A Few Words from the Berry Patch...and then from me

Strawberry Patch
- by Linda Siebenga

My mother knew
about
strawberry patches.

She knew
that the weeds
grew better
and faster there.

She knew
about transplanting
on a cool rainy day
with boots
that weighed in
ten pounds heavier
on days like that--

and the never-ending watering.

But she also knew
about the gift
surprises--

the rewards
of successful
treasure hunting.

To find under
a mat of leaves
those big red nuggets.

And she knew
that you can't
get that close
to the ground
without kneeling.



I have been thinking about this poem a lot in the last number of days.
I'm not really sure why.
It has always been one of my favourites.
It was written by a good family friend of ours.
I found another poem of hers this evening while looking for this one online.
I'll share it another time.

Anyway, this one has been reminding me of what I learned from Levente when I was in Ozd.
He talked about humble and human both coming from the same Latin word:
humus - meaning "ground".
And how important it is that we recognize their interconnectedness.
Human - Humus - Humble.

It says much about who we were created and are called to be.

I talked with my kids about humility today.
We were reading Eph. 4 where it tells us to be "completely humble."
Not just " a little" humble.
Or "a lot" humble, as one of my students put it,
but rather "completely" humble.
What does that really look like?

Well, He became human.
His feet were covered in the dust of the ground
as He walked from Jerusalem to Nazareth
and His servitude brought Him to die for the unlovable.
Sounds pretty complete to me.

Maybe there's a reason that being "grounded" is a good thing.
(Not grounded like when you were late for curfew,
but grounded like evidence that's based on something.)
It keeps us humble.
And keeps us bruising our knees
kneeling to give thanks
asking for guidance
and knowing that weeding, transplanting, and watering are part of the process.

Her mother knew more than strawberry patches.
She also had the "dirt"
on living humbly
before the face of God.

Ah, the NHL...

So the NHL was back in Winnipeg
for one night.
And it was good.

Part of me is sad for the dedicated folks in Winnipeg who lost their team.
Because "loyal fans" doesn't really describe the commitment these folks have to the Jets.
Still.

I think "Go Jets Go" broke out 3 different times in the 3rd period.
The first was the loudest
and I shook my head
and joked in reply,
"Go Home Jets"
But the truth is that would be here.
Which would be good.
Because there's something great about NHL hockey.

Reality is the folks here are hockey fans.
To the core.
Jets, yes.
But hockey.
They cheered loudly when the Oilers were introduced.
And gave the same welcome to the ex-Jets from Phoenix.
Truth be told,
if Doan scored the place would've erupted.
And that would have been kind of fun.
But he didn't.
In fact, even though the Jets fans in the picture are beating me up,
Let it be known that the Oilers (and Craig MacTavish - note his head :))
won 5-0.
But it would have been fun even if they didn't.
I like the way the fan beside me put it,
"Go Hockey Go!"
Let the season begin.

atypical posting...

So I finally watched The Lord of the Rings.
Took me long enough.
Like a few years.
And I liked it.
So much that I didn't even wait 24 hours between movies 2 and 3.
I wanted to see how it ended.
And I might even read The Hobbit again.
Just to put it all into perspective.

Whilst watching The Return of the King,
I had my hair straightened.
The pictures show the final results
And the good friends who I got to share the evening with.

Not really a normal posting for me,
but thought I would share these anyway.

So long summer...

Sad to say, but summer is really over. I struggled greatly with bringing my boat to shore at the end of the last few strokes on the last lake.

When I left for camping and canoeing on Friday,
it was about the last thing in the world that I wanted to do.
My house was a mess,
I felt overwhelmed by way too many details that still need taking care of before my new kids come,
I was tired
I was loathing in self-pity
And I just wanted to stay home
and loaf on the couch.

However, guilt got me to go
and the fact that I know I love camping and canoeing.
I was sure I would have fun once I got there.

