions. My mind says "The movie was about brave boys flying contraband kites in Afghanistan." "Fantastic movie!", I thought. I read on. Racial tension... mhm... childhood betrayal... mhm.... sexual predation..."What?!" My mind raced as I scanned the article once before reading it all the way through... and then I saw it. "At its heart is a friendship between Amir, a wealthy Pashtun boy played by Zekiria Ebrahimi, and Hassan, the Hazara son of Amir’s father’s servant. In a pivotal scene Hassan is raped in an alley by a Pashtun bully. Later, Sohrab, a Hazara boy played by Ali Danish Bakhty Ari, is preyed on by a corrupt Taliban official." A rape scene. Two boys. I was mortified.

The article went on to explain the details of how the movie makers are going to great lengths to protect the young actors from persecution in their own country for appearing in a racially inflammitory movie. It tells of their "heroic" efforts that include CIA involvment, delayed release, their concern over often-pirated DVD's. The producers are going out of their way to move the premiere date until after school ends to protect the boys from shame. And, how if neccessary they will move the boys and their families out of the country. “If we’re being overly cautious, that’s O.K.,” Karen Magid, a lawyer for Paramount, said. “We’re in uncharted territory.”

What I wanted to know was... what on earth is an American movie maker doing making any kind of movie that involves the depiction of a rape of a young Afghan boy? What for?! In great detail the story is told of how the young actor was picked in Afghanistan because the casting director couldn't find an actor in the states, Toronto and the Hague - that he "just wasn't connecting with anybody." The boy and his father complains that the boy was never given a script. Wasn't told until the day of the shooting of the rape scene. Of how his father was there for rehearsal once, but the second time, the boy didn't want his pants pulled down, his buttocks showing... he didn't want to be shown nude. The young boy cried!

"In the final version of the film, the rape is conveyed impressionistically, with the unstrapping of a belt, the victim’s cries and a drop of blood."

Why? What artistic, storytelling necessity is there to have an innocent "play act" a rape scene? A child? Is this not abuse in and of itself? Is it not abuse because they have producers and expensive cameras present? Because Viacom writes their paycheck and some freaks in a writing room call it art... they move forward with the twisted project? And who are these producers patting themselves on the back for their "protective protocol"? They're predators! What kind of man in his right mind will seek out an innocent and say "Today, for a lot of money, you're going to pull down your pants in front of everyone while you and another boy enact a forced sexual scene while grown men and women watch... and record."? THAT'S NOT ART! THAT'S ABUSE!

Our perverted movie monguls marched into Afghanistan snatched up two boys... innocents... and defiled them... and called it art. Then, had the nerve to be self-congratulatory about their efforts to protect them from the certain abuse they would bear at the hands of their own countrymen for participating in such a racially explosive movie.

I'm sickened to my core.

This isn't the first mainstream movie with a rape scene involving a child. Apparently this has become old hat. Dakota Fanning, a darling girl was too in a graphic rape scene in a movie that will not likely be released here in the mainstream movies, but it was applauded by offshoots of the film industry... Cannes, and the Toronto Film Festival. Not without controversy, but not enough to block the movie either. (What was her mother thinking??!!)

It's no wonder then that everytime I scan my morning news there are endless stories about women and children being murdered, kidnapped, raped, burned, strangled, assaulted, drowned, abused, starved. I read it and I hurt.

I hurt for my generation that we have passively allowed violence against women and children to pass off as entertainment.

But more importantly, I hurt for the next generation who will never know innocence. If their parents were entertained by the raping of Afghan boys, what kind of world will they live in? What horrors lie behind their doors?

Who is protecting our children? It's not enough for me to protect "me and mine". Sure, I keep my kids close, I preview their movies, I talk with them about stranger safety. But some day my kids are going to walk out into this Sodom and Gomorrah World... what awaits them there? And, what did I do to shape it? Or worse, what did I not do?

The director of "The Kite Runner" also directed "Neverland". His name is Marc Forster.

The movie is distributed by Paramount Vantage, the art-house and specialty label of Paramount Pictures .

It's not enough to stay up late and blog about it. It's not enough to read a blog about it. What will you do? What won't you do?

-Jennifer-

2007-09-15T00:02:00.000-07:00

I should be sleeping. (Many of my posts ought to start out that way.)
Tomorrow I am hosting a baby shower here at our home. It will be the first time many of our church friends have visited our home, so I want everything clean and comfortable. I think it will be.
Early tomorrow I'm getting up and starting the baking for the day. I'll be making butter tarts, shortbread cookies and whatever else comes to mind. Maybe even banana bread or small dinner rolls. We'll see if I have time. I also signed up to make the punch and coffee and tea. So... my tasks are set before me.
I'll have only a few decorations. Really low key. Polka-dot themed baby shower. Light aqua blue and a light kiwi green with white are my colours. Gonna be gorgeous! I have a cozy chair for the mom to be. And... a hand made corsage - complete with flowers, washcloths, a sock and a baby spoon.
I've nearly finished the baby gift. I only lack a needle and thread to put the bows on. An early trip to the dollar store will take care of that for me. Derek's picking up 25 chairs and two tables. I pray it doesn't rain tomorrow (which will be the first time in weeks!), as I hope to have a decorated table outside on the uncovered porch. If need be, I can pull it all under the covered area... a little squishy, but we're friendly folks.
All the ladies are bringing food and a picture of them from when they were smallish. In black and white... which reminds me... I gotta find mine. (Done!)
A million things run through my mind the night before any event that I'm a part of. "Did I forget anything?", "In what order should I start things tomorrow?", I wonder if the roses will make it overnight?", "Did the toilet get cleaned well around the floor?", "I hope no-one looks in the fridge crisper!", and on and on it goes.
My back is starting to hurt again. It's my queue to stop and go to bed.
I love event planning. It's one of my favourite things. But why the voices in my head right before bed? What's that about?
Going to go count polka-dots.
G'nite!
-Jennifer-
hehe... I did a spell check. I spelled "queue "correctly! Who'd have thunk?!

2007-09-12T14:59:00.000-07:00

September 11th is our anniversary. Yep. I know.
Yesterday Derek surprised me with a gift. We usually don't exchange gifts, so I was really surprised to see a large box wrapped in white paper with gold hearts on our bed. (So neatly wrapped too, I might add. With a big white bow on top.) Inside was an artist/easel set that I have been coveting for about three years. I couldn't believe it! He not only thought of me... the thought of ME! And, where he hid it and how he kept it a secret, I'll never know.
He asked me to eat light as I was making dinner for the kids... he had made plans for us later in the evening.
We made arrangements for the kids and Derek took me out to see a couple of movies. Two in a row. At two different theaters. With a short snack break in-between.
At the second movie we had the whole theater to ourselves... so we were making commentary and laughing hysterically at the lines in the movie. We were full on popcorn and rootbeer.
Derek wanted to take me out to dinner, but it was really late - and Nanaimo rolls up it's sidewalks around 7pm I think. The only places open were the pubs and Tim Horton's. I wasn't really hungry... had a hankerin' for some donut holes, though.
We talked ministry. Not our current one... but what we've learned about or past ministries. And, I shared with him some of my difficulties with percieved expectations... He was so sweet and thoughtful. Really listened. Then, he assured me that it will all be alright. He gave me tips on keeping my fears in check...
My contacts were drying out, and my old age was kicking in. I had to go to bed. But, before I did I thanked him. He truly is a minister. He ministered to my spirit last night. Bolstered my confidence in God's plan for me.
This... above all else he had given me yesterday, was the greatest gift of all. One that will last long after the movie lines fade, long after the paint tubes are dried up. His heart. His time. His undivided attention. His honesty.
I love this man.
-Jennifer-

2007-09-05T16:40:00.000-07:00

A friend who must really know what I've gone through posted this on her blog recently. I pasted it here:

Scribbling a Masterpiece: Doodle to your DestinyAllowing God to make a masterpiece on the canvas of your life.

By Sue Anne Allen

When I was young, I quickly learned:"Praise, for coloring-in-the-lines, is earned.

"Daddy or Ma-Ma or Nana would say:"What a beautiful picture!" when I did not stray.

When I expanded beyond the bounds set forth,their eyes said my artwork had lost its worth.

"What is this scribbling that you've done?"

"It would look better if you hadn't runover the black line, closing in the 'right' shape."

I'd feel less good when my crayons escaped.
As I got older, I learned more to stayin the lines defined someone else's way.

I would smile a fake smile, whiting out my pain.

I worked hard to "squeeze in" to the acceptable frame.

But, try as I might, I often slipped beyond.

New life danced out of my crayon wands.

My crayons would skip.

My crayons would swirl.

I felt, when I drew, like God's treasured girl.

But up came the old voices:

"Mistake!" I would rage.

"What's this imperfection spewed all over the page?"
As I got even older, I lost control more.

God rapped quite loudly on my identity's door.

Pressure to "keep together" fought my need to "fall apart."

A life-and-death battle ripped my growing-up heart.

"I surrender to You, Lord."

"I'm torn to shreds at my seams."

I vomited, at His feet, the black-and-white of old dreams.

I was tear-drenched and hurting when God lifted my chin.

His eyes said: "You weren't made to keep your true colors in."

He dumped out my crayons.

He empowered my hand.

Together we scribbled toward the blessings he planned.
As my colors emerge, I'm happy to say:

"I'm glad I've chosen not to put my crayons away."

"Living between the lines" is only one choice.

That's not the place where I've noticed God's voice.

I've dabbled, expressed, doodled past the norm.

I've learned more to create and less to perform.

An original has emerged in my "off limits" space.

My inner colors, now, shade my outer face.

"What a beautiful picture!" is drawn out from within.

"For THIS I designed you," my Master grins.

And, I thought I was the only one...

-Jennifer-

2007-09-03T10:05:00.000-07:00

I spent the drizzly afternoon yesterday picking soggy blackberries from our bushes. Chante' was in tow, and was happy to help me fill the bucket. The boys were happy to tag along and pretend some kind of battle scene at every turn. DeVon with his thick blue nylon rope, and Zion with his newly aquired wooden dagger and plastic shield.
It's been years since I've been in the "bush" picking berries. (Though, this hardly qualified as "bush"... we were on the corner of our block... an empty lot.) But, it wasn't long before the rythym came back to me:
Find a cluster.
Make your way into the brush.
Pick as many berries as one hand can hold.
Drop into the bucket.
Avoid thorns.
Find a cluster....

And, I remembered the quiet that comes over you. No need to chat. Just the smell of rain and the wet leaves making prints on your jeans. And when my mind was quiet I found myself wondering what could be learned from the berry-bush?
Here are a few things:

What the berry bush reminded me about relationships:

Look for the well rounded ones. The ones that are ripe and ready. Knowing which ones are ripe, ready and flavourful takes experience. Have a go at it. Taste and see.
It will take some work to get prepared to glean from them. Don't avoid the trip just because it may require some planning and delicate work.
Once you've made your way in, take an assesment of what you really want. You can't have them all. You can't reach them all.
As your fingers reach out to harvest one, beware of the thorns. But, don't be afraid of them. Otherwise you'll never get anywhere.
As you begin to pull, notice... does it come easily? Or, does it hesitate? The ones that hesitate aren't ready. And, if you pull it, you will find that despite it's ripe colour, it's really rather sour. A few more days and that one will be ready too.
If you pull one that keeps it's thorns attatched to itsself you have a choice... you can grip the thorny part and hope it comes off easily... but more than likely, you will have just pricked yourself and have regretted thinking you could save it. It's time to just let that one go.
Not all are worth the effort. Some require more growth. Some refuse to be harvested.
But, others are hidden under large leaves. Out of the way. And these, I find, are the biggest, readiest, most flavourful of all. But, you have to change your point of view to find them. You must crouch. You must lift the barriers gently. They will reveal themselves to you. And, those will be the sweetest of all.

I learned a lot that afternoon. It was almost as if God was speaking to me through a soggy bush. I'll be fine here. I have my part, and they have theirs. And, I must remember whose is whose.

-Jennifer-

2007-08-22T23:54:00.000-07:00

The fear in me.

I spoke with a dear friend tonight. A real warrior. Fearless. Just out there with it. I had to ask her. "How do you do it?" She told me in essence... she IS afraid sometimes, but her dedication to God brings her past her fear, past her doubt and into the realm of living it out.

Time to quit being cryptic.

I have been a coward. That's why I haven't been here. My fear has muzzled me. And, as a result, the fire that burns in my bones has become almost unbearable.

I used to be so opinionated, so passionate, and sometimes... so wrong. And the day I caved into the doubt and fear is the day I rendered myself unavailable for God's use. The clay that began to argue with the potter.

What was I passionate about that I no longer speak of? Marriage, kids, homes, church of Christ happenings, issues, spiritual battles, attacks, politics...

And, then... I was told I was ignorant. Unusable. Unwanted. Unneeded... and I believed them and not my God.

So, I'm breaking this deal with the devil. I take back the promises I made to stay quiet. I know now it's a lie. I am not ignorant. God leads me through my experiences with my eyes wide open. I should share it. I am not unusable, I am a vessel with a purpose... designed by the Master for divine purpose. I am not unwanted, I am paid for, sought after and delighted in. And, I am not unneeded. God is calling me, it's loud and clear. I'm tired of being between the rock and the hard place. God's calling and fear. I cave into God... into his loving arms. And though doubt will still haunt me, there is nothing that man can do to me. I am His. And I am glad.

I'll see you here soon.

Watch out now... she's back.

-Jennifer-

2007-06-28T11:20:00.001-07:00

I have finally made it back to the motherland. Canada, eh?

It's been a long, 17 year road. One that included Mission work in Arizona, a stint in Tennessee, a term in Nebraska for college, a wedding in Arizona, mission work and the introduction of a family there. We ventured off into Arkansas territory only to be turned away to California where we really felt like we found home. Six years later, we were booted out of the sunny left coast and stationed again in Arkansas to re-learn a lesson in God's timing and guidence.

And so... it's been seventeen years for me. And, it's soooo good to be back.

The kids and the hubby look to me from time to time to explain things to them. "Is this just how Canadians do it?" "Is that normal here?" "Was it like that when you were here?" These questions are asked regularly.

What's funny is this: when I left I was just entering young adulthood. I didn't know the rules of driving. I didn't know what heated the homes... or how to pay for that. I paid rent on an upstairs suite. I had a job. I walked to and from it. I went to church. And, that was it. That's all I knew.

Okay, that's not all I knew... it's just all I knew about "settling in".

What has delighted me the most is the pleasant nature of the people here. Ready to laugh. Joking with eachother. A ready-made family. The way I remember. Shoes off at the door. The down-to-earth nature of the people. No class-systems. No castes. No "down your nose" looks about your education or lack-thereof. Just real people being real.

A new adjustment for me is realizing I am the preacher's wife again. I had forgotten that it comes with expectations. I came ready to just be me. And, I'm not entirely sure that our congregation has formalized their expectation of their preacher's wife... but from time to time I am subtly reminded of the role... and the need to fill it. But how?

I really thought I would never again struggle with expectation vs. reality. I thought that I would find a place and a time where I could just be me. And, I thought that those two roads crossed here. And, maybe they do. But... I suppose I'm still haunted some by old expectations that weren't met. Failures of my own that linger in the memory.

And, maybe I'm too hard on myself. Maybe I don't give others enough credit. Maybe they're ready for real. But are they ready for me? Am I?

Ah too deep.

I have changed in so many ways since I left Canada. And, God has been gracious to me. I am not perfect, but forgiven. And, I love imperfect people. Which covers most of us.

I just hope that my opinionated self, my flighty artistic natured self, my "not your typical preacher's wife" self will be welcomed here. And, I hope I grow here... I hope it is God who uses me just the way I am... and that his Holy Spirit directs me to change in the ways that aren't godly.

Okay, I'm all over the place here.
To sum up: Made it back. It's good. Finding my personal bearings again. God is good and he will guide... the end.

-Jennifer-

2007-06-18T18:19:00.000-07:00

So, the biggest thing to happen to me in a few years has happened, and I haven't written about it? Have I gone mad? Am I completely nuts?

Yes.... I mean... NOoooo.

What an adventure!

So, the passports arrived after much, MUCH, much effort on my part. I e-mailed the passport agency. I called the passport agency. I e-mailed the kind lady at the Little Rock Library where we applied for passports. She sent me names of 2 Arkanasas State Representatives to harass. I called them. I called two CA state representatives...

On a side-note here - as much as I dislike Nancy Pelosi... the folks in her office are awfully nice!

After the two CA state representatives were on the case, I got up at 3am to start the phone lines in where ever they are in the Eastern Time Zone. I called at least 3 times a minute for 45 minutes (do the math) before actually reaching... no... not a person... a different message. But, after 15 minutes on that message, I spoke with a REAL, LIVE, ACTUAL passport agent. They DO exist!

A few numbers and details were exchanged and then Dick (that was his name) says this: "I have a note here that says that you have congressional help on these passports." To which I reply "Yessss....?" To which he blandly states "But, there isn't any note that says to expedite them, so we didn't." To which I reached my hand through the phone and grabbed his scrawny neck and raised my right hand and...

No wait... I didn't do that. I just sighed.

He continued... "Would you like them to be expedited?"

Can you just hear me screaming inside my own head?

I responded so softly you could barely hear me... "Yes, please."

And it was done!

13 weeks. 5 days on the road. 20 some e-mails, over 200 phone calls. Hundreds of dollars... and it was done.

Thanks, Dick.

The following morning, we met with some old friends for lunch. I wasn't holding my breath for those passports. So many promises. So few kept.

One of our friends works for the Fed Gov't. I remembered that because I was always afraid he'd deport me, but I never thought to ask him for help (because I was always afraid he'd deport me... did I mention that?). So... at lunch... he hadn't arrived yet, but our mutual friend, Nate had. Nate listened briefly to our passport troubles and then said "Ask Rog." "He's great with this stuff. He calls in a few favours on his cell and "boom", it's done!" Nate then tells us a few stories second hand about how Rog can find anyone, ANYWHERE in the U.S. Something to do with cellphone tracking and detective work. Creepy stuff.

As if on que, Rog walks in to the restaurant.

Rog is a big, black man. He wears shades ALWAYS. Day, night, inside, outside, rain or shine, he wears shades. I've never EVER seen his eyes. And we were close friends for years. When he sits, he folds his arms across his chest. When he stands, he folds his arms across his chest. He rarely chats in public. He looks like a bouncer, but he's actually the greeter at his church. Gotta love Rog.

