Dates and Dreamers

Hank still likes to surprise me every once in a while. When we were dating, I was horrible about surprises. I don't know if it was coincidence, my genius sleuthing skills(bahaa!) or just friends with loose lips, but I managed to ruin almost every surprise he planned.

  I would fret and worry that the surprise wouldn't turn out well or that he needed my help but I couldn't give it because... well, it was a surprise. I have gotten a bit more trusting and a little more relaxed. Turns out life is more fun that way!

    So Hank told me mid-week that he wanted to surprise me with a date on Saturday. I said ok and he proceeded to tell me to be ready by 2:00pm.

   Saturday rolled around after a tough week at school and I was extremely thankful for a thoughtful husband. We needed to get out and have some fun.

   We spent the morning around the house- he changing the oil and mowing the lawn while I did laundry and looked up recipes :). We piled into the cars and headed off. Would you know that my hubby found an online coupon and took me to a historic home tour?!

    On our anniversary weekend we planned out our dreams for the next five years. Since then, we have been planning and plotting and looking into seeing those dreams happen. One of those dreams is to fix up a foreclosure and then sell it for profit. This is more of a stepping stone to other dreams, but we love to work together on projects and Hank is super Handy.. Hmm.. Handy Hank. Hank the Handyman... I like it.

    We walked through houses built in the early 1930's and talked about our favorite kitchens, flowers and bookshelves. Old Houses are so neat and these had been well-loved. We took pictures and made notes and gathered valuable gardening advice. We even scored some homemade honey from one of the home owners and I filled my purse with the pecans that covered the sidewalks.

   After we finished the tour, Hank took me to a pizza food truck near down town. He had cleverly found another coupon and this little food truck served vegan pizza! This month we are going vegan- more on that later.

   We grabbed our pizza and dashed to Discovery Green to eat.

    Lately God has been teaching us about food. It started when I watched Forks Over Knives. In that documentary, I was so challenged by the idea of eating a plant based diet. We love green veggies and we have a fairly natural diet to begin with- but I have no problem splurging on sweets and Hank tends to eat a lot of meat. So we decided to go for it and see how we felt eating vegan for a month.

   I love the idea that I am cutting out cholesterol, eating sustainable food, and perhaps downsizing my massive carbon footprint (I have a jeep...)

   All in all, it has been so easy. That may be because I cheat every once in a while (mmmm Donut holes...) but the vegan food we have cooked thus far has been DELICIOUS. No lie. It has been epic. Vegan fajitas, black bean salsa with beet chips, vegan crepes. Yummy! And it is absolutely guiltless because it is natural.

    So, Hank and I grabbed our vegan pizza and headed to the park. Discovery Green is located in downtown Houston and it is an urban green space that hosts free shows, movies and has the coolest fountain and jungle gym for kids to play on.

We saw that there was a movie on the lawn when we arrived. We hadn't intended to go to this park but it was the one that the guy at the pizza place suggested. Would you like to know what the movie was about????

God is so cool.


It was about meat production in America and how our system needs to change. It wasn't a Peta production with graphic pictures. I can't handle that. It was an honest look at the problems within our commodity oriented animal industry. Cheap meat has become the goal- rather than good quality or animal welfare. And one of the main groups of people who are suffering are farmers. Farmers who have to raise a huge amount of chickens in a highly technological way to ensure that they make a small profit. Farmers who have been indentured to big companies because the industry is set up in such a way that the farmer incurs all the risk and the farmer loses all if the demand for meat decreases. In the video, farmers were interviewed and a solution was presented. More people need to farm but the farms need to be smaller.

   Hank and I never pictured we would want to farm. I still can't say I am too terribly excited about pigs, but the concepts presented in the movie were so simple and just like what my grandparents did. It just made sense.

   One of the dreams that Hank and I have is to open a cafe that serves locally grown food, provides and warm place for people to sit and talk and a venue for local Christian artists and sell art and have concerts. We love people, we love food, we love the arts. And we love working together.

But we also want to teach our kids to work and work hard. I don't want my kids to grow up spending hours in front of a tv or computer. I want them to be so tired at the end of a day that they can't get into trouble :). I want them to learn to work hard and play hard. You see, these are core values in my family. My grandparents knew how to work hard but they also knew how to relax and their family and friends were always the top priority.

So God has been planting ideas and dreams and last night my mind was just too active to allow sleep. So I wrote out some of those dreams and allowed God to begin to give me a vision. And He did. And it was great.

   I know anything can happen tomorrow. In East Texas, where I went to school, they would say they would do something "Lord Willing and the Creek don't rise."  Lord willing, we would like to open a cafe and raise all the food to supply it. Lord willing, we want to spend our time out in God's creation, witnessing the miracles of seeds that die to provide life giving nutrients and witnessed the miracles of relationships and feeding people's hungry tummys and trusting God for what we need.

And it Begins!

Tonight I met all my children and their parents and may I just say- I am excited!

After a short spiel by our administrator and the pastor of the church where my school is, the families were released to our classrooms. I was running on adrenaline so I barely felt nervous.

 It took all of the last three days to finish my classroom. And that was with the hours spent in the afternoons and evenings of this week. I have a new respect for all of the teacher I have had!

I have eaten lunch at the church the past three days and the pastor even asked if I felt like I lived there! You know you have been at a church too much if the pastor asks that!

But, as the final minutes quickly ticked by, I had a huge peace (one that was oddly accompanied by a large amount of adrenaline and a long mental list of tasks to complete). Hank was a marvelous help. He had to work today but finished right after church. He came with lunch and we ate and then buckled down. The final details came together and I must say, it looked like a real classroom and I felt like a real teacher. A great feeling! :)

When the parents were dismissed and began to come into the classroom, I put on my best smile and began to greet the children and their parents. I feel so fortunate in that 11 out of 12 parents came. This tells me that I have a group of involved parents and that is so important.

Hank took all the supplies and organized them in the back of the room while I gave the parents information about myself, what we would be learning this year and our classroom rules. When I finished, I was able to meet some of my students. They are PRECIOUS and SO ADORABLE!!!!

And their parents were amazing. I am so thankful and so very blessed. We pulled out of the parking lot and got pizza because we were both too brain-dead and tired to cook. But I couldn't shake this glorious peace. Before we climbed into our cars and left the church, I turned to Hank and said "This is where we are supposed to be." And he feels it too. In the staff and the family feel of our team, the sweet students and their parents, and the administration that wholeheartedly  supports us... I am so thankful and so excited for our first day tomorrow!

Whew... Overwhelmed in this place

Today was the second day of teacher in-service. I am still learning what in-service is, but I think its basically a lot of information geared to get the teacher ready for school in a short amount of time.

While it is all good information and I am so extremely thankful for this job and the students I teach this year, I.am.overwhelmed!

My brain feels a little exhausted and I can't quite wrap my mind around tasks that need to be done- like lesson planning and completing eight hours on pre-service classes and professional development classes online... Oh and I am still working towards getting certified with the state- more online classes.

This month may actually break me of my internet addiction. I am actually cutting down my excessive facebook time because I cannot stare at the computer any longer.

There is a silver lining to each cloud afterall!

Today I was so extremely blessed by my mentor teacher- who patiently and lovingly answered my many questions and walked me through the schedule and curriculum. I learned more about the incredible vision this school has and was shaken again by what an incredible privilege it is to work at a school that teaches students to be excellent in life.

And I got a bulletin board done! Happy Dance!

Now Hank is cutting out game pieces and various paper that needs to be laminated and I am just so thankful for the sleep that I will get tonight.

With that- fairwell and sweet dreams all!

He brings me honor

There is a verse in the Bible about how a woman can save her husband by her faithfulness. I like that idea. It is so full of hope. But I think sometimes here in this house it is flipped.

Sometimes my husband is the one saving me.

This past weekend, Hank attended a men's retreat. He had really been praying about getting some 'guy time' and had been searching out men from our church over the past few months. So when a fellowship in town, a gospel church, hosted a men's conference, hubby was jazzed!

It has been a while since I have seen him this excited! Every night, he came home and shared his pages of notes with me. He would share how fired up the pastors got and how the whole group of men went crazy in worship or shouted their amens and mmhmms and how they made him feel like one of the brothers. Just a very pale one...