I drove out with a good friend
and along with good conversation
we played some humbling and heartfelt songs
acknowledging our imperfect humanness
and the depths of God's grace.
"At the top of our lungs" hardly describes how we sang.
It was what my heart needed.
And as we drove along the gravel roads
around corners and over crazy rocks that don't belong on roads
between lots of trees
watching the sun go down
I couldn't help but remember why it was that I was heading out for the weekend.
It was amazing.
The sun
creation
the known silence outside the confines of the Toyota
and the feeling of release
just by being there.
In a matter of an hour
my whole focus shifted
and I was excited to be leaving
every care in the world back in the city.

We slept under the stars -
on the rocks and in the moss -
we portaged and paddled
and swam off random rocks
we shared good conversation
we set up camp on a non-site
we sang and read and prayed
and found solitude
in the greatest church "building" there is.
I learned to kayak
and canoed by myself
and took time to journal
and watched turtles and a hawk
and a snake and listened to the loons -
who by the way are out both at night AND during the day -
and reveled at the expanse of the sky
and at how awesome we decided we are -
this was seconded by 2 men and a boy who paddled by
so we're pretty sure it's true -
and just enjoyed being.

I haven't done that in awhile.
Left every care behind.
It's incredibly refreshing.

And I only left my cares in the city.
When I returned,
sadly they were there.
The mess -
the laundry
the dishes
the school work -
the stresses and worries
the reminder that my "real" life starts again tomorrow.

For a few moments,
as I wrote in my journal
and sang in my car
and read and prayed by headlamp
in the darkness and the silence
and paddled in the quiet
God was so very present.
And I didn't consciously ask Him to come.
He was just there.
And He took all those worries and anxieties
without me consciously handing them over.
And I was at peace.
Content, relaxed, refreshed, and confident.

He knows how to do that,
God does,
to take me and mold me
when I'm unwilling and unready.
To remind me of His grace,
of my significance in His plan,
of the simplicity of life and love,
of his power and infiniteness,
and of the joy
that comes from trusting
and casting my cares on Him.

Imagine if I invited Him to come
and be where I am all the time
or if I left my worries at His feet
instead of just back in the city.

Affirmer...I wish.

So I was at this thing last night that is part of the training for the Franklin Graham Festival.
I won't be here for the festival, but it's good stuff to listen to.
And we got a bunch of youth to come out as well.
It's good to talk with them a bit about sharing their faith.
And good to recognize how hard it can be sometimes.

One of the pieces the guy was talking about last night was how we can either be affirmers or evaluators.
That's a tricky one for me.
In fact, very contradictory.
I know that I am an affirmer.
In fact, I really think that encouraging others is something I do well.
Something I enjoy,
And maybe something that I would even call a gift.
The awkward part
is that as soon as he said what he did,
I felt very guilty for my evaluating.

Really, truly, I'm an evaluator.
I wish I could turn it off sometimes.
Not all the time,
because I know that evaluating and discerning are both good things.
Valuable and important.
When it comes to ideas and beliefs and understanding what the Truth really is.

However, when it comes to people,
being an affirmer is much more important.
And it's here that I run a little stuck.
I am an incredible evaluator.
And quick to criticize.
And to recognize areas where someone "doesn't measure up",
sometimes before I've really had a chance to get to know them.
And my pride stops me from offering grace when I know that's exactly what I'm being called to do.

I'm pretty sure I know which is the higher calling.
And certain, as well, that I've got a lot of work to get there.

The five people you meet on earth...

The last weeks of my holidays have come and gone, and there is indeed much to say about a trip to Iowa, to Holland, and then to camp. However, what I want to write about is one of the books I read on one of my inbetween days - "The Five People You Meet in Heaven."

Essentially, for those who haven't read it, it is the story of a man who, after he dies, meets five people whom he encountered at some point in his life. They explain different aspects of his life to him and help to make sense of details that put the "big picture" together. Pieces of it caught my attention in different ways, but needless to say, it's a good story.

And it got me to thinking.

