Help for Haiti

Maybe it's because of my experience teaching at Rift Valley Academy in Kenya (although no major incidents occurred during the years I lived there), but I can imagine only too well what it would be like for a major disaster to happen and for our school campus to be used as relief headquarters for people living in that area of the country.

This is exactly what is happening now at Quisqueya Christian School in Haiti. Friends from college work there, and that's why I linked to QCS in my previous post. According to my friend's brother's blog, a German medical team is set up at QCS now, as is a group from Crisis Response International. An emergency US Army team is on their way as well. You can donate directly to the ongoing relief efforts at QCS by going to their website. Just click the "donate" button at the bottom of the page.

A Matter of Perspective

It's that time of year again, when the air is cold and the days are dark, when my mind wanders like a toddler (uncontrollably, willy-nilly) through previous seasons of my life -- places I've lived, friends I've known, jobs I've held, conversations I've had -- but I can't seem to focus on what I'm supposed to be doing right now, right here.

I had been thinking I'd get back to my old self once Jack and Sophie got back into their school routine, but then the UK was hit with this record snowfall, and the schools were closed for four days over these two weeks since that school routine was supposed to be back in effect.

The good news is, we've had lots of family time! We've made play-doh, sugar cookies and Rice Krispie treats together. We've played in the snow, walked into town for hot chocolate at Starbuck's, made snow angels, discovered a footpath through the woods and alongside a stream that reminds me of the creek behind my childhood home. Covered in snow, everything has been as picturesque in black-and-white as it has been the other, more colorful seasons since we moved down to the countryside.

At first it was so exciting: A snow day! Woo-hoo! But after weeks of not knowing what to expect day-to-day, we're all thankful that it's thawing now, that the rain is melting the remaining snow/slush and washing it all away. Life may not be exactly rosy (spring is still more than two months away), but at least we've got predictability.

Which is more than I can say for the folks in Haiti. The reality of their living nightmare puts all my self-pitying, seasonal boo-hooings in the bin where they belong!

You may already know people who live in Haiti, and you may be following what's happening there via blogs and/or facebook in addition to what's being reported by the media in general. If not, here's the family who did that cool nativity video mentioned at the end of my previous post. In order to focus on the overwhelming needs all around them, they've had to send their children to the States to stay with relatives for the time being.

You may already have found practical ways to help the relief efforts, especially through some of the larger, on-the-ground organizations like Doctors Without Borders, the Salvation Army, the Red Cross or World Vision. If you're still looking for a group to donate to, please consider giving to Quisqueya Christian School in Port-au-Prince. Or look down the left side of the Livesay's blog. They list the two organizations they serve with as well as other people they know who are working in Haiti. At this point, every little helps someone, somewhere.

At times like this, questions outweigh answers. I've really appreciated having the internet, this amazing gift of technology, and the chance to read what others are doing as well as writing/thinking/praying in response to this devastating earthquake. If, like me, you're wondering how to make sense out of the senselessness, how to pray or just what in the world is wrong with Pat Robertson, check out the Sojourner's blog. Thank God for their sensibility, for their compassion, for their loyalty to Jesus and their understanding of the relevance of God's Word in our hurting world.

My Prayer This Christmas

I'm so glad Christmas comes around every year. For one thing, from January onward, I grow so increasingly weary of the violent conflict and unkindness in the world that by December I usually need a good dose of comfort and joy.

I tend to start listening to Christmas carols the day after Thanksgiving, and every year I'm amazed at the sheer power of the words of the Christmas story to soothe my soul and refresh my faith: Don't be afraid. Good news for everyone, everywhere. A Savior is born! God-with-us. Glory to God and peace on earth. Blessed is she who believes that God will do what He has promised. For nothing is impossible with God.

Each year I seem to need that message of hope more and more. This year I've felt especially discouraged by the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and this year I've been especially struck by the third stanza of It Came Upon the Midnight Clear.