After hearty hugs and a "how are ya?", Nate tells Rog about our passport problems.

Rog interrupts Nate and says "hold on." Rog pulls out his phone.

Nate looks at us, smiles and nods. "See?"

Rog calls someone... says "call my phone back and search it for this number", a few minutes later the phone rings. It's the passport agency. It's the Passport Agency CALLING HIM! I was stunned.

Rog asks for a few names and numbers and then flips his phone off.

"Your passport will be over-nighted via Fed-Ex. You can expect them by 10am tomorrow."

So, there you have it. Old friends, high places.

Then he turns to me and says - "So, you're Canadian? I didn't know that."

To which I reply "Yeah... that's why you can't find me on your little lists..."

We had a great lunch. Rog bought desserts all the way around. Kids made us proud and licked the plates.

I have more to tell you about returning to the motherland. Immigration. Old, new friends. But I'll save it for tomorrow. I think I'll take a minute and flip through some passports for old times' sake.

-Jennifer-

2007-05-24T09:40:00.000-07:00

How was the move?

So glad you asked...

We had a fantastic yard sale... we only sold 4 days out of six, but still met (and surpassed) our goal of having everything gone, and making at least $1800 to replace it all.

We cleaned house like crazy. That home has never looked so good... made us almost want to move back in again. Almost. Okay... not really.

After packing up the trailer we realized we still had 1/3 of the space still left. So, we took the seats out of the middle of the minivan and put a futon mattress in. Ahhhh.... that was brilliant! The best thing ever! We drove cross-country and whenever one of the drivers needed a break... voila! Sleep. Underrated.

I think we labeled this trip our "ADD America" trip. We literally stopped to see everything along the way. Rest-stops were the best. Historical. Refreshing. Curious. And, always in the nick of time.

I took pictures, but sadly the cord that connects my camera to the computer is either in a box or got sold to some lucky fellow who will probably use it to tie up his fishing gear.

Anyway, I am proud to tell you that my husband has seen the Grand Canyon! (Or as my kids call it... "The Grand CANYON..canyon...canyon...") We stopped in after dark and set up our tent. It fit our kids. Derek and I slept on the futon. I would have loved to sleep under the stars, but I was afraid my city-slicker husband would find issue with that... so we slept in the van. We met an old friend there - she joined us after a six hour drive at about 2am. We ate breakfast together and then trotted out to see the Canyon...canyon...canyon... It's always amazing... no matter what time of year or day... it's just almost too much to take in at once! What was coolest on this trip to the G.C. was seeing the herd? flock? BUNCH of condors nesting nearby. Every once in a while one or two would buzz us or they'd swoop in and impress us all with their aerobatics. I kept telling Zion they were looking for a small child. He wasn't impressed. We met a retired couple from York, England there. They're traveling the world. It's what they do. *Jealous!*

After seeing the canyon...canyon...canyon, we stopped in at a steakhouse and gorged ourselves on cowboy food. We waddled out and saw the G.C. Imax nearby... to go or not to go? $60 for a 34 minute movie... uh... NO. I might regret that. It was a National Geographic Movie... but $60?!!

So... my souvenier from the Grand CANYON...canyon...canyon was a sunburn. This Indian skin hasn't seen the light of day in years! And, the light of day at 7000 feet is particularly bright. No need to fear.. I found the medicine I needed in Kingman, AZ. The burn is now a fantastic, evenly bronzed... farmer tan.

We cheered as we drove across the CA state line. We had decided to take on Death Valley at night. Sooo much better that way.

We've been here since Friday of last week and we have caught up with a lot of our old friends. Nearly every day since Sunday we have made the drive up to Folsom, Orangevale to see old friends... BBQ... yap. We have more visiting to do today. I'm hoping we'll find our strong, German massage therapist and old friend, Sonya. That would be the icing on the cake. (Or "cek" as she'd call it.)

So... while we wait for our Passports... we shop and look and visit. It's great. When folks asked me the Sunday we were leaving what Derek got me for Mother's Day... I told them... "A trip to CA and a move to Canada!" Doesn't get better than that. Jealous?

*grin*

-Jennifer-

2007-05-10T17:05:00.000-07:00

So it's true. Selling it all and moving to Canada... it's liberating!

Today I have seen my "most precious treasures" go up on the selling block and not even flinch... I guess I don't treasure them after all! It's a matter of making up your mind, I think. When we decided just how big our trailer was going to be, it was so much easier to make decisions on what to keep and what to chuck and what to sell. It's like all the items in my world fell away and only what we would need to minister to our new church remained. That and a few cute things to make our house a home.

What's most ironic about it all is this: We have measured a 4"x4"x8" space (the size of the inside of the trailer) in our dining room. And, for good practice, when we pack a box, we set it inside those boundaries. It lets us know exactly how "full" we're getting. And, after packing several of our most important books and documents... and even my crafting items... and decor... we haven't even filled HALF of that space! It's amazing! I guess we went a little nuts on the "sacrifice it all" bandwagon. But what a blessing. I honestly don't regret selling anything.

Apparently at the border we are going to have to have an accounting of everything that's in the boxes. What's in them. How much it's all worth. So... I'm making a list. And, I'm labeling the boxes as we go. We decided early on to use uniform size boxes. Letter size office boxes. We have had them since CA... we fold them and their lids up and "voila!" a box... unfold it and "voila!" space! It's great! Best moving investment EVER.

We've had the honour of a few friends coming by and going through some of our things first. What a great thing that is. They don't flinch at the prices of things, and I know they really love them. And, I'm helping them out too. It's just good all the way around. Cue the music... sigh.

I have more to sort and pricetag. The yardsale moved indoors today. We ended up cancelling today's sale as it was SUPPOSED to storm like the dickens this afternoon. We frantically moved eight LOADED 8 foot tables inside and under the carport. (And all on a heelspur...waaaaaaah!!!) But the sale should move along smoothly tomorrow and Saturday. If we sell all our big-ticket items, we will meet our yard-sale goal. All the trinkets are icing on the cake. Woo Hoo!

So, I'll get back to it.

-Jennifer-

2007-05-08T23:19:00.000-07:00

Overheard while Pookie was sick on Sunday:

Me: Expectantly - "Well Zion, we're gonna miss church... what do you want to do?"
Zion: Flops on the couch. "I dunno."
Me: "Well... do you want to watch cartoons?"
Zion: Picks up the remote (makes it look like it weighs a tonne), and slowly makes his way to me... "I dunno, mom. I don't feel very much like laughing."

And... a little later...

Me: "Zion, are you feeling better?"
Zion: "Yeah... I started to sweat." (And then in a very knowing tone - ) "That means my fever broke."
Me: "What do you know about fevers breaking?"
Zion: "C'mon mom... I'm seven. I listen."

I just love my Zion. He likes to try on big words. He's got that natural humour... that timing. He downplays just how funny he is. I love it! The boy is even funny when he's SICK!

-Jennifer-

2007-05-05T18:57:00.000-07:00

Okay... admittedly I was in a funk yesterday.

Today was different. I got things done.

Sweet husband stayed home and foraged through boxes with me. I suppose what's harder than moving is deciding what to keep. But... I just know I'm going to be liberated when I separate myself from all my posessions. Think like monk, Jen... think like a monk.

Kids spent the day at the coolest retro-style waterpark EVER! It's owned by friends of ours, and they get a free season pass. Too bad they'll only be able to go for four days. Sigh. It's a great park though... been around for over 70 years. I just love the owners. They've become fantastic friends of mine over this past year. I don't know if I've ever told them just how much they mean to me. Note to self...

I have plans to make little postcard works of art during my trip. I have my paper, ink, gadgets and inspiration all lined up. I plan to send them to the friends that are on my mind as I travel. If you want one, send your request to me. You know my address, right? Do I have your snail-mail addy? Send it to me. I'm so looking forward to this part of the trip.

Zion is sick tonight. Fever. Sore throat. Says he "hopes he doesn't throw up". Poor, sweet thing. This germophobe is a little timid about cuddling with her pookie... but she'll do it. And, I'll read him his new favourite book. He hasn't heard it yet. But I just know it'll be his new favourite. It's called "I Love You Stinky-Face!". It's great!

I'll have more to post tomorrow. I'm gonna check for snail-mail addys.

-Jennifer-

2007-05-04T18:54:00.000-07:00

I guess the hardest thing about leaving is knowing that I really haven't established myself. I haven't really TRULY kindled friendships... any long-lasting ones, anyway. It's hard to even admit it. I'd like to think that someone will miss me. That I've made my mark. That I've had some kind of effect. Made some kind of imprint.
But you know, honestly... I was a blip on their radar. And eventually the bright green blip fades to black again, and their interest is directed to the new blip. And so it goes.
Perhaps one of the most difficult things about being in the ministry is the moving. But, harder than the logistics of that is the implications, the complications of it. Moving means that while I were just setting up... getting comfortable... about to relax, knowing that the real me is acceptable (or at times not acceptable) here... I uproot and start all over again. And, this time... it's a new culture... new environment... new climate. So... I do.
And, I don't say this to complain. Though I realize it sounds an awful lot like complaining.
So, as I purge my home of all it's things... scoot together my sentimental items... I wonder why the phone isn't ringing. They know I'm leaving in a few days, right? Then again... I remember... this place was full of drama... and me leaving hardly qualifies as drama. It's a day in the life.
But not for me. I can honestly say that I cracked open the pages to my heart here. Some folks liked me okay... several did not. I can say that I know now that I wasn't created for the South. God, I guess intended for me to be a westerner or a northerner... or a somewhere-else-terner. But not the south. I just don't fit it. At least not here. So... back to Canada I go. Wonder who I'll find there. Or will I experience culture-shock returning to my homeland 17 years later?
-Jennifer-

2007-05-01T22:04:00.000-07:00

So the rain is coming down and it's still 72 degrees outside. How is that possible? Ergh.

Our plans for the trip are coming along nicely. The US gov't got their money for our passports. Yay! I might be naive but I think that might mean they've actually done something with the applications...

We've sold half of our things at our yard sale last weekend. What a trip that was. People come out of the woodwork for a yard sale!

There was the elderly neighbor who made frequent trips. She'd bring her chequebook, put in the amount in her register, and forget to write the cheque. (No worries, she wasn't hard to flag down.)

Then there was the exited toothless lady who came back three times in two days to make sure we hadn't sold the TV yet. She started telling other visitors it was "her TV". The last time she showed, I wasn't convinced she was in her "right" state of mind. Hmmm.

Late on Friday a minivan with 5 beefy-bandanna-wearing-non-English-speaking fellas pulled up. They wanted to see what was in the house too. My hubby wasn't home, and I only had my kids outside keeping the store. We fumbled through our English/Spanish and I made a few sales on the spot. They're coming back for the second yard sale. The one where I sell everything. They were great customers. Didn't even flinch at the price.

Then there was the neighbor from up the street who had his eye on my camping skillets and pots. I didn't budge on the price. He had a few choice words. After some complaining, he bought them... and I got him to admit he got a great deal. Man, I shoulda been in sales!

So... now it's raining. And, it's still warm outside. I'll never get used to warm rain. Rain is supposed to be refreshing. A cool drink of water on a hot day. Not a damp, lukewarm steam bath on a hot day. Ugh.

We made a good fistful of dollars on our yard sale. I was pleased with it. I have a goal of $1800 minimum on our yard sale, and so far we have made $770... but we haven't sold much of the big stuff yet. And, there are plenty of trinkets out there. Folks love them some trinkets!

There were a few things I really REALLY hesitated to put out there. I knew though, that I would be the one who'd have to make the most sacrifice. All my dearest, most treasured possessions are now up on the sales block. And, strangely... some of them just won't sell! Is it a sign from God? Or should I lower those price tags? Hehe.

I sorted through old pictures today. I was supposed to go through them and sacrifice the bad ones - out of focus, bad colours, "dunno who that is" pictures... yeah... I think I'm the wrong one for the job. I got rid of about 7 pictures and all the sleeves from our photos. That's it. I'm far too sentimental. My husband on the other hand... he'd throw out the Declaration of Independence if it was in his way... sigh. I'll take another jab at it tomorrow.

The rain is letting up... I'm gonna check on the tarp in our carport. It's covering our Game Cube gaming stand... the one they have at those gaming conventions... they hold the TV and the console... and the games... I got it at an auction and my husband banned me from the auction for all eternity. And that was BEFORE he saw the PlayStation props! Kids loved it. But, we don't have the space for it. I hope to get a bundle of cash for it. I paid $10 a piece for them. Heavy as all get out, though. But, not as bulky as the 9X9 Phillip's 66 sign I have in my backyard.

Gotta scram.

I have to sort clothes. Mine. (Guess now would be the right time to decide if I'll do that diet, eh?)

-Jennifer-

2007-04-17T23:16:00.000-07:00

Big announcement!

I know you're holding your breath, right?

We're moving! Derek accepted the ministry position in Nanaimo, BC, Canada and we're moving back to the MOTHERLAND! I'm so excited I can hardly contain myself.

That fantastic church we met in February has offered the ministry, Derek has accepted it... and he has put in his letter of resignation with the church here in Little Rock.

I'd go into all the details, but that would bore you and then you'd hit the "next blog" button and that would be a shame... so... I'll keep you here with talk of our crazy plans.

You know Derek and I were missionaries once, right? It was a great start for us... stuck on God and eachother - never attatched to our things. (This is a prelude to something... hang in there.)

We plan to sell all of our belongings in a series of yard sales. We hope to make enough money to repurchase the absolute essentials through IKEA (or it's cousin on Vancouver Island - JYSK) and pull a trailer behind our "fly ride" that holds all our irreplaceables. Our photos, Game Cube, computer, much of Derek's library, our homeschool books, suitcases, and paperwork, and Jennifer's thinned-down art supply store will all fill our trailer rental. (Gosh I hope our transmission makes it!) The first yard sale will be next weekend - Thursday through Saturday. We'll sell everything we don't absolutely need for the coming month. Then, the weekend before Mother's Day, we'll sell it ALL. Yep. Bikes, TV, Washer/Dryer, curtains, towels, freezer, even it's contents... it must all go. Except for the stove. It's the homeowner's. We rent.

So... as you can imagine, my life is taking an interesting turn. Just how committed am I to my things? Will it be a showdown of the wills when it comes to filling the small trailer? A serious issue of supply and demand for space!

Also... I find that during times like these I become the most organized person EVER. It's like Dr. Jeckyl and Mr. Hyde... You wouldn't know it looking at me.

On a more serious note. I'll desperately miss some folks from around here. We've loved this church for years. It won't be easy leaving some of them... Though my heart knows it's not for a lifetime... I'll see them again if God wills it...

My kids are so excited. They're moving to a "foreign country"... as far as they see it. Though... It's not as foreign as they think. (Of course they do make fun of me... I still say "supper" and "cupboard" and "tea-towel"... though I've learned NOT to say "chesterfield" or "buns".)

We will be living on Vancouver Island just off the coast of British Columbia. The weather there is mild. The island is huge. It's gorgeous, expensive and filled to the brim with colourful people - and wildlife! (And, sometimes the people are the wildife!)

So... I've spent 17 years in Canada, 17 years in the States... guess it's time to move back, eh?

-Jennifer-

2007-03-30T09:01:00.000-07:00

I think I might have some sort of sleep disorder. I can't quiet the voices in my head until around 2:30am (right around the end of my nightly prayer) the neighbor's dogs start barking around 3am, I get up to close the window around then. I usually find myself sleepwalking around 4:30am and the birds start chirping around 5:30am. Derek's alarm goes off around 6am. And, I'm just nestling into a good sleep around then. But, before you know it, it's time to get up, get the kids up, make breakfast and get homeschool started.

I used to hit the pillow and was out within minutes. I heard that's not good, but I'd still take that over what I've got now.

I toss and turn all night. Come morning, the bottom sheet on my side of the bed is completely removed from the matress and wrinkled up against Derek.

So what goes on in my head that keeps me up until 2ish? Oh, I think about the church, the last class I taught, what I shoulda said when my skinny sister told me she's on another diet, wonder why homeschool isn't progressing like it should, wondering if it would be worth it to bring out all my art supplies and make that thing that's been in my head for a few weeks, wonder if the freezer door is stuck open, wondering how cold it is outside, random things. Usually I don't settle in and think on just one thing. It's like a merry-go-round of ideas and worries.

This is a typical night. Though, other nights, the routine is disturbed by my arthritis in my wrist and knee. I happen to fall asleep but only to wake up to pain that immobilizes me... I try not to take meds at all, but especially not on an empty stomach... so I use heat therapy. Derek gets up and heats my heating pad in the microwave for me, and brings me a bottle of water and ibuprofen if I want it. About a half hour later I'm ready for slumber again. Or... if it doesn't work, then it'll take another hour to an hour and a half.

But... believe it or not... I'm not here to complain. I think I might have found a solution to the problem. Yay! And, I'll post it here if it works.

It's been literally a year since I worked out last. Mhm. And, I've gained the weight to prove it.

I think what I'll do is a calming, but trying workout after dinner... maybe even after the kids are in bed. I'll hit a hot shower and try to go to sleep from there. I think that maybe my body just isn't tired enough to force my mind to go to sleep.

I bought a ball and a band. I've watched some of the Australian-made video, I've looked over the book and it looks good. Haven't done it yet. Derek inflated the ball for me yesterday.

I've noticed that since I've not been sleeping well, I've been moody. Snappy. Weepy. Unmotivated. My poor, sweet family. This doesn't describe who I am all day... just what I've noticed that's different lately.

So, the poor sleep quality combined with enormous stress levels has made me just a little nuts. And, I'm ready for sanity again. A good night's sleep. Relatively unruffled sheets. And, as a by-product a little slimmer waist and thighs.

Any other non-medicine sleep suggestions?

2007-03-11T12:23:00.000-07:00

So, I'm sipping on my overpriced Caramel Frappaccino... getting to the good part - the whipped cream with caramel. Though usually it's here that my kids swarm in and try to finish it off for me. They're not allowed to have coffee, but whipped cream isn't off limits. Maybe if I keep the straw slurping quiet they won't hear me trying to finish of my drink for the first time in forever.

I've procrastinated writing in my blog. Even now, I start with my drink and wonder as I write if I'll ever get to the point.