Who are the random people that I meet or have met along the way who remember me for reasons or incidents that I have never thought twice about?

Who are the people in my life who have had an impact on who I am, but whom I've never told?

What are the little pieces of the puzzle that I have never fully understood, but just went along in stride, never knowing the "why"?

What are the little pieces of the picture that I didn't even know about, but happened along the way and contributed to who I am?

All very interesting things to think about.
I found out during my week in Holland how much I messed up my parents' plans.
I mean, I know I messed them up along the way.
And I know that plans are just plans and life has a way of never really going according to plan.
But apparently we were going to move to the States before I turned 10 and my dad had all these great plans to go back to university and then I got sick and their went the family finances.
And thus, there went the plans.
To be quite honest,
it kind of shook me up.
And I felt a little sick.
And then I read this book.
And I thought,
indeed, make the most of every opportunity.

Of all of them.

A foothold...

The truth is that it's time for a quick cat nap before leaving for Holland for a week.

The other truth is that I've been confronted by this concept of needing to be able to offer grace.
My own need for grace and the incredible gift of grace that I've been given has recently been played out in front of me quite blatantly.
And a number of times.
There may be a good reason.
It is engaged in a serious battle with my own ability to offer grace.
Somehow there is a big part of me that just can't.
It sounds ridiculous when I go over it in my head.
But part of my heart just isn't there.

I've been promised grace and forgiveness.
However, my need to extend that grace in return is crucial.
And I'm stopped in my tracks.
I can't.
I can pretend.
But my heart isn't there.
And so really,
I'm not sure that's grace at all.
And if I can't offer it,
why should it be offered to me?

I know the right answer to that question.
But that right answer is in my head.
And although that's a start,
it's not where that answer needs to be.

It's not an easy one.
But a tough reality.
And it humbles me
More than I like to be humbled.

It gets to the heart of what grace is really all about.
And it gets to my heart.
And it reminds me how skewed and selfish I am.
And stubborn.

And thus, in need of grace.
I just can't.
Not on my own.

I'm going to need a little help
to not make that foothold so easy.

Change...

I like the spare kind.
And the leave kind in the fall.
And the kind that lets me put on a hoodie and jeans
at the end of a long day.

I like the kind that gets me away from talk radio and back to the music.
And the kind that gets me from a red light to a green light,
that gets rid of a flat tire,
and that puts me in a new place with new people every now and then.

It's the kind that happens on the inside of me
that I seem to have a bit of trouble with.
Don't get me wrong.
I like that kind, too.
After the fact.
But it's not always easy while it's happening.

I've been reading Donald Miller.
He might show up here a little more often.
I'm only on page 81.

"Everybody has to change, or they expire. Everybody has to leave, everybody has to leave their home and come back so they can love it again for all new reasons....Only the good stories have the characters different at the end than they were at the beginning....Leave....Don't worry. Everything will still be here when you get back. It is you who will have changed."

I'm not saying that I'm planning on going anywhere big -
leaving that is.
Not at this point anyway.
But I like the concept.
And I think I know it to be true...
in many regards in my own life,
and in at least some regards in the lives of others.
Not leaving, like running away.
But changing.

And even though it might be something that can be tough for me
I also know it's something that's good.
Change is good.
It lets us become.
If we don't change,
We just stay the way we are.
And that goes against who we're called to be.
Always changing.
Becoming more.
Becoming better.
And knowing that it happens
within the story of grace.
The story that shapes us.
The story that we are a part of.
The story that has characters at the end that are different from who they were at the beginning.
Except for one.
He never changes.
He who promised is faithful.

Sweat the small stuff...

...not my overall philosophy on life --
I try not to sweat too much stuff at all --
but I've concluded that it matters.

I think it goes back to a piece that I read in college.
A piece that identified "noticing" as a gift.

I kind of chuckle at that one sometimes.
Because sometimes I miss a lot.

Recently I saw a card that said,
"Some people make things happen.
Some people watch things happen.
And some people say, 'What happened?'"