I went to my parents house this weekend for a wonderful party that friends threw for my sisters' impending jobs. Emily is going all the way to Rhode Island for the next year to work as a field teacher at a working ranch. Julia is going all the way out to West Texas to work as an assistant camp director. I am proud beyond words for both of them!

When I got home, Hank told me all about his Saturday- the last day of the conference. He told me about how the pastor spoke of the need for a real life change. The theme was 'recover all' and they had talked about how God wants to recover the men's family, finances, spiritual lives and so on. They talked about praying daily for their wives and families and allowing Jesus to infiltrate every area of their lives. They talked about putting actual life change into effect.

When Hank left the church, he saw a lady walking along the side of the road. She asked if he was going into the city and said she had gotten stranded after a night with friends. He offered her a ride and drove her all the way home. On the way, Holy Spirit was prodding him to talk to her about Jesus and His love. Now, you have to understand how scary that is. For some reason, in this free country with a GPS view of the Roman Road and years growing up in church, it is still scary. Most of the time, we are pretty content to go to church, serve where we can, get to know our neighbors a bit and keep our marriage in shape. Most of the time we are thinking about 'evangelizing.'

But Hank just started talking about Jesus and telling this lady how much Jesus truly loves her. And she listened. She had read her bible before and had gone to church, but it was all a bit confusing. So he gave her a place to start an reminding her that yes, Jesus loves her so much.

On Sunday, hubby said he was going to offer to mow our neighbors grass for free. It is grass we have complained about because it can get pretty tall... So he walked over there and bargained with her, trying to get her to accept his offer. She wouldn't pay him less that twenty bucks, but he still mowed her lawn and came home smiling.

And I am a bit in awe. A bit mystified and a lot humbled. Because I don't quite know what to say. I feel so proud of him, so humbled to see him moving and living out these truths and so challenged to find the opportunities that Jesus has given me to love and to serve. And he is bringing honor into this home and he is leading in a deeper and more sensitive way with more wisdom. And I am so thankful. It feels like a grace baptism again and again and the waters are refreshing. I don't ever want to climb out.

Rested and Ready

        It was perfect timing really. I couldn't have seen it coming and was still complaining just before it came. But in the midst of a job I struggled in and as the doors swung wide for me to be certified as a teacher, it came. An interview I thought would happen five months ago and I longed for job offer.
     And I can see it now, mostly, that His timing was perfect through and through. That if this had come sooner, I wouldn't have learned those hard lessons- about putting forth hard effort when I am mostly frustrated, about trusting the Lord when I am doing filing rather than saving the world. And teaching, well I would have taken it for granted. Just as I did when I taught in Asia.

Taken in Seattle last Summer. So thankful for new seasons, fresh starts and the waves of His Mercy.

      And now it is a great gift. The pleasure of teaching, laughing with those students, seeing the joy of learning creep across faces and feeling his pleasure as I teach. It is so good.
       Next year I will be teaching four year olds at a small school. It isn't glorious but it is good. I am a little terrified but so thankful. He has provided me with just what I asked for- a job working with kids, not far from home. And more than I asked for- a teacher to work with and learn from who will help me along in this new path. And more- a chance to get certified! I look back in amazement at all the doors he opened while I continued to complain. I can be pretty ungrateful and blind at times.

    But now I am oh so thankful and oh so excited. It is small really, but I see the bigness in it. The great task of teaching young ones and building up a strong foundation of His Love, His mercy, His Word. And I checking out stacks of books on parenting youngsters and the young mind. It feels like a crash course in four year olds. And I never knew I would draw so much from babysitting experience but when it is all you got...

    So here we are, once again, thankful. Perhaps one day I will learn to be thankful even when I can't see what he is doing.


Please feel free to post some advice for working with four year olds. Thanks!

A New Thing

The sun is sleeping below the horizon behind our house and we are hovering in that nether-world of hazey blue and calm has descended finally, again. And it is in this space that I step outside and breathe. Because I need this time. The stretching of legs and the deep inhale of humid Houston air. I need to see the sky for the third time today because computer screens just can't give me this. They can't bring me back down to earth and slow me down and remind me how very small I am and yet how very beautiful my God is in the details. And it is true- as it says in the Quotidian Mysteries, that rich thought comes in the monotonous swinging of arms and legs on the daily walk. And it is in these (all too rare) moments that I stop processing information at the speed of light (or at the speed of my wireless connection) and I stop caring who had kids or got married or split up and I just breathe. The stars pop out one by one and the moon takes the place of the sun and it is all quiet here.

The Gibson Family Goes to Ikea

This is Hank again, Kelsey's husband.  I write a little on her blog when I get inspired every now and again.  Apparently, a Swedish furniture store inspires me greatly.

We went to Ikea on Saturday!

There are some things the greeters at the front should warn you about before you actually ascend the escalator into the heart of the store.  Things like, have you brought food and water?  Have you stretched properly?  Are you in shape enough to walk 4 miles?  Do you have heart problems?  Do you suffer from shopping overload?

Unfortunately, the greeters didn't convey these very important questions to us. 

Now, I had been to Ikea twice in my life before and to their website several times.  They have really cool, really affordable stuff.  I like Ikea stuff.  The two times I'd gone before, once with a friend to just walk through the store and get the Ikea experience, not to shop, and the other time with my two male apartmentmates to buy a desk and desk chairs, we'd been inside the Swedish Village (aka, Ikea) for, at most, an hour and a half.  No biggie right?

Apparently, three years causes the enormity of the store to fade away. 

I met Kelsey and her sister there at approximately 3:30 in the afternoon to browse around and maybe buy some stuff for the house.  We didn't really have a list of things we needed, we just wanted to look around some.  Well, I quickly remembered, you don't really just look around Ikea, then head out. 



Taken from this blog

They are really smart marketers, these Ikea folks.  They set all their furniture (and I mean all!) out in little room setups and apartment setups so people can see what they look like.  Then, they weave a maze through the store so you have to, quite literally, walk by everything before you can get out. 

Ikea's furniture is really snazzy, though, so for the first hour, I was enthralled.  Wouldn't this look great?  Oh, that is really cool!  Sweet, check out that clothes hamper!  They sell fridges?  Woah. 

After an hour and a half, I was starting to get a little weary.  The beds were beckoning to me for a nap.  Again, the Ikea people are smart though.  They put a restaurant at the halfway point!  What better way to get some energy, right?  We piled some food on our plates, well, dessert actually, chowed down, then set off with a new fervor in our hearts!

The fervor lasted until about 30 feet from the bottom of the stairs that led down from the restaurant.  At this point, it had been two hours.  My eyes had begun to glaze over.  The girls feet were turning to mush (they had already been to the zoo that day).  All the Swedish names of everything were starting to jumble together into one Swedish mass. 

Kelsey's sister had gone up ahead of us while we lingered around the picture frames.  For some reason, the frames began to move, twist, and take a new shape.  They formed hands that wanted to grab me and drag me into the picture.  Had there been some Swedish drug in my dark chocolate bar? 

Oh, wait, that was just a heart pillow with arms.  Carry on.

By the time we got to the checkout with our new house items (which were awesome by the way), we had hiked (yes, I do use that word on purpose) through the small Swedish city for over 3 hours.  Over 3 hours!  One store!  Madness, I say. 

Words for the wise when shopping at Ikea.
1.  Bring provisions
2.  Wear comfy shoes
3.  Don't bring small children (they'll get bored quicker than you and get into everything.  Trust me, we saw many examples)
4.  Don't have evening plans
5.  Finally, make sure you bring a strong husband along to carry the wife's purse

Finally, some serious Ikea advice:  shop online, pick out what you want first, then go to the store.  It'll save a ton of time!

Happy shopping!

In this place, I am weary yet rejoicing

It has been one of those days where I feel again that in this place, before these students, I feel His pleasure. He has given me high and lofty goals and I am trusting him with those, but in this classroom before my students from 7 or 8 different countries, it is pure joy.

   I listened to an interview done by Bethel Church recently. Two Olympic runners have started going to that church and attending the school of ministry. Can you imagine- being a professional runner. That career alone is proof that God made us all unique and different!!
 
