Pictures and a Story

Thought I'd share a few favorite vacation and conference pictures. I won't share much else seeing as how it is 12:16 a.m. after closing at Lincoln Perk tonight, and my normally fairly fuzzy brain is feeling exceptionally fuzzier.

And, I do have to share one of the short stories that Sheila Walsh shared at the conference in her beautiful Scottish accent. She talked about how her son is always bringing home wounded animals to take care of until they are healthy enough to make it on their own. He has a very tender heart. One such animal was a tiny sparrow that Sheila ended up having to feed every hour around the clock (even setting her alarm every hour of the night) just to keep it alive. Once it was a little stronger, she and her son drove about an hour to a bird sanctuary where this sparrow could be safe and grow stronger.

Sheila said she walked in to the most amazing and hilarious sight. There standing on the floor behind the desk was a duck with one foot, an owl with a broken beak, and another bird (can't exactly remember the details) with a broken wing. They were stumbling and hopping about together as great friends from long ago might. Sheila commented to the woman at the desk, "Well, I didn't know that owls and ducks got along so well."

"O, they don't," replied the woman, "only broken ones do."

If you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any fellowship with the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete be being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. -Philippians 2:1-4

I've got a bit to learn from a broken duck.

Naptime Wars

Naptime is going very badly at our house lately. My sweet Grace who just turned 4 on Sept. 16 has decided to stop sleeping ever, at all, during the day. It doesn't matter what has gone on that day, how worn out she is, or how late she stayed up the night before. She refuses to give in.


Don't get me wrong. We still have naptime every afternoon. It is simply peppered with a squeaky door opening and a loud 4 year-old voice calling, "Is naptime over now?" every 5 minutes. This puts a real damper on my history and literature reading to Abby and Emma (which I save for during Gracie's nap, so we can focus). It puts an even bigger damper on my occasional nap (I never gave them up), and leaves me emotionally challenged.


The child can't actually function very well without her naps. She's grouchy and emotional and loopy - all at once. Her eyelids are heavy, even while she's asking if naptime is over. Last night was the dinner we hosted for our elders and their wives; Grace went to bed very late. The night before was small group; Grace went to be very late. She refused to sleep during naptime yesterday, and this is how I found her at the end of naptime today...


Yes, that's a chair in her bed.

She also rises plenty early saying, "Mommy, I can get up now. See, it's morning now. Look at the sun."

"But Grace, we don't get up with the sun in this family." She doesn't care.

I'm losing ground. This war is not going in my favor.

Blah

I'm tired. I've been in a blah mood mostly all day, and I hate it when that happens. I kept telling myself to snap out of it, kept reminding myself of all the reasons I have for joyfulness, even just plain happiness, for gratitude... didn't help, just made me feel a little more like a failure for failing to snap out of it! Today would have been a good day for a happy pill, just one little dose of smile, maybe even laugh, happiness.

We hosted a new church small group at our house last night. I really like having people in our home. I love to provide a comfortable place for people to relax and be real, a safe haven. The problem with this week was that on Monday we changed from Abby and Emma sharing a room to Abby and Emma each having their own room. This is a good and wonderful thing all except that it means a large amount of stuff is now homeless, and the basement and upstairs hallway were serving as temporary homeless shelters. Yesterday, we HAD TO DEAL WITH THE STUFF. There were about to be people in our home. I stood there looking at the basement as tears began to form, paralyzed and confused.

The decision to make the laundry room/storage room the new homeless shelter happened. Now I have to stay out of that room, or I will cry.

Tonight we hosted an elders and wives dinner. A miracle happened between 5:30 and 6:00 p.m. We had Tex-Mex night out on the back patio. I made chicken enchiladas with poblano cream sauce, homemade refried beans, and salsa rice. It was a busy day, and at 5:30 I dashed to the bathroom to get a shower. Greg and I ran this morning, so I've been mostly gross all day. I thought it would be really silly to take a shower before I rolled 4 pans of enchiladas (with all that softening of tortillas in oil). The problem was that I didn't get that done until 5:30, people were supposed to arrive at 6:00. There was still much to be done, I was in a slight panic, so I prayed. "Lord, I need a miracle. I don't know how it will be possible, but could You allow us to be ready to receive these guests graciously when they arrive? Help us somehow get it all done."