Sadly, I saw myself as the last of the 3.
Missing details.
Missing the goings on of what's around me.
Ask our family friend who put a beautiful arch over her front sidewalk.
I walked under it -
leaves and branches all around me-
and when I arrived in the backyard
she asked if I liked the archway.
My honest response was, "What archway?"

Perhaps I'm simply not a superstar at noticing stuff.
And, although embarrassing, humbling, and quite humourous at times,
It's not the end of the world.

Noticing people, however, is where I think
"sweating the small stuff" matters.

Things like a few weeks ago when someone remembered
that sugar-free ice cream was a better choice
and picked some up,
just for me.
Or someone quietly offering me driving directions
Or chuckling aloud, offering me directions to the stadium store
Or bringing a large, 2 milk and a sweetener over
when I am having a rough day.
Or giving me a hug
when I'm frustrated that I need a puffer
in the middle of a good shift at Ultimate -
Or remembering that I don't have all I need for a canoe trip
and bringing what I'm missing,
without me even asking.
Or sending me an email after I called
and couldn't talk because I was crying.
And knowing that I just needed
that little nudge of encouragement.

And I guess I could go on for a long while.
It's the small stuff.

No one bought me a new car
or paid my mortgage
or wrote my history paper
(even though I offered a good bribe :)...)
no one convinced me it was all going to be okay
(even though I'm too stubborn to be convinced of lots of things --
maybe they knew that and didn't want to try...)

But the small stuff makes a difference.
It's the little things.
Like trying to understand a person for who they really are.
And not being so self-focused
that I forget what's all out there -
not just on the outside,
but what's going on on the inside, too.

It really matters...
or so I've noticed.

Granola Bars and Blue Doors

So I was talking to a friend yesterday
about love
and what it really is
and how we express it.
And how as a culture we're scared to express it,
and yet we need to know that it's there.
And that it's real.
How parts of it are very intentional -
letting people know that you love them, that is.
But how we're not always comfortable with
how to say it
or how to show it
because we're afraid of what kind of response we'll be given.
Or maybe because we're afraid
that there won't be any response at all.

And then I got an email from someone wise
who quoted someone else wise
who said,
"Never look down on anyone,
unless you are reaching down to help him up."

And it reminded me of the man on the corner
who put a smile on my face this week.
He was asking for money or food.
I rolled down my window and handed him a granola bar.
For which he thanked me and smiled.
And then he paused and said,
"Nice blue doors."
It was a friendly chuckle.
Not a mocking or judgmental chuckle...
(who would mock my car? :) )
But kind of one that said,
"You don't have it all together either."
Almost like he was impressed by them.
And glad that I left them blue
instead of painting them to match everything else.

And then my thinking went back
to the conversation I was having with my friend.
About how love works.
And how often love is expressed by mutual trust.
A shared willingness to show weakness.
And a shared acceptance of who we are as imperfect people.

It seemed so simple for the man on the corner.
He looked down on me...
to help me up to a different understanding.

Sometimes it seems so difficult
with the people whom we really love.
Or who really love us.
Why is it so terrifying?

It challenges me to be honest.
It challenges me to be vulnerable
and not pretend like I have it all together.
And it challenges me to listen.
To really listen.
And to keep working on the invaluable need
to notice.

And it reminds me how important it is to
thank those who have shared their "blue doors" with me.
And have let me share mine in return
(both pre- and post- functioning handles...)
And for that matter, those who have helped me work on the glitches.
Like making the "blue door"
actually work the way it was designed to.

And so I can drive on,
roll down the window
on my blue "door"
and hand over some Quaker Chewy bars.
Want a ride?

Typhoon Parties...

So, I know it's late, but I just hung up the phone with my friend in Taipei.
She is having a typhoon day....like a snow day she says.
The office is closed and no one is working because the wind is crazy.
So she went out for lunch
and now they're planning a"typhoon party".
People over to hang out and play games.
and not work.
Sign me up for one of them.