   And Sarah Hall, who runs steeplechases, talked about how she knew that God wanted her to run. And she talked about her passion for justice, for the poor and how that felt so much more important. And yet God said, run. Run because I can do more through you running that by yourself-with just your two hands on the mission field. And it shook me a bit. Because you know I have struggled with my identity and finding it in a holy and high calling. And it has been a journey finding it in Jesus. I am still on the road and it is a long pilgrimage with new friends and unexpected showers and dusty roads that remind me where I came from but it is beautiful and new and it feels right.

   Standing before those students today, the ones that so intimidated me only a week ago, I feel His Pleasure. It is coursing through me and I feel 'light as a butterfly' and I know His Joy must be shining because I can hardly keep it in. I feel like bursting.

And it is in these moments that I am thankful for the trials that have taught me to speak through against the lies. To catch the lies at their early stages and see their destructive end. I don't catch them all and I, again, am still on this journey, but it is a bit of beauty I am finding in the broken places. It is restoration and redemption for the lies that have rocked our little boat. So we are learning and I am thankful. For in those moments, when Truth has scattered lies and I am lifted up to see His great tapestry of love and I catch just a glimpse of the beauty that he is weaving, I am transfixed. Transformed. Renewed. And then I am back to where I can only see the knotted underside of that tapestry but it is enough. Enough to press on, with tired feet, and to remember that these feet are beautiful. That me with my lack of grammar skills, can teach English and bond with students and proclaim His Love. It is more than Enough.

Grateful

Yesterday I had so many great ideas for blogs. Sundays seem to be so very inspired when we are able to get to church and then primarily rest during the day. And yesterday was just such a day. Hank was gone flying all day long and so, while it was a bit lonely, I had lots of time to hammer out lesson plans for my ESL classes and I had lots of time to think and relax. Oh my how I need those times!

     And it was after a very busy day at work that I headed off to teach my students. Sometimes, on certain days, I just feel the joy of the Lord. Today was just such a day. He is good and today he kept reminding me.

He kept giving me energy and motivation and when I got to class, I just felt a zing of energy and... giddyness? Yes, I think it was pure giddyness. It is always such a joy to see how my students respond when I am excited about teaching them. My attitude seems to be infectious and even the students who normally are a bit lost, seem to be getting it!

  We started with review and moved on to consonants. Normally, half of my students (for some reason it is the Somali half) seems to be tracking along with me. But the other half (the Burmese students) seem to struggle. I have a feeling that it is partially due to the fact that Burmese does not use the Roman alphabet and doesn't seem to have a lot of harsh consonants. So, these students are starting off at -square 1.

   When we finished reviewing sounds and listening to words that started with those sounds. I had students help their partners review and pronound words from the book. As it worked out, all my Somalian students were helping all of my Burmese students. They are such a sweet class and they are always helping eachother and trying to communicate in what little English they know (can anyone say Charades?!)

Well, my Somalians were helping my Burmese and it was just so hilarious because when the one students would point to a word and say it, the other student would come out with something completely different. My African students were having such a time and we were all laughing at how ridiculous we sounded. For some reason (I think it was the giddyness) we all just burst out laughing and it took a bit to stop.

This language learning thing is hard, and complex and humbling and it turns out I need my students to help me teach and they need me to remain a student long enough to learn what they need.

It was a glorious day and it all started with a good dose of His Faithfulness and a reminder that He knows exactly what he is doing even when I feel a bit lost.

Canticles

Funny how I can pray in the morning for the Lord to fill my day and then go the next eight hours without even a wink in his direction. I get frustrated and tired and I keep thinking that there is some secret cure for my ADGD (Attention Deficit for God Disorder). I am not sure there is a secret cure but I discovered something this week.

   I finally downloaded a message from one of my favorite churches. The lady speaking talked about how she  found the habit of daily praise. She was at a conference and the speaker would stop randomly and say 'Praise the Lord,' or 'Alleluia." She thought it was pretty weird until the speaker explained that she had an invisible clock strapped to her waist that would vibrate and remind her to worship God every 10 minutes. 

Ingenious!

While I haven't gone out and purchased my little waist watch, I told Hank about it and we have started to remind eachother. He randomly said "God is Good" a few days ago and I looked at him funny. Well yes He is but what brought that up?? He told me he was trying to learn to worship. 

So I went outside today to eat lunch and watch the storm clouds gather over the city and He brought me all kinds of reminders of His presence. Birds flew up into the trees right near where I sat and they sang and perched proud of their beauty. 

And He brought rain- something that makes my heart glad. 

And in the midst of the sporadic worshiping (because I do still forget a lot), he is changing me. This job I struggled to have a good attitude in, he is giving me JOY. The impatience I tend to have with people, He is giving me Love. The dissatisfaction I sometimes feel with life, He is reminding me that He works all things together for GOOD. 

So Praise him. In canticles and car problems and hope and in heartbreak. 

Little Dreams Big

I used to want to be an actor. When I was nine. And I was so angry when my parents encouraged me to maybe find something a little less outlandish. So I decided to be a missionary. Or more- God gave me a deep-rooted desire sown in my heart under a starry sky in Mexico. And oh how that desire guided me for so long. It even became my identity.

In America we ask people what they do. It is one of the first questions of small talk and it creates a suddle pressure to have a good answer. What do you do? Oh I am just finding the cure for cancer while volunteering at the local food bank and teaching Sunday school and raising the next Bill Gates.

I was always so proud of my answer. It became a large part of my identity. So much so that I contemplated very seriously breaking up with Hank due to his 'lack of a calling.' It sounds horrible and it is, but my passion for missions had consumed me to an unhealthy degree. I didn't know who I was without it.

Last year I lived my dream. It was amazing. I got to teach ESL, live in a foreign country with some of the most beautiful people I have ever met and share the Love of the Lord with some of the coolest students-become-friends ever. And yet, part of my pined away for my sweetheart. I thought life would be perfect if we could one day get married and then live the dream overseas.

It is still a deep desire and I still think it would be pretty awesome.

But why is it that I am never quite content where I am? Why is it that I always want the next stage to come on and get here?

I have a job and a husband and a house and a garden. But I hate the job most days and neglect to clean the house or water the garden. I praise God for both in the morning light but when they start to need some TLC, I offer it only begrudgingly. Sometimes I do the same with my husband. He gets the dregs left over from a day of helping people who rarely say thanks.

And i think that maybe if we could just live overseas, I would find more fulfilment in my work and have energy to clean and love and more of a burn to worship and grow.

My goodness I must have a short memory. Because I never felt like cleaning last year and would regularly procrastinate on lesson plans and when there were over 200 students to love, I often felt discouraged and empty and frustrated. I often bemoaned all the aspects of the culture I didn't agree with or couldn't even begin to understand.

No, there is no perfect place. There is no perfect phase of life.

But there are gifts for the taking today. There was a beautiful woodpecker to watch at the park and several hours just to sip too-sweet coffee and work on lesson plans at the coffee shop. There were resources to use to teach refugees the alphabet and there was rest and energy. There was a long overdue visit with my best friend and her adorable family and hours to just talk and explore other-worldly parks lit with fireflies and legends.

There were conversations with beautiful grandmothers and a beautiful mom and there was time to burrow deep into the Word for rest and healing and hope. And there is God's never-failing and never-changing character and the compassion, mercy, love, and kindness he shows me daily.

And I am going to keep dreaming big but perhaps I will keep my small dreams bigger. I will rejoice over clean laundry and the tasks that get checked on the daily list. And I will rejoice over what I can't see yet and the promise that the future will be good, hard but good, and that I do not go alone.

Loads of Laundry...

           It has been a while since I had so much energy. I have new respect for career women. Goodness me, you work all day and then come home to a house that needs cleaning, plants that need watering, people that need feeding and maybe you can squeeze in some alone time to read, write, create etc. Maybe.

   Hank and I don't even have any kids yet and it still seems busy. This past week I was offered a position teaching another refugee ESL class. I admit I am nervous. These are people from across the world who likely have never learned to read or write. We are started with the basics- ABC's and numbers. How do I even begin a class like that?? "I am" (point to self) "Kelsey." "My name is" would even be too much.

    So, it is definitely going to be a stretching experience but I am excited. Also, this puts me back working two jobs but I have a gracious boss who is letting me leave work early to get to the class. Thankful!