In these last weeks we have had some major life difficulties and potential changes. Career and schooling choices (for Derek and me), homeschool testing (for the kids... but for some reason, I think I'll be the one getting the grade)... and extended family trouble (my little sister).

My sister came out of the closet a few weeks ago. And, it seems as though the only thing I've been working on since the beginning of February is nudging her to restoration with God. But, now... it's over... I'm exhausted, and she's living with her lover and her lover's daughter. My heart is broken and weary - but when I'm not weary... I'm angry. I suppose it will be another grieving process for me - and all those who love her. I've lost two sisters to death... and now I've lost one by choice. Her choice.

There aren't a lot of personal issues I can discuss publicly. Being a preacher's wife... there is some good sense I must exercise. Some of it is probably fine to talk about, but I would rather err on the side of caution.

However... it brings me to say this: if you have a "pastor", a "preacher" an "evangelist", or a missionary or church worker as a friend... take them out for coffee. Take time to listen with out trying to figure out which side of the political issue you will be on. Listen to the humanity spoken in their words... Yes... they are workers in the kingdom... yes... they walk by faith - but they are not superhuman - not without the need for good counsel themselves. They need friends who don't gossip, friends who will bring good advice after bringing a listening ear and an attentive spirit. Friends who will be forgiving when their faith fall short. Friends who will pray in the quietness of the morning or late night for them, for their families, for their ministry. Do you ever wonder who ministers to the ministers? Maybe it's you...

So... my frappaccino is done. Nothing left at the bottom but chunks of ice that were too big for the straw.

I'll get up from the computer and wander back into my life... tending to the kitchen, preparing for the week. And, when you get up from your computer, I hope you'll remember your minister... and ask him if he ever needed ministering to. And, listen as things get quiet.

-Jennifer-

2007-02-26T08:23:00.000-08:00

Toast with Nutella. Breakfast of champions. (For those of you who aren't familiar with the delicacy - Chocolate-Hazelnut spread. Like chocolate peanutbutter, but with hazelnut.) Mmmm... and a tall glass of cold milk. Why start the day any other way?

So, this past week or so we've been in: Little Rock, AR, Memphis, TN, Coldwater, MS, Chicago, IL, Seattle, WA, Nanaimo, BC and Houston, TX. (And, back to Little Rock, AR) We didn't spend any time in Chicago or Houston, but the airports gave us a pretty good sampling of the populace there.

I really should blog every day so I don't feel like I have to catch up on life's events. Sigh. But, I'll do my best here.

Derek had an interview with a small, fantastic, loving church in Nanaimo, BC, Canada. Sweet hubby had no idea what to expect from Canada, but was pleasantly surprised to find a beautiful country with absolutely dedicated christians who seek truth in God. Ah, what a wonderful trip, what wonderful people! We'll know later this week what God's will is as far as an employment opportunity there...

Our whirlwind trip went like this: ice, plane, snow in Chicago, colourful houses in Seattle, little black rental car, ferry ride to Nanaimo, late check-in, really good people, visit, questions, visit, meeting, eating, visit, really good people, Wii boxing, class, bible study, questions, funny people, old friends' parents, waterfront, islands, walking, clams, laughing, kitchen on fire, great chinese food, bible class, shopping, questions and answers, potlucks, Canasta, bible class, packing, praying, ferry, sleep, Seattle, Pike Place, fish market, sleep, Houston, Home, sleep, Mississippi, kids!, Youth Rally, church, talk, sleeeeeeep (finally!), blogging. Sigh.

See why I haven't blogged?

We have so much coming in the next few weeks. Homeschool testing, Tulsa Soul Winning Workshop, more interviews, resume's, telephone calls, etc.

God is good, and though we have seen some really rough times these last few months, God has shown his goodness, his faithfulness to us - though we are so undeserving.

Though there is one thing now that I pray for: I want life to slow down. This past month we have had illness, a Mexico trip, hectic church work, a job interview and a youth rally, conflict resolution and though it doesn't look like much on the screen - it really has consumed our time. And, I'm afraid that it was our children who made the sacrifice. So, I have scaled back my involvement with things, and I am staying true to my first ministry: my home.

Having said that: I gotta go. Kids are nearly done with their morning work, and homeschool is on deck.

-Jennifer-

2007-02-13T04:22:00.000-08:00

Arkansas' a trip.

You know how your church will hold an outreach event... something that will reach out to the community - meeting people at the point of their need? A VBS in the summer (helps with wandering school kids), a bible camp, Parent's night out, the usual.

Our church, this last Sunday afternoon, held a Big Game Night. No... not games as in Monopoly, RISK or Clue. Big game as in Deer, Hog, and smaller game as in wild turkey, duck, fish and squirrel. We had a potluck.

Each of the hunters in the church brought in their finest game dishes and the ladies brought side dishes and dessert. The place was decked out in camoflouge, mounted deer heads, a hog head, deer hide, beaver, fox, bobcat... No, I'm not joking! The centerpiece was a boat tied to a tree, with a Bambi standing on "water's" edge.

The food included: battered and fried Crappie (no, it's pronounced "Croppie"), Deer Stew, Wild Turkey Casserole, Duck with Dressing, Smoked Deer with BBQ sauce, and Squirrel Dumpling Stew. I brought a fresh salad. When asked what I killed - I told them "Lettuce, tomatoes and cucumbers. I was brutal. Took no prisoners."

We ate dinner with our hunters and their "unchurched" friends. What a mix of people! First of all, I've never seen so much camo in my life! Each carefully planned outfit was topped with a farmer's cap. As we finished eating, they started a duck calling contest. People used all kinds of sticks and mouthpieces and flute-looking things.

There was a fella there who topped the experience for us. He was a red-head, about 6'2", and looked like a white Mike Tyson. He got up and started making his duck call, but needed no such instrument. He used his mouth to make a slurping duck sound. He was having some trouble, as he was missing a tooth right in the front and center of his mouth. (His "spittin' hole" as he called it.) After a few nervous chuckles, and a downright belly laugh, he got it. And the crowd was amazed. (I had to take his word for it - I had falsely believed since preschool that ducks said "quack".)

I came as an observer. I was kicking myself for not bringing my video camera. This stuff is real, folks! When they were all done with dinner, the fellas all went out back to smoke. And truly - every once in a while someone would loudly exclaim "Git 'er dooonnnne!"

After the cleanup was done, we all went in for evening church services. Many still dressed in camo. Our preacher (my brother in law) apparently owned no such camo, and wore a flannel shirt and torn jeans. He preached his heart out about being the "hunter" and not the "hunted". Fantastic lesson. He used fishing analogies, old hunting stories, called the devil's tricks "hooks". Really connected with our hunter's friends.

All in all, it was a good thing. Not a Martha Stewart "good thing", mind you. However, it really did reach out to the community. A different, often ignored part of our Little Rock community. As strange as it was to me, I can see that the folks in the room were on cloud nine. And, I was truly happy for them.

And as for me? I got to write about it.

-Jennifer-

2007-02-08T17:01:00.000-08:00

Mmmm... just when you think it's hard. It gets harder.

What a walk of faith we've had this week.

I haven't - believe it or not - had time to address the sorrow that came to us last week. Posting scripture seemed to be all that I could do at the time. Even now... I wait.

This week, however, brings a new challenge. New difficulty. New sorrow.

Oh, I wish I could share it. But I do not delight in making show of other people's sin, shame or sorrow. But.. I hurt.

Yet my faith in God is stronger. How is that? Who would understand that?

Am I blind? Am I completely brain-washed? Have I lost all sense?

No.

There is something truly wonderful that happens when a Christian ditches "Churchianity" for Christianity. When you bow to God at the altar, and not at the altar itself, there is a new awakening. My physical life is full of strife now, but my relationship with HIM - the Creator - soars. A Peace that passes all understanding. It's real. And, I have experienced it this week. Oh for that Peace for eternity!

Not that I have it all figured out, mind you. This has been my journey. I have so far to go, and so many have made it here so long ago.

I had an old friend call yesterday. We chatted for a while, wrestling with a few pretty heavy issues. Heavy to us anyway. After we said our good-byes, I rested for a moment. And, was amazed at the family system God put in place for our benefit. The church. The family. The Word from the Father. To edify, to be edified. To encourage, to be encouraged. And, all under the umbrella of the family. God is so good.

Without sounding preachy I want to say this: Where would I be without God? How would I live? Where would I go for wisdom, consolation, hope? There is none outside of the Father. I know this is true.

-Jennifer-

2007-01-31T08:38:00.000-08:00

"Listen to my prayer, O God.
Do not ignore my cry for help!
Please listen and answer me,
My enemies shout at me,
making loud and wicked threats.
They bring trouble on me,
hunting me down in their anger.

My heart is in anguish.
The terror of death overpowers me.
Fear and trembling overwhelm me.
I can't stop shaking.
Oh how I wish I had wings like a dove;
then I would fly away and rest!
I would fly far away to the quite of the wilderness.
How quickly I would escape -
Far away from this wild storm of hatred.

Destroy them, Lord, and confuse their speech,
for I see violence and strife in the city.
It's walls are patrolled day and night against invaders,
but the real danger is wickedness within the city.
Murder and robbery are everywhere there;
threats and cheating are rampant in the streets.

It's not an enemy who taunts me -
I could bear that.
It is not my foes who so arrogantly insult me -
I could have hidden from them.
Instead, it is you - my equal,
my companion and close friend.
What good fellowship we enjoyed
as we walked together to the house of God.

Let death sieze my enemies by surprise;
let the grave swallow them alive,
for evil makes it's home within them.

But I will call on God,
and the Lord will rescue me.
Morning , noon, and night.
I plead aloud in my distress,
and the Lord hears my voice.
He rescues me and keeps me safe
from the battle waged against me,
even though many still oppose me.
God who is king forever will hear me and will humble them.

For my enemies refuse to change their ways;
they do not fear God.

As for this friend of mine, he betrayed me;
he broke his promises.
His words are as smooth as cream,
but in his heart is war.
His words are as soothing as lotion,
but underneath are daggers!

Give your burdens to the Lord'
and he will take care of you.
He will not permit the godly to slip and fall.

But you, O God, will send the wicked
down to the pit of destruction.
Murderers and liars will die young,
but I am trusting you to save me."
(NLT)

-Jennifer-

2007-01-21T19:50:00.000-08:00

Mm, so it's been a while since I posted. I've recovered only to see two more kids go through it and to see Derek through a gastro-intestinal crisis. We all missed church today... a first EVER. Derek and I spent the day in the word... read and discussed the book of Jeremiah. Yeah... the whole book. (It gets really good at the end!)

Derek and I frequently find ourselves in doubt. Doubt. About where we are supposed to go, what we are supposed to do. But lately, I wonder if the doubt is really resistance. God shows us, and when we respond, we go. But, when we resist, we call it doubt. Might be something to that.

Today I read this: Security is not the absence of danger, but the presence of Jesus.

We aren't afraid of what the church's review of Derek's job will be. We aren't even afraid that they'll look at their budget and find no room for us. Really, what has been consuming us is finding out what God's will is. And, we know that in his time he will reveal it to us. For the first time in my life, my own security isn't my primary concern. Very strange for a creature like me.

I told Derek today that I was ready to go anywhere. I'd sell it all and go in a heart beat. Even Texas. (I admitted a little reservation about Texas, and immediately repented.) I imagined out loud having an in-house yard sale and hitting the road to wherever God had in mind we should go next. OR... staying put, and truly being okay with that too. God has a plan. He fashioned me to be a tool, a vessel. And, I will not argue with the potter.

So, the review is next week and January 30th is quickly approaching...

Will keep you posted.

-Jennifer-

2007-01-11T09:37:00.000-08:00

Well it's the crack of noon and I'm just getting up.
But I'm up. And, I can swallow my spit. It's a good day.
I've had strep throat for the last few days. Decided it's the nastiest of diseases I've ever had. (You can leave your gastro-intestinal diseases in the bathroom, light a candle, turn on the fan and close the door - strep throat stays with you... ya know?!)
It starts out with "Darn, I think I have a sore throat." But in the back of your mind you're thinking "Shoot, what's a sore throat for everyone else is strep throat for me! Remember days of laying on the bottom bunk on the far end of the house... hallucinating with fever and spitting into a tupperware cup?"
Chante' had sore throat first. She was feeling a little low at the video scavenger hunt. But, she's so hard to read, I wasn't sure HOW sick she was. I checked her throat, which was red to be sure. And, assigned her to only cold drinks and cuddling for the night. (I figured the chili and cornchips would be torture.)
Later that night, Zion cuddled with me in church and asked me if he could wear my leather coat. I took it off and covered him with it. Shortly thereafter, he was slumped and his hot head rested on my shoulder. He had a fever. (Chante' was feeling better by now. Coulda been her friends at church was all the pick me up she needed.)
I tried to hurry my one-car ministry family out of the building, but it always takes an hour from the word "let's go". I just pray we didn't infect all the little old ladies with it in the meantime. But, while waiting, I found myself exhausted and instead of making my usual "How you doin'?"-preacher's wife rounds, I sat in the foyer. And, they came to me. (Now why didn't I think of that sooner?!) I didn't think I was sick. I thought that I was just exhausted from a 5 hour game of video scavenger hunt in high-heels.
We all hit Wal-Mart on the way home and picked up some sicky medicines. The kids all took their showers and doses and had their hugs and kisses and trotted off to bed.
I played Mortal Kombat with my hubby until 9:30 and then I had to hit the sack. (This should have been my second clue - I'm a night owl, and killing my husband in combat video games is what I love to do!)
I woke up the next morning feeling "ew". Creepy, crawly... I asked Derek to find the thermometer... and I had a fever of 101.4. Not a high fever... but the stoopid thing never beeped, so I wasn't sure it was done, but I knew I was done having it jab the underside of my tongue.
He went off to run a few errands, and get some work done, and Chante' threw a blanket in the dryer for me (tell you what, this kid knows me!) and covered me with it. I doubt it's good for the fever, but it did wonders for the mommy.
By the time Derek got home my thermometer read 103.5. It still didn't beep, and I still didn't care. I knew I was sick.
My sore throat had taken a back burner to the fever, but it would soon get my undivided attention.
Over the next two days I learned a few things:
You won't eat. You won't want to. You won't even be hungry. You can look a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie in the eye and not even care to take a whiff.
You'll drink only because you know you'll be really sick if you don't.
Gatoraide is yummy, but it leaves a film on the back of your throat. DOH!
With strep throat, you can develop epiglotitis, which can cause excessive drooling... which is fun when you CAN'T SWALLOW!
Since you'll probably drown in your sleep, a visit to www.webmd.com in the middle of the night helps you feel more informed, but not necessarily better.
Your brother-in-law's trips to Mexico last year paid off for you in the form of Amoxycillin! Yay brother-in-law! (Of course, the only way the rancher-turned preacher could relate the medical information to you was to tell of cows and milk-fever. Fascinating, to be sure...)
After the first dose of medicine, you hope you'll start feeling better. But, you won't. You may feel worse. Have a bucket handy for the nausea.
After two days of sitting up, laying down and spitting, you may finally gave in to one night of fever-breaking. Three soaked night shirts and three soaked pillow-cases later, the fever will be done. Mostly.
Your kids are sweeter than you ever knew... they'll wake up and come to you and ask you how you're feeling... and when they hear your response, they'll be relieved and tell you they prayed for you in bed last night. (Then one will fart and the other will yell "doorknob" and the stinky chase begins. But you're too sore to tell them you don't like that game... you're still smiling knowing they were praying for you.)
And, you find out just at the worst of it, when you think you can't handle anymore discomfort or pain just how good your husband's hand feels when it's rested on your head.
You'll learn your a trooper. The family needs you to be healthy and up and and at it soon. You'll drink and drink and take your medicines on the hour and get better as soon as you can... cuz Ramen Noodles is better than nothing, and Taco Bueno is better than Ramen Noodles, but nothing is better than mom's pot roast with fresh baked biscuits.
I'm so ready to be back in the game...
Have a bit of a sore throat today, but the fever's gone. Lost five pounds on this, the worst diet ever.
Gotta go, I think I'm hungry...
Is that Frosted Flakes? Do I dare?
-Jennifer-

2007-01-04T20:50:00.000-08:00

You know how it is... after a great party. You take a hot shower, and while still wrapped in a steaming towel, you fall back first onto a clean, fluffy bed... exhausted.

Ahhhh... Christmas is over.

And... I did fall, back first into bed. But, not in a hot steamy towel... instead I was clutching Zicam in one hand and a fistful of kleenexes in the other. Christmas day, I kept finding quiet places in my sister's house to lay down. I didn't know it then, but my "chills" and "creepy, crawlies" were actually a low-grade fever that would move in for a few days. Sigh.

But, put your violin away... pity party is over...

Christmas was delightful! I did make all the cookies and handmade, sentimental gifts for everyone that I had planned to make. And, I think most folks liked them... a lot. (Made my mom cry... sorry mom!)

And, the kids opened their gifts with their cousins. The gifts were all colour co-ordinated (soooo Jennifer), and wrapped in retro paper. Sooo kewl. Derek wrapped the best gifts in the gold paper and the kids opened them last. The kids got the Game Cube they were sooo hoping for! And, six of their favourite games. Aw, you shoulda seen it! The disbelief, the screaming, and even a few tears shed by the little one. He was simply amazed. It was a great feeling to give the kids something really special this year. My heart nearly burst!

I was so ill for the two days after Christmas that my Christmas tree and decorations stayed up. And, come Thursday, we were off on a youth adventure... a missions training retreat for our youth.

I've been home since Monday, and still the Christmas decorations are up. Ah, work and church and homeschool and simple tiredness of the Christmas and the flu and the weekend... simply won't let me at 'em. I'd rather sit BESIDE my tree and wish it would put itself away... or blog. Hehe.

Gotta hit the sack.

-Jennifer-

2006-12-14T13:48:00.000-08:00

So, I've got Wilson Pickett playing "Mustang Sally" on the radio, and shortbread cookies in the oven. My house smells like buttery cookies rolled in coconut - and I love it!
Derek's taken the kids to the 50 cent theater, and I have some space and time to get my Christmas gifts made. Sweeeeeet.

Our lives are about to be in a period of transition again... in only a matter of weeks. And, I'm not sure how I feel about it. Not sure I feel anything about it. Not sure if that's good or bad. Either I'm out of touch with reality, or I have greater faith than I thought...