So, she's great.
And says that she misses life here.
And wants you all to email her.
Even if she is a slow responder.
(That's like an EMT, but the opposite...)

And I'd like to share my delight at the fact
that she kept talking to me even though her floor was covered in puddles from some weird moisture thing in the wall or the ceiling or near the window.
On a fourth floor dorm, you shouldn't have puddles on the floor.
But she did.
And she stayed on the phone.
She did try to clean it up...in case some of you think she is irresponsible and just leaving it, or leaving it for someone else, but she tried whilst talking.
to no avail.
But we chatted on...
into the wee hours of the morning.
actually it's like 1:30 in the afternoon for her now.
Just like the old days.
In front of the yellow canopy.
Ah, the yellow canopy.

Good times in the community car.
Which for her sake I will mention...
is no longer a community car.
the door handles are all fixed.
I took some tools and another friend to the wreckers
and we figured it out.
We took off the old
and made them into my new.
It was cheap
and we felt pretty smart.
So she and I?
We went for ice cream...

One is never enough...

When I was a kid
and we visited people's houses,
my mom always said we could take "two".
2 cookies, 2 glasses of juice, 2 hand-fulls.
Less was okay, but never more.
We of course figured out the system.
2 bowls of chips, 2 of each kind of cookie.
We were so smart. :)

So, 2.
I was going to write 2 things, but I guess that story is kind of one.
So the other one will have to wait for another day...

Thought #2...a comment in an email with a friend awhile back got me to thinking.

The intention in describing the person we were talking about was to say that they definitely put God first.
Only it came out differently.
The message came to me saying that this person "defiantly put God first."
And although funny,
and undoubtedly a typo,
I have to admit that it challenged me quite intensely.
I know that I strive to "definitely" put God first.
And sometimes I really do.
Sometimes I surprise even myself
at how God can work in me to make something possible to hand over
even when it seems like humanly speaking
I want to hold onto it even more tightly.
However, more often than I'd like to admit,
I "defiantly" put God first.
I give Him everything except for the last detail.
I give Him everything...kind of...
I have to give it back
again and again.
I give Him everything
when that's what He's forced me to do.
Not just nudged me
or whispered in my ear,
but shaken me up good
or knocked me to my knees
because He knows that sometimes
I learn the best that way.

Ah, typos... :)
I like that God uses the small stuff.
I also like that my brain is taking time to be pensive about this stuff.
Ah, summer.

"Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes -
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries."

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Yeah, I wish I could take credit for that one,
but I can't.

I do like it however.
It goes back to that delights thing.
But not so much as noticing the blessings,
as simply noticing God.

When talking to some youth group kids about "quiet time",
a friend shared with them that they don't have to fill the space.
It's enough sometimes to just be
and know that God is there, too.
In His presence is a good place to be.

And it brings me to another good quote.
This time from Clive Staples...
(aka C.S. Lewis...)

"A man can no more diminish God's glory by refusing to worship Him than a lunatic can put out the sun by scribbling the word 'darkness' on the walls of his cell."

God's glory is all around us.
Whether we choose to notice it
or acknowledge it
is a totally different matter.

Not that I'm opposed to "plucking blackberries",
(I think raspberries would be better...)
but maybe when we do,
it wouldn't be a bad idea to be barefoot.

Delights...

Two stories.
The first happened in college.
Okay the second one did, too.
Oh, college.
Oh, learning...but the not the kind
of learning you think happens at college.
Much better than learning about the stuff that is
"beyond the ken of both victor and vanquished."
Yeah, I had to ask what it meant, too. :)

The first.
I was telling a friend how writing was an "out" for me.
She chuckled and said, "No, it's an "in".
"What?' I asked, giving her my scrunched up face.
She laughed at my face (only because it was scrunched...)
"It's my totally honest me," I told her, trying to explain what I meant by "out".
"I know," she assured me.
"It might be an "out" for you, but it's an "in" for the rest of us.
That's when we get to see your heart.
You're honest and real when you write.
So for those of us who read what you write,
and who you write to,
We get the "in".
We get to know you."

