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-

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-

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-

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-

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-

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-

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-

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-

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-

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?

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-

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-

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-

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-

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-

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-

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!

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-

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-

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-

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-

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-

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-

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-

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-

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-

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-

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-

Zion: "Can you help me tape these glasses to my head?"
Mom: "Uh sure, whatcha doin'?" I found the tape and pulled two pieces.
"I'm controlling electricity and I need glasses like Scott (X-Men) and Neo (The Matrix)."
"Oooohhh..." I took the armless glasses and applied tape where he needed them. "So you control electricity, huh?"
"Yep". Wonder-boy skips off.
It began storming only a few minutes later. Zion loves thunder. Strange child.
It only took a few minutes before the thunder quieted and Zion returned to my room.
"I made the storm stop."
"Kewl! Thanks!"
"You're welcome!" He sat next to my desk and began to strum on my guitar.
A few minutes pass... I continue typing... the faint sound of rumbling re-appears.
"Argh! My powers!" Zion jumped up and ran to the window. "They're driving me nuts!"
He threw open my bedroom blinds and pointed his open hands to the sky, staying for just a few seconds. Satisfied, he returned to my guitar.
The thunder stopped and I was impressed. Poor kid. You know it's gonna go to his head.

Going back home...
What is it to go back home? Explore your stomping grounds?

I wonder if it's a normal part of the human development to go back to where you came from and find clues or tokens that would explain where you are.

My trip to Canada is up in the air. We don't know if we're going. However, my desire to go, to take my family with me is overwhelming. I feel like it will explain so much.

The "States" have welcomed and embraced me. I feel at home here, make no doubt. But, when I hear northerners speak, when I hear snow may be coming our way, when I spot perogies on the freezer shelf at the grocery store - something deep inside me wakens. A longing to return home.

It was a simpler life. Happy times, though sometimes darkened by wounds that took many years to heal. For the most part my memories of "home" are cheery, bringing contentment to my soul.

Days playing in the woods around our home. Exploring. Adventuring. Making up fantastical stories and playing them out. Climbing trees, digging underground forts, picking berries, swimming in the river. We had a huge playground - the northern Saskatchewan woods. Safe. Inviting. Full of suprises, yet year after year offering the same thrills. Being chased by foxes, spotting the occasional truck, jumping sand dunes, clam digging, spying on neighbors who enjoyed their own adventures in the woods.

Mom would pack lunches or make muffins early in the summer mornings. We'd pack them up with the other "essentials" (what ever suited our fancy, tools, hammers, nails, plastic trashbags-turned-parachutes, a few toys, and always our brother's adrenaline syringe - just in case we'd stirred up a wasp nest... again.) We must have put on miles in those long summer days. The sun was up so early - always before me. And the sun didn't go down until well after bedtime. Back then, I could run and never grow tired. I was amazed at my own endurance! I helped restore our tree house to it's former glory, and spoke of plans for new cabinets and wall paper. (See? Even then I was an interior designer!) We strolled out further than allowed. Past the treelines, past the logging roads, always inching out further into the endless woods. We learned how to read moss. We found better berry picking, promising ourselves that we would remember where the "good patches" were. Eventually - just when we knew we were close to the north pole, we found the golf course. Sure, it was anti-climactic - but we found that if we picked up stray golfballs and sold them, we could have a buck or two in spare change that burned a hole in our pocket. So, no north pole... not this time anyway!

The auction house wasn't too far from home, either. We'd sometimes go just to see the frenzy of people and the treasures they'd lug out to their cars. A lot of Indians at the auction. The convenience store was owned by a school friend's parents. We weren't allowed in. My parents forbid it. But, out back was another set of sand dunes. (Land that had been carved out for a garbage dump, and then the local government changed their mind. Made for great BMX riding, though!) I remember the day my brothers found a dead dog out there. We were fascinated by the maggots. Jeez we needed a TV!