The holidays are upon us, and I really wanted to be ready for it this time. Really wanted it to be special for my kids. And, I'm putting sentimental gifts together for the rest of the 25 people that will be there in the afternoon. (Not including some of my favourite people at church.)

So, I've made some fanastic photo gifts for my mom. Hinged framed gifts, a nightlight, and have a small memory book in the works. I hope she'll love it. We're just not made of dough, and we've lived apart from my family for soooo many years... Usually our Christmases are so small. But, not this year. I had to do something, but I had to something inexpensive. And, being me, it had to be meaningful.

So, shortbread thumbprint cookies rolled in coconut and topped with raspberry jelly are piling up in crinkly Christmas bags and topped with ribbon. Those are for the teen boys.

I'm making photo bracelets on ribbon for the girls.

Custom made and personalized photo memory books are in the works for the couples.

Candles have already been made and personalized. Those are for the older couples.

Anyway, I'm up to my eyeballs in paper, cookies and ideas.

Gotta get back at it.

-Jennifer-

2006-12-08T10:10:00.000-08:00

Hm... must have been in a funk when I wrote my last post.

I started yesterday in a pretty good mood. It was hubby's day off. That's always a good start.
I turned on Christmas music after breakfast and danced with two of my three kids in the living room. Hopefully Derek hasn't installed some hidden cameras. My kids get their rhythm from their daddy... hehe.

I created gifts for my family for Christmas. I found some old pictures of mom and dad (back in the '50's) and made a hinge-framed picture set. Worked on some candles, beadwork and then spent the rest of the afternoon making Martha Washingtons and peanut butter balls. Yummy!

I was wiped by the end of the day. And, sooooo sugared out.

Derek brought home a load of already chopped wood and started a roaring fire for me. I finished decorating the mantle and settled down for a hot cup of chai.

It was a great day off.

I work today. Ugh. But, after work, I'm going to start where I left off.

Something about the previous post made me wonder... Do we (Christians) lead people to Christ or to church? Huge difference.

BTW, on the church's answering machine this morning was a message left for Jesus Christ, this fella wants Jesus to call him back. He left his name and number, I think my hubby will give him a call.

-Jennifer-

2006-12-06T23:37:00.000-08:00

Can I get real for a minute?

(Sensitive viewers consider yourself warned. This post may be spiritually explicit. Not suitable for spiritually immature viewers.)

Why is it so hard to convince folks in the church of Christ that God wants a personal relationship with him? Hm? What's up with that?

The balking, the cringing, the whispering... the dead silence in my class was enough to shut down the most experienced of teachers.

I didn't teach apostasy, blasphemy... so what's the deal?

Or is this news to us? That God actually desires more from us than a punch in and punch out card that's perfectly filled...

C'MON!

What kind of church have I associated myself with that cringes at the thought of having an intimate, delight filled relationship with it's creator? What is so foreign about that? You gotta tell me that wasn't meat... puleeeze tell me that was milk and they just got it down the wrong pipe! They were choking on it! How on earth have they made it this far in their spiritual warfare without a personal relationship with their redeemer! What have they been doing for the PAST TEN YEARS?!!! Ugh. I'm so thoroughly frustrated.

Mind you... it wasn't the whole class. But teaching it was akin to swimming upstream in molasses.

Naturally, I have one heckler. A whisperer. She's above it all. This is all beneath her. She "doesn't need this" she tells me every class. And, yet she shows up every week. I suppose God has her there to keep me humble? I silently prayed for her right in the middle of class. We'll see what happens with that.

I can't even begin to explain to you how difficult it is to teach a class... a bible class... when you know you are right in the middle of a spiritual assault. NO... a loooong spiritual battle. I feel so incredibly weak... vulnerable... unqualified... I have come a long way from leaning on my own understanding and strength... but during these latest weeks my personal strength has run dry and I am strictly surviving on spiritual fumes. Certainly aware that I am not the best qualified for the job. And yet... no one else will step up. Hopefully when I am done, this will change.

I am baffled by this realization that wanting a closeness with God makes me a liberal nut to my obviously "conservative" sisters... Mm Mm. I never considered myself liberal or conservative... and I don't know what this make me now.... or makes them.

I'll forge on as long as God requires me to...

Signing out unapologetically...

-Jennifer-

2006-12-06T07:58:00.000-08:00

You know, when you're 12 you think you're going to be like this forever. Just as you are. Your body will never wear out. You already know everything there is to know. All that's left to look forward to is marriage and babies.
Then you finish middle school and Jr. High, and move on to highschool. And, it's there that you just know you will never change. You know so much more than you did when you were 12, and now, you've got the marraige thing pretty much lined up with the boy-of-the-month.
Then you graduate. And, you're in limbo-land. Too old to be hanging out with highschoolers, and too young to be hanging out with the young adults. Most of which have started their degrees and talk in code: "I got my AA, only to switch majors and go for a BS. I'll start taking 300 classes early, but only if I can change my GPA..."
So, you jump into the college thing. And, that's when you KNOW that you will never change. You're living in a dorm, 3 meals a day, and you take the classes you want to take. At least, you HOPE you never change. The guys are hot here.
Then your college money runs out, and you're living in town, hoping to get back into college again.
So, you get your own place. You fanaggle over the rent with the landlord, and begin to decorate with other people's leftovers. And, though it's kinda weird, you never really thought much of working a full-time job and holding down your own fort. Paying rent and utilities is the most grown up thing you do all month. Every month. But, you still hit the movies and hang out at Subway with your boyfriend... and life is pretty much perfect. No plans to move forward, but wouldn't go back to highschool for nothin'!
Then you start talking marriage. A breeze, right? It'll be the same as now, except one of us will move in with the other... You'll never change. You'll have the endless energy you have now, only a few more responsibilities when the baby comes.... I mean, who doesn't love babies, right? You've been looking forward to this day since you were 12. You've had it planned out for nearly a decade!
Then the baby comes. No one told you they have a different clock than you. (Funny how I didn't mind being up at 3am with my fiancee, but it's different with an infant!) Suddenly, you realize everything has changed. YOU are no longer the center of the universe. And, you slowly realize... even at 3am... you're okay with that. You'd do anything to provide and protect this little crying creature. And, motherhood isn't anything like you had imagined when you were 12. It's so much harder and so much better!
Then you're infant turns 1 and is into everything. Turns 2 and says "no!", and gets it's first paddling. She's 3 and asks "whyyyy?". She's four and gets bossy. She's 6 and toothless. She's eight and has drama with her little friends. She's 10 and wants her ears peirced. She's 12 and she has it all figured out. She'll never change.
So, you try to tell her that she will... and she looks at you blankly and asks if she can start wearing make-up.
My daughter turns 12 next year... and she's got it all figured out.
-Jennifer-

2006-11-30T07:38:00.000-08:00

A recent journal entry...

From the "Captivating Journal"...
"Healing is available. this is the offer of our Savior- to heal our broken hearts. To come to the young places within us and find us there, take us in his arms, bring us home. The time has come to let Jesus heal you. Pray.
Jesus, come to me and heal my heart. Come to the shattered places witin me. Come for the little girl that was wounded. Come and hold me in your arms and heal me. Do for me what you promised to do-heal my broken heart and set me free.
Sit quietly. Perhaps journal a little bit. And, rest assured that Jesus heard your cry, has come for you, and will continue to come. Listen for his voice. What is he saying to you?"

(I wrote as I listened:)
Oh, sweet wounded one. I've been here all along. Thank you for letting me in to heal you. I see where & how & by whom you've been hurt. Thank you for forgiving them. My relationship with you is sweeter when your heart is free of that bitterness. You are loved. You are lovely. You were worth creating & so worth restoring. Wait til you see what I have planned for you, Jen. I love you... Jesus.

-Jennifer-

2006-11-17T18:11:00.000-08:00

It's "Man vs. Wild" - Derek King edition in my living room. We have a fireplace, but no fireplace tools (ya know, the long handled brush, poker and dustpan)... so , Derek was using his bare hands to re-arrange the wood in the fireplace... but just now switched to his handy-dandy hammer. He won't get hurt... he's too smart for that. But, he might let the house burn... hehe...
My tummy is hurting tonight. I'll have to be brief.
The "Most Wonderful Time of the Year" is upon us. Mmmm... my season for chai and homemade shortbread. Baking and melting and decorating and creating. This is truly "Jennifer's Springtime!" I come alive this time of year!
Our christmas gifts this year will reflect the first "Christmas"... Jesus recieved three gifts - Gold - an extravagant gift, Mhyrr - a practical gift, and Frankensence - a Spiritual Gift. So... my children will be recieving the same sorts of things. No, not gold and spices. But, we have an extravagant gift planned for the kids... something that we would never afford on any other day of the year... something that will totally blow their minds. Gotta get it on video... note to self. The practical gift will come to me as I see things they need - on a personal basis, and the spiritual thing is something that Derek and I will pray about... and observe in my kids.
BUT... as for the REST of our family (I have 11 brothers and sisters, 45+ neices and nephews, oodles of married-into-the-family type folks and some cousins and such coming down from Canada...) I will be making home made gifts for them. Not cheesy stuff that you set aside when you see it... real, handcrafted works of art or delightful treats - nothing but the best. And, really... that's what excites me the most!
My kids are playing Christmas music in their rooms right now... chips off the old block, eh? (Transsiberian Orchestra no-less!)
Well, while my tummy mends tonight, I'll be pulling out jewlery making kits, card crafting kits, books on homemade gifts, acrylic paints and canvases, and making a list of who gets what and when to start and finish.
Creating and giving... wow... that's my favourite thing in the whole world!
Sigh...
-Jennifer-

2006-11-13T20:50:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting at my desk, wrapped in a sparkling red blanket and covered in my old York College sweatshirt. A too-weak cup of chai is cooling off next to me and I am struggling with what to write.
Today was my hubby's day off. I enjoyed the afternoon, reading excerpts from books to eachother, we hit the movies and watched Pirates of the Caribbean, Dead Man's Chest for 50 cents a ticket and then hit Barnes and Noble for some more book reading. We're peas in a pod. (I did however, sneak away to Hobby Lobby to pick up that embossing heat gun I had coveted for far too long.)
I have just come off of an incredibly busy week. Some time ago, in a ladies class, it was brought up that the ladies desperately wanted another Ladies Retreat. Most of the ladies who had hosted and put on the last one had since left the church (ugh, huge issue - can't be addressed here - perhaps another time), and there was a gap between wanting and having.
I stood in the gap. Why? Who knows?
By the way... I have opened this blog window and written in this space several times in the past months only to close it up unsaved. I think I'll post this one... see where it takes me. ("Girlfriend has commitment issues!")
I spoke at this retreat... twice. I was sort of the emcee, but was also one of the session leaders and the featured speaker last night.
Mmmm last night was nice. We had ladies church down at a local private park (owned by friends of mine). They built a huge bonfire and made hot apple cider for all of us. The ladies showed up in their warmest attire, and wrapped in blankets sat on the enormous logs as we worshipped together. Sadly, I only spent an hour preparing my lesson... but it was delivered with much passion... and I pray that the ladies were blessed by it.
I spoke on embracing God, doubt, faith and grace. I emphasized that we are not enough. We were created to be incomplete without him - and to feel like we are falling short is how it's supposed to be... until we take our first step of faith. Then, much like our first step on an escalator - God takes us from there. I hoped that every woman in the audience had experienced God's grace and that it wouldn't stop there - that women would share it with other women and shine forever like stars in the universe.
Anyway... between the smoke and the hot chocolate and s'mores and the shaky start to my lesson... I think it was all good. But I am tired.
You know... Yesterday - I went with a friend to pick up a table she bought at an antique store down the street from my house. While I was browsing, I found an old tiara. Simple, tarnished and beautiful. A large star was placed on top of two little "hills" - between them. And, that was it! I asked the clerk how much it was (the tag was blank) - she figured it to be $2. I took it. I bought it impulsive and placed it on my head on the way out the door. I didn't want to place it in my purse, lest it break - so the natural place to "hold" it seemed to be my head. And then I promptly forgot about it.
My friend and my sister and I went to Sam's Club to seek out the perfect wedding gift for the shower that afternoon. I shopped for an hour and folks seemed to look at me a little longer and smile. I smiled back. I thought "Jeez, I must look good!". Or... maybe people were just extra friendly at the beginning of the holiday season. In any event, we purchased our fantastic gifts and drove on to the church. I dropped my gifts off there and printed of the scriptures I would use at the campfire that night. My sweet hubby brought some tennis shoes and my old sweatshirt to me - and I snagged them in my rush out the door.
It wasn't until I hopped in the church van and pulled on my sweatshirt that I realized I was still wearing my new old tiara! No one, not my sister, friend, Sams' Club shoppers, church friends, not even my daughter made mention of my tiara! The ladies in the van were tickled... we drove on out to the bonfire together... but I kept the tiara on. I didn't want to lose it in the van.
When I arrived at the bonfire, it was roaring! Old leaves seemed to make the fire rage... if only for a moment. And, as I was speaking - and as some of the ladies were getting chilly - someone would throw a leafy branch on the fire. And, all of the ladies would bask in it's temporary rage of fire. But, the leaves would burn out and then the ash would float way up in the air and still glowing, land all around us.
As I was speaking someone shouted out..."Jen! You have fire on your head!" I brushed my hair out quickly, bumping my once again forgotten tiara. I didn't want to have a Michael Jackson moment right there in front of everyone! Then there was a murmur. Some of the women had imagined it to be fire, but it was my tiara sparkling - reflecting the fire on my head. They said it looked like a sort of anointing. We all laughed together.
After the session, singing, and prayer we all sang silly songs together around the campfire and the little girls took turns wearing my tiara. What joy that little $2 trinket brought to folks that day.
I have so much going on in my life, in my heart... and I really do want to share it all. But, I don't know where or with whom to start!
I do want to say this...
I have been getting closer to God. He has reassured me of his forgiveness and unconditional love. Though, he has also been reminding me that while his love is unconditional, his promises are not. Mmm... and that is where I need to grow.
I'm sorry for my absence... not only in writing or not writing... but my emotional absence as I write.
I want to get real again.
More later.
-Jennifer-

2006-10-16T22:34:00.000-07:00

Okay... fuggetaboutit. I can't do it. I can't do the writer's idea thing on this blog. It makes me literary constipated. I don't know if it's performance anxiety or what. I'm just going to go back to where I was and just be me. Whew. Gosh!
I started the class I'd been threatening to start for some time. I hadn't started it because I just didn't know if I had it in me to be a leader in our church. I was new... but that wasn't why. I had just come through a traumatic thing with our last church, and I came out of there feeling about this big >=<. My heart had been trampled and I had become rather unsure of myself. Insecure. I'm not over it, by the way. I still feel insecure... insufficient. BUT... I also feel God's calling. So, I've answered. And, I trust that he's got my back.
The class is based on the John and Staci Eldrege book: Captivating. I had read it through once. And, I was completely overwhelmed with it - the truth of it. I had brought it up in our Ladies' Class as a possible next subject and they all jumped on it. Secretly, I had hoped someone else would lead the class - I just wanted to recommend the book. But, it turns out I am teaching it.
Anyway, I say all that just to say this: When God calls, listen and respond.
Tonight at a ministry leaders' meeting, one of our new christians - with tears in her eyes - expressed her appreciation for the class. (So far, I've only taught two.) Seems the class needed to be had.
My heart is weary. Being yanked out of one ministry, moving out of state away from your dearest friends and family and into a new state, culture and church and thrust into leadership was just a little more than I thought I could handle in a few months. I really didn't have the desire to teach. To be looked at. To be in charge. But... it's what God seems to have required from me. I pray that I am meeting his approval.
On a different note...
Zion's birthday party is Thursday. We're having a pirate party. Skull and crossbones and everything. I'm even having a shipwrecked ship planted in my front yard... (did I mention I used to do theater?) it'll have torn sails and a pirate's flag (which is sitting on my desk next to me thanks to Zachary our 6 foot 300 pound gothic new christian teen). I went out and bought a few things for ambiance, but I think the kids will have a hoot!
I"m making a pirate ship cake. Fruit Roll-Ups for sails, and so on ... Zion has the kewlest costume ever, eye patch, sashes and pirates' wig included. Jack Sparrow - watch out! Zion doesn't know this, but he's getting a kewl pirates' sword, dagger and gun on his birthday. Kid loves to play dress up. (He gets it from his mom's side.) For dinner, we're having fish n' chips. And, Derek's going to have a tonne of games for the kids to play. THAT will be the most fun.
Oh, and it's a costume party. Everyone is coming as a pirate. And, I'll have a mural out on the front lawn as a scene setter... for pictures. I'll post them later.
Creating is what I love to do. If I could be a Chief Creative Officer for some maginificent company... I'd do it in a heartbeat. After my kids are raised... and if we weren't doing some sort of mission work somewhere. In the meantime, the churches get my creative attention. (Poor things!)
This blog is all over the place. Prolly should wrap it up.
-Jennifer-

2006-10-09T23:11:00.000-07:00

"Everyone wants a Saviour, no one wants a Lord."
The words echo in my mind this week. The free spirit has stopped to listen.
Is it true? Is that me? Have I thanklessly been freed and snatched my salvation then rejected His Lordship only to - in a fury of spirited living - entangle myself again?
I cannot be my own master. It's not for a lack of intelligence. I have some. It's not for a lack of will. I have plenty. It's for a lack of divine wisdom. I have none.
Have I surrendered myself to Him?
God has been so patient with me.
He watches and waits as I wrestle, frustrated, head down, eyes brimming with tears to untangle the messes I've made in my life. My own doing. He encourages, He comforts, He offers to help, but in my stubborn pride, I tell him I've got it. So, He waits patiently.
When will I stop and realize that He alone understands the tangle and has the wisdom, and the forethought to unravel the mess?
Why am I so stubborn? What purpose has it served? Have I mistaken it for strength? Such foolishness.
I still hesitate to call him to be Lord... because I know that means Lord of ALL. What am I holding back? What am I afraid I will lose? My freedom? My spirit?
My creator knows me. And, He is amused at his creation. A wild child. Barefoot, free, daring, unafraid... and... entangled. Again.
God, show me. I believe... but help my unbelief.
-Jennifer-

2006-09-25T23:38:00.000-07:00

Schnitzel with noodles: Favourite things
Old movies, the smell of popcorn, finding change, new lipgloss, seeing my breath in the night air, puppy breath, crisp fall mornings, children laughing, caramel, caramel apples, harvest, friends gathered around a fire, reminiscing, things that work, being noticed - appreciated, the smell of babies, flying, the smell of the ocean before I actually see it, imagining the ocean is just over that hilltop, the crackle of the fire in my fireplace, the first snow, falling asleep in the hammock, telling a joke right, a hot shower, getting up early despite my body's resistance, crisp pancakes with hot syrup, snuggling up to a good book with a cup of chai and some biscotti, planning special events for people, checking my e-mail and finding a real letter in there for me, fresh home made salsa with toasted chips in front of an episode of LOST, inside jokes, the first lick on an icecream cone, making homemade waffles, walking in dewy grass barefoot, the smell of cut grass, the smell of gasoline, sunrises, Canada, fresh picked blueberries, walking on the lakeshore, a strong stick for hiking, camping, painting, learning or mastering a new skill, singing, acoustic guitar, smelling my husband's cologne behind his ear, falling asleep, Christmas smells, Christmas music, decorating for any holiday, these are a few of my favourite things.