    Today, in preparation for the crazy week ahead, I cleaned the house. It was dirty. Plain and simple.
Hank was gone flying most of the day, so I headed out to garage sales this morning and was triumphant. *Praise the Lord! We needed a weed eater and a 7' ladder. I got both for a steal!
 
    Once home, I attacked the laundry, swept the floors, cleaned the dishes and then read alot. It was one of those beautiful days that is not quite too hot but sunshiney and perfect. It was a day to be thankful for this moment, this stage in life, this house to clean and a class to pray and prepare for. It was much needed rest.

    Hank and I went on a walk to the nearby park and around the track of the elementary school around the corner. We talked about life and then made salads for dinner. We discussed our garden, our families, the upcoming week. It was just good.

     And now we are looking forward to a lovely Sunday. Hank has been really busy flying this week. I think that everyone is calling to make up for the slow first week of May. He even has a flight tomorrow! But again, I am thankful. He has a job that he enjoys. We are learning and becoming more dependant on our Lord for our strength. When he leaves,  I don't pine away for him(most of the time). I get busy or do a craft or (as will be the case tomorrow) I lesson plan!

It is for Freedom....

   Oh honey. Isn't it hard to break off the chains that somehow get tangled around our ankles as we walk through these life paths? Isn't it hard to shake the nippy dogs of sin that bite our ankles and bark away our peaceful pace?
    
 Oh yes, we know now it is hard. We know that what one does directly affects the other because we, dear, are oh so connected. Connected in an invisible, all consuming sort of way. And sometimes it is hard to feel the connection, to appreciate the union until its strained and torn and then there is only pain. Only pain to wade through as it threatens to choke out the hope and life and joy we have here.
   
 And it isn't a coincidence that we both read Love and War last year when I was in Asia. And it isn't a coincidence that we learned of the war raging against marriage. That the Eldridges spoke truth to us once again of fighting off the lies and breaking the agreements we so readily make with our enemy.
   
Of praying for one another when all we really want to do is give up, run, stay angry, hide inside our frustration and the pain that binds us.

    But we are learning. And it isn't one of those lessons that we can listen to and leave in the pew. Because we are finding out that our guard must always be up. That Satan is not interested in a one-time victory but in demoralizing us and turning us slowly against one another.

   And so we fight. We take up the armor you recite over yourself daily- the Ephesians 6 battle gear. And we make new choices and break off old habits and make new ones. Like the habit we have established of asking eachother what lies we believed that day. And as you ask I find that more sneak in than I could have imagined.

  And as I share the lies- that I am not as good as that person, not as pretty, not worthy of God's best etc. etc. etc., you speak truth and it flows into the broken places as healing salve. And you remind me that I am loved, that we are in this together, that we will have bad days but ultimately- God has our best in mind.

    Darling, it is an honor to fight for you, with you, to be your ezer kenegbo. Your partner, the one who was created out of your side because I am to stand by your side. We are a perfect match and the enemy is no match for our King.

The Lost Art

       I still remember that day my Oma smiled at me, winked and said, "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach." We had just finished making lunch for my Opa and my Dad. It was our Wednesday tradition. I was homeschooled eighth grade and this allowed me the chance to take 'cooking lessons' from my Oma.

     I am not sure if she really understood what she was getting into when she agreed to take me on as her student. She soon found out when we tried to make homemade bread. In my German heritage, the test of a good woman is her bread. My dad's cousin once told me that I had to learn to slice bread straight and thin before I was ready for marriage.

   Anywho, the bread making experiment turned into a flour explosion and I think my Oma is still finding flour in the nooks and crannies of her kitchen to this day. Oh Heavens, it was messy. But the smell of that bread and the memory of laughing together with my Oma as we surveyed the catastrophe we had created were totally worth it (then again, it wasn't my kitchen that was dusted with flour).

    Bread wasn't our only project. We made dompf noodles, pickles, chili, stew, sweet rice, cooked cheese and so much more. And the best part of the meal was the process. It was learning how to turn a few simple ingredients into a hearty meal. It was the fun of cooking with my Oma, of sitting down to eat with my family and seeing their satisfaction. I still find a huge amount of joy in putting food on the table.

     Today was my boss's birthday. I agreed to bring a cake and when Hank and I went to the store last night, I caved. I love baking so much, but it was late and I couldn't imagine being up for hours slaving over a homemade creation.

 So I bought a box mix.

And I made tres leches cake from a box and it turned out Ok.

Apparently this is the age of buying instead of making. I get that. It is hard to find time to bake and besides, the bakery makes it better, or the grocery store sells it just as fresh, right? right???

My attempt at German cheese dumplings. I used the dumpling technique my colleages taught me in China :)

    Well, you would have thought I labored hours over this cake by the way my coworkers praised my cake. They all seemed genuinly surprised that I would make a cake. I admitted it was from a box but this didn't lessen their amazement.

    On one hand, it is rather nice to be praised. On the other, I am sad for what we are losing. If we always let someone else grow our food, bake our bread, hunt our meat- won't we become pretty needy people. We will need other people to do all these things for us and we ourselves will miss out on the beauty of the process.  On the pride that comes from getting  your hands dirty and surviving flour mushroom clouds. On failing at certain recipes to learn what works. On the the smell, oh the smell! of baking bread.

To me, it is worth every second I could spend doing something more "productive."

Living in the 'burbs'

I never thought I would be driving to work forty minutes away from my house. I never thought I would work in a big city. I never thought I would ever ever be a secretary.
      BUT God has a much bigger imagination than I do.
When I first got my job, my employer asked where I lived. He looked surprised when I said I lived so far away. I guess a lot of people commute but no one at that company drives as far as I do.

But there is a reason Hank and I chose to live out here past the suburbs.

It is the big old trees that line our street of small old houses.

 It is the beauty of a sunset seen from a field and not hidden by a skyscraper.

It is the quiet broken by barking dogs instead of honking horns.

It is our little garden mostly taken over by potato plants that gives us reason to go outside and get dirty doing something physical.

 It is the space to stretch out, to make noise, to barbecue, to sing and to laugh with no one on the other side of our walls.

It is the way that buildings are gradually replaced by wide open fields filled with hay bales and cows and rusting old barns

It is the way we slow down and just breathe in this place. It isn't a glamorous town and we have to drive elsewhere for our favorite grocery store, but as we settle in and make friends, it is easier to call this place home.

So I will keep driving and spending approximately $12 a day on gas so I can come home to this place where the paint is peeling and the fixtures are all at least 40 years old, but where we feel like real people. Real people who can slow down enough to know that advancing and progressing are good but enjoying today is even better.

Bonding

We moved here in mid-January but we haven't really set down roots yet. Being that I lived in the same town all my life and then went to college with several friends, this is the first time I have really had to intentionally set down roots.

    I forgot for a while just how much I need people. Hank is great but I need some girl time every once in a while. I need to talk about music, art, calories and the annoying fact that fat cells never disappear... I need to work on projects and talk about life and the chit chatty, knitty gritty that makes up most female conversations.

   Today I came home from work, went to get a haircut and then got a text saying a group of ladies was getting together to work on wedding projects for the pastors daughter who is soon to be wed. Since Hank was having coffee with the pastor and another guy from church, it just made sense to go.

     It took a while to mesh with some of these ladies I had never met but soon we were laughing and talking and crafting. A deep part of me that had been holding its breath just let it out in one, big, wonderful woosh! Soon I had an invitation to the wedding (for a girl I have met once) and had promised that I would work and decorate and wash dishes because I remember all the wonderful people who helped make my wedding wonderful. And I shared secrets I learned from our wedding-like how you can use museum puddy instead of hot glue to hold stuff down and I got to brainstorm about decorations and design and I felt so totally in my element.

It was pretty great.

So I am thinking I will make this a tradition. You know- girl time. Because I heard today that couples should have something outside the marriage to focus on. If all my focus is on Hank- well, quite frankly- he is going to get pretty boring. If he is all I talk about, the only one I talk to, then we are both missing out. We need other people to challenge us, sharpen us, enlighten us with their life stories. We need sisters and brothers who 'get' the struggles and challenges unique to our gender.