The empty garbage dump (we call them the "Big Hills") was a massive, exciting playground. We "parachuted" off the sandy cliffs and dared eachother to go further than the last. This was before Fear Factor. We brought our BMX bikes and rode the dunes all day long. Sometimes we'd haul dad's cinderblocks and plywood out there and make "jumps" that nearly killed us off one by one. My sister didn't have a BMX - she had a banana seat and we teased her endlessly about it. Of course, when one of us got a flat, you know whose bike we rode double on, right?

Up in the corner of our property mom had planted a garden, complete with a compost heap. I couldn't for the life of me figure out why mom wanted trash out in her garden. Though it makes perfect sense now! The freeze always came earlier than expected and mom would send us all out in a hustle to pull the carrots and any potatoes before they were ruined. The ground was frosty and my hands were red and numb but full of half frozen vegitation those mornings! There was a real sense of satisfaction pulling hard-earned carrots from the ground!

We were picked up by school bus. Mrs. Fremont was the driver from hell. She hated us. If we weren't exactly at the stop, she'd just roll on by. We'd wave frantically and then run to the other side of the property, over the hill and through the snow to catch her at the next stop. The bus was always cold and I think there were only 10 of us who rode it those 9 years I rode the yellow deliverer. In the winter time the windows would frost over with a thick frost. I'd scratch pictures or my name or just place my palm against it to watch the ice melt. The cool kids sat in the back, the bad kids always had to sit up front. Mrs. Fremont made the Indians sit up front too. So she could keep an eye on them. I hated it. She hated me. But, I was in love with her son, my 6th grade teacher - Mr. Fremont.

I always sat in the front of his classes. Answered questions, payed attention. Was the most attentive, creative, helpful little girl you could find. I just knew he'd notice and marry me some day. He was also my first soccer coach. Sigh. Too bad I wouldn't get along with the mother-in-law, right? It was never meant to be.

I attended Red Wing Elementary School. I remember most of my teachers, principal and vice-principal. I remember the ones who disliked me and those that seemed loving and patient. The older they were, the more kind they were. I remember when our gym got the big gold and brown stripes around the walls. I thought that was so cool. We'd also had a special guest - a guy with no arms who showed us how it was to run a film projector with his feet. He told us not to watch, and I was foolish enough to actually close my eyes! I was probably the only one! I had won platinum awards in nearly every health and fitness test we'd had in that gym. Except the one where we had to do high-jump. I never mastered it. Never even started it. I'd run and come to a screeching halt right at the hurdle... I couldn't figure out how to run in one direction and turn around and jump backwards. Still can't figure it out!

Recesses were cold outside. Mostly, in the dead of winter, I'd huddle around the incenerator. When I wasn't there, I was at the tetherball pole - either killing someone in the game, or sticking my tongue to it. Yes. I got stuck. More than once. A real bright child.

So... I want to go home. See if the tree house is stil there. See if the climbing tree still stands. See what they've done with the "Big Hills". See if the road to the Big Ridge is still there. See if the berry patches still exist.

I heard mom sold her last acre... the one with the garden. I may go there just to pray and thank God for my childhood. It was good. Just the way it was.

-Jennifer-

I haven't been faithful.

To this blog.

No, it's not another blog...

It's me.

I've been, um... lost in my own mind. (It's a big, empty cavern.)

I promised the view from my window. But, I've pulled the shade.

Here's the truth. I may have the opportunity to meet my bio family for the first time in 27 years. I may have the opportunity to share the gospel with them during that short visit.

How do I feel about it?

Mmmm... ambivilent. Unsure. Dunno if it will actually happen. I've become somewhat of a skeptic these days. IF I get there... I will share the gospel. That I know for sure. The gospel is the reason I'm alive - inside and out!

Does my family know?

Yeah. They know. They're excited for me. Which is cool. They know I run no risk of returning to the old family or their way of life. This has been the tragedy of brothers and sisters past.