It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth,
To touch their harps of gold:
"Peace on the earth, goodwill to men,
From heaven's all-gracious King."
The world in solemn stillness lay,
To hear the angels sing.

Still through the cloven skies they come,
With peaceful wings unfurled,
And still their heavenly music floats
O'er all the weary world;
Above its sad and lowly plains,
They bend on hovering wing,
And ever o'er its Babel sounds
The blessèd angels sing.

Yet with the woes of sin and strife
The world has suffered long;
Beneath the angel-strain have rolled
Two thousand years of wrong;
And man, at war with man, hears not
The love-song which they bring;
O hush the noise, ye men of strife,
And hear the angels sing.

And ye, beneath life's crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow,
Look now! for glad and golden hours
come swiftly on the wing.
O rest beside the weary road,
And hear the angels sing!

For lo!, the days are hastening on,
By prophet bards foretold,
When with the ever-circling years
Comes round the age of gold
When peace shall over all the earth
Its ancient splendors fling,
And the whole world give back the song
Which now the angels sing.

Lord Jesus, have mercy on those who suffer. Have mercy on those who cause their suffering. Rescue us from ourselves. Enable us to hear the love-song that Your angels sing, and inspire us join them. Be born in us today.

*** Updated to add: Here's a beautiful article about this poem/carol's message of hope and rest, sent by a thoughtful friend. Thanks, Ruth!

*** Updated again! to add: Here's an amazing video of the Christmas story (as portrayed by a family serving in Haiti, authors of the blog linked above) complete with donkey and goats as well as original music. Gorgeous!

A Tale of Two Pictures

Those six days between Matt's recent trips were exciting for us in several ways. First of all, it was the kids' half-term break from school, and then, of course, Daddy was home! But also the leaves were so vivid right then. Autumn in England seemed particularly spectacular this year. I've been meaning to post a couple photos taken that week. One was planned; one was not. Can you guess which is which?



If you guessed the first one was intentional, you're right! We were attempting to get a nice fall family picture to send out with our holiday letter next month. We certainly didn't pose these pheasants! They appeared one morning as we were having our breakfast and chased one another around our garden for a while before running off somewhere else. The kids and I were nearly hysterical, running from the front windows to the back, trying to keep them in our sight without actually going outside. (We didn't want to startle them.) We owe the dignified photo to the calmest, most sensible member of the family who snuck outside with his camera at the very moment they were sitting on the back fence all in a row.

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Even Extremely Much More Fonderer

Matt has been away for 22 of the past 28 days. He's always traveled a lot, just not this much all at once. Needless to say the kids and I are all going a bit bonkers waiting for Wednesday morning!

We're all thinking it, but the three year-old says it best: "I love Daddy all the mostest."

Rediscovering Star Wars

We've been watching the Star Wars movies with the kids. Yes, this is the first I've seen them since they were released in theaters (before video, before DVD) back when I was, like, ten. So in a way I'm seeing them fresh, putting the pieces of the story together as we go along. Matt somehow retained this information through the years and has been explaining to Jack and Sophie which characters are on which side of the conflict, which planets they're from, which spaceships they drive, etc.

Matt and I have gotten a kick out of the special effects that were so cutting edge back then. But the best part for me has been watching Jack and Sophie's reactions! Both of them love R2D2 the best, and Sophie's other favorite character is, of course, the princess.

About halfway through The Empire Strikes Back, during a scene with Darth Vader, Sophie folded her arms and said, "That guy is not pleased... He is vewy gwumpy."

Jack has been busily building Star Wars-type spacecraft out of Lego. Most horizontal spaces in our house are currently landing/launching pads for his creations. And he has decided to change his middle name to Jedi.

One morning last week the kids and I were on our way to school when the theme from Star Wars started playing on Classic fm. In the misty autumn morning around us all was calm, but in our car we were rocking out! I turned it up loud and sang along, surprised that I knew the whole thing. Wow, the power of music! I couldn't remember much about the plot line of the movies, but even after all these years I could anticipate each successive movement of the orchestral piece.