2006-09-23T08:00:00.000-07:00

I only have a minute before a hundred kids start coming through the door for the late Saturday morning pancake breakfast we are hosting here in our home. But, I wanted to share with you just a few things. Okay, one thing. (Remember, I'm out of time...) I've decided to take writing more seriously. I'd like to be a writer some day. Maybe even get published. (Try to stiffle the giggles.) I feel like I have a hundred ideas floating in my mind... and it's time they landed on paper. So... I have just had my computer fixed. Bought a book on writing "The Writer's Idea Book" by Heffron. Heffron... sounds like a spice. Anyway... I'll start writing here. I'll post my articles, stories and poems... my exercises here. Hope they amuse some, inspire others and make their way into a book. Uh... MY book. Hehe. Gotta get the sausage patties, um, patted. See ya!-Jennifer-

2006-08-22T21:24:00.000-07:00

Funniest thing happened to me yesterday. Had it happened a month ago, I'd have been mortified. Had it happened during that very special time of the month I'd have been outraged. But, as it was, it was hilarious. At the time.
I was visiting a church member at the hospital... she had just had a baby... I waiting to be let inside the Labour and Delivery doors. I was dressed in my black with white striped workout pants, flipflops, and my long v-neck t-shirt. Casual. Hair dolled up... make up on. Thought I looked cute. My husband was there with me... looking away at the map of the floor.
A hospital worker walked up and stood beside me. She was waiting for the doors to open too. She mumbled apologetically about being in the way. I smiled, and said "No problem". She looked around me to the front of us, and a look of suprise came over her face... "Oh my goodness! Your'e in labour!"...
"Uh... no..." I stated. Then... deep down inside... I started grinning. It struck me as funny. She thought I was at full term and I was just fat! I was wearing what looked like a comfy outfit for labour... but I was just trying to look sporty. She had just made the biggest blunder a woman could make with another woman... and I was about to die laughing! I shoulda been hurt... but I was trying so hard not to just erupt into laughter!
She looked stunned... and couldn't speak another word. Couldn't even muster up some sort of explanation or apology. Poor thing. I'd rather be me than her in that situation.
I grinned and turned away... trying so hard not to giggle. Derek had found the right doors and we started down the hall way.
I asked him if he'd overheard our conversation. He said "no". I told him. He looked at me blankly. He was probably thinking... "Oh My Gosh... how's she gonna react? What kind of damage am I going to have to repair here? One careless comment is HOW many hours of reassurance?" I'm sure his mind was racing. How was he going to have to deal with me for the next few hours... days?
I told him how I almost hit the floor laughing.
"Really?!" he asked. A bit shocked.
"Really." I assured him.
I explained that I had already had it in my mind that these were the last days of me being careless with my body. I had allowed circumstances to shape me... literally. And, I told him that it just fueled the fire within me... a reminder of WHY things needed to change. A funny reminder.
I know that lady probably went home mortified. I should have let her off the hook and laughed in front of her. Woulda made her feel somewhat better. But... the incident... the wake up call... the "cringe moment"... was really for me.
I'm taking pains to change my lifestyle. This body is a tool, meant for good service to God... and at this point I take better care of my car than I do of my body. (Which reminds me... my car needs an oil change.)
In the meantime... it turns out that we really CAN choose our responses to things...
I still think it's funny...
-Jennifer-

2006-08-20T17:32:00.000-07:00

Been a while since I blogged last. I know you missed me.

I’m stuffed into a U-Haul and headed out of Sacramento. But perhaps I should start at the beginning.

We’ve been job searching for three months. In the meantime, we had packed a few belongings into our mini-van and headed out to Little Rock, AR to work in the ministries with a congregation there. We had left the bulk of our belongings in a 10X25 storage unit in Folsom. We figured that whoever hired and moved us would have to move us from Sacramento rather than paying a few thousand to move ourselves only to have to turn around and move again.

We’ve been living with my older sister. She and her husband have an enormous house and eight kids. Two of which have since married and moved on. But, hey! What’s five more?

It’s been great there. We’ve managed to get to know the church in a way that you wouldn’t if you had just stopped in and visited from time to time. We’ve dug in and got to know the congregation… worked alongside and long enough to really get a glimpse of just what makes this family tick.

These guys have no elders, deacons or youth minister. Really, the Lord has worked through the preacher and the treasurer to keep the church rolling. It has been through quite a bit in the last few years. More on that later.

We worked hard for weeks writing and phoning churches looking for what it was God wanted us to do. We received a few return calls and Derek did a few phone interviews. Nothing really materialized from it all. However, our work with the church there did spark something within them. We accompanied them on their medical missions trip to Mexico. After we returned, we met with the church staff hiring committee. They decided to hire us on a temporary/probational basis.

Derek is working until January as the Associate Minister for our church with a focus on youth and young adults. After January, the congregation will decide if they want to keep Derek and whether or not they can afford to. And, we are both grateful for the work and for the opportunity to apply much of what we have learned in recent years.

The church does come with some issues. (As I’m sure, so do we.) They aren’t able to completely afford what Derek requires as far as a salary goes. And, as with many congregations who have trouble, people have spoken with their cheque books.

So, I am working as the church secretary to offset some of what Derek needs in the meantime. This, too is temporary as I’d prefer to allow Derek to do the breadwinning, and me to do the bread-baking if you know what I mean.

The congregation has paid for our move from CA to AR… and so we flew on Monday to retrieve our things. We rented a truck, loaded it and are heading back from CA.

I missed CA like you wouldn’t believe. Just stepping off the plane and breathing the fresh air… light, cool air… sigh. I was even chilled a bit! It was great seeing neighbourhoods I once knew intimately. Wondered with every passing road how “so and so” down there was doing.

We visited one of Derek’s mentors. Curt is an old, self-taught preacher who really has taken Derek under his wing. He met us in his overalls under his carport. So glad to see us… and we were so glad to see him! He invited us in for a coke, and we sat in his little living room and tried to solve all the world’s ills. Well, the church’s anyway. We visited much longer than what we had time for. And, he encouraged us in our work in AR, though he made it clear that he wanted us back here in CA. He reminded Derek to preach the truth unashamedly… boldly. We expressed what this congregation had been through… and he thought a good dose of truth spoken in love would be just the prescription for their ills. We prayed together and made our way out the door. The brother seems to be in better health than when we left, so I am confident that we will see him again before too long.

We’ve already gone through some culture shock in AR. Everyone goes through it I’ve heard. We’d lived there for a year and secretly vowed never to return. But… God has ways of making you eat your words. Hehe. I haven’t become accustomed to the accent. And, I’m used to being able to read people… but in AR EVERYONE is sweet.

We’re driving down Highway 99 passing eucalyptus trees, almond groves and palm trees. The weather here is soooo much nicer. Yes… it’s hot, but not oppressively so.

Yesterday, Derek decided to take the U-Haul to our former church to see the kids at the learning center where we both used to work. Everyone was puzzled to see the big, orange truck pull up. Once Derek hopped out, the field of playing children cleared and he was rushed by a team of sweaty 6-10 year olds. We hugged kids as fast as we could, calling each of them by name. It was Jimmy’s birthday, Brandon had a birthday too, CJ had lost his two front teeth and Danika had dyed her hair pink. She was in trouble. We really love these kids. Missed them tremendously.

I’ve napped a while and decided to start writing again. Just went through the most interesting landscape. There is a part of CA that just takes you by surprise. We turned off of Highway 99 and headed directly east to the mountain pass. As we approached, the plains turned golden, interrupted by the greenest of grape fields. Not too long afterward, we were in the most golden rolling hills. A few dark green oak trees dotted the landscape, looking almost too perfect to be real. We wandered our way up through the pass and found ourselves in a town nestled in a small valley – Tehachapi. The tops of the rocky hills here are peaked with hundreds of massive white wind turbines. Most of them not turning. After the pass, we settled out onto a very flat desert area. The Mojave. The cactus trees here are thick and awkward with what looks like thick grasses poking out the ends of each twisted branch. The dirt is covered with clumps of sagebrush and the road seems to go on forever. In the distance a few purple lumpy mountains have staked their claim. My rearview mirror is half filled with blue sky and half filled with dusty mountain peaks. My cold has gotten the best of me and my ears are painfully plugged. I’ve yawned until my jaws have turned sore. Dunno when I’ll be able to hear it all again.

Guess it’s time to wrap up this one.

You’ll hear from me again soon.

-Jennifer-

2006-07-29T23:33:00.000-07:00

I'll be draggin' in church tomorrow if I write this... but I'll be distracted if I don't. So here it goes!

There is so much more to tell you about the work in Mexico.

We spent the days in Rio Bravo and Progresso, worked hard and headed home to our clean rooms and cool showers. (Didn't take a hot shower all week!) We went out for fast food and woke up to a fantastic continental breakfast. Home made belgian waffles, or french toast, or muffins or cereal, or bagels, fruit, hardboiled eggs, yogurt... coffee, juice, milk. It was a feast! My morning plate was usually french toast, on which I sprinkled cinnamon and poured maple syrup and butter, yogurt, a glass of milk and a banana to go. It would be a hard days' work before lunch.

We loaded up the buses at 7:00am and headed for the border. It was already muggy... I just had to tell myself that this was the cool time of day. We'd generally sing on the way to the clinics, or laughed and shared antics and stories.

Once we arrived, the clinics were just setting up. I'd find work to do... tidy here, take a grandmother to the eye clinic there. Mostly just trying to find my spot. I usually found it with the children. Our group was in charge of the VBS... though I wasn't teaching. Two local women did their best to wrangle the kids into one spot, as we sat by cutting the papers for them and passing out crayons. We knew the teaching part of VBS was over when she packed up her box and left. That's usually about the time chaos would ensue. And... shortly before lunch. The preacher's wife would drag out a few boxes of things that would keep the kids amused. Bubbles, crayons, candy, and on the final day, hula hoops and jumpropes. Derek joined me on the last day to play with the kids. He managed to snag an interpreter and explained the rules to the games we would play when we worked at the daycare: "Bulldog" and "Mosquito Net". Chasing games. Kids anywhere love 'em! He was an instant hit! He'd count "Uno!"..."Dos!"..."Tres!" and the kids would start screaming and running. Parents started to come by just to watch. It really was amazing to see our little ones mixed in with the locals and realize that chase was a universal language!

I realized that we had loads of candy that no one wanted to take home. Little packages of Chiclets and Tootsie Rolls. I began to pass them out to anyone who wanted them. My interpreter taught me the word for "sweets", which I've long since forgotten. The kids were thrilled. I was a little concerned when the kids would put the candy in their mouths, wrapper and all... until I realized... they unwrap the candy IN their mouths. I was a little alarmed, but a sweet mexican lady politely laughed... and reassured me in Spanish that the kids here do it all the time.

By the time all the candy was passed out (I think it took three rounds), I realized that the line over by the clothing station was still going strong...and there were kids there who were not allowed by their parents to come over to where the games were being played. I went back to the room of goodies and brought out balloons. I asked the interpreter for the word for "Balloon" and was suprised to hear it sounded very similar to ours. A word which, too... has long since been forgotten. The children loved them too. Many would come back and ask for one more ... for their "Armana?". I smiled and told them to bring their sister here and I would give her one. Only two or three sisters showed up. The kids were clever... but they saw I was ... um... cleverER!

Friday was a typical hot, busy day. Our lunches were difficult times. Families had been there since dawn to be first in line, and many of them didn't bring water or a lunch. So, when we were served ours, we were told we could share or not share... it was up to us. Usually a lady came by asking how many lunches would be in your group. I always doubled the number and passed out sandwiches... which were usually turned down two or three times before they were taken. Dunno what that was about. We all brought our own waters, and were much to thirsty to even think about drinking a soda. The chips were from Mexico... and each Dorito had enough seasonings on it for the whole bag! Most chips were left behind. It was enough to pickle the American tummy! After a hurried lunch, we'd head outside to see what was left of work.

Lunches were late, so work usually ended right after lunch. I was always anxious to get back on the bus and get home, and then at the same time reluctant to leave. I was worried there was just one more little one out there who didn't get a bubbles of her own, or a hungry little one who'd like my banana.

The last day I was there, I held what must have been a six month old baby most of the morning. One of the teens had him, and I watched for a while, wondering where the mama was. There was a stroller, but no diaper bag or bottle. He held a cracker which he promptly dropped and a toddler must have picked up. After a while he began to fuss, so I took him over. We cuddled and played and when I realized he was hungry I went to the lunch room.

The lunch room. It was the weirdest thing. We were in a school... the door had a sign posted "Do not come to us, your lunch will come to you." "Workers only, please."

I opened the door hesitantly... I wasn't a lunch worker, but I had a little fella who was hungry and no mama in sight.

The room was blasted with cold air and there must have been 20 white haired people in there making PBJ sandwiches! They all looked up at me at the same time. One lady came up to shoo me out. I couldn't believe that 20 people came all the way to Mexico to make sandwiches. It boggled my mind. Once I saw that I was being pushed out, I explained that I needed something for the baby to eat. They were quite helpful. Someone found a banana, someone else a peanutbutter lid, and a spoon, and a cup of very cold water.

I thanked them kindly and went back to the hot play yard where I sat the baby and me in a desk. I mashed the banana and fed it to the little guy whispering a prayer that he wasn't allergic to bananas or peanutbutter. He loved it. He took sips of the cold water like a pro... but seemed suprised at how cold it was.

He was satisfied with his lunch and refused anymore. I cuddled with him a bit longer... it must have already been two hours, but his mama hadn't returned. He was tired, so I started to rock him to sleep... I started to get real hot... baby heat, so I went into the beans and rice room (air conditioned) and that's when he started to cry. I realized the cold bothered him, so I went back outside and his little body went limp... he was in hot heaven! MY babies would have loved the air conditioned room... this little fella found it uncomfortable. So... we sat and we sweated together.

After another hour or so, the same young teen found me and asked if she could hold him. I let her. I went off for just a minute, but when I returned... the mama had picked him up. I never met her.

One afternoon, we all loaded up and were headed to a community where we were building a house and it was ready to be painted. Two vanloads of kids were there... must have been a total of 20 kids and 5 construction workers. As soon as I hopped out of the van I knew we were in trouble. It was HOT... not typically hot, but devistatingly HOT. The crew we were joining were already sitting in what little shade they could find and wiping themselves down... drinking, guzzling water. I walked up warily... beyond the rickety fence was a brand new house... probably 15 feet by 30 feet. Two rooms. Not two bedrooms.. two rooms. In the whole house. We were painting it an unimpressive brown. I asked where the outhouse was... and I was pointed to a skinny shack that was being propped by a few old 2X4's. I decided not to disturb it. A van rolled down the dusty road and stopped right next to me. Only the fourth grader in the car spoke english. They wanted to know if this was the only house we'd be working on, because their house needed help too. I asked our leader, and returned the message that we'd only be working on this one. I told them about the free clinic and VBS too. I turned back to the house knowing that these next few hours would be the hardest.

I looked and looked for a paintbrush, but found none... every one was in use. And, I was useless. I looked around to see what I could clean up... An old candle stick, the 1/4 full mayo jar in the hot sun, the dried out lime, the melting wax candle... these were all on the top of a beaten hutch just outside the door of the new home. I peered into the shack next to it, and realized I was looking right into their old home. The hutch I was leaning on was their kitchen. I decided to leave everything put. What might have been junk to me, might be a treasure to them. Besides.... there was no trash service out there. I moved my way to the front of the building and found the clever concoction they had built... a pump... a well... and a large tub with dirty water in it. I turned the corner and saw more painters... there would be no way I could help today. As I stood on the corner, the hot wind picked up and whipped around the corner cooling my drenched body off. I had found relief. I stood there for just a second realizing that I had found comfort in sweat and hot wind... when I was asked to move over for a painter. I was in the way. I went inside to see if there was any help I could offer there. But there was none. I returned to the back "yard" and found a dog snooping around. I turned the candle stick over to make a bowl and poured some cool water in it for him. He didn't want it. I felt completely useless. And... suddenly I felt the need for a bathroom. I spied the outhouse one more time and promptly decided against it. Who knows what creatures were in there? Could I hover? There was just no way. I decided to take the first van home. The kids were finishing up the house and looking like they weren't going to give up their brushes. I felt bad for about 2 minutes. Just long enough for the van's air conditioning to kick in.

The trip really taught me so much about my priviliges as an American, as a christian. I always went home to a cool room with the Disney channel playing in the background, as I wrestled with where to eat. Where to eat... not WHAT to eat. My mind often went back the kitchen on the hutch. It was still hot in Rio Bravo... and the floor is still hard.

I am blessed. Fat and happy. Are you?