I have been able to switch that excited button on and off for a few weeks. Excited when I think of the possiblities. Skeptical when I think it might be just a dream. I visualize me telling them all about how God saved me. How God loves me, in spite of me. How God used me, utilizes me. How God has wonderful plans for them too. His offering of grace, forgiveness and goodness. I hope, HOPE that God allows me this opportunity to share with them. He may say "no" or "not yet"... but I pray that the time comes before I lose opportunity to tell my Grandpa Ben.

Grandpa Ben. Hehe. He's an old man. 81. He's short and has patches of white skin... which look funny on an old Indian. I used to wonder if he was white or Indian - seeing as he was spotted. He is gentle, patient. He is a trapper and still prefers to work up north on the lines. Grandma, when she was alive, used to take his furs and make them into mukluks. I have a pair that I treasure. Grandpa also has a fondness for liquor and women. You'd think in his old age...

Doreen. She's my mother. I look just like her, but I'm white with curly reddish brown hair. She's Indian. From what I can tell, she's a floater - never really settled down. She makes a lot of demands on those around her. Grandpa especially. She works hard when she wants something, but she doesn't want consistency. She's a gambler. Bad. She had an older son, David. The brother I grew up with. He lived a violent life and was murdered in her front yard two years ago. He was tall and handsome. I have a younger brother, Gerald. Spitting image of me - exept tall and handsome too. It looks better on him. He was taken from her at birth, through a set of difficult circumstances. She prefers to call it a sort of abduction, but I think someone was looking out for that baby. I met him in my adoptive home when he was nine. What a trip that was!

I don't remember much of anyone else. Cousins galore, but I couldn't name them or place them 27 years later. Everyone seems to remember me. I was the green eyed, blonde Indian that was taken from Doreen and John.

I remember the day I was taken. We were living in those dark brown apartments in Prince Albert. It was dark. I was watching TV with John on the couch. Police lights flashed on the wall in front of me. I don't know who answered the door. Doreen was out getting Kentucky Fried Chicken. I remember sitting in the back of the police cruiser. I was calm. Doreen's face was tear-streaked. John was gone. In cuffs, somewhere. I don't remember a lot of noise. I don't remember caring. I was relieved. Was there snow? Was it cold? I think so.

My first foster-home - at least the first one I remember - was a farm. I had a room upstairs. The lady loved to do my hair. She bought me nice clothes... a first for me. I even had "Fruit of the Loom" underwear and undershirts. I felt so grown up. The school was far away. But, I wasn't there for long. They had a Down Syndrome boy. He went too close to the fireplace once, and I slapped his hand. I was promptly spanked with a spoon. They were good to me. I think they loved having me. There was a lot of quiet there... order... peace.

I remember pulling up the long driveway to the Williams' home. I clenched my paper bag of clothes. It was April. The social worker helped me out of the car. I could have gone anywhere. But, God brought me here. The house was full, but the parents were willing. I was nervous, but I was greeted by who would become my little brothers and sisters who promptly showed me the house. We played on the green carpet in the rumpus room while the social worker talked with mom and dad. Susan was home. I think it was her birthday. She would be the older sister who shared a room with me, was motherly to me. Susan died two years ago.

I am overwhelmed by the thought that I could have gone anywhere else. Adopted - or never adopted - and never have known God! Hot tears of gratitude stream down my face, as I think of my God-fearing husband, and my sweet, christian children! I thank God for rescuing me, leading me to a home that would guarantee an opportunity to know Him, love him and share Him. My prayer is that I can boldly go back to where I came from and share Him with them.

Forgiveness happened so long ago. It wasn't a sudden, dramatic moment. It was gradual, and easy when I realized that I, too needed to be forgiven by God. Satan used weak people to try to destroy me as they did my brother David. And, who knows why God rescued me? What purpose do I have? All I know... is that I need to share it...