Not one of the deeper prayers, I know. But here's the real truth. I stood in my kitchen, make-up on, hair dried, enchiladas hot, beans mashed, tables set, beverages made, rice ready, trying to frantically think of something to do at 5:55. When our guests arrived, I had nothing else to do but visit with them. It was a miracle, and I don't know how it happened (I owe a lot to a need-sensing hubby).

I'm thankful that He blessed the prayer of a grumpy Martha really wanting to transform into a Mary. We had a great time tonight. I'm thinking I'll sleep well.

The Little Things

O.K., so I was at this fabulous Women of Faith Conference this past weekend with amazing speakers who have been through some terribly painful life experiences. They are testimonies to God's grace and faithfulness, and I'm sure I'll have more to write about regarding their impact upon me later, BUT...

Yesterday, I was thinking about Nicole C. Mullen and how muscular her arms are. She was one of the singers there, and she choreographed these incredible dances along with her daughters to her song Freedom. That girl can jam, and Brandey and I were dancing in our spots, because we just couldn't help it! Both of us noticed her little, defined biceps on her thin arms, and I thought about how I've always wanted to have at least one identifiable muscle that was visible (complete vanity, I know, but there it is). My tennis coach made me run extra laps in high school, because he said I had chicken legs and wouldn't ever intimidate anyone with them; well it didn't work. No matter how much I run, I just don't have outgoing muscles. They're rather shy.

All that to say, yesterday I decided to try to work on my arms. I grabbed my little 10 pound weights and headed to the living room. I thought it might be a good idea to stretch first, so I reached up very high and then reached down... and then it happened...

Without bending my knees, I reached all the way to my toes!! No problem, I didn't even realize it until it happened. This is huge! I'm really out of proportion with a short little torso and legs the same length as my 6'2" husband, so I've never done this before.

"Girls, look at this! LOOK AT THIS!"

"So," says my splits-every direction, dancing daughter.

"I'm calling your Dad right now, I can't believe this!"
The conversation went something like this...

"Hello"

"Hi, Honey, are you still out to lunch with Gerhard (one of our deacons)?"

(Bad Signal) "What?"

I repeated the question.

"Yeah, I'm still at the restaurant."

"O, well, um I just wanted to call and let you know that I just touched my toes without even bending my knees at all."

"What?" (Bad Signal)

I repeated the news.

"O, good, talk to you later."

Sometimes, I just have to celebrate the little things.

What I was thinking during the sermon

I love my husband.

Maybe it's because I was gone all weekend at a women's conference and missed him. Maybe it's because I arrived home last night at 2:something a.m. and had to go to church and teach Sunday school this morning, so instead of listening intently to his sermon, I watched him preach. Maybe it's because I shared parts of our dating story with my girlfriends during our drive home from this conference. Maybe it's because this man who had to do a wedding, rehearsal and dinner, finish preparing a Sunday morning sermon, take Abby to where she would get a ride to a volleyball game, take Emma to violin lessons, take all of the girls to the home of the (may God's blessings abound to these people) wonderful family who watched the girls while he worked... truly hoped I would have a wonderful time at this conference. We didn't quite realize all of the schedule conflicts back when the conference tickets were bought.

As I watched him preach this morning I thought about how I love growing with him. I thought about how handsome he looked up there without his glasses (don't get me wrong, the glasses are dashing, too; I'm just telling you what I was thinking). I thought about how much I love our conversations and how far we've come from our dating days. I thought about how happy (genuinely happy) I am to be on this adventure of life together.

On Thursday before we left for the conference, I decided to go for a run and release those stress endorphins or free radicals or whatever they are. It was so good to once again run out in the beauty of our Hesston arboretum filled with native Kansas vegetation surrounding a large pond. I noticed an older couple up ahead of me, and as I neared them I noticed a sweet little lady in a wheelchair being ever-so-tenderly pushed along by her husband who looked tremendously old.

I honestly don't know if I have ever seen two more beautiful smiles than on the faces of these two. I felt I was invading a private moment as I ran by them. He was talking to her, slowly pushing her chair, taking in the birds. Just as I felt I should reverently turn around, they both looked up at me with more genuine joy in their faces than I can describe. I felt almost as if they were inviting me into their joy, sharing a bit of it with me. These faces had been trained into such smiles that I couldn't imagine how that expression could possibly be contorted into dislike or general discontentedness.

I ran by them once more, this time at the place where the path is right up next to the water. This man had pushed his wife close and pointed, as he tucked his cheek right next to her temple, talking about what he was seeing in the water. This was beyond sweet, this was romantic. This couple once again beamed up at me as I ran by, and I thought, "They can't help it."