-Jennifer-

2006-07-25T16:06:00.000-07:00

We crossed the border for the first time on Saturday morning, prepared to pass out flyers in the Rio Bravo and Progresso neighborhoods. I videoed our crossing. The road above the Rio Grand was terribly bumpy and there was no easy transition between road and bridge. It was just a huge BUMP on and off the bridge. The river was lined with colourful shanty houses and the American side of the river had a high fence around it as far as you could see. The Mexican Border Crossing area was under construction. Actually... it was difficult to tell if they were building or tearing down. There were concrete chunks every where. After a few minutes of bumpy driving, we approached the actual crossing. A gentleman was in the booth and nothing more than a gate crossing guard appeared to hold the Americans back. (The other side of the highway headed into the US was crowded, however.) We made it through almost without stopping. I was surprised to see that we only paid a fee to go across, but weren’t asked for ID or what our business there was.
First we drove a highway that didn’t seem to have any speed limit. It was well maintained and well marked. The election had just happened and so several political candidates’ pictures were still up. They all looked the same to me... with different faces. One man stood out to me as he had a defiant fist held high. We got off the road and made our way to the Ranch church in Rio Bravo. The building was a grey concrete block building labeled "Iglasia De Christo" behind it were two outhouses. One with pink trim and one with blue. Behind that was a ditch partially filled with water and floating debris. And a shanty house flanked it on the left. Roosters and dogs were already up and busy. Some of the church members met us in the tent-like structure next to the building. We had plans to greet people in their own neighborhoods.
We drove back to Rio Bravo after a short while... and though it was only 9:30 in the morning, it was already quite hot. We drove through the colourful city, making our way through the huge speed bumps and morning traffic. Eventually we crossed the railroad and turned onto a dirt road. The buses unloaded under the shade and we split up into several groups headed in several directions.
The houses were very close together and sometimes it would have been impossible to tell if it was one structure or two if they hadn’t been painted different colours. It was Saturday morning, so we were greeted by people who were tending gardens or families who were meeting out in the cooler morning air. The houses were usually well gated and friendly dogs followed us up and down the street. Each yard was filled to the fullest with all sorts of random items... wash basins and car hoods, pallets and plumbing parts. We noticed that most of the houses still had huge rods sticking up out of the brick and mortar roofing. It was peculiar to us... so we asked about it and learned that the families were not well off, and would build on the houses as they had the cash to do so. The rods were left up in case they had plans to build a second story. We never saw a house with a second story. The gates were ornate and were often topped with broken bottles secured in mortar to keep folks from jumping the walls. People were skeptical and no one spoke English. I looked down at my paper and deciphered what was written on it. I told folks the best that I could about a free clinic at the church of Christ in Rio Bravo. Medical, Dental and vision... and that the children would have a bible school. Then, I would place the green flyer in their hands and hope for the best... wishing them a Buenos Dias...
As we finished up in the streets of Rio Bravo, I noticed that it was our newest Christians who were pounding the pavement harder than any of the rest of us. I think the poverty level of the Mexican families really touched them.
Next we loaded up and did the same sort of thing in Progresso. The streets were wider and I’m not sure they were much safer. It was nearly noon and the sun was beating down on us. Most folks had returned into their darkened houses, so it was more difficult to find families who were willing to speak with us. I walked one street to find a small group of children playing in the water that was running off of what ever their grandmother was cleaning. A little boy was naked and ran back to grandmother, but the older boy who must have been three was talking very loudly to me and had his arms crossed. I couldn’t understand a word he said, but noticed that he kept pointing to his older sister... who was quite shy. She had her little chubby hand held out and presented me with a bright pink flower. I was deeply moved and thanked them for the gift. I nodded at the grandmother and grinned all the way back to my group. It was truly the sweetest gift I received on that trip.
As we loaded up, we realized that a group was missing. It was terribly hot and though we all had our personal containers of water, there just didn’t seem to be enough water to go around. The vans couldn’t run in hot sun without driving because they would overheat... though we desperately wanted the air conditioning. We waited for a while, but when half of that group showed up nearly in tears we started up the van. The group had been accidentally split up and both halves were lost and dehydrating fast. We took one van into the village and began retracing the steps of the first half of the group. Immediately our pre-pharmacy kids took to dunking whole towels in the ice water that was in the cooler and placed them on the red-faced kids. We passed them our own waters and even diet cokes and told them to just sip them slowly. The van was quiet and serious. We were very aware of the graveness of the situation. We drove the bumpy roads and took turn after turn... and eventually we found the other half of the group. We scooted over and began tending to them as well. The younger kids in the group did everything they could to hold it together, but when they thought no one was looking, I saw tears. Being a mama, I snuggled up and cooled them off... I really felt for them. It was the most terrifying thing they’d ever been through. Being lost in a foreign country. They had a great leader who had really gone all out to keep the kids calm and used the cellphone to guide our driver to where he was. His translator had accidentally split the group.
We met the rest of our huge group at a small restaurant in Progresso where nearly 200 ice-cream cones were waiting for us. We took the restaurant over. After we were done cooling ourselves off, we were off to have cokes and do some shopping. Strangely, much of our group didn’t care to shop. They just couldn’t seem to stomach it after what they’d seen.
We all headed home tired and dirty and sweaty. We approached the US border and my anxiety about the validity of my US citizenship set in. I had never used my Indian Status ID card to claim citizenship before... and I was worried. I whispered a short prayer (one of many) as we unloaded to walk through. The building was clean and cool and I was so glad to be on the US side again. The border patrol agent asked everyone their citizenship... including me. I stated that I was a US citizen and then handed him my Canadian ID. Without missing a beat, he asked my for my date of birth and waved me through. I was so relieved.
We washed up in the hotel and went out to eat. Something cheap. I couldn’t get the kids out of my head. The heat. The dirty roads. Supper was swallowed hard. We had a devotional later that night and we could see that all of us had been really moved by what we saw. The medical supplies had been held up at the border for the entire week and we weren’t sure they’d make it through. We prayed about it... it was after all the main reason we were there. Mike had us pray and encouraged us to remember the greatness of God. We prayed some more.
I crumpled into bed that night wondering what worship would be like tomorrow. Do we dress up? Or would that just be rude? Or... do we not dress up and show up in our grubs? Would THAT be rude? I had my kids prepare their regular clothes. And, exhausted we all hit the sack. Zion prayed for the Mexicans to be rich. I thanked God for the little girl’s flower... a symbol of God’s beauty in both of them. We slept hard.
More tomorrow.
-Jennifer-

2006-07-25T16:03:00.000-07:00

Day One:
Thursday, July 13th, 2006
We did all the laundry in the world yesterday. Didn’t think we’d ever see the bottom of the hamper! BUT... when it was all said and done... it was a beautiful sight to behold! We counted outfits, underwear and socks... We went out and bought hats, sunscreen and water bottles for our mission trip to Mexico... okay... and a few more incidentals. It’s amazing what you think you need for a trip.
BUT... here it is... day one.
We woke up around 6am. Kids knocked on the door ready for a shower. Our bags were packed, and all that was needed were some showers and clothes changing. It wasn’t too long before we were faced with breakfast. We had cereal, no milk. Peanut butter, no jelly. Departure time was in 30 minutes... I spied a 15 pound surloin roast on the counter. I thought "mmmm... steak for breakfast... wouldn’t that be something?" then I thought "You’re nuts... there’s no way! There’s no time!" Then I passed Mike on the way out to the car... he had just lit the grill. Oh me of little faith... Steak and eggs for breakfast it was! AND... we made it on time. God must have stood time still for us.
We met up with our bunch at the Conoco gas station where we filled up for the first time. I hopped out and began to paint flames on the sides of the Steinermobile (a 15 passenger bus). Kids thought it was cool...I was just hoping the paint would come off...um... eventually. Hehe.
So... we have already been through the rest of Arkansas, ate in Shreveport, LA, and we are currently on the road to Houston... It’s hot here. HOT. And, humid. But from what I hear the humidity will be soon over. Just in time for some hard work.
I brought face paint for the kids in Mexico... and plan to learn some children’s songs in Spanish... I just hope that my time spent will be useful, and productive. I pray that my children’s hearts be changed forever because they were offered this opportunity so early in life.
Right now, our van is singing all the devo songs they know. Derek is leading them. We have new friends everywhere... and what a blessing that is. The ache for old friends is somewhat eased by the making of new ones. But, that’s just a part of God’s plan, isn’t it?
I’ll be calling old friends today. I know they have been praying for this trip, and they need to know that we are all able to go.
More later.
-Jennifer-

2006-06-28T20:23:00.000-07:00

The house smells fantastic. Home made marinara sauce made with all fresh ingredients (most picked this morning from the garden) is simmering on the stove. We’ll have spaghetti tonight. I have really enjoyed cooking the past few days. Was thinking I’d make spiced orange scones for the early risers tomorrow.
My whole family is going on a medical missions trip to Mexico in two weeks. We are so stoked. Can hardly contain it! DeVon, my oldest son, leaned over to me during Sunday evening worship and whispered "I can’t believe I’m going to be a missionary at age 12! That’s gotta be a record!" I smiled and squeezed him a bit. He thought for a second... "Wait! Chante’s 10... THAT’S the record!" I leaned over and reminded him that his little brother was going too. "Whoah! Zion’s 6! Cool! New Record!". His eyes were wide and excited. I couldn’t resist... "Trinity may go too. She’ll be five." "Holy Cow!" he responded. He was just so excited to know that kids can do missions too! He wanted our family to hold the record for this trip. And, we may. But, I may break it to him that several of his cousins shattered those records by being born while overseas on missions. Don’t want to burst his bubble just yet.
I’m not sure if I will do the bible studies, or entertain the small children during the studies. I have determined to learn some songs in spanish and bring bubbles and face paint and make home made playdough for the kids. I will start my spanish lessons today. Ya know, learn something other than what is on the Taco Bell Menu...
My gorgeous niece, Savannah will be heading off to Cambodia for a medical missions trip. She will be on a medical boat going up and down rivers offering free medical care and bible studies. She’ll be gone for a year. She has waited an entire year to find a mission that suited her. And, since she will be going into pharmacology when she goes to Harding, she thought this might be the thing.
My family has done mission work with Native Americans in Canada and the U.S. , they’ve smuggled bibles behind the Iron Curtain, been back since, started churches in the Ukraine, Papua New Guinea, done medical missions in Jamaica, Nicaragua, Honduras, Mexico, studied in Greece, Italy, and prolly a whole lot more places that I’ve forgotten.
Derek and I on the other hand, had only been comfortable doing work here in the states. We dedicated six years to the work with the Navajos (loved it and miss it!), one year to a children’s home, and six years to the churches in Northern California. Which, by the way...was very much a mission... just didn’t have the core hardships of overseas work in underdeveloped countries. Rather, we dealt with the core hardships of a rich, spoiled culture.
More tomorrow.
-Jennifer-

2006-06-27T10:23:00.000-07:00

It's been two months since Derek was let go from our church. Twenty days or so since I last wrote in my blog. I'd hand out a list of excuses, but none of them are as interesting as I'd like to think they are.

I used to wake up mid-morning and immediately wake up the kids. We'd do all of our morning routine quietly and then settle in for breakfast. After breakfast, we'd homeschool at the kitchen table while I tended to e-mail, lunch plans and dinner plans. Usually preparation for ministry events would be in the mix. My life was planned, orderly, quiet, effective, purposed and predictable. Very much predictable. I loved it...

Now I am in my sister's home. So grateful. They are a lively bunch... active, running in a hundred different directions, persistent visitors, weird meal times, a lot of ministry being done... a lot! I wake up at the oddest hours... usually determined by the hour that I went to bed. I have caught up on all the movies I have been wanting to see for a while. Saw "Signs" last night. Tee Hee... it was great to see it again.

I miss my old friends badly. Miss predictability. This coming from the girl who would fly by the seat of her pants! I miss the trail near my old home. I miss the clubhouse. I miss the phone calls, the online chats, the drop-ins. I miss my kids' friends. Hehe... would have thought?

My life is good though, make no mistake. I have a renewed and sharper sense of mission. Purpose. I am having more spiritual discussions than I had with the preacher at home. I'm needed here. Sucker for appreciation. But, I won't let it go to my head. I've learned a harsh lesson in humility recently.

I'll tell you about George the useless door defender. David, my Canadian cousin. Eddie the blue-eyed Puerto Rican from Long Island. Trevis the young investor from Barbados. Blake the laugher. Cici's flushing pizza. Taco Bueno... which isn't More Good, by the way. I'll tell you about Lyndal the comedienne... Savannah the 19 year old boat faring missionary. Trinity the straight shooting four year old with a love for the Phantom of the Opera. She's singing it now.

I have so much in my life. My cup overflows. And, I know it. I can't wallow in self-pity a minute longer... I have much to do.

My husband is searching for a ministry job. I write. He sends.

We're heading out on a medical missions trip to Mexico. So much to prepare for.

Girls and boys here are already turning to Derek and me as though they know we'll be their next leader. I'm not completely prepared for that.

I feel completely spazzed out at times. Unable to concentrate. Uncertain. Insecure. Craving home. But I'll pray through that.

This blog is all over the place. I'm being bombarded with questions. Gotta run.

-Jennifer-

2006-06-09T16:37:00.000-07:00

The Arkansas Experience.
I defiantly straightened my hair today. So far, so good. A little poofy, but it still resembles it's original glory. That's cool.
It's oppressively hot and humid here.
Yesterday I went to an auction with my sister. We rolled up on a gravel parking lot... a lot of people were leaving and that was our clue that there really wasn't much to bid on. But, we decided to park and stay. An Arkansas Auction. I wondered how a southerner could keep an auctioneer's pace...ya know... with the drawl and everything. I was amused when the auctioneer called a toilet seat a "mother-in-law picture frame".
Based on what I saw at the auction... furniture stores sell off their broken items and other folks dump unsellable garage sale items in one massive, rocky parking lot. If you plan on bidding, you go up to the front and ask for a number. My sister's was #168.
There were a lot of "good ol' boys" hanging around. Many of them pulled up their horse trailers in the hopes of landing a good deal on the linoleum or bathroom cabinets or roof tar. Carolyn was right in there with them. Nodding and waiting and nodding some more. I was very careful not to raise my hand to pull back my hair when the auctioneer was doing his thing. "Come on, folks, we got uh pallet of ruf tar rat here! Whool give me two-fav... fav...fav-six... we got six... whool give me sevun... six... sevun..." I started to space out. We were only on the first row of junk and the stuff I was remotely interested was going to be auctioned last. I started to look around at the folks. I was dressed in my work-out capris, white t-shirt, oversized shades, curled hair and a white hairband. Apparently white ISN'T what you wear to an auction. On the other hand, if I'd been dressed in a pair of overalls and a John-Deere cap, I'd have fit right in. Prolly needed some Skoal in my back pocket too... ya know ... as an accessory.
I got sunburned and lost interest pretty quickly. Though, when I started to look at the junk as potential art it got interesting.
Eventually I made my way to the car, turned on the air and pulled a cold one out of the cooler. I was so refreshed. Carolyn joined me after a few minutes. She had purchased a bathroom cabinet, three boxes of contractor trashbags, a huge box of grill cleaner and three sets of japanese lanterns. I bought myself a sunburn. Actually... it was free. Nearly got run-over by a horse trailer. That was free too. Guess they don't take well to spaced out California girls on the parking lot.
After the auction, I got home in time to make dinner... the first crew of 12 was fed and the other crew of 10-15 (not exactly sure how many folks make their way through here...) nibbled on dinner later. Steak, potatoes, steamed squash from the garden, southern-style green beans (yes, Canadians know how to make those too!), salad and fruit for dessert. All I was missing was bread... but I was too tired to make any. The crews of folks enjoyed their dinner and then went to play basketball until nearly midnight.
The Wal-Marts here have everything in them. I bought icecream, milk AND shampoo in the same store. Okay... so that's not that impressive... but I'm easily impressed. Now, if only Target would do that! What? They do?!
On the way home from Wal-Mart, my neice and I had a hankerin' (Arkansan for "craving") for the ice-cream so we stopped by the Wendy's and ordered a drink and two spoons. They were puzzled. We broke out the low-carb and the family sized icecream and ate right out of the carton. Yes we did! Nothing better than forbidden icecream, tell you what! What nearly killed me though, was watching my sweet little sixteen year old neice slurp ice-cream soup out of a gallon pail... If only I'd had a camera! Just struck me funny, I guess.
So, my kids are at the water park. Derek's outside trimming bushes so the kids can play basketball. I'm blogging and taking a loooong look at the watermelon I just brought home. I hope tonight's a quiet one. Just a couple of friends, some ice cream, popcorn and a good movie or two... ya know?
So, other than the heat and humidity combo... life in Arkansas has been good to me. I'll keep watch on the horse trailers and see if I can get my hands on a John Deere cap. Maybe THEN I'll fit in!
-Jennifer-

2006-06-07T00:00:00.000-07:00

I have curly hair. Not normal curly hair... not the "Oh, that's so cute, you're so lucky!" curly hair. No. I have a fro all over my head weighed down with frizzy wanna-be curls that can't decide which direction to curl. It's sad, really. Every once in a while I'll do something ingenious with my hair, but generally I just try to keep it this side of a mass of tangled frizzballs.
Have a few new friends here in AR. Been interesting. These young men are from Brooklyn, NY. One fella is 26 and originally from Barbados. Soft spoken, but a killer basketball player. He loves the Lord and is in this for the long haul. I wished he'd marry one of my neices... but sadly, these things aren't up to me. Sigh.
The other fella is 33 and only a few days younger than me. I couldn't place his accent at first, and I still have a hard time understanding him. But, I might get the hang of it sooner than later. He too loves the Lord. Both the fellas are passionate about what they do... which is convert people. I really would love a study with one of 'em just to see what it is a new convert goes through in the We Care Campaign... mostly morbid curiousity, mixed with a little genuine thirst for a good bible study.
We nearly drove through fog to get to a ball game tonight and all I could think was "There goes the hair!". Fortunately no one was there to check me out. Good thing too... I spilled chili nacho sauce on my new shirt. And, when I borrowed my sisters pull-over, I spilled diet coke on it. Felt like a real lady, I'll tell ya!
So... why am I obsessed with my hair? Is it a dominance thing? Control? Vanity? Acheiving the impossible? Probably a little bit of each. One thing for sure... I'm in denial. No one would know I had naturally curly hair cuz I curl it or straighten it every day. Unless of course they catch me at a baseball park in early June in Little Rock, AR. Then they'd see the real me. Messy. Unkempt. Vain. Sigh.
This blog is all over the place. (Kinda like my hair.) I'd best let you go... In the meantime I'll be working on just the solution to my humid-reactant hair. A formula.
Hittin' the sack.
-Jennifer-

2006-05-30T13:11:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting in a dark hallway atop a stack of living room pillows. The carpet is a burnt orange and has undoubtedly seen better days. I'm on my neice's laptop and hooked up to the phone with the computer on a piano bench. It's my workstation. It'll do.
Our trip from CA to AR was painfully long. I couldn't drive more than four or five hours at a time. I wore open sandals, and by the time I had arrived, my feet were a horrible black colour, with a thick layer between my toes. But, the dirt took the eyes off of my swollen grandma ankles. There's always an upside, right?
The van was stuffed to gills. What do you bring with you when you don't know where you're going, how long you're staying, if you'll be camping, interviewing or just going right back to where you came from? What do you bring? As much as you can.
I even brought my stoopid guitar and a book hoping to learn on the trip. Turns out, while Derek was driving, I was supposed to be sleeping so that I could make myself remotely useful for a few hours as he rested. The guitar just got in the way. Perhaps I'll still find time while I'm here. I'm determined to learn how to play it, dang it!
We arrived in Little Rock just after midnight and found our family putting up wedding decorations in the church building. We hugged and said hello to everyone. Cousins came out from everywhere which thrilled our kids... Shortly after, we headed home to a pink, very pink room and crashed under the pink canopy. I think we slept till 10 the next morning.
The next few days would be filled with wedding plans, decorations, shopping, cooking, and lots of visiting! Eventually, we'd eat dinner together and shout "OOOooPaaaa!" as folks came through the door during dinner. It was an inside Williams' joke. Pretty funny if you ask me. Though the New Yorker had a puzzled look on his face.
The wedding was beautiful. The princess Di of our family got married... and with style! She married a Harding University Professor's kid... it had to have panache... ya know?! The reception was fantastic. A great difference from the rehearsal dinner... though both formal, the rehearsal dinner was accompanied by a young pianist who is training to be an orchestra conductor. Ours was emceed by Uncle Mike and we were entertained by family members with silly songs... true Williams' style. Loved it. The Neller family and the Williams' family clearly had different wedding cultures. Hehe... I was glad I'd seen My Big, Fat, Greek Wedding. I knew how it all ended!
We're still in the pink room. Kids roaming about. Aunties insisting that we "eat! eat!". Card games, RISK, and chatting late into the night... and cooling off at the local water park. A few Starbucks trips have taken me momentarily back to CA... refreshing.
I don't know what the Lord has in store for us. I'm unaccustomed to not being informed, in control or even consulted with my life's plans... so this is a matter of faith and patience. Much patience... sigh.
I'm going to put the Hummus and Pita chips away. Will join the kids in playing Nertz after finishing my laundry...
Oooppaaa!
-jennifer-

2006-05-29T23:29:00.000-07:00

Tadpoles and fireflies. Stars peeking through the fog. What a change of scenery in my living. Daily. Not just in my living... In my life. The issues that were issues only a few months ago aren't even realities in my life anymore! Now... my life's scenery is completely changed. I like the tadpoles and fireflies... but it comes with humidity and bad hair. I think I can deal with that. Could you?