   Today I am thankful for the beginnings on friendship and the potential for deepening relationships with some pretty great people.

Not so Deserving

Why is it that there are always so many more books I want to read than hours in the day?

    This morning, as I was walking out the door for work, I had the urge to grab a book just in case I got a minute to read. I knew that moment wouldn't come but it was like choosing to leave a loved friend at home instead of taking her to coffee and spending hours in deep conversation.

    On my way home from work yesterday I stopped by the library to pick up the book they were holding for me (Which just so happened to be The Hunger Games! Excited!!) and told Hank that I intended to check out only that book. Well, our library is really smart. You see, when you walk in there is this beautiful shelf full of shiny, new books! Who could resist browsing? I certainly cannot.

    So, I ended up with a mini stack (four books) and I am so excited to dive in. This morning I had the urge to stay home all day and just read. It is a Friday after all, and I am usually a bit worn out by this point. But then I arrived at work and threw myself into the activity and long list of things to do and I was thankful (most of the time) for a purpose, a person to help, a file to organize.

      The Lord knew we would need rest and times of refreshing. He knew we would need a break from the everyday 'grind.' But he really only created one day of rest out of seven. Sometimes I get to thinking I deserve a break. Even when I am at work, I think I deserve a five minute break to surf the internet or stare off into space or make myself a cup of coffee or shoot the breeze with my coworkers. All of these things aren't bad and I quite like getting to know my coworkers, but do I really deserve it?

     My current read is one I would HIGHLY RECOMMEND to anyone. Oh my goodness. So good.

My mom let me borrow Kisses From Katie, a book about a nineteen year old who felt the call of the Lord and obeyed. Katie Davis is from Nashville, Tennessee and like a dear friend of mine from that part of the world- absolutely radiates with a sweet love for Jesus. That Love leads her into the most amazing, sometimes difficult, and world changing places. She moved to Uganda after high school and now runs a ministry and has adopted thirteen daughters! Now at 22, she is a full-time mom. Wow.

    One of the things I most admire is her absolute reliance on the Lord. She says repeatedly that He is the one who built the ministry, who brought all the daughters into her life, who gives her the strength and love to pour out on so many people. Some of the stories she tells blow me away. It is so evident that she is following the Lord because no one would have such wisdom without a deep communion with Him.

    She describes days where she would like to wear jeans or take an hour to read alone or shut her gate and have one meal where someone doesn't come knocking because they are sick or in need. But then she says this:

 "I sometimes got caught up in "I deserve this" moments. I still do. I have moments when I compare myself to other people and trick myself into believing that I am doing pretty well. There are still moments when I believe that I should be able to relax and do nothing some afternoons, instead of taking care of one more sick person...The truth is that these thoughts are not at all scriptural. Nowhere in the Bible does it say that I deserve a reward here on earth. Colossians 3:23 says 'Whatever you do work at it with all your heart.' It does not end in, 'And after this hard work you deserve a long hot bath and some 'me time.' It does end with, 'Since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a result.'" (Kisses from Katie, pg 173)

Wow. I caught myself in so many of these moments today. Thinking I deserved a nap or another piece of chocolate, or a moment when someone wasn't asking me to do something.

    There is so much I don't deserve and when I look at life through grace colored lenses, I see that it is all, in fact, a gift. A gift from a good good Daddy God who loves deeply and knows my every whim. And it is all grace when my day is long and stressful because he is with me, just as it is all grace when my day consists of a comfy couch and a stack of books.

Filling the Void

Hi, this is Hank, Kelsey's husband.  I told Kelsey I had some ideas to blog about and she let me guest post on her blog.  This may happen on occasion, but don't worry, Kelsey will be back in full swing tomorrow.


Have you ever thought about the history of rock music?  Just of popular music in general, I guess.  It blows me away sometimes how, with all the songs that are out there, there are still originals being created today.  No two songs sound exactly alike.

Think about the immense talent that singers, songwriters, bands, and musicians in general have been given.  They didn't just get their talent.  It was given to them, created into them in their mothers' wombs.  God put a desire in each and every one of them to sing, play, write, and perform.  Many artists live for the performance, thrive off that energy from the crowd.  For a short time, it fills them, makes them whole.

But what about the other times?  What about in the hotel, on the tour bus, eating dinner after a show.  What makes them whole then?  What fills them?  Sadly, all the wrong things.  Drugs, women (for guy bands), men (for chick bands), alcohol, porn, sex, violence (no, I'm not a pacifist, but finding pleasure in violence is wrong), hate.  You can hear it in some of their music.

Jim Morrison of The Doors

I was talking to a friend today and that conversation actually got me thinking about music.  He was telling me about some of the bands he liked in high school (he's in his 50s).  Bands like The Doors, Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young, The Who, Eric Clapton, Elton John, Jimi Hendrix, to name a few.  After some of them, he told me about the deaths of the band members.  Keith Moon and John Entwistle of The Who both died of drug overdoses.  Jim Morrison of The Doors died in Paris at age 27.  He was found in his hotel room bathtub, but no autopsy was done by the French.  There is no doubt that drugs played into his death.  Jimi Hendrix passed out from a drug trip, then threw up while he was unconscious.  He choked on his own vomit, since he was lying on his back when he threw up.  Elvis died in a pool of his own vomit in his bathroom at Graceland, also from a drug trip.  Just a side note, but by the time he died, Elvis was so grossly obese and had so many health problems, he couldn't even get out of his hotel room bed for a concert in Baton Rouge, LA.  Ray Charles had drug problems.  Johnny Cash did as well.  I Googled musicians who had drug related deaths.  I got 4.73 million results.  That was rockstars, not even actors or athletes.

Why do so many rockstars fall into drugs?  Why are so many angry and full of hate?  They have this immense talent that has been given to them and yet they kill themselves to fill this void that they have.  It's the same void that you and I have, the same one everyone has.  Nothing in this world can ever fill it.  No screaming crowd, no amount of sex, drugs, alcohol, or porn.  That all just feeds into a desire for more and fosters deep addictions.

Think about it.  Most average people want to be famous, to have money, to have people know them, to be able to do anything and go anywhere.  These artists had that, yet they still weren't happy.  Money, fame, and lack of responsibility doesn't lead to happiness.  It doesn't fill the void in your soul.

You know what all those musicians needed?

They needed God.  God is the only one who can fill that void in a person's soul.  That void is specifically shaped so that he is the only one that can fit into it to fill it.  No amount of money, drugs, alcohol, anger, sex, fame or anything else will ever fill it up.  You want happiness?  Quit trying to become a millionaire and spend some time getting right with God.  Ask him what he wants you to do.  Ask him what he has in store for your life.  Keep asking.  You might not get an answer right away, but keep asking.  You also may not get an answer you expect.  He created you for a specific purpose.  He has a specific spot on this Earth that only you can fill.  He gave you dreams and desires that will ultimate lead to him being glorified and the world being changed, if only a little bit.

Jimi Hendrix

It starts with surrender, though.  Just think what would have happened if Jim Morrison or Jimi Hendrix had turned to God instead of anger and drugs.  Seriously, that would have been world changing.  The course of history may be different if they had only surrendered to Jesus, giving their lives and dedicating themselves to their true Father.  They were just seeking the wrong things, like so many of us do.  I'm sure they heard of God, heard of Jesus, but figured that everything else was more "fun."

I'm truly terrible at telling people about Jesus.  Honestly, it scares me to no end.  I'm completely comfy talking to other Christians about Christianity, but I'm terrified to tell a lost soul about Jesus.  Jimi Hendrix probably knew a few Christians, maybe even had some in his circle of friends.  But nobody ever spoke up.

I need to speak up.  I need to lift my voice to those in need, even if they don't appear they are in need on the outside.  I need to show them God, since their void is made to be filled by him.  Pray for me, that I would speak up more.  Pray that God will show me opportunities and that I would take them.  I'll pray for you too.  We don't need to go overseas to be missionaries.  We just need to open up our true selves and speak truth to those around us.

To inspire you, go YouTube Jimi Hendrix (listen to that guitar playing) or The Who and just listen to their talent.  In the end, it meant nothing in the grand scheme of things.  It could have meant so much more and had so much more impact had someone just consistently spoken truth to them.