I felt full with the energy of youth -- old enough to have experienced this bit of pop culture history but still able to make it seem currently exciting to Jack and Sophie. And then the song ended. And the announcer said, "Ah, there's nothing quite like the theme from Superman to get your morning off to a flying start."

Oh dear. My cover is blown. Jack and Sophie are starting to figure out that their mother is not now, and never has been, cool.

At Home in the UK

Well, it's not a good sign that I've only managed one post a month for most of 2009. (Except for July -- an incredible six posts! Yet somehow I can't get it to show up in my sidebar.) I'm not sure what's up with that, but I feel the need to post something before October disappears altogether.

And as a way of marking six months since we left greater London for life in the English countryside (I've come to love it here already! This is such a pretty place and it's not just me -- signs along the A-road next to our house declare it An Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty), I thought I'd share a few things about life at the moment that reflect the culture in which we live:

*** My car radio is usually tuned to either Classic fm, Absolute (formerly Virgin) Radio or BBC Radio 4. (Does anyone know if there's an American equivalent of Woman's Hour?)

*** I bought myself a flask (American = Thermos) so that I can enjoy a cup of tea anywhere, but especially atop our local lookout point, basking in the clean country air and spectacular view.

*** The day we joined The National Trust I felt a little more complete, somehow.

*** I've learned to use my mirrors and can now back into a parking space with the best of 'em.

*** As a special treat at weekends, Matt sometimes surprises me with a (real! paper!) copy of The Sunday Times.

*** I've added Roast Dinner to the rotation of our family's menu. Usually it's chicken, but I aspire to make my dearest favorite, lamb. Yes, with mint sauce. And seriously, how delicious are roast potatoes???

*** My favorite Saturday breakfast is scrambled eggs, baked beans and toast.

*** Of all the kitchen gadgets I rely on, the one I use most often (and shudder at the thought of ever doing without) is my electric kettle.

*** This time last year I started composting! The London borough we were living in was giving away composting bins, and I loved it so much (composting is easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy, as my kids would say) that I brought the bin with me when we moved. Really. This is incredible but true. Vegetable peelings, egg shells, tea bags/coffee grounds and the cardboard bit from the inside of paper towel/toilet paper rolls -- just put this stuff into the composting bin with an armful of fallen leaves now and then, and voilà! Over a period of months, it becomes rich, organic fertilizer. (And looks remarkably like, well, dirt. Still, the sense of accomplishment and pride is amazing.)

Composting has become such a distinct part of Living in England for me (along with fairtrade and justice issues in general) that I was excited to read in yesterday's New York Times an article called Nudging Recycling From Less Waste to None. Here are a few snippets:

Across the nation, an antigarbage strategy known as “zero waste” is moving from the fringes to the mainstream, taking hold in school cafeterias, national parks, restaurants, stadiums and corporations.

The movement is simple in concept if not always in execution: Produce less waste. Shun polystyrene foam containers or any other packaging that is not biodegradable. Recycle or compost whatever you can...

Americans are still the undisputed champions of trash, dumping 4.6 pounds per person per day...

When apple cores, stale bread and last week’s leftovers go to landfills, they do not return the nutrients they pulled from the soil while growing. What is more, when sealed in landfills without oxygen, organic materials release methane, a potent heat-trapping gas, as they decompose. If composted, however, the food can be broken down and returned to the earth as a nonchemical fertilizer with no methane by-product.

Clearly, this topic could/should be a post of its own! But I'll close for now, hoping that I've inspired someone, anyone out there to give it a go themselves. Autumn is the perfect time to begin... What you start making now will be ready in time for gardening in the spring. How's that for incentive?

Distraction By Photos

When in doubt, post a picture. That's going to be my new blogging motto. There comes a point when there's so much I haven't posted about, that I really have intended to post about, that I have no idea where to begin. And by that time it's easier to let another day, week or several weeks slip by before I get around to an actual post. So as a method of distracting both myself and anyone who may still be checking this blog, I think I'll start with this fun reminder of summertime and all its joys -- even though fall is here now, my favorite season of all!