2006-05-17T10:59:00.000-07:00

Faith. Believing in the things unseen. Mom said to me a few weeks ago "Live with the expectation of God's blessing!" Every step in sync with that. Every thought. Every doubt removed. Every fear cast aside. Living with the expectation. Living as though you are in it, as though you see it. Knowing what you don't know. Faith.

I've been living rather faithless this past week. I was in denial about it until the night before last. I was showing all the physical signs though I spoke as though I was faithful. (Speaking about faith comes much more easily than living by it.) My stomach was tight. Eventually, needed Pepto-Bismol. I lay awake at night after a long night of T.V. Wondering. Worrying. Entertaining surges of anger. In the daytime, I would begin a packing project and once overwhelmed by my thoughts, I'd lay on the bed under the fan and just think. Eventually, I'd give in to sleep. I hadn't talked to my husband about it. I hadn't resumed my prayers with God. I internalized it all. And, late one night, I began to weep. I was overwhelmed. Derek listened and reassured me that things were going to be alright. But for the first time in my life, I actually dreaded the future rather than pressing for it.

He asked me to join him on the floor next to our bed to pray.I poured out my heart to God. First, I confessed all my sin. Sins of doubt, fear, faithlessness, betrayal, stubbornness. I asked for forgiveness knowing that He'd already done it. Thanking him for that never ending flow of grace. Then I prayed for my doubting self. I asked for wisdom, strength, clarity of thought, boldness of Spirit. Not just for me, but for my husband as well. I prayed for our elders, leaders in the congregation. For those that I loved. Those that I never took the time to get to know. I prayed for the weak. I prayed for those that had done me harm. I prayed for their children. I prayed for my closest friends whose faith is also being tested. And, when I was done praying... after Derek had finished praying... I was calm. Finally.

All the food, rest, relaxation in the world couldn't bring me the kind of peace that God brought to me through prayer. Let that be a lesson...

So, though we still have no real leads on a new ministry. I believe there is one out there that will come just in time. In God's time.

Though we are moving out of our place in to a storage unit, I believe God has a home lined up for me... a quaint little place that will tickle me pink.

Though my kids are out of the loop with their friends, I believe that God is preparing life-long friendships in the road ahead.

Though our bank account is quickly fading, I believe that every dollar we've ever spent was a blessing directly from God, and He will replenish in His good time. It's a matter of faith.

Faith. We all live by it. Christian or not. We all live with the expectation that "it" will be there.

I hadn't written in days. I was in a state of ... oh, lets just say... ugliness. I'm glad that I wrote it here so that I can look back on it and marvel at God's faithfulness...

-Jennifer-

2006-05-08T11:10:00.000-07:00

I've started this blog over four times.
Not for a lack of wanting to write.
Just a problem with WHAT to write.
I know you've been there.

So, it's Monday.

Just had a dream that I went shopping for an outfit to wear to my nephew's prom. Weird. He's twenty-something. Married now and he was homeschooled, and they didn't have a prom. And, even if they did - I wouldn't be asked to it.

Anyway, customer service was horrible, and I ended up eating a "Fatboy" icecream sandwich (talk about truth in advertising!) on the way out of the store. My husband was at the door, and asked about the confectionary... I explained that I'd been here all day, and this was all they had to eat.

He took me to a mechanic's shop before taking me home. Inside I saw a couple of rappers... Half-Dollar and other thugs. We decided not to stay long... peeled out in our white pimped-out mini-van and went home.

Was wakened when a friend who is in Hawaii called to say hello... that was cool. I ended up raining on her parade when she asked how things were going. Ugh. I hate it when I do that. Just call me Debbie Downer.

I've eaten more mexican food in this last weekend than I think I've eaten all year! Was it just because it was Cinco de Mayo or did I really have that much of a hankerin' for good nachos? Prolly the latter. Didn't even know what Cinco de Mayo was until I asked my black sister-in-law. She explained that it was the Mexican's Martin Luther King Day. Ooooohhhh... Now I got it. Any excuse for good nachos... I'll take it!

So, I ramble.

Can I get serious for a moment?

Just one.

My heart is here with the people. My head is in the future... what might be coming around the corner. How do I reconcile these things? Church two Sundays ago was torture for me. I was so incredibly hurt. I was near sobbing point with a couple of the songs. I don't cry. I make ugly face and tears and snot run down my face... then I sob. It's horrible. I had to leave, only to have a deacon grab me at the back of the church and hug me... I made ugly face all over his nice sunday shirt.

Derek was still leading the final song before the sermon, and he joined me outside. He was tore up too. We hugged... he went back in to find kleenex... and then another couple of friends came outside. Gosh! I sooooo didn't want to be seen crying! But there I was in all my splotchy glory!

This Sunday was much easier. My walls had been rebuilt. My switch had been turned off. I sang all the songs (Derek has been replaced) with no real emotion (sorry God!) and I was in control! BUT... I guess it hit all my friends this week! I was hugging and comforting and reassuring that everything was gonna be alright. I realized during those moments that my friends make ugly face too.

My head is in the future. Things are moving much slower than they need to be. But, I know that they are moving on God's time, for God's glory.

I hope that in all I do and say, that I will prove God's faithfulness.

I'm struggling with frustration, anger and my short temper. I don't know if now is the time to let my "Jennifer-style" frankness be heard... or if I should continue in the meek manner that I've been trying out. (So far, it's been driving me nuts.)

Gotta run.

-Jennifer-

2006-05-02T08:37:00.000-07:00

I've been enrolled in Life University, and I had a test this week. Here are the results of my test. Jennifer's answer key. Hope I did okay...
Ministry requires sacrifice. Religion without sacrifice is not religion at all.
There will be those who work against you. Sometimes it's God's will. And, believe it or not, sometimes it benefits the church. Sometimes it destroys it.
Plant yourself deeper in the Lord than you do in your congregation. This way, when things go awry, you will have been loved by the Lord, and can afford to continue loving the church.
Remember that the church is made of sheople. They are willful, easily led astry, and turf-oriented. So are you.
Remember that you are a vessel used by God. In any way he pleases. Don't get too comfortable - if you are doing good work, he will continue using you! What a blessing to be used by the Lord for his good work!
Never become prideful of what you have accomplished. Never complacent. God has a plan that is so much bigger than what you can do. To humble yourself and commit your service to God is to do greater things than humanly possible!
Love the weak. Even when they are the leaders. Christ loved us even when we were more than just weak... when we were unrepentant sinners.
Take off your churchianity glasses and see people as God sees them. Never size people up and think you have it all figured out. God was always throwing people off when he'd choose the "least likely of these" to be his workmen. (Gideon, Moses, Paul...)
Don't ever give up. Not for one day, not for one minute. Someone's spirit is crying out for what they don't realize is GOD! Keep watch. Be faithful. You may work for salary, but you serve the Lord.
-Jennifer-

2006-04-26T11:08:00.000-07:00

I've run the full gambit of possible human emotions this week. Shocked, horrified, stunned, incredulous, weepy, strong, faithful, suspicious, angry, hopeful, certain, secure, raged, humbled. And, pretty much in that order.
Derek was "let go" from his ministry job on Sunday. Just all of a sudden... "poof". Done.
He's been working for the preacher in the after-school program to make the salary that the church couldn't afford to pay him. But, suddenly the program itsself can't pay him, and the church was offered to take up the difference. And, the church can't afford to either. We've been here three years.
So... we have two months. A generous offer.
We were just rearing up to make another wave of changes and beginnings. Starting a new phase of our program with the youth. (Summer was coming... it would have been a good time to do it!)
But, the rug has been yanked out from under us.
So... I'm human. I have emotions about it. I loved these kids, their families, this church, this work, the evangelistic effort... and I think it's fair that I should react. I'm not a heartless evangelistic machine. I hurt. I hurt for them and for us. I weep for my own children who are forming their ideas of ministry.
BUT... I praise God. Praise Him because He is faithful. He is true. We are HIS workers, HIS seravants. And, we have committed ourselves to HIM. And, He has decided to take us elsewhere. His timing is not my timing... but it's always on time.
We're looking for God's next mission for us. We can't forget the kids we've worked with. The families we've grown to love. But, we're seeking God's will.
So, we wait.
-Jennifer-

2006-04-20T11:40:00.000-07:00

Zion lost his first tooth last night. It was overdue. He was beginning to look like a shark ... with two rows of teeth. He had four teeth where there should have only been two. One was loose the other was thinking about it. But, the adult teeth were already out in their full glory!
I decided today was the day. Prepared with kleenex and a good light, I began prepping the tooth. I had tried before and failed. I couldn't get my fingers around his little slippery, slobbery tooth, so I asked Derek to grab the needlenosed pliers and give it a try. Expecting a lot of blood, Derek also brought a teatowel. After the first two tries, I tapped in! Zion was fine, but I was freaking out! I couldn't bear the sound of metal clinking on baby bone!
So, it was my turn again. Determined, I grabbed some kleenex and began to pull and pull and pull. Zion was intrigued by the tearing sound, but was still unhurt.
What kind of barbaric practice is this? I wondered. The two front baby teeth had been wedged in by the already grown in adult teeth. Hence Zion's new nickname "Sharktooth". I had explained to Zion that though he wanted to go to the dentist to have them pulled, it would cost mama $1oo per tooth. (Past experience with other tooth-stingy child.)
More pulling and a little prayer later - the small, defiant jaw finally gave up the tooth! Zion began drooling uncontrollably. He ran around the house shrieking! He was so excited! The tooth fairy was coming just for HIM!
After the excitement wore off, he went to bed. I reminded him to place the small tooth under his pillow. And, he went to sleep.
This morning I was up early. Chit chatting with Derek, cleaning out the fridge. (Organic food goes bad fast!)
Zion's loud, nervous call pulled me out of the fridge.
"MOM! DAD!" He sounded terrified. I thought he'd had a nightmare. "There's a REAL lizard in my bed!"
Definitely a nightmare.
I ran to his room and he was sat up in it... holding his little tooth. (DOH!) His eyes were fixed on the very tiny brown lizard that sat square under where his pillow had been.
"Uh, DEREK! Would you get this for me?" I stayed with Zion. The lizard sat perfectly still. The three of us looked at eachother nervously.
Derek sauntered in John Wayne style. Cool as a cat. He fixed his eyes on the lizard, casually picked up DeVon's shoe and took aim.
"WAIT!" "Don't hit the lizard with the shoe!" I stepped between the little creature and the over-armed man. Derek looked at me puzzled... then annoyed.
I had imagined lizard guts splattering the wall and my very impressionable son.
I picked up a dirty t-shirt off of the floor and threw it over the lizard. Scooped it all up at once and promptly walked out back. Did I feel the lizard moving? Ew. Stop it!
I let the lizard out on the terrace out back. Gently, quietly... then I stepped away. I hoped the neighbors hadn't heard any of the commotion!
I headed back to the apartment. There were three others on our level.
My head was still in the drama when I turned the knob and pushed the door open. A bearded man stood in the dark grinning. It was my neighbor! He was dressed and ready for work.
What is HE doing here? I wondered - then snapped out of it.
I had walked into my neighbor's apartment! I could have died!
I apologized profusely and began to explain something about letting the lizard out... I'm sure it all made sense!
I moved down one door and opened it. The familiar smell of coffee welcomed me.
I sat on the couch laughing and explained to the kids what was so funny.
My life is funny. Burned socks in the microwave and lizards under the pillow and early morning rendez-vous with the neighbors... I thought I wanted a normal life... but this one's cool!
-Jennifer-

2006-04-17T10:09:00.000-07:00

What's your list of "must do before I die"? I read an article today by the guy who hosts "The Amazing Race".
In it, he suggests that we write down those things that we would love to do - yet might never do if we don't absolutely insist on it. Those things that tap into our "Wild Gene". Not crazy, might lose our life or family over it kinda stuff... but things that you want to do, places you want to go, memories you want to rekindle, kindnesses you want to share. Those kinds of things.
So... I'll write my list here:
(The aforementioned list may change at any time for any reason.)
1. I want to backpack in Europe, Tuscany and the Outback.
2. I want to be the Chief Creative Officer of a T.V. show or magazine.
3. I want my kids to graduate with exceptional skills and experience under their belts.
4. I want to build a cabin in Canada and use it to host missionaries on furlough.
5. I want to buy my childhood home and make it into a bed and breakfast.
6. I want to become a skilled artist in various mediums including watercolour, photography and acrylics.
7. I want to teach at my old highschool.
8. I want to finish my degree.
9. I want to be the "sane, nice, ACTUAL" christian on a reality TV show.
10. I want to write a children's book about my experiences growing up.

That concludes my list for today.
What's on your list?

-Jennifer-

2006-04-13T14:52:00.000-07:00

The sock thing...
Per my friend's advice, I filled an athletic sock with salt, tied it off and nuked it in the microwave for a minute (she recommended as many as two minutes). This sock when placed under my ear at night would relieve my earache and draw moisture from my liquid filled ear.
Well... I asked Derek for a sock. Only one, please. He was puzzled. I explained.
A friend arrived to watch a movie with me and after making chai and popcorn, I filled the sock. Had to explain what it was for again. I thought I'd watch the movie with the sock strapped to my head.
I set the timer on the microwave for a minute.
We chatted and filled our cups with hot refreshment waiting for the sock to warm. The appliance beeped.
I opened the microwave to find smoke pouring out! The sock was burning!
We began to laugh incredulously!
I grabbed a paper towel thinking I'd grab the scorched sock and take it out to the grill. But... the sock scorched the paper towel!
So, I hurriedly snatched an oven mitt and took the smoldering sock outside to the grill where it lay and smoldered for a while longer.
By this time the kids were up and wondering what all the ruckus was about.
I explained that I filled a sock with salt and placed it in the microwave for my earache, but it caught fire. Their puzzled looks told me that they weren't getting it.
My dining room filled with smoke and I turned on the ceiling fan and opened the front door. Would have opened the sliding glass door, but the darn sock was still smoldering!
My friend, Le Anna suggested I pour water on the hot, smoking sock. Duh!
I grabbed a blue glass and filled it with water.
The sock had fallen apart and the knot was putting out serious fumes. I choked on the smoke.
The hissing sound suprised me as I poured the water on the sock. I wondered out loud how I was going to explain to Derek why the house was smoky and why I'd need the other half of that pair of socks.
We were rolling!
The sock and paper towel sit soggy on my grill.
My ear still hurts. But... I'll be looking for that other sock tonight!

2006-04-12T01:38:00.000-07:00

It's 1:39am. Much too late to be up. Wasn't gonna blog... but I'm here, so I'll write.

I think I may have an ear infection. After battling an intense cold for the past few days, my sinuses have cleared up, but I have serious pain in my left ear. My good ear. The one I use for the phone and the one that I lift off of the pillow to hear anything my husband has to say. Hm. This could pose a problem.

Not that I'm complaining. I've been sicker. I've seen sicker.

Okay... you know it's late when the ORECK vacuum informercial comes on. Ugh. Hit the sack already!

Did the coolest thing with my camera today. I took an artsy picture of my daughter and "photo-shopped" it onto the Mona Lisa. She loved it! This picture isn't it... I'll have to figure out how to get it on there... but this one was similar.

My oldest son asked me to put him on Mt. Rushmore. Still figuring that one out.

We are headed to San Jose sometime this weekend. Puppet shows, bible bowls, art competitions, hotel schedules, rainy beaches and more. Sorta looking foward to it. Sorta not. I'm just tired. (Could it be that it's a quarter to one in the morning?!)

The following weekend I will be coordinating a Ladies' Day event. My first time, the church's fourth. So far, so good. I'm looking forward to having this one out of the way.

Gonna hit the sack. I appear to be rambling.