Kissing Confessions

     It's time. I am coming clean.
I mentioned in the Soapbox Post that Hank and I didn't kiss (on the lips) before we got married. Now we were not eunichs, nor were we totally chaste, but we desperately wanted to achieve the goal of saving that first kiss for the alter.
     This didn't keep us from kissing each other on the nose (it is amazing how incredibly romantic that is when it is all you've got!), or rubbing noses (those Eskimos knew what they were doing!), or finding other 'creative' ways of showing affection (Don't use too much imagination in figuring out what 'creative mean!).

      But we did, through high hormones and long absences, manage to save that first kiss. Our families thought we were slightly crazy and friends asked us if we were afraid of an extremely awkward first kiss in front of, um.. everyone. We were stubborn and focused on making it to the alter. We both love a good story and I think we weren't willing to settle on a disappointing climax to our love story. We wanted something epic. For us- that looked like saving that kiss.

Gotta have minty fresh breath for the frist kiss!

     Much to our delight, the relief of all friends and family at our wedding and by the sheer grace of God, that first kiss was anything but awkward. It was AWESOME!

    Afterwards, once we galloped back up the aisle and out through the rain to one of the cabins on site, we made sure to take a moment to step into privacy and bask in the beauty of being married. Hank prayed for us and then we kissed alot. A few kisses in, there comes the tongue.

Gross.

That is all I can say. I am so glad our first kiss was not a french one. I was a little confused. How can people like this so much and how come it is in all the movies??? It's weird.

   Maybe you had an awesome first french kiss experience, but Hank and I decided to save those for perfecting until after the reception.

A few weeks after the wedding, I still couldn't get the hang of it so I decided to do what I always seem to do when I don't know something.

I googled french kissing.

       What I learned was this: it is pretty simple but it takes time. Whew! I thought, At least we're just newbies and it is bound to get better!

      I am happy to say it has. While I am thankful kissing does not always require tongue excercise, every once in a while, it is just fun.

A Date away from To Do's

          We're still figuring out this whole "married dating" thing. Before we got married we were so confident that we would keep pursuing eachother after the knot was tied and that we would never ever put anything above our relationship.

          Funny how easy it is to know it all when you really know nothing at all...

 Turns out Life is Busy. I hate that word because it is thrown around so much and often I feel like it is worn as a badge. I am busy so I must be doing something right. God forbid I have a day with nothing scheduled, with no 'to do' list.

   And yet I find myself, at the end of the day, falling on the sofa next to Hank and lamenting how busy life has become and how hard it is to make time for eachother- for the romantic. It really shouldn't feel busy. Those of you with kids are sighing and shaking your heads, thinking "If they only knew what they have coming." You're right- I don't know. But this season feels busy. And we are still learning how to make time for the spontaneous, for laughter, for relaxation, for a good long conversation, and for Jesus Time. While I am SO thankful we both have good jobs, work seems to take up so much time.

        So this past weekend I planned a date for Hank and me. I recently found an awesome website called Houston on the Cheap. Oh my goodness. If you live in Houston or plan to come to Houston anytime soon- you need to look here. She constantly updates the site with Groupon, Living Social, Daily Deals as well as promotional events that are happening at places around Houston. She even has internet deals!

      Last week Hank and I got free Chik-Fil A sandwiches on Thursday morning and this past weekend I planned my trip to HEB in order to get the free reusable grocery bags they were giving away for Earth Day! Can you tell I LOVE Free stuff? Who doesn't right!?

      So, as I was saying, I planned a date to Discovery Green- a super cool park downtown, to an international grocery store called "Phoenicia", to dinner at a middle eastern restaurant where we had a coupon for $20 worth of food for $10, and then to watch the coolest show at Miller Outdoor Theatre. Everything but the groceries and the food was free!

Enjoying a gorgeous day in downtown Houston

Hank and I being us at Discovery Green Park

     It was so wonderful to get out and spend some time soaking in the culture of this part of Texas, spending time together, and watching Hank get just as excited as I got over the foods at Phoenicia. Seriously, who knew it was so fun to shop for cheese!?

    Life can be super busy sometimes and sometimes I choose to be busy when I should take a little down time. On Sunday, Hank was gone all day flight instructing so I headed to a local park and just read the Word until I was finished. And I didn't fight distractions but let the Lord show me his beauty in the birds and lizards and rambunctious kids playing on the playground. Sure I had a huge list of things that needed to be done. Had I stayed home, I would have stayed busy all day and been royally grumpy by the time Hank got home. But I felt the Spirit nudge me outdoors to enjoy a bit of the gorgeous weather we have had lately and he met me there despite the long list of to-dos I was ignoring.

     So even if Life is Busy, we are learning to make space for eachother and every once in a while we make time to not pay attention to time for a while. To forget the clock and the agenda and just be together and be with our Maker.

Next week Hank is planning the date and I can't wait to see what he has up his sleeve!

Standing on the Ol' Soapbox

      Somehow Hank and I were bequeathed a rather large and tall soap box during our dating years. It came as after we decided not to kiss until marriage and grew taller when we made the leap and said the vows and became man and wife.

     It is not so much that I mind having a soap box because I rather like "knowing what I am talking about" and it is our soap box happens to be something we are box quite passionate about.

  The problem is that there is not much room at the top of our soap box and it sometimes gets a bit scary perching at the top and looking down. Sometimes I realize that, while  I have the soap box for purity and abstinence, I don't know all there is to know about the topic. And perhaps what I do know is what I learned when Hank and I were trying to do it right but still messed up.


     This past weekend Hank and I went to Longview to our fellowship there. We spoke to a group of teens that hold a very special place in both of our hearts. The purpose of the weekend was to light a fire for purity and abstinence in the hearts of the youth groupies. And yet, even as I think of all the things I could have told them and didn't get time to, I realize that God used the preparation and the weekend to teach me new truths and remind of a bunch I had forgotten. He used it to get Hank and I to look at our relationship again with our spiritual eyes sensitive to counterfeit messages and lies that the enemy has so subtly fed us over the past few years.

    God is also in control of what came out of Hank's and my mouth and what actually went in and took root in the hearts of the teens. So I will let that go.

    But hopefully I won't let go of the incredible memories of this weekend. Of the times I almost had to pinch myself because it was so evident that Jesus had prepared the hearts of my girls for what I had to share and that He was consistently working out all the details. I couldn't wipe a goofy grin off my face the whole time because it was just so good returning to these ladies that I got to spent the Sunday mornings and Wednesday evening of the past 4-5 years getting to know and studying the Word together.

    In so many ways, it felt like going home.

We painted pottery and purses and hung out just talking. We watched "A Walk to Remember" and I cried, unashamed of how much that movie still gets me.

   We talked about dating but mostly we just talked about our hearts. In the weeks leading up to the retreat, Hank and I both felt like the Lord was asking us to use John and Stacie Eldridge's two books- Captivating and Wild at Heart. There were moments I seriously considered going to a typical purity book but I never felt a peace about it. So Hank and I reread these two books and were seriously challenged as we discussed the truths and how we wanted to see them lived out in our marriage.

    Half the fun was sitting on our couch so many nights reading, writing pages of notes, and interrupting one another to read parts of the books we were chewing on. I think I wouldn't mind a job teaching people about this issue so close to my heart.

    As we finished reading the books and began to summarize them into two-three lessons, we realized how the truths we had discovered formed a foundation for purity. In Captivating, the Eldridges talk about how all women live with the questions, "Am I beautiful? Captivating? Am I worth paying attention to? Do I have something to offer?" The way these questions are answered by our parents, loved ones, friends can either wound us or set us free.

One of my colleagues had given me a counseling hand out that discussed the emotional cup all of us have and how we often take in hurt, grief, guilt etc. when bad things happen. When we don't deal with these feelings, they overflow and affect everything in our life.

    It was eye opening for me to realize there were lies I was believing that were simmering right under the surface and causing damage to my marriage and my relationships with others.

We talked about spiritual warfare and how Satan has a vendetta against each woman because we bare the image of God in our beauty and in our nurturing natures. We talked about getting our love tank filled with God's love so that seaking love from a guy before we were filled with God's love wouldn't even enter our minds. We talked about dealing with issues by taking them to our Daddy. It was so good and yet there is so much more I would have loved to talk about.