Ah, good friend.
She taught me how to be honest more often than when I write,
and for that I thank her.
But she was right.
And so I write.

Story two.
In my challenging, but fantastic writing class my last year of college,
we were assigned a "delight".
At the time, I wasn't really sure what to write about.
Our prof talked about finding that $5 bill
in your winter coat pocket
the first time you pull it out in the fall.
And about holding his first grandchild.
I couldn't relate.
What I wrote about is immaterial at this point,
but I like the idea of "delights".
It's a great way of acknowledging the simple moments of joy in my life.
Some are things that make me smile a little.
Others really "get me" and it's really joy.
And so, although I am not planning to dive in to the real ENG301 style,
with adjectives and metaphors and great descriptions,
I think I see my own heart (refer to story 1)
when I'm really honest
and take the time to enjoy the little blessings.
Cause there are lots.
Need I say it again?
He is good.

Recently -
**I got a scrape from diving in Ultimate.
It's from diving for a disc (which I missed,
but let's ignore that point for now).
I gave my best effort.
And it reminded me of the other scrape on my leg
from playing beach volley-ball.
I dove a lot (the sand was soft and it was fun...)
But someone on my team said I was a hard-worker.
Yay.

**My friend gave me a serious tutoring session
on how to find my way around the UofM.
She even printed out a picture of the building I needed to find.
And on my first day there, I only got honked at once.
And I didn't get lost.
I was quite excited.
(I got lost in the library on day 2, but let's ignore that part...)

**I was riding in the car with a friend tonight.
We passed someone riding a bike.
She turned around towards the biker,
clapped her hands
and said,
"Good job! Good job!"
I chuckled to myself.

That's all.
Not all.
But enough for now.

better thing about honesty...

So, funny thing about trust.

When it's there,
you know that your friend is real.

And that whole thing about trust meaning that you can be really real, and honest...

It means you have to be honest
when you feel like you've been un-trusted.
And honest that you've been hurt.
And you have to trust that the supposed un-truster
Can handle your honesty.
Otherwise you've un-trusted them.

And honestly, if all that trust is real,
Then the truth is okay.
No matter what it is.
That's a friendship grounded in grace.
And truth.
And in something deeper than me.
It's about honouring someone else.
And accepting their friendship as a gift from God.

Sounds hokey.
But it's real.

honest.

funny thing about trust...

Funny thing about trust.
It grows
and sometimes
you don't even see it happening.
It just does.
And suddenly, you realize that your walls are down.
And honesty isn't work.
And being real is really real.
And hearing things that stink are okay.
And saying things that stink are okay, too.

Until your heart is questioned.
And in an instant, you feel untrusted.
It might not be a word - untrusted.
But it's a feeling.

And it doesn't matter how many times
you explain it away
and tell yourself that it's okay.
It's really not.

And you don't take falling asleep for granted.
You actually consider getting up at 4:45
in hopes of making something productive of your alertness.

Funny thing,
that un-trust.
It hurts.

Trust...and obey

I've been challenged to think a lot in the last while.
And thinking a lot also puts into question where my heart is at.
Sometimes I think I can keep the two separate.
But really, I'm learning that I can't.
What I think about is what's on my heart.
And what's on my heart is what I think about.