As of this week, the kids are back in their school routines. And I'm heading back to the classroom for the first time in ten years -- only for a couple hours on Tuesday mornings, to help in Jack's class, but I'm excited about that. Makes me nostalgic, though for my first year at Titchie Swot. Until then, I'd mainly interacted with junior high and high school students, and I didn't realize what big personalities little kids have! Now, of course, my life is consumed with two such big-little persons who are getting bigger all the time.


Here they are after watching Ice Age 3 in 3D. Both kids loved everything about it, especially the huge, Wayfarer-esque glasses. It was also Sophie's first cinematic experience. What kind of precedent does that set in a child's mind, I ask you?

And now, with a promise to write something more soon, I'll leave you with this photo, taken atop our favorite local lookout. Happy fall, y'all!

Chez Jones

We had our neighbors round this morning. They're another family with our company, and although we only met them a couple months ago we love them and are really thankful to have them living right next door!

Angie and I sat in the kitchen drinking tea while our five children (ages 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6) played trains, babies, dress-up, puzzles, space ranger darts, Playmobil -- these kiddos really enjoy one another, which is always wonderful for me as a mother but especially when it means I'm free to chat over a cup of tea! After a while Jack came in, took one look at the plates of banana bread and watermelon on the table, and announced he was bursting with hunger.

Jack: Can I have a snack now?

Me: Sure, just ask your friends if they'd like to have something now, too. But wait, before you go do that... (whispering) Do you remember what we do when people are visiting us?

Jack: (whispering back) Yes. We serve our customers first!

What A Six Year-Old Boy Sings When He Doesn't Think Anyone Is Listening

If I had a million dollars
I'd buy you a soft coat
If I had a million dollars
I'd buy you a moat
I'd buy you a motorway
That's what I'd buy you, a coat
If I had a million bellies...
If I had a million eyeballs...

(With apologies to the Barenaked Ladies)

Sophie's Turn

Sophie has been attending the village nursery near Jack's school three mornings a week since the beginning of June. She loves it! When I went to check it out to enroll her for September, I was so impressed with everything: the variety of activities, attention of teachers, attitude of children. Everything! They had room for her to start right away, and I just couldn't pass up the opportunity. The outside section of the nursery is as inviting as the inside, and summertime in England only comes round once a year.

So anyway, one day Sophie came home with a small pot of dirt. "I planted a bean," she said.


She watered it and put it in a sunny spot outside. And waited. And watered. And waited and watered faithfully until...


It grew into a beanstalk! Which she took back to nursery to be entered into the local horticultural show.

As you might expect, the nursery's end-of-term concert was Jack and the Beanstalk. Here's Sophie and a few of her fellow villagers looking on as Jack takes the family cow to market.


Afterwards, the children and their adoring fans -- mums, dads and grandparents -- enjoyed tea and cake in the village hall.


Fee fi fo fum...

End of Term

Today is the last day of Jack's school year. Oooh, he's had an exciting time of it these past few weeks.

First, there was the end-of-term concert. Since half-term break, the entire school has been studying Life On the Ocean Wave, with all of their subjects reflecting that focus. In their concert, Jack's class sang We All Live In A Yellow Submarine. We've been listening to Jack sing it for weeks on end, and he'll happily sing it to you on demand whether you're in person, on the phone or on skype, just as long as you're prepared to listen to it in its entirety.

Here he is with the other Year 1 pirates/sailors, proudly waving his favorite flag, the Union Jack. (Too bad I didn't get a photo of their performance of What Do We Do With A Drunken Sailor? Seriously, only in Britain.)


Then there was the school Fun Day, which got rained out at first, but then was successfully held in conjunction with Sports Day, in spite of heavy rains the night before. Here's Jack in the Hat Parade, wearing his interpretation of the ideal summer holiday: camping and fishing.

Continuing along the nautical theme, one of the events on Sports Day was a clever little relay called Rescue the Sailor. Jack's team won first place!