  Hank felt the same way. And yet, I know without a doubt that God accomplished his plans this weekend. He has opened our eyes again to the war we are fighting for our marriage and for our walks with Jesus. And God has reminded us that we do not fight alone. We are going to keep each other warm on the cold nights and we are going to stand together and fight for each other when our personal battles become too much for us. We are going to speak truth over each other and pray warrior prayers until the chains fall broken and shattered to the ground.

    The mandate looks a bit different now that we are married. We are not fighting our emotions and hormones so much anymore. But we continue to fight lies that would masquerade as the truth. And we continue to trust the same great God that guided us and loved us and protected us when we were too weak to protect ourselves.

Easter

Hard to believe that it is already Spring and even harder to believe Hank and I have been married for nearly half a year. SO Crazy! I hope time doesn't always fly by this quick. Unfortunately, I have a feeling it only gets faster.

    The dry Summer and wet winter have come together to create some of the most spectacular wild flowers I have seen in years. It is a wonder to behold as we drive through the country and partake of fields begging to be painted with their overflow of dainty yellow and white flowers, royal bluebonnets, and delicate pink buttercups. This weekend Hank and I are going up to New Braunfels for Easter to visit our families. Oh, I am so thoroughly looking forward to driving the long stretch of I-10 with the fields breaking into visible songs of worship on either side of me. It is a wonder to be surrounded by spontaneous beauty.

    Aside from captivating me with their beauty, these wildflowers mark for me the passage of time in a graceful sort of way. Month pass by so quickly; weeks and days even moreso. And if I don't stop to breathe and look around, then my least favorite saying becomes the refrain for my life: "Another Day, Another Dollar." Gag.

     When I walk through our neighborhood or drive to work and just fix my eyes on those flowers, I travel back in time to all the Springs of my life. 24 in all, though I don't remember a few of those earlier ones.

I go back to picking buttercups and pulling them apart to suck the sweet drops of nectar off the ends of the pollen shoots. I go back to leisurely bike rides, my legs stretching to take in the freedom and peace of a solitary ride in my neighborhood and my basket brimming with treasures like Indian Paintbrushes and illegally picked Bluebonnets. These were the best gifts one could give, I thought, and I would come home and promptly fill a little cup with water for my handpicked bouquet. The bouquet would then be set proudly upon the kitchen table for all to enjoy or given to Mom as a means of showing my love.

    Everytime Hank and I walk, I find myself picking a flower from the ground just to wonder at it for a bit before tiring of it and discarding it along our path. Twice Hank has reminded me that picking bluebonnets is illegal when he has found them stuck by the kitchen window inside a coffee cup.

     This year I didn't count the days of Lent and I didn't give anything up. Its been a rather quiet season and it has, in many ways, passed by like all the rest with little to set it apart. Perhaps I could have let Easter pass by without much thought if it weren't for "visions of rapture" bursting into sight nearly everywhere I look.

    They paint for me a picture of the Resurrection and Life. The quiet winter thaws almost too slowly for us to stop and notice but then it is Spring in the blink of an eye and the whole world is alive and has reached it zenith in full beauty and colorful splendor.

    The grave was quiet, still and forgotten by all but the faithful few. The promises of redemption, of resurrection were forgotten and misunderstood until the empty tomb and the angels and the Messiah himself proclaimed the truth.

   He is ALIVE. He is RISEN.

And in the midst of the cold shroud of grief, hope explodes and a promise is given. The promise of new life.

The Promised Returning

      Devastation. Heart-rending misery. A fire rampant, destructive, laying waste to all in its path. The effects of living on planet earth. We are the wounded. The ones who have believed the lies for so long. The lies whispered in the dead quiet stillness of night. That we are weak, unwanted, abandoned, ugly, dumb, empty, worthless.

    The lies whispered boldly- that we aren't thin enough, not sexy enough, not smart enough to be worth that job, that commitment, the marriage we have always dreamed of, a kindred spirit.

    And we feel it- the pulling on our souls as we fight the losing battle with self-talk and camouflage. If we hide long enough, maybe they won't realize who I really am. Maybe they will let me be useful without asking me to be real. They only think they want the real me.

    The most glorious trees of the forest are claimed in the fires along with the undergrowth and weeds. The fires are not descriminating- they will devour everything in their path.

      The fires of oppression burn bright and hot in a world where feminism is seductively powerful but feminity is as much under attack as ever. Women are to be strong and resilient. We are to be mothers, warriors, efficient and untouchable. Whatever happened to quiet beauty and the strength that holds families together? It is still there I suppose, but feminism has brought it more enemies than allies.

    And yet there is a beautiful glory to the devestating fires that ravage the earth on all levels and in all arenas. Eventually the fire smolders and turns to ash. Under the ash comes new, tenacious, beautiful and dependant growth. Out of the ashes comes a promise of new life. Of beauty. Of hope.

    It is always this way. In the book of Jeremiah, chapter 32, the prophet was told by God to buy a field. The land was on the verge of being captured and claimed by the ruthless Babylonians. And God was allowing it to happen. Yet he called Jeremiah to buy land that was soon to be claimed by the enemy. Why? Because the enemy would not win forever. He may win the battle, but God was not finished. In fact, he was disciplining his people and plotting his victory. In the midst of the seige came the promise that God would be faithful. That one day fields would be bought and sold again and that God would not only restore the people to their land, He would restore the people to himself. He would be their God and they would be HIS.

HIS.

There is one answer to the lies of Satan against not only the women but every citizen of earth. You can take heart and take up sword because you were created to be HIS. You are loved. You are beautiful and Strong. You are precious, unique, creative, smart. But most of all, you are Loved and you are the Bride of a King that will not stop until he has YOU. You, my friend, are pursued by the most perfect lover of all. Jesus.

Take heart. There is an enemy that is after your soul but their is a King who has already paid the ransom and set you free. He continues to fight for you. And when the fires burn their brightest, he is preparing the way for new growth, new beauty and a hope that will never fade.

Sweet Sundays

On our latest library scavenging trip, Hank and I browsed the Christian books section looking for resources for a retreat we are leading. While I scanned the rows of all too familiar titles, my eyes landed on a tiny book by Kathleen Morris, titled "The Quotidian Mysteries." The title grabbed my attention and I was fairly certain I had heard of the little tome.

     I plopped it haphazardly atop the stack of new arrivals and best sellers I was checking out and Hank and I headed off to check out our precious finds.
     
     As I began to read the book later that week, I found that this book, while tiny, would not be a 'quick read.' Wooh. I had to read most of the sentences twice in order to digest them.
     Morris was a latecomer to Catholicism, happening upon the tradition in a rather unorthodox way. She describes watching her first wedding mass and the shock and awe she felt seeing the priest wash the dishes used for the communion.

    Morris describes the low place given to the monotaneous tasks like house work and child rearing. She talks about the cultural shifts that have landed Americans with the attitude that menial tasks are for the poor or uneducated and we were meant to achieve more or accomplish more with our lives.

   While I am only a few pages in, I have been deeply convicted. I hate laundry. I do not enjoy housework in general. In fact, I am perfectly happy letting my husband take out the trash AND wash the dishes. Lately Hank has started to ask that I perhaps take over dish duty a few nights a week. I knew the day would come but that didn't stop me from selfishly hoping I had married Mr. Clean and would never have to stoop to scrubbing dishes ever again. After all, Hank always washed dishes when we were dating... HAHAHA. And I was sweet, docile and always in the mood then too...

      Dishes just aren't romantic. I pictured married life filled with the smells of fresh bread, kitchens that magically absorbed the floury gunk that gets glued to the countertops, and mornings spent staring dreamily at one another over steaming cups of coffee and plates filled with perfectly cooked eggs and bacon. My dad asked me two months into our marriage whether I was still making breakfast for Hank as I had declared I would do. I admitted I had only done it once and had no great ambitions to make the dream a reality. Oatmeal and cereal seemed nearly as romantic when compared to the value of sleep.

     Hank is a servant and I can easily take advantage of that. We have certain tasks that we usually do. While he washes dishes, I dry them and put them away and put all the food away. While he takes out the trash, I try to keep laundry going. But sometimes I slack off and return to my college habits of waiting to wash clothes until I'm nearly out of underthings and then leaving said clothes in the dryer until they are wrinkled beyond belief.