And the consolidation of them (thanks, Margaret)
Has brought me to that age old chorus of
Trust and obey.
I know they are supposed to just go together nicely...
trust and obey.
The thing I've come to realize, however,
is that sometimes it's easy to say, "I trust."
God is faithful.
God is good.
He cares for His children.
Sounds simple, doesn't it?
The funny part is that it's not that easy.
The trust part - it's a head thing.
Mind over matter.
That I can do.
But the obey part - it's more than a mindset.
It's a following through.
It takes action.
It asks me to check in on who God is calling me to be.
And the truth is that's not always an easy answer.
It goes back to that verse in Ephesians.
"Find out what pleases the Lord."
Again, simple?
I think not.
Obedience isn't just something I can decide and do.
First I have to figure out what obeying God really means.
And it's not always the same thing.
Sounds like a lot of reasons to throw my hands up.
Argghh.
Or sighhhh.
Impossible.
Impossible?
Sort of...but I'm not in it alone.
He's promised to help me understand what I need to.
(Not necessarily all that I want to...)
And to walk alongside me through the entire mess.
And to bring me blessing through my choices.
Not necessarily to agree with all my choices.
Or to make them hurt-free.
Or to have them turn out the way I think they should.
But to be there nonetheless.
And to hold me in His hands.
They're big hands.
Steady and full of grace.
Good thing.
And He won't throw His up at a loss for what to do next.
He is constant.
And is holding me tightly.
Gripped in His grace.

Ah, rest...

I have the unfortunate experience of not having a voice.
Funny thing, not having a voice.
At first I thought it was unfortunate.
My friends laughed at me.
And told me how awful I sounded.
And I couldn't really communicate very well.
But, it has landed me a day at home as I can't teach without one.
And other than the voice, I feel pretty good.
And you don't really need to talk to anyone when you're at home alone.
Except telemarketers.
I had one ask me if I was okay today.
He thought I was on oxygen and perhaps dying.
Then he asked if I had the flu.
It was a good transition and he didn't spend 20 minutes trying to convince me to buy his product.
So that was good.
I can't sing, however, and that's a bit of a challenge.
But it means I have to listen.
So I did.
I listened to music.
And didn't sing.
And then I listened to 3 sermons from Brian.
Haven't done that in awhile, but it was good.
I think it would be fun to call my mom to chat, but alas, back to that not chatting thing.
And I could call the university to find out about parking for my summer course.
Only they wouldn't understand me on the other end.
Okay, so it's not all sunshine.
But I'm getting work done.
And that's a good thing.
Yay me.
Only 2 weekends left until all procrastination must be finished.
Yikes.

Home Sweet Home...

We had a children's choir in from Uganda today.
20 orphans and their "aunties" and "uncles".
Amazing.
Their energy and enthusiasm was inspiring.
They were singing and dancing and smiling the whole way through.
And I was tapping my toes and (trying to) dance, and also smiling the whole way through.
Contagious joy, really.
I couldn't help but reflect their joy.

And then it dawned on me.
No one misses them.
They don't have parents to call to say they are having a good time.
Or that they arrived safely.
Or who will greet them with open arms at the airport upon their return.
They are gone for 6 months.
And they are with all the family they have.
They share their stories with each other.
And that's good.
But there is this crazy delight in arriving home from a trip and sharing tales of the adventures you've been on.
And knowing that your mom or dad waits eagerly to hear exactly that.

I wanted to hug all of them.
And to suddenly put an addition onto my house.
I'm pretty sure I could hold 20 kids in the backyard in tents for now.
Almost positive.

Uganda.
Prayers for the children of Uganda.
Is there a reason they are tugging at my heart strings?
Suddenly they aren't Invisible Children anymore.

Humming and Hawing...

After many attempts at this, a blog has been created. All in the name of posting on someone else's blog.
Ah well, probably a good thing.

Today a crew of us went to the snake pits in Narcisse, Manitoba.
A lot of snakes.
Like 5000.
In one place for mating season.
Crazy business.
Relaxing to hold them.
Fun to catch them.
Intriguing to see the spaghetti noodle piles of snakes falling off the edges into the pits.
How do they all know to come back to the same place every year?
For enough years that it's a tourist attraction with signs and everything.
Wow.
Really, that's all there is to say.

It's time for me to get back to work.
Or sleep.

The silence of post-midnight is good.
Fitting, even.
It's like the world is supposed to be quiet and be okay with that.
Sometimes the world doesn't get that you can be quiet during the day, too.

Be still and know that He is God.
me