Whatever has gone on in their life, they can't get over each other and they can't get over smiling. They hadn't stopped talking to each other, because there was still so much life to enjoy together right there at the Hesston arboretum.

Maybe that's what I was thinking about.

Re-entry

Wow - Am I ever out of touch with reality! We are having a great vacation; lots to do, but lots of fun. We head to Dallas tomorrow for a few days.

I laid in bed last night unable to sleep, because I was pondering my upcoming re-entry into reality. I mean, I'm way out of it right now: Greg can see, we have instant babysitters every where, we are walking-distance away from too many great restaurants and shopping opportunities to count, I have birthday money to spend at such places, we have no work and no school (and I'm actually having no problem getting used to this), great books are lying around to be picked up and perused at my leisure, lots of food, great conversation, no real schedules, no mail or bills: major vacation. This is good except that reality will come, and I'm feeling a little concerned about that part.

I have this way of ruining a perfectly good escape from reality by letting that reality invade me in the form of anxiety. A good friend called on my cell phone today to wish me a Happy Birthday, and this good friend challenged me to do no such thing. "There's nothing you can do about reality here while you're on vacation there, so just wait until you get home."

I guess the idea is: it'll be ridiculous anyway, just pile it on at once. I like this advice in theory. I will try to put it into practice over the next few days. However, there is no escaping the reality that today, I am 35 - a few stray gray hairs occasionally wildly growing out of my part. My latest hair-cutting lady said it will be awhile before they really show up with my hair color. For now, I'm plucking.

Happy Birthday to my brother, Paul who shares this special day with me exactly two years apart:

You say it's your birthday...

It's my birthday too, yeah!

Now it's out for Mexican food in honor of both birthdays and in honor of Mexican food. See you later, reality.

The Onion Truck

Well, here we are... on vacation in San Antonio. So much has happened, I don't know where to begin.

O.K., I'll start with the exciting moment during the 11 hour drive here which happened in Texas (I think, or was it Oklahoma?) when we drove by an onion truck. Really, a real truckload of onions, an 18-wheeler truckload of stacks upon stacks of onions all covered with tarps. Thinking this was a fairly amazing thing to see, I enthusiastically pointed this out to the rest of the crew in the minivan.

"Wow," said Greg rather unenthusiastically.

"What, Honey, have you ever seen a real live truckload of onions driving right next to you before?"

"Well, no, but I've always figured that's how they get from one place to another."

This, coming from the very same man who moments before had said how he needs to learn to enjoy the experience of the journey more and not just obsess over the destination. Obviously he is not quite ready to work on that.

On to Fiesta Texas... A fabulous time was had by all. I feel at least 15 years younger, because I went on the scariest rides I have ever ridden at an amusement park. Threw caution to the wind is what I did, because I seem to have made a daredevil of a first-born somehow. By default, being the only one who doesn't actually become physically ill from such rides, I was the appointed terrifying rides companion for Abby.

The truth is: I loved it! For the first time ever, I really enjoyed scary rides. I went on my very first loop-the-loop roller coaster. BUT, Abby and I BOTH HATED THE RATTLER (what used to be the world's largest wooden roller coaster, or something like that, it had to be tamed down a bit because of lawsuits over whiplash and the like). Poor Abby had a terrible headache the rest of the day after that one, and her neck muscles are still tight. And, Greg did ride on a ride he actually enjoyed... The Ferris Wheel!

On to THE SURGERY... Greg did great! Abby and Emma and I watched the whole thing on a big screen. It was an odd combination of make-you-queasy-creepy and absolutely amazing all at once. We had some concerns after the pre-op appointment, because as it turns out, Greg is not so far from Bartimaus after all. His eyes were so bad, he almost wasn't a candidate. We are so thankful to have had this particular doctor, and the surgery seems to have been a great success, but he's still in process. His eyes were too swollen today at his post-op, so we're going in for another check tomorrow.

Tomorrow, Greg is taking me out to a fancy outdoor shopping experience called The Shops at La Cantera for a birthday date (early, it's not actually til the twelfth). He and his parents went in on gift cards for me to any of the shops there. I am SO excited to 1) go shopping with money, 2) have a date with Greg, 3) Go out to eat for lunch somewhere yummy, and 4) go shopping with money. I'll keep you posted...