And here's the sprint, which he didn't win but enjoyed immensely.


Matt did really well in the dads' race-around-the-field, coming just behind a guy who runs marathons and two guys who are about 30 years old. He left all the 6-foot-plus dads in the dust! Sophie and I watched and cheered from the sidelines.


Actually, Sophie won the little siblings/toddlers' race as well, but we didn't get a photo of that because Matt was coaching her from the starting line. She had a busy last week at nursery, though, too. I'll try to get those pictures up soon.

Saturday Morning Hereabouts

In the weeks leading up to our move, I read a book that a friend from church had recommended and then loaned to me a while back: Wife in the North by Judith O'Reilly. It's no exaggeration to say that reading her story had a massively positive impact on my mental and emotional sanity, and I'm so glad I picked it up when I did because it turns out that was exactly the time I needed it most! Told through a series of blog posts, the book chronicles her inner journey during the first year she and her family moved from London to Northumberland. She describes the emotions of that transition with such depth and precision that, even though our own transition had different elements, the flavor was the same. And I found that profoundly comforting.

After reading the book -- much of it quite literally pee-yourself-hilarious and some of it downright heart-rending -- I went looking for the blog itself. It's great reading, especially her comments on current affairs, but I missed being able to keep going. You know -- in the book, you can follow her experience through the weeks and months just by turning the page. On the blog, though, when there's a lull in her posting, there's (obviously) nothing new to read. Which is disappointing because she's so gifted! Reading what she writes feels like listening to the thoughts in my own head -- well, if I was clever, witty and English, that is. Okay, so it's probably more accurate to say that reading what she writes feels like listening to the thoughts of a clever, witty, English friend. (I sooooo urge you to get her book!)

Who knows what Judith O'Reilly has going on in her life that keeps her from blogging at the moment -- real life with her family, perhaps! But I've been feeling guilty about not posting regularly myself. Not that I have as wide an audience as she does, and not that what I have to say is as interesting. (Although I do understand how important it can be to unplug and regroup.) Anyway, in an effort to post more often, I'm going to try to write small snippets, and post more pictures, of our everyday goings-on.

Today, for example, was Saturday. And since moving here, one of our favorite things to do on Saturday mornings is to climb a humongous hill nearby, a National Trust property that gives amazing views from the top. Every time we do it, I look down and can't believe we live here!

This morning, on the uphill climb, the kids and I came across two of these amazing creatures:

Roman snails! They're not indigenous to England but were brought here by the Romans (to eat). They're a protected species now -- its illegal to collect them, sell them or harm them in any way. They like the woods and chalk, so they're not an uncommon sight on and around the hill.

This will give you a better idea of how huge this guy really was:


Here's to Saturdays! And here's to getting out in nature, exploring the incredible beauty all around us and enjoying the view.

Better Late Than Never

Along with every parent in the history of the world, I look at my kids and wonder: Where does the time go? Here's our six year-old boy with his dinosaur birthday cake, back in May.

And here are a couple shots taken around the same time, in a little village near where we now live. The houses in the village look just like those little cottages my mom used to collect -- so charming! -- but it was a nearby stream that held Jack and Sophie's fascination.

Like I Needed An Excuse

We're still without a broadband connection, although we did finally get a phone line today. Hey, it's progress! Maybe by next week I'll be back on this blog. Two months of ridiculously slow, worse-than-dial-up mobile internet has been frustrating to say the least.

But I just came across some fabulous news at The Bonny Glen and couldn't NOT pass it along. I mean, this is really, truly fab: A little bit of dark chocolate every day is an amazingly good thing! Since Lissa has taken the time to explain the facts behind the modern legend and even include exerpts from Rowan Jacobsen’s Chocolate Unwrapped: The Surprising Health Benefits of America’s Favorite Passion on her site, I won't elaborate here. But please, check it out!

And pardon me while I go and enjoy my essential daily dose of antioxidants. With a cup of tea, of course!