Re-visited the idea of listening to country music. I'll keep you posted.

-jennifer-

2006-04-07T13:40:00.000-07:00

Okay, I'm sitting to a lunch made by my 10 year old daughter. Oh no... not pbj's... she made grilled marinated porkchops and salad. (Low-carb lunch!) And, if I could smell past my stuffed nasal passages, I'd know that this was a delicious meal! Meat was grilled to perfection - juicy - and from what I can tell - flavourful! The kid's a whiz in the kitchen! BTW, I was standing there the whole time. I was making a fruit tray for coffee shoppe tonight. Strawberries with cream cheese icing and grapes and Baklava.
So... I've noticed that my kids lack basic manners. Don't get me wrong.. they're polite in front of others... quite polite, in fact. But, at home, they have succomed to the older brother's potty humour. There's not nearly a day that goes by when "passing gas", butts" or "poop" isn't brought up in fashion or another. And, I've had enough! So... I've been hard on the kids. Guess it's my fault in the first place. I giggled the first time - out of shock. And it was all downhill from there. It doesn't take long for my kids to take a mile....
So... I've been working on manners from another angle. First, I started with table manners. Setting the table, proper table attire, table conversation and such. And after a few lessons we were ready to apply. We set the table nicely. Placed hot grilled tri-tip, and all the fixings on the table and prayed. After the prayer, the littlest one scrunched his nose...

"Something smells like ladybug poo!"

All the manners were out the window. I began to giggle.

"Oh yeah? What does ladybug poo smell like?" Hoping he wasn't referring to my tri-tip!

"Grass.... duh!"

The whole table erupted into laughter. It was everything we could do to hold it together and re-gain our composure. The lesson was lost for the night. We'd have to start again at breakfast.

Ladybug poo. Who's ever heard of such a thing?

-Jennifer-

2006-04-04T16:32:00.000-07:00

Returning from Vacation brought us two things: clarity and panic.

Derek and I (like most couples) found a lot of time to talk and pow-wow about our life's direction, purpose and meaning. We chatted about our families' strengths and weaknesses - things we needed to continue, drop or improve.

To continue: Family Night, personal evangelism, women's ministry, SIBI classes.
To drop: ineffective programs, classes, bad relationships.
To improve: keeping family time sacred, homeschool schedule and priority, diet and activity level.

Dunno why we needed a vacation to come to that kind of clarity. Perhaps life grabs our attention and tends to distract us from the things that matter to us most. We need to go on vacation more than once or twice a decade - ya think?!

So, all in all, our vacation really served a purpose. Rest and clarity. I have a clearer understanding of why God intitiated the Sabaath by resting on the seventh day, of why he created winter and sleep... rest and refreshing.

Now, about the panic. Well... life didn't pause just because I had taken a break.

I have an LTC convention in a week and a half. A classroom of kids are depending on me to create their puppet stage and props and to coach them to do their best during the various competitions (Bible Bowl, art, worship banner, etc.).

The week following we will be hosting our annual Ladies' Day - of which I am the coordinator. This year is going to be so different than years past and I need to prepare our ladies for the changes.

The week after that, Derek is hosting his first youth suprise event. Have a feeling I might be needed to prepare for it. No worries, though. By then, I will no longer have LTC convention or Ladies' Day looming over me.

So, I gotta get busy. Vacation was fantastic, hope the picture reflects that!

-Jennifer-

2006-04-03T13:45:00.000-07:00

Yo Semite!
Woo Hoo! What a wonder-filled trip that was!
We so got soaked!
As we arrived in the park, we noticed what the kids thought was a wolf. I think it was a coyote. I'll post a pic when I get my camera back. But, the creature was sniffing out the campsites near us. The kids' eyes were as big as saucers, but they didn't freak out. The animal was only a carlength away from us to begin with and stayed within 50 yards for about 45 minutes before heading off into the woods.
The boys set up the tent and I began preparing dinner. Campfires couldn't be lit until 5pm, so I made dinner on the campstove. Three-grain pancakes and homemade fruit compote was our hearty dinner that night. Was really good!
Derek got the fire going just in time to see the sun set. We sat around it, as the rain began to drizzle. We all threw on ponchos and sang devo songs for a while. Soon, we invited our neighbor Richard to join us. He was a dentist from L.A. A Korean-American.
We enjoyed mint hot chocolate from Trader Joe's and s'mores roasted on green sticks. Man, it was good! The kids cuddled with us before we headed off to the tent.
Derek had set up the tent and it looked good. But, in a matter of an hour it began to gather water and leak from a seam... right above me! I got Derek up and asked him to throw the water off... and told him we'd either have to fix the tent, or do that every half hour. He was pooped. He opted for every half hour.
I checked on the kids, they were dry and toasty. I was relieved. But, an hour later, I was freezing despite my best efforts to stay dry. The rain pattering the tent grew faint and then stopped. Derek thought it stopped raining, but judging by my steamy breath I knew it had started snowing. Derek thought "nawwwww...." and peeked outside. Sure enough. The rain had frozen over and it was snowing. If it had snowed to start out with, I wouldn't have been wet... but it was too late. I began shivering uncontrollably, and promptly changed clothes. Derek and I looked at ways to join the kids on the dry side of the tent, but it was full. We thought about just leaving them in their toastiness, but I was worried that they'd wake and find us missing and freak out. So, the poor darlings were wakened in the middle of the night to gather their blankets, pillows and haul it all back to the van. We had abandoned ship.
So, in the dark of the night, we passed our still glowing firepit and quickly made our way to the car. Derek had started the van, warming it for us. We were so relieved to see those seats that had numbed our bottoms hours before. I got the kids all set up with dry blankets, removed wet clothing and put on dry socks. Kids had to go potty - which was easier for the boys than the girl.
After an hour or so of fidgeting we all crashed in our van. Periodically Derek would turn on the van and heat us up because he hadn't quite warmed to the core yet. I was out. Later I woke to find the city-slicker under TWO sleeping bags. He'd finally found the heat he needed. I, on the other hand needed only to rely on my Eskimo fat layer to keep me toasty!
About 6:40 AM, Derek woke me up to look up the side of the mountain. The sun was up and shining on the peak of the nearest cliff. The snow had rested in it's cracks and crevasses and the sun shone brilliantly off of it. The sky was blue and the ground all around was white. It was BEAUTIFUL! I said "Wow, babe - that's gorgeous", and promptly returned to my exhausted slumber. A few hours later, I hear the kids whisper with excitement. The van was covered in snow.
The sun had finally reached us in the valley. And, we were ready to come out of our van-turned-tent. I made my way through the snow back to the tent to find it covered in ice. The fire was out. The picnic tables were covered in ice and snow. I set up the campstove and began preparing breakfast.
As the sun started warming the morning air, the trees began their assault on me. We had set up camp under large trees thinking it would keep us sheltered from the elements. Uh... no. As the warm sun melted the ice on the trees, the trees dropped their slushballs right on top of me! (I guess I'm a precipitation magnet!) I kept cooking depsite the air assault. The kids were wise enough to figure this one out and played in the clearing. So, as I was frying breakfast potatoes, I'd be pelted with miniature snowballs. Every once in a while one would land in the frying pan and sizzle. I was passive about it. Whatever. Snow is water, right?
We ate our hearty breakfast of potatoes, onions and spam. And, wouldn't you know it, but lunch would soon need to be on it's way. So, I started that. Derek broke camp rules and started a campfire at 9:30am. He did it for the kids' sake. They were freezing. Especially Zion who couldn't keep his little hands warm for soaked gloves. I warmed water for him and had him do up the dishes. (Clever,eh?!)
The day was gorgeous. The peaks we had seen and been impressed with the day before were now covered in snow. Beautiful! I took the same pictures all over again!
We only stayed for a day, but vowed to return! This time, in the clearing.
-Jennifer-

2006-04-03T09:17:00.000-07:00

SPAM, snow and soaked socks.

But, first I'll tell you about the trip there.

We headed out to Yosemite pretty early in the morning. (I lost the bet.) Stopped in with Derek's folks to pick up dry firewood, the hatchet and the campstove.

Yosemite, it turns out, was four hours away. Not the two hours that somebody had remembered. No worries, though. We had enough trailmix to keep us in good shape for days. We shot down the freeway and then traversed highway 120 through the foothills, watching the ominious looking clouds that we seemed to be headed straight for.

The foothills were gorgeous. Here in California we run ads for California Cheese. They feature great looking cows on lush green foothills. The ad's motto is: "Great cheese comes from happy cows. Happy cows come from California." This ride in the cow-dotted foothills was straight from that Ad.

The road changed from long curves to hairpin turns, and the elevation change was dramatic. Looking over the side, we all began to secretly wonder if Derek had what it took to drive this treacherous road. And, in silence we wondered if anyone would find us in that ravine.

We had passed the hairpin turns and reached the mountain pass just in time to see snow. Lots of snow.

"Yosemite is in the valley, right?" I asked Derek who had been there several summers in his childhood.

"Yup!"

"So... we're going through snow now, but we won't be setting up camp in the snow, right?" I wondered out loud.

"Mhm!"

As we reached the peak, the snow banks were an impressive 5-6 feet high on either side of the narrow road. The clouds were thick and the snow began to fall. The tall redwoods were a real contrast to the thick blanket of snow. I wondered how fresh it was.

Derek and I exchanged nervous glances. The road began to gather slush. Any minute it would be ice and I knew we didn't have snow tires or chains. Or money for chains for that matter.

I prayed silently and turned on the camcorder and camera. "If they find us in the snow bank in the spring, at least they'll have our last messages to friends and family on videotape." I snapped out of it.

It was a quiet 24 mile trip through the pass. And, soon the snow blanket began to recede and the falling snow turned to spitting rain. We turned a corner and the most wonderful thing appeared. A huge, granite mountain! We all squealed with excitement! Turned another corner and squealed some more! Soon, Derek pulled off to the side of the road to look at a waterfall across the river. I hopped out with the kids and the camera and began to take pictures. It was truly the most beautiful landscape I'd seen since Canada!

A middle-aged couple was there from North Platte, Nebraska. Just retired. How cool is that?

We pulled up to the check in station and paid our $20 to get into the park. It was a 6 day pass. 6 days. I wondered if we'd be stuck there six days. It was getting ready to snow that night...

-Jennifer-

2006-03-31T06:34:00.000-08:00

You're not gonna believe this.

First, I'm up early. Yeah. 5:45am.

Second... it'll be snowing in Yosemite all day today until late tomorrow. Poetic justice or just really bad luck? We'll see!

We're going, though. Like some pioneer family. Braving the elements to see the wonders of God's good creation. Should be fantastic! And... cold.

Gotta run. We're actually getting in the car to head down to Derek's folks' place. They have a campstove and firewood and a hatchet. Should come in handy with the bears.

-Jennifer-

2006-03-30T19:32:00.000-08:00

We're supposed to be in Yosemite right now. As it is, however, we've just finished watching SuperSize Me. It's dinner time and I asked the kids what they want for dinner - Zion yelled "Let's go to McDonalds!". Hm. I think he gets that from his mother's side.

So, we have campfood. I cleared the pantry, fridge, and cupboards and filled the car with campfood. Stuff we would never eat at home. Stuff I never buy. Jiffy pop, s'mores, chili, beef stew, canned (gag) tamales, SPAM, (hurl)... we wanted to go all out on the camping experience... I think we may have overdone it.

We were supposed to go camping early Monday morning through Wednesday morning but there was a 30% chance of rain - I said I'd take the chance, but no... we waited for better weather. Prepped for Tuesday - was rainy, checked the forecast for Wednesday - rainy, with snow storms in the higher elevations. Packed it all up today to head out despite the weather and it turns out our late nights have wreaked havoc on our ability to get up anytime before 10am. WHAT?! We're on VACATION! Needless to say, we weren't really packed up until about 4pm. Sigh. We decided to wait and go in the morning. Yes. It will rain. Yes. We will like it. SPAM and all. (BTW, never had SPAM before - actually looking forward to it.)

Just so you don't completely freak out. I DO have a hearty, 3-grain pancake on the menu in the AM, along with a homeade fruit compote. That's about the ONLY healthy thing on the menu. But it's just enough to soothe the nutrition beast in my mommy brain.

So, the fridge is nearly empty (meaning - "nothing goes together"), and I'm breaking out what would have been tonight's campfire meal. An old Indian standby. Fried potatoes and onions with hamburger and ketchup. Bannock on the side. Ugh. It sounds awful here, but when you poke your fork into a lightly salted potato with a fried onion hanging off of it, dip it into cold ketchup and place that too hot morsel in your mouth, you totally forget how nasty it looks or what it will do to your trygliceride levels....MMMMmmmm.

So, I gotta get into the kitchen. We left the car packed. Gonna hit the sack relatively early tonight. Riiiiight!

Who wants to place bets on when we ACTUALLY leave tomorrow? I got 10 o'clock.

-Jennifer-

2006-03-27T23:28:00.000-08:00

My closet just puked last year's treasures, bills, reciepts and forgotten christmas presents. I'm still cleaning it up. Ugh. What a chore!
I'm doing it for my man. I've decided to give him the masculine living space he's always wanted. So, we're going Japanese in the Master Suite. At least, this is what he calls Japanese. We've eliminated most of the furniture. All but the bed and two night tables. I'm hanging three Japanese lanterns to replace our lamps. And, I'll be putting up curtains tomorrow. Gorgeous, modern, sleek curtains. The art will be the pi'ece-de-resistance, made by yours-truly. Even the desk is out. But, the modern looking bookshelf will replace it.
The closet itself was a swamp of debris. Sadly, the household clutter landed there when we hosted devotionals in our home recently. Oh please, like you've never thrown things in the closet out of desparation after a mad frenzy of house cleaning! Mhm!... That's what I thought!
My daughter inherited our old bedroom suite. Couldn't bear to throw it out. So, her room is stuffed. Looks fantastic, though. Thinking I might paint it all for her. Something girly. Wwwwaaaaayyyy out there in the future somewhere.
I have to tell you that this deep cleaning has been a real wake up call for me. I hang on to stuff out of fear, not necessity. It's silly, really. I haven't found anything that can't be replaced. (Save my birth certificate and marriage license... in a baggy... under my wedding shoes. Doink!)
I'm so blessed. Not only did my husband move furniture, clean, and make hotdogs tonight, I'm getting a serious therapeutic back rub as I type. But, I think I'm done typing now. ... Oh yeah. I'm done.
C YA!
-Jennifer-

2006-03-25T15:26:00.000-08:00

I only have a minute. The shrimp is defrosting in the sink. The kids are outside playing and Derek's working out. Gonna make Shrimp Alfredo for the family. All home made except for the noodles. (I'm good, but not THAT good!) We'll see how they like it.
Had a great convo last night with Niki. She's so cool. I'd like to say we were friends in college. But we weren't. I think we were eachother's nemesis... Nemisises.... Nemesiii... ergh... Whatever. We weren't nice to eachother. Embarassing but true. Anyway, it turns out that after 13 years, we've really lived very parallel lives. Youth ministry, kids, homeschool. It's just too funny. Ironic. We caught up on so much in our three hour marathon conversation last night. Something tells me we could have talked more if it wasn't so darn late...
I told her I was working on a mural in my dining room. Here's a pic. Still not done. The bottles are floating and the floor is missing. But, it's all drawn in. Just needs the paint. If you look over to the far left, you will see the placemat picture I'm working from. Wish I could say it's an original. But, it's a Jennifer Clarke, not Jennifer King. I'll post the "after picture" when it's all done. Next week sometime.
We've decided to go camping at Yosemite National Park next week. Today is major laundry day. AND, I have to braid up Chante's long hair. There's NO way she's gonna be able to keep the twigs and bugs out of her afro while camping. Might have to rent a chick-flik to keep her sitting. Shoot... to keep ME sitting!
Fiddled with the camera today. Love that thing! Will post my nutty pictures when I figure out how to.
I have had the kids write and draw in their Vacation Journals. Will scan and post some of the more amusing ones next to actual photos of the day-trips when I get the scanner all set up. I think I"m going through a sort of techno-phase. New camera, blog, scanner, even photo sharing. Weird. I told Niki last night about how my first internet experience went. Krmph! Will have to share that sometime.
But, for now, I need to go peel some shrimp, and make alfredo sauce. Yummy!
-Jennifer-

2006-03-25T01:31:00.000-08:00

New to the digital camera thing, new to the blogging thing, new to the posting pictures thing. Recipe for disaster? Probably.

My picture is grey. I took it in the dark. It was late (enough dark circles to compete with Saturn!), the camera added about 70 pounds, and... my hair was on the fritz. Other than that... I look smashing!

Was encouraged by a friend to just fiddle around with it. Prolly shoulda picked out a kid's pix and posted it. But, noooo...

I still haven't figured out how to post a pix of me on my profile. Should get the hang of it before too long.

So sleepy. Gonna hit the sack now.

-Jennifer-

2006-03-15T15:08:00.000-08:00

I'm not gonna lie... I want a dog. Not just any dog. A big dog. 'Course... not too big. I wanna wrestle with it and run with it and play with it. I think it would be a nice addition to our family.
I've been checking out free dogs at www.craigslist.com hoping that I would find just the dog. And, today... I did. His name is Zeus. A mutt (my favourite!). He's up to date on his shots, etc. My only concern is: how much does a dog like that eat? What does the dogfood bill run every month? Can we afford to feed it? Take it to the vet if necessary? Will our rent go up since we have an animal?
We have a fish in Derek's office. A gold fish. With big-boogly eyes. We put him in my old blender and named him Rodney. As in Dangerfield. He's since moved on up out of the blender ghetto and into a penthouse donated by a parent at the school. Blender still sits on Derek's bookshelf to remind Rodney of where he came from. Hehe. Rodney probably gets fed too much. Every kid that walks into Derek's office asks if the fish got fed. A couple of adults too. This week, we're getting Rodney a bride. From Wal-Mart. They'll get married before they move in together. The teens insisted on it. I'll decorate. We'll have Goldfish cracker snacks for the reception.
But... I really do want a dog. I've had a few before, but they never lasted long. My dalmatians were stolen - twice. And, my black lab had 6 seizures in 3 days. We returned him. Hadn't even named him yet.
Zeus. I like that name. I'll keep it in my back pocket for when I get a dog... In the meantime, I'll take care of Rodney... and his new bride, Dorothy. (Elmo's fish.)
-Jennifer-