    So, after feeling particularly convicted by Morris, I set out to catch up on housework today. I finally attacked the mold that had flourished on the ceiling in our bathroom, swept up the floors and even did TWO WHOLE LOADS of laundry. Someone say "Praise the Lord."

      And while I feel mighty good about my thirty minutes of labor, I know that this won't make me a better person or give me the perfect marriage. Within the daily doing of the tasks that must be done, there is a bit of transformation that I am hoping for. There is a slow learning (because I am not a quick learner when it comes to cleaning- ask my mother). It is in the menial and monotoneous, Morris says, that true thinking and inspiration occur. So I am going to try to 'lower myself' (HA!) to these tasks in the hopes that I might just learn to see the beauty in them.

Tilling up Holy Ground

It was evening on one of those absolutely beautiful days when I just needed to be outside. Needed to soak up the last rays on sunlight as they slanted strong and glimmering into our backyard. Hank and I started a garden at our little rent house because, certainly we want fresh veggies knowing we helped produce them, but also because being outside reminds us to simply breathe.

  Tilling the soil and getting rich, brown dirt under my fingernails reminds me where I came from. Not in a dust to dust sort of way, but back to my roots (pun intended!). Back to that house on the hill in the Texas Hill Country where my Opa came and taught us how to plant a garden when I was a youngster. Back to the sight of his work and time worn hands digging deep with a chunk of potatoes, eyes growing out everywhere, to show us the magic in planting.

  Opa was a home builder but a farmer first and he never forgot the magic of the harvest, how it teaches you to wait, toiling with the hope that one day you will put the most delicious tomatoes off the vine and feed it to all your family with some left over. It was just another way he loved and lived, planting seeds and waiting eversopatiently as they sprouted and bore fruit.

  He sowed seeds in his family too. Wisdom seeds given as he wrote commonsense truths on the little notepad in his pocket. Sharing how he had observed and learned and communicating it with the wisdom of the sage that we was. He was a farmer, a teacher, a good man in the truest sense of the phrase. His word was always good and he was known to give generously with a near loathing for any praise or thanks. He worked hard, quietly, with no complaining.

His blood flows in my veins and so it is not surprise that I find the truest peace just walking outside and staring at the trees and how they stand out stark against the early morning sky, or the beauty of a water tower when the soft light of dusk hits it at the right angle. Or the way that I get giddy watching seedlings grow and mature in the little garden we have.

   Oh it is good to have such roots.

Heartbroken

I didn't know my heart could break for people I have never met. This past week I have been reading a book by one of the leaders of the Tianenmen Square movement that preceded the Tianenman Massacre in June of 1989. I was two when this happened and I honestly don't remember it at all.

   What I do remember is standing in that square in June of last year, staring in awe at the massive monument to Chairman Mao, the beautiful statue to the people, the expansive space filled with hundreds of gawking Chinese tourists who had likely spent their life's savings to come to the famed capital city.

    I remember knowing somewhere in the back of my head that something absolutely terrible had happened in that place. You know there is a spiritual dimension to the physical. I think that a space can have a spiritual feeling and the feeling in that square was somewhat oppressive.

    While one of my friends there was a history major, we all knew that one could not speak of the Massacre in public. In fact, it was best not to speak of it at all. To do so would be to jeopardize our status in China and the status of those who brought us.

     Now, as I read Chai Ling's "A Heart For Freedom," my heart breaks for the pain, the oppression, the anguish that I conveniently ignored.

   And while I am saddened to hear the details of the Massacre and how easily it could have been prevented, I am devastated because I know that the policies, culture and hierarchy that caused the massacre are still in existence. My heart breaks because there is still oppression but it exists below the surface, known but not acknowledged by the common people.

    Because while hundreds and perhaps thousands died on one day in June, every 2.5 seconds a baby is aborted in China. Every day a massacre happens under the guise of three politically correct words: One Child Policy.
 
     I know students whose parents had abortions because they simply couldn't afford the outrageous fines given them by the government if they were to keep the child. I know students who grew up feeling worthless and unloved because they weren't born with a penis.

    I know students whose parent are still paying the consequences for keeping their second and third child. In China, not only do the parents incur fines, but they are refused the allowance given for raising a child. One-child homes recieve a stipend to help cover the (outrageous) costs of education, food, clothing needed to raise their little emperor or empress.

     I know girls who are still slaving away in college so that they can prove their worth to parents who wish they had been boys.

     The devastating truth is this: the one child policy has become so interwoven in chinese culture and so normalized in the Chinese mind that many women do not realize they are being forced to have an abortion. As Chai Ling says, the power of shame, family and government pressure is enough to force a women to give up the life of her child.

    In China, couples must have a birth permit to have a baby. This birth permit can not be attained by a single woman. Instead, when a young college student finds that they are pregnant (and birth control is not taught in China, so pregnancy is hardly avoided) they must get an abortion. There is no option.

If they keep the baby they lose their chances of graduating and consign themselves to the life of a low-class laborer. This means they lose all chances for a good job with which they can bare the unweildy burden of supporting both parents in their old age, and they consign themselves to a life of shame and poverty. Not only this, but the child they bear will have little chance of succeeding in the world. They will be poor, possibly denied an ID card and thus not allowed to attend school, ride trains, be treated at the public hospital or participate in society as a whole.

   My heart aches for the faces that I carry around in my heart. I see these beautiful faces of the women in my class and haunted eyes peer back at me in my mind. You see, only 14% of women in China will NOT have an abortion. 40% will have two or more. That means that nearly all of my precious girls will experience this pain. Worse, they will be forced to bear the burden alone and silent. You see, these things aren't really talked about AT ALL.

     It is a huge loss of honor to admit you had an abortion. In a culture where honor is everything, silence reigns and women are forced to deal with the pain following abortion. Their culture tells them this is normal, that this is the right thing to do if they are good citizens, that this is what they must do if they love their families. No one talks about the baby or the pain the mother will experience.

    No one talks about the 500 women who die of suicide daily in China. (?)
So here I am and I am not quite sure how to proceed. I honestly want to board a plane and go hug all those precious students and whisper into their ears this truth: Jesus Loves them and He alone can heal their hearts and set them free. This is the heart cry of Chai Ling, who came to faith after moving to America. The cry is not simply, "God will forgive," but "God Loves and Heals."

      It is his kindness and mercy that draws us in, not his justice. His justice was satisfied on a cross where my sins were nailed right along with the government officials who ordered the massacre and the women who still bear the grief of unborn life.

Providence

Yesterday morning I got in my car around 8:24 prepared to rush off to work. Twenty minutes earlier, while trying to make my lunch, I spilled nearly the whole bowl of quinoa and black bean salad I had made the night before. My nerves were tense and I had already run inside a few times to grab various items I had forgotten. With little thought, I plunged my key into the ignition with all the force of my anxious impatience and cranked the engine. It turned and then nothing happened.

 Just like that I was car-less, anxious and in a hurry. Can you spell d.i.s.a.s.t.e.r.? Hank and I hurriedly moved my stuff to his car and off I went. On the way to work my mind was moving almost as fast as my tires. I was stressing out about how much it would cost and whether I would be late to work when I just sort of stopped and realized how futile and silly my train of thought was.

First of all, I had so much to be thankful for. The car could have stopped working the day before or the day after when Hank had to use his car for work. As it was, he was working from home Friday and didn't need it. Second, we have been taking a Dave Ramsey course at a local church and just got our $1000 emergency fund finished. We know where the money will come from to fix my car. I finally know what financial peace feels like. God is good and his timing is not lost on me.

Thirdly, Hank and I are taking Monday off to go to the local stockshow and rodea and were going to work today (Sat) to make up for it. Fortunately, I was able to call my boss last night and he was able to go to work with his vehicle while I basked in the beginning of a needed three day weekend.

Hank flew to Brenam this morning and I am slightly jealous of the hamburger he had for lunch. We have been doing a cleanse this week and cutting out certain (MOST) foods in order to get our bodies in check. It has been good and I find I am enjoying the benefits of eating uber healthy, but MAN, Sometimes I just need chocolate! More on the Cleanse later.